The number of people who are vehemently in love with the difficulties, absurdities, inconsistencies—and crystallized ignorances—of our present spelling is very small, and neither their denunciation nor their ridicule will weigh at all heavily upon the great majority, who look upon spelling as a means to an end, and to an end quite different from the preservation of etymological history in the most clumsy, expensive, and deceptive of forms.

One might imagine, from the way in which the enemies of this reform run on, that any changes made now would be the first to which English spelling had ever been subjected—would be the establishment of an evil precedent instead of merely a slight hastening, in the interest of convenience and economy, of a process that has been going on steadily ever since the day when English became a written language.

One of our correspondents said yesterday that, in his opinion, "before we try to monkey further with so good an instrument as the English language we ought to try to use it properly."

Well, not necessarily. With a little, or even with a lot, of "monkeying" an amount of time almost incalculably large, now devoted to the learning of such utterly useless and imbecile things as the arrangement of the vowels in "siege" and "seize," could be used on the task which our correspondent wisely intimated is so important.

The personality of the Simplified Spelling Board is guarantee that the demand for an improved orthography is not an outgrowth of ignorance or irreverence. These men have more than a little affection for the history of words, and they are not at all likely to do anything that will hide or distort it. They will, however, put and keep that history in its proper place.

It has been the practise at the Cheshire Cheese Inn in the trans-Styx London, where post-mortem encyclopedists have their "clubs," to make light of the modern verbal reformers and "simplifiers." It was immediately seen, however, that Andrew's addition to the reformer's fold put a very different complexion on the case.

"Sir," said the doctor to Boswell, in his best "bow-wow" manner, "I have never slept an hour less nor eat an ounce less meat on account of these caitiffs, but now that the Scotch barbarian, that futile Highland Cherokee, has supplied them with money, they may ruin the language in a twelvemonth."

"I don't see, sir," replied Boswell, "why my countryman did not confine his charities to libraries and hero funds."

"Because, sir," thundered the doctor, "he is insane on the subject of charity; he could not make a worse use of his money than thus to threaten the integrity and purity of the great vehicle of expression."

"There is, however, sir," replied Boswell, "something to be said in their favor; thru saves three letters over through, catalog saves two, becaws one; they take less ink, and less room on a page; think of——"

"Well, sir," said the doctor, "suppose they do; what of that? A man with his arms and legs off would take up less room. You take up less room than I. Does that make you any more valuable to the world?"

"I can see no logical objection, sir," replied Boswell, "to the omission of silent letters. They do no good——"

"No good, sir!" snarled the doctor. "There are some letters, sir, as there are some men, who do themselves more credit, sir, when they are silent."

No legislator can show why the theft of twenty-five dollars should be punishable with one year's imprisonment, and the theft of twenty-six dollars with five years' imprisonment. Nor is the difficulty removed by empowering the judge to use his discretion in imposing sentence within certain limits of minimum and maximum. A judge would find it hard to tell why he sentenced one boy five years for stealing a dollar and another boy one year for stealing two hundred dollars, or another judge why he sent one boy to prison for a year, and another, a first offender, to sixteen years for the same offense. A study of codes on one hand and of sentences on another reveals an amazing amount of contradiction and confusion, not to say rank injustice, in the application of penalties. For this inequality and injustice the indeterminate sentence furnishes the necessary relief. Instead of making the code-maker or the judge decide when a man shall come out of prison, it puts the main responsibility of deciding that question upon the prisoner himself.

It has been feared that the admission of women to the university would vitiate the masculinity of its standards; that neatness of technique would impair boldness of conception; and delicacy of taste replace soundness of results. It is claimed that the preponderance of high school educated women in ordinary society is showing some such effects in matters of current opinion.

For example, it is claimed that the university extension course is no longer of university nature. It is a lyceum course designed to please women who enjoy a little poetry, play, and music, who read the novels of the day, who dabble in theosophy, Christian science, or psychology, who cultivate their astral bodies and think there is something in palmistry, and who are edified by a candy-coated ethics of self-realization. There is nothing ruggedly true, nothing masculine left in it.

Current literature and history are affected by the same influences. Women pay clever actors to teach them, not Shakespeare or Goethe, but