drenched every day.  Often their wet clothes are frozen on them; they are exposed to cutting winds and sleet in their faces, bedrabbled in damp grass, stood against slippery fences, with hail and frost lowering their vitality, and expected under these circumstances to make love and be good Christians.  Drenched and wind-blown for years, that is what they are.  It may be that this treatment has excited the sympathy of the world, but is it legitimate?  Has a novelist the right to subject his creations to tortures that he would not dare to inflict upon his friends?  It is no excuse to say that this is normal English weather; it is not the office of fiction to intensify and rub in the unavoidable evils of life.  The modern spirit of consideration for fictitious characters that prevails with regard to dress ought to extend in a reasonable degree to their weather.  This is not a strained corollary to the demand for an appropriately costumed novel.

THE BROAD A

It cannot for a moment be supposed that the Drawer would discourage self-culture and refinement of manner and of speech.  But it would not hesitate to give a note of warning if it believed that the present devotion to literature and the pursuits of the mind were likely, by the highest authorities, to be considered bad form.  In an intellectually inclined city (not in the northeast) a club of ladies has been formed for the cultivation of the broad ‘a’ in speech.  Sporadic efforts have hitherto been made for the proper treatment of this letter of the alphabet with individual success, especially with those who have been in England, or have known English men and women of the broad-gauge variety.  Discerning travelers have made the American pronunciation of the letter a a reproach to the republic, that is to say, a means of distinguishing a native of this country.  The true American aspires to be cosmopolitan, and does not want to be “spotted”—­if that word may be used—­in society by any peculiarity of speech, that is, by any American peculiarity.  Why, at the bottom of the matter, a narrow ‘a’ should be a disgrace it is not easy to see, but it needs no reason if fashion or authority condemns it.  This country is so spread out, without any social or literary centre universally recognized as such, and the narrow ‘a’ has become so prevalent, that even fashion finds it difficult to reform it.  The best people, who are determined to broaden all their ’a’’s, will forget in moments of excitement, and fall back into old habits.  It requires constant vigilance to keep the letter ‘a’ flattened out.  It is in vain that scholars have pointed out that in the use of this letter lies the main difference between the English and the American speech; either Americans generally do not care if this is the fact, or fashion can only work a reform in a limited number of people.  It seems, therefore, necessary that there should be an organized effort to deal with this pronunciation,