Turning now to the usage of modern writing in the employment of relative pronouns, let us begin with a modern Englishman. I select Mr. Bagehot’s books, because in him we may hope to find the high-water mark of this reform. Mr. Bagehot was an editor and a banker; he represents the directness, force, and brevity of editorial and business writing. His “Lombard Street” is a book on the financial arrangements of the business public of England. It is therefore practical; but it is also essentially scientific. In this book Mr. Bagehot employs, on the average, one relative pronoun in one hundred and twenty-seven words. This is a little more than one third as many as the New Testament employs. I call this high-water mark; two thirds of the relatives have disappeared. I am not sure of it, but I think Mr. Bagehot did not use _that_ as a relative pronoun. I find that about _one fortieth_ of the relatives in the American edition are _thats_; but it is probable that some of them were put in by the American printers—unconsciously, of course—and it is possible that all have a typographical parentage. In “Money and the Mechanism of Exchange,” by Professor Jevons, I can not find a relative _that_; there may be a few; but in this case, too, the edition is American. Accepting, however, the count, let the readers measure the change from the Psalms of 1611, in which eighty per cent. of the relatives are _thats_, to Walter Bagehot, in whose “Lombard Street” only about two per cent. of the relatives are _thats_. The relatives occur a little more frequently in the book of Professor Jevons, just referred to. By my count there is one relative in one hundred and thirteen words. I have more carefully counted the relatives in the essays of Mr. James Anthony Froude, and find one relative in each one hundred and twenty words. I have only American editions of these essays, and in these editions _that_ is employed as a relative in a very few cases. This use of _that_ is so infrequent and so opposite to Mr. Froude’s ordinary practice, that we may safely set it down as some one’s blunder—possibly Mr. Froude’s, more probably the American printer’s. If we accept these _thats_ as Mr. Froude’s, the per cent. of them is so small as to deprive them of importance. I thought I had caught Mr. Froude’s secret when I found that in his essay on Norway he apparently wrote “trout that” and “fish that.” Mr. Froude is a mighty fisherman, and it was possible that he might glorify the fish by a peculiar form of pronoun. But I turned to the essay on “A Day’s Fishing at Cheney’s,” and found “fish which” and “trout which.” This failure to find even a fanciful explanation leaves nothing to be said except that “some one has blundered” into the relative _thats_ of Mr. Froude. These three English writers—Bagehot, Jevons, and Froude—probably represent very fairly the untheological writers of our generation.