their milk would probably save more lives than the invention of ships which could not possibly be injured by wind or weather, or of railway trains which could not collide. STUDY AND STUDIO. D. E. N. S.—1. We cannot tell you of any French lady who would exchange correspondence lessons with you. But why not insert your name in our “International Correspondence” column?—2. Mudie’s Library, or Smith’s, extend their operations to country districts. For light reading, you might try one of these. LAUREL.—We have read your letter with great sympathy. We cannot give a direct “yes” or “no” to your question, as so much depends on the individual habit of mind. Would you not like to read a good translation (_e.g._, Longfellow’s) of Dante’s “Divine Comedy” on Sunday? We certainly think you should employ your scanty leisure to the best advantage; but there are many great poets who are so spiritual in tone, that there could be no doubt as to the fitness of studying them on this day. SEMPER IDEM.—1. You do not give us your address, but there are plenty of classes in London for type-writing; address The Secretary, Board of Technical Instruction, St. Martin’s Lane, W.C. The art appears to be very quickly learned as a rule.—2. Your quotation, “Boys, flying kites, haul in their white-winged birds, You can’t do that way when you’re flying words,” is from “The First Settler’s Story” in Will Carleton’s _Farm Ballads_. EDWIN C. R. LANGLEY.—Many thanks for your kind suggestion. We remembered Longfellow’s mention of St. Augustine; but Tennyson, though his thought is similar, does not mean St. Augustine, or even Longfellow by “Him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones.” Our information, that the poet referred to was Goethe, comes from one who had asked Tennyson himself. COLLEEN BAWN.—1. Your story is graphically written and shows you to have a certain power of description. The criticism—not, as you suggest, a severe one—which we should be disposed to offer is this:—That you are inclined towards an excess of sentimentality. Why should the curate have felt “everything was changed for him” after the scene in the church? “Miss Amy” had given him no cause whatever, so far as the reader can observe, for any such despair. And his dying in the snow is unnecessarily tragic. A sensible man, accustomed to traverse the parish in all weathers, would have guarded against losing his way on such a night as you describe, probably by remaining under shelter at the cottage till daylight, if no guide could be found. One feels that the man’s life is quite needlessly sacrificed for the sake of forcing the pathos. We should not have said all this, had not your story shown some signs of talent, and if you are neglecting no duty by writing, we should advise you to persevere.—2. Your handwriting is good, and you appear to understand the art of punctuation, which is by no means a matter of course.