Words, and words once nioi'e. In a local weekly paper there recently appeared an article on “Music,” of which, so a corre spondent, C.M., informs me, the following paragraph formed part: —

There are those to whom sensitiveness is fatal —editors and literary people gene rally, for instance. Imagine an editor feeling hurt because of all the unkind things written of him ! Would he not have an unhappy time of it ? He should be glad to have occasioned some other editor to deliver himself of most astounding para graphs, and to clasp his hand upon his knee, saying, “ There, beat that if you can and then the loftiness of the senti ment and the elegance of the diction that is called forth ! Most remarkable indeed ! But there, that is journalism. Does not everybody know that “ journalism ” is derived from the Latin word jurgo, I chide ?” Did ever, writes C.M., a better example occur of the truth of that old saying, “ A little learning is a dangerous thing.” Did the writer, 1 wonder, ever reflect that a journal is that which appears daily (but there is confusion on this point in the journalistic world.—“ Scrutator ”), and if so, what lias poor diurnal done that its claim should be ignored? Jurgo , I chide (the Temperance Party) may be the mission of the paper to which I refer, but really the editor should not let it be proclaimed thus from the housetops !”

Personally I should fancy that the para graph in question did not come 'neath the editorial optics; he very probably used oby«r£/ations, sundry and sultry, when he saw what a curious essay in derivation his musical contributor had palmed off on him.
