ible remove from divine.

However, our present difficulty is with that vast average who in common
parlance are Mr. and Mrs. Smythe Johnes. How shall they be styled on the
backs of their letters? How shall Mrs. Smythe Johnes especially, in
signing herself Mary Johnes, indicate that she is not Miss Mary but Mrs.
Smythe Johnes? When she is left a widow, how soon does she cease to be
Mrs. Smythe Johnes and become Mrs. Mary? Is it requisite to write in the
case of any literary doctorate, Smythe Johnes, LL.D., or Litt.D., or
Ph.D., or is it sufficient to write Dr. before his name? In the case of
a divine, do you put Rev. Dr. before the name, or Rev. before it and
D.D. after it? These are important questions, or, if they are not
important, they are at least interesting. Among the vast mass of
unceremonied, or call it unmannered, Americans the receiver of a letter
probably knows no better than the sender how it should be addressed; but
in the rarer case in which he does know, his self-respect or his
self-love is wounded if it is misaddressed. It is something like having
your name misspelled, though of course not so bad as that, quite; and
every one would be glad to avoid the chance of it.

The matter is very delicate and can hardly be managed by legislation, as
it was on the point of our pen to suggest it should be. The first French
Republic, one and indivisible, decreed a really charming form of
address, which could be used without offence to the self-love or the
self-respect of any one. Citoyen for all men and Citoyenne for all women
was absolutely tasteful, modest, and dignified; but some things, though
they are such kindred things, cannot be done as well as others. The same
imaginative commonwealth invented a decimal chronology, and a new era,
very handy and very clear; but the old week of seven days came back and
replaced the week of ten days, and the Year of our Lord resumed the
place of the Year of the Republic, as Monsieur and Madame returned
victorious over Citoyen and Citoyenne. Yet the reform of weights and
measures, when once established, continued, and spread from France to
most other countries--to nearly all, indeed, less stupid than Great
Britain and the United States--so that the whole civilized world now
counts in grammes and metres. What can be the fine difference? Here is a
pretty inquiry for the psychologist, who has an opportunity to prove
himself practically useful. Is it that grammes and metres are less