diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 15:22:52 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 15:22:52 -0800 |
| commit | 5068106ed7bc10547e680b61ecd2e3f298f18692 (patch) | |
| tree | e0c32fecf4339169399df671137cb16b5d0271ac | |
| parent | 23ddae92c7f0bcb425ac175d59a50b5346b64c22 (diff) | |
102 files changed, 17 insertions, 24432 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0399b51 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53286 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53286) diff --git a/old/53286-0.txt b/old/53286-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5a47015..0000000 --- a/old/53286-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10508 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine -(May 1913), by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine (May 1913) - Vol. LXXXVI. New Series: Vol. LXIV. May to October, 1913 - -Author: Various - -Release Date: October 16, 2016 [EBook #53286] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CENTURY ILLUSTRATED *** - - - - -Produced by ane Robins, Reiner Ruf, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - ###################################################################### - - Transcriber’s Notes - -This e-text is based on ‘The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine,’ -from May 1913. Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation have been -retained, but punctuation and typographical errors have been corrected. -However, passages in English dialect and in languages other than -English have not been altered. - -Italic text is represented by _underscores_; small caps are symbolised -by ~tilde characters~. - - ###################################################################### - - - - - THE CENTURY - - ILLUSTRATED MONTHLY - - MAGAZINE - - - VOL. LXXXVI - NEW SERIES: VOL. LXIV - MAY TO OCTOBER, 1913 - - [Illustration] - - THE CENTURY CO., NEW YORK - - HODDER & STOUGHTON, LONDON - - - - - Copyright, 1913, by ~The Century Co.~ - - - THE DE VINNE PRESS - - - - - INDEX - - TO - - THE CENTURY MAGAZINE - - VOL. LXXXVI NEW SERIES: VOL. LXIV - - - PAGE - - ~Adams, John Quincy, in Russia.~ - (Unpublished letters.) - Introduction and notes by Charles - Francis Adams. Portraits of John - Quincy Adams and Madame de Staël 250 - - ~After-Dinner Stories.~ - An Anecdote of McKinley. _Silas Harrison_ 319 - - ~After-the-War Series, - The Century’s.~ - The Hayes-Tilden Contest for the - Presidency. _Henry Watterson_ 3 - Pictures from photographs and - cartoons. - - Another View of “The Hayes-Tilden - Contest”. _George F. Edmunds_ 192 - Portrait of Ex-Senator Edmunds. - - ~Americans, New-Made.~ Drawings by _W. T. Benda_ Facing page 894 - - ~Artists Series, American, The - Century’s.~ - John S. Sargent: Nonchalance. 44 - Carl Marr: The Landscape-Painter. 110 - Frank W. Benson: My Daughter. 264 - - ~Auto-Comrade, The~ _Robert Haven Schauffler_ 850 - - ~Avocats, Les deux.~ From the - painting by _Honoré Daumier_ - Facing page 654 - - - ~Balkan Peninsula, Skirting the~ _Robert Hichens_ - - III. The Environs of Athens. 84 - Pictures by Jules Guérin and - from photographs. - - IV. Delphi and Olympia. 224 - Pictures by Jules Guérin and - from photographs. - - V. In Constantinople. 374 - Pictures by Jules Guérin and - from photographs. - - VI. Stamboul, the City of Mosques. 519 - Pictures by Jules Guérin, two - printed in color. - - ~Beelzebub Came to the Convent, How~ _Ethel Watts Mumford_ 323 - Picture by N. C. Wyeth. - - “~Black Blood.~” _Edward Lyell Fox_ 213 - Pictures by William H. Foster. - - ~Book of his Heart, The~ _Allan Updegraff_ 701 - Picture by Herman Pfeifer. - - ~Borrowed Lover, The~ _L. Frank Tooker_ 348 - - ~British Uncommunicativeness.~ _A. C. Benson_ 567 - - ~Brother Leo.~ _Phyllis Bottome_ 181 - Pictures by W. T. Benda. - - ~Business in the Orient.~ _Harry A. Franck_ 475 - - - ~Camilla’s First Affair.~ _Gertrude Hall_ 400 - Pictures by Emil - Pollak-Ottendorff. - - ~Cartoons.~ - Noise Extracted without Pain. _Oliver Herford_ 155 - Foreign Labor. _Oliver Herford_ 477 - Ninety Degrees in the Shade. _J. R. Shaver_ 477 - A Boy’s Best Friend. _May Wilson Preston_ 634 - “The Fifth Avenue Girl” and “A Bit - of Gossip.” Sculpture by _Ethel Myers_ 635 - The Child de Luxe. _Boardman Robinson_ 636 - The “Elite” Bathing-Dress. _Reginald Birch_ 797 - From Grave to Gay. _C. F. Peters_ 798 - Died: Rondeau Rymbel. _Oliver Herford_ 955 - A Triumph for the Fresh Air Fund. _F. R. Gruger_ 957 - Newport Note. _Reginald Birch_ 960 - - ~Casus Belli.~ 955 - - ~Century, the, The Spirit of~ _Editorial_ 789 - - ~Choate, Joseph H.~ From a charcoal - portrait by _John S. Sargent_ - Facing page 711 - - ~Christmas, On Allowing the Editor - to Shop Early for~ _Leonard Hatch_ 473 - - ~Clown’s Rue.~ _Hugh Johnson_ 730 - Picture, printed in tint, by - H. C. Dunn. - - ~Cole’s (Timothy) Engravings of - Masterpieces in American Galleries.~ - Une Dame Espagnole. From the - painting by _Fortuny_ 2 - - ~Coming Sneeze, The~ _Harry Stillwell Edwards_ 368 - Picture by F. R. Gruger. - - ~Common Sense in the White House.~ _Editorial_ 149 - - ~Country Roads of New England.~ - Drawings by _Walter King Stone_ 668 - - ~Devil, The, his Due~ _Philip Curtiss_ 895 - - ~Dinner of Herbs,” “Better is a.~ - Picture by _Edmund Dulac_ - Facing page 801 - - ~Dormer-Window, the, The Country of~ _Henry Dwight Sedgwick_ 720 - Pictures by W. T. Benda. - - ~Dorothy McK----, Portrait of~ _Wilhelm Funk_ 211 - - ~Down-town in New York.~ - Drawings by _Herman Webster_ 697 - - ~Elephant Round-up, An~ _D. P. B. Conkling_ 236 - Pictures from photographs. - - ~Elephants, Wild, Noosing~ _Charles Moser_ 240 - Pictures from photographs. - - ~Elixir of Youth, The~ _Albert Bigelow Paine_ 21 - Picture by O. F. Schmidt. - - ~Floods, The Great, in the Middle - West~ _Editorial_ 148 - - ~French Art, Examples of Contemporary.~ - A Corner of the Table. From the - painting by _Charles Chabas_ 83 - - ~Garage in the Sunshine, A~ _Joseph Ernest_ 921 - Picture by Harry Raleigh. - - ~Get Something by Giving Something Up, - On How to~ _Simeon Strunsky_ 153 - - ~“Ghosts,” “Dey Ain’t No”~ _Ellis Parker Butler_ 837 - Pictures by Charles Sarka. - - ~Going Up.~ _Frederick Lewis Allen_ 632 - Picture by Reginald Birch. - - ~Golf, Mind Versus Muscle in~ _Marshall Whitlatch_ 606 - - ~Government, The Changing View of~ _Editorial_ 311 - - ~Grand Cañon of the Colorado, The~ _Joseph Pennell_ 202 - Six lithographs drawn from - nature for “The Century.” - - ~Gutter-Nickel, The~ _Estelle Loomis_ 570 - Picture by J. Montgomery Flagg. - - ~Hard Money, The Return to~ _Charles A. Conant_ 439 - Portraits, and cartoons by - Thomas Nast. - - ~Her Own Life.~ _Allan Updegraff_ 79 - - ~Home.~ I. An Anonymous Novel. 801 - Illustrations by Reginald Birch. - - ~Homer and Humbug.~ _Stephen Leacock_ 952 - - ~Hyperbole in Advertising, On the - Use of~ _Agnes Repplier_ 316 - - ~Illusion of Progress, The~ _Kenyon Cox_ 39 - - ~Impractical Man, The~ _Elliott Flower_ 549 - Pictures by F. R. Gruger. - - ~International Club, the, On the - Collapse of~ _G. K. Chesterton_ 151 - - ~Japanese Child, a, The Training of~ _Frances Little_ 170 - Pictures from photographs. - - ~Japan, the New, American Makers of~ _William Elliot Griffis_ 597 - Pictures from photographs. - - ~Jefferson, Thomas.~ From the statue - for the Jefferson Memorial in St. - Louis by _Karl Bitter_ 27 - - ~Juryman, the, The Mind of~ _Hugo Münsterberg_ 711 - - ~Lady and her Book, the, On~ _Helen Minturn Seymour_ 315 - - ~Lawlessness in Art.~ _Editorial_ 150 - - ~Life After Death.~ _Maurice Maeterlinck_ 655 - - ~Literature Factory.~ _E. P. Butler_ 638 - - ~Louise.~ Color-Tone, from the - marble bust by _Evelyn Beatrice Longman_ - Facing page 766 - - ~Love by Lightning.~ _Maria Thompson Daviess_ 641 - Pictures, printed in tint, - by F. R. Gruger. - - ~Mannering’s Men.~ _Marjorie L. C. Pickthall_ 427 - - ~Man who did not Go to Heaven on - Tuesday, The~ _Ellis Parker Butler_ 340 - - ~Millet’s Return to his Old Home.~ _Truman H. Bartlett_ 332 - Pictures from pastels - by Millet. - - ~Money behind the Gun, The~ _Editorial_ 470 - - ~Morgan’s, Mr., Personality~ _Joseph B. Gilder_ 459 - Picture from photograph. - - ~Moving-picture, the, The Widening - Field of~ _Charles B. Brewer_ 66 - Pictures from photographs. - - ~Mrs. Longbow’s Biography.~ _Gordon Hall Gerould_ 56 - - ~Nemours: A Typical French Provincial - Town.~ _Roger Boutet de Monvel_ 844 - Pictures by Bernard Boutet de - Monvel. - - ~Newspaper Invasion of Privacy.~ _Editorial_ 310 - - ~Niagara again in Danger.~ _Editorial_ 150 - - ~Noteworthy Stories of the Last - Generation.~ - The Tachypomp. _Edward P. Mitchell_ 99 - Portrait of the author, and - drawings by Reginald Birch. - Belles Demoiselles Plantation. _George W. Cable_ 273 - With portrait of the author, - and new pictures by W. M. - Berger. - The New Minister’s Great - Opportunity. _C. H. White_ 390 - With portrait of the author, - and new picture by Harry - Townsend. - - ~One Way to make Things Better.~ _Editorial_ 471 - - ~Oregon Muddle,” “The~ _Victor Rosewater_ 764 - - ~Paderewski at Home.~ _Abbie H. C. Finck_ 900 - Picture from a portrait by - Emil Fuchs. - - ~Paris.~ _Theodore Dreiser_ 904 - Pictures by W. J. Glackens. - - “~Peggy.~” From the marble bust by _Evelyn Beatrice Longman_ 362 - - ~Polo Team, Undefeated American, - Bronze Group of the~ _Herbert Hazeltine_ - Facing page 641 - - ~Progressive Party, The~ _Theodore Roosevelt_ 826 - Portrait of the author. - - ~Puns, A Paper of~ _Brander Matthews_ 290 - Head-piece by Reginald Birch. - - ~Remington, Frederic, Recollections - of~ _Augustus Thomas_ 354 - Pictures by Frederic Remington, - and portrait. - - ~Romain Rolland.~ _Alvan F. Sanborn_ 512 - Picture from portrait of Rolland - from a drawing by Granié. - - ~St. Bernard, The Great~ _Ernst von Hesse-Wartegg_ 161 - Pictures by André Castaigne. - - ~St. Elizabeth of Hungary.~ By - Francisco Zubarán. Engraved - on wood by _Timothy Cole_ 437 - - ~Scarlet Tanager, The.~ Printed in - color from the painting by _Alfred Brennan_ 29 - - “~Schedule K~”. _N. I. Stone_ 111 - - ~“Schedule K,” Comments on~ _Editorial_ 472 - - ~Sculpture.~ _Charles Keck_ 917 - - ~Senior Wrangler, The~ 958 - Snobbery--America vs. England. - Our Tender Literary Celebrities. - - ~Sigiriya, “The Lion’s Rock” of - Ceylon.~ _Jennie Coker Gay_ 265 - Pictures by Duncan Gay. - - ~Socialism in the Colleges.~ _Editorial_ 468 - - ~Spinster, American, The~ _Agnes Repplier_ 363 - - ~Summer Hills,” the, In “The - Circuit of~ _John Burroughs_ 878 - Portrait of the author by Alvin - L. Coburn. - - ~Sunset on the Marshes.~ From the - painting by _George Inness_ - Facing page 824 - - “~Them Old Moth-eaten Lovyers~”. _Charles Egbert Craddock_ 120 - Pictures by George Wright. - - ~Trade of the World Papers, The~ _James Davenport Whelpley_ - XVII. If Canada were to Annex the - United States 534 - Pictures from photographs. - XVIII. The Foreign Trade of the - United States 886 - - ~T. Tembarom.~ _Frances Hodgson Burnett_ - 130, 296, 413, 610, 767, 929 - Drawings by Charles S. Chapman. - - ~Two-billion-dollar Congress, The~ _Editorial_ 313 - - ~Uncommercial Traveler, An, in London~ _Theodore Dreiser_ 736 - Pictures by W. J. Glackens. - - ~Under which Flag, Ladies, Order or - Anarchy?~ _Editorial_ 309 - - ~Venezuela Dispute, the, The Monroe - Doctrine in~ _Charles R. Miller_ 750 - Cartoons from “Punch,” and a map. - - ~Verita’s Stratagem.~ _Anne Warner_ 430 - - ~Voyage Over, The First~ _Theodore Dreiser_ 586 - Pictures by W. J. Glackens. - - ~Wagner, Richard, If, Came Back~ _Henry T. Finck_ 208 - Portrait of Wagner from photograph. - - ~Wall Street, The News in~ _James L. Ford_ 794 - Pictures by Reginald Birch and May - Wilson Preston. - - ~War against War.~ _Editorial_ 147 - - ~War-horses of Famous Generals.~ _James Grant Wilson_ 45 - Pictures from paintings and - photographs. - - ~War Worth Waging, A~ _Richard Barry_ 31 - Picture by Jay Hambidge. - - ~Washington, Fresh Light on~ 635 - - ~Watterson’s, Colonel, Rejoinder to - Ex-Senator Edmunds~ _Henry Watterson_ 285 - Comments on “Another View of ‘The - Hayes-Tilden Contest.’” - - ~Whistler, A Visit to~ _Maria Torrilhon Buel_ 694 - - ~White Linen Nurse, The~ _Eleanor Hallowell Abbott_ - 483, 672, 857 - Pictures, printed in tint, by - Herman Pfeifer. - - ~Widow, The.~ From the painting by _Couture_ 457 - An example of French portraiture. - - ~World Reformers--and Dusters.~ _The Senior Wrangler_ 792 - Picture by Reginald Birch. - - ~Year, The Most Important~ _Editorial_ 951 - - -VERSE - - ~Ballade of Protest, A~ _Carolyn Wells_ 476 - - ~Beggar, The~ _James W. Foley_ 877 - - ~Belle Dame Sans Merci, La~ _John Keats_ 388 - Republished with pictures by - Stanley M. Arthurs. - - ~Blank Page, For a~ _Austin Dobson_ 458 - - ~Brother Mingo Millenyum’s Ordination.~ _Ruth McEnery Stuart_ 475 - - ~Continued in the Ads.~ _Sarah Redington_ 795 - - ~Cubist Romance, A~ _Oliver Herford_ 318 - Picture by Oliver Herford. - - ~Daddy Do-funny’s, Old, Wisdom Jingles~ _Ruth McEnery Stuart_ - 154, 319, 478 - - ~Double Star, A~ _Leroy Titus Weeks_ 511 - - ~Emergency.~ _William Rose Benét_ 916 - - ~Experimenters, the, To~ _Charles Badger Clark, Jr._ 43 - - ~Finis.~ _William H. Hayne_ 295 - - ~Gentle Reader, The~ _Arthur Davison Ficke_ 692 - - ~House-without-Roof.~ _Edith M. Thomas_ 339 - - ~Husband Shop, The~ _Oliver Herford_ 956 - Picture by Oliver Herford. - - ~Invulnerable.~ _William Rose Benét_ 308 - - ~Justice, At the Closed Gates of~ _James D. Corrothers_ 272 - - ~Lady Clara Vere de Vere: New Style.~ _Anne O’Hagan_ 793 - Picture by E. L. Blumenschein. - - ~Last Faun, The~ _Helen Minturn Seymour_ 717 - Picture, printed in tint, by - Charles A. Winter. - - ~Last Message, A~ _Grace Denio Litchfield_ 26 - - ~Life’s Aspiration.~ _Louis Untermeyer_ 156 - Drawing by George Wolfe Plank. - - ~Limericks.~: - Text and pictures by Oliver Herford. - - XXVII. The Somnolent Bivalve. 157 - XXVIII. The Ounce of Detention. 158 - XXIX. The Kind Armadillo. 320 - XXX. The Gnat and the Gnu. 479 - XXXI. The Sole-Hungering Camel. 480 - XXXII. The Eternal Feminine. 639 - XXXIII. Tra-la-Larceny. 640 - XXXIV. The Conservative Owl. 799 - XXXV. The Omnivorous Book-worm. 800 - - ~Little People, The~ _Amelia Josephine Burr_ 387 - - ~Maeterlinck, Maurice~ _Stephen Phillips_ 467 - - ~Marvelous Munchausen, The~ _William Rose Benét_ 563 - Pictures by Oliver Herford. - - ~May, from my Window.~ _Frances Rose Benét_ 155 - Drawing by Oliver Herford. - - ~Message from Italy, A~ _Margaret Widdemer_ 547 - Drawing printed in tint by - W. T. Benda. - - ~Mother, The~ _Timothy Cole_ 920 - Picture by Alpheus Cole. - - ~My Conscience.~ _James Whitcomb Riley_ 331 - Decoration by Oliver Herford. - - ~Myself,” “I Sing of~ _Louis Untermeyer_ 960 - - ~New Art, The~ _Corinne Rockwell Swain_ 156 - - ~Noyes, Alfred, To~ _Edwin Markham_ 288 - - ~Off Capri.~ _Sara Teasdale_ 223 - - ~Parents, Our~ _Charles Irvin Junkin_ 959 - Pictures by Harry Raleigh. - - ~Prayers for the Living.~ _Mary W. Plummer_ 367 - - ~Ritual.~ _William Rose Benét_ 788 - - ~Royal Mummy, To a~ _Anna Glen Stoddard_ 631 - - ~Rymbels~: - Pictures by Oliver Herford. - The Girl and the Raspberry Ice. _Oliver Herford_ 637 - The Yellow Vase. _Charles Hanson Towne_ 637 - Tragedy. _Theodosia Garrison_ 638 - “On Revient toujours à Son Premier - Amour”. _Oliver Herford_ 638 - A Rymbel of Rhymers. _Carolyn Wells_ 796 - The Prudent Lover. _L. Frank Tooker_ 797 - On a Portrait of Nancy. _Carolyn Wells_ 797 - - ~Same Old Lure, The~ _Berton Braley_ 478 - - ~Scarlet Tanager, To a~ _Grace Hazard Conkling_ 28 - - ~Sierra Madre.~ _Henry Van Dyke_ 347 - - ~Socratic Argument.~ _John Carver Alden_ 960 - - ~Submarine Mountains.~ _Cale Young Rice_ 693 - - ~Triolet, A~ _Leroy Titus Weeks_ 636 - - ~Wine of Night, The~ _Louis Untermeyer_ 119 - - ~Wingèd Victory.~ _Victor Whitlock_ 596 - Photograph and decoration. - - ~Wise Saint, The~ _Herman Da Costa_ 798 - Picture by W. T. Benda. - - ~Young Heart in Age, The~ _Edith M. Thomas_ 78 - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: - - TIMOTHY COLE’S - WOOD ENGRAVINGS - OF - MASTERPIECES - IN - AMERICAN GALLERIES - - UNE DAME ESPAGNOLE - BY - FORTUNY -] - - - - -[Illustration: Owned by the Metropolitan Museum, New York - -UNE DAME ESPAGNOLE. BY FORTUNY - -(TIMOTHY COLE’S WOOD ENGRAVINGS OF MASTERPIECES IN AMERICAN GALLERIES)] - - - - -Copyright 1913, by ~The Century Co.~ All rights reserved. - - - - -~The Century Magazine~ - - ~Vol. LXXXVI~ MAY, 1913 ~No. 1~ - - - - -THE HAYES-TILDEN CONTEST FOR THE PRESIDENCY - -INSIDE HISTORY OF A GREAT POLITICAL CRISIS - -(THE CENTURY’S AFTER-THE-WAR SERIES) - -BY HENRY WATTERSON - -Editor of the Louisville “Courier-Journal” - - -I - -The time is coming, if it has not already arrived, when among -fair-minded and intelligent Americans there will not be two opinions -touching the Hayes-Tilden contest for the Presidency in 1876-77--that -both by the popular vote and a fair count of the electoral vote Tilden -was elected and Hayes was defeated--but the whole truth underlying the -determinate incidents which led to the rejection of Tilden and the -seating of Hayes will never be known. - -“All history is a lie,” observed Sir Robert Walpole, the corruptionist, -mindful of what was likely to be written about himself, and, “What is -history,” asked Napoleon, the conqueror, “but a fable agreed upon?” - -In the first administration of Mr. Cleveland, there were present -at a dinner-table in Washington, the President being of the party, -two leading Democrats and two leading Republicans who had sustained -confidential relations to the principals and played important parts -in the drama of the Disputed Succession. These latter had been long -upon terms of personal intimacy. The occasion was informal and joyous, -the good-fellowship of the heartiest. Inevitably the conversation -drifted to the Electoral Commission, which had counted Tilden out -and Hayes in, and of which each of the four had some story to tell. -Beginning in banter, with interchanges of badinage, it presently fell -into reminiscence, deepening as the interest of the listeners rose to -what under different conditions might have been described as unguarded -gaiety, if not imprudent garrulity. The little audience was rapt. -Finally, Mr. Cleveland raised both hands and exclaimed, “What would -the people of this country think if the roof could be lifted from this -house and they could hear these men!” And then one of the four, a -gentleman noted for his wealth both of money and humor, replied, “But -the roof is not going to be lifted from this house, and if any one -repeats what I have said I will denounce him as a liar.” - -Once in a while the world is startled by some revelation of the unknown -which alters the estimate of an historic event or figure; but it is -measurably true, as Metternich declares, that those who make history -rarely have time to write it. - -It is not my wish in recurring to the events of five-and-thirty years -ago to invoke and awaken any of the passions of that time, nor my -purpose to assail the character or motives of any of the leading -actors. Most of them, including the principals, I knew well; to many -of their secrets I was privy. As I was serving, in a sense, as Mr. -Tilden’s personal representative in the Lower House of the Forty-fourth -Congress, and as a member of the joint Democratic Advisory or Steering -Committee of the two Houses, all that passed came more or less, if not -under my supervision, yet to my knowledge; and long ago I resolved -that certain matters should remain a sealed book in my memory. I make -no issue of veracity with the living; the dead should be sacred. The -contradictory promptings, not always crooked; the double constructions -possible to men’s actions; the intermingling of ambition and patriotism -beneath the lash of party spirit; often wrong unconscious of itself; -sometimes equivocation deceiving itself; in short, the tangled web of -good and ill inseparable from great affairs of loss and gain, made -debatable ground for every step of the Hayes-Tilden proceeding. - -I shall bear sure testimony to the integrity of Mr. Tilden. I directly -know that the Presidency was offered to him for a price and that he -refused it; and I indirectly know and believe that two other offers -came to him which also he declined. The accusation that he was willing -to buy, and through the cipher despatches and other ways tried to buy, -rests upon appearance supporting mistaken surmise. Mr. Tilden knew -nothing of the cipher despatches until they appeared in the “New-York -Tribune.” Neither did Mr. George W. Smith, his private secretary, and -later one of the trustees to his will. It should be sufficient to say -that, so far as they involved No. 15 Gramercy Park, they were the work -solely of Colonel Pelton, acting on his own responsibility, and, as -Mr. Tilden’s nephew, exceeding his authority to act; that it later -developed that during this period Colonel Pelton had not been in his -perfect mind, but was at least semi-irresponsible; and that on two -occasions when the vote or votes sought seemed within reach, Mr. Tilden -interposed to forbid. Directly and personally, I know this to be true. - -The price, at least in patronage, which the Republicans actually paid -for possession is of public record. Yet I not only do not question -the integrity of Mr. Hayes, but I believe him, and most of those -immediately about him, to have been high-minded men who thought they -were doing for the best in a situation unparalleled and beset with -perplexity. What they did tends to show that men will do for party and -in concert what the same men never would be willing to do each on his -own responsibility. In his “Life of Samuel J. Tilden,” John Bigelow -says: - - Why persons occupying the most exalted positions should have - ventured to compromise their reputations by this deliberate - consummation of a series of crimes which struck at the very - foundations of the Republic, is a question which still puzzles - many of all parties who have no charity for the crimes themselves. - I have already referred to the terrors and desperation with which - the prospect of Tilden’s election inspired the great army of - office-holders at the close of Grant’s administration. That army, - numerous and formidable as it was, was comparatively limited. - There was a much larger and justly influential class who were - apprehensive that the return of the Democratic party to power - threatened a reactionary policy at Washington, to the undoing of - some or all the important results of the war. These apprehensions - were inflamed by the party press until they were confined to no - class, but more or less pervaded all the Northern States. The - Electoral Tribunal, consisting mainly of men appointed to their - positions by Republican Presidents, or elected from strong - Republican States, felt the pressure of this feeling, and from - motives compounded in more or less varying proportions of dread of - the Democrats, personal ambition, zeal for their party, and respect - for their constituents, reached the conclusion that the exclusion - of Tilden from the White House was an end which justified whatever - means were necessary to accomplish it. They regarded it like the - emancipation of the slaves, as a war measure. - -[Illustration: PRESIDENT AND MRS. HAYES IN 1877, AT THE TIME OF THEIR -SILVER WEDDING] - - -II - -The nomination of Horace Greeley in 1872 and the overwhelming defeat -that followed left the Democratic party in an abyss of despair. The old -Whig party, after the disaster that overtook it in 1852, had been not -more demoralized. Yet in the general elections of 1874 the Democrats -swept the country, carrying many Northern States and sending a great -majority to the Forty-fourth Congress. - -Reconstruction was breaking down of its very weight and rottenness. The -panic of 1873 reacted against the party in power. Dissatisfaction with -Grant, which had not sufficed two years before to displace him, was -growing apace. Favoritism bred corruption, and corruption grew more and -more defiant. Succeeding, scandals cast their shadows before. Chickens -of “carpet-baggery” let loose upon the South were coming home to roost -at the North. There appeared everywhere a noticeable subsidence of the -sectional spirit and a rising tide of the national spirit. Reform was -needed alike in the State governments and the National government, and -the cry for reform proved something other than an idle word. All things -made for Democracy. - -[Illustration: From a photograph by W. Kurtz - -SAMUEL J. TILDEN, GOVERNOR OF NEW YORK, 1875-76] - -Yet there were many and serious handicaps. The light and leading of -the historic Democratic party which had issued from the South were in -obscurity and abeyance, while most of those surviving who had been -distinguished in the party conduct and counsels were disabled by act -of Congress. Of the few prominent Democrats left at the North, many -were tainted by what was called Copperheadism (sympathy with the -Confederacy). To find a chieftain wholly free from this contamination, -Democracy, having failed of success in presidential campaigns not -only with Greeley but with McClellan and Seymour, was turning to such -disaffected Republicans as Chase, Field, and Davis of the Supreme -Court. At last Heaven seemed to smile from the clouds upon the -disordered ranks and to summon thence a man meeting the requirements of -the time. This was Samuel Jones Tilden. - -[Illustration: From a photograph owned by F. H. Meserve - -SENATOR ZACHARIAH CHANDLER - -Chairman of the Republican National Committee in the Hayes-Tilden -campaign.] - -To his familiars, Mr. Tilden was a dear old bachelor who lived in -a fine old mansion in Gramercy Park. Though sixty years of age, he -seemed in the prime of his manhood; a genial and overflowing scholar; -a trained and earnest doctrinaire; a public-spirited, patriotic -citizen, well known and highly esteemed, who had made fame and fortune -at the bar and had always been interested in public affairs. He was a -dreamer with a genius for business, a philosopher yet an organizer. He -pursued the tenor of his life with measured tread. His domestic fabric -was disfigured by none of the isolation and squalor which so often -attend the confirmed celibate. His home life was a model of order and -decorum, his home as unchallenged as a bishopric, its hospitality, -though select, profuse and untiring. An elder sister presided at his -board, as simple, kindly, and unostentatious, but as methodical as -himself. He was a lover of books rather than music and art, but also -of horses and dogs and out-of-door activity. He was fond of young -people, particularly of young girls; he drew them about him, and was a -veritable Sir Roger de Coverley in his gallantries toward them and his -zeal in amusing them and making them happy. His tastes were frugal and -their indulgence was sparing. He took his wine not plenteously, though -he enjoyed it--especially his “blue seal” while it lasted--and sipped -his whisky-and-water on occasion with a pleased composure redolent of -discursive talk, of which, when he cared to lead the conversation, he -was a master. He had early come into a great legal practice and held -a commanding professional position. His judgment was believed to be -infallible; and it is certain that after 1871 he rarely appeared in the -courts of law except as counselor, settling in chambers most of the -cases that came to him. - -[Illustration: From a photograph by Sherman & McHugh - -CONGRESSMAN ABRAM S. HEWITT - -Chairman of the Democratic National Committee in the Hayes-Tilden -campaign.] - -It was such a man whom, in 1874, the Democrats nominated for Governor -of New York. To say truth, it was not thought by those making the -nomination that he had much chance to win. He was himself so much -better advised that months ahead he prefigured very near the exact -vote. The afternoon of the day of election one of the group of friends, -who even thus early had the Presidency in mind, found him in his -library confident and calm. - -“What majority will you have?” he asked cheerily. - -“Any,” replied the friend sententiously. - -“How about fifteen thousand?” - -“Quite enough.” - -“Twenty-five thousand?” - -“Still better.” - -“The majority,” he said, “will be a little in excess of fifty -thousand.” It was 53,315. His estimate was not guesswork. He had -organized his campaign by school-districts. His canvass system -was perfect, his canvassers were as penetrating and careful as -census-takers. He had before him reports from every voting precinct -in the State. They were corroborated by the official returns. He had -defeated General John A. Dix, thought to be invincible, by a majority -very nearly the same as that by which Governor Dix had been elected two -years before. - - -III - -The time and the man had met. Although Mr. Tilden had not before held -executive office, he was ripe and ready for the work. His experience -in the pursuit and overthrow of the Tweed Ring in New York, the great -metropolis, had prepared and fitted him to deal with the Canal Ring at -Albany, the State Capital. Administrative Reform was now uppermost in -the public mind, and here in the Empire State of the Union had come -to the head of affairs a Chief Magistrate at once exact and exacting, -deeply versed not only in legal lore but in a knowledge of the methods -by which political power was being turned to private profit, and of -the men--Democrats as well as Republicans--who were preying upon the -substance of the people. - -The story of the two years that followed relates to investigations that -investigated, to prosecutions that convicted, to the overhauling of the -civil fabric, to the rehabilitation of popular censorship, to reduced -estimates and lower taxes. - -The campaign for the presidential nomination began as early as the -autumn of 1875. The Southern end of it was easy enough. A committee of -Southerners residing in New York was formed. Never a leading Southern -man came to town who was not “seen.” If of enough importance, he was -taken to No. 15 Gramercy Park. Mr. Tilden measured to the Southern -standard of the gentleman in politics. He impressed the disfranchised -Southern leaders as a statesman of the old order and altogether after -their own idea of what a President ought to be. The South came to St. -Louis, the seat of the National Convention, represented by its foremost -citizens and almost a unit for the Governor of New York. The main -opposition sprang from Tammany Hall, of which John Kelly was then the -Chief. Its very extravagance proved an advantage to Tilden. Two days -before the meeting of the Convention I sent this message to Mr. Tilden: -“Tell Blackstone [his favorite riding horse] that he wins in a walk.” -The anti-Tilden men put up the Hon. S. S. (“Sunset”) Cox, for Temporary -Chairman. It was a clever move. Mr. Cox, though sure for Tammany, was -popular everywhere and especially at the South. His backers thought -that with him they could count upon a majority of the National -Committee. - -The night before the assembling, Mr. Tilden’s two or three leading -friends on the Committee came to me and said: “We can elect you -Chairman over Cox, but no one else.” I demurred at once. “I don’t know -one rule of parliamentary law from another,” I said. “We will have the -best parliamentarian on the continent right by you all the time,” they -said. “I can’t see to recognize a man on the floor of the convention,” -I said. “We’ll have a dozen men to tell you,” they replied. So it was -arranged, and thus at the last moment I was chosen. - -I had barely time to write the required “key-note” speech, but -not to commit it to memory, nor sight to read it, even had I been -willing to adopt that mode of delivery. It would not do to trust to -extemporization. A friend, Colonel Stoddard Johnston, who was familiar -with my penmanship, came to the rescue. Concealing my manuscript behind -his hat, he lined the words out to me between the cheering, I having -mastered a few opening sentences. - -[Illustration: From a photograph owned by F. H. Meserve THOMAS F. -BAYARD of Delaware - -From a photograph by Brady FRANCIS KERNAN of New York - -From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell - -ALLEN G. THURMAN of Ohio - -From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell JOSEPH E. McDONALD of Indiana - -From a photograph by Brady JOHN W. STEVENSON of Kentucky - -SENATORS OF THE DEMOCRATIC “ADVISORY COMMITTEE” IN THE HAYES-TILDEN -CONTEST] - -Luck was with me. It went with a bang--not, however, wholly without -detection. The Indianians, devoted to Hendricks, were very wroth. -“See that fat man behind the hat telling him what to say,” said one to -his neighbor, who answered, “Yes, and wrote it for him, too, I’ll be -bound.” - -One might as well attempt to drive six horses by proxy as preside over -a National Convention by hearsay. I lost my parliamentarian at once. I -just made my parliamentary law as we went. Never before nor since did -any deliberative body proceed under manual so startling and original. -But I delivered each ruling with a resonance--it were better called -an impudence--which had an air of authority. There was a good deal of -quiet laughter on the floor among the knowing ones, though I knew the -mass was as ignorant as I was myself; but, realizing that I meant to -be just and was expediting business, the Convention soon warmed to -me, and, feeling this, I began to be perfectly at home. I never had a -better day’s sport in all my life. - -One incident was particularly amusing. Much against my will and over my -protest, I was brought to promise that Miss Phœbe Couzins, who bore -a Woman’s Rights Memorial, should at some opportune moment be given the -floor to present it. I foresaw what a row it was bound to occasion. -Toward noon, when there was a lull in the proceedings, I said with -an emphasis meant to carry conviction, “Gentlemen of the Convention, -Miss Phœbe Couzins, a representative of the Woman’s Association of -America, has a Memorial from that body and, in the absence of other -business, the chair will now recognize her.” - -Instantly, and from every part of the hall, arose cries of “No!” These -put some heart into me. Many a time as a school-boy I had proudly -declaimed the passage from John Home’s tragedy, “My name is Norval.” -Again I stood upon “the Grampian hills.” The Committee was escorting -Miss Couzins down the aisle. When she came within the radius of my -poor vision I saw that she was a beauty and dressed to kill! That was -reassurance. Gaining a little time while the hall fairly rocked with -its thunder of negation, I laid the gavel down and stepped to the -edge of the platform and gave Miss Couzins my hand. As she appeared -above the throng there was a momentary “Ah!” and then a lull broken -by a single voice: “Mr. Chairman, I rise to a point of order.” Leading -Miss Couzins to the front of the stage, I took up the gavel and gave a -gentle rap, saying, “The gentleman will take his seat.” - -“But, Mr. Chairman, I rise to a point of order,” he vociferated. - -“The gentleman will take his seat instantly,” I answered in a tone of -one about to throw the gavel at his head. “No point of order is in -order when a lady has the floor.” - -After that Miss Couzins received a positive ovation, and having -delivered her message retired in a blaze of glory. - -Mr. Tilden was nominated on the second ballot. The campaign that -followed proved one of the most memorable in our history. When it came -to an end the result showed on the face of the returns 196 in the -Electoral College, 11 more than a majority, and in the popular vote -4,300,316, a majority of 264,300 over Hayes. - -How this came to be first contested and then complicated so as -ultimately to be set aside has been minutely related by its authors. -The newspapers, both Republican and Democratic, of November 8, 1876, -the morning after the election, conceded an overwhelming victory for -Tilden and Hendricks. There was, however, a single exception. “The -New York Times” had gone to press with its first edition, leaving the -result in doubt but inclining toward the success of the Democrats. -In its later editions this tentative attitude was changed to the -statement that Mr. Hayes lacked the vote only of Florida--“claimed by -the Republicans”--to be sure of the required 185 votes in the Electoral -College. - -The story of this surprising discrepancy between midnight and daylight -reads like a chapter of fiction. - -[Illustration: - - CONGRESSMEN OF THE DEMOCRATIC “ADVISORY - COMMITTEE” IN THE HAYES-TILDEN CONTEST - -From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell - -R. L. GIBSON of Louisiana - -From a photograph WILLIAM S. HOLMAN of Indiana - -From a photograph by Sarony HENRY WATTERSON of Kentucky - -From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell SAMUEL J. RANDALL of -Pennsylvania (Speaker) - -From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell EPPA HUNTON of Virginia - -From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell - -L. Q. C. LAMAR of Mississippi - -From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell - -HENRY B. PAYNE of Ohio] - -After the early edition of the “Times” had gone to press certain -members of the editorial staff were at supper, very much cast down by -the returns, when a messenger brought a telegram from Senator Barnum -of Connecticut, financial head of the Democratic National Committee, -asking for the “Times’s” latest news from Oregon, Louisiana, Florida, -and South Carolina. But for that unlucky telegram Tilden would -probably have been inaugurated President of the United States. - -[Illustration: FIRE AND WATER MAKE VAPOR. - -WHAT A COOLING OFF WILL BE THERE, MY COUNTRYMEN! - -From “Harper’s Weekly” of February 3, 1877 - -THOMAS NAST’S CARTOON ON COLONEL WATTERSON’S SUGGESTION OF A GATHERING -OF ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DEMOCRATS IN WASHINGTON - -The ice-water is being applied by Murat Halstead, editor of the -Cincinnati “Commercial,” which was opposed to Tilden; but in the -Greeley campaign of 1872 Halstead had worked with Watterson. (See -~The Century~ for November, 1912.)] - -The “Times” people, intense Republican partizans, at once saw an -opportunity. If Barnum did not know, why might not a doubt be raised? -At once the editorial in the first edition was revised to take a -decisive tone and declare the election of Hayes. One of the editorial -council, Mr. John C. Reid, hurried to Republican Headquarters in the -Fifth Avenue Hotel, which he found deserted, the triumph of Tilden -having long before sent everybody to bed. Mr. Reid then sought the room -of Senator Zachariah Chandler, Chairman of the National Republican -Committee. While upon this errand he encountered in the hotel corridor -“a small man wearing an enormous pair of goggles, his hat drawn over -his ears, a greatcoat with a heavy military cloak, and carrying a -gripsack and newspaper in his hand. The newspaper was the ‘New-York -Tribune,’” announcing the election of Tilden and the defeat of Hayes. -The new-comer was Mr. William E. Chandler, even then a very prominent -Republican politician, just arrived from New Hampshire and very much -exasperated by what he had read. - -Mr. Reid had another tale to tell. The two found Mr. Zachariah -Chandler, who bade them leave him alone and do whatever they thought -best. They did so consumingly, sending telegrams to Columbia, -Tallahassee, and New Orleans, stating to each of the parties addressed -that the result of the election depended upon his State. To these were -appended the signature of Zachariah Chandler. Later in the day Senator -Chandler, advised of what had been set on foot and its possibilities, -issued from National Republican Headquarters this laconic message: -“Hayes has 185 electoral votes and is elected.” Thus began and was put -in motion the scheme to confuse the returns and make a disputed count -of the vote. - - -IV - -The day after the election I wired Mr. Tilden suggesting that, as -Governor of New York, he propose to Mr. Hayes, the Governor of Ohio, -that they unite upon a committee of eminent citizens, composed in -equal numbers of the friends of each, who should proceed at once -to Louisiana, which appeared to be the objective point of greatest -moment to the already contested result. Pursuant to a telegraphic -correspondence which followed, I left Louisville that night for New -Orleans. I was joined en route by Mr. Lamar of Mississippi, and -together we arrived in the Crescent City Friday morning. - -[Illustration: “ONE TOUCH OF NATURE MAKES”--EVEN HENRY WATTERSON GIVE IN - -“Let us have peace. I don’t care who is the next President,” cries our -bold Patriarch at the ~FIRST~ arrival. - -“The Hon. Henry Watterson has just been presented with a son--weight, -11 pounds.”--_Washington Correspondence._ - - This cartoon by Thomas Nast, with the above titles and explanation, - appeared in “Harper’s Weekly” of March 10, 1877, as an apology for - the lampoon on the opposite page. (See page 17.)] - -It has since transpired that the Republicans were promptly advised by -the Western Union Telegraph Company of all that passed over its wires, -my despatches to Mr. Tilden being read in Republican Headquarters at -least as soon they reached Gramercy Park. - -[Illustration: From a photograph owned by F. H. Meserve - -STANLEY MATTHEWS OF OHIO] - -Mr. Tilden did not adopt the plan of a direct proposal to Mr. Hayes. -Instead, he chose a body of Democrats to go to the “seat of war.” But -before any of them had arrived General Grant, the actual President, -anticipating what was about to happen, appointed a body of Republicans -for the like purpose, and the advance guard of these appeared on the -scene the following Monday. - -Within a week the St. Charles Hotel might have been mistaken for a -caravansary of the National Capital. Among the Republicans were John -Sherman, Stanley Matthews, Garfield, Evarts, Logan, Kelley, Stoughton, -and many others. Among the Democrats, besides Lamar and myself, came -Lyman Trumbull, Samuel J. Randall, William R. Morrison, McDonald, of -Indiana, and many others. A certain degree of personal intimacy existed -between the members of the two groups, and the “entente” was quite as -unrestrained as might have existed between rival athletic teams. A -Kentucky friend sent me a demijohn of what was represented as very old -Bourbon, and I divided it with “our friends the enemy.” New Orleans was -new to most of the “visiting statesmen,” and we attended the places of -amusement, lived in the restaurants, and “saw the sights,” as if we -had been tourists in a foreign land and not partizans charged with the -business of adjusting a presidential election from implacable points of -view. - -My own relations were especially friendly with John Sherman and James -A. Garfield, a colleague on the Committee of Ways and Means, and with -Stanley Matthews, a near kinsman by marriage, who had stood as an elder -brother to me from my childhood. - -Corruption was in the air. That the Returning Board was for sale and -could be bought was the universal impression. Every day some one turned -up with pretended authority and an offer. Most of these were of course -the merest adventurers. It was my own belief that the Returning Board -was playing for the best price it could get from the Republicans and -that the only effect of any offer to buy on our part would be to assist -this scheme of blackmail. - -The Returning Board consisted of two white men, Wells and Anderson, -and two Negroes, Kenner and Casanave. One and all they were without -character. I was tempted through sheer curiosity to listen to a -proposal which seemed to come direct from the Board itself, the -messenger being a well-known State senator. As if he were proposing to -dispose of a horse or a dog he stated his errand. - -“You think you can deliver the goods?” said I. - -“I am authorized to make the offer,” he answered. - -“And for how much?” I asked. - -“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” he replied. “One hundred -thousand each for Wells and Anderson and twenty-five thousand apiece -for the niggers.” - -To my mind it was a joke. “Senator,” said I, “the terms are as cheap as -dirt. I don’t happen to have the amount about me at the moment, but I -will communicate with my principal and see you later.” - -Having no thought of entertaining the proposal, I had forgotten the -incident, when two or three days later my man met me in the lobby of -the hotel and pressed for a definite reply. I then told him I had found -that I possessed no authority to act and advised him to go elsewhere. - -It is asserted that Wells and Anderson did agree to sell and were -turned down by Mr. Hewitt, and, being refused their demands for cash by -the Democrats, took their final pay, at least in patronage, from their -own party.[1] - - -V - -I passed the Christmas week of 1876 in New York with Mr. Tilden. -On Christmas day we dined alone. The outlook, on the whole, was -cheering. With John Bigelow and Manton Marble Mr. Tilden had been -busily engaged compiling the data for a constitutional battle to be -fought by the Democrats in Congress, maintaining the right of the -House of Representatives to concurrent jurisdiction with the Senate -in the counting of the electoral vote, pursuant to an unbroken line -of precedents established by the method of proceeding in every -presidential election between 1793 and 1872. - -There was very great perplexity in the public mind. Both parties -appeared to be at sea. The dispute between the Democratic House and the -Republican Senate made for thick weather. Contests of the vote of three -States--Louisiana, South Carolina, and Florida, not to mention single -votes in Oregon and Vermont--which presently began to blow a gale, had -already spread menacing clouds across the political sky. Except Mr. -Tilden, the wisest among the leaders knew not precisely what to do. - -From New Orleans, on the Saturday night succeeding the presidential -election, I had telegraphed to Mr. Tilden, detailing the exact -conditions there and urging active and immediate agitation. The chance -had been lost. I thought then, and I still think, that the conspiracy -of a few men to use the corrupt Returning Boards of Louisiana, South -Carolina, and Florida to upset the election and make confusion in -Congress, might, by prompt exposure and popular appeal, have been -thwarted. Be this as it may, my spirit was depressed and my confidence -discouraged the intense quietude on our side, for I was sure that -beneath the surface the Republicans, with resolute determination and -multiplied resources, were as busy as bees. - -[Illustration: From a photograph owned by F. H. Meserve - -WILLIAM E. CHANDLER OF NEW HAMPSHIRE] - -Mr. Robert M. McLane, later Governor of Maryland and Minister to -France--a man of rare ability and large experience, who had served in -Congress and in diplomacy, and was an old friend of Mr. Tilden--had -been at a Gramercy Park conference when my New Orleans report arrived, -and had then and there urged the agitation recommended by me. He was -now again in New York. When a lad he had been in England with his -father, Lewis McLane, then American Minister to the Court of St. -James’s, during the excitement over the Reform Bill of 1832. He had -witnessed the popular demonstrations and had been impressed by the -direct force of public opinion upon law-making and law-makers. An -analogous situation had arrived in America. The Republican Senate was -as the Tory House of Lords. We must organize a movement such as had -been so effectual in England. Obviously something was going amiss with -us and something had to be done. - -[Illustration: From the painting by Cordelia Adele Fassett, in -the Senate wing of the Capitol at Washington. After a photograph, -copyright, 1878, by Mrs. S. M. Fassett - -THE SESSION OF THE ELECTORAL COMMISSION TO CONSIDER THE CASE OF THE -FLORIDA RETURNS, IN THE SUPREME COURT ROOM, FEBRUARY 5, 1877] - - NOTE TO “THE SESSION OF THE ELECTORAL COMMISSION,” ETC. (SEE THE - PREVIOUS PAGE) - - With the purpose of making a picture typical of the sessions of the - Electoral Commission, Mrs. Fassett included prominent people who - were in Washington at the time, and who gave the artist sittings in - the Supreme Court Room. - - The Commissioners on the bench, from left to right are: Senators - Thurman, Bayard (writing), Frelinghuysen, Morton, Edmunds; Supreme - Court Justices Strong, Miller, Clifford, Field, Bradley; Members - of the House, Payne, Hunton, Abbott, Garfield, and Hoar. At the - left, below Thurman, is the head of Senator Kernan who acted as - substitute for the former when ill. - - William M. Evarts, counsel for Hayes, is addressing the Commission, - and his associate, E. W. Stoughton (white-haired), sits behind him; - Charles O’Conor, chief counsel for Tilden, sits at his left. Other - members of counsel are grouped in the middle-ground. At the left - is seen George Bancroft (with long white beard), and in the middle - foreground (looking out), James G. Blaine. - -It was agreed that I return to Washington and make a speech “feeling -the pulse” of the country, with the suggestion that in the National -Capital should assemble “a mass convention of at least one hundred -thousand peaceful citizens,” exercising “the freeman’s right of -petition.” - -The idea was one of many proposals of a more drastic kind and was the -merest venture. I, myself, had no great faith in it. But I prepared the -speech, and after much reading and revising, it was held by Mr. Tilden -and Mr. McLane to cover the case and meet the purpose, Mr. Tilden -writing Mr. Randall, Speaker of the House of Representatives, a letter, -carried to Washington by Mr. McLane, instructing him what to do in the -event that the popular response should prove favorable. - -Alack-the-day! The Democrats were equal to nothing affirmative. The -Republicans were united and resolute. I delivered the speech, not in -the House, as had been intended, but at a public meeting which seemed -opportune. The Democrats at once set about denying the sinister and -violent purpose ascribed to it by the Republicans, who, fully advised -that it had emanated from Gramercy Park, and came by authority, started -a counter agitation of their own. - -I became the target for every kind of ridicule and abuse. Nast drew a -grotesque cartoon of me, distorting my suggestion for the assembling of -one hundred thousand citizens, which was both offensive and libelous. - -Being on friendly terms with the Harpers, I made my displeasure so -resonant in Franklin Square--Nast himself having no personal ill-will -toward me--that a curious and pleasing opportunity which came to pass -was taken to make amends. A son having been born to me, “Harper’s -Weekly” contained an atoning cartoon representing the child in its -father’s arms, and, above, the legend: “10,000 sons from Kentucky, -alone.” Some wag said that the son in question, was “the only one of -the hundred thousand in arms who came when he was called.” - -For many years afterward I was pursued by this unlucky speech, or -rather by the misinterpretation given to it alike by friend and foe. -Nast’s first cartoon was accepted as a faithful portrait, and I was -accordingly satirized and stigmatized, although no thought of violence -ever had entered my mind, and in the final proceedings I had voted for -the Electoral Commission Bill and faithfully stood by its decisions. -Joseph Pulitzer, who immediately followed me on the occasion named, -declared that he wanted my “one hundred thousand” to come fully armed -and ready for business; yet he never was taken to task or reminded of -his temerity. - - -VI - -The Electoral Commission Bill was considered with great secrecy by the -Joint Committees of the House and Senate. Its terms were in direct -contravention of Mr. Tilden’s plan. This was simplicity itself. He was -for asserting, by formal resolution, the conclusive right of the two -Houses acting concurrently to count the electoral vote and determine -what should be counted as electoral votes, and for denying, also by -formal resolution, the pretension set up by the Republicans that the -President of the Senate had lawful right to assume that function. He -was for urging that issue in debate in both Houses and before the -country. He thought that if the attempt should be made to usurp for -the President of the Senate a power to make the count, and thus -practically to control the Presidential election, the scheme would -break down in process of execution. - -Strange to say, Mr. Tilden was not consulted by the party leaders in -Congress until the fourteenth of January, and then only by Mr. Hewitt, -the extra-constitutional features of the Electoral Tribunal measure -having already received the assent of Mr. Bayard and Mr. Thurman, the -Democratic members of the Senate Committee. Standing by his original -plan, and answering Mr. Hewitt’s statement that Mr. Bayard and Mr. -Thurman were fully committed, Mr. Tilden said: “Is it not, then, -rather late to consult me?” to which Mr. Hewitt replied: “They do -not consult you. They are public men, and have their own duties and -responsibilities. I consult you.” In the course of the discussion with -Mr. Hewitt which followed Mr. Tilden said, “If you go into conference -with your adversary, and can’t break off because you feel you must -agree to something, you cannot negotiate--you are not fit to negotiate. -You will be beaten upon every detail.” Replying to the apprehension -of a collision of force between the parties, Mr. Tilden thought it -exaggerated, but said: “Why surrender now? You can always surrender. -Why surrender before the battle, for fear you may have to surrender -after the battle?” - -In short, Mr. Tilden condemned the proceeding as precipitate. It -was a month before the time for the count, and he saw no reason why -opportunity should not be given for consideration and consultation by -all the representatives of the people. He treated the state of mind of -Bayard and Thurman as a panic in which they were liable to act in haste -and repent at leisure. He stood for publicity and wider discussion, -distrusting a scheme to submit such vast interests to a small body -sitting in the Capitol, as likely to become the sport of intrigue and -fraud. - -Mr. Hewitt returned to Washington and, without communicating to Mr. -Tilden’s immediate friends in the House his attitude and objection, -united with Mr. Thurman and Mr. Bayard in completing the bill and -reporting it to the Democratic Advisory Committee, as, by a caucus -rule, had to be done with all measures relating to the great issue then -before us. No intimation had preceded it. It fell like a bombshell -upon the members of the Committee. In the debate that followed Mr. -Bayard was very insistent, answering the objections at once offered by -me, first aggressively and then angrily, going the length of saying, -“If you do not accept this plan I shall wash my hands of the whole -business, and you can go ahead and seat your President in your own way.” - -Mr. Randall, the Speaker, said nothing, but he was with me, as was a -majority of my colleagues. It was Mr. Hunton, of Virginia, who poured -oil on the troubled waters, and, somewhat in doubt as to whether the -changed situation had changed Mr. Tilden, I yielded my better judgment, -declaring it as my opinion that the plan would seat Hayes, and there -being no other protestant the Committee finally gave a reluctant assent. - -In “open session” a majority of Democrats favored the bill. Many of -them made it their own. They passed it. There was belief that justice -David Davis, who was expected to become a member of the Commission, was -sure for Tilden. If, under this surmise, he had been, the political -complexion of “eight to seven” would have been reversed. Elected to the -United States Senate from Illinois, Judge Davis declined to serve, and -Mr. Justice Bradley was chosen for the Commission in his place. The day -after the inauguration of Hayes my kinsman, Stanley Matthews, said to -me, “You people wanted Judge Davis. So did we. I tell you what I know, -that Judge Davis was as safe for us as Judge Bradley. We preferred him -because he carried more weight.” The subsequent career of Judge Davis -in the Senate gives conclusive proof that this was true. - -When the consideration of the disputed votes before the Commission -had proceeded far enough to demonstrate the likelihood that its final -decision would be for Hayes, a movement of obstruction and delay, “a -filibuster,” was organized by about forty Democratic members of the -House. It proved rather turbulent than effective. The South stood -very nearly solid for carrying out the agreement in good faith. -“Toward the close the filibuster received what appeared formidable -reinforcement from the Louisiana Delegation.” This was in reality -merely a “bluff,” intended to induce the Hayes people to make certain -concessions touching their State government. It had the desired effect. -Satisfactory assurances having been given, the count proceeded to the -end--a very bitter end, indeed, for the Democrats. - -The final conference between the Louisianians and the accredited -representatives of Mr. Hayes was held at Wormley’s Hotel and came to -be called “the Wormley Conference.” It was the subject of uncommon -interest and heated controversy at the time and long afterward. -Without knowing why or for what purpose, I was asked to be present -by my colleague, Mr. Ellis, of Louisiana, and later in the day the -same invitation came to me from the Republicans through Mr. Garfield. -Something was said about my serving as “a referee.” Just before the -appointed hour General M. C. Butler, of South Carolina, afterward -so long a Senator in Congress, said to me: “This meeting is called -to enable Louisiana to make terms with Hayes. South Carolina is as -deeply concerned as Louisiana, but we have nobody to represent us in -Congress and hence have not been invited. South Carolina puts herself -in your hands and expects you to secure for her whatever terms are -given to Louisiana.” So, of a sudden, I found myself invested with -responsibility equally as an “agent” and a “referee.” - -It is hardly worth while repeating in detail all that passed at -this Wormley Conference, made public long ago by Congressional -investigation. When I entered the apartment of Mr. Evarts at Wormley’s -I found, besides Mr. Evarts, Mr. John Sherman, Mr. Garfield, Governor -Dennison and Mr. Stanley Matthews, of the Republicans, and Mr. Ellis, -Mr. Levy, and Mr. Burke, Democrats of Louisiana. Substantially, the -terms had been agreed upon during previous conferences; that is, the -promise that, if Hayes came in, the troops should be withdrawn and -the people of Louisiana be left free to set their house in order to -suit themselves. The actual order withdrawing the troops was issued by -President Grant two or three days later, just as he was going out of -office. - -“Now, gentlemen,” said I, half in jest, “I am here to represent South -Carolina, and if the terms given to Louisiana are not equally applied -to South Carolina, I become a filibuster myself to-morrow morning.” -There was some chaffing as to what right I had there and how I got in, -when with great earnestness Governor Dennison, who had been the bearer -of a letter from Mr. Hayes which he had read to us, put his hand on my -shoulder and said, “As a matter of course, the Southern policy to which -Mr. Hayes has here pledged himself embraces South Carolina as well as -Louisiana.” Mr. Sherman, Mr. Garfield, and Mr. Evarts concurred warmly -in this, and, immediately after we separated, I communicated the fact -to General Butler. - -In the acrimonious discussion which subsequently sought to make -“bargain, intrigue, and corruption” of this Wormley Conference, and -to involve certain Democratic members of the House who were nowise -party to it, but had sympathized with the purpose of Louisiana and -South Carolina to obtain some measure of relief from intolerable -local conditions, I never was questioned or assailed. No one doubted -my fidelity to Mr. Tilden, who had been promptly advised of all that -passed and who justified what I had done. Though “conscripted,” as -it were, and rather a passive agent, I could see no wrong in the -proceeding. I had spoken and voted in favor of the Electoral Tribunal -Bill and, losing, had no thought of repudiating its conclusions. -Hayes was already as good as seated. If the States of Louisiana and -South Carolina could save their local autonomy out of the general -wreck, there seemed no good reason to forbid. On the other hand, the -Republican leaders were glad of an opportunity to make an end of the -corrupt and tragic farce of Reconstruction; to unload their party of a -dead weight which had been burdensome and was growing dangerous; mayhap -to punish their Southern agents who had demanded so much for doctoring -the returns and making an exhibit in favor of Hayes. - - -VII - -Mr. Tilden accepted the result with equanimity. “I was at his house,” -says John Bigelow, “when his exclusion was announced to him, and also -on the fourth of March when Mr. Hayes was inaugurated, and it was -impossible to remark any change in his manner, except perhaps that he -was less absorbed than usual and more interested in current affairs.” -His was an intensely serious mind; and he had come to regard the -Presidency as rather a burden to be borne--an opportunity for public -usefulness--involving a life of constant toil and care, than as an -occasion for personal exploitation and rejoicing. - -However much of captivation the idea of the Presidency may have had for -him when he was first named for the office, I cannot say, for he was as -unexultant in the moment of victory as he was unsubdued in the hour of -defeat; but it is certainly true that he gave no sign of disappointment -to any of his friends. He lived nearly ten years longer, at Greystone, -in a noble homestead he had purchased for himself overlooking the -Hudson River, the same ideal life of the scholar and gentleman that he -had passed in Gramercy Park. - -Looking back over these untoward and sometimes mystifying events, -I have often asked myself: Was it possible, with the elements what -they were, and he himself what he was, to seat Mr. Tilden in the -office to which he had been elected? The missing ingredient in a -character intellectually and morally great, and a personality far from -unimpressive, was the touch of the dramatic discoverable in most of the -leaders of men: even in such leaders as William of Orange and Louis the -XI, as Cromwell and Washington. - -There was nothing spectacular about Mr. Tilden. Not wanting the -sense of humor, he seldom indulged it. In spite of his positiveness -of opinion and amplitude of knowledge, he was always courteous and -deferential in debate. He had none of the audacious daring, let us say, -of Mr. Blaine, the energetic self-assertion of Mr. Roosevelt. Either, -in his place, would have carried all before him. - -It would be hard to find a character farther from that of a subtle -schemer--sitting behind his screen and pulling his wires--which -his political and party enemies discovered him to be as soon as he -began to get in the way of the Machine and obstruct the march of the -self-elect. His confidences were not effusive nor their subjects -numerous. His deliberation was unfailing, and sometimes it carried the -idea of indecision, not to say actual love of procrastination. But in -my experience with him I found that he usually ended where he began, -and it was nowise difficult for those whom he trusted to divine the -bias of his mind where he thought it best to reserve its conclusions. -I do not think that in any great affair he ever hesitated longer than -the gravity of the case required of a prudent man, or that he had a -preference for delays, or that he clung over-tenaciously to both horns -of the dilemma, as his professional training and instinct might lead -him to do, and did certainly expose him to the accusation of doing. - -He was a philosopher and took the world as he found it. He rarely -complained and never inveighed. He had a discriminating way of -balancing men’s good and bad qualities and of giving each the benefit -of a generous accounting, and a just way of expecting no more of a man -than it was in him to yield. As he got into deeper water his stature -rose to its level, and, from his exclusion from the Presidency in 1877 -to his renunciation of public affairs in 1884 and his death in 1886, -his walks and ways might have been a study for all who would learn -life’s truest lessons and know the real sources of honor, happiness, -and fame. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - -THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH - -BY ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE - -Author of “The Bread-Line,” “Elizabeth,” “Mark Twain: A Biography,” etc. - - -Then, it being no use to try, Carringford let the hand holding the -book drop into his lap and from his lap to his side. His eyes stared -grimly into the fire, which was dropping to embers. - -“I suppose I’m getting old,” he said; “that’s the reason. The books are -as good as ever they were--the old ones, at any rate. Only they don’t -interest me any more. It’s because I don’t believe in them as I did. I -see through them all. I begin taking them to pieces as soon as I begin -to read, and of course romance and glamour won’t stand dissection. Yes, -it’s because I’m getting old; that’s it. Those things go with youth. -Why, I remember when I would give up a dinner for a new book, when -a fresh magazine gave me a positive thrill. I lost that somewhere, -somehow; I wonder why. It is a ghastly loss. If I had to live my life -over, I would at least try not to destroy my faith in books. It seems -to me now just about the one thing worth keeping for old age.” - -The book slipped from the hand hanging at his side. The embers broke, -and, falling together, sent up a tongue of renewed flame. Carringford’s -mind was slipping into by-paths. - -“If one only might live his life over!” he muttered. “If one might be -young again!” - -He was not thinking of books now. A procession of ifs had come filing -out of the past--a sequence of opportunities where, with the privilege -of choice, he had chosen the wrong, the irrevocable thing. - -“If one only might try again!” he whispered. “If one only might! Good -God!” Something like a soft footfall on the rug caused him to turn -suddenly. “I beg your pardon,” he said, rising, “I did not hear you. I -was dreaming, I suppose.” - -A man stood before him, apparently a stranger. - -“I came quietly,” he said. “I did not wish to break in upon your -thought. It interested me, and I felt that I--might be of help.” - -Carringford was trying to recall the man’s face,--a studious, -clean-shaven face,--to associate it and the black-garbed, slender -figure with a name. So many frequented his apartment, congenial, idle -fellows who came and went, and brought their friends if they liked, -that Carringford was not surprised to be confronted by one he could not -place. He was about to extend his hand, confessing a lack of memory, -when his visitor spoke again. - -“No,” he said in a gentle, composed voice, “you would not know it if -you heard it. I have never been here before. I should not have come now -only that, as I was passing below, I heard you thinking you would like -to be young again--to live your life over, as they say.” - -Carringford stared a moment or two at the smooth, clean-cut features -and slender, black figure of his visitor before replying. He was used -to many curious things, and not many things surprised him. - -“I beg your pardon,” he repeated, “you mentioned, I believe, that you -heard me thinking as you were passing on the street below?” - -The slender man in black bowed. - -“Wishing that you might be young again, that you might have another try -at the game of life. I believe that was the exact thought.” - -“And, may I ask, is it your habit to hear persons think?” - -“When their thoughts interest me, yes, as one might overhear an -interesting conversation.” - -Carringford had slipped back into his chair and motioned his guest to -another. Wizard or unbalanced, he was likely to prove a diversion. When -the cigars were pushed in his direction, he took one, lighted it, and -smoked silently. Carringford smoked, too, and looked into the fire. - -“You were saying,” he began presently, “that you pick up interesting -thought-currents as one might overhear bits of conversation. I suppose -you find the process quite as simple as hearing in the ordinary way. -Only it seems a little--well, unusual. Of course that is only my -opinion.” - -The slender man in black assented with a slight nod. - -“The faculty is not unusual; it is universal. It is only undeveloped, -uncontrolled, as yet. It was the same with electricity a generation -ago. Now it has become our most useful servant.” - -Carringford gave his visitor an intent look. This did not seem the -inconsequential phrasing of an addled brain. - -“You interest me,” he said. “Of course I have heard a good deal of -such things, and all of us have had manifestations; but I think I have -never before met any one who was able to control--to demonstrate, if -you will--this particular force. It is a sort of mental wireless, I -suppose--wordless, if you will permit the term.” - -“Yes, the true wireless, the thing we are approaching--speech of mind -to mind. Our minds are easily attuned to waves of mutual interest. When -one vibrates, another in the same wave will answer to it. We are just -musical instruments: a chord struck on the piano answers on the attuned -harp. Any strong mutual interest forms the key-note of mental harmonic -vibration. We need only develop the mental ear to hear, the mental eye -to see.” - -The look of weariness returned to Carringford’s face. These were -trite, familiar phrases. - -“I seem to have heard most of those things before,” he said. Then, as -his guest smoked silently, he added, “I am only wondering how it came -that my thought of the past and its hopelessness should have struck a -chord or key-note which would send you up my stair.” - -The slender, black figure rose and took a turn across the room, pausing -in front of Carringford. - -“You were saying as I passed your door that you would live your life -over if you could. You were thinking: ‘If one might be young again! If -one only might try again! If only one might!’ That was your thought, I -believe.” - -Carringford nodded. - -“That was my thought,” he said, “through whatever magic you came by it.” - -“And may I ask if there was a genuine desire behind that thought? -Did you mean that you would indeed live your life over if you could? -That, if the opportunity were given to tread the backward way to a new -beginning, you would accept it?” - -There was an intensity of interest in the man’s quiet voice, an eager -gleam in his half-closed eyes, a hovering expectancy in the attitude -of the slender, black figure. Carringford had the feeling of having -been swept backward into a time of sorcery and incantation. He vaguely -wondered if he had not fallen asleep. Well, he would follow the dream -through. - -“Yes, I would live my life over if I could,” he said. “I have made a -poor mess of it this time. I could play the game better, I know, if the -Fates would but deal me a new hand. If I could start young again, with -all the opportunities of youth, I would not so often choose the poorer -thing.” - -The long, white fingers of Carringford’s guest had slipped into his -waistcoat pocket. They now drew forth a small, bright object and held -it to the light. Carringford saw that it was a vial, filled with a -clear, golden liquid that shimmered and quivered in the light and was -never still. Its possessor regarded it for a moment through half-closed -lashes, then placed it on a table under the lamp, where it continued to -glint and tremble. - -Carringford watched it, fascinated, half hypnotized by the marvel of -its gleam. Surely there was magic in this. The man was an alchemist, a -sort of reincarnation from some forgotten day. - -Carringford’s guest also watched the vial. The room seemed to have -grown very still. Then after a time his thin lips parted. - -“If you are really willing to admit failure,” he began slowly, -carefully selecting each word, “if behind your wish there lies a -sincere desire to go back to youth and begin life over, if that desire -is strong enough to grow into a purpose, if you are ready to make -the experiment, there you will find the means. That vial contains -the very essence of vitality, the true elixir of youth. It is not -a magic philter, as I see by your thought you believe. There is no -magic. Whatever is, belongs to science. I am not a necromancer, but a -scientist. From boyhood my study has been to solve the subtler secrets -of life. I have solved many such. I have solved at last the secret of -life itself. It is contained in that golden vial, an elixir to renew -the tissues, to repair the cells, of the wasting body. Taken as I -direct, you will no longer grow old, but young. The gray in your hair -will vanish, the lines will smooth out of your face, your step will -become buoyant, your pulses quick, your heart will sing with youth.” -The speaker paused a moment, and his gray eyes rested on Carringford -and seemed probing his very soul. - -“It will take a little time,” he went on; “for as the natural processes -of decay are not rapid, the natural restoration may not be hurried. You -can go back to where you will, even to early youth, and so begin over, -if it is your wish. Are you willing to make the experiment? If you are, -I will place the means in your hands.” - -While his visitor had been speaking, Carringford had been completely -absorbed, filled with strange emotions, too amazed, too confused for -utterance. - -“I see a doubt in your mind as to the genuineness, the efficacy, of my -discovery,” the even voice continued. “I will relieve that.” From an -inner pocket he drew a card photograph and handed it to Carringford. -“That was taken three years ago. I was then approaching eighty. I am -now, I should say, about forty-five. I could be younger if I chose, but -forty-five is the age of achievement--the ripe age. Mankind needs me -at forty-five.” - -Carringford stared at the photograph, then at the face before him, -then again at the photograph. Yes, they were the same, certainly they -were the same, but for the difference of years. The peculiar eyes, the -clean, unusual outlines were unmistakable. Even a curious cast in the -eye was there. - -“An inheritance,” explained his visitor. “Is the identification enough?” - -Carringford nodded in a dazed way and handed back the picture. Any -lingering doubt of the genuineness of this strange being or his science -had vanished. His one thought now was that growing old need be no more -than a fiction, after all that one might grow young instead, might -lay aside the wrinkles and the gray hairs, and walk once more the way -of purposes and dreams. His pulses leaped, his blood surged up and -smothered him. - -The acceptance of such a boon seemed too wonderful a thing to be put -into words. His eyes grew wide and deep with the very bigness of it, -but he could not for the moment find speech. - -“You are willing to make the experiment?” the man asked. “I see many -emotions in your mind. Think--think clearly, and make your decision.” - -Words of acceptance rushed to Carringford’s lips. They were upon the -verge of utterance when suddenly he was gripped by an old and dearly -acquired habit--the habit of forethought. - -“But I should want to keep my knowledge of the world,” he said, “to -profit by my experience, my wisdom, such as it is. I should want to -live my life over, knowing what I know now.” - -The look of weariness which Carringford’s face had worn earlier had -found its way to the face of the visitor. - -“I seem to have heard most of those things before,” he said, with a -faint smile. - -“But shall I not remember the life I have lived, with its shortcomings, -its blunders?” - -“Yes, you will remember as well as you do now--better, perhaps, for -your faculties will be renewed; but whether you will profit by it--that -is another matter.” - -“You mean that I shall make the same mistakes, commit the same sins?” - -“Let us consider to a moment. You will go back to youth. You will -be young again. Perhaps you have forgotten what it is to be young. -Let me remind you.” The man’s lashes met; his voice seemed to come -from a great distance. “It is to be filled with the very ecstasy of -living,” he breathed--“its impulses, its fevers, the things that have -always belonged to youth, that have always made youth beautiful. Your -experience? Yes, you will have that, too; but it will not be the -experience of that same youth, but of another--the youth that you -were.” The gray eyes gleamed, the voice hardened a little. “Did you -ever profit by the experience of another in that earlier time?” - -Carringford shook his head. - -“No,” he whispered. - -His guest pointed to the book-shelves. - -“Did you ever, in a later time, profit by the wisdom set down in those?” - -Carringford shook his head. - -“No,” he whispered. - -“Yet the story is all there, and you knew the record to be true. Have -you always profited even by your own experience? Have you always -avoided the same blunder a second, even a third, time? Do you always -profit by your own experience even now?” - -Carringford shook his head. - -“No,” he whispered. - -“And yet you think that if you could only live your life over, you -would avoid the pitfalls and the temptations, remembering what they had -cost you before. No, oh, no; I am not here to promise you that. I am -not a magician; I am only a scientist, and I have not yet discovered -the elixir of wisdom or of morals. I am not superhuman; I am only -human, like yourself. I am not a god, and I cannot make you one. Going -back to youth means that you will be young again--young! Don’t you see? -It does not mean that you will drag back with you the strength and the -wisdom and the sobered impulses of middle age. That would not be youth. -Youth cares nothing for such things, and profits by no experience, not -even its own.” - -Carringford’s eyes had wandered to the yellow vial under the lamp--to -the quivering, shimmering fascination of its dancing gold. His gaze -rested there a moment, then again sought the face of his guest--that -inscrutable face where seemed mingled the look of middle age with the -wisdom of the centuries. - -“You do not care to go back further?” Carringford said. - -The man’s eyes closed for a moment, and something that was akin to -fierce human emotion swept his features. - -“Yes, oh, yes, I care,” he said quickly. “It is the temptation I -fight always. Oh, you do not know what it means to feel that you are -growing young! To feel your body renew, your heart beat stronger, to -feel your blood take on a swifter flow, like the sap of a tree in -spring! You have known the false stimulus of wine. Ah, it is a feeble -thing compared with this! For this is not false, but true. This is the -substance of renewal, not the fire of waste. To wake in the morning -feeling that you are not older than yesterday, but younger, better able -to cope and to enjoy; to travel back from fourscore to forty-five--I -have done that. Do you realize what that means? It means treading the -flowery way, lighted by eternal radiance, cheered by the songs of -birds. And then to stop--you cannot know what it means to stop! Oh, -yes, it was hard to stop; but I must stop now, or not at all this side -of youth. Only at forty-five would one have the strength to stop--the -age of reason and will, the age of achievement. And I need to achieve, -for I still have much to do. So I stopped when I had the strength and -had reached the fullness of my power. While I have work to do I shall -not go further back. I shall remain as I am, and as you are, at middle -age--the age of work.” - -He had been pacing up and down in front of Carringford as he spoke. He -now halted, facing him, gazing down. - -“I must not linger,” he said. “These are my hours for labor, and I -have so much to do, so much, it will keep me busy for a thousand -years. I have only begun. Perhaps some day I may discover the elixir -of wisdom. Perhaps I may yet solve the secret of genius. Perhaps”--His -voice lowered--“I shall one day unveil the secret of the soul. The -vial I leave with you, for I see in your mind that you cannot reach -a conclusion now. On the attached label you will find instructions -for its use. Think, ponder, and be sure before you set out on that -flowery backward way. Be sure that you want youth again, with all that -youth means, before you start back to find it.” He laid his hand in -Carringford’s for an instant, and was gone. - -[Illustration: Drawn by O. F. Schmidt. Half-tone plate engraved by H. -C. Merrill - -“HE BALANCED THE PRECIOUS VIAL MORE QUICKLY”] - -For a while Carringford did not move, but sat as one in a dream, -staring at the dancing fluid gold in the bottle beneath the lamp. - -Youth--youth, how he had longed for that vanished gold, which he had so -prodigally wasted when it was in his grasp! How often he had said, as -he had said to-night, “Oh, to have one more chance, to be able to begin -the game anew!” He reached out and grasped the vial, and held it up to -the light. The glinting radiance in it began a wild, new dance at his -touch. - -Youth, life renewed, yes, that is what it was, its very essence; to -taste of that elixir, and start back along the flowery, sunlit way of -which his guest had spoken; to feel the blood start more quickly in his -veins, a new spring in his muscles; to know that a new bloom had come -into his cheek, a new light into his eye. - -But, then, the other things, they would come, too. Along that -fair backward way lurked all the temptations, the dangers, the -heartbreaks--all the efforts and the failures he had once left behind. -Did he want to face them again? Did he want to endure again all those -years of the struggle of human wisdom with human weakness? He knew it -would mean that, and that the same old fights and failures would be his -share. He had never thought of it before, but he knew now that it must -be so. - -Yet, to tread that flowery way, to begin to-night! - -He wheeled around to the dying fire, and sat staring into the deep -coals and flickering blaze, balancing the golden vial in his hand, as -one weighing a decision. - -To tread that flowery way, with its blue skies and its singing birds, -to feel one’s heart bursting with a new ecstasy, to reach again the -land of hope and love, and to linger there with some one--some one with -a heart full of love and life! He had always been so lonely! - -The age of work, his own age, his guest had chosen to linger there; had -resisted all other temptations for that. With the wisdom of fourscore -years and all his subtle gift for detecting and avoiding dangers, he -had chosen the middle age of life for his abiding-place. The age of -work, yes, it was that, if one only made it his vantage-ground. - -But, oh, the glory of the flowery way, with all its dangers and all its -heartbreaks! His decision was swinging to and fro, like a pendulum: the -age of work, the flowery way, the age of work? - -And he had been so idle. Perhaps that had been the trouble all along. - -“The age of work,” he whispered, “the age of achievement!” - -He balanced the precious vial more quickly. It caught the flicker of a -waning blaze and became a great, throbbing ruby in his hand. - -“To live life over! To go back and begin the game anew! Good God!” - -Then--he did not know how it happened--the little bottle toppled, fell, -and struck the stone hearth, splashing its contents into the dying -embers. There was a leap of yellow flame, which an instant later had -become vivid scarlet, changing as quickly to crimson, deep purple, then -to a flare of blinding white, and was gone. - -Carringford, startled for a moment, sat gazing dumbly at the ashes of -his dying fire. - -“The question has decided itself,” he said. - - - - -A LAST MESSAGE - -BY GRACE DENIO LITCHFIELD - - - Dear, I lie dying, and thou dost not know-- - Thou whom of all the world I love the best, - And wilt not know until I lie at rest, - With lips forever closed and lids dropped low. - O Love, O Love, I cannot leave thee so! - Cannot, still undivined, still unexpressed, - Unheeding to the last my heart’s behest, - Dumb into the eternal silence go! - What reck I in this moment of disgrace? - Albeit the whole world hear what my heart saith, - I cry aloud to thee across all space, - To thee--to thee--I call with my last breath! - O Love, lean forth from out thy dwelling-place! - Listen, and learn I loved thee, Love, till death. - -[Illustration: THOMAS JEFFERSON - -FROM THE STATUE BY KARL BITTER, FOR THE JEFFERSON MEMORIAL IN ST. LOUIS - -This statue will be unveiled in the presence of a congressional -committee on April 30, 1913, the one hundred and tenth anniversary of -the Louisiana Purchase.] - - - - -[Illustration] - - -TO A SCARLET TANAGER - -BY GRACE HAZARD CONKLING - - - My tanager, what crescent coast, - Curving beyond what seas of air, - Invites your elfin commerce most? - For I would fain inhabit there. - Is it a corner of Cathay, - That I could reach by caravan, - Or do you traffic far away - Beyond the mountains of Japan? - - If, where some iridescent isle - Wears like a rose its calm lagoon, - You plan to spend a little while,-- - An April or a fervid June,-- - Deign to direct my wanderings, - And I shall be the one who sees - Your scarlet pinnace furl its wings - And come to anchor in the trees. - - Do you collect for merchandise - Ribbons of weed and jeweled shells, - And dazzle color-hungry eyes - With rainbows from the coral wells? - But when your freight is asphodels, - You must be fresh from Enna’s lawn. - Who buys, when such a merchant sells, - And in what market roofed with dawn? - - Much would it ease my spirit if - To-day I might embark with you, - Low-drifting like the milkweed-skiff, - Or voyaging against the blue, - To learn who speeds your ebon sails, - And what you do in Ispahan. - Do you convey to nightingales - Strange honey-dew from Hindustan? - - With you for master mariner, - I yet might travel very far; - Discover whence your cargoes were, - And whither tending, by a star; - Or what ineffable bazaar - You most frequent in Samarkand; - Or even where those harbors are - Keats found forlorn in fairy-land. - -[Illustration: Owned by Mrs. Frank H. Scott - -THE SCARLET TANAGER - -FROM THE PAINTING, IN WATER-COLORS, BY ALFRED BRENNAN] - - - - -[Illustration] - - -A WAR WORTH WAGING - -THE SUCCESSFUL FIGHT TO IMPROVE THE HEALTH OF NEW YORK CITY - -(AVERAGE LIFE IN 1866, THIRTY YEARS; IN 1912, SIXTY-SIX YEARS. -DEATH-RATE IN 1866, 34 PER THOUSAND; IN 1912, 14.11 PER THOUSAND) - -BY RICHARD BARRY - - -Professor Fisher, of the Committee of One Hundred appointed to consider -the problem of the national health, was laboring with Senator Works of -California, the official representative in Washington of the Christian -Scientists. - -“Your approval, Senator,” he said, “of such measures as clean streets -and playgrounds is really an indorsement of preventive medicine.” - -“But,” exclaimed Senator Works, “I did not know you meant those things -as being preventive medicine. I thought preventive medicine meant -serums.” - -“No,” said Professor Fisher, laughing; “it means mosquito-bars and -bath-tubs.” - -It is not only serums and bacteriology, but mosquito-bars and -bath-tubs, clean streets and plenty of sewers, together with an -efficient organization to perfect the operation of such things, that -have revolutionized the conditions of health in New York City. - -Consider what has been done for poor children alone. Recently I stood -in one of the fifty-five diet-kitchens maintained by the city. A poor -woman of the neighborhood entered, carrying in her arms a sickly baby. -Evidently familiar with the proper course of procedure, she said to -the nurse in charge, “I have given him castor-oil and barley gruel; -now what shall I do?” This incident is remarkable because the woman -never before had come within the reach of the Health Department. In -the danger that menaced the child, she had learned to take the first -essential steps not through experience or instruction, but merely -through neighborhood gossip. - - -CONDITION OF NEW YORK HALF A CENTURY AGO - -Ten years ago such a thing would have been impossible in New York or in -any other large city. The tremendous agencies that now exist for the -medical enlightenment of the masses were then unheard of. A generation -ago New York was in a condition of almost primeval darkness concerning -questions of public health. Canton or Constantinople is to-day little -worse off than was America’s chief city then. - -In 1866 the public health conditions of New York were in so low a state -that the average length of life of the inhabitants was thirty years. -In 1912 these conditions had been improved so that the average length -of life was sixty-six years. Thus the value of human life, reckoned in -terms of time alone, had more than doubled in less than half a century. - -Let us go back to the year following the Civil War. The only paving -in New York then was of cobblestones, and many streets were unpaved. -All were in filthy condition, being irregularly cleaned by contractors, -who shirked their work. There was no general system for the removal -of ashes and garbage, and these were thrown loosely upon the streets. -In three quarters of the city, cellars were in foul condition, often -flooded with water and undrained. At that time, incredible as it may -seem to the modern New Yorker, few houses were connected with sewers. -Offensive trades, such as the boiling of bones, offal, and fat, were -carried on without hindrance. There were numerous cesspools and -cisterns overflowing with filth. Much of the city’s milk was obtained -from cows kept in dark, crowded, ill-ventilated stables and fed upon -swill from distilleries. The animals were diseased, and the milk was -unclean, unwholesome, and frequently was watered. - -In alleyways and back yards great quantities of manure were allowed -to accumulate. Farmers sometimes bought it and carted it off for -fertilizing; but if no farmer happened to come along, the stuff stayed -there indefinitely. Outhouses were neglected, and never were properly -cared for by the scavengers, who worked for grafting contractors. The -practice of keeping swine in the built-up portions of the city was -common. The slaughterhouses were in horrible condition, and the offal -from these could not be properly cared for because of defective sewers. - -Tenement-house conditions were as bad as they have ever been anywhere. -No space was left unoccupied. Sheds, basements, and even cellars were -rented to families and lodgers. The vast numbers of immigrants pouring -in, and the constricted space on Manhattan Island, made rents so high -that even a corner in a cellar brought an exorbitant price. Single -rooms were divided by partitions, and whole families occupied each -section. - -In 1866 it was estimated that 20,000 People were then living in cellars -in New York. Ten years before that period many of the city houses had -been shaky from quick building; after the war, figuratively speaking, -they had fallen into the cellars. At that time New York could hardly -claim distinction as a great city. Travelers referred to it as an -overgrown village, into which had been shoveled slovenly hordes -of European immigrants. The annual death-rate was thirty-four per -thousand, while that of London was about twenty-three per thousand. And -it must be remembered that New York’s new population was composed of -vigorous men and women, the cream of other localities, with what should -have been healthy offspring, who had quickly centered here, ambitious -and active; whereas London was an ancient city, bearing the ills of -its own age. It must be remembered also that at that time the medical -profession knew little of bacteriology; antitoxins were unknown; people -lived like ostriches, with their heads in the sand concerning questions -of sex hygiene and child hygiene; and the science of sociology had yet -to be discovered. - -Cities had always existed, it is true, but they had to be constantly -replenished by fresh blood from the country, and most of them had space -to spread out into the country, and thus absorb naturally some of the -health that comes from fresh air. But here was a city that had little -chance to spread. It was confined to a narrow, rocky island, and was -growing more rapidly than any other city in the history of the world. -“Bounded on one side by a bluff and on the other side by a sound,” it -was burrowing into the earth and climbing constantly into the air to -make room for its fast-growing population. It was the center of the -fiercest contest for money and power, yet it failed to hold long those -who came there. The men that made money went to Europe to spend it, and -those that fell in the fight went to the West to recuperate. Immigrants -that arrived there with money went on to the West or the South; those -without money stayed. - -The result was that New York did not primarily become a city of -residence, but the resort of those who either through the necessity of -poverty or the necessity of ambition sojourned there. Of all American -cities it became the most artificial; there life came to be lived at -its highest tension; there the struggle for existence became fiercest. - -It is apparent that in such a city Nature cannot be left to her own -devices. When man deserts Nature, she promptly retaliates by deserting -man. And, in substitution of so-called “natural” living, there has -been developed the present-day mode, built up of scientific analysis, -skilful treatment, and thorough organization. - - -A NEW DEPARTURE - -The health campaigns of the last forty-five years divide themselves -naturally into two groups, those that came before 1900 and those that -came after that year. The early campaigns were the more obvious; the -later campaigns are the more subtle in their tactics, but none the -less effective. Before 1900 the death-rate had been reduced by more -than one third. In 1866 it was 34 per thousand; in 1900 it was 20.57 -per thousand. During this period of thirty-four years wells had been -gradually eliminated as sources of drinking-water, until not one was -left in the principal parts of the city. Young children who never had -been in the country were brought to the well in Central Park and they -gazed into it as a curiosity, just as they looked at the bears and -the greenhouses. At the same time the general water-supply was vastly -improved. To live in cellars was made illegal, and there was a general -improvement in the condition of dwellings. Street-cleaning became well -organized; sewers were laid in almost all the streets, and refuse was -cared for scientifically. The public supervision of contagious diseases -became effective; good use was made of new medical discoveries, such as -diphtheria antitoxin, and the public hospitals were improved. - -Yet the advances in sanitary safeguarding since 1900 are more wonderful -than those that came before. In the last twelve years the death-rate -has been reduced by a quarter from its comparatively high rate at the -beginning of the century. In 1911 it was 15.13 per thousand. For 1912 -it was 14.11 per thousand. However, this reduction of more than six per -thousand has been won with over twice the effort that was necessary to -make the first fourteen per thousand. The city budget for 1912 carried -an appropriation for the Department of Health of more than $3,000,000. -As much more was spent the same year by the seventy-odd organizations, -private or semi-public, the purpose of which is the betterment of -health conditions. Besides, there has been the devoted labor of more -than seven thousand physicians. - -In all this vast field of effort, as diversified as the entire scope -of modern science, as complex as civilization itself, two main lines -stand out conspicuously. New York was a pioneer among cities in both. -These concerned the treatment of tuberculosis and children’s diseases. -The organized fight against tuberculosis in New York, under the -latest approved scientific methods, dates only from 1904. Before that -time there was no successful effort on the part of the authorities -to diagnose the disease properly, nor any attempt to deal with it -intelligently when it was discovered accidentally. Yet New York is -as great a sufferer from the white plague as any other locality. -Its congested living, its large Negro population, and its indigent -foreigners, ignorant of our language and customs, make it a fertile -breeding-ground for the tubercle bacillus. - -Within eight years, twenty-nine tuberculosis clinics have been -established, and several day camps have been built where sufferers -can recuperate without expense and without leaving the city. In all -these thorough blood and sputum tests are made with modern scientific -apparatus. At the same time, it has been widely made known that to -recover from the dread disease it is not necessary to leave the city, -which, situated between two bodies of water, is swept constantly by -fresh air, the chief necessity in the treatment of tuberculosis. - - -SAVING THE BABIES - -But the really remarkable work in the reduction of the death-rate -within the last few years has been done among the children. It is here -that the war worth waging has been carried on most effectively. If, as -Ellen Key says, this is the century of the child, New York proved it -in its first decade by concentrating the health battalions on infant -mortality. - -“A baby that comes into the world has less chance to live one week than -an old man of ninety, and less chance to live a year than a man of -eighty,” Bergeron, the French authority on children’s diseases, said -ten years ago. Within five years those chances have been increased by -a third in New York. In 1911, throughout the United States one death -in every five was that of a child under one year of age, while in New -York only one death in every eight was that of a child under one year -of age. Yet five years before that time New York’s average of infant -mortality had been equal to that of the rest of the country. And in -1912 the infant mortality was further decreased by six per cent., a -greater decrease than that of any other city. - -[Illustration: Drawn by Jay Hambidge. Half-tone plate engraved by H. C. -Merrill - -WEIGHING THE BABIES AT AN INFANTS’ MILK STATION IN NEW YORK] - -What has accomplished this result? Primarily, two causes: first, the -attention of the Board of Health, whose department of child hygiene now -receives a larger annual appropriation than any other (in 1913 it will -have more than $600,000, a fifth of the entire budget); and, second, -the work of the New York Milk Committee, a semi-public organization -composed of many of the chief physicians and philanthropists of the -city. - -Eight years ago there was not one infants’ milk station in New York. -The babies of the poor were obliged to live on what milk could be -found easily for them. Few could afford and still fewer could find -what is known as “Grade A” milk, which sells in the commercial market -for from fifteen to twenty-five cents a quart, and which is thoroughly -inspected and certified. At the close of 1912 there were seventy-nine -such stations in the city. At every one Grade A milk was sold at the -nominal price of eight cents a quart, so as to be in easy competition -with ordinary commercial milk. Every day thousands of mothers with -their babies throng these stations. However, their chief purpose is -not the mere selling of pure, rich milk. They serve principally as -dispensaries. The milk is used by the city as a lure by means of which -ignorant mothers are brought within the reach of the physicians of -the Health Department. With the milk, thorough instruction and advice -as to the care of infants is given gratis. The old idea that mothers -know entirely how best to care for their own children has been proved -erroneous. Not all mothers in a large city know how to care for their -children. Many of them are virtually as helpless as the children -themselves. They have to be taken in hand, trained, and taught in the -care of their offspring as completely as the children themselves are -taken in hand a few years later in the public schools. - -In addition to the seventy-nine dispensaries of milk and medical -knowledge, the city maintains a large corps of trained nurses who make -visits, especially during the summer, to the homes to complete the -instruction. In the poorer districts, every child under a year old is -visited by a city nurse at least once in ten days. The average cost is -fifty cents a month for each child. At the same time the inspection of -the general milk-supply has become thorough. The city’s inspectors now -cover all farms within two hundred miles from the city hall, and the -sources of supply are thus kept in proper sanitary condition. - -The city also gives ice in summer to those families (with children) -that are unable to buy it. In the summer of 1912, 900,000 pounds were -thus distributed. This is in addition to the accepted efforts to secure -better playgrounds, better ventilated schools, etc. - -A decade ago the summer death-rate among children in New York was from -two to three times as high as the winter death-rate. For the last four -years it has been steadily decreasing, and in 1912 it was almost as low -as the winter death-rate. Deaths from diarrheal diseases among children -have been reduced to a minimum through the concentrated efforts of a -few years. The next work to be taken up will be the winter deaths from -respiratory diseases. This is a more difficult problem. - -Yet the greatest problem in infant mortality has still to be solved. -This is the care of the “institution” baby. As in England and in -France, the largest number of deaths among New York children occur -among the illegitimate and those lacking a mother’s care during the -early months of life. In 1911 more than forty per cent. of the deaths -of infants under one year in Manhattan occurred in institutions. - -The institutions that receive foundlings are too few and too poorly -equipped. One day Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan saw in the street, within -a block of his home, a poor woman hugging despairingly to her -breast a new-born infant. In consequence, he caused to be built the -million-dollar lying-in hospital on Stuyvesant Square, which has -already been the means of saving many an innocent life. But that -superb hospital, large as it is, has not the facilities for taking -care of more than a small number of the infants that require such an -institution. - -The material agencies, efficient and marvelous as they have become, -have not been the chief aid in the reduction of the death-rate, -especially among children. Public education has really had more to do -with it. Even those in direct charge of the work in infant mortality do -not assert that the entire credit for the satisfactory progress should -be given to the milk stations, the dispensaries, and the hospitals. -Pamphlets, lectures, newspaper articles, and school-room instruction -are at the base of the advance. Publicity has proved to be a greater -force than milk inspection. Certain popular newspapers in New York -have the power to achieve definite radical reforms in modes of living -whenever they choose to prosecute a vigorous campaign. Just as the -newspapers can expose corruption in any of the city’s departments, so -almost as readily they can uproot or at least substantially lessen -certain sanitary evils. A case in point is their campaign against the -fly last summer. By means of wide-spread and vigorous news articles and -editorials they succeeded in so rousing the mass of the people that -the fly pest was visibly reduced. Health Department officials testify -readily to this. - -The work of the social settlements, of the mothers’ clubs, of -the neighborhood nursing associations, of the diet-kitchens, all -contribute to the general education that is bringing about a condition -of excellent public sanitation. This work is necessarily of slow -growth. Its effect is not nearly so evident as that of vaccination, of -smallpox segregation, or of typhoid diagnosis. It is not so simple as -establishing proper sewers or purifying the water-supply; but it is no -less important. - - -THE STUDY OF SEX HYGIENE - -In all this tremendous volume of public sanitary education, no one -feature stands out more clearly than the work being done in sex -hygiene. Prudery is passing; there can be no doubt of that. Within -the last five years every public school in New York has introduced a -course of teaching in its physiology or biology department the aim of -which is to acquaint the growing boy and girl with the essential facts -of sex life, to open their eyes to sexual evils, and to prepare them -to treat with sexual diseases intelligently. Ignorant mothers, both -foreign-born and native, or those whose false modesty is worse than -their ignorance, are day by day being taught by their daughters of -twelve and fourteen, who have learned their lessons in school or in -neighborhood classes, certain essential facts of sex life, ignorance of -which has brought about pitiful conditions of disease and death. - -The effect of this is not yet fully apparent in a decreased death-rate, -but there can be little doubt that within a very few years it will have -its result. For instance, one third of the infant mortality is due to -prenatal conditions, congenital diseases which afflict the child at -birth, and which mean either speedy death or a lingering, crippled -life. The larger part of these untoward prenatal conditions are due to -sexual diseases. To eliminate them will require two sustained efforts: -the further abolishing of prudery, with consequent rigorous sex -hygiene, and the enactment and enforcement of laws that will require -proper medical examination before marriage. - -A physician told me recently that in his opinion within a decade laws -will be enacted providing that every man and woman desiring to marry -can do so only with a doctor’s certificate that shall carry with it a -clean bill of health. Once that is done, it is confidently believed -that the death-rate among infants will fall off perhaps by a quarter, -and surely by a fifth or a sixth. The educational work in this field is -being done for the future. With present adults there is little hope; -but the fathers and mothers of the next generation will be much better -equipped. - - -THE FIGHT AGAINST TYPHOID GERMS - -In one more campaign the immediate future seems likely to yield -great results perhaps almost as important as those resulting from -the discovery of antitoxin. This will be from the use of the new -anti-typhoid serum, which the Department of Health in December, 1912, -decided to use as extensively as possible in New York. This decision -followed close on the War Department’s public declaration that the -anti-typhoid serum had proved a success, virtually eliminating the -disease from the army. In 1909 there were more cases of typhoid in -the United States than of the plague in India, despite the fact that -India’s population is two and a half times that of the United States. -In 1907 there were more cases of typhoid in New York than of pellagra -in Italy, though Italy’s population is six times that of New York. In -this work, as in children’s diseases and in tuberculosis, New York -is a pioneer, and yet New York is better off regarding typhoid than -many other American cities, for it has a lower typhoid death-rate -than Boston, Chicago, Washington, or Philadelphia; yet its typhoid -death-rate is higher than that of London, Paris, Berlin, or Hamburg. - -Last spring when Wilbur Wright, the aviator, died of typhoid fever at -the age of forty-five, several newspapers were honest enough to speak -of it as a murder--a murder by the American people, through neglect and -ignorance, of a genius who, had he been allowed, might have lived to be -of still more distinguished service to the world. - -In the last two years the New York Department of Health has been able -to trace definitely several typhoid-fever outbreaks. In nearly every -instance it was found that the disease could be traced to a “carrier.” -A carrier is a person who has recovered from an attack of typhoid, but -who remains infected. One outbreak of four hundred cases was traced to -the infection of a milk-supply by a typhoid carrier who had had the -disease forty-seven years before. In another outbreak of fifty cases -the contamination was traced to a man who had the disease seven years -before. - -Within the last few months the case of “Typhoid Mary” has received much -attention. This woman has recently brought suit against the Department -of Health for damaging her career as a cook. For more than six months -she was kept in a sort of exile by the department. Before that time she -had been a cook in many households, and wherever she went typhoid fever -followed her. Although she had suffered with the disease many years -before she was apprehended, the germs were said to be still very lively -in her system. The authorities asserted that her blood tests revealed -that she was likely to communicate typhoid to any one at any time; and -therefore Mary did no more cooking. - -There is no telling how many carriers are loose in New York at -present, and the only known way of averting the danger is by the use -of the serum which the army has found efficacious. It is estimated -that about three per cent. of those recovering from typhoid become -bacillus-carriers. As yet typhoid vaccination is not compulsory among -the public at large, as in the army; but a strong movement is felt -in the city to make it so. When typhoid-fever becomes as thoroughly -controlled as smallpox, or even as diphtheria, the death-rate will drop -another point or two. It will be the last of the filth diseases to go. -It is asserted by competent authorities that eighty-five per cent. of -the cases are preventable. - - -OPINIONS OF AN EXPERT - -Dr. Lederle, Health Commissioner of New York City, says that while -typhoid vaccination is likely to prove of untold benefit, other -specific improvements should be made. There should be a more -perfect control of the milk-supply. At present there is no central -testing-station. He recommends also an improved method of sewage -disposal, either by treatment or by carrying it farther out to sea, -thus preventing pollution of the harbor. There should be a drainage -of surrounding land to do away with mosquitos; improved methods -of street-cleaning that would result in the prevention of flying -dust-clouds; and the open garbage receptacles and dumps should be -abolished in favor of cremation of all refuse. The campaign against the -fly must be carried on more vigorously every year, and immediate steps -are to be taken for the protection of all foods from fly contamination. -This will be an extension of the control of food, together with -the proper filtration of the public water-supply. Dr. Lederle says -further that increased hospital facilities for contagious diseases are -needed. There will be further popular education in sanitary matters, -special stress being laid on the need of fresh air in homes, schools, -factories, offices, theaters, and churches; and a comprehensive -publication will be made, chiefly for the aid of the poorer classes, -of the comparative nutritive and cost values of foods; and further -changes in the customs of the time, due to these plans and to other -activities, will result in a simpler manner of living. This should -render overeating less frequent and reduce the consumption of alcohol -and medicines. - -Finally, in addition to these efforts, which are under the direction -of public officers, the health commissioner declares that if the -death-rate is to be further reduced, there must be in the immediate -future two changes: first, a definite advance in bacteriological -knowledge; and, second, a change in the attitude toward the health of -our adult population. - -“Save the babies!” was the cry of the last decade. “Save the -middle-aged!” will be the cry of this. The real race suicide is not -in the insufficiency of births, but in the inadequate knowledge of -the diseases of maturity, and in the inadequate care and prevention -of these diseases. Deaths from arterio-sclerosis, apoplexy, kidney -affections, stomach disorders, and cancer are continuously on the -increase, and have been for ten years past. Of the 75,000 persons that -died in New York in 1911, 17,000 died of “middle-age complaints.” - -The intense life of New Yorkers, their intemperance in eating, -drinking, and working, contributes chiefly to the increase in the -middle-age death-rate. However, Bright’s disease, diabetes, and cancer -are not more a mystery than diphtheria was before antitoxin was -discovered. Bacteriology has its fields of further effort well laid out -in those directions. - -It is the contention of those that give their lives to the study of the -subject that “public health is a purchasable commodity.” The struggle, -then, is between the death-rate and the dollar rate. Contribute more -money to the cause of public health, and the death-rate will go down. -Forty thousand babies were saved in 1910 at an average cost of eighteen -dollars. It would have cost more to bury them, as the cheapest sort of -funeral costs twenty-five dollars. - -The appropriation for the care of the public health in New York is not -niggardly; it is larger than in most cities. Still, it is not enough. -Where the health officers ask for a dollar and a half, they get a -dollar. The excuse is that the rest of the desired money is needed to -improve parks and streets, for the police and fire departments, for -the city government, the water-fronts, etc. Besides, the people of -this city are absolutely obliged to spend about $100,000,000 a year -on automobiles, candy, theaters, alcoholic drinks, tobacco, diamonds, -and such other urgent needs of life. What is left over, after those -necessities are provided for, goes toward the preservation of health! - -The average expectation of life for man varies in different countries -in direct proportion to the application of efficient principles of -hygiene and sanitation. In India, for instance, where sanitation is low -and the majority of the population live, like Kim, on “the ravellings -of circumstance,” the average duration of life is less than twenty-five -years. In Sweden and Denmark, where life is methodical and ideals are -high, and the Government takes up the ash-heaps regularly, a normal man -may expect to live more than seventy years. In Massachusetts, which -is the only one of our States to furnish us with reliable statistics, -the average duration of life is forty-five years. Wherever sanitary -science is active, the length of life is steadily increasing. In India -it is stationary; in Europe it has doubled in the last 350 years; in -New York, as we have seen, it has doubled within the last half-century. -Despite the many obstacles, it seems likely that when the next general -census is taken the death-rate of the metropolis will be down to -thirteen per thousand. With such a rate, every person in the city may -expect to live to be seventy years old. And most of them will say, -“Isn’t that old enough?” - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - -THE ILLUSION OF PROGRESS[2] - -BY KENYON COX - - -In these days all of us, even Academicians, are to some extent -believers in progress. Our golden age is no longer in the past, but in -the future. We know that our early ancestors were a race of wretched -cave-dwellers, and we believe that our still earlier ancestors were -possessed of tails and pointed ears. Having come so far, we are -sometimes inclined to forget that not every step has been an advance, -and to entertain an illogical confidence that each future step must -carry us still further forward; having indubitably progressed in many -things, we think of ourselves as progressing in all. And as the pace -of progress in science and in material things has become more and more -rapid, we have come to expect a similar pace in art and letters, to -imagine that the art of the future must be far finer than the art of -the present or than that of the past, and that the art of one decade, -or even of one year, must supersede that of the preceding decade or -the preceding year, as the 1913 model in automobiles supersedes the -model of 1912. More than ever before “To have done, is to hang quite -out of fashion,” and the only title to consideration is to do something -quite obviously new or to proclaim one’s intention of doing something -newer. The race grows madder and madder. It is hardly two years since -we first heard of “Cubism” and already the “Futurists” are calling the -“Cubists” reactionary. Even the gasping critics, pounding manfully in -the rear, have thrown away all impedimenta of traditional standards in -the desperate effort to keep up with what seems less a march than a -stampede. - -But while we talk so loudly of progress in the arts we have an uneasy -feeling that we are not really progressing. If our belief in our own -art were as full-blooded as was that of the great creative epochs, we -should scarce be so reverent of the art of the past. It is, perhaps, a -sign of anemia that we have become founders of museums and conservers -of old buildings. If we are so careful of our heritage, it is surely -from some doubt of our ability to replace it. When art has been -vigorously alive, it has been ruthless in its treatment of what has -gone before. No cathedral builder thought of reconciling his own work -to that of the builder who preceded him; he built in his own way, -confident of its superiority. And when the Renaissance builder came, -in his turn, he contemptuously dismissed all medieval art as “Gothic” -and barbarous, and was as ready to tear down an old façade as to build -a new one. Even the most cock-sure of our moderns might hesitate to -emulate Michelangelo in his calm destruction of three frescos by -Perugino to make room for his own “Last Judgment.” He at least had the -full courage of his convictions, and his opinion of Perugino is of -record. - -Not all of us would consider even Michelangelo’s arrogance entirely -justified, but it is not only the Michelangelos who have had this -belief in themselves. Apparently the confidence of progress has been as -great in times that now seem to us decadent as in times that we think -of as truly progressive. The past, or at least the immediate past, -has always seemed “out of date,” and each generation, as it made its -entrance on the stage, has plumed itself upon its superiority to that -which was leaving it. The architect of the most debased baroque grafted -his “improvements” upon the buildings of the high Renaissance with an -assurance not less than that with which David and his contemporaries -banished the whole charming art of the eighteenth century. Van Orley -and Frans Floris were as sure of their advance upon the ancient Flemish -painting of the Van Eycks and of Memling as Rubens himself must have -been of his advance upon them. - -We can see plainly enough that in at least some of these cases the -sense of progress was an illusion. There was movement, but it was -not always forward movement. And if progress was illusory in some -instances, may it not, possibly, have been so in all? It is at least -worth inquiry how far the fine arts have ever been in a state of true -progress, going forward regularly from good to better, each generation -building on the work of its predecessors and surpassing that work, -in the way in which science has normally progressed when material -conditions were favorable. - -If, with a view to answering this question, we examine, however -cursorily, the history of the five great arts, we shall find a somewhat -different state of affairs in the case of each. In the end it may be -possible to formulate something like a general rule that shall accord -with all the facts. Let us begin with the greatest and simplest of the -arts, the art of poetry. - -In the history of poetry we shall find less evidence of progress than -anywhere else, for it will be seen that its acknowledged masterpieces -are almost invariably near the beginning of a series rather than -near the end. Almost as soon as a clear and flexible language has -been formed by any people, a great poem has been composed in that -language, which has remained not only unsurpassed, but unequaled, by -any subsequent work. Homer is for us, as he was for the Greeks, the -greatest of their poets; and if the opinion could be taken of all -cultivated readers in those nations that have inherited the Greek -tradition, it is doubtful whether he would not be acclaimed the -greatest poet of the ages. Dante has remained the first of Italian -poets, as he was one of the earliest. Chaucer, who wrote when our -language was transforming itself from Anglo-Saxon into English, -has still lovers who are willing for his sake to master what is to -them almost a foreign tongue, and yet other lovers who ask for new -translations of his works into our modern idiom; while Shakspere, who -wrote almost as soon as that transformation had been accomplished, is -universally reckoned one of the greatest of world-poets. There have, -indeed, been true poets at almost all stages of the world’s history, -but the preëminence of such masters as these can hardly be questioned, -and if we looked to poetry alone for a type of the arts, we should -almost be forced to conclude that art is the reverse of progressive. -We should think of it as gushing forth in full splendor when the world -is ready for it, and as unable ever again to rise to the level of its -fount. - -The art of architecture is later in its beginning than that of poetry, -for it can exist only when men have learned to build solidly and -permanently. A nomad may be a poet, but he cannot be an architect; a -herdsman might have written the Book of Job, but the great builders -are dwellers in cities. But since men first learned to build they -have never quite forgotten how to do so. At all times there have been -somewhere peoples who knew enough of building to mold its utility into -forms of beauty, and the history of architecture may be read more -continuously than that of any other art. It is a history of constant -change and of continuous development, each people and each age forming -out of the old elements a new style which should express its mind, -and each style reaching its point of greatest distinctiveness only -to begin a further transformation into something else; but is it a -history of progress? Building, indeed, has progressed at one time or -another. The Romans, with their domes and arches, were more scientific -builders than the Greeks, with their simple post and lintel, but were -they better architects? We of to-day, with our steel construction, -can scrape the sky with erections that would have amazed the boldest -of medieval craftsmen; can we equal his art? If we ask where in the -history of architecture do its masterpieces appear, the answer must be -“Almost anywhere.” Wherever men have had the wealth and the energy to -build greatly, they have builded beautifully, and the distinctions are -less between style and style or epoch and epoch than between building -and building. The masterpieces of one time are as the masterpieces of -another, and no man may say that the nave of Amiens is finer than the -Parthenon or that the Parthenon is nobler than the nave of Amiens. One -may say only that each is perfect in its kind, a supreme expression of -the human spirit. - -Of the art of music I must speak with the diffidence becoming to the -ignorant; but it seems to me to consist of two elements and to contain -an inspirational art as direct and as simple as that of poetry, and -a science so difficult that its fullest mastery is of very recent -achievement. In melodic invention it is so far from progressive that -its most brilliant masters are often content to elaborate and to -decorate a theme old enough to have no history--a theme the inventor of -which has been so entirely forgotten that we think of it as sprung not -from the mind of one man, but from that of a whole people, and call it -a folk-song. The song is almost as old as the race, but the symphony -has had to wait for the invention of many instruments and for a mastery -of the laws of harmony, and so symphonic music is a modern art. We -are still adding new instruments to the orchestra and admitting to -our compositions new combinations of sounds, but have we in a hundred -years made any essential progress even in this part of the art? Have we -produced anything, I will not say greater, but anything as great as the -noblest works of Bach and Beethoven? - -Already, and before considering the arts of painting and sculpture, we -are coming within sight of our general law. This law seems to be that, -so far as an art is dependent upon any form of exact knowledge, so far -it partakes of the nature of science and is capable of progress. So -far as it is expressive of a mind and soul, its greatness is dependent -upon the greatness of that mind and soul, and it is incapable of -progress. It may even be the reverse of progressive, because as an art -becomes more complicated and makes ever greater demands upon technical -mastery, it becomes more difficult as a medium of expression, while -the mind to be expressed becomes more sophisticated and less easy of -expression in any medium. It would take a greater mind than Homer’s to -express modern ideas in modern verse with Homer’s serene perfection; -it would take, perhaps, a greater mind than Bach’s to employ all the -resources of modern music with his glorious ease and directness. And -greater minds than those of Bach and Homer the world has not often the -felicity to possess. - -The arts of painting and sculpture are imitative arts above all others, -and therefore more dependent than any others upon exact knowledge, more -tinged with the quality of science. Let us see how they illustrate our -supposed law. - -Sculpture depends, as does architecture, upon certain laws of -proportion in space which are analogous to the laws of proportion -in time and in pitch upon which music is founded. But as sculpture -represents the human figure, whereas architecture and music represent -nothing, sculpture requires for its perfection the mastery of an -additional science, which is the knowledge of the structure and -movement of the human body. This knowledge may be acquired with some -rapidity, especially in times and countries where man is often seen -unclothed. So, in the history of civilizations, sculpture developed -early, after poetry, but with architecture, and before painting and -polyphonic music. It reached the greatest perfection of which it -is capable in the age of Pericles, and from that time progress was -impossible to it, and for a thousand years its movement was one of -decline. After the dark ages sculpture was one of the first arts to -revive, and again it develops rapidly, though not so rapidly as before, -conditions of custom and climate being less favorable to it, until it -reaches, in the first half of the sixteenth century, something near -its former perfection. Again it can go no further; and since then -it has changed, but has not progressed. In Phidias, by which name -I would signify the sculptor of the pediments of the Parthenon, we -have the coincidence of a superlatively great artist with the moment -of technical and scientific perfection in the art, and a similar -coincidence crowns the work of Michelangelo with a peculiar glory. -But, apart from the work of these two men, the essential value of a -work of sculpture is by no means always equal to its technical and -scientific completeness. There are archaic statues that are almost as -nobly beautiful as any work by Phidias, and more beautiful than almost -any work that has been done since his time. There are bits of Gothic -sculpture that are more valuable expressions of human feeling than -anything produced by the contemporaries of Buonarroti. Even in times -of decadence a great artist has created finer things than could be -accomplished by a mediocre talent of the great epochs, and the world -could ill spare the “Victory” of Samothrace or the portrait busts of -Houdon. - -As sculpture is one of the simplest of the arts, painting is one of the -most complicated. The harmonies it constructs are composed of almost -innumerable elements of lines and forms and colors and degrees of light -and dark, and the science it professes is no less than that of the -visible aspect of the whole of nature--a science so vast that it never -has been and perhaps never can be mastered in its totality. Anything -approaching a complete art of painting can exist only in an advanced -stage of civilization. An entirely complete art of painting never has -existed and probably never will exist. The history of painting, after -its early stages, is a history of loss here balancing gain there, of a -new means of expression acquired at the cost of an old one. - -We know comparatively little of the painting of antiquity, but we have -no reason to suppose that that art, however admirable, ever attained -to ripeness, and we know that the painting of the Orient has stopped -short at a comparatively early stage of development. For our purpose -the art to be studied is the painting of modern times in Europe from -its origin in the Middle Ages. Even in the beginning, or before the -beginning, while painting is a decadent reminiscence of the past rather -than a prophecy of the new birth, there are decorative splendors in -the Byzantine mosaics hardly to be recaptured. Then comes primitive -painting, an art of the line and of pure color with little modulation -and no attempt at the rendering of solid form. It gradually attains to -some sense of relief by the use of degrees of light and less light; -but the instant it admits the true shadow, the old brightness and -purity of color have become impossible. The line remains dominant for -a time, and is carried to the pitch of refinement and beauty, but the -love for solid form gradually overcomes it, and in the art of the high -Renaissance it takes a second place. Then light and shade begins to be -studied for its own sake; color, no longer pure and bright, but deep -and resonant, comes in again; the line vanishes altogether, and even -form becomes secondary. The last step is taken by Rembrandt, and even -color is subordinated to light and shade, which exists alone in a world -of brownness. At every step there has been progress, but there has also -been regress. Perhaps the greatest balance of gain against loss, and -the nearest approach to a complete art of painting, was with the great -Venetians. The transformation is still going on, and in our own day we -have conquered some corners of the science of visible aspects which -were unexplored by our ancestors. But the balance has turned against -us; our loss has been greater than our gain; and our art, even in its -scientific aspect, is inferior to that of the sixteenth and seventeenth -centuries. - -And just because there never has been a complete art of painting, -entirely rounded and perfected, it is the clearer to us that the -final value of a work in that art never has depended on its approach -to such completion. There is no one supreme master of painting, but -a long succession of masters of different yet equal glory. If the -masterpieces of architecture are everywhere because there has often -been a complete art of architecture, the masterpieces of painting are -everywhere for the opposite reason. And if we do not always value a -master the more as his art is more nearly complete, neither do we -always value him especially who has placed new scientific conquests -at the disposal of art. Palma Vecchio painted by the side of Titian, -but he is only a minor master; Botticelli remained of the generation -before Leonardo, but he is one of the immortal great. Paolo Ucello, by -his study of perspective, made a distinct advance in pictorial science, -but his interest for us is purely historic; Fra Angelico made no -advance whatever, but he practised consummately the current art as he -found it, and his work is eternally delightful. At every stage of its -development the art of painting has been a sufficient medium for the -expression of a great man’s mind; and wherever and whenever a great man -has practised it, the result has been a great and permanently valuable -work of art. - -For this seems, finally, to be the law of all the arts: the one -essential prerequisite to the production of a great work of art is a -great man. You cannot have the art without the man, and when you have -the man you have the art. His time and his surroundings will color him, -his art will not be at one time or place precisely what it might be at -another; but at bottom the art is the man, and at all times and in all -countries is just as great as the man. - -Let us clear our minds, then, of the illusion that there is in any -important sense such a thing as progress in the fine arts. We may with -a clear conscience judge every new work for what it appears in itself -to be, asking of it that it be noble and beautiful and reasonable, not -that it be novel or progressive. If it be great art, it will always -be novel enough; for there will be a great mind behind it, and no two -great minds are alike. And if it be novel without being great, how -shall we be the better off? There are enough forms of mediocre or evil -art in the world already. Being no longer intimidated by the fetish of -progress, when a thing calling itself a work of art seems to us hideous -and degraded, indecent and insane, we shall have the courage to say -so and shall not care to investigate it further. Detestable things -have been produced in the past, and they are none the less detestable -because we are able to see how they came to be produced. Detestable -things are produced now, and they will be no more admirable if we learn -to understand the minds that create them. Even should such things prove -to be not the mere freaks of a diseased intellect that they seem, but a -necessary outgrowth of the conditions of the age and a true prophecy of -“the art of the future,” they are not necessarily the better for that. -It is only that the future will be very unlucky in its art. - - - - -TO THE EXPERIMENTERS - -BY CHARLES BADGER CLARK, JR. - - - Help me live long, O keen, cool servants of science! - Give me a hundred years, for life is good and I love it, - And wonders are easy for you. - Yet, by a rule that is older than Æsculapius, - I still must reckon my time to that luckless day - When a ’whelming foe will cross a frontier unguarded - Into this myriad nation of cells that bears my name, - Storming fort after fort till the swarming defenders have perished - And the strangled empire shall fall. - My friends, simple folk, will weep and say, “He is dead!” - But you will smile at their terrible, black-winged angel, - And jot his name and description down in your note-book-- - The bitter song of the ages in a line of chemic formula! - Aye, and perchance you can take the components of living,-- - Provinces, ravaged and waste, of that ruinous empire,-- - And cunningly right them again. - Then call in the mourners. - “Say you your friend is dead? - See through that glass how his heart is pulsating steadily. - Look there, and there, at the beautiful play of the organs-- - All the reactions of life restored by our science! - Where is your death?” - But I--is there not an I?--catch you that in a test-tube! - -[Illustration: Owned by Mr. Hugo Reisinger - -NONCHALANCE - -FROM THE PAINTING BY JOHN S. SARGENT] - - - - -WAR-HORSES OF FAMOUS GENERALS - -WASHINGTON--WELLINGTON--NAPOLEON--GRANT--LEE--SHERMAN--SHERIDAN - -BY JAMES GRANT WILSON - - -When Colonel Washington accompanied General Braddock as aide-de-camp in -the Virginia campaign against the French and their Indian allies, he -took with him three war-horses. Of these his favorite was “Greenway,” a -fiery steed of great speed and endurance. In the disastrous battle of -July 9, 1755, Braddock was mortally wounded, after having five horses -killed under him, a record, so far as the writer is aware, unequaled -in the annals of war. Washington lost two horses. One of these was -replaced by the dying general, who presented to him his best charger, -which had escaped the carnage. A week later the young colonel wrote of -the engagement to his brother John: - - By the all powerful dispensation of Providence, I have been - protected beyond all human probability or expectation: for I have - had four bullets through my coat, and two horses shot under me, yet - escaped unhurt, although death was on every side of me. - -After the capture of Canada and the close of the war, Washington -frequently followed the foxhounds mounted on “Braddock,” as he named -that soldier’s powerful dark bay, or on “Greenway,” which was a dark -gray, and it was seldom that the Virginian was not in the lead. - -On June 20, 1775, Colonel Washington received his commission as -Commander-in-Chief of the American Army, and on the following morning, -accompanied by Generals Charles Lee and Philip Schuyler, he set out for -Cambridge, Massachusetts. He took with him five horses, his favorite -being a spirited stallion called “Douglas,” on which Washington first -appeared before the army at Cambridge, charming all beholders with -his manly grace and military bearing. Jefferson called him “the best -horseman of his age.” Before the close of the Revolutionary War the -general acquired by gift or purchase seven additional chargers. His -bay horse “Fairfax” was so badly wounded at the battle of Trenton that -he was left behind. At the battle of Monmouth, Washington rode a white -steed presented to him by William Livingston, Governor of New Jersey. -Such was the excessive heat on that June day, as well as the deep and -sandy nature of the soil, that the spirited charger sank under the -general, dying on the spot. His portrait is preserved in Trumbull’s -full-length painting of Washington, in the City Hall of New York. He -then mounted a high-bred chestnut mare with long, flowing mane and tail -named “Dolly.” Lafayette said of her and her rider: - - At Monmouth I commanded a division, and it may be supposed I - was pretty well occupied; still, I took time, amid the roar and - confusion of the conflict, to admire our beloved chief, who, - mounted on a splendid charger, rode along the ranks amid the shouts - of the soldiers, cheering them by his voice and example, and - restoring to our standard the fortunes of the fight. I thought I - had never seen so superb a man. - -Another of Washington’s war-horses, and the last to be mentioned, was -“Nelson,” a light chestnut, sixteen hands high, with white face and -legs. He was a gift from Governor Thomas Nelson of Virginia, and was -named in his honor. He was used for the last time at the surrender of -Lord Cornwallis, afterward leading a life of leisure at Mount Vernon -and following Washington’s bier in the funeral procession. Before the -Civil War, while on a visit to the general’s adopted son, Mr. Custis of -Arlington, I was informed that when a youth he had ridden “Buckskin” -and “Nelson,” and that the handsome white horse that fell on the field -of Monmouth was painted from memory by Colonel Trumbull. Mr. Custis -said: - - Among the many troublesome and unbroken horses ridden by - Washington, he was never thrown, and he was perhaps the strongest - man of his time. Mounted on “Buckskin,” I occasionally accompanied - the general when making his daily morning rounds at Mount Vernon, - riding “Yorktown,” the youngest of his war-horses, and the last - mounted by him, only a few days before his death. On one of those - occasions Washington saw with displeasure two stalwart negroes - vainly endeavoring to raise a heavy stone to the top of a wall. - Throwing “Yorktown’s” bridle to me, he sprang from his saddle, - strode forward, pushed the slaves aside, leaned over, and, grasping - the huge stone with his large, strong hands, slowly but surely - raised it to its place, and remounted without any remark. - -[Illustration: WASHINGTON’S FAVORITE WHITE CHARGER “LEXINGTON,” AT THE -BATTLE OF MONMOUTH - -FROM THE PAINTING BY JOHN TRUMBULL] - - * * * * * - -At four o’clock on a June morning ninety-eight years ago, when Napoleon -was defeated by Wellington in one of the sixteen decisive battles of -the world, the illustrious English soldier mounted his celebrated -charger “Copenhagen,” remaining in the saddle for eighteen hours. -“Copenhagen” was a powerful chestnut, grandson of the famous war-horse -“Eclipse,” and the son of “Lady Catherine,” the charger ridden by -Field-Marshal Lord Grosvenor at the siege of Copenhagen, when she was -in foal with the colt which afterward carried Wellington at Waterloo. -The war-horse cost him, in 1813, four hundred guineas. Two years -later, when the famous victory was won, and Wellington had held his -historic interview with Blücher, the duke dismounted at ten o’clock. -As “Copenhagen” was led away by the groom, he playfully threw out -his heels as a “good-night” salutation to his successful master. It -was Wellington’s last act before leaving Strathfieldsaye for London -on public or private business, to walk out to the adjacent paddock -to pat his favorite charger, and to feed him with chocolate or other -confectionery, of which he was inordinately fond. - -[Illustration: NAPOLEON’S FAMOUS WAR-HORSE “MARENGO” - -FROM THE PAINTING BY MEISSONIER] - -For more than a dozen years before his death “Copenhagen,” leading the -easy, comfortable career of a well-pensioned veteran who had retired -from all the activities of life, was only twice surreptitiously saddled -and ridden by the duke’s eldest son, the Marquis of Douro. The second -Duke of Wellington, who died in 1884, erected two monuments on the -grounds of Strathfieldsaye, that fine estate of nearly seven thousand -acres on which is situated Silchester, the site of a Roman station, -presented to the “Iron Duke” by the British government for a day’s work -at Waterloo. One of these, a superb and lofty marble column, is to the -memory of his illustrious father, the other to that of “Copenhagen.” -The former stands just outside the park at the point where, immediately -in front of one of the lodges, the London road meets at right angles -that which connects Reading with Basingstoke. A simple marble tombstone -standing under the shadow of a spreading Turkish oak marks the spot -where the brave steed was buried with military honors, and bears the -following inscription from the pen of the second duke: - - Here lies Copenhagen, the charger ridden by the Duke of Wellington - the entire day of the battle of Waterloo. Born 1808, died 1836. - - God’s humbler instrument though meaner clay - Should share the glory of that glorious day. - -[Illustration: WELLINGTON’S WATERLOO CHARGER “COPENHAGEN” - -FROM THE PAINTING BY JAMES WARD, R.A.] - -As we stood by “Copenhagen’s” grave in the summer of 1872, the duke -said to me: - - Several years after my father’s death an old servant of the family - came to me in the library, and, producing a paper parcel, spoke as - follows: “Your Grace, I do not believe that I have long to live, - and before I die I wish to place in your hands what belongs to - you.” With no small degree of surprise I inquired what it was, and - when he opened the package and produced a horse’s hoof he said: - “Your Grace, when Copenhagen died I cut off this hoof. None of us - imagined that the duke would trouble his head about the body of - the war-horse, but, to our great surprise, he walked down to the - stables on his sudden return from London to see him buried. He - instantly observed that his right forefoot was gone, and was in - a fearful passion. No one dared tell him how it happened. I have - preserved the hoof carefully for thirty years, and I now return it - to your Grace.” - -[Illustration: GRANT’S THREE FAVORITE WAR-HORSES: “EGYPT” (ON THE -LEFT), “CINCINNATI” (IN THE MIDDLE), AND “JEFF DAVIS” (ON THE RIGHT) - -By permission of “Harper’s Weekly” - -SHERMAN’S FAVORITE STEED “LEXINGTON” - -FROM A DRAWING BY THURE DE THULSTRUP - -SHERIDAN’S FAMOUS WAR-HORSE “WINCHESTER”] - -Lady de Ros, the last survivor of those who danced at the Duchess -of Richmond’s ball in Brussels on the evening before the battle of -Waterloo, also the last among those who had mounted “Copenhagen,” -published a little volume of recollections of Wellington which -contained the following extract: - - We often stayed with the duke at Abbaye, Mount St. Martin, - Cambrai, and one morning he announced that there would be a sham - battle, and that he had given orders to Sir George Scovell that - the ladies riding should be taken prisoners, so he recommended our - keeping close to him. I had no difficulty in doing so, as I was - riding the duke’s Waterloo charger “Copenhagen,” and I found myself - the only one within a square where they were firing. To the duke’s - great amusement, he heard one of the soldiers saying to another: - “Take care of that ’ere horse; he kicks out. We knew him well in - Spain,” pointing to “Copenhagen.” He was a most unpleasant horse to - ride, but always snorted and neighed with pleasure at the sight of - troops. I was jumping with him when the stirrup broke, and I fell - off. In the evening the duke had a dance, and said to me, “Here’s - the heroine of the day--got kicked off, and didn’t mind it.” - -[Illustration: LEE’S CELEBRATED CHARGER “TRAVELLER”] - -The first Duchess of Wellington, with whom “Copenhagen” was a great -favorite, wore a bracelet of his hair, as did several of her friends. -Her daughter-in-law, the second duchess, who died in August, 1894, -and who was much admired by the great duke, accompanying him on his -last visit to the field of Waterloo, showed the writer a bracelet and -breastpin made of “Copenhagen’s” mane. On my last sojourn of several -days at Strathfieldsaye in September, 1883, I received from the second -duke as a parting gift a precious lock of the Waterloo hero’s hair and -a sheaf of the charger’s tail. It may be mentioned _en passant_ that -Sir William Gomm’s redoubtable Waterloo charger “Old George,” once -mounted by Wellington, which lived to the unusual age for war-horses of -thirty-three years, is buried beneath a stone seat at Stoke Pogis, the -pastoral scene of Gray’s familiar and beautiful elegy. - -On the authority of his eldest son, who mentioned the circumstance -to the writer, it may be stated in conclusion that the last time -Wellington walked out of Walmer Castle, on the afternoon of the day -previous to his death, it was to visit his stable and to give orders to -the groom concerning his horses. - - * * * * * - -Chief among the most celebrated battle-chargers of the nineteenth -century was “Marengo,” Napoleon’s favorite war-horse. He was named in -honor of one of the most remarkable victories ever achieved by the -illustrious soldier. The day was lost by the French, and then gained -by the resistless charges of cavalry led by Desaix and Kellermann. -Their success caused the beaten infantry to rally and, taking heart, -to attack the Austrians with fury, and the field was finally won. In -view of the several hundred biographies of Bonaparte, it is certainly -surprising that so little should be known with any degree of certainty -concerning the world-famous Arab which he rode for eight hours at -Waterloo, and previously in scores of battles, as well as during the -disastrous Russian campaign. To an American visitor to the Bonapartes -at Chiselhurst in the summer of 1872, Louis Napoleon, in speaking of -his own horses and those of his uncle, said: - - The emperor’s “Marengo” was an Arabian of good size and style and - almost white. He rode him in his last battle of Mont St. Jean, - where the famous war-horse received his seventh wound. I mounted - him once in my youth, and only a short time before his death in - England at the age of thirty-six. Another favorite was “Marie,” - and was used by the emperor in many of his hundred battles. Her - skeleton is to be seen in the ancient castle of Ivenach on the - Rhine, the property of the Von Plessen family. Of the other sixty - or seventy steeds owned by Napoleon and used in his campaigns, - perhaps the most celebrated were “Ali,” “Austerlitz,” “Jaffa,” and - “Styrie.” He had nineteen horses killed under him. - -The American might have mentioned, but did not, that Field-Marshal -Blücher had twenty shot in battle, while in the American Civil War -Generals Custer of the North and Forrest of the South are believed to -have lost almost as many in the short period of four years. “Marie” -is thus described by Victor Hugo in the words of a soldier of the Old -Guard: - - On the day when he [Napoleon] gave me the cross, I noticed the - beast. It had its ears very far apart, a deep saddle, a fine head - marked with a black star, a very long neck, prominent knees, - projecting flanks, oblique shoulders, and a strong crupper. She was - a little above fifteen hands high. - - When “Marengo” was slightly wounded in the near haunch, Napoleon - mounted “Marie,” and finished his final battle on her. On his - downfall, a French gentleman purchased “Jaffa” and “Marengo” and - sent them to his English estate at Glastonbury, Kent. The tombstone - of the former may be seen there, with the inscription, “Under this - stone lies Jaffa, the celebrated charger of Napoleon.” - -The last trumpet-call sounded for “Marengo” in September, 1829. After -his death the skeleton was purchased and presented to the United -Service Institution at Whitehall, London, and is at present among its -most highly treasured relics. Another interesting souvenir of the -famous steed is one of his hoofs, made into a snuff-box, which makes -its daily rounds after dinner at the King’s Guards, in St. James’s -Palace. On its silver lid is engraved the legend, “Hoof of Marengo, -barb charger of Napoleon, ridden by him at Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena, -Wagram, in the Russian campaign, and at Waterloo,” and round the -silver shoe the legend continues: “Marengo was wounded in the near hip -at Waterloo, when his great master was on him in the hollow road in -advance of the French. He had frequently been wounded before in other -battles.” Near his skeleton may be seen an oil painting of “Marengo,” -by James Ward, R.A., who also was commissioned by Wellington to paint -a picture of “Copenhagen,” Napoleon’s pocket-telescope, and other -articles found in his carriage at Genappe, near Waterloo, where he was -nearly captured, but escaped by mounting the fleet “Marengo.” In the -museum is also displayed the saddle used by Blücher at Waterloo, and a -letter written by the fiery old field-marshal, the day after the fierce -battle, of which the following is a translation: - - Gossalines June 19, 1815. - - You remember, my dear wife, what I promised you, and I have kept - my word. The superiority of the enemy’s numbers obliged me to - give way on the 17th; but yesterday, in conjunction with my friend - Wellington, I put an end forever to Bonaparte’s dancing. His army - is completely routed, and the whole of his artillery, baggage, - caissons, and equipage are in my hands. I have had two horses - killed under me since the beginning of this short campaign. It will - soon be all over with Bonaparte. - -From a recent Paris publication, written by General Gourgaud, we learn -that at St. Helena Napoleon said that the finest charger he ever -owned was not the famous “Marengo,” but one named “Mourad Bey,” of -which, unfortunately, no further information is afforded by the French -general. In his St. Helena diary, Gourgaud writes: - - L’Empereur passé à l’equitation. Il n’avait pas peur à cheval, - parce qu’il n’avait jamais appris. “J’avais de bons chevaux le - Mourad-Bey etait le meilleur et le plus beau à l’armée d’Italie. - J’en avait un excellent: Aussi, pour invalide, l’ai-je mis à - Saint-Cloud, où il passait en liberté.” - -The last horse used by Napoleon was purchased at St. Helena. He -was a small bay of about fifteen hands called “King George,” but -afterward named by the emperor “Scheik,” which became much attached -to him. Captain Frederick Lahrbush of the Sixtieth Rifles, who was -then stationed on the island and who, as he could speak French, -became intimate with Napoleon, gave me a description of “Scheik” and -bequeathed to me his silver Waterloo medal and a lock of the emperor’s -hair, received as a parting gift on his departure from St. Helena. - - * * * * * - -As far as I am aware, no great commander ever possessed so valuable a -charger as “Cincinnati,” General Grant’s favorite during the fourth -year of the Civil War, and after his great victory at Chattanooga, -during which he rode “Egypt,” another of his six war-horses. A few -weeks later, when in Cincinnati, Grant received the gift of the noble -steed, which he named after that city. He was a son of “Lexington,” -with a single exception the fastest four-mile thoroughbred that ever -ran on an American race-course, having made the distance in 7:19¾ -minutes. The general was offered $10,000 for the horse, as his record -almost equaled that of his sire and his half-brother “Kentucky.” He -was a spirited and superb dark bay of great endurance, Grant riding -him almost daily during the Wilderness campaign of the summer of 1864, -and until the war closed in the following spring. “Cincinnati” was -seventeen hands, and, in the estimation of the illustrious soldier, the -grandest horse that he had ever seen, perhaps the most valuable ever -ridden by an army commander from the time of Alexander down to our own -day. - -The general very rarely permitted any person but himself to mount him. -Only two exceptions are recalled by the writer, once when Admiral -Daniel Ammen, who saved Grant when a small boy from being drowned, -visited him at his headquarters at City Point on the James River, and -when, a little later, President Lincoln came to the same place from -Washington to spend a week with the general. On the admiral’s return -from a two-hours’ ride, accompanied by a young aide-de-camp, Grant -asked how he liked “Cincinnati.” - -Ammen answered, “I have never backed his equal.” - -“Nor have I,” said the general. - -In his “Personal Memoirs” Grant writes: - - Lincoln spent the last days of his life with me. He came to City - Point in the last month of the war, and was with me all the - time. He lived on a despatch-boat in the river, but was always - around headquarters. He was a fine horseman, and rode my horse - “Cincinnati” every day. He visited the different camps, and I did - all that I could to interest him. The President was exceedingly - anxious about the war closing, and was apprehensive that we could - not stand another campaign. - -Soon after the surrender of General Robert E. Lee and his army at -Appomattox Court House, Virginia, in April, 1865, “Cincinnati” was -retired from active service, thereafter enjoying almost a decade of -peace and comfort on Admiral Ammen’s Maryland estate near Washington -until the end came in September, 1874, and he then received honorable -burial. The charger is fully entitled to a prominent place among the -most celebrated chargers of the nineteenth century, which includes -General Lee’s “Traveller,” General Sherman’s “Lexington,” and General -Sheridan’s “Winchester,” which died in 1878, and was skilfully mounted -by a taxidermist. “Winchester” is included among the relics of the -Mexican and later wars in the interesting collection of the Military -Service Institution on Governor’s Island, New York Harbor. - -It is interesting to record that Washington, who was six feet and two -inches in stature, weighed at the time of the siege of Yorktown 195 -pounds; Wellington, five feet seven inches, weighed at Waterloo 140 -pounds; Napoleon, five feet six inches, at the same date, 158 pounds; -and Grant, five feet eight inches, weighed at Appomattox Court House -145 pounds; General Lee at Gettysburg weighed 180 pounds; Sherman at -Atlanta 165 pounds; and Sheridan, in the battle of Cedar Creek, about -150 pounds. Washington was the tallest, and Sheridan the shortest of -the seven generals whose war-horses are described in this article. It -will be seen, therefore, that Washington’s war-horse “Nelson” had a -much heavier weight to carry than the chargers “Copenhagen,” “Marengo,” -and “Cincinnati,” in their masters’ concluding campaigns. - - * * * * * - -The most celebrated charger in the Confederacy during our four years’ -war was General Robert E. Lee’s “Traveller,” described to the writer by -Sheridan, who first saw him on the day of surrender at Appomattox, as -“a chunky gray horse.” He was born near Blue Sulphur Springs in West -Virginia in April, 1857, and when a colt won the first prize at the -Greenbrier Fair under the name of “Jeff Davis.” When purchased by the -great Virginian early in February, 1862, his name was changed by Lee -to “Traveller,” his master being very careful always to spell the word -with a double _l_. The horse was sixteen hands, above half bred, well -developed, of great courage and kindness, and carried his head well up. -He liked the excitement of battle, and at such times was a superb and -typical war-steed. General Fitzhugh Lee said to me that “Traveller” was -much admired for his rapid, springy walk, high spirit, bold carriage, -and muscular strength. - -It may be doubted if any of the great commanders mentioned in American -history possessed greater admiration for a fine horse than General -Lee, who said, “There is many a war-horse that is more entitled to -immortality than the man who rides him.” On the third day of the battle -of Gettysburg, when Pickett’s gallant charge had been successfully -repulsed by Hancock, and the survivors of his broken and decimated -command were returning to the Confederate position, Lee appeared and -spoke encouragingly to his defeated troops. While he was thus occupied, -observing an officer beating his horse for shying at the bursting of -a shell, he shouted: “Don’t whip him, Captain! Don’t whip him! I have -just such another foolish horse myself, and whipping does no good.” A -moment later an excited officer rode up to Lee and “Traveller,” and -reported the broken condition of his brigade. “Never mind, General,” -responded Lee, cheerfully; “all this has been my fault. It is I that -have lost the battle, and you must help me out of it in the best way -you can.” - -As with Napoleon and Wellington at Waterloo, so was it with Grant and -Lee, who saw each other but once during their many fierce encounters -about Richmond in the eleven months previous to the final surrender, -and then only at a great distance, Grant, as he told me, recognizing -the gray horse, but not his rider. The illustrious soldiers had met -in Mexico while serving under General Scott, but after separating in -April, 1865, never saw each other again but once--when General Lee -called at the White House to see President Grant. - -Soon after the close of the Civil War, Lee accepted the presidency -of Washington and Lee University. For five years, until his death, -he almost daily rode or fed his favorite charger. At the hero’s -funeral, “Traveller” was equipped for service and placed close to -the hearse. When the flower-covered coffin was carried out from the -church, the faithful horse put his nose on it and whinnied! He survived -his attached master for two years, when a nail penetrated his right -forefoot while grazing in a field, and, although it was immediately -removed, and everything possible was done to save him, lockjaw -developed, and he died during the summer of 1872. “Traveller’s” -skeleton was preserved, and is to be seen at Lexington, Virginia, as -well as Stonewall Jackson’s famous “Sorrel,” which was skilfully set -up by a veteran taxidermist. “Traveller,” like Sheridan’s celebrated -charger “Winchester,” enjoyed the very great distinction of having -his illustrious master for a biographer. In the sketch Lee mentions -his other horses, saying: “Of all, ‘Traveller’s’ companions in -toil,--‘Richmond,’ ‘Brown Roan,’ ‘Ajax,’ and quiet ‘Lucy Long,’--he is -the only one that retained his vigor. The first two expired under their -onerous burdens, and the last two failed.” During the Mexican War, -the general’s favorite was “Grace Darling,” a handsome and powerful -chestnut, which was seven times wounded, but never seriously. - -Referring to the photograph of “Traveller,” General Custis Lee wrote to -me: - - You will observe that my father’s position in the picture which - I send you, is that “to gather the horse,” in order to keep him - quiet. The legs are crossed behind the girth, and the hand is - slightly raised. “Traveller” injured both my father’s hands at the - second battle of Manassas, and General Lee could not thereafter - hold the reins in the regulation manner. - -The brilliant Sherman’s favorite war-horse was killed under him in -the first day of the bloody battle of Shiloh, and two others were -shot while in charge of his orderly. Later in the four years’ contest -his most famous steeds were “Lexington” and “Sam.” The former was a -Kentucky thoroughbred, and is mentioned in his memoirs. Sherman was -photographed on “Lexington” in Atlanta, and he rode him in the grand -review in Washington, May 24, 1865. The horse that under the homely -name of “Sam” most firmly established himself in the affection and -confidence of the general was a large, half-thoroughbred bay, sixteen -and a half hands, which he purchased soon after losing his three steeds -at Shiloh. “Sam” possessed speed, strength, and endurance, and was so -steady under fire that Sherman had no difficulty in writing orders from -the saddle and giving attention to other matters. While as steady as a -rock under fire, “Sam” was nevertheless prudent and sagacious in his -choice of shelter from hostile shot and shell. The charger was wounded -several times when mounted, and the fault was wholly due to his master. -He acquired wide reputation as a forager, and always contrived to -obtain a full allowance of rations, sometimes escaping on independent -expeditions for that purpose. - -What first endeared “Sam” to Sherman was that he became a favorite -with his son Willie, whom the writer well remembers when he came to -Vicksburg on a visit during the siege only a brief period before his -untimely death. The general told us that he always felt safe when his -boy was absent on “Sam,” knowing that he would keep out of danger and -return in time for dinner. Sherman rode him in many pitched battles, -and placed him on an Illinois farm, where he was pensioned, dying of -extreme old age in the summer of 1884. The general’s son Tecumseh -writes: “Sam was hardly the heroic horse to place with the others -you mention, but he was a strong, faithful animal who did perfectly -the varied and dangerous work allotted to him, and made a march as -long and difficult as any recorded in history--that from Vicksburg to -Washington,” via Atlanta, Savannah, Columbia, and Richmond. - -A few months before his death Sherman said to me: “Now remember, -Wilson, when I am gone, you are not to hand around a hat for a -monument. I have paid for one in St. Louis, and all you have to do is -to place me under it.” - -“General,” was the reply, “your wishes shall be respected; but of -course your troops of friends and admirers will certainly erect statues -in New York and Washington, and I am certain our Society of the Army of -the Tennessee will expect to honor their great commander with a statue -in some city of the West.” - -“Oh, well, that’s all right,” said the old hero, “if they think I am -worthy of them; but don’t put me on a circus horse.” - -This comment I repeated at the Metropolitan Club luncheon which -followed the unveiling of Saint-Gaudens’s equestrian statue of the -illustrious soldier. While McKim, who designed the pedestal, the poet -Stedman, and others smiled, the gifted sculptor looked solemn. The -steed, whose feet are not all where Sherman wished them to be, is -supposed to be a counterfeit presentment of “Lexington.” - - * * * * * - -Philip H. Sheridan, who was in half a hundred battles and skirmishes -without ever being wounded, wrote to an army friend in January, 1876: - - In regard to the black horse, I am glad to say that he is still - living, and is now in my stable. He has been a pensioner for the - past eight years, never being used save in the way of necessary - exercise. He is of the Black Hawk stock, was foaled at, or near, - Grand Rapids, Michigan, and was brought into the army by one of - the officers of the Second Michigan Cavalry, of which I was made - Colonel in 1862. Early in the spring of that year, while the - regiment was stationed at Rienzi, Miss., the horse was presented to - me by the officers, and at that time was rising three years old. He - is over seventeen hands in height, powerfully built, with a deep - chest, strong shoulders, has a broad forehead, a clear eye, and is - an animal of great intelligence. In his prime he was one of the - strongest horses I have ever known, very active, and the fastest - walker in the army, so far as my experience goes.[3] I rode him - constantly from 1862 to the close of the war, in all the actions - and in all the raids, as well as campaigns in which I took part. He - was never ill, and his staying powers were superb. At present he - is a little rheumatic, fat and lazy; but he has fairly earned his - rest, and so long as I live he will be taken care of. - -The celebrated charger died in October, 1878, when Sheridan made a -slight addition to his biography, saying: - - He always held his head high, and by the quickness of his movements - gave many persons the impression that he was exceedingly impetuous. - This was not the case, for I could at any time control him by a - firm hand and a few words, and he was as cool and quiet under - fire as one of my old soldiers. I doubt if his superior for field - service was ever ridden by any one. - -The poet-painter Buchanan Read, Herman Melville, and many minor writers -made “Winchester” the subject of poems and sketches, while several -sculptors and painters delineated him in marble and bronze and on -canvas. On every returning Memorial day many gray-haired survivors of -Sheridan’s rough-riders who remember the services of his - - Steed as black as the steeds of night, - -cross over from New York to Governor’s Island museum, and place flowers -on the glass case containing the celebrated charger, whose body, -after being set up by a skilled taxidermist, was, accompanied by his -accoutrements, presented by the general to the United States Military -Service Institution. - -Near the close of his career, when General Grant lost his fortune in -Wall Street, he voluntarily surrendered all his property with a single -exception. He retained Read’s spirited painting of Sheridan’s “Ride,” -representing “Winchester” and his master, the greatest _sabreur_ -that our country has produced, perhaps not surpassed by any cavalry -commander since the days of Murat. Read’s poem of “Sheridan’s Ride” -will probably outlive his famous picture. - - Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan! - Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man! - And when their statues are placed on high - Under the dome of the Union sky, - The American soldier’s temple of fame, - There with the glorious General’s name - Be it said in letters both bold and bright: - “Here is the steed that saved the day - By carrying Sheridan into the fight, - From Winchester--twenty miles away.” - -May I be permitted, in conclusion, to mention that none of the hundreds -of battle-chargers ridden by Washington, Napoleon, Wellington, Grant, -Lee, Sherman, and Sheridan, suffered mutilation by the barbarous modern -practice of docking their tails, which even uncivilized savages never -perpetrate on their horses. - - - - -[Illustration] - - -MRS. LONGBOW’S BIOGRAPHY - -BY GORDON HALL GEROULD - - -My acquaintance with Mrs. Longbow was due to my early friendship with -her son Charles. Mrs. Longbow and her two daughters swung into my -orbit quite unimportantly at first as shadowy persons to whom Charlie -wrote letters home while we were boys at school; later I came to know -the mother as an imposing figure, shiny with black jet, who eyed the -school from a platform on those great occasions when Charlie received -prizes and I did not. I never learned her weight, but I saw that her -displacement was enormous. By successive stages, as I increased in -stature and in years, my knowledge of her grew. I visited her son, -I danced with her daughters, I frequently conversed with her,--she -preferred to converse rather than to talk,--and I came to know as much -of her habit and attitude of mind, perhaps, as one could who was thirty -years her junior, not actively engaged in reforming the world, and of -the despised sex. - -Mrs. Longbow--Amelia E. Longbow, to designate her at once by the name -that she made illustrious--was of the older school of philanthropists, -who combined militant activity with the literary graces and a -tremendous sense of personal dignity. She could despise men and yet -receive them in her drawing-room without embarrassment; she could -wage a bitter warfare on wickedness and, when deeply stirred, write -a tolerable sonnet. She was indefatigable in her labors, but she was -never, to my knowledge, flurried or hurried. A large presence, she -moved through life with the splendid serenity of a steam-roller. She -was capable of prodigious labor, but not of idleness. Whatever her -hands found to do she did with all her might--and in her own way. At -one time or another she was engaged in reforming most things that are -susceptible of improvement or of disturbance. If she did not leave the -world better than she found it, the fault was the world’s, not hers. - -It was a considerable shock to me that she should leave the world -at all, so necessary had she seemingly become to its proper -administration, let alone its progress. I read the news of her death -in London just as I was sailing for home after a summer’s holiday, -and I felt a touch of pride that I had known the woman whose career -was written large that day in the journals of a sister nation. But, -as I reflected, neither America nor England had waited till her death -to pay their homage. She had lived long, and on many great occasions -during three decades she had been signally and publicly honored as the -most remarkable of her sex. The cable-despatches announced that she -left a comfortable fortune, and leading articles agreed that she was -wholly admirable. I felt sure that she would have regarded the praise -as unmerited if she had not shown her ability by leaving a respectable -inheritance to her children. I had reason also to believe that she -never lost her self-confident assurance of her own worth: she died, the -newspapers said, quite peacefully. - -Once back in New York, I took an early occasion to call on my friend -Charles Longbow. I had always liked him ever since the day that I -fished him, a shivering mite, out of the skating-pond at school. I had -been his chum thereafter until the end of my college course. Though I -could not emulate his distinction in scholarship or public speaking, I -could at least be useful to him, by virtue of my year’s seniority, in -protecting him from the consequences of his mother’s celebrity. I even -did him some service by pushing him into the thick of undergraduate -life. I was really very fond of him, and I was sure he liked me. - -If I had seen less of Charlie in later years, it was merely because -our paths did not often cross in a natural way. We boast about our -civilization a good deal, but we keep to our trails much as savages -do--or animals, for that matter. Besides, for some years I had a good -reason, not connected with Charlie’s mother or himself, for keeping -away from the Longbow house. So I had been with him less than I could -have wished, though I had never lost the habit of his friendship. I was -busy in my own way, and he was occupied in his. He had never been the -conspicuous success that his youth had promised, but he was more widely -known than many men with a greater professional reputation. To the -larger public he was always, of course, his mother’s son. At forty he -was what one might call a philanthropic lawyer. He did a certain amount -of ordinary business, and he wrote on many topics of contemporary -interest for the reviews, made many addresses to gatherings of earnest -people, served on many boards and commissions. He had retained the -modesty and generosity of his boyhood, which made some of us devoted -to him even though we were not in full sympathy with all of his -activities. Pride and vain-glory in him were purely vicarious: he was a -little conceited about his mother. - -As far back as my college days I had begun to distrust the estimate in -which Mrs. Longbow was held by her family and, as well as one could -judge, by herself. All of them, be it said, were supported in their -opinion of her greatness and her abounding righteousness by the world -at large. It was one of my earliest disillusionments to discover the -yawning vacuity that lay behind her solid front of fame; it was a sad -day for me, though it fostered intellectual pride, when I found out -that she was not such a miracle of goodness as she seemed. Though -Charles, as a matter of course, knew her much more intimately than I, -I think that he never penetrated her disguise. - -With his sisters the case was somewhat different, as I began to suspect -not long after my own private discovery. They were a little older than -Charles, and had better opportunities of watching their mother at close -range. Helen married, when she was about twenty-five, a man of her own -age, who eventually became one of the most prominent editors in New -York--Henry Wakefield Bradford. She made him a good wife, no doubt, and -had some share in his success both as debtor and as creditor. Whether -she loved him or not, she supported his interests loyally. Though she -had made an escape from her mother’s house, she did not desert her. -Indeed, in Helen’s marriage Mrs. Longbow might truly have been said to -have gained a son rather than to have lost a daughter. The Bradfords -were ardent worshipers at the shrine, and they worshiped very publicly. -In private, however, I detected a faint acidity of reference, a tinge -of irony, that made me suspect them of harboring envious feelings. -Perhaps they resented the luster of satellites, and would have liked to -emulate Mrs. Longbow’s glow of assured fame. Helen never seemed to me a -very good sort, though we were accounted friends. She had many of her -mother’s most striking qualities. - -Margaret, who was only a year older than Charles, never married. She -was her mother’s secretary and a most devoted daughter. She received -with her, traveled with her, labored for her without apparent repining. -Whether she ever had time to think seriously of marrying, or of leaving -her mother on other terms, always seemed to me doubtful. At all events, -she said as much to me repeatedly when at the age of twenty-five I -proposed to her. Without question, she had a great deal to do in -helping Mrs. Longbow to transact efficiently the business of the -universe. She was prettier than Helen, who grew large and stately by -her thirtieth year and was of too bold and mustached an aquiline type -for beauty. Margaret was fair, and retained the girlish lines of her -slender figure until middle age. She was clever, too, like the rest of -the family, and had seen much of the world in her mother’s company. She -wrote stories that had considerable success, and she would have had -personal distinction as a member of any other family. My only reason -for suspecting that she sometimes wearied of her filial rôle was a -remark that she once made to me when I complimented her on a pretty -novel she had published. - -“Oh, yes,” she replied, “one has to do something on one’s own account -in self-defense. Mother swallows everybody--she is so wonderful.” The -final phrase, I thought, did not altogether let Mrs. Longbow out. - -They were all writers, you see, all well known on the platform and in -the press, all active in good works and reform; but the children’s -celebrity shone mainly with a borrowed light. Irreverently enough, I -used to think of the mother as being like a hen with chicks. The hen’s -maternal clucking calls less attention to her brood than to herself. - -When I went to see Charles, I expected to find him overwhelmed with -genuine grief, and Margaret, if she appeared at all, endeavoring to -conceal the relief that was sure to be mixed with her natural sense of -loss. Of course, Helen--Mrs. Bradford, that is--I should not see, for -she had her own house. I should have to pay her a visit of condolence -separately. I dreaded this first meeting, though I was really very -sorry for Charles, whose devotion to his mother could not be doubted. -I knew that he would expect me to say things at once consoling and -laudatory, which would be difficult to frame. With so vocal a family, -the pressure of a hand and a murmured word would be insufficient -expressions of sympathy. - -When I reached the old house rather too far east on Thirty-eighth -Street, I was in a state of mind so craven that I would gladly have -shirked my duty on any pretext whatsoever; but I could think of none. -Instead, I had to tell both Margaret and Charles how deeply I felt -their loss. I found them up-stairs in the library, a dismal room -with too much furniture of the seventies, a mean grate, and heavy -bookcases filled with an odd collection of standard sets, reports of -philanthropic societies and commissions, and presentation copies of -works in all fields of literature and learning. I cherished a peculiar -dislike for this room, and I found no help in its dreadful reminders of -Mrs. Longbow’s active life. I did not quit myself well, but I managed -to speak some phrases of commonplace sympathy. - -Charles, lean, dark, and bearded, took up my words, while Margaret -drooped in her chair as though some spring had gone wrong inside her. - -“It was good of you to come so soon,” he said. “I’m sorry that you -couldn’t have been here for the funeral. Our friends were magnificent. -We were overwhelmed by the tide of sympathy. I think I might say that -the whole country mourned with us. You would have appreciated it, as we -did. It made one proud of America to see how she was revered; it made -me personally ready to ask forgiveness for all my cheap outbursts of -temper when I’ve thought the country was going wrong.” - -“The papers on the other side were full of praises for her,” I remarked -uncomfortably. - -“I know,” returned Charles. “The world must be better than we have -thought. I’d like to believe that the moral awakening in which she was -a leader has stirred men and women everywhere to right the wrongs of -humanity. But it will take more lives like hers to complete the work.” - -“She interested a great many people in reform who wouldn’t have taken -it up if it hadn’t been for her influence. And all of you are carrying -on work along the same lines.” I had to say something, and I could -think of nothing less inane. - -“Yes,” Charlie answered, wrinkling his forehead; “we must go on as well -as we can. But it’s like losing a pilot. She had genius.” - -Margaret Longbow suddenly straightened herself and began to wipe her -eyes delicately. - -“Mother had strength for it,” she said in a broken voice; “she had -wonderful energy.” - -“But think what you have done--all of you!” I protested. “As a family, -you are the most active people I know.” - -“I can’t go on--now. I’m going away as soon as things are straightened -out. I’m going to Italy to rest.” Margaret’s figure relaxed as suddenly -as it had stiffened. She lay back against a pile of cushions with the -inertness of utter fatigue. - -“Margaret!” Charles exclaimed sharply. “What would mother have said?” - -Margaret’s thin lip curled. She made me wonder what explosion was going -to follow. - -“It doesn’t matter about Robert,” she said, turning her head ever so -slightly in my direction. “He knows that I’ve tagged behind mother all -my life; he knows that I never could keep up. He even knows how hard -I used to try. I’m not good enough and I’m not clever enough. She was -a whirlwind. I feel her death more than any of you,--I understood her -better,--but you don’t know what it has been like.” - -She was sobbing now, gently, indeed, but with every sign of an -hysterical outburst, save that her voice never rose above its ordinary -key. I felt sure that she was not being histrionic even for her own -benefit, sure that she was filled with despairing grief, sure that she -was holding hard to the crumbling edge of self-control; but I wondered -what martyrdom of stifled individualism she was keeping back. Evidently -Charles and I did not understand. - -Pale, horrified, obviously angry at the sudden exposure of his sister’s -weakness, Charles Longbow rose from his chair and confronted her. - -“Margaret,” he said, and I detected in him, as he spoke, a comical -resemblance to Mrs. Longbow, “I can’t see, to be sure, why you should -behave so childishly. You ought to know better than any one else the -importance of mother’s work, and you owe it to her not to drop out now -that she is dead. She liked Italy, too, but she had a sense of duty.” - -“She had--oh, I know all about it!” Margaret had suddenly grown calm, -and spoke with something like scorn. “But you don’t know what it was -to live with her so many hours every day--to be so dependent on her. I -haven’t cultivated any sense of duty of my own.” - -“You must need to rest,” I remarked, wishing more than ever that I -could go away, and feeling sure that Charles would give anything to get -me out of the house. “A winter in Italy would do both of you a lot of -good, I feel sure, after all the strain you’ve been through. Why don’t -you go with Margaret, Charlie?” - -He looked at me, sad-eyed and a little wondering. - -“I couldn’t possibly take the time, Bob; but I dare say Margaret does -need a change. I’m sorry it I spoke impatiently. Only I can’t stand -it, Sister, when you speak as though mother were somehow to blame.” - -“It’s all right, Charlie,” said Margaret, smiling from her cushions. “I -shouldn’t have broken out so. My nerves are on edge, I suppose. Perhaps -I shall come back from Italy after a while quite ready to take hold. -And one can write even in Italy.” - -“That reminds me.” Charles turned again to me. “I’ve been hoping to see -you soon about one thing. We agreed the other day that you ought to be -asked about it before we made any move. The public naturally expects an -authorized biography of mother. The demand for it has already begun. -Don’t you think Henry Bradford is the person to do it? Helen thinks he -would be willing to.” - -“He would do it well, undoubtedly,” I answered, rather startled by the -abruptness of the question. I was really unprepared to give a judicial -opinion about the matter. - -“Henry would like to do it,” said Margaret, “and he would give a very -just estimate of her public life. Helen could look after the English; -she always does. Only I won’t have Henry or anybody else rummaging -through all mother’s private papers.” - -“Of course we should--I mean, you ought to look them over first,” -returned Charles, uneasily. - -“Henry has no discretion whatever,” commented Margaret. “Besides, -mother never liked him particularly, as both of you know perfectly -well. She liked you, Robert, a great deal better. Helen would be -furious if I said it to her, but it’s true.” - -“Yes, yes, Henry tried her sometimes,” Charles murmured; “but he knows -about everything in which she was interested.” - -“Why shouldn’t _you_ do it?” I asked him. - -“Oh, it ought to be some one further removed from her,” he -answered--“some one who could speak quite freely. I couldn’t do it.” - -“There’s one other possible plan,” I remarked. “Haven’t you thought of -it? Why shouldn’t the three of you collaborate in a life? It seems to -me that might be the most suitable arrangement. All of you write; you -have all been associated with your mother in her work. Why shouldn’t -you?” - -“That plan hasn’t occurred to us,” returned Charles, hesitatingly. “It -might be appropriate: ‘The Life of Mrs. Longbow, by Her Children.’ What -do you think, Margaret? Would Helen think well of it?” - -“Helen might,” replied Margaret. “I don’t quite know. I’d rather be -left out of it myself.” - -“Oh, I couldn’t work with Helen alone,” said Charles. “She would -overrule me at every turn.” - -“There you are!” Margaret put in. “It would be a beautiful idea, no -doubt; but we should find it hard to agree.” - -“Yet we ought to consider the plan before we ask any one else to do the -book,” said Charles, looking at me as though for confirmation. He had -been walking about while we talked, and now stood facing us from behind -the library table. - -“You certainly ought,” I agreed, rising to go. - -A few days later I paid a visit to the Bradfords. Helen was alone. She -received me graciously and spoke of her mother with much feeling and -pride. Very soon, however, she turned the conversation to her sister. - -“I’m troubled about Margaret,” she said. “You’ve seen her. I’d like to -know exactly what you think. She seems to me to be on the edge of a -nervous collapse, but she won’t see a doctor.” - -“She is very tired, evidently,” I responded, “but I thought she had -herself well in hand. Perhaps it may be a good thing for her to put -through her plan of going to Italy.” - -“Perhaps so. The poor child needs a rest, certainly. But I’m not at -all sure that she ought to be allowed to go away by herself.” Helen -Bradford eyed me significantly. “What worries me is her fixed idea that -mother has somehow been unjust to her. It is almost insane, this idea, -and it distresses me more than I can say. You see, I shouldn’t speak of -it at all except that you have known her so long. You see how absurd -the idea is. Margaret has had greater advantages from mother’s society -than any one else, as you know. It was a great privilege.” - -“Undoubtedly.” I could not bring myself to say more than that, for I -had a swift vision of what forty-two years of constant association with -Mrs. Longbow must have been like. “But the strain on her these last two -months must have been very great.” - -“Hardly greater than for me,” remarked Helen Bradford, stiffly. “I -relieved her at every turn. I think I did my full duty to mother. -Besides, mother never gave trouble; she was almost painfully anxious to -avoid doing so.” - -“I am sure of it,” I hastened to say; “but I suspect that Margaret has -not the strength of Mrs. Longbow. You are more like your mother in -many respects.” I was not quite sure whether Helen would take this as -a compliment, whether she might not detect a flavor of irony in the -speech; but I was relieved when it brought to her lips an amiable smile. - -“That is very good of you,” she said. “Margaret--poor dear!--has always -been perfectly well, but she has never had much vitality. That is very -important for us who are busy with so many kinds of work. Charles -doesn’t get tired in the same way, but he gets worried and anxious. -Mother never did. Margaret and Charles are more like my father. You -never knew him, I think?” - -All through her speech Helen Bradford had been pluming herself much as -I have seen fat geese do. The comparison is inelegant, but it conveys -the impression she gave me. At the end she sighed. - -“No,” I answered, “he died before I knew Charlie.” - -“I remember him vividly,” said Helen, “though I was a mere girl when -he died, and I have often heard mother say that he fretted himself to -death over non-essentials, quite selfishly. I am, I hope and believe, -whatever my faults may be, not like that.” - -I could truthfully say that she was not, and I added some commonplace -about Margaret’s restoration. - -“I shall have to look after her,” she went on. “Charles can’t be -depended on to do so. It is a great pity she has never married. A great -deal will come on me, now that mother is gone. For instance, there is -her biography. I must arrange for it without too much delay. I am aware -that people will be waiting for it eagerly.” - -“We can hardly hope to have the complete record of so active a life -immediately,” I said, thinking to be polite. - -“Perhaps not,” she answered, “but my husband says that the success of -a biography depends very largely on when it is issued. It mustn’t be -too long delayed. You may not know that mother kept a copious journal -all through the years, from her earliest girlhood. With the letters she -saved, it will be of the greatest service to her biographer, I feel -sure.” - -“I am convinced of it,” I returned. Indeed, I could picture to myself -the amazing confessions that must be hidden in any really intimate -journal by Mrs. Longbow. I suspected that the revelation of it would -shock right-minded persons; but I did not doubt that the spectacle of -self-immolation finding its reward in worldly success and fame would -give to thousands the thrill of true romance. - -“Charles tells me,” proceeded Mrs. Bradford, “that you suggested the -possibility of our collaborating--the three of us--in the biography. It -is a very beautiful idea. ‘Mrs. Longbow, by Her Children!’ The great -public servant as seen by those nearest and dearest to her, by those -whom she brought into the world and trained to follow in her steps! -Mother would have appreciated your thinking of it, Robert, I feel sure. -But you must see how impracticable it would be. Margaret is in such a -state, and Charles would never get anything done. He is very busy with -his work, of course, as all of us are; and he is apt to weigh things -very critically. I should have great trouble in getting the biography -written within a reasonable time. I have thought that perhaps we ought -to get Henry to do it.” - -“He would no doubt do it very effectively,” I said, and rose to go. - -“We must consider carefully a great many things, mustn’t we?” she -remarked brightly. “And the matter is so very important! It is a great -responsibility for one to be the child of such a mother. So kind of you -to come, Robert! I prize your sympathy not only for itself, but because -I know how greatly you admired mother. It has been a great consolation -to see you.” - -I left the house, glad that the interview was over and determined to -see as little of the Longbows as possible, unless I could get Charles -by himself. It struck me that, in donning her mother’s prophetic -mantle, of which she obviously considered herself the rightful heiress, -Mrs. Bradford found compensation for her responsibilities. I could not -see why I should be troubled about the question of a proper tribute to -Mrs. Longbow, whose personality I disliked as cordially as I disliked -most of her agitations. I wondered whether other friends had suffered -in the same way. - -I was, indeed, not altogether pleased the following week when I -received from Margaret Longbow an invitation to dine informally with -her brother and herself. - -“Helen and her husband are to be here Friday night,” she wrote, “and -I feel the need of outside support. They seem to think me harmlessly -insane, but will perhaps treat me less like a mental invalid if you -are here. I’m sure you will be bored; but I hope you will come, if you -can, for old friendship’s sake.” I could think of no polite excuse for -not responding to this signal of distress, and accordingly found myself -once more gathered to the collective bosom of the Longbows. I could -only hope that they would have the decency not to appeal to me for any -further advice. - -The family was assembled before I arrived at the house. Margaret and -Charles looked a little uneasy, I thought; but the Bradfords, as usual, -were superbly aware only of their superiorities. Henry Bradford, -well-fed and carefully dressed, exuded success at every pore, but only -the delicate aroma of success. As an experienced editor, he had learned -to be tactful, and he had made himself the plump embodiment of tact. -His features composed themselves on this occasion with a becoming trace -of regretful melancholy and an apparent willingness to be as cheerful -as seemed proper. The only discordant note in his whole well-rounded -presentation of a journalist in easy circumstances was the top of his -head. Seen through a sparse thicket of hair, it was shiny, like a coat -worn too long. His wife had the impressive exterior of a volcano in -repose. - -During the simple dinner we talked pleasantly about a variety of things -that were within the province of the Longbows: municipal reform, -Tolstoy, labor-unions, a plain-spoken novel by Mrs. Virgin, Turkish -misgovernment, the temperance movement. We did not mention Mrs. -Longbow’s name, but we felt, I am sure, that her spirit hovered over -us. I, at least, had an abiding sense of her immanence. When we went -back to the drawing-room together, I expected that her virtues would -become the topic of general conversation, and I dreaded the hour to -follow. - -My fears were relieved, however, by the prompt withdrawal of Mrs. -Bradford and Charles. He wished her to sign some document. Margaret -and I were left for Henry Bradford to amuse, which he did to his own -satisfaction. He was kind enough to be interested in my humble efforts -to live honestly by my pen: he expressed himself almost in those terms. -When his wife appeared in the doorway and announced briefly, “Henry -dear, I want you,” I saw him waddle away without feeling myself moved -to sympathy. - -“Henry is insufferable, isn’t he?” said Margaret, quietly. “I don’t see -how Helen can stand him except that he stands her.” - -“Oh, come,” I answered, “you’re too hard on them. Besides, you wouldn’t -like it if I agreed with you.” - -“Really, I shouldn’t mind at all. I’ve stood by the family all my -life, and I’ll stand by Charlie now; but I’ve never been deceived into -believing that I cared for Helen or Henry. I wouldn’t hurt them even -by saying what I think of them to anybody except you, but I prefer not -to see them. That’s one reason why I’m going abroad. We sha’n’t be so -intimate after I get back.” - -She rose languidly from her chair and fidgeted nervously with some -books on the table. - -“How long do you plan to stay?” I asked, crossing the room to her side. - -“You think it will take me a good while to get free of their clutches? -I’m going to stay till I feel safe, that’s all. I don’t want to do -anything for anybody again, and I sha’n’t come back as long as there’s -a chance of my being asked.” - -She spoke vindictively, with more vehemence than I had ever seen in -her. She gave me the impression that the stifled flame of rebellion was -breaking free at last, but only when the food for it was exhausted. In -her trim and faded prettiness she was mildly tragic--futilely tragic -would perhaps be the better phrase. Life and Mrs. Longbow had sapped -her vitality; that was clear. They had taken much from her, and given -her little in exchange. I wondered fatuously whether she had chosen -well twenty years before in devoting herself to reform and her mother -rather than to me. - -Doubtless I hesitated longer than was conventionally polite over -framing my reply, for she turned to me with a rather mocking laugh and -went on: - -“It’s very sad about me, isn’t it? But you needn’t pity me, Robert. You -gave me a chance to get out once, you remember, and I chose to do good -to all the world instead of battening on you. It was foolish of me, but -it was probably a lucky thing for you.” - -“I’ve never married, Margaret,” I answered, feeling somewhat grim and a -little uncomfortable. - -“Pure habit, I suppose,” she answered lightly, “but it ought to give -you satisfaction that I’m sorry both of us haven’t. You needn’t be -frightened, even though Helen has the absurd notion of throwing me at -your head now. You see what I am--just dregs. Mother and Helen have -never got over thinking me a young girl, and they’ve always planned for -you to marry whatever was left of me after they’d finished.” - -“I’ve never been very proud of my own behavior,” I put in. “I ought to -have been able to make you marry me back there, but--” - -“You were no match for mother.” Margaret ended the sentence for me. -“Nobody ever was. But even she shouldn’t have expected to keep that old -affair in cold storage for twenty years. I’m a baby to be complaining, -but I can’t help it this once. Things are so terribly dead that I can -safely tell you now that you ought to marry--not that I suppose you -have been restrained on my account for some fifteen years! I’m merely -showing you my death-certificate in the hope that you’ll avoid my -unhappy end.” - -“But, Margaret, what _are_ you going to do?” I cried, too disturbed by -the situation not to realize that she had diagnosed it correctly. - -“Oh, as I’ve said, I’m going to inter myself decently in Italy, where I -shall probably write a book about my mother. I can stay away just so -much longer.” - -At that moment the others came in and stopped whatever reply I could -have made. - -“So sorry we had to leave you like this,” said Mrs. Bradford, sailing -majestically into the room; “but you are such an old friend that we -treat you like one of the family, you see.” She smiled in a way that -made her meaning plain. - -“It doesn’t matter about Bob, of course,” said Charles, who was clearly -so much engrossed by his own affairs as to be impervious to anything -else. “He and Margaret ought to be able to entertain each other.” - -“I think we do very well, thank you,” I remarked with a flicker of -amusement. “At least I do.” - -Charles, quite serious and earnest, planted himself in full view of the -group of us. - -“Look here,” he said “--all of you. I wish to talk to you about -mother’s biography.” - -“Yes, indeed,” responded Mrs. Bradford, settling heavily into a chair, -“we ought to consider the matter at once. It was largely on account of -it that Henry and I took the time to come here to-night.” She assumed -her most business-like expression. - -“There’s really nothing more to consider,” went on Charles, puckering -his forehead. “I simply wish to tell you that I have received an -excellent offer from Singleton for a work in two volumes, and have -accepted it. He will give a large sum for the book--a very large sum.” - -“Charles,” said Helen Bradford, severely, “how can you speak of money -in such a connection? I think that you acted very unwisely in not first -consulting your family. As a matter of fact, your precipitate action is -very embarrassing, isn’t it, Henry?” - -“You certainly should have told us that the offer had been made,” -concurred Bradford, looking aggrieved. “It does complicate things.” - -“I can’t see why,” said Charles, with a sudden burst of anger. “I’m -mother’s executor, as well as her only son, and I surely have the right -to make my own arrangements about her biography. I thought at first -that some one outside the family ought to write it, but I’ve been -shown quite clearly that it is my duty to do it.” - -Mrs. Bradford’s firm jaw dropped a little. - -“_You_ do it!” she cried. “I’ve decided that it will be most suitable -for me to write it myself. In point of fact, Henry has already made -satisfactory arrangements for me with Banister. So you see--” - -“I see,” said Charles, impatiently, “that you and Henry have been -meddling in the most unwarrantable fashion, quite as usual. You’ll have -to get out of it with Banister the best way you can, that’s all.” - -Margaret’s even voice broke in on the dispute. - -“It may interest you to know that I’m proposing to write a book about -mother myself. The Henrysons naturally wish one to go with their -edition of her writings, and they pay quite handsomely. What they -want isn’t a complete biography, you know--just the recollections of -a daughter. They seem to think me the one best qualified to do it. -Perhaps, after all, I am.” - -“It is impossible!” exclaimed Helen Bradford. “I cannot allow this -thing to go on. At great personal inconvenience I have agreed to do -the book; and I refuse to be placed in the undignified position into -which you are trying to force me. I decided that I’d better write it -myself, partly because you seemed to be jealous about having Henry -do it. I have prepared to give valuable time to it. And what is my -reward? You have gone ahead secretly and made arrangements on your own -account not for one biography, but for two. I think it most selfish and -inconsiderate of you.” - -“It will injure sales,” put in Henry Bradford, knowingly. - -“Of course you don’t need to go ahead with yours, Helen, if you feel -like that,” said Margaret. - -“I don’t see why--” began Mr. Bradford, but he was interrupted by his -wife. - -“I don’t see why either. There _is_ no reason. I’m not going to let you -get all the honor and reward of it. What would people think of me?” - -Margaret laughed. - -“Only that you were too busy to write, my dear,” she remarked; “that -you had left it to less important members of the family.” - -“I shall write the book in spite of you,” Mrs. Bradford replied. She -was furiously angry and a quite unlovely spectacle. A volcano in -eruption is not necessarily beautiful. “Mother always taught me,” she -continued, “never to be too busy to do my duty. I couldn’t bear to -think of leaving her great personality in the hands of either of you. -You are undutiful children.” - -Charles Longbow’s frown had deepened, but he had regained his composure. - -“I think, Helen,” he said, “that mother wouldn’t like to see us -quarreling like this. She believed in peace and calm.” For a moment his -natural generosity seemed to assert itself. “You are so much like her -that I can’t bear to have anything come between us. I’m sorry I didn’t -know you wanted to write the book.” - -“You did very wrong in not consulting me,” replied Helen, with angry -dignity. “I was at least mother’s eldest child, and took a considerable -share in her great work. You ought to see Singleton and get him to -release you from your contract.” - -“Perhaps Helen ought to have her own way,” remarked Margaret, wearily. -“She always has.” - -“I’m certainly not going to change my arrangements now,” Charles -returned, with sudden stiffness. “I shall bring out a work in suitable -form, something on a scale worthy of mother. What is more, her journal -and all her papers are mine to do what I please with.” - -“Come, Henry!” cried Mrs. Bradford. “You may like to have insults -heaped upon me, but I won’t remain to hear them.” - -Magnificently, explosively, she swept from the room, followed close by -her husband. For a moment the brother and sister stood looking at each -other like naughty children apprehended in a fault. I was forgotten. At -length Margaret sank into the chair from which her sister had risen and -gave a nervous laugh. - -“I hope you have enjoyed the entertainment we’ve been giving you, -Robert,” she said, turning her head in my direction. “This will be the -end of everything. All the same, Charlie dear, I hope you’ll let me -sort mother’s papers before I go away.” - -“Oh, come, Charlie,”--I plucked up my courage to play the peacemaker, -for I felt that this dance on a newly made grave would disturb even -Mrs. Longbow’s serene and righteous soul,--“there’s no reason why Helen -shouldn’t write a book as well as you. The public will stand for it. I -hope you’ll tell her so.” - -Charles’s solemn face cracked with a grin. - -“I sha’n’t have to,” he said. “But I’m sorry you were here-you know -what I mean. I’m ashamed.” - -I could not fail to see that his pride was touched to the -bleeding-point, and that Margaret was utterly weary. With only a -hand-shake and a word of parting I went away, glad enough, you can -understand, to make my escape. - -I met none of them again till I went to the docks, a month later, to -say farewell to Margaret. Charles was with her, but Helen was not -there. Margaret looked very old and ill, I thought. Just before the -boat sailed, she managed to screen herself from her brother, and -hurriedly slipped an envelop into my hand. - -“Please give this to Charlie when I’m well out to sea,” she whispered. -“I can’t bear to send it through the post-office.” - -“How soon?” I asked under my breath, supposing her secrecy to be the -whim of a nervous invalid. - -“Give me three days,” she replied, glancing furtively at her brother, -who was just then absorbed by the spectacle of a donkey-engine on a -lower deck. “It’s about mother’s journal and her papers. Don’t you -see? I looked them over,--Charlie told me to,--but I couldn’t bear to -explain to him, and I haven’t had time yet to copy them. My letter -tells about it.” - -She turned from me quickly and took her brother’s arm, insisting that -both he and I must leave the ship at once. Twenty minutes later she -waved gaily to us as the cables slackened and the boat swung out into -the river. - -I disliked my new commission, but I had been given no opportunity to -refuse it. At the time appointed I carried the letter to Charles, -whom I found in the family library amid heaps of faded and disorderly -manuscript. As I entered the room, he rose excitedly. - -“It’s extraordinary!” he exclaimed. “Mother’s journals are gone, and so -is all her intimate correspondence. Where can Margaret have put them? -She went through everything.” - -“Perhaps this will tell you,” I said, handing him the letter. “Margaret -gave it to me just before we left the boat, and told me to keep it till -to-day.” - -He read the letter, frowning. - -“What does the girl think!” he cried when he had ended. “It’s extremely -careless of her--she has carried off all of mother’s really important -papers; says she hadn’t finished arranging them, and will return them -when that’s done. She must be out of her head to think of trusting such -invaluable documents to any carrier in the world. And how does she -suppose I’m to go on with my book in the meantime? It’s mad.” - -“I don’t quite see, myself,” I responded, though in reality I was able -to understand her motives: evidently she wished to spare Charles the -full light of their mother’s self-revelation. - -“No one could see,” he returned, his lean cheeks flushed with anger. -“It’s impossible. It’s going to be a great inconvenience, even if the -things don’t get lost, and it may cost me a lot of money.” - -“Can’t you be working through what’s left?” I asked. “There seems to be -a lot of material.” - -“That’s just the trouble,” he replied. “Margaret has sorted everything, -and she’s left the rubbish--papers that couldn’t be of any use for the -book I’m engaged to write.” - -I was sympathetic, and willing to give Margaret her due measure of -blame. If she had been less worn and flurried, she might have found -some more discreet way of protecting her brother’s happiness and her -mother’s reputation. Yet I rather admired her courage. I wondered -how she would manage to Bowdlerize the journal without exciting her -brother’s suspicions. I awaited the outcome with curiosity and some -misgivings. When I left Charles, he was writing a peremptory demand for -the immediate return of the papers. - -My curiosity was amply satisfied, and my misgivings were realized, when -I received a letter from Margaret three weeks after she sailed. It was -post-marked Gibraltar, and it ran astoundingly: - - Dear Robert: - - I’m too ill to write, but I must. Try, if you can, to invent - some plausible excuse for me, and tell Charlie about it. I can’t - possibly write to him. I tried--I really tried--to arrange the - papers so that he’d get only a favorable impression from them; but - I couldn’t--and I couldn’t let him find mother out. If he had, he’d - have been hurt, and he’d have filled his book with reservations. - He’s terribly conscientious. I couldn’t bear to have poor mother’s - name injured, even if she did treat me badly. She did a lot of good - in her way, and she was rather magnificent. So one night I dropped - the papers overboard, journal and all. It’s a great deal better so. - - I sha’n’t stop till I get to Assisi. Don’t let Charlie be angry - with me. I trust you to understand. - - Ever sincerely yours, - ~Margaret Longbow~. - -I give the letter in full because it explains why no complete biography -of Mrs. Longbow has ever been published. Conscientious Charles, -naturally, has been unwilling to write a two-volume life without the -essential documents, and Margaret has never put her recollections into -a book. Helen Bradford’s pompous work, “The Public and Private Life -of My Mother,” hardly serves as a biography; it really gives more -information about Mrs. Bradford than about Mrs. Longbow. To supply the -public’s need of an intimate picture of the great philanthropist I have -here set down my impressions of her. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - -THE WIDENING FIELD OF THE MOVING-PICTURE - -ITS COMMERCIAL, EDUCATIONAL, AND ARTISTIC VALUE - -BY CHARLES B. BREWER - - -It has been variously estimated that there are already from fifteen -thousand to thirty thousand moving-picture show-places in the United -States. Greater New York alone has six hundred. Their development as -an industry has been very recent. For while as early as 1864 a French -patent was granted to Ducos for a battery of lenses, which, actuated -in rapid succession, depicted successive stages of movement, this -device could not have fulfilled the requirements of the moving-picture -of to-day for the important reason, if for no other, that the dry, -sensitized plate of that day could not receive impressions with -sufficient rapidity. With the advent of instantaneous photography came -what was probably the direct forerunner of the motion-picture in the -work of Eadweard Muybridge, a photographer who, about 1878, began his -camera studies of “The Horse in Motion,”[4] “Animal Locomotion,”[5] and -other motion studies. His work was begun in California, on the private -race-course of Governor Leland Stanford. Here he employed a battery of -twenty-four cameras, spaced a foot apart, the shutters of which were -sprung by the horse coming in contact with threads stretched across the -track. - -Mr. Edison’s kinetoscope camera, begun in 1889, was described in -court[6] as “capable of producing an indefinite number of negatives on -a single, sensitized, flexible film, at a speed theretofore unknown.” -In his patent specification, Mr. Edison refers to this speed by saying, -“I have been able to take with a single camera and tape film as many as -forty-six photographs per second.” - -A recently published account of what seemed a novel development served -to show that other inventors were also busy on the subject nearly -twenty years ago. The innovation makes use of glass plates instead of -the ordinary films. The pictures are taken in rows, 162 to a plate, and -the finished plate resembles a sheet of postage-stamps. Provision is -made for carrying eighteen plates and for automatically shifting the -plates to take the pictures in proper sequence. - -Mr. Edison first showed the world his completed invention at the -world’s fair in Chicago in 1893; but it was nearly 1900 before this -infant industry could be said to be fairly started, though one -enterprising manager had a regular place of exhibition as early as -1894. Two years ago it was estimated that in a single year the country -paid over a hundred million dollars in admissions. There are no -definite figures available, though the census officials contemplate -gathering such statistics this year. It is probably safe, however, -to place the present revenue from admissions at close to two hundred -million dollars. - -[Illustration: From a photograph, copyright by The Biograph Co. - -TABLEAU: THE DEPARTURE OF ENOCH ARDEN] - -The Department of Justice, which has recently instituted action for -alleged combination of the ten leading film-makers of the country, -states that the total of pictures printed by these ten leading -companies, which handle between seventy and eighty per cent. of the -country’s business, fill between 2,500,000 and 3,000,000 feet of film -every week. This means between 25,000 and 30,000 miles of pictures -annually. - -[Illustration: From a photograph, copyright by The Biograph Co. - -SCENE FROM “THE LAST DROP OF WATER.” AN ATTACK BY HOSTILE INDIANS IN -THE DESERT] - -[Illustration: By permission of the Jungle Film Company. From a -photograph, copyright by Paul J. Rainey - -BEAR-HOUNDS PURSUING A CHETAH (FROM THE LIFE)] - -There is an ever-increasing demand for films, and many manufacturers -are kept busy. From an original film about two hundred positives are -usually reproduced and sent broadcast to the forty-five distributing -agencies of the general company, which do the work formerly done by -about one hundred and fifty independent exchanges in the various -cities of the country. The reels were formerly sold; but are now leased -to various theaters. Dates of exhibition are arranged with as much care -and business acumen as are the great plays of the stage. - -[Illustration: From a photograph, copyright by the Famous Players Film -Co. - -SARAH BERNHARDT AS QUEEN ELIZABETH SIGNING THE DEATH WARRANT OF THE -EARL OF LEICESTER] - -The larger places attempt to have one “first-night” reel among the -several shown at every performance. The reels usually rent to the -exhibitor for from $20 to $25 for the first night, the price being -scaled down each succeeding night about twenty per cent., until finally -the rent is as low as a dollar a night. Hence a reel may travel every -day, much the same as a theatrical troop in visiting small cities. The -writer once had occasion to trace one of the Edison films, known as -“Target Practice of the Atlantic Fleet.” The exchange had a complete -schedule of just where this film would be shown for three weeks. It had -been shown in several places in Washington, where it was scheduled to -return, but was then in Richmond, Virginia, and was billed to appear -the next day in Frederick, Maryland. - -The admissions are small, but the expenses are usually not great. Most -of the exhibition places are cared for by an operator, usually paid not -more than twenty-five dollars per week; a piano-player, a doorkeeper, -and a ticket-seller, varying from fifteen to eight dollars per week. -Many proprietors operate a chain of several places, and many fenced-in -city lots are pressed into service in summer. - -The moral tone of the pictures now exhibited has been greatly benefited -by the movement started in New York by those public-spirited citizens, -headed by the late Mr. Charles Sprague-Smith, known as the National -Board of Censorship, which wisely serves without compensation. -The film-makers voluntarily submit their work, and are more than -glad to have it reviewed, and it is said on good authority that no -manufacturer has ever refused to destroy a film which did not receive -the indorsement of the board. In a recent letter to “The Outlook,” Mr. -Darrell Hibbard, director of boys’ work, Y. M. C. A., Indianapolis, -discusses this phase of the subject. He writes: “Why is it that -from juvenile, divorce, and criminal courts we hear constant blame -for wayward deeds laid on the ‘five-cent shows’? The one answer is -the word ‘Greed.’” He adds that when a film has passed the National -Board of Censors, copies of it go to distributing agencies, in whose -hands “it can be made over uncensored, strips can be inserted, or -any mutilation made that fancy or trade may dictate.... A so-called -class of ‘pirated’ films are the extreme of irresponsibility.... They -are either manufactured locally or smuggled in from Europe, and thus -miss the National Board of Censors.... The only way that the people, -and especially the children, can be safeguarded from the influence of -evil pictures is by careful regulation of the places of exhibition.... -The nation-wide supervision of public exhibitions should be under the -Department of Education or Child Welfare at Washington.” - -[Illustration: Produced by Thomas A. Edison, Inc. - -A SCENE FROM “THE BLACK ARROW” - -This picture, showing the “Battle of Shorebytown,” was posed near New -York City.] - -There are now many auxiliary boards. Some are under the city -governments, and are compulsory, as in Chicago. Last year this board -passed on more than 3000 reels of pictures, comprising 2,604,000 feet -of films. They found it necessary to reject less than three per cent. -If, however, on investigation Mr. Hibbard’s fears are found to be -justified, the recently organized Children’s Bureau of the Department -of Commerce and Labor will here obtain an early chance to justify its -existence, as probably ninety-five per cent. of the films, as articles -of interstate commerce, can now be subjected to its jurisdiction. Such -supervision should also be welcomed by film-makers as an important step -in furthering an advancement in the moral tone of films, long since on -the upward grade, and thus to open up an even wider field of usefulness -than they now exert. - - -THE FILMS - -The smaller illustrations show the exact size of the pictures as they -appear on the film. They are an inch wide and three quarters of an inch -deep. A reel is usually a thousand feet long, and contains sixteen -thousand pictures. On a screen twelve feet square, which is smaller -than the usual size, there is surface enough to show twenty-seven -thousand of the pictures side by side if they are reproduced without -enlargement. Yet if every enlarged picture were shown on a separate -twelve-foot screen, a single reel would require a stretch of canvas -thirty-six miles long. Likewise a screen twenty feet square would -accommodate over seventy-six thousand of the little pictures, and the -stretch of canvas required for the enlarged pictures would be sixty -miles long. After witnessing a performance, few realize that they have -seen any such stretch of pictures as the figures show. - -[Illustration: By permission of “The American Quarterly of -Roentgenology” and “The Archives of the Roentgen Ray” - -SERIES OF RADIOGRAPHS SHOWING THE MOTIONS OF A STOMACH SUFFERING FROM -GASTRIC PERISTALSIS] - -The life of a film is usually from three to six months, though varying, -of course, with the treatment in handling. “The Scientific American” -gives credit for superiority to films of French make, and attributes -their excellence to the many tests to which they are subjected to -secure exact dimensions, adequate strength, and other properties. - -It is almost as vain to speak of the cost of producing a film as it -is to speak of the cost of producing a painting. We know the cost -of the canvas of the latter, and we also know the cost of the bare -film is three cents per foot; but the cost of what is on the film may -be represented only by the cost of developing and the labor of the -machine-operator, as, for example, in such pictures as “An Inaugural -Parade,” or the famous pictures showing the “Coronation of George V.” -Sometimes, however, the cost runs as high as fifty thousand dollars, as -did the film known as “The Landing of Columbus.” These films require -many people, necessitate the taking of long journeys to provide an -appropriate setting, and need from two to three years to finish them. -Before the film known as “The Crusaders” was ready for the public, six -hundred players and nearly three hundred horses had appeared in front -of the lens. The film of “The Passion Play,” now in preparation, will -cost, it is said, a hundred thousand dollars. - -Mr. Paul Rainey has stated that his wonderful animal pictures, which -showed his happenings from the unloading of his expedition from an -Atlantic steamer on the coast of Africa, through the various hunts, -and up to his departure, likewise cost fifty thousand dollars. -Some of these wonderful films demonstrated how practical was his -much-laughed-at theory that the Mississippi hounds used for hunting -bear could successfully hunt the destructive African lion and the -chetah. These pictures, which were taken with the idea of permitting -Mr. Rainey’s friends at home to journey with him in spirit in his -travels, were first shown publicly last winter at the National -Geographic Society in Washington to illustrate a lecture by Mr. -Rainey. Those who then enjoyed them can feel only satisfaction to know -that they have now been placed on public exhibition, to show to the -people at large what Professor Henry Fairfield Osborn, President of the -American Museum of Natural History, has declared to be “the greatest -contribution to natural history of the last decade.” The writer -recently saw these pictures, and while the films are naturally not -as perfect as when first shown in Washington, all the essentials are -faithfully reproduced. - -It is only recently that the streaky, flickering, eye-straining -series of pictures first brought out have been supplanted by pictures -so improved and so steady and continuous that the setting of a room -or a landscape made up of hundreds of pictures appears as a single -photograph. This is admirably illustrated by a portion of Mr. Rainey’s -pictures, which show, through the peculiarly clear African atmosphere, -a range of mountains ninety miles away. Again, his picture of the -drinking-place, where, owing to a long drought, some of the animals had -come eighty miles to scratch in the sand for water, shows the stillness -of an immense landscape broken only by the swaying of the nests of half -a hundred weaver-birds in a single tree, and by the scamper of monkeys, -baboons, and other small animals two hundred and fifty yards from the -camera. The same still background is shown as these little animals -cautiously approach, drink, and are driven away by those of larger -size, who in turn give way to companies of zebras, giraffes, rhinos, -and elephants. - -In a recent lecture given to benefit a fund to establish an animal -hospital in New York, Dr. Joseph K. Dixon is credited with having shown -a rare set of films which took his audience on a most interesting trip -through the Yellowstone Park, and showed them an animal hospital which -nature had provided in a secluded spot of aspen-trees, where injured -creatures went for rest and convalescence. Many vivid pictures showed -lame deer, wounded elk, and bears having their cuts and bruises healed -by their own applications of oil taken from the trees. - -[Illustration: By permission of “The American Quarterly of -Roentgenology” and “The Archives of the Roentgen Ray” - -SERIES OF RADIOGRAPHS SHOWING MOTIONS OF THE STOMACH DURING DIGESTION] - - -SCIENTIFIC AND EDUCATIONAL,--MICROCINEMATOGRAPH FILMS AND -ROENTGENCINEMATOGRAPHY - -Though the work of the cinematograph is only in its infancy, the range -of its possibilities seems almost boundless. When the target-practice -pictures mentioned above were taken, it was said that some of the -pictures showed a twelve-inch shell actually in flight. The writer -saw these pictures, and while he did not see this point illustrated, -possibly due to the breaking and imperfect repairing of the film, the -statement can be credited, as it is feasible to see this with the naked -eye if the observer is well in the line of flight. Another remarkable -instance which illustrates the capabilities and speed of the lens has -been cited in the case of a picture which shows a rifle-bullet on the -inside of a soap-bubble, from which it was learned that the bubble -does not break until the bullet leaves the opposite side from which it -entered. - -[Illustration: Produced by Thomas A. Edison, Inc. - -SCENE FROM “WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE”] - -The moving-picture is more and more being used for educational and -scientific purposes. It has been used for recruiting, and pictures were -taken of the convention at Chicago for use in the national campaign. -Pictures showing the methods of teaching in New York schools have -been shown in many parts of the country. Dr. William M. Davidson, -superintendent of public schools in the District of Columbia, is -strongly advocating the passage of a bill now pending before Congress -to use the schools as social centers for exhibiting educational -moving-pictures. Likewise Superintendent Maxwell is urging their use -in the New York public schools. Mr. Edison has very recently been -quoted as saying: “I intend to do away with books in the school; -that is, I mean to try to do away with school-books. When we get the -moving-pictures in the school, the child will be so interested that he -will hurry to get there before the bell rings, because it’s the natural -way to teach, through the eye. I have half a dozen fellows writing -scenari now on A and B.” An eight-year course is being planned which it -is expected will be started in Orange, New Jersey, in about a year. - -By the use of the moving-picture, the St. Louis Medical Society has -recently shown the method of inoculating animals with disease-germs -and the effect of the germs on the blood. Circulation of the blood -and action of numerous species of bacilli were also illustrated. -In a micro-cinematograph film showing the circulation of the blood -in a living body, prepared by M. Camandon, a French scientist, and -exhibited by MM. Pathe Frères, the London “Nature” states that the -white corpuscles of the blood are shown gradually altering their shape -and position and fulfilling one of their best-known functions in acting -as scavengers and absorbing such abnormal substances as microbes, -disease-cells, and granules of inert matter. “By reproducing at a -slower pace the changes,” this journal continues, “the cinematograph -can assist us to attain a clearer perception of the nature of the -alteration as it takes place.... No amount of imagination can supply -the clearness and comprehension which actual seeing can give. The -cinematograph might well become a most sufficient aid to the teaching -of very many biological and especially medical subjects.” - -[Illustration: Produced by Thomas A. Edison, Inc. - -SCENE FROM “THE LAND BEYOND THE SUNSET” - -This picture shows the fairies guiding a little newsboy to the land of -his dreams.] - -Utilizing the moving-picture with the microscope has given the layman -an insight into a world almost beyond comprehension, and yet this field -particularly is only in its infancy. At the recent World’s Hygienic -Congress in Washington, the large attendance at the lecture of Dr. -Fullerborn of Hamburg, illustrated with microscopic moving-pictures, -demonstrated the keen public interest in this subject. The pictures -showed the skin of a guinea-pig being shaved, how it was inoculated -with the hook-worm, the surgeon cutting out a piece of the skin and -preparing his microscope. The remainder of the film showed just how -the rapid multiplication of the much-talked-of hook-worm is revealed -through the microscope. - -The peculiar opaqueness necessary for the X-ray is obtained by -administering to a patient, who is in a fasting condition, two ounces -of bismuth subcarbonate mixed with two glasses of buttermilk. Many -radiographs are then made in rapid succession. These are reduced to -cinematographic size and projected upon a screen, giving a very -graphic representation of the motions of the stomach during digestion. -The films used in this paper were made by Dr. Lewis Gregory Cole, -Radiologist to Cornell University Medical College, and were shown at -a recent meeting of the American Medical Association, and published -in the journal of that society and in the Archives of Roentgen Ray. -This procedure is termed “Roentgencinematography” by Kaestle, Rieder, -and Rosenthal, to whom Dr. Cole gives much credit for previous work -along the same line. In the articles referred to above Dr. Cole advises -this method of examination for determining the presence of cancers and -ulcers of the stomach. - -[Illustration: Produced by Thomas A. Edison, Inc. - -SCENE FROM “THE STARS AND THE STRIPES” - -This picture shows the surrender of the British captain to John Paul -Jones in the famous fight between the _Bonhomme Richard_ and the -_Serapis_. The scene was arranged in the Edison Studio, the American -ship being stationary and the other arranged to run on rollers.] - -“Photographing time” has a spectacular sound, yet patents were -recently issued to the writer which virtually accomplished this. -Between the shutter and the film of the moving-picture machine are -introduced the marked edges of revolving transparent dials, actuated by -clock-movement. The figures in the three dials denote the hour, minute, -second, and smaller divisions, and are arranged to come to a prescribed -position as the shutter opens. By this means the exact time at which -any motion is photographed is imprinted on the different pictures of -the film independent of the varying speed of the hand-crank. Such -records promise to be most useful in the “scientific management” field -and medical pictures, from which comparative time studies can be made -from a number of films at the same time or from a single film by -reproducing it on the screen in the usual manner. - -Over twenty years ago, Mr. Edison stated in his patent specification -in referring to his ability to take forty-six photographs per second, -“I have also been able to hold the tape at rest for nine tenths of -the time.” It was probably not intended to convey the impression that -he could take anything approaching ten times the number of pictures, -as it is of course necessary to provide for rest periods; but it -is significant that very recently a machine has been perfected for -portraying such rapid motion as projectiles in flight, etc., which -takes the almost inconceivable number of two hundred and fifty pictures -per second. Indeed, experiments are in progress which promise even four -hundred per second. - -Films are also being utilized to show the news of the day. A member -of ~The Century~ staff was in Rome last year when the king was -fired upon. Two days later, in Perugia, he saw a moving-picture of the -king appearing on the balcony of the palace before an enormous crowd -assembled to congratulate him on his escape. More recently a London -theater which shows the news of the day in motion-pictures is regularly -opened and important events are shown on the screen two hours after -their occurrence, a promptness approaching that of the press “extra.” - - -TRICK FILMS - -The old saying is that figures do not lie; but a modern one is that -they can be made to. Just so the trick film places before one’s very -eyes what to one’s inner consciousness is impossible. Two favorite -devices of the trickster are brought into play in a recent film which -shows a cleverly produced romance woven about such an absurdity as the -painting of a landscape by the switching of a cow’s tail. The film -tells the story of a ne’er-do-well, in love, pretending to study art. -The father frowns on the match, but promises his favor if the son will -produce an example of his skill. In desperation the brush and palette -are taken to a field, and while the lovers are despairing, a friendly -cow approaches the easel. The switching begins at once, and a change -in the canvas is seen with every movement until a creditable painting -appears. What has appeared astonishing would have attracted less -attention had the audience seen that the pictures showing the restless -cow were taken at intervals, between which, while the camera was -stopped, a real artist worked on the picture, and stepped to one side -when the camera was put into action. - -The work of the trickster is shown to advantage in reversing a -film depicting a building operation. When run backward, a brand-new -structure is seen to be pulled to pieces, and its various members -hauled away in wagons running backward. - -One operator, who had shown boys diving from a high spring-board, has -related how, by reversing the film, he let his audience see the boys -come out of the water feet foremost, rise through the air the same -way, and by a graceful turn land on their feet on the spring-board. -Another has told how, by the same reverse motion, firemen, who a moment -before had rescued occupants from a burning building, were seen to -carry their victims back into the flames. We may perhaps look for some -of these enterprising tricksters to illustrate the possibility of that -expression of impossibility, “the unscrambling of eggs,” or for one -of them, with rare presence of mind, to catch on his lens an accident -shattering a number of valuable cut-glass pieces, and then to convert -a loss into profit by exhibiting the film reversed, and showing with -wonderful effectiveness a mass of broken glass ascend through space and -form itself on the table into the perfect originals. - - -THE PHOTO-PLAY - -The moving-picture has developed an important branch in the field -of literature. Several periodicals are devoted entirely to the -subject, and in many of the standard magazines can be found regular -advertisements for short “photo-plays.” The scenario-writers engaged in -the work do not seem to be able to keep up with the increasing demand. -Standard plays are pressed into service, and the leading managers and -actors of the world are found among those producing the 5000 plays -which moving-picture audiences require every year. - -The drama on the white sheet dates back to the autumn of 1894, when -Alexander Black of New York brought out the first “picture-play” before -a distinguished literary audience. This first picture-play, called -“Miss Jerry,” like later white-sheet plays by the same author and -artist, was accompanied by a spoken monologue giving all the speeches -and covering all the transitions of the action. The pictures, the -making of which was begun before the appearance of the motion-picture -device, were produced in series, indoors and out, from a living cast, -as in the present plays, and were put on the screen with registered -backgrounds by the aid of a double stereopticon at the rate of from -three to five per minute, thus presenting stages of action--a prophecy -of the continuous action perfected in the plays of to-day. - -When Mr. Black gave “Miss Jerry” for the first time in Boston, Edward -Everett Hale, greeting the author after the performance, exclaimed, -“Black, it’s so _inevitable_ that I’m chagrined to think that I didn’t -invent it myself.” It seemed inevitable, also, that the motion-picture -machine would take up the play idea; yet for a considerable time -motion exploitation was confined to short, episodic films. Indeed, -the early motion films were far less smooth in effect than the -modern product, and at the beginning a prolonged run appeared like a -hazardous undertaking for the eyes. Within the present season certain -films have been run in almost unbroken continuity (as in Bernhardt’s -“Queen Elizabeth”) for an hour and a half, which is to say that the -motion-pictures are now giving the full dramatic progression suggested -by the original lantern-play as seen by Dr. Hale. - -Doubtless the value of the moving-picture drama will be greatly -enhanced if speaking and singing parts in moving-picture performances, -with the aid of the phonograph, have been made thoroughly practical -by means of an instrument known as the “magnaphone,” as is claimed by -promoters of the device. The promoters are so well satisfied with the -outcome of their experiments that they claim it will soon be used in -all parts of the country. The instruments are not sound-magnifiers, -but consist of a number of instruments resembling the megaphone which -are placed in various parts of the audience, and the voice from the -phonograph, which comes over a wire, is thus brought close enough to -all parts of the house to make it plainly audible to every one.[7] - -The following progress of “Picture Plays” has been kindly furnished by -Mr. Alexander Black: - -1--First “plays,” in three acts, written, photographed, and presented -by Alexander Black--1894. - -2--Episodic motion-pictures placed in series. - -3--Short five-minute comedies in motion pictures. - -4--Scenes of travel in motion-pictures. - -5--Scenes from novels in motion-pictures (“Vanity Fair,” for example, -presented in consecutive series--1911). - -6--Scenes from “Odyssey” in consecutive series--1911-12. - -7--Sarah Bernhardt in “Queen Elizabeth”--1912. - - -PICTURES IN NATURAL COLORS - -With other improvements have come the admirable pictures in natural -colors, all mechanically produced. For some time we have had -hand-colored films, but these have required extraordinary patience on -the part of the colorist, who had to treat each of the sixteen thousand -pictures one at a time. Excessive care was also necessary as an overlap -of a thirty-second part of an inch would show the color many inches out -of place when the picture was shown enlarged on the screen. The work -is so tedious that the capacity of the colorist is said to be limited -to about thirty-five feet of film per day; the cost is thus made -excessive. And the market needs, which frequently require two hundred -reproductions of a reel, render the hand-colored film commercially -impracticable. - -The machine which now produces beautiful color pictures is known as the -“kinemacolor.” It is the joint work of Mr. Charles Urban, an American -who went to London a few years ago as a representative of manufacturers -of an American motion-picture machine, and a London photographer. The -machine differs from the ordinary cinematograph in several important -particulars. The most noticeable difference is a rapidly driven, -revolving skeleton frame known as a color-filter, which is located -between the lens and the shutter. This color-filter is made up of -different sections of specially prepared gelatin, two sections of which -are colored, one red and the other green. The filter-screen is revolved -while the pictures are taken, as well as when they are reproduced, -being so geared that the red section of the filter appears in line with -the lens for one photograph, and the green section for the next. - -The photographs are all in pairs, and twice the number of pictures are -taken and reproduced as in the ordinary machine, and the speed is also -twice as great, the kinemacolor taking and reproducing thirty-two--and -sometimes as many as fifty-five--per second, and the ordinary machine -sixteen. Incidentally, to care for the greater speed the kinemacolor -machine is also driven by a motor instead of by the ordinary hand-crank. - -When a negative is produced through the red screen, red light is -chiefly transmitted, and red-colored objects in the original will -appear transparent on the copy produced from the negative. Where the -next section of negative has moved into place the green section of the -filter has come into position, and the red-colored objects on this -part of the negative will appear dark. This can be noticed in the -illustrations, where such objects as the red coats of the horsemen and -the red of the flowers, as shown in the enlarged pictures, in the small -pictures appear light in every second view, and dark in each succeeding -one. When the pictures are thrown on a screen, the transparent parts -allow the colors of the filter to pass through, and the revolutions -of the filter are arranged for showing the appropriate color for -every picture. This will cause confusion, if, in repairing a broken -kinemacolor film, an uneven number of pictures are cut out and the -“pairs” thus interfered with. - -The successful reproducing of these wonderful colors is largely due to -what we know as “persistence of vision” (the same principle on which -the kinetoscope is based), and is easily recognized when we remember -that the lighted point of a stick appears to our vision as a ring of -fire when the stick is rapidly revolved. Just so with these pictures: -they are produced so rapidly that the red of one lingers on the retina -of the eye until the green appears, and the red of the first picture -melts into the green of the next, which does not appear, however, until -the red one has passed away. The green selected for the filter has in -it a certain amount of blue, and the red a certain amount of orange, -and in the fusion of the colors may be seen pleasing combinations of -greenish-yellow, orange, grays, blues, and even rich indigos. - -The early products of this kinemacolor process were the pictures of -the George V “Coronation” and the “Durbar.” The coronation pictures -are noteworthy for the brilliancy of the scenes, showing in action -thousands of horses, some bay, some chestnut, while others are pure -white, black, or of a peculiar cream color, all of them carrying -gay horsemen, with bright red coats, before a sea of color shown in -the gorgeous hats and exquisite gowns of the spectators and court -attendants. The durbar pictures, of course, are more recent. They -consist of 64,000 feet of pictures taken in Bombay, Calcutta, and -Delhi, where the actual durbar ceremonial of coronation was held. The -pictures at Calcutta, showing the royal elephants, are probably those -which will most impress Americans, particularly those showing the -superb control displayed when, at the mahout’s bidding, the elephants -go into and under the water, head and all, and leave the mahout on his -back apparently standing on the water’s surface. One set of pictures -shows the elephants in the pageant, and illustrates the wonderful color -capabilities of the process by distinctly reproducing on the enormous -cloth of gold covering the elephants the sheen as its folds move with -the elephants’ steps. - -In another part of these durbar pictures is shown a sea of color where -fifty thousand troops pass in review before the eyes of the spectator -in ten minutes. Two sets of the pictures show how quick is the action -of this particular process. These are the polo tournament at Delhi and -the cavalry charge, the action in which was so rapid as to require -the machine to take fifty-five pictures a second, in order to show -faithfully all of the movement. - -After witnessing pictures so full of interest and so wonderful in -color effect and action, one accustomed to democratic ideas could but -wonder to see moving upon the screen, on a mechanically revolved table, -so inanimate an object as a crown of jewels. Interest, however, was -aroused when it was learned that the appearance of this picture was -due to the fact that, as a mark of high appreciation of the coronation -and durbar pictures, the king broke many precedents and permitted his -crown to be taken for photographing to the private studio of Mr. -Urban, the inventor of the process. Incidentally, too, the crown was -more wonderful than its appearance at a distance indicated; for the -company informed the writer that it is made up of 6170 diamonds, 24 -rubies, and 25 emeralds, the largest of which weighs thirty-four carats. - -Another mark of the king’s appreciation was his storing away in the -“Jewel Office” of the Tower of London, in hermetically sealed vessels, -a complete set of the pictures, to show posterity at successive -coronations the exact manner in which George V became King of England -and Emperor of India. - - -FROM BUD TO BLOSSOM - -A rare set of pictures taken by this color process which had not been -given to the public was courteously shown to the writer in the private -theater of the company. These, which are called “From Bud to Blossom,” -show a stream of pictures in such rapid succession that they simulate -the trick of the Eastern magician who makes flowers grow into being -before the eyes of the spectator. The pictures are taken in intervals -of about three minutes by an automatic arrangement which continues the -work for a period required for the flower to blossom, which is usually -about three days. The speed of the growth, as seen by the spectator, -is thus magnified about from six thousand to nine thousand times the -actual growth of the flowers. So faithfully has the camera performed -its task that even the loosening of the petals can be counted one by -one, and in one picture, where two buds of a poppy are shown, the -growth of one is far enough ahead of the other to show its shattered -petals wither and drop while the companion is left in its magnificence. -In another picture the water in the glass is seen to evaporate to one -fourth its quantity before the flowers have fully blossomed. - -As a fitting climax, to excel in gorgeousness the pictures of the -flowers, there were retained until the last a series of pictures of -a battle “unto death” in an aquarium between water-beetles and a -magnificently marked snake. It almost passes the imagination to see -the distinct preservation of the many and varied colors of the snake -as it writhes and twists among the rocks on the bottom in its endeavor -to loose the hold of the beetles. The thought is delayed too long, -for soon after the bottom is reached one of the beetles finishes his -well-planned attack, and the neck of the snake is shown where these -vigorous little insects of the water have chewed it half-way through. -Vanquished, the snake gives up the battle as its lifeless form is -stretched on the rocks at the bottom. - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE YOUNG HEART IN AGE - -BY EDITH M. THOMAS - - - Let fall the ashen veil - On locks of ebon sheen; - And let Time’s furrowing tale - On once-smooth brows be seen. - - And let my eyes forego - Their once-keen shaft of sight; - Let hands and feet not know - Their former skill or might. - - Take all of outward grace, - Ye Aging Powers--but hold! - Touch not the inner place, - Let not my heart be old! - - Then, Youth, to me repair; - And be my soothéd guest; - All things with you I share - Save one,--that wild unrest! - - - - -[Illustration] - - -HER OWN LIFE - -BY ALLAN UPDEGRAFF - - -She paid the landlady five dollars from a plump little purse of gold -mesh. - -“And I’m expecting a--a gentleman to see me within the next half-hour,” -she said. - -“Certainly, ma’am; I’ll show him right into the drawring-room and call -you. I hope you’ll like the surroundings, ma’am; I have nobody in my -house but the most refined--” - -“Oh, I’m sure I shall. Good day.” - -She sat on the edge of the bed in the furnished room she had just -rented, and her face had the look of the girl’s face in a little -autotype of “The Soul’s Awakening through Books” that hung on the -wall opposite her. At last _her_ soul was awake; she could hear it -whispering, whispering in her bosom. Or was that sound merely the -exultation of her excited heart? - -At any rate, her soul was awake. She knew it, she could feel it, and it -made her tingle. At last she had broken her bonds, she had proclaimed -herself a real person in a real world. Her doll existence and her -doll-self were further behind than the doll’s house she had left. She -was free--free to be herself, free to live her own life as her own -desires decreed. - -“Free! free!” she repeated under her breath. “Free!” - -Her very presence gave a glamour to the shabby little room, so -palpitating with life was she, so dainty and pretty and sweet, and so -palpably young. The coils of her bright-brown hair were smooth and -artfully simple, as only the fingers of an expert hair-dresser could -have made them; her clear-skinned, brunette coloring showed the fine -hand of nature given every chance to produce its best; the delicate, -dark curves of her eyebrows, the carmine bows of her lips, the -changing, liquid velvet of her gold-brown eyes, were masterpieces of -the same supreme artist. She was as fair as an April morning that has -somehow strayed into the luxuriance of June. - -Suddenly she realized that the air in the little room was close, that -the single tall window was closed top and bottom. With a quick rustle -of silken draperies, she fluttered over to it and threw it wide. -The sounds that came in were not the metallic tenor shriek of the -“elevated,” the rumbling of wagons on cobblestones, the whining of -surface cars: they were voices of the world. She held out her arms to -them before returning to her perch on the bed. - -There was such a dazzling host of things to be done that she could -not begin to do anything. Her two big cowhide suitcases, standing in -rather disdainful opulence beside the shabby chiffonier, invited her to -unpack; but she dismissed the invitation with a toss of her head. How -could she desecrate her first hour of freedom by putting clothing into -bureau drawers? A mote-filled streak of sunshine, oblique with late -afternoon, offered more congenial occupation. She let her eyes rest on -it, and dreamed. It was pale golden, like hope, like the turrets of -castles in Spain, like the wealth awaiting claimants at the foot of a -rainbow. For a long time she looked into it, and her face put off its -first flush of exultation for the wistful doubtfulness of reverie. - -There was a knock at her door. - -“Yes?” she answered. - -“Your gentleman friend is a-waiting for you in the drawring-room, -ma’am,” announced the landlady’s voice from outside. - -“All right; thank you. I’ll be right down,” she said. - -She arose in a small flutter of excitement, and patted her faultless -hair before the mirror, turning her head this way and that. Gone was -her doubtfulness, her wistfulness; she had brightened like a mirror -when a lamp is brought into the room. The warm color in her cheeks -deepened, and her eyes felicitated their doubles in the mirror. Lightly -she fluttered down the broad stairway to the tiled hall below. At the -entrance to the parlor she paused a moment, then swept back the heavy -curtain with such an air as one might use in unveiling a statue. - -A man, sitting in the big Turkish rocking-chair between the front -windows, rose hastily to his feet. He was a compact, short-statured, -middle-aged man, with a look of grave alertness behind the friendly set -of his face. - -“Mrs. Wendell?” he murmured, coming forward. - -“And so you,” she said, still poising between the curtains, “are Ames -Hallton!” Immediately she laughed. “That sounds like melodrama,” she -exclaimed. “I’m very glad to see you.” - -They shook hands. Her eyes continued to regard him with the puzzled -interest that wonderful objects frequently inspire when seen closely. -There was a faint shadow of disappointment on her face, but she did not -allow it to linger. - -“It was kind--it was awf’ly kind of you to come,” she said. “Sha’n’t we -sit down? Do you know, I almost thought you wouldn’t come.” - -“Your letter was very interesting,” he returned dryly. - -“I tried to make it that way--so interesting that you just couldn’t -keep from coming.” She folded her hands in her brown-silk lap and -gravely bowed her head so that light from the window could bring out -the copper tints in her hair. She felt the judicial expression of -the gray eyes watching her, and chose the simplest means of making -partizans of them. “I was quite desperate, and after I’d read your -‘Love’s Ordeal’ I knew you were the one person who could help me.” - -“Have you already left your husband?” he inquired. - -She winced a little, and her brows protested. “You remind me of a -surgeon,” she said; “but that’s what I need--that’s what attracted me -to you in your book. It’s all so calm and simple and scientific. It -made me realize for the first time what I was--it and Ibsen’s ‘Doll’s -House.’ I was nothing but a plaything, a parasite, a mistress, a doll.” -She bowed her head in shame. The warm color flooding her cheeks was as -flawless as that in the finest tinted bisque. - -“What you say is very, very interesting,” murmured Hallton; and she -knew from his changed tone that the fact of her beauty had at last been -borne in upon him. - -With renewed confidence, almost with boldness, she lifted her head and -continued: “You see, I was married when I was only eighteen--just out -of boarding-school. I was already sick of hearing about love; everybody -made love to me.” - -“Of course,” said Hallton, slightly sarcastic. - -“I couldn’t help that, could I?” she complained, turning the depths of -her gold-brown eyes full upon him. - -He lowered his own eyes and pursed his lips. - -“No, of course not,” he admitted. “And then, when you realized that you -were--inconveniently situated, you decided to imitate _Nora_ in the -‘Doll’s House,’ and get out? Is that it?” - -“Well, yes; but--” - -“So you explained to your husband how you felt, and left him?” - -“I didn’t exactly explain; my thoughts seemed to be all mixed up: I -thought it would be better to write, after I’d thought a little more.” -Again she allowed the glory of her eyes to be her best apologist. “I -was going to write as soon as I’d had a talk with you. You see, I came -away only two hours ago, and Harry--my husband--will just think I’ve -gone to visit somewhere.” Her beauty made a confident appeal that he -would sanction her position. - -But Hallton looked out of the window. - -“And what do you expect to do to earn your living,” he asked, “now that -you’ve decided to quit being a parasite?” - -It was cruelly unfamiliar ground, this necessity he put upon her of -answering questions with mere words; she had become accustomed to use -glances as a final statement of her position, as a full and sufficient -answer for any question that a man could ask her. Nevertheless, she -drew herself together and addressed Hallton’s unappreciative profile: - -“My husband will give me an allowance, I’m sure, until I decide on -some suitable occupation; or, if he is mean enough not to, there’ll be -alimony or--or something like that, won’t there?” Her eyebrows began to -arch a little as Hallton continued to look out of the window, and her -lips lost some of their softness. “That is one of the things I wished -to speak to you about,” she explained. “I thought perhaps I might take -up writing, and I thought you might tell me the best way to begin.” - -Hallton put one hand to his forehead. - -“However, of course the most important thing,” she resumed steadily, -“is for me to live my own life. That’s what I’ve come to realize: I -must express myself, I must be free. Why, I didn’t know I had a soul -until I found myself alone a short time ago in the little room that -I had rented myself, all for myself. I’ve been a chattel--yes, a -chattel!” Her voice quavered; she hesitated, waiting for at least a -glance of encouragement. - -“I hoped you’d understand, that you’d advise me,” she murmured. “I’m -afraid I’m frightfully helpless; I’ve always been that way.” - -“My God! yes, madam!” he exploded, facing her; “I should think you -were!” - -She made no reply; she did not even show surprise by a change of -expression; she simply sat up very straight and faced him with the look -of clear-eyed intelligence that she had found best suited to situations -utterly beyond her comprehension. She waited, calm-browed, level-eyed, -judicious-mouthed, for him to explain, to apologize. - -“I beg your pardon,” he said. - -Her silence demanded more. - -“I was rather overcome; I was about to take a cheap, narrow view of -your--your dilemma,” he explained. “I was about to say that your -troubles were as common as dirt, and that you were wrong to take them -so idealistically, and not to realize the simplest fundamentals, of--. -Women are going through a period of readjustment just now, of course. -Your troubles probably aren’t much greater than those of any woman, or -man, who goes out to hunt a job. You don’t need to smash things, to -kick up a row.” - -She watched, with the penetrating gaze of a Muse, his half-disgusted -attempts to be polite. She had not the slightest idea what he was -driving at; she merely understood that only his regard for her beauty -and womanhood kept him from saying wild, irrational things. It occurred -to her that he might be mentally unbalanced; geniuses often were. - -“Look here,” he continued, growing increasingly excited under her look -of beautiful, understanding aloofness, “wouldn’t it be a good thing if -you decided, before beginning to live your own life, just what sort of -life your own life is--what you want to make of it? You’re breaking -away from a beastly artificial environment; aren’t you afraid you’ll -have as hard a time as, say, a pet canary turned out to make a living -among the sparrows? Besides, canaries are quite as useful as sparrows.” - -“I hardly think,” she said with great determination, “that I can -be compared to a pet canary; and I’ll have to ask you to be more -considerate in referring to my husband. He may not understand me, but -he is kind, and as good as he knows--” - -“Excuse me,” interrupted Hallton, putting his hand to his forehead; -“but I have no recollection of referring to your husband at all.” - -“You spoke of my breaking away from him,” she said, “and you called -him a beastly artificial--I won’t repeat what you said.” The delicate -curves of her cheeks warmed with the memory of the unfamiliar -appellation, with faint doubt as to her first idea of its value. -“However, that’s neither here nor there. I wish to ask you a simple, -straightforward question, Mr. Hallton: do you, or do you not, think it -is right for persons to live their own lives?” - -For a moment she thought she had succeeded in bringing him back to a -humble consideration of her case; he looked at her with something like -consternation in his face, his alert, gray eyes blinking rapidly. Light -from the window made her massed hair a soft, golden glimmer above the -sweet, injured, girlish seriousness of her face; her lips softened, -curved downward, like a troubled child’s. - -But Hallton turned from her to look out of the window. - -“Your own life, your own life!” he exploded again. “Why, you great, -big, beautiful doll, that’s your own life--a doll’s life! When is a -doll not a doll?” He got out of his chair and jerked his coat together -at the throat. His lower jaw protruded; he looked through rather -than at her, and his eyes were sick and tired. “Even your talk is -the talk of an automaton; you haven’t an idea without a forest of -quotation-marks around it,” he said. “If you weren’t so good-looking, -you’d be a private in that big brigade of female nincompoops who write -their soul-troubles to the author of the latest successful book. Your -beauty removes you from that class--at least as long as I look at you.” - -He bowed to her, with an expression slightly resembling a sneer. - -“Your beauty makes you a temptation; for you’d soon be looking for -another cage, or another doll’s house, and any man might be glad to -feed you. If I weren’t so busy, and you weren’t so devoid of character, -common sense, everything else that--” - -“Oh, you brute!” she cried, recoiling from the crassly material -admiration in his eyes. “How dare you speak to me like that?” - -“Perfect!” He bowed with his hand on his heart. “I press the -button, and you utter the absolutely obvious remarks. You are a -masterpiece--such a doll as would grace any home of the middle of the -last century. And my advice to you is to go back to your home and to -your devoted husband. I take it for granted that he is devoted: the -prices which you mechanical beauties command usually include devotion -by the bucketful. But perhaps I’m unnecessarily harsh because I see you -slipping through my fingers. Good day, Mrs. Wendell; and good luck!” - -She saw him go with a feeling that the universe had suddenly been -inverted and that she was scrambling around amid a Noah’s ark load -of displaced properties. It was not so much that he had disturbed -her ideals, her plans, her dream of freedom, but that he could have -treated her so cavalierly; that he could have been so impolite, so -unreasonable, so brutal; that he could so completely have failed to -understand her--that was what left her as dazed and terrified as a lost -child. - -“Oh, he is a cad, a perfect beast!” she gasped to herself as she fled -up the broad stairway to her room. - -She threw herself down on the hard little bed, crumpled silks, crumpled -hair, crumpled rose-petals of cheeks, crumpled pansies-and-dew of eyes. -All her sweetness and delicacy wilted and drooped and quivered in the -cold, gathering gloom of the little room. The city snarled and rumbled -and hissed and groaned outside, and its great composite voice was the -voice of loneliness incarnate. - -“Oh, there’s no one to take care of me!” she sobbed suddenly, and burst -into a flood of tears. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration: Half-tone plate engraved by H. Davidson - -A CORNER OF THE TABLE - -FROM THE PAINTING BY CHARLES CHABAS - -(EXAMPLES OF CONTEMPORARY FRENCH ART)] - - - - -[Illustration: Drawn by André Castaigne - -A DISTANT VIEW OF THE ACROPOLIS AT SUNSET] - - -SKIRTING THE BALKAN PENINSULA - -FROM TRIEST TO CONSTANTINOPLE - -THIRD PAPER: THE ENVIRONS OF ATHENS - -BY ROBERT HICHENS - -Author of “The Spell of Egypt,” “The Holy Land,” “The Garden of Allah,” -etc. - -WITH PICTURES BY JULES GUÉRIN AND PHOTOGRAPHS - - -Upon the southern slope of the Acropolis, beneath the limestone -precipices and the great golden-brown walls above which the Parthenon -shows its white summit, are many ruins; among them the Theater of -Dionysus and the Odeum of Herodes Atticus, the rich Marathonian who -spent much of his money in the beautification of Athens, and who taught -rhetoric to two men who eventually became Roman emperors. The Theater -of Dionysus, in which Æschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides produced their -dramas, is of stone and silver-white marble. Many of the seats are -arm-chairs, and are so comfortable that it is no uncommon thing to see -weary travelers, who have just come down from the Acropolis, resting in -them with almost unsuitable airs of unbridled satisfaction. - -It is evident to any one who examines this great theater carefully that -the Greeks considered it important for the body to be at ease while -the mind was at work; for not only are the seats perfectly adapted to -their purpose, but ample room is given for the feet of the spectators, -the distance between each tier and the tier above it being wide enough -to do away with all fear of crowding and inconvenience. The marble -arm-chairs were assigned to priests, whose names are carved upon them. -In the theater I saw one high arm-chair, like a throne, with lion’s -feet. This is Roman, and was the seat of a Roman general. The fronts -of the seats are pierced with small holes, which allow the rain-water -to escape. Below the stage there are some sculptured figures, most -of them headless. One which is not is a very striking and powerful, -though almost sinister, old man, in a crouching posture. His rather -round forehead resembles the very characteristic foreheads of the -Montenegrins. - -Herodes Atticus restored this theater. Before his time it had been -embellished by Lycurgus of Athens, the orator, and disciple of Plato. -It is not one of the gloriously placed theaters of the Greeks, but -from the upper tiers of seats there is a view across part of the Attic -plain to the isolated grove of cypresses where the famous Schliemann is -buried, and beyond to gray Hymettus. - -Standing near by is another theater, Roman-Greek, not Greek, the Odeum -of Herodes Atticus, said to have been built by him in memory of his -wife. This is not certain, and there are some authorities who think -that, like the beautiful arch near the Olympieion, this peculiar, very -picturesque structure was raised by the Emperor Hadrian, who was much -fonder of Athens than of Rome. - -The contrast between the exterior, the immensely massive, three-storied -façade with Roman arches, and the interior, or, rather, what was once -the interior, of this formerly roofed-in building, is very strange. -They do not seem to belong to each other, to have any artistic -connection the one with the other. - -[Illustration: From a photograph, copyright by Underwood & Underwood - -THEATER OF DIONYSUS ON THE SOUTHERN SLOPE OF THE ACROPOLIS] - -The outer walls are barbarically huge and heavy, and superb in color. -They gleam with a fierce-red gold, and are conspicuous from afar. The -almost monstrous, but impressive, solidity of Rome, heavy and bold, -indeed almost crudely imperious, is shown forth by them--a solidity -absolutely different from the Greek massiveness, which you can study -in the Doric temples, and far less beautiful. When you pass beyond and -this towering façade, which might well be a section of the Colosseum -transferred from gladiatorial Rome to intellectual Athens, you find -yourself in a theater which looks oddly, indeed, almost meanly, small -and pale and graceful. With a sort of fragile timidity it seems to be -cowering behind the flamboyant walls. When all its blanched marble -seats were crowded with spectators it contained five thousand persons. -As you approach the outer walls, you expect to find a building that -might accommodate perhaps twenty-five thousand. There is something -bizarre in the two colors, fierce and pale, in the two sizes, huge -and comparatively small, that are united in the odeum. Though very -remarkable, it seems to me to be one of the most inharmonious ruins in -Greece. - -The modern Athenians are not very fond of hard exercise, and except in -the height of summer, when many of them go to Kephisia and Phalerum, -and others to the islands, or to the baths near Corinth for a “cure,” -they seem well content to remain within their city. They are governed, -it seems, by fashion, like those who dwell in less-favored lands. When -I was in Athens the weather was usually magnificent and often very -hot. Yet Phalerum, perhaps half an hour by train from Constitution -Square, was deserted. In the vast hotel there I found only two or three -children, in the baths half a dozen swimmers. The pleasure-boats lay -idle by the pier. I asked the reason of this--why at evening dusty -Athens was crammed with strollers, and the pavements were black with -people taking coffee and ices, while delightful Phalerum, with its -cooler air and its limpid waters, held no one but an English traveler? - -“The season is over,” was the only reply I received, delivered with a -grave air of finality. I tried to argue the matter, and suggested that -anxiety about the war had something to do with it. But I was informed -that the “season” closed on a certain day, and that after that day the -Athenians gave up going to Phalerum. - -The season for many things seemed “over” when I was in Athens. -Round-about the city, and within easy reach of it, there is fascinating -country--country that seems to call you with a smiling decision to -enjoy all Arcadian delights; country, too, that has great associations -connected with it. From Athens you can go to picnic at Marathon or at -Salamis, or you can carry a tea-basket to the pine-woods which slope -down to the Convent of Daphni, and come back to it after paying a visit -to Eleusis. Or, if you are not afraid of a “long day,” you can motor -out and lunch in the lonely home of the sea-god under the columns at -Sunium. If you wish to go where a king goes, you can spend the day -in the thick woods at Tatoï. If you are full of social ambition, and -aim at “climbing,” a train in not many minutes will set you down at -Kephisia, the summer home of “the fifty-two” on the slope of a spur of -Mount Pentelicus. - -Thither I went one bright day. But, as at Phalerum, I found a deserted -paradise. The charming gardens and arbors were empty. The villas, -Russian, Egyptian, Swiss, English, French, and even now and then -Greek in style, were shuttered and closed. All in vain the waterfalls -sang, all in vain the silver poplars and the yellow-green pines gave -their shade. No one was there. I went at length to a restaurant to -get something to eat. Its door was unlocked, and I entered a large, -deserted room, with many tables, a piano, and a terrace. No one came. -I called, knocked, stamped, and at length evoked a thin elderly lady -in a gray shawl, who seemed alarmed at the sight of me, and in a frail -voice begged to know what I wanted. When I told her, she said there -was nothing to eat except what they were going to have themselves. The -season was over. Eventually she brought me _mastika_ and part of her -own dinner to the terrace, which overlooked a luxuriant and deserted -garden. And there I spent two happy, golden hours. I had sought the -heart of fashion, and found the exquisite peace that comes to places -when fashion has left them. Henceforth I shall always associate -beautiful Kephisia with silence, flowers, and one thin old woman in a -gray shawl. - -[Illustration: THE TEMPLE OF POSEIDON AND ATHENE AT SUNIUM - -PAINTED FOR THE CENTURY BY JULES GUÉRIN] - -Greece, though sparsely inhabited, is in the main a very -cheerful-looking country. The loneliness of much of it is not -depressing, the bareness of much of it is not sad. I began to -understand this on the day when I went to the plain of Marathon, which, -fortunately, lies away from railroads. One must go there by carriage or -motor or on horseback. The road is bad both for beasts and machinery, -but it passes through country which is typical of Greece, and through -which it would be foolish to go in haste. Go quietly to Marathon, spend -two hours there, or more, and when you return in the evening to Athens -you will have tasted a new joy. You will have lived for a little while -in an exquisite pastoral--a pastoral through which, it is true, no -pipes of Pan have fluted to you,--I heard little music in Greece,--but -which has been full of that lightness, brightness, simplicity, and -delicacy peculiar to Greece. The soil of the land is light, and, I -believe, though Hellenes have told me that in this I am wrong, that the -heart of the people is light. Certainly the heart of one traveler was -as he made his way to Marathon along a white road thickly powdered with -dust. - -[Illustration: From a photograph, copyright by Underwood & Underwood - -THE PLAIN OF MARATHON] - -Has not each land its representative tree? America has its maple, -England its oak, France its poplar, Italy its olive, Turkey its -cypress, Egypt its palm, and so on. The representative tree of Greece -is the pine. I do not forget the wild olive, from which in past days -the crowns were made, nor the fact that the guide-books say that -in a Greek landscape the masses of color are usually formed by the -silver-green olive-trees. It seemed to me, and it seems to me still in -remembrance, that the lovely little pine is the most precious ornament -of the Grecian scene. - -Marathon that day was a pastoral of yellow and blue, of pines and -sea. On the way I passed through great olive-groves, in one of -which long since some countrymen of mine were taken by brigands and -carried away to be done to death. And there were mighty fig-trees, and -mulberry-trees, and acres and acres of vines, with here and there an -almost black cypress among them. But the pines, more yellow than green, -and the bright blue sea made the picture that lives in my memory. - -[Illustration: From a photograph, copyright by Underwood & Underwood - -RUINS OF THE GREAT TEMPLE OF THE MYSTERIES AT ELEUSIS] - -Not very long after we were clear of the town we passed not far from -the village of “Louis,” who won the first Marathon race that was run -under King George’s scepter, Marousi, where the delicious water is -found that Athens loves to drink. And then away we went through the -groves and the little villages, where dusty soldiers were buying up -mules for the coming war; and Greek priests were reading newspapers; -and olive-skinned children, with bright, yet not ungentle, eyes, were -coming from school; and outside of ramshackle cafés, a huddle of -wood, a vine, a couple of tables, and a few bottles, old gentlemen, -some of them in native dress, with the white fustanelle, a sort of -short skirt not reaching to the knees, and shoes with turned-up toes -ornamented with big black tassels, were busily talking politics. Carts, -not covered with absurd but lively pictures, as they are in Sicily, -lumbered by in the dust. Peasants, sitting sidewise with dangling feet, -met us on trotting donkeys. Now and then a white dog dashed out, or -a flock of thin turkeys gobbled and stretched their necks nervously -as they gave us passage. Women, with rather dingy handkerchiefs tied -over their heads, were working in the vineyards or washing clothes -here and there beside thin runlets of water. Two German beggars, with -matted hair uncovered to the sun, red faces, and fingers with nails -like the claws of birds, tramped by, going to Athens. And farther on we -met a few Turkish Gipsies, swarthy and full of a lively malice, whose -tents were visible on a hillside at a little distance, in the midst of -a grove of pines. All the country smiled at us in the sunshine. One -jovial man in a fustanelle leaned down from a cart as we passed, and -shouted in Greek: “Enjoy yourselves! Enjoy yourselves!” And the gentle -hills, the olive-and pine-groves, the stretching vineyards, seemed to -echo his cry. - -[Illustration: Half-tone plate engraved by H. Davidson - -THE ODEUM OF HERODES ATTICUS IN ATHENS - -FROM THE PAINTING MADE FOR THE CENTURY BY JULES GUÉRIN] - -What is the magic of pastoral Greece? What is it that gives to you -a sensation of being gently released from the cares of life and the -boredom of modern civilization, with its often unmeaning complications, -its unnecessary luxuries, its noisy self-satisfactions? This is not -the tremendous, the spectacular release of the desert, an almost -savage tearing away of bonds. Nothing in the Greece I saw is savage; -scarcely anything is spectacular. But, oh, the bright simplicity of -the life and the country along the way to Marathon! It was like an -early world. One looked, and longed to live in those happy woods like -the Turkish Gipsies. Could life offer anything better? The pines are -small, exquisitely shaped, with foliage that looks almost as though -it had been deftly arranged by a consummate artist. They curl over -the slopes with a lightness almost of foam cresting a wave. Their -color is quite lovely. The ancient Egyptians had a love color: well, -the little pine-trees of Greece are the color of happiness. You smile -involuntarily when you see them. And when, descending among them, you -are greeted by the shining of the brilliant-blue sea, which stretches -along the edge of the plain of Marathon, you know radiance purged of -fierceness. - -The road winds down among the pines till, at right angles to it, -appears another road, or rough track just wide enough for a carriage. -This leads to a large mound which bars the way. Upon this mound a -habitation was perched. It was raised high above the ground upon a sort -of tripod of poles. It had yellow walls of wheat, and a roof and floor -of brushwood and maize. A ladder gave access to it, and from it there -was a wide outlook over the whole crescent-shaped plain of Marathon. -This dwelling belonged to a guardian of the vineyards, and the mound is -the tomb of those who died in the great battle. - -I sat for a long time on this strange tomb, in the shadow of the -rustic watch-house, and looked out over the plain. It is quite flat, -and is now cultivated, though there are some bare tracts of unfruitful -ground. In all directions I saw straggling vines. Not far away was -one low, red-tiled house belonging to a peasant, whose three small, -dirty, and unhealthy-looking children presently approached, and gazed -at me from below. In the distance a man on a white horse rode slowly -toward the pine-woods, and to my left I saw a group of women bending -mysteriously to accomplish some task unknown to me. No other figures -could I see between me and the bright-blue waters that once bore up -the fleet of Persia. Behind me were stony and not very high hills, -ending in the slopes down which Miltiades made his soldiers advance -“at a running pace.” One hundred and ninety-two brave men gone to dust -beneath me; instead of the commemorative lion, the little watch-house -of brushwood and wheat and maize, silence the only epitaph. The -mound, of hard, sun-baked earth, was yellow and bare. On one side a -few rusty-looking thorn-bushes decorated it harshly. But about it grew -aloes, and the wild oleander, with its bright-pink flowers, and near -by were many great fig-trees. A river intersects the plain, and its -course is marked by sedges and tall reeds. Where the land is bare, it -takes a tawny-yellow hue. Some clustering low houses far off under the -hills form the Albanian village of Marathon. Just twenty-two miles -from Athens, this place of an ancient glory, this tomb of men who, I -suppose, will not be forgotten so long as the Hellenic kingdom lasts, -seems very far away, hidden from the world between woods and waters, -solitary, but not sad. Beyond the plain and the sea are ranges of -mountains and the island of Eubœa. - -A figure slowly approaches. It is the guardian of the vineyards, -coming back to his watch-house above the grave of his countrymen, -smiling, with a cigarette between his white teeth. As I go, he calls -out “Addio!” Then he mounts his ladder carefully and withdraws to his -easy work. How strange to be a watcher of vineyards upon the tumulus of -Marathon! - -If you care at all for life in the open, if you have the love of -camping in your blood, Greece will call to you at every moment to throw -off the dullness of houses, to come and stay under blue heaven and be -happy. Yet I suppose the season for all such joys was over when I was -in Greece, for I never met any citizens of Athens taking their pleasure -in the surrounding country. In Turkey and Asia Minor, near any large -town, when the weather is hot and fine, one may see cheerful parties of -friends making merry in the open air, under trees and in arbors; or men -dreaming idly in nooks that might have made old Omar’s delight, shaded, -and sung to by a stream. In Greece it is not so. Once you are out in -the country, you come upon no one but peasants, shepherds, goatherds, -Gipsies, turkey-drivers, and, speaking generally, “sons of the soil.” - -[Illustration: THE TEMPLE OF ATHENE, ISLAND OF ÆGINA - -PAINTED FOR THE CENTURY BY JULES GUÉRIN] - -In the very height of summer, I am told, the Athenians do condescend to -go to the pine-woods. They sleep during part of the day, and stay out -of doors at night, often driving into the country, and eating under the -trees or by the sea. But even in the heat of a rainless September, -if I may judge by my own experience, they prefer Constitution Square -and “the Dardanelles” to any more pastoral pleasures. - -I did not imitate them, but followed the Via Sacra one morning, past -the oldest olive-tree in Greece, a small and corrugated veteran said to -have been planted in the time of Pericles, to the Convent of Daphni, -now fallen into a sort of poetic decay. - -Once more I was among pine-trees. They thronged the almost park-like -slopes under Ægaleos. They crowded toward the little Byzantine church, -which stands on the left of the road on the site of a vanished temple -of Apollo, with remains of its once strongly fortified walls about it. -Lonely, but smiling, as though with a radiant satisfaction at its own -shining peace, is the country in whose bosom the church lies. A few -sheep, small, with shaggy coats of brown and white, were grazing near -it; a dog lay stretched out in the sun; and some lean, long-tailed -horses were standing with bowed heads, as if drowsing. An ancient and -very deep well was close by. In the marble well-head the friction of -many drawn cords has cut grooves, some of them nearly an inch in depth. -The court of the convent is roughly paved and is inclosed within rough -walls. In it are a few trees, an acacia or two, a wild pepper-tree, -and one gigantic cypress. From a branch near the entrance a big bell -hung by a chain. But the only sound of bells came to me from without -the walls, where some hidden goats were moving to pasture. Fragments -of broken columns and two or three sarcophagi lay on the hot ground -at my feet. To my right, close to the church, a flight of very old -marble steps led to a rustic loggia with wooden supports, full of red -geraniums and the flowers of a plant like a very small convolvulus. -From the loggia, which fronted her abiding-place, a cheerful, kindly -faced woman came down and let me into the church, where she left me -with two companions, a black kitten playing with a bee under the gilded -cupola. - -The church, like almost all the Byzantine churches I saw in Greece, -is very small, but it is tremendously solid and has a tall belfry. -The exterior, stained by weather, is now a sort of earthy yellow; -the cupola is covered with red tiles. The interior walls look very -ancient, and are blackened in many places by the fingers of Time. Made -more than eight hundred years ago, the remains of the Byzantine mosaics -are very curious and interesting. In the cupola, on a gold ground, is -a very large head of a Christ (“Christos Pantokrator”), which looks -as though it were just finished. The face is sinister and repellent, -but expressive. There are several other mosaics, of the apostles, -of episodes in the life of the Virgin, and of angels. None of them -seemed to me beautiful, though perhaps not one looks so wicked as the -Christos, which dominates the whole church. Until comparatively recent -times there were monks attached to this convent, but now they are gone. - -I passed through a doorway and came into a sort of tiny cloister, -shaded by a huge and evidently very ancient fig-tree with enormous -leaves. Here I found the remains of an old staircase of stone. As I -returned to the dim and massive little church, glimmering with gold -where the sunlight fell upon the mosaics, the eyes of the Christos -seemed to rebuke me from the lofty cupola. The good-natured woman -locked the door behind me with a large key, handed to me a bunch of the -flowers I had noticed growing in the loggia, and bade me “Addio!” And -soon the sound of the goat-bells died away from my ears as I went on my -way back to Eleusis. - -There is nothing mysterious about this road which leads to the site -of the Temple of the Mysteries. It winds down through the pine-woods -and rocks of the Pass of Daphni into the cheerful and well-cultivated -Thriasian plain, whence across a brilliant-blue stretch of water, which -looks like a lake, but which is the bay of Eleusis, you can see houses -and, alas! several tall chimneys pouring forth smoke. The group of -houses is Eleusis, now an Albanian settlement, and the chimneys belong -to a factory where olive-oil soap is made. The road passes between the -sea and a little salt lake, which latter seems to be prevented from -submerging it only by a raised coping of stone. The color of this lake -is a brilliant purple. In the distance is the mountainous and rocky -island of Salamis. - -When I reached the village, I found it a cheery little place of -small white, yellow, and rose-colored houses, among which a few -cypress-trees grow. Although one of the most ancient places in Greece, -it now looks very modern. And it is difficult to believe, as one -glances at the chimneys of the soap factory, and at two or three black -and dingy steamers lying just off the works to take in cargo, that -here Demeter was worshiped with mysterious rites at the great festival -of the Eleusinia. Yet, according to the legend, it was here that she -came, disguised as an old hag, in search of her lost Persephone; here -that she taught Triptolemus how to sow the plain, and to reap the first -harvest of yellow wheat, as a reward for the hospitable welcome given -to her by his father Celeus. - -The ruins at Eleusis are disappointing to the ordinary traveler, -though interesting to the archæologist. They have none of the pathetic -romance which, notwithstanding the scoldings of many vulgar persons -set forth in a certain visitors’ book, broods gently over poetic -Olympia. Above the village is a vast confusion of broken columns, -defaced capitals, bits of wall, bits of pavement, marble steps, fallen -medallions, vaults, propylæa, substructures, scraps of architraves -carved with inscriptions, and subterranean store-rooms. In the pavement -of the processional way, by which the chariots came up to the Temple -of Demeter, the chief glory and shrine of Eleusis, are the deep ruts -made by the chariot-wheels. The remnants of the hall of the initiated -bears witness to the long desire of poor human beings in all ages to -find that peace which passeth our understanding. Of beauty there is -little or none. Nevertheless, even now, it is not possible in the midst -of this tragic _débâcle_ to remain wholly unmoved. Indeed, the very -completeness of the disaster that time and humanity have wrought here -creates emotion when one remembers that here great men came, such men -as Cicero, Sophocles, and Plato; that here they worshiped and adored -under cover of the darkness of night; that here, seeking, they found, -as has been recorded, peace and hope to sustain them when, the august -festival over, they took their way back into the ordinary world along -the shores of sea and lake. Eleusis is no longer beautiful. It is a -home of devastation. It is no longer mysterious. A successful man is -making a fortune out of soap there. But it is a place one cannot -easily forget. And just above the ruins there is a small museum which -contains several very interesting things, and one thing that is superb. - -This last is the enormous and noble upper part of the statue of a -woman wearing ear-rings. I do not know its history, though some one -assured me that it was a caryatid. It was dug up among the ruins, and -the color of it is akin to that of the earth. The roughly undulating -hair is parted in the middle of a majestic, goddess-like head. The -features are pure and grand; but the two things that most struck me, -as I looked at this great work of art, were the expression of the face -and the deep bosom, as of the earth-mother and all her fruitfulness. -In few Greek statues have I seen such majesty and power, combined with -such intensity, as this nameless woman shows forth. There is indeed -almost a suggestion of underlying fierceness in the face, but it is the -fierceness that may sometimes leap up in an imperial nature. Are there -not royal angers which flame out of the pure furnaces of love? This -noble woman seems to me to be the present glory of Eleusis. - -The mountainous island of Salamis, long and calm, with gray and orange -rocks, lies like a sentinel keeping guard over the harbor of the -Piræus. It is so near to the mainland that the sea between the two -shores looks like a lake, lonely and brilliant, with the two-horned -peak called “the throne of Xerxes” standing out characteristically -behind the low-lying bit of coast where the Greeks have set up an -arsenal. Whether Xerxes did really watch the famous battle from a -throne placed on the hill with which his name is associated is very -doubtful. But many travelers like to believe it, and the kind guides of -Athens are quite ready to stiffen their credulity. - -The shores of this beautiful inclosed bit of sea are wild. The water is -wonderfully clear, and is shot with all sorts of exquisite colors. The -strip of mainland, against which the liquid maze of greens and blues -and purples seems to lie motionless, like a painted marvel, is a tangle -of wild myrtle and dwarf shrubs growing in a sandy soil interspersed -with rocks. Gently the land curves, forming a series of little shallow -bays and inlets, each one of which seems more delicious than the -last as you coast along in a fisherman’s boat. But, unfortunately, -the war-ships of Greece often lie snug in harbor in the shadow of -Salamis not far from the arsenal, and, as I have hinted already, their -commander-in-chief has little sympathy with the inquiring traveler. I -shall not easily forget the expression that came into his face when, -in reply to his question, “What did you come here for?” I said, “To -visit the scene of the celebrated battle.” A weary incredulity made -him suddenly look very old; and I believe it was then that, taking a -pen, he wrote on the margin of his report about me that I was “a very -suspicious person.” - -It is safer, especially in war-time, to keep away from Salamis; but if -you care for smiling wild places where the sea is, where its breath -gives a vivid sense of life to the wilderness, you may easily forget -her myrtle-covered shores and the bays of violet and turquoise. - -Of the many wonderful haunts of the sea which I visited in Greece, Cape -Sunium is perhaps the most memorable, though I never shall forget the -glories of the magnificent drive along the mountains between Athens and -Corinth. But Sunium has its ruined temple, standing on a great height. -And in some of us a poet has wakened a wondering consciousness of its -romance, perhaps when we sat in a Northern land beside the winter fire. -And in some of us, too, an immortal painter has roused a longing to see -it, when we never thought to be carried by our happy fate to Greece. - -In going to Sunium I passed through the famous mining district of -Laurium, where now many convicts work out their sentences. In ancient -times slaves toiled there for the benefit of those citizens who had -hereditary leases granted by the state. They worked the mines for -silver, but now lead is the principal product. It happened that just as -we were in the middle of the dingy town, or village, where the miners -and their families dwell, for only some of them are convicts, a tire -of the motor burst. This of course delayed us, and I was able to see -something of the inhabitants. In Athens I had heard that they were a -fierce and ill-mannered population. I found them, on the contrary, as -I found almost all those whom I met in Greece, cheerful, smiling, and -polite. Happy, if rather dirty, children gathered round us, delighted -to have something to look at and wonder about. Men, going to or coming -from the works, paused to see what was the matter and to inquire where -I came from. From the windows of the low, solid-looking houses women -leaned eagerly out with delighted faces. Several of the latter talked -to me. I could not understand what they said, and all they could -understand was that I came from London, a circumstance which seemed -greatly to impress them, for they called it out from one to another -up the street. We carried on intercourse mainly by facial expression -and elaborate gesture, assisted genially by the grubby little boys. -And when I got into the car to go we were all the best of friends. -The machine made the usual irritable noises, but from the good people -of Laurium came only cries of good-will, among them that pleasant -admonition which one hears often in Greece: “Enjoy yourself! Enjoy -yourself!” - -When Laurium was left behind, we were soon in wild and deserted -country. Now and then we passed an Albanian on horseback, with a -gun over his shoulder, a knife stuck in his belt, or we came upon a -shepherd watching his goats as they browsed on the low scrub which -covered the hills. All the people in this region are Albanians, I was -told. They appeared to be very few. As we drew near to the ancient -shrine of Poseidon we left far behind us the habitations of men. At -length the car stopped in the wilderness, and on a height to my left I -saw the dazzling white marble columns of the Temple of Sunium. - -Almost all the ruins I saw in Greece were weather-stained. Their -original color was mottled with browns and grays, with saffron, with -gold and red gold. But the columns of Sunium have kept their brilliant -whiteness, although they stand on a great, bare cliff above the sea, -exposed to the glare of the sun and to the buffeting of every wind of -heaven. They are raised not merely on this natural height, but also on -a great platform of the famous Poros-stone. In the time of Byron there -were sixteen columns standing. There are now eleven, with a good deal -of architrave. These columns are Doric, and are about twenty feet in -height. They have not the majesty of the Parthenon columns, but, on the -contrary, have a peculiar delicacy and even grace, which is lacking -both in the Parthenon and in the Theseum. They do not move you to awe -or overwhelm you; they charm and delight you. In their ivory-white -simplicity, standing out against the brilliant blue of sea and sky on -the white and gray platform, there is something that allures. - -Upon one of the columns I found the name of Byron carved in bold -letters. But I looked in vain for the name of Turner. Byron loved the -Cape of Sunium. Fortunately, nothing has been done to make it less -wonderful since his time. It is true that fewer columns are standing -to bear witness to the old worship of the sea-god; but such places -as Sunium are not injured when some blocks of marble fall, but when -men begin to build. Still the noble promontory thrusts itself boldly -forward into the sea from the heart of an undesecrated wilderness. -Still the columns stand quite alone. All the sea-winds can come to -you there, and all the winds of the hills--winds from the Ægean and -Mediterranean, from crested Eubœa, from Melos, from Hydra, from -Ægina, with its beautiful Doric temple, from Argolis and from the -mountains of Arcadia. And it seems as though all the sunshine of heaven -were there to bathe you in golden fire, as though there could be none -left over for the rest of the world. The coasts of Greece stretch away -beneath you into far distances, curving in bays, thrusting out in -promontories, here tawny and volcanic, there gray and quietly sober in -color, but never cold or dreary. White sails, but only two or three, -are dreaming on the vast purple of Poseidon’s kingdom--white sails of -mariners who are bound for the isles of Greece. Poets have sung of -those isles. Who has not thought of them with emotion? Now, between the -white marble columns, you can see their mountain ranges, you can see -their rocky shores. - -Behind and below me I heard a slight movement. I got up and looked. And -there on a slab of white marble lay a snow-white goat warming itself -in the sun. White, gold, and blue, and far off the notes of white were -echoed not only by the mariner’s sails, but by tiny Albanian villages -inland, seen over miles of bare country, over flushes of yellow, where -the pines would not be denied. - -There is an ineffable charm in the landscape, in the atmosphere, of -Greece. No other land that I know possesses an exactly similar spell. -Wildness and calm seem woven together, a warm and almost caressing -wildness with a calm that is full of romance. There the wilderness -is indeed a haven to long after, and there the solitudes call you as -though with the voices of friends. - -As I turned at last to go away from Poseidon’s white marble ruin, a -one-armed man came up to me, and in English told me that he was the -guardian of the temple. - -“But where do you live?” I asked him, looking over the vast solitude. - -Smiling, he led the way down to a low whitewashed bungalow at a -little distance. There, in a rough but delicious loggia, paved and -fronting the sea, I found two brown women sitting with a baby among -some small pots of flowers. Remote from the world, with only the -marble columns for neighbors, with no voice but the sea’s to speak -to them, dwell these four persons. The man lived and worked for many -years in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where he lost his arm in some -whirring machinery. Now he has come home and entered the sea-god’s -service. Pittsburgh and the Hellenic wilderness--what a contrast! But -my one-armed friend takes it philosophically. He shrugs his shoulder, -points to his stump, and says, “I guess I couldn’t go on there like -this, so I had to quit, and they put me here.” - -They put him “here,” on Cape Sunium, and on Cape Sunium he has built -himself a house and made for himself a loggia, white, cool, brightened -with flowers, face to face with the purple sea, and the isles and -the mountains of Greece. And at Sunium he intends to remain because, -unfortunately, having lost an arm, he is no longer wanted in Pittsburgh. - -I gave him some money, accepted the baby’s wavering but insistent hand, -and left him to his good or ill fortune in the exquisite wilderness. - - -(To be continued) - - - - -[Illustration] - - -THE TACHYPOMP[8] - -A MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION - -(NOTEWORTHY STORIES OF THE LAST GENERATION) - -BY EDWARD P. MITCHELL - -WITH A PORTRAIT, AND NEW DRAWINGS BY REGINALD BIRCH - - -There was nothing mysterious about Professor Surd’s dislike for me. I -was the only poor mathematician in an exceptionally mathematical class. -The old gentleman sought the lecture-room every morning with eagerness, -and left reluctantly. For was it not a thing of joy to find seventy -young men who, individually and collectively, preferred _x_ to XX; who -had rather differentiate than dissipate; and for whom the limbs of the -heavenly bodies had more attractions than those of earthly stars upon -the spectacular stage? - -So affairs went on swimmingly between the professor of mathematics -and the junior class at Polyp University. In every man of the seventy -the sage saw the logarithm of a possible La Place, of a Sturm, or of -a Newton. It was a delightful task for him to lead them through the -pleasant valleys of conic sections, and beside the still waters of the -integral calculus. Figuratively speaking, his problem was not a hard -one. He had only to manipulate and eliminate and to raise to a higher -power, and the triumphant result of examination day was assured. - -But I was a disturbing element, a perplexing unknown quantity, which -had somehow crept into the work, and which seriously threatened to -impair the accuracy of his calculations. It was a touching sight to -behold the venerable mathematician as he pleaded with me not so utterly -to disregard precedent in the use of cotangents; or as he urged, with -eyes almost tearful, that ordinates were dangerous things to trifle -with. All in vain. More theorems went on to my cuff than into my head. -Never did chalk do so much work to so little purpose. And, therefore, -it came that Furnace Second was reduced to zero in Professor Surd’s -estimation. He looked upon me with all the horror which an unalgebraic -nature could inspire. I have seen the professor walk around an entire -square rather than meet the man who had no mathematics in his soul. - -For Furnace Second were no invitations to Professor Surd’s house. -Seventy of the class supped in delegations around the periphery of the -professor’s tea-table. The seventy-first knew nothing of the charms of -that perfect ellipse, with its twin bunches of fuchsias and geraniums -in gorgeous precision at the two foci. - -This, unfortunately enough, was no trifling deprivation. Not that I -longed especially for segments of Mrs. Surd’s justly celebrated lemon -pies; not that the spheroidal damsons of her excellent preserving had -any marked allurements; not even that I yearned to hear the professor’s -jocose table-talk about binomials, and chatty illustrations of abstruse -paradoxes. The explanation is far different. Professor Surd had a -daughter. Twenty years before, he made a proposition of marriage to the -present Mrs. S. He added a little corollary to his proposition not long -after. The corollary was a girl. - -Abscissa Surd was as perfectly symmetrical as Giotto’s circle, and as -pure withal as the mathematics her father taught. It was just when -spring was coming to extract the roots of frozen-up vegetation that I -fell in love with the corollary. That she herself was not indifferent I -soon had reason to regard as a self-evident truth. - -The sagacious reader will already recognize nearly all the elements -necessary to a well-ordered plot. We have introduced a heroine, -inferred a hero, and constructed a hostile parent after the most -approved model. A movement for the story, a _deus ex machina_, is alone -lacking. With considerable satisfaction I can promise a perfect novelty -in this line, a _deus ex machina_ never before offered to the public. - -It would be discounting ordinary intelligence to say that I sought -with unwearying assiduity to figure my way into the stern father’s -good-will; that never did dullard apply himself to mathematics more -patiently than I; that never did faithfulness achieve such meager -reward. Then I engaged a private tutor. His instructions met with no -better success. - -My tutor’s name was Jean-Marie Rivarol. He was a unique Alsatian, -though Gallic in name, thoroughly Teuton in nature; by birth a -Frenchman, by education a German. His age was thirty; his profession, -omniscience; the wolf at his door, poverty; the skeleton in his closet, -a consuming but unrequited passion. The most recondite principles of -practical science were his toys; the deepest intricacies of abstract -science, his diversions. Problems which were foreordained mysteries -to me were to him as clear as Tahoe water. Perhaps this very fact -will explain our lack of success in the relation of tutor and pupil; -perhaps the failure is alone due to my own unmitigated stupidity. -Rivarol had hung about the skirts of the university for several years, -supplying his few wants by writing for scientific journals or by -giving assistance to students who, like myself, were characterized by -a plethora of purse and a paucity of ideas; cooking, studying, and -sleeping in his attic lodgings; and prosecuting queer experiments all -by himself. - -We were not long discovering that even this eccentric genius could not -transplant brains into my deficient skull. I gave over the struggle in -despair. An unhappy year dragged its slow length around. A gloomy year -it was, brightened only by occasional interviews with Abscissa, the -Abbie of my thoughts and dreams. - -Commencement day was coming on apace. I was soon to go forth, with -the rest of my class, to astonish and delight a waiting world. -The professor seemed to avoid me more than ever. Nothing but the -conventionalities, I think, kept him from shaping his treatment of me -on the basis of unconcealed disgust. - -At last, in the very recklessness of despair, I resolved to see him, -plead with him, threaten him if need be, and risk all my fortunes on -one desperate chance. I wrote him a somewhat defiant letter, stating my -aspirations, and, as I flattered myself, shrewdly giving him a week to -get over the first shock of horrified surprise. Then I was to call and -learn my fate. - -During the week of suspense I nearly worried myself into a fever. It -was first crazy hope, and then saner despair. On Friday evening, when I -presented myself at the professor’s door, I was such a haggard, sleepy, -dragged-out specter that even Miss Jocasta, the harsh-favored maiden -sister of the Surds, admitted me with commiserate regard, and suggested -pennyroyal tea. - -Professor Surd was at a faculty meeting. Would I wait? - -Yes, till all was blue, if need be. Miss Abbie? - -Abscissa had gone to Wheelborough to visit a school-friend. The aged -maiden hoped I would make myself comfortable, and departed to the -unknown haunts which knew Jocasta’s daily walk. - -Comfortable! But I settled myself in a great uneasy chair, and waited -with the contradictory spirit common to such junctures, dreading every -step lest it should herald the man whom, of all men, I wished to see. - -I had been there at least an hour and was growing right drowsy. - -At length Professor Surd came in. He sat down in the dusk opposite me, -and I thought his eyes glinted with malignant pleasure as he said, -abruptly: - -“So, young man, you think you are a fit husband for my girl?” - -I stammered some inanity about making up in affection what I lacked -in merit, about my expectations, family, and the like. He quickly -interrupted me. - -“You misapprehend me, sir. Your nature is destitute of those -mathematical perceptions and acquirements which are the only sure -foundations of character. You have no mathematics in you. You are fit -for treason, stratagems, and spoils--Shakspere. Your narrow intellect -cannot understand and appreciate a generous mind. There is all the -difference between you and a Surd, if I may say it, which intervenes -between an infinitesimal and an infinite. Why, I will even venture to -say that you do not comprehend the Problem of the Couriers!” - -I admitted that the Problem of the Couriers should be classed rather -without my list of accomplishments than within it. I regretted this -fault very deeply, and suggested amendment. I faintly hoped that my -fortune would be such-- - -“Money!” he impatiently exclaimed. “Do you seek to bribe a Roman -senator with a penny whistle? Why, boy, do you parade your paltry -wealth, which, expressed in mills, will not cover ten decimal places, -before the eyes of a man who measures the planets in their orbits, and -close crowds infinity itself?” - -I hastily disclaimed any intention of obtruding my foolish dollars, and -he went on: - -“Your letter surprised me not a little. I thought _you_ would be the -last person in the world to presume to an alliance here. But having -a regard for you personally,”--and again I saw malice twinkle in his -small eyes,--“and still more regard for Abscissa’s happiness, I have -decided that you shall have her--upon conditions. Upon conditions,” he -repeated, with a half-smothered sneer. - -“What are they?” cried I, eagerly enough. “Only name them.” - -“Well, sir,” he continued, and the deliberation of his speech seemed -the very refinement of cruelty, “you have only to prove yourself worthy -an alliance with a mathematical family. You have only to accomplish a -task which I shall presently give you. Your eyes ask me what it is. I -will tell you. Distinguish yourself in that noble branch of abstract -science in which, you cannot but acknowledge, you are at present sadly -deficient. I will place Abscissa’s hand in yours whenever you shall -come before me and square the circle to my satisfaction. No, that is -too easy a condition. I should cheat myself. Say perpetual motion. -How do you like that? Do you think it lies within the range of your -mental capabilities? You don’t smile. Perhaps your talents don’t run -in the way of perpetual motion. Several people have found that theirs -didn’t. I’ll give you another chance. We were speaking of the Problem -of the Couriers, and I think you expressed a desire to know more of -that ingenious question. You shall have the opportunity. Sit down -some day when you have nothing else to do and discover the principle -of infinite speed. I mean the law of motion which shall accomplish an -infinitely great distance in an infinitely short time. You may mix in a -little practical mechanics, if you choose. Invent some method of taking -the tardy courier over his road at the rate of sixty miles a minute. -Demonstrate me this discovery (when you have made it!) mathematically, -and approximate it practically, and Abscissa is yours. Until you can, I -will thank you to trouble neither myself nor her.” - -I could stand his mocking no longer. I stumbled mechanically out of -the room and out of the house. I even forgot my hat and gloves. For -an hour I walked in the moonlight. Gradually I succeeded to a more -hopeful frame of mind. This was due to my ignorance of mathematics. Had -I understood the real meaning of what he asked, I should have been -utterly despondent. - -Perhaps this problem of sixty miles a minute was not so impossible, -after all. At any rate, I could attempt, though I might not succeed. -And Rivarol came to my mind. I would ask him. I would enlist his -knowledge to accompany my own devoted perseverance. I sought his -lodgings at once. - -The man of science lived in the fourth story back. I had never been -in his room before. When I entered, he was in the act of filling a -beer-mug from a carboy labeled _aqua fortis_. - -“Seat you,” he said. “No, not in that chair. That is my -Petty-Cash-Adjuster.” - -But he was a second too late. I had carelessly thrown myself into -a chair of seductive appearance. To my utter amazement, it reached -out two skeleton arms, and clutched me with a grasp against which I -struggled in vain. Then a skull stretched itself over my shoulder and -grinned with ghastly familiarity close to my face. - -Rivarol came to my aid with many apologies. He touched a spring -somewhere, and the Petty-Cash-Adjuster relaxed its horrid hold. I -placed myself gingerly in a plain cane-bottomed rocking-chair, which -Rivarol assured me was a safe location. - -“That seat,” he said, “is an arrangement upon which I much felicitate -myself. I made it at Heidelberg. It has saved me a vast deal of -small annoyance. I consign to its embraces the friends who bore, and -the visitors who exasperate, me. But it is never so useful as when -terrifying some tradesman with an insignificant account. Hence the -pet name which I have facetiously given it. They are invariably too -glad to purchase release at the price of a bill receipted. Do you well -apprehend the idea?” - -While the Alsatian diluted his glass of _aqua fortis_, shook into it an -infusion of bitters, and tossed off the bumper with apparent relish, I -had time to look around the strange apartment. - -The four corners of the room were occupied respectively by a -turning-lathe, a Rhumkorff coil, a small steam-engine, and an orrery -in stately motion. Tables, shelves, chairs, and floor supported an odd -aggregation of tools, retorts, chemicals, gas-receivers, philosophical -instruments, boots, flasks, paper-collar boxes, books diminutive, and -books of preposterous size. There were plaster busts of Aristotle, -Archimedes, and Compte, while a great drowsy owl was blinking away, -perched on the benign brow of Martin Farquhar Tupper. “He always roosts -there when he proposes to slumber,” explained my tutor. “You are a bird -of no ordinary mind. _Schlafen Sie wohl._” - -Through a closet door, half open, I could see a human-like form covered -with a sheet. Rivarol caught my glance. - -“That,” said he, “will be my masterpiece. It is a microcosm, an -android, as yet only partly complete. And why not? Albertus Magnus -constructed an image perfect to talk metaphysics and confute the -schools. So did Sylvester II; so did Robertus Greathead. Roger Bacon -made a brazen head that held discourses. But the first named of these -came to destruction. Thomas Aquinas got wrathful at some of its -syllogisms and smashed its head. The idea is reasonable enough. Mental -action will yet be reduced to laws as definite as those which govern -the physical. Why should not I accomplish a manikin which will preach -as original discourses as the Rev. Dr. Allchin, or talk poetry as -mechanically as Paul Anapest? My android can already work problems in -vulgar fractions and compose sonnets. I hope to teach it the Positive -philosophy.” - -Out of the bewildering confusion of his effects Rivarol produced two -pipes, and filled them. He handed one to me. - -“And here,” he said, “I live and am tolerably comfortable. When my coat -wears out at the elbows, I seek the tailor and am measured for another. -When I am hungry, I promenade myself to the butcher’s and bring home -a pound or so of steak, which I cook very nicely in three seconds by -this oxy-hydrogen flame. Thirsty, perhaps, I send for a carboy of _aqua -fortis_. But I have it charged, all charged. My spirit is above any -small pecuniary transaction. I loathe your dirty greenbacks and never -handle what they call scrip.” - -“But are you never pestered with bills?” I asked. “Don’t the creditors -worry your life out?” - -“Creditors!” gasped Rivarol. “I have learned no such word in your -very admirable language. He who will allow his soul to be vexed by -creditors is a relic of an imperfect civilization. Of what use is -science if it cannot avail a man who has accounts current? Listen. The -moment you or any one else enters the outside door this little electric -bell sounds me warning. Every successive step on Mrs. Grimler’s -staircase is a spy and informer vigilant for my benefit. The first -step is trod upon. That trusty first step immediately telegraphs your -weight. Nothing could be simpler. It is exactly like any platform -scale. The weight is registered up here upon this dial. The second step -records the size of my visitor’s feet. The third his height, the fourth -his complexion, and so on. By the time he reaches the top of the first -flight I have a pretty accurate description of him right here at my -elbow, and quite a margin of time for deliberation and action. Do you -follow me? It is plain enough. Only the A B C of my science.” - -[Illustration: EDWARD P. MITCHELL - -From a photograph taken in 1872, the year in which he wrote “The -Tachypomp.” Mr. Mitchell is now the editor of the New York “Sun.”] - -“I see all that,” I said, “but I don’t see how it helps you any. The -knowledge that a creditor is coming won’t pay his bill. You can’t -escape unless you jump out of the window.” - -Rivarol laughed softly. “I will tell you. You shall see what becomes -of any poor devil who goes to demand money of me--of a man of science. -Ha! ha! It pleases me. I was seven weeks perfecting my Dun-Suppressor. -Did you know,” he whispered exultingly--“did you know that there is -a hole through the earth’s center? Physicists have long suspected -it; I was the first to find it. You have read how Rhuyghens, the -Dutch navigator, discovered in Kerguellen’s Land an abysmal pit which -fourteen hundred fathoms of plumb-line failed to sound. Herr Tom, -that hole has no bottom! It runs from one surface of the earth to -the antipodal surface. It is diametric. But where is the antipodal -spot? You stand upon it. I learned this by the merest chance. I -was deep-digging in Mrs. Grimler’s cellar to bury a poor cat I had -sacrificed in a galvanic experiment, when the earth under my spade -crumbled, caved in, and, wonder-stricken, I stood upon the brink of -a yawning shaft. I dropped a coal-hod in. It went down, down, down, -bounding and rebounding. In two hours and a quarter that coal-hod came -up again. I caught it, and restored it to the angry Grimler. Just think -a minute. The coal-hod went down faster and faster, till it reached -the center of the earth. There it would stop were it not for acquired -momentum. Beyond the center its journey was relatively upward, toward -the opposite surface of the globe. So, losing the velocity, it went -slower and slower till it reached that surface. Here it came to rest -for a second, and then fell back again, eight thousand odd miles, -into my hands. Had I not interfered with it, it would have repeated -its journey time after time, each trip of shorter extent, like the -diminishing oscillations of a pendulum, till it finally came to eternal -rest at the center of the sphere. I am not slow to give a practical -application to any such grand discovery. My Dun-Suppressor was born of -it. A trap just outside my chamber door, a spring in here, a creditor -on the trap--need I say more?” - -“But isn’t it a trifle inhuman,” I mildly suggested, “plunging an -unhappy being into a perpetual journey to and from Kerguellen’s Land -without a moment’s warning?” - -“I give them a chance. When they come up the first time I wait at the -mouth of the shaft with a rope in hand. If they are reasonable and will -come to terms, I fling them the line. If they perish, ’tis their own -fault. Only,” he added, with a melancholy smile, “the center is getting -so plugged up with creditors that I am afraid there soon will be no -choice whatever for ’em.” - -By this time I had conceived a high opinion of my tutor’s ability. If -anybody could send me waltzing through space at an infinite speed, -Rivarol could do it. I filled my pipe and told him the story. He heard -with grave and patient attention. Then for full half an hour he whiffed -away in silence. Finally he spoke. - -“The ancient cipher has overreached himself. He has given you a choice -of two problems, both of which he deems insoluble. Neither of them is -insoluble. The only gleam of intelligence old Cotangent showed was when -he said that squaring the circle was too easy. He was right. It would -have given you your _Liebchen_ in five minutes. I squared the circle -before I discarded pantalets. I will show you the work; but it would -be a digression, and you are in no mood for digressions. Our first -chance, therefore, lies in perpetual motion. Now, my good friend, I -will frankly tell you that, although I have compassed this interesting -problem, I do not choose to use it in your behalf. I, too, Herr Tom, -have a heart. The loveliest of her sex frowns upon me. Her somewhat -mature charms are not for Jean-Marie Rivarol. She has cruelly said that -her years demand of me filial rather than connubial regard. Is love a -matter of years or of eternity? This question did I put to the cold, -yet lovely, Jocasta.” - -“Jocasta Surd!” I remarked in surprise, “Abscissa’s aunt!” - -“The same,” he said sadly. “I will not attempt to conceal that upon the -maiden Jocasta my maiden heart has been bestowed. Give me your hand, my -nephew, in affliction as in affection!” - -Rivarol dashed away a not discreditable tear, and resumed: - -“My only hope lies in this discovery of perpetual motion. It will give -me the fame, the wealth. Can Jocasta refuse these? If she can, there is -only the trap-door and--Kerguellen’s Land!” - -I bashfully asked to see the perpetual-motion machine. My uncle in -affliction shook his head. - -“At another time,” he said. “Suffice it at present to say that it is -something upon the principle of a woman’s tongue. But you see now why -we must turn in your case to the alternative condition, infinite speed. -There are several ways in which this may be accomplished theoretically. -By the lever, for instance. Imagine a lever with a very long and a -very short arm. Apply power to the shorter arm which will move it with -great velocity. The end of the long arm will move much faster. Now -keep shortening the short arm and lengthening the long one, and as you -approach infinity in their difference of length, you approach infinity -in the speed of the long arm. It would be difficult to demonstrate this -practically to the professor. We must seek another solution. Jean-Marie -will meditate. Come to me in a fortnight. Good night. But stop! Have -you the money--_das Gelt_?” - -“Much more than I need.” - -“Good! Let us strike hands. Gold and knowledge, science and love, what -may not such a partnership achieve? We go to conquer thee, Abscissa. -_Vorwärts!_” - -When at the end of a fortnight I sought Rivarol’s chamber, I -passed with some little trepidation over the terminus of the air -line to Kerguellen’s Land, and evaded the extended arms of the -Petty-Cash-Adjuster. Rivarol drew a mug of ale for me, and filled -himself a retort of his own peculiar beverage. - -“Come,” he said at length, “let us drink success to the Tachypomp.” - -“The Tachypomp?” - -“Yes. Why not? _Tachu_, quickly, and _pempo_, _pepompa_, to send. May -it send you quickly to your wedding-day! Abscissa is yours. It is done. -When shall we start for the prairies?” - -“Where is it?” I asked, looking in vain around the room for any -contrivance which might seem calculated to advance matrimonial -prospects. - -“It is here,” and he gave his forehead a significant tap. Then he held -forth didactically. - -“There is force enough in existence to yield us a speed of sixty miles -a minute or even more. All we need is the knowledge how to combine -and apply it. The wise man will not attempt to make some great force -yield some great speed. He will keep adding the little force to the -little force, making each little force yield its little speed, until -an aggregate of little forces shall be a great force, yielding an -aggregate of little speeds, a great speed. The difficulty is not in -aggregating the forces; it lies in the corresponding aggregation of -the speeds. One musket-ball will go, say, a mile. It is not hard -to increase the force of muskets to a thousand, yet the thousand -musket-balls will go no farther and no faster than the one. You see, -then, where our trouble lies. We cannot readily add speed to speed, -as we add force to force. My discovery is simply the utilization of a -principle which extorts an increment of speed from each increment of -power. But this is the metaphysics of physics. Let us be practical or -nothing. - -“When you have walked forward on a moving train from the rear car -toward the engine, did you ever think what you were really doing?” - -“Why, yes, I have generally been going to the smoking-car to have a -cigar.” - -[Illustration: Drawn by Reginald Birch - -“THAT SHE HERSELF WAS NOT INDIFFERENT I SOON HAD REASON TO REGARD AS A -SELF-EVIDENT TRUTH”] - -“Tut! tut! not that! I mean did it ever occur to you on such an -occasion that absolutely you were moving faster than the train? The -train passes the telegraph-poles at the rate of thirty miles an hour, -say. You walk toward the smoking-car at the rate of four miles an hour. -Then _you_ pass the telegraph-poles at the rate of thirty-four miles. -Your absolute speed is the speed of the engine, plus the speed of your -own locomotion. Do you follow me?” - -I began to get an inkling of his meaning, and told him so. - -“Very well. Let us advance a step. Your addition to the speed of the -engine is trivial, and the space in which you can exercise it, limited. -Now, suppose two stations, A and B, two miles distant by the track. -Imagine a train of platform cars, the last car resting at station A. -The train is a mile long, say. The engine is therefore within a mile -of station B. Say the train can move a mile in ten minutes. The last -car, having two miles to go, would reach B in twenty minutes, but the -engine, a mile ahead, would get there in ten. You jump on the last car -at A in a prodigious hurry to reach Abscissa, who is at B. If you stay -on the last car, it will be twenty long minutes before you see her. But -the engine reaches B and the fair lady in ten. You will be a stupid -reasoner and an indifferent lover if you don’t put for the engine over -those platform cars as fast as your legs will carry you. You can run -a mile, the length of the train, in ten minutes. Therefore you reach -Abscissa when the engine does, or in ten minutes--ten minutes sooner -than if you had lazily sat down upon the rear car and talked politics -with the brakeman. You have diminished the time by one half. You have -added your speed to that of the locomotive to some purpose. _Nicht -wahr?_” - -I saw it perfectly; much plainer, perhaps, for his putting in the -clause about Abscissa. - -He continued: - -“This illustration, though a slow one, leads up to a principle which -may be carried to any extent. Our first anxiety will be to spare -your legs and wind. Let us suppose that the two miles of track are -perfectly straight, and make our train one platform car, a mile long, -with parallel rails laid upon its top. Put a little dummy engine on -these rails, and let it run to and fro along the platform car, while -the platform car is pulled along the ground track. Catch the idea? The -dummy takes your place. But it can run its mile much faster. Fancy that -our locomotive is strong enough to pull the platform car over the two -miles in two minutes. The dummy can attain the same speed. When the -engine reaches B in one minute, the dummy, having gone a mile atop the -platform car, reaches B also. We have so combined the speeds of those -two engines as to accomplish two miles in one minute. Is this all we -can do? Prepare to exercise your imagination.” - -I lit my pipe. - -“Still two miles of straight track between A and B. On the track a long -platform car, reaching from A to within a quarter of a mile of B. We -will now discard ordinary locomotives and adopt as our motive power a -series of compact magnetic engines, distributed underneath the platform -car all along its length.” - -“I don’t understand those magnetic engines.” - -“Well, each of them consists of a great iron horseshoe, rendered -alternately a magnet and not a magnet by an intermittent current of -electricity from a battery, this current in its turn regulated by -clockwork. When the horseshoe is in the circuit, it is a magnet, and it -pulls its clapper toward it with enormous power. When it is out of the -circuit, the next second, it is not a magnet, and it lets the clapper -go. The clapper, oscillating to and fro, imparts a rotatory motion to a -fly-wheel, which transmits it to the drivers on the rails. Such are our -motors. They are no novelty, for trial has proved them practicable. - -“With a magnetic engine for every truck of wheels, we can reasonably -expect to move our immense car, and to drive it along at a speed, say, -of a mile a minute. - -“The forward end, having but a quarter of a mile to go, will reach B -in fifteen seconds. We will call this platform car number I. On top -of number I are laid rails on which another platform car, number II, -a quarter of a mile shorter than number I, is moved in precisely the -same way. Number II, in its turn, is surmounted by number III, moving -independently of the tiers beneath, and a quarter of a mile shorter -than number II. Number II is a mile and a half long; number III a mile -and a quarter. Above, on successive levels, are number IV, a mile long; -number V, three quarters of a mile; number VI, half a mile; number VII, -a quarter of a mile, and number VIII, a short passenger-car on top of -all. - -“Each car moves upon the car beneath it, independently of all the -others, at the rate of a mile a minute. Each car has its own magnetic -engines. Well, the train being drawn up with the latter end of each car -resting against a lofty bumping-post at A, Tom Furnace, the gentlemanly -conductor, and Jean-Marie Rivarol, engineer, mount by a long ladder to -the exalted number VIII. The complicated mechanism is set in motion. -What happens? - -[Illustration: Drawn by Reginald Birch - -“‘THIS IS THE TACHYPOMP. DOES IT JUSTIFY THE NAME?’”] - -“Number VIII runs a quarter of a mile in fifteen seconds, and reaches -the end of number VII. Meanwhile number VII has run a quarter of a -mile in the same time, and reached the end of number VI; number VI, a -quarter of a mile in fifteen seconds, and reached the end of number -V; number V, the end of number IV; number IV, of number III; number -III, of number II; number II, of number I. And number I, in fifteen -seconds, has gone its quarter of a mile along the ground track, and -has reached station B. All this has been done in fifteen seconds. -Wherefore, numbers I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, and VIII come to rest -against the bumping-post at B, at precisely the same second. We, in -number VIII, reach B just when number I reaches it. In other words, we -accomplish two miles in fifteen seconds. Each of the eight cars, moving -at the rate of a mile a minute, has contributed a quarter of a mile to -our journey, and has done its work in fifteen seconds. All the eight -did their work at once, during the same fifteen seconds. Consequently -we have been whizzed through the air at the somewhat startling speed of -seven and a half seconds to the mile. This is the Tachypomp. Does it -justify the name?” - -[Illustration: Drawn by Reginald Birch - -“IN FRONT OF ME STOOD PROFESSOR SURD HIMSELF, LOOKING DOWN WITH A NOT -UNPLEASANT SMILE”] - -Although a little bewildered by the complexity of cars, I apprehended -the general principle of the machine. I made a diagram, and understood -it much better. “You have merely improved on the idea of my moving -faster than the train when I was going to the smoking-car?” I said. - -“Precisely. So far we have kept within the bounds of the practicable. -To satisfy the professor, you can theorize in something after this -fashion: if we double the number of cars, thus decreasing by one half -the distance which each has to go, we shall attain twice the speed. -Each of the sixteen cars will have but one eighth of a mile to go. At -the uniform rate we have adopted, the two miles can be done in seven -and a half instead of fifteen seconds. With thirty-two cars, and a -sixteenth of a mile, or twenty rods difference in their length, we -arrive at the speed of a mile in less than two seconds; with sixty-four -cars, each traveling but ten rods, a mile under the second. More than -sixty miles a minute! If this isn’t rapid enough for the professor, -tell him to go on increasing the number of his cars and diminishing -the distance each one has to run. If sixty-four cars yield a speed of -a mile inside the second, let him fancy a Tachypomp of six hundred and -forty cars, and amuse himself calculating the rate of car number 640. -Just whisper to him that when he has an infinite number of cars with an -infinitesimal difference in their lengths, he will have obtained that -infinite speed for which he seems to yearn. Then demand Abscissa.” - -I wrung my friend’s hand in silent and grateful admiration. I could say -nothing. - -“You have listened to the man of theory,” he said proudly. “You -shall now behold the practical engineer. We will go to the west of -the Mississippi and find some suitably level locality. We will erect -thereon a model Tachypomp. We will summon thereunto the professor, -his daughter, and why not his fair sister Jocasta as well? We will -take them on a journey which shall much astonish the venerable Surd. -He shall place Abscissa’s digits in yours and bless you both with an -algebraic formula. Jocasta shall contemplate with wonder the genius of -Rivarol. But we have much to do. We must ship to St. Joseph the vast -amount of material to be employed in the construction of the Tachypomp. -We must engage a small army of workmen to effect that construction, for -we are to annihilate time and space. Perhaps you had better see your -bankers.” - -I rushed impetuously to the door. There should be no delay. - -“Stop! stop! _Um Gottes Willen_, stop!” shrieked Rivarol. “I launched -my butcher this morning and I haven’t bolted the--” - -But it was too late. I was upon the trap. It swung open with a crash, -and I was plunged down, down, down! I felt as though I were falling -through illimitable space. I remember wondering, as I rushed through -the darkness, whether I should reach Kerguellen’s Land or stop at -the center. It seemed an eternity. Then my course was suddenly and -painfully arrested. - -I opened my eyes. Around me were the walls of Professor Surd’s -study. Under me was a hard, unyielding plane which I knew too well -was Professor Surd’s study floor. Behind me was the black, slippery -haircloth chair which had belched me forth much as the whale served -Jonah. In front of me stood Professor Surd himself, looking down with a -not unpleasant smile. - -“Good evening, Mr. Furnace. Let me help you up. You look tired, sir. -No wonder you fell asleep when I kept you so long waiting. Shall I -get you a glass of wine? No? By the way, since receiving your letter -I find that you are a son of my old friend Judge Furnace. I have made -inquiries, and see no reason why you should not make Abscissa a good -husband.” - -Still, I can see no reason why the Tachypomp should not have succeeded. -Can you? - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration: THE LANDSCAPE-PAINTER - -FROM THE PAINTING BY CARL MARR, IN THE MODERN GALLERY, BUDAPEST - -(THE CENTURY’S AMERICAN ARTISTS SERIES)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - -“SCHEDULE K” - -THE EFFECT OF THE TARIFF ON THE WOOL-GROWER, THE MANUFACTURER, THE -WORKMAN, AND THE CONSUMER - -[Illustration] - -BY N. I. STONE - -Formerly Chief Statistician of the Tariff Board - - -No part of our tariff has been more scathingly denounced in Congress -and by the press than what is known as “Schedule K.” No schedule that -has received half the attention bestowed on Schedule K has managed -to withstand the fierce onslaughts of the united tariff reformers of -both political parties so successfully as the schedule covering wool -and its manufactures. Repeatedly raised during the Civil War, when -the urgent need of additional revenue was the sole motive of frequent -tariff revision, slightly reduced in 1872 and 1883, scaled down still -more in the Democratic Wilson act of 1894, it managed in the intervals -between these acts to recover lost ground and, since 1897, to eclipse -all previous records for high-tariff climbing. - -The secret of this exceptional record in our tariff history is not far -to seek. It lies in the peculiar interlacing of interests between the -sheep-grower of the West and the manufacturer of the East, which has -no parallel in other industries. Most of the farm products are either -left on the free list, like cotton, or, if protected by a duty, are -not affected by it. Thus we have duties on corn, wheat, oats, rye, -and meat, but no one familiar with the situation has ever seriously -maintained that the duty has been more than a convenient embellishment -of our tariff for the use of campaign spellbinders in farm districts. -As long as we produce more cereals, meats, and other farm products than -we consume, and send the surplus to the world’s markets, the prices of -these products, under free competition at home, will be regulated by -conditions of world supply and demand, leaving the duties a dead letter -on the statute-books. Wool is a conspicuous exception in the list of -American farm products. After half a century of exceptionally high -protection, fixed by the beneficiaries of the tariff themselves, the -American wool-grower still falls short in his output to the extent of -more than one third of the domestic demand. The deficit must be covered -by importation from foreign countries, the price of imported wool being -enhanced by the amount of the duty. Under these conditions the duty -on raw wool acts as a powerful lever in increasing the price of the -domestic wool furnishing the remaining two thirds of our consumption. -No wonder that the wool-grower has always been an enthusiastic advocate -of a duty on raw wool. - -On the other hand, the New England manufacturer, himself a believer -in high duties on woolen goods, has been rather skeptical as to the -merits of a duty on a raw material of which we have never been able -to produce enough, and are producing an ever diminishing share. Hence -the New England woolen manufacturer has been as enthusiastic for free -wool as the New England shoe manufacturer is for free hides, without -losing at the same time his faith in high duties on woolen goods. -However, the manufacturers discovered at an early stage in the game -that unless they were willing to acquiesce in a duty on their raw -material, the representatives from the wool-growing States in Congress -could not see any advantage in high duties on woolens. This is what led -to the powerful combination of these two great interests to which the -late Senator Dolliver, in his memorable speech in the Senate in the -extra session of Congress in 1909, referred as “that ceremony when the -shepherd’s crook and the weaver’s distaff were joined together in the -joyous wedlock which no man has been able to put asunder.” At that -joint meeting of the representatives of wool-growers and woolen-cloth -manufacturers held at Syracuse in December, 1865, when it was supposed -that, with the disappearance of the need for extraordinary revenue, the -war duties would be reduced, “it was agreed between them,” in the words -of the late John Sherman, who had a great deal to do with the shaping -of the tariff, “after full discussion, that the rates of duty reported -by the Senate bill should be given them, and they were satisfied with -them, and have never called them in question.” - -It remained for a long-suffering public finally to call those rates -in question. And when a Republican President called Congress in -extraordinary session in March, 1909, to fulfil the pledges of his -party for a downward revision, he found, to use his own words, uttered -in the now famous Winona speech, that “Mr. Payne, in the House, -and Mr. Aldrich, in the Senate, although both favored reduction in -the schedule, found that in the Republican party the interests of -the wool-growers of the far West and the interests of the woolen -manufacturers in the East and in other States, reflected through their -representatives in Congress, was sufficiently strong to defeat any -attempt to change the woolen tariff, and that, had it been attempted, -it would have beaten the bill reported from either committee.” - -However, the President thought that Schedule K should receive the -attention of Congress after the newly created Tariff Board had made a -thorough investigation of the woolen industry. Taking the President -at his word, the country waited two years more with great impatience -for the result of the findings of his board. But once more was the -country baffled by the united beneficiaries of Schedule K in its -efforts looking to the lowering of the rates. When a majority in -Congress composed of Democrats and Republican insurgents laid aside -party differences in a common effort to reduce the woolen duties, the -same leaders of whose tactics President Taft had complained were able -to persuade him that the revised schedule was so much at variance -with the findings of the Tariff Board as to justify his veto. Thus -the country is facing the new situation in the extraordinary session -of the Sixty-third Congress, with Schedule K still proudly holding -the fort on the pinnacle of the American tariff wall. The present is, -therefore, just the time for an analysis of the situation in which the -claims of the conflicting interests may be reviewed in the light of now -well-established facts. - - -WOOLENS AND WORSTEDS - -Any one who has traveled abroad or had occasion to compare foreign -prices of cloths and dress-goods with those prevailing in this country -knows that on the average they can be bought in Europe, particularly -in free-trade England, at about half the price usually asked for -similar goods at home. As the investigation of the Tariff Board has -shown, there are many cloths on which the difference in price is not so -great, particularly on the finer grades, while, on the other hand, the -American price is more than double the English on some of the medium -and cheap grades of cloth. But, on the whole, it is safe to state that -our prices on woolen and worsted cloths are about double those in -England. The difference in price represents largely the toll paid by -ninety-odd million Americans for the support of the half-century-old -infant worsted and the century-old woolen industry. We have all been -vaguely aware of that fact, and yet have submitted to it for the -ultimate good of creating a raw-wool supply and a fine woolen and -worsted industry that would make us independent of the rest of the -world and give employment to American labor at American wages. Not -until the two wings of the industry, the woolen and the worsted, fell -out among themselves, and the carded-wool manufacturers showed to an -astonished public that the tariff, as it stood, throttled an important -branch of the industry, instead of building it up, was the layman -given an opportunity of getting a deeper insight into the workings of -Schedule K. - -The woolen industry in the United States is as old as the country -itself. Carried on first as a household industry among the early -colonists, it entered the factory stage with the introduction of -mechanical power, first in connection with carding-machines in 1794, -then with its application to spinning between 1810 and 1820, and later -to weaving in the following decade. - -Before the Civil War, all woolens were made by what is known as the -carded-woolen process, which produces a cloth with a rough surface. -Such cloths as tweeds, cheviots, cassimeres, meltons, and kerseys are -among the best-known types of woolen cloth. Just before the Civil War -the worsted industry made its appearance in this country. The worsted -fabric differs from the woolen cloth in being made of combed yarn, as -distinguished from the carded yarn which goes into the woolen cloth. -The combing process involves, to a greater or less extent, the use of -finer and longer grades of wool, and yields a fabric with a smooth -surface, on which the weave is plainly visible. Among the best-known -types of these cloths are the serges and the unfinished clay worsteds, -which constitute the plain varieties, and the so-called fancy worsteds, -showing a distinct pattern produced by the weave and the use of colored -yarn. - -How different the course of these two branches of the woolen industry -has been, since the adoption of Schedule K substantially in its -present form, is shown very strikingly by the figures of the United -States Census. In 1859, the last census year preceding the adoption of -Schedule K virtually in its present form, the value of the products of -the woolen industry was nearly $62,000,000, while the worsted could -boast of less than three and three quarter millions. In 1909, exactly -half a century later, the woolen industry produced $107,000,000 worth -of cloth, while the value of the worsteds exceeded $312,000,000. Put in -another form, while fifty years ago the worsted industry was only one -twentieth the size of the woolen, to-day it is three times as large as -its older rival. Nor does this tell the whole story. The decline of the -woolen industry has been not only relative, but absolute. Thus, after -increasing from $62,000,000 in 1859 to $161,000,000 in 1879, it dropped -to $134,000,000 in 1889, to $118,000,000 in 1899, and to $107,000,000 -in 1909. On the other hand, the worsted industry showed a marked -increase in each succeeding decade, beating all previous records in the -first decade of the present century, when the value of its output rose -from $120,000,000 in 1899 to more than $312,000,000 in 1909. - -A large part of the growth of the worsted industry at the expense of -the woolen is said to be due to change in fashion and taste, people -generally preferring the smooth, smart-looking worsteds to the rough -woolens. While this is, no doubt, true, the woolen-goods manufacturers -assert that the change of fashion is only partly responsible for -the decline of their industry. They insist that but for the unfair -discrimination of the tariff against their industry in favor of the -worsted it would continue to increase with the growth of population, -since it alone can turn out an all-wool cloth that is within the means -of poor people. - -A feature which goes far to explain the superior advantage which the -worsted industry has over the woolen is that the former is essentially -the big capitalist’s field, while the woolen mills are still run to a -large extent by people of moderate means. According to the last census -report, in 1909 the average output per mill in the worsted industry -was nearly one million dollars, which was more than five times as -large as that of the average woolen mill. The prevailing type in the -former is the large corporation, managed by high-salaried officials; in -the latter, the typical mill is a comparatively small establishment, -personally managed by the owner or owners, who form a partnership which -in many cases has come down from earlier generations in the family and -has not improved much on the old ways. - -The great factor in the worsted industry to-day is the American Woolen -Company, popularly known as the Woolen Trust, which was said to control -sixty per cent. of the country’s output at the time of its formation -in 1899, and can boast of the largest and best-equipped mills not -only in the United States, but in the entire world. Outside of the -so-called trust are other large concerns, such as the Arlington Mills, -largely owned by Mr. William Whitman, the most conspicuous figure in -the industry, who has probably had more to do with the shaping of -Schedule K than any other man in the country, and who has amassed a -large fortune in the business, most of the capital invested in his mill -having been built up from the profits of the business. - -If the quarrel between the woolen and worsted manufacturers had no -other consequences than to affect our fashions, the rest of us could -well afford to let the rival forces fight it out among themselves. -But it affects the consumer very vitally, and particularly that part -of the consuming public that can ill afford to pay high prices for -its clothes. For woolen is distinctly the poor man’s cloth, while -worsted is the cloth of the well-to-do. As will be shown presently, -our tariff on raw wool is designed to keep out of this country the -cheap, short staple wools which our woolen industry could use to great -advantage. The tariff thus artificially restricts the manufacture of -woolens, while stimulating the production of worsteds, and, as the poor -man cannot afford a genuine worsted cloth, it has to be adulterated -with cotton to the extent of at least one half. Many of the “cotton -worsteds” contain only a small fraction of wool, most of the material -being cotton. It is this aspect of the effect of the tariff on the -consumer that has made the family quarrel between the two branches of -the wool manufacturing industry a matter of national concern. - - -THE DUTIES ON RAW WOOL - -The root of all the evils springing from Schedule K is the specific -duty of eleven cents a pound on all clothing wools used by the woolen -industry and most of the wools used by the worsted industry. Wools -differ greatly in value. They may be long or short, fine or coarse, -comparatively clean, or so full of grease and dirt, which the sheep -accumulates in its shaggy coat while roaming in the fields, as to -shrink to one fifth of its purchased weight after it has been washed -and scoured in the mill. - -Yet all of these wools, when brought to the gates of the United States -custom-house, would have to pay the same duty of eleven cents per -pound. On fine English wool, which contains only ten per cent. of -grease and dirt, this is equivalent to a little over twelve cents a -pound of clean wool. On a wool shrinking in weight, in the course of -scouring, to only one fifth of its raw weight, the eleven-cents duty -is equivalent to fifty-five cents per pound of clean wool, a figure -which no manufacturer can afford to pay, and which, therefore, keeps -the wool out of this country. Taken in connection with the price of -wool, the discrimination against the coarse, heavy-shrinking wools used -primarily by the woolen industry appears even more striking. Thus, on -the finer grades of wool quoted in London at forty-seven cents per -pound, the duty of eleven cents would be equivalent to twenty-three -per cent. ad valorem; while on the lower-priced wools, the only kind -that is available for the poor man’s cloth, the eleven-cents duty would -be equivalent to the prohibitive figure of anywhere from one hundred -to five hundred and fifty per cent. The result is that the durable, -weather-proof, and health-protecting cheap woolen cloth which the -English and Continental working-man can afford to wear, must give way -to the short-lived but dressy cotton worsted, which leaves the American -workman, compelled to work outdoors in all sorts of weather, poorly -protected against its inclemencies. - - -THE DUTY ON CLOTH - -So much for the raw wool, which does not concern the consumer directly, -but which he must consider in order to understand the conditions under -which the woolen manufacturer is laboring. - -When we come to cloth, the discrimination against the woolen -manufacturer and the burden imposed upon the consumer is no less -striking. - -On the theory that all wool in this country is enhanced in price to the -extent of the duty,--a theory, by the way, which every protectionist -stoutly combats when discussing the effect of the tariff on domestic -prices,--the manufacturer of cloth is allowed not only a protective -duty of from fifty to fifty-five per cent. of the value of the imported -cloth, but, in addition to that, a “compensatory” duty on account of -the duty on raw wool. This compensatory duty is fixed at forty-four -cents per pound of cloth on most of the cloths imported into this -country. - -It is based on the assumption that it takes four pounds of raw wool -to make one pound of cloth. This compensatory duty adds to the -discrimination against the woolen manufacturer in favor of the worsted -manufacturer in several ways. - -In the first place, as already explained, the wool used by the worsted -manufacturer does not shrink as much as that which goes into the cloth -produced by the woolen manufacturer. Yet the compensatory duty is fixed -at a uniform rate for both cloths, which is equivalent to giving to -the worsted manufacturer about twice as much “compensation” as to his -less fortunate rival, and giving him, in most cases, compensation for a -greater loss than he actually sustains. - -In the second place, the law takes no account of the admixture of -materials other than wool of which the cloth is made. A cotton worsted -may contain cotton to the extent of one half or more of its total -weight, yet the worsted manufacturer is allowed forty-four cents a -pound “compensation” on the entire weight of the cloth. Mr. Dale, -editor of “The Textile World Record,” quotes a typical instance of a -cotton worsted. In turning out 8750 pounds of this cloth, 3125 pounds -of raw wool were used, the remainder being cotton. Assuming that the -price of the wool in this country was enhanced to the extent of the -duty of eleven cents a pound, the manufacturer would be entitled to a -compensatory duty of 3125 times eleven, or $343.75. But the law, on the -four-to-one theory, allows a compensatory duty of forty-four cents per -pound of cloth, or 8750 times forty-four, which is equal to $3850. The -manufacturer is thus granted an extra protection of more than three and -one half thousand dollars in the guise of compensation for the duty on -wool which never entered the cloth. - -In the discussion of the question in Congress, the stand-pat senators -stoutly maintained that the four-to-one ratio was only a fair -compensation to the American manufacturer. But the report of the -Tariff Board, which no one has yet accused of being unfair to the -manufacturers, has settled this point authoritatively by sustaining -in most emphatic terms every charge made here against the system of -levying duties under Schedule K. - -In addition to the so-called compensatory duties, the tariff provides -a distinct protective duty of from fifty to fifty-five per cent. -on cloths. High as this duty appears in comparison with protective -duties in most of the European countries, it is not exceptionally -high as compared with the rates under other schedules of our tariff. -It is only when taken in combination with the compensatory duties, -which the official report of the Tariff Board has shown to be largely -protective, that the prohibitive character of the duties in Schedule K -comes to light. The figures of annual imports published by the Bureau -of Statistics throw an interesting light on this aspect of the case. -They show, for instance, that the duties on blankets in the fiscal year -1911 ranged from sixty-eight to one hundred and sixty-nine per cent. -of their foreign selling price; on carpets, from fifty to seventy-two -per cent., being the lowest duties imposed on any manufactures of -wool; on women’s dress-goods the duties varied from ninety-four to one -hundred and fifty-eight per cent.; on flannels, from seventy-one to one -hundred and twenty-one per cent.; on woolen and worsted cloths, from -ninety-four to one hundred and fifty per cent.; on knit fabrics, from -ninety-five to one hundred and fifty-three per cent.; on plushes and -pile fabrics, from one hundred to one hundred and twenty-two per cent. - -None of these rates tells the whole story: they all understate the -duties to which foreign goods are subject under the law; for they -represent the duties on goods that were able to get into this country -over our tariff wall. In some cases the imports represent vanishing -quantities, only a few dollars’ worth, being probably the personal -purchases of returning travelers. The duties that are high enough to -keep foreign goods out of the country naturally do not find their way -into the returns of the Bureau of Statistics. An illustration of this -feature is furnished by the report of the Tariff Board. The duties upon -woolen and worsted cloths just cited from the report of the Bureau -of Statistics are shown to vary from ninety-four to one hundred and -fifty per cent. The Tariff Board, in making a comparative study of the -industry at home and abroad, obtained a set of representative samples -of English cloths with prices at which they are sold in England, the -duty they would have to pay if imported into the United States, and the -prices at which similar cloths are sold in the United States. Sixteen -of the samples, representing the cheapest cloths sold in England at -prices of from twelve to fifty-four cents a yard, are not imported -into the United States at all, owing to prohibitive duties ranging -from one hundred and thirty-two to two hundred and sixty per cent. -Thirteen out of the sixteen samples would have paid duties higher -than the highest rate of one hundred and fifty per cent. given in the -report of the Bureau of Statistics for cloths actually imported. This -illustration will suffice to explain why the rates quoted above for -various woolen products from the report of the Bureau of Statistics are -understatements of the duties imposed under Schedule K. - -An invariable feature of this schedule is that the duties rise in -inverse ratio to the value of the commodities, so that the poor man’s -grades pay the highest rates, while those intended for people who can -best afford to pay the duties are subject to the lowest rates. In the -set of English samples collected by the board, the cheapest cloth -selling in England for twelve cents a yard would pay a duty in the -United States equal to two hundred per cent. ad valorem, while the -highest-priced fabric selling at $1.68 a yard would pay a duty of only -eighty-seven per cent. - -Small wonder that under the fostering care of Schedule K imports have -been reduced to next to nothing. With a total domestic consumption -of women’s dress-goods valued at more than $105,000,000, we imported -six and one third million dollars’ worth of these goods in 1911. The -imports of woolen and worsted cloth were only two and one half per -cent. of the total domestic consumption. We imported blankets and -flannels in 1909 worth $125,000 as against a domestic production of -more than $10,500,000, making the imports only slightly more than one -per cent. of our total consumption; even in carpets, which are subject -to the lowest rates of duty imposed on manufactures under Schedule K, -our imports were only $195,000 worth against a domestic production of -$45,475,889, making the imports less than one half of one per cent. of -our own production. - - -THE STATE OF THE AMERICAN WOOL INDUSTRY - -After enjoying for nearly half a century a protection averaging -forty-five per cent. and amounting to from one hundred to five hundred -and fifty per cent. on the cheaper grades of wool, the American -wool-grower is not able to satisfy as great a part of the national -demand for his product as he was at the time of the Civil War. During -the sixties we had to depend upon imports to the extent of little over -one fourth (26.8 per cent.) of our total consumption of wool. To-day -nearly one half of our needs have to be covered by foreign wools (about -forty-five per cent. in 1910). When wool was placed on the free list -under the Wilson Bill in 1894, it was charged that the abolition of the -duty was responsible for the increase in our imports. But our growing -dependence on imported wool despite the restoration of the duty under -the Dingley Act, in 1897, goes to show that the tariff is no remedy for -the shortage. - -The wool-grower argues, however, that wool can be produced so much -cheaper in Argentina and Australia that, if admitted free of duty -to the United States, it would bring about the total disappearance -of the American wool industry. The latest available figures given -in the report of the Tariff Board show a world production of about -2,500,000,000 pounds of wool, of which the United States produces -about one eighth. The world supply would furnish less than a pound of -clean wool per head of population, not enough to give each of us more -than one suit in three years. Of course the latter estimates are only -approximate, but they are not far from the truth. If it were not for -the plentiful admixture of cotton and shoddy to the annual stock of new -wool, there would not be enough wool to clothe the people of the earth. -Under these conditions, there is no danger of the world failing to make -use of American wool. Any considerable curtailment in the production -of American wool would have the tendency of raising the world’s price -of wool to such an extent as to offer renewed encouragement to the -American wool-grower. So much for that. But is it true that it costs so -much to raise wool in the United States? - -The Tariff Board reported that the average cost of production of wool -in this country is about three times as high as in Australia and -about double that in South America. On that basis our present duty is -ridiculously low, and it is a wonder that our wool industry has not -long gone out of existence. What is the secret of its miraculous escape -from total extinction? - -The Tariff Board average represents widely different conditions -of production. A large part of the wool grown in this country--no -less than eleven per cent. of the wool covered by the board’s -investigation--is raised without any cost whatever to the wool-grower; -in fact, he gets “a net credit,” to quote the board, or a premium, -with each pound of wool coming from his sheep’s back. This is true of -sheep-growers who are employing up-to-date methods in their business -and have substituted the cross-bred merino sheep for the old-type pure -merino. The cross-bred sheep is raised primarily to meet the enormous -and rapidly growing demand for mutton. The price realized from the sale -of mutton is sufficient not only to cover the entire expense of raising -the sheep, but leaves the farmer a net profit, before he has sold a -pound of his wool, which has become a by-product with him, and the -proceeds from which represent a clear gain. It will be easily seen that -the up-to-date mutton-sheep breeder can do very well without any duty -on wool. - -The mutton-sheep has come to stay, because we are fast getting to be -a mutton-eating people. Despite the enormous increase in population, -fewer cattle and hogs are being slaughtered to-day than twenty years -ago, while the number of sheep killed has more than doubled in the -same period. In 1880, for every sheep slaughtered at the Chicago -stock-yards, four heads of cattle and twenty-one hogs were killed. In -1900 the number of sheep received at the stock-yards exceeded that of -cattle, and in 1911, for every sheep slaughtered, there was only one -half of a beef carcass and one and one quarter of a hog. The rapid -increase in the demand for and supply of sheep out of all proportion -to other animals is in itself the best refutation of the cry that -sheep-growing is unprofitable. In his recent book on “Sheep Breeding -in America,” Mr. Wing, one of the foremost authorities on the subject -in this country, who investigated the sheep-breeding industry for the -Tariff Board in every part of the country where it is carried on, as -well as abroad, says that sheep-breeding is profitable despite the -woefully neglectful manner in which it is conducted in the United -States. Unlike some United States senators who have grown rich in the -business of raising sheep, Mr. Wing remains cheerful at the prospect -of a reduction of wool duties, and even their total abolition has -no terrors for him. His attitude is very significant, when it is -considered that he is a practical sheep-grower, still engaged in that -business, in addition to writing on the subject, and that all his -interests, both business and literary, are intimately wound up with the -sheep industry. - -Not all growers, it is true, have adopted modern methods. The report -of the board shows five additional groups of farmers whose cost of -production of wool varies from less than five cents a pound to more -than twenty. Accepting these figures at their face-value, although they -are only approximate, and assuming that a raw material like wool of -which we cannot produce enough to satisfy our needs is a proper object -of protection, the question still remains whether the tariff is to be -high enough to afford protection to every man in the business, even -when the results obtained by his neighbors show that he has his own -inefficiency or backwardness to blame for his high costs, or whether -the duty is to measure the difference between the cost of production -of our efficient producers and that of their foreign competitors. If -the former be taken as a standard, then the present duty on raw wool is -not sufficiently high, and should be greatly increased; if the latter -be accepted as a basis in tariff-making, then, there being no cost -in raising wool on up-to-date American ranches, there seems to be no -valid reason for any duty, except possibly one of a transitory nature, -to allow sufficient time to the sheep-growers who need it to adjust -themselves to modern conditions of business. - - -MILL EFFICIENCY - -The same general considerations which apply to raw wool hold good as -to its manufactures. There is no such thing as an average cost of -production of woolen cloth in the United States. The enormous variety -of cloths produced in the same mill proved an insuperable obstacle to -the Tariff Board, which gave up the attempt to ascertain the actual -cost of production. Instead, it undertook to obtain estimates from -manufacturers of the cost of producing cloths, samples of which were -furnished to them by the board. Assuming that all the estimates were -made in good faith and that the agents of the board were all competent -and equal to the task of checking them with the meager means at their -command, the average costs even by the board represent widely differing -conditions of industrial efficiency. - -Industrial efficiency depends on a great many conditions an adequate -discussion of which would take in far afield. One fact, however, stands -out preëminently, and must be emphasized until it is seared into the -consciousness and conscience of the American citizen, and that is that -industrial efficiency, which is synonymous with low-labor cost, does -not mean, or depend upon, low wages. Yet the lower wages in Europe -constitute the stock argument in every plea for protection that is -dinned into the ears of Congress. - -Not being in a position to make a comprehensive inquiry into the -efficiency of American mills in the woolen industry, the Tariff Board -made a study of labor efficiency in the various process of wool -manufacture in connection with output and wages paid. Almost invariably -the mill paying higher wages per hour showed lower costs than its -competitor with lower wages. - -Thus, in wool scouring the lowest average wages paid to -machine-operatives in the thirty mills examined was found to be 12.16 -cents per hour, and the highest 17.79. Yet the low-wage mill showed a -labor cost of twenty-one cents per hundred pounds of wool, while the -high-wage mill had a cost of only fifteen cents. One of the reasons for -this puzzling situation was that the low-wage mill paid nine cents per -hundred pounds for supervisory labor, such as foremen, etc., while the -high-wage mill paid only six cents. Apparently well-paid labor needs -less driving and supervising than low-paid labor. - -In the carding department of seventeen worsted mills the mill paying -its machine-operatives an average wage of 13.18 cents per hour had a -machine labor cost of four cents per hundred pounds, while the mill -paying its machine-operatives only 11.86 cents per hour had a cost -of twenty-five cents per hundred pounds. This was due largely to -the fact that the lower-cost-high-wage mill had machinery enabling -every operator to turn out more than 326 pounds per hour, while the -high-cost-low-wage mill it turning out less than forty-eight pounds -per hour. - -The same tendency was observed in the carding departments of twenty-six -woolen mills. The mill with the highest machine output per man per -hour, namely 57.7 pounds, had a machinery-labor cost of twenty-three -cents per hundred pounds, while the mill with a machine output of only -six pounds per operative per hour had a cost of $1.64 per hundred -pounds. Yet this mill, with a cost seven times higher than the other, -paid its operatives only 9.86 cents per hour, as against 13.09 cents -paid by its more successful competitor. - -These examples could be repeated for every department of woolen and -worsted mills, but will suffice to illustrate the point that higher -wages do not necessarily mean higher costs. They show that mill -efficiency depends more on a liberal use of the most improved machinery -than on low wages. Thoughtful planning in arranging the machinery -to save unnecessary steps to the employees, careful buying of raw -materials, the efficient organization and utilization of the labor -force in the mill, systematic watching of the thousands of details, -each affecting the cost of manufacture, will reduce costs to an -astonishing degree. When the board, therefore, states that the labor -cost of production in this country is on the average, about double that -in foreign countries, we must bear in mind the difference in costs in -our own country, and the causes to which high costs are due. The fact -is that the woolen industry, being one of the best, if not the best, -protected industry in the country, shows an exceptional disposition to -cling to old methods and to use machinery which long ago should have -been consigned to the scrap-heap. That is where the chief cause of the -comparatively high cost of production in a large part of the industry -is to be looked for. - -But, disregarding the question of efficiency, let us accept the figure -of the Tariff Board, which found the labor cost in England to be one -half that here, taking the manufacture from the time the wool enters -the mill until it is turned out as finished cloth. The entire labor -cost varies from twenty to fifty per cent. of the total cost of making -cloth, according to the character of the cloth, and but seldom exceeds -or approaches fifty per cent. If the protective duty is to measure the -difference in labor cost, it should be fixed at not above twenty-five -per cent. of the cost, that being the highest difference between the -American and English labor cost. As against that, we now have a duty of -about fifty-five per cent. of the selling price of the foreign cloth, -in addition to the concealed protection in the so-called compensatory -duty. - -For decades we have been assured that all the manufacturer wanted was -a duty high enough to compensate him for the higher wages paid in this -country. In 1908 the Republican party laid down the formula that the -tariff is to measure the difference in the cost of production at home -and abroad, including a “reasonable profit to the manufacturer.” To-day -the party has advocates of all kinds of protection, from those who -wish the tariff to measure the difference in labor cost of the most -efficient mills in this and foreign countries, as advocated by Senator -LaFollette, to those who wish a tariff high enough to keep out foreign -importations. - -Whatever may be done with Schedule K by the Democratic Congress, it is -time that we dismiss the hoary legend that the duties are maintained -solely in the interest of the highly paid American working-man. The -assertion comes with specially poor grace from the woolen and worsted -industry, the most highly protected industry in the United States, -paying the lowest wages to skilled labor. With the earnings of the -great bulk of its employees averaging through the year less than ten -dollars a week, while wages are about double that figure in less -protected industries; with its workmen compelled to send their wives -and children to the mills as an alternative to starvation on the -man’s earnings; with the horrors of living conditions of the Lawrence -mill-workers still ringing in our ears, it is time that we face the -situation squarely and, whatever degree of protection we decide to -maintain, that we frankly admit that it is primarily for the benefit of -the capital invested in our industries. - -Russia, Germany, and France do so frankly, and free-trade England -manages to compete with them in the markets of the world, while paying -higher wages to its employees. In turn we beat these nations, in their -own and in the world’s markets, in the products of the very industries -in which we pay the highest wages. - - - - -THE WINE OF NIGHT - -BY LOUIS UNTERMEYER - - - Come, drink the mystic wine of Night, - Brimming with silence and the stars; - While earth, bathed in this holy light, - Is seen without its scars. - Drink in the daring and the dews, - The calm winds and the restless gleam-- - This is the draught that Beauty brews; - Drink--it is the Dream.... - - Drink, oh my soul, and do not yield-- - These solitudes, this wild-rose air - Shall strengthen thee, shall be thy shield - Against the world’s despair. - Oh, quaff this stirrup-cup of stars - Trembling with hope and high desire-- - Then back into the hopeless wars - With faith and fire! - - - - -“THEM OLD MOTH-EATEN LOVYERS” - -BY CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK - -Author of “In the Tennessee Mountains,” “Where the Battle was Fought,” -etc. - -WITH PICTURES BY GEORGE WRIGHT - - -Hair snow-white, the drifts of many a winter, eyes sunken amid a -network of wrinkles, hands hardened and veinous, shoulders bent, and -step laggard and feeble, the old lovers were as beautiful to each -other, and as enthralled by mutual devotion, as on their wedding-day -forty-five years before. They were beautiful also to more discerning -eyes--to a wandering artist in quest of material, who painted them both -in divers poses, and carried off his canvases. As a recompense of some -sort, he left a masterly depiction of the god of love burned in the -wood of the broad, smooth board of the mantelpiece above the hearth, -where the fickle little deity, though furnished with wings for swiftest -flight, had long presided in constancy. - -Doubtless some such sentiment had prompted the pyrography, but its -significance failed to percolate through the dense ignorance of the old -mountain woman. - -“Folks from the summer hotel over yander nigh the bluffs air always -powerful tickled over that leetle critter,” she was wont to reply -to an admiring comment, “but he ‘pears ter me some similar ter a -flying-squirrel. I never seen no baby dee-formed with wings nohow, -an’ I tol’ the painter-man at the time that them legs war too fat ter -be plumb genteel. But, lawsy! I jes hed ter let him keep on workin’. -He war powerful saaft-spoken an’ perlite, though I war afeared he’d -disfigure every plain piece o’ wood about the house afore he tuk -hisself away.” - -Years before, the romance of the old couple had been the idyl of the -country-side. They had indeed been lovers as children. They had made -pilgrimages to their trysting-place when the breadth of the dooryard -was a long journey. They had plighted their vows as they sat in -juvenile content, plump, tow-headed, bare-footed among the chips of -the wood pile. As they grew older it was the object of their lives -to save their treasures to bestow on each other. A big apple, a chunk -of maple-sugar, a buckeye of abnormal proportions, attained a certain -dignity regarded as _gages d’amour_. They were never parted for a day -till Editha was seventeen years old, when she was summoned to the care -of a paralytic aunt who dwelt in Shaftesville, twelve miles distant, -and who, in the death of her husband, had been left peculiarly helpless -and alone. - -The separation was a dreary affliction to the lovers, but it proved the -busiest year of Benjamin Casey’s life, signalized by his preparations -for the home-coming of the bride to be. All the country-side took a -share in the “house-raising,” and the stanch log cabin went up like -magic on the rocky bit of land on the bluff, thus utilized to reserve -for the plow the arable spaces of the little farm. Every article of the -rude furniture common to the region was in its appropriate place when -Editha first stood on her own threshold and gazed into the glowing fire -aflare upon her own hearth; and humble though it was, she confronted -the very genius of home. - -The guests who danced at the wedding and afterward at the infare felt -that the lifelong romance was a sort of community interest, and for -many a year its details were familiarized by repetition about the -fire-side or to the casual stranger. But Time is ever the mocker. The -generation which had known the pair in the bloom and freshness of -their beauty had in great part passed away. Their idyl of devotion -and constancy gradually became farcical as the years imposed their -blight. “Them old moth-eaten lovyers” was a phrase so apt in derisive -description that it commended itself for general use to a community of -later date and newer ideals. What a zest of jovial ridicule would the -iconoclasts have enjoyed had it been known that it was only when one -was sixty-five years of age and the other sixty-three that there had -occurred their first experience of a lovers’ quarrel! For Benjie and -Editha now were seriously regarded only by themselves. - -A steady, sober man was Benjamin Casey, of a peculiarly sane and -reliable judgment, but it occasioned an outburst of unhallowed mirth in -the vicinity when it was bruited abroad that he had been chosen on the -venire for the petit jury at the next term of the court. - -“I’ll bet Editha goes, too,” exclaimed a gossip at the cross-roads -store, delighted with the incongruity of the idea. - -“Sure,” acceded his interlocutor. “Benjie can’t serve on no panel -’thout Editha sets on the jury, too.” - -And, in fact, when the great day came for the journey to the county -town, the rickety little wagon with the old white mare stood harnessed -before the porch for an hour while Editha, in the toils of perplexity, -decided on the details of her toilet for the momentous occasion, and -Benjie bent the whole capacity of his substantial mind in the effort to -aid her. The finishing touch to her costume of staid, brown homespun -had a suggestion of sacrilege in the estimation of each. - -“I’d lament it ef it war ter git sp’iled anyways, Benjie,” she -concluded at length, “but I dunno ez I will ever hev a more especial -occasion ter wear this big silk neckerchief what that painter-man sent -me in a letter from Glaston--I reckon fer hevin’ let him mark up my -mantel-shelf so scandalous. Jus’ the color of the sky it is, an’ ez big -ez a shoulder-shawl, an’ thick an’ glossy in the weave fer true. See! -I hev honed ter view how I would look in it, but I hev never made bold -ter put it on. Still, considerin’ I ain’t been in Shaftesvul sence the -year I spent thar forty-six years ago, I don’t want ter look tacky in -nowise; an’, then, I’ll he interjuced ter all them gentlemen of the -jury, too.” - -Benjie solemnly averred himself of like opinion, and this important -question thus settled, the afternoon brought them to Shaftesville, -where they spent the night with relatives of Editha. - -The criminal court-room of the old brick court-house was a revelation -of a new and awesome phase of life to the old couple when the jury -was impaneled early the next morning. Editha, decorous, though flushed -and breathless with excitement, sat among the spectators, who were -ranged on each side of the elevated and railed space inclosing the bar, -and Benjie, conspicuous among the jury, exercised the high privilege, -which most of his colleagues had sought to shirk, of aiding in the -administration of his country’s laws. - -Although the taking of testimony occupied only two or three hours -during the morning, the rest of the jury obviously wearied at times -and grew inattentive, but Benjie continued alert, fresh, intent on a -true understanding of the case. More than once he held up his hand -for permission to speak, after the etiquette acquired as a boy at the -little district school, and when the judge accorded the boon of a -question, the point was so well taken and cut so trenchantly into the -perplexities involved, that both the arguments of the lawyers and the -charge from the bench were inadvertently addressed chiefly to this -single juryman, whose native capacity discounted the value of the -better-trained minds of the rest of the panel. - -When the jury were about to retire to consider their verdict, the -unsophisticated pair were surprised to discover that Editha was -not to be allowed to sit with Benjie in the jury-room and aid the -deliberations of the panel. She had stood up expectantly in her place -as the jury began to file out toward an inner apartment, and had known -by intuition the import of Benjie’s remark to the constable in charge, -happily _sotto voce_, or it might have fractured the decorum of the -court-room beyond the possibility of repair. At the reply, Benjie -paused for a moment, looking dumfounded; then catching her eye, he -slowly shook his white head. The constable, young, pert, and brisk, -hastily circled about his “good and lawful men” with much the style -of a small and officious dog rounding up a few recalcitrant head of -cattle. The door closed inexorably behind them, and the old couple were -separated on the most significant instance in their quiet and eventless -lives. - -For a few minutes Editha stood at a loss; then her interest in the -judicial proceedings having ceased with the retirement of Benjie -from the court-room, she drifted softly through the halls and thence -to the street. There had been many changes in Shaftesville since -the twelvemonth she had spent there forty-six years before, and she -presently developed the ardor of a discoverer in touring the town with -this large liberty of leisure while her husband was engrossed in the -public service. - -[Illustration: Drawn by George Wright. Half-tone plate engraved by G. -M. Lewis. - -“SHE HAD STOOD UP EXPECTANTLY IN HER PLACE AS THE JURY BEGAN TO FILE -OUT”] - -As he sat constrained to the deliberations of the jury, Benjie was -beset with certain doubts and fears as to the dangers that might betide -her. Through the window beside him once he saw her passing on the -opposite side of the square, still safe, wavering to and fro before the -display of a dry-goods store, evidently amazed at the glories of the -fripperies of the fashion on view at the door. - -Benjie sprang to his feet, then, realizing the exigencies of the -situation, sank back in his chair. - -“Thar,” he said suddenly to his colleagues, waving his hand pridefully -toward the distant figure--“thar is Mis’ Casey, my wife, by Christian -name Editha.” - -The jury, despite the untimeliness of the interruption, had the good -grace and the good manners to acknowledge this introduction, so to -speak, in the spirit in which it was tendered. - -“Taking in the town, I suppose,” said the foreman, a well-known grocer -of the place. - -“Jes so, jes so,” said the beaming Casey. “I war determinated that Mis’ -Casey should visit Shaftesvul an’, ef so minded, take in the town.” - -Editha vanished within the store, and Benjie’s mind was free to revert -to the matter in hand. It was not altogether a usual experience even -for one more habituated to jury service. The deliberations started with -some unanimity of opinion, the first three ballots showing eleven to -one, Benjie holding out in a stanch minority that bade fair to prevent -agreement, and enabling the foreman to perpetrate the time-honored joke -in the demand for supper. - -“Constable,” he roared, “order a meal of victuals for eleven men and a -bale of hay for a mule.” - -Later, however, Benjie was all a-tingle with pride when the foreman, -with a knitted brow at a crisis of the discussion observed, “There is -something worth considering in _one_ point of Mr. Casey’s contention.” - -This impression grew until the jury called in the constable from -his station at the door to convey their request for instruction -upon a matter of law. Although long after nightfall, the court was -still in session, owing to the crowded state of the docket, and when -the jury were led into the court-room to receive from the bench an -explanation of the point in question, Benjie was elated to find that -the information they had sought aided and elucidated his position. The -first ballot taken after returning to the jury-room resulted in ten of -the jurors supporting his insistence against only two, and of these the -foreman was one. They balloted once more just before they started to go -to the hotel to bed, still guarded by the constable, who kept them, in -a compact body, from any communication with the public. On this ballot -only the foreman was in the opposition. - -When they were standing in the hallway of the upper story of the hotel, -and the officer was assigning them to their rooms and explaining to the -foreman that he would be within call if anything was needed, Benjie, -now in high spirits, was moved to exclaim, “Never fear, sonny; a muel -is always ekal ter a good loud bray.” - -All the jury applauded this turning of the tables, and laughed at the -foreman, and one demanded of Benjie what he fed on “up in the sticks to -get so all-fired sharp.” - -The next morning, to the old mountaineer’s great satisfaction, the -foreman, having slept on his perplexities, awoke to Benjie’s way of -thinking, and when they were once more in the court-room he pridefully -stated that they had reached an agreement and found the prisoner -“Not guilty.” The crowd in the court-room cheered; in one moment the -prisoner looked like another man, and genially shook hands with each of -the jury; the judge thanked them before discharging them from further -duty; and as Benjie pushed out of the court-room in the crowd all this -was on the tip of his tongue to narrate for the eager wonderment and -interest of Editha. - -An immediate start for home was essential in order not to tax old -Whitey too severely, for the clay roads were heavy as the result of -a recent rainfall, and they must reach the mountain before sunset, -in view of the steep and dangerous ascent. Therefore he sent word -to Editha to meet him at a certain corner, while he repaired to the -livery-stable for his vehicle; for he had happened to encounter her -hostess, a kinswoman, on his way from the court-room, and had taken -ceremonious leave of her on the street. - -“I don’t want no more hand-shakin’ an’ farewells,” he said to -himself, flustered and eager for the start, so delighted was he to be -homeward-bound with Editha and fairly launched on the recital of his -wondrous experiences while serving on the jury. - -His lips were vaguely moving, now with a word, now with a pleased -smile, formulating the sequences of his story, as he jogged along in -his little wagon and suddenly caught sight of his wife awaiting him at -the appointed corner. - -At the first glance he remarked the change. It was Editha in semblance, -but not the Editha he knew or had ever known. - -“Editha!” he murmured faintly, all his being resolved into eyes, as he -checked old Whitey and drew up close to the curb. - -No meager old woman this, wont to hold herself a trifle -stoop-shouldered, to walk with a slow, shuffling gait. Her thin figure -was braced alertly, like some slender girl’s. She stepped briskly, -lightly, from the high curb, and with two motions, as the soldiers say, -she put her foot on the hub of the wheel and was seated beside him in -the wagon. Then he saw her face, through the tunnel of her dark-blue -sunbonnet, suffused with a pink bloom as delicate as a peach-blossom. -Her eyes were as blue and as lustrous as the silk muffler, which the -artist had doubtless selected with a realization of the accord of -these fine tints. A curl of her silky, white hair lay on her forehead, -and another much longer hung down beneath the curtain of her bonnet, -scarcely more suggestive of age than if it had been discreetly -powdered. Her lips were red, and there was a vibration of joyous -excitement in her voice. - -“Waal, sir, Shaftesvul!” she exclaimed, turning to survey the vanishing -town, for it had required scarcely a moment to whisk them beyond its -limited precincts. “It’s the beauty-spot of the whole world, sure. -But,” she added as she settled herself straight on the seat and turned -her face toward the ranges in the distance, “we must try ter put up -with the mountings. One good thing is that we air used ter them, else -hevin’ ter go back arter this trip would be powerful’ hard on us, sure. -Benjie, who do ye reckon I met up with in Shaftesvul? Now, _who_?” - -“I dunno,” faltered Benjie, all ajee and out of his reckoning. Luckily -old Whitey knew the way home, for the reins lay slack on her back. “War -it yer Cousin Lucindy Jane?” Benjie ventured. - -“Cousin Lucindy Jane!” Editha echoed with a tone closely resembling -contempt. “Of course I met up with Cousin Lucindy Jane, an’ war -interjuced ter her cow an’ all her chickens. Cousin Lucindy Jane!” she -repeated slightingly. Then essaying no further to foster his lame -guesswork, “Benjie,” she laid her hand impressively on his arm, “I met -up with Leroy Tresmon’!” - -She gazed at him with wide, bright eyes, challenging his outbreak -of surprise. But Benjie only dully fumbled with the name. “Leroy -Tresmon’?” he repeated blankly. “Who’s him?” - -“Hesh, Benjie!” cried Editha in a girlish gush of laughter. “Don’t ye -let on ez I hev never mentioned Leroy Tresmon’s name ter you-’uns. -Gracious me! Keep that secret in the sole of yer shoe. He’d never git -over it ef he war ter find that out, vain an’ perky ez he be.” - -“But--but when did ye git acquainted with him?” - -“Why, that year ’way back yander when I lived with Aunt Dor’thy in -Shaftesvul. My! my! my! why, ’Roy war ez reg’lar ez the town clock -in comin’ ter see me. But, lawsy! it be forty-six year’ ago now. -I never would hev dreampt of the critter remembering me arter all -these years.” She bridled into a graceful erectness, and threw her -beautiful eyes upward in ridicule of the idea as she went on: “I war -viewin’ the show-windows of that big dry-goods store. They call it -‘the palace’”--Benjie remembered that he had seen her at that very -moment--“an’ it war all so enticin’ ter the eye that I went inside to -look closer at some of the pretties; an’ ez I teetered up an’ down the -aisle I noticed arter awhile a man old ez you-’uns, Benjie, but mighty -fine an’ fixed up an’ scornful an’ perky, an’ jes gazin’ an’ _gazin’_ -at me. But I passed on heedless, an’ presently, ez I war about ter turn -ter leave, a clerk stepped up ter me--I hed noticed out of the corner -of my eye the boss-man whisper ter him--an’ this whipper-snapper he -say, ‘Excuse me, Lady, but did you give yer name ter hev any goods sent -up?’ An’ I say, ‘I hev bought no goods; I be a stranger jes viewin’ -the town.’ Then ez I started toward the door this boss-man suddint -kem out from behind his desk an’ appeared before me. ‘Surely,’ he -said, smiling--he hed the whitest teeth, Benjie, an’ a-many of ’em, ez -reg’lar ez grains of corn--” - -Benjie instinctively closed his lips quickly over his own dental -vacancies and ruins as Editha resumed her recital: - -“‘Surely,’ he said, smiling, ‘thar never war two sech pairs of -eyes--made out of heaven’s own blue. Ain’t this Editha Bruce?’ - -“An’ I determinated ter skeer him a leetle, fer he war majorin’ round -powerful’ brash; so I said ez cool ez a cucumber, ‘Mis’ Benjamin Casey.’ - -“But, shucks! the critter knowed my voice ez well ez my eyes. He jes -snatched both my hands, an’ ef he said ‘Editha! Editha! Editha!’ -once, he said it a dozen times, like he would bu’st out crying an’ -sheddin’ tears in two minutes. He don’t call my name like you do, -Benjie, short-like, ‘’Ditha.’ He says it ‘_E_editha,’ drawn out, saaft, -an’ sweet. Oh, lawsy! I plumb felt like a fool or a gal seventeen -year’ old--same thing. Fer it hed jes kem ter me who _he_ war, but I -purtended ter hev knowed him all along. The conceits of the town ways -of Shaftesvul hev made me plumb tricky an’ deceitful; I tell ye now, -Benjie.” She gave a jocose little nudge of her elbow into his thin, old -ribs, and so strangely forlorn had Benjie begun to feel that he was -grateful even for this equivocal attention. - -“Then ‘Roy Tresmon’ say--Now, Benjie, I dunno whether ye will think -_I_ done the perlite thing, fer I didn’t rightly know _what_ ter do -myself--he say, ‘Editha, fer old sake’s sake choose su’thin’ fer a gift -o’ remembrance outen my stock.’ - -“I never seen no cattle, so I s’posed he war talkin’ sorter townified -about his goods in the store. But I jes laffed an’ say, ‘My husband is -a man with a free hand, though not a very fat purse, an’ I prefer ter -spen’ a few dollars with ye, ez I expected ter do when I drifted in -hyar a stranger.’ Ye notice them lies, Benjie. I reckon I kin explain -them somehow at the las’ day, but they served my turn ez faithful ez -the truth yestiddy. I say, ‘Ye kin take one penny out of the change -an’ put a hole through it fer remembrance, an’ let old sake’s sake go -at that.’” Once more her caroling, girlish laughter echoed along the -lonely road. - -“Though I really hedn’t expected ter spen’ a cent, I bought me some -thread an’ buttons, an’ some checked gingham fer aperns, an’ a leetle -woolen shoulder-shawl, an’ paid fer them, meanin’ of course ter tote -’em along with me under my arm; but ’Roy gin the clerk a look, an’ that -spry limber-jack whisked them all away, an’ remarked, ‘The goods will -be sent up immejetly ter Mrs. Jarney’s, whar ye say ye be stoppin’.’ -An’, Benjie, whenst Cousin Sophy Jarney an’ me opened that parcel las’ -night, what d’ ye s’pose we f’und?” She gave Benjie a clutch on the -wrist of the hand that held the reins; and feeling them tighten, old -Whitey mended her pace. - -“Ye oughter been more keerful than ter hev lef’ the things at the store -arter payin’ cash money fer ’em,” rejoined Benjie, sagely, not that he -was suspicious of temperament, but unsophisticated of training. - -“Shucks!” cried Editha, with a rallying laugh. “All them common things -that I bought war thar, an’ more besides, wuth trible the money, -Benjie. A fancy comb fer the hair--looks some similar ter a crown, -though jet-black an’ shiny--an’ a necklace o’ beads ter match. O -Benjie!” she gave his hand an ecstatic pressure. “I’ll show ’em ter ye -when we gits home--every one. They air in my kyarpet-bag thar in the -back of the wagon. An’ thar war besides a leetle lace cape with leetle -black jet beads winkin’ at ye all over it, an’ a pair o’ silk gloves, -not like mittens, but with separate fingers. Cousin Sophy Jarney she -jes squealed. She say, ‘I wish I hed a beau like that!’ Ned Jarney, -standin’ by, watchin’ me open the parcel, he say, ‘Ladies hev ter be -ez beautisome ez Cousin Editha ter hev beaus at command at her time of -life.’ Oh, my! Oh, my! Cousin Sophy she say, ‘Cousin Editha is yit, -ez she always war, a tremenjious flirt. I think I’ll try ter practise -a leetle bit ter git my hand in, ef ever _I_ should hev occasion -ter try.’ Oh, my! I’ll never furgit this visit ter Shaftesvul, the -beauty-spot of the nation.” - -Editha’s admired eyes, alight with all the fervors of retrospection, -were fixed unseeing upon the majestic range of mountains, now turning -from blue to amethyst with a cast of the westering sun. The fences had -failed along the roadside, and for miles it had run between shadowy -stretches of forest that, save for now and again a break of fields or -pasture-lands, cut off the alluring view. A lovely stream had given the -wayfarers its company, flowing beside the highway, clear as crystal, -and when once more it expanded into shallows the road ran down to the -margin to essay a ford. Here, as old Whitey paused to drink from the -lustrous depths, the reflection of the deep-green, overhanging boughs, -the beetling, gray rocks, and the blue sky painted a picture on the -surface too refreshingly vivid and sweet for the senses to discriminate -at once all its keen sources of joy. - -[Illustration: Drawn by George Wright. Half-tone plate engraved by R. -Varley. - -“‘AN’ WILL YE TELL ME WHAT’S THE REASON I COULDN’T HEV HED RICHES--OLD -TOM FOOL!’“] - -Old Whitey had seemed to drink her fill, but as Benjie was about to -gather up the reins anew she bowed her pendulous lips once more to the -shining surface. - -“Fust off,” resumed Mrs. Casey, with a touch of gravity, “I felt plumb -mortified about them presents. I knowed all that stuff had cost ’Roy -an onpleasing price of money. But, then, I reminded myself I hed no -accountability. He done it of his own accord, an’ he could well afford -it. I remembered when I war fust acquainted with ’Roy, when I war jes a -young gal an’ he nuthin’ but a peart cockerel, he hed _then_ the name -of bein’ one of the richest men in Shaftesvul. His dad bein’ dead, -’Roy owned what he hed his own self. An’ jedgin’ by his ‘stock,’ ez -he called it, an’ his ‘palace,’ he must hev been makin’ money hand -over hand ever sence. So I made up my mind ter enjoy the treat whenst -he invited me an’ Sophy an’ her husband, Ned Jarney, ter go ter the -pictur’-show last night an’ eat supper arterward. An’, Benjie, I never -seen sech fine men-folks’s clothes ez ’Roy Tresmon’ stepped out in. He -hed on a b’iled shirt stiff ez a board; he mought hev leaned up ag’in’ -it ef he felt tired. His white collar war ekally stiff, an’ ez high ez -a staked-an’-ridered fence. Whenst he looked over it he ’peared some -similar ter a jumpin’ muel in a high paddock. He hed leetle, tiny, -shiny buttons in his shirt-front,--Sophy said they war pure gold,--an’ -his weskit war cut down jes so--lem me show ye how.” - -She had turned to take hold of Benjie’s humble jeans clothing -to illustrate the fashion of the garb of the merchant prince of -Shaftesville when her hand faltered on the lapel of his coat. “Why, -Benjie,” she cried sharply, “what makes ye look so plumb pale an’ -peaked? Air ye ailin’ anyways?” - -“Naw, naw.” Benjie testily repudiated the suggestion. “Tell on yer -tale.” Then by way of excuse or explanation he added, “I ain’t sick, -but settin’ on a jury is a wearin’ business.” - -“Mought be ter the britches, but not ter the health,” Editha rejoined. -Then she burst out laughing at her jest, and it brought to her mind a -new phase of her triumphs. “’Roy Tresmon’ he said I war the wittiest -lady he ever seen. He meant plumb jokified,” she explained tolerantly. -“An’ sure’ I did keep him on the grin. He ’lowed it war wuth twice -the price of his entertainment ter escort me ter the pictur’-show an’ -theater-supper arterward; fer when the show war over, me an’ him an’ -Sophy an’ Jarney went ter an eatin’-store, whar they hed a whole passel -o’ leetle tables set out in the floor an’ the biggest lookin’-glass I -ever see on the wall. But, lawsy! Benjie, be ye a-goin’ ter let that -old mare stand slobberin’ in the river plumb till sunset? Git up, -Whitey!” - -As the wagon went jolting up the steep bank, Editha resumed: - -“But I tell ye now, Benjie, ’Roy Tresmon’ didn’t do all the fine -dressin’. I cut a dash myself. Sophy begged me ter wear a dress of -hern ter the pictur’-show an’ the theater-supper, ez they called it, -arterward, which I war crazy ter do all the time, though I kep’ on -sayin’ ter her, ‘What differ do it make what a’ old mounting woman -wears?’ But I let myself be persuaded into a white muslin frock with -black spots, an’, Benjie, with the lace cape an’ the jet necklace, -an’ the fancy jet comb in my hair, I made that man’s eyes shine ekal -ter them gold buttons in his shirt-front. Lem me show ye how Sophy did -up my hair. I scarcely dared turn my head on the pillow las’ night fer -fear of gittin’ it outen fix, an’ I never teched comb nor bresh ter it -this mornin’ so ez ye mought hev some idee how it looked.” - -With the word she removed her sunbonnet with gingerly care and sat -smiling at him, expectant of plaudits. In fact, the snow-white -redundancy of her locks, piled into crafty puffs and coiled in heavy -curls by the designing and ambitious Sophy, a close student of the -fashion items as revealed in the patent inside of the county paper, -achieved a coiffure that might have won even discriminating encomiums. -But Benjie looked at her dully and drearily as she sat, all rejuvenated -by the artifices of the mode, roseate and bland and suavely smiling. A -sudden shadow crossed her face. - -“Why, Benjie,” she cried anxiously, “what kin ail you-’uns? Ye look -plumb desolated.” - -“Oh, you g’ long, g’ long!” cried the goaded Benjie. Luckily she -imagined the adjuration addressed to the old mare, now beginning the -long, steep ascent of the mountain to their home on the bluff, and thus -took no exceptions to the discourtesy. - -“I’ll be bound ye eat su’thin’ ez disagreed with you in the town-folk’s -victuals. I expec’ I’ll hev ter give ye some yarb tea afore ye feel -right peart ag’in. Ye would hev a right to the indigestion ef ye hed -been feedin’ like me nigh on ter midnight. I be goin’ ter tell ye -about the pictur’-show arter I finish about ’Roy Tresmon’ an’ me. That -supper--waal, sir, he invited Sophy an’ Ned Jarney, too, an’ paid fer -us all, though some o’ them knickknacks war likely ter hev been paid -fer with thar lives. Toadstools did them misguided sinners eat with -thar chicken, an’ I expected them presently ter be laid out stiff in -death. _I_ never teched the rank p’ison, nor the wine nuther. I say -ter ’Roy ez I never could abide traffickin’ with corn-juice. An’ he -grinned an’ say, ‘This is grape-juice, Editha.’ But ye mought know it -warn’t no common grape-juice. The waiter kep’ a folded napkin round -the bottle ez it poured, an’ the sniff of that liquor war tremenjious -fine. It war like a whole flower-gyardin full of perfume. Them two -men, ’Roy an’ Jarney, war breakin’ the dry-town law, I believe. They -kep’ lookin’ at each other an’ laffin’, an’ axin’ which brand of soft -drinks war the mos’ satisfyin’. An’ the man what kep’ the eatin’-store -looked p’intedly skeered as he said ter the waiter, ‘Ye needn’t put -_that_ bottle on the table.’ An’ they got gay fer true; my best -cherry-bounce couldn’t hev made ’Roy mo’ glib than he war. An’ ’Roy hed -no sense lef’ nuther. Sophy she say she seen the bill the waiter laid -by his plate,-ye know how keen them leetle, squinched-up eyes of hern -be,--an’ she say it war over ten dollars. Lawsy!--lawsy! what a thing -it is ter be rich! ’Roy Tresmon’ jes stepped up ter the counter an’ -paid it ’thout battin’ an eye.” - -The old couple had left the wagon now, and were walking up a -particularly steep and stony stretch of the road to lighten the load -on old Whitey, dutifully pulling the rattling, rickety vehicle along -with scant guidance. Editha kept in advance, swinging her sunbonnet -by the string, her elaborately coiffed head still on display. Now and -then as she recalled an item of interest to detail, she paused and -stepped backward after a nonchalant girlish fashion, while Benjie, old -and battered and broken, found it an arduous task to plod along with -laggard, dislocated, and irregular gait at the tail-board of the wagon. -They were in the midst of the sunset now. It lay in a broad, dusky-red -splendor over all the far, green valleys, and the mountains had garbed -themselves in richest purple. Sweets were in the air, seeming more -than fragrance; the inhalation was like the quaffing of some delicious -elixir, filling the veins with a sort of ethereal ecstasy. The balsam -firs imbued the atmosphere with subtle strength, and the lungs expanded -to garner it. Flowers under foot, the fresh tinkle of a crystal -rill, the cry of a belated bird, all the bliss of home-coming in his -thrilling note as he winged his way over the crest--these were the -incidents of the climb. - -“I tell ye, Benjie,”--Editha once more turned to walk slowly backward, -swinging her bonnet by the string,--“it’s a big thing ter be rich.” - -“Oh,” suddenly cried the anguished Benjie, with a poignant wail, his -fortitude collapsing at last, “I wish you war rich! That be what ye -keer fer; I know it now. I wish ye could hev hed riches--yer heart’s -desire! I wish I hed never seen you-’uns, an’ ye hed never seen me!” - -Editha stood stock-still in the road as though petrified. Old -Whitey, her progress barred, paused not unwillingly, and the rattle -of the wagon ceased for the nonce. Benjie, doubly disconsolate in -the consciousness of his self-betrayal, leaned heavily against the -motionless wheel and gazed shrinkingly at the visible wrath gathering -in his helpmate’s eyes. - -“Man,” she cried, and Benjie felt as though the mountain had fallen -on him, “hev ye plumb turned fool? Now,” she went on with a stern -intonation, “ye tell me what ye mean by that sayin’, else I’ll fling ye -over the bluff or die tryin’.” - -“Oh, nuthin’, nuthin’, ’Ditha,” said the miserable Benjie, all the -cherished values of his life falling about him in undiscriminated wreck. - -“Then I’ll make my own understandin’ outen yer words, an’ I’ll hold the -gredge ag’in’ ye ez long ez I live,” she protested. - -“Waal, then,” snarled Benjie, “ye take heed ye make the words jes like -I said ’em. I’ll stand ter ’em. _I_ never f’und out how ter tell lies -in Shaftesvul. I’ll stand ter my words.” - -“Ye wished I could hev hed riches,” Editha ponderingly recapitulated -his phrases. Then she looked up, her blue eyes severe and her flushed -face set. “An’ will ye tell me what’s the reason I couldn’t hev hed -riches--old Tom fool!” - -Thus the lovers! - -“You-’uns, ’Ditha?” Benjie faltered, bewildered by the incongruity of -the idea. “You, _riches_?” - -“I could hev hed long ago sech riches ez ’Roy Tresmon’ hev got, sartain -sure,” she declared. “An’ considerin’ ye hev kem in yer old age ter -wish ye hed never seen me, ’pears like it mought hev been better ef I -hed thought twice afore I turned him off forty-six year’ ago.” - -“Turned off ’Roy Tresmon’! Forty-six year’ ago! What did ye do that -fer, ’Ditha?” Benjie bungled, aghast. He had a confused, flustered -sentiment of rebuke: what had possessed Editha in her youth to have -discarded this brilliant opportunity! - -“To marry you-’uns, of course,” retorted Editha, amazed in her turn. - -“An’ now, oh, ’Ditha, that we hev kem so nigh the eend of life’s -journey ye air sorry fer it,” wailed Benjie. “But I never knowed ez ye -hed the chance.” - -Editha tossed her head. “The chance! I hed the chance three times -whenst he war young an’ personable an’ mighty nigh ez rich ez he be -now.” She began to check off the occasions on her fingers. “Fust, -at the big barn dance, when the Dimmycrats hed a speakin’ an’ a -percession. Then one night whenst we-’uns war kemin’ home together from -prayer-meetin’ he tol’ ag’in ‘his tale of love,’ ez he called it,” she -burst forth in a shrill cackle of derision. “Then that Christmus I -spent in Shaftesvul the year I stayed with Aunt Dor’thy he begged me -ter kem out ter the gate jes at sun-up ter receive my present, which -war his heart; an’ I tol’ him ez I war much obleeged, but I wouldn’t -deprive him of it. Ha! ha! ha! Lawsy! we-’uns war talkin’ ’bout them -old times all ’twixt the plays at the pictur’-show, an’ he declared he -hed stayed a bachelor all these years fer my sake. I tol’ him that ef I -war forty-five years younger I’d hev more manners than ter listen ter -sech talk ez that, ha! ha! ha! ’T war all mighty funny an’ gamesome, -an’ I laffed an’ laffed.” - -“’Ditha,” said the contrite Benjie, taking heart of grace from her -relaxing seriousness, “I love ye so well that it hurts me to think I -cut ye out of any good thing.” - -“Waal, ye done it, sure,” said the uncompromising Editha. “But fer -you-’uns I would hev married that man and owned all he hev got from his -‘palace’ ter his store teeth.” - -“Did--did you-’uns say his teeth war jes store teeth?” demanded Benjie, -excitedly. - -“Did you-’uns expec’ the critter ter cut a new set of teeth at his time -of life?” laughed Editha. - -“O ’Ditha, I felt so cheap whenst ye tol’ ’bout his fine clothes,” -Benjie began. - -“He used ter wear jes ez fine clothes forty-five years ago,” -interrupted Editha, “an’ he war then ez supple a jumping-jack ez ever -ye see, not a hirpling old codger; but, lawsy! I oughtn’t ter laff at -his rheumatics, remembering all them beads on that cape.” - -As they climbed into the wagon, the ascent being completed, and resumed -their homeward way, Benjie was moved to seek to impress his own merits. -“I hed considerable attention paid ter my words whenst settin’ on the -jury, ’Ditha. They all kem round ter my way of thinkin’ whenst they -heard me talk.” - -“Waal, I don’t follow thar example,” Editha retorted. “The more I hear -ye talk, the bigger fool ye seem ter be. Hyar ye air now thinkin’ it -will make me set more store by ye ter know that eleven slack-twisted -town-men hearkened ter yer speech. Ye suits me, an’ always did. I’d -think of ye jes the same if every juryman hed turned ag’in’ ye, -stiddier seein’ the wisdom of yer words.” - -A genial glow sprang up in Benjie’s heart, responsive to the brusk -sincerities of this fling, and when the house was reached, and the -flames again flared, red and yellow from the hickory logs in the -deep chimney-place, the strings of scarlet peppers swinging from the -ceiling, the gaily flowered curtains fluttering at the windows, the -dogs fawning about their feet on the hearthstone, Editha’s exclamation -seemed the natural sequence of their arrival. - -“Home fer sure!” she cried with a joyous nesting instinct, and reckless -of inconsistency. “An’, lawsy! don’t it look good an’ sensible! ’Pears -like Shaftesvul is away, away off yander in a dream, an’ ’Roy Tresmon’, -with his big white teeth an’ fine clothes an’ rheumatic teeter, is some -similar ter a nightmare, though I _oughter_ hev manners enough ter -remember them beads on that cape, an’ speak accordin’. I be done with -travelin’, Benjie, an’ nex’ time ye set on a jury ye’ll hev ter do it -by yer lone.” - -The firelight showed the cheery radiance of the smile with which -the old “moth-eaten lovyers” gazed at each other, and the quizzical -expression of the little Cupid delineated on the mantelpiece, peering -out at them from beneath the bandage of his eyes, his useless wings -spread above the hearth he hallowed. - - - - -[Illustration] - - -T. TEMBAROM - -BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT - -Author of “That Lass o’ Lowrie’s,” “The Shuttle,” etc. - -WITH DECORATIVE PICTURES BY CHARLES S. CHAPMAN - - -CHAPTER XV - -To employ the figure of Burrill, Tembarom was indeed “as pleased as -Punch.” He was one of the large number of men who, apart from all -sentimental relations, are made particularly happy by the kindly -society of women; who expand with quite unconscious rejoicing when -a women begins to take care of them in one way or another. The -unconsciousness is a touching part of the condition. The feminine -nearness supplies a primeval human need. The most complete of men, as -well as the weaklings, feel it. It is a survival of days when warm arms -held and protected, warm hands served, and affectionate voices soothed. -An accomplished male servant may perform every domestic service -perfectly, but the fact that he cannot be a women leaves a sense of -lack. An accustomed feminine warmth in the surrounding daily atmosphere -has caused many a man to marry his housekeeper or even his cook, as -circumstances prompted. - -Tembarom had known no woman well until he had met Little Ann. His -feeling for Mrs. Bowse herself had verged on affection, because he -would have been fond of any woman of decent temper and kindliness, -especially if she gave him opportunities to do friendly service. Little -Ann had seemed the apotheosis of the feminine, the warmly helpful, -the subtly supporting, the kind. She had been to him an amazement -and a revelation. She had continually surprised him by revealing new -characteristics which seemed to him nicer things than he had ever -known before, but which, if he had been aware of it, were not really -surprising at all. They were only the characteristics of a very nice -young feminine creature. - -The presence of Miss Alicia, with the long-belated fashion of her -ringlets and her little cap, was delightful to him. He felt as though -he would like to take her in his arms and hug her. He thought perhaps -it was partly because she was a little like Ann, and kept repeating -his name in Ann’s formal little way. Her delicate terror of presuming -or intruding he felt in its every shade. Mentally she touched him -enormously. He wanted to make her feel that she need not be afraid of -him in the least, that he liked her, that in his opinion she had more -right in the house than he had. He was a little frightened lest through -ignorance he should say things the wrong way, as he had said that thing -about wanting to know what she expected him to do. What he ought to -have said was, “You’re not expecting me to let that sort of thing go -on.” It had made him sick when he saw what a break he’d made and that -she thought he was sort of insulting her. The room seemed all right -now that she was in it. Small and unassuming as she was, she seemed to -make it less over-sized. He didn’t so much mind the loftiness of the -ceiling, the depth and size of the windows, and the walls covered with -thousands of books he knew nothing whatever about. The innumerable -books had been an oppressing feature. If he had been one of those -“college guys” who never could get enough of books, what a “cinch” the -place would have been for him--good as the Astor Library! He hadn’t a -word to say against books,--good Lord! no,--but even if he’d had the -education and the time to read, he didn’t believe he was naturally that -kind, anyhow. You had to be “that kind” to know about books. He didn’t -suppose she--meaning Miss Alicia--was learned enough to make you throw -a fit. She didn’t look that way, and he was mighty glad of it, because -perhaps she wouldn’t like him much if she was. It would worry her when -she tried to talk to him and found out he didn’t know a darned thing he -ought to. - -They’d get on together easier if they could just chin about common sort -of every-day things. But though she didn’t look like the Vassar sort, -he guessed that she was not like himself: she had lived in libraries -before, and books didn’t frighten her. She’d been born among people -who read lots of them and maybe could talk about them. That was why -she somehow seemed to fit into the room. He was aware that, timid -as she was and shabby as her neat dress looked, she fitted into the -whole place, as he did not. She’d been a poor relative and had been -afraid to death of old Temple Barholm, but she’d not been afraid of -him because she wasn’t his sort. She was a lady; that was what was -the matter with her. It was what made thing harder for her, too. It -was what made her voice tremble when she’d tried to seem so contented -and polite when she’d talked about going into one of those “decayed -almshouses.” As if the old ladies were vegetables that had gone wrong, -by gee! he thought. - -He liked her little, modest, delicate old face and her curls and her -little cap with the ribbons so much that he smiled with a twinkling eye -every time he looked at her. He wanted to suggest something he thought -would be mighty comfortable, but he was half afraid he might be asking -her to do something which wasn’t “her job,” and it might hurt her -feelings. But he ventured to hint at it. - -“Has Burrill got to come back and pour that out?” he asked, with an -awkward gesture toward the tea-tray. - -“Oh, no, unless you wish it,” she answered. “Shall--may I give it to -you?” - -“Will you?” he exclaimed delightedly. “That would be fine. I shall feel -like a regular Clarence.” - -She was going to sit at the table in a straight-backed chair, but he -sprang at her. - -“This big one is more comfortable,” he said, and he dragged it forward -and made her sit in it. “You ought to have a footstool,” he added, and -he got one and put it under her feet. “There, that’s all right.” - -A footstool, as though she were a royal personage and he were a -gentleman in waiting, only probably gentlemen in waiting did not jump -about and look so pleased. The cheerful content of his boyish face when -he himself sat down near the table was delightful. - -“Now,” he said, “we can ring up for the first act.” - -She filled the tea-pot and held it for a moment, and then set it down -as though her feelings were too much for her. - -“I feel as if I were in a dream,” she quavered happily. “I do indeed.” - -“But it’s a nice one, ain’t it?” he answered. “I feel as if I was in -two. Sitting here in this big room with all these fine things about me, -and having afternoon tea with a relation! It just about suits me. It -didn’t feel like this yesterday, you bet your life!” - -“Does it seem--nicer than yesterday?” she ventured. “Really, Mr. Temple -Barholm?” - -“Nicer!” he ejaculated. “It’s got yesterday beaten to a frazzle.” - -It was beyond all belief. He was speaking as though the advantage, the -relief, the happiness, were all on his side. She longed to enlighten -him. - -“But you can’t realize what it is to me,” she said gratefully, “to sit -here, not terrified and homeless and--a beggar any more, with your -kind face before me. Do forgive me for saying it. You have such a kind -young face, Mr. Temple Barholm. And to have an easy-chair and cushions, -and actually a buffet brought for your feet!” She suddenly recollected -herself. “Oh, I mustn’t let your tea get cold,” she added, taking up -the tea-pot apologetically. “Do you take cream and sugar, and is it to -be one lump or two?” - -“I take everything in sight,” he replied joyously, “and two lumps, -please.” - -She prepared the cup of tea with as delicate a care as though it had -been a sacramental chalice, and when she handed it to him she smiled -wistfully. - -“No one but you ever thought of such a thing as bringing a buffet for -my feet--no one except poor little Jem,” she said, and her voice was -wistful as well as her smile. - -She was obviously unaware that she was introducing an entirely new -acquaintance to him. Poor little Jem was supposed to be some one whose -whole history he knew. - -“Jem?” he repeated, carefully transferring a piece of hot buttered -crumpet to his plate. - -“Jem Temple Barholm,” she answered. “I say little Jem because I -remember him only as a child. I never saw him after he was eleven years -old.” - -“Who was he?” he asked. The tone of her voice and her manner of -speaking made him feel that he wanted to hear something more. - -She looked rather startled by his ignorance. “Have you--have you never -heard of him?” she inquired. - -“No. Is he another distant relation?” - -Her hesitation caused him to neglect his crumpet, to look up at her. -He saw at once that she wore the air of a sensitive and beautifully -mannered elderly lady who was afraid she had made a mistake and said -something awkward. - -“I am so sorry,” she apologized. “Perhaps I ought not to have mentioned -him.” - -“Why shouldn’t he be mentioned?” - -She was embarrassed. She evidently wished she had not spoken, but -breeding demanded that she should ignore the awkwardness of the -situation, if awkwardness existed. - -“Of course--I hope your tea is quite as you like it--of course there is -no real reason. But--shall I give you some more cream? No? You see, if -he hadn’t died, he--he would have inherited Temple Barholm.” - -Now he was interested. This was the other chap. - -“Instead of me?” he asked, to make sure. She endeavored not to show -embarrassment and told herself it didn’t really matter--to a thoroughly -nice person. But-- - -“He was the next of kin--before you. I’m so sorry I didn’t know you -hadn’t heard of him. It seemed natural that Mr. Palford should have -mentioned him.” - -“He did say that there was a young fellow who had died, but he didn’t -tell me about him. I guess I didn’t ask. There were such a lot of other -things. I’d like to hear about him. You say you knew him?” - -“Only when he was a little fellow. Never after he grew up. Something -happened which displeased my father. I’m afraid papa was very easily -displeased. Mr. Temple Barholm disliked him, too. He would not have him -at Temple Barholm.” - -“He hadn’t much luck with his folks, had he?” remarked Tembarom. - -“He had no luck with any one. I seemed to be the only person who was -fond of him, and of course I didn’t count.” - -“I bet you counted with him,” said Tembarom. - -“I do think I did. Both his parents died quite soon after he was born, -and people who ought to have cared for him were rather jealous because -he stood so near to Temple Barholm. If Mr. Temple Barholm had not been -so eccentric and bitter, everything would have been done for him; -but as it was, he seemed to belong to no one. When he came to the -vicarage it used to make me so happy. He used to call me Aunt Alicia, -and he had such pretty ways.” She hesitated and looked quite tenderly -at the tea-pot, a sort of shyness in her face. “I am sure,” she burst -forth, “I feel quite sure that you will understand and won’t think it -indelicate; but I had thought so often that I should like to have a -little boy--if I had married,” she added in hasty tribute to propriety. - -Tembarom’s eyes rested on her in a thoughtfulness openly touched with -affection. He put out his hand and patted hers two or three times in -encouraging sympathy. - -“Say,” he said frankly, “I just believe every woman that’s the real -thing’d like to have a little boy--or a little girl--or a little -something or other. That’s why pet cats and dogs have such a cinch of -it. And there’s men that’s the same way. It’s sort of nature.” - -“He had such a high spirit and such pretty ways,” she said again. -“One of his pretty ways was remembering to do little things to make -one comfortable, like thinking of giving one a cushion or a buffet -for one’s feet. I noticed so much because I had never seen boys or -men wait upon women. My own dear papa was used to having women wait -upon him--bring his slippers, you know, and give him the best chair. -He didn’t like Jem’s ways. He said he liked a boy who was a boy and -not an affected nincompoop. He wasn’t really quite just.” She paused -regretfully and sighed as she looked back into a past doubtlessly -enriched with many similar memories of “dear papa.” “Poor Jem! Poor -Jem!” she breathed softly. - -Tembarom thought that she must have felt the boy’s loss very much, -almost as much as though she had really been his mother; perhaps more -pathetically because she had not been his mother or anybody’s mother. -He could see what a good little mother she would have made, looking -after her children and doing everything on earth to make them happy and -comfortable, just the kind of mother Ann would make, though she had not -Ann’s steady wonder of a little head or her shrewd far-sightedness. Jem -would have been in luck if he had been her son. It was a darned pity he -hadn’t been. If he had, perhaps he would not have died young. - -“Yes,” he answered sympathetically, “it’s hard for a young fellow to -die. How old was he, anyhow? I don’t know.” - -“Not much older than you are now. It was seven years ago. And if he had -only died, poor dear! There are things so much worse than death.” - -“Worse!” - -“Awful disgrace is worse,” she faltered. She was plainly trying to keep -moisture out of her eyes. - -“Did he get into some bad mix-up, poor fellow?” If there had been -anything like that, no wonder it broke her up to think of him. - -It surely did break her up. She flushed emotionally. - -“The cruel thing was that he didn’t really do what he was accused of,” -she said. - -“He didn’t?” - -“No; but he was a ruined man, and he went away to the Klondike because -he could not stay in England. And he was killed--killed, poor boy! And -afterward it was found out that he was innocent--too late.” - -“Gee!” Tembarom gasped, feeling hot and cold. “Could you beat that for -rotten luck! What was he accused of?” - -Miss Alicia leaned forward and spoke in a whisper. It was too dreadful -to speak of aloud. - -“Cheating at cards--a gentleman playing with gentlemen. You know what -that means.” - -Tembarom grew hotter and colder. No wonder she looked that way, poor -little thing! - -“But,”--He hesitated before he spoke,--“but he wasn’t that kind, was -he? Of course he wasn’t.” - -“No, no. But, you see,”--She hesitated herself here,--“everything -looked so much against him. He had been rather wild.” She dropped her -voice even lower in making the admission. - -Tembarom wondered how much she meant by that. - -“He was so much in debt. He knew he was to be rich in the future, and -he was poor just in those reckless young days when it seemed unfair. -And he had played a great deal and had been very lucky. He was so -lucky that sometimes his luck seemed uncanny. Men who had played with -him were horrible about it afterward.” - -“They would be,” put in Tembarom. “They’d be sore about it, and bring -it up.” - -They both forgot their tea. Miss Alicia forgot everything as she poured -forth her story in the manner of a woman who had been forced to keep -silent and was glad to put her case into words. It was her case. To -tell the truth of this forgotten wrong was again to offer justification -of poor handsome Jem whom everybody seemed to have dropped talk of, and -even preferred not to hear mentioned. - -“There were such piteously cruel things about it,” she went on. “He had -fallen very much in love, and he meant to marry and settle down. Though -we had not seen each other for years, he actually wrote to me and told -me about it. His letter made me cry. He said I would understand and -care about the thing which seemed to have changed everything and made -him a new man. He was so sorry that he had not been better and more -careful. He was going to try all over again. He was not going to play -at all after this one evening when he was obliged to keep an engagement -he had made months before to give his revenge to a man he had won a -great deal of money from. The very night the awful thing happened he -had told Lady Joan, before he went into the card-room, that this was to -be his last game.” - -Tembarom had looked deeply interested from the first, but at her last -words a new alertness added itself. - -“Did you say Lady Joan?” he asked. “Who was Lady Joan?” - -“She was the girl he was so much in love with. Her name was Lady Joan -Fayre.” - -“Was she the daughter of the Countess of Mallowe?” - -“Yes. Have you heard of her?” - -He recalled Ann’s reflective consideration of him before she had said, -“She’ll come after you.” He replied now: “Some one spoke of her to me -this morning. They say she’s a beauty and as proud as Lucifer.” - -“She was, and she is yet, I believe. Poor Lady Joan--as well as poor -Jem!” - -“She didn’t believe it, did she?” he put in hastily. “She didn’t throw -him down?” - -“No one knew what happened between them afterward. She was in the -card-room, looking on, when the awful thing took place.” - -She stopped, as though to go on was almost unbearable. She had been -so overwhelmed by the past shame of it that even after the passing -of years the anguish was a living thing. Her small hands clung hard -together as they rested on the edge of the table. Tembarom waited in -thrilled suspense. She spoke in a whisper again: - -“He won a great deal of money--a great deal. He had that uncanny luck -again, and of course people in the other rooms heard what was going on, -and a number drifted in to look on. The man he had promised to give his -revenge to almost showed signs of having to make an effort to conceal -his irritation and disappointment. Of course, as he was a gentleman, -he was as cool as possible; but just at the most exciting moment, the -height of the game, Jem made a quick movement, and--and something fell -out of his sleeve.” - -“Something,” gasped Tembarom, “fell out of his sleeve!” - -Miss Alicia’s eyes overflowed as she nodded her beribboned little cap. - -“It”--Her voice was a sob of woe--“it was a marked card. The man he was -playing against snatched it and held it up. And he laughed out loud.” - -“Holy cats!” burst from Tembarom; but the remarkable exclamation was -one of genuine horror, and he turned pale, got up from his seat, and -took two or three strides across the room, as though he could not sit -still. - -“Yes, he laughed--quite loudly,” repeated Miss Alicia, “as if he had -guessed it all the time. Papa heard the whole story from some one who -was present.” - -Tembarom came back to her rather breathless. - -“What in thunder did he do--Jem?” he asked. - -She actually wrung her poor little hands. - -“What could he do? There was a dead silence. People moved just a little -nearer to the table and stood and stared, merely waiting. They say it -was awful to see his face--awful. He sprang up and stood still, and -slowly became as white as if he were dying before their eyes. Some one -thought Lady Joan Fayre took a step toward him, but no one was quite -sure. He never uttered one word, but walked out of the room and down -the stairs and out of the house.” - -“But didn’t he speak to the girl?” - -“He didn’t even look at her. He passed her by as if she were stone.” - -“What happened next?” - -“He disappeared. No one knew where at first, and then there was a rumor -that he had gone to the Klondike and had been killed there. And a year -later--only a year! Oh, if he had only waited in England!--a worthless -villain of a valet he had discharged for stealing met with an accident, -and because he thought he was going to die, got horribly frightened, -and confessed to the clergyman that he had tucked the card in poor -Jem’s sleeve himself just to pay him off. He said he did it on the -chance that it would drop out where some one would see it, and a marked -card dropping out of a man’s sleeve anywhere would look black enough, -whether he was playing or not. But poor Jem was in his grave, and no -one seemed to care, though every one had been interested enough in the -scandal. People talked about that for weeks.” - -Tembarom pulled at his collar excitedly. - -“It makes me sort of strangle,” he said. “You’ve got to stand your own -bad luck, but to hear of a chap that’s had to lie down and take the -worst that could come to him and know it wasn’t his--just _know_ it! -And die before he’s cleared! That knocks me out.” - -Almost every sentence he uttered had a mystical sound to Miss Alicia, -but she knew how he was taking it, with what hot, young human sympathy -and indignation. She loved the way he took it, and she loved the -feeling in his next words: - -“And the girl--good Lord!--the girl?” - -“I never met her, and I know very little of her; but she has never -married.” - -“I’m glad of that,” he said. “I’m darned glad of it. How could she?” -Ann wouldn’t, he knew. Ann would have gone to her grave unmarried. But -she would have done things first to clear her man’s name. Somehow she -would have cleared him, if she’d had to fight tooth and nail till she -was eighty. - -“They say she has grown very bitter and haughty in her manner. I’m -afraid Lady Mallowe is a very worldly woman. One hears they don’t get -on together, and that she is bitterly disappointed because her daughter -has not made a good match. It appears that she might have made several, -but she is so hard and cynical that men are afraid of her. I wish I had -known her a little--if she really loved Jem.” - -Tembarom had thrust his hands into his pockets, and was standing deep -in thought, looking at the huge bank of red coals in the fire-grate. -Miss Alicia hastily wiped her eyes. - -“Do excuse me,” she said. - -“I’ll excuse you all right,” he replied, still looking into the coals. -“I guess I shouldn’t excuse you as much if you didn’t.” He let her cry -in her gentle way while he stared, lost in reflection. - -“And if he hadn’t fired that valet chap, he would be here with you -now--instead of me. Instead of me,” he repeated. - -And Miss Alicia did not know what to say in reply. There seemed to be -nothing which, with propriety and natural feeling, one could say. - - * * * * * - -“It makes me feel just fine to know I’m not going to have my dinner all -by myself,” he said to her before she left the library. - -She had a way of blushing about things he noticed, when she was shy or -moved or didn’t know exactly what to say. Though she must have been -sixty, she did it as though she were sixteen. And she did it when -he said this, and looked as though suddenly she was in some sort of -trouble. - -“You are going to have dinner with me,” he said, seeing that she -hesitated--“dinner and breakfast and lunch and tea and supper and every -old thing that goes. You can’t turn me down after me staking out that -claim.” - -“I’m afraid--” she said. “You see, I have lived such a secluded life. -I scarcely ever left my rooms except to take a walk. I’m sure you -understand. It would not have been necessary even if I could have -afforded it, which I really couldn’t--I’m afraid I have nothing--quite -_suitable_--for evening wear.” - -“You haven’t!” he exclaimed gleefully. “I don’t know what is suitable -for evening wear, but I haven’t got it either. Pearson told me so with -tears in his eyes. It never was necessary for me either. I’ve got to -get some things to quiet Pearson down, but until I do I’ve got to eat -my dinner in a tweed cutaway; and what I’ve caught on to is that it’s -unsuitable enough to throw a man into jail. That little black dress -you’ve got on and that little cap are just ’way out of sight, they’re -so becoming. Come down just like you are.” - -She felt a little as Pearson had felt when confronting his new -employer’s entire cheerfulness in face of a situation as exotically -hopeless as the tweed cutaway, and nothing else by way of resource. -But there was something so nice about him, something which was almost -as though he was actually a gentleman, something which absolutely, if -one could go so far, stood in the place of his being a gentleman. It -was impossible to help liking him more and more at every queer speech -he made. Still, there were of course things he did not realize, and -perhaps one ought in kindness to give him a delicate hint. - -“I’m afraid,” she began quite apologetically. “I’m afraid that the -servants, Burrill and the footmen, you know, will be--will think--” - -“Say,” he took her up, “let’s give Burrill and the footmen the Willies -out and out. If they can’t stand it, they can write home to their -mothers and tell ’em they’ve got to take ’em away. Burrill and the -footmen needn’t worry. They’re suitable enough, and it’s none of their -funeral, anyhow.” - -He wasn’t upset in the least. Miss Alicia, who, as a timid dependent -either upon “poor dear papa” or Mr. Temple Barholm, had been secretly, -in her sensitive, ladylike little way, afraid of superior servants -all her life, knowing that they realized her utterly insignificant -helplessness, and resented giving her attention because she was -not able to show her appreciation of their services in the proper -manner--Miss Alicia saw that it had not occurred to him to endeavor -to propitiate them in the least, because somehow it all seemed a joke -to him, and he didn’t care. After the first moment of being startled, -she regarded him with a novel feeling, almost a kind of admiration. -Tentatively she dared to wonder if there was not something even -rather--rather _aristocratic_ in his utter indifference. - -If he had been a duke, he would not have regarded the servants’ point -of view; it wouldn’t have mattered what they thought. Perhaps, she -hastily decided, he was like this because, though he was not a duke, -and boot-blacking in New York notwithstanding, he was a Temple Barholm. -There were few dukes as old of blood as a Temple Barholm. That must be -it. She was relieved. - -Whatsoever lay at the root of his being what he was and as he was, -he somehow changed the aspect of things for her, and without doing -anything but be himself, cleared the atmosphere of her dread of the -surprise and mental reservations of the footmen and Burrill when she -came down to dinner in her high-necked, much-cleaned, and much-repaired -black silk, and with no more distinguishing change in her toilet than a -white lace cap instead of a black one, and with “poor dear mama’s” hair -bracelet with the gold clasp on her wrist, and a weeping-willow made of -“poor dear papa’s” hair in a brooch at her collar. - -It was so curious, though still “nice,” but he did not offer her his -arm when they were going into the dining-room, and he took hold of hers -with his hand and affectionately half led, half pushed, her along with -him as they went. And he himself drew back her chair for her at the end -of the table opposite his own. He did not let a footman do it, and he -stood behind it, talking in his cheerful way all the time, and he moved -it to exactly the right place, and then actually bent down and looked -under the table. - -“Here,” he said to the nearest man-servant, “where’s there a footstool? -Get one, please,” in that odd, simple, almost aristocratic way. It was -not a rude or dictatorial way, but a casual way, as though he knew the -man was there to do things, and he didn’t expect any time to be wasted. - -And it was he himself who arranged the footstool, making it comfortable -for her, and then he went to his own chair at the head of the table -and sat down, smiling at her joyfully across the glass and silver and -flowers. - -“Push that thing in the middle on one side, Burrill,” he said. “It’s -too high. I can’t see Miss Alicia.” - -Burrill found it difficult to believe the evidence of his hearing. - -“The epergne, sir?” he inquired. - -“Is that what it’s called, an apern? That’s a new one on me. Yes, -that’s what I mean. Push the apern over.” - -“Shall I remove it from the table, sir?” Burrill steeled himself to -exact civility. Of what use to behave otherwise? There always remained -the liberty to give notice if the worst came to the worst, though what -the worst might eventually prove to be it required a lurid imagination -to depict. The epergne was a beautiful thing of crystal and gold, a -celebrated work of art, regarded as an exquisite possession. It was -almost remarkable that Mr. Temple Barholm had not said, “Shove it on -one side,” but Burrill had been spared the poignant indignity of being -required to “shove.” - -“Yes, suppose you do. It’s a fine enough thing when it isn’t in the -way, but I’ve got to see you while I talk, Miss Alicia,” said Mr. -Temple Barholm. The episode of the epergne--Burrill’s expression, and -the rigidly restrained mouths of Henry and James as the decoration was -removed, leaving a painfully blank space of table-cloth until Burrill -silently filled it with flowers in a low bowl--these things temporarily -flurried Miss Alicia somewhat, but the pleased smile at the head of the -table calmed even that trying moment. - -Then what a delightful meal it was, to be sure! How entertaining and -cheerful and full of interesting conversation! Miss Alicia had always -admired what she reverently termed “conversation.” She had read of the -houses of brilliant people where they had it at table, at dinner and -supper parties, and in drawing-rooms. The French, especially the French -ladies, were brilliant conversationalists. They held “salons” in which -the conversation was wonderful--Mme. de Staël and Mme. Roland, for -instance; and in England, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, Sydney Smith, and -Horace Walpole, and surely Miss Fanny Burney, and no doubt L. E. L., -whose real name was Miss Letitia Elizabeth Landon--what conversation -they must have delighted their friends with and how instructive it -must have been even to sit in the most obscure corner and listen! - -Such gifted persons seemed to have been chosen by Providence to delight -and inspire every one privileged to hear them. Such privileges had -been omitted from the scheme of Miss Alicia’s existence. She did not -know, she would have felt it sacrilegious to admit it even if the -fact had dawned upon her, that “dear papa” had been a heartlessly -arrogant, utterly selfish, and tyrannical old blackguard of the most -pronounced type. He had been of an absolute morality as far as social -laws were concerned. He had written and delivered a denunciatory sermon -a week, and had made unbearable by his ministrations the suffering -hours and the last moments of his parishioners during the long years -of his pastorate. When Miss Alicia, in reading records of the helpful -relationship of the male progenitors of the Brontes, Jane Austen, Fanny -Burney, and Mrs. Browning, was frequently reminded of him, she revealed -a perception of which she was not aware. He had combined the virile -qualities of all of them. Consequently, brilliancy of conversation at -table had not been the attractive habit of the household; “poor dear -papa” had confined himself to scathing criticisms of the incompetence -of females who could not teach their menials to “cook a dinner which -was not a disgrace to any decent household.” When not virulently -aspersing the mutton, he was expressing his opinion of muddle-headed -weakness which would permit household bills to mount in a manner which -could only bring ruin and disaster upon a minister of the gospel -who throughout a protracted career of usefulness had sapped his -intellectual manhood in the useless effort to support in silly idleness -a family of brainless and maddening fools. Miss Alicia had heard her -character, her unsuccessful physical appearance, her mind, and her -pitiful efforts at table-talk, described in detail with a choice of -adjective and adverb which had broken into terrified fragments every -atom of courage and will with which she had been sparsely dowered. - -So, not having herself been gifted with conversational powers to -begin with, and never having enjoyed the exhibition of such powers in -others, her ideals had been high. She was not sure that Mr. Temple -Barholm’s fluent and cheerful talk could be with exactness termed -“conversation.” It was perhaps not sufficiently lofty and intellectual, -and did not confine itself rigorously to one exalted subject. But how -it did raise one’s spirits and open up curious vistas! And how good -tempered and humorous it was, even though sometimes the humor was a -little bewildering! During the whole dinner there never occurred even -one of those dreadful pauses in which dead silence fell, and one tried, -like a frightened hen flying from side to side of a coop, to think of -something to say which would not sound silly, but perhaps might divert -attention from dangerous topics. She had often thought it would be so -interesting to hear a Spaniard or a native Hindu talk about himself -and his own country in English. Tembarom talked about New York and its -people and atmosphere, and he did not know how foreign it all was. He -described the streets--Fifth Avenue and Broadway and Sixth Avenue--and -the street-cars and the elevated railroad, and the way “fellows” had -to “hustle” “to put it over.” He spoke of a boarding-house kept by a -certain Mrs. Bowse, and a presidential campaign, and the election of -a mayor, and a quick-lunch counter, and when President Garfield had -been assassinated, and a department store, and the electric lights, and -the way he had of making a sort of picture of everything was really -instructive and, well, fascinating. She felt as though she had been -taken about the city in one of the vehicles the conductor of which -described things through a megaphone. - -Not that Mr. Temple Barholm suggested a megaphone, whatsoever that -might be, but he merely made you feel as if you had seen things. -Never had she been so entertained and enlightened. If she had been a -beautiful girl, he could not have seemed more as though in amusing her -he was also really pleasing himself. He was so very funny sometimes -that she could not help laughing in a way which was almost unladylike, -because she could not stop, and was obliged to put her handkerchief up -to her face and wipe away actual tears of mirth. - -Fancy laughing until you cried, and the servants looking on! - -Though once Burrill himself was obliged to turn hastily away, and -twice she heard him severely reprove an overpowered young footman in a -rapid undertone. - -Tembarom at least felt that the unlifting heaviness of atmosphere which -had surrounded him while enjoying the companionship of Mr. Palford was -a thing of the past. - -The thrilled interest, the surprise and delight, of Miss Alicia would -have stimulated a man in a comatose condition, it seemed to him. - -The little thing just loved every bit of it--she just “eat it up.” She -asked question after question, sometimes questions which would have -made him shout with laughter if he had not been afraid of hurting her -feelings. She knew as little of New York as he knew of Temple Barholm, -and was, it made him grin to see, allured by it as by some illicit -fascination. - -She did not know what to make of it, and sometimes she was obliged -hastily to conceal a fear that it was a sort of Sodom and Gomorrah; but -she wanted to hear more about it, and still more. - -And she brightened up until she actually did not look frightened, and -ate her dinner with an excellent appetite. - -“I really never enjoyed a dinner so much in my life,” she said when -they went into the drawing-room to have their coffee. “It was the -conversation which made it so delightful. Conversation is such a -stimulating thing!” - -She had almost decided that it was “conversation,” or at least a -wonderful substitute. - -When she said good night to him and went beaming to bed, looking -forward immensely to breakfast next morning, he watched her go up the -staircase, feeling wonderfully normal and happy. - -“Some of these nights, when she’s used to me,” he said as he stuffed -tobacco into his last pipe in the library--“some of these nights I’m -darned if I sha’n’t catch hold of the sweet, little old thing and hug -her in spite of myself. I sha’n’t be able to help it.” He lit his pipe, -and puffed it even excitedly. “Lord!” he said, “there’s some blame’ -fool going about the world right now that might have married her. And -he’ll never know what a break he made when he didn’t.” - - -[Illustration] - - -CHAPTER XVI - -A fugitive fine day which had strayed into the month from the -approaching spring appeared the next morning, and Miss Alicia was -uplifted by the enrapturing suggestion that she should join her new -relative in taking a walk, in fact that it should be she who took him -to walk and showed him some of his possessions. This, it had revealed -itself to him, she could do in a special way of her own, because -during her life at Temple Barholm she had felt it her duty to “try to -do a little good” among the villagers. She and her long-dead mother -and sister had of course been working adjuncts of the vicarage, and -had numerous somewhat trying tasks to perform in the way of improving -upon “dear papa’s” harrying them into attending church, chivying, -the mothers into sending their children to Sunday-school, and being -unsparing in severity of any conduct which might be construed into -implying lack of appreciation of the vicar or respect for his eloquence. - -It had been necessary for them as members of the vicar’s -family--always, of course, without adding a sixpence to the household -bills--to supply bowls of nourishing broth and arrowroot to invalids -and to bestow the aid and encouragement which result in a man of God’s -being regarded with affection and gratitude by his parishioners. Many -a man’s career in the church, “dear papa” had frequently observed, -had been ruined by lack of intelligence and effort on the part of the -female members of his family. - -“No man could achieve proper results,” he had said, “if he was hampered -by the selfish influence and foolishness of his womenkind. Success in -the church depends in one sense very much upon the conduct of a man’s -female relatives.” - -After the deaths of her mother and sister, Miss Alicia had toiled on -patiently, fading day by day from a slim, plain, sweet-faced girl -to a slim, even plainer and sweeter-faced middle-aged and at last -elderly woman. She had by that time read aloud by bedsides a great -many chapters in the Bible, had given a good many tracts, and bestowed -as much arrowroot, barley-water, and beef-tea as she could possibly -encompass without domestic disaster. She had given a large amount of -conscientious, if not too intelligent, advice, and had never failed -to preside over her Sunday-school class or at mothers’ meetings. But -her timid unimpressiveness had not aroused enthusiasm or awakened -comprehension. “Miss Alicia,” the cottage women said, “she’s well -meanin’, but she’s not one with a head.” “She reminds me,” one of them -had summed her up, “of a hen that lays a’ egg every day, but it’s too -small for a meal, and it ’u’d never hatch into anythin’.” - -During her stay at Temple Barholm she had tentatively tried to do a -little “parish work,” but she had had nothing to give, and she was -always afraid that if Mr. Temple Barholm found her out, he would be -angry, because he would think she was presuming. She was aware that -the villagers knew that she was an object of charity herself, and a -person who was “a lady” and yet an object of charity was, so to speak, -poaching upon their own legitimate preserves. The rector and his wife -were rather grand people, and condescended to her greatly on the few -occasions of their accidental meetings. She was neither smart nor -influential enough to be considered as an asset. - -It was she who “conversed” during their walk, and while she trotted -by Tembarom’s side, looking more early-Victorian than ever in a neat, -fringed mantle and a small black bonnet of a fashion long decently -interred by a changing world, Tembarom had never seen anything -resembling it in New York; but he liked it and her increasingly at -every moment. - -It was he who made her converse. He led her on by asking her questions -and being greatly interested in every response she made. In fact, -though he was quite unaware of the situation, she was creating for him -such an atmosphere as he might have found in a book, if he had had the -habit of books. Everything she told him was new and quaint and very -often rather touching. She remembered things about herself and her poor -little past without knowing she was doing it. Before they had talked an -hour he had an astonishing clear idea of “poor dear papa” and “dearest -Emily” and “poor darling mama” and existence at Rowcroft Vicarage. He -“caught on to” the fact that though she was very much given to the word -“dear,”--people were “dear,” and so were things and places,--she never -even by chance slipped into saying “dear Rowcroft,” which she would -certainly have done if she had ever spent a happy moment in it. As she -talked to him he realized that her simple accustomedness to English -village life and its accompaniments of county surroundings would teach -him anything and everything he might want to know. Her obscurity had -been surrounded by stately magnificence, with which she had become -familiar without touching the merest outskirts of its privileges. She -knew names and customs and families and things to be cultivated or -avoided, and though she would be a little startled and much mystified -by his total ignorance of all she had breathed in since her birth, he -felt sure that she would not regard him either with private contempt or -with a lessened liking because he was a vandal pure and simple. - -And she had such a nice, little, old polite way of saying things. When, -in passing a group of children, he failed to understand that their -hasty bobbing up and down meant that they were doing obeisance to him -as lord of the manor, she spoke with the prettiest apologetic courtesy. - -“I’m sure you won’t mind touching your hat when they make their little -curtsies, or when a villager touches his forehead,” she said. - -“Good Lord! no,” he said, starting. “Ought I? I didn’t know they -were doing it at me.” And he turned round and made a handsome bow -and grinned almost affectionately at the small, amazed party, -first puzzling, and then delighting, them, because he looked so -extraordinarily friendly. A gentleman who laughed at you like that -ought to be equal to a miscellaneous distribution of pennies in the -future, if not on the spot. They themselves grinned and chuckled and -nudged one another, with stares and giggles. - -“I am sorry to say that in a great many places the villagers are not -nearly so respectful as they used to be,” Miss Alicia explained. “In -Rowcroft the children were very remiss about curtseying. It’s quite -sad. But Mr. Temple Barholm was very strict indeed in the matter of -demanding proper respectfulness. He has turned men off their farms for -incivility. The villagers of Temple Barholm have much better manners -than some even a few miles away.” - -“Must I tip my hat to all of them?” he asked. - -“If you please. It really seems kinder. You--you needn’t quite lift it, -as you did to the children just now. If you just touch the brim lightly -with your hand in a sort of military salute--that is what they are -accustomed to.” - -After they had passed through the village street she paused at the end -of a short lane and looked up at him doubtfully. - -“Would you--I wonder if you would like to go into a cottage,” she said. - -“Go into a cottage?” he asked. “What cottage? What for?” - -He had not the remotest idea of any reason why he should go into a -cottage inhabited by people who were entire strangers to him, and Miss -Alicia felt a trifle awkward at having to explain anything so wholly -natural. - -“You see, they are your cottages, and the people are your tenants, -and--” - -“But perhaps they mightn’t like it. It might make ’em mad,” he argued. -“If their water-pipes had busted, and they’d asked me to come and look -at them or anything; but they don’t know me yet. They might think I was -Mr. Buttinski.” - -“I don’t quite--” she began. “Buttinski is a foreign name; it sounds -Russian or Polish. I’m afraid I don’t quite understand why they should -mistake you for him.” - -Then he laughed--a boyish shout of laughter which brought a cottager -to the nearest window to peep over the pots of fuchsias and geraniums -blooming profusely against the diamond panes. - -“Say,” he apologized, “don’t be mad because I laughed. I’m laughing at -myself as much as at anything. It’s a way of saying that they might -think I was ‘butting in’ too much--pushing in where I wasn’t asked. -See? I said they might think I was Mr. Butt-in-ski! It’s just a bit of -fool slang. You’re not mad, are you?” - -“Oh, no!” she said. “Dear me! no. It is very funny, of course. I’m -afraid I’m extremely ignorant about--about foreign humor.” It seemed -more delicate to say “foreign” than merely “American.” But her gentle -little countenance for a few seconds wore a baffled expression, and she -said softly to herself, “Mr. Buttinski, Butt-in--to intrude. It sounds -quite Polish; I think even more Polish than Russian.” - -He was afraid he would yell with glee, but he did not. Herculean effort -enabled him to restrain his feelings, and present to her only an -ordinary-sized smile. - -“I shouldn’t know one from the other,” he said; “but if you say it -sounds more Polish, I bet it does.” - -“Would you like to go into a cottage?” she inquired. “I think it might -be as well. They will like the attention.” - -“Will they? Of course I’ll go if you think that. What shall I say?” he -asked somewhat anxiously. - -“If you think the cottage looks clean, you might tell them so, and ask -a few questions about things. And you must be sure to inquire about -Susan Hibblethwaite’s legs.” - -“What?” ejaculated Tembarom. - -“Susan Hibblethwaite’s legs,” she replied in mild explanation. “Susan -is Mrs. Hibblethwaite’s unmarried sister, and she has very bad legs. -It is a thing one notices continually among village people, more -especially the women, that they complain of what they call ‘bad -legs.’ I never quite know what they mean, whether it is rheumatism or -something different, but the trouble is always spoken of as ‘bad legs.’ -And they like you to inquire about them, so that they can tell you -their symptoms.” - -“Why don’t they get them cured?” - -“I don’t know, I’m sure. They take a good deal of medicine when they -can afford it. I think they like to take it. They’re very pleased -when the doctor gives them ‘a bottle o’ summat,’ as they call it. Oh, -I mustn’t forget to tell you that most of them speak rather broad -Lancashire.” - -“Shall I understand them?” Tembarom asked, anxious again. “Is it a sort -of Dago talk?” - -“It is the English the working-classes speak in Lancashire. ‘Summat’ -means ‘something.’ ‘Whoam’ means ‘home.’ But I should think you would -be very clever at understanding things.” - -“I’m scared stiff,” said Tembarom, not in the least uncourageously; -“but I want to go into a cottage and hear some of it. Which one shall -we go into?” - -There were several whitewashed cottages in the lane, each in its own -bit of garden and behind its own hawthorn hedge, now bare and wholly -unsuggestive of white blossoms and almond scent to the uninitiated. -Miss Alicia hesitated a moment. - -“We will go into this one, where the Hibblethwaites live,” she -decided. “They are quite clean, civil people. They have a naughty, -queer, little crippled boy, but I suppose they can’t keep him in order -because he is an invalid. He’s rather rude, I’m sorry to say, but he’s -rather sharp and clever, too. He seems to lie on his sofa and collect -all the gossip of the village.” - -They went together up the bricked path, and Miss Alicia knocked at -the low door with her knuckles. A stout, apple-faced woman opened it, -looking a shade nervous. - -“Good morning, Mrs. Hibblethwaite,” said Miss Alicia in a kind but -remote manner. “The new Mr. Temple Barholm has been kind enough to come -to see you. It’s very good of him to come so soon, isn’t it?” - -“It is that,” Mrs. Hibblethwaite answered rapidly, looking him over. -“Wilt tha coom in, sir?” - -Tembarom accepted the invitation, feeling extremely awkward because -Miss Alicia’s initiatory comment upon his goodness in showing -himself had “rattled” him. It had made him feel that he must appear -condescending, and he had never condescended to any one in the whole -course of his existence. He had, indeed, not even been condescended to. -He had met with slanging and bullying, indifference and brutality of -manner, but he had not met with condescension. - -“I hope you’re well, Mrs. Hibblethwaite,” he answered. “You look it.” - -“I deceive ma looks a good bit, sir,” she answered. “Mony a day ma legs -is nigh as bad as Susan’s.” - -“Tha ’rt jealous o’ Susan’s legs,” barked out a sharp voice from a -corner by the fire. - -The room had a flagged floor, clean with recent scrubbing with -sandstone; the whitewashed walls were decorated with pictures cut -from illustrated papers; there was a big fireplace, and by it was a -hard-looking sofa covered with blue-and-white checked cotton stuff. A -boy of about ten was lying on it, propped up with a pillow. He had a -big head and a keen, ferret-eyed face, and just now was looking round -the end of his sofa at the visitors. - -“Howd tha tongue, Tummas!” said his mother. - -“I wun not howd it,” Tummas answered. “Ma tongue’s the on’y thing -about me as works right, an’ I’m noan goin’ to stop it.” - -“He’s a young nowt,” his mother explained; “but he’s a cripple, an’ we -conna do owt wi’ him.” - -“Do not be rude, Thomas,” said Miss Alicia, with dignity. - -“Dun not be rude thysen,” replied Tummas. “I’m noan o’ thy lad.” - -Tembarom walked over to the sofa. - -“Say,” he began with jocular intent, “you’ve got a grouch on, ain’t -you?” - -Tummas turned on him eyes which bored. An analytical observer or a -painter might have seen that he had a burning curiousness of look, a -sort of investigatory fever of expression. - -“I dun not know what tha means,” he said. “Happen tha ’rt talkin’ -’Merican?” - -“That’s just what it is,” admitted Tembarom. “What are you talking?” - -“Lancashire,” said Tummas. “Theer’s some sense i’ that.” - -Tembarom sat down near him. The boy turned over against his pillow and -put his chin in the hollow of his palm and stared. - -“I’ve wanted to see thee,” he remarked. “I’ve made mother an’ Aunt -Susan an’ feyther tell me every bit they’ve heared about thee in the -village. Theer was a lot of it. Tha coom fro’ ’Meriker?” - -“Yes.” Tembarom began vaguely to feel the demand in the burning -curiosity. - -“Gi’ me that theer book,” the boy said, pointing to a small table -heaped with a miscellaneous jumble of things and standing not far from -him. “It’s a’ atlas,” he added as Tembarom gave it to him. “Yo’ con -find places in it.” He turned the leaves until he found a map of the -world. “Theer’s ’Meriker,” he said, pointing to the United States. -“That theer’s north and that theer’s south. All the real ’Merikens -comes from the North, wheer New York is.” - -“I come from New York,” said Tembarom. - -“Tha wert born i’ the workhouse, tha run about the streets i’ rags, tha -pretty nigh clemmed to death, tha blacked boots, tha sold newspapers, -tha feyther was a common workin’-mon--and now tha’s coom into Temple -Barholm an’ sixty thousand a year.” - -“The last part’s true all right,” Tembarom owned, “but there’s some -mistakes in the first part. I wasn’t born in the workhouse, and though -I’ve been hungry enough, I never starved to death--if that’s what -‘clemmed’ means.” - -Tummas looked at once disappointed and somewhat incredulous. - -“That’s the road they tell it i’ the village,” he argued. - -“Well, let them tell it that way if they like it best. That’s not going -to worry me,” Tembarom replied uncombatively. Tummas’s eyes bored -deeper into him. - -“Does na tha care?” he demanded. - -“What should I care for? Let every fellow enjoy himself his own way.” - -“Tha ’rt not a bit like one o’ the gentry,” said Tummas. “Tha ’rt quite -a common chap. Tha ’rt as common as me, for aw tha foine clothes.” - -“People are common enough, anyhow,” said Tembarom. “There’s nothing -much commoner, is there? There’s millions of ’em everywhere--billions -of ’em. None of us need put on airs.” - -“Tha ’rt as common as me,” said Tummas, reflectively. “An’ yet tha -owns Temple Barholm an’ aw that brass. I conna mak’ out how the loike -happens.” - -“Neither can I; but it does all samee.” - -“It does na happen i’ ’Meriker,” exulted Tummas. “Everybody’s equal -theer.” - -“Rats!” ejaculated Tembarom. “What about multimillionaires?” - -He forgot that the age of Tummas was ten. It was impossible not to -forget it. He was, in fact, ten hundred, if those of his generation had -been aware of the truth. But there he sat, having spent only a decade -of his most recent incarnation in a whitewashed cottage, deprived of -the use of his legs. - -Miss Alicia, seeing that Tembarom was interested in the boy, entered -into domestic conversation with Mrs. Hibblethwaite at the other side -of the room. Mrs. Hibblethwaite was soon explaining the uncertainty of -Susan’s temper on wash-days, when it was necessary to depend on her -legs. - -“Can’t you walk at all?” Tembarom asked. Tummas shook his head. “How -long have you been lame?” - -“Ever since I weer born. It’s summat like rickets. I’ve been lyin’ -here aw my days. I look on at foak an’ think ’em over. I’ve got to do -summat. That’s why I loike the atlas. Little Ann Hutchinson gave it to -me onct when she come to see her grandmother.” - -Tembarom sat upright. - -“Do you know her?” he exclaimed. - -“I know her best o’ onybody in the world. An I loike her best.” - -“So do I,” rashly admitted Tembarom. - -“Tha does?” Tummas asked suspiciously. “Does she loike thee?” - -“She says she does.” He tried to say it with proper modesty. - -“Well, if she says she does, she does. An’ if she does, then you -an’ me’ll be friends.” He stopped a moment, and seemed to be taking -Tembarom in with thoroughness. “I could get a lot out o’ thee,” he said -after the inspection. - -“A lot of what?” Tembarom felt as though he would really like to hear. - -“A lot o’ things I want to know about. I wish I’d lived the life tha’s -lived, clemmin’ or no clemmin’. Tha’s seen things goin’ on every day o’ -thy loife.” - -“Well, there’s been plenty going on,” Tembarom admitted. - -“I’ve been lying here for ten year’,” said Tummas, savagely. “An’ I’ve -had nowt i’ the world to do an’ nowt to think on but what I could mak’ -foak tell me about the village. But nowt happens but this chap gettin’ -drunk an’ that chap deein’ or losin’ his place, or wenches gettin’ -married or havin’ childer. I know everything that happens, but it’s -nowt but a lot o’ women clackin’. If I’d not been a cripple, I’d ha’ -been at work for mony a year by now, ’arnin’ money to save by an’ go to -’Meriker.” - -“You seem to be sort of stuck on America. How’s that?” - -“What dost mean?” - -“I mean you seem to like it.” - -“I dun not loike it nor yet not loike it, but I’ve heard a bit more -about it than I have about the other places on the map. Foak goes there -to seek their fortune, an’ it seems loike there’s a good bit doin’.” - -“Do you like to read newspapers?” said Tembarom, inspired to his query -by a recollection of the vision of things “doin’” in the Sunday “Earth.” - -“Wheer’d I get papers from?” the boy asked testily. “Foak like us -hasn’t got the brass for ’em.” - -“I’ll bring you some New York papers,” promised Tembarom, grinning a -little in anticipation. “And we’ll talk about the news that’s in them. -The Sunday ‘Earth’ is full of pictures. I used to work on that paper -myself.” - -“Tha did?” he cried excitedly. “Did tha help to print it, or was it the -one tha sold i’ the streets?” - -“I wrote some of the stuff in it.” - -“Wrote some of the stuff in it? Wrote it thaself? How could tha, a -common chap like thee?” he asked, more excited still, his ferret eyes -snapping. - -“I don’t know how I did it,” Tembarom answered, with increased cheer -and interest in the situation. “It wasn’t high-brow sort of work.” - -Tummas leaned forward in his incredulous eagerness. - -“Does tha mean that they paid thee for writin’ it--paid thee?” - -“I guess they wouldn’t have done it if they’d been Lancashire,” -Tembarom answered. “But they hadn’t much more sense than I had. They -paid me twenty-five dollars a week--that’s five pounds.” - -“I dun not believe thee,” said Tummas, and leaned back on his pillow -short of breath. - -“I didn’t believe it myself till I’d paid my board two weeks and bought -a suit of clothes with it,” was Tembarom’s answer, and he chuckled as -he made it. - -But Tummas did believe it. This, after he had recovered from the shock, -became evident. The curiosity in his face intensified itself; his -eagerness was even vaguely tinged with something remotely resembling -respect. It was not, however, respect for the money which had been -earned, but for the store of things “doin’” which must have been -acquired. It was impossible that this chap knew things undreamed of. - -“Has tha ever been to the Klondike?” he asked after a long pause. - -“No. I’ve never been out of New York.” - -Tummas seemed fretted and depressed. - -“Eh, I’m sorry for that. I wished tha’d been to the Klondike. I want to -be towd about it,” he sighed. He pulled the atlas toward him and found -a place in it. - -“That theer’s Dawson,” he announced. Tembarom saw that the region of -the Klondike had been much studied. It was even rather faded with the -frequent passage of searching fingers, as though it had been pored -over with special curiosity. - -“There’s gowd-moines theer,” revealed Tummas. “An’ theer’s welly nowt -else but snow an’ ice. A young chap as set out fro’ here to get theer -froze to death on the way.” - -“How did you get to hear about it?” - -“Ann she browt me a paper onct.” He dug under his pillow, and brought -out a piece of newspaper, worn and frayed and cut with age and usage. -“This heer’s what’s left of it.” Tembarom saw that it was a fragment -from an old American sheet and that a column was headed “The Rush for -the Klondike.” - -“Why didn’t tha go theer?” demanded Tummas. He looked up from his -fragment and asked his question with a sudden reflectiveness, as though -a new and interesting aspect of things had presented itself to him. - -“I had too much to do in New York,” said Tembarom. - -Tummas silently regarded him a moment or so. - -“It’s a pity tha didn’t,” he said. “Happen tha’d never ha’ coom back.” - -Tembarom laughed the outright laugh. - -“Thank you,” he answered. - -Tummas was still thinking the matter over and was not disturbed. - -“I was na thinkin’ o’ thee,” he said in an impersonal tone. “I was -thinkin’ o’ t’other chap. If tha’d gone i’stead o’ him, he’d ha’ been -here i’stead o’ thee. Eh, but it’s funny.” And he drew a deep breath -like a sigh having its birth in profundity of baffled thought. - -Both he and his evident point of view were “funny” in the Lancashire -sense, which does not imply humor, but strangeness and the -unexplainable. Singular as the phrasing was, Tembarom knew what he -meant, and that he was thinking of the oddity of chance. Tummas had -obviously heard of “poor Jem” and had felt an interest in him. - -“You’re talking about Jem Temple Barholm I guess,” he said. Perhaps -the interest he himself had felt in the tragic story gave his voice -a tone somewhat responsive to Tummas’s own mood, for Tummas, after -one more boring glance, let himself go. His interest in this special -subject was, it revealed itself, a sort of obsession. The history of -Jem Temple Barholm had been the one drama of his short life. - -“Aye, I was thinkin’ o’ him,” he said. “I should na ha’ cared for the -Klondike so much but for him.” - -“But he went away from England when you were a baby.” - -“The last toime he coom to Temple Barholm wur when I wur just born. -Foak said he coom to ax owd Temple Barholm if he’d help him to pay his -debts, an’ the owd chap awmost kicked him out o’ doors. Mother had just -had me, an’ she was weak an’ poorly an’ sittin’ at the door wi’ me in -her arms, an’ he passed by an’ saw her. He stopped an’ axed her how she -was doin’. An when he was goin’ away, he gave her a gold sovereign, an’ -he says, ‘Put it in the savin’s-bank for him, an’ keep it theer till -he’s a big lad an’ wants it.’ It’s been in the savin’s-bank ever sin’. -I’ve got a whole pound o’ ma own out at interest. There’s not many lads -ha’ got that.” - -“He must have been a good-natured fellow,” commented Tembarom. “It was -darned bad luck him going to the Klondike.” - -“It was good luck for thee,” said Tummas, with resentment. - -“Was it?” was Tembarom’s unbiased reply. “Well, I guess it was, one way -or the other. I’m not kicking, anyhow.” - -Tummas naturally did not know half he meant. He went on talking about -Jem Temple Barholm, and as he talked his cheeks flushed and his eyes -lighted. - -“I would na spend that sovereign if I was starvin’. I’m going to leave -it to Ann Hutchinson in ma will when I dee. I’ve axed questions about -him reet and left ever sin’ I can remember, but theer’s nobody knows -much. Mother says he was fine an’ handsome, an’ gentry through an’ -through. If he’d coom into the property, he’d ha’ coom to see me again. -I’ll lay a shillin’, because I’m a cripple an’ I cannot spend his -sovereign. If he’d coom back from the Klondike, happen he’d ha’ towd -me about it.” He pulled the atlas toward him, and laid his thin finger -on the rubbed spot. “He mun ha’ been killed somewheer about here,” he -sighed. “Somewheer here. Eh, it’s funny.” - -Tembarom watched him. There was something that rather gave you the -“Willies” in the way this little cripple seemed to have taken to the -dead man and worried along all these years thinking him over and asking -questions and studying up the Klondike because he was killed there. It -was because he’d made a kind of story of it. He’d enjoyed it in the -way people enjoy stories in a newspaper. You always had to give ’em a -kind of story; you had to make a story even if you were telling about -a milk-wagon running away. In newspaper offices you heard that was the -secret of making good with what you wrote. Dish it up as if it was a -sort of story. - -He not infrequently arrived at astute enough conclusions concerning -things. He had arrived at one now. Shut out even from the tame drama -of village life, Tummas, born with an abnormal desire for action and -a feverish curiosity, had hungered and thirsted for the story in any -form whatsoever. He caught at fragments of happenings, and colored and -dissected them for the satisfying of unfed cravings. The vanished man -had been the one touch of pictorial form and color in his ten years of -existence. Young and handsome and of the gentry, unfavored by the owner -of the wealth which some day would be his own possession, stopping -“gentry-way” at a cottage door to speak good-naturedly to a pale young -mother, handing over the magnificence of a whole sovereign to be saved -for a new-born child, going away to vaguely understood disgrace, -leaving his own country to hide himself in distant lands, meeting death -amid snow and ice and surrounded by gold-mines, leaving his empty place -to be filled by a boot-black newsboy--true there was enough to lie -and think over and to try to follow with the help of maps and excited -questions. - -“I wish I could ha’ seen him,” said Tummas. “I’d awmost gi’ my -sovereign to get a look at that picture in the gallery at Temple -Barholm.” - -“What picture?” Tembarom asked. “Is there a picture of him there?” - -“There is na one o’ him, but there’s one o’ a lad as deed two hundred -year’ ago as they say wur the spit an’ image on him when he wur a lad -hissen. One o’ the owd servants towel mother it wur theer.” - -This was a natural stimulus to interest and curiosity. - -“Which one is it? Jinks! I’d like to see it myself. Do you know which -one it is? There’s hundreds of them.” - -“No, I dun not know,” was Tummas’s dispirited answer, “an’ neither does -mother. The woman as knew left when owd Temple Barholm deed.” - -“Tummas,” broke in Mrs. Hibblethwaite from the other end of the room, -to which she had returned after taking Miss Alicia out to complain -about the copper in the “wash-’us’--” “Tummas, tha ’st been talkin’ -like a magpie. Tha ’rt a lot too bold an’ ready wi’ tha tongue. The -gentry’s noan comin’ to see thee if tha clacks the heads off theer -showthers.” - -“I’m afraid he always does talk more than is good for him,” said Miss -Alicia. “He looks quite feverish.” - -“He has been talking to me about Jem Temple Barholm,” explained -Tembarom. “We’ve had a regular chin together. He thinks a heap of poor -Jem.” - -Miss Alicia looked startled, and Mrs. Hibblethwaite was plainly -flustered tremendously. She quite lost her temper. - -“Eh,” she exclaimed, “tha wants tha young yed knocked off, Tummas -Hibblethwaite. He’s fair daft about the young gentleman as--as was -killed. He axes questions mony a day till I’d give him the stick if he -was na a cripple. He moithers me to death.” - -“I’ll bring you some of those New York papers to look at,” Tembarom -said to the boy as he went away. - -He walked back through the village to Temple Barholm, holding Miss -Alicia’s elbow in light, affectionate guidance and support, a little -to her embarrassment and also a little to her delight. Until he had -taken her into the dining-room the night before she had never seen such -a thing done. There was no over-familiarity in the action. It merely -seemed somehow to suggest liking and a wish to take care of her. - -“That little fellow in the village,” he said after a silence in which -it occurred to her that he seemed thoughtful, “what a little freak he -is! He’s got an idea that there’s a picture in the gallery that’s said -to look like Jem Temple Barholm when he was a boy. Have you ever heard -anything about it? He says a servant told his mother it was there.” - -“Yes, there is one,” Miss Alicia answered. “I sometimes go and look -at it. But it makes me feel very sad. It is the handsome boy who was -a page in the court of Charles II. He died in his teens. His name was -Miles Hugo Charles James. Jem could see the likeness himself. Sometimes -for a little joke I used to call him Miles Hugo.” - -“I believe I remember him,” said Tembarom. “I believe I asked Palford -his name. I must go and have a look at him again. He hadn’t much better -luck than the fellow that looked like him, dying as young as that.” - - -(To be continued) - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: TOPICS OF THE TIME] - - -WAR AGAINST WAR - -TACTICS THAT THE FRIENDS OF PEACE MAY LEARN FROM THE MILITARISTS - -Through Matthew Arnold we have been made familiar with one of the -figures clearly limned by Clarendon. It is that of Falkland, whose -humane spirit and love of peace made the casting of his lot in the time -of the civil war in England seem peculiarly tragic. Often in the course -of that bitter and bloody conflict he was heard to “ingeminate” the -word “peace.” - -A similar feeling of grief and frustration in the presence of war is -one of the distinguishing marks of our own day. The best and wisest in -the world hold peace congresses and conferences on arbitration (as they -are to do soon in St. Louis), and seem to gain painful inches only to -have all their efforts made apparently vain by some inrush of the war -spirit. The Hague Tribunal is founded and The Hague agreement solemnly -entered into, but that does not prevent one of the covenanting nations -from seizing another’s land by the sword. Projects for universal -arbitration are mooted, amid the applause of Christendom, and plans -for the judicial settlement of international disputes are ripening, at -the very time when tens of thousands of men are about to be killed in -battle. - -So it is that peace seems to be to the civilized world only an -unattainable longing. We think of war to-day, in the Scripture phrase, -with groanings that cannot be uttered. Never so hated, it sometimes -appears as if it were never so fated. - -It is well for peace-lovers now and then to put the case thus -strongly, in order that they may face the difficulty at its darkest. -The fact that the evil they struggle against is persistent is but one -argument more for their own persistence. Pacifists must be as ready -and resourceful as the militarists. If ever it is right to learn -from an enemy, it surely is in this instance. Something has been -gained in this way. The late William James, for example, contended -that we must admit that there are some good, human weapons in the -hands of the war party, and that the peace men must study, not only -how to appreciate them, but how to use them. Professor James would -have sought in peaceful pursuits the equivalents of the appeal which -war makes to certain manly qualities. Heroism in private life, in -scientific pursuits, in exploration, in reform--this is what he urged. -The patriotic impulse transmuted into great engineering works, vast -plans for sanitation, campaigns against disease and misery--that is -what peace can offer to ardent youth. All this is sound, and good as -far as it goes; but the question arises to-day whether there is not -need of something more positive and aggressive, whether the spirit of -militarism cannot be turned against itself; whether, in a word, there -should not be war against war. - -The conduct of a military campaign calls for an enormous amount of -preparation and organization. Let the advocates of peace take this -to heart. They cannot win simply by wishing to win. It is for them, -too, to be far-sighted, to lay careful plans, to enlist every modern -method of working in unison to a definite end. War mobilizes men. Peace -must muster ideas, sentiments, influences. In the _Kriegspiel_ the -strategist seeks to mass his troops upon the enemy’s weakest point. The -tactics of peace should be similar. Argument and persuasion and appeal -should be made to converge upon the exposed flank of the militarists. -This may be found, at one moment, in the pressure of taxation, which -needlessly swollen armaments would make unbearable. At another time, -it may appear that the thing to hammer upon is the pressing need of -social reforms, even attention to which will be endangered if all the -available money and time are squandered upon preparing for a war that -may never come. Let peace, too, acquire a General Staff, whose duty -it shall be to survey the whole field, to work out fruitful campaigns, -to tell us where to strike and how, to lay down the principles of the -grand strategy to be followed. - -Nor need individual effort be ruled out. Despite the large and -coördinated movements of soldiers in a modern battle, there yet remains -room for personal initiative and daring. The shining moment comes when -some one in the ranks or in command is called upon to risk all with -the possibility of gaining all. And there are still “forlorn hopes” to -be led. Why should not these methods and appeals of war be imitated -by those who are fighting for peace? They can point to many services -calling for volunteers. There is ridicule to be faced, unpopular -opinion to be stood up for calmly in the teeth of opposition and even -scorn, testimony to be borne, questions to be asked, protests to be -made. There is, in short, every opportunity to import from war the -heroic element and give it scope and effect in the propaganda of peace. -The very wrath of man can be made to praise the growth of civilization. - -War against war can be made very concrete and practical. Committees -can be formed to watch the military authorities and Congress, and to -elicit an expression of opinion when it will be most useful. It is a -matter of frequent lamenting on the part of peace men in the House -of Representatives that their hands are so feebly held up by the -opponents of war. The other side is alert and active. When big-navy -or big-army bills are pending, the mail of congressmen is loaded with -requests--usually, of course, interested requests--to vote for them. -The lovers of peace, on the other hand, appear to be smitten with -writer’s cramp. They act as if they were indifferent. This state of -things should not be permitted to go on. There should be minute-men of -the cause all over the land ready to spring into action. That a sound -opinion of the country exists, only needing concerted effort to call -it forth, has been shown again and again. It was proved at the time -when President Taft’s treaties of universal arbitration were pending -in the Senate. In those days the desire of the best people of the -United States came to Washington like the sound of the voice of many -waters. Schools and colleges, chambers of commerce and churches, sent -in petition piled on petition, and remonstrance heaped on protest. One -of the senators who opposed ratification admitted to the President that -he had never had so formidable a pressure from his own State as on this -question. - -That lesson should not be lost. By organization, by watchfulness, by -determination, the peace spirit of the land can be given much more -effective expression than it has yet had. The situation is not at all -one that justifies discouragement; it simply calls for fresh and more -intelligent action, with heightened resolution. If only the genius of a -Von Moltke could be devoted to organizing and directing the forces that -make against war, we might reasonably hope for a realization of the -poet’s vision of peace lying like level shafts of light across the land. - - -THE GREAT FLOODS IN THE MIDDLE WEST - -WITH THE RENEWED SUGGESTION OF A WIDE-REACHING PROJECT OF -FLOOD-MITIGATION - -One cannot read of the recent disastrous overflow of the rivers of -the Ohio Valley watershed without a sinking of the heart, to think -how near is happiness to grief. That thousands, apparently through no -fault of their own, should be overwhelmed by the relentless powers of -nature, takes us back to a pagan conception of the universe, until -we begin to sum up the unpagan-like solidarity in the sympathy of -mankind, the touch of human nature that makes the whole world kin. -Senator Root recently said that “the progress of civilization is marked -by the destruction of isolation,” meaning, of course, by the drawing -together of men through common ideas, interests, and even sorrows. It -is no perfunctory thought that out of such calamities come many of -the heroisms, the sacrifices, the lightning-like-flashes of spiritual -revelation that ennoble humanity. - -With becoming awe at what seems to have been unpreventable, it is -sadly appropriate to inquire what might have been done in past years -to lessen the recurrent tragedy of the western floods. To be sure, -one cannot by a gesture bid the tempest stand, but nothing is more -demonstrable than that the greed and neglect of man have greatly -contributed to the destructiveness of floods. The devastation of -the ax leads direct to the devastation of the waters. The excessive -deforesting of Ohio and Indiana for a hundred years is no illusory or -negligible factor in the crisis of death and desolation that has fallen -upon those States. - -In this magazine for August, 1912, in an article entitled “A Duty of -the South to Itself,” written apropos of the Mississippi floods of -last year, we renewed a suggestion which we first made in 1904 and -have since several times repeated, looking toward the mitigation of -the annual peril to the Ohio and Mississippi valleys. It presented -the urgent necessity of setting on foot a policy of coöperation among -the Eastern States to save from destruction the flood-restraining -upper reaches of the entire Appalachian range. As a matter of public -interest, this article was sent to all senators and members of -Congress, to the Southern and other newspapers, and to the governors -and Chambers of Commerce in the Ohio and Mississippi valleys. Although -the suggestion was in the plainest conformity with scientific opinion, -it apparently fell upon deaf ears. The imagination of no governor -or legislator has been roused to the point of action. After we have -reckoned up the cost of the recent floods in lives and money, shall we -lie down again to pleasant dreams, oblivious of the fact that to sow -neglect is to reap calamity? - - -COMMON SENSE IN THE WHITE HOUSE - -NON-PARTIZAN QUESTIONS ON WHICH PRESIDENT WILSON BEGINS WELL - -He is a poor patriot who can wish a new administration anything but -success--at least in policies unrelated to party differences--and it -is creditable to the American people that the new President enters -upon his difficult task amid general good-will. His lack of previous -acquaintance with “the way the thing is done” in Washington, though -it excited the apprehension of some of his warmest friends, proves -to be a positive advantage. If precedents are broken they are not -his, and sometimes the breaking is done with a naïveté just this side -of innocence, as in the discountenancing of the time-honored but -expensive and meaningless inaugural ball. The President evidently -realizes his responsibilities and the conventional obstacles that must -be cleared out of his path if he is to accomplish much for the good of -the country. The idealism of his inaugural address, with its appeal for -the coöperation of “honest, patriotic, and forward-looking men,” is -already being supplemented by practical action so fraught with “saving -common sense” as to seem revolutionary. - -Seen in the retrospect, what could be done more wise or simple than -the shunting of the office-seekers to the heads of departments? -What more useful or self-respecting than the announced policy of -disapproval of legislation carrying “riders”--of which, by the way, -a flagrant example is found in the Panama tolls exemption, to which -both the President and the Vice-President have announced their -opposition? What more direct or reassuring than the kindly words of -warning to Central American revolutionists? What more prompt than the -announcement through the Secretary of State that the United States -cannot ignore its responsibilities toward Cuba? or, again, through -the Postmaster-General, that there is to be no wholesale looting of -the offices, with the object-lesson of the retention or promotion of -several public servants of marked efficiency? or, still again, the -immediate action through the Secretary of War and the Attorney-General -toward the safeguarding of the public interests in Niagara Falls? What -more prudent than the disentanglement of our relations in the Far East -from financial loans to China? These events, occurring in the first -fortnight of the administration, display a point of view of government -as an instrument of public service which, though it may do violence to -traditions, makes thoughtful citizens exclaim, “Why not?” - -It is not to be expected that we are to have another Era of Good -Feeling, or that, when questions of party policy arise, Mr. Wilson’s -opponents will yield their convictions. He cannot fail to meet with -many a storm, within and without party lines; but he will do much -to advance his ideas if he shall preserve the poise of direct and -unsophisticated common sense which he has shown at the beginning. - - - - -LAWLESSNESS IN ART - -THE EXPLOITATION OF WHIMSICALITY AS A PRINCIPLE - -The recent admirably arranged exhibition in New York made by the -Association of American Painters and Sculptors, and including a full -representation of the work of the Cubists and the Post-Impressionists, -has proved in one respect a veritable success, namely, in point of -attendance. If not, as one critic puts it, a _succès de scandale_, it -has been a _succès de curiosité_. It contained pieces of historic work -of great beauty by eminent painters of France and America--Ingres, -Daumier, Puvis de Chavannes, Childe Hassam, Alden Weir, and others, -but no great point was made of their inclusion and they were not the -attraction for the crowds. What drew the curious were certain widely -talked-of eccentricities, whimsicalities, distortions, crudities, -puerilities, and madnesses, by which, while a few were nonplussed, most -of the spectators were vastly amused. - -At the spring exhibition of the National Academy of Design, which -followed, one unaccustomed visitor was heard to say to another, “Oh, -come on, Bill, there’s nothing to laugh at here.” It will be impossible -to repeat the Parisian sensation another season; and, happily, the -eccentricities have served to awaken a new interest in genuine types of -art, both in and out of their own exhibition, and have furnished that -element of contrast which is useful if not essential in the formation -of a robust taste. - -Meanwhile, for the benefit of the young and unthinking, it is well -to keep on inculcating the fact that while art is not a formula, -nor even a school, it is subject, whether in painting, sculpture, -poetry, architecture, or music, to certain general principles tending -to harmony, clarity, beauty, and the stimulus of the imagination. -A fundamental error is that its laws are hampering, the fact being -that it is only as one learns them that he can acquire the freedom -of individual expression. The exploitation of a theory of discords, -puzzles, uglinesses, and clinical details, is to art what anarchy is -to society, and the practitioners need not so much a critic as an -alienist. It is said that a well-known Russian musician has begun a -new composition with (so to speak) a keynote of discord involving the -entire musical scale, as a child might lay his hand sidewise upon all -the notes of the piano it can cover. A counterpart of this could have -been found in more than one ward of the recent exhibition. One can -fancy the laughter over the absinthe in many a Latin Quarter café of -those who are not mentally awry, but are merely imitators, poseurs, or -charlatans, at learning that their monstrosities, which have exhausted -the interest of Paris, have been seriously considered by some American -observers. They have only been trying to see how far they could go in -fooling the public. But he laughs best who laughs last, and we believe -that Americans have too much sense of humor not to see the point of -this colossal joke of eccentricity, or to endure its repetition. - - -NIAGARA AGAIN IN DANGER - -THE COMMERCIALIZING OF GREAT SCENERY - -One need not be afraid of exaggerating the peril to the beauty of -Niagara in allowing its waters to be used for commercial purposes when -a man of such moderation and public esteem as Senator Burton of Ohio -says, as he did in the Senate on the fourth of March: - - I want to say, Mr. President, that in all my experience in either - house of Congress I have never known such an aggregation of persons - to come here seeking to rob and to despoil as those who have come - here after this power. If there is any one who wishes them to - succeed he must answer to the country for it. They not only desired - the water above the Falls, but they now desire to withdraw the - waters below in the rapids, which are second in beauty only to the - Falls themselves. Persons have come here under the guise of public - spirit, or even of philanthropy, when it was but a thin veil to - conceal a scheme to get possession of the waters of the Niagara - River. We ask that for a year this law be continued to stay the - hand of the despoiler. - -The law referred to was the Burton Act under which for three years the -assaults of the commercial interests have been stayed. Even with a -concession to the companies of 250,000 horse-power instead of 160,000, -Mr. Burton, owing to a filibuster by Senator O’Gorman, was not able to -secure the desired extension, and the Falls seem to be at the mercy -of those who are interested in turning great scenery into dividends. -We are much mistaken if the new administration does not find some way -of thwarting this form of vandalism. Meanwhile it is well that public -opinion should be directed upon senators and representatives. - -Of the damage that has already been done Senator Burton says: “... -The ruthless hand of the promoter has been laid upon this river; and -thus the cataract has been diminished in size and the scenic effect -has been impaired not only by diminishing the flow and the quantity of -the water, but by structures on the banks.” A question of jurisdiction -has been raised as between the State of New York and the National -Government, though the river as a boundary line has long been the -subject of an international treaty. The fact that the taking of water -for commercial purposes whether on the Canadian or the American side -has virtually the same effect on the river makes joint action of the -two countries imperative. - -The willingness to destroy or impair great scenery by commercializing -it, whether at Niagara or in the Yosemite National Park, makes it -necessary that the fight for our natural treasures should be kept up -with vigilance. Happily, the good judgment of the late Secretary of the -Interior, Warren L. Fisher, has blocked the attempt of the city of San -Francisco to destroy the wonderful Hetch Hetchy valley by converting -it into a reservoir of water for drinking and power purposes,--which -confessedly can be had elsewhere in the Sierra “by paying for it,”--the -Secretary wisely holding that such a diversion of the valley from -the original purpose of its reservation is too important a matter to -be determined by any power but Congress. Three Secretaries of the -Interior--Hitchcock, Ballinger, and Fisher--are thus on record against -the ruthless project of the city authorities, and we believe it will -not be more successful with Secretary Lane. Should its advocates go -to Congress, it must be remembered that the same principle underlies -the defense of Niagara and of Hetch Hetchy--the conservation of great -scenery for the ultimate benefit of mankind. - - - - -[Illustration: OPEN LETTERS] - - -ON THE COLLAPSE OF THE INTERNATIONAL CLUB - - _My dear MacWhittlesey_: - -No, I have not become a pessimist. If I ever was an optimist, I am -certainly one still. But to my mind the only use of being an optimist -about the universe is that one can the more boldly be a pessimist about -the world. That you may see I can discern the good signals as well as -the bad, I will tell you three recent things with which I am thoroughly -delighted. With brazen audacity, I will even put first the one topic -you know all about and I know nothing about. I am thoroughly delighted -with the election of the American President, with the election of the -French President, and with the victory in the Balkans. You may think -these three things have nothing to do with one another. Wait till I -have done explaining things; it will not last long or hurt much. - -[Illustration] - -Don’t imagine I have any newspaper illusions about any of the three. -I am a journalist and never believe the newspapers. I know there will -be a lot of merely fashionable fuss about the American and the French -presidents; I know we shall hear how fond Mr. Wilson is of canaries -or how interested M. Poincaré is in yachting. It is truer still, of -course, about the Balkan War. I have been anti-Turk through times when -nearly every one else was pro-Turk. I may therefore be entitled to say -that much of the turnover of sympathy is pure snobbery. Silly fashions -always follow the track of any victory. After 1870 our regiments -adopted Prussian spikes on their helmets, as though the Prussians had -fought with their heads, like bisons. Doubtless there will be a crop -of the same sort of follies after the Balkan War. We shall see the -altering of inscriptions, titles, and advertisements. Turkish baths may -be called Bulgarian baths. The sweetmeat called Turkish Delight may -probably be called Servian Delight. A Turkey carpet, very much kicked -about and discolored, may be sold again as a Montenegro carpet. These -cheap changes may easily occur, and in the same way the international -world (which consists of hotels instead of homes) may easily make the -same mistake about the French and American presidents. Thousands of -Englishmen will read the American affair as a mere question of Colonel -Roosevelt. Thousands will read of the Poincaré affair as a mere echo of -the Dreyfus case. Thousands have never thought of the near East except -as the sultan and Constantinople. For such masses of men Roosevelt is -the only American there ever was. For them the Dreyfus question was -the only French question there ever was. They had never heard that the -Servians had a country, let alone an army. - -The fact in which the three events meet is this: they are all realities -on the spot. Most Englishmen have never heard of Mr. Woodrow Wilson; -so they know that Americans really trust him. Most Englishmen have -never heard of M. Poincaré; so they know that Frenchmen know he is a -Frenchman. Neither is a member of the International Club, the members -of which advertise one another. - -Do you know what I mean? Do you not know that International Club? Like -many other secret societies, it is unaware of its own existence. But -there is a sort of ring of celebrities known all over the world, and -more important all over the world than any of them are at home. Even -when they do not know one another, they talk about one another. Let me -see if I can find a name that typifies them. Well, I have no thought -of disrespect to the memory of a man I liked and admired personally, -and who died with a tragic dignity fitted for one who had always longed -to be a link between your country and mine; but I think the late W. T. -Stead was the unconscious secretary of that unconscious International -Club. The other members, roughly speaking, were Colonel Roosevelt, the -German Emperor, Tolstoy, Cecil Rhodes, and somebody like Mr. Edison. -In an interview with Roosevelt, Rhodes would be the most important man -in England, the Kaiser (or Tolstoy) the most important man in Europe. -In an interview with Rhodes, the Kaiser would be important, Mr. Edison -more important, Mr. Stead rather important; Bulgaria and M. Poincaré -not important at all. Interview the Kaiser, and you will probably find -the only interviewer he remembers is Stead. Could Rhodes have been -taken to Russia you would probably find the only Russian he had really -heard of was Tolstoy. For the rest, the Nobel prize, the Harmsworth -newspaper group, the Marconi inventions, the attempts at a universal -language--all these strike the note. I forgot the British Empire, on -which the sun never sets, a horribly unpoetical state of things. Think -of having a native land without any sunsets! - -This International Club is breaking up. Men are more and more trusting -men they know to have been honest in a small way; men faithful in one -city to rule over many cities. Imperialists like Roosevelt and Rhodes -stood for unrealities. Please observe that I do not for one moment say -insincerities. Tolstoy was splendidly sincere; but the cult of him was -an unreality to this extent, that it left large masses in America and -England with a general idea that he was the only Christian in the east -of Europe. Since then we have seen Christianity on the march as it was -in the Middle Ages, a thing of thousands, ready for pilgrimage and -crusade. I don’t ask you to like it if you don’t like it. I only say -it’s jolly different from Tolstoy, and equally sincere. It is a reality -on the spot. - -Well, just as Russia and the Slavs meant for us Tolstoy, so France -and French literature meant for many of us Zola. Poincaré’s election -represents a France that hates Zola more than the Balkans hate the -Turk. The old definite, domestic, patriotic Frenchman has come -to the top. I can’t help fancying that with you the old serious, -self-governing, idealistic, and really republican American has come to -the top, too. But there I speak of things I know not, and await your -next letter with alarm. - - Faithfully yours, - _G. K. Chesterton_. - - -ON HOW TO GET SOMETHING BY GIVING SOMETHING UP - -_From a Victim of the Comparative-Statistics Habit_ - - _My dear Harold_: - -Can a man go in for tobacco and do his duty by the United States Navy? -Life seems to be getting more difficult every day. I can no longer -enjoy my after-dinner cigar as I used to. The trouble is not physical. -My nerves are in good condition. My heart behaves quite as it should, -occasionally rising into my mouth with fear, sometimes sinking toward -my diaphragm with anticipation, but for the most part going about -its work without attracting notice. I sleep as soundly as I ever -did. The quality of the tobacco they put into cigars nowadays may be -deteriorating, but I am easy to please. No; the trouble is with my -conscience. I simply find it impossible to smoke without feeling that I -am recreant to my social obligations. - -[Illustration] - -Don’t imagine I am referring to my family. It is old-fashioned -practice to show how the money disbursed upon tobacco by the head of a -household might buy a home in the suburbs and endowment insurance for -the children. To-day the sociological implications of a box of cigars -are much more serious. To-day no man of conscience can light his pipe -without inflicting injury on the United States Navy. All the comfort -goes out of a cigar when one reflects upon what one might be doing for -the encouragement of education among the Southern mountaineers. Now and -then I like the feel of a cigarette between my lips; but can a man go -in for cigarettes as long as the country stands in such bitter need of -a comprehensive system of internal waterways? - -I imagine I am not making myself quite clear. What I mean is that there -are so many good causes abroad nowadays, and the advocates of each and -every cause have no trouble in showing how easily they might manage -to attain the specific thing they are after if only you would consent -to sacrifice something that your own heart is rather set upon. Just -imagine if all the money that is burned up in tobacco were devoted to -the expansion of the fleet! Can there be any doubt that within a year -we should take first place among the naval powers? Provided, that is, -the English and the Germans and the Japanese did not give up smoking -at the same time that we did. It may seem far-fetched to argue any -close connection between a ten-cent cigar and a ten-million-dollar -dreadnought. That is what I have been trying to say to myself. But I -cannot help feeling that if the day of Armageddon does arrive, and the -Japanese fleet comes gliding out of Magdalena Bay, and the star of -our national destiny goes down into defeat, I shall never be able to -forgive myself for the cigar I insisted on lighting every night after -the children had been put to bed. As it is, I suffer by anticipation. -The Japanese fleet keeps popping out at me from my tobacco-jar. - -You will say I am oversensitive to outside suggestion. Perhaps I am. -The fact remains that the naval situation in the Pacific is what it -is. And there are so many other national obligations. We do need a -fifteen-foot channel from the lakes to the gulf. We do need free -schools for the poor whites in the Tennessee mountains. We do need -millions to rebuild our railroads. All these demands press upon me as I -sit facing my wife across the table and timidly light my cigar. Yes, I -smoke; but I look at my wife and wonder how she can live in unconscious -proximity to such startling moral degradation. - -Perhaps I am oversensitive, as you say, but these suggestions from -the outside keep pouring in on one in an irresistible stream from -many different directions. You simply cannot escape the logic of the -comparative mathematicians. A naval officer of high rank shows that -because of the wanton destruction of bird-life in the United States -our farmers lose $800,000,000 a year from the ravages of insect pests; -“so that good bird laws would enable us to sustain an enormous navy.” -Not so big a navy as this distinguished officer imagines, of course, -because the internal-waterways people will want a great deal of that -bird money, and the Southern education people will ask for a handsome -share. It does not matter that personally I have never slain birds -either for their flesh or their plumage, but I share in the indirect -responsibility. Instead of idling in my chair with a cigar, I ought to -be writing to my congressman, demanding the enactment of adequate bird -laws in the name of our naval supremacy in the Pacific and the defense -of the Panama Canal. - -Such is the established mode of procedure to-day. If one is planning -the expenditure of a very large amount of public money, let him point -out how easily the money may be saved or earned by somebody else. If I -have seemed to harp too much on the man with the cigar, it is because -he is the classic type of the victim in the case. Just consider what a -trifling favor one is asked for--merely to give up a nasty, unsanitary -habit, and not only be happier oneself, but bring happiness to the -big-navy man, the internal-waterways man, the Association for the -Encouragement of Grand Opera among the Masses, the Society for the -Pensioning of Decayed Journalists, the Society for Damming the Arctic -Current on the Banks of Newfoundland, the Society for the Construction -of Municipal Airships. These enthusiastic gentry find no habit too hard -for the other man to break, no economy too difficult for the other man -to adopt, and no remedy too complicated for the other man to put into -effect. Smith is amazed that any one could refuse him $200,000,000 for -the navy. - -“Why, look at your birds and your insect-ridden crops!” - -“You grudge me the money for a hundred-foot automobile highway from -New York to San Francisco?” says Jones. “Why, consider your wasteful -steam-engines, with their ridiculous loss of ninety-seven per cent. of -the latent coal energy!” - -“Double the efficiency of your steam-engines, and you have enough for a -dozen automobile highways.” - -You see, that is all that stands in the way, Harold, a mere trifle like -doubling the efficiency of the steam-engine. - -“I want $5,000,000 to build a monument twelve hundred feet high to -Captain John Smith and Pocahontas,” says Robinson. “You can’t spare -the money? Sir, take the revolving storm-doors in New York City -alone, which now represent so much wasted human energy, and harness -these doors to a series of storage batteries, and you will have your -$5,000,000 back in the course of a year.” - -Will some one kindly run out and electrify all the revolving doors in -New York City? - -I have a confession to make. My heart goes out to the shiftless -American farmer. He is responsible for almost as many good causes dying -of lack of nutrition as is the habitual smoker. - -If the American farmer would plow deep instead of merely scratching -the soil, we could blow Japan out of the water. If he would study the -chemistry of soils, we could give free railroad rides to every man and -woman in the United States between the ages of thirty and forty-five. -If we would build decent roads, we could pay off the national debt. - -In other words, if the American farmer could be persuaded to make his -land produce, say, only ten times its present yield, the millennium -would be here in a jump. - -I sometimes think that to the truly social-minded person the most -immoral spectacle in life is an unscientific American farmer smoking a -five-cent cigar in a buggy mired up to the axle on a country road. - - Yours, - _Simeon Strunsky_. - - - - -[Illustration: IN LIGHTER VEIN] - - -OLD DADDY DO-FUNNY’S WISDOM JINGLES - -BY RUTH MC ENERY STUART - - -THE MOSQUITO - - Wid so much Christian blood in ’is veins, - You’d think Brer ’Skitty would take some pains - To love ’is neighbor an’ show good-will, - But he’s p’izenin’ an’ backbitin’ still. - An’ he ain’t by ’isself in dat, in dat-- - No, he ain’t by ’isself in dat. - - -THE RAT - - Brer Rat in de corn-bin overfed - An’ underworked, an’ now he’s dead; - He craved to live lak a bloated chief, - An’ now he ain’t nothin’ but a ol’ dead thief. - An’ he ain’t by ’isself in dat, in dat-- - An’ he ain’t by ’isself in dat. - - -[Illustration: Drawn by Oliver Herford] - - -MAY, FROM MY WINDOW - -BY FRANCES ROSE BENÉT - - A sparkling morning after weeks of rain; - All fresh and fragrant glows my world, new-made. - Bluebirds sing ballads; sparrows chirp refrain; - Old Mother Spider, peering from the shade, - With gastronomic joy surveys a fly, - Her table-cloth hung on a bush to dry. - - A little lizard creeps from out his crack - To bask in sunshine till he’s done quite brown; - A butterfly starts on her breathless track, - Her errand gay, to lure a lad from town; - Even the garden’s foe, the slimy snail, - Leaves on the walk an iridescent trail. - - Fat Doctor Robin now comes hurrying by, - His neat attire touched up with claret vest. - “Important case!” I see it in his eye. - “No time to sing, with babies in that nest.” - Quick! little doctor! _Will_ he catch the train? - Sudden he stops; my heart jumps to my throat. - “Thunder and Mars!” I hear him say quite plain, - “I’ve left my wallet in my other coat!” - - -[Illustration: NOISE EXTRACTED WITHOUT PAIN - -~Waiter~ (to single gentleman):--“Excuse me, sir, but that lady -and gentleman wish me to recommend to you one of those new Maxim soup -silencers!”] - - -LIFE’S ASPIRATION - -(A more-than-symbolic sonnet for a picture of the same sort by George -Wolfe Plank) - -BY LOUIS UNTERMEYER - - Urged by the peacocks of our vanity, - Up the frail tree of life we climb and grope; - About our heads the tragic branches slope, - Heavy with time and xanthic mystery. - - Beyond, the brooding bird of fate we see - Viewing the world with eyes forever ope’, - And lured by all the phantom fruits of hope, - We cling in anguish to this fragile tree. - - O lowering skies! O clouds, that point in scorn, - With the lean fingers of a wrinkled wrath! - O dedal moon, that rears its ghostly horn! - - O hidden stars, that tread the cosmic path! - Shall we attain the glory of the morn, - Or sink into some awful aftermath! - -[Illustration] - - -THE NEW ART - -(With apologies to Rossetti) - -BY CORINNE ROCKWELL SWAIN - - The cubist damosel leaned out - From a neurotic heaven; - Her face was stranger than the dreams - Of topers filled at even: - She had four facets to her nose, - And the eyes in her head were seven. - - Her robe, concrete from clasp to hem, - Six angles did adorn, - With a white parallelogram - For trimming neatly worn: - Her hair rose up in pentagons, - Like yellow ears of corn. - - It was a post-impression house - That she was standing on; - While maudlin quadrilateral clouds - O’er mystic gardens spun, - And three denatured greyhounds ran - Circlewise round the sun. - - “I wish that they could draw,” she moaned, - “Nor throw such fits as this; - Souza-Cardosa, and the five - Who love weird symphonies: - Fiebig, Picabia, Picasso, - D’Erlanger, and Matisse.” - - She smiled, though her amorphous mouth - Was vague beyond her ears; - Then cast her beveled arms along - The rhomboid barriers, - And shedding asymmetric plinths, - She wept. (I heard her tears.) - - -LIMERICKS - -TEXT AND PICTURES BY OLIVER HERFORD - -[Illustration] - - -THE SOMNOLENT BIVALVE - - Said the oyster: “To-morrow’s May-day; - But don’t call me early, I pray. - Just tuck me instead - In my snug oyster-bed, - And there till September I’ll stay.” - -[Illustration] - - -THE OUNCE OF DETENTION - - Once a pound-keeper chanced to impound - An ounce that was straying around. - The pound-keeper straight - Was fined for false weight, - Since he’d only once ounce in his pound. - - -THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] At a meeting held at Chickering Hall on the evening of November -12, 1891, to sympathize with Governor Nichols’s war on the Louisiana -lottery system, the late Abram S. Hewitt was one of the speakers. In -the course of his remarks in denunciation of the lottery gambling in -Louisiana, Mr. Hewitt said: - - “I can’t find words strong enough to express my feelings regarding - this brazen fraud. - - “This scheme of plunder develops a weak spot in the government of - the United States, which I would not mention were it not for the - importance of the issue. We all know that a single State frequently - determines the result of a presidential election. The State of - Louisiana has determined the result of a presidential election. The - vote of that State was offered to me for money, and I declined to - buy it. But the vote of that State was sold for money!” - -[2] Read before the joint meeting of The American Academy of Arts and -Letters and the National Institute of Arts and Letters, December 13, -1912. Now first published. - -[3] I doubt if “Winchester,” previously known as “Rienzi,” could have -outwalked Sherman’s “Sam,” a terror to staff-officers, General Meade’s -“Baldy,” or McClellan’s “Black Dan,” for it was asserted they could all -walk five miles an hour. - -[4] ~The Century~ for July, 1882. - -[5] ~The Century~ for July, 1887. - -[6] Federal Reporter, Vol. 110, page 660. - -[7] Since this was written a device accomplishing the same purpose has -been placed in public service. - -[8] Reprinted from “Scribner’s Monthly” (now ~The Century~) for March, -1874. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Century Illustrated Monthly -Magazine (May 1913), by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CENTURY ILLUSTRATED *** - -***** This file should be named 53286-0.txt or 53286-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/2/8/53286/ - -Produced by ane Robins, Reiner Ruf, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/53286-0.zip b/old/53286-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5d4f79d..0000000 --- a/old/53286-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h.zip b/old/53286-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 38b93bf..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/53286-h.htm b/old/53286-h/53286-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 886717f..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/53286-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13924 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, May 1913, by Various. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.break-before {page-break-before: always;} - -h1,h2,h3,h4 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - font-weight: normal;} - -h1,.s1 {font-size: 250%;} -h2,.s2 {font-size: 175%;} -h3,.s3 {font-size: 135%;} -h4,.s4 {font-size: 110%;} -.s5 {font-size: 90%;} -.s6 {font-size: 75%;} -.s7 {font-size: 50%;} - -h1 {page-break-before: always; padding-top: 3em;} - -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -div.chapter,div.section {page-break-before: always;} - -h2.nodisp {visibility: hidden;} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; - text-indent: 1.5em;} - -p.p0, p.center {text-indent: 0;} - -.drop-cap { - float: left; - font-size: 2.7em; - margin-top: -0.15em; - margin-bottom: 0;} - -.drop-cap_poetry { - font-size: 2.25em; - margin-bottom: 0; - line-height: 0.8em;} - -.mtop-2 {margin-top: -2em;} -.mtop1 {margin-top: 1em;} -.mtop2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.mtop3 {margin-top: 3em;} -.mtop5 {margin-top: 5em;} -.mbot1 {margin-bottom: 1em;} -.mbot2 {margin-bottom: 2em;} -.mbot3 {margin-bottom: 3em;} -.mbot5 {margin-bottom: 5em;} -.mleft1 {margin-left: 1em;} -.mleft3 {margin-left: 3em;} -.mright1 {margin-right: 1em;} -.mright2 {margin-right: 2em;} -.mright3 {margin-right: 3em;} - -.padt3 {padding-top: 3em;} -.padt5 {padding-top: 5em;} -.padl0_5 {padding-left: 0.5em;} -.padr0_5 {padding-right: 0.5em;} -.padb1 {padding-bottom: 1em;} -.padb2 {padding-bottom: 2em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin: 2em auto 2em auto; - height: 0; - color: #dddddd; - clear: both;} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin: 1.5em 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin: 2em 17.5%;} -hr.subchap {width: 40%; margin: 1.8em 30%;} -hr.full {width: 95%; margin: 2.5em 2.5%;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto;} - -table.toc {width: 100%;} - -table.toc td p { - margin-top: 0; - margin-bottom: 0; - line-height: 1.3em;} - -td.subject { - text-align: left; - vertical-align: top; - width: 65%;} - -td.subject2 { - text-align: left; - padding-left: 2.5em; - text-indent: -1em; - line-height: 1.1em;} - -td.subject3 { - text-align: left; - padding-left: 4em; - text-indent: -1em; - line-height: 0.8em; - font-size: 75%;} - -td.subject p { - padding-left: 1.5em; - text-indent: -1.5em;} - -td.subject p.subject3 { - padding-left: 3em; - text-indent: -2em; - line-height: 1.1em; - font-size: 75%;} - -td.author { - font-style: italic; - text-align: left; - vertical-align: top; - width: 25%;} - -td.pgnum { - text-align: right; - vertical-align: bottom; - width: 10%;} - -div.header_tab { - display: table; - width: 80%; - margin: 1em 10%;} - -div.schedule_tab { - display: table; - margin: 1em auto 1em auto;} - -div.w100 { - width: 100%; - height: auto;} - -div.table_row {display: table-row;} - -div.table_cell {display: table-cell;} - -.h_5em {height: 8em; width: auto;} - -div.space { - border-spacing: 0 0.2em; - padding: 0 0.5em;} - -.tdr {text-align: right;} -.tdc {text-align: center;} - -.vam {vertical-align: middle;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ - -.blockquot { - margin: 1.5em 5%; - font-size: 90%;} - -.thinbox {border: solid black thin} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smaller {font-size: 75%;} - -em.italic { - font-style: italic; } - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - clear: both;} - -.figleft { - float: left; - clear: left; - margin-left: 0; - margin-bottom: 0.5em; - margin-top: 0.5em; - margin-right: 1em; - padding: 0; - text-align: center;} - -img {max-width: 100%; height: auto;} - -div.dc { - float: left; - margin: 0.5em 0.9em 0 0;} - -.hide-first { - visibility: hidden; - margin-left: -1.5em;} - -.hide-first2 { - visibility: hidden; - margin-left: -2em;} - -/* Footnotes */ -.footnotes { - border: thin black dotted; - background-color: #f5fffa; - color: black;} - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: top; - font-size: 70%; - text-decoration: none;} - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} - -.poetry { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left;} - -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} - -.poetry .verse { - text-indent: -3em; - padding-left: 3em;} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote { - background-color: #e6e6fA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em;} - -.transnote p {text-indent: 0;} - -.htmlhide {display: none;} - -@media handheld { - -.ebhide {display: none;} - -.htmlhide {display: block;} - -h1 {padding-top: 0;} - -.poetry { - display: block; - text-align: left; - margin-left: 2.5em;} - -.drop-cap {float: left;} - -div.dc {float: left;} - -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine -(May 1913), by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine (May 1913) - Vol. LXXXVI. New Series: Vol. LXIV. May to October, 1913 - -Author: Various - -Release Date: October 16, 2016 [EBook #53286] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CENTURY ILLUSTRATED *** - - - - -Produced by ane Robins, Reiner Ruf, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<p class="s3 center"><b>Transcriber’s Notes</b></p> - -<p>This e-text is based on ‘The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine,’ -from May 1913. Even though this edition includes an Index for the -complete volume (May–October 1913), page links have been created for -the May issue only.</p> - -<p>Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation have been retained, but -punctuation and typographical errors have been corrected. Passages in -English dialect and in languages other than English have -not been altered.</p> - -<p class="htmlhide">The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the -public domain.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<h1>THE CENTURY<br /> - -<span class="s6">ILLUSTRATED MONTHLY</span><br /> - -MAGAZINE</h1> - -<p class="s5 mtop5 center">VOL. LXXXVI</p> - -<p class="center">NEW SERIES: VOL. LXIV</p> - -<p class="s4 center">MAY TO OCTOBER, 1913</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="logo" name="logo"> - <img class="mtop5 mbot5" src="images/logo.jpg" - alt="Publisher's Mark" /></a> -</div> - -<p class="s3 center">THE CENTURY CO., NEW YORK</p> - -<p class="s4 center">HODDER & STOUGHTON, LONDON</p> - -<p class="s5 padt5 center">Copyright, 1913, by -T<span class="smaller">HE</span> C<span class="smaller">ENTURY</span> -C<span class="smaller">O</span>.</p> - -<p class="s5 mtop3 center">THE DE VINNE PRESS</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="INDEX">INDEX<br /> - -<span class="s7">TO</span><br /> - -THE CENTURY MAGAZINE</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="s4 center">VOL. LXXXVI   NEW SERIES: VOL. LXIV</p> - -<table class="toc" summary="Table of Contents for May-October"> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum s6"> - PAGE - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject" colspan="3"> - A<span class="smaller">DAMS</span>, J<span class="smaller">OHN</span> - Q<span class="smaller">UINCY</span>, - <span class="smaller">IN</span> R<span class="smaller">USSIA</span>. - (Unpublished letters.) - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - Introduction and notes by Charles Francis Adams. - Portraits of John Quincy Adams and Madame de Staël - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 250 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject" colspan="3"> - A<span class="smaller">FTER</span>-D<span class="smaller">INNER</span> - S<span class="smaller">TORIES</span>. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - An Anecdote of McKinley. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Silas Harrison - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 319 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject" colspan="3"> - A<span class="smaller">FTER</span>-<span class="smaller">THE</span>-W<span class="smaller">AR</span> - S<span class="smaller">ERIES</span>, <span class="smaller">THE</span> - C<span class="smaller">ENTURY</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span>. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - The Hayes-Tilden Contest for the Presidency. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Henry Watterson - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#THE_HAYES-TILDEN_CONTEST_FOR_THE_PRESIDENCY">3</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures from photographs and cartoons. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - Another View of “The Hayes-Tilden Contest”. - </td> - <td class="author"> - George F. Edmunds - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 192 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Portrait of Ex-Senator Edmunds. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - A<span class="smaller">MERICANS</span>, N<span class="smaller">EW</span>-M<span class="smaller">ADE</span>. - Drawings by - </td> - <td class="author"> - W. T. Benda - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum" colspan="2"> - Facing page 894 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject" colspan="3"> - A<span class="smaller">RTISTS</span> S<span class="smaller">ERIES</span>, - A<span class="smaller">MERICAN</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - C<span class="smaller">ENTURY</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span>. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - John S. Sargent: Nonchalance. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0044">44</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - Carl Marr: The Landscape-Painter. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0110">110</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - Frank W. Benson: My Daughter. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 264 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - A<span class="smaller">UTO</span>-C<span class="smaller">OMRADE</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Robert Haven Schauffler - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 850 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - A<span class="smaller">VOCATS</span>, L<span class="smaller">ES</span> - D<span class="smaller">EUX</span>. - From the painting by - </td> - <td class="author"> - Honoré Daumier - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum" colspan="2"> - Facing page 654 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - B<span class="smaller">ALKAN</span> P<span class="smaller">ENINSULA</span>, - S<span class="smaller">KIRTING THE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Robert Hichens - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - III. The Environs of Athens. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0084">84</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by Jules Guérin and from photographs. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - IV. Delphi and Olympia. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 224 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by Jules Guérin and from photographs. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - V. In Constantinople. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 374 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by Jules Guérin and from photographs. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - VI. Stamboul, the City of Mosques. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 519 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by Jules Guérin, two printed in color. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - B<span class="smaller">EELZEBUB</span> C<span class="smaller">AME TO THE</span> - C<span class="smaller">ONVENT</span>, H<span class="smaller">OW</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Ethel Watts Mumford - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 323 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by N. C. Wyeth. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - “B<span class="smaller">LACK</span> B<span class="smaller">LOOD.</span>” - </td> - <td class="author"> - Edward Lyell Fox - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 213 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by William H. Foster. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - B<span class="smaller">OOK OF HIS</span> H<span class="smaller">EART</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Allan Updegraff - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 701 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by Herman Pfeifer. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - B<span class="smaller">ORROWED</span> L<span class="smaller">OVER</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - L. Frank Tooker - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 348 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - B<span class="smaller">RITISH</span> - U<span class="smaller">NCOMMUNICATIVENESS</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - A. C. Benson - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 567 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - B<span class="smaller">ROTHER</span> L<span class="smaller">EO</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Phyllis Bottome - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 181 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by W. T. Benda. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - B<span class="smaller">USINESS IN THE</span> - O<span class="smaller">RIENT</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Harry A. Franck - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 475 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - C<span class="smaller">AMILLA</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span> - F<span class="smaller">IRST</span> A<span class="smaller">FFAIR</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Gertrude Hall - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 400 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by Emil Pollak-Ottendorff. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span> - C<span class="smaller">ARTOONS</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - Noise Extracted without Pain. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Oliver Herford - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0155a">155</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - Foreign Labor. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Oliver Herford - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 477 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - Ninety Degrees in the Shade. - </td> - <td class="author"> - J. R. Shaver - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 477 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - A Boy’s Best Friend. - </td> - <td class="author"> - May Wilson Preston - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 634 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - “The Fifth Avenue Girl” and “A Bit of Gossip.” Sculpture by - </td> - <td class="author"> - Ethel Myers - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 635 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - The Child de Luxe. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Boardman Robinson - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 636 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - The “Elite” Bathing-Dress. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Reginald Birch - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 797 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - From Grave to Gay. - </td> - <td class="author"> - C. F. Peters - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 798 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - Died: Rondeau Rymbel. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Oliver Herford - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 955 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - A Triumph for the Fresh Air Fund. - </td> - <td class="author"> - F. R. Gruger - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 957 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - Newport Note. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Reginald Birch - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 960 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - C<span class="smaller">ASUS</span> B<span class="smaller">ELLI</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 955 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - C<span class="smaller">ENTURY</span>, <span class="smaller">THE</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> S<span class="smaller">PIRIT OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 789 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - C<span class="smaller">HOATE</span>, J<span class="smaller">OSEPH</span> H. - From a charcoal portrait by - </td> - <td class="author"> - John S. Sargent - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum" colspan="2"> - Facing page 711 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - C<span class="smaller">HRISTMAS</span>, O<span class="smaller">N</span> - A<span class="smaller">LLOWING THE</span> E<span class="smaller">DITOR TO</span> - S<span class="smaller">HOP</span> E<span class="smaller">ARLY FOR</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Leonard Hatch - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 473 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - C<span class="smaller">LOWN</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span> - R<span class="smaller">UE</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Hugh Johnson - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 730 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture, printed in tint, by H. C. Dunn. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - C<span class="smaller">OLE</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span> - (T<span class="smaller">IMOTHY</span>) E<span class="smaller">NGRAVINGS OF</span> - M<span class="smaller">ASTERPIECES IN</span> A<span class="smaller">MERICAN</span> - G<span class="smaller">ALLERIES</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - Une Dame Espagnole. From the painting by - </td> - <td class="author"> - Fortuny - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0002">2</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - C<span class="smaller">OMING</span> S<span class="smaller">NEEZE</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Harry Stillwell Edwards - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 368 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by F. R. Gruger. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - C<span class="smaller">OMMON</span> S<span class="smaller">ENSE IN THE</span> - W<span class="smaller">HITE</span> H<span class="smaller">OUSE</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#COMMON_SENSE_IN_THE_WHITE_HOUSE">149</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - C<span class="smaller">OUNTRY</span> R<span class="smaller">OADS OF</span> - N<span class="smaller">EW</span> E<span class="smaller">NGLAND</span>. Drawings by - </td> - <td class="author"> - Walter King Stone - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 668 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - D<span class="smaller">EVIL</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span>, - H<span class="smaller">IS</span> D<span class="smaller">UE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Philip Curtiss - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 895 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - D<span class="smaller">INNER OF</span> H<span class="smaller">ERBS</span>,” - “B<span class="smaller">ETTER IS A</span>. Picture by - </td> - <td class="author"> - Edmund Dulac - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum" colspan="2"> - Facing page 801 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - D<span class="smaller">ORMER</span>-W<span class="smaller">INDOW</span>, - <span class="smaller">THE</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - C<span class="smaller">OUNTRY OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Henry Dwight Sedgwick - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 720 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by W. T. Benda. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - D<span class="smaller">OROTHY</span> M<span class="smaller">C</span>K——, - P<span class="smaller">ORTRAIT OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Wilhelm Funk - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 211 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - D<span class="smaller">OWN</span>-<span class="smaller">TOWN IN</span> - N<span class="smaller">EW</span> Y<span class="smaller">ORK</span> - Drawings by - </td> - <td class="author"> - Herman Webster - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 697 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - E<span class="smaller">LEPHANT</span> - R<span class="smaller">OUND</span>-<span class="smaller">UP</span>, - A<span class="smaller">N</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - D. P. B. Conkling - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 236 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures from photographs. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - E<span class="smaller">LEPHANTS</span>, - W<span class="smaller">ILD</span>, N<span class="smaller">OOSING</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Charles Moser - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 240 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures from photographs. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - E<span class="smaller">LIXIR OF</span> - Y<span class="smaller">OUTH</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Albert Bigelow Paine - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0021">21</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by O. F. Schmidt. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - F<span class="smaller">LOODS</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> G<span class="smaller">REAT</span>, - <span class="smaller">IN THE</span> M<span class="smaller">IDDLE</span> - W<span class="smaller">EST</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#THE_GREAT_FLOODS_IN_THE_MIDDLE_WEST">148</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - F<span class="smaller">RENCH</span> A<span class="smaller">RT</span>, - E<span class="smaller">XAMPLES OF</span> - C<span class="smaller">ONTEMPORARY</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - A Corner of the Table. From the painting by - </td> - <td class="author"> - Charles Chabas - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0083">83</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - G<span class="smaller">ARAGE IN THE</span> - S<span class="smaller">UNSHINE</span>, A - </td> - <td class="author"> - Joseph Ernest - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 921 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by Harry Raleigh. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - G<span class="smaller">ET</span> S<span class="smaller">OMETHING BY</span> - G<span class="smaller">IVING</span> S<span class="smaller">OMETHING</span> - U<span class="smaller">P</span>, O<span class="smaller">N</span> - H<span class="smaller">OW TO</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Simeon Strunsky - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#ON_HOW_TO_GET_SOMETHING">153</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - G<span class="smaller">HOSTS</span>,” - “D<span class="smaller">EY</span> A<span class="smaller">IN’T</span> - N<span class="smaller">O</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Ellis Parker Butler - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 837 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by Charles Sarka. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - G<span class="smaller">OING</span> U<span class="smaller">P</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Frederick Lewis Allen - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 632 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by Reginald Birch. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - G<span class="smaller">OLF</span>, M<span class="smaller">IND</span> - V<span class="smaller">ERSUS</span> M<span class="smaller">USCLE IN</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Marshall Whitlatch - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 606 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - G<span class="smaller">OVERNMENT</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - C<span class="smaller">HANGING</span> V<span class="smaller">IEW OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 311 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - G<span class="smaller">RAND</span> C<span class="smaller">AÑON OF THE</span> - C<span class="smaller">OLORADO</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Joseph Pennell - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 202 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Six lithographs drawn from nature for “The Century.” - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - G<span class="smaller">UTTER</span>-N<span class="smaller">ICKEL</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Estelle Loomis - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 570 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by J. Montgomery Flagg. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - H<span class="smaller">ARD</span> M<span class="smaller">ONEY</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> R<span class="smaller">ETURN TO</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Charles A. Conant - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 439 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Portraits, and cartoons by Thomas Nast. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - H<span class="smaller">ER</span> O<span class="smaller">WN</span> - L<span class="smaller">IFE</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Allan Updegraff - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0079">79</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - H<span class="smaller">OME</span>. I. A<span class="smaller">N</span> - A<span class="smaller">NONYMOUS</span> N<span class="smaller">OVEL</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 801 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Illustrations by Reginald Birch. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span> - H<span class="smaller">OMER AND</span> - H<span class="smaller">UMBUG</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Stephen Leacock - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 952 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - H<span class="smaller">YPERBOLE IN</span> - A<span class="smaller">DVERTISING</span>, O<span class="smaller">N THE</span> - U<span class="smaller">SE OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Agnes Repplier - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 316 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - I<span class="smaller">LLUSION OF</span> - P<span class="smaller">ROGRESS</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Kenyon Cox - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0038a">39</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - I<span class="smaller">MPRACTICAL</span> M<span class="smaller">AN</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Elliott Flower - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 549 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by F. R. Gruger. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - I<span class="smaller">NTERNATIONAL</span> C<span class="smaller">LUB</span>, - <span class="smaller">THE</span>, O<span class="smaller">N THE</span> - C<span class="smaller">OLLAPSE OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - G. K. Chesterton - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#ON_THE_COLLAPSE_OF_THE_INTERNATIONAL_CLUB">151</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - J<span class="smaller">APANESE</span> C<span class="smaller">HILD</span>, - <span class="smaller">A</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - T<span class="smaller">RAINING OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Frances Little - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 170 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures from photographs. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - J<span class="smaller">APAN</span>, <span class="smaller">THE</span> - N<span class="smaller">EW</span>, A<span class="smaller">MERICAN</span> - M<span class="smaller">AKERS OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - William Elliot Griffis - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 597 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures from photographs. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - J<span class="smaller">EFFERSON</span>, T<span class="smaller">HOMAS.</span> - From the statue for the Jefferson Memorial in St. Louis by - </td> - <td class="author"> - Karl Bitter - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0027">27</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - J<span class="smaller">URYMAN</span>, <span class="smaller">THE</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> M<span class="smaller">IND OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Hugo Münsterberg - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 711 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - L<span class="smaller">ADY AND HER</span> - B<span class="smaller">OOK</span>, <span class="smaller">THE</span>, - O<span class="smaller">N</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Helen Minturn Seymour - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 315 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - L<span class="smaller">AWLESSNESS IN</span> - A<span class="smaller">RT</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#LAWLESSNESS_IN_ART">150</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - L<span class="smaller">IFE</span> A<span class="smaller">FTER</span> - D<span class="smaller">EATH</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Maurice Maeterlinck - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 655 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - L<span class="smaller">ITERATURE</span> - F<span class="smaller">ACTORY</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - E. P. Butler - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 638 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - L<span class="smaller">OUISE</span>. Color-Tone, from the - marble bust by - </td> - <td class="author"> - Evelyn Beatrice Longman - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum" colspan="2"> - Facing page 766 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - L<span class="smaller">OVE BY</span> - L<span class="smaller">IGHTNING</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Maria Thompson Daviess - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 641 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures, printed in tint, by F. R. Gruger. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">ANNERING</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span> - M<span class="smaller">EN</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Marjorie L. C. Pickthall - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 427 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">AN WHO DID NOT</span> G<span class="smaller">O TO</span> - H<span class="smaller">EAVEN ON</span> T<span class="smaller">UESDAY</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Ellis Parker Butler - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 340 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">ILLET</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span> - R<span class="smaller">ETURN TO HIS</span> O<span class="smaller">LD</span> - H<span class="smaller">OME</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Truman H. Bartlett - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 332 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures from pastels by Millet. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">ONEY BEHIND THE</span> - G<span class="smaller">UN</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 470 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">ORGAN</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span>, - M<span class="smaller">R</span>., - P<span class="smaller">ERSONALITY</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Joseph B. Gilder - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 459 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture from photograph. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">OVING</span>-<span class="smaller">PICTURE</span>, - <span class="smaller">THE</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - W<span class="smaller">IDENING</span> F<span class="smaller">IELD OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Charles B. Brewer - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0066">66</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures from photographs. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">RS</span>. - L<span class="smaller">ONGBOW</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span> - B<span class="smaller">IOGRAPHY</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Gordon Hall Gerould - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0056">56</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - N<span class="smaller">EMOURS</span>: A - T<span class="smaller">YPICAL</span> F<span class="smaller">RENCH</span> - P<span class="smaller">ROVINCIAL</span> T<span class="smaller">OWN</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Roger Boutet de Monvel - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 844 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by Bernard Boutet de Monvel. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - N<span class="smaller">EWSPAPER</span> - I<span class="smaller">NVASION OF</span> - P<span class="smaller">RIVACY</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 310 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - N<span class="smaller">IAGARA AGAIN IN</span> - D<span class="smaller">ANGER</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#NIAGARA_AGAIN_IN_DANGER">150</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - N<span class="smaller">OTEWORTHY</span> - S<span class="smaller">TORIES OF THE</span> - L<span class="smaller">AST</span> G<span class="smaller">ENERATION</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - The Tachypomp. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Edward P. Mitchell - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0099">99</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Portrait of the author, and drawings by Reginald Birch. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - Belles Demoiselles Plantation. - </td> - <td class="author"> - George W. Cable - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 273 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - With portrait of the author, and new pictures by W. M. Berger. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - The New Minister’s Great Opportunity. - </td> - <td class="author"> - C. H. White - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 390 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - With portrait of the author, and new picture by Harry Townsend. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - O<span class="smaller">NE</span> W<span class="smaller">AY TO MAKE</span> - T<span class="smaller">HINGS</span> - B<span class="smaller">ETTER</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 471 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - O<span class="smaller">REGON</span> - M<span class="smaller">UDDLE</span>,” “T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Victor Rosewater - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 764 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - P<span class="smaller">ADEREWSKI AT</span> - H<span class="smaller">OME</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Abbie H. C. Finck - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 900 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture from a portrait by Emil Fuchs. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - P<span class="smaller">ARIS</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Theodore Dreiser - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 904 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by W. J. Glackens. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - “P<span class="smaller">EGGY</span>.” From the marble bust by - </td> - <td class="author"> - Evelyn Beatrice Longman - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 362 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - P<span class="smaller">OLO</span> T<span class="smaller">EAM</span>, - U<span class="smaller">NDEFEATED</span> A<span class="smaller">MERICAN</span>, - B<span class="smaller">RONZE</span> G<span class="smaller">ROUP OF THE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Herbert Hazeltine - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum" colspan="2"> - Facing page 641 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - P<span class="smaller">ROGRESSIVE</span> - P<span class="smaller">ARTY</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Theodore Roosevelt - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 826 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Portrait of the author. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - P<span class="smaller">UNS</span>, A - P<span class="smaller">APER OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Brander Matthews - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 290 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Head-piece by Reginald Birch. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - R<span class="smaller">EMINGTON</span>, F<span class="smaller">REDERIC</span>, - R<span class="smaller">ECOLLECTIONS OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Augustus Thomas - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 354 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by Frederic Remington, and portrait. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - R<span class="smaller">OMAIN</span> R<span class="smaller">OLLAND</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Alvan F. Sanborn - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 512 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture from portrait of Rolland from a drawing by Granié. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">T</span>. B<span class="smaller">ERNARD</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> G<span class="smaller">REAT</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Ernst von Hesse-Wartegg - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 161 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by André Castaigne. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> - S<span class="smaller">T</span>. E<span class="smaller">LIZABETH OF</span> - H<span class="smaller">UNGARY</span>. By Francisco Zubarán. Engraved - on wood by - </td> - <td class="author"> - Timothy Cole - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 437 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">CARLET</span> T<span class="smaller">ANAGER</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span>. Printed in color from the - painting by - </td> - <td class="author"> - Alfred Brennan - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0029">29</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - “S<span class="smaller">CHEDULE</span> K”. - </td> - <td class="author"> - N. I. Stone - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#Page_111">111</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - “S<span class="smaller">CHEDULE</span> K,” - C<span class="smaller">OMMENTS ON</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 472 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">CULPTURE</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Charles Keck - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 917 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">ENIOR</span> W<span class="smaller">RANGLER</span> - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 958 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - <span class="mleft1">Snobbery—America vs. England.</span><br /> - Our Tender Literary Celebrities. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">IGIRIYA</span>, “T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - L<span class="smaller">ION</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span> - R<span class="smaller">OCK</span>” <span class="smaller">OF</span> - C<span class="smaller">EYLON</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Jennie Coker Gay - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 265 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by Duncan Gay. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">OCIALISM IN THE</span> - C<span class="smaller">OLLEGES</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 468 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">PINSTER</span>, - A<span class="smaller">MERICAN</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Agnes Repplier - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 363 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">UMMER</span> H<span class="smaller">ILLS</span>,” - <span class="smaller">THE</span>, I<span class="smaller">N</span> - “T<span class="smaller">HE</span> C<span class="smaller">IRCUIT OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - John Burroughs - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 878 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Portrait of the author by Alvin L. Coburn. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">UNSET ON THE</span> - M<span class="smaller">ARSHES</span>. - From the painting by - </td> - <td class="author"> - George Inness - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum" colspan="2"> - Facing page 824 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - “T<span class="smaller">HEM</span> O<span class="smaller">LD</span> - M<span class="smaller">OTH</span>-<span class="smaller">EATEN</span> - L<span class="smaller">OVYERS</span>”. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Charles Egbert Craddock - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#THEM_OLD_MOTH-EATEN_LOVYERS">120</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by George Wright. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - T<span class="smaller">RADE OF THE</span> - W<span class="smaller">ORLD</span> P<span class="smaller">APERS</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - James Davenport Whelpley - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - XVII. If Canada were to Annex the United States - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 534 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures from photographs. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - XVIII. The Foreign Trade of the United States - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 886 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - T. T<span class="smaller">EMBAROM</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Frances Hodgson Burnett - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0130">130</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3"> - Drawings by Charles S. Chapman. - </td> - <td class="pgnum" colspan="2"> - 296, 413, 610, 767, 929 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - T<span class="smaller">WO-BILLION-DOLLAR</span> - C<span class="smaller">ONGRESS</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 313 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - U<span class="smaller">NCOMMERCIAL</span> - T<span class="smaller">RAVELER</span>, A<span class="smaller">N</span>, - <span class="smaller">IN</span> L<span class="smaller">ONDON</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Theodore Dreiser - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 736 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by W. J. Glackens. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - U<span class="smaller">NDER WHICH</span> - F<span class="smaller">LAG</span>, L<span class="smaller">ADIES</span>, - O<span class="smaller">RDER OR</span> A<span class="smaller">NARCHY</span>? - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 309 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - V<span class="smaller">ENEZUELA</span> - D<span class="smaller">ISPUTE</span>, <span class="smaller">THE</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> M<span class="smaller">ONROE</span> - D<span class="smaller">OCTRINE IN</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Charles R. Miller - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 750 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Cartoons from “Punch,” and a map. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - V<span class="smaller">ERITA</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span> - S<span class="smaller">TRATAGEM</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Anne Warner - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 430 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - V<span class="smaller">OYAGE</span> - O<span class="smaller">VER</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - F<span class="smaller">IRST</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Theodore Dreiser - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 586 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by W. J. Glackens. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">AGNER</span>, - R<span class="smaller">ICHARD</span>, I<span class="smaller">F</span>, - C<span class="smaller">AME</span> B<span class="smaller">ACK</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Henry T. Finck - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 208 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Portrait of Wagner from photograph. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">ALL</span> S<span class="smaller">TREET</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> N<span class="smaller">EWS IN</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - James L. Ford - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 794 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by Reginald Birch and May Wilson Preston. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">AR AGAINST</span> - W<span class="smaller">AR</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 147 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">AR</span>-<span class="smaller">HORSES OF</span> - F<span class="smaller">AMOUS</span> G<span class="smaller">ENERALS</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - James Grant Wilson - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#WAR-HORSES_OF_FAMOUS_GENERALS">45</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures from paintings and photographs. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">AR</span> W<span class="smaller">ORTH</span> - W<span class="smaller">AGING</span>, A - </td> - <td class="author"> - Richard Barry - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0031">31</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by Jay Hambidge. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">ASHINGTON</span>, - F<span class="smaller">RESH</span> L<span class="smaller">IGHT ON</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 635 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">ATTERSON</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span>, - C<span class="smaller">OLONEL</span>, R<span class="smaller">EJOINDER TO</span> - E<span class="smaller">X</span>-S<span class="smaller">ENATOR</span> - E<span class="smaller">DMUNDS</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Henry Watterson - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 285 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - Comments on “Another View of ‘The Hayes-Tilden Contest.’” - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">HISTLER</span>, A - V<span class="smaller">ISIT TO</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Maria Torrilhon Buel - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 694 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">HITE</span> L<span class="smaller">INEN</span> - N<span class="smaller">URSE</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Eleanor Hallowell Abbott - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 483 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3"> - Pictures, printed in tint, by Herman Pfeifer. - </td> - <td class="pgnum" colspan="2"> - 672, 857 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">IDOW</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span>. - From the painting by - </td> - <td class="author"> - Couture - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 457 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - An example of French portraiture. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">ORLD</span> - R<span class="smaller">EFORMERS</span>—<span class="smaller">AND</span> - D<span class="smaller">USTERS</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - The Senior Wrangler - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 792 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by Reginald Birch. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - Y<span class="smaller">EAR</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - M<span class="smaller">OST</span> - I<span class="smaller">MPORTANT</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Editorial - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 951 - </td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="s4 center mtop2 break-before">VERSE</p> - -<table class="toc mtop1" summary="Verses, May-October"> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - B<span class="smaller">ALLADE OF</span> - P<span class="smaller">ROTEST</span>, A - </td> - <td class="author"> - Carolyn Wells - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 476 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - B<span class="smaller">EGGAR</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - James W. Foley - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 877 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - B<span class="smaller">ELLE</span> D<span class="smaller">AME</span> - S<span class="smaller">ANS</span> M<span class="smaller">ERCI</span>, - L<span class="smaller">A</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - John Keats - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 388 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Republished with pictures by Stanley M. Arthurs. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - B<span class="smaller">LANK</span> P<span class="smaller">AGE</span>, - F<span class="smaller">OR A</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Austin Dobson - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 458 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - B<span class="smaller">ROTHER</span> M<span class="smaller">INGO</span> - M<span class="smaller">ILLENYUM</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span> - O<span class="smaller">RDINATION</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Ruth McEnery Stuart - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 475 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - C<span class="smaller">ONTINUED IN THE</span> - A<span class="smaller">DS</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Sarah Redington - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 795 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - C<span class="smaller">UBIST</span> - R<span class="smaller">OMANCE</span>, A - </td> - <td class="author"> - Oliver Herford - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 318 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by Oliver Herford. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - D<span class="smaller">ADDY</span> - D<span class="smaller">O</span>-F<span class="smaller">UNNY</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span>, - O<span class="smaller">LD</span>, W<span class="smaller">ISDOM</span> - J<span class="smaller">INGLES</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Ruth McEnery Stuart - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#OLD_DADDY_DO-FUNNYS_WISDOM_JINGLES">154</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum" colspan="2"> - 319, 478 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - D<span class="smaller">OUBLE</span> - S<span class="smaller">TAR</span>, A - </td> - <td class="author"> - Leroy Titus Weeks - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 511 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - E<span class="smaller">MERGENCY</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - William Rose Benét - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 916 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - E<span class="smaller">XPERIMENTERS</span>, - <span class="smaller">THE</span>, T<span class="smaller">O</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Charles Badger Clark, Jr. - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#TO_THE_EXPERIMENTERS">43</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - F<span class="smaller">INIS</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - William H. Hayne - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 295 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - G<span class="smaller">ENTLE</span> R<span class="smaller">EADER</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Arthur Davison Ficke - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 692 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - H<span class="smaller">OUSE-WITHOUT</span>-R<span class="smaller">OOF</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Edith M. Thomas - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 339 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - H<span class="smaller">USBAND</span> S<span class="smaller">HOP</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Oliver Herford - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 956 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by Oliver Herford. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - I<span class="smaller">NVULNERABLE</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - William Rose Benét - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 308 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - J<span class="smaller">USTICE</span>, A<span class="smaller">T THE</span> - C<span class="smaller">LOSED</span> - G<span class="smaller">ATES OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - James D. Corrothers - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 272 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - L<span class="smaller">ADY</span> C<span class="smaller">LARA</span> - V<span class="smaller">ERE DE</span> V<span class="smaller">ERE</span>: - N<span class="smaller">EW</span> S<span class="smaller">TYLE</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Anne O’Hagan - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 793 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by E. L. Blumenschein. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - L<span class="smaller">AST</span> F<span class="smaller">AUN</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Helen Minturn Seymour - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 717 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture, printed in tint, by Charles A. Winter. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - L<span class="smaller">AST</span> - M<span class="smaller">ESSAGE</span>, A - </td> - <td class="author"> - Grace Denio Litchfield - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#A_LAST_MESSAGE">26</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - L<span class="smaller">IFE</span>’<span class="smaller">S</span> - A<span class="smaller">SPIRATION</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Louis Untermeyer - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#LIFES_ASPIRATION">156</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Drawing by George Wolfe Plank. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - L<span class="smaller">IMERICKS</span>: - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Text and pictures by Oliver Herford. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - XXVII. The Somnolent Bivalve. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0157">157</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - XXVIII. The Ounce of Detention. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0158">158</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - XXIX. The Kind Armadillo. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 320 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - XXX. The Gnat and the Gnu. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 479 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - XXXI. The Sole-Hungering Camel. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 480 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - XXXII. The Eternal Feminine. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 639 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - XXXIII. Tra-la-Larceny. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 640 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - XXXIV. The Conservative Owl. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 799 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - XXXV. The Omnivorous Book-worm. - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 800 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - L<span class="smaller">ITTLE</span> P<span class="smaller">EOPLE</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Amelia Josephine Burr - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 387 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">AETERLINCK</span>, - M<span class="smaller">AURICE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Stephen Phillips - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 467 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">ARVELOUS</span> - M<span class="smaller">UNCHAUSEN</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - William Rose Benét - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 563 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by Oliver Herford. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">AY</span>, <span class="smaller">FROM MY</span> - W<span class="smaller">INDOW</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Frances Rose Benét - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0155">155</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Drawing by Oliver Herford. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">ESSAGE</span> <span class="smaller">FROM</span> - I<span class="smaller">TALY</span>, A - </td> - <td class="author"> - Margaret Widdemer - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 547 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Drawing printed in tint by W. T. Benda. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">OTHER</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Timothy Cole - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 920 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by Alpheus Cole. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">Y</span> C<span class="smaller">ONSCIENCE</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - James Whitcomb Riley - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 331 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Decoration by Oliver Herford. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - M<span class="smaller">YSELF</span>,” - “I S<span class="smaller">ING OF</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Louis Untermeyer - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 960 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - N<span class="smaller">EW</span> A<span class="smaller">RT</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Corinne Rockwell Swain - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#THE_NEW_ART">156</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> - N<span class="smaller">OYES</span>, A<span class="smaller">LFRED</span>, - T<span class="smaller">O</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Edwin Markham - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 288 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - O<span class="smaller">FF</span> C<span class="smaller">APRI</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Sara Teasdale - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 223 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - P<span class="smaller">ARENTS</span>, O<span class="smaller">UR</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Charles Irvin Junkin - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 959 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by Harry Raleigh. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - P<span class="smaller">RAYERS FOR THE</span> - L<span class="smaller">IVING</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Mary W. Plummer - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 367 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - R<span class="smaller">ITUAL</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - William Rose Benét - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 788 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - R<span class="smaller">OYAL</span> M<span class="smaller">UMMY</span>, - T<span class="smaller">O A</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Anna Glen Stoddard - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 631 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - R<span class="smaller">YMBELS</span>: - </td> - <td class="author"> - - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Pictures by Oliver Herford. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - The Girl and the Raspberry Ice. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Oliver Herford - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 637 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - The Yellow Vase. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Charles Hanson Towne - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 637 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - Tragedy. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Theodosia Garrison - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 638 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - “On Revient toujours à Son Premier Amour”. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Oliver Herford - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 638 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - A Rymbel of Rhymers. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Carolyn Wells - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 796 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - The Prudent Lover. - </td> - <td class="author"> - L. Frank Tooker - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 797 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject2"> - On a Portrait of Nancy. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Carolyn Wells - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 797 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">AME</span> O<span class="smaller">LD</span> - L<span class="smaller">URE</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Berton Braley - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 478 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">CARLET</span> - T<span class="smaller">ANAGER</span>, T<span class="smaller">O A</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Grace Hazard Conkling - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#i_0028">28</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">IERRA</span> M<span class="smaller">ADRE</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Henry Van Dyke - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 347 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">OCRATIC</span> - A<span class="smaller">RGUMENT</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - John Carver Alden - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 960 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - S<span class="smaller">UBMARINE</span> - M<span class="smaller">OUNTAINS</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Cale Young Rice - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 693 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - T<span class="smaller">RIOLET</span>, A - </td> - <td class="author"> - Leroy Titus Weeks - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 636 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">INE OF</span> - N<span class="smaller">IGHT</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Louis Untermeyer - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#THE_WINE_OF_NIGHT">119</a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">INGÈD</span> - V<span class="smaller">ICTORY</span>. - </td> - <td class="author"> - Victor Whitlock - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 596 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Photograph and decoration. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - W<span class="smaller">ISE</span> S<span class="smaller">AINT</span>, - T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Herman Da Costa - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - 798 - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject3" colspan="3"> - Picture by W. T. Benda. - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="subject"> - Y<span class="smaller">OUNG</span> H<span class="smaller">EART IN</span> - A<span class="smaller">GE</span>, T<span class="smaller">HE</span> - </td> - <td class="author"> - Edith M. Thomas - </td> - <td class="pgnum"> - <a href="#THE_YOUNG_HEART_IN_AGE">78</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="end_of_toc" name="end_of_toc"> - <img class="mtop3 mbot3" src="images/end_of_toc.jpg" - alt="Decoration" /></a> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter break-before"> - <a id="i_0001" name="i_0001"> - <img class="mtop3 mbot3" src="images/i_0001.jpg" - alt="Publisher's Mark" /></a> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a>[Pg 2]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="TIMOTHY_COLES_WOOD_ENGRAVINGS">TIMOTHY COLE’S -WOOD ENGRAVINGS OF MASTERPIECES IN AMERICAN GALLERIES</h2> - -<p class="s3 center">UNE DAME ESPAGNOLE</p> - -<p class="s5 center">BY</p> - -<p class="s4 center">FORTUNY</p> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0002" name="i_0002"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0002.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Owned by the Metropolitan Museum, New York</p> - <p class="s5 center">UNE DAME ESPAGNOLE. BY FORTUNY</p> - <p class="s6 center mbot1">(TIMOTHY COLE’S WOOD ENGRAVINGS OF MASTERPIECES - IN AMERICAN GALLERIES)</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2 ebhide"><a href="images/i_0002_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> - -<p class="s6 center">Copyright 1913, by T<span class="smaller">HE</span> C<span class="smaller">ENTURY</span> C<span class="smaller">O.</span> All rights reserved.</p> - -</div> - -<p class="s1 center mtop3 mbot1">T<span class="smaller">HE</span> -C<span class="smaller">ENTURY</span> M<span class="smaller">AGAZINE</span></p> - -<div class="header_tab center padb2"> - <div class="table_row"> - <div class="table_cell"> - V<span class="smaller">OL</span>. LXXXVI - </div> - <div class="table_cell"> - MAY, 1913 - </div> - <div class="table_cell"> - N<span class="smaller">O</span>. 1 - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 class="padt3" id="THE_HAYES-TILDEN_CONTEST_FOR_THE_PRESIDENCY">THE -HAYES-TILDEN CONTEST FOR THE PRESIDENCY</h2> - -<p class="s3 center">INSIDE HISTORY OF A GREAT POLITICAL CRISIS</p> - -<p class="s4 center">(THE CENTURY’S AFTER-THE-WAR SERIES)</p> - -<p class="s2 center"><span class="smaller">BY HENRY WATTERSON</span></p> - -<p class="s6 center">Editor of the Louisville “Courier-Journal”</p> - -<h3 id="I_HAYES_TILDEN">I</h3> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">T</span>HE time is coming, if it has not already arrived, when among -fair-minded and intelligent Americans there will not be two opinions -touching the Hayes-Tilden contest for the Presidency in 1876–77—that -both by the popular vote and a fair count of the electoral vote Tilden -was elected and Hayes was defeated—but the whole truth underlying the -determinate incidents which led to the rejection of Tilden and the -seating of Hayes will never be known.</p> - -<p>“All history is a lie,” observed Sir Robert Walpole, the corruptionist, -mindful of what was likely to be written about himself, and, “What is -history,” asked Napoleon, the conqueror, “but a fable agreed upon?”</p> - -<p>In the first administration of Mr. Cleveland, there were present -at a dinner-table in Washington, the President being of the party, -two leading Democrats and two leading Republicans who had sustained -confidential relations to the principals and played important parts -in the drama of the Disputed Succession. These latter had been long -upon terms of personal intimacy. The occasion was informal and joyous, -the good-fellowship of the heartiest. Inevitably the conversation -drifted to the Electoral Commission, which had counted Tilden out -and Hayes in, and of which each of the four had some story to tell. -Beginning in banter, with interchanges of badinage, it presently fell -into reminiscence, deepening as the interest of the listeners rose to -what under different conditions might have been described as unguarded -gaiety, if not imprudent garrulity. The little audience<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> was rapt. -Finally, Mr. Cleveland raised both hands and exclaimed, “What would -the people of this country think if the roof could be lifted from this -house and they could hear these men!” And then one of the four, a -gentleman noted for his wealth both of money and humor, replied, “But -the roof is not going to be lifted from this house, and if any one -repeats what I have said I will denounce him as a liar.”</p> - -<p>Once in a while the world is startled by some revelation of the unknown -which alters the estimate of an historic event or figure; but it is -measurably true, as Metternich declares, that those who make history -rarely have time to write it.</p> - -<p>It is not my wish in recurring to the events of five-and-thirty years -ago to invoke and awaken any of the passions of that time, nor my -purpose to assail the character or motives of any of the leading -actors. Most of them, including the principals, I knew well; to many -of their secrets I was privy. As I was serving, in a sense, as Mr. -Tilden’s personal representative in the Lower House of the Forty-fourth -Congress, and as a member of the joint Democratic Advisory or Steering -Committee of the two Houses, all that passed came more or less, if not -under my supervision, yet to my knowledge; and long ago I resolved -that certain matters should remain a sealed book in my memory. I make -no issue of veracity with the living; the dead should be sacred. The -contradictory promptings, not always crooked; the double constructions -possible to men’s actions; the intermingling of ambition and patriotism -beneath the lash of party spirit; often wrong unconscious of itself; -sometimes equivocation deceiving itself; in short, the tangled web of -good and ill inseparable from great affairs of loss and gain, made -debatable ground for every step of the Hayes-Tilden proceeding.</p> - -<p>I shall bear sure testimony to the integrity of Mr. Tilden. I directly -know that the Presidency was offered to him for a price and that he -refused it; and I indirectly know and believe that two other offers -came to him which also he declined. The accusation that he was willing -to buy, and through the cipher despatches and other ways tried to buy, -rests upon appearance supporting mistaken surmise. Mr. Tilden knew -nothing of the cipher despatches until they appeared in the “New-York -Tribune.” Neither did Mr. George W. Smith, his private secretary, and -later one of the trustees to his will. It should be sufficient to say -that, so far as they involved No. 15 Gramercy Park, they were the work -solely of Colonel Pelton, acting on his own responsibility, and, as -Mr. Tilden’s nephew, exceeding his authority to act; that it later -developed that during this period Colonel Pelton had not been in his -perfect mind, but was at least semi-irresponsible; and that on two -occasions when the vote or votes sought seemed within reach, Mr. Tilden -interposed to forbid. Directly and personally, I know this to be true.</p> - -<p>The price, at least in patronage, which the Republicans actually paid -for possession is of public record. Yet I not only do not question -the integrity of Mr. Hayes, but I believe him, and most of those -immediately about him, to have been high-minded men who thought they -were doing for the best in a situation unparalleled and beset with -perplexity. What they did tends to show that men will do for party and -in concert what the same men never would be willing to do each on his -own responsibility. In his “Life of Samuel J. Tilden,” John Bigelow -says:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Why persons occupying the most exalted positions should have -ventured to compromise their reputations by this deliberate -consummation of a series of crimes which struck at the very -foundations of the Republic, is a question which still puzzles -many of all parties who have no charity for the crimes themselves. -I have already referred to the terrors and desperation with which -the prospect of Tilden’s election inspired the great army of -office-holders at the close of Grant’s administration. That army, -numerous and formidable as it was, was comparatively limited. -There was a much larger and justly influential class who were -apprehensive that the return of the Democratic party to power -threatened a reactionary policy at Washington, to the undoing of -some or all the important results of the war. These apprehensions -were inflamed by the party press until they were confined to no -class, but more or less pervaded all the Northern States. The -Electoral Tribunal, consisting mainly of men appointed to their -positions by Republican<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> Presidents, or elected from strong -Republican States, felt the pressure of this feeling, and from -motives compounded in more or less varying proportions of dread of -the Democrats, personal ambition, zeal for their party, and respect -for their constituents, reached the conclusion that the exclusion -of Tilden from the White House was an end which justified whatever -means were necessary to accomplish it. They regarded it like the -emancipation of the slaves, as a war measure.</p></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0005" name="i_0005"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0005.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">PRESIDENT AND MRS. HAYES IN 1877, AT THE TIME<br /> - OF THEIR SILVER WEDDING</p> -</div> - -<div class="section"> - -<h3 id="II_HAYES_TILDEN">II</h3> - -</div> - -<p class="p0">T<span class="smaller">HE</span> nomination of Horace Greeley in 1872 and the overwhelming defeat -that followed left the Democratic party in an abyss of despair. The old -Whig party, after the disaster that overtook it in 1852, had been not -more demoralized. Yet in the general elections of 1874 the Democrats -swept the country, carrying many Northern States and sending a great -majority to the Forty-fourth Congress.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0006" name="i_0006"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0006.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph by W. Kurtz</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">SAMUEL J. TILDEN, GOVERNOR OF - NEW YORK, 1875–76</p> -</div> - -<div class="figleft"> - <a id="i_0007_1" name="i_0007_1"> - <img src="images/i_0007_1.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph owned by F. H. Meserve</p> - <p class="s5 center">SENATOR ZACHARIAH CHANDLER</p> - <p class="s6 center">Chairman of the Republican National Committee<br /> - in the Hayes-Tilden campaign.</p> -</div> - -<p>Reconstruction was breaking down of its very weight and rottenness. The -panic of 1873 reacted against the party in power. Dissatisfaction with -Grant, which had not sufficed two years before to displace him, was -growing apace. Favoritism bred corruption, and corruption grew more and -more defiant. Succeeding, scandals cast their shadows before. Chickens -of “carpet-baggery” let loose upon the South were coming home to roost -at the North. There appeared everywhere a noticeable subsidence of the -sectional spirit and a rising tide of the national spirit. Reform was -needed alike in the State governments and the National government, and -the cry for reform proved something other than an idle word. All things -made for Democracy.</p> - -<p>Yet there were many and serious handicaps. The light and leading of -the historic Democratic party which had issued from the South were in -obscurity and abeyance, while most of those surviving who had been -distinguished in the party conduct and counsels were disabled by act -of Congress. Of the few prominent Democrats left at the North, many -were tainted by what was called Copperheadism (sympathy with the -Confederacy). To find a chieftain wholly free from this contamination, -Democracy, having failed of success in presidential campaigns not -only with Greeley but with McClellan and Seymour, was turning to such -disaffected Republicans as Chase, Field, and Davis of the Supreme -Court. At last Heaven seemed to smile from the clouds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> upon the -disordered ranks and to summon thence a man meeting the requirements of -the time. This was Samuel Jones Tilden.</p> - -<div class="figleft"> - <a id="i_0007_2" name="i_0007_2"> - <img src="images/i_0007_2.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph by Sherman & McHug</p> - <p class="s5 center">CONGRESSMAN ABRAM S. HEWITT</p> - <p class="s6 center">Chairman of the Democratic National Committee<br /> - in the Hayes-Tilden campaign.</p> -</div> - -<p>To his familiars, Mr. Tilden was a dear old bachelor who lived in -a fine old mansion in Gramercy Park. Though sixty years of age, he -seemed in the prime of his manhood; a genial and overflowing scholar; -a trained and earnest doctrinaire; a public-spirited, patriotic -citizen, well known and highly esteemed, who had made fame and fortune -at the bar and had always been interested in public affairs. He was a -dreamer with a genius for business, a philosopher yet an organizer. He -pursued the tenor of his life with measured tread. His domestic fabric -was disfigured by none of the isolation and squalor which so often -attend the confirmed celibate. His home life was a model of order and -decorum, his home as unchallenged as a bishopric, its hospitality, -though select, profuse and untiring. An elder sister presided at his -board, as simple, kindly, and unostentatious, but as methodical as -himself. He was a lover of books rather than music and art, but also -of horses and dogs and out-of-door activity. He was fond of young -people, particularly of young girls; he drew them about him, and was a -veritable Sir Roger de Coverley in his gallantries toward them and his -zeal in amusing them and making them happy. His tastes were frugal and -their indulgence was sparing. He took his wine not plenteously, though -he enjoyed it—especially his “blue seal” while it lasted—and sipped -his whisky-and-water on occasion with a pleased composure redolent of -discursive talk, of which, when he cared to lead the conversation, he -was a master. He had early come into a great legal practice and held -a commanding professional position. His judgment was believed to be -infallible; and it is certain that after 1871 he rarely appeared in the -courts of law except as counselor, settling in chambers most of the -cases that came to him.</p> - -<p>It was such a man whom, in 1874, the Democrats nominated for Governor -of New York. To say truth, it was not thought by those making the -nomination that he had much chance to win. He was himself so much -better advised that months ahead he prefigured very near the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> exact -vote. The afternoon of the day of election one of the group of friends, -who even thus early had the Presidency in mind, found him in his -library confident and calm.</p> - -<p>“What majority will you have?” he asked cheerily.</p> - -<p>“Any,” replied the friend sententiously.</p> - -<p>“How about fifteen thousand?”</p> - -<p>“Quite enough.”</p> - -<p>“Twenty-five thousand?”</p> - -<p>“Still better.”</p> - -<p>“The majority,” he said, “will be a little in excess of fifty -thousand.” It was 53,315. His estimate was not guesswork. He had -organized his campaign by school-districts. His canvass system -was perfect, his canvassers were as penetrating and careful as -census-takers. He had before him reports from every voting precinct -in the State. They were corroborated by the official returns. He had -defeated General John A. Dix, thought to be invincible, by a majority -very nearly the same as that by which Governor Dix had been elected two -years before.</p> - -<div class="section"> - -<h3 id="III_HAYES_TILDEN">III</h3> - -</div> - -<p class="p0">T<span class="smaller">HE</span> time and the man had met. Although Mr. Tilden had not before held -executive office, he was ripe and ready for the work. His experience -in the pursuit and overthrow of the Tweed Ring in New York, the great -metropolis, had prepared and fitted him to deal with the Canal Ring at -Albany, the State Capital. Administrative Reform was now uppermost in -the public mind, and here in the Empire State of the Union had come -to the head of affairs a Chief Magistrate at once exact and exacting, -deeply versed not only in legal lore but in a knowledge of the methods -by which political power was being turned to private profit, and of -the men—Democrats as well as Republicans—who were preying upon the -substance of the people.</p> - -<p>The story of the two years that followed relates to investigations that -investigated, to prosecutions that convicted, to the overhauling of the -civil fabric, to the rehabilitation of popular censorship, to reduced -estimates and lower taxes.</p> - -<p>The campaign for the presidential nomination began as early as the -autumn of 1875. The Southern end of it was easy enough. A committee of -Southerners residing in New York was formed. Never a leading Southern -man came to town who was not “seen.” If of enough importance, he was -taken to No. 15 Gramercy Park. Mr. Tilden measured to the Southern -standard of the gentleman in politics. He impressed the disfranchised -Southern leaders as a statesman of the old order and altogether after -their own idea of what a President ought to be. The South came to St. -Louis, the seat of the National Convention, represented by its foremost -citizens and almost a unit for the Governor of New York. The main -opposition sprang from Tammany Hall, of which John Kelly was then the -Chief. Its very extravagance proved an advantage to Tilden. Two days -before the meeting of the Convention I sent this message to Mr. Tilden: -“Tell Blackstone [his favorite riding horse] that he wins in a walk.” -The anti-Tilden men put up the Hon. S. S. (“Sunset”) Cox, for Temporary -Chairman. It was a clever move. Mr. Cox, though sure for Tammany, was -popular everywhere and especially at the South. His backers thought -that with him they could count upon a majority of the National -Committee.</p> - -<p>The night before the assembling, Mr. Tilden’s two or three leading -friends on the Committee came to me and said: “We can elect you -Chairman over Cox, but no one else.” I demurred at once. “I don’t know -one rule of parliamentary law from another,” I said. “We will have the -best parliamentarian on the continent right by you all the time,” they -said. “I can’t see to recognize a man on the floor of the convention,” -I said. “We’ll have a dozen men to tell you,” they replied. So it was -arranged, and thus at the last moment I was chosen.</p> - -<p>I had barely time to write the required “key-note” speech, but -not to commit it to memory, nor sight to read it, even had I been -willing to adopt that mode of delivery. It would not do to trust to -extemporization. A friend, Colonel Stoddard Johnston, who was familiar -with my penmanship, came to the rescue. Concealing my manuscript behind -his hat, he lined the words out to me between the cheering, I having -mastered a few opening sentences.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0009" name="i_0009"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0009.jpg" alt="" /></a> - - <div class="header_tab center"> - <div class="table_row"> - <div class="table_cell"> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph owned by F. H. Meserve</p> - <p class="center"><span class="s5">THOMAS F. BAYARD</span><br /> - <span class="s6">of Delaware</span></p> - <p class="s6 center mtop1">From a photograph by Brady</p> - <p class="center"><span class="s5">FRANCIS KERNAN</span><br /> - <span class="s6">of New York</span></p> - </div> - <div class="table_cell vam"> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell</p> - <p class="center"><span class="s5">ALLEN G. THURMAN</span><br /> - <span class="s6">of Ohio</span></p> - </div> - <div class="table_cell"> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell</p> - <p class="center"><span class="s5">JOSEPH E. M<span class="smaller">C</span>DONALD</span><br /> - <span class="s6">of Indiana</span></p> - <p class="s6 center mtop1">From a photograph by Brady</p> - <p class="center"><span class="s5">JOHN W. STEVENSON</span><br /> - <span class="s6">of Kentucky</span></p> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - <p class="s6 center mbot1">SENATORS OF THE DEMOCRATIC “ADVISORY - COMMITTEE” IN THE HAYES-TILDEN CONTEST</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2 ebhide"><a href="images/i_0009_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -<p>Luck was with me. It went with a bang—not, however, wholly without -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>detection. -The Indianians, devoted to Hendricks, were very wroth. -“See that fat man behind the hat telling him what to say,” said one to -his neighbor, who answered, “Yes, and wrote it for him, too, I’ll be -bound.”</p> - -<p>One might as well attempt to drive six horses by proxy as preside over -a National Convention by hearsay. I lost my parliamentarian at once. I -just made my parliamentary law as we went. Never before nor since did -any deliberative body proceed under manual so startling and original. -But I delivered each ruling with a resonance—it were better called -an impudence—which had an air of authority. There was a good deal of -quiet laughter on the floor among the knowing ones, though I knew the -mass was as ignorant as I was myself; but, realizing that I meant to -be just and was expediting business, the Convention soon warmed to -me, and, feeling this, I began to be perfectly at home. I never had a -better day’s sport in all my life.</p> - -<p>One incident was particularly amusing. Much against my will and over my -protest, I was brought to promise that Miss Phœbe Couzins, who bore -a Woman’s Rights Memorial, should at some opportune moment be given the -floor to present it. I foresaw what a row it was bound to occasion. -Toward noon, when there was a lull in the proceedings, I said with -an emphasis meant to carry conviction, “Gentlemen of the Convention, -Miss Phœbe Couzins, a representative of the Woman’s Association of -America, has a Memorial from that body and, in the absence of other -business, the chair will now recognize her.”</p> - -<p>Instantly, and from every part of the hall, arose cries of “No!” These -put some heart into me. Many a time as a school-boy I had proudly -declaimed the passage from John Home’s tragedy, “My name is Norval.” -Again I stood upon “the Grampian hills.” The Committee was escorting -Miss Couzins down the aisle. When she came within the radius of my -poor vision I saw that she was a beauty and dressed to kill! That was -reassurance. Gaining a little time while the hall fairly rocked with -its thunder of negation, I laid the gavel down and stepped to the -edge of the platform and gave Miss Couzins my hand. As she appeared -above the throng there was a momentary “Ah!” and then a lull broken -by a single voice: “Mr. Chairman, I rise to a point of order.” Leading -Miss Couzins to the front of the stage, I took up the gavel and gave a -gentle rap, saying, “The gentleman will take his seat.”</p> - -<p>“But, Mr. Chairman, I rise to a point of order,” he vociferated.</p> - -<p>“The gentleman will take his seat instantly,” I answered in a tone of -one about to throw the gavel at his head. “No point of order is in -order when a lady has the floor.”</p> - -<p>After that Miss Couzins received a positive ovation, and having -delivered her message retired in a blaze of glory.</p> - -<p>Mr. Tilden was nominated on the second ballot. The campaign that -followed proved one of the most memorable in our history. When it came -to an end the result showed on the face of the returns 196 in the -Electoral College, 11 more than a majority, and in the popular vote -4,300,316, a majority of 264,300 over Hayes.</p> - -<p>How this came to be first contested and then complicated so as -ultimately to be set aside has been minutely related by its authors. -The newspapers, both Republican and Democratic, of November 8, 1876, -the morning after the election, conceded an overwhelming victory for -Tilden and Hendricks. There was, however, a single exception. “The -New York Times” had gone to press with its first edition, leaving the -result in doubt but inclining toward the success of the Democrats. -In its later editions this tentative attitude was changed to the -statement that Mr. Hayes lacked the vote only of Florida—“claimed by -the Republicans”—to be sure of the required 185 votes in the Electoral -College.</p> - -<p>The story of this surprising discrepancy between midnight and daylight -reads like a chapter of fiction.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0011" name="i_0011"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0011.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center mbot1">CONGRESSMEN OF THE DEMOCRATIC “ADVISORY<br /> - COMMITTEE” IN THE HAYES-TILDEN CONTEST</p> - - <div class="header_tab center"> - <div class="table_row"> - <div class="table_cell"> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell</p> - <p class="center"><span class="s5">R. L. GIBSON</span><br /> - <span class="s6">of Louisiana</span></p> - <p class="s6 center mtop1">From a photograph</p> - <p class="center"><span class="s5">WILLIAM S. HOLMAN</span><br /> - <span class="s6">of Indiana</span></p> - </div> - <div class="table_cell"> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph by Sarony</p> - <p class="center"><span class="s5">HENRY WATTERSON</span><br /> - <span class="s6">of Kentucky</span></p> - <p class="s6 center mtop1">From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell</p> - <p class="center"><span class="s5">SAMUEL J. RANDALL</span><br /> - <span class="s6">of Pennsylvania (Speaker)</span></p> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell</p> - <p class="center"><span class="s5">EPPA HUNTON</span><br /> - <span class="s6">of Virginia</span></p> - </div> - <div class="table_cell"> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell</p> - <p class="center"><span class="s5">L. Q. C. LAMAR</span><br /> - <span class="s6">of Mississippi</span></p> - <p class="s6 center mtop1">From a photograph, copyright by C. M. Bell</p> - <p class="center"><span class="s5">HENRY B. PAYNE</span><br /> - <span class="s6">of Ohio</span></p> - </div> - </div> - </div> - - <p class="s5 center mbot2 ebhide"><a href="images/i_0011_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -<p>After the early edition of the “Times” had gone to press certain -members of the editorial staff were at supper, very much cast down by -the returns, when a messenger brought a telegram from Senator Barnum -of Connecticut, financial head of the Democratic National Committee, -asking for the “Times’s” latest news from Oregon, Louisiana, Florida, -and South Carolina. But for that unlucky telegram -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>Tilden would -probably have been inaugurated President of the United States.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0012" name="i_0012"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0012.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">FIRE AND WATER MAKE VAPOR.<br /> - WHAT A COOLING OFF WILL BE THERE, MY COUNTRYMEN!</p> - <p class="s6 center">From “Harper’s Weekly” of February 3, 1877</p> - <p class="s5 center">THOMAS NAST’S CARTOON ON COLONEL WATTERSON’S<br /> - SUGGESTION OF A GATHERING OF ONE HUNDRED<br /> - THOUSAND DEMOCRATS IN WASHINGTON</p> - <p class="s6 center mbot2">The ice-water is being applied by Murat Halstead, editor of the<br /> - Cincinnati “Commercial,” which was opposed to Tilden; but in<br /> - the Greeley campaign of 1872 Halstead had worked with Watterson.<br /> - (See T<span class="smaller">HE</span> C<span class="smaller">ENTURY</span> for November, 1912.)</p> -</div> - -<p>The “Times” people, intense Republican partizans, at once saw an -opportunity. If Barnum did not know, why might not a doubt be raised? -At once the editorial in the first edition was revised to take a -decisive tone and declare the election of Hayes. One of the editorial -council, Mr. John C. Reid, hurried to Republican<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> Headquarters in the -Fifth Avenue Hotel, which he found deserted, the triumph of Tilden -having long before sent everybody to bed. Mr. Reid then sought the room -of Senator Zachariah Chandler, Chairman of the National Republican -Committee. While upon this errand he encountered in the hotel corridor -“a small man wearing an enormous pair of goggles, his hat drawn over -his ears, a greatcoat with a heavy military cloak, and carrying a -gripsack and newspaper in his hand. The newspaper was the ‘New-York -Tribune,’” announcing the election of Tilden and the defeat of Hayes. -The new-comer was Mr. William E. Chandler, even then a very prominent -Republican politician, just arrived from New Hampshire and very much -exasperated by what he had read.</p> - -<p>Mr. Reid had another tale to tell. The two found Mr. Zachariah -Chandler, who bade them leave him alone and do whatever they thought -best. They did so consumingly, sending telegrams to Columbia, -Tallahassee, and New Orleans, stating to each of the parties addressed -that the result of the election depended upon his State. To these were -appended the signature of Zachariah Chandler. Later in the day Senator -Chandler, advised of what had been set on foot and its possibilities, -issued from National Republican Headquarters this laconic message: -“Hayes has 185 electoral votes and is elected.” Thus began and was put -in motion the scheme to confuse the returns and make a disputed count -of the vote.</p> - -<div class="section"> - -<h3 id="IV_HAYES_TILDEN">IV</h3> - -</div> - -<p class="p0">T<span class="smaller">HE</span> day after the election I wired Mr. Tilden suggesting that, as -Governor of New York, he propose to Mr. Hayes, the Governor of Ohio, -that they unite upon a committee of eminent citizens, composed in -equal numbers of the friends of each, who should proceed at once -to Louisiana, which appeared to be the objective point of greatest -moment to the already contested result. Pursuant to a telegraphic -correspondence which followed, I left Louisville that night for New -Orleans. I was joined en route by Mr. Lamar of Mississippi, and -together we arrived in the Crescent City Friday morning.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0013" name="i_0013"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0013.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s5 center">“ONE TOUCH OF NATURE MAKES”—EVEN HENRY<br /> - WATTERSON GIVE IN</p> - <p class="s5 center">“Let us have peace. I don’t care who is the next<br /> - President,” cries our bold Patriarch at the <span class="smaller">FIRST</span> arrival.<br /> - “The Hon. Henry Watterson has just been presented with<br /> - son—weight, 11 pounds.”—<em class="italic">Washington Correspondence.</em></p> - <p class="s6 center mbot2">This cartoon by Thomas Nast, with the above titles and<br /> - explanation, appeared in “Harper’s Weekly” of March 10, 1877, as<br /> - an apology for the lampoon on the opposite page. (See page 17.)</p> -</div> - -<p>It has since transpired that the Republicans were promptly advised by -the Western Union Telegraph Company of all that passed over its wires, -my despatches to Mr. Tilden being read in Republican Headquarters at -least as soon they reached Gramercy Park.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figleft"> - <a id="i_0014" name="i_0014"> - <img src="images/i_0014.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph owned by F. H. Meserve</p> - <p class="s5 center">STANLEY MATTHEWS OF OHIO</p> -</div> - -<p>Mr. Tilden did not adopt the plan of a direct proposal to Mr. Hayes. -Instead, he chose a body of Democrats to go to the “seat of war.” But -before any of them had arrived General Grant, the actual President, -anticipating what was about to happen, appointed a body of Republicans -for the like purpose, and the advance guard of these appeared on the -scene the following Monday.</p> - -<p>Within a week the St. Charles Hotel might have been mistaken for a -caravansary of the National Capital. Among the Republicans were John -Sherman, Stanley Matthews, Garfield, Evarts, Logan, Kelley, Stoughton, -and many others. Among the Democrats, besides Lamar and myself, came -Lyman Trumbull, Samuel J. Randall, William R. Morrison, McDonald, of -Indiana, and many others. A certain degree of personal intimacy existed -between the members of the two groups, and the “entente” was quite as -unrestrained as might have existed between rival athletic teams. A -Kentucky friend sent me a demijohn of what was represented as very old -Bourbon, and I divided it with “our friends the enemy.” New Orleans was -new to most of the “visiting statesmen,” and we attended the places of -amusement, lived in the restaurants, and “saw the sights,” as if we -had been tourists in a foreign land and not partizans charged with the -business of adjusting a presidential election from implacable points of -view.</p> - -<p>My own relations were especially friendly with John Sherman and James -A. Garfield, a colleague on the Committee of Ways and Means, and with -Stanley Matthews, a near kinsman by marriage, who had stood as an elder -brother to me from my childhood.</p> - -<p>Corruption was in the air. That the Returning Board was for sale and -could be bought was the universal impression. Every day some one turned -up with pretended authority and an offer. Most of these were of course -the merest adventurers. It was my own belief that the Returning Board -was playing for the best price it could get from the Republicans and -that the only effect of any offer to buy on our part would be to assist -this scheme of blackmail.</p> - -<p>The Returning Board consisted of two white men, Wells and Anderson, -and two Negroes, Kenner and Casanave. One and all they were without -character. I was tempted through sheer curiosity to listen to a -proposal which seemed to come direct from the Board itself, the -messenger being a well-known State senator. As if he were proposing to -dispose of a horse or a dog he stated his errand.</p> - -<p>“You think you can deliver the goods?” said I.</p> - -<p>“I am authorized to make the offer,” he answered.</p> - -<p>“And for how much?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” he replied. “One hundred -thousand each for Wells and Anderson and twenty-five thousand apiece -for the niggers.”</p> - -<p>To my mind it was a joke. “Senator,” said I, “the terms are as cheap as -dirt. I don’t happen to have the amount about me at the moment, but I -will communicate with my principal and see you later.”</p> - -<p>Having no thought of entertaining the proposal, I had forgotten the -incident, when two or three days later my man met me in the lobby of -the hotel and pressed for a definite reply. I then told him I had found -that I possessed no authority to act and advised him to go elsewhere.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> - -<p>It is asserted that Wells and Anderson did agree to sell and were -turned down by Mr. Hewitt, and, being refused their demands for cash by -the Democrats, took their final pay, at least in patronage, from their -own party.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<div class="section"> - -<h3 id="V_HAYES_TILDEN">V</h3> - -</div> - -<div class="figleft"> - <a id="i_0015" name="i_0015"> - <img src="images/i_0015.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph owned by F. H. Meserve</p> - <p class="s5 center">WILLIAM E. CHANDLER<br /> - OF NEW HAMPSHIRE</p> -</div> - -<p class="p0">I <span class="smaller">PASSED</span> the Christmas week of 1876 in New York with Mr. Tilden. -On Christmas day we dined alone. The outlook, on the whole, was -cheering. With John Bigelow and Manton Marble Mr. Tilden had been -busily engaged compiling the data for a constitutional battle to be -fought by the Democrats in Congress, maintaining the right of the -House of Representatives to concurrent jurisdiction with the Senate -in the counting of the electoral vote, pursuant to an unbroken line -of precedents established by the method of proceeding in every -presidential election between 1793 and 1872.</p> - -<p>There was very great perplexity in the public mind. Both parties -appeared to be at sea. The dispute between the Democratic House and the -Republican Senate made for thick weather. Contests of the vote of three -States—Louisiana, South Carolina, and Florida, not to mention single -votes in Oregon and Vermont—which presently began to blow a gale, had -already spread menacing clouds across the political sky. Except Mr. -Tilden, the wisest among the leaders knew not precisely what to do.</p> - -<p>From New Orleans, on the Saturday night succeeding the presidential -election, I had telegraphed to Mr. Tilden, detailing the exact -conditions there and urging active and immediate agitation. The chance -had been lost. I thought then, and I still think, that the conspiracy -of a few men to use the corrupt Returning Boards of Louisiana, South -Carolina, and Florida to upset the election and make confusion in -Congress, might, by prompt exposure and popular appeal, have been -thwarted. Be this as it may, my spirit was depressed and my confidence -discouraged the intense quietude on our side, for I was sure that -beneath the surface the Republicans, with resolute determination and -multiplied resources, were as busy as bees.</p> - -<p>Mr. Robert M. McLane, later Governor of Maryland and Minister to -France—a man of rare ability and large experience, who had served in -Congress and in diplomacy, and was an old friend of Mr. Tilden—had -been at a Gramercy Park conference when my New Orleans report arrived, -and had then and there urged the agitation recommended by me. He was -now again in New York. When a lad he had been in England with his -father, Lewis McLane, then American Minister to the Court of St. -James’s, during the excitement over the Reform Bill of 1832. He had -witnessed the popular demonstrations and had been impressed by the -direct force of public opinion upon law-making and law-makers. An -analogous situation had arrived in America. The Republican Senate was -as the Tory House of Lords. We must organize a movement such as had -been so effectual in England. Obviously something was going amiss with -us and something had to be done.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0016" name="i_0016"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0016.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">From the painting by Cordelia Adele Fassett, in - the Senate wing of the Capitol at Washington.<br /> - After a photograph, copyright, 1878, by Mrs. S. M. Fassett</p> - <p class="s5 center">THE SESSION OF THE ELECTORAL COMMISSION TO CONSIDER - THE CASE OF THE<br /> - FLORIDA RETURNS, IN THE SUPREME COURT ROOM, FEBRUARY 5, 1877</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2 ebhide"><a href="images/i_0016_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center mbot1">NOTE TO “THE SESSION OF THE ELECTORAL COMMISSION,” ETC. (SEE THE -<a href="#Page_16">PREVIOUS PAGE</a>)</p> - -<p>With the purpose of making a picture typical of the sessions of the -Electoral Commission, Mrs. Fassett included prominent people who -were in Washington at the time, and who gave the artist sittings in -the Supreme Court Room.</p> - -<p>The Commissioners on the bench, from left to right are: Senators -Thurman, Bayard (writing), Frelinghuysen, Morton, Edmunds; Supreme -Court Justices Strong, Miller, Clifford, Field, Bradley; Members -of the House, Payne, Hunton, Abbott, Garfield, and Hoar. At the -left, below Thurman, is the head of Senator Kernan who acted as -substitute for the former when ill.</p> - -<p>William M. Evarts, counsel for Hayes, is addressing the Commission, -and his associate, E. W. Stoughton (white-haired), sits behind him; -Charles O’Conor, chief counsel for Tilden, sits at his left. Other -members of counsel are grouped in the middle-ground. At the left -is seen George Bancroft (with long white beard), and in the middle -foreground (looking out), James G. Blaine.</p></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was agreed that I return to Washington and make a speech “feeling -the pulse” of the country, with the suggestion that in the National -Capital should assemble “a mass convention of at least one hundred -thousand peaceful citizens,” exercising “the freeman’s right of -petition.”</p> - -<p>The idea was one of many proposals of a more drastic kind and was the -merest venture. I, myself, had no great faith in it. But I prepared the -speech, and after much reading and revising, it was held by Mr. Tilden -and Mr. McLane to cover the case and meet the purpose, Mr. Tilden -writing Mr. Randall, Speaker of the House of Representatives, a letter, -carried to Washington by Mr. McLane, instructing him what to do in the -event that the popular response should prove favorable.</p> - -<p>Alack-the-day! The Democrats were equal to nothing affirmative. The -Republicans were united and resolute. I delivered the speech, not in -the House, as had been intended, but at a public meeting which seemed -opportune. The Democrats at once set about denying the sinister and -violent purpose ascribed to it by the Republicans, who, fully advised -that it had emanated from Gramercy Park, and came by authority, started -a counter agitation of their own.</p> - -<p>I became the target for every kind of ridicule and abuse. Nast drew a -grotesque cartoon of me, distorting my suggestion for the assembling of -one hundred thousand citizens, which was both offensive and libelous.</p> - -<p>Being on friendly terms with the Harpers, I made my displeasure so -resonant in Franklin Square—Nast himself having no personal ill-will -toward me—that a curious and pleasing opportunity which came to pass -was taken to make amends. A son having been born to me, “Harper’s -Weekly” contained an atoning cartoon representing the child in its -father’s arms, and, above, the legend: “10,000 sons from Kentucky, -alone.” Some wag said that the son in question, was “the only one of -the hundred thousand in arms who came when he was called.”</p> - -<p>For many years afterward I was pursued by this unlucky speech, or -rather by the misinterpretation given to it alike by friend and foe. -Nast’s first cartoon was accepted as a faithful portrait, and I was -accordingly satirized and stigmatized, although no thought of violence -ever had entered my mind, and in the final proceedings I had voted for -the Electoral Commission Bill and faithfully stood by its decisions. -Joseph Pulitzer, who immediately followed me on the occasion named, -declared that he wanted my “one hundred thousand” to come fully armed -and ready for business; yet he never was taken to task or reminded of -his temerity.</p> - -<div class="section"> - -<h3 id="VI_HAYES_TILDEN">VI</h3> - -</div> - -<p class="p0">T<span class="smaller">HE</span> Electoral Commission Bill was considered with great secrecy by the -Joint Committees of the House and Senate. Its terms were in direct -contravention of Mr. Tilden’s plan. This was simplicity itself. He was -for asserting, by formal resolution, the conclusive right of the two -Houses acting concurrently to count the electoral vote and determine -what should be counted as electoral votes, and for denying, also by -formal resolution, the pretension set up by the Republicans that the -President of the Senate had lawful right to assume that function. He -was for urging that issue in debate in both Houses and before the -country. He thought that if the attempt should be made to usurp for -the President of the Senate a power<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> to make the count, and thus -practically to control the Presidential election, the scheme would -break down in process of execution.</p> - -<p>Strange to say, Mr. Tilden was not consulted by the party leaders in -Congress until the fourteenth of January, and then only by Mr. Hewitt, -the extra-constitutional features of the Electoral Tribunal measure -having already received the assent of Mr. Bayard and Mr. Thurman, the -Democratic members of the Senate Committee. Standing by his original -plan, and answering Mr. Hewitt’s statement that Mr. Bayard and Mr. -Thurman were fully committed, Mr. Tilden said: “Is it not, then, -rather late to consult me?” to which Mr. Hewitt replied: “They do -not consult you. They are public men, and have their own duties and -responsibilities. I consult you.” In the course of the discussion with -Mr. Hewitt which followed Mr. Tilden said, “If you go into conference -with your adversary, and can’t break off because you feel you must -agree to something, you cannot negotiate—you are not fit to negotiate. -You will be beaten upon every detail.” Replying to the apprehension -of a collision of force between the parties, Mr. Tilden thought it -exaggerated, but said: “Why surrender now? You can always surrender. -Why surrender before the battle, for fear you may have to surrender -after the battle?”</p> - -<p>In short, Mr. Tilden condemned the proceeding as precipitate. It -was a month before the time for the count, and he saw no reason why -opportunity should not be given for consideration and consultation by -all the representatives of the people. He treated the state of mind of -Bayard and Thurman as a panic in which they were liable to act in haste -and repent at leisure. He stood for publicity and wider discussion, -distrusting a scheme to submit such vast interests to a small body -sitting in the Capitol, as likely to become the sport of intrigue and -fraud.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hewitt returned to Washington and, without communicating to Mr. -Tilden’s immediate friends in the House his attitude and objection, -united with Mr. Thurman and Mr. Bayard in completing the bill and -reporting it to the Democratic Advisory Committee, as, by a caucus -rule, had to be done with all measures relating to the great issue then -before us. No intimation had preceded it. It fell like a bombshell -upon the members of the Committee. In the debate that followed Mr. -Bayard was very insistent, answering the objections at once offered by -me, first aggressively and then angrily, going the length of saying, -“If you do not accept this plan I shall wash my hands of the whole -business, and you can go ahead and seat your President in your own way.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Randall, the Speaker, said nothing, but he was with me, as was a -majority of my colleagues. It was Mr. Hunton, of Virginia, who poured -oil on the troubled waters, and, somewhat in doubt as to whether the -changed situation had changed Mr. Tilden, I yielded my better judgment, -declaring it as my opinion that the plan would seat Hayes, and there -being no other protestant the Committee finally gave a reluctant assent.</p> - -<p>In “open session” a majority of Democrats favored the bill. Many of -them made it their own. They passed it. There was belief that justice -David Davis, who was expected to become a member of the Commission, was -sure for Tilden. If, under this surmise, he had been, the political -complexion of “eight to seven” would have been reversed. Elected to the -United States Senate from Illinois, Judge Davis declined to serve, and -Mr. Justice Bradley was chosen for the Commission in his place. The day -after the inauguration of Hayes my kinsman, Stanley Matthews, said to -me, “You people wanted Judge Davis. So did we. I tell you what I know, -that Judge Davis was as safe for us as Judge Bradley. We preferred him -because he carried more weight.” The subsequent career of Judge Davis -in the Senate gives conclusive proof that this was true.</p> - -<p>When the consideration of the disputed votes before the Commission -had proceeded far enough to demonstrate the likelihood that its final -decision would be for Hayes, a movement of obstruction and delay, “a -filibuster,” was organized by about forty Democratic members of the -House. It proved rather turbulent than effective. The South stood -very nearly solid for carrying out the agreement in good faith. -“Toward the close the filibuster received what appeared formidable -reinforcement from the Louisiana Delegation.” This was in reality -merely a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> “bluff,” intended to induce the Hayes people to make certain -concessions touching their State government. It had the desired effect. -Satisfactory assurances having been given, the count proceeded to the -end—a very bitter end, indeed, for the Democrats.</p> - -<p>The final conference between the Louisianians and the accredited -representatives of Mr. Hayes was held at Wormley’s Hotel and came to -be called “the Wormley Conference.” It was the subject of uncommon -interest and heated controversy at the time and long afterward. -Without knowing why or for what purpose, I was asked to be present -by my colleague, Mr. Ellis, of Louisiana, and later in the day the -same invitation came to me from the Republicans through Mr. Garfield. -Something was said about my serving as “a referee.” Just before the -appointed hour General M. C. Butler, of South Carolina, afterward -so long a Senator in Congress, said to me: “This meeting is called -to enable Louisiana to make terms with Hayes. South Carolina is as -deeply concerned as Louisiana, but we have nobody to represent us in -Congress and hence have not been invited. South Carolina puts herself -in your hands and expects you to secure for her whatever terms are -given to Louisiana.” So, of a sudden, I found myself invested with -responsibility equally as an “agent” and a “referee.”</p> - -<p>It is hardly worth while repeating in detail all that passed at -this Wormley Conference, made public long ago by Congressional -investigation. When I entered the apartment of Mr. Evarts at Wormley’s -I found, besides Mr. Evarts, Mr. John Sherman, Mr. Garfield, Governor -Dennison and Mr. Stanley Matthews, of the Republicans, and Mr. Ellis, -Mr. Levy, and Mr. Burke, Democrats of Louisiana. Substantially, the -terms had been agreed upon during previous conferences; that is, the -promise that, if Hayes came in, the troops should be withdrawn and -the people of Louisiana be left free to set their house in order to -suit themselves. The actual order withdrawing the troops was issued by -President Grant two or three days later, just as he was going out of -office.</p> - -<p>“Now, gentlemen,” said I, half in jest, “I am here to represent South -Carolina, and if the terms given to Louisiana are not equally applied -to South Carolina, I become a filibuster myself to-morrow morning.” -There was some chaffing as to what right I had there and how I got in, -when with great earnestness Governor Dennison, who had been the bearer -of a letter from Mr. Hayes which he had read to us, put his hand on my -shoulder and said, “As a matter of course, the Southern policy to which -Mr. Hayes has here pledged himself embraces South Carolina as well as -Louisiana.” Mr. Sherman, Mr. Garfield, and Mr. Evarts concurred warmly -in this, and, immediately after we separated, I communicated the fact -to General Butler.</p> - -<p>In the acrimonious discussion which subsequently sought to make -“bargain, intrigue, and corruption” of this Wormley Conference, and -to involve certain Democratic members of the House who were nowise -party to it, but had sympathized with the purpose of Louisiana and -South Carolina to obtain some measure of relief from intolerable -local conditions, I never was questioned or assailed. No one doubted -my fidelity to Mr. Tilden, who had been promptly advised of all that -passed and who justified what I had done. Though “conscripted,” as -it were, and rather a passive agent, I could see no wrong in the -proceeding. I had spoken and voted in favor of the Electoral Tribunal -Bill and, losing, had no thought of repudiating its conclusions. -Hayes was already as good as seated. If the States of Louisiana and -South Carolina could save their local autonomy out of the general -wreck, there seemed no good reason to forbid. On the other hand, the -Republican leaders were glad of an opportunity to make an end of the -corrupt and tragic farce of Reconstruction; to unload their party of a -dead weight which had been burdensome and was growing dangerous; mayhap -to punish their Southern agents who had demanded so much for doctoring -the returns and making an exhibit in favor of Hayes.</p> - -<div class="section"> - -<h3 id="VII_HAYES_TILDEN">VII</h3> - -</div> - -<p class="p0">M<span class="smaller">R</span>. T<span class="smaller">ILDEN</span> -accepted the result with equanimity. “I was at his house,” -says John Bigelow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> “when his exclusion was announced to him, and also -on the fourth of March when Mr. Hayes was inaugurated, and it was -impossible to remark any change in his manner, except perhaps that he -was less absorbed than usual and more interested in current affairs.” -His was an intensely serious mind; and he had come to regard the -Presidency as rather a burden to be borne—an opportunity for public -usefulness—involving a life of constant toil and care, than as an -occasion for personal exploitation and rejoicing.</p> - -<p>However much of captivation the idea of the Presidency may have had for -him when he was first named for the office, I cannot say, for he was as -unexultant in the moment of victory as he was unsubdued in the hour of -defeat; but it is certainly true that he gave no sign of disappointment -to any of his friends. He lived nearly ten years longer, at Greystone, -in a noble homestead he had purchased for himself overlooking the -Hudson River, the same ideal life of the scholar and gentleman that he -had passed in Gramercy Park.</p> - -<p>Looking back over these untoward and sometimes mystifying events, -I have often asked myself: Was it possible, with the elements what -they were, and he himself what he was, to seat Mr. Tilden in the -office to which he had been elected? The missing ingredient in a -character intellectually and morally great, and a personality far from -unimpressive, was the touch of the dramatic discoverable in most of the -leaders of men: even in such leaders as William of Orange and Louis the -XI, as Cromwell and Washington.</p> - -<p>There was nothing spectacular about Mr. Tilden. Not wanting the -sense of humor, he seldom indulged it. In spite of his positiveness -of opinion and amplitude of knowledge, he was always courteous and -deferential in debate. He had none of the audacious daring, let us say, -of Mr. Blaine, the energetic self-assertion of Mr. Roosevelt. Either, -in his place, would have carried all before him.</p> - -<p>It would be hard to find a character farther from that of a subtle -schemer—sitting behind his screen and pulling his wires—which -his political and party enemies discovered him to be as soon as he -began to get in the way of the Machine and obstruct the march of the -self-elect. His confidences were not effusive nor their subjects -numerous. His deliberation was unfailing, and sometimes it carried the -idea of indecision, not to say actual love of procrastination. But in -my experience with him I found that he usually ended where he began, -and it was nowise difficult for those whom he trusted to divine the -bias of his mind where he thought it best to reserve its conclusions. -I do not think that in any great affair he ever hesitated longer than -the gravity of the case required of a prudent man, or that he had a -preference for delays, or that he clung over-tenaciously to both horns -of the dilemma, as his professional training and instinct might lead -him to do, and did certainly expose him to the accusation of doing.</p> - -<p>He was a philosopher and took the world as he found it. He rarely -complained and never inveighed. He had a discriminating way of -balancing men’s good and bad qualities and of giving each the benefit -of a generous accounting, and a just way of expecting no more of a man -than it was in him to yield. As he got into deeper water his stature -rose to its level, and, from his exclusion from the Presidency in 1877 -to his renunciation of public affairs in 1884 and his death in 1886, -his walks and ways might have been a study for all who would learn -life’s truest lessons and know the real sources of honor, happiness, -and fame.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0020" name="i_0020"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0020.jpg" alt="Woodcut of Themis" /></a> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0021" name="i_0021"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0021.jpg" - alt="Headpiece for “The Elixir of Youth”" /></a> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_ELIXIR_OF_YOUTH">THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH</h2> - -<p class="s3 center">BY ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE</p> - -<p class="s6 center mbot2">Author of “The Bread-Line,” “Elizabeth,” -“Mark Twain: A Biography,” etc.</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">T</span>HEN, it being no use to try, Carringford let the hand holding the -book drop into his lap and from his lap to his side. His eyes stared -grimly into the fire, which was dropping to embers.</p> - -<p>“I suppose I’m getting old,” he said; “that’s the reason. The books are -as good as ever they were—the old ones, at any rate. Only they don’t -interest me any more. It’s because I don’t believe in them as I did. I -see through them all. I begin taking them to pieces as soon as I begin -to read, and of course romance and glamour won’t stand dissection. Yes, -it’s because I’m getting old; that’s it. Those things go with youth. -Why, I remember when I would give up a dinner for a new book, when -a fresh magazine gave me a positive thrill. I lost that somewhere, -somehow; I wonder why. It is a ghastly loss. If I had to live my life -over, I would at least try not to destroy my faith in books. It seems -to me now just about the one thing worth keeping for old age.”</p> - -<p>The book slipped from the hand hanging at his side. The embers broke, -and, falling together, sent up a tongue of renewed flame. Carringford’s -mind was slipping into by-paths.</p> - -<p>“If one only might live his life over!” he muttered. “If one might be -young again!”</p> - -<p>He was not thinking of books now. A procession of ifs had come filing -out of the past—a sequence of opportunities where, with the privilege -of choice, he had chosen the wrong, the irrevocable thing.</p> - -<p>“If one only might try again!” he whispered. “If one only might! Good -God!” Something like a soft footfall on the rug caused him to turn -suddenly. “I beg your pardon,” he said, rising, “I did not hear you. I -was dreaming, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>A man stood before him, apparently a stranger.</p> - -<p>“I came quietly,” he said. “I did not wish to break in upon your -thought. It interested me, and I felt that I—might be of help.”</p> - -<p>Carringford was trying to recall the man’s face,—a studious, -clean-shaven face,—to associate it and the black-garbed, slender -figure with a name. So many frequented his apartment, congenial, idle -fellows who came and went, and brought their friends if they liked, -that Carringford was not surprised to be confronted by one he could not -place. He was about to extend his hand, confessing a lack of memory, -when his visitor spoke again.</p> - -<p>“No,” he said in a gentle, composed voice, “you would not know it if -you heard it. I have never been here before. I should not have come now -only that, as I was passing below, I heard you thinking you would like -to be young again—to live your life over, as they say.”</p> - -<p>Carringford stared a moment or two at the smooth, clean-cut features -and slender, black figure of his visitor before replying. He was used -to many curious things, and not many things surprised him.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon,” he repeated,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> “you mentioned, I believe, that you -heard me thinking as you were passing on the street below?”</p> - -<p>The slender man in black bowed.</p> - -<p>“Wishing that you might be young again, that you might have another try -at the game of life. I believe that was the exact thought.”</p> - -<p>“And, may I ask, is it your habit to hear persons think?”</p> - -<p>“When their thoughts interest me, yes, as one might overhear an -interesting conversation.”</p> - -<p>Carringford had slipped back into his chair and motioned his guest to -another. Wizard or unbalanced, he was likely to prove a diversion. When -the cigars were pushed in his direction, he took one, lighted it, and -smoked silently. Carringford smoked, too, and looked into the fire.</p> - -<p>“You were saying,” he began presently, “that you pick up interesting -thought-currents as one might overhear bits of conversation. I suppose -you find the process quite as simple as hearing in the ordinary way. -Only it seems a little—well, unusual. Of course that is only my -opinion.”</p> - -<p>The slender man in black assented with a slight nod.</p> - -<p>“The faculty is not unusual; it is universal. It is only undeveloped, -uncontrolled, as yet. It was the same with electricity a generation -ago. Now it has become our most useful servant.”</p> - -<p>Carringford gave his visitor an intent look. This did not seem the -inconsequential phrasing of an addled brain.</p> - -<p>“You interest me,” he said. “Of course I have heard a good deal of -such things, and all of us have had manifestations; but I think I have -never before met any one who was able to control—to demonstrate, if -you will—this particular force. It is a sort of mental wireless, I -suppose—wordless, if you will permit the term.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, the true wireless, the thing we are approaching—speech of mind -to mind. Our minds are easily attuned to waves of mutual interest. When -one vibrates, another in the same wave will answer to it. We are just -musical instruments: a chord struck on the piano answers on the attuned -harp. Any strong mutual interest forms the key-note of mental harmonic -vibration. We need only develop the mental ear to hear, the mental eye -to see.”</p> - -<p>The look of weariness returned to Carringford’s face. These were -trite, familiar phrases.</p> - -<p>“I seem to have heard most of those things before,” he said. Then, as -his guest smoked silently, he added, “I am only wondering how it came -that my thought of the past and its hopelessness should have struck a -chord or key-note which would send you up my stair.”</p> - -<p>The slender, black figure rose and took a turn across the room, pausing -in front of Carringford.</p> - -<p>“You were saying as I passed your door that you would live your life -over if you could. You were thinking: ‘If one might be young again! If -one only might try again! If only one might!’ That was your thought, I -believe.”</p> - -<p>Carringford nodded.</p> - -<p>“That was my thought,” he said, “through whatever magic you came by it.”</p> - -<p>“And may I ask if there was a genuine desire behind that thought? -Did you mean that you would indeed live your life over if you could? -That, if the opportunity were given to tread the backward way to a new -beginning, you would accept it?”</p> - -<p>There was an intensity of interest in the man’s quiet voice, an eager -gleam in his half-closed eyes, a hovering expectancy in the attitude -of the slender, black figure. Carringford had the feeling of having -been swept backward into a time of sorcery and incantation. He vaguely -wondered if he had not fallen asleep. Well, he would follow the dream -through.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I would live my life over if I could,” he said. “I have made a -poor mess of it this time. I could play the game better, I know, if the -Fates would but deal me a new hand. If I could start young again, with -all the opportunities of youth, I would not so often choose the poorer -thing.”</p> - -<p>The long, white fingers of Carringford’s guest had slipped into his -waistcoat pocket. They now drew forth a small, bright object and held -it to the light. Carringford saw that it was a vial, filled with a -clear, golden liquid that shimmered and quivered in the light and was -never still. Its possessor regarded it for a moment through half-closed -lashes, then placed it on a table under the lamp, where it continued to -glint and tremble.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> - -<p>Carringford watched it, fascinated, half hypnotized by the marvel of -its gleam. Surely there was magic in this. The man was an alchemist, a -sort of reincarnation from some forgotten day.</p> - -<p>Carringford’s guest also watched the vial. The room seemed to have -grown very still. Then after a time his thin lips parted.</p> - -<p>“If you are really willing to admit failure,” he began slowly, -carefully selecting each word, “if behind your wish there lies a -sincere desire to go back to youth and begin life over, if that desire -is strong enough to grow into a purpose, if you are ready to make -the experiment, there you will find the means. That vial contains -the very essence of vitality, the true elixir of youth. It is not -a magic philter, as I see by your thought you believe. There is no -magic. Whatever is, belongs to science. I am not a necromancer, but a -scientist. From boyhood my study has been to solve the subtler secrets -of life. I have solved many such. I have solved at last the secret of -life itself. It is contained in that golden vial, an elixir to renew -the tissues, to repair the cells, of the wasting body. Taken as I -direct, you will no longer grow old, but young. The gray in your hair -will vanish, the lines will smooth out of your face, your step will -become buoyant, your pulses quick, your heart will sing with youth.” -The speaker paused a moment, and his gray eyes rested on Carringford -and seemed probing his very soul.</p> - -<p>“It will take a little time,” he went on; “for as the natural processes -of decay are not rapid, the natural restoration may not be hurried. You -can go back to where you will, even to early youth, and so begin over, -if it is your wish. Are you willing to make the experiment? If you are, -I will place the means in your hands.”</p> - -<p>While his visitor had been speaking, Carringford had been completely -absorbed, filled with strange emotions, too amazed, too confused for -utterance.</p> - -<p>“I see a doubt in your mind as to the genuineness, the efficacy, of my -discovery,” the even voice continued. “I will relieve that.” From an -inner pocket he drew a card photograph and handed it to Carringford. -“That was taken three years ago. I was then approaching eighty. I am -now, I should say, about forty-five. I could be younger if I chose, but -forty-five is the age of achievement—the ripe age. Mankind needs me -at forty-five.”</p> - -<p>Carringford stared at the photograph, then at the face before him, -then again at the photograph. Yes, they were the same, certainly they -were the same, but for the difference of years. The peculiar eyes, the -clean, unusual outlines were unmistakable. Even a curious cast in the -eye was there.</p> - -<p>“An inheritance,” explained his visitor. “Is the identification enough?”</p> - -<p>Carringford nodded in a dazed way and handed back the picture. Any -lingering doubt of the genuineness of this strange being or his science -had vanished. His one thought now was that growing old need be no more -than a fiction, after all that one might grow young instead, might -lay aside the wrinkles and the gray hairs, and walk once more the way -of purposes and dreams. His pulses leaped, his blood surged up and -smothered him.</p> - -<p>The acceptance of such a boon seemed too wonderful a thing to be put -into words. His eyes grew wide and deep with the very bigness of it, -but he could not for the moment find speech.</p> - -<p>“You are willing to make the experiment?” the man asked. “I see many -emotions in your mind. Think—think clearly, and make your decision.”</p> - -<p>Words of acceptance rushed to Carringford’s lips. They were upon the -verge of utterance when suddenly he was gripped by an old and dearly -acquired habit—the habit of forethought.</p> - -<p>“But I should want to keep my knowledge of the world,” he said, “to -profit by my experience, my wisdom, such as it is. I should want to -live my life over, knowing what I know now.”</p> - -<p>The look of weariness which Carringford’s face had worn earlier had -found its way to the face of the visitor.</p> - -<p>“I seem to have heard most of those things before,” he said, with a -faint smile.</p> - -<p>“But shall I not remember the life I have lived, with its shortcomings, -its blunders?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you will remember as well as you do now—better, perhaps, for -your faculties will be renewed; but whether you will profit by it—that -is another matter.”</p> - -<p>“You mean that I shall make the same mistakes, commit the same sins?”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> -<p>“Let us consider to a moment. You will go back to youth. You will -be young again. Perhaps you have forgotten what it is to be young. -Let me remind you.” The man’s lashes met; his voice seemed to come -from a great distance. “It is to be filled with the very ecstasy of -living,” he breathed—“its impulses, its fevers, the things that have -always belonged to youth, that have always made youth beautiful. Your -experience? Yes, you will have that, too; but it will not be the -experience of that same youth, but of another—the youth that you -were.” The gray eyes gleamed, the voice hardened a little. “Did you -ever profit by the experience of another in that earlier time?”</p> - -<p>Carringford shook his head.</p> - -<p>“No,” he whispered.</p> - -<p>His guest pointed to the book-shelves.</p> - -<p>“Did you ever, in a later time, profit by the wisdom set down in those?”</p> - -<p>Carringford shook his head.</p> - -<p>“No,” he whispered.</p> - -<p>“Yet the story is all there, and you knew the record to be true. Have -you always profited even by your own experience? Have you always -avoided the same blunder a second, even a third, time? Do you always -profit by your own experience even now?”</p> - -<p>Carringford shook his head.</p> - -<p>“No,” he whispered.</p> - -<p>“And yet you think that if you could only live your life over, you -would avoid the pitfalls and the temptations, remembering what they had -cost you before. No, oh, no; I am not here to promise you that. I am -not a magician; I am only a scientist, and I have not yet discovered -the elixir of wisdom or of morals. I am not superhuman; I am only -human, like yourself. I am not a god, and I cannot make you one. Going -back to youth means that you will be young again—young! Don’t you see? -It does not mean that you will drag back with you the strength and the -wisdom and the sobered impulses of middle age. That would not be youth. -Youth cares nothing for such things, and profits by no experience, not -even its own.”</p> - -<p>Carringford’s eyes had wandered to the yellow vial under the lamp—to -the quivering, shimmering fascination of its dancing gold. His gaze -rested there a moment, then again sought the face of his guest—that -inscrutable face where seemed mingled the look of middle age with the -wisdom of the centuries.</p> - -<p>“You do not care to go back further?” Carringford said.</p> - -<p>The man’s eyes closed for a moment, and something that was akin to -fierce human emotion swept his features.</p> - -<p>“Yes, oh, yes, I care,” he said quickly. “It is the temptation I -fight always. Oh, you do not know what it means to feel that you are -growing young! To feel your body renew, your heart beat stronger, to -feel your blood take on a swifter flow, like the sap of a tree in -spring! You have known the false stimulus of wine. Ah, it is a feeble -thing compared with this! For this is not false, but true. This is the -substance of renewal, not the fire of waste. To wake in the morning -feeling that you are not older than yesterday, but younger, better able -to cope and to enjoy; to travel back from fourscore to forty-five—I -have done that. Do you realize what that means? It means treading the -flowery way, lighted by eternal radiance, cheered by the songs of -birds. And then to stop—you cannot know what it means to stop! Oh, -yes, it was hard to stop; but I must stop now, or not at all this side -of youth. Only at forty-five would one have the strength to stop—the -age of reason and will, the age of achievement. And I need to achieve, -for I still have much to do. So I stopped when I had the strength and -had reached the fullness of my power. While I have work to do I shall -not go further back. I shall remain as I am, and as you are, at middle -age—the age of work.”</p> - -<p>He had been pacing up and down in front of Carringford as he spoke. He -now halted, facing him, gazing down.</p> - -<p>“I must not linger,” he said. “These are my hours for labor, and I -have so much to do, so much, it will keep me busy for a thousand -years. I have only begun. Perhaps some day I may discover the elixir -of wisdom. Perhaps I may yet solve the secret of genius. Perhaps”—His -voice lowered—“I shall one day unveil the secret of the soul. The -vial I leave with you, for I see in your mind that you cannot reach -a conclusion now. On the attached label you will find instructions -for its use. Think, ponder, and be sure before you set out on that -flowery backward way. Be sure that you want youth again, with all that -youth means, before you start back to find it.” He laid his hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> in -Carringford’s for an instant, and was gone.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0025" name="i_0025"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0025.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Drawn by O. F. Schmidt. Half-tone plate - engraved by H. C. Merrill</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">“HE BALANCED THE PRECIOUS VIAL MORE QUICKLY”</p> -</div> - -<p>For a while Carringford did not move, but sat as one in a dream, -staring at the dancing fluid gold in the bottle beneath the lamp.</p> - -<p>Youth—youth, how he had longed for that vanished gold, which he had so -prodigally wasted when it was in his grasp! How often he had said, as -he had said to-night, “Oh, to have one more chance, to be able to begin -the game anew!” He reached out and grasped the vial, and held it up to -the light. The glinting radiance in it began a wild, new dance at his -touch.</p> - -<p>Youth, life renewed, yes, that is what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> it was, its very essence; to -taste of that elixir, and start back along the flowery, sunlit way of -which his guest had spoken; to feel the blood start more quickly in his -veins, a new spring in his muscles; to know that a new bloom had come -into his cheek, a new light into his eye.</p> - -<p>But, then, the other things, they would come, too. Along that -fair backward way lurked all the temptations, the dangers, the -heartbreaks—all the efforts and the failures he had once left behind. -Did he want to face them again? Did he want to endure again all those -years of the struggle of human wisdom with human weakness? He knew it -would mean that, and that the same old fights and failures would be his -share. He had never thought of it before, but he knew now that it must -be so.</p> - -<p>Yet, to tread that flowery way, to begin to-night!</p> - -<p>He wheeled around to the dying fire, and sat staring into the deep -coals and flickering blaze, balancing the golden vial in his hand, as -one weighing a decision.</p> - -<p>To tread that flowery way, with its blue skies and its singing birds, -to feel one’s heart bursting with a new ecstasy, to reach again the -land of hope and love, and to linger there with some one—some one with -a heart full of love and life! He had always been so lonely!</p> - -<p>The age of work, his own age, his guest had chosen to linger there; had -resisted all other temptations for that. With the wisdom of fourscore -years and all his subtle gift for detecting and avoiding dangers, he -had chosen the middle age of life for his abiding-place. The age of -work, yes, it was that, if one only made it his vantage-ground.</p> - -<p>But, oh, the glory of the flowery way, with all its dangers and all its -heartbreaks! His decision was swinging to and fro, like a pendulum: the -age of work, the flowery way, the age of work?</p> - -<p>And he had been so idle. Perhaps that had been the trouble all along.</p> - -<p>“The age of work,” he whispered, “the age of achievement!”</p> - -<p>He balanced the precious vial more quickly. It caught the flicker of a -waning blaze and became a great, throbbing ruby in his hand.</p> - -<p>“To live life over! To go back and begin the game anew! Good God!”</p> - -<p>Then—he did not know how it happened—the little bottle toppled, fell, -and struck the stone hearth, splashing its contents into the dying -embers. There was a leap of yellow flame, which an instant later had -become vivid scarlet, changing as quickly to crimson, deep purple, then -to a flare of blinding white, and was gone.</p> - -<p>Carringford, startled for a moment, sat gazing dumbly at the ashes of -his dying fire.</p> - -<p>“The question has decided itself,” he said.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_LAST_MESSAGE">A LAST MESSAGE</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="s3 center">BY GRACE DENIO LITCHFIELD</p> -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span class="drop-cap_poetry">D</span>EAR, I lie dying, and thou dost not know—</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">Thou whom of all the world I love the best,</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">And wilt not know until I lie at rest,</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">With lips forever closed and lids dropped low.</div> - <div class="verse">O Love, O Love, I cannot leave thee so!</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">Cannot, still undivined, still unexpressed,</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">Unheeding to the last my heart’s behest,</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">Dumb into the eternal silence go!</div> - <div class="verse">What reck I in this moment of disgrace?</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">Albeit the whole world hear what my heart saith,</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">I cry aloud to thee across all space,</div> - <div class="verse">To thee—to thee—I call with my last breath!</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">O Love, lean forth from out thy dwelling-place!</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">Listen, and learn I loved thee, Love, till death.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0027" name="i_0027"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0027.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s5 center">THOMAS JEFFERSON</p> - <p class="s6 center">FROM THE STATUE BY KARL BITTER, FOR THE<br /> - JEFFERSON MEMORIAL IN ST. LOUIS</p> - <p class="s6 center">This statue will be unveiled in the presence of a congressional<br /> - committee on April 30, 1913, the one hundred and tenth anniversary<br /> - of the Louisiana Purchase.</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2 ebhide"><a href="images/i_0027_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0028" name="i_0028"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0028.jpg" - alt="Headpiece for “To a Scarlet Tanager”" /></a> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="TO_A_SCARLET_TANAGER">TO A SCARLET TANAGER</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="s3 center">BY GRACE HAZARD CONKLING</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span class="drop-cap_poetry">M</span>Y tanager, what crescent coast,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Curving beyond what seas of air,</div> - <div class="verse">Invites your elfin commerce most?</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">For I would fain inhabit there.</div> - <div class="verse">Is it a corner of Cathay,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">That I could reach by caravan,</div> - <div class="verse">Or do you traffic far away</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Beyond the mountains of Japan?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">If, where some iridescent isle</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Wears like a rose its calm lagoon,</div> - <div class="verse">You plan to spend a little while,—</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">An April or a fervid June,—</div> - <div class="verse">Deign to direct my wanderings,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">And I shall be the one who sees</div> - <div class="verse">Your scarlet pinnace furl its wings</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">And come to anchor in the trees.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Do you collect for merchandise</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Ribbons of weed and jeweled shells,</div> - <div class="verse">And dazzle color-hungry eyes</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">With rainbows from the coral wells?</div> - <div class="verse">But when your freight is asphodels,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">You must be fresh from Enna’s lawn.</div> - <div class="verse">Who buys, when such a merchant sells,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">And in what market roofed with dawn?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Much would it ease my spirit if</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">To-day I might embark with you,</div> - <div class="verse">Low-drifting like the milkweed-skiff,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Or voyaging against the blue,</div> - <div class="verse">To learn who speeds your ebon sails,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">And what you do in Ispahan.</div> - <div class="verse">Do you convey to nightingales</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Strange honey-dew from Hindustan?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">With you for master mariner,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">I yet might travel very far;</div> - <div class="verse">Discover whence your cargoes were,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">And whither tending, by a star;</div> - <div class="verse">Or what ineffable bazaar</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">You most frequent in Samarkand;</div> - <div class="verse">Or even where those harbors are</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Keats found forlorn in fairy-land.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0029" name="i_0029"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0029.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Owned by Mrs. Frank H. Scott</p> - <p class="s5 center">THE SCARLET TANAGER</p> - <p class="s6 center">FROM THE PAINTING, IN WATER-COLORS, BY ALFRED BRENNAN</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2 ebhide"><a href="images/i_0029_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0031" name="i_0031"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0031.jpg" - alt="Headpiece for “A War Worth Waging”" /></a> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_WAR_WORTH_WAGING">A WAR WORTH WAGING</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="s4 center">THE SUCCESSFUL FIGHT TO IMPROVE THE HEALTH OF -NEW YORK CITY</p> - -<p class="s4 center">(AVERAGE LIFE IN 1866, THIRTY YEARS; IN 1912, -SIXTY-SIX YEARS. DEATH-RATE IN 1866, 34 PER THOUSAND; IN 1912, 14.11 -PER THOUSAND)</p> - -<p class="s3 center mbot2">BY RICHARD BARRY</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">P</span>ROFESSOR FISHER, of the Committee of One Hundred appointed to consider -the problem of the national health, was laboring with Senator Works of -California, the official representative in Washington of the Christian -Scientists.</p> - -<p>“Your approval, Senator,” he said, “of such measures as clean streets -and playgrounds is really an indorsement of preventive medicine.”</p> - -<p>“But,” exclaimed Senator Works, “I did not know you meant those things -as being preventive medicine. I thought preventive medicine meant -serums.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Professor Fisher, laughing; “it means mosquito-bars and -bath-tubs.”</p> - -<p>It is not only serums and bacteriology, but mosquito-bars and -bath-tubs, clean streets and plenty of sewers, together with an -efficient organization to perfect the operation of such things, that -have revolutionized the conditions of health in New York City.</p> - -<p>Consider what has been done for poor children alone. Recently I stood -in one of the fifty-five diet-kitchens maintained by the city. A poor -woman of the neighborhood entered, carrying in her arms a sickly baby. -Evidently familiar with the proper course of procedure, she said to -the nurse in charge, “I have given him castor-oil and barley gruel; -now what shall I do?” This incident is remarkable because the woman -never before had come within the reach of the Health Department. In -the danger that menaced the child, she had learned to take the first -essential steps not through experience or instruction, but merely -through neighborhood gossip.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="HALF_A_CENTURY_AGO">CONDITION OF NEW YORK HALF A -CENTURY AGO</h3> - -<p>T<span class="smaller">EN</span> years ago such a thing would have been impossible in New York or in -any other large city. The tremendous agencies that now exist for the -medical enlightenment of the masses were then unheard of. A generation -ago New York was in a condition of almost primeval darkness concerning -questions of public health. Canton or Constantinople is to-day little -worse off than was America’s chief city then.</p> - -<p>In 1866 the public health conditions of New York were in so low a state -that the average length of life of the inhabitants was thirty years. -In 1912 these conditions had been improved so that the average length -of life was sixty-six years. Thus the value of human life, reckoned in -terms of time alone, had more than doubled in less than half a century.</p> - -<p>Let us go back to the year following<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> the Civil War. The only paving -in New York then was of cobblestones, and many streets were unpaved. -All were in filthy condition, being irregularly cleaned by contractors, -who shirked their work. There was no general system for the removal -of ashes and garbage, and these were thrown loosely upon the streets. -In three quarters of the city, cellars were in foul condition, often -flooded with water and undrained. At that time, incredible as it may -seem to the modern New Yorker, few houses were connected with sewers. -Offensive trades, such as the boiling of bones, offal, and fat, were -carried on without hindrance. There were numerous cesspools and -cisterns overflowing with filth. Much of the city’s milk was obtained -from cows kept in dark, crowded, ill-ventilated stables and fed upon -swill from distilleries. The animals were diseased, and the milk was -unclean, unwholesome, and frequently was watered.</p> - -<p>In alleyways and back yards great quantities of manure were allowed -to accumulate. Farmers sometimes bought it and carted it off for -fertilizing; but if no farmer happened to come along, the stuff stayed -there indefinitely. Outhouses were neglected, and never were properly -cared for by the scavengers, who worked for grafting contractors. The -practice of keeping swine in the built-up portions of the city was -common. The slaughterhouses were in horrible condition, and the offal -from these could not be properly cared for because of defective sewers.</p> - -<p>Tenement-house conditions were as bad as they have ever been anywhere. -No space was left unoccupied. Sheds, basements, and even cellars were -rented to families and lodgers. The vast numbers of immigrants pouring -in, and the constricted space on Manhattan Island, made rents so high -that even a corner in a cellar brought an exorbitant price. Single -rooms were divided by partitions, and whole families occupied each -section.</p> - -<p>In 1866 it was estimated that 20,000 People were then living in cellars -in New York. Ten years before that period many of the city houses had -been shaky from quick building; after the war, figuratively speaking, -they had fallen into the cellars. At that time New York could hardly -claim distinction as a great city. Travelers referred to it as an -overgrown village, into which had been shoveled slovenly hordes -of European immigrants. The annual death-rate was thirty-four per -thousand, while that of London was about twenty-three per thousand. And -it must be remembered that New York’s new population was composed of -vigorous men and women, the cream of other localities, with what should -have been healthy offspring, who had quickly centered here, ambitious -and active; whereas London was an ancient city, bearing the ills of -its own age. It must be remembered also that at that time the medical -profession knew little of bacteriology; antitoxins were unknown; people -lived like ostriches, with their heads in the sand concerning questions -of sex hygiene and child hygiene; and the science of sociology had yet -to be discovered.</p> - -<p>Cities had always existed, it is true, but they had to be constantly -replenished by fresh blood from the country, and most of them had space -to spread out into the country, and thus absorb naturally some of the -health that comes from fresh air. But here was a city that had little -chance to spread. It was confined to a narrow, rocky island, and was -growing more rapidly than any other city in the history of the world. -“Bounded on one side by a bluff and on the other side by a sound,” it -was burrowing into the earth and climbing constantly into the air to -make room for its fast-growing population. It was the center of the -fiercest contest for money and power, yet it failed to hold long those -who came there. The men that made money went to Europe to spend it, and -those that fell in the fight went to the West to recuperate. Immigrants -that arrived there with money went on to the West or the South; those -without money stayed.</p> - -<p>The result was that New York did not primarily become a city of -residence, but the resort of those who either through the necessity of -poverty or the necessity of ambition sojourned there. Of all American -cities it became the most artificial; there life came to be lived at -its highest tension; there the struggle for existence became fiercest.</p> - -<p>It is apparent that in such a city Nature cannot be left to her own -devices. When man deserts Nature, she promptly retaliates by deserting -man. And, in substitution of so-called “natural” living, there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> has -been developed the present-day mode, built up of scientific analysis, -skilful treatment, and thorough organization.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="A_NEW_DEPARTURE">A NEW DEPARTURE</h3> - -<p>T<span class="smaller">HE</span> health campaigns of the last forty-five years divide themselves -naturally into two groups, those that came before 1900 and those that -came after that year. The early campaigns were the more obvious; the -later campaigns are the more subtle in their tactics, but none the -less effective. Before 1900 the death-rate had been reduced by more -than one third. In 1866 it was 34 per thousand; in 1900 it was 20.57 -per thousand. During this period of thirty-four years wells had been -gradually eliminated as sources of drinking-water, until not one was -left in the principal parts of the city. Young children who never had -been in the country were brought to the well in Central Park and they -gazed into it as a curiosity, just as they looked at the bears and -the greenhouses. At the same time the general water-supply was vastly -improved. To live in cellars was made illegal, and there was a general -improvement in the condition of dwellings. Street-cleaning became well -organized; sewers were laid in almost all the streets, and refuse was -cared for scientifically. The public supervision of contagious diseases -became effective; good use was made of new medical discoveries, such as -diphtheria antitoxin, and the public hospitals were improved.</p> - -<p>Yet the advances in sanitary safeguarding since 1900 are more wonderful -than those that came before. In the last twelve years the death-rate -has been reduced by a quarter from its comparatively high rate at the -beginning of the century. In 1911 it was 15.13 per thousand. For 1912 -it was 14.11 per thousand. However, this reduction of more than six per -thousand has been won with over twice the effort that was necessary to -make the first fourteen per thousand. The city budget for 1912 carried -an appropriation for the Department of Health of more than $3,000,000. -As much more was spent the same year by the seventy-odd organizations, -private or semi-public, the purpose of which is the betterment of -health conditions. Besides, there has been the devoted labor of more -than seven thousand physicians.</p> - -<p>In all this vast field of effort, as diversified as the entire scope -of modern science, as complex as civilization itself, two main lines -stand out conspicuously. New York was a pioneer among cities in both. -These concerned the treatment of tuberculosis and children’s diseases. -The organized fight against tuberculosis in New York, under the -latest approved scientific methods, dates only from 1904. Before that -time there was no successful effort on the part of the authorities -to diagnose the disease properly, nor any attempt to deal with it -intelligently when it was discovered accidentally. Yet New York is -as great a sufferer from the white plague as any other locality. -Its congested living, its large Negro population, and its indigent -foreigners, ignorant of our language and customs, make it a fertile -breeding-ground for the tubercle bacillus.</p> - -<p>Within eight years, twenty-nine tuberculosis clinics have been -established, and several day camps have been built where sufferers -can recuperate without expense and without leaving the city. In all -these thorough blood and sputum tests are made with modern scientific -apparatus. At the same time, it has been widely made known that to -recover from the dread disease it is not necessary to leave the city, -which, situated between two bodies of water, is swept constantly by -fresh air, the chief necessity in the treatment of tuberculosis.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="SAVING_THE_BABIES">SAVING THE BABIES</h3> - -<p>B<span class="smaller">UT</span> the really remarkable work in the reduction of the death-rate -within the last few years has been done among the children. It is here -that the war worth waging has been carried on most effectively. If, as -Ellen Key says, this is the century of the child, New York proved it -in its first decade by concentrating the health battalions on infant -mortality.</p> - -<p>“A baby that comes into the world has less chance to live one week than -an old man of ninety, and less chance to live a year than a man of -eighty,” Bergeron, the French authority on children’s diseases, said -ten years ago. Within five years those chances have been increased by -a third in New York. In 1911, throughout the United States one death -in every five was that of a child under one year of age, while in New -York only one death in every eight was that of a child under one year -of age. Yet five years before that time New York’s average of infant -mortality had been equal to that of the rest of the country. And in -1912 the infant mortality was further decreased by six per cent., a -greater decrease than that of any other city.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0034" name="i_0034"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0034.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Drawn by Jay Hambidge. Half-tone plate engraved - by H. C. Merrill</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">WEIGHING THE BABIES AT AN INFANTS’ MILK STATION - IN NEW YORK</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> - -<p>What has accomplished this result? Primarily, two causes: first, the -attention of the Board of Health, whose department of child hygiene now -receives a larger annual appropriation than any other (in 1913 it will -have more than $600,000, a fifth of the entire budget); and, second, -the work of the New York Milk Committee, a semi-public organization -composed of many of the chief physicians and philanthropists of the -city.</p> - -<p>Eight years ago there was not one infants’ milk station in New York. -The babies of the poor were obliged to live on what milk could be -found easily for them. Few could afford and still fewer could find -what is known as “Grade A” milk, which sells in the commercial market -for from fifteen to twenty-five cents a quart, and which is thoroughly -inspected and certified. At the close of 1912 there were seventy-nine -such stations in the city. At every one Grade A milk was sold at the -nominal price of eight cents a quart, so as to be in easy competition -with ordinary commercial milk. Every day thousands of mothers with -their babies throng these stations. However, their chief purpose is -not the mere selling of pure, rich milk. They serve principally as -dispensaries. The milk is used by the city as a lure by means of which -ignorant mothers are brought within the reach of the physicians of -the Health Department. With the milk, thorough instruction and advice -as to the care of infants is given gratis. The old idea that mothers -know entirely how best to care for their own children has been proved -erroneous. Not all mothers in a large city know how to care for their -children. Many of them are virtually as helpless as the children -themselves. They have to be taken in hand, trained, and taught in the -care of their offspring as completely as the children themselves are -taken in hand a few years later in the public schools.</p> - -<p>In addition to the seventy-nine dispensaries of milk and medical -knowledge, the city maintains a large corps of trained nurses who make -visits, especially during the summer, to the homes to complete the -instruction. In the poorer districts, every child under a year old is -visited by a city nurse at least once in ten days. The average cost is -fifty cents a month for each child. At the same time the inspection of -the general milk-supply has become thorough. The city’s inspectors now -cover all farms within two hundred miles from the city hall, and the -sources of supply are thus kept in proper sanitary condition.</p> - -<p>The city also gives ice in summer to those families (with children) -that are unable to buy it. In the summer of 1912, 900,000 pounds were -thus distributed. This is in addition to the accepted efforts to secure -better playgrounds, better ventilated schools, etc.</p> - -<p>A decade ago the summer death-rate among children in New York was from -two to three times as high as the winter death-rate. For the last four -years it has been steadily decreasing, and in 1912 it was almost as low -as the winter death-rate. Deaths from diarrheal diseases among children -have been reduced to a minimum through the concentrated efforts of a -few years. The next work to be taken up will be the winter deaths from -respiratory diseases. This is a more difficult problem.</p> - -<p>Yet the greatest problem in infant mortality has still to be solved. -This is the care of the “institution” baby. As in England and in -France, the largest number of deaths among New York children occur -among the illegitimate and those lacking a mother’s care during the -early months of life. In 1911 more than forty per cent. of the deaths -of infants under one year in Manhattan occurred in institutions.</p> - -<p>The institutions that receive foundlings are too few and too poorly -equipped. One day Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan saw in the street, within -a block of his home, a poor woman hugging despairingly to her -breast a new-born infant. In consequence, he caused to be built the -million-dollar lying-in hospital on Stuyvesant Square, which has -already been the means of saving many an innocent life. But that -superb hospital, large as it is, has not the facilities for taking -care of more than a small number of the infants that require such an -institution.</p> - -<p>The material agencies, efficient and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> marvelous as they have become, -have not been the chief aid in the reduction of the death-rate, -especially among children. Public education has really had more to do -with it. Even those in direct charge of the work in infant mortality do -not assert that the entire credit for the satisfactory progress should -be given to the milk stations, the dispensaries, and the hospitals. -Pamphlets, lectures, newspaper articles, and school-room instruction -are at the base of the advance. Publicity has proved to be a greater -force than milk inspection. Certain popular newspapers in New York -have the power to achieve definite radical reforms in modes of living -whenever they choose to prosecute a vigorous campaign. Just as the -newspapers can expose corruption in any of the city’s departments, so -almost as readily they can uproot or at least substantially lessen -certain sanitary evils. A case in point is their campaign against the -fly last summer. By means of wide-spread and vigorous news articles and -editorials they succeeded in so rousing the mass of the people that -the fly pest was visibly reduced. Health Department officials testify -readily to this.</p> - -<p>The work of the social settlements, of the mothers’ clubs, of -the neighborhood nursing associations, of the diet-kitchens, all -contribute to the general education that is bringing about a condition -of excellent public sanitation. This work is necessarily of slow -growth. Its effect is not nearly so evident as that of vaccination, of -smallpox segregation, or of typhoid diagnosis. It is not so simple as -establishing proper sewers or purifying the water-supply; but it is no -less important.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="THE_STUDY_OF_SEX_HYGIENE">THE STUDY OF SEX HYGIENE</h3> - -<p>I<span class="smaller">N</span> all this tremendous volume of public sanitary education, no one -feature stands out more clearly than the work being done in sex -hygiene. Prudery is passing; there can be no doubt of that. Within -the last five years every public school in New York has introduced a -course of teaching in its physiology or biology department the aim of -which is to acquaint the growing boy and girl with the essential facts -of sex life, to open their eyes to sexual evils, and to prepare them -to treat with sexual diseases intelligently. Ignorant mothers, both -foreign-born and native, or those whose false modesty is worse than -their ignorance, are day by day being taught by their daughters of -twelve and fourteen, who have learned their lessons in school or in -neighborhood classes, certain essential facts of sex life, ignorance of -which has brought about pitiful conditions of disease and death.</p> - -<p>The effect of this is not yet fully apparent in a decreased death-rate, -but there can be little doubt that within a very few years it will have -its result. For instance, one third of the infant mortality is due to -prenatal conditions, congenital diseases which afflict the child at -birth, and which mean either speedy death or a lingering, crippled -life. The larger part of these untoward prenatal conditions are due to -sexual diseases. To eliminate them will require two sustained efforts: -the further abolishing of prudery, with consequent rigorous sex -hygiene, and the enactment and enforcement of laws that will require -proper medical examination before marriage.</p> - -<p>A physician told me recently that in his opinion within a decade laws -will be enacted providing that every man and woman desiring to marry -can do so only with a doctor’s certificate that shall carry with it a -clean bill of health. Once that is done, it is confidently believed -that the death-rate among infants will fall off perhaps by a quarter, -and surely by a fifth or a sixth. The educational work in this field is -being done for the future. With present adults there is little hope; -but the fathers and mothers of the next generation will be much better -equipped.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="THE_FIGHT_AGAINST_TYPHOID_GERMS">THE FIGHT AGAINST -TYPHOID GERMS</h3> - -<p>I<span class="smaller">N</span> one more campaign the immediate future seems likely to yield -great results perhaps almost as important as those resulting from -the discovery of antitoxin. This will be from the use of the new -anti-typhoid serum, which the Department of Health in December, 1912, -decided to use as extensively as possible in New York. This decision -followed close on the War Department’s public declaration that the -anti-typhoid serum had proved a success, virtually eliminating the -disease from the army. In 1909 there were more cases of typhoid in -the United States than of the plague in India, despite the fact that -India’s population is two and a half times<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> that of the United States. -In 1907 there were more cases of typhoid in New York than of pellagra -in Italy, though Italy’s population is six times that of New York. In -this work, as in children’s diseases and in tuberculosis, New York -is a pioneer, and yet New York is better off regarding typhoid than -many other American cities, for it has a lower typhoid death-rate -than Boston, Chicago, Washington, or Philadelphia; yet its typhoid -death-rate is higher than that of London, Paris, Berlin, or Hamburg.</p> - -<p>Last spring when Wilbur Wright, the aviator, died of typhoid fever at -the age of forty-five, several newspapers were honest enough to speak -of it as a murder—a murder by the American people, through neglect and -ignorance, of a genius who, had he been allowed, might have lived to be -of still more distinguished service to the world.</p> - -<p>In the last two years the New York Department of Health has been able -to trace definitely several typhoid-fever outbreaks. In nearly every -instance it was found that the disease could be traced to a “carrier.” -A carrier is a person who has recovered from an attack of typhoid, but -who remains infected. One outbreak of four hundred cases was traced to -the infection of a milk-supply by a typhoid carrier who had had the -disease forty-seven years before. In another outbreak of fifty cases -the contamination was traced to a man who had the disease seven years -before.</p> - -<p>Within the last few months the case of “Typhoid Mary” has received much -attention. This woman has recently brought suit against the Department -of Health for damaging her career as a cook. For more than six months -she was kept in a sort of exile by the department. Before that time she -had been a cook in many households, and wherever she went typhoid fever -followed her. Although she had suffered with the disease many years -before she was apprehended, the germs were said to be still very lively -in her system. The authorities asserted that her blood tests revealed -that she was likely to communicate typhoid to any one at any time; and -therefore Mary did no more cooking.</p> - -<p>There is no telling how many carriers are loose in New York at -present, and the only known way of averting the danger is by the use -of the serum which the army has found efficacious. It is estimated -that about three per cent. of those recovering from typhoid become -bacillus-carriers. As yet typhoid vaccination is not compulsory among -the public at large, as in the army; but a strong movement is felt -in the city to make it so. When typhoid-fever becomes as thoroughly -controlled as smallpox, or even as diphtheria, the death-rate will drop -another point or two. It will be the last of the filth diseases to go. -It is asserted by competent authorities that eighty-five per cent. of -the cases are preventable.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="OPINIONS_OF_AN_EXPERT">OPINIONS OF AN EXPERT</h3> - -<p>D<span class="smaller">R</span>. L<span class="smaller">EDERLE</span>, Health Commissioner of New York City, says that while -typhoid vaccination is likely to prove of untold benefit, other -specific improvements should be made. There should be a more -perfect control of the milk-supply. At present there is no central -testing-station. He recommends also an improved method of sewage -disposal, either by treatment or by carrying it farther out to sea, -thus preventing pollution of the harbor. There should be a drainage -of surrounding land to do away with mosquitos; improved methods -of street-cleaning that would result in the prevention of flying -dust-clouds; and the open garbage receptacles and dumps should be -abolished in favor of cremation of all refuse. The campaign against the -fly must be carried on more vigorously every year, and immediate steps -are to be taken for the protection of all foods from fly contamination. -This will be an extension of the control of food, together with -the proper filtration of the public water-supply. Dr. Lederle says -further that increased hospital facilities for contagious diseases are -needed. There will be further popular education in sanitary matters, -special stress being laid on the need of fresh air in homes, schools, -factories, offices, theaters, and churches; and a comprehensive -publication will be made, chiefly for the aid of the poorer classes, -of the comparative nutritive and cost values of foods; and further -changes in the customs of the time, due to these plans and to other -activities, will result in a simpler manner of living. This should -render overeating less frequent and re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>duce the consumption of alcohol -and medicines.</p> - -<p>Finally, in addition to these efforts, which are under the direction -of public officers, the health commissioner declares that if the -death-rate is to be further reduced, there must be in the immediate -future two changes: first, a definite advance in bacteriological -knowledge; and, second, a change in the attitude toward the health of -our adult population.</p> - -<p>“Save the babies!” was the cry of the last decade. “Save the -middle-aged!” will be the cry of this. The real race suicide is not -in the insufficiency of births, but in the inadequate knowledge of -the diseases of maturity, and in the inadequate care and prevention -of these diseases. Deaths from arterio-sclerosis, apoplexy, kidney -affections, stomach disorders, and cancer are continuously on the -increase, and have been for ten years past. Of the 75,000 persons that -died in New York in 1911, 17,000 died of “middle-age complaints.”</p> - -<p>The intense life of New Yorkers, their intemperance in eating, -drinking, and working, contributes chiefly to the increase in the -middle-age death-rate. However, Bright’s disease, diabetes, and cancer -are not more a mystery than diphtheria was before antitoxin was -discovered. Bacteriology has its fields of further effort well laid out -in those directions.</p> - -<p>It is the contention of those that give their lives to the study of the -subject that “public health is a purchasable commodity.” The struggle, -then, is between the death-rate and the dollar rate. Contribute more -money to the cause of public health, and the death-rate will go down. -Forty thousand babies were saved in 1910 at an average cost of eighteen -dollars. It would have cost more to bury them, as the cheapest sort of -funeral costs twenty-five dollars.</p> - -<p>The appropriation for the care of the public health in New York is not -niggardly; it is larger than in most cities. Still, it is not enough. -Where the health officers ask for a dollar and a half, they get a -dollar. The excuse is that the rest of the desired money is needed to -improve parks and streets, for the police and fire departments, for -the city government, the water-fronts, etc. Besides, the people of -this city are absolutely obliged to spend about $100,000,000 a year -on automobiles, candy, theaters, alcoholic drinks, tobacco, diamonds, -and such other urgent needs of life. What is left over, after those -necessities are provided for, goes toward the preservation of health!</p> - -<p>The average expectation of life for man varies in different countries -in direct proportion to the application of efficient principles of -hygiene and sanitation. In India, for instance, where sanitation is low -and the majority of the population live, like Kim, on “the ravellings -of circumstance,” the average duration of life is less than twenty-five -years. In Sweden and Denmark, where life is methodical and ideals are -high, and the Government takes up the ash-heaps regularly, a normal man -may expect to live more than seventy years. In Massachusetts, which -is the only one of our States to furnish us with reliable statistics, -the average duration of life is forty-five years. Wherever sanitary -science is active, the length of life is steadily increasing. In India -it is stationary; in Europe it has doubled in the last 350 years; in -New York, as we have seen, it has doubled within the last half-century. -Despite the many obstacles, it seems likely that when the next general -census is taken the death-rate of the metropolis will be down to -thirteen per thousand. With such a rate, every person in the city may -expect to live to be seventy years old. And most of them will say, -“Isn’t that old enough?”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0038" name="i_0038"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0038.jpg" - alt="Tailpiece for “A War Worth Waging”" /></a> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0038a" name="i_0038a"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0038.jpg" - alt="Headpiece for “The Illusion of Progress”" /></a> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_ILLUSION_OF_PROGRESS">THE ILLUSION OF -PROGRESS<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor"><span class="s6">[2]</span></a></h2> - -</div> - -<p class="s3 center mbot2">BY KENYON COX</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">I</span>N these days all of us, even Academicians, are to some extent -believers in progress. Our golden age is no longer in the past, but in -the future. We know that our early ancestors were a race of wretched -cave-dwellers, and we believe that our still earlier ancestors were -possessed of tails and pointed ears. Having come so far, we are -sometimes inclined to forget that not every step has been an advance, -and to entertain an illogical confidence that each future step must -carry us still further forward; having indubitably progressed in many -things, we think of ourselves as progressing in all. And as the pace -of progress in science and in material things has become more and more -rapid, we have come to expect a similar pace in art and letters, to -imagine that the art of the future must be far finer than the art of -the present or than that of the past, and that the art of one decade, -or even of one year, must supersede that of the preceding decade or -the preceding year, as the 1913 model in automobiles supersedes the -model of 1912. More than ever before “To have done, is to hang quite -out of fashion,” and the only title to consideration is to do something -quite obviously new or to proclaim one’s intention of doing something -newer. The race grows madder and madder. It is hardly two years since -we first heard of “Cubism” and already the “Futurists” are calling the -“Cubists” reactionary. Even the gasping critics, pounding manfully in -the rear, have thrown away all impedimenta of traditional standards in -the desperate effort to keep up with what seems less a march than a -stampede.</p> - -<p>But while we talk so loudly of progress in the arts we have an uneasy -feeling that we are not really progressing. If our belief in our own -art were as full-blooded as was that of the great creative epochs, we -should scarce be so reverent of the art of the past. It is, perhaps, a -sign of anemia that we have become founders of museums and conservers -of old buildings. If we are so careful of our heritage, it is surely -from some doubt of our ability to replace it. When art has been -vigorously alive, it has been ruthless in its treatment of what has -gone before. No cathedral builder thought of reconciling his own work -to that of the builder who preceded him; he built in his own way, -confident of its superiority. And when the Renaissance builder came, -in his turn, he contemptuously dismissed all medieval art as “Gothic” -and barbarous, and was as ready to tear down an old façade as to build -a new one. Even the most cock-sure of our moderns might hesitate to -emulate Michelangelo in his calm destruction of three frescos by -Perugino to make room for his own “Last Judgment.” He at least had the -full courage of his convictions, and his opinion of Perugino is of -record.</p> - -<p>Not all of us would consider even Michelangelo’s arrogance entirely -justified, but it is not only the Michelangelos who have had this -belief in themselves. Apparently the confidence of progress has been as -great in times that now seem to us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> decadent as in times that we think -of as truly progressive. The past, or at least the immediate past, -has always seemed “out of date,” and each generation, as it made its -entrance on the stage, has plumed itself upon its superiority to that -which was leaving it. The architect of the most debased baroque grafted -his “improvements” upon the buildings of the high Renaissance with an -assurance not less than that with which David and his contemporaries -banished the whole charming art of the eighteenth century. Van Orley -and Frans Floris were as sure of their advance upon the ancient Flemish -painting of the Van Eycks and of Memling as Rubens himself must have -been of his advance upon them.</p> - -<p>We can see plainly enough that in at least some of these cases the -sense of progress was an illusion. There was movement, but it was -not always forward movement. And if progress was illusory in some -instances, may it not, possibly, have been so in all? It is at least -worth inquiry how far the fine arts have ever been in a state of true -progress, going forward regularly from good to better, each generation -building on the work of its predecessors and surpassing that work, -in the way in which science has normally progressed when material -conditions were favorable.</p> - -<p>If, with a view to answering this question, we examine, however -cursorily, the history of the five great arts, we shall find a somewhat -different state of affairs in the case of each. In the end it may be -possible to formulate something like a general rule that shall accord -with all the facts. Let us begin with the greatest and simplest of the -arts, the art of poetry.</p> - -<p>In the history of poetry we shall find less evidence of progress than -anywhere else, for it will be seen that its acknowledged masterpieces -are almost invariably near the beginning of a series rather than -near the end. Almost as soon as a clear and flexible language has -been formed by any people, a great poem has been composed in that -language, which has remained not only unsurpassed, but unequaled, by -any subsequent work. Homer is for us, as he was for the Greeks, the -greatest of their poets; and if the opinion could be taken of all -cultivated readers in those nations that have inherited the Greek -tradition, it is doubtful whether he would not be acclaimed the -greatest poet of the ages. Dante has remained the first of Italian -poets, as he was one of the earliest. Chaucer, who wrote when our -language was transforming itself from Anglo-Saxon into English, -has still lovers who are willing for his sake to master what is to -them almost a foreign tongue, and yet other lovers who ask for new -translations of his works into our modern idiom; while Shakspere, who -wrote almost as soon as that transformation had been accomplished, is -universally reckoned one of the greatest of world-poets. There have, -indeed, been true poets at almost all stages of the world’s history, -but the preëminence of such masters as these can hardly be questioned, -and if we looked to poetry alone for a type of the arts, we should -almost be forced to conclude that art is the reverse of progressive. -We should think of it as gushing forth in full splendor when the world -is ready for it, and as unable ever again to rise to the level of its -fount.</p> - -<p>The art of architecture is later in its beginning than that of poetry, -for it can exist only when men have learned to build solidly and -permanently. A nomad may be a poet, but he cannot be an architect; a -herdsman might have written the Book of Job, but the great builders -are dwellers in cities. But since men first learned to build they -have never quite forgotten how to do so. At all times there have been -somewhere peoples who knew enough of building to mold its utility into -forms of beauty, and the history of architecture may be read more -continuously than that of any other art. It is a history of constant -change and of continuous development, each people and each age forming -out of the old elements a new style which should express its mind, -and each style reaching its point of greatest distinctiveness only -to begin a further transformation into something else; but is it a -history of progress? Building, indeed, has progressed at one time or -another. The Romans, with their domes and arches, were more scientific -builders than the Greeks, with their simple post and lintel, but were -they better architects? We of to-day, with our steel construction, -can scrape the sky with erections that would have amazed the boldest -of medieval<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> craftsmen; can we equal his art? If we ask where in the -history of architecture do its masterpieces appear, the answer must be -“Almost anywhere.” Wherever men have had the wealth and the energy to -build greatly, they have builded beautifully, and the distinctions are -less between style and style or epoch and epoch than between building -and building. The masterpieces of one time are as the masterpieces of -another, and no man may say that the nave of Amiens is finer than the -Parthenon or that the Parthenon is nobler than the nave of Amiens. One -may say only that each is perfect in its kind, a supreme expression of -the human spirit.</p> - -<p>Of the art of music I must speak with the diffidence becoming to the -ignorant; but it seems to me to consist of two elements and to contain -an inspirational art as direct and as simple as that of poetry, and -a science so difficult that its fullest mastery is of very recent -achievement. In melodic invention it is so far from progressive that -its most brilliant masters are often content to elaborate and to -decorate a theme old enough to have no history—a theme the inventor of -which has been so entirely forgotten that we think of it as sprung not -from the mind of one man, but from that of a whole people, and call it -a folk-song. The song is almost as old as the race, but the symphony -has had to wait for the invention of many instruments and for a mastery -of the laws of harmony, and so symphonic music is a modern art. We -are still adding new instruments to the orchestra and admitting to -our compositions new combinations of sounds, but have we in a hundred -years made any essential progress even in this part of the art? Have we -produced anything, I will not say greater, but anything as great as the -noblest works of Bach and Beethoven?</p> - -<p>Already, and before considering the arts of painting and sculpture, we -are coming within sight of our general law. This law seems to be that, -so far as an art is dependent upon any form of exact knowledge, so far -it partakes of the nature of science and is capable of progress. So -far as it is expressive of a mind and soul, its greatness is dependent -upon the greatness of that mind and soul, and it is incapable of -progress. It may even be the reverse of progressive, because as an art -becomes more complicated and makes ever greater demands upon technical -mastery, it becomes more difficult as a medium of expression, while -the mind to be expressed becomes more sophisticated and less easy of -expression in any medium. It would take a greater mind than Homer’s to -express modern ideas in modern verse with Homer’s serene perfection; -it would take, perhaps, a greater mind than Bach’s to employ all the -resources of modern music with his glorious ease and directness. And -greater minds than those of Bach and Homer the world has not often the -felicity to possess.</p> - -<p>The arts of painting and sculpture are imitative arts above all others, -and therefore more dependent than any others upon exact knowledge, more -tinged with the quality of science. Let us see how they illustrate our -supposed law.</p> - -<p>Sculpture depends, as does architecture, upon certain laws of -proportion in space which are analogous to the laws of proportion -in time and in pitch upon which music is founded. But as sculpture -represents the human figure, whereas architecture and music represent -nothing, sculpture requires for its perfection the mastery of an -additional science, which is the knowledge of the structure and -movement of the human body. This knowledge may be acquired with some -rapidity, especially in times and countries where man is often seen -unclothed. So, in the history of civilizations, sculpture developed -early, after poetry, but with architecture, and before painting and -polyphonic music. It reached the greatest perfection of which it -is capable in the age of Pericles, and from that time progress was -impossible to it, and for a thousand years its movement was one of -decline. After the dark ages sculpture was one of the first arts to -revive, and again it develops rapidly, though not so rapidly as before, -conditions of custom and climate being less favorable to it, until it -reaches, in the first half of the sixteenth century, something near -its former perfection. Again it can go no further; and since then -it has changed, but has not progressed. In Phidias, by which name -I would signify the sculptor of the pediments of the Parthenon, we -have the coincidence of a superlatively great artist with the moment -of technical and scientific perfection in the art, and a similar -coincidence crowns the work of Michel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>angelo with a peculiar glory. -But, apart from the work of these two men, the essential value of a -work of sculpture is by no means always equal to its technical and -scientific completeness. There are archaic statues that are almost as -nobly beautiful as any work by Phidias, and more beautiful than almost -any work that has been done since his time. There are bits of Gothic -sculpture that are more valuable expressions of human feeling than -anything produced by the contemporaries of Buonarroti. Even in times -of decadence a great artist has created finer things than could be -accomplished by a mediocre talent of the great epochs, and the world -could ill spare the “Victory” of Samothrace or the portrait busts of -Houdon.</p> - -<p>As sculpture is one of the simplest of the arts, painting is one of the -most complicated. The harmonies it constructs are composed of almost -innumerable elements of lines and forms and colors and degrees of light -and dark, and the science it professes is no less than that of the -visible aspect of the whole of nature—a science so vast that it never -has been and perhaps never can be mastered in its totality. Anything -approaching a complete art of painting can exist only in an advanced -stage of civilization. An entirely complete art of painting never has -existed and probably never will exist. The history of painting, after -its early stages, is a history of loss here balancing gain there, of a -new means of expression acquired at the cost of an old one.</p> - -<p>We know comparatively little of the painting of antiquity, but we have -no reason to suppose that that art, however admirable, ever attained -to ripeness, and we know that the painting of the Orient has stopped -short at a comparatively early stage of development. For our purpose -the art to be studied is the painting of modern times in Europe from -its origin in the Middle Ages. Even in the beginning, or before the -beginning, while painting is a decadent reminiscence of the past rather -than a prophecy of the new birth, there are decorative splendors in -the Byzantine mosaics hardly to be recaptured. Then comes primitive -painting, an art of the line and of pure color with little modulation -and no attempt at the rendering of solid form. It gradually attains to -some sense of relief by the use of degrees of light and less light; -but the instant it admits the true shadow, the old brightness and -purity of color have become impossible. The line remains dominant for -a time, and is carried to the pitch of refinement and beauty, but the -love for solid form gradually overcomes it, and in the art of the high -Renaissance it takes a second place. Then light and shade begins to be -studied for its own sake; color, no longer pure and bright, but deep -and resonant, comes in again; the line vanishes altogether, and even -form becomes secondary. The last step is taken by Rembrandt, and even -color is subordinated to light and shade, which exists alone in a world -of brownness. At every step there has been progress, but there has also -been regress. Perhaps the greatest balance of gain against loss, and -the nearest approach to a complete art of painting, was with the great -Venetians. The transformation is still going on, and in our own day we -have conquered some corners of the science of visible aspects which -were unexplored by our ancestors. But the balance has turned against -us; our loss has been greater than our gain; and our art, even in its -scientific aspect, is inferior to that of the sixteenth and seventeenth -centuries.</p> - -<p>And just because there never has been a complete art of painting, -entirely rounded and perfected, it is the clearer to us that the -final value of a work in that art never has depended on its approach -to such completion. There is no one supreme master of painting, but -a long succession of masters of different yet equal glory. If the -masterpieces of architecture are everywhere because there has often -been a complete art of architecture, the masterpieces of painting are -everywhere for the opposite reason. And if we do not always value a -master the more as his art is more nearly complete, neither do we -always value him especially who has placed new scientific conquests -at the disposal of art. Palma Vecchio painted by the side of Titian, -but he is only a minor master; Botticelli remained of the generation -before Leonardo, but he is one of the immortal great. Paolo Ucello, by -his study of perspective, made a distinct advance in pictorial science, -but his interest for us is purely historic; Fra Angelico made no -advance whatever, but he practised consummately the current art as he -found it, and his work is eternally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> delightful. At every stage of its -development the art of painting has been a sufficient medium for the -expression of a great man’s mind; and wherever and whenever a great man -has practised it, the result has been a great and permanently valuable -work of art.</p> - -<p>For this seems, finally, to be the law of all the arts: the one -essential prerequisite to the production of a great work of art is a -great man. You cannot have the art without the man, and when you have -the man you have the art. His time and his surroundings will color him, -his art will not be at one time or place precisely what it might be at -another; but at bottom the art is the man, and at all times and in all -countries is just as great as the man.</p> - -<p>Let us clear our minds, then, of the illusion that there is in any -important sense such a thing as progress in the fine arts. We may with -a clear conscience judge every new work for what it appears in itself -to be, asking of it that it be noble and beautiful and reasonable, not -that it be novel or progressive. If it be great art, it will always -be novel enough; for there will be a great mind behind it, and no two -great minds are alike. And if it be novel without being great, how -shall we be the better off? There are enough forms of mediocre or evil -art in the world already. Being no longer intimidated by the fetish of -progress, when a thing calling itself a work of art seems to us hideous -and degraded, indecent and insane, we shall have the courage to say -so and shall not care to investigate it further. Detestable things -have been produced in the past, and they are none the less detestable -because we are able to see how they came to be produced. Detestable -things are produced now, and they will be no more admirable if we learn -to understand the minds that create them. Even should such things prove -to be not the mere freaks of a diseased intellect that they seem, but a -necessary outgrowth of the conditions of the age and a true prophecy of -“the art of the future,” they are not necessarily the better for that. -It is only that the future will be very unlucky in its art.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="TO_THE_EXPERIMENTERS">TO THE EXPERIMENTERS</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="s3 center mbot2">BY CHARLES BADGER CLARK, JR.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span class="drop-cap_poetry">H</span>ELP me live long, O keen, cool servants of science!</div> - <div class="verse">Give me a hundred years, for life is good and I love it,</div> - <div class="verse">And wonders are easy for you.</div> - <div class="verse">Yet, by a rule that is older than Æsculapius,</div> - <div class="verse">I still must reckon my time to that luckless day</div> - <div class="verse">When a ’whelming foe will cross a frontier unguarded</div> - <div class="verse">Into this myriad nation of cells that bears my name,</div> - <div class="verse">Storming fort after fort till the swarming defenders have perished</div> - <div class="verse">And the strangled empire shall fall.</div> - <div class="verse">My friends, simple folk, will weep and say, “He is dead!”</div> - <div class="verse">But you will smile at their terrible, black-winged angel,</div> - <div class="verse">And jot his name and description down in your note-book—</div> - <div class="verse">The bitter song of the ages in a line of chemic formula!</div> - <div class="verse">Aye, and perchance you can take the components of living,—</div> - <div class="verse">Provinces, ravaged and waste, of that ruinous empire,—</div> - <div class="verse">And cunningly right them again.</div> - <div class="verse">Then call in the mourners.</div> - <div class="verse">“Say you your friend is dead?</div> - <div class="verse">See through that glass how his heart is pulsating steadily.</div> - <div class="verse">Look there, and there, at the beautiful play of the organs—</div> - <div class="verse">All the reactions of life restored by our science!</div> - <div class="verse">Where is your death?”</div> - <div class="verse">But I—is there not an I?—catch you that in a test-tube!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0044" name="i_0044"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0044.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Owned by Mr. Hugo Reisinger</p> - <p class="s5 center">NONCHALANCE</p> - <p class="s6 center">FROM THE PAINTING BY JOHN S. SARGENT</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2 ebhide"><a href="images/i_0044_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="WAR-HORSES_OF_FAMOUS_GENERALS">WAR-HORSES OF -FAMOUS GENERALS</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="s4 center">WASHINGTON—WELLINGTON—NAPOLEON—GRANT—LEE—SHERMAN—SHERIDAN</p> - -<p class="s3 center mbot2">BY JAMES GRANT WILSON</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">W</span>HEN Colonel Washington accompanied General Braddock as aide-de-camp in -the Virginia campaign against the French and their Indian allies, he -took with him three war-horses. Of these his favorite was “Greenway,” a -fiery steed of great speed and endurance. In the disastrous battle of -July 9, 1755, Braddock was mortally wounded, after having five horses -killed under him, a record, so far as the writer is aware, unequaled -in the annals of war. Washington lost two horses. One of these was -replaced by the dying general, who presented to him his best charger, -which had escaped the carnage. A week later the young colonel wrote of -the engagement to his brother John:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>By the all powerful dispensation of Providence, I have been -protected beyond all human probability or expectation: for I have -had four bullets through my coat, and two horses shot under me, yet -escaped unhurt, although death was on every side of me.</p></div> - -<p>After the capture of Canada and the close of the war, Washington -frequently followed the foxhounds mounted on “Braddock,” as he named -that soldier’s powerful dark bay, or on “Greenway,” which was a dark -gray, and it was seldom that the Virginian was not in the lead.</p> - -<p>On June 20, 1775, Colonel Washington received his commission as -Commander-in-Chief of the American Army, and on the following morning, -accompanied by Generals Charles Lee and Philip Schuyler, he set out for -Cambridge, Massachusetts. He took with him five horses, his favorite -being a spirited stallion called “Douglas,” on which Washington first -appeared before the army at Cambridge, charming all beholders with -his manly grace and military bearing. Jefferson called him “the best -horseman of his age.” Before the close of the Revolutionary War the -general acquired by gift or purchase seven additional chargers. His -bay horse “Fairfax” was so badly wounded at the battle of Trenton that -he was left behind. At the battle of Monmouth, Washington rode a white -steed presented to him by William Livingston, Governor of New Jersey. -Such was the excessive heat on that June day, as well as the deep and -sandy nature of the soil, that the spirited charger sank under the -general, dying on the spot. His portrait is preserved in Trumbull’s -full-length painting of Washington, in the City Hall of New York. He -then mounted a high-bred chestnut mare with long, flowing mane and tail -named “Dolly.” Lafayette said of her and her rider:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>At Monmouth I commanded a division, and it may be supposed I -was pretty well occupied; still, I took time, amid the roar and -confusion of the conflict, to admire our beloved chief, who, -mounted on a splendid charger, rode along the ranks amid the shouts -of the soldiers, cheering them by his voice and example, and -restoring to our standard the fortunes of the fight. I thought I -had never seen so superb a man.</p></div> - -<p>Another of Washington’s war-horses, and the last to be mentioned, was -“Nelson,” a light chestnut, sixteen hands high, with white face and -legs. He was a gift from Governor Thomas Nelson of Virginia, and was -named in his honor. He was used for the last time at the surrender of -Lord Cornwallis, afterward leading a life of leisure at Mount Vernon -and following Washington’s bier in the funeral procession. Before the -Civil War, while on a visit to the general’s adopted son, Mr. Custis of -Arlington, I was informed that when a youth he had ridden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> “Buckskin” -and “Nelson,” and that the handsome white horse that fell on the field -of Monmouth was painted from memory by Colonel Trumbull. Mr. Custis -said:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Among the many troublesome and unbroken horses ridden by -Washington, he was never thrown, and he was perhaps the strongest -man of his time. Mounted on “Buckskin,” I occasionally accompanied -the general when making his daily morning rounds at Mount Vernon, -riding “Yorktown,” the youngest of his war-horses, and the last -mounted by him, only a few days before his death. On one of those -occasions Washington saw with displeasure two stalwart negroes -vainly endeavoring to raise a heavy stone to the top of a wall. -Throwing “Yorktown’s” bridle to me, he sprang from his saddle, -strode forward, pushed the slaves aside, leaned over, and, grasping -the huge stone with his large, strong hands, slowly but surely -raised it to its place, and remounted without any remark.</p></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0046" name="i_0046"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0046.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s5 center">WASHINGTON’S FAVORITE WHITE CHARGER “LEXINGTON,” - AT THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTH</p> - <p class="s6 center mbot2">FROM THE PAINTING BY JOHN TRUMBULL</p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A<span class="smaller">T</span> four o’clock on a June morning ninety-eight years ago, when Napoleon -was defeated by Wellington in one of the sixteen decisive battles of -the world, the illustrious English soldier mounted his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> celebrated -charger “Copenhagen,” remaining in the saddle for eighteen hours. -“Copenhagen” was a powerful chestnut, grandson of the famous war-horse -“Eclipse,” and the son of “Lady Catherine,” the charger ridden by -Field-Marshal Lord Grosvenor at the siege of Copenhagen, when she was -in foal with the colt which afterward carried Wellington at Waterloo. -The war-horse cost him, in 1813, four hundred guineas. Two years -later, when the famous victory was won, and Wellington had held his -historic interview with Blücher, the duke dismounted at ten o’clock. -As “Copenhagen” was led away by the groom, he playfully threw out -his heels as a “good-night” salutation to his successful master. It -was Wellington’s last act before leaving Strathfieldsaye for London -on public or private business, to walk out to the adjacent paddock -to pat his favorite charger, and to feed him with chocolate or other -confectionery, of which he was inordinately fond.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0047" name="i_0047"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0047.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s5 center">NAPOLEON’S FAMOUS WAR-HORSE “MARENGO”</p> - <p class="s6 center mbot2">FROM THE PAINTING BY MEISSONIER</p> -</div> - -<p>For more than a dozen years before his death “Copenhagen,” leading the -easy, comfortable career of a well-pensioned veteran who had retired -from all the activities of life, was only twice surreptitiously saddled -and ridden by the duke’s eldest son, the Marquis of Douro. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> second -Duke of Wellington, who died in 1884, erected two monuments on the -grounds of Strathfieldsaye, that fine estate of nearly seven thousand -acres on which is situated Silchester, the site of a Roman station, -presented to the “Iron Duke” by the British government for a day’s work -at Waterloo. One of these, a superb and lofty marble column, is to the -memory of his illustrious father, the other to that of “Copenhagen.” -The former stands just outside the park at the point where, immediately -in front of one of the lodges, the London road meets at right angles -that which connects Reading with Basingstoke. A simple marble tombstone -standing under the shadow of a spreading Turkish oak marks the spot -where the brave steed was buried with military honors, and bears the -following inscription from the pen of the second duke:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Here lies Copenhagen, the charger ridden by the Duke of Wellington -the entire day of the battle of Waterloo. Born 1808, died 1836.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">God’s humbler instrument though meaner clay</div> - <div class="verse">Should share the glory of that glorious day.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0048" name="i_0048"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0048.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s5 center">WELLINGTON’S WATERLOO CHARGER “COPENHAGEN”</p> - <p class="s6 center mbot2">FROM THE PAINTING BY JAMES WARD, R.A.</p> -</div> - -<p>As we stood by “Copenhagen’s” grave in the summer of 1872, the duke -said to me:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Several years after my father’s death an old servant of the family -came to me in the library, and, producing a paper parcel, spoke as -follows: “Your Grace, I do not believe that I have long to live, -and before I die I wish to place in your hands what belongs to -you.” With no small degree of surprise I inquired what it was, and -when he opened the package and produced a horse’s hoof he said: -“Your Grace, when Copenhagen died I cut off this hoof. None of us -imagined that the duke would trouble his head about the body of -the war-horse, but, to our great surprise, he walked down to the -stables on his sudden return from London to see him buried. He -instantly observed that his right forefoot was gone, and was in -a fearful passion. No one dared tell him how it happened. I have -preserved the hoof carefully for thirty years, and I now return it -to your Grace.”</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0049" name="i_0049"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0049.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s5 center">GRANT’S THREE FAVORITE WAR-HORSES: “EGYPT” (ON THE - LEFT), “CINCINNATI” (IN THE MIDDLE), AND “JEFF DAVIS” (ON THE RIGHT)</p> - <p class="center"><span class="s6">By permission of “Harper’s Weekly”</span><br /> - <span class="s5">SHERMAN’S FAVORITE STEED “LEXINGTON”</span><br /> - <span class="s6">FROM A DRAWING BY THURE DE THULSTRUP</span></p> - <p class="s5 center">SHERIDAN’S FAMOUS WAR-HORSE “WINCHESTER”</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2 ebhide"><a href="images/i_0049_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> - -<p>Lady de Ros, the last survivor of those who danced at the Duchess -of Richmond’s ball in Brussels on the evening before the battle of -Waterloo, also the last among those who had mounted “Copenhagen,” -published a little volume of recollections of Wellington which -contained the following extract:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>We often stayed with the duke at Abbaye, Mount St. Martin, -Cambrai, and one morning he announced that there would be a sham -battle, and that he had given orders to Sir George Scovell that -the ladies riding should be taken prisoners, so he recommended our -keeping close to him. I had no difficulty in doing so, as I was -riding the duke’s Waterloo charger “Copenhagen,” and I found myself -the only one within a square where they were firing. To the duke’s -great amusement, he heard one of the soldiers saying to another: -“Take care of that ’ere horse; he kicks out. We knew him well in -Spain,” pointing to “Copenhagen.” He was a most unpleasant horse to -ride, but always snorted and neighed with pleasure at the sight of -troops. I was jumping with him when the stirrup broke, and I fell -off. In the evening the duke had a dance, and said to me, “Here’s -the heroine of the day—got kicked off, and didn’t mind it.”</p></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0050" name="i_0050"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0050.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">LEE’S CELEBRATED CHARGER “TRAVELLER”</p> -</div> - -<p>The first Duchess of Wellington, with whom “Copenhagen” was a great -favorite, wore a bracelet of his hair, as did several of her friends. -Her daughter-in-law, the second duchess, who died in August, 1894, -and who was much admired by the great duke, accompanying him on his -last visit to the field of Waterloo, showed the writer a bracelet and -breastpin made of “Copenhagen’s” mane. On my last sojourn of several -days at Strathfieldsaye in September, 1883, I received from the second -duke as a parting gift a precious lock of the Waterloo hero’s hair and -a sheaf of the charger’s tail. It may be mentioned <em class="italic">en passant</em> that -Sir William Gomm’s redoubtable Waterloo charger “Old George,” once -mounted by Wellington, which lived to the unusual age for war-horses of -thirty-three years, is buried beneath a stone seat at Stoke Pogis, the -pastoral scene of Gray’s familiar and beautiful elegy.</p> - -<p>On the authority of his eldest son, who mentioned the circumstance -to the writer, it may be stated in conclusion that the last time -Wellington walked out of Wal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>mer Castle, on the afternoon of the day -previous to his death, it was to visit his stable and to give orders to -the groom concerning his horses.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>C<span class="smaller">HIEF</span> among the most celebrated battle-chargers of the nineteenth -century was “Marengo,” Napoleon’s favorite war-horse. He was named in -honor of one of the most remarkable victories ever achieved by the -illustrious soldier. The day was lost by the French, and then gained -by the resistless charges of cavalry led by Desaix and Kellermann. -Their success caused the beaten infantry to rally and, taking heart, -to attack the Austrians with fury, and the field was finally won. In -view of the several hundred biographies of Bonaparte, it is certainly -surprising that so little should be known with any degree of certainty -concerning the world-famous Arab which he rode for eight hours at -Waterloo, and previously in scores of battles, as well as during the -disastrous Russian campaign. To an American visitor to the Bonapartes -at Chiselhurst in the summer of 1872, Louis Napoleon, in speaking of -his own horses and those of his uncle, said:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>The emperor’s “Marengo” was an Arabian of good size and style and -almost white. He rode him in his last battle of Mont St. Jean, -where the famous war-horse received his seventh wound. I mounted -him once in my youth, and only a short time before his death in -England at the age of thirty-six. Another favorite was “Marie,” -and was used by the emperor in many of his hundred battles. Her -skeleton is to be seen in the ancient castle of Ivenach on the -Rhine, the property of the Von Plessen family. Of the other sixty -or seventy steeds owned by Napoleon and used in his campaigns, -perhaps the most celebrated were “Ali,” “Austerlitz,” “Jaffa,” and -“Styrie.” He had nineteen horses killed under him.</p></div> - -<p>The American might have mentioned, but did not, that Field-Marshal -Blücher had twenty shot in battle, while in the American Civil War -Generals Custer of the North and Forrest of the South are believed to -have lost almost as many in the short period of four years. “Marie” -is thus described by Victor Hugo in the words of a soldier of the Old -Guard:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>On the day when he [Napoleon] gave me the cross, I noticed the -beast. It had its ears very far apart, a deep saddle, a fine head -marked with a black star, a very long neck, prominent knees, -projecting flanks, oblique shoulders, and a strong crupper. She was -a little above fifteen hands high.</p> - -<p>When “Marengo” was slightly wounded in the near haunch, Napoleon -mounted “Marie,” and finished his final battle on her. On his -downfall, a French gentleman purchased “Jaffa” and “Marengo” and -sent them to his English estate at Glastonbury, Kent. The tombstone -of the former may be seen there, with the inscription, “Under this -stone lies Jaffa, the celebrated charger of Napoleon.”</p></div> - -<p>The last trumpet-call sounded for “Marengo” in September, 1829. After -his death the skeleton was purchased and presented to the United -Service Institution at Whitehall, London, and is at present among its -most highly treasured relics. Another interesting souvenir of the -famous steed is one of his hoofs, made into a snuff-box, which makes -its daily rounds after dinner at the King’s Guards, in St. James’s -Palace. On its silver lid is engraved the legend, “Hoof of Marengo, -barb charger of Napoleon, ridden by him at Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena, -Wagram, in the Russian campaign, and at Waterloo,” and round the -silver shoe the legend continues: “Marengo was wounded in the near hip -at Waterloo, when his great master was on him in the hollow road in -advance of the French. He had frequently been wounded before in other -battles.” Near his skeleton may be seen an oil painting of “Marengo,” -by James Ward, R.A., who also was commissioned by Wellington to paint -a picture of “Copenhagen,” Napoleon’s pocket-telescope, and other -articles found in his carriage at Genappe, near Waterloo, where he was -nearly captured, but escaped by mounting the fleet “Marengo.” In the -museum is also displayed the saddle used by Blücher at Waterloo, and a -letter written by the fiery old field-marshal, the day after the fierce -battle, of which the following is a translation:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="right mright2 mbot1">Gossalines June 19, 1815.</p> - -<p>You remember, my dear wife, what I promised you, and I have kept -my word. The superiority of the enemy’s numbers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> obliged me to -give way on the 17th; but yesterday, in conjunction with my friend -Wellington, I put an end forever to Bonaparte’s dancing. His army -is completely routed, and the whole of his artillery, baggage, -caissons, and equipage are in my hands. I have had two horses -killed under me since the beginning of this short campaign. It will -soon be all over with Bonaparte.</p></div> - -<p>From a recent Paris publication, written by General Gourgaud, we learn -that at St. Helena Napoleon said that the finest charger he ever -owned was not the famous “Marengo,” but one named “Mourad Bey,” of -which, unfortunately, no further information is afforded by the French -general. In his St. Helena diary, Gourgaud writes:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>L’Empereur passé à l’equitation. Il n’avait pas peur à cheval, -parce qu’il n’avait jamais appris. “J’avais de bons chevaux le -Mourad-Bey etait le meilleur et le plus beau à l’armée d’Italie. -J’en avait un excellent: Aussi, pour invalide, l’ai-je mis à -Saint-Cloud, où il passait en liberté.”</p></div> - -<p>The last horse used by Napoleon was purchased at St. Helena. He -was a small bay of about fifteen hands called “King George,” but -afterward named by the emperor “Scheik,” which became much attached -to him. Captain Frederick Lahrbush of the Sixtieth Rifles, who was -then stationed on the island and who, as he could speak French, -became intimate with Napoleon, gave me a description of “Scheik” and -bequeathed to me his silver Waterloo medal and a lock of the emperor’s -hair, received as a parting gift on his departure from St. Helena.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A<span class="smaller">S</span> far as I am aware, no great commander ever possessed so valuable a -charger as “Cincinnati,” General Grant’s favorite during the fourth -year of the Civil War, and after his great victory at Chattanooga, -during which he rode “Egypt,” another of his six war-horses. A few -weeks later, when in Cincinnati, Grant received the gift of the noble -steed, which he named after that city. He was a son of “Lexington,” -with a single exception the fastest four-mile thoroughbred that ever -ran on an American race-course, having made the distance in 7:19¾ -minutes. The general was offered $10,000 for the horse, as his record -almost equaled that of his sire and his half-brother “Kentucky.” He -was a spirited and superb dark bay of great endurance, Grant riding -him almost daily during the Wilderness campaign of the summer of 1864, -and until the war closed in the following spring. “Cincinnati” was -seventeen hands, and, in the estimation of the illustrious soldier, the -grandest horse that he had ever seen, perhaps the most valuable ever -ridden by an army commander from the time of Alexander down to our own -day.</p> - -<p>The general very rarely permitted any person but himself to mount him. -Only two exceptions are recalled by the writer, once when Admiral -Daniel Ammen, who saved Grant when a small boy from being drowned, -visited him at his headquarters at City Point on the James River, and -when, a little later, President Lincoln came to the same place from -Washington to spend a week with the general. On the admiral’s return -from a two-hours’ ride, accompanied by a young aide-de-camp, Grant -asked how he liked “Cincinnati.”</p> - -<p>Ammen answered, “I have never backed his equal.”</p> - -<p>“Nor have I,” said the general.</p> - -<p>In his “Personal Memoirs” Grant writes:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Lincoln spent the last days of his life with me. He came to City -Point in the last month of the war, and was with me all the -time. He lived on a despatch-boat in the river, but was always -around headquarters. He was a fine horseman, and rode my horse -“Cincinnati” every day. He visited the different camps, and I did -all that I could to interest him. The President was exceedingly -anxious about the war closing, and was apprehensive that we could -not stand another campaign.</p></div> - -<p>Soon after the surrender of General Robert E. Lee and his army at -Appomattox Court House, Virginia, in April, 1865, “Cincinnati” was -retired from active service, thereafter enjoying almost a decade of -peace and comfort on Admiral Ammen’s Maryland estate near Washington -until the end came in September,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> 1874, and he then received honorable -burial. The charger is fully entitled to a prominent place among the -most celebrated chargers of the nineteenth century, which includes -General Lee’s “Traveller,” General Sherman’s “Lexington,” and General -Sheridan’s “Winchester,” which died in 1878, and was skilfully mounted -by a taxidermist. “Winchester” is included among the relics of the -Mexican and later wars in the interesting collection of the Military -Service Institution on Governor’s Island, New York Harbor.</p> - -<p>It is interesting to record that Washington, who was six feet and two -inches in stature, weighed at the time of the siege of Yorktown 195 -pounds; Wellington, five feet seven inches, weighed at Waterloo 140 -pounds; Napoleon, five feet six inches, at the same date, 158 pounds; -and Grant, five feet eight inches, weighed at Appomattox Court House -145 pounds; General Lee at Gettysburg weighed 180 pounds; Sherman at -Atlanta 165 pounds; and Sheridan, in the battle of Cedar Creek, about -150 pounds. Washington was the tallest, and Sheridan the shortest of -the seven generals whose war-horses are described in this article. It -will be seen, therefore, that Washington’s war-horse “Nelson” had a -much heavier weight to carry than the chargers “Copenhagen,” “Marengo,” -and “Cincinnati,” in their masters’ concluding campaigns.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>T<span class="smaller">HE</span> most celebrated charger in the Confederacy during our four years’ -war was General Robert E. Lee’s “Traveller,” described to the writer by -Sheridan, who first saw him on the day of surrender at Appomattox, as -“a chunky gray horse.” He was born near Blue Sulphur Springs in West -Virginia in April, 1857, and when a colt won the first prize at the -Greenbrier Fair under the name of “Jeff Davis.” When purchased by the -great Virginian early in February, 1862, his name was changed by Lee -to “Traveller,” his master being very careful always to spell the word -with a double <em class="italic">l</em>. The horse was sixteen hands, above half bred, well -developed, of great courage and kindness, and carried his head well up. -He liked the excitement of battle, and at such times was a superb and -typical war-steed. General Fitzhugh Lee said to me that “Traveller” was -much admired for his rapid, springy walk, high spirit, bold carriage, -and muscular strength.</p> - -<p>It may be doubted if any of the great commanders mentioned in American -history possessed greater admiration for a fine horse than General -Lee, who said, “There is many a war-horse that is more entitled to -immortality than the man who rides him.” On the third day of the battle -of Gettysburg, when Pickett’s gallant charge had been successfully -repulsed by Hancock, and the survivors of his broken and decimated -command were returning to the Confederate position, Lee appeared and -spoke encouragingly to his defeated troops. While he was thus occupied, -observing an officer beating his horse for shying at the bursting of -a shell, he shouted: “Don’t whip him, Captain! Don’t whip him! I have -just such another foolish horse myself, and whipping does no good.” A -moment later an excited officer rode up to Lee and “Traveller,” and -reported the broken condition of his brigade. “Never mind, General,” -responded Lee, cheerfully; “all this has been my fault. It is I that -have lost the battle, and you must help me out of it in the best way -you can.”</p> - -<p>As with Napoleon and Wellington at Waterloo, so was it with Grant and -Lee, who saw each other but once during their many fierce encounters -about Richmond in the eleven months previous to the final surrender, -and then only at a great distance, Grant, as he told me, recognizing -the gray horse, but not his rider. The illustrious soldiers had met -in Mexico while serving under General Scott, but after separating in -April, 1865, never saw each other again but once—when General Lee -called at the White House to see President Grant.</p> - -<p>Soon after the close of the Civil War, Lee accepted the presidency -of Washington and Lee University. For five years, until his death, -he almost daily rode or fed his favorite charger. At the hero’s -funeral, “Traveller” was equipped for service and placed close to -the hearse. When the flower-covered coffin was carried out from the -church, the faithful horse put his nose on it and whinnied! He survived -his attached master for two years, when a nail penetrated his right -forefoot while grazing in a field, and, although it was immediately -removed, and everything possible was done to save him, lockjaw -developed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> and he died during the summer of 1872. “Traveller’s” -skeleton was preserved, and is to be seen at Lexington, Virginia, as -well as Stonewall Jackson’s famous “Sorrel,” which was skilfully set -up by a veteran taxidermist. “Traveller,” like Sheridan’s celebrated -charger “Winchester,” enjoyed the very great distinction of having -his illustrious master for a biographer. In the sketch Lee mentions -his other horses, saying: “Of all, ‘Traveller’s’ companions in -toil,—‘Richmond,’ ‘Brown Roan,’ ‘Ajax,’ and quiet ‘Lucy Long,’—he is -the only one that retained his vigor. The first two expired under their -onerous burdens, and the last two failed.” During the Mexican War, -the general’s favorite was “Grace Darling,” a handsome and powerful -chestnut, which was seven times wounded, but never seriously.</p> - -<p>Referring to the photograph of “Traveller,” General Custis Lee wrote to -me:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>You will observe that my father’s position in the picture which -I send you, is that “to gather the horse,” in order to keep him -quiet. The legs are crossed behind the girth, and the hand is -slightly raised. “Traveller” injured both my father’s hands at the -second battle of Manassas, and General Lee could not thereafter -hold the reins in the regulation manner.</p></div> - -<p>The brilliant Sherman’s favorite war-horse was killed under him in -the first day of the bloody battle of Shiloh, and two others were -shot while in charge of his orderly. Later in the four years’ contest -his most famous steeds were “Lexington” and “Sam.” The former was a -Kentucky thoroughbred, and is mentioned in his memoirs. Sherman was -photographed on “Lexington” in Atlanta, and he rode him in the grand -review in Washington, May 24, 1865. The horse that under the homely -name of “Sam” most firmly established himself in the affection and -confidence of the general was a large, half-thoroughbred bay, sixteen -and a half hands, which he purchased soon after losing his three steeds -at Shiloh. “Sam” possessed speed, strength, and endurance, and was so -steady under fire that Sherman had no difficulty in writing orders from -the saddle and giving attention to other matters. While as steady as a -rock under fire, “Sam” was nevertheless prudent and sagacious in his -choice of shelter from hostile shot and shell. The charger was wounded -several times when mounted, and the fault was wholly due to his master. -He acquired wide reputation as a forager, and always contrived to -obtain a full allowance of rations, sometimes escaping on independent -expeditions for that purpose.</p> - -<p>What first endeared “Sam” to Sherman was that he became a favorite -with his son Willie, whom the writer well remembers when he came to -Vicksburg on a visit during the siege only a brief period before his -untimely death. The general told us that he always felt safe when his -boy was absent on “Sam,” knowing that he would keep out of danger and -return in time for dinner. Sherman rode him in many pitched battles, -and placed him on an Illinois farm, where he was pensioned, dying of -extreme old age in the summer of 1884. The general’s son Tecumseh -writes: “Sam was hardly the heroic horse to place with the others -you mention, but he was a strong, faithful animal who did perfectly -the varied and dangerous work allotted to him, and made a march as -long and difficult as any recorded in history—that from Vicksburg to -Washington,” via Atlanta, Savannah, Columbia, and Richmond.</p> - -<p>A few months before his death Sherman said to me: “Now remember, -Wilson, when I am gone, you are not to hand around a hat for a -monument. I have paid for one in St. Louis, and all you have to do is -to place me under it.”</p> - -<p>“General,” was the reply, “your wishes shall be respected; but of -course your troops of friends and admirers will certainly erect statues -in New York and Washington, and I am certain our Society of the Army of -the Tennessee will expect to honor their great commander with a statue -in some city of the West.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, that’s all right,” said the old hero, “if they think I am -worthy of them; but don’t put me on a circus horse.”</p> - -<p>This comment I repeated at the Metropolitan Club luncheon which -followed the unveiling of Saint-Gaudens’s equestrian statue of the -illustrious soldier. While McKim, who designed the pedestal, the poet -Stedman, and others smiled, the gifted sculptor looked solemn. The -steed, whose feet are not all where Sherman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> wished them to be, is -supposed to be a counterfeit presentment of “Lexington.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>P<span class="smaller">HILIP</span> H. S<span class="smaller">HERIDAN</span>, who was in half a hundred battles and skirmishes -without ever being wounded, wrote to an army friend in January, 1876:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>In regard to the black horse, I am glad to say that he is still -living, and is now in my stable. He has been a pensioner for the -past eight years, never being used save in the way of necessary -exercise. He is of the Black Hawk stock, was foaled at, or near, -Grand Rapids, Michigan, and was brought into the army by one of -the officers of the Second Michigan Cavalry, of which I was made -Colonel in 1862. Early in the spring of that year, while the -regiment was stationed at Rienzi, Miss., the horse was presented to -me by the officers, and at that time was rising three years old. He -is over seventeen hands in height, powerfully built, with a deep -chest, strong shoulders, has a broad forehead, a clear eye, and is -an animal of great intelligence. In his prime he was one of the -strongest horses I have ever known, very active, and the fastest -walker in the army, so far as my experience goes.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> I rode him -constantly from 1862 to the close of the war, in all the actions -and in all the raids, as well as campaigns in which I took part. He -was never ill, and his staying powers were superb. At present he -is a little rheumatic, fat and lazy; but he has fairly earned his -rest, and so long as I live he will be taken care of.</p></div> - -<p>The celebrated charger died in October, 1878, when Sheridan made a -slight addition to his biography, saying:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>He always held his head high, and by the quickness of his movements -gave many persons the impression that he was exceedingly impetuous. -This was not the case, for I could at any time control him by a -firm hand and a few words, and he was as cool and quiet under -fire as one of my old soldiers. I doubt if his superior for field -service was ever ridden by any one.</p></div> - -<p>The poet-painter Buchanan Read, Herman Melville, and many minor writers -made “Winchester” the subject of poems and sketches, while several -sculptors and painters delineated him in marble and bronze and on -canvas. On every returning Memorial day many gray-haired survivors of -Sheridan’s rough-riders who remember the services of his</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Steed as black as the steeds of night,</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="p0">cross over from New York to Governor’s Island museum, and place flowers -on the glass case containing the celebrated charger, whose body, -after being set up by a skilled taxidermist, was, accompanied by his -accoutrements, presented by the general to the United States Military -Service Institution.</p> - -<p>Near the close of his career, when General Grant lost his fortune in -Wall Street, he voluntarily surrendered all his property with a single -exception. He retained Read’s spirited painting of Sheridan’s “Ride,” -representing “Winchester” and his master, the greatest <em class="italic">sabreur</em> -that our country has produced, perhaps not surpassed by any cavalry -commander since the days of Murat. Read’s poem of “Sheridan’s Ride” -will probably outlive his famous picture.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan!</div> - <div class="verse">Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man!</div> - <div class="verse">And when their statues are placed on high</div> - <div class="verse">Under the dome of the Union sky,</div> - <div class="verse">The American soldier’s temple of fame,</div> - <div class="verse">There with the glorious General’s name</div> - <div class="verse">Be it said in letters both bold and bright:</div> - <div class="verse">“Here is the steed that saved the day</div> - <div class="verse">By carrying Sheridan into the fight,</div> - <div class="verse">From Winchester—twenty miles away.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>May I be permitted, in conclusion, to mention that none of the hundreds -of battle-chargers ridden by Washington, Napoleon, Wellington, Grant, -Lee, Sherman, and Sheridan, suffered mutilation by the barbarous modern -practice of docking their tails, which even uncivilized savages never -perpetrate on their horses.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0056" name="i_0056"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0056.jpg" - alt="Headpiece for “Mrs. Longbow’s Biography”" /></a> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="MRS_LONGBOWS_BIOGRAPHY">MRS. LONGBOW’S BIOGRAPHY</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="s3 center mbot2">BY GORDON HALL GEROULD</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">M</span>Y acquaintance with Mrs. Longbow was due to my early friendship with -her son Charles. Mrs. Longbow and her two daughters swung into my -orbit quite unimportantly at first as shadowy persons to whom Charlie -wrote letters home while we were boys at school; later I came to know -the mother as an imposing figure, shiny with black jet, who eyed the -school from a platform on those great occasions when Charlie received -prizes and I did not. I never learned her weight, but I saw that her -displacement was enormous. By successive stages, as I increased in -stature and in years, my knowledge of her grew. I visited her son, -I danced with her daughters, I frequently conversed with her,—she -preferred to converse rather than to talk,—and I came to know as much -of her habit and attitude of mind, perhaps, as one could who was thirty -years her junior, not actively engaged in reforming the world, and of -the despised sex.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Longbow—Amelia E. Longbow, to designate her at once by the name -that she made illustrious—was of the older school of philanthropists, -who combined militant activity with the literary graces and a -tremendous sense of personal dignity. She could despise men and yet -receive them in her drawing-room without embarrassment; she could -wage a bitter warfare on wickedness and, when deeply stirred, write -a tolerable sonnet. She was indefatigable in her labors, but she was -never, to my knowledge, flurried or hurried. A large presence, she -moved through life with the splendid serenity of a steam-roller. She -was capable of prodigious labor, but not of idleness. Whatever her -hands found to do she did with all her might—and in her own way. At -one time or another she was engaged in reforming most things that are -susceptible of improvement or of disturbance. If she did not leave the -world better than she found it, the fault was the world’s, not hers.</p> - -<p>It was a considerable shock to me that she should leave the world -at all, so necessary had she seemingly become to its proper -administration, let alone its progress. I read the news of her death -in London just as I was sailing for home after a summer’s holiday, -and I felt a touch of pride that I had known the woman whose career -was written large that day in the journals of a sister nation. But, -as I reflected, neither America nor England had waited till her death -to pay their homage. She had lived long, and on many great occasions -during three decades she had been signally and publicly honored as the -most remarkable of her sex. The cable-despatches announced that she -left a comfortable fortune, and leading articles agreed that she was -wholly admirable. I felt sure that she would have regarded the praise -as unmerited if she had not shown her ability by leaving a respectable -inheritance to her children. I had reason also to believe that she -never lost her self-confident assurance of her own worth: she died, the -newspapers said, quite peacefully.</p> - -<p>Once back in New York, I took an early occasion to call on my friend -Charles Longbow. I had always liked him ever since the day that I -fished him, a shivering mite, out of the skating-pond at school. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> had -been his chum thereafter until the end of my college course. Though I -could not emulate his distinction in scholarship or public speaking, I -could at least be useful to him, by virtue of my year’s seniority, in -protecting him from the consequences of his mother’s celebrity. I even -did him some service by pushing him into the thick of undergraduate -life. I was really very fond of him, and I was sure he liked me.</p> - -<p>If I had seen less of Charlie in later years, it was merely because -our paths did not often cross in a natural way. We boast about our -civilization a good deal, but we keep to our trails much as savages -do—or animals, for that matter. Besides, for some years I had a good -reason, not connected with Charlie’s mother or himself, for keeping -away from the Longbow house. So I had been with him less than I could -have wished, though I had never lost the habit of his friendship. I was -busy in my own way, and he was occupied in his. He had never been the -conspicuous success that his youth had promised, but he was more widely -known than many men with a greater professional reputation. To the -larger public he was always, of course, his mother’s son. At forty he -was what one might call a philanthropic lawyer. He did a certain amount -of ordinary business, and he wrote on many topics of contemporary -interest for the reviews, made many addresses to gatherings of earnest -people, served on many boards and commissions. He had retained the -modesty and generosity of his boyhood, which made some of us devoted -to him even though we were not in full sympathy with all of his -activities. Pride and vain-glory in him were purely vicarious: he was a -little conceited about his mother.</p> - -<p>As far back as my college days I had begun to distrust the estimate in -which Mrs. Longbow was held by her family and, as well as one could -judge, by herself. All of them, be it said, were supported in their -opinion of her greatness and her abounding righteousness by the world -at large. It was one of my earliest disillusionments to discover the -yawning vacuity that lay behind her solid front of fame; it was a sad -day for me, though it fostered intellectual pride, when I found out -that she was not such a miracle of goodness as she seemed. Though -Charles, as a matter of course, knew her much more intimately than I, -I think that he never penetrated her disguise.</p> - -<p>With his sisters the case was somewhat different, as I began to suspect -not long after my own private discovery. They were a little older than -Charles, and had better opportunities of watching their mother at close -range. Helen married, when she was about twenty-five, a man of her own -age, who eventually became one of the most prominent editors in New -York—Henry Wakefield Bradford. She made him a good wife, no doubt, and -had some share in his success both as debtor and as creditor. Whether -she loved him or not, she supported his interests loyally. Though she -had made an escape from her mother’s house, she did not desert her. -Indeed, in Helen’s marriage Mrs. Longbow might truly have been said to -have gained a son rather than to have lost a daughter. The Bradfords -were ardent worshipers at the shrine, and they worshiped very publicly. -In private, however, I detected a faint acidity of reference, a tinge -of irony, that made me suspect them of harboring envious feelings. -Perhaps they resented the luster of satellites, and would have liked to -emulate Mrs. Longbow’s glow of assured fame. Helen never seemed to me a -very good sort, though we were accounted friends. She had many of her -mother’s most striking qualities.</p> - -<p>Margaret, who was only a year older than Charles, never married. She -was her mother’s secretary and a most devoted daughter. She received -with her, traveled with her, labored for her without apparent repining. -Whether she ever had time to think seriously of marrying, or of leaving -her mother on other terms, always seemed to me doubtful. At all events, -she said as much to me repeatedly when at the age of twenty-five I -proposed to her. Without question, she had a great deal to do in -helping Mrs. Longbow to transact efficiently the business of the -universe. She was prettier than Helen, who grew large and stately by -her thirtieth year and was of too bold and mustached an aquiline type -for beauty. Margaret was fair, and retained the girlish lines of her -slender figure until middle age. She was clever, too, like the rest of -the family, and had seen much of the world in her mother’s company. She -wrote stories that had considerable success, and she would have had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> -personal distinction as a member of any other family. My only reason -for suspecting that she sometimes wearied of her filial rôle was a -remark that she once made to me when I complimented her on a pretty -novel she had published.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” she replied, “one has to do something on one’s own account -in self-defense. Mother swallows everybody—she is so wonderful.” The -final phrase, I thought, did not altogether let Mrs. Longbow out.</p> - -<p>They were all writers, you see, all well known on the platform and in -the press, all active in good works and reform; but the children’s -celebrity shone mainly with a borrowed light. Irreverently enough, I -used to think of the mother as being like a hen with chicks. The hen’s -maternal clucking calls less attention to her brood than to herself.</p> - -<p>When I went to see Charles, I expected to find him overwhelmed with -genuine grief, and Margaret, if she appeared at all, endeavoring to -conceal the relief that was sure to be mixed with her natural sense of -loss. Of course, Helen—Mrs. Bradford, that is—I should not see, for -she had her own house. I should have to pay her a visit of condolence -separately. I dreaded this first meeting, though I was really very -sorry for Charles, whose devotion to his mother could not be doubted. -I knew that he would expect me to say things at once consoling and -laudatory, which would be difficult to frame. With so vocal a family, -the pressure of a hand and a murmured word would be insufficient -expressions of sympathy.</p> - -<p>When I reached the old house rather too far east on Thirty-eighth -Street, I was in a state of mind so craven that I would gladly have -shirked my duty on any pretext whatsoever; but I could think of none. -Instead, I had to tell both Margaret and Charles how deeply I felt -their loss. I found them up-stairs in the library, a dismal room -with too much furniture of the seventies, a mean grate, and heavy -bookcases filled with an odd collection of standard sets, reports of -philanthropic societies and commissions, and presentation copies of -works in all fields of literature and learning. I cherished a peculiar -dislike for this room, and I found no help in its dreadful reminders of -Mrs. Longbow’s active life. I did not quit myself well, but I managed -to speak some phrases of commonplace sympathy.</p> - -<p>Charles, lean, dark, and bearded, took up my words, while Margaret -drooped in her chair as though some spring had gone wrong inside her.</p> - -<p>“It was good of you to come so soon,” he said. “I’m sorry that you -couldn’t have been here for the funeral. Our friends were magnificent. -We were overwhelmed by the tide of sympathy. I think I might say that -the whole country mourned with us. You would have appreciated it, as we -did. It made one proud of America to see how she was revered; it made -me personally ready to ask forgiveness for all my cheap outbursts of -temper when I’ve thought the country was going wrong.”</p> - -<p>“The papers on the other side were full of praises for her,” I remarked -uncomfortably.</p> - -<p>“I know,” returned Charles. “The world must be better than we have -thought. I’d like to believe that the moral awakening in which she was -a leader has stirred men and women everywhere to right the wrongs of -humanity. But it will take more lives like hers to complete the work.”</p> - -<p>“She interested a great many people in reform who wouldn’t have taken -it up if it hadn’t been for her influence. And all of you are carrying -on work along the same lines.” I had to say something, and I could -think of nothing less inane.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” Charlie answered, wrinkling his forehead; “we must go on as well -as we can. But it’s like losing a pilot. She had genius.”</p> - -<p>Margaret Longbow suddenly straightened herself and began to wipe her -eyes delicately.</p> - -<p>“Mother had strength for it,” she said in a broken voice; “she had -wonderful energy.”</p> - -<p>“But think what you have done—all of you!” I protested. “As a family, -you are the most active people I know.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t go on—now. I’m going away as soon as things are straightened -out. I’m going to Italy to rest.” Margaret’s figure relaxed as suddenly -as it had stiffened. She lay back against a pile of cushions with the -inertness of utter fatigue.</p> - -<p>“Margaret!” Charles exclaimed sharply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> “What would mother have said?”</p> - -<p>Margaret’s thin lip curled. She made me wonder what explosion was going -to follow.</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t matter about Robert,” she said, turning her head ever so -slightly in my direction. “He knows that I’ve tagged behind mother all -my life; he knows that I never could keep up. He even knows how hard -I used to try. I’m not good enough and I’m not clever enough. She was -a whirlwind. I feel her death more than any of you,—I understood her -better,—but you don’t know what it has been like.”</p> - -<p>She was sobbing now, gently, indeed, but with every sign of an -hysterical outburst, save that her voice never rose above its ordinary -key. I felt sure that she was not being histrionic even for her own -benefit, sure that she was filled with despairing grief, sure that she -was holding hard to the crumbling edge of self-control; but I wondered -what martyrdom of stifled individualism she was keeping back. Evidently -Charles and I did not understand.</p> - -<p>Pale, horrified, obviously angry at the sudden exposure of his sister’s -weakness, Charles Longbow rose from his chair and confronted her.</p> - -<p>“Margaret,” he said, and I detected in him, as he spoke, a comical -resemblance to Mrs. Longbow, “I can’t see, to be sure, why you should -behave so childishly. You ought to know better than any one else the -importance of mother’s work, and you owe it to her not to drop out now -that she is dead. She liked Italy, too, but she had a sense of duty.”</p> - -<p>“She had—oh, I know all about it!” Margaret had suddenly grown calm, -and spoke with something like scorn. “But you don’t know what it was -to live with her so many hours every day—to be so dependent on her. I -haven’t cultivated any sense of duty of my own.”</p> - -<p>“You must need to rest,” I remarked, wishing more than ever that I -could go away, and feeling sure that Charles would give anything to get -me out of the house. “A winter in Italy would do both of you a lot of -good, I feel sure, after all the strain you’ve been through. Why don’t -you go with Margaret, Charlie?”</p> - -<p>He looked at me, sad-eyed and a little wondering.</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t possibly take the time, Bob; but I dare say Margaret does -need a change. I’m sorry it I spoke impatiently. Only I can’t stand -it, Sister, when you speak as though mother were somehow to blame.”</p> - -<p>“It’s all right, Charlie,” said Margaret, smiling from her cushions. “I -shouldn’t have broken out so. My nerves are on edge, I suppose. Perhaps -I shall come back from Italy after a while quite ready to take hold. -And one can write even in Italy.”</p> - -<p>“That reminds me.” Charles turned again to me. “I’ve been hoping to see -you soon about one thing. We agreed the other day that you ought to be -asked about it before we made any move. The public naturally expects an -authorized biography of mother. The demand for it has already begun. -Don’t you think Henry Bradford is the person to do it? Helen thinks he -would be willing to.”</p> - -<p>“He would do it well, undoubtedly,” I answered, rather startled by the -abruptness of the question. I was really unprepared to give a judicial -opinion about the matter.</p> - -<p>“Henry would like to do it,” said Margaret, “and he would give a very -just estimate of her public life. Helen could look after the English; -she always does. Only I won’t have Henry or anybody else rummaging -through all mother’s private papers.”</p> - -<p>“Of course we should—I mean, you ought to look them over first,” -returned Charles, uneasily.</p> - -<p>“Henry has no discretion whatever,” commented Margaret. “Besides, -mother never liked him particularly, as both of you know perfectly -well. She liked you, Robert, a great deal better. Helen would be -furious if I said it to her, but it’s true.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, Henry tried her sometimes,” Charles murmured; “but he knows -about everything in which she was interested.”</p> - -<p>“Why shouldn’t <em class="italic">you</em> do it?” I asked him.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it ought to be some one further removed from her,” he -answered—“some one who could speak quite freely. I couldn’t do it.”</p> - -<p>“There’s one other possible plan,” I remarked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> “Haven’t you thought of -it? Why shouldn’t the three of you collaborate in a life? It seems to -me that might be the most suitable arrangement. All of you write; you -have all been associated with your mother in her work. Why shouldn’t -you?”</p> - -<p>“That plan hasn’t occurred to us,” returned Charles, hesitatingly. “It -might be appropriate: ‘The Life of Mrs. Longbow, by Her Children.’ What -do you think, Margaret? Would Helen think well of it?”</p> - -<p>“Helen might,” replied Margaret. “I don’t quite know. I’d rather be -left out of it myself.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I couldn’t work with Helen alone,” said Charles. “She would -overrule me at every turn.”</p> - -<p>“There you are!” Margaret put in. “It would be a beautiful idea, no -doubt; but we should find it hard to agree.”</p> - -<p>“Yet we ought to consider the plan before we ask any one else to do the -book,” said Charles, looking at me as though for confirmation. He had -been walking about while we talked, and now stood facing us from behind -the library table.</p> - -<p>“You certainly ought,” I agreed, rising to go.</p> - -<p>A few days later I paid a visit to the Bradfords. Helen was alone. She -received me graciously and spoke of her mother with much feeling and -pride. Very soon, however, she turned the conversation to her sister.</p> - -<p>“I’m troubled about Margaret,” she said. “You’ve seen her. I’d like to -know exactly what you think. She seems to me to be on the edge of a -nervous collapse, but she won’t see a doctor.”</p> - -<p>“She is very tired, evidently,” I responded, “but I thought she had -herself well in hand. Perhaps it may be a good thing for her to put -through her plan of going to Italy.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps so. The poor child needs a rest, certainly. But I’m not at -all sure that she ought to be allowed to go away by herself.” Helen -Bradford eyed me significantly. “What worries me is her fixed idea that -mother has somehow been unjust to her. It is almost insane, this idea, -and it distresses me more than I can say. You see, I shouldn’t speak of -it at all except that you have known her so long. You see how absurd -the idea is. Margaret has had greater advantages from mother’s society -than any one else, as you know. It was a great privilege.”</p> - -<p>“Undoubtedly.” I could not bring myself to say more than that, for I -had a swift vision of what forty-two years of constant association with -Mrs. Longbow must have been like. “But the strain on her these last two -months must have been very great.”</p> - -<p>“Hardly greater than for me,” remarked Helen Bradford, stiffly. “I -relieved her at every turn. I think I did my full duty to mother. -Besides, mother never gave trouble; she was almost painfully anxious to -avoid doing so.”</p> - -<p>“I am sure of it,” I hastened to say; “but I suspect that Margaret has -not the strength of Mrs. Longbow. You are more like your mother in -many respects.” I was not quite sure whether Helen would take this as -a compliment, whether she might not detect a flavor of irony in the -speech; but I was relieved when it brought to her lips an amiable smile.</p> - -<p>“That is very good of you,” she said. “Margaret—poor dear!—has always -been perfectly well, but she has never had much vitality. That is very -important for us who are busy with so many kinds of work. Charles -doesn’t get tired in the same way, but he gets worried and anxious. -Mother never did. Margaret and Charles are more like my father. You -never knew him, I think?”</p> - -<p>All through her speech Helen Bradford had been pluming herself much as -I have seen fat geese do. The comparison is inelegant, but it conveys -the impression she gave me. At the end she sighed.</p> - -<p>“No,” I answered, “he died before I knew Charlie.”</p> - -<p>“I remember him vividly,” said Helen, “though I was a mere girl when -he died, and I have often heard mother say that he fretted himself to -death over non-essentials, quite selfishly. I am, I hope and believe, -whatever my faults may be, not like that.”</p> - -<p>I could truthfully say that she was not, and I added some commonplace -about Margaret’s restoration.</p> - -<p>“I shall have to look after her,” she went on.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> “Charles can’t be -depended on to do so. It is a great pity she has never married. A great -deal will come on me, now that mother is gone. For instance, there is -her biography. I must arrange for it without too much delay. I am aware -that people will be waiting for it eagerly.”</p> - -<p>“We can hardly hope to have the complete record of so active a life -immediately,” I said, thinking to be polite.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not,” she answered, “but my husband says that the success of -a biography depends very largely on when it is issued. It mustn’t be -too long delayed. You may not know that mother kept a copious journal -all through the years, from her earliest girlhood. With the letters she -saved, it will be of the greatest service to her biographer, I feel -sure.”</p> - -<p>“I am convinced of it,” I returned. Indeed, I could picture to myself -the amazing confessions that must be hidden in any really intimate -journal by Mrs. Longbow. I suspected that the revelation of it would -shock right-minded persons; but I did not doubt that the spectacle of -self-immolation finding its reward in worldly success and fame would -give to thousands the thrill of true romance.</p> - -<p>“Charles tells me,” proceeded Mrs. Bradford, “that you suggested the -possibility of our collaborating—the three of us—in the biography. It -is a very beautiful idea. ‘Mrs. Longbow, by Her Children!’ The great -public servant as seen by those nearest and dearest to her, by those -whom she brought into the world and trained to follow in her steps! -Mother would have appreciated your thinking of it, Robert, I feel sure. -But you must see how impracticable it would be. Margaret is in such a -state, and Charles would never get anything done. He is very busy with -his work, of course, as all of us are; and he is apt to weigh things -very critically. I should have great trouble in getting the biography -written within a reasonable time. I have thought that perhaps we ought -to get Henry to do it.”</p> - -<p>“He would no doubt do it very effectively,” I said, and rose to go.</p> - -<p>“We must consider carefully a great many things, mustn’t we?” she -remarked brightly. “And the matter is so very important! It is a great -responsibility for one to be the child of such a mother. So kind of you -to come, Robert! I prize your sympathy not only for itself, but because -I know how greatly you admired mother. It has been a great consolation -to see you.”</p> - -<p>I left the house, glad that the interview was over and determined to -see as little of the Longbows as possible, unless I could get Charles -by himself. It struck me that, in donning her mother’s prophetic -mantle, of which she obviously considered herself the rightful heiress, -Mrs. Bradford found compensation for her responsibilities. I could not -see why I should be troubled about the question of a proper tribute to -Mrs. Longbow, whose personality I disliked as cordially as I disliked -most of her agitations. I wondered whether other friends had suffered -in the same way.</p> - -<p>I was, indeed, not altogether pleased the following week when I -received from Margaret Longbow an invitation to dine informally with -her brother and herself.</p> - -<p>“Helen and her husband are to be here Friday night,” she wrote, “and -I feel the need of outside support. They seem to think me harmlessly -insane, but will perhaps treat me less like a mental invalid if you -are here. I’m sure you will be bored; but I hope you will come, if you -can, for old friendship’s sake.” I could think of no polite excuse for -not responding to this signal of distress, and accordingly found myself -once more gathered to the collective bosom of the Longbows. I could -only hope that they would have the decency not to appeal to me for any -further advice.</p> - -<p>The family was assembled before I arrived at the house. Margaret and -Charles looked a little uneasy, I thought; but the Bradfords, as usual, -were superbly aware only of their superiorities. Henry Bradford, -well-fed and carefully dressed, exuded success at every pore, but only -the delicate aroma of success. As an experienced editor, he had learned -to be tactful, and he had made himself the plump embodiment of tact. -His features composed themselves on this occasion with a becoming trace -of regretful melancholy and an apparent willingness to be as cheerful -as seemed proper. The only discordant note in his whole well-rounded -presentation of a journalist in easy circumstances was the top of his -head. Seen through a sparse thicket of hair, it was shiny, like a coat -worn too long. His wife had the impressive exterior of a volcano in -repose.</p> - -<p>During the simple dinner we talked pleasantly about a variety of things -that were within the province of the Longbows: municipal reform, -Tolstoy, labor-unions, a plain-spoken novel by Mrs. Vir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>gin, Turkish -misgovernment, the temperance movement. We did not mention Mrs. -Longbow’s name, but we felt, I am sure, that her spirit hovered over -us. I, at least, had an abiding sense of her immanence. When we went -back to the drawing-room together, I expected that her virtues would -become the topic of general conversation, and I dreaded the hour to -follow.</p> - -<p>My fears were relieved, however, by the prompt withdrawal of Mrs. -Bradford and Charles. He wished her to sign some document. Margaret -and I were left for Henry Bradford to amuse, which he did to his own -satisfaction. He was kind enough to be interested in my humble efforts -to live honestly by my pen: he expressed himself almost in those terms. -When his wife appeared in the doorway and announced briefly, “Henry -dear, I want you,” I saw him waddle away without feeling myself moved -to sympathy.</p> - -<p>“Henry is insufferable, isn’t he?” said Margaret, quietly. “I don’t see -how Helen can stand him except that he stands her.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, come,” I answered, “you’re too hard on them. Besides, you wouldn’t -like it if I agreed with you.”</p> - -<p>“Really, I shouldn’t mind at all. I’ve stood by the family all my -life, and I’ll stand by Charlie now; but I’ve never been deceived into -believing that I cared for Helen or Henry. I wouldn’t hurt them even -by saying what I think of them to anybody except you, but I prefer not -to see them. That’s one reason why I’m going abroad. We sha’n’t be so -intimate after I get back.”</p> - -<p>She rose languidly from her chair and fidgeted nervously with some -books on the table.</p> - -<p>“How long do you plan to stay?” I asked, crossing the room to her side.</p> - -<p>“You think it will take me a good while to get free of their clutches? -I’m going to stay till I feel safe, that’s all. I don’t want to do -anything for anybody again, and I sha’n’t come back as long as there’s -a chance of my being asked.”</p> - -<p>She spoke vindictively, with more vehemence than I had ever seen in -her. She gave me the impression that the stifled flame of rebellion was -breaking free at last, but only when the food for it was exhausted. In -her trim and faded prettiness she was mildly tragic—futilely tragic -would perhaps be the better phrase. Life and Mrs. Longbow had sapped -her vitality; that was clear. They had taken much from her, and given -her little in exchange. I wondered fatuously whether she had chosen -well twenty years before in devoting herself to reform and her mother -rather than to me.</p> - -<p>Doubtless I hesitated longer than was conventionally polite over -framing my reply, for she turned to me with a rather mocking laugh and -went on:</p> - -<p>“It’s very sad about me, isn’t it? But you needn’t pity me, Robert. You -gave me a chance to get out once, you remember, and I chose to do good -to all the world instead of battening on you. It was foolish of me, but -it was probably a lucky thing for you.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve never married, Margaret,” I answered, feeling somewhat grim and a -little uncomfortable.</p> - -<p>“Pure habit, I suppose,” she answered lightly, “but it ought to give -you satisfaction that I’m sorry both of us haven’t. You needn’t be -frightened, even though Helen has the absurd notion of throwing me at -your head now. You see what I am—just dregs. Mother and Helen have -never got over thinking me a young girl, and they’ve always planned for -you to marry whatever was left of me after they’d finished.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve never been very proud of my own behavior,” I put in. “I ought to -have been able to make you marry me back there, but—”</p> - -<p>“You were no match for mother.” Margaret ended the sentence for me. -“Nobody ever was. But even she shouldn’t have expected to keep that old -affair in cold storage for twenty years. I’m a baby to be complaining, -but I can’t help it this once. Things are so terribly dead that I can -safely tell you now that you ought to marry—not that I suppose you -have been restrained on my account for some fifteen years! I’m merely -showing you my death-certificate in the hope that you’ll avoid my -unhappy end.”</p> - -<p>“But, Margaret, what <em class="italic">are</em> you going to do?” I cried, too disturbed by -the situation not to realize that she had diagnosed it correctly.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> -<p>“Oh, as I’ve said, I’m going to inter myself decently in Italy, where I -shall probably write a book about my mother. I can stay away just so -much longer.”</p> - -<p>At that moment the others came in and stopped whatever reply I could -have made.</p> - -<p>“So sorry we had to leave you like this,” said Mrs. Bradford, sailing -majestically into the room; “but you are such an old friend that we -treat you like one of the family, you see.” She smiled in a way that -made her meaning plain.</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t matter about Bob, of course,” said Charles, who was clearly -so much engrossed by his own affairs as to be impervious to anything -else. “He and Margaret ought to be able to entertain each other.”</p> - -<p>“I think we do very well, thank you,” I remarked with a flicker of -amusement. “At least I do.”</p> - -<p>Charles, quite serious and earnest, planted himself in full view of the -group of us.</p> - -<p>“Look here,” he said “—all of you. I wish to talk to you about -mother’s biography.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed,” responded Mrs. Bradford, settling heavily into a chair, -“we ought to consider the matter at once. It was largely on account of -it that Henry and I took the time to come here to-night.” She assumed -her most business-like expression.</p> - -<p>“There’s really nothing more to consider,” went on Charles, puckering -his forehead. “I simply wish to tell you that I have received an -excellent offer from Singleton for a work in two volumes, and have -accepted it. He will give a large sum for the book—a very large sum.”</p> - -<p>“Charles,” said Helen Bradford, severely, “how can you speak of money -in such a connection? I think that you acted very unwisely in not first -consulting your family. As a matter of fact, your precipitate action is -very embarrassing, isn’t it, Henry?”</p> - -<p>“You certainly should have told us that the offer had been made,” -concurred Bradford, looking aggrieved. “It does complicate things.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t see why,” said Charles, with a sudden burst of anger. “I’m -mother’s executor, as well as her only son, and I surely have the right -to make my own arrangements about her biography. I thought at first -that some one outside the family ought to write it, but I’ve been -shown quite clearly that it is my duty to do it.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Bradford’s firm jaw dropped a little.</p> - -<p>“<em class="italic">You</em> do it!” she cried. “I’ve decided that it will be most suitable -for me to write it myself. In point of fact, Henry has already made -satisfactory arrangements for me with Banister. So you see—”</p> - -<p>“I see,” said Charles, impatiently, “that you and Henry have been -meddling in the most unwarrantable fashion, quite as usual. You’ll have -to get out of it with Banister the best way you can, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>Margaret’s even voice broke in on the dispute.</p> - -<p>“It may interest you to know that I’m proposing to write a book about -mother myself. The Henrysons naturally wish one to go with their -edition of her writings, and they pay quite handsomely. What they -want isn’t a complete biography, you know—just the recollections of -a daughter. They seem to think me the one best qualified to do it. -Perhaps, after all, I am.”</p> - -<p>“It is impossible!” exclaimed Helen Bradford. “I cannot allow this -thing to go on. At great personal inconvenience I have agreed to do -the book; and I refuse to be placed in the undignified position into -which you are trying to force me. I decided that I’d better write it -myself, partly because you seemed to be jealous about having Henry -do it. I have prepared to give valuable time to it. And what is my -reward? You have gone ahead secretly and made arrangements on your own -account not for one biography, but for two. I think it most selfish and -inconsiderate of you.”</p> - -<p>“It will injure sales,” put in Henry Bradford, knowingly.</p> - -<p>“Of course you don’t need to go ahead with yours, Helen, if you feel -like that,” said Margaret.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why—” began Mr. Bradford, but he was interrupted by his -wife.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why either. There <em class="italic">is</em> no reason. I’m not going to let you -get all the honor and reward of it. What would people think of me?”</p> - -<p>Margaret laughed.</p> - -<p>“Only that you were too busy to write, my dear,” she remarked;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> “that -you had left it to less important members of the family.”</p> - -<p>“I shall write the book in spite of you,” Mrs. Bradford replied. She -was furiously angry and a quite unlovely spectacle. A volcano in -eruption is not necessarily beautiful. “Mother always taught me,” she -continued, “never to be too busy to do my duty. I couldn’t bear to -think of leaving her great personality in the hands of either of you. -You are undutiful children.”</p> - -<p>Charles Longbow’s frown had deepened, but he had regained his composure.</p> - -<p>“I think, Helen,” he said, “that mother wouldn’t like to see us -quarreling like this. She believed in peace and calm.” For a moment his -natural generosity seemed to assert itself. “You are so much like her -that I can’t bear to have anything come between us. I’m sorry I didn’t -know you wanted to write the book.”</p> - -<p>“You did very wrong in not consulting me,” replied Helen, with angry -dignity. “I was at least mother’s eldest child, and took a considerable -share in her great work. You ought to see Singleton and get him to -release you from your contract.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps Helen ought to have her own way,” remarked Margaret, wearily. -“She always has.”</p> - -<p>“I’m certainly not going to change my arrangements now,” Charles -returned, with sudden stiffness. “I shall bring out a work in suitable -form, something on a scale worthy of mother. What is more, her journal -and all her papers are mine to do what I please with.”</p> - -<p>“Come, Henry!” cried Mrs. Bradford. “You may like to have insults -heaped upon me, but I won’t remain to hear them.”</p> - -<p>Magnificently, explosively, she swept from the room, followed close by -her husband. For a moment the brother and sister stood looking at each -other like naughty children apprehended in a fault. I was forgotten. At -length Margaret sank into the chair from which her sister had risen and -gave a nervous laugh.</p> - -<p>“I hope you have enjoyed the entertainment we’ve been giving you, -Robert,” she said, turning her head in my direction. “This will be the -end of everything. All the same, Charlie dear, I hope you’ll let me -sort mother’s papers before I go away.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, come, Charlie,”—I plucked up my courage to play the peacemaker, -for I felt that this dance on a newly made grave would disturb even -Mrs. Longbow’s serene and righteous soul,—“there’s no reason why Helen -shouldn’t write a book as well as you. The public will stand for it. I -hope you’ll tell her so.”</p> - -<p>Charles’s solemn face cracked with a grin.</p> - -<p>“I sha’n’t have to,” he said. “But I’m sorry you were here-you know -what I mean. I’m ashamed.”</p> - -<p>I could not fail to see that his pride was touched to the -bleeding-point, and that Margaret was utterly weary. With only a -hand-shake and a word of parting I went away, glad enough, you can -understand, to make my escape.</p> - -<p>I met none of them again till I went to the docks, a month later, to -say farewell to Margaret. Charles was with her, but Helen was not -there. Margaret looked very old and ill, I thought. Just before the -boat sailed, she managed to screen herself from her brother, and -hurriedly slipped an envelop into my hand.</p> - -<p>“Please give this to Charlie when I’m well out to sea,” she whispered. -“I can’t bear to send it through the post-office.”</p> - -<p>“How soon?” I asked under my breath, supposing her secrecy to be the -whim of a nervous invalid.</p> - -<p>“Give me three days,” she replied, glancing furtively at her brother, -who was just then absorbed by the spectacle of a donkey-engine on a -lower deck. “It’s about mother’s journal and her papers. Don’t you -see? I looked them over,—Charlie told me to,—but I couldn’t bear to -explain to him, and I haven’t had time yet to copy them. My letter -tells about it.”</p> - -<p>She turned from me quickly and took her brother’s arm, insisting that -both he and I must leave the ship at once. Twenty minutes later she -waved gaily to us as the cables slackened and the boat swung out into -the river.</p> - -<p>I disliked my new commission, but I had been given no opportunity to -refuse it. At the time appointed I carried the letter to Charles, -whom I found in the family library amid heaps of faded and disorderly -manuscript. As I entered the room, he rose excitedly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It’s extraordinary!” he exclaimed. “Mother’s journals are gone, and so -is all her intimate correspondence. Where can Margaret have put them? -She went through everything.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps this will tell you,” I said, handing him the letter. “Margaret -gave it to me just before we left the boat, and told me to keep it till -to-day.”</p> - -<p>He read the letter, frowning.</p> - -<p>“What does the girl think!” he cried when he had ended. “It’s extremely -careless of her—she has carried off all of mother’s really important -papers; says she hadn’t finished arranging them, and will return them -when that’s done. She must be out of her head to think of trusting such -invaluable documents to any carrier in the world. And how does she -suppose I’m to go on with my book in the meantime? It’s mad.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t quite see, myself,” I responded, though in reality I was able -to understand her motives: evidently she wished to spare Charles the -full light of their mother’s self-revelation.</p> - -<p>“No one could see,” he returned, his lean cheeks flushed with anger. -“It’s impossible. It’s going to be a great inconvenience, even if the -things don’t get lost, and it may cost me a lot of money.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t you be working through what’s left?” I asked. “There seems to be -a lot of material.”</p> - -<p>“That’s just the trouble,” he replied. “Margaret has sorted everything, -and she’s left the rubbish—papers that couldn’t be of any use for the -book I’m engaged to write.”</p> - -<p>I was sympathetic, and willing to give Margaret her due measure of -blame. If she had been less worn and flurried, she might have found -some more discreet way of protecting her brother’s happiness and her -mother’s reputation. Yet I rather admired her courage. I wondered -how she would manage to Bowdlerize the journal without exciting her -brother’s suspicions. I awaited the outcome with curiosity and some -misgivings. When I left Charles, he was writing a peremptory demand for -the immediate return of the papers.</p> - -<p>My curiosity was amply satisfied, and my misgivings were realized, when -I received a letter from Margaret three weeks after she sailed. It was -post-marked Gibraltar, and it ran astoundingly:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="p0">Dear Robert:</p> - -<p>I’m too ill to write, but I must. Try, if you can, to invent -some plausible excuse for me, and tell Charlie about it. I can’t -possibly write to him. I tried—I really tried—to arrange the -papers so that he’d get only a favorable impression from them; but -I couldn’t—and I couldn’t let him find mother out. If he had, he’d -have been hurt, and he’d have filled his book with reservations. -He’s terribly conscientious. I couldn’t bear to have poor mother’s -name injured, even if she did treat me badly. She did a lot of good -in her way, and she was rather magnificent. So one night I dropped -the papers overboard, journal and all. It’s a great deal better so.</p> - -<p>I sha’n’t stop till I get to Assisi. Don’t let Charlie be angry -with me. I trust you to understand.</p> - -<p class="right mright1"><span class="mright3">Ever sincerely yours,</span><br /> -M<span class="smaller">ARGARET</span> L<span class="smaller">ONGBOW</span>.</p> - -</div> - -<p>I give the letter in full because it explains why no complete biography -of Mrs. Longbow has ever been published. Conscientious Charles, -naturally, has been unwilling to write a two-volume life without the -essential documents, and Margaret has never put her recollections into -a book. Helen Bradford’s pompous work, “The Public and Private Life -of My Mother,” hardly serves as a biography; it really gives more -information about Mrs. Bradford than about Mrs. Longbow. To supply the -public’s need of an intimate picture of the great philanthropist I have -here set down my impressions of her.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0065" name="i_0065"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0065.jpg" - alt="Tailpiece for “Mrs. Longbow’s Biography”" /></a> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0066" name="i_0066"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0066.jpg" - alt="Headpiece for “Moving-picture”" /></a> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_WIDENING_FIELD_OF_THE_MOVING-PICTURE">THE -WIDENING FIELD OF THE MOVING-PICTURE</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="s4 center">ITS COMMERCIAL, EDUCATIONAL, AND ARTISTIC VALUE</p> - -<p class="s3 center mbot2">BY CHARLES B. BREWER</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">I</span>T has been variously estimated that there are already from fifteen -thousand to thirty thousand moving-picture show-places in the United -States. Greater New York alone has six hundred. Their development as -an industry has been very recent. For while as early as 1864 a French -patent was granted to Ducos for a battery of lenses, which, actuated -in rapid succession, depicted successive stages of movement, this -device could not have fulfilled the requirements of the moving-picture -of to-day for the important reason, if for no other, that the dry, -sensitized plate of that day could not receive impressions with -sufficient rapidity. With the advent of instantaneous photography came -what was probably the direct forerunner of the motion-picture in the -work of Eadweard Muybridge, a photographer who, about 1878, began his -camera studies of “The Horse in Motion,”<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> “Animal Locomotion,”<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> and -other motion studies. His work was begun in California, on the private -race-course of Governor Leland Stanford. Here he employed a battery of -twenty-four cameras, spaced a foot apart, the shutters of which were -sprung by the horse coming in contact with threads stretched across the -track.</p> - -<p>Mr. Edison’s kinetoscope camera, begun in 1889, was described in -court<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> as “capable of producing an indefinite number of negatives on -a single, sensitized, flexible film, at a speed theretofore unknown.” -In his patent specification, Mr. Edison refers to this speed by saying, -“I have been able to take with a single camera and tape film as many as -forty-six photographs per second.”</p> - -<p>A recently published account of what seemed a novel development served -to show that other inventors were also busy on the subject nearly -twenty years ago. The innovation makes use of glass plates instead of -the ordinary films. The pictures are taken in rows, 162 to a plate, and -the finished plate resembles a sheet of postage-stamps. Provision is -made for carrying eighteen plates and for automatically shifting the -plates to take the pictures in proper sequence.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0067_1" name="i_0067_1"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0067_1.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph, copyright by The Biograph Co.</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">TABLEAU: THE DEPARTURE OF ENOCH ARDEN</p> -</div> - -<p>Mr. Edison first showed the world his completed invention at the -world’s fair in Chicago in 1893; but it was nearly 1900 before this -infant industry could be said to be fairly started, though one -enterprising manager had a regular place of exhibition as early as -1894. Two years ago it was estimated that in a single year the country -paid over a hundred million dollars in admissions. There are no -defi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>nite figures available, though the census officials contemplate -gathering such statistics this year. It is probably safe, however, -to place the present revenue from admissions at close to two hundred -million dollars.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0067_2" name="i_0067_2"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0067_2.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph, copyright by The Biograph Co.</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">SCENE FROM “THE LAST DROP OF WATER.”<br /> - OF WATER.” AN ATTACK BY HOSTILE INDIANS<br /> - IN THE DESERT</p> -</div> - -<p>The Department of Justice, which has recently instituted action for -alleged combination of the ten leading film-makers of the country, -states that the total of pictures printed by these ten leading -companies, which handle between seventy and eighty per cent. of the -country’s business, fill between 2,500,000 and 3,000,000 feet of film -every week. This means between 25,000 and 30,000 miles of pictures -annually.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0067_3" name="i_0067_3"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0067_3.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">By permission of the Jungle Film Company. From a - photograph, copyright by Paul J. Rainey</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">BEAR-HOUNDS PURSUING A CHETAH (FROM THE LIFE)</p> -</div> - -<p>There is an ever-increasing demand for films, and many manufacturers -are kept busy. From an original film about two hundred positives are -usually reproduced and sent broadcast to the forty-five distributing -agencies of the general company, which do the work formerly done by -about one hun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>dred and fifty independent exchanges in the various -cities of the country. The reels were formerly sold; but are now leased -to various theaters. Dates of exhibition are arranged with as much care -and business acumen as are the great plays of the stage.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0068" name="i_0068"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0068.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph, copyright by the Famous Players Film - Co.</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">SARAH BERNHARDT AS QUEEN ELIZABETH SIGNING THE DEATH WARRANT OF THE - EARL OF LEICESTER</p> -</div> - -<p>The larger places attempt to have one “first-night” reel among the -several shown at every performance. The reels usually rent to the -exhibitor for from $20 to $25 for the first night, the price being -scaled down each succeeding night about twenty per cent., until finally -the rent is as low as a dollar a night. Hence a reel may travel every -day, much the same as a theatrical troop in visiting small cities. The -writer once had occasion to trace one of the Edison films, known as -“Target Practice of the Atlantic Fleet.” The exchange had a complete -schedule of just where this film would be shown for three weeks. It had -been shown in several places in Washington, where it was scheduled to -return, but was then in Richmond, Virginia, and was billed to appear -the next day in Frederick, Maryland.</p> - -<p>The admissions are small, but the expenses are usually not great. Most -of the exhibition places are cared for by an operator, usually paid not -more than twenty-five dollars per week; a piano-player, a doorkeeper, -and a ticket-seller, varying from fifteen to eight dollars per week. -Many proprietors operate a chain of several places, and many fenced-in -city lots are pressed into service in summer.</p> - -<p>The moral tone of the pictures now exhibited has been greatly benefited -by the movement started in New York by those public-spirited citizens, -headed by the late Mr. Charles Sprague-Smith, known as the National -Board of Censorship, which wisely serves without compensation. -The film-makers voluntarily submit their work, and are more than -glad to have it reviewed, and it is said on good authority that no -manufacturer has ever refused to destroy a film which did not receive -the indorsement of the board. In a recent letter to “The Outlook,” Mr. -Darrell Hibbard, director of boys’ work, Y. M. C. A., Indianapolis, -discusses this phase of the subject. He writes:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> “Why is it that -from juvenile, divorce, and criminal courts we hear constant blame -for wayward deeds laid on the ‘five-cent shows’? The one answer is -the word ‘Greed.’” He adds that when a film has passed the National -Board of Censors, copies of it go to distributing agencies, in whose -hands “it can be made over uncensored, strips can be inserted, or -any mutilation made that fancy or trade may dictate.... A so-called -class of ‘pirated’ films are the extreme of irresponsibility.... They -are either manufactured locally or smuggled in from Europe, and thus -miss the National Board of Censors.... The only way that the people, -and especially the children, can be safeguarded from the influence of -evil pictures is by careful regulation of the places of exhibition.... -The nation-wide supervision of public exhibitions should be under the -Department of Education or Child Welfare at Washington.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0069" name="i_0069"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0069.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Produced by Thomas A. Edison, Inc.</p> - <p class="s5 center">A SCENE FROM “THE BLACK ARROW”</p> - <p class="s6 center mbot2">This picture, showing the “Battle of Shorebytown,” was posed near New - York City.</p> -</div> - -<p>There are now many auxiliary boards. Some are under the city -governments, and are compulsory, as in Chicago. Last year this board -passed on more than 3000 reels of pictures, comprising 2,604,000 feet -of films. They found it necessary to reject less than three per cent. -If, however, on investigation Mr. Hibbard’s fears are found to be -justified, the recently organized Children’s Bureau of the Department -of Commerce and Labor will here obtain an early chance to justify its -existence, as probably ninety-five per cent. of the films, as articles -of interstate commerce, can now be subjected to its jurisdiction. Such -supervision should also be welcomed by film-makers as an important step -in furthering an advancement in the moral tone of films, long since on -the upward grade, and thus to open up an even wider field of usefulness -than they now exert.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="THE_FILMS">THE FILMS</h3> - -<div class="figleft"> - <a id="i_0070" name="i_0070"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0070.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="center"><span class="s6">By permission of “The American Quarterly<br /> - of Roentgenology” and “The Archives<br /> - of the Roentgen Ray”</span></p> - <p class="s5 center">SERIES OF RADIOGRAPHS<br /> - SHOWING THE MOTIONS OF A<br /> - STOMACH SUFFERING FROM<br /> - GASTRIC PERISTALSIS</p> - <p class="s5 center ebhide"><a href="images/i_0070_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -<p>T<span class="smaller">HE</span> smaller illustrations show the exact size of the pictures as they -appear on the film. They are an inch wide and three quarters of an inch -deep. A reel is usually a thousand feet long, and contains sixteen -thousand pictures. On a screen twelve feet square, which is smaller -than the usual size, there is surface enough to show twenty-seven -thousand of the pictures side by side if they are reproduced without -en<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>largement. Yet if every enlarged picture were shown on a separate -twelve-foot screen, a single reel would require a stretch of canvas -thirty-six miles long. Likewise a screen twenty feet square would -accommodate over seventy-six thousand of the little pictures, and the -stretch of canvas required for the enlarged pictures would be sixty -miles long. After witnessing a performance, few realize that they have -seen any such stretch of pictures as the figures show.</p> - -<p>The life of a film is usually from three to six months, though varying, -of course, with the treatment in handling. “The Scientific American” -gives credit for superiority to films of French make, and attributes -their excellence to the many tests to which they are subjected to -secure exact dimensions, adequate strength, and other properties.</p> - -<p>It is almost as vain to speak of the cost of producing a film as it -is to speak of the cost of producing a painting. We know the cost -of the canvas of the latter, and we also know the cost of the bare -film is three cents per foot; but the cost of what is on the film may -be represented only by the cost of developing and the labor of the -machine-operator, as, for example, in such pictures as “An Inaugural -Parade,” or the famous pictures showing the “Coronation of George V.” -Sometimes, however, the cost runs as high as fifty thousand dollars, as -did the film known as “The Landing of Columbus.” These films require -many people, necessitate the taking of long journeys to provide an -appropriate setting, and need from two to three years to finish them. -Before the film known as “The Crusaders” was ready for the public, six -hundred players and nearly three hundred horses had appeared in front -of the lens. The film of “The Passion Play,” now in preparation, will -cost, it is said, a hundred thousand dollars.</p> - -<p>Mr. Paul Rainey has stated that his wonderful animal pictures, which -showed his happenings from the unloading of his expedition from an -Atlantic steamer on the coast of Africa, through the various hunts, -and up to his departure, likewise cost fifty thousand dollars. -Some of these wonderful films demonstrated how practical was his -much-laughed-at theory that the Mississippi hounds used for hunting -bear could successfully hunt the destructive African lion and the -chetah. These pictures, which were taken with the idea of permitting -Mr. Rainey’s friends at home to journey with him in spirit in his -travels, were first shown publicly last winter at the National -Geographic Society in Washington to illustrate a lecture<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> by Mr. -Rainey. Those who then enjoyed them can feel only satisfaction to know -that they have now been placed on public exhibition, to show to the -people at large what Professor Henry Fairfield Osborn, President of the -American Museum of Natural History, has declared to be “the greatest -contribution to natural history of the last decade.” The writer -recently saw these pictures, and while the films are naturally not -as perfect as when first shown in Washington, all the essentials are -faithfully reproduced.</p> - -<p>It is only recently that the streaky, flickering, eye-straining -series of pictures first brought out have been supplanted by pictures -so improved and so steady and continuous that the setting of a room -or a landscape made up of hundreds of pictures appears as a single -photograph. This is admirably illustrated by a portion of Mr. Rainey’s -pictures, which show, through the peculiarly clear African atmosphere, -a range of mountains ninety miles away. Again, his picture of the -drinking-place, where, owing to a long drought, some of the animals had -come eighty miles to scratch in the sand for water, shows the stillness -of an immense landscape broken only by the swaying of the nests of half -a hundred weaver-birds in a single tree, and by the scamper of monkeys, -baboons, and other small animals two hundred and fifty yards from the -camera. The same still background is shown as these little animals -cautiously approach, drink, and are driven away by those of larger -size, who in turn give way to companies of zebras, giraffes, rhinos, -and elephants.</p> - -<p>In a recent lecture given to benefit a fund to establish an animal -hospital in New York, Dr. Joseph K. Dixon is credited with having shown -a rare set of films which took his audience on a most interesting trip -through the Yellowstone Park, and showed them an animal hospital which -nature had provided in a secluded spot of aspen-trees, where injured -creatures went for rest and convalescence. Many vivid pictures showed -lame deer, wounded elk, and bears having their cuts and bruises healed -by their own applications of oil taken from the trees.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0071" name="i_0071"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0071.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">By permission of “The American Quarterly of Roentgenology”<br /> - and “The Archives of the Roentgen Ray”</p> - <p class="s5 center">SERIES OF RADIOGRAPHS SHOWING MOTIONS OF<br /> - THE STOMACH DURING DIGESTION</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2 ebhide"><a href="images/i_0071_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -<h3 class="s4" id="SCIENTIFIC_AND_EDUCATIONAL">SCIENTIFIC AND -EDUCATIONAL,—MICROCINEMATOGRAPH FILMS AND ROENTGENCINEMATOGRAPHY</h3> - -<p>T<span class="smaller">HOUGH</span> the work of the cinematograph is only in its infancy, the range -of its possibilities seems almost boundless. When<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> the target-practice -pictures mentioned above were taken, it was said that some of the -pictures showed a twelve-inch shell actually in flight. The writer -saw these pictures, and while he did not see this point illustrated, -possibly due to the breaking and imperfect repairing of the film, the -statement can be credited, as it is feasible to see this with the naked -eye if the observer is well in the line of flight. Another remarkable -instance which illustrates the capabilities and speed of the lens has -been cited in the case of a picture which shows a rifle-bullet on the -inside of a soap-bubble, from which it was learned that the bubble -does not break until the bullet leaves the opposite side from which it -entered.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0072" name="i_0072"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0072.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Produced by Thomas A. Edison, Inc.</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">SCENE FROM “WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE”</p> -</div> - -<p>The moving-picture is more and more being used for educational and -scientific purposes. It has been used for recruiting, and pictures were -taken of the convention at Chicago for use in the national campaign. -Pictures showing the methods of teaching in New York schools have -been shown in many parts of the country. Dr. William M. Davidson, -superintendent of public schools in the District of Columbia, is -strongly advocating the passage of a bill now pending before Congress -to use the schools as social centers for exhibiting educational -moving-pictures. Likewise Superintendent Maxwell is urging their use -in the New York public schools. Mr. Edison has very recently been -quoted as saying: “I intend to do away with books in the school; -that is, I mean to try to do away with school-books. When we get the -moving-pictures in the school, the child will be so interested that he -will hurry to get there before the bell rings, because it’s the natural -way to teach, through the eye. I have half a dozen fellows writing -scenari now on A and B.” An eight-year course is being planned which it -is expected will be started in Orange, New Jersey, in about a year.</p> - -<p>By the use of the moving-picture, the St. Louis Medical Society has -recently shown the method of inoculating animals with disease-germs -and the effect of the germs on the blood. Circulation of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> blood -and action of numerous species of bacilli were also illustrated. -In a micro-cinematograph film showing the circulation of the blood -in a living body, prepared by M. Camandon, a French scientist, and -exhibited by MM. Pathe Frères, the London “Nature” states that the -white corpuscles of the blood are shown gradually altering their shape -and position and fulfilling one of their best-known functions in acting -as scavengers and absorbing such abnormal substances as microbes, -disease-cells, and granules of inert matter. “By reproducing at a -slower pace the changes,” this journal continues, “the cinematograph -can assist us to attain a clearer perception of the nature of the -alteration as it takes place.... No amount of imagination can supply -the clearness and comprehension which actual seeing can give. The -cinematograph might well become a most sufficient aid to the teaching -of very many biological and especially medical subjects.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0073" name="i_0073"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0073.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Produced by Thomas A. Edison, Inc.</p> - <p class="s5 center">SCENE FROM “THE LAND BEYOND THE SUNSET”</p> - <p class="s6 center mbot2">This picture shows the fairies guiding a - little newsboy to the land of his dreams.</p> -</div> - -<p>Utilizing the moving-picture with the microscope has given the layman -an insight into a world almost beyond comprehension, and yet this field -particularly is only in its infancy. At the recent World’s Hygienic -Congress in Washington, the large attendance at the lecture of Dr. -Fullerborn of Hamburg, illustrated with microscopic moving-pictures, -demonstrated the keen public interest in this subject. The pictures -showed the skin of a guinea-pig being shaved, how it was inoculated -with the hook-worm, the surgeon cutting out a piece of the skin and -preparing his microscope. The remainder of the film showed just how -the rapid multiplication of the much-talked-of hook-worm is revealed -through the microscope.</p> - -<p>The peculiar opaqueness necessary for the X-ray is obtained by -administering to a patient, who is in a fasting condition, two ounces -of bismuth subcarbonate mixed with two glasses of buttermilk. Many -radiographs are then made in rapid succession. These are reduced to -cinematographic size and projected upon a screen,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> giving a very -graphic representation of the motions of the stomach during digestion. -The films used in this paper were made by Dr. Lewis Gregory Cole, -Radiologist to Cornell University Medical College, and were shown at -a recent meeting of the American Medical Association, and published -in the journal of that society and in the Archives of Roentgen Ray. -This procedure is termed “Roentgencinematography” by Kaestle, Rieder, -and Rosenthal, to whom Dr. Cole gives much credit for previous work -along the same line. In the articles referred to above Dr. Cole advises -this method of examination for determining the presence of cancers and -ulcers of the stomach.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0074" name="i_0074"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0074.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Produced by Thomas A. Edison, Inc.</p> - <p class="s5 center">SCENE FROM “THE STARS AND THE STRIPES”</p> - <p class="s6 center mbot2">This picture shows the surrender of the British captain to John Paul -Jones in the famous<br /> fight between the <em class="italic">Bonhomme Richard</em> and the -<em class="italic">Serapis</em>. The scene was arranged in the<br /> Edison Studio, the American -ship being stationary and the other arranged to run on rollers.</p> -</div> - -<p>“Photographing time” has a spectacular sound, yet patents were -recently issued to the writer which virtually accomplished this. -Between the shutter and the film of the moving-picture machine are -introduced the marked edges of revolving transparent dials, actuated by -clock-movement. The figures in the three dials denote the hour, minute, -second, and smaller divisions, and are arranged to come to a prescribed -position as the shutter opens. By this means the exact time at which -any motion is photographed is imprinted on the different pictures of -the film independent of the varying speed of the hand-crank. Such -records promise to be most useful in the “scientific management” field -and medical pictures, from which comparative time studies can be made -from a number of films at the same time or from a single film by -reproducing it on the screen in the usual manner.</p> - -<p>Over twenty years ago, Mr. Edison stated in his patent specification -in referring to his ability to take forty-six photographs per second, -“I have also been able to hold the tape at rest for nine tenths of -the time.” It was probably not intended to convey the impression that -he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> could take anything approaching ten times the number of pictures, -as it is of course necessary to provide for rest periods; but it -is significant that very recently a machine has been perfected for -portraying such rapid motion as projectiles in flight, etc., which -takes the almost inconceivable number of two hundred and fifty pictures -per second. Indeed, experiments are in progress which promise even four -hundred per second.</p> - -<p>Films are also being utilized to show the news of the day. A member -of T<span class="smaller">HE</span> C<span class="smaller">ENTURY</span> staff was in Rome last year when the king was -fired upon. Two days later, in Perugia, he saw a moving-picture of the -king appearing on the balcony of the palace before an enormous crowd -assembled to congratulate him on his escape. More recently a London -theater which shows the news of the day in motion-pictures is regularly -opened and important events are shown on the screen two hours after -their occurrence, a promptness approaching that of the press “extra.”</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="TRICK_FILMS">TRICK FILMS</h3> - -<p>T<span class="smaller">HE</span> old saying is that figures do not lie; but a modern one is that -they can be made to. Just so the trick film places before one’s very -eyes what to one’s inner consciousness is impossible. Two favorite -devices of the trickster are brought into play in a recent film which -shows a cleverly produced romance woven about such an absurdity as the -painting of a landscape by the switching of a cow’s tail. The film -tells the story of a ne’er-do-well, in love, pretending to study art. -The father frowns on the match, but promises his favor if the son will -produce an example of his skill. In desperation the brush and palette -are taken to a field, and while the lovers are despairing, a friendly -cow approaches the easel. The switching begins at once, and a change -in the canvas is seen with every movement until a creditable painting -appears. What has appeared astonishing would have attracted less -attention had the audience seen that the pictures showing the restless -cow were taken at intervals, between which, while the camera was -stopped, a real artist worked on the picture, and stepped to one side -when the camera was put into action.</p> - -<p>The work of the trickster is shown to advantage in reversing a -film depicting a building operation. When run backward, a brand-new -structure is seen to be pulled to pieces, and its various members -hauled away in wagons running backward.</p> - -<p>One operator, who had shown boys diving from a high spring-board, has -related how, by reversing the film, he let his audience see the boys -come out of the water feet foremost, rise through the air the same -way, and by a graceful turn land on their feet on the spring-board. -Another has told how, by the same reverse motion, firemen, who a moment -before had rescued occupants from a burning building, were seen to -carry their victims back into the flames. We may perhaps look for some -of these enterprising tricksters to illustrate the possibility of that -expression of impossibility, “the unscrambling of eggs,” or for one -of them, with rare presence of mind, to catch on his lens an accident -shattering a number of valuable cut-glass pieces, and then to convert -a loss into profit by exhibiting the film reversed, and showing with -wonderful effectiveness a mass of broken glass ascend through space and -form itself on the table into the perfect originals.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="THE_PHOTO_PLAY">THE PHOTO-PLAY</h3> - -<p>T<span class="smaller">HE</span> moving-picture has developed an important branch in the field -of literature. Several periodicals are devoted entirely to the -subject, and in many of the standard magazines can be found regular -advertisements for short “photo-plays.” The scenario-writers engaged in -the work do not seem to be able to keep up with the increasing demand. -Standard plays are pressed into service, and the leading managers and -actors of the world are found among those producing the 5000 plays -which moving-picture audiences require every year.</p> - -<p>The drama on the white sheet dates back to the autumn of 1894, when -Alexander Black of New York brought out the first “picture-play” before -a distinguished literary audience. This first picture-play, called -“Miss Jerry,” like later white-sheet plays by the same author and -artist, was accompanied by a spoken monologue giving all the speeches -and covering all the transitions of the action. The pictures, the -making of which was begun be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>fore the appearance of the motion-picture -device, were produced in series, indoors and out, from a living cast, -as in the present plays, and were put on the screen with registered -backgrounds by the aid of a double stereopticon at the rate of from -three to five per minute, thus presenting stages of action—a prophecy -of the continuous action perfected in the plays of to-day.</p> - -<p>When Mr. Black gave “Miss Jerry” for the first time in Boston, Edward -Everett Hale, greeting the author after the performance, exclaimed, -“Black, it’s so <em class="italic">inevitable</em> that I’m chagrined to think that I didn’t -invent it myself.” It seemed inevitable, also, that the motion-picture -machine would take up the play idea; yet for a considerable time -motion exploitation was confined to short, episodic films. Indeed, -the early motion films were far less smooth in effect than the -modern product, and at the beginning a prolonged run appeared like a -hazardous undertaking for the eyes. Within the present season certain -films have been run in almost unbroken continuity (as in Bernhardt’s -“Queen Elizabeth”) for an hour and a half, which is to say that the -motion-pictures are now giving the full dramatic progression suggested -by the original lantern-play as seen by Dr. Hale.</p> - -<p>Doubtless the value of the moving-picture drama will be greatly -enhanced if speaking and singing parts in moving-picture performances, -with the aid of the phonograph, have been made thoroughly practical -by means of an instrument known as the “magnaphone,” as is claimed by -promoters of the device. The promoters are so well satisfied with the -outcome of their experiments that they claim it will soon be used in -all parts of the country. The instruments are not sound-magnifiers, -but consist of a number of instruments resembling the megaphone which -are placed in various parts of the audience, and the voice from the -phonograph, which comes over a wire, is thus brought close enough to -all parts of the house to make it plainly audible to every one.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - -<p>The following progress of “Picture Plays” has been kindly furnished by -Mr. Alexander Black:</p> - -<p>1—First “plays,” in three acts, written, photographed, and presented -by Alexander Black—1894.</p> - -<p>2—Episodic motion-pictures placed in series.</p> - -<p>3—Short five-minute comedies in motion pictures.</p> - -<p>4—Scenes of travel in motion-pictures.</p> - -<p>5—Scenes from novels in motion-pictures (“Vanity Fair,” for example, -presented in consecutive series—1911).</p> - -<p>6—Scenes from “Odyssey” in consecutive series—1911–12.</p> - -<p>7—Sarah Bernhardt in “Queen Elizabeth”—1912.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="PICTURES_IN_NATURAL_COLORS">PICTURES IN NATURAL COLORS</h3> - -<p>W<span class="smaller">ITH</span> other improvements have come the admirable pictures in natural -colors, all mechanically produced. For some time we have had -hand-colored films, but these have required extraordinary patience on -the part of the colorist, who had to treat each of the sixteen thousand -pictures one at a time. Excessive care was also necessary as an overlap -of a thirty-second part of an inch would show the color many inches out -of place when the picture was shown enlarged on the screen. The work -is so tedious that the capacity of the colorist is said to be limited -to about thirty-five feet of film per day; the cost is thus made -excessive. And the market needs, which frequently require two hundred -reproductions of a reel, render the hand-colored film commercially -impracticable.</p> - -<p>The machine which now produces beautiful color pictures is known as the -“kinemacolor.” It is the joint work of Mr. Charles Urban, an American -who went to London a few years ago as a representative of manufacturers -of an American motion-picture machine, and a London photographer. The -machine differs from the ordinary cinematograph in several important -particulars. The most noticeable difference is a rapidly driven, -revolving skeleton frame known as a color-filter, which is located -between the lens and the shutter. This color-filter is made up of -different sections of specially prepared gelatin, two sections of which -are colored, one red and the other green. The filter-screen is revolved -while the pictures are taken, as well as when they are repro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>duced, -being so geared that the red section of the filter appears in line with -the lens for one photograph, and the green section for the next.</p> - -<p>The photographs are all in pairs, and twice the number of pictures are -taken and reproduced as in the ordinary machine, and the speed is also -twice as great, the kinemacolor taking and reproducing thirty-two—and -sometimes as many as fifty-five—per second, and the ordinary machine -sixteen. Incidentally, to care for the greater speed the kinemacolor -machine is also driven by a motor instead of by the ordinary hand-crank.</p> - -<p>When a negative is produced through the red screen, red light is -chiefly transmitted, and red-colored objects in the original will -appear transparent on the copy produced from the negative. Where the -next section of negative has moved into place the green section of the -filter has come into position, and the red-colored objects on this -part of the negative will appear dark. This can be noticed in the -illustrations, where such objects as the red coats of the horsemen and -the red of the flowers, as shown in the enlarged pictures, in the small -pictures appear light in every second view, and dark in each succeeding -one. When the pictures are thrown on a screen, the transparent parts -allow the colors of the filter to pass through, and the revolutions -of the filter are arranged for showing the appropriate color for -every picture. This will cause confusion, if, in repairing a broken -kinemacolor film, an uneven number of pictures are cut out and the -“pairs” thus interfered with.</p> - -<p>The successful reproducing of these wonderful colors is largely due to -what we know as “persistence of vision” (the same principle on which -the kinetoscope is based), and is easily recognized when we remember -that the lighted point of a stick appears to our vision as a ring of -fire when the stick is rapidly revolved. Just so with these pictures: -they are produced so rapidly that the red of one lingers on the retina -of the eye until the green appears, and the red of the first picture -melts into the green of the next, which does not appear, however, until -the red one has passed away. The green selected for the filter has in -it a certain amount of blue, and the red a certain amount of orange, -and in the fusion of the colors may be seen pleasing combinations of -greenish-yellow, orange, grays, blues, and even rich indigos.</p> - -<p>The early products of this kinemacolor process were the pictures of -the George V “Coronation” and the “Durbar.” The coronation pictures -are noteworthy for the brilliancy of the scenes, showing in action -thousands of horses, some bay, some chestnut, while others are pure -white, black, or of a peculiar cream color, all of them carrying -gay horsemen, with bright red coats, before a sea of color shown in -the gorgeous hats and exquisite gowns of the spectators and court -attendants. The durbar pictures, of course, are more recent. They -consist of 64,000 feet of pictures taken in Bombay, Calcutta, and -Delhi, where the actual durbar ceremonial of coronation was held. The -pictures at Calcutta, showing the royal elephants, are probably those -which will most impress Americans, particularly those showing the -superb control displayed when, at the mahout’s bidding, the elephants -go into and under the water, head and all, and leave the mahout on his -back apparently standing on the water’s surface. One set of pictures -shows the elephants in the pageant, and illustrates the wonderful color -capabilities of the process by distinctly reproducing on the enormous -cloth of gold covering the elephants the sheen as its folds move with -the elephants’ steps.</p> - -<p>In another part of these durbar pictures is shown a sea of color where -fifty thousand troops pass in review before the eyes of the spectator -in ten minutes. Two sets of the pictures show how quick is the action -of this particular process. These are the polo tournament at Delhi and -the cavalry charge, the action in which was so rapid as to require -the machine to take fifty-five pictures a second, in order to show -faithfully all of the movement.</p> - -<p>After witnessing pictures so full of interest and so wonderful in -color effect and action, one accustomed to democratic ideas could but -wonder to see moving upon the screen, on a mechanically revolved table, -so inanimate an object as a crown of jewels. Interest, however, was -aroused when it was learned that the appearance of this picture was -due to the fact that, as a mark of high appreciation of the coronation -and durbar pictures, the king broke many precedents and permitted his -crown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> to be taken for photographing to the private studio of Mr. -Urban, the inventor of the process. Incidentally, too, the crown was -more wonderful than its appearance at a distance indicated; for the -company informed the writer that it is made up of 6170 diamonds, 24 -rubies, and 25 emeralds, the largest of which weighs thirty-four carats.</p> - -<p>Another mark of the king’s appreciation was his storing away in the -“Jewel Office” of the Tower of London, in hermetically sealed vessels, -a complete set of the pictures, to show posterity at successive -coronations the exact manner in which George V became King of England -and Emperor of India.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="FROM_BUD_TO_BLOSSOM">FROM BUD TO BLOSSOM</h3> - -<p>A <span class="smaller">RARE</span> set of pictures taken by this color process which had not been -given to the public was courteously shown to the writer in the private -theater of the company. These, which are called “From Bud to Blossom,” -show a stream of pictures in such rapid succession that they simulate -the trick of the Eastern magician who makes flowers grow into being -before the eyes of the spectator. The pictures are taken in intervals -of about three minutes by an automatic arrangement which continues the -work for a period required for the flower to blossom, which is usually -about three days. The speed of the growth, as seen by the spectator, -is thus magnified about from six thousand to nine thousand times the -actual growth of the flowers. So faithfully has the camera performed -its task that even the loosening of the petals can be counted one by -one, and in one picture, where two buds of a poppy are shown, the -growth of one is far enough ahead of the other to show its shattered -petals wither and drop while the companion is left in its magnificence. -In another picture the water in the glass is seen to evaporate to one -fourth its quantity before the flowers have fully blossomed.</p> - -<p>As a fitting climax, to excel in gorgeousness the pictures of the -flowers, there were retained until the last a series of pictures of -a battle “unto death” in an aquarium between water-beetles and a -magnificently marked snake. It almost passes the imagination to see -the distinct preservation of the many and varied colors of the snake -as it writhes and twists among the rocks on the bottom in its endeavor -to loose the hold of the beetles. The thought is delayed too long, -for soon after the bottom is reached one of the beetles finishes his -well-planned attack, and the neck of the snake is shown where these -vigorous little insects of the water have chewed it half-way through. -Vanquished, the snake gives up the battle as its lifeless form is -stretched on the rocks at the bottom.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0078" name="i_0078"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0078.jpg" - alt="Tailpiece for “Moving-picture”" /></a> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_YOUNG_HEART_IN_AGE">THE YOUNG HEART IN AGE</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="s3 center mbot2">BY EDITH M. THOMAS</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span class="drop-cap_poetry">L</span>ET fall the ashen veil</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">On locks of ebon sheen;</div> - <div class="verse">And let Time’s furrowing tale</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">On once-smooth brows be seen.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">And let my eyes forego</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Their once-keen shaft of sight;</div> - <div class="verse">Let hands and feet not know</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Their former skill or might.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Take all of outward grace,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Ye Aging Powers—but hold!</div> - <div class="verse">Touch not the inner place,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Let not my heart be old!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Then, Youth, to me repair;</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">And be my soothéd guest;</div> - <div class="verse">All things with you I share</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Save one,—that wild unrest!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0079" name="i_0079"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0079.jpg" - alt="Headpiece for “Her Own Life”" /></a> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="HER_OWN_LIFE">HER OWN LIFE</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="s3 center mbot2">BY ALLAN UPDEGRAFF</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">S</span>HE paid the landlady five dollars from a plump little purse of gold -mesh.</p> - -<p>“And I’m expecting a—a gentleman to see me within the next half-hour,” -she said.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, ma’am; I’ll show him right into the drawring-room and call -you. I hope you’ll like the surroundings, ma’am; I have nobody in my -house but the most refined—”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m sure I shall. Good day.”</p> - -<p>She sat on the edge of the bed in the furnished room she had just -rented, and her face had the look of the girl’s face in a little -autotype of “The Soul’s Awakening through Books” that hung on the -wall opposite her. At last <em class="italic">her</em> soul was awake; she could hear it -whispering, whispering in her bosom. Or was that sound merely the -exultation of her excited heart?</p> - -<p>At any rate, her soul was awake. She knew it, she could feel it, and it -made her tingle. At last she had broken her bonds, she had proclaimed -herself a real person in a real world. Her doll existence and her -doll-self were further behind than the doll’s house she had left. She -was free—free to be herself, free to live her own life as her own -desires decreed.</p> - -<p>“Free! free!” she repeated under her breath. “Free!”</p> - -<p>Her very presence gave a glamour to the shabby little room, so -palpitating with life was she, so dainty and pretty and sweet, and so -palpably young. The coils of her bright-brown hair were smooth and -artfully simple, as only the fingers of an expert hair-dresser could -have made them; her clear-skinned, brunette coloring showed the fine -hand of nature given every chance to produce its best; the delicate, -dark curves of her eyebrows, the carmine bows of her lips, the -changing, liquid velvet of her gold-brown eyes, were masterpieces of -the same supreme artist. She was as fair as an April morning that has -somehow strayed into the luxuriance of June.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she realized that the air in the little room was close, that -the single tall window was closed top and bottom. With a quick rustle -of silken draperies, she fluttered over to it and threw it wide. -The sounds that came in were not the metallic tenor shriek of the -“elevated,” the rumbling of wagons on cobblestones, the whining of -surface cars: they were voices of the world. She held out her arms to -them before returning to her perch on the bed.</p> - -<p>There was such a dazzling host of things to be done that she could -not begin to do anything. Her two big cowhide suitcases, standing in -rather disdainful opulence beside the shabby chiffonier, invited her to -unpack; but she dismissed the invitation with a toss of her head. How -could she desecrate her first hour of freedom by putting clothing into -bureau drawers? A mote-filled streak of sunshine, oblique with late -afternoon, offered more congenial occupation. She let her eyes rest on -it, and dreamed. It was pale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> golden, like hope, like the turrets of -castles in Spain, like the wealth awaiting claimants at the foot of a -rainbow. For a long time she looked into it, and her face put off its -first flush of exultation for the wistful doubtfulness of reverie.</p> - -<p>There was a knock at her door.</p> - -<p>“Yes?” she answered.</p> - -<p>“Your gentleman friend is a-waiting for you in the drawring-room, -ma’am,” announced the landlady’s voice from outside.</p> - -<p>“All right; thank you. I’ll be right down,” she said.</p> - -<p>She arose in a small flutter of excitement, and patted her faultless -hair before the mirror, turning her head this way and that. Gone was -her doubtfulness, her wistfulness; she had brightened like a mirror -when a lamp is brought into the room. The warm color in her cheeks -deepened, and her eyes felicitated their doubles in the mirror. Lightly -she fluttered down the broad stairway to the tiled hall below. At the -entrance to the parlor she paused a moment, then swept back the heavy -curtain with such an air as one might use in unveiling a statue.</p> - -<p>A man, sitting in the big Turkish rocking-chair between the front -windows, rose hastily to his feet. He was a compact, short-statured, -middle-aged man, with a look of grave alertness behind the friendly set -of his face.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Wendell?” he murmured, coming forward.</p> - -<p>“And so you,” she said, still poising between the curtains, “are Ames -Hallton!” Immediately she laughed. “That sounds like melodrama,” she -exclaimed. “I’m very glad to see you.”</p> - -<p>They shook hands. Her eyes continued to regard him with the puzzled -interest that wonderful objects frequently inspire when seen closely. -There was a faint shadow of disappointment on her face, but she did not -allow it to linger.</p> - -<p>“It was kind—it was awf’ly kind of you to come,” she said. “Sha’n’t we -sit down? Do you know, I almost thought you wouldn’t come.”</p> - -<p>“Your letter was very interesting,” he returned dryly.</p> - -<p>“I tried to make it that way—so interesting that you just couldn’t -keep from coming.” She folded her hands in her brown-silk lap and -gravely bowed her head so that light from the window could bring out -the copper tints in her hair. She felt the judicial expression of -the gray eyes watching her, and chose the simplest means of making -partizans of them. “I was quite desperate, and after I’d read your -‘Love’s Ordeal’ I knew you were the one person who could help me.”</p> - -<p>“Have you already left your husband?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>She winced a little, and her brows protested. “You remind me of a -surgeon,” she said; “but that’s what I need—that’s what attracted me -to you in your book. It’s all so calm and simple and scientific. It -made me realize for the first time what I was—it and Ibsen’s ‘Doll’s -House.’ I was nothing but a plaything, a parasite, a mistress, a doll.” -She bowed her head in shame. The warm color flooding her cheeks was as -flawless as that in the finest tinted bisque.</p> - -<p>“What you say is very, very interesting,” murmured Hallton; and she -knew from his changed tone that the fact of her beauty had at last been -borne in upon him.</p> - -<p>With renewed confidence, almost with boldness, she lifted her head and -continued: “You see, I was married when I was only eighteen—just out -of boarding-school. I was already sick of hearing about love; everybody -made love to me.”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” said Hallton, slightly sarcastic.</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t help that, could I?” she complained, turning the depths of -her gold-brown eyes full upon him.</p> - -<p>He lowered his own eyes and pursed his lips.</p> - -<p>“No, of course not,” he admitted. “And then, when you realized that you -were—inconveniently situated, you decided to imitate <em class="italic">Nora</em> in the -‘Doll’s House,’ and get out? Is that it?”</p> - -<p>“Well, yes; but—”</p> - -<p>“So you explained to your husband how you felt, and left him?”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t exactly explain; my thoughts seemed to be all mixed up: I -thought it would be better to write, after I’d thought a little more.” -Again she allowed the glory of her eyes to be her best apologist. “I -was going to write as soon as I’d had a talk with you. You see, I came -away only two hours ago, and Harry—my husband—will just think I’ve -gone to visit somewhere.” Her beauty made a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> confident appeal that he -would sanction her position.</p> - -<p>But Hallton looked out of the window.</p> - -<p>“And what do you expect to do to earn your living,” he asked, “now that -you’ve decided to quit being a parasite?”</p> - -<p>It was cruelly unfamiliar ground, this necessity he put upon her of -answering questions with mere words; she had become accustomed to use -glances as a final statement of her position, as a full and sufficient -answer for any question that a man could ask her. Nevertheless, she -drew herself together and addressed Hallton’s unappreciative profile:</p> - -<p>“My husband will give me an allowance, I’m sure, until I decide on -some suitable occupation; or, if he is mean enough not to, there’ll be -alimony or—or something like that, won’t there?” Her eyebrows began to -arch a little as Hallton continued to look out of the window, and her -lips lost some of their softness. “That is one of the things I wished -to speak to you about,” she explained. “I thought perhaps I might take -up writing, and I thought you might tell me the best way to begin.”</p> - -<p>Hallton put one hand to his forehead.</p> - -<p>“However, of course the most important thing,” she resumed steadily, -“is for me to live my own life. That’s what I’ve come to realize: I -must express myself, I must be free. Why, I didn’t know I had a soul -until I found myself alone a short time ago in the little room that -I had rented myself, all for myself. I’ve been a chattel—yes, a -chattel!” Her voice quavered; she hesitated, waiting for at least a -glance of encouragement.</p> - -<p>“I hoped you’d understand, that you’d advise me,” she murmured. “I’m -afraid I’m frightfully helpless; I’ve always been that way.”</p> - -<p>“My God! yes, madam!” he exploded, facing her; “I should think you -were!”</p> - -<p>She made no reply; she did not even show surprise by a change of -expression; she simply sat up very straight and faced him with the look -of clear-eyed intelligence that she had found best suited to situations -utterly beyond her comprehension. She waited, calm-browed, level-eyed, -judicious-mouthed, for him to explain, to apologize.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon,” he said.</p> - -<p>Her silence demanded more.</p> - -<p>“I was rather overcome; I was about to take a cheap, narrow view of -your—your dilemma,” he explained. “I was about to say that your -troubles were as common as dirt, and that you were wrong to take them -so idealistically, and not to realize the simplest fundamentals, of—. -Women are going through a period of readjustment just now, of course. -Your troubles probably aren’t much greater than those of any woman, or -man, who goes out to hunt a job. You don’t need to smash things, to -kick up a row.”</p> - -<p>She watched, with the penetrating gaze of a Muse, his half-disgusted -attempts to be polite. She had not the slightest idea what he was -driving at; she merely understood that only his regard for her beauty -and womanhood kept him from saying wild, irrational things. It occurred -to her that he might be mentally unbalanced; geniuses often were.</p> - -<p>“Look here,” he continued, growing increasingly excited under her look -of beautiful, understanding aloofness, “wouldn’t it be a good thing if -you decided, before beginning to live your own life, just what sort of -life your own life is—what you want to make of it? You’re breaking -away from a beastly artificial environment; aren’t you afraid you’ll -have as hard a time as, say, a pet canary turned out to make a living -among the sparrows? Besides, canaries are quite as useful as sparrows.”</p> - -<p>“I hardly think,” she said with great determination, “that I can -be compared to a pet canary; and I’ll have to ask you to be more -considerate in referring to my husband. He may not understand me, but -he is kind, and as good as he knows—”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me,” interrupted Hallton, putting his hand to his forehead; -“but I have no recollection of referring to your husband at all.”</p> - -<p>“You spoke of my breaking away from him,” she said, “and you called -him a beastly artificial—I won’t repeat what you said.” The delicate -curves of her cheeks warmed with the memory of the unfamiliar -appellation, with faint doubt as to her first idea of its value.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> -“However, that’s neither here nor there. I wish to ask you a simple, -straightforward question, Mr. Hallton: do you, or do you not, think it -is right for persons to live their own lives?”</p> - -<p>For a moment she thought she had succeeded in bringing him back to a -humble consideration of her case; he looked at her with something like -consternation in his face, his alert, gray eyes blinking rapidly. Light -from the window made her massed hair a soft, golden glimmer above the -sweet, injured, girlish seriousness of her face; her lips softened, -curved downward, like a troubled child’s.</p> - -<p>But Hallton turned from her to look out of the window.</p> - -<p>“Your own life, your own life!” he exploded again. “Why, you great, -big, beautiful doll, that’s your own life—a doll’s life! When is a -doll not a doll?” He got out of his chair and jerked his coat together -at the throat. His lower jaw protruded; he looked through rather -than at her, and his eyes were sick and tired. “Even your talk is -the talk of an automaton; you haven’t an idea without a forest of -quotation-marks around it,” he said. “If you weren’t so good-looking, -you’d be a private in that big brigade of female nincompoops who write -their soul-troubles to the author of the latest successful book. Your -beauty removes you from that class—at least as long as I look at you.”</p> - -<p>He bowed to her, with an expression slightly resembling a sneer.</p> - -<p>“Your beauty makes you a temptation; for you’d soon be looking for -another cage, or another doll’s house, and any man might be glad to -feed you. If I weren’t so busy, and you weren’t so devoid of character, -common sense, everything else that—”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you brute!” she cried, recoiling from the crassly material -admiration in his eyes. “How dare you speak to me like that?”</p> - -<p>“Perfect!” He bowed with his hand on his heart. “I press the -button, and you utter the absolutely obvious remarks. You are a -masterpiece—such a doll as would grace any home of the middle of the -last century. And my advice to you is to go back to your home and to -your devoted husband. I take it for granted that he is devoted: the -prices which you mechanical beauties command usually include devotion -by the bucketful. But perhaps I’m unnecessarily harsh because I see you -slipping through my fingers. Good day, Mrs. Wendell; and good luck!”</p> - -<p>She saw him go with a feeling that the universe had suddenly been -inverted and that she was scrambling around amid a Noah’s ark load -of displaced properties. It was not so much that he had disturbed -her ideals, her plans, her dream of freedom, but that he could have -treated her so cavalierly; that he could have been so impolite, so -unreasonable, so brutal; that he could so completely have failed to -understand her—that was what left her as dazed and terrified as a lost -child.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he is a cad, a perfect beast!” she gasped to herself as she fled -up the broad stairway to her room.</p> - -<p>She threw herself down on the hard little bed, crumpled silks, crumpled -hair, crumpled rose-petals of cheeks, crumpled pansies-and-dew of eyes. -All her sweetness and delicacy wilted and drooped and quivered in the -cold, gathering gloom of the little room. The city snarled and rumbled -and hissed and groaned outside, and its great composite voice was the -voice of loneliness incarnate.</p> - -<p>“Oh, there’s no one to take care of me!” she sobbed suddenly, and burst -into a flood of tears.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0082" name="i_0082"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0082.jpg" - alt="Tailpiece for “Her Own Life”" /></a> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0083" name="i_0083"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0083.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Half-tone plate engraved by H. Davidson</p> - <p class="s5 center">A CORNER OF THE TABLE</p> - <p class="s6 center">FROM THE PAINTING BY CHARLES CHABAS</p> - <p class="s6 center">(EXAMPLES OF CONTEMPORARY FRENCH ART)</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2 ebhide"><a href="images/i_0083_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0084" name="i_0084"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0084.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Drawn by André Castaigne</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">A DISTANT VIEW OF THE ACROPOLIS AT SUNSET</p> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="SKIRTING_THE_BALKAN_PENINSULA">SKIRTING THE BALKAN -PENINSULA</h2> - -<p class="s3 center">FROM TRIEST TO CONSTANTINOPLE</p> - -<p class="s4 center">THIRD PAPER: THE ENVIRONS OF ATHENS</p> - -<p class="s3 center">BY ROBERT HICHENS</p> - -<p class="s6 center">Author of “The Spell of Egypt,” “The Holy -Land,” “The Garden of Allah,” etc.</p> - -<p class="s6 center mbot2">WITH PICTURES BY JULES GUÉRIN AND PHOTOGRAPHS</p> - -</div> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">U</span>PON the southern slope of the Acropolis, beneath the limestone -precipices and the great golden-brown walls above which the Parthenon -shows its white summit, are many ruins; among them the Theater of -Dionysus and the Odeum of Herodes Atticus, the rich Marathonian who -spent much of his money in the beautification of Athens, and who taught -rhetoric to two men who eventually became Roman emperors. The Theater -of Dionysus, in which Æschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides produced their -dramas, is of stone and silver-white marble. Many of the seats are -arm-chairs, and are so comfortable that it is no uncommon thing to see -weary travelers, who have just come down from the Acropolis, resting in -them with almost unsuitable airs of unbridled satisfaction.</p> - -<p>It is evident to any one who examines this great theater carefully that -the Greeks considered it important for the body to be at ease while -the mind was at work; for not only are the seats perfectly adapted to -their purpose, but ample room is given for the feet of the spectators, -the distance between each tier and the tier above it being wide enough -to do away with all fear of crowding and inconvenience. The marble -arm-chairs were assigned to priests, whose names are carved upon them. -In the theater I saw one high arm-chair, like a throne, with lion’s -feet. This is Roman, and was the seat of a Roman general. The fronts -of the seats are pierced with small holes, which allow the rain-water -to escape. Below the stage there are some sculptured figures, most -of them headless. One which is not is a very striking and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> powerful, -though almost sinister, old man, in a crouching posture. His rather -round forehead resembles the very characteristic foreheads of the -Montenegrins.</p> - -<p>Herodes Atticus restored this theater. Before his time it had been -embellished by Lycurgus of Athens, the orator, and disciple of Plato. -It is not one of the gloriously placed theaters of the Greeks, but -from the upper tiers of seats there is a view across part of the Attic -plain to the isolated grove of cypresses where the famous Schliemann is -buried, and beyond to gray Hymettus.</p> - -<p>Standing near by is another theater, Roman-Greek, not Greek, the Odeum -of Herodes Atticus, said to have been built by him in memory of his -wife. This is not certain, and there are some authorities who think -that, like the beautiful arch near the Olympieion, this peculiar, very -picturesque structure was raised by the Emperor Hadrian, who was much -fonder of Athens than of Rome.</p> - -<p>The contrast between the exterior, the immensely massive, three-storied -façade with Roman arches, and the interior, or, rather, what was once -the interior, of this formerly roofed-in building, is very strange. -They do not seem to belong to each other, to have any artistic -connection the one with the other.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0085" name="i_0085"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0085.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph, copyright by Underwood - & Underwood</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">THEATER OF DIONYSUS ON THE SOUTHERN SLOPE<br /> - OF THE ACROPOLIS</p> -</div> - -<p>The outer walls are barbarically huge and heavy, and superb in color. -They gleam with a fierce-red gold, and are conspicuous from afar. The -almost monstrous, but impressive, solidity of Rome, heavy and bold, -indeed almost crudely imperious, is shown forth by them—a solidity -absolutely different from the Greek massiveness, which you can study -in the Doric temples, and far less beautiful. When you pass beyond and -this towering façade, which might well be a section of the Colosseum -transferred from gladiatorial Rome to intellectual Athens, you find -yourself in a theater which looks oddly, indeed, almost meanly, small -and pale and graceful. With a sort of fragile timidity it seems to be -cowering behind the flamboyant walls. When all its blanched marble -seats were crowded with spectators it contained five thousand persons. -As you approach the outer walls, you expect to find a building that -might accommodate perhaps twenty-five thou<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>sand. There is something -bizarre in the two colors, fierce and pale, in the two sizes, huge -and comparatively small, that are united in the odeum. Though very -remarkable, it seems to me to be one of the most inharmonious ruins in -Greece.</p> - -<p>The modern Athenians are not very fond of hard exercise, and except in -the height of summer, when many of them go to Kephisia and Phalerum, -and others to the islands, or to the baths near Corinth for a “cure,” -they seem well content to remain within their city. They are governed, -it seems, by fashion, like those who dwell in less-favored lands. When -I was in Athens the weather was usually magnificent and often very -hot. Yet Phalerum, perhaps half an hour by train from Constitution -Square, was deserted. In the vast hotel there I found only two or three -children, in the baths half a dozen swimmers. The pleasure-boats lay -idle by the pier. I asked the reason of this—why at evening dusty -Athens was crammed with strollers, and the pavements were black with -people taking coffee and ices, while delightful Phalerum, with its -cooler air and its limpid waters, held no one but an English traveler?</p> - -<p>“The season is over,” was the only reply I received, delivered with a -grave air of finality. I tried to argue the matter, and suggested that -anxiety about the war had something to do with it. But I was informed -that the “season” closed on a certain day, and that after that day the -Athenians gave up going to Phalerum.</p> - -<p>The season for many things seemed “over” when I was in Athens. -Round-about the city, and within easy reach of it, there is fascinating -country—country that seems to call you with a smiling decision to -enjoy all Arcadian delights; country, too, that has great associations -connected with it. From Athens you can go to picnic at Marathon or at -Salamis, or you can carry a tea-basket to the pine-woods which slope -down to the Convent of Daphni, and come back to it after paying a visit -to Eleusis. Or, if you are not afraid of a “long day,” you can motor -out and lunch in the lonely home of the sea-god under the columns at -Sunium. If you wish to go where a king goes, you can spend the day -in the thick woods at Tatoï. If you are full of social ambition, and -aim at “climbing,” a train in not many minutes will set you down at -Kephisia, the summer home of “the fifty-two” on the slope of a spur of -Mount Pentelicus.</p> - -<p>Thither I went one bright day. But, as at Phalerum, I found a deserted -paradise. The charming gardens and arbors were empty. The villas, -Russian, Egyptian, Swiss, English, French, and even now and then -Greek in style, were shuttered and closed. All in vain the waterfalls -sang, all in vain the silver poplars and the yellow-green pines gave -their shade. No one was there. I went at length to a restaurant to -get something to eat. Its door was unlocked, and I entered a large, -deserted room, with many tables, a piano, and a terrace. No one came. -I called, knocked, stamped, and at length evoked a thin elderly lady -in a gray shawl, who seemed alarmed at the sight of me, and in a frail -voice begged to know what I wanted. When I told her, she said there -was nothing to eat except what they were going to have themselves. The -season was over. Eventually she brought me <em class="italic">mastika</em> and part of her -own dinner to the terrace, which overlooked a luxuriant and deserted -garden. And there I spent two happy, golden hours. I had sought the -heart of fashion, and found the exquisite peace that comes to places -when fashion has left them. Henceforth I shall always associate -beautiful Kephisia with silence, flowers, and one thin old woman in a -gray shawl.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0087" name="i_0087"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0087.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s5 center">THE TEMPLE OF POSEIDON AND ATHENE AT SUNIUM</p> - <p class="s6 center">PAINTED FOR THE CENTURY BY JULES GUÉRIN</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2 ebhide"><a href="images/i_0087_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -<p>Greece, though sparsely inhabited, is in the main a very -cheerful-looking country. The loneliness of much of it is not -depressing, the bareness of much of it is not sad. I began to -understand this on the day when I went to the plain of Marathon, which, -fortunately, lies away from railroads. One must go there by carriage or -motor or on horseback. The road is bad both for beasts and machinery, -but it passes through country which is typical of Greece, and through -which it would be foolish to go in haste. Go quietly to Marathon, spend -two hours there, or more, and when you return in the evening to Athens -you will have tasted a new joy. You will have lived for a little while -in an exquisite pastoral—a pastoral through which, it is true, no -pipes of Pan have fluted to you,—I heard little music in Greece,—but -which has been full of that lightness, brightness, simplicity, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> and -delicacy peculiar to Greece. The soil of the land is light, and, I -believe, though Hellenes have told me that in this I am wrong, that the -heart of the people is light. Certainly the heart of one traveler was -as he made his way to Marathon along a white road thickly powdered with -dust.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0089" name="i_0089"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0089.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph, copyright by Underwood - & Underwood</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">THE PLAIN OF MARATHON</p> -</div> - -<p>Has not each land its representative tree? America has its maple, -England its oak, France its poplar, Italy its olive, Turkey its -cypress, Egypt its palm, and so on. The representative tree of Greece -is the pine. I do not forget the wild olive, from which in past days -the crowns were made, nor the fact that the guide-books say that -in a Greek landscape the masses of color are usually formed by the -silver-green olive-trees. It seemed to me, and it seems to me still in -remembrance, that the lovely little pine is the most precious ornament -of the Grecian scene.</p> - -<p>Marathon that day was a pastoral of yellow and blue, of pines and -sea. On the way I passed through great olive-groves,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> in one of -which long since some countrymen of mine were taken by brigands and -carried away to be done to death. And there were mighty fig-trees, and -mulberry-trees, and acres and acres of vines, with here and there an -almost black cypress among them. But the pines, more yellow than green, -and the bright blue sea made the picture that lives in my memory.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0090" name="i_0090"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0090.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">From a photograph, copyright by Underwood - & Underwood</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">RUINS OF THE GREAT TEMPLE OF THE<br /> - MYSTERIES AT ELEUSIS</p> -</div> - -<p>Not very long after we were clear of the town we passed not far from -the village of “Louis,” who won the first Marathon race that was run -under King George’s scepter, Marousi, where the delicious water is -found that Athens loves to drink. And then away we went through the -groves and the little villages, where dusty soldiers were buying up -mules for the coming war; and Greek priests were reading newspapers; -and olive-skinned children, with bright, yet not ungentle, eyes, were -coming from school; and outside of ramshackle cafés, a huddle of -wood, a vine, a couple of tables, and a few bottles, old gentlemen, -some of them in native dress, with the white fustanelle, a sort of -short skirt not reaching to the knees, and shoes with turned-up toes -ornamented with big black tassels, were busily talking politics. Carts, -not covered with absurd but lively pictures, as they are in Sicily, -lumbered by in the dust. Peasants, sitting sidewise with dangling feet, -met us on trotting donkeys. Now and then a white dog dashed out, or -a flock of thin turkeys gobbled and stretched their necks nervously -as they gave us passage. Women, with rather dingy handkerchiefs tied -over their heads, were working in the vineyards or washing clothes -here and there beside thin runlets of water. Two German beggars, with -matted hair uncovered to the sun, red faces, and fingers with nails -like the claws of birds, tramped by, going to Athens. And farther on we -met a few Turkish Gipsies, swarthy and full of a lively malice, whose -tents were visible on a hillside at a little distance, in the midst of -a grove of pines. All the country smiled at us in the sunshine. One -jovial man in a fustanelle leaned down from a cart as we passed, and -shouted in Greek: “Enjoy yourselves! Enjoy yourselves!” And the gentle -hills, the olive-and pine-groves, the stretching vineyards, seemed to -echo his cry.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0091" name="i_0091"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0091.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Half-tone plate engraved by H. Davidson</p> - <p class="s5 center">THE ODEUM OF HERODES ATTICUS IN ATHENS</p> - <p class="s6 center mbot2">FROM THE PAINTING MADE FOR THE CENTURY BY - JULES GUÉRIN</p> -</div> - -<p>What is the magic of pastoral Greece? What is it that gives to you -a sensation of being gently released from the cares of life and the -boredom of modern civilization, with its often unmeaning complications, -its unnecessary luxuries, its noisy self-satisfactions? This is not -the tremendous, the spectacular release of the desert, an almost -savage tearing away of bonds. Nothing in the Greece I saw is savage; -scarcely anything is spectacular. But, oh, the bright simplicity of -the life and the country along the way to Marathon! It was like an -early world. One looked, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> longed to live in those happy woods like -the Turkish Gipsies. Could life offer anything better? The pines are -small, exquisitely shaped, with foliage that looks almost as though -it had been deftly arranged by a consummate artist. They curl over -the slopes with a lightness almost of foam cresting a wave. Their -color is quite lovely. The ancient Egyptians had a love color: well, -the little pine-trees of Greece are the color of happiness. You smile -involuntarily when you see them. And when, descending among them, you -are greeted by the shining of the brilliant-blue sea, which stretches -along the edge of the plain of Marathon, you know radiance purged of -fierceness.</p> - -<p>The road winds down among the pines till, at right angles to it, -appears another road, or rough track just wide enough for a carriage. -This leads to a large mound which bars the way. Upon this mound a -habitation was perched. It was raised high above the ground upon a sort -of tripod of poles. It had yellow walls of wheat, and a roof and floor -of brushwood and maize. A ladder gave access to it, and from it there -was a wide outlook over the whole crescent-shaped plain of Marathon. -This dwelling belonged to a guardian of the vineyards, and the mound is -the tomb of those who died in the great battle.</p> - -<p>I sat for a long time on this strange tomb, in the shadow of the -rustic watch-house, and looked out over the plain. It is quite flat, -and is now cultivated, though there are some bare tracts of unfruitful -ground. In all directions I saw straggling vines. Not far away was -one low, red-tiled house belonging to a peasant, whose three small, -dirty, and unhealthy-looking children presently approached, and gazed -at me from below. In the distance a man on a white horse rode slowly -toward the pine-woods, and to my left I saw a group of women bending -mysteriously to accomplish some task unknown to me. No other figures -could I see between me and the bright-blue waters that once bore up -the fleet of Persia. Behind me were stony and not very high hills, -ending in the slopes down which Miltiades made his soldiers advance -“at a running pace.” One hundred and ninety-two brave men gone to dust -beneath me; instead of the commemorative lion, the little watch-house -of brushwood and wheat and maize, silence the only epitaph. The -mound, of hard, sun-baked earth, was yellow and bare. On one side a -few rusty-looking thorn-bushes decorated it harshly. But about it grew -aloes, and the wild oleander, with its bright-pink flowers, and near -by were many great fig-trees. A river intersects the plain, and its -course is marked by sedges and tall reeds. Where the land is bare, it -takes a tawny-yellow hue. Some clustering low houses far off under the -hills form the Albanian village of Marathon. Just twenty-two miles -from Athens, this place of an ancient glory, this tomb of men who, I -suppose, will not be forgotten so long as the Hellenic kingdom lasts, -seems very far away, hidden from the world between woods and waters, -solitary, but not sad. Beyond the plain and the sea are ranges of -mountains and the island of Eubœa.</p> - -<p>A figure slowly approaches. It is the guardian of the vineyards, -coming back to his watch-house above the grave of his countrymen, -smiling, with a cigarette between his white teeth. As I go, he calls -out “Addio!” Then he mounts his ladder carefully and withdraws to his -easy work. How strange to be a watcher of vineyards upon the tumulus of -Marathon!</p> - -<p>If you care at all for life in the open, if you have the love of -camping in your blood, Greece will call to you at every moment to throw -off the dullness of houses, to come and stay under blue heaven and be -happy. Yet I suppose the season for all such joys was over when I was -in Greece, for I never met any citizens of Athens taking their pleasure -in the surrounding country. In Turkey and Asia Minor, near any large -town, when the weather is hot and fine, one may see cheerful parties of -friends making merry in the open air, under trees and in arbors; or men -dreaming idly in nooks that might have made old Omar’s delight, shaded, -and sung to by a stream. In Greece it is not so. Once you are out in -the country, you come upon no one but peasants, shepherds, goatherds, -Gipsies, turkey-drivers, and, speaking generally, “sons of the soil.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0093" name="i_0093"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0093.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s5 center">THE TEMPLE OF ATHENE, ISLAND OF ÆGINA</p> - <p class="s6 center">PAINTED FOR THE CENTURY BY JULES GUÉRIN</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2 ebhide"><a href="images/i_0093_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -<p>In the very height of summer, I am told, the Athenians do condescend to -go to the pine-woods. They sleep during part of the day, and stay out -of doors at night, often driving into the country, and eating under the -trees or by the sea. But even in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> the heat of a rainless September, -if I may judge by my own experience, they prefer Constitution Square -and “the Dardanelles” to any more pastoral pleasures.</p> - -<p>I did not imitate them, but followed the Via Sacra one morning, past -the oldest olive-tree in Greece, a small and corrugated veteran said to -have been planted in the time of Pericles, to the Convent of Daphni, -now fallen into a sort of poetic decay.</p> - -<p>Once more I was among pine-trees. They thronged the almost park-like -slopes under Ægaleos. They crowded toward the little Byzantine church, -which stands on the left of the road on the site of a vanished temple -of Apollo, with remains of its once strongly fortified walls about it. -Lonely, but smiling, as though with a radiant satisfaction at its own -shining peace, is the country in whose bosom the church lies. A few -sheep, small, with shaggy coats of brown and white, were grazing near -it; a dog lay stretched out in the sun; and some lean, long-tailed -horses were standing with bowed heads, as if drowsing. An ancient and -very deep well was close by. In the marble well-head the friction of -many drawn cords has cut grooves, some of them nearly an inch in depth. -The court of the convent is roughly paved and is inclosed within rough -walls. In it are a few trees, an acacia or two, a wild pepper-tree, -and one gigantic cypress. From a branch near the entrance a big bell -hung by a chain. But the only sound of bells came to me from without -the walls, where some hidden goats were moving to pasture. Fragments -of broken columns and two or three sarcophagi lay on the hot ground -at my feet. To my right, close to the church, a flight of very old -marble steps led to a rustic loggia with wooden supports, full of red -geraniums and the flowers of a plant like a very small convolvulus. -From the loggia, which fronted her abiding-place, a cheerful, kindly -faced woman came down and let me into the church, where she left me -with two companions, a black kitten playing with a bee under the gilded -cupola.</p> - -<p>The church, like almost all the Byzantine churches I saw in Greece, -is very small, but it is tremendously solid and has a tall belfry. -The exterior, stained by weather, is now a sort of earthy yellow; -the cupola is covered with red tiles. The interior walls look very -ancient, and are blackened in many places by the fingers of Time. Made -more than eight hundred years ago, the remains of the Byzantine mosaics -are very curious and interesting. In the cupola, on a gold ground, is -a very large head of a Christ (“Christos Pantokrator”), which looks -as though it were just finished. The face is sinister and repellent, -but expressive. There are several other mosaics, of the apostles, -of episodes in the life of the Virgin, and of angels. None of them -seemed to me beautiful, though perhaps not one looks so wicked as the -Christos, which dominates the whole church. Until comparatively recent -times there were monks attached to this convent, but now they are gone.</p> - -<p>I passed through a doorway and came into a sort of tiny cloister, -shaded by a huge and evidently very ancient fig-tree with enormous -leaves. Here I found the remains of an old staircase of stone. As I -returned to the dim and massive little church, glimmering with gold -where the sunlight fell upon the mosaics, the eyes of the Christos -seemed to rebuke me from the lofty cupola. The good-natured woman -locked the door behind me with a large key, handed to me a bunch of the -flowers I had noticed growing in the loggia, and bade me “Addio!” And -soon the sound of the goat-bells died away from my ears as I went on my -way back to Eleusis.</p> - -<p>There is nothing mysterious about this road which leads to the site -of the Temple of the Mysteries. It winds down through the pine-woods -and rocks of the Pass of Daphni into the cheerful and well-cultivated -Thriasian plain, whence across a brilliant-blue stretch of water, which -looks like a lake, but which is the bay of Eleusis, you can see houses -and, alas! several tall chimneys pouring forth smoke. The group of -houses is Eleusis, now an Albanian settlement, and the chimneys belong -to a factory where olive-oil soap is made. The road passes between the -sea and a little salt lake, which latter seems to be prevented from -submerging it only by a raised coping of stone. The color of this lake -is a brilliant purple. In the distance is the mountainous and rocky -island of Salamis.</p> - -<p>When I reached the village, I found it a cheery little place of -small white, yellow, and rose-colored houses, among which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> a few -cypress-trees grow. Although one of the most ancient places in Greece, -it now looks very modern. And it is difficult to believe, as one -glances at the chimneys of the soap factory, and at two or three black -and dingy steamers lying just off the works to take in cargo, that -here Demeter was worshiped with mysterious rites at the great festival -of the Eleusinia. Yet, according to the legend, it was here that she -came, disguised as an old hag, in search of her lost Persephone; here -that she taught Triptolemus how to sow the plain, and to reap the first -harvest of yellow wheat, as a reward for the hospitable welcome given -to her by his father Celeus.</p> - -<p>The ruins at Eleusis are disappointing to the ordinary traveler, -though interesting to the archæologist. They have none of the pathetic -romance which, notwithstanding the scoldings of many vulgar persons -set forth in a certain visitors’ book, broods gently over poetic -Olympia. Above the village is a vast confusion of broken columns, -defaced capitals, bits of wall, bits of pavement, marble steps, fallen -medallions, vaults, propylæa, substructures, scraps of architraves -carved with inscriptions, and subterranean store-rooms. In the pavement -of the processional way, by which the chariots came up to the Temple -of Demeter, the chief glory and shrine of Eleusis, are the deep ruts -made by the chariot-wheels. The remnants of the hall of the initiated -bears witness to the long desire of poor human beings in all ages to -find that peace which passeth our understanding. Of beauty there is -little or none. Nevertheless, even now, it is not possible in the midst -of this tragic <em class="italic">débâcle</em> to remain wholly unmoved. Indeed, the very -completeness of the disaster that time and humanity have wrought here -creates emotion when one remembers that here great men came, such men -as Cicero, Sophocles, and Plato; that here they worshiped and adored -under cover of the darkness of night; that here, seeking, they found, -as has been recorded, peace and hope to sustain them when, the august -festival over, they took their way back into the ordinary world along -the shores of sea and lake. Eleusis is no longer beautiful. It is a -home of devastation. It is no longer mysterious. A successful man is -making a fortune out of soap there. But it is a place one cannot -easily forget. And just above the ruins there is a small museum which -contains several very interesting things, and one thing that is superb.</p> - -<p>This last is the enormous and noble upper part of the statue of a -woman wearing ear-rings. I do not know its history, though some one -assured me that it was a caryatid. It was dug up among the ruins, and -the color of it is akin to that of the earth. The roughly undulating -hair is parted in the middle of a majestic, goddess-like head. The -features are pure and grand; but the two things that most struck me, -as I looked at this great work of art, were the expression of the face -and the deep bosom, as of the earth-mother and all her fruitfulness. -In few Greek statues have I seen such majesty and power, combined with -such intensity, as this nameless woman shows forth. There is indeed -almost a suggestion of underlying fierceness in the face, but it is the -fierceness that may sometimes leap up in an imperial nature. Are there -not royal angers which flame out of the pure furnaces of love? This -noble woman seems to me to be the present glory of Eleusis.</p> - -<p>The mountainous island of Salamis, long and calm, with gray and orange -rocks, lies like a sentinel keeping guard over the harbor of the -Piræus. It is so near to the mainland that the sea between the two -shores looks like a lake, lonely and brilliant, with the two-horned -peak called “the throne of Xerxes” standing out characteristically -behind the low-lying bit of coast where the Greeks have set up an -arsenal. Whether Xerxes did really watch the famous battle from a -throne placed on the hill with which his name is associated is very -doubtful. But many travelers like to believe it, and the kind guides of -Athens are quite ready to stiffen their credulity.</p> - -<p>The shores of this beautiful inclosed bit of sea are wild. The water is -wonderfully clear, and is shot with all sorts of exquisite colors. The -strip of mainland, against which the liquid maze of greens and blues -and purples seems to lie motionless, like a painted marvel, is a tangle -of wild myrtle and dwarf shrubs growing in a sandy soil interspersed -with rocks. Gently the land curves, forming a series of little shallow -bays and inlets, each one of which seems more delicious than the -last as you coast along in a fisherman’s boat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> But, unfortunately, -the war-ships of Greece often lie snug in harbor in the shadow of -Salamis not far from the arsenal, and, as I have hinted already, their -commander-in-chief has little sympathy with the inquiring traveler. I -shall not easily forget the expression that came into his face when, -in reply to his question, “What did you come here for?” I said, “To -visit the scene of the celebrated battle.” A weary incredulity made -him suddenly look very old; and I believe it was then that, taking a -pen, he wrote on the margin of his report about me that I was “a very -suspicious person.”</p> - -<p>It is safer, especially in war-time, to keep away from Salamis; but if -you care for smiling wild places where the sea is, where its breath -gives a vivid sense of life to the wilderness, you may easily forget -her myrtle-covered shores and the bays of violet and turquoise.</p> - -<p>Of the many wonderful haunts of the sea which I visited in Greece, Cape -Sunium is perhaps the most memorable, though I never shall forget the -glories of the magnificent drive along the mountains between Athens and -Corinth. But Sunium has its ruined temple, standing on a great height. -And in some of us a poet has wakened a wondering consciousness of its -romance, perhaps when we sat in a Northern land beside the winter fire. -And in some of us, too, an immortal painter has roused a longing to see -it, when we never thought to be carried by our happy fate to Greece.</p> - -<p>In going to Sunium I passed through the famous mining district of -Laurium, where now many convicts work out their sentences. In ancient -times slaves toiled there for the benefit of those citizens who had -hereditary leases granted by the state. They worked the mines for -silver, but now lead is the principal product. It happened that just as -we were in the middle of the dingy town, or village, where the miners -and their families dwell, for only some of them are convicts, a tire -of the motor burst. This of course delayed us, and I was able to see -something of the inhabitants. In Athens I had heard that they were a -fierce and ill-mannered population. I found them, on the contrary, as -I found almost all those whom I met in Greece, cheerful, smiling, and -polite. Happy, if rather dirty, children gathered round us, delighted -to have something to look at and wonder about. Men, going to or coming -from the works, paused to see what was the matter and to inquire where -I came from. From the windows of the low, solid-looking houses women -leaned eagerly out with delighted faces. Several of the latter talked -to me. I could not understand what they said, and all they could -understand was that I came from London, a circumstance which seemed -greatly to impress them, for they called it out from one to another -up the street. We carried on intercourse mainly by facial expression -and elaborate gesture, assisted genially by the grubby little boys. -And when I got into the car to go we were all the best of friends. -The machine made the usual irritable noises, but from the good people -of Laurium came only cries of good-will, among them that pleasant -admonition which one hears often in Greece: “Enjoy yourself! Enjoy -yourself!”</p> - -<p>When Laurium was left behind, we were soon in wild and deserted -country. Now and then we passed an Albanian on horseback, with a -gun over his shoulder, a knife stuck in his belt, or we came upon a -shepherd watching his goats as they browsed on the low scrub which -covered the hills. All the people in this region are Albanians, I was -told. They appeared to be very few. As we drew near to the ancient -shrine of Poseidon we left far behind us the habitations of men. At -length the car stopped in the wilderness, and on a height to my left I -saw the dazzling white marble columns of the Temple of Sunium.</p> - -<p>Almost all the ruins I saw in Greece were weather-stained. Their -original color was mottled with browns and grays, with saffron, with -gold and red gold. But the columns of Sunium have kept their brilliant -whiteness, although they stand on a great, bare cliff above the sea, -exposed to the glare of the sun and to the buffeting of every wind of -heaven. They are raised not merely on this natural height, but also on -a great platform of the famous Poros-stone. In the time of Byron there -were sixteen columns standing. There are now eleven, with a good deal -of architrave. These columns are Doric, and are about twenty feet in -height. They have not the majesty of the Parthenon columns, but, on the -contrary, have a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> peculiar delicacy and even grace, which is lacking -both in the Parthenon and in the Theseum. They do not move you to awe -or overwhelm you; they charm and delight you. In their ivory-white -simplicity, standing out against the brilliant blue of sea and sky on -the white and gray platform, there is something that allures.</p> - -<p>Upon one of the columns I found the name of Byron carved in bold -letters. But I looked in vain for the name of Turner. Byron loved the -Cape of Sunium. Fortunately, nothing has been done to make it less -wonderful since his time. It is true that fewer columns are standing -to bear witness to the old worship of the sea-god; but such places -as Sunium are not injured when some blocks of marble fall, but when -men begin to build. Still the noble promontory thrusts itself boldly -forward into the sea from the heart of an undesecrated wilderness. -Still the columns stand quite alone. All the sea-winds can come to -you there, and all the winds of the hills—winds from the Ægean and -Mediterranean, from crested Eubœa, from Melos, from Hydra, from -Ægina, with its beautiful Doric temple, from Argolis and from the -mountains of Arcadia. And it seems as though all the sunshine of heaven -were there to bathe you in golden fire, as though there could be none -left over for the rest of the world. The coasts of Greece stretch away -beneath you into far distances, curving in bays, thrusting out in -promontories, here tawny and volcanic, there gray and quietly sober in -color, but never cold or dreary. White sails, but only two or three, -are dreaming on the vast purple of Poseidon’s kingdom—white sails of -mariners who are bound for the isles of Greece. Poets have sung of -those isles. Who has not thought of them with emotion? Now, between the -white marble columns, you can see their mountain ranges, you can see -their rocky shores.</p> - -<p>Behind and below me I heard a slight movement. I got up and looked. And -there on a slab of white marble lay a snow-white goat warming itself -in the sun. White, gold, and blue, and far off the notes of white were -echoed not only by the mariner’s sails, but by tiny Albanian villages -inland, seen over miles of bare country, over flushes of yellow, where -the pines would not be denied.</p> - -<p>There is an ineffable charm in the landscape, in the atmosphere, of -Greece. No other land that I know possesses an exactly similar spell. -Wildness and calm seem woven together, a warm and almost caressing -wildness with a calm that is full of romance. There the wilderness -is indeed a haven to long after, and there the solitudes call you as -though with the voices of friends.</p> - -<p>As I turned at last to go away from Poseidon’s white marble ruin, a -one-armed man came up to me, and in English told me that he was the -guardian of the temple.</p> - -<p>“But where do you live?” I asked him, looking over the vast solitude.</p> - -<p>Smiling, he led the way down to a low whitewashed bungalow at a -little distance. There, in a rough but delicious loggia, paved and -fronting the sea, I found two brown women sitting with a baby among -some small pots of flowers. Remote from the world, with only the -marble columns for neighbors, with no voice but the sea’s to speak -to them, dwell these four persons. The man lived and worked for many -years in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where he lost his arm in some -whirring machinery. Now he has come home and entered the sea-god’s -service. Pittsburgh and the Hellenic wilderness—what a contrast! But -my one-armed friend takes it philosophically. He shrugs his shoulder, -points to his stump, and says, “I guess I couldn’t go on there like -this, so I had to quit, and they put me here.”</p> - -<p>They put him “here,” on Cape Sunium, and on Cape Sunium he has built -himself a house and made for himself a loggia, white, cool, brightened -with flowers, face to face with the purple sea, and the isles and -the mountains of Greece. And at Sunium he intends to remain because, -unfortunately, having lost an arm, he is no longer wanted in Pittsburgh.</p> - -<p>I gave him some money, accepted the baby’s wavering but insistent hand, -and left him to his good or ill fortune in the exquisite wilderness.</p> - -<p class="s6 center">(To be continued)</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0099" name="i_0099"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0099.jpg" alt="The Tachypomp" /></a> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_TACHYPOMP">THE -TACHYPOMP<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor"><span class="smaller">[8]</span></a></h2> - -<p class="s4 center">A MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION</p> - -<p class="s4 center">(NOTEWORTHY STORIES OF THE LAST GENERATION)</p> - -<p class="s3 center">BY EDWARD P. MITCHELL</p> - -<p class="s6 center mbot2">WITH A PORTRAIT, AND NEW DRAWINGS BY REGINALD BIRCH</p> - -</div> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">T</span>HERE was nothing mysterious about Professor Surd’s dislike for me. I -was the only poor mathematician in an exceptionally mathematical class. -The old gentleman sought the lecture-room every morning with eagerness, -and left reluctantly. For was it not a thing of joy to find seventy -young men who, individually and collectively, preferred <em class="italic">x</em> to XX; who -had rather differentiate than dissipate; and for whom the limbs of the -heavenly bodies had more attractions than those of earthly stars upon -the spectacular stage?</p> - -<p>So affairs went on swimmingly between the professor of mathematics -and the junior class at Polyp University. In every man of the seventy -the sage saw the logarithm of a possible La Place, of a Sturm, or of -a Newton. It was a delightful task for him to lead them through the -pleasant valleys of conic sections, and beside the still waters of the -integral calculus. Figuratively speaking, his problem was not a hard -one. He had only to manipulate and eliminate and to raise to a higher -power, and the triumphant result of examination day was assured.</p> - -<p>But I was a disturbing element, a perplexing unknown quantity, which -had somehow crept into the work, and which seriously threatened to -impair the accuracy of his calculations. It was a touching sight to -behold the venerable mathematician as he pleaded with me not so utterly -to disregard precedent in the use of cotangents; or as he urged, with -eyes almost tearful, that ordinates were dangerous things to trifle -with. All in vain. More theorems went on to my cuff than into my head. -Never did chalk do so much work to so little purpose. And, therefore, -it came that Furnace Second was reduced to zero in Professor Surd’s -estimation. He looked upon me with all the horror which an unalgebraic -nature could inspire. I have seen the professor walk around an entire -square rather than meet the man who had no mathematics in his soul.</p> - -<p>For Furnace Second were no invitations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> to Professor Surd’s house. -Seventy of the class supped in delegations around the periphery of the -professor’s tea-table. The seventy-first knew nothing of the charms of -that perfect ellipse, with its twin bunches of fuchsias and geraniums -in gorgeous precision at the two foci.</p> - -<p>This, unfortunately enough, was no trifling deprivation. Not that I -longed especially for segments of Mrs. Surd’s justly celebrated lemon -pies; not that the spheroidal damsons of her excellent preserving had -any marked allurements; not even that I yearned to hear the professor’s -jocose table-talk about binomials, and chatty illustrations of abstruse -paradoxes. The explanation is far different. Professor Surd had a -daughter. Twenty years before, he made a proposition of marriage to the -present Mrs. S. He added a little corollary to his proposition not long -after. The corollary was a girl.</p> - -<p>Abscissa Surd was as perfectly symmetrical as Giotto’s circle, and as -pure withal as the mathematics her father taught. It was just when -spring was coming to extract the roots of frozen-up vegetation that I -fell in love with the corollary. That she herself was not indifferent I -soon had reason to regard as a self-evident truth.</p> - -<p>The sagacious reader will already recognize nearly all the elements -necessary to a well-ordered plot. We have introduced a heroine, -inferred a hero, and constructed a hostile parent after the most -approved model. A movement for the story, a <em class="italic">deus ex machina</em>, is alone -lacking. With considerable satisfaction I can promise a perfect novelty -in this line, a <em class="italic">deus ex machina</em> never before offered to the public.</p> - -<p>It would be discounting ordinary intelligence to say that I sought -with unwearying assiduity to figure my way into the stern father’s -good-will; that never did dullard apply himself to mathematics more -patiently than I; that never did faithfulness achieve such meager -reward. Then I engaged a private tutor. His instructions met with no -better success.</p> - -<p>My tutor’s name was Jean-Marie Rivarol. He was a unique Alsatian, -though Gallic in name, thoroughly Teuton in nature; by birth a -Frenchman, by education a German. His age was thirty; his profession, -omniscience; the wolf at his door, poverty; the skeleton in his closet, -a consuming but unrequited passion. The most recondite principles of -practical science were his toys; the deepest intricacies of abstract -science, his diversions. Problems which were foreordained mysteries -to me were to him as clear as Tahoe water. Perhaps this very fact -will explain our lack of success in the relation of tutor and pupil; -perhaps the failure is alone due to my own unmitigated stupidity. -Rivarol had hung about the skirts of the university for several years, -supplying his few wants by writing for scientific journals or by -giving assistance to students who, like myself, were characterized by -a plethora of purse and a paucity of ideas; cooking, studying, and -sleeping in his attic lodgings; and prosecuting queer experiments all -by himself.</p> - -<p>We were not long discovering that even this eccentric genius could not -transplant brains into my deficient skull. I gave over the struggle in -despair. An unhappy year dragged its slow length around. A gloomy year -it was, brightened only by occasional interviews with Abscissa, the -Abbie of my thoughts and dreams.</p> - -<p>Commencement day was coming on apace. I was soon to go forth, with -the rest of my class, to astonish and delight a waiting world. -The professor seemed to avoid me more than ever. Nothing but the -conventionalities, I think, kept him from shaping his treatment of me -on the basis of unconcealed disgust.</p> - -<p>At last, in the very recklessness of despair, I resolved to see him, -plead with him, threaten him if need be, and risk all my fortunes on -one desperate chance. I wrote him a somewhat defiant letter, stating my -aspirations, and, as I flattered myself, shrewdly giving him a week to -get over the first shock of horrified surprise. Then I was to call and -learn my fate.</p> - -<p>During the week of suspense I nearly worried myself into a fever. It -was first crazy hope, and then saner despair. On Friday evening, when I -presented myself at the professor’s door, I was such a haggard, sleepy, -dragged-out specter that even Miss Jocasta, the harsh-favored maiden -sister of the Surds, admitted me with commiserate regard, and suggested -pennyroyal tea.</p> - -<p>Professor Surd was at a faculty meeting. Would I wait?</p> - -<p>Yes, till all was blue, if need be. Miss Abbie?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> - -<p>Abscissa had gone to Wheelborough to visit a school-friend. The aged -maiden hoped I would make myself comfortable, and departed to the -unknown haunts which knew Jocasta’s daily walk.</p> - -<p>Comfortable! But I settled myself in a great uneasy chair, and waited -with the contradictory spirit common to such junctures, dreading every -step lest it should herald the man whom, of all men, I wished to see.</p> - -<p>I had been there at least an hour and was growing right drowsy.</p> - -<p>At length Professor Surd came in. He sat down in the dusk opposite me, -and I thought his eyes glinted with malignant pleasure as he said, -abruptly:</p> - -<p>“So, young man, you think you are a fit husband for my girl?”</p> - -<p>I stammered some inanity about making up in affection what I lacked -in merit, about my expectations, family, and the like. He quickly -interrupted me.</p> - -<p>“You misapprehend me, sir. Your nature is destitute of those -mathematical perceptions and acquirements which are the only sure -foundations of character. You have no mathematics in you. You are fit -for treason, stratagems, and spoils—Shakspere. Your narrow intellect -cannot understand and appreciate a generous mind. There is all the -difference between you and a Surd, if I may say it, which intervenes -between an infinitesimal and an infinite. Why, I will even venture to -say that you do not comprehend the Problem of the Couriers!”</p> - -<p>I admitted that the Problem of the Couriers should be classed rather -without my list of accomplishments than within it. I regretted this -fault very deeply, and suggested amendment. I faintly hoped that my -fortune would be such—</p> - -<p>“Money!” he impatiently exclaimed. “Do you seek to bribe a Roman -senator with a penny whistle? Why, boy, do you parade your paltry -wealth, which, expressed in mills, will not cover ten decimal places, -before the eyes of a man who measures the planets in their orbits, and -close crowds infinity itself?”</p> - -<p>I hastily disclaimed any intention of obtruding my foolish dollars, and -he went on:</p> - -<p>“Your letter surprised me not a little. I thought <em class="italic">you</em> would be the -last person in the world to presume to an alliance here. But having -a regard for you personally,”—and again I saw malice twinkle in his -small eyes,—“and still more regard for Abscissa’s happiness, I have -decided that you shall have her—upon conditions. Upon conditions,” he -repeated, with a half-smothered sneer.</p> - -<p>“What are they?” cried I, eagerly enough. “Only name them.”</p> - -<p>“Well, sir,” he continued, and the deliberation of his speech seemed -the very refinement of cruelty, “you have only to prove yourself worthy -an alliance with a mathematical family. You have only to accomplish a -task which I shall presently give you. Your eyes ask me what it is. I -will tell you. Distinguish yourself in that noble branch of abstract -science in which, you cannot but acknowledge, you are at present sadly -deficient. I will place Abscissa’s hand in yours whenever you shall -come before me and square the circle to my satisfaction. No, that is -too easy a condition. I should cheat myself. Say perpetual motion. -How do you like that? Do you think it lies within the range of your -mental capabilities? You don’t smile. Perhaps your talents don’t run -in the way of perpetual motion. Several people have found that theirs -didn’t. I’ll give you another chance. We were speaking of the Problem -of the Couriers, and I think you expressed a desire to know more of -that ingenious question. You shall have the opportunity. Sit down -some day when you have nothing else to do and discover the principle -of infinite speed. I mean the law of motion which shall accomplish an -infinitely great distance in an infinitely short time. You may mix in a -little practical mechanics, if you choose. Invent some method of taking -the tardy courier over his road at the rate of sixty miles a minute. -Demonstrate me this discovery (when you have made it!) mathematically, -and approximate it practically, and Abscissa is yours. Until you can, I -will thank you to trouble neither myself nor her.”</p> - -<p>I could stand his mocking no longer. I stumbled mechanically out of -the room and out of the house. I even forgot my hat and gloves. For -an hour I walked in the moonlight. Gradually I succeeded to a more -hopeful frame of mind. This was due to my ignorance of mathematics. Had -I understood the real meaning of what he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> asked, I should have been -utterly despondent.</p> - -<p>Perhaps this problem of sixty miles a minute was not so impossible, -after all. At any rate, I could attempt, though I might not succeed. -And Rivarol came to my mind. I would ask him. I would enlist his -knowledge to accompany my own devoted perseverance. I sought his -lodgings at once.</p> - -<p>The man of science lived in the fourth story back. I had never been -in his room before. When I entered, he was in the act of filling a -beer-mug from a carboy labeled <em class="italic">aqua fortis</em>.</p> - -<p>“Seat you,” he said. “No, not in that chair. That is my -Petty-Cash-Adjuster.”</p> - -<p>But he was a second too late. I had carelessly thrown myself into -a chair of seductive appearance. To my utter amazement, it reached -out two skeleton arms, and clutched me with a grasp against which I -struggled in vain. Then a skull stretched itself over my shoulder and -grinned with ghastly familiarity close to my face.</p> - -<p>Rivarol came to my aid with many apologies. He touched a spring -somewhere, and the Petty-Cash-Adjuster relaxed its horrid hold. I -placed myself gingerly in a plain cane-bottomed rocking-chair, which -Rivarol assured me was a safe location.</p> - -<p>“That seat,” he said, “is an arrangement upon which I much felicitate -myself. I made it at Heidelberg. It has saved me a vast deal of -small annoyance. I consign to its embraces the friends who bore, and -the visitors who exasperate, me. But it is never so useful as when -terrifying some tradesman with an insignificant account. Hence the -pet name which I have facetiously given it. They are invariably too -glad to purchase release at the price of a bill receipted. Do you well -apprehend the idea?”</p> - -<p>While the Alsatian diluted his glass of <em class="italic">aqua fortis</em>, shook into it an -infusion of bitters, and tossed off the bumper with apparent relish, I -had time to look around the strange apartment.</p> - -<p>The four corners of the room were occupied respectively by a -turning-lathe, a Rhumkorff coil, a small steam-engine, and an orrery -in stately motion. Tables, shelves, chairs, and floor supported an odd -aggregation of tools, retorts, chemicals, gas-receivers, philosophical -instruments, boots, flasks, paper-collar boxes, books diminutive, and -books of preposterous size. There were plaster busts of Aristotle, -Archimedes, and Compte, while a great drowsy owl was blinking away, -perched on the benign brow of Martin Farquhar Tupper. “He always roosts -there when he proposes to slumber,” explained my tutor. “You are a bird -of no ordinary mind. <em class="italic">Schlafen Sie wohl.</em>”</p> - -<p>Through a closet door, half open, I could see a human-like form covered -with a sheet. Rivarol caught my glance.</p> - -<p>“That,” said he, “will be my masterpiece. It is a microcosm, an -android, as yet only partly complete. And why not? Albertus Magnus -constructed an image perfect to talk metaphysics and confute the -schools. So did Sylvester II; so did Robertus Greathead. Roger Bacon -made a brazen head that held discourses. But the first named of these -came to destruction. Thomas Aquinas got wrathful at some of its -syllogisms and smashed its head. The idea is reasonable enough. Mental -action will yet be reduced to laws as definite as those which govern -the physical. Why should not I accomplish a manikin which will preach -as original discourses as the Rev. Dr. Allchin, or talk poetry as -mechanically as Paul Anapest? My android can already work problems in -vulgar fractions and compose sonnets. I hope to teach it the Positive -philosophy.”</p> - -<p>Out of the bewildering confusion of his effects Rivarol produced two -pipes, and filled them. He handed one to me.</p> - -<p>“And here,” he said, “I live and am tolerably comfortable. When my coat -wears out at the elbows, I seek the tailor and am measured for another. -When I am hungry, I promenade myself to the butcher’s and bring home -a pound or so of steak, which I cook very nicely in three seconds by -this oxy-hydrogen flame. Thirsty, perhaps, I send for a carboy of <em class="italic">aqua -fortis</em>. But I have it charged, all charged. My spirit is above any -small pecuniary transaction. I loathe your dirty greenbacks and never -handle what they call scrip.”</p> - -<p>“But are you never pestered with bills?” I asked. “Don’t the creditors -worry your life out?”</p> - -<p>“Creditors!” gasped Rivarol.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> “I have learned no such word in your -very admirable language. He who will allow his soul to be vexed by -creditors is a relic of an imperfect civilization. Of what use is -science if it cannot avail a man who has accounts current? Listen. The -moment you or any one else enters the outside door this little electric -bell sounds me warning. Every successive step on Mrs. Grimler’s -staircase is a spy and informer vigilant for my benefit. The first -step is trod upon. That trusty first step immediately telegraphs your -weight. Nothing could be simpler. It is exactly like any platform -scale. The weight is registered up here upon this dial. The second step -records the size of my visitor’s feet. The third his height, the fourth -his complexion, and so on. By the time he reaches the top of the first -flight I have a pretty accurate description of him right here at my -elbow, and quite a margin of time for deliberation and action. Do you -follow me? It is plain enough. Only the A B C of my science.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0103" name="i_0103"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0103.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s5 center">EDWARD P. MITCHELL</p> - <p class="s6 center mbot2">From a photograph taken in 1872, the year in which<br /> - he wrote “The Tachypomp.” Mr. Mitchell is<br /> - now the editor of the New York “Sun.”</p> -</div> - -<p>“I see all that,” I said, “but I don’t see how it helps you any. The -knowledge that a creditor is coming won’t pay his bill. You can’t -escape unless you jump out of the window.”</p> - -<p>Rivarol laughed softly. “I will tell you. You shall see what becomes -of any poor devil who goes to demand money of me—of a man of science. -Ha! ha! It pleases me. I was seven weeks perfecting my Dun-Suppressor. -Did you know,” he whispered exultingly—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>“did you know that there is -a hole through the earth’s center? Physicists have long suspected -it; I was the first to find it. You have read how Rhuyghens, the -Dutch navigator, discovered in Kerguellen’s Land an abysmal pit which -fourteen hundred fathoms of plumb-line failed to sound. Herr Tom, -that hole has no bottom! It runs from one surface of the earth to -the antipodal surface. It is diametric. But where is the antipodal -spot? You stand upon it. I learned this by the merest chance. I -was deep-digging in Mrs. Grimler’s cellar to bury a poor cat I had -sacrificed in a galvanic experiment, when the earth under my spade -crumbled, caved in, and, wonder-stricken, I stood upon the brink of -a yawning shaft. I dropped a coal-hod in. It went down, down, down, -bounding and rebounding. In two hours and a quarter that coal-hod came -up again. I caught it, and restored it to the angry Grimler. Just think -a minute. The coal-hod went down faster and faster, till it reached -the center of the earth. There it would stop were it not for acquired -momentum. Beyond the center its journey was relatively upward, toward -the opposite surface of the globe. So, losing the velocity, it went -slower and slower till it reached that surface. Here it came to rest -for a second, and then fell back again, eight thousand odd miles, -into my hands. Had I not interfered with it, it would have repeated -its journey time after time, each trip of shorter extent, like the -diminishing oscillations of a pendulum, till it finally came to eternal -rest at the center of the sphere. I am not slow to give a practical -application to any such grand discovery. My Dun-Suppressor was born of -it. A trap just outside my chamber door, a spring in here, a creditor -on the trap—need I say more?”</p> - -<p>“But isn’t it a trifle inhuman,” I mildly suggested, “plunging an -unhappy being into a perpetual journey to and from Kerguellen’s Land -without a moment’s warning?”</p> - -<p>“I give them a chance. When they come up the first time I wait at the -mouth of the shaft with a rope in hand. If they are reasonable and will -come to terms, I fling them the line. If they perish, ’tis their own -fault. Only,” he added, with a melancholy smile, “the center is getting -so plugged up with creditors that I am afraid there soon will be no -choice whatever for ’em.”</p> - -<p>By this time I had conceived a high opinion of my tutor’s ability. If -anybody could send me waltzing through space at an infinite speed, -Rivarol could do it. I filled my pipe and told him the story. He heard -with grave and patient attention. Then for full half an hour he whiffed -away in silence. Finally he spoke.</p> - -<p>“The ancient cipher has overreached himself. He has given you a choice -of two problems, both of which he deems insoluble. Neither of them is -insoluble. The only gleam of intelligence old Cotangent showed was when -he said that squaring the circle was too easy. He was right. It would -have given you your <em class="italic">Liebchen</em> in five minutes. I squared the circle -before I discarded pantalets. I will show you the work; but it would -be a digression, and you are in no mood for digressions. Our first -chance, therefore, lies in perpetual motion. Now, my good friend, I -will frankly tell you that, although I have compassed this interesting -problem, I do not choose to use it in your behalf. I, too, Herr Tom, -have a heart. The loveliest of her sex frowns upon me. Her somewhat -mature charms are not for Jean-Marie Rivarol. She has cruelly said that -her years demand of me filial rather than connubial regard. Is love a -matter of years or of eternity? This question did I put to the cold, -yet lovely, Jocasta.”</p> - -<p>“Jocasta Surd!” I remarked in surprise, “Abscissa’s aunt!”</p> - -<p>“The same,” he said sadly. “I will not attempt to conceal that upon the -maiden Jocasta my maiden heart has been bestowed. Give me your hand, my -nephew, in affliction as in affection!”</p> - -<p>Rivarol dashed away a not discreditable tear, and resumed:</p> - -<p>“My only hope lies in this discovery of perpetual motion. It will give -me the fame, the wealth. Can Jocasta refuse these? If she can, there is -only the trap-door and—Kerguellen’s Land!”</p> - -<p>I bashfully asked to see the perpetual-motion machine. My uncle in -affliction shook his head.</p> - -<p>“At another time,” he said. “Suffice it at present to say that it is -something upon the principle of a woman’s tongue. But you see now why -we must turn in your case to the alternative condition, infinite speed. -There are several ways in which this may be accomplished theoretically. -By the lever, for instance. Imagine a lever with a very long and a -very short arm. Apply power to the shorter arm which will move it with -great velocity. The end of the long arm will move much faster. Now -keep shortening the short arm and lengthening the long one, and as you -approach infinity in their difference of length, you approach infinity -in the speed of the long arm. It would be difficult to demonstrate this -practically to the professor. We must seek another solution. Jean-Marie -will meditate. Come to me in a fortnight. Good night. But stop! Have -you the money—<em class="italic">das Gelt</em>?”</p> - -<p>“Much more than I need.”</p> - -<p>“Good! Let us strike hands. Gold and knowledge, science and love, what -may not such a partnership achieve? We go to conquer thee, Abscissa. -<em class="italic">Vorwärts!</em>”</p> - -<p>When at the end of a fortnight I sought Rivarol’s chamber, I -passed with some little trepidation over the terminus of the air -line to Kerguellen’s Land, and evaded the extended arms of the -Petty-Cash-Adjuster. Rivarol drew a mug of ale for me, and filled -himself a retort of his own peculiar beverage.</p> - -<p>“Come,” he said at length, “let us drink success to the Tachypomp.”</p> - -<p>“The Tachypomp?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Why not? <em class="italic">Tachu</em>, quickly, and <em class="italic">pempo</em>, <em class="italic">pepompa</em>, to send. May -it send you quickly to your wedding-day! Abscissa is yours. It is done. -When shall we start for the prairies?”</p> - -<p>“Where is it?” I asked, looking in vain around the room for any -contrivance which might seem calculated to advance matrimonial -prospects.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It is here,” and he gave his forehead a significant tap. Then he held -forth didactically.</p> - -<p>“There is force enough in existence to yield us a speed of sixty miles -a minute or even more. All we need is the knowledge how to combine -and apply it. The wise man will not attempt to make some great force -yield some great speed. He will keep adding the little force to the -little force, making each little force yield its little speed, until -an aggregate of little forces shall be a great force, yielding an -aggregate of little speeds, a great speed. The difficulty is not in -aggregating the forces; it lies in the corresponding aggregation of -the speeds. One musket-ball will go, say, a mile. It is not hard -to increase the force of muskets to a thousand, yet the thousand -musket-balls will go no farther and no faster than the one. You see, -then, where our trouble lies. We cannot readily add speed to speed, -as we add force to force. My discovery is simply the utilization of a -principle which extorts an increment of speed from each increment of -power. But this is the metaphysics of physics. Let us be practical or -nothing.</p> - -<p>“When you have walked forward on a moving train from the rear car -toward the engine, did you ever think what you were really doing?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, I have generally been going to the smoking-car to have a -cigar.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0105" name="i_0105"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0105.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Drawn by Reginald Birch</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">“THAT SHE HERSELF WAS NOT INDIFFERENT I SOON HAD<br /> - REASON TO REGARD AS A SELF-EVIDENT TRUTH”</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Tut! tut! not that! I mean did it ever occur to you on such an -occasion that absolutely you were moving faster than the train? The -train passes the telegraph-poles at the rate of thirty miles an hour, -say. You walk toward the smoking-car at the rate of four miles an hour. -Then <em class="italic">you</em> pass the telegraph-poles at the rate of thirty-four miles. -Your absolute speed is the speed of the engine, plus the speed of your -own locomotion. Do you follow me?”</p> - -<p>I began to get an inkling of his meaning, and told him so.</p> - -<p>“Very well. Let us advance a step. Your addition to the speed of the -engine is trivial, and the space in which you can exercise it, limited. -Now, suppose two stations, A and B, two miles distant by the track. -Imagine a train of platform cars, the last car resting at station A. -The train is a mile long, say. The engine is therefore within a mile -of station B. Say the train can move a mile in ten minutes. The last -car, having two miles to go, would reach B in twenty minutes, but the -engine, a mile ahead, would get there in ten. You jump on the last car -at A in a prodigious hurry to reach Abscissa, who is at B. If you stay -on the last car, it will be twenty long minutes before you see her. But -the engine reaches B and the fair lady in ten. You will be a stupid -reasoner and an indifferent lover if you don’t put for the engine over -those platform cars as fast as your legs will carry you. You can run -a mile, the length of the train, in ten minutes. Therefore you reach -Abscissa when the engine does, or in ten minutes—ten minutes sooner -than if you had lazily sat down upon the rear car and talked politics -with the brakeman. You have diminished the time by one half. You have -added your speed to that of the locomotive to some purpose. <em class="italic">Nicht -wahr?</em>”</p> - -<p>I saw it perfectly; much plainer, perhaps, for his putting in the -clause about Abscissa.</p> - -<p>He continued:</p> - -<p>“This illustration, though a slow one, leads up to a principle which -may be carried to any extent. Our first anxiety will be to spare -your legs and wind. Let us suppose that the two miles of track are -perfectly straight, and make our train one platform car, a mile long, -with parallel rails laid upon its top. Put a little dummy engine on -these rails, and let it run to and fro along the platform car, while -the platform car is pulled along the ground track. Catch the idea? The -dummy takes your place. But it can run its mile much faster. Fancy that -our locomotive is strong enough to pull the platform car over the two -miles in two minutes. The dummy can attain the same speed. When the -engine reaches B in one minute, the dummy, having gone a mile atop the -platform car, reaches B also. We have so combined the speeds of those -two engines as to accomplish two miles in one minute. Is this all we -can do? Prepare to exercise your imagination.”</p> - -<p>I lit my pipe.</p> - -<p>“Still two miles of straight track between A and B. On the track a long -platform car, reaching from A to within a quarter of a mile of B. We -will now discard ordinary locomotives and adopt as our motive power a -series of compact magnetic engines, distributed underneath the platform -car all along its length.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand those magnetic engines.”</p> - -<p>“Well, each of them consists of a great iron horseshoe, rendered -alternately a magnet and not a magnet by an intermittent current of -electricity from a battery, this current in its turn regulated by -clockwork. When the horseshoe is in the circuit, it is a magnet, and it -pulls its clapper toward it with enormous power. When it is out of the -circuit, the next second, it is not a magnet, and it lets the clapper -go. The clapper, oscillating to and fro, imparts a rotatory motion to a -fly-wheel, which transmits it to the drivers on the rails. Such are our -motors. They are no novelty, for trial has proved them practicable.</p> - -<p>“With a magnetic engine for every truck of wheels, we can reasonably -expect to move our immense car, and to drive it along at a speed, say, -of a mile a minute.</p> - -<p>“The forward end, having but a quarter of a mile to go, will reach B -in fifteen seconds. We will call this platform car number I. On top -of number I are laid rails on which another platform car, number II, -a quarter of a mile shorter than number I, is moved in precisely the -same way. Number II, in its turn, is surmounted by number III, moving -independently of the tiers beneath, and a quarter of a mile shorter -than number II. Number II is a mile and a half long; number III a mile -and a quarter. Above, on successive levels, are number IV, a mile long; -number V, three quarters of a mile; number VI, half a mile; number VII, -a quarter of a mile, and number VIII, a short passenger-car on top of -all.</p> - -<p>“Each car moves upon the car beneath it, independently of all the -others, at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> rate of a mile a minute. Each car has its own magnetic -engines. Well, the train being drawn up with the latter end of each car -resting against a lofty bumping-post at A, Tom Furnace, the gentlemanly -conductor, and Jean-Marie Rivarol, engineer, mount by a long ladder to -the exalted number VIII. The complicated mechanism is set in motion. -What happens?</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0107" name="i_0107"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0107.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Drawn by Reginald Birch</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">“‘THIS IS THE TACHYPOMP. DOES IT JUSTIFY THE NAME?’”</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Number VIII runs a quarter of a mile in fifteen seconds, and reaches -the end of number VII. Meanwhile number VII has run a quarter of a -mile in the same time, and reached the end of number VI; number VI, a -quarter of a mile in fifteen seconds, and reached the end of number -V; number V, the end of number IV; number IV, of number III; number -III, of number II; number II, of number I. And number I, in fifteen -seconds, has gone its quarter of a mile along the ground track, and -has reached station B. All this has been done in fifteen seconds. -Wherefore, numbers I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, and VIII come to rest -against the bumping-post at B, at precisely the same second. We, in -number VIII, reach B just when number I reaches it. In other words, we -accomplish two miles in fifteen seconds. Each of the eight cars, moving -at the rate of a mile a minute, has contributed a quarter of a mile to -our journey, and has done its work in fifteen seconds. All the eight -did their work at once, during the same fifteen seconds. Consequently -we have been whizzed through the air at the somewhat startling speed of -seven and a half seconds to the mile. This is the Tachypomp. Does it -justify the name?”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0108" name="i_0108"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0108.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Drawn by Reginald Birch</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">“IN FRONT OF ME STOOD PROFESSOR SURD HIMSELF, LOOKING<br /> - DOWN WITH A NOT UNPLEASANT SMILE”</p> -</div> - -<p>Although a little bewildered by the complexity of cars, I apprehended -the general principle of the machine. I made a diagram, and understood -it much better. “You have merely improved on the idea of my moving -faster than the train when I was going to the smoking-car?” I said.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> -<p>“Precisely. So far we have kept within the bounds of the practicable. -To satisfy the professor, you can theorize in something after this -fashion: if we double the number of cars, thus decreasing by one half -the distance which each has to go, we shall attain twice the speed. -Each of the sixteen cars will have but one eighth of a mile to go. At -the uniform rate we have adopted, the two miles can be done in seven -and a half instead of fifteen seconds. With thirty-two cars, and a -sixteenth of a mile, or twenty rods difference in their length, we -arrive at the speed of a mile in less than two seconds; with sixty-four -cars, each traveling but ten rods, a mile under the second. More than -sixty miles a minute! If this isn’t rapid enough for the professor, -tell him to go on increasing the number of his cars and diminishing -the distance each one has to run. If sixty-four cars yield a speed of -a mile inside the second, let him fancy a Tachypomp of six hundred and -forty cars, and amuse himself calculating the rate of car number 640. -Just whisper to him that when he has an infinite number of cars with an -infinitesimal difference in their lengths, he will have obtained that -infinite speed for which he seems to yearn. Then demand Abscissa.”</p> - -<p>I wrung my friend’s hand in silent and grateful admiration. I could say -nothing.</p> - -<p>“You have listened to the man of theory,” he said proudly. “You -shall now behold the practical engineer. We will go to the west of -the Mississippi and find some suitably level locality. We will erect -thereon a model Tachypomp. We will summon thereunto the professor, -his daughter, and why not his fair sister Jocasta as well? We will -take them on a journey which shall much astonish the venerable Surd. -He shall place Abscissa’s digits in yours and bless you both with an -algebraic formula. Jocasta shall contemplate with wonder the genius of -Rivarol. But we have much to do. We must ship to St. Joseph the vast -amount of material to be employed in the construction of the Tachypomp. -We must engage a small army of workmen to effect that construction, for -we are to annihilate time and space. Perhaps you had better see your -bankers.”</p> - -<p>I rushed impetuously to the door. There should be no delay.</p> - -<p>“Stop! stop! <em class="italic">Um Gottes Willen</em>, stop!” shrieked Rivarol. “I launched -my butcher this morning and I haven’t bolted the—”</p> - -<p>But it was too late. I was upon the trap. It swung open with a crash, -and I was plunged down, down, down! I felt as though I were falling -through illimitable space. I remember wondering, as I rushed through -the darkness, whether I should reach Kerguellen’s Land or stop at -the center. It seemed an eternity. Then my course was suddenly and -painfully arrested.</p> - -<p>I opened my eyes. Around me were the walls of Professor Surd’s -study. Under me was a hard, unyielding plane which I knew too well -was Professor Surd’s study floor. Behind me was the black, slippery -haircloth chair which had belched me forth much as the whale served -Jonah. In front of me stood Professor Surd himself, looking down with a -not unpleasant smile.</p> - -<p>“Good evening, Mr. Furnace. Let me help you up. You look tired, sir. -No wonder you fell asleep when I kept you so long waiting. Shall I -get you a glass of wine? No? By the way, since receiving your letter -I find that you are a son of my old friend Judge Furnace. I have made -inquiries, and see no reason why you should not make Abscissa a good -husband.”</p> - -<p>Still, I can see no reason why the Tachypomp should not have succeeded. -Can you?</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0109" name="i_0109"> - <img class="mtop2 mbot2" src="images/i_0109.jpg" - alt="Tailpiece for “The Tachypomp”" /></a> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0110" name="i_0110"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0110.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s5 center">THE LANDSCAPE-PAINTER</p> - <p class="s6 center">FROM THE PAINTING BY CARL MARR, IN THE MODERN - GALLERY, BUDAPEST</p> - <p class="s6 center">(THE CENTURY’S AMERICAN ARTISTS SERIES)</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2 ebhide"><a href="images/i_0110_large.jpg">❏<br /> - <span class="smaller">LARGER IMAGE</span></a></p> -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="SCHEDULE_K" class="nodisp" title="“SCHEDULE K”"></h2> - -<div class="w100"> -<div class="schedule_tab padb1 h_5em"> - <div class="table_row"> - <div class="table_cell vam padr0_5"> - <img class="h_5em" src="images/i_0111_1.jpg" alt="" /> - </div> - <div class="table_cell tdc vam thinbox space"> - <span class="s2 center">“SCHEDULE K”</span><br /> - <span class="s4 center">THE EFFECT OF THE TARIFF<br /> - ON THE WOOL-GROWER, THE<br /> - MANUFACTURER, THE WORKMAN,<br /> - AND THE CONSUMER</span> - </div> - <div class="table_cell vam padl0_5"> - <img class=" h_5em" src="images/i_0111_2.jpg" alt="" /> - </div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<p class="s3 center mtop1">BY N. I. STONE</p> - -<p class="s6 center mbot2">Formerly Chief Statistician of the Tariff Board</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">N</span>O part of our tariff has been more scathingly denounced in Congress -and by the press than what is known as “Schedule K.” No schedule that -has received half the attention bestowed on Schedule K has managed -to withstand the fierce onslaughts of the united tariff reformers of -both political parties so successfully as the schedule covering wool -and its manufactures. Repeatedly raised during the Civil War, when -the urgent need of additional revenue was the sole motive of frequent -tariff revision, slightly reduced in 1872 and 1883, scaled down still -more in the Democratic Wilson act of 1894, it managed in the intervals -between these acts to recover lost ground and, since 1897, to eclipse -all previous records for high-tariff climbing.</p> - -<p>The secret of this exceptional record in our tariff history is not far -to seek. It lies in the peculiar interlacing of interests between the -sheep-grower of the West and the manufacturer of the East, which has -no parallel in other industries. Most of the farm products are either -left on the free list, like cotton, or, if protected by a duty, are -not affected by it. Thus we have duties on corn, wheat, oats, rye, -and meat, but no one familiar with the situation has ever seriously -maintained that the duty has been more than a convenient embellishment -of our tariff for the use of campaign spellbinders in farm districts. -As long as we produce more cereals, meats, and other farm products than -we consume, and send the surplus to the world’s markets, the prices of -these products, under free competition at home, will be regulated by -conditions of world supply and demand, leaving the duties a dead letter -on the statute-books. Wool is a conspicuous exception in the list of -American farm products. After half a century of exceptionally high -protection, fixed by the beneficiaries of the tariff themselves, the -American wool-grower still falls short in his output to the extent of -more than one third of the domestic demand. The deficit must be covered -by importation from foreign countries, the price of imported wool being -enhanced by the amount of the duty. Under these conditions the duty -on raw wool acts as a powerful lever in increasing the price of the -domestic wool furnishing the remaining two thirds of our consumption. -No wonder that the wool-grower has always been an enthusiastic advocate -of a duty on raw wool.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, the New England manufacturer, himself a believer -in high duties on woolen goods, has been rather skeptical as to the -merits of a duty on a raw material of which we have never been able -to produce enough, and are producing an ever diminishing share. Hence -the New England woolen manufacturer has been as enthusiastic for free -wool as the New England shoe manufacturer is for free hides, without -losing at the same time his faith in high duties on woolen goods. -However, the manufacturers discovered at an early stage in the game -that unless they were willing to acquiesce in a duty on their raw -material, the representatives from the wool-growing States in Congress -could not see any advantage in high duties on woolens. This is what led -to the powerful combination of these two great interests to which the -late Senator Dolliver, in his memorable speech in the Senate in the -extra session of Congress in 1909, referred as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> “that ceremony when the -shepherd’s crook and the weaver’s distaff were joined together in the -joyous wedlock which no man has been able to put asunder.” At that -joint meeting of the representatives of wool-growers and woolen-cloth -manufacturers held at Syracuse in December, 1865, when it was supposed -that, with the disappearance of the need for extraordinary revenue, the -war duties would be reduced, “it was agreed between them,” in the words -of the late John Sherman, who had a great deal to do with the shaping -of the tariff, “after full discussion, that the rates of duty reported -by the Senate bill should be given them, and they were satisfied with -them, and have never called them in question.”</p> - -<p>It remained for a long-suffering public finally to call those rates -in question. And when a Republican President called Congress in -extraordinary session in March, 1909, to fulfil the pledges of his -party for a downward revision, he found, to use his own words, uttered -in the now famous Winona speech, that “Mr. Payne, in the House, -and Mr. Aldrich, in the Senate, although both favored reduction in -the schedule, found that in the Republican party the interests of -the wool-growers of the far West and the interests of the woolen -manufacturers in the East and in other States, reflected through their -representatives in Congress, was sufficiently strong to defeat any -attempt to change the woolen tariff, and that, had it been attempted, -it would have beaten the bill reported from either committee.”</p> - -<p>However, the President thought that Schedule K should receive the -attention of Congress after the newly created Tariff Board had made a -thorough investigation of the woolen industry. Taking the President -at his word, the country waited two years more with great impatience -for the result of the findings of his board. But once more was the -country baffled by the united beneficiaries of Schedule K in its -efforts looking to the lowering of the rates. When a majority in -Congress composed of Democrats and Republican insurgents laid aside -party differences in a common effort to reduce the woolen duties, the -same leaders of whose tactics President Taft had complained were able -to persuade him that the revised schedule was so much at variance -with the findings of the Tariff Board as to justify his veto. Thus -the country is facing the new situation in the extraordinary session -of the Sixty-third Congress, with Schedule K still proudly holding -the fort on the pinnacle of the American tariff wall. The present is, -therefore, just the time for an analysis of the situation in which the -claims of the conflicting interests may be reviewed in the light of now -well-established facts.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="WOOLENS_AND_WORSTEDS">WOOLENS AND WORSTEDS</h3> - -<p>A<span class="smaller">NY</span> one who has traveled abroad or had occasion to compare foreign -prices of cloths and dress-goods with those prevailing in this country -knows that on the average they can be bought in Europe, particularly -in free-trade England, at about half the price usually asked for -similar goods at home. As the investigation of the Tariff Board has -shown, there are many cloths on which the difference in price is not so -great, particularly on the finer grades, while, on the other hand, the -American price is more than double the English on some of the medium -and cheap grades of cloth. But, on the whole, it is safe to state that -our prices on woolen and worsted cloths are about double those in -England. The difference in price represents largely the toll paid by -ninety-odd million Americans for the support of the half-century-old -infant worsted and the century-old woolen industry. We have all been -vaguely aware of that fact, and yet have submitted to it for the -ultimate good of creating a raw-wool supply and a fine woolen and -worsted industry that would make us independent of the rest of the -world and give employment to American labor at American wages. Not -until the two wings of the industry, the woolen and the worsted, fell -out among themselves, and the carded-wool manufacturers showed to an -astonished public that the tariff, as it stood, throttled an important -branch of the industry, instead of building it up, was the layman -given an opportunity of getting a deeper insight into the workings of -Schedule K.</p> - -<p>The woolen industry in the United States is as old as the country -itself. Carried on first as a household industry among the early -colonists, it entered the factory stage with the introduction of -mechanical power, first in connection with carding-machines in 1794, -then with its application to spinning between 1810 and 1820, and later -to weaving in the following decade.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> - -<p>Before the Civil War, all woolens were made by what is known as the -carded-woolen process, which produces a cloth with a rough surface. -Such cloths as tweeds, cheviots, cassimeres, meltons, and kerseys are -among the best-known types of woolen cloth. Just before the Civil War -the worsted industry made its appearance in this country. The worsted -fabric differs from the woolen cloth in being made of combed yarn, as -distinguished from the carded yarn which goes into the woolen cloth. -The combing process involves, to a greater or less extent, the use of -finer and longer grades of wool, and yields a fabric with a smooth -surface, on which the weave is plainly visible. Among the best-known -types of these cloths are the serges and the unfinished clay worsteds, -which constitute the plain varieties, and the so-called fancy worsteds, -showing a distinct pattern produced by the weave and the use of colored -yarn.</p> - -<p>How different the course of these two branches of the woolen industry -has been, since the adoption of Schedule K substantially in its -present form, is shown very strikingly by the figures of the United -States Census. In 1859, the last census year preceding the adoption of -Schedule K virtually in its present form, the value of the products of -the woolen industry was nearly $62,000,000, while the worsted could -boast of less than three and three quarter millions. In 1909, exactly -half a century later, the woolen industry produced $107,000,000 worth -of cloth, while the value of the worsteds exceeded $312,000,000. Put in -another form, while fifty years ago the worsted industry was only one -twentieth the size of the woolen, to-day it is three times as large as -its older rival. Nor does this tell the whole story. The decline of the -woolen industry has been not only relative, but absolute. Thus, after -increasing from $62,000,000 in 1859 to $161,000,000 in 1879, it dropped -to $134,000,000 in 1889, to $118,000,000 in 1899, and to $107,000,000 -in 1909. On the other hand, the worsted industry showed a marked -increase in each succeeding decade, beating all previous records in the -first decade of the present century, when the value of its output rose -from $120,000,000 in 1899 to more than $312,000,000 in 1909.</p> - -<p>A large part of the growth of the worsted industry at the expense of -the woolen is said to be due to change in fashion and taste, people -generally preferring the smooth, smart-looking worsteds to the rough -woolens. While this is, no doubt, true, the woolen-goods manufacturers -assert that the change of fashion is only partly responsible for -the decline of their industry. They insist that but for the unfair -discrimination of the tariff against their industry in favor of the -worsted it would continue to increase with the growth of population, -since it alone can turn out an all-wool cloth that is within the means -of poor people.</p> - -<p>A feature which goes far to explain the superior advantage which the -worsted industry has over the woolen is that the former is essentially -the big capitalist’s field, while the woolen mills are still run to a -large extent by people of moderate means. According to the last census -report, in 1909 the average output per mill in the worsted industry -was nearly one million dollars, which was more than five times as -large as that of the average woolen mill. The prevailing type in the -former is the large corporation, managed by high-salaried officials; in -the latter, the typical mill is a comparatively small establishment, -personally managed by the owner or owners, who form a partnership which -in many cases has come down from earlier generations in the family and -has not improved much on the old ways.</p> - -<p>The great factor in the worsted industry to-day is the American Woolen -Company, popularly known as the Woolen Trust, which was said to control -sixty per cent. of the country’s output at the time of its formation -in 1899, and can boast of the largest and best-equipped mills not -only in the United States, but in the entire world. Outside of the -so-called trust are other large concerns, such as the Arlington Mills, -largely owned by Mr. William Whitman, the most conspicuous figure in -the industry, who has probably had more to do with the shaping of -Schedule K than any other man in the country, and who has amassed a -large fortune in the business, most of the capital invested in his mill -having been built up from the profits of the business.</p> - -<p>If the quarrel between the woolen and worsted manufacturers had no -other consequences than to affect our fashions, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> rest of us could -well afford to let the rival forces fight it out among themselves. -But it affects the consumer very vitally, and particularly that part -of the consuming public that can ill afford to pay high prices for -its clothes. For woolen is distinctly the poor man’s cloth, while -worsted is the cloth of the well-to-do. As will be shown presently, -our tariff on raw wool is designed to keep out of this country the -cheap, short staple wools which our woolen industry could use to great -advantage. The tariff thus artificially restricts the manufacture of -woolens, while stimulating the production of worsteds, and, as the poor -man cannot afford a genuine worsted cloth, it has to be adulterated -with cotton to the extent of at least one half. Many of the “cotton -worsteds” contain only a small fraction of wool, most of the material -being cotton. It is this aspect of the effect of the tariff on the -consumer that has made the family quarrel between the two branches of -the wool manufacturing industry a matter of national concern.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="THE_DUTIES_ON_RAW_WOOL">THE DUTIES ON RAW WOOL</h3> - -<p>T<span class="smaller">HE</span> root of all the evils springing from Schedule K is the specific -duty of eleven cents a pound on all clothing wools used by the woolen -industry and most of the wools used by the worsted industry. Wools -differ greatly in value. They may be long or short, fine or coarse, -comparatively clean, or so full of grease and dirt, which the sheep -accumulates in its shaggy coat while roaming in the fields, as to -shrink to one fifth of its purchased weight after it has been washed -and scoured in the mill.</p> - -<p>Yet all of these wools, when brought to the gates of the United States -custom-house, would have to pay the same duty of eleven cents per -pound. On fine English wool, which contains only ten per cent. of -grease and dirt, this is equivalent to a little over twelve cents a -pound of clean wool. On a wool shrinking in weight, in the course of -scouring, to only one fifth of its raw weight, the eleven-cents duty -is equivalent to fifty-five cents per pound of clean wool, a figure -which no manufacturer can afford to pay, and which, therefore, keeps -the wool out of this country. Taken in connection with the price of -wool, the discrimination against the coarse, heavy-shrinking wools used -primarily by the woolen industry appears even more striking. Thus, on -the finer grades of wool quoted in London at forty-seven cents per -pound, the duty of eleven cents would be equivalent to twenty-three -per cent. ad valorem; while on the lower-priced wools, the only kind -that is available for the poor man’s cloth, the eleven-cents duty would -be equivalent to the prohibitive figure of anywhere from one hundred -to five hundred and fifty per cent. The result is that the durable, -weather-proof, and health-protecting cheap woolen cloth which the -English and Continental working-man can afford to wear, must give way -to the short-lived but dressy cotton worsted, which leaves the American -workman, compelled to work outdoors in all sorts of weather, poorly -protected against its inclemencies.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="THE_DUTY_ON_CLOTH">THE DUTY ON CLOTH</h3> - -<p>S<span class="smaller">O</span> much for the raw wool, which does not concern the consumer directly, -but which he must consider in order to understand the conditions under -which the woolen manufacturer is laboring.</p> - -<p>When we come to cloth, the discrimination against the woolen -manufacturer and the burden imposed upon the consumer is no less -striking.</p> - -<p>On the theory that all wool in this country is enhanced in price to the -extent of the duty,—a theory, by the way, which every protectionist -stoutly combats when discussing the effect of the tariff on domestic -prices,—the manufacturer of cloth is allowed not only a protective -duty of from fifty to fifty-five per cent. of the value of the imported -cloth, but, in addition to that, a “compensatory” duty on account of -the duty on raw wool. This compensatory duty is fixed at forty-four -cents per pound of cloth on most of the cloths imported into this -country.</p> - -<p>It is based on the assumption that it takes four pounds of raw wool -to make one pound of cloth. This compensatory duty adds to the -discrimination against the woolen manufacturer in favor of the worsted -manufacturer in several ways.</p> - -<p>In the first place, as already explained, the wool used by the worsted -manufacturer does not shrink as much as that which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> goes into the cloth -produced by the woolen manufacturer. Yet the compensatory duty is fixed -at a uniform rate for both cloths, which is equivalent to giving to -the worsted manufacturer about twice as much “compensation” as to his -less fortunate rival, and giving him, in most cases, compensation for a -greater loss than he actually sustains.</p> - -<p>In the second place, the law takes no account of the admixture of -materials other than wool of which the cloth is made. A cotton worsted -may contain cotton to the extent of one half or more of its total -weight, yet the worsted manufacturer is allowed forty-four cents a -pound “compensation” on the entire weight of the cloth. Mr. Dale, -editor of “The Textile World Record,” quotes a typical instance of a -cotton worsted. In turning out 8750 pounds of this cloth, 3125 pounds -of raw wool were used, the remainder being cotton. Assuming that the -price of the wool in this country was enhanced to the extent of the -duty of eleven cents a pound, the manufacturer would be entitled to a -compensatory duty of 3125 times eleven, or $343.75. But the law, on the -four-to-one theory, allows a compensatory duty of forty-four cents per -pound of cloth, or 8750 times forty-four, which is equal to $3850. The -manufacturer is thus granted an extra protection of more than three and -one half thousand dollars in the guise of compensation for the duty on -wool which never entered the cloth.</p> - -<p>In the discussion of the question in Congress, the stand-pat senators -stoutly maintained that the four-to-one ratio was only a fair -compensation to the American manufacturer. But the report of the -Tariff Board, which no one has yet accused of being unfair to the -manufacturers, has settled this point authoritatively by sustaining -in most emphatic terms every charge made here against the system of -levying duties under Schedule K.</p> - -<p>In addition to the so-called compensatory duties, the tariff provides -a distinct protective duty of from fifty to fifty-five per cent. -on cloths. High as this duty appears in comparison with protective -duties in most of the European countries, it is not exceptionally -high as compared with the rates under other schedules of our tariff. -It is only when taken in combination with the compensatory duties, -which the official report of the Tariff Board has shown to be largely -protective, that the prohibitive character of the duties in Schedule K -comes to light. The figures of annual imports published by the Bureau -of Statistics throw an interesting light on this aspect of the case. -They show, for instance, that the duties on blankets in the fiscal year -1911 ranged from sixty-eight to one hundred and sixty-nine per cent. -of their foreign selling price; on carpets, from fifty to seventy-two -per cent., being the lowest duties imposed on any manufactures of -wool; on women’s dress-goods the duties varied from ninety-four to one -hundred and fifty-eight per cent.; on flannels, from seventy-one to one -hundred and twenty-one per cent.; on woolen and worsted cloths, from -ninety-four to one hundred and fifty per cent.; on knit fabrics, from -ninety-five to one hundred and fifty-three per cent.; on plushes and -pile fabrics, from one hundred to one hundred and twenty-two per cent.</p> - -<p>None of these rates tells the whole story: they all understate the -duties to which foreign goods are subject under the law; for they -represent the duties on goods that were able to get into this country -over our tariff wall. In some cases the imports represent vanishing -quantities, only a few dollars’ worth, being probably the personal -purchases of returning travelers. The duties that are high enough to -keep foreign goods out of the country naturally do not find their way -into the returns of the Bureau of Statistics. An illustration of this -feature is furnished by the report of the Tariff Board. The duties upon -woolen and worsted cloths just cited from the report of the Bureau -of Statistics are shown to vary from ninety-four to one hundred and -fifty per cent. The Tariff Board, in making a comparative study of the -industry at home and abroad, obtained a set of representative samples -of English cloths with prices at which they are sold in England, the -duty they would have to pay if imported into the United States, and the -prices at which similar cloths are sold in the United States. Sixteen -of the samples, representing the cheapest cloths sold in England at -prices of from twelve to fifty-four cents a yard, are not imported -into the United States at all, owing to prohibitive duties<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> ranging -from one hundred and thirty-two to two hundred and sixty per cent. -Thirteen out of the sixteen samples would have paid duties higher -than the highest rate of one hundred and fifty per cent. given in the -report of the Bureau of Statistics for cloths actually imported. This -illustration will suffice to explain why the rates quoted above for -various woolen products from the report of the Bureau of Statistics are -understatements of the duties imposed under Schedule K.</p> - -<p>An invariable feature of this schedule is that the duties rise in -inverse ratio to the value of the commodities, so that the poor man’s -grades pay the highest rates, while those intended for people who can -best afford to pay the duties are subject to the lowest rates. In the -set of English samples collected by the board, the cheapest cloth -selling in England for twelve cents a yard would pay a duty in the -United States equal to two hundred per cent. ad valorem, while the -highest-priced fabric selling at $1.68 a yard would pay a duty of only -eighty-seven per cent.</p> - -<p>Small wonder that under the fostering care of Schedule K imports have -been reduced to next to nothing. With a total domestic consumption -of women’s dress-goods valued at more than $105,000,000, we imported -six and one third million dollars’ worth of these goods in 1911. The -imports of woolen and worsted cloth were only two and one half per -cent. of the total domestic consumption. We imported blankets and -flannels in 1909 worth $125,000 as against a domestic production of -more than $10,500,000, making the imports only slightly more than one -per cent. of our total consumption; even in carpets, which are subject -to the lowest rates of duty imposed on manufactures under Schedule K, -our imports were only $195,000 worth against a domestic production of -$45,475,889, making the imports less than one half of one per cent. of -our own production.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="THE_STATE_OF_THE_AMERICAN_WOOL_INDUSTRY">THE STATE -OF THE AMERICAN WOOL INDUSTRY</h3> - -<p>A<span class="smaller">FTER</span> enjoying for nearly half a century a protection averaging -forty-five per cent. and amounting to from one hundred to five hundred -and fifty per cent. on the cheaper grades of wool, the American -wool-grower is not able to satisfy as great a part of the national -demand for his product as he was at the time of the Civil War. During -the sixties we had to depend upon imports to the extent of little over -one fourth (26.8 per cent.) of our total consumption of wool. To-day -nearly one half of our needs have to be covered by foreign wools (about -forty-five per cent. in 1910). When wool was placed on the free list -under the Wilson Bill in 1894, it was charged that the abolition of the -duty was responsible for the increase in our imports. But our growing -dependence on imported wool despite the restoration of the duty under -the Dingley Act, in 1897, goes to show that the tariff is no remedy for -the shortage.</p> - -<p>The wool-grower argues, however, that wool can be produced so much -cheaper in Argentina and Australia that, if admitted free of duty -to the United States, it would bring about the total disappearance -of the American wool industry. The latest available figures given -in the report of the Tariff Board show a world production of about -2,500,000,000 pounds of wool, of which the United States produces -about one eighth. The world supply would furnish less than a pound of -clean wool per head of population, not enough to give each of us more -than one suit in three years. Of course the latter estimates are only -approximate, but they are not far from the truth. If it were not for -the plentiful admixture of cotton and shoddy to the annual stock of new -wool, there would not be enough wool to clothe the people of the earth. -Under these conditions, there is no danger of the world failing to make -use of American wool. Any considerable curtailment in the production -of American wool would have the tendency of raising the world’s price -of wool to such an extent as to offer renewed encouragement to the -American wool-grower. So much for that. But is it true that it costs so -much to raise wool in the United States?</p> - -<p>The Tariff Board reported that the average cost of production of wool -in this country is about three times as high as in Australia and -about double that in South America. On that basis our present duty is -ridiculously low, and it is a wonder that our wool industry has not -long gone out of existence. What is the secret of its miraculous escape -from total extinction?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Tariff Board average represents widely different conditions -of production. A large part of the wool grown in this country—no -less than eleven per cent. of the wool covered by the board’s -investigation—is raised without any cost whatever to the wool-grower; -in fact, he gets “a net credit,” to quote the board, or a premium, -with each pound of wool coming from his sheep’s back. This is true of -sheep-growers who are employing up-to-date methods in their business -and have substituted the cross-bred merino sheep for the old-type pure -merino. The cross-bred sheep is raised primarily to meet the enormous -and rapidly growing demand for mutton. The price realized from the sale -of mutton is sufficient not only to cover the entire expense of raising -the sheep, but leaves the farmer a net profit, before he has sold a -pound of his wool, which has become a by-product with him, and the -proceeds from which represent a clear gain. It will be easily seen that -the up-to-date mutton-sheep breeder can do very well without any duty -on wool.</p> - -<p>The mutton-sheep has come to stay, because we are fast getting to be -a mutton-eating people. Despite the enormous increase in population, -fewer cattle and hogs are being slaughtered to-day than twenty years -ago, while the number of sheep killed has more than doubled in the -same period. In 1880, for every sheep slaughtered at the Chicago -stock-yards, four heads of cattle and twenty-one hogs were killed. In -1900 the number of sheep received at the stock-yards exceeded that of -cattle, and in 1911, for every sheep slaughtered, there was only one -half of a beef carcass and one and one quarter of a hog. The rapid -increase in the demand for and supply of sheep out of all proportion -to other animals is in itself the best refutation of the cry that -sheep-growing is unprofitable. In his recent book on “Sheep Breeding -in America,” Mr. Wing, one of the foremost authorities on the subject -in this country, who investigated the sheep-breeding industry for the -Tariff Board in every part of the country where it is carried on, as -well as abroad, says that sheep-breeding is profitable despite the -woefully neglectful manner in which it is conducted in the United -States. Unlike some United States senators who have grown rich in the -business of raising sheep, Mr. Wing remains cheerful at the prospect -of a reduction of wool duties, and even their total abolition has -no terrors for him. His attitude is very significant, when it is -considered that he is a practical sheep-grower, still engaged in that -business, in addition to writing on the subject, and that all his -interests, both business and literary, are intimately wound up with the -sheep industry.</p> - -<p>Not all growers, it is true, have adopted modern methods. The report -of the board shows five additional groups of farmers whose cost of -production of wool varies from less than five cents a pound to more -than twenty. Accepting these figures at their face-value, although they -are only approximate, and assuming that a raw material like wool of -which we cannot produce enough to satisfy our needs is a proper object -of protection, the question still remains whether the tariff is to be -high enough to afford protection to every man in the business, even -when the results obtained by his neighbors show that he has his own -inefficiency or backwardness to blame for his high costs, or whether -the duty is to measure the difference between the cost of production -of our efficient producers and that of their foreign competitors. If -the former be taken as a standard, then the present duty on raw wool is -not sufficiently high, and should be greatly increased; if the latter -be accepted as a basis in tariff-making, then, there being no cost -in raising wool on up-to-date American ranches, there seems to be no -valid reason for any duty, except possibly one of a transitory nature, -to allow sufficient time to the sheep-growers who need it to adjust -themselves to modern conditions of business.</p> - -<h3 class="s4" id="MILL_EFFICIENCY">MILL EFFICIENCY</h3> - -<p>T<span class="smaller">HE</span> same general considerations which apply to raw wool hold good as -to its manufactures. There is no such thing as an average cost of -production of woolen cloth in the United States. The enormous variety -of cloths produced in the same mill proved an insuperable obstacle to -the Tariff Board, which gave up the attempt to ascertain the actual -cost of production. Instead, it undertook to obtain estimates from -manufacturers of the cost of producing cloths, samples of which were -furnished to them by the board. As<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>suming that all the estimates were -made in good faith and that the agents of the board were all competent -and equal to the task of checking them with the meager means at their -command, the average costs even by the board represent widely differing -conditions of industrial efficiency.</p> - -<p>Industrial efficiency depends on a great many conditions an adequate -discussion of which would take in far afield. One fact, however, stands -out preëminently, and must be emphasized until it is seared into the -consciousness and conscience of the American citizen, and that is that -industrial efficiency, which is synonymous with low-labor cost, does -not mean, or depend upon, low wages. Yet the lower wages in Europe -constitute the stock argument in every plea for protection that is -dinned into the ears of Congress.</p> - -<p>Not being in a position to make a comprehensive inquiry into the -efficiency of American mills in the woolen industry, the Tariff Board -made a study of labor efficiency in the various process of wool -manufacture in connection with output and wages paid. Almost invariably -the mill paying higher wages per hour showed lower costs than its -competitor with lower wages.</p> - -<p>Thus, in wool scouring the lowest average wages paid to -machine-operatives in the thirty mills examined was found to be 12.16 -cents per hour, and the highest 17.79. Yet the low-wage mill showed a -labor cost of twenty-one cents per hundred pounds of wool, while the -high-wage mill had a cost of only fifteen cents. One of the reasons for -this puzzling situation was that the low-wage mill paid nine cents per -hundred pounds for supervisory labor, such as foremen, etc., while the -high-wage mill paid only six cents. Apparently well-paid labor needs -less driving and supervising than low-paid labor.</p> - -<p>In the carding department of seventeen worsted mills the mill paying -its machine-operatives an average wage of 13.18 cents per hour had a -machine labor cost of four cents per hundred pounds, while the mill -paying its machine-operatives only 11.86 cents per hour had a cost -of twenty-five cents per hundred pounds. This was due largely to -the fact that the lower-cost-high-wage mill had machinery enabling -every operator to turn out more than 326 pounds per hour, while the -high-cost-low-wage mill it turning out less than forty-eight pounds -per hour.</p> - -<p>The same tendency was observed in the carding departments of twenty-six -woolen mills. The mill with the highest machine output per man per -hour, namely 57.7 pounds, had a machinery-labor cost of twenty-three -cents per hundred pounds, while the mill with a machine output of only -six pounds per operative per hour had a cost of $1.64 per hundred -pounds. Yet this mill, with a cost seven times higher than the other, -paid its operatives only 9.86 cents per hour, as against 13.09 cents -paid by its more successful competitor.</p> - -<p>These examples could be repeated for every department of woolen and -worsted mills, but will suffice to illustrate the point that higher -wages do not necessarily mean higher costs. They show that mill -efficiency depends more on a liberal use of the most improved machinery -than on low wages. Thoughtful planning in arranging the machinery -to save unnecessary steps to the employees, careful buying of raw -materials, the efficient organization and utilization of the labor -force in the mill, systematic watching of the thousands of details, -each affecting the cost of manufacture, will reduce costs to an -astonishing degree. When the board, therefore, states that the labor -cost of production in this country is on the average, about double that -in foreign countries, we must bear in mind the difference in costs in -our own country, and the causes to which high costs are due. The fact -is that the woolen industry, being one of the best, if not the best, -protected industry in the country, shows an exceptional disposition to -cling to old methods and to use machinery which long ago should have -been consigned to the scrap-heap. That is where the chief cause of the -comparatively high cost of production in a large part of the industry -is to be looked for.</p> - -<p>But, disregarding the question of efficiency, let us accept the figure -of the Tariff Board, which found the labor cost in England to be one -half that here, taking the manufacture from the time the wool enters -the mill until it is turned out as finished cloth. The entire labor -cost varies from twenty to fifty per cent. of the total cost of making -cloth, according to the character of the cloth, and but seldom exceeds -or approaches fifty per cent. If the protec<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>tive duty is to measure the -difference in labor cost, it should be fixed at not above twenty-five -per cent. of the cost, that being the highest difference between the -American and English labor cost. As against that, we now have a duty of -about fifty-five per cent. of the selling price of the foreign cloth, -in addition to the concealed protection in the so-called compensatory -duty.</p> - -<p>For decades we have been assured that all the manufacturer wanted was -a duty high enough to compensate him for the higher wages paid in this -country. In 1908 the Republican party laid down the formula that the -tariff is to measure the difference in the cost of production at home -and abroad, including a “reasonable profit to the manufacturer.” To-day -the party has advocates of all kinds of protection, from those who -wish the tariff to measure the difference in labor cost of the most -efficient mills in this and foreign countries, as advocated by Senator -LaFollette, to those who wish a tariff high enough to keep out foreign -importations.</p> - -<p>Whatever may be done with Schedule K by the Democratic Congress, it is -time that we dismiss the hoary legend that the duties are maintained -solely in the interest of the highly paid American working-man. The -assertion comes with specially poor grace from the woolen and worsted -industry, the most highly protected industry in the United States, -paying the lowest wages to skilled labor. With the earnings of the -great bulk of its employees averaging through the year less than ten -dollars a week, while wages are about double that figure in less -protected industries; with its workmen compelled to send their wives -and children to the mills as an alternative to starvation on the -man’s earnings; with the horrors of living conditions of the Lawrence -mill-workers still ringing in our ears, it is time that we face the -situation squarely and, whatever degree of protection we decide to -maintain, that we frankly admit that it is primarily for the benefit of -the capital invested in our industries.</p> - -<p>Russia, Germany, and France do so frankly, and free-trade England -manages to compete with them in the markets of the world, while paying -higher wages to its employees. In turn we beat these nations, in their -own and in the world’s markets, in the products of the very industries -in which we pay the highest wages.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_WINE_OF_NIGHT">THE WINE OF NIGHT</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="s3 center mbot2">BY LOUIS UNTERMEYER</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span class="drop-cap_poetry">C</span>OME, drink the mystic wine of Night,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Brimming with silence and the stars;</div> - <div class="verse">While earth, bathed in this holy light,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Is seen without its scars.</div> - <div class="verse">Drink in the daring and the dews,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">The calm winds and the restless gleam—</div> - <div class="verse">This is the draught that Beauty brews;</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Drink—it is the Dream....</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Drink, oh my soul, and do not yield—</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">These solitudes, this wild-rose air</div> - <div class="verse">Shall strengthen thee, shall be thy shield</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Against the world’s despair.</div> - <div class="verse">Oh, quaff this stirrup-cup of stars</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Trembling with hope and high desire—</div> - <div class="verse">Then back into the hopeless wars</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">With faith and fire!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THEM_OLD_MOTH-EATEN_LOVYERS">“THEM OLD MOTH-EATEN -LOVYERS”</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="s3 center">BY CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK</p> - -<p class="s6 center mbot1">Author of “In the Tennessee Mountains,” “Where -the Battle was Fought,” etc.</p> - -<p class="s6 center mbot2">WITH PICTURES BY GEORGE WRIGHT</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">H</span>AIR snow-white, the drifts of many a winter, eyes sunken amid a -network of wrinkles, hands hardened and veinous, shoulders bent, and -step laggard and feeble, the old lovers were as beautiful to each -other, and as enthralled by mutual devotion, as on their wedding-day -forty-five years before. They were beautiful also to more discerning -eyes—to a wandering artist in quest of material, who painted them both -in divers poses, and carried off his canvases. As a recompense of some -sort, he left a masterly depiction of the god of love burned in the -wood of the broad, smooth board of the mantelpiece above the hearth, -where the fickle little deity, though furnished with wings for swiftest -flight, had long presided in constancy.</p> - -<p>Doubtless some such sentiment had prompted the pyrography, but its -significance failed to percolate through the dense ignorance of the old -mountain woman.</p> - -<p>“Folks from the summer hotel over yander nigh the bluffs air always -powerful tickled over that leetle critter,” she was wont to reply -to an admiring comment, “but he ‘pears ter me some similar ter a -flying-squirrel. I never seen no baby dee-formed with wings nohow, -an’ I tol’ the painter-man at the time that them legs war too fat ter -be plumb genteel. But, lawsy! I jes hed ter let him keep on workin’. -He war powerful saaft-spoken an’ perlite, though I war afeared he’d -disfigure every plain piece o’ wood about the house afore he tuk -hisself away.”</p> - -<p>Years before, the romance of the old couple had been the idyl of the -country-side. They had indeed been lovers as children. They had made -pilgrimages to their trysting-place when the breadth of the dooryard -was a long journey. They had plighted their vows as they sat in -juvenile content, plump, tow-headed, bare-footed among the chips of -the wood pile. As they grew older it was the object of their lives -to save their treasures to bestow on each other. A big apple, a chunk -of maple-sugar, a buckeye of abnormal proportions, attained a certain -dignity regarded as <em class="italic">gages d’amour</em>. They were never parted for a day -till Editha was seventeen years old, when she was summoned to the care -of a paralytic aunt who dwelt in Shaftesville, twelve miles distant, -and who, in the death of her husband, had been left peculiarly helpless -and alone.</p> - -<p>The separation was a dreary affliction to the lovers, but it proved the -busiest year of Benjamin Casey’s life, signalized by his preparations -for the home-coming of the bride to be. All the country-side took a -share in the “house-raising,” and the stanch log cabin went up like -magic on the rocky bit of land on the bluff, thus utilized to reserve -for the plow the arable spaces of the little farm. Every article of the -rude furniture common to the region was in its appropriate place when -Editha first stood on her own threshold and gazed into the glowing fire -aflare upon her own hearth; and humble though it was, she confronted -the very genius of home.</p> - -<p>The guests who danced at the wedding and afterward at the infare felt -that the lifelong romance was a sort of community interest, and for -many a year its details were familiarized by repetition about the -fire-side or to the casual stranger. But Time is ever the mocker. The -generation which had known the pair in the bloom and freshness of -their beauty had in great part passed away. Their idyl of devotion -and constancy gradually became farcical as the years imposed their -blight. “Them old moth-eaten lovyers” was a phrase so apt in derisive -description that it commended itself for general use to a community of -later date and newer ideals. What a zest of jovial ridicule would the -iconoclasts have enjoyed had it been known that it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> was only when one -was sixty-five years of age and the other sixty-three that there had -occurred their first experience of a lovers’ quarrel! For Benjie and -Editha now were seriously regarded only by themselves.</p> - -<p>A steady, sober man was Benjamin Casey, of a peculiarly sane and -reliable judgment, but it occasioned an outburst of unhallowed mirth in -the vicinity when it was bruited abroad that he had been chosen on the -venire for the petit jury at the next term of the court.</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet Editha goes, too,” exclaimed a gossip at the cross-roads -store, delighted with the incongruity of the idea.</p> - -<p>“Sure,” acceded his interlocutor. “Benjie can’t serve on no panel -’thout Editha sets on the jury, too.”</p> - -<p>And, in fact, when the great day came for the journey to the county -town, the rickety little wagon with the old white mare stood harnessed -before the porch for an hour while Editha, in the toils of perplexity, -decided on the details of her toilet for the momentous occasion, and -Benjie bent the whole capacity of his substantial mind in the effort to -aid her. The finishing touch to her costume of staid, brown homespun -had a suggestion of sacrilege in the estimation of each.</p> - -<p>“I’d lament it ef it war ter git sp’iled anyways, Benjie,” she -concluded at length, “but I dunno ez I will ever hev a more especial -occasion ter wear this big silk neckerchief what that painter-man sent -me in a letter from Glaston—I reckon fer hevin’ let him mark up my -mantel-shelf so scandalous. Jus’ the color of the sky it is, an’ ez big -ez a shoulder-shawl, an’ thick an’ glossy in the weave fer true. See! -I hev honed ter view how I would look in it, but I hev never made bold -ter put it on. Still, considerin’ I ain’t been in Shaftesvul sence the -year I spent thar forty-six years ago, I don’t want ter look tacky in -nowise; an’, then, I’ll he interjuced ter all them gentlemen of the -jury, too.”</p> - -<p>Benjie solemnly averred himself of like opinion, and this important -question thus settled, the afternoon brought them to Shaftesville, -where they spent the night with relatives of Editha.</p> - -<p>The criminal court-room of the old brick court-house was a revelation -of a new and awesome phase of life to the old couple when the jury -was impaneled early the next morning. Editha, decorous, though flushed -and breathless with excitement, sat among the spectators, who were -ranged on each side of the elevated and railed space inclosing the bar, -and Benjie, conspicuous among the jury, exercised the high privilege, -which most of his colleagues had sought to shirk, of aiding in the -administration of his country’s laws.</p> - -<p>Although the taking of testimony occupied only two or three hours -during the morning, the rest of the jury obviously wearied at times -and grew inattentive, but Benjie continued alert, fresh, intent on a -true understanding of the case. More than once he held up his hand -for permission to speak, after the etiquette acquired as a boy at the -little district school, and when the judge accorded the boon of a -question, the point was so well taken and cut so trenchantly into the -perplexities involved, that both the arguments of the lawyers and the -charge from the bench were inadvertently addressed chiefly to this -single juryman, whose native capacity discounted the value of the -better-trained minds of the rest of the panel.</p> - -<p>When the jury were about to retire to consider their verdict, the -unsophisticated pair were surprised to discover that Editha was -not to be allowed to sit with Benjie in the jury-room and aid the -deliberations of the panel. She had stood up expectantly in her place -as the jury began to file out toward an inner apartment, and had known -by intuition the import of Benjie’s remark to the constable in charge, -happily <em class="italic">sotto voce</em>, or it might have fractured the decorum of the -court-room beyond the possibility of repair. At the reply, Benjie -paused for a moment, looking dumfounded; then catching her eye, he -slowly shook his white head. The constable, young, pert, and brisk, -hastily circled about his “good and lawful men” with much the style -of a small and officious dog rounding up a few recalcitrant head of -cattle. The door closed inexorably behind them, and the old couple were -separated on the most significant instance in their quiet and eventless -lives.</p> - -<p>For a few minutes Editha stood at a loss; then her interest in the -judicial proceedings having ceased with the retirement of Benjie -from the court-room, she drifted softly through the halls and thence -to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> street. There had been many changes in Shaftesville since -the twelvemonth she had spent there forty-six years before, and she -presently developed the ardor of a discoverer in touring the town with -this large liberty of leisure while her husband was engrossed in the -public service.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0122" name="i_0122"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0122.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Drawn by George Wright. Half-tone plate engraved - by G. M. Lewis.</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">“SHE HAD STOOD UP EXPECTANTLY IN HER - PLACE AS THE JURY<br /> - BEGAN TO FILE OUT”</p> -</div> - -<p>As he sat constrained to the deliberations of the jury, Benjie was -beset with certain doubts and fears as to the dangers that might betide -her. Through the window beside him once he saw her passing on the -opposite side of the square, still safe, wavering to and fro before the -display of a dry-goods store, evidently amazed at the glories of the -fripperies of the fashion on view at the door.</p> - -<p>Benjie sprang to his feet, then, realizing the exigencies of the -situation, sank back in his chair.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Thar,” he said suddenly to his colleagues, waving his hand pridefully -toward the distant figure—“thar is Mis’ Casey, my wife, by Christian -name Editha.”</p> - -<p>The jury, despite the untimeliness of the interruption, had the good -grace and the good manners to acknowledge this introduction, so to -speak, in the spirit in which it was tendered.</p> - -<p>“Taking in the town, I suppose,” said the foreman, a well-known grocer -of the place.</p> - -<p>“Jes so, jes so,” said the beaming Casey. “I war determinated that Mis’ -Casey should visit Shaftesvul an’, ef so minded, take in the town.”</p> - -<p>Editha vanished within the store, and Benjie’s mind was free to revert -to the matter in hand. It was not altogether a usual experience even -for one more habituated to jury service. The deliberations started with -some unanimity of opinion, the first three ballots showing eleven to -one, Benjie holding out in a stanch minority that bade fair to prevent -agreement, and enabling the foreman to perpetrate the time-honored joke -in the demand for supper.</p> - -<p>“Constable,” he roared, “order a meal of victuals for eleven men and a -bale of hay for a mule.”</p> - -<p>Later, however, Benjie was all a-tingle with pride when the foreman, -with a knitted brow at a crisis of the discussion observed, “There is -something worth considering in <em class="italic">one</em> point of Mr. Casey’s contention.”</p> - -<p>This impression grew until the jury called in the constable from -his station at the door to convey their request for instruction -upon a matter of law. Although long after nightfall, the court was -still in session, owing to the crowded state of the docket, and when -the jury were led into the court-room to receive from the bench an -explanation of the point in question, Benjie was elated to find that -the information they had sought aided and elucidated his position. The -first ballot taken after returning to the jury-room resulted in ten of -the jurors supporting his insistence against only two, and of these the -foreman was one. They balloted once more just before they started to go -to the hotel to bed, still guarded by the constable, who kept them, in -a compact body, from any communication with the public. On this ballot -only the foreman was in the opposition.</p> - -<p>When they were standing in the hallway of the upper story of the hotel, -and the officer was assigning them to their rooms and explaining to the -foreman that he would be within call if anything was needed, Benjie, -now in high spirits, was moved to exclaim, “Never fear, sonny; a muel -is always ekal ter a good loud bray.”</p> - -<p>All the jury applauded this turning of the tables, and laughed at the -foreman, and one demanded of Benjie what he fed on “up in the sticks to -get so all-fired sharp.”</p> - -<p>The next morning, to the old mountaineer’s great satisfaction, the -foreman, having slept on his perplexities, awoke to Benjie’s way of -thinking, and when they were once more in the court-room he pridefully -stated that they had reached an agreement and found the prisoner -“Not guilty.” The crowd in the court-room cheered; in one moment the -prisoner looked like another man, and genially shook hands with each of -the jury; the judge thanked them before discharging them from further -duty; and as Benjie pushed out of the court-room in the crowd all this -was on the tip of his tongue to narrate for the eager wonderment and -interest of Editha.</p> - -<p>An immediate start for home was essential in order not to tax old -Whitey too severely, for the clay roads were heavy as the result of -a recent rainfall, and they must reach the mountain before sunset, -in view of the steep and dangerous ascent. Therefore he sent word -to Editha to meet him at a certain corner, while he repaired to the -livery-stable for his vehicle; for he had happened to encounter her -hostess, a kinswoman, on his way from the court-room, and had taken -ceremonious leave of her on the street.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want no more hand-shakin’ an’ farewells,” he said to -himself, flustered and eager for the start, so delighted was he to be -homeward-bound with Editha and fairly launched on the recital of his -wondrous experiences while serving on the jury.</p> - -<p>His lips were vaguely moving, now with a word, now with a pleased -smile, formulating the sequences of his story, as he jogged along in -his little wagon and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> suddenly caught sight of his wife awaiting him at -the appointed corner.</p> - -<p>At the first glance he remarked the change. It was Editha in semblance, -but not the Editha he knew or had ever known.</p> - -<p>“Editha!” he murmured faintly, all his being resolved into eyes, as he -checked old Whitey and drew up close to the curb.</p> - -<p>No meager old woman this, wont to hold herself a trifle -stoop-shouldered, to walk with a slow, shuffling gait. Her thin figure -was braced alertly, like some slender girl’s. She stepped briskly, -lightly, from the high curb, and with two motions, as the soldiers say, -she put her foot on the hub of the wheel and was seated beside him in -the wagon. Then he saw her face, through the tunnel of her dark-blue -sunbonnet, suffused with a pink bloom as delicate as a peach-blossom. -Her eyes were as blue and as lustrous as the silk muffler, which the -artist had doubtless selected with a realization of the accord of -these fine tints. A curl of her silky, white hair lay on her forehead, -and another much longer hung down beneath the curtain of her bonnet, -scarcely more suggestive of age than if it had been discreetly -powdered. Her lips were red, and there was a vibration of joyous -excitement in her voice.</p> - -<p>“Waal, sir, Shaftesvul!” she exclaimed, turning to survey the vanishing -town, for it had required scarcely a moment to whisk them beyond its -limited precincts. “It’s the beauty-spot of the whole world, sure. -But,” she added as she settled herself straight on the seat and turned -her face toward the ranges in the distance, “we must try ter put up -with the mountings. One good thing is that we air used ter them, else -hevin’ ter go back arter this trip would be powerful’ hard on us, sure. -Benjie, who do ye reckon I met up with in Shaftesvul? Now, <em class="italic">who</em>?”</p> - -<p>“I dunno,” faltered Benjie, all ajee and out of his reckoning. Luckily -old Whitey knew the way home, for the reins lay slack on her back. “War -it yer Cousin Lucindy Jane?” Benjie ventured.</p> - -<p>“Cousin Lucindy Jane!” Editha echoed with a tone closely resembling -contempt. “Of course I met up with Cousin Lucindy Jane, an’ war -interjuced ter her cow an’ all her chickens. Cousin Lucindy Jane!” she -repeated slightingly. Then essaying no further to foster his lame -guesswork, “Benjie,” she laid her hand impressively on his arm, “I met -up with Leroy Tresmon’!”</p> - -<p>She gazed at him with wide, bright eyes, challenging his outbreak -of surprise. But Benjie only dully fumbled with the name. “Leroy -Tresmon’?” he repeated blankly. “Who’s him?”</p> - -<p>“Hesh, Benjie!” cried Editha in a girlish gush of laughter. “Don’t ye -let on ez I hev never mentioned Leroy Tresmon’s name ter you-’uns. -Gracious me! Keep that secret in the sole of yer shoe. He’d never git -over it ef he war ter find that out, vain an’ perky ez he be.”</p> - -<p>“But—but when did ye git acquainted with him?”</p> - -<p>“Why, that year ’way back yander when I lived with Aunt Dor’thy in -Shaftesvul. My! my! my! why, ’Roy war ez reg’lar ez the town clock -in comin’ ter see me. But, lawsy! it be forty-six year’ ago now. -I never would hev dreampt of the critter remembering me arter all -these years.” She bridled into a graceful erectness, and threw her -beautiful eyes upward in ridicule of the idea as she went on: “I war -viewin’ the show-windows of that big dry-goods store. They call it -‘the palace’”—Benjie remembered that he had seen her at that very -moment—“an’ it war all so enticin’ ter the eye that I went inside to -look closer at some of the pretties; an’ ez I teetered up an’ down the -aisle I noticed arter awhile a man old ez you-’uns, Benjie, but mighty -fine an’ fixed up an’ scornful an’ perky, an’ jes gazin’ an’ <em class="italic">gazin’</em> -at me. But I passed on heedless, an’ presently, ez I war about ter turn -ter leave, a clerk stepped up ter me—I hed noticed out of the corner -of my eye the boss-man whisper ter him—an’ this whipper-snapper he -say, ‘Excuse me, Lady, but did you give yer name ter hev any goods sent -up?’ An’ I say, ‘I hev bought no goods; I be a stranger jes viewin’ -the town.’ Then ez I started toward the door this boss-man suddint -kem out from behind his desk an’ appeared before me. ‘Surely,’ he -said, smiling—he hed the whitest teeth, Benjie, an’ a-many of ’em, ez -reg’lar ez grains of corn—”</p> - -<p>Benjie instinctively closed his lips quickly over his own dental -vacancies and ruins as Editha resumed her recital:</p> - -<p>“‘Surely,’ he said, smiling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> ‘thar never war two sech pairs of -eyes—made out of heaven’s own blue. Ain’t this Editha Bruce?’</p> - -<p>“An’ I determinated ter skeer him a leetle, fer he war majorin’ round -powerful’ brash; so I said ez cool ez a cucumber, ‘Mis’ Benjamin Casey.’</p> - -<p>“But, shucks! the critter knowed my voice ez well ez my eyes. He jes -snatched both my hands, an’ ef he said ‘Editha! Editha! Editha!’ -once, he said it a dozen times, like he would bu’st out crying an’ -sheddin’ tears in two minutes. He don’t call my name like you do, -Benjie, short-like, ‘’Ditha.’ He says it ‘<em class="italic">E</em>editha,’ drawn out, saaft, -an’ sweet. Oh, lawsy! I plumb felt like a fool or a gal seventeen -year’ old—same thing. Fer it hed jes kem ter me who <em class="italic">he</em> war, but I -purtended ter hev knowed him all along. The conceits of the town ways -of Shaftesvul hev made me plumb tricky an’ deceitful; I tell ye now, -Benjie.” She gave a jocose little nudge of her elbow into his thin, old -ribs, and so strangely forlorn had Benjie begun to feel that he was -grateful even for this equivocal attention.</p> - -<p>“Then ‘Roy Tresmon’ say—Now, Benjie, I dunno whether ye will think -<em class="italic">I</em> done the perlite thing, fer I didn’t rightly know <em class="italic">what</em> ter do -myself—he say, ‘Editha, fer old sake’s sake choose su’thin’ fer a gift -o’ remembrance outen my stock.’</p> - -<p>“I never seen no cattle, so I s’posed he war talkin’ sorter townified -about his goods in the store. But I jes laffed an’ say, ‘My husband is -a man with a free hand, though not a very fat purse, an’ I prefer ter -spen’ a few dollars with ye, ez I expected ter do when I drifted in -hyar a stranger.’ Ye notice them lies, Benjie. I reckon I kin explain -them somehow at the las’ day, but they served my turn ez faithful ez -the truth yestiddy. I say, ‘Ye kin take one penny out of the change -an’ put a hole through it fer remembrance, an’ let old sake’s sake go -at that.’” Once more her caroling, girlish laughter echoed along the -lonely road.</p> - -<p>“Though I really hedn’t expected ter spen’ a cent, I bought me some -thread an’ buttons, an’ some checked gingham fer aperns, an’ a leetle -woolen shoulder-shawl, an’ paid fer them, meanin’ of course ter tote -’em along with me under my arm; but ’Roy gin the clerk a look, an’ that -spry limber-jack whisked them all away, an’ remarked, ‘The goods will -be sent up immejetly ter Mrs. Jarney’s, whar ye say ye be stoppin’.’ -An’, Benjie, whenst Cousin Sophy Jarney an’ me opened that parcel las’ -night, what d’ ye s’pose we f’und?” She gave Benjie a clutch on the -wrist of the hand that held the reins; and feeling them tighten, old -Whitey mended her pace.</p> - -<p>“Ye oughter been more keerful than ter hev lef’ the things at the store -arter payin’ cash money fer ’em,” rejoined Benjie, sagely, not that he -was suspicious of temperament, but unsophisticated of training.</p> - -<p>“Shucks!” cried Editha, with a rallying laugh. “All them common things -that I bought war thar, an’ more besides, wuth trible the money, -Benjie. A fancy comb fer the hair—looks some similar ter a crown, -though jet-black an’ shiny—an’ a necklace o’ beads ter match. O -Benjie!” she gave his hand an ecstatic pressure. “I’ll show ’em ter ye -when we gits home—every one. They air in my kyarpet-bag thar in the -back of the wagon. An’ thar war besides a leetle lace cape with leetle -black jet beads winkin’ at ye all over it, an’ a pair o’ silk gloves, -not like mittens, but with separate fingers. Cousin Sophy Jarney she -jes squealed. She say, ‘I wish I hed a beau like that!’ Ned Jarney, -standin’ by, watchin’ me open the parcel, he say, ‘Ladies hev ter be -ez beautisome ez Cousin Editha ter hev beaus at command at her time of -life.’ Oh, my! Oh, my! Cousin Sophy she say, ‘Cousin Editha is yit, -ez she always war, a tremenjious flirt. I think I’ll try ter practise -a leetle bit ter git my hand in, ef ever <em class="italic">I</em> should hev occasion -ter try.’ Oh, my! I’ll never furgit this visit ter Shaftesvul, the -beauty-spot of the nation.”</p> - -<p>Editha’s admired eyes, alight with all the fervors of retrospection, -were fixed unseeing upon the majestic range of mountains, now turning -from blue to amethyst with a cast of the westering sun. The fences had -failed along the roadside, and for miles it had run between shadowy -stretches of forest that, save for now and again a break of fields or -pasture-lands, cut off the alluring view. A lovely stream had given the -wayfarers its company, flowing beside the highway, clear as crystal, -and when once more it expanded into shallows the road ran down to the -margin to essay a ford. Here, as old Whitey paused<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> to drink from the -lustrous depths, the reflection of the deep-green, overhanging boughs, -the beetling, gray rocks, and the blue sky painted a picture on the -surface too refreshingly vivid and sweet for the senses to discriminate -at once all its keen sources of joy.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0126" name="i_0126"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0126.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s6 center">Drawn by George Wright. Half-tone plate engraved - by R. Varley.</p> - <p class="s5 center mbot2">“‘AN’ WILL YE TELL ME WHAT’S THE REASON - I COULDN’T HEV<br /> - HED RICHES—OLD TOM FOOL!’“</p> -</div> - -<p>Old Whitey had seemed to drink her fill, but as Benjie was about to -gather up the reins anew she bowed her pendulous lips once more to the -shining surface.</p> - -<p>“Fust off,” resumed Mrs. Casey, with a touch of gravity,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> “I felt plumb -mortified about them presents. I knowed all that stuff had cost ’Roy -an onpleasing price of money. But, then, I reminded myself I hed no -accountability. He done it of his own accord, an’ he could well afford -it. I remembered when I war fust acquainted with ’Roy, when I war jes a -young gal an’ he nuthin’ but a peart cockerel, he hed <em class="italic">then</em> the name -of bein’ one of the richest men in Shaftesvul. His dad bein’ dead, -’Roy owned what he hed his own self. An’ jedgin’ by his ‘stock,’ ez -he called it, an’ his ‘palace,’ he must hev been makin’ money hand -over hand ever sence. So I made up my mind ter enjoy the treat whenst -he invited me an’ Sophy an’ her husband, Ned Jarney, ter go ter the -pictur’-show last night an’ eat supper arterward. An’, Benjie, I never -seen sech fine men-folks’s clothes ez ’Roy Tresmon’ stepped out in. He -hed on a b’iled shirt stiff ez a board; he mought hev leaned up ag’in’ -it ef he felt tired. His white collar war ekally stiff, an’ ez high ez -a staked-an’-ridered fence. Whenst he looked over it he ’peared some -similar ter a jumpin’ muel in a high paddock. He hed leetle, tiny, -shiny buttons in his shirt-front,—Sophy said they war pure gold,—an’ -his weskit war cut down jes so—lem me show ye how.”</p> - -<p>She had turned to take hold of Benjie’s humble jeans clothing -to illustrate the fashion of the garb of the merchant prince of -Shaftesville when her hand faltered on the lapel of his coat. “Why, -Benjie,” she cried sharply, “what makes ye look so plumb pale an’ -peaked? Air ye ailin’ anyways?”</p> - -<p>“Naw, naw.” Benjie testily repudiated the suggestion. “Tell on yer -tale.” Then by way of excuse or explanation he added, “I ain’t sick, -but settin’ on a jury is a wearin’ business.”</p> - -<p>“Mought be ter the britches, but not ter the health,” Editha rejoined. -Then she burst out laughing at her jest, and it brought to her mind a -new phase of her triumphs. “’Roy Tresmon’ he said I war the wittiest -lady he ever seen. He meant plumb jokified,” she explained tolerantly. -“An’ sure’ I did keep him on the grin. He ’lowed it war wuth twice -the price of his entertainment ter escort me ter the pictur’-show an’ -theater-supper arterward; fer when the show war over, me an’ him an’ -Sophy an’ Jarney went ter an eatin’-store, whar they hed a whole passel -o’ leetle tables set out in the floor an’ the biggest lookin’-glass I -ever see on the wall. But, lawsy! Benjie, be ye a-goin’ ter let that -old mare stand slobberin’ in the river plumb till sunset? Git up, -Whitey!”</p> - -<p>As the wagon went jolting up the steep bank, Editha resumed:</p> - -<p>“But I tell ye now, Benjie, ’Roy Tresmon’ didn’t do all the fine -dressin’. I cut a dash myself. Sophy begged me ter wear a dress of -hern ter the pictur’-show an’ the theater-supper, ez they called it, -arterward, which I war crazy ter do all the time, though I kep’ on -sayin’ ter her, ‘What differ do it make what a’ old mounting woman -wears?’ But I let myself be persuaded into a white muslin frock with -black spots, an’, Benjie, with the lace cape an’ the jet necklace, -an’ the fancy jet comb in my hair, I made that man’s eyes shine ekal -ter them gold buttons in his shirt-front. Lem me show ye how Sophy did -up my hair. I scarcely dared turn my head on the pillow las’ night fer -fear of gittin’ it outen fix, an’ I never teched comb nor bresh ter it -this mornin’ so ez ye mought hev some idee how it looked.”</p> - -<p>With the word she removed her sunbonnet with gingerly care and sat -smiling at him, expectant of plaudits. In fact, the snow-white -redundancy of her locks, piled into crafty puffs and coiled in heavy -curls by the designing and ambitious Sophy, a close student of the -fashion items as revealed in the patent inside of the county paper, -achieved a coiffure that might have won even discriminating encomiums. -But Benjie looked at her dully and drearily as she sat, all rejuvenated -by the artifices of the mode, roseate and bland and suavely smiling. A -sudden shadow crossed her face.</p> - -<p>“Why, Benjie,” she cried anxiously, “what kin ail you-’uns? Ye look -plumb desolated.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you g’ long, g’ long!” cried the goaded Benjie. Luckily she -imagined the adjuration addressed to the old mare, now beginning the -long, steep ascent of the mountain to their home on the bluff, and thus -took no exceptions to the discourtesy.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> -<p>“I’ll be bound ye eat su’thin’ ez disagreed with you in the town-folk’s -victuals. I expec’ I’ll hev ter give ye some yarb tea afore ye feel -right peart ag’in. Ye would hev a right to the indigestion ef ye hed -been feedin’ like me nigh on ter midnight. I be goin’ ter tell ye -about the pictur’-show arter I finish about ’Roy Tresmon’ an’ me. That -supper—waal, sir, he invited Sophy an’ Ned Jarney, too, an’ paid fer -us all, though some o’ them knickknacks war likely ter hev been paid -fer with thar lives. Toadstools did them misguided sinners eat with -thar chicken, an’ I expected them presently ter be laid out stiff in -death. <em class="italic">I</em> never teched the rank p’ison, nor the wine nuther. I say -ter ’Roy ez I never could abide traffickin’ with corn-juice. An’ he -grinned an’ say, ‘This is grape-juice, Editha.’ But ye mought know it -warn’t no common grape-juice. The waiter kep’ a folded napkin round -the bottle ez it poured, an’ the sniff of that liquor war tremenjious -fine. It war like a whole flower-gyardin full of perfume. Them two -men, ’Roy an’ Jarney, war breakin’ the dry-town law, I believe. They -kep’ lookin’ at each other an’ laffin’, an’ axin’ which brand of soft -drinks war the mos’ satisfyin’. An’ the man what kep’ the eatin’-store -looked p’intedly skeered as he said ter the waiter, ‘Ye needn’t put -<em class="italic">that</em> bottle on the table.’ An’ they got gay fer true; my best -cherry-bounce couldn’t hev made ’Roy mo’ glib than he war. An’ ’Roy hed -no sense lef’ nuther. Sophy she say she seen the bill the waiter laid -by his plate,-ye know how keen them leetle, squinched-up eyes of hern -be,—an’ she say it war over ten dollars. Lawsy!—lawsy! what a thing -it is ter be rich! ’Roy Tresmon’ jes stepped up ter the counter an’ -paid it ’thout battin’ an eye.”</p> - -<p>The old couple had left the wagon now, and were walking up a -particularly steep and stony stretch of the road to lighten the load -on old Whitey, dutifully pulling the rattling, rickety vehicle along -with scant guidance. Editha kept in advance, swinging her sunbonnet -by the string, her elaborately coiffed head still on display. Now and -then as she recalled an item of interest to detail, she paused and -stepped backward after a nonchalant girlish fashion, while Benjie, old -and battered and broken, found it an arduous task to plod along with -laggard, dislocated, and irregular gait at the tail-board of the wagon. -They were in the midst of the sunset now. It lay in a broad, dusky-red -splendor over all the far, green valleys, and the mountains had garbed -themselves in richest purple. Sweets were in the air, seeming more -than fragrance; the inhalation was like the quaffing of some delicious -elixir, filling the veins with a sort of ethereal ecstasy. The balsam -firs imbued the atmosphere with subtle strength, and the lungs expanded -to garner it. Flowers under foot, the fresh tinkle of a crystal -rill, the cry of a belated bird, all the bliss of home-coming in his -thrilling note as he winged his way over the crest—these were the -incidents of the climb.</p> - -<p>“I tell ye, Benjie,”—Editha once more turned to walk slowly backward, -swinging her bonnet by the string,—“it’s a big thing ter be rich.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” suddenly cried the anguished Benjie, with a poignant wail, his -fortitude collapsing at last, “I wish you war rich! That be what ye -keer fer; I know it now. I wish ye could hev hed riches—yer heart’s -desire! I wish I hed never seen you-’uns, an’ ye hed never seen me!”</p> - -<p>Editha stood stock-still in the road as though petrified. Old -Whitey, her progress barred, paused not unwillingly, and the rattle -of the wagon ceased for the nonce. Benjie, doubly disconsolate in -the consciousness of his self-betrayal, leaned heavily against the -motionless wheel and gazed shrinkingly at the visible wrath gathering -in his helpmate’s eyes.</p> - -<p>“Man,” she cried, and Benjie felt as though the mountain had fallen -on him, “hev ye plumb turned fool? Now,” she went on with a stern -intonation, “ye tell me what ye mean by that sayin’, else I’ll fling ye -over the bluff or die tryin’.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nuthin’, nuthin’, ’Ditha,” said the miserable Benjie, all the -cherished values of his life falling about him in undiscriminated wreck.</p> - -<p>“Then I’ll make my own understandin’ outen yer words, an’ I’ll hold the -gredge ag’in’ ye ez long ez I live,” she protested.</p> - -<p>“Waal, then,” snarled Benjie, “ye take heed ye make the words jes like -I said ’em. I’ll stand ter ’em. <em class="italic">I</em> never f’und out how ter tell lies -in Shaftesvul. I’ll stand ter my words.”</p> - -<p>“Ye wished I could hev hed riches,” Editha ponderingly recapitulated -his phrases. Then she looked up, her blue eyes severe and her flushed -face set. “An’ will ye tell me what’s the reason I couldn’t hev hed -riches—old Tom fool!”</p> - -<p>Thus the lovers!</p> - -<p>“You-’uns, ’Ditha?” Benjie faltered, bewildered by the incongruity of -the idea. “You, <em class="italic">riches</em>?”</p> - -<p>“I could hev hed long ago sech riches ez ’Roy Tresmon’ hev got, sartain -sure,” she declared. “An’ considerin’ ye hev kem in yer old age ter -wish ye hed never seen me, ’pears like it mought hev been better ef I -hed thought twice afore I turned him off forty-six year’ ago.”</p> - -<p>“Turned off ’Roy Tresmon’! Forty-six year’ ago! What did ye do that -fer, ’Ditha?” Benjie bungled, aghast. He had a confused, flustered -sentiment of rebuke: what had possessed Editha in her youth to have -discarded this brilliant opportunity!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> - -<p>“To marry you-’uns, of course,” retorted Editha, amazed in her turn.</p> - -<p>“An’ now, oh, ’Ditha, that we hev kem so nigh the eend of life’s -journey ye air sorry fer it,” wailed Benjie. “But I never knowed ez ye -hed the chance.”</p> - -<p>Editha tossed her head. “The chance! I hed the chance three times -whenst he war young an’ personable an’ mighty nigh ez rich ez he be -now.” She began to check off the occasions on her fingers. “Fust, -at the big barn dance, when the Dimmycrats hed a speakin’ an’ a -percession. Then one night whenst we-’uns war kemin’ home together from -prayer-meetin’ he tol’ ag’in ‘his tale of love,’ ez he called it,” she -burst forth in a shrill cackle of derision. “Then that Christmus I -spent in Shaftesvul the year I stayed with Aunt Dor’thy he begged me -ter kem out ter the gate jes at sun-up ter receive my present, which -war his heart; an’ I tol’ him ez I war much obleeged, but I wouldn’t -deprive him of it. Ha! ha! ha! Lawsy! we-’uns war talkin’ ’bout them -old times all ’twixt the plays at the pictur’-show, an’ he declared he -hed stayed a bachelor all these years fer my sake. I tol’ him that ef I -war forty-five years younger I’d hev more manners than ter listen ter -sech talk ez that, ha! ha! ha! ’T war all mighty funny an’ gamesome, -an’ I laffed an’ laffed.”</p> - -<p>“’Ditha,” said the contrite Benjie, taking heart of grace from her -relaxing seriousness, “I love ye so well that it hurts me to think I -cut ye out of any good thing.”</p> - -<p>“Waal, ye done it, sure,” said the uncompromising Editha. “But fer -you-’uns I would hev married that man and owned all he hev got from his -‘palace’ ter his store teeth.”</p> - -<p>“Did—did you-’uns say his teeth war jes store teeth?” demanded Benjie, -excitedly.</p> - -<p>“Did you-’uns expec’ the critter ter cut a new set of teeth at his time -of life?” laughed Editha.</p> - -<p>“O ’Ditha, I felt so cheap whenst ye tol’ ’bout his fine clothes,” -Benjie began.</p> - -<p>“He used ter wear jes ez fine clothes forty-five years ago,” -interrupted Editha, “an’ he war then ez supple a jumping-jack ez ever -ye see, not a hirpling old codger; but, lawsy! I oughtn’t ter laff at -his rheumatics, remembering all them beads on that cape.”</p> - -<p>As they climbed into the wagon, the ascent being completed, and resumed -their homeward way, Benjie was moved to seek to impress his own merits. -“I hed considerable attention paid ter my words whenst settin’ on the -jury, ’Ditha. They all kem round ter my way of thinkin’ whenst they -heard me talk.”</p> - -<p>“Waal, I don’t follow thar example,” Editha retorted. “The more I hear -ye talk, the bigger fool ye seem ter be. Hyar ye air now thinkin’ it -will make me set more store by ye ter know that eleven slack-twisted -town-men hearkened ter yer speech. Ye suits me, an’ always did. I’d -think of ye jes the same if every juryman hed turned ag’in’ ye, -stiddier seein’ the wisdom of yer words.”</p> - -<p>A genial glow sprang up in Benjie’s heart, responsive to the brusk -sincerities of this fling, and when the house was reached, and the -flames again flared, red and yellow from the hickory logs in the -deep chimney-place, the strings of scarlet peppers swinging from the -ceiling, the gaily flowered curtains fluttering at the windows, the -dogs fawning about their feet on the hearthstone, Editha’s exclamation -seemed the natural sequence of their arrival.</p> - -<p>“Home fer sure!” she cried with a joyous nesting instinct, and reckless -of inconsistency. “An’, lawsy! don’t it look good an’ sensible! ’Pears -like Shaftesvul is away, away off yander in a dream, an’ ’Roy Tresmon’, -with his big white teeth an’ fine clothes an’ rheumatic teeter, is some -similar ter a nightmare, though I <em class="italic">oughter</em> hev manners enough ter -remember them beads on that cape, an’ speak accordin’. I be done with -travelin’, Benjie, an’ nex’ time ye set on a jury ye’ll hev ter do it -by yer lone.”</p> - -<p>The firelight showed the cheery radiance of the smile with which -the old “moth-eaten lovyers” gazed at each other, and the quizzical -expression of the little Cupid delineated on the mantelpiece, peering -out at them from beneath the bandage of his eyes, his useless wings -spread above the hearth he hallowed.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0130" name="i_0130"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0130.jpg" - alt="Headpiece for “T. Tembarom”" /></a> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="T_TEMBAROM">T. TEMBAROM</h2> - -<p class="s3 center">BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT</p> - -<p class="s6 center">Author of “That Lass o’ Lowrie’s,” “The Shuttle,” etc.</p> - -<p class="s6 center mbot2">WITH DECORATIVE PICTURES BY CHARLES S. CHAPMAN</p> - -</div> - -<h3 id="T_TEMBAROM_XV">CHAPTER XV</h3> - -<div class="dc"> - <a id="i_0130_dc" name="i_0130_dc"> - <img class="mtop-2" src="images/i_0130_dc.jpg" alt="T" /></a> -</div> - -<p class="p0"><span class="hide-first">T</span>O employ the figure of Burrill, Tembarom was indeed “as pleased as -Punch.” He was one of the large number of men who, apart from all -sentimental relations, are made particularly happy by the kindly -society of women; who expand with quite unconscious rejoicing when -a women begins to take care of them in one way or another. The -unconsciousness is a touching part of the condition. The feminine -nearness supplies a primeval human need. The most complete of men, as -well as the weaklings, feel it. It is a survival of days when warm arms -held and protected, warm hands served, and affectionate voices soothed. -An accomplished male servant may perform every domestic service -perfectly, but the fact that he cannot be a women leaves a sense of -lack. An accustomed feminine warmth in the surrounding daily atmosphere -has caused many a man to marry his housekeeper or even his cook, as -circumstances prompted.</p> - -<p>Tembarom had known no woman well until he had met Little Ann. His -feeling for Mrs. Bowse herself had verged on affection, because he -would have been fond of any woman of decent temper and kindliness, -especially if she gave him opportunities to do friendly service. Little -Ann had seemed the apotheosis of the feminine, the warmly helpful, -the subtly supporting, the kind. She had been to him an amazement -and a revelation. She had continually surprised him by revealing new -characteristics which seemed to him nicer things than he had ever -known before, but which, if he had been aware of it, were not really -surprising at all. They were only the characteristics of a very nice -young feminine creature.</p> - -<p>The presence of Miss Alicia, with the long-belated fashion of her -ringlets and her little cap, was delightful to him. He felt as though -he would like to take her in his arms and hug her. He thought perhaps -it was partly because she was a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> like Ann, and kept repeating -his name in Ann’s formal little way. Her delicate terror of presuming -or intruding he felt in its every shade. Mentally she touched him -enormously. He wanted to make her feel that she need not be afraid of -him in the least, that he liked her, that in his opinion she had more -right in the house than he had. He was a little frightened lest through -ignorance he should say things the wrong way, as he had said that thing -about wanting to know what she expected him to do. What he ought to -have said was, “You’re not expecting me to let that sort of thing go -on.” It had made him sick when he saw what a break he’d made and that -she thought he was sort of insulting her. The room seemed all right -now that she was in it. Small and unassuming as she was, she seemed to -make it less over-sized. He didn’t so much mind the loftiness of the -ceiling, the depth and size of the windows, and the walls covered with -thousands of books he knew nothing whatever about. The innumerable -books had been an oppressing feature. If he had been one of those -“college guys” who never could get enough of books, what a “cinch” the -place would have been for him—good as the Astor Library! He hadn’t a -word to say against books,—good Lord! no,—but even if he’d had the -education and the time to read, he didn’t believe he was naturally that -kind, anyhow. You had to be “that kind” to know about books. He didn’t -suppose she—meaning Miss Alicia—was learned enough to make you throw -a fit. She didn’t look that way, and he was mighty glad of it, because -perhaps she wouldn’t like him much if she was. It would worry her when -she tried to talk to him and found out he didn’t know a darned thing he -ought to.</p> - -<p>They’d get on together easier if they could just chin about common sort -of every-day things. But though she didn’t look like the Vassar sort, -he guessed that she was not like himself: she had lived in libraries -before, and books didn’t frighten her. She’d been born among people -who read lots of them and maybe could talk about them. That was why -she somehow seemed to fit into the room. He was aware that, timid -as she was and shabby as her neat dress looked, she fitted into the -whole place, as he did not. She’d been a poor relative and had been -afraid to death of old Temple Barholm, but she’d not been afraid of -him because she wasn’t his sort. She was a lady; that was what was -the matter with her. It was what made thing harder for her, too. It -was what made her voice tremble when she’d tried to seem so contented -and polite when she’d talked about going into one of those “decayed -almshouses.” As if the old ladies were vegetables that had gone wrong, -by gee! he thought.</p> - -<p>He liked her little, modest, delicate old face and her curls and her -little cap with the ribbons so much that he smiled with a twinkling eye -every time he looked at her. He wanted to suggest something he thought -would be mighty comfortable, but he was half afraid he might be asking -her to do something which wasn’t “her job,” and it might hurt her -feelings. But he ventured to hint at it.</p> - -<p>“Has Burrill got to come back and pour that out?” he asked, with an -awkward gesture toward the tea-tray.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, unless you wish it,” she answered. “Shall—may I give it to -you?”</p> - -<p>“Will you?” he exclaimed delightedly. “That would be fine. I shall feel -like a regular Clarence.”</p> - -<p>She was going to sit at the table in a straight-backed chair, but he -sprang at her.</p> - -<p>“This big one is more comfortable,” he said, and he dragged it forward -and made her sit in it. “You ought to have a footstool,” he added, and -he got one and put it under her feet. “There, that’s all right.”</p> - -<p>A footstool, as though she were a royal personage and he were a -gentleman in waiting, only probably gentlemen in waiting did not jump -about and look so pleased. The cheerful content of his boyish face when -he himself sat down near the table was delightful.</p> - -<p>“Now,” he said, “we can ring up for the first act.”</p> - -<p>She filled the tea-pot and held it for a moment, and then set it down -as though her feelings were too much for her.</p> - -<p>“I feel as if I were in a dream,” she quavered happily. “I do indeed.”</p> - -<p>“But it’s a nice one, ain’t it?” he answered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> “I feel as if I was in -two. Sitting here in this big room with all these fine things about me, -and having afternoon tea with a relation! It just about suits me. It -didn’t feel like this yesterday, you bet your life!”</p> - -<p>“Does it seem—nicer than yesterday?” she ventured. “Really, Mr. Temple -Barholm?”</p> - -<p>“Nicer!” he ejaculated. “It’s got yesterday beaten to a frazzle.”</p> - -<p>It was beyond all belief. He was speaking as though the advantage, the -relief, the happiness, were all on his side. She longed to enlighten -him.</p> - -<p>“But you can’t realize what it is to me,” she said gratefully, “to sit -here, not terrified and homeless and—a beggar any more, with your -kind face before me. Do forgive me for saying it. You have such a kind -young face, Mr. Temple Barholm. And to have an easy-chair and cushions, -and actually a buffet brought for your feet!” She suddenly recollected -herself. “Oh, I mustn’t let your tea get cold,” she added, taking up -the tea-pot apologetically. “Do you take cream and sugar, and is it to -be one lump or two?”</p> - -<p>“I take everything in sight,” he replied joyously, “and two lumps, -please.”</p> - -<p>She prepared the cup of tea with as delicate a care as though it had -been a sacramental chalice, and when she handed it to him she smiled -wistfully.</p> - -<p>“No one but you ever thought of such a thing as bringing a buffet for -my feet—no one except poor little Jem,” she said, and her voice was -wistful as well as her smile.</p> - -<p>She was obviously unaware that she was introducing an entirely new -acquaintance to him. Poor little Jem was supposed to be some one whose -whole history he knew.</p> - -<p>“Jem?” he repeated, carefully transferring a piece of hot buttered -crumpet to his plate.</p> - -<p>“Jem Temple Barholm,” she answered. “I say little Jem because I -remember him only as a child. I never saw him after he was eleven years -old.”</p> - -<p>“Who was he?” he asked. The tone of her voice and her manner of -speaking made him feel that he wanted to hear something more.</p> - -<p>She looked rather startled by his ignorance. “Have you—have you never -heard of him?” she inquired.</p> - -<p>“No. Is he another distant relation?”</p> - -<p>Her hesitation caused him to neglect his crumpet, to look up at her. -He saw at once that she wore the air of a sensitive and beautifully -mannered elderly lady who was afraid she had made a mistake and said -something awkward.</p> - -<p>“I am so sorry,” she apologized. “Perhaps I ought not to have mentioned -him.”</p> - -<p>“Why shouldn’t he be mentioned?”</p> - -<p>She was embarrassed. She evidently wished she had not spoken, but -breeding demanded that she should ignore the awkwardness of the -situation, if awkwardness existed.</p> - -<p>“Of course—I hope your tea is quite as you like it—of course there is -no real reason. But—shall I give you some more cream? No? You see, if -he hadn’t died, he—he would have inherited Temple Barholm.”</p> - -<p>Now he was interested. This was the other chap.</p> - -<p>“Instead of me?” he asked, to make sure. She endeavored not to show -embarrassment and told herself it didn’t really matter—to a thoroughly -nice person. But—</p> - -<p>“He was the next of kin—before you. I’m so sorry I didn’t know you -hadn’t heard of him. It seemed natural that Mr. Palford should have -mentioned him.”</p> - -<p>“He did say that there was a young fellow who had died, but he didn’t -tell me about him. I guess I didn’t ask. There were such a lot of other -things. I’d like to hear about him. You say you knew him?”</p> - -<p>“Only when he was a little fellow. Never after he grew up. Something -happened which displeased my father. I’m afraid papa was very easily -displeased. Mr. Temple Barholm disliked him, too. He would not have him -at Temple Barholm.”</p> - -<p>“He hadn’t much luck with his folks, had he?” remarked Tembarom.</p> - -<p>“He had no luck with any one. I seemed to be the only person who was -fond of him, and of course I didn’t count.”</p> - -<p>“I bet you counted with him,” said Tembarom.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> -<p>“I do think I did. Both his parents died quite soon after he was born, -and people who ought to have cared for him were rather jealous because -he stood so near to Temple Barholm. If Mr. Temple Barholm had not been -so eccentric and bitter, everything would have been done for him; -but as it was, he seemed to belong to no one. When he came to the -vicarage it used to make me so happy. He used to call me Aunt Alicia, -and he had such pretty ways.” She hesitated and looked quite tenderly -at the tea-pot, a sort of shyness in her face. “I am sure,” she burst -forth, “I feel quite sure that you will understand and won’t think it -indelicate; but I had thought so often that I should like to have a -little boy—if I had married,” she added in hasty tribute to propriety.</p> - -<p>Tembarom’s eyes rested on her in a thoughtfulness openly touched with -affection. He put out his hand and patted hers two or three times in -encouraging sympathy.</p> - -<p>“Say,” he said frankly, “I just believe every woman that’s the real -thing’d like to have a little boy—or a little girl—or a little -something or other. That’s why pet cats and dogs have such a cinch of -it. And there’s men that’s the same way. It’s sort of nature.”</p> - -<p>“He had such a high spirit and such pretty ways,” she said again. -“One of his pretty ways was remembering to do little things to make -one comfortable, like thinking of giving one a cushion or a buffet -for one’s feet. I noticed so much because I had never seen boys or -men wait upon women. My own dear papa was used to having women wait -upon him—bring his slippers, you know, and give him the best chair. -He didn’t like Jem’s ways. He said he liked a boy who was a boy and -not an affected nincompoop. He wasn’t really quite just.” She paused -regretfully and sighed as she looked back into a past doubtlessly -enriched with many similar memories of “dear papa.” “Poor Jem! Poor -Jem!” she breathed softly.</p> - -<p>Tembarom thought that she must have felt the boy’s loss very much, -almost as much as though she had really been his mother; perhaps more -pathetically because she had not been his mother or anybody’s mother. -He could see what a good little mother she would have made, looking -after her children and doing everything on earth to make them happy and -comfortable, just the kind of mother Ann would make, though she had not -Ann’s steady wonder of a little head or her shrewd far-sightedness. Jem -would have been in luck if he had been her son. It was a darned pity he -hadn’t been. If he had, perhaps he would not have died young.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he answered sympathetically, “it’s hard for a young fellow to -die. How old was he, anyhow? I don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“Not much older than you are now. It was seven years ago. And if he had -only died, poor dear! There are things so much worse than death.”</p> - -<p>“Worse!”</p> - -<p>“Awful disgrace is worse,” she faltered. She was plainly trying to keep -moisture out of her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Did he get into some bad mix-up, poor fellow?” If there had been -anything like that, no wonder it broke her up to think of him.</p> - -<p>It surely did break her up. She flushed emotionally.</p> - -<p>“The cruel thing was that he didn’t really do what he was accused of,” -she said.</p> - -<p>“He didn’t?”</p> - -<p>“No; but he was a ruined man, and he went away to the Klondike because -he could not stay in England. And he was killed—killed, poor boy! And -afterward it was found out that he was innocent—too late.”</p> - -<p>“Gee!” Tembarom gasped, feeling hot and cold. “Could you beat that for -rotten luck! What was he accused of?”</p> - -<p>Miss Alicia leaned forward and spoke in a whisper. It was too dreadful -to speak of aloud.</p> - -<p>“Cheating at cards—a gentleman playing with gentlemen. You know what -that means.”</p> - -<p>Tembarom grew hotter and colder. No wonder she looked that way, poor -little thing!</p> - -<p>“But,”—He hesitated before he spoke,—“but he wasn’t that kind, was -he? Of course he wasn’t.”</p> - -<p>“No, no. But, you see,”—She hesitated herself here,—“everything -looked so much against him. He had been rather wild.” She dropped her -voice even lower in making the admission.</p> - -<p>Tembarom wondered how much she meant by that.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> -<p>“He was so much in debt. He knew he was to be rich in the future, and -he was poor just in those reckless young days when it seemed unfair. -And he had played a great deal and had been very lucky. He was so -lucky that sometimes his luck seemed uncanny. Men who had played with -him were horrible about it afterward.”</p> - -<p>“They would be,” put in Tembarom. “They’d be sore about it, and bring -it up.”</p> - -<p>They both forgot their tea. Miss Alicia forgot everything as she poured -forth her story in the manner of a woman who had been forced to keep -silent and was glad to put her case into words. It was her case. To -tell the truth of this forgotten wrong was again to offer justification -of poor handsome Jem whom everybody seemed to have dropped talk of, and -even preferred not to hear mentioned.</p> - -<p>“There were such piteously cruel things about it,” she went on. “He had -fallen very much in love, and he meant to marry and settle down. Though -we had not seen each other for years, he actually wrote to me and told -me about it. His letter made me cry. He said I would understand and -care about the thing which seemed to have changed everything and made -him a new man. He was so sorry that he had not been better and more -careful. He was going to try all over again. He was not going to play -at all after this one evening when he was obliged to keep an engagement -he had made months before to give his revenge to a man he had won a -great deal of money from. The very night the awful thing happened he -had told Lady Joan, before he went into the card-room, that this was to -be his last game.”</p> - -<p>Tembarom had looked deeply interested from the first, but at her last -words a new alertness added itself.</p> - -<p>“Did you say Lady Joan?” he asked. “Who was Lady Joan?”</p> - -<p>“She was the girl he was so much in love with. Her name was Lady Joan -Fayre.”</p> - -<p>“Was she the daughter of the Countess of Mallowe?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Have you heard of her?”</p> - -<p>He recalled Ann’s reflective consideration of him before she had said, -“She’ll come after you.” He replied now: “Some one spoke of her to me -this morning. They say she’s a beauty and as proud as Lucifer.”</p> - -<p>“She was, and she is yet, I believe. Poor Lady Joan—as well as poor -Jem!”</p> - -<p>“She didn’t believe it, did she?” he put in hastily. “She didn’t throw -him down?”</p> - -<p>“No one knew what happened between them afterward. She was in the -card-room, looking on, when the awful thing took place.”</p> - -<p>She stopped, as though to go on was almost unbearable. She had been -so overwhelmed by the past shame of it that even after the passing -of years the anguish was a living thing. Her small hands clung hard -together as they rested on the edge of the table. Tembarom waited in -thrilled suspense. She spoke in a whisper again:</p> - -<p>“He won a great deal of money—a great deal. He had that uncanny luck -again, and of course people in the other rooms heard what was going on, -and a number drifted in to look on. The man he had promised to give his -revenge to almost showed signs of having to make an effort to conceal -his irritation and disappointment. Of course, as he was a gentleman, -he was as cool as possible; but just at the most exciting moment, the -height of the game, Jem made a quick movement, and—and something fell -out of his sleeve.”</p> - -<p>“Something,” gasped Tembarom, “fell out of his sleeve!”</p> - -<p>Miss Alicia’s eyes overflowed as she nodded her beribboned little cap.</p> - -<p>“It”—Her voice was a sob of woe—“it was a marked card. The man he was -playing against snatched it and held it up. And he laughed out loud.”</p> - -<p>“Holy cats!” burst from Tembarom; but the remarkable exclamation was -one of genuine horror, and he turned pale, got up from his seat, and -took two or three strides across the room, as though he could not sit -still.</p> - -<p>“Yes, he laughed—quite loudly,” repeated Miss Alicia, “as if he had -guessed it all the time. Papa heard the whole story from some one who -was present.”</p> - -<p>Tembarom came back to her rather breathless.</p> - -<p>“What in thunder did he do—Jem?” he asked.</p> - -<p>She actually wrung her poor little hands.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> -<p>“What could he do? There was a dead silence. People moved just a little -nearer to the table and stood and stared, merely waiting. They say it -was awful to see his face—awful. He sprang up and stood still, and -slowly became as white as if he were dying before their eyes. Some one -thought Lady Joan Fayre took a step toward him, but no one was quite -sure. He never uttered one word, but walked out of the room and down -the stairs and out of the house.”</p> - -<p>“But didn’t he speak to the girl?”</p> - -<p>“He didn’t even look at her. He passed her by as if she were stone.”</p> - -<p>“What happened next?”</p> - -<p>“He disappeared. No one knew where at first, and then there was a rumor -that he had gone to the Klondike and had been killed there. And a year -later—only a year! Oh, if he had only waited in England!—a worthless -villain of a valet he had discharged for stealing met with an accident, -and because he thought he was going to die, got horribly frightened, -and confessed to the clergyman that he had tucked the card in poor -Jem’s sleeve himself just to pay him off. He said he did it on the -chance that it would drop out where some one would see it, and a marked -card dropping out of a man’s sleeve anywhere would look black enough, -whether he was playing or not. But poor Jem was in his grave, and no -one seemed to care, though every one had been interested enough in the -scandal. People talked about that for weeks.”</p> - -<p>Tembarom pulled at his collar excitedly.</p> - -<p>“It makes me sort of strangle,” he said. “You’ve got to stand your own -bad luck, but to hear of a chap that’s had to lie down and take the -worst that could come to him and know it wasn’t his—just <em class="italic">know</em> it! -And die before he’s cleared! That knocks me out.”</p> - -<p>Almost every sentence he uttered had a mystical sound to Miss Alicia, -but she knew how he was taking it, with what hot, young human sympathy -and indignation. She loved the way he took it, and she loved the -feeling in his next words:</p> - -<p>“And the girl—good Lord!—the girl?”</p> - -<p>“I never met her, and I know very little of her; but she has never -married.”</p> - -<p>“I’m glad of that,” he said. “I’m darned glad of it. How could she?” -Ann wouldn’t, he knew. Ann would have gone to her grave unmarried. But -she would have done things first to clear her man’s name. Somehow she -would have cleared him, if she’d had to fight tooth and nail till she -was eighty.</p> - -<p>“They say she has grown very bitter and haughty in her manner. I’m -afraid Lady Mallowe is a very worldly woman. One hears they don’t get -on together, and that she is bitterly disappointed because her daughter -has not made a good match. It appears that she might have made several, -but she is so hard and cynical that men are afraid of her. I wish I had -known her a little—if she really loved Jem.”</p> - -<p>Tembarom had thrust his hands into his pockets, and was standing deep -in thought, looking at the huge bank of red coals in the fire-grate. -Miss Alicia hastily wiped her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Do excuse me,” she said.</p> - -<p>“I’ll excuse you all right,” he replied, still looking into the coals. -“I guess I shouldn’t excuse you as much if you didn’t.” He let her cry -in her gentle way while he stared, lost in reflection.</p> - -<p>“And if he hadn’t fired that valet chap, he would be here with you -now—instead of me. Instead of me,” he repeated.</p> - -<p>And Miss Alicia did not know what to say in reply. There seemed to be -nothing which, with propriety and natural feeling, one could say.</p> - -<p class="mtop2">“I<span class="smaller">T</span> makes me feel just fine to know I’m not going to have my dinner all -by myself,” he said to her before she left the library.</p> - -<p>She had a way of blushing about things he noticed, when she was shy or -moved or didn’t know exactly what to say. Though she must have been -sixty, she did it as though she were sixteen. And she did it when -he said this, and looked as though suddenly she was in some sort of -trouble.</p> - -<p>“You are going to have dinner with me,” he said, seeing that she -hesitated—“dinner and breakfast and lunch and tea and supper and every -old thing that goes. You can’t turn me down after me staking out that -claim.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid—” she said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> “You see, I have lived such a secluded life. -I scarcely ever left my rooms except to take a walk. I’m sure you -understand. It would not have been necessary even if I could have -afforded it, which I really couldn’t—I’m afraid I have nothing—quite -<em class="italic">suitable</em>—for evening wear.”</p> - -<p>“You haven’t!” he exclaimed gleefully. “I don’t know what is suitable -for evening wear, but I haven’t got it either. Pearson told me so with -tears in his eyes. It never was necessary for me either. I’ve got to -get some things to quiet Pearson down, but until I do I’ve got to eat -my dinner in a tweed cutaway; and what I’ve caught on to is that it’s -unsuitable enough to throw a man into jail. That little black dress -you’ve got on and that little cap are just ’way out of sight, they’re -so becoming. Come down just like you are.”</p> - -<p>She felt a little as Pearson had felt when confronting his new -employer’s entire cheerfulness in face of a situation as exotically -hopeless as the tweed cutaway, and nothing else by way of resource. -But there was something so nice about him, something which was almost -as though he was actually a gentleman, something which absolutely, if -one could go so far, stood in the place of his being a gentleman. It -was impossible to help liking him more and more at every queer speech -he made. Still, there were of course things he did not realize, and -perhaps one ought in kindness to give him a delicate hint.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid,” she began quite apologetically. “I’m afraid that the -servants, Burrill and the footmen, you know, will be—will think—”</p> - -<p>“Say,” he took her up, “let’s give Burrill and the footmen the Willies -out and out. If they can’t stand it, they can write home to their -mothers and tell ’em they’ve got to take ’em away. Burrill and the -footmen needn’t worry. They’re suitable enough, and it’s none of their -funeral, anyhow.”</p> - -<p>He wasn’t upset in the least. Miss Alicia, who, as a timid dependent -either upon “poor dear papa” or Mr. Temple Barholm, had been secretly, -in her sensitive, ladylike little way, afraid of superior servants -all her life, knowing that they realized her utterly insignificant -helplessness, and resented giving her attention because she was -not able to show her appreciation of their services in the proper -manner—Miss Alicia saw that it had not occurred to him to endeavor -to propitiate them in the least, because somehow it all seemed a joke -to him, and he didn’t care. After the first moment of being startled, -she regarded him with a novel feeling, almost a kind of admiration. -Tentatively she dared to wonder if there was not something even -rather—rather <em class="italic">aristocratic</em> in his utter indifference.</p> - -<p>If he had been a duke, he would not have regarded the servants’ point -of view; it wouldn’t have mattered what they thought. Perhaps, she -hastily decided, he was like this because, though he was not a duke, -and boot-blacking in New York notwithstanding, he was a Temple Barholm. -There were few dukes as old of blood as a Temple Barholm. That must be -it. She was relieved.</p> - -<p>Whatsoever lay at the root of his being what he was and as he was, -he somehow changed the aspect of things for her, and without doing -anything but be himself, cleared the atmosphere of her dread of the -surprise and mental reservations of the footmen and Burrill when she -came down to dinner in her high-necked, much-cleaned, and much-repaired -black silk, and with no more distinguishing change in her toilet than a -white lace cap instead of a black one, and with “poor dear mama’s” hair -bracelet with the gold clasp on her wrist, and a weeping-willow made of -“poor dear papa’s” hair in a brooch at her collar.</p> - -<p>It was so curious, though still “nice,” but he did not offer her his -arm when they were going into the dining-room, and he took hold of hers -with his hand and affectionately half led, half pushed, her along with -him as they went. And he himself drew back her chair for her at the end -of the table opposite his own. He did not let a footman do it, and he -stood behind it, talking in his cheerful way all the time, and he moved -it to exactly the right place, and then actually bent down and looked -under the table.</p> - -<p>“Here,” he said to the nearest man-servant, “where’s there a footstool? -Get one, please,” in that odd, simple, almost aristocratic way. It was -not a rude or dictatorial way, but a casual way, as though he knew the -man was there to do things, and he didn’t expect any time to be wasted.</p> - -<p>And it was he himself who arranged the footstool, making it comfortable -for her, and then he went to his own chair at the head of the table -and sat down, smiling at her joyfully across the glass and silver and -flowers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Push that thing in the middle on one side, Burrill,” he said. “It’s -too high. I can’t see Miss Alicia.”</p> - -<p>Burrill found it difficult to believe the evidence of his hearing.</p> - -<p>“The epergne, sir?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“Is that what it’s called, an apern? That’s a new one on me. Yes, -that’s what I mean. Push the apern over.”</p> - -<p>“Shall I remove it from the table, sir?” Burrill steeled himself to -exact civility. Of what use to behave otherwise? There always remained -the liberty to give notice if the worst came to the worst, though what -the worst might eventually prove to be it required a lurid imagination -to depict. The epergne was a beautiful thing of crystal and gold, a -celebrated work of art, regarded as an exquisite possession. It was -almost remarkable that Mr. Temple Barholm had not said, “Shove it on -one side,” but Burrill had been spared the poignant indignity of being -required to “shove.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, suppose you do. It’s a fine enough thing when it isn’t in the -way, but I’ve got to see you while I talk, Miss Alicia,” said Mr. -Temple Barholm. The episode of the epergne—Burrill’s expression, and -the rigidly restrained mouths of Henry and James as the decoration was -removed, leaving a painfully blank space of table-cloth until Burrill -silently filled it with flowers in a low bowl—these things temporarily -flurried Miss Alicia somewhat, but the pleased smile at the head of the -table calmed even that trying moment.</p> - -<p>Then what a delightful meal it was, to be sure! How entertaining and -cheerful and full of interesting conversation! Miss Alicia had always -admired what she reverently termed “conversation.” She had read of the -houses of brilliant people where they had it at table, at dinner and -supper parties, and in drawing-rooms. The French, especially the French -ladies, were brilliant conversationalists. They held “salons” in which -the conversation was wonderful—Mme. de Staël and Mme. Roland, for -instance; and in England, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, Sydney Smith, and -Horace Walpole, and surely Miss Fanny Burney, and no doubt L. E. L., -whose real name was Miss Letitia Elizabeth Landon—what conversation -they must have delighted their friends with and how instructive it -must have been even to sit in the most obscure corner and listen!</p> - -<p>Such gifted persons seemed to have been chosen by Providence to delight -and inspire every one privileged to hear them. Such privileges had -been omitted from the scheme of Miss Alicia’s existence. She did not -know, she would have felt it sacrilegious to admit it even if the -fact had dawned upon her, that “dear papa” had been a heartlessly -arrogant, utterly selfish, and tyrannical old blackguard of the most -pronounced type. He had been of an absolute morality as far as social -laws were concerned. He had written and delivered a denunciatory sermon -a week, and had made unbearable by his ministrations the suffering -hours and the last moments of his parishioners during the long years -of his pastorate. When Miss Alicia, in reading records of the helpful -relationship of the male progenitors of the Brontes, Jane Austen, Fanny -Burney, and Mrs. Browning, was frequently reminded of him, she revealed -a perception of which she was not aware. He had combined the virile -qualities of all of them. Consequently, brilliancy of conversation at -table had not been the attractive habit of the household; “poor dear -papa” had confined himself to scathing criticisms of the incompetence -of females who could not teach their menials to “cook a dinner which -was not a disgrace to any decent household.” When not virulently -aspersing the mutton, he was expressing his opinion of muddle-headed -weakness which would permit household bills to mount in a manner which -could only bring ruin and disaster upon a minister of the gospel -who throughout a protracted career of usefulness had sapped his -intellectual manhood in the useless effort to support in silly idleness -a family of brainless and maddening fools. Miss Alicia had heard her -character, her unsuccessful physical appearance, her mind, and her -pitiful efforts at table-talk, described in detail with a choice of -adjective and adverb which had broken into terrified fragments every -atom of courage and will with which she had been sparsely dowered.</p> - -<p>So, not having herself been gifted with conversational powers to -begin with, and never having enjoyed the exhibition of such powers in -others, her ideals had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> high. She was not sure that Mr. Temple -Barholm’s fluent and cheerful talk could be with exactness termed -“conversation.” It was perhaps not sufficiently lofty and intellectual, -and did not confine itself rigorously to one exalted subject. But how -it did raise one’s spirits and open up curious vistas! And how good -tempered and humorous it was, even though sometimes the humor was a -little bewildering! During the whole dinner there never occurred even -one of those dreadful pauses in which dead silence fell, and one tried, -like a frightened hen flying from side to side of a coop, to think of -something to say which would not sound silly, but perhaps might divert -attention from dangerous topics. She had often thought it would be so -interesting to hear a Spaniard or a native Hindu talk about himself -and his own country in English. Tembarom talked about New York and its -people and atmosphere, and he did not know how foreign it all was. He -described the streets—Fifth Avenue and Broadway and Sixth Avenue—and -the street-cars and the elevated railroad, and the way “fellows” had -to “hustle” “to put it over.” He spoke of a boarding-house kept by a -certain Mrs. Bowse, and a presidential campaign, and the election of -a mayor, and a quick-lunch counter, and when President Garfield had -been assassinated, and a department store, and the electric lights, and -the way he had of making a sort of picture of everything was really -instructive and, well, fascinating. She felt as though she had been -taken about the city in one of the vehicles the conductor of which -described things through a megaphone.</p> - -<p>Not that Mr. Temple Barholm suggested a megaphone, whatsoever that -might be, but he merely made you feel as if you had seen things. -Never had she been so entertained and enlightened. If she had been a -beautiful girl, he could not have seemed more as though in amusing her -he was also really pleasing himself. He was so very funny sometimes -that she could not help laughing in a way which was almost unladylike, -because she could not stop, and was obliged to put her handkerchief up -to her face and wipe away actual tears of mirth.</p> - -<p>Fancy laughing until you cried, and the servants looking on!</p> - -<p>Though once Burrill himself was obliged to turn hastily away, and -twice she heard him severely reprove an overpowered young footman in a -rapid undertone.</p> - -<p>Tembarom at least felt that the unlifting heaviness of atmosphere which -had surrounded him while enjoying the companionship of Mr. Palford was -a thing of the past.</p> - -<p>The thrilled interest, the surprise and delight, of Miss Alicia would -have stimulated a man in a comatose condition, it seemed to him.</p> - -<p>The little thing just loved every bit of it—she just “eat it up.” She -asked question after question, sometimes questions which would have -made him shout with laughter if he had not been afraid of hurting her -feelings. She knew as little of New York as he knew of Temple Barholm, -and was, it made him grin to see, allured by it as by some illicit -fascination.</p> - -<p>She did not know what to make of it, and sometimes she was obliged -hastily to conceal a fear that it was a sort of Sodom and Gomorrah; but -she wanted to hear more about it, and still more.</p> - -<p>And she brightened up until she actually did not look frightened, and -ate her dinner with an excellent appetite.</p> - -<p>“I really never enjoyed a dinner so much in my life,” she said when -they went into the drawing-room to have their coffee. “It was the -conversation which made it so delightful. Conversation is such a -stimulating thing!”</p> - -<p>She had almost decided that it was “conversation,” or at least a -wonderful substitute.</p> - -<p>When she said good night to him and went beaming to bed, looking -forward immensely to breakfast next morning, he watched her go up the -staircase, feeling wonderfully normal and happy.</p> - -<p>“Some of these nights, when she’s used to me,” he said as he stuffed -tobacco into his last pipe in the library—“some of these nights I’m -darned if I sha’n’t catch hold of the sweet, little old thing and hug -her in spite of myself. I sha’n’t be able to help it.” He lit his pipe, -and puffed it even excitedly. “Lord!” he said, “there’s some blame’ -fool going about the world right now that might have married her. And -he’ll never know what a break he made when he didn’t.”</p> - -<hr class="subchap" /> - -<div class="section"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0139" name="i_0139"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0139.jpg" - alt="Headpiece for “T. Tembarom”, Chapter XVI" /></a> -</div> - -</div> - -<h3 id="T_TEMBAROM_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</h3> - -<div class="dc"> - <a id="i_0139_dc" name="i_0139_dc"> - <img class="mtop-2" src="images/i_0139_dc.jpg" alt="A" /></a> -</div> - -<p class="p0"><span class="hide-first2">A</span> FUGITIVE fine day which had strayed into the month from the -approaching spring appeared the next morning, and Miss Alicia was -uplifted by the enrapturing suggestion that she should join her new -relative in taking a walk, in fact that it should be she who took him -to walk and showed him some of his possessions. This, it had revealed -itself to him, she could do in a special way of her own, because -during her life at Temple Barholm she had felt it her duty to “try to -do a little good” among the villagers. She and her long-dead mother -and sister had of course been working adjuncts of the vicarage, and -had numerous somewhat trying tasks to perform in the way of improving -upon “dear papa’s” harrying them into attending church, chivying, -the mothers into sending their children to Sunday-school, and being -unsparing in severity of any conduct which might be construed into -implying lack of appreciation of the vicar or respect for his eloquence.</p> - -<p>It had been necessary for them as members of the vicar’s -family—always, of course, without adding a sixpence to the household -bills—to supply bowls of nourishing broth and arrowroot to invalids -and to bestow the aid and encouragement which result in a man of God’s -being regarded with affection and gratitude by his parishioners. Many -a man’s career in the church, “dear papa” had frequently observed, -had been ruined by lack of intelligence and effort on the part of the -female members of his family.</p> - -<p>“No man could achieve proper results,” he had said, “if he was hampered -by the selfish influence and foolishness of his womenkind. Success in -the church depends in one sense very much upon the conduct of a man’s -female relatives.”</p> - -<p>After the deaths of her mother and sister, Miss Alicia had toiled on -patiently, fading day by day from a slim, plain, sweet-faced girl -to a slim, even plainer and sweeter-faced middle-aged and at last -elderly woman. She had by that time read aloud by bedsides a great -many chapters in the Bible, had given a good many tracts, and bestowed -as much arrowroot, barley-water, and beef-tea as she could possibly -encompass without domestic disaster. She had given a large amount of -conscientious, if not too intelligent, advice, and had never failed -to preside over her Sunday-school class or at mothers’ meetings. But -her timid unimpressiveness had not aroused enthusiasm or awakened -comprehension. “Miss Alicia,” the cottage women said, “she’s well -meanin’, but she’s not one with a head.” “She reminds me,” one of them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> -had summed her up, “of a hen that lays a’ egg every day, but it’s too -small for a meal, and it ’u’d never hatch into anythin’.”</p> - -<p>During her stay at Temple Barholm she had tentatively tried to do a -little “parish work,” but she had had nothing to give, and she was -always afraid that if Mr. Temple Barholm found her out, he would be -angry, because he would think she was presuming. She was aware that -the villagers knew that she was an object of charity herself, and a -person who was “a lady” and yet an object of charity was, so to speak, -poaching upon their own legitimate preserves. The rector and his wife -were rather grand people, and condescended to her greatly on the few -occasions of their accidental meetings. She was neither smart nor -influential enough to be considered as an asset.</p> - -<p>It was she who “conversed” during their walk, and while she trotted -by Tembarom’s side, looking more early-Victorian than ever in a neat, -fringed mantle and a small black bonnet of a fashion long decently -interred by a changing world, Tembarom had never seen anything -resembling it in New York; but he liked it and her increasingly at -every moment.</p> - -<p>It was he who made her converse. He led her on by asking her questions -and being greatly interested in every response she made. In fact, -though he was quite unaware of the situation, she was creating for him -such an atmosphere as he might have found in a book, if he had had the -habit of books. Everything she told him was new and quaint and very -often rather touching. She remembered things about herself and her poor -little past without knowing she was doing it. Before they had talked an -hour he had an astonishing clear idea of “poor dear papa” and “dearest -Emily” and “poor darling mama” and existence at Rowcroft Vicarage. He -“caught on to” the fact that though she was very much given to the word -“dear,”—people were “dear,” and so were things and places,—she never -even by chance slipped into saying “dear Rowcroft,” which she would -certainly have done if she had ever spent a happy moment in it. As she -talked to him he realized that her simple accustomedness to English -village life and its accompaniments of county surroundings would teach -him anything and everything he might want to know. Her obscurity had -been surrounded by stately magnificence, with which she had become -familiar without touching the merest outskirts of its privileges. She -knew names and customs and families and things to be cultivated or -avoided, and though she would be a little startled and much mystified -by his total ignorance of all she had breathed in since her birth, he -felt sure that she would not regard him either with private contempt or -with a lessened liking because he was a vandal pure and simple.</p> - -<p>And she had such a nice, little, old polite way of saying things. When, -in passing a group of children, he failed to understand that their -hasty bobbing up and down meant that they were doing obeisance to him -as lord of the manor, she spoke with the prettiest apologetic courtesy.</p> - -<p>“I’m sure you won’t mind touching your hat when they make their little -curtsies, or when a villager touches his forehead,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Good Lord! no,” he said, starting. “Ought I? I didn’t know they -were doing it at me.” And he turned round and made a handsome bow -and grinned almost affectionately at the small, amazed party, -first puzzling, and then delighting, them, because he looked so -extraordinarily friendly. A gentleman who laughed at you like that -ought to be equal to a miscellaneous distribution of pennies in the -future, if not on the spot. They themselves grinned and chuckled and -nudged one another, with stares and giggles.</p> - -<p>“I am sorry to say that in a great many places the villagers are not -nearly so respectful as they used to be,” Miss Alicia explained. “In -Rowcroft the children were very remiss about curtseying. It’s quite -sad. But Mr. Temple Barholm was very strict indeed in the matter of -demanding proper respectfulness. He has turned men off their farms for -incivility. The villagers of Temple Barholm have much better manners -than some even a few miles away.”</p> - -<p>“Must I tip my hat to all of them?” he asked.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> -<p>“If you please. It really seems kinder. You—you needn’t quite lift it, -as you did to the children just now. If you just touch the brim lightly -with your hand in a sort of military salute—that is what they are -accustomed to.”</p> - -<p>After they had passed through the village street she paused at the end -of a short lane and looked up at him doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“Would you—I wonder if you would like to go into a cottage,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Go into a cottage?” he asked. “What cottage? What for?”</p> - -<p>He had not the remotest idea of any reason why he should go into a -cottage inhabited by people who were entire strangers to him, and Miss -Alicia felt a trifle awkward at having to explain anything so wholly -natural.</p> - -<p>“You see, they are your cottages, and the people are your tenants, -and—”</p> - -<p>“But perhaps they mightn’t like it. It might make ’em mad,” he argued. -“If their water-pipes had busted, and they’d asked me to come and look -at them or anything; but they don’t know me yet. They might think I was -Mr. Buttinski.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t quite—” she began. “Buttinski is a foreign name; it sounds -Russian or Polish. I’m afraid I don’t quite understand why they should -mistake you for him.”</p> - -<p>Then he laughed—a boyish shout of laughter which brought a cottager -to the nearest window to peep over the pots of fuchsias and geraniums -blooming profusely against the diamond panes.</p> - -<p>“Say,” he apologized, “don’t be mad because I laughed. I’m laughing at -myself as much as at anything. It’s a way of saying that they might -think I was ‘butting in’ too much—pushing in where I wasn’t asked. -See? I said they might think I was Mr. Butt-in-ski! It’s just a bit of -fool slang. You’re not mad, are you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!” she said. “Dear me! no. It is very funny, of course. I’m -afraid I’m extremely ignorant about—about foreign humor.” It seemed -more delicate to say “foreign” than merely “American.” But her gentle -little countenance for a few seconds wore a baffled expression, and she -said softly to herself, “Mr. Buttinski, Butt-in—to intrude. It sounds -quite Polish; I think even more Polish than Russian.”</p> - -<p>He was afraid he would yell with glee, but he did not. Herculean effort -enabled him to restrain his feelings, and present to her only an -ordinary-sized smile.</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t know one from the other,” he said; “but if you say it -sounds more Polish, I bet it does.”</p> - -<p>“Would you like to go into a cottage?” she inquired. “I think it might -be as well. They will like the attention.”</p> - -<p>“Will they? Of course I’ll go if you think that. What shall I say?” he -asked somewhat anxiously.</p> - -<p>“If you think the cottage looks clean, you might tell them so, and ask -a few questions about things. And you must be sure to inquire about -Susan Hibblethwaite’s legs.”</p> - -<p>“What?” ejaculated Tembarom.</p> - -<p>“Susan Hibblethwaite’s legs,” she replied in mild explanation. “Susan -is Mrs. Hibblethwaite’s unmarried sister, and she has very bad legs. -It is a thing one notices continually among village people, more -especially the women, that they complain of what they call ‘bad -legs.’ I never quite know what they mean, whether it is rheumatism or -something different, but the trouble is always spoken of as ‘bad legs.’ -And they like you to inquire about them, so that they can tell you -their symptoms.”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t they get them cured?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, I’m sure. They take a good deal of medicine when they -can afford it. I think they like to take it. They’re very pleased -when the doctor gives them ‘a bottle o’ summat,’ as they call it. Oh, -I mustn’t forget to tell you that most of them speak rather broad -Lancashire.”</p> - -<p>“Shall I understand them?” Tembarom asked, anxious again. “Is it a sort -of Dago talk?”</p> - -<p>“It is the English the working-classes speak in Lancashire. ‘Summat’ -means ‘something.’ ‘Whoam’ means ‘home.’ But I should think you would -be very clever at understanding things.”</p> - -<p>“I’m scared stiff,” said Tembarom, not in the least uncourageously; -“but I want to go into a cottage and hear some of it. Which one shall -we go into?”</p> - -<p>There were several whitewashed cottages in the lane, each in its own -bit of garden and behind its own hawthorn hedge, now bare and wholly -unsuggestive of white blossoms and almond scent to the uninitiated. -Miss Alicia hesitated a moment.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> -<p>“We will go into this one, where the Hibblethwaites live,” she -decided. “They are quite clean, civil people. They have a naughty, -queer, little crippled boy, but I suppose they can’t keep him in order -because he is an invalid. He’s rather rude, I’m sorry to say, but he’s -rather sharp and clever, too. He seems to lie on his sofa and collect -all the gossip of the village.”</p> - -<p>They went together up the bricked path, and Miss Alicia knocked at -the low door with her knuckles. A stout, apple-faced woman opened it, -looking a shade nervous.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Mrs. Hibblethwaite,” said Miss Alicia in a kind but -remote manner. “The new Mr. Temple Barholm has been kind enough to come -to see you. It’s very good of him to come so soon, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“It is that,” Mrs. Hibblethwaite answered rapidly, looking him over. -“Wilt tha coom in, sir?”</p> - -<p>Tembarom accepted the invitation, feeling extremely awkward because -Miss Alicia’s initiatory comment upon his goodness in showing -himself had “rattled” him. It had made him feel that he must appear -condescending, and he had never condescended to any one in the whole -course of his existence. He had, indeed, not even been condescended to. -He had met with slanging and bullying, indifference and brutality of -manner, but he had not met with condescension.</p> - -<p>“I hope you’re well, Mrs. Hibblethwaite,” he answered. “You look it.”</p> - -<p>“I deceive ma looks a good bit, sir,” she answered. “Mony a day ma legs -is nigh as bad as Susan’s.”</p> - -<p>“Tha ’rt jealous o’ Susan’s legs,” barked out a sharp voice from a -corner by the fire.</p> - -<p>The room had a flagged floor, clean with recent scrubbing with -sandstone; the whitewashed walls were decorated with pictures cut -from illustrated papers; there was a big fireplace, and by it was a -hard-looking sofa covered with blue-and-white checked cotton stuff. A -boy of about ten was lying on it, propped up with a pillow. He had a -big head and a keen, ferret-eyed face, and just now was looking round -the end of his sofa at the visitors.</p> - -<p>“Howd tha tongue, Tummas!” said his mother.</p> - -<p>“I wun not howd it,” Tummas answered. “Ma tongue’s the on’y thing -about me as works right, an’ I’m noan goin’ to stop it.”</p> - -<p>“He’s a young nowt,” his mother explained; “but he’s a cripple, an’ we -conna do owt wi’ him.”</p> - -<p>“Do not be rude, Thomas,” said Miss Alicia, with dignity.</p> - -<p>“Dun not be rude thysen,” replied Tummas. “I’m noan o’ thy lad.”</p> - -<p>Tembarom walked over to the sofa.</p> - -<p>“Say,” he began with jocular intent, “you’ve got a grouch on, ain’t -you?”</p> - -<p>Tummas turned on him eyes which bored. An analytical observer or a -painter might have seen that he had a burning curiousness of look, a -sort of investigatory fever of expression.</p> - -<p>“I dun not know what tha means,” he said. “Happen tha ’rt talkin’ -’Merican?”</p> - -<p>“That’s just what it is,” admitted Tembarom. “What are you talking?”</p> - -<p>“Lancashire,” said Tummas. “Theer’s some sense i’ that.”</p> - -<p>Tembarom sat down near him. The boy turned over against his pillow and -put his chin in the hollow of his palm and stared.</p> - -<p>“I’ve wanted to see thee,” he remarked. “I’ve made mother an’ Aunt -Susan an’ feyther tell me every bit they’ve heared about thee in the -village. Theer was a lot of it. Tha coom fro’ ’Meriker?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.” Tembarom began vaguely to feel the demand in the burning -curiosity.</p> - -<p>“Gi’ me that theer book,” the boy said, pointing to a small table -heaped with a miscellaneous jumble of things and standing not far from -him. “It’s a’ atlas,” he added as Tembarom gave it to him. “Yo’ con -find places in it.” He turned the leaves until he found a map of the -world. “Theer’s ’Meriker,” he said, pointing to the United States. -“That theer’s north and that theer’s south. All the real ’Merikens -comes from the North, wheer New York is.”</p> - -<p>“I come from New York,” said Tembarom.</p> - -<p>“Tha wert born i’ the workhouse, tha run about the streets i’ rags, tha -pretty nigh clemmed to death, tha blacked boots, tha sold newspapers, -tha feyther was a common workin’-mon—and now tha’s coom into Temple -Barholm an’ sixty thousand a year.”</p> - -<p>“The last part’s true all right,” Tem<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>barom owned, “but there’s some -mistakes in the first part. I wasn’t born in the workhouse, and though -I’ve been hungry enough, I never starved to death—if that’s what -‘clemmed’ means.”</p> - -<p>Tummas looked at once disappointed and somewhat incredulous.</p> - -<p>“That’s the road they tell it i’ the village,” he argued.</p> - -<p>“Well, let them tell it that way if they like it best. That’s not going -to worry me,” Tembarom replied uncombatively. Tummas’s eyes bored -deeper into him.</p> - -<p>“Does na tha care?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“What should I care for? Let every fellow enjoy himself his own way.”</p> - -<p>“Tha ’rt not a bit like one o’ the gentry,” said Tummas. “Tha ’rt quite -a common chap. Tha ’rt as common as me, for aw tha foine clothes.”</p> - -<p>“People are common enough, anyhow,” said Tembarom. “There’s nothing -much commoner, is there? There’s millions of ’em everywhere—billions -of ’em. None of us need put on airs.”</p> - -<p>“Tha ’rt as common as me,” said Tummas, reflectively. “An’ yet tha -owns Temple Barholm an’ aw that brass. I conna mak’ out how the loike -happens.”</p> - -<p>“Neither can I; but it does all samee.”</p> - -<p>“It does na happen i’ ’Meriker,” exulted Tummas. “Everybody’s equal -theer.”</p> - -<p>“Rats!” ejaculated Tembarom. “What about multimillionaires?”</p> - -<p>He forgot that the age of Tummas was ten. It was impossible not to -forget it. He was, in fact, ten hundred, if those of his generation had -been aware of the truth. But there he sat, having spent only a decade -of his most recent incarnation in a whitewashed cottage, deprived of -the use of his legs.</p> - -<p>Miss Alicia, seeing that Tembarom was interested in the boy, entered -into domestic conversation with Mrs. Hibblethwaite at the other side -of the room. Mrs. Hibblethwaite was soon explaining the uncertainty of -Susan’s temper on wash-days, when it was necessary to depend on her -legs.</p> - -<p>“Can’t you walk at all?” Tembarom asked. Tummas shook his head. “How -long have you been lame?”</p> - -<p>“Ever since I weer born. It’s summat like rickets. I’ve been lyin’ -here aw my days. I look on at foak an’ think ’em over. I’ve got to do -summat. That’s why I loike the atlas. Little Ann Hutchinson gave it to -me onct when she come to see her grandmother.”</p> - -<p>Tembarom sat upright.</p> - -<p>“Do you know her?” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“I know her best o’ onybody in the world. An I loike her best.”</p> - -<p>“So do I,” rashly admitted Tembarom.</p> - -<p>“Tha does?” Tummas asked suspiciously. “Does she loike thee?”</p> - -<p>“She says she does.” He tried to say it with proper modesty.</p> - -<p>“Well, if she says she does, she does. An’ if she does, then you -an’ me’ll be friends.” He stopped a moment, and seemed to be taking -Tembarom in with thoroughness. “I could get a lot out o’ thee,” he said -after the inspection.</p> - -<p>“A lot of what?” Tembarom felt as though he would really like to hear.</p> - -<p>“A lot o’ things I want to know about. I wish I’d lived the life tha’s -lived, clemmin’ or no clemmin’. Tha’s seen things goin’ on every day o’ -thy loife.”</p> - -<p>“Well, there’s been plenty going on,” Tembarom admitted.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been lying here for ten year’,” said Tummas, savagely. “An’ I’ve -had nowt i’ the world to do an’ nowt to think on but what I could mak’ -foak tell me about the village. But nowt happens but this chap gettin’ -drunk an’ that chap deein’ or losin’ his place, or wenches gettin’ -married or havin’ childer. I know everything that happens, but it’s -nowt but a lot o’ women clackin’. If I’d not been a cripple, I’d ha’ -been at work for mony a year by now, ’arnin’ money to save by an’ go to -’Meriker.”</p> - -<p>“You seem to be sort of stuck on America. How’s that?”</p> - -<p>“What dost mean?”</p> - -<p>“I mean you seem to like it.”</p> - -<p>“I dun not loike it nor yet not loike it, but I’ve heard a bit more -about it than I have about the other places on the map. Foak goes there -to seek their fortune, an’ it seems loike there’s a good bit doin’.”</p> - -<p>“Do you like to read newspapers?” said Tembarom, inspired to his query -by a recollection of the vision of things “doin’” in the Sunday “Earth.”</p> - -<p>“Wheer’d I get papers from?” the boy asked testily. “Foak like us -hasn’t got the brass for ’em.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> -<p>“I’ll bring you some New York papers,” promised Tembarom, grinning a -little in anticipation. “And we’ll talk about the news that’s in them. -The Sunday ‘Earth’ is full of pictures. I used to work on that paper -myself.”</p> - -<p>“Tha did?” he cried excitedly. “Did tha help to print it, or was it the -one tha sold i’ the streets?”</p> - -<p>“I wrote some of the stuff in it.”</p> - -<p>“Wrote some of the stuff in it? Wrote it thaself? How could tha, a -common chap like thee?” he asked, more excited still, his ferret eyes -snapping.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know how I did it,” Tembarom answered, with increased cheer -and interest in the situation. “It wasn’t high-brow sort of work.”</p> - -<p>Tummas leaned forward in his incredulous eagerness.</p> - -<p>“Does tha mean that they paid thee for writin’ it—paid thee?”</p> - -<p>“I guess they wouldn’t have done it if they’d been Lancashire,” -Tembarom answered. “But they hadn’t much more sense than I had. They -paid me twenty-five dollars a week—that’s five pounds.”</p> - -<p>“I dun not believe thee,” said Tummas, and leaned back on his pillow -short of breath.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t believe it myself till I’d paid my board two weeks and bought -a suit of clothes with it,” was Tembarom’s answer, and he chuckled as -he made it.</p> - -<p>But Tummas did believe it. This, after he had recovered from the shock, -became evident. The curiosity in his face intensified itself; his -eagerness was even vaguely tinged with something remotely resembling -respect. It was not, however, respect for the money which had been -earned, but for the store of things “doin’” which must have been -acquired. It was impossible that this chap knew things undreamed of.</p> - -<p>“Has tha ever been to the Klondike?” he asked after a long pause.</p> - -<p>“No. I’ve never been out of New York.”</p> - -<p>Tummas seemed fretted and depressed.</p> - -<p>“Eh, I’m sorry for that. I wished tha’d been to the Klondike. I want to -be towd about it,” he sighed. He pulled the atlas toward him and found -a place in it.</p> - -<p>“That theer’s Dawson,” he announced. Tembarom saw that the region of -the Klondike had been much studied. It was even rather faded with the -frequent passage of searching fingers, as though it had been pored -over with special curiosity.</p> - -<p>“There’s gowd-moines theer,” revealed Tummas. “An’ theer’s welly nowt -else but snow an’ ice. A young chap as set out fro’ here to get theer -froze to death on the way.”</p> - -<p>“How did you get to hear about it?”</p> - -<p>“Ann she browt me a paper onct.” He dug under his pillow, and brought -out a piece of newspaper, worn and frayed and cut with age and usage. -“This heer’s what’s left of it.” Tembarom saw that it was a fragment -from an old American sheet and that a column was headed “The Rush for -the Klondike.”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t tha go theer?” demanded Tummas. He looked up from his -fragment and asked his question with a sudden reflectiveness, as though -a new and interesting aspect of things had presented itself to him.</p> - -<p>“I had too much to do in New York,” said Tembarom.</p> - -<p>Tummas silently regarded him a moment or so.</p> - -<p>“It’s a pity tha didn’t,” he said. “Happen tha’d never ha’ coom back.”</p> - -<p>Tembarom laughed the outright laugh.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” he answered.</p> - -<p>Tummas was still thinking the matter over and was not disturbed.</p> - -<p>“I was na thinkin’ o’ thee,” he said in an impersonal tone. “I was -thinkin’ o’ t’other chap. If tha’d gone i’stead o’ him, he’d ha’ been -here i’stead o’ thee. Eh, but it’s funny.” And he drew a deep breath -like a sigh having its birth in profundity of baffled thought.</p> - -<p>Both he and his evident point of view were “funny” in the Lancashire -sense, which does not imply humor, but strangeness and the -unexplainable. Singular as the phrasing was, Tembarom knew what he -meant, and that he was thinking of the oddity of chance. Tummas had -obviously heard of “poor Jem” and had felt an interest in him.</p> - -<p>“You’re talking about Jem Temple Barholm I guess,” he said. Perhaps -the interest he himself had felt in the tragic story gave his voice -a tone somewhat responsive to Tummas’s own mood, for Tummas, after -one more boring glance, let himself go. His interest in this special -subject was, it revealed itself, a sort of obsession. The history of -Jem Temple<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> Barholm had been the one drama of his short life.</p> - -<p>“Aye, I was thinkin’ o’ him,” he said. “I should na ha’ cared for the -Klondike so much but for him.”</p> - -<p>“But he went away from England when you were a baby.”</p> - -<p>“The last toime he coom to Temple Barholm wur when I wur just born. -Foak said he coom to ax owd Temple Barholm if he’d help him to pay his -debts, an’ the owd chap awmost kicked him out o’ doors. Mother had just -had me, an’ she was weak an’ poorly an’ sittin’ at the door wi’ me in -her arms, an’ he passed by an’ saw her. He stopped an’ axed her how she -was doin’. An when he was goin’ away, he gave her a gold sovereign, an’ -he says, ‘Put it in the savin’s-bank for him, an’ keep it theer till -he’s a big lad an’ wants it.’ It’s been in the savin’s-bank ever sin’. -I’ve got a whole pound o’ ma own out at interest. There’s not many lads -ha’ got that.”</p> - -<p>“He must have been a good-natured fellow,” commented Tembarom. “It was -darned bad luck him going to the Klondike.”</p> - -<p>“It was good luck for thee,” said Tummas, with resentment.</p> - -<p>“Was it?” was Tembarom’s unbiased reply. “Well, I guess it was, one way -or the other. I’m not kicking, anyhow.”</p> - -<p>Tummas naturally did not know half he meant. He went on talking about -Jem Temple Barholm, and as he talked his cheeks flushed and his eyes -lighted.</p> - -<p>“I would na spend that sovereign if I was starvin’. I’m going to leave -it to Ann Hutchinson in ma will when I dee. I’ve axed questions about -him reet and left ever sin’ I can remember, but theer’s nobody knows -much. Mother says he was fine an’ handsome, an’ gentry through an’ -through. If he’d coom into the property, he’d ha’ coom to see me again. -I’ll lay a shillin’, because I’m a cripple an’ I cannot spend his -sovereign. If he’d coom back from the Klondike, happen he’d ha’ towd -me about it.” He pulled the atlas toward him, and laid his thin finger -on the rubbed spot. “He mun ha’ been killed somewheer about here,” he -sighed. “Somewheer here. Eh, it’s funny.”</p> - -<p>Tembarom watched him. There was something that rather gave you the -“Willies” in the way this little cripple seemed to have taken to the -dead man and worried along all these years thinking him over and asking -questions and studying up the Klondike because he was killed there. It -was because he’d made a kind of story of it. He’d enjoyed it in the -way people enjoy stories in a newspaper. You always had to give ’em a -kind of story; you had to make a story even if you were telling about -a milk-wagon running away. In newspaper offices you heard that was the -secret of making good with what you wrote. Dish it up as if it was a -sort of story.</p> - -<p>He not infrequently arrived at astute enough conclusions concerning -things. He had arrived at one now. Shut out even from the tame drama -of village life, Tummas, born with an abnormal desire for action and -a feverish curiosity, had hungered and thirsted for the story in any -form whatsoever. He caught at fragments of happenings, and colored and -dissected them for the satisfying of unfed cravings. The vanished man -had been the one touch of pictorial form and color in his ten years of -existence. Young and handsome and of the gentry, unfavored by the owner -of the wealth which some day would be his own possession, stopping -“gentry-way” at a cottage door to speak good-naturedly to a pale young -mother, handing over the magnificence of a whole sovereign to be saved -for a new-born child, going away to vaguely understood disgrace, -leaving his own country to hide himself in distant lands, meeting death -amid snow and ice and surrounded by gold-mines, leaving his empty place -to be filled by a boot-black newsboy—true there was enough to lie -and think over and to try to follow with the help of maps and excited -questions.</p> - -<p>“I wish I could ha’ seen him,” said Tummas. “I’d awmost gi’ my -sovereign to get a look at that picture in the gallery at Temple -Barholm.”</p> - -<p>“What picture?” Tembarom asked. “Is there a picture of him there?”</p> - -<p>“There is na one o’ him, but there’s one o’ a lad as deed two hundred -year’ ago as they say wur the spit an’ image on him when he wur a lad -hissen. One o’ the owd servants towel mother it wur theer.”</p> - -<p>This was a natural stimulus to interest and curiosity.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> -<p>“Which one is it? Jinks! I’d like to see it myself. Do you know which -one it is? There’s hundreds of them.”</p> - -<p>“No, I dun not know,” was Tummas’s dispirited answer, “an’ neither does -mother. The woman as knew left when owd Temple Barholm deed.”</p> - -<p>“Tummas,” broke in Mrs. Hibblethwaite from the other end of the room, -to which she had returned after taking Miss Alicia out to complain -about the copper in the “wash-’us’—” “Tummas, tha ’st been talkin’ -like a magpie. Tha ’rt a lot too bold an’ ready wi’ tha tongue. The -gentry’s noan comin’ to see thee if tha clacks the heads off theer -showthers.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid he always does talk more than is good for him,” said Miss -Alicia. “He looks quite feverish.”</p> - -<p>“He has been talking to me about Jem Temple Barholm,” explained -Tembarom. “We’ve had a regular chin together. He thinks a heap of poor -Jem.”</p> - -<p>Miss Alicia looked startled, and Mrs. Hibblethwaite was plainly -flustered tremendously. She quite lost her temper.</p> - -<p>“Eh,” she exclaimed, “tha wants tha young yed knocked off, Tummas -Hibblethwaite. He’s fair daft about the young gentleman as—as was -killed. He axes questions mony a day till I’d give him the stick if he -was na a cripple. He moithers me to death.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll bring you some of those New York papers to look at,” Tembarom -said to the boy as he went away.</p> - -<p>He walked back through the village to Temple Barholm, holding Miss -Alicia’s elbow in light, affectionate guidance and support, a little -to her embarrassment and also a little to her delight. Until he had -taken her into the dining-room the night before she had never seen such -a thing done. There was no over-familiarity in the action. It merely -seemed somehow to suggest liking and a wish to take care of her.</p> - -<p>“That little fellow in the village,” he said after a silence in which -it occurred to her that he seemed thoughtful, “what a little freak he -is! He’s got an idea that there’s a picture in the gallery that’s said -to look like Jem Temple Barholm when he was a boy. Have you ever heard -anything about it? He says a servant told his mother it was there.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, there is one,” Miss Alicia answered. “I sometimes go and look -at it. But it makes me feel very sad. It is the handsome boy who was -a page in the court of Charles II. He died in his teens. His name was -Miles Hugo Charles James. Jem could see the likeness himself. Sometimes -for a little joke I used to call him Miles Hugo.”</p> - -<p>“I believe I remember him,” said Tembarom. “I believe I asked Palford -his name. I must go and have a look at him again. He hadn’t much better -luck than the fellow that looked like him, dying as young as that.”</p> - -<p class="s6 center mtop2 mbot3">(To be continued)</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0146" name="i_0146"> - <img class="mtop2 mbot2" src="images/i_0146.jpg" - alt="Tailpiece for “T. Tembarom" /></a> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="TOPICS_OF_THE_TIME" class="nodisp" title="TOPICS OF THE TIME"></h2> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0147" name="i_0147"> - <img class="mtop2 mbot2" src="images/i_0147.jpg" - alt="Topics of the Time" /></a> -</div> - -<h3 id="WAR_AGAINST_WAR">WAR AGAINST WAR</h3> - -<p class="s6 center mbot2">TACTICS THAT THE FRIENDS OF PEACE MAY LEARN -FROM THE MILITARISTS</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">T</span>HROUGH Matthew Arnold we have been made familiar with one of the -figures clearly limned by Clarendon. It is that of Falkland, whose -humane spirit and love of peace made the casting of his lot in the time -of the civil war in England seem peculiarly tragic. Often in the course -of that bitter and bloody conflict he was heard to “ingeminate” the -word “peace.”</p> - -<p>A similar feeling of grief and frustration in the presence of war is -one of the distinguishing marks of our own day. The best and wisest in -the world hold peace congresses and conferences on arbitration (as they -are to do soon in St. Louis), and seem to gain painful inches only to -have all their efforts made apparently vain by some inrush of the war -spirit. The Hague Tribunal is founded and The Hague agreement solemnly -entered into, but that does not prevent one of the covenanting nations -from seizing another’s land by the sword. Projects for universal -arbitration are mooted, amid the applause of Christendom, and plans -for the judicial settlement of international disputes are ripening, at -the very time when tens of thousands of men are about to be killed in -battle.</p> - -<p>So it is that peace seems to be to the civilized world only an -unattainable longing. We think of war to-day, in the Scripture phrase, -with groanings that cannot be uttered. Never so hated, it sometimes -appears as if it were never so fated.</p> - -<p>It is well for peace-lovers now and then to put the case thus -strongly, in order that they may face the difficulty at its darkest. -The fact that the evil they struggle against is persistent is but one -argument more for their own persistence. Pacifists must be as ready -and resourceful as the militarists. If ever it is right to learn -from an enemy, it surely is in this instance. Something has been -gained in this way. The late William James, for example, contended -that we must admit that there are some good, human weapons in the -hands of the war party, and that the peace men must study, not only -how to appreciate them, but how to use them. Professor James would -have sought in peaceful pursuits the equivalents of the appeal which -war makes to certain manly qualities. Heroism in private life, in -scientific pursuits, in exploration, in reform—this is what he urged. -The patriotic impulse transmuted into great engineering works, vast -plans for sanitation, campaigns against disease and misery—that is -what peace can offer to ardent youth. All this is sound, and good as -far as it goes; but the question arises to-day whether there is not -need of something more positive and aggressive, whether the spirit of -militarism cannot be turned against itself; whether, in a word, there -should not be war against war.</p> - -<p>The conduct of a military campaign calls for an enormous amount of -preparation and organization. Let the advocates of peace take this -to heart. They cannot win simply by wishing to win. It is for them, -too, to be far-sighted, to lay careful plans, to enlist every modern -method of working in unison to a definite end. War mobilizes men. Peace -must muster ideas, sentiments, influences. In the <em class="italic">Kriegspiel</em> the -strategist seeks to mass his troops upon the enemy’s weakest point. The -tactics of peace should be similar. Argument and persuasion and appeal -should be made to converge upon the exposed flank of the militarists. -This may be found, at one moment, in the pressure of taxation, which -needlessly swollen armaments would make unbearable. At another time, -it may appear that the thing to hammer upon is the pressing need of -social reforms, even attention to which will be endangered if all the -available money and time are squandered upon preparing for a war that -may never come. Let peace, too,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> acquire a General Staff, whose duty -it shall be to survey the whole field, to work out fruitful campaigns, -to tell us where to strike and how, to lay down the principles of the -grand strategy to be followed.</p> - -<p>Nor need individual effort be ruled out. Despite the large and -coördinated movements of soldiers in a modern battle, there yet remains -room for personal initiative and daring. The shining moment comes when -some one in the ranks or in command is called upon to risk all with -the possibility of gaining all. And there are still “forlorn hopes” to -be led. Why should not these methods and appeals of war be imitated -by those who are fighting for peace? They can point to many services -calling for volunteers. There is ridicule to be faced, unpopular -opinion to be stood up for calmly in the teeth of opposition and even -scorn, testimony to be borne, questions to be asked, protests to be -made. There is, in short, every opportunity to import from war the -heroic element and give it scope and effect in the propaganda of peace. -The very wrath of man can be made to praise the growth of civilization.</p> - -<p>War against war can be made very concrete and practical. Committees -can be formed to watch the military authorities and Congress, and to -elicit an expression of opinion when it will be most useful. It is a -matter of frequent lamenting on the part of peace men in the House -of Representatives that their hands are so feebly held up by the -opponents of war. The other side is alert and active. When big-navy -or big-army bills are pending, the mail of congressmen is loaded with -requests—usually, of course, interested requests—to vote for them. -The lovers of peace, on the other hand, appear to be smitten with -writer’s cramp. They act as if they were indifferent. This state of -things should not be permitted to go on. There should be minute-men of -the cause all over the land ready to spring into action. That a sound -opinion of the country exists, only needing concerted effort to call -it forth, has been shown again and again. It was proved at the time -when President Taft’s treaties of universal arbitration were pending -in the Senate. In those days the desire of the best people of the -United States came to Washington like the sound of the voice of many -waters. Schools and colleges, chambers of commerce and churches, sent -in petition piled on petition, and remonstrance heaped on protest. One -of the senators who opposed ratification admitted to the President that -he had never had so formidable a pressure from his own State as on this -question.</p> - -<p>That lesson should not be lost. By organization, by watchfulness, by -determination, the peace spirit of the land can be given much more -effective expression than it has yet had. The situation is not at all -one that justifies discouragement; it simply calls for fresh and more -intelligent action, with heightened resolution. If only the genius of a -Von Moltke could be devoted to organizing and directing the forces that -make against war, we might reasonably hope for a realization of the -poet’s vision of peace lying like level shafts of light across the land.</p> - -<h3 id="THE_GREAT_FLOODS_IN_THE_MIDDLE_WEST">THE GREAT FLOODS IN THE -MIDDLE WEST</h3> - -<p class="s6 center mbot2">WITH THE RENEWED SUGGESTION OF A WIDE-REACHING -PROJECT OF FLOOD-MITIGATION</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">O</span>NE cannot read of the recent disastrous overflow of the rivers of -the Ohio Valley watershed without a sinking of the heart, to think -how near is happiness to grief. That thousands, apparently through no -fault of their own, should be overwhelmed by the relentless powers of -nature, takes us back to a pagan conception of the universe, until -we begin to sum up the unpagan-like solidarity in the sympathy of -mankind, the touch of human nature that makes the whole world kin. -Senator Root recently said that “the progress of civilization is marked -by the destruction of isolation,” meaning, of course, by the drawing -together of men through common ideas, interests, and even sorrows. It -is no perfunctory thought that out of such calamities come many of -the heroisms, the sacrifices, the lightning-like-flashes of spiritual -revelation that ennoble humanity.</p> - -<p>With becoming awe at what seems to have been unpreventable, it is -sadly appropriate to inquire what might have been done in past years -to lessen the recurrent tragedy of the western floods. To be sure, -one cannot by a gesture bid the tempest stand, but nothing is more -demon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>strable than that the greed and neglect of man have greatly -contributed to the destructiveness of floods. The devastation of -the ax leads direct to the devastation of the waters. The excessive -deforesting of Ohio and Indiana for a hundred years is no illusory or -negligible factor in the crisis of death and desolation that has fallen -upon those States.</p> - -<p>In this magazine for August, 1912, in an article entitled “A Duty of -the South to Itself,” written apropos of the Mississippi floods of -last year, we renewed a suggestion which we first made in 1904 and -have since several times repeated, looking toward the mitigation of -the annual peril to the Ohio and Mississippi valleys. It presented -the urgent necessity of setting on foot a policy of coöperation among -the Eastern States to save from destruction the flood-restraining -upper reaches of the entire Appalachian range. As a matter of public -interest, this article was sent to all senators and members of -Congress, to the Southern and other newspapers, and to the governors -and Chambers of Commerce in the Ohio and Mississippi valleys. Although -the suggestion was in the plainest conformity with scientific opinion, -it apparently fell upon deaf ears. The imagination of no governor -or legislator has been roused to the point of action. After we have -reckoned up the cost of the recent floods in lives and money, shall we -lie down again to pleasant dreams, oblivious of the fact that to sow -neglect is to reap calamity?</p> - -<h3 id="COMMON_SENSE_IN_THE_WHITE_HOUSE">COMMON SENSE IN THE WHITE HOUSE</h3> - -<p class="s6 center mbot2">NON-PARTIZAN QUESTIONS ON WHICH PRESIDENT -WILSON BEGINS WELL</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">H</span>E is a poor patriot who can wish a new administration anything but -success—at least in policies unrelated to party differences—and it -is creditable to the American people that the new President enters -upon his difficult task amid general good-will. His lack of previous -acquaintance with “the way the thing is done” in Washington, though -it excited the apprehension of some of his warmest friends, proves -to be a positive advantage. If precedents are broken they are not -his, and sometimes the breaking is done with a naïveté just this side -of innocence, as in the discountenancing of the time-honored but -expensive and meaningless inaugural ball. The President evidently -realizes his responsibilities and the conventional obstacles that must -be cleared out of his path if he is to accomplish much for the good of -the country. The idealism of his inaugural address, with its appeal for -the coöperation of “honest, patriotic, and forward-looking men,” is -already being supplemented by practical action so fraught with “saving -common sense” as to seem revolutionary.</p> - -<p>Seen in the retrospect, what could be done more wise or simple than -the shunting of the office-seekers to the heads of departments? -What more useful or self-respecting than the announced policy of -disapproval of legislation carrying “riders”—of which, by the way, -a flagrant example is found in the Panama tolls exemption, to which -both the President and the Vice-President have announced their -opposition? What more direct or reassuring than the kindly words of -warning to Central American revolutionists? What more prompt than the -announcement through the Secretary of State that the United States -cannot ignore its responsibilities toward Cuba? or, again, through -the Postmaster-General, that there is to be no wholesale looting of -the offices, with the object-lesson of the retention or promotion of -several public servants of marked efficiency? or, still again, the -immediate action through the Secretary of War and the Attorney-General -toward the safeguarding of the public interests in Niagara Falls? What -more prudent than the disentanglement of our relations in the Far East -from financial loans to China? These events, occurring in the first -fortnight of the administration, display a point of view of government -as an instrument of public service which, though it may do violence to -traditions, makes thoughtful citizens exclaim, “Why not?”</p> - -<p>It is not to be expected that we are to have another Era of Good -Feeling, or that, when questions of party policy arise, Mr. Wilson’s -opponents will yield their convictions. He cannot fail to meet with -many a storm, within and without party lines; but he will do much -to advance his ideas if he shall preserve the poise of direct and -unsophisticated common sense which he has shown at the beginning.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="LAWLESSNESS_IN_ART">LAWLESSNESS IN ART</h3> - -<p class="s6 center mbot2">THE EXPLOITATION OF WHIMSICALITY AS A -PRINCIPLE</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">T</span>HE recent admirably arranged exhibition in New York made by the -Association of American Painters and Sculptors, and including a full -representation of the work of the Cubists and the Post-Impressionists, -has proved in one respect a veritable success, namely, in point of -attendance. If not, as one critic puts it, a <em class="italic">succès de scandale</em>, it -has been a <em class="italic">succès de curiosité</em>. It contained pieces of historic work -of great beauty by eminent painters of France and America—Ingres, -Daumier, Puvis de Chavannes, Childe Hassam, Alden Weir, and others, -but no great point was made of their inclusion and they were not the -attraction for the crowds. What drew the curious were certain widely -talked-of eccentricities, whimsicalities, distortions, crudities, -puerilities, and madnesses, by which, while a few were nonplussed, most -of the spectators were vastly amused.</p> - -<p>At the spring exhibition of the National Academy of Design, which -followed, one unaccustomed visitor was heard to say to another, “Oh, -come on, Bill, there’s nothing to laugh at here.” It will be impossible -to repeat the Parisian sensation another season; and, happily, the -eccentricities have served to awaken a new interest in genuine types of -art, both in and out of their own exhibition, and have furnished that -element of contrast which is useful if not essential in the formation -of a robust taste.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, for the benefit of the young and unthinking, it is well -to keep on inculcating the fact that while art is not a formula, -nor even a school, it is subject, whether in painting, sculpture, -poetry, architecture, or music, to certain general principles tending -to harmony, clarity, beauty, and the stimulus of the imagination. -A fundamental error is that its laws are hampering, the fact being -that it is only as one learns them that he can acquire the freedom -of individual expression. The exploitation of a theory of discords, -puzzles, uglinesses, and clinical details, is to art what anarchy is -to society, and the practitioners need not so much a critic as an -alienist. It is said that a well-known Russian musician has begun a -new composition with (so to speak) a keynote of discord involving the -entire musical scale, as a child might lay his hand sidewise upon all -the notes of the piano it can cover. A counterpart of this could have -been found in more than one ward of the recent exhibition. One can -fancy the laughter over the absinthe in many a Latin Quarter café of -those who are not mentally awry, but are merely imitators, poseurs, or -charlatans, at learning that their monstrosities, which have exhausted -the interest of Paris, have been seriously considered by some American -observers. They have only been trying to see how far they could go in -fooling the public. But he laughs best who laughs last, and we believe -that Americans have too much sense of humor not to see the point of -this colossal joke of eccentricity, or to endure its repetition.</p> - -<h3 id="NIAGARA_AGAIN_IN_DANGER">NIAGARA AGAIN IN DANGER</h3> - -<p class="s6 center mbot2">THE COMMERCIALIZING OF GREAT SCENERY</p> - -<p class="p0"><span class="drop-cap">O</span>NE need not be afraid of exaggerating the peril to the beauty of -Niagara in allowing its waters to be used for commercial purposes when -a man of such moderation and public esteem as Senator Burton of Ohio -says, as he did in the Senate on the fourth of March:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>I want to say, Mr. President, that in all my experience in either -house of Congress I have never known such an aggregation of persons -to come here seeking to rob and to despoil as those who have come -here after this power. If there is any one who wishes them to -succeed he must answer to the country for it. They not only desired -the water above the Falls, but they now desire to withdraw the -waters below in the rapids, which are second in beauty only to the -Falls themselves. Persons have come here under the guise of public -spirit, or even of philanthropy, when it was but a thin veil to -conceal a scheme to get possession of the waters of the Niagara -River. We ask that for a year this law be continued to stay the -hand of the despoiler.</p></div> - -<p>The law referred to was the Burton Act under which for three years the -assaults of the commercial interests have been stayed. Even with a -concession to the companies of 250,000 horse-power in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>stead of 160,000, -Mr. Burton, owing to a filibuster by Senator O’Gorman, was not able to -secure the desired extension, and the Falls seem to be at the mercy -of those who are interested in turning great scenery into dividends. -We are much mistaken if the new administration does not find some way -of thwarting this form of vandalism. Meanwhile it is well that public -opinion should be directed upon senators and representatives.</p> - -<p>Of the damage that has already been done Senator Burton says: “... -The ruthless hand of the promoter has been laid upon this river; and -thus the cataract has been diminished in size and the scenic effect -has been impaired not only by diminishing the flow and the quantity of -the water, but by structures on the banks.” A question of jurisdiction -has been raised as between the State of New York and the National -Government, though the river as a boundary line has long been the -subject of an international treaty. The fact that the taking of water -for commercial purposes whether on the Canadian or the American side -has virtually the same effect on the river makes joint action of the -two countries imperative.</p> - -<p>The willingness to destroy or impair great scenery by commercializing -it, whether at Niagara or in the Yosemite National Park, makes it -necessary that the fight for our natural treasures should be kept up -with vigilance. Happily, the good judgment of the late Secretary of the -Interior, Warren L. Fisher, has blocked the attempt of the city of San -Francisco to destroy the wonderful Hetch Hetchy valley by converting -it into a reservoir of water for drinking and power purposes,—which -confessedly can be had elsewhere in the Sierra “by paying for it,”—the -Secretary wisely holding that such a diversion of the valley from -the original purpose of its reservation is too important a matter to -be determined by any power but Congress. Three Secretaries of the -Interior—Hitchcock, Ballinger, and Fisher—are thus on record against -the ruthless project of the city authorities, and we believe it will -not be more successful with Secretary Lane. Should its advocates go -to Congress, it must be remembered that the same principle underlies -the defense of Niagara and of Hetch Hetchy—the conservation of great -scenery for the ultimate benefit of mankind.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 id="OPEN_LETTERS" class="nodisp" title="OPEN_LETTERS"></h2> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0151a" name="i_0151a"> - <img class="mtop2 mbot2" src="images/i_0151a.jpg" - alt="Open Letters" /></a> -</div> - -</div> - -<h3 id="ON_THE_COLLAPSE_OF_THE_INTERNATIONAL_CLUB">ON THE COLLAPSE OF THE -INTERNATIONAL CLUB</h3> - -<p class="p0 mbot1"><em class="italic">My dear MacWhittlesey</em>:</p> - -<p>No, I have not become a pessimist. If I ever was an optimist, I am -certainly one still. But to my mind the only use of being an optimist -about the universe is that one can the more boldly be a pessimist about -the world. That you may see I can discern the good signals as well as -the bad, I will tell you three recent things with which I am thoroughly -delighted. With brazen audacity, I will even put first the one topic -you know all about and I know nothing about. I am thoroughly delighted -with the election of the American President, with the election of the -French President, and with the victory in the Balkans. You may think -these three things have nothing to do with one another. Wait till I -have done explaining things; it will not last long or hurt much.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0151b" name="i_0151b"> - <img class="mtop2 mbot2" src="images/i_0151b.jpg" - alt="A Look at the World" /></a> -</div> - -<p>Don’t imagine I have any newspaper illu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>sions about any of the three. -I am a journalist and never believe the newspapers. I know there will -be a lot of merely fashionable fuss about the American and the French -presidents; I know we shall hear how fond Mr. Wilson is of canaries -or how interested M. Poincaré is in yachting. It is truer still, of -course, about the Balkan War. I have been anti-Turk through times when -nearly every one else was pro-Turk. I may therefore be entitled to say -that much of the turnover of sympathy is pure snobbery. Silly fashions -always follow the track of any victory. After 1870 our regiments -adopted Prussian spikes on their helmets, as though the Prussians had -fought with their heads, like bisons. Doubtless there will be a crop -of the same sort of follies after the Balkan War. We shall see the -altering of inscriptions, titles, and advertisements. Turkish baths may -be called Bulgarian baths. The sweetmeat called Turkish Delight may -probably be called Servian Delight. A Turkey carpet, very much kicked -about and discolored, may be sold again as a Montenegro carpet. These -cheap changes may easily occur, and in the same way the international -world (which consists of hotels instead of homes) may easily make the -same mistake about the French and American presidents. Thousands of -Englishmen will read the American affair as a mere question of Colonel -Roosevelt. Thousands will read of the Poincaré affair as a mere echo of -the Dreyfus case. Thousands have never thought of the near East except -as the sultan and Constantinople. For such masses of men Roosevelt is -the only American there ever was. For them the Dreyfus question was -the only French question there ever was. They had never heard that the -Servians had a country, let alone an army.</p> - -<p>The fact in which the three events meet is this: they are all realities -on the spot. Most Englishmen have never heard of Mr. Woodrow Wilson; -so they know that Americans really trust him. Most Englishmen have -never heard of M. Poincaré; so they know that Frenchmen know he is a -Frenchman. Neither is a member of the International Club, the members -of which advertise one another.</p> - -<p>Do you know what I mean? Do you not know that International Club? Like -many other secret societies, it is unaware of its own existence. But -there is a sort of ring of celebrities known all over the world, and -more important all over the world than any of them are at home. Even -when they do not know one another, they talk about one another. Let me -see if I can find a name that typifies them. Well, I have no thought -of disrespect to the memory of a man I liked and admired personally, -and who died with a tragic dignity fitted for one who had always longed -to be a link between your country and mine; but I think the late W. T. -Stead was the unconscious secretary of that unconscious International -Club. The other members, roughly speaking, were Colonel Roosevelt, the -German Emperor, Tolstoy, Cecil Rhodes, and somebody like Mr. Edison. -In an interview with Roosevelt, Rhodes would be the most important man -in England, the Kaiser (or Tolstoy) the most important man in Europe. -In an interview with Rhodes, the Kaiser would be important, Mr. Edison -more important, Mr. Stead rather important; Bulgaria and M. Poincaré -not important at all. Interview the Kaiser, and you will probably find -the only interviewer he remembers is Stead. Could Rhodes have been -taken to Russia you would probably find the only Russian he had really -heard of was Tolstoy. For the rest, the Nobel prize, the Harmsworth -newspaper group, the Marconi inventions, the attempts at a universal -language—all these strike the note. I forgot the British Empire, on -which the sun never sets, a horribly unpoetical state of things. Think -of having a native land without any sunsets!</p> - -<p>This International Club is breaking up. Men are more and more trusting -men they know to have been honest in a small way; men faithful in one -city to rule over many cities. Imperialists like Roosevelt and Rhodes -stood for unrealities. Please observe that I do not for one moment say -insincerities. Tolstoy was splendidly sincere; but the cult of him was -an unreality to this extent, that it left large masses in America and -England with a general idea that he was the only Christian in the east -of Europe. Since then we have seen Christianity on the march as it was -in the Middle Ages, a thing of thousands, ready for pilgrimage and -crusade. I don’t ask you to like it if you don’t like it. I only say -it’s jolly different from Tolstoy, and equally sincere. It is a reality -on the spot.</p> - -<p>Well, just as Russia and the Slavs meant for us Tolstoy, so France -and French literature meant for many of us Zola. Poincaré’s election -represents a France that hates Zola more than the Balkans hate the -Turk. The old definite, domestic, patriotic Frenchman has come -to the top. I can’t help fancying that with you the old serious, -self-governing, idealistic, and really republican American has come to -the top, too. But there I speak of things I know not, and await your -next letter with alarm.</p> - -<p class="tdr mright2"><span class="mright3">Faithfully yours,</span><br /> -<em class="italic">G. K. Chesterton</em>.</p> - -<hr class="subchap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="ON_HOW_TO_GET_SOMETHING">ON HOW TO GET SOMETHING BY GIVING -SOMETHING UP</h3> - -<p class="s5 center mbot2"><em class="italic">From a Victim of the -Comparative-Statistics Habit</em></p> - -<p class="p0 mbot1"><em class="italic">My dear Harold</em>:</p> - -<p>Can a man go in for tobacco and do his duty by the United States Navy? -Life seems to be getting more difficult every day. I can no longer -enjoy my after-dinner cigar as I used to. The trouble is not physical. -My nerves are in good condition. My heart behaves quite as it should, -occasionally rising into my mouth with fear, sometimes sinking toward -my diaphragm with anticipation, but for the most part going about -its work without attracting notice. I sleep as soundly as I ever -did. The quality of the tobacco they put into cigars nowadays may be -deteriorating, but I am easy to please. No; the trouble is with my -conscience. I simply find it impossible to smoke without feeling that I -am recreant to my social obligations.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0153" name="i_0153"> - <img class="mtop2 mbot2" src="images/i_0153.jpg" - alt="Smoking Tobacco" /></a> -</div> - -<p>Don’t imagine I am referring to my family. It is old-fashioned -practice to show how the money disbursed upon tobacco by the head of a -household might buy a home in the suburbs and endowment insurance for -the children. To-day the sociological implications of a box of cigars -are much more serious. To-day no man of conscience can light his pipe -without inflicting injury on the United States Navy. All the comfort -goes out of a cigar when one reflects upon what one might be doing for -the encouragement of education among the Southern mountaineers. Now and -then I like the feel of a cigarette between my lips; but can a man go -in for cigarettes as long as the country stands in such bitter need of -a comprehensive system of internal waterways?</p> - -<p>I imagine I am not making myself quite clear. What I mean is that there -are so many good causes abroad nowadays, and the advocates of each and -every cause have no trouble in showing how easily they might manage -to attain the specific thing they are after if only you would consent -to sacrifice something that your own heart is rather set upon. Just -imagine if all the money that is burned up in tobacco were devoted to -the expansion of the fleet! Can there be any doubt that within a year -we should take first place among the naval powers? Provided, that is, -the English and the Germans and the Japanese did not give up smoking -at the same time that we did. It may seem far-fetched to argue any -close connection between a ten-cent cigar and a ten-million-dollar -dreadnought. That is what I have been trying to say to myself. But I -cannot help feeling that if the day of Armageddon does arrive, and the -Japanese fleet comes gliding out of Magdalena Bay, and the star of -our national destiny goes down into defeat, I shall never be able to -forgive myself for the cigar I insisted on lighting every night after -the children had been put to bed. As it is, I suffer by anticipation. -The Japanese fleet keeps popping out at me from my tobacco-jar.</p> - -<p>You will say I am oversensitive to outside suggestion. Perhaps I am. -The fact remains that the naval situation in the Pacific is what it -is. And there are so many other national obligations. We do need a -fifteen-foot channel from the lakes to the gulf. We do need free -schools for the poor whites in the Tennessee mountains. We do need -millions to rebuild our railroads. All these demands press upon me as I -sit facing my wife across the table and timidly light my cigar. Yes, I -smoke; but I look at my wife and wonder how she can live in unconscious -proximity to such startling moral degradation.</p> - -<p>Perhaps I am oversensitive, as you say, but these suggestions from -the outside keep pouring in on one in an irresistible stream from -many different directions. You simply cannot escape the logic of the -comparative mathematicians. A naval officer of high rank shows that -because of the wanton destruction of bird-life in the United States -our farmers lose $800,000,000 a year from the ravages of insect pests; -“so that good bird laws would enable us to sustain an enormous navy.” -Not so big a navy as this distinguished officer imagines, of course, -because the internal-waterways people will want a great deal of that -bird money, and the Southern education people will ask for a handsome -share. It does not matter that personally I have never slain birds -either for their flesh or their plumage, but I share in the indirect -responsibility. Instead of idling in my chair with a cigar, I ought to -be writing to my congressman, demanding the enactment of adequate bird -laws in the name<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> of our naval supremacy in the Pacific and the defense -of the Panama Canal.</p> - -<p>Such is the established mode of procedure to-day. If one is planning -the expenditure of a very large amount of public money, let him point -out how easily the money may be saved or earned by somebody else. If I -have seemed to harp too much on the man with the cigar, it is because -he is the classic type of the victim in the case. Just consider what a -trifling favor one is asked for—merely to give up a nasty, unsanitary -habit, and not only be happier oneself, but bring happiness to the -big-navy man, the internal-waterways man, the Association for the -Encouragement of Grand Opera among the Masses, the Society for the -Pensioning of Decayed Journalists, the Society for Damming the Arctic -Current on the Banks of Newfoundland, the Society for the Construction -of Municipal Airships. These enthusiastic gentry find no habit too hard -for the other man to break, no economy too difficult for the other man -to adopt, and no remedy too complicated for the other man to put into -effect. Smith is amazed that any one could refuse him $200,000,000 for -the navy.</p> - -<p>“Why, look at your birds and your insect-ridden crops!”</p> - -<p>“You grudge me the money for a hundred-foot automobile highway from -New York to San Francisco?” says Jones. “Why, consider your wasteful -steam-engines, with their ridiculous loss of ninety-seven per cent. of -the latent coal energy!”</p> - -<p>“Double the efficiency of your steam-engines, and you have enough for a -dozen automobile highways.”</p> - -<p>You see, that is all that stands in the way, Harold, a mere trifle like -doubling the efficiency of the steam-engine.</p> - -<p>“I want $5,000,000 to build a monument twelve hundred feet high to -Captain John Smith and Pocahontas,” says Robinson. “You can’t spare -the money? Sir, take the revolving storm-doors in New York City -alone, which now represent so much wasted human energy, and harness -these doors to a series of storage batteries, and you will have your -$5,000,000 back in the course of a year.”</p> - -<p>Will some one kindly run out and electrify all the revolving doors in -New York City?</p> - -<p>I have a confession to make. My heart goes out to the shiftless -American farmer. He is responsible for almost as many good causes dying -of lack of nutrition as is the habitual smoker.</p> - -<p>If the American farmer would plow deep instead of merely scratching -the soil, we could blow Japan out of the water. If he would study the -chemistry of soils, we could give free railroad rides to every man and -woman in the United States between the ages of thirty and forty-five. -If we would build decent roads, we could pay off the national debt.</p> - -<p>In other words, if the American farmer could be persuaded to make his -land produce, say, only ten times its present yield, the millennium -would be here in a jump.</p> - -<p>I sometimes think that to the truly social-minded person the most -immoral spectacle in life is an unscientific American farmer smoking a -five-cent cigar in a buggy mired up to the axle on a country road.</p> - -<p class="tdr mright2"><span class="mright3">Yours,</span><br /> -<em class="italic">Simeon Strunsky</em>.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 id="IN_LIGHTER_VEIN" class="nodisp" title="IN LIGHTER VEIN"></h2> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0154" name="i_0154"> - <img class="mtop2 mbot2" src="images/i_0154.jpg" - alt="Open Letters" /></a> -</div> - -</div> - -<h3 id="OLD_DADDY_DO-FUNNYS_WISDOM_JINGLES">OLD DADDY DO-FUNNY’S -WISDOM JINGLES</h3> - -<p class="s5 center mbot1">BY RUTH MC ENERY STUART</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse s6">THE MOSQUITO</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span class="drop-cap_poetry">W</span>ID so much Christian blood in ’is veins,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">You’d think Brer ’Skitty would take some pains</div> - <div class="verse">To love ’is neighbor an’ show good-will,</div> - <div class="verse">But he’s p’izenin’ an’ backbitin’ still.</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">An’ he ain’t by ’isself in dat, in dat—</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">No, he ain’t by ’isself in dat.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse s6">THE RAT</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">B<span class="smaller">RER</span> Rat in de corn-bin overfed</div> - <div class="verse">An’ underworked, an’ now he’s dead;</div> - <div class="verse">He craved to live lak a bloated chief,</div> - <div class="verse">An’ now he ain’t nothin’ but a ol’ dead thief.</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">An’ he ain’t by ’isself in dat, in dat—</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">An’ he ain’t by ’isself in dat.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0155" name="i_0155"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0155.jpg" alt="Dr. Robin" /></a> - <p class="s6 center padb2">Drawn by Oliver Herford</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="MAY_FROM_MY_WINDOW">MAY, FROM MY WINDOW</h3> - -<p class="s5 center mbot1">BY FRANCES ROSE BENÉT</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">A <span class="smaller">SPARKLING</span> morning after weeks of rain;</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">All fresh and fragrant glows my world, new-made.</div> - <div class="verse">Bluebirds sing ballads; sparrows chirp refrain;</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Old Mother Spider, peering from the shade,</div> - <div class="verse">With gastronomic joy surveys a fly,</div> - <div class="verse">Her table-cloth hung on a bush to dry.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">A little lizard creeps from out his crack</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">To bask in sunshine till he’s done quite brown;</div> - <div class="verse">A butterfly starts on her breathless track,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Her errand gay, to lure a lad from town;</div> - <div class="verse">Even the garden’s foe, the slimy snail,</div> - <div class="verse">Leaves on the walk an iridescent trail.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Fat Doctor Robin now comes hurrying by,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">His neat attire touched up with claret vest.</div> - <div class="verse">“Important case!” I see it in his eye.</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">“No time to sing, with babies in that nest.”</div> - <div class="verse">Quick! little doctor! <em class="italic">Will</em> he catch the train?</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Sudden he stops; my heart jumps to my throat.</div> - <div class="verse">“Thunder and Mars!” I hear him say quite plain,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">“I’ve left my wallet in my other coat!”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0155a" name="i_0155a"> - <img class="mtop1" src="images/i_0155a.jpg" alt="" /></a> - <p class="s5 center">NOISE EXTRACTED WITHOUT PAIN</p> - <p class="s6 center padb2">W<span class="smaller">AITER</span> (to - single gentleman):—“Excuse me, sir, but that lady - and gentleman wish me to recommend<br /> - to you one of those new Maxim soup silencers!”</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="LIFES_ASPIRATION">LIFE’S ASPIRATION</h3> - -<p class="s6 center">(A more-than-symbolic sonnet for a picture of the -same sort by George Wolfe Plank)</p> - -<p class="s5 center mbot1">BY LOUIS UNTERMEYER</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">U<span class="smaller">RGED</span> by the peacocks of our vanity,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Up the frail tree of life we climb and grope;</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">About our heads the tragic branches slope,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Heavy with time and xanthic mystery.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Beyond, the brooding bird of fate we see</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Viewing the world with eyes forever ope’,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">And lured by all the phantom fruits of hope,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">We cling in anguish to this fragile tree.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">O lowering skies! O clouds, that point in scorn,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">With the lean fingers of a wrinkled wrath!</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">O dedal moon, that rears its ghostly horn!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">O hidden stars, that tread the cosmic path!</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Shall we attain the glory of the morn,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Or sink into some awful aftermath!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0156" name="i_0156"> - <img class="mtop1 padb2" src="images/i_0156.jpg" alt="Aspiration" /></a> -</div> - -<h3 id="THE_NEW_ART">THE NEW ART</h3> - -<p class="s6 center">(With apologies to Rossetti)</p> - -<p class="s5 center mbot1">BY CORINNE ROCKWELL SWAIN</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">T<span class="smaller">HE</span> cubist damosel leaned out</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">From a neurotic heaven;</div> - <div class="verse">Her face was stranger than the dreams</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Of topers filled at even:</div> - <div class="verse">She had four facets to her nose,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">And the eyes in her head were seven.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Her robe, concrete from clasp to hem,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Six angles did adorn,</div> - <div class="verse">With a white parallelogram</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">For trimming neatly worn:</div> - <div class="verse">Her hair rose up in pentagons,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Like yellow ears of corn.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">It was a post-impression house</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">That she was standing on;</div> - <div class="verse">While maudlin quadrilateral clouds</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">O’er mystic gardens spun,</div> - <div class="verse">And three denatured greyhounds ran</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Circlewise round the sun.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">“I wish that they could draw,” she moaned,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">“Nor throw such fits as this;</div> - <div class="verse">Souza-Cardosa, and the five</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Who love weird symphonies:</div> - <div class="verse">Fiebig, Picabia, Picasso,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">D’Erlanger, and Matisse.”</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">She smiled, though her amorphous mouth</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">Was vague beyond her ears;</div> - <div class="verse">Then cast her beveled arms along</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">The rhomboid barriers,</div> - <div class="verse">And shedding asymmetric plinths,</div> - <div class="verse mleft1">She wept. (I heard her tears.)</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<h3 id="LIMERICKS">LIMERICKS</h3> - -<p class="s6 center">TEXT AND PICTURES BY OLIVER HERFORD</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0157" name="i_0157"> - <img class="mtop1 padb2" src="images/i_0157.jpg" alt="Somnolence" /></a> -</div> - -<h4 id="THE_SOMNOLENT_BIVALVE">THE SOMNOLENT BIVALVE</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">S<span class="smaller">AID</span> the oyster: “To-morrow’s May-day;</div> - <div class="verse">But don’t call me early, I pray.</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">Just tuck me instead</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">In my snug oyster-bed,</div> - <div class="verse">And there till September I’ll stay.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a id="i_0158" name="i_0158"> - <img class="mtop1 padb2" src="images/i_0158.jpg" alt="Detention" /></a> -</div> - -<h4 id="THE_OUNCE_OF_DETENTION">THE OUNCE OF DETENTION</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container padb2"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">O<span class="smaller">NCE</span> a pound-keeper chanced to impound</div> - <div class="verse">An ounce that was straying around.</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">The pound-keeper straight</div> - <div class="verse mleft3">Was fined for false weight,</div> - <div class="verse">Since he’d only once ounce in his pound.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="s6 center">THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="footnotes break-before"> - -<p class="s2 center mtop1 mbot1">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> At a meeting held at Chickering Hall on the evening of -November 12, 1891, to sympathize with Governor Nichols’s war on the -Louisiana lottery system, the late Abram S. Hewitt was one of the -speakers. In the course of his remarks in denunciation of the lottery -gambling in Louisiana, Mr. Hewitt said: -</p> -<p> -“I can’t find words strong enough to express my feelings regarding this -brazen fraud. -</p> -<p> -“This scheme of plunder develops a weak spot in the government of the -United States, which I would not mention were it not for the importance -of the issue. We all know that a single State frequently determines -the result of a presidential election. The State of Louisiana has -determined the result of a presidential election. The vote of that -State was offered to me for money, and I declined to buy it. But the -vote of that State was sold for money!”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Read before the joint meeting of The American Academy -of Arts and Letters and the National Institute of Arts and Letters, -December 13, 1912. Now first published.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> I doubt if “Winchester,” previously known as “Rienzi,” -could have outwalked Sherman’s “Sam,” a terror to staff-officers, -General Meade’s “Baldy,” or McClellan’s “Black Dan,” for it was -asserted they could all walk five miles an hour.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> T<span class="smaller">HE</span> C<span class="smaller">ENTURY</span> for July, 1882.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> T<span class="smaller">HE</span> C<span class="smaller">ENTURY</span> for July, 1887.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Federal Reporter, Vol. 110, page 660.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Since this was written a device accomplishing the same -purpose has been placed in public service.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Reprinted from “Scribner’s Monthly” (now -T<span class="smaller">HE</span> C<span class="smaller">ENTURY</span>) for March, 1874.</p></div> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Century Illustrated Monthly -Magazine (May 1913), by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CENTURY ILLUSTRATED *** - -***** This file should be named 53286-h.htm or 53286-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/2/8/53286/ - -Produced by ane Robins, Reiner Ruf, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - -</body> - -</html> diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2c0f61f..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/end_of_toc.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/end_of_toc.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 76dc3b4..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/end_of_toc.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0001.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0001.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b5ee860..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0001.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0002.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0002.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d4982df..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0002.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0002_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0002_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d147b8a..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0002_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0005.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0005.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f37774b..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0005.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0006.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0006.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index de076c6..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0006.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0007_1.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0007_1.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 984e332..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0007_1.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0007_2.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0007_2.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7418c9c..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0007_2.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0009.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0009.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 58a5883..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0009.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0009_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0009_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3cd140d..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0009_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0011.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0011.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7878fa3..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0011.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0011_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0011_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 38759cf..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0011_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0012.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0012.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 32c5f4f..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0012.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0013.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0013.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index dfba12d..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0013.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0014.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0014.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c9cbeee..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0014.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0015.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0015.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7da51b6..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0015.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0016.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0016.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5dec0b5..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0016.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0016_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0016_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a0b4d22..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0016_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0020.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0020.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b305af7..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0020.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0021.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0021.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 906610f..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0021.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0025.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0025.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index aab7747..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0025.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0027.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0027.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 933abf9..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0027.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0027_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0027_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index bbe87db..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0027_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0028.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0028.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 155d3da..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0028.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0029.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0029.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d923894..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0029.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0029_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0029_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 94e51e5..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0029_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0031.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0031.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a1e9b23..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0031.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0034.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0034.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 75d8220..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0034.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0038.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0038.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 69b2924..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0038.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0044.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0044.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b1a017e..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0044.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0044_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0044_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 05a03cc..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0044_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0046.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0046.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8977f91..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0046.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0047.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0047.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0d659a0..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0047.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0048.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0048.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9d99f87..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0048.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0049.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0049.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 11d8c15..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0049.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0049_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0049_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c58c7ff..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0049_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0050.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0050.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2c913cf..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0050.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0056.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0056.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3f1416d..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0056.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0065.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0065.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0214352..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0065.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0066.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0066.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 78f8ede..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0066.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0067_1.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0067_1.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b56bd10..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0067_1.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0067_2.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0067_2.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5d3de01..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0067_2.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0067_3.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0067_3.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8fce7b6..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0067_3.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0068.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0068.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3cf6165..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0068.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0069.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0069.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index fc4aa5b..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0069.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0070.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0070.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0129ba6..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0070.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0070_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0070_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8284af7..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0070_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0071.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0071.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 273cbdf..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0071.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0071_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0071_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9a41bc1..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0071_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0072.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0072.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 98151ef..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0072.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0073.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0073.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b6b083b..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0073.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0074.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0074.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c38cf34..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0074.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0078.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0078.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d41348f..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0078.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0079.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0079.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 81c38ca..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0079.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0082.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0082.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ada0124..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0082.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0083.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0083.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index feef48d..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0083.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0083_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0083_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e9167ca..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0083_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0084.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0084.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index dd5f29a..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0084.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0085.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0085.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 656e68f..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0085.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0087.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0087.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b393961..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0087.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0087_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0087_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index dff81c0..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0087_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0089.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0089.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7880a53..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0089.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0090.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0090.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index fe515b5..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0090.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0091.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0091.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index eebd433..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0091.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0093.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0093.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5707830..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0093.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0093_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0093_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 200d0a8..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0093_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0099.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0099.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c9642b7..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0099.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0103.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0103.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 074de90..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0103.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0105.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0105.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d8ae627..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0105.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0107.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0107.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7f8aeab..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0107.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0108.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0108.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 58418d5..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0108.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0109.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0109.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5b90e16..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0109.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0110.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0110.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d1739f3..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0110.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0110_large.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0110_large.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4be8365..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0110_large.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0111_1.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0111_1.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b963546..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0111_1.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0111_2.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0111_2.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3b8abbf..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0111_2.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0122.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0122.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2505dc0..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0122.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0126.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0126.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a0a1e11..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0126.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0130.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0130.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 80e1bd6..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0130.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0130_dc.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0130_dc.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9f1019d..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0130_dc.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0139.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0139.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5991261..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0139.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0139_dc.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0139_dc.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f1a819c..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0139_dc.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0146.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0146.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d08f033..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0146.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0147.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0147.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3d1af9e..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0147.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0151a.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0151a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 303d1ad..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0151a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0151b.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0151b.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4fb81bc..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0151b.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0153.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0153.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 51038ae..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0153.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0154.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0154.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 05190cd..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0154.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0155.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0155.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 862f056..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0155.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0155a.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0155a.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1f0d1ed..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0155a.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0156.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0156.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3f1c523..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0156.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0157.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0157.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 96bf5eb..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0157.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/i_0158.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/i_0158.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b863587..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/i_0158.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53286-h/images/logo.jpg b/old/53286-h/images/logo.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8e997a0..0000000 --- a/old/53286-h/images/logo.jpg +++ /dev/null |
