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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..eb872c1 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #64210 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64210) diff --git a/old/64210-0.txt b/old/64210-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fecac23..0000000 --- a/old/64210-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,22803 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Types of Prose Narratives, by Harriott Ely -Fansler - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Types of Prose Narratives - A Text-Book for the Story Writer - -Author: Harriott Ely Fansler - -Release Date: January 04, 2021 [eBook #64210] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: MFR, Eleni Christofaki and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TYPES OF PROSE NARRATIVES *** - - - - -Transcriber's note. - -A list of the changes made can be found at the end of the book. -Formatting and special characters are indicated as follows: - - [Sidenotes] - _italic_ - =bold= - - - - -TYPES OF PROSE NARRATIVES - - - - -TYPES OF PROSE NARRATIVES - - A TEXT-BOOK FOR THE STORY WRITER - BY - HARRIOTT ELY FANSLER - -Assistant Professor of English in the University of the Philippines. -Formerly Instructor in English in Western Reserve University at -Cleveland, Ohio - - [Illustration] - - CHICAGO - ROW, PETERSON & COMPANY - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1911, - HARRIOTT ELY FANSLER. - - - - -PREFACE - - -Inspiration for any craftsman lies in the history of his art and in a -definite problem at hand. He feels his task dignified when he knows -what has been done before him, and he has a starting point when he can -enumerate the essentials of what he wants to produce. He then goes to -his work with a zest that is in itself creative. There is a popular -misconception, especially in the minds of young people and seemingly -in the minds of many teachers and critics of literature, that geniuses -have sprung full-worded from the brain of Jove and have worked without -antecedents. There could not be to a writer a more cramping idea than -that. It is the aim of the present volume to help dispel that illusion, -and to set in a convenient form before students of narrative the -twofold inspiration mentioned--a feeling for the past and a series of -definite problems. - -There has been no attempt at minuteness in tracing the type -developments; though there has been the constant ideal of exactness -and trustworthiness wherever developments are suggested. In other -words, this book is not a scrutiny of origins, but a setting forth of -essentials in kinds of narratives already clearly established. The -analysis that gives the essentials has, of course, the personal element -in it, as all such analyses must have; but the work is the work of one -mind and is at least consistent. Since I have not had the benefit of -other texts on the subject (for there are none that I know of) and -since the inquiry into narrative types with composition in view is thus -made, put together with illustrations, and published for the first -time, it has been my especial aim to exclude everything dogmatic. As -can readily be seen, the details have been worked out in the actual -classroom. The safe thing about the use of such a text by other -instructors is the fact that they and their pupils can test the truth -of the generalizations by first-hand inquiry of their own. - -The examples chosen from literature and here printed are specific -as well as typical. They have been selected not only to illustrate -general principles, but for other reasons as well--some for superior -intrinsic worth; some for historical position; all because of possible -inspiration. But none have been selected as models. - -The themes written by my present and former pupils are added for the -last reason--as sure reinforcement of the inspiration, as provokers -to action. Often students fail to write because there is held up to -them a model, something complicated and perfect in detail. They feel -their apprenticeship keenly and hesitate to attempt a likeness to a -masterpiece. But, on the other hand, when they get a glimpse of history -and when they see the work of a fellow tyro, they know that an equally -good or even better result is within their reach and so set to work -at once. The productions of pupils under this historical-illustrative -method, wherever it has been tried, have been encouraging. Seldom has -any one failed to present an acceptable piece of work. Once in a while -a "mistake" has been made that has reassured a teacher and a class of -the accuracy of the contamination theory--the historical cross-grafting -or counter influence of types; that is, sometimes in the endeavor -to produce a theme that should vary from those he thought the other -students would write, an earnest worker has unconsciously produced -an example of the next succeeding type to be studied; unconsciously, -because hitherto, of course, the classes have gone forward without a -printed text. - -This statement leads to the question, Why publish the literary -examples? Why not merely give the references? Because school and even -town libraries are limited. Twenty-five card-holders can scarcely get -the same volume within the same week. Besides, the plan I consider -good to insure the pupil's thorough acquaintance with the library -accessible to him and with library methods and possibilities is quite -other than this. This book is meant as a work-table guide for the -student and as a time-saver for the teacher; hence all the necessary -material should be immediately at hand. The instructor's concern in -the teaching of narrative writing is just the twofold one mentioned -before--to orientate the young scribbler and to give him a quick and -sure inspiration. After that he is to be left alone to write, and the -fewer the books around him the better. - -The bibliography is added for two other classes of persons: those -who desire to make a somewhat further and more minute study of type -developments, and those who wish merely to read extensively or -selectively in the works of fiction and history themselves. The list of -books and authors is intended simply to be helpful, not exhaustive, and -consequently contains, with but few exceptions, only those works that -one might reasonably expect to find in a well-stocked college or city -library. - -I confess I hope that some amateur writer out of college or high -school may chance upon the book and be encouraged by it to persevere. -There are many delightful hours possible for one who enjoys -composition, if he can but get a bit of a lift here and there or a -new impulse to an occasionally flagging imagination. All but the very -earliest literature has been produced thus--namely, by a conscious -writing to a type, with an idea either of direct imitation, as in the -case of Chaucer, who gloried in his "authorities;" or of variation and -combination, as in the case of Walpole; or of equaling or surpassing in -excellence, as in the case of James Fenimore Cooper; or of satire and -supersedence, as in the case of Cervantes. - -But to go back to the student themes here presented. They were written, -with the exception of two, for regular class credit. These two were -printed in a college paper as sophomore work. A number of the remaining -came out in school publications after serving in the English theme box. -All in all, they are the productions of actual students; from whom, -it is hoped, other young writers may get some help and a good deal of -entertainment. In each case the name of the author is affixed to his -narrative, since he alone is responsible for the merits and faults of -the piece. - -In regard to the Filipino pupils no word is necessary: they speak -for themselves. The work here given as theirs is theirs. I have not -treated it in any way different from the way I treat all school -themes, American or other. It is everyday work--criticized by the -instructor, corrected by the pupil, and returned to the English office. -The examples could be replaced from my present stock to the extent -literally of some ten, some twenty, some two hundred fold. Naturally, -of course, as is true of all persons using a foreign language, the -Filipinos mistake idiom more often than anything else, and they write -more fluently than they talk; but there is among them no dearth of -material and no lack of thought. Indeed, the publishers have been -embarrassed by the supply of interesting stories, especially in the -earlier types. The temptation has been to add beyond the limits of -the merely helpful and illustrative and to pass into the realm of the -curious and entertaining. Regardless of literary quality, Filipino -themes have today an historic value; many of them are the first written -form of hitherto only oral tradition. - -To say to how great an extent a writer and talker is indebted to -his everyday working library is difficult. Like a sculptor to an -excellent quarry, a teacher can indeed forget to give credit where -credit is due, especially to the more general books of reference such -as encyclopedias and histories of literature--Saintsbury, Chambers, -Ticknor, Jusserand. I would speak of the "Standard Dictionary," that -does all my spelling for me and not a little of my defining; and the -"Encyclopedia Britannica," which in these days of special treatises is -sometimes superciliously passed over, though it offers in its pages not -only much valuable literary information, but some of that information -in the form of very valuable literature. Next to these might be placed -Dunlop's "History of Fiction;" and last, particular and occasional -compilations like Brewer's and Blumentritt's, and criticism like -Murray's, Keightley's and Newbigging's. Then there is the "World's -Great Classics Series." Just how much I owe to these general texts I -cannot perhaps tell definitely; though I am not conscious of borrowing -where I have not given full credit. As I have said before, direct -treatises on my subject are lacking; so I shall have to bear alone the -brunt of criticism on the analysis, or the main body of the book. I -know of no one else to blame. - -Grateful acknowledgment is due to my husband, Dean Spruill Fansler, -for long-suffering kindness in answering appeals to his opinion and -for reading the manuscript, compiling the bibliography, and making the -index. Without his generous help I should hardly have found time or -courage to put the chapters together. - -In justice to former assistant English instructors in the United States -who have successfully followed earlier unpublished outlines, and to my -colleagues in the University of the Philippines who have been teaching -from the book in manuscript form for nine months, it ought to be said -that, whatever faults the work may have--and I fear they are all too -many--it can hardly be dismissed as an immature and untried theory. - -If there should be found any merit in the content of the book in -general, I should like to have that ascribed to the influence of -the department of English and Comparative Literature of Columbia -University, where I had the privilege of graduate study with such -scholars as Ashley Horace Thorndike, William Peterfield Trent and -Jefferson Butler Fletcher. - -My chief material debt is to the publishing firms who have very -courteously permitted the reprinting of narratives selected from their -copyrighted editions. - - H. E. F. - -University of the Philippines, Manila, 1911. - - - - -TABLE OF CONTENTS - - - LIST OF STORIES xv-xx - INTRODUCTION xxi-xxvi - - Part 1. Narratives of Imaginary Events - - CHAPTER I. THE PRIMITIVE-RELIGIOUS GROUP 1-82 - - I. MYTH--Classes of myths: primitive-tribal and - artificial-literary--Myth age not a past epoch--How traditional myths - are collected--How original myths are composed--Difference between - myth and allegory, and myth and legend--Working definition--List of - mythological deities: Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Hindu, Russian, Finnish, - Norse, Filipino--Examples 1 - - II. LEGEND--Myth and legend compared--Saga--Saint legends--Geoffrey of - Monmouth--Legendary romance--Modern literary legends--How to select - and record a legend of growth--How to write a legend of art--Working - definition--Examples 22 - - III. FAIRY TALE--Attitude toward fairy stories--Fundamental - characteristics of fairies--Northern fairies and their attributes--Some - literary fairy tales--How to proceed to write a fairy tale--Summary - definition--Partial lists of fairies of different countries: - Northern, Irish and Scotch, Filipino, Russian, Arabian, and - Miscellaneous--Examples 43 - - IV. NURSERY SAGA--Origin--The brothers Grimm--English nursery - sagas--Distinguishing elements: kind of hero, rhymes, repetition of - situation, supernatural element--A few specific suggestions--Working - definition--Examples 65 - - CHAPTER II. SYMBOLIC-DIDACTIC GROUP 83-127 - - I. FABLE--Æsop--Other early fabulists--"Hitopadesa" and - "Panchatantra"--"Reynard the Fox" and bestiaries--Some more writers of - fables--Working definition--Classes of fables: rational, non-rational, - mixed--How to write an original fable--Maxims upon which fables may be - built--Examples 83 - - II. PARABLE--Distinguishing characteristics--Tolstoy--Suggestions on - writing a parable--Working definition--A list of proverbs that might be - expanded into parables--Examples 101 - - III. ALLEGORY--Characteristics--Plato's "Vision of Er"--Modern - allegories--Some famous English allegories--Allegory fable, and - parable differentiated--Working definition--How to write an - allegory--Present-day interest in primitive types--Examples 112 - - CHAPTER III. INGENIOUS-ASTONISHING GROUP 128-254 - - I. TALE OF MERE WONDER--Definition--Collections of - wonder stories, ancient and modern--Suggestions for - writing--Characteristic elements--Mediæval tales of chivalry--Heroic - romances--Examples 128 - - II. IMAGINARY VOYAGE WITH A SATIRIC OR INSTRUCTIVE - PURPOSE--Distinguishing elements--Source of the type--Famous - imaginary voyages--Suggestions on how to write - a satiric imaginary voyage--Examples 150 - - III. TALE OF SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERY AND OF MECHANICAL - INVENTION--Relation to imaginary voyages--Essential - elements--Kind of stories included in this type--Suggestions - on how to write the type--Examples 194 - - IV. THE DETECTIVE STORY AND OTHER TALES OF PURE - PLOT--The detective story: connection with stories of - ingenuity--Poe and Doyle--Other stories of plot--Romance--A - few suggestions--Examples 225 - - CHAPTER IV. THE ENTERTAINING GROUP 255-344 - - I. TALE OF PROBABLE ADVENTURE--Characteristics and definition--How to - write a probable adventure--A warning--Examples 255 - - II. THE SOCIETY STORY--Definition--Pastoral Romance--Suggestions on - writing a society story--Examples 277 - - III. THE HUMOROUS STORY--Definition--Fableaux--Picaresque - romance--Difference between a humorous story and a comic - anecdote--Examples 299 - - IV. THE OCCASIONAL STORY--The spirit of the occasional story--Its - masters--Suggestions for subjects--Examples 313 - - CHAPTER V. THE INSTRUCTIVE GROUP 345-394 - - I. THE MORAL STORY--Differentiated from the symbolic-didactic - group--Great authors who have written this type: Hawthorne, Johnson, - Voltaire, Tolstoy, Cervantes--What to put in and what to leave - out--Examples 345 - - II. THE PEDAGOGICAL NARRATIVE--Definition--Some famous pedagogical - books--Froebel--Examples 361 - - III. THE STORY OF PRESENT DAY REALISM--What realism is--The realistic - school--Suggestions on characters to treat--Examples 370 - - CHAPTER VI. THE ARTISTIC GROUP: THE REAL SHORT-STORY 395-478 - - I. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL WEIRD TALE--Origin--The School of Terror--Poe, - Stevenson, Maupassant, and others--Suggestions on writing a weird - tale--Material and method--Form--Examples 398 - - II. STORY THAT EMPHASIZES CHARACTER AND ENVIRONMENT--Kipling--Mary - E. Wilkins Freeman--Hamlin Garland--Bret Harte--Suggestions - and precautions--The "Character": Overbury and Hall--Novel of - Manners--Trollope's Cathedral Town Studies--Examples 426 - - III. STORY THAT EMPHASIZES CHARACTER AND EVENTS--Difference between - character-place story and character-events story--Component elements - of this type--A scrapbook suggestion--Other suggestions--Examples 455 - - Part II. Narratives of Actual Events - - CHAPTER VII. PARTICULAR ACCOUNTS 479-556 - - I. INCIDENT--Definition--How to tell an incident--Examples 480 - - II. ANECDOTE--Meaning of the term--Ana--Collection of anecdotes--How to - write an original anecdote--Examples 490 - - III. EYE-WITNESS ACCOUNT--What it is and how to write it--An ancient - eye-witness account--Literary eyewitness accounts--Examples 499 - - IV. TALE OF ACTUAL ADVENTURE--The one necessary element--Suggestions - for writing--Examples 512 - - V. THE TRAVELER'S SKETCH--What a traveler's sketch includes--Great - travel books--Fielding's gentle warning--A motto for the - narrator--Examples 530 - - CHAPTER VIII. PERSONAL ACCOUNTS 557-611 - - I. JOURNAL AND DIARY--The two distinguished--The range of - journals--"Vida del Gran Tamurlan"--Great diaries--How to write - journal and diary--Examples 557 - - II. AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND MEMOIRS--Distinction--Cellini, Franklin, and - others--Selection and coherence--Examples 572 - - III. BIOGRAPHY--Beginning in England of literary biography--Great - biographies in English--Writer and subject--Beginning, emphasis, and - attitude--Outline for a life--Examples 590 - - CHAPTER IX. IMPERSONAL ACCOUNTS 612-645 - - I. ANNALS--What annals are--Famous old annals--Stow--Suggestions on - material--Examples 613 - - II. CHRONICLES--Definition--Froissart, Ayala, "General Chronicle of - Spain"--Saxo Grammaticus--Holinshed--True relations--Examples 626 - - BIBLIOGRAPHY 647-660 - INDEX 661-672 - - - - -LIST OF STORIES - -NARRATIVES OF FICTITIOUS EVENTS - - - =Myths= - PAGE - - The World's Creation and the Birth of Wainamoinen. - From the _Kalevala_ 14 - - _Students' Themes_-- - Origin of the Moon Emanuel Baja 16 - The First Cocoanut Tree Manuel Reyes 18 - The Lotus Ida Treat 21 - - =Legends= - - Kenach's Little Woman William Canton 28 - - _Students' Themes_-- - A Legend of Gapan Teofilo Corpus 36 - Manca: a Legend of the Incas Dorothea Knoblock 38 - The Place of the Red Grass Sixto Guico 42 - - =Fairy Tales= - - The Boggart From the English 55 - - _Students' Themes_-- - Cafre and the Fisherman's Wife Benito Ebuen 57 - The Friendship of an Asuang and a Duende Emanuel Baja 58 - A Tianac Frightens Juan Santiago Ochoa 61 - The Black Cloth of the Calumpang Eusebio Ramos 63 - - =Nursery Tales= - - Princess Helena the Fair From the Russian 69 - - _Students' Themes_-- - Juan the Guesser Bienvenido Gonzalez 73 - The Shepherd who became King Vicente Hilario 78 - - =Fables= - - Jupiter and the Countryman From the _Spectator_ 90 - The Drop of Water (Persian) From the _Spectator_ 91 - The Grandee at the Judgment Seat Kriloff 91 - The Lion and the Old Hare From the _Hitopadesa_ 92 - The Fox and the Crab From the Turkish 93 - The Fool who Sells Wisdom From the Turkish 94 - The Archer and the Trumpeter From the Turkish 95 - - _Students' Themes_-- - The Courtship of Sir Butterfly Maximo M. Kalaw 96 - The Hat and the Shoes José R. Perez 98 - The Crocodile and the Peahen Elisa Esguerra 99 - The Old Man, his Son, and his Grandson Eutiquiano Garcia 100 - - =Parables= - - The Three Questions Tolstoy 104 - - _Students' Themes_-- - A Master and his Servant Eusebio Ramos 110 - The Parable of the Beggar and the Givers Dorothea Knoblock 111 - - =Allegories= - - The Artist Oscar Wilde 120 - The House of Judgment Oscar Wilde 120 - - _Students' Themes_-- - The Chain that Binds Elizabeth Sudborough 123 - The Love which Surpassed All Other Loves Florence Gifford 125 - - =Tales of Mere Wonder= - - The Story of the City of Brass From the _Arabian Nights_ 132 - - _Student's Theme_-- - The Magic Ring, the Bird, and the Basket Facundo Esquivel 147 - - =Imaginary Voyages= - - Mellonta Tauta Edgar Allan Poe 155 - - _Student's Theme_-- - Busyong's Trip to Jupiter Manuel Candido 173 - - =Tale of Scientific Discovery and Mechanical Invention= - - A Curious Vehicle Alexander Wilson Drake 200 - - _Students' Themes_-- - The Spyglass of the Past Hazel Orcutt 218 - Up a Water Spout Edna Collister 221 - - =Detective Story and Tale of Mere Plot= - - Thou Art the Man Edgar Allan Poe 228 - - _Student's Theme_-- - The Picture of Lhasa Hazel Orcutt 248 - - =Tales of More-or-Less Probable Adventure= - - Fight with a Bear Charles Reade 257 - - _Student's Theme_-- - Secret of the Jade Tlaloc Dorothea Knoblock 267 - - =Society Stories= - - The Fur Coat Ludwig Fulda 277 - - _Student's Theme_-- - The Lady in Pink Wilma I. Ball 289 - - =Humorous Stories= - - The Expatriation of Jonathan Taintor Charles Battell Loomis 302 - - _Students' Themes_-- - Kileto and the Physician Lorenzo Licup 307 - The Lame Man and the Deaf Family Santiago Rotea 311 - - =Occasional Stories= - - The Lost Child François Coppée 315 - - _Students' Themes_-- - The Peace of Yesterdays Katherine Kurz 334 - A Christmas Legend Ida F. Treat 342 - - =Moral Story= - - Jeannot and Colin Voltaire 348 - - =Pedagogical Narratives= - - Gertrude's Method of Instruction Pestalozzi 365 - - _Student's Theme_-- - Lawin-lawinan (a Filipino game) Leopoldo Uichanco 368 - - =Stories of Present-Day Realism= - - The Piece of String Maupassant 374 - - _Students' Themes_-- - A Social Error Ida Treat 382 - The Lot of the Poor Agnes Palmer 388 - Filipino Fear Walfrido de Leon 390 - - =Psychological Weird Tales= - - The Signal-Man Charles Dickens 403 - - _Student's Theme_-- - Like a Thief in the Night Dorothea Knoblock 420 - - =Stories That Emphasize Character and Environment= - - Muhammad Din Rudyard Kipling 432 - - _Students' Themes_-- - The Fetters Katherine Kurz 436 - When Terry Quit Dorothea Knoblock 446 - Nora Titay and Chiquito Joaquina E. Tirona 453 - - =Stories That Emphasize Character and Events= - - The Necklace Maupassant 460 - - _Student's Theme_-- - Andong Justo Avila 470 - - -NARRATIVES OF ACTUAL EVENTS - - =Incidents= - - A Near Tragedy Fielding 482 - An Incident before Sadowa: Birds - Divulge Army Secrets Newspaper 483 - An Incident Related in a Letter Robert Louis Stevenson 484 - - _Students' Themes_-- - A Hero Dead Ida Treat 485 - My First Day at School Máximo Kalaw 487 - The Guinatan Prize Leopoldo Faustino 488 - - =Anecdotes= - - Coleridge's Retort 493 - An Inevitable Misfortune 494 - A Point Needing to be Settled 494 - Patience 494 - Preaching and Practice 495 - Johnson's Dictionary 495 - The Boy Kipling 496 - Sir Godfrey Kneller Spence 496 - Pope and the Trader Spence 497 - The Capitan Municipal and the Jokers José Feliciano 497 - An Instance of Bamboo Spanish Pilar Ejercito 498 - Mr. Taft's Mistake Amando Clements 499 - - =Eye-Witness Accounts= - - The Portuguese Revolution Newspaper 503 - - _Student's Theme_-- - A Contrast Adolfo Scheerer 509 - - =Tales of Actual Adventures= - - The Bear Hunt Tolstoy 514 - - _Students' Themes_-- - Saladin and I Fight an Alupong Cecilio Esquivel 525 - I Get Two Beatings Facundo Esquivel 527 - The Fall of Juan Gregorio Farrales 528 - A Narrow Escape from a Wild Carabao José Cariño 529 - - =Travellers' Sketches= - - On the Way to Talavera George Borrow 534 - Smyrna--First Glimpses of the East Thackeray 539 - - _Student's Theme_-- - A Trip from Curimao to Laoag Fernando Maramag 551 - - =Journals and Diaries= - - Extracts from Pepys' Diary 562 - - _Students' Themes_-- - A Diary of Four Days Facundo Esquivel 564 - A Journal: Mock Heroic Victoriano Yamzon 567 - - =Autobiography and Memoirs= - - The Life of David Hume, Esq. Written by himself 575 - Student autobiography Domingo Guanio 585 - What I Remember of the Coming of - the Americans Leopoldo Faustino 588 - - =Biographies= - - Queen Christina Hawthorne 595 - - _Students' Themes_-- - Juan Luna's Life Dolores Asuncion 604 - Life of Elizabeth Glade Nellie Barrington 607 - The Biography of a Traitor Walfrido de Leon 609 - - =Annals= - - The State of England, in Stephen's Reign _Peterborough Chronicle_ 616 - - _Students' Themes_-- - Annals of Mangaldan Translated by Bernabe - Aquino 621 - Annals of Pagsanjan Dolores Zafra 622 - - =Chronicles= - - Rivalry between Two Towns Froissart 630 - - _Students' Themes_-- - A Short History of Ilagan Fernando Maramag 636 - Some Incidents of the Rebellion of - 1898: A True Relation Marcelino Montemayor 639 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -There are many interesting possibilities for both the reader and the -writer in a study of narrative types. It is a truism to say that -everybody loves a story. Every race, every nation, every tribe, every -family, has its favorite narratives. Every person has his and likes to -repeat them. Even the driest old matter-of-fact curmudgeon delights -in relating an incident if nothing else. Perhaps he tells you of how -he lost and found again his pocket talisman--a buckeye, maybe, or -a Portuguese _cruzado_. He will assure you that he does not really -believe that the unfortunate events that followed his loss of it -were occasioned by its absence, or the return of good-luck casually -connected with its recovery; but still, he adds, he feels much better -with the old thing in his pocket. "And that was a queer coincidence, -wasn't it?" he insists, starting again over the details of the -happening. So with us all: we all know and love stories, our own or -another person's. - -It is a fine thing to write a story. It is good through one's -imagination and skill to entertain one's fellows or through one's -accurate observation of life and history to benefit society. The -narrator has always been honored. In earliest times he was the seer -and prophet, forming the religion of his wandering tribe; later he -was the welcomed guest, for whom alone the frowning castle's gate -stood always open; and after the dark ages, in the time of the -revival-of-the-love-of-written-things, he was the favorite at the -court of favoring princes, who lavished upon him preferment and money -and humbly offered him the laurel crown, their highest tribute. In our -own day his reward surpasses that of kings and presidents. They come to -him, and for immortality invoke his name. In earliest times he composed -in verse so that his story might be remembered and handed down. In -latest times he writes most often in prose--a more difficult medium -to handle with distinction, but one more widely understood and more -readily appreciated than poetry. - -Narrative as a general type needs no definition. What pure description -is the ordinary reader might hesitate to assert, or exposition, or -argumentation; but not story: he knows that. Let an author combine -these others with a series of events, let him put them in as aids to -the understanding or as ornaments on the thread of his recital, and -they are accepted without question as elements of narration, be it -prose or verse in form, true or fictitious in content. That is to say, -though a story often contains to some extent all the other forms of -writing too, we think of it as narrative because it carries us along a -course of events. Frequently the teller spends much time in studying -different styles and kinds of description and in analyzing various -devices used to secure definite effects, because he wishes to call -to his aid every bit of skill possible in portraying his characters -and places; but general readers take his fine points of description -and exposition as matters of course and are crudely interested in the -happenings he has to relate. They are unconscious of the fact that -much of their enjoyment comes from knowing how a hero looks, what -his surroundings are, and what his disposition and usual character. A -story-writer gives no small amount of attention also to transcribing -conversations; but the ordinary reader takes these likewise as expected -parts of narrative. But there is one thing that the author and the -reader agree on at the outset as necessary to be settled; namely, the -kind of story to be written or to be read. - -It is pleasant to know that there are definite types of narratives -that the world has always loved, and that there are new forms growing -up as civilization becomes more complex. Some of the kinds of stories -discussed in this book are older than the English language, older than -Christianity, older even than the divisions of Aryan speech. They seem -to be inherent forms of all literatures, to be as ancient as thought -and as young as inspiration. They are in use to-day in every tongue. - -This book attempts to set forth the distinguishing elements of the -types that have persisted, those matters that a writer must take into -account when producing or a critic when judging. Though its title -emphasizes the fact that now-a-days most persons think of stories -as being always in prose, the book discriminates but little in this -respect. In reality a student of narrative cares hardly at all whether -the vehicle be meter or not. He is concerned with something else. -Language form is rather an accident of the time and the fashion than -anything essential. It is not dependent on the author's personality -even. Chaucer undoubtedly would write in prose to-day, whereas our -modern idealists would certainly have lisped in numbers a hundred -years ago. We study narrative types, therefore, with the idea that -verse tales are but measured and rhythmical expression of the -same forms--sometimes the best, sometimes merely the most popular -expression--but that the development in presentation has been toward -prose, especially for the more psychological and complex material. - -On the basis of content, narratives fall naturally into two large -divisions: those that recount imaginary happenings and those that -recount actual happenings. These large divisions in turn fall into -smaller and still smaller groups upon one basis or another--source, -purpose, method, or what not. - -Under the division of narratives of fictitious events we notice -six groups, when we are thinking of source and purpose: (1) -the primitive-religious; (2) the symbolic-didactic; (3) the -ingenious-astonishing; (4) the merely entertaining; (5) the -instructive; (6) the artistic. Within these groups come the following -individual types: (1) myth, legend, fairy tale, nursery saga; (2) -fable, parable, allegory; (3) the tale of mere wonder, the imaginary -voyage with a satiric or expository purpose, the tale of scientific -discovery and mechanical invention, the detective story; (4) the -probable adventure, the society story, the humorous and picaresque -story, the occasional story; (5) the moral tale, the pedagogical -narrative, the realistic sketch; (6) the psychological weird tale; the -story that emphasises place and character, the story that emphasizes -events and character. - -On the basis of form and of the attitude of the teller, narratives of -actual events fall into three groups. The first set has five types: -incident, anecdote, eye-witness account, traveler's sketch, and the -tale of actual adventure. The second set includes journal and diary, -autobiography and memoirs, biography. The third set is composed of -annals, and chronicles and true relations. Instead of naming these -sets, we might describe them thus: The first is made up of particular -accounts of the doings of the writer and others in chance groups; the -second, of more-or-less extended accounts of the sayings and doings -of individual personages who for the time are important and either -write about themselves or are written about; the third, of impersonal -accounts of the doings of larger or smaller sections of mankind as -units. - -Of course, the types fade into one another, and it is only in analyzing -that a person would draw a hard and fast line between any two of them; -but it is permissible to draw this line for the convenience of study -and discussion. After an investigator has learned all the kinds, he may -classify a given story into one or the other group according to the -predominating characteristics, or he may make a group of narratives of -mixed kinds, and consider the various elements. - -If he is trying, however, to write also, as well as to study according -to the suggestions of this book, it would be a good plan for him to -endeavor to produce at each attempt a rather more than less pure -example of the type under consideration, so as to get as a result not -only an interesting narrative, but a working model either for criticism -or further production. For a person to have studied carefully an -analysis of a type, to have read a distinct literary example of it, -and to have attempted to put together a narrative that contains the -essential elements, ought to mean that he has in his possession a piece -of knowledge that will be valuable to him all his life, irrespective -of any purely artistic quality of his achievement. That quality will -probably be present much more surely than he at first expects; for a -large part of the excellence of a piece of literature results from -definite knowledge on the part of the writer, a clear aim to produce a -particular kind of composition, and an indefatigable perseverance in -revision of details. By emphasis on knowledge and work one would not -preclude inspiration. Indeed, one would thereby court it; for, as we -all know, it comes usually only to the expert and patient toiler. Even -Robert Burns labored long over his reputedly spontaneous songs. The -thought came to him often at the plough, it is true; but he confesses -that afterwards he spent many hours polishing his lines. - - - - -PART I - -NARRATIVES OF IMAGINARY EVENTS - - - - -TYPES OF PROSE NARRATIVES - -CHAPTER I - -THE PRIMITIVE-RELIGIOUS GROUP - - -The traditional types--myth, legend, fairy tale, and nursery saga--are -designated as primitive-religious in order to express the fact -that they grew up in response to the reverent credulity of simple -folk. The myths of all races are the embodiment of their highest -prehistoric religious thinking. The legends are their semi-historical, -semi-religious thinking. The fairy and nursery stories are modified -forms of the other two. Consequently they all belong together in one -group. - - -I. The Myth - -There are two general classes of myths: the primitive-tribal and the -artificial-literary, or myths of growth and myths of art. - -From the point of view of ethnology, the myth of growth is primitive -philosophy, and represents racial anthropomorphic thinking concerning -the universe. Anthropomorphic is a term derived from the Greek -ἄνθρωπος, meaning man, and μορφἠ, meaning shape or form, and is used -to describe the tendency of people to represent invisible forces as -having human form (for example, the Deity), or natural forces like -fire and wind as being animate, volitional agents. It is probably true -that, at a very early stage in the development of both the individual -and the race, every object is looked upon as having life; and later, -if any distinction is made between animate and inanimate, spirits are -yet regarded as agents controlling the inanimate and causing changes -therein. A myth of growth is the verbal expression of this attitude of -the mind of a people in its wider and deeper imaginings. - -Doubtless after the first or second repetition of a myth, which -some seer of a tribe chants in rude verse, the primitive listener -is confused between fact and fancy. The non-essential incidents -which the narrator adds from sheer love of making up a story are not -distinguished from the incidents that really express the working of -natural forces. So it happens that, in the time between the first -starting up of the account and the analysis and explanation of it -by some philosopher, a narrative handed down from father to son is -believed in, word for word, as religious truth, though gaining details -and losing its original meaning as it goes. As some one has said, it -was because the Greeks had forgotten that Zeus meant _the bright sky_ -that they could talk of him as a king ruling a company of manlike -deities on Mount Olympus. - -There are many beautiful myths existing to-day in prose and poetry. In -the tribal species, there is the great mass of Greek and Roman early -religious stories and there are the Oriental and the Norse cycles. In -the artificial group there are the later Greek and Roman myths like -those devised by Plato and Plutarch, and there are our more modern -beautiful creations with myth elements like Milton's "Comus" and many -of the poems of Keats, where not only the incidents are newly made -but the deities also. In prose we have the delightful "Wonder Book," -which Hawthorne prepared for children. We have become so familiar with -"Paradise Lost" that we hardly realize that it is essentially myth--a -great seer's expression of the anthropomorphism of his people. Like a -true bard of old, Milton added much also to his people's thinking on -the universe. How much he added we see fully only when we deliberately -compare the extension and concreteness of his account with the -meagerness of the Hebrew Scriptures. - -[Myth age not a past epoch] - -An error we are liable to fall into concerning myths is that of -presuming that they are wholly things of the past; that nowadays nobody -believes in them or tells them. In fact, many persons and many tribes -believe in them and tell them. The myth age is not a past epoch, but -a condition of thinking. It is always present somewhere and present -to some extent always among all races. The primitive tribes of the -Philippines believe implicitly in their myths. The Bontoc Igorots, -for example, tell how the Moon woman, Kabigat, cut off the head of a -child of the Sun man, Chal-chal, and thus taught head-hunting to earth -people; some of them tell, too, how Coling, the Serpent Eagle, was -made, and happens to be always hovering over their pueblo. Even the -youngest child knows how the rice-bird came about, and why an Igorot -never harms O-wug, the snake. These stories are being gathered to-day -by American scientists and are being written down for the first time. -The native college students of the Islands have joined in a movement -to preserve the traditions of the more civilized tribes also, and are -industriously putting into written form the stories of their people. -Most of these are not beliefs that are past, but beliefs about the -past--a distinction noteworthy to the student of myths. Little children -of all races are naturally in a myth age, and many of their imaginings -are as beautiful as those of the old Greeks, and, if made known, would -be as contributive to literature, I dare say. Poets are but grown-up -children to whom Nature makes a continued concrete appeal, and they are -always thinking myth-wise, we well know. - -So it happens that even the most learned man is willing to listen -to a new myth. All the reader demands is that it shall be either a -scientifically made record of some present tribal belief or a beautiful -and philosophical interpretation of the workings of nature--such a one -as a simple, early pagan, but poetic and essentially refined, mind -might imagine. Plato's myths were advisedly artificial. He deliberately -set out to modify and improve the government of his time by means of -religious stories, and he begged the other philosophers to attempt the -like also. He gave his magnificent "Vision of Er" as an example of what -might be done. - -[How traditional myths are collected] - -If one wishes to collect traditional myths among a primitive people, -this is in general the way he proceeds: He calls to his aid the -more elderly folk and the little children--those that have time and -inclination to talk. If he can not speak their dialect, he obtains -an interpreter--if possible, one very intimate and sociable with the -tribe. Then he himself tries to get into good fellowship with all, -and to induce free and natural talking. He asks for tales of the sun -and moon, the wind and the rain, grasses, flowers, birds, clouds, -mountain-systems, river-chains, lightning, thunder, and whatever else -their gods have charge of. He asks about the relation of these gods -with the deities of neighboring peoples--which, if any, are to be -feared and why. Then he makes note of as many historical facts as he -can about the tribe--where it first lived, what are the topographical -features of the remote and the immediate places of abode, how powerful -the warriors are, what respect they command from outsiders, what are -considered most honored occupations, and so on. These facts are not -to go explicitly into the story, but are to form the background of -explanation if he cares to seek or give one. Then, too, they may aid -him in making a happy translation of the primitive oral narrative. The -aim of the collector, however, is accuracy rather than beauty, though -beauty may be present in his versions. - -[How original myths are composed] - -The writer of an original myth, on the other hand, tries to make -his diction as exquisite as he can without affectation. He proceeds -somewhat differently, though with no less forethought. If he wishes to -use gods and goddesses already known, he attempts not to violate the -generally accepted notions of their characteristics. He bears in mind -that the beings of myths are large, ample, superhuman, of the race of -the infinite. Above mortals, they rule mortals or ignore them. The -gods are never petty, though they may be trivial. They belong to the -over-world. They are essential: they make day and night, the coming -of the seasons, the roll of the ocean, the rising and setting of the -constellations. Connected with them too, of course, he knows, are the -lesser events of Nature's activity, the speaking of echo, the blooming -of the slender narcissus at the edge of the pool, the drooping of the -poplars. Hence the writer of a myth of art modifies or adds, but avoids -making radical changes. If he chooses wholly to invent his deities, -he picks out for each a definite phenomenon and keeps it steadily in -mind in order that his created personage may be an appropriate one to -perform the well-known actions of the natural force he is explaining. -He makes the deeds of his beings far-reaching in result and does not -forget to give them euphonious and suggestive names. - -[Difference between myth and allegory] - -There is a difference between myth and allegory as narratives, although -myth is fundamentally allegorical in the broad sense of the term. The -actors of myth are rather representative than figurative. Being grander -they are at once more simple and dignified than those of allegory. The -gods are not thin abstractions raised to concreteness, but are powerful -forces reduced to the likeness of men. - -Pure myth is different from pure legend likewise, though legend may -have gods in it. Legend is generally confined to a particular person -or event, or is connected with a definite spot and a limited result; -whereas myth deals with universal phenomena. - -[Working definition of myth] - -The collector or composer of myths, accordingly, posits for himself -some such working definition as this: A myth is a story accounting in a -fanciful way for a far-reaching natural phenomenon. The basis on which -the narrator proceeds is emphatically not science, but imagination and -philosophy. He pictures the activities of the universe as the conduct -of personal beings, as gods and goddesses doing good or evil, creating -and destroying, ruling man or ignoring him, punishing and rewarding. - - -A List of Deities - - =Great Greek Deities= =Great Roman Deities= - Zeus Jupiter (king) - Appollon Apollo (the sun) - Ares Mars (war) - Hermes Mercury (messenger) - Poseidon Neptune (ocean) - Hephaistos Vulcan (smith who made the armor of the gods) - Hera Juno (queen) - Demeter Ceres (tillage) - Artemis Diana (moon, hunting) - Athena Minerva (wisdom) - Aphrodite Venus (love and beauty) - Hestia Vesta (home life) - Dionysos Bacchus (wine and revelry) - Eros Cupid (the lad Love) - Pluton Pluto (king of Hades) - Kronos Saturn (Time, who devoured all his children - except Jupiter, Neptune and Pluto) - -Juno was the wife of Jupiter, Hera of Zeus, Venus of Vulcan, Aphrodite -of Hephaistos. - -Persephone was wife of Pluton, Proserpine was wife of Pluto, Cybele was -wife of Saturn, Rhea was wife of Kronos. - - -Egyptian Gods - - Ra--the sun, usually represented as a hawk-headed man. He protects - mankind, but has nothing in common with men. - - Shu--light, a type of celestial force, for he is represented - supporting the goddess of heaven. His consort was Tefnet. - - Seb--the god of the earth; Nut was the goddess of heaven. These two - are called "father of the gods." - - Osiris--the good principle. He is in perpetual warfare with evil. He - is the source of warmth, life and fruitfulness. Isis, his wife, was - his counterpart in many respects. Osiris became the judge of the - under-world, and Isis was the giver of death. - - Horus--the son of Osiris. He avenged his father, who was slain by - Typhon. - - Seth, or Typhon--the brother of Osiris, and his chief opponent. - He represented physical evil; he was the enemy of all good. His - consort was Nebti. - - Thoth--the god of letters, the clerk of the underworld, and the - keeper of the records for the great judge, Osiris. The chief - moon-god. - - Ptah--the Egyptian Hephaestus, the divine architect. - - Ma-t--the goddess of truth. She is characterized by the ostrich - feather, the emblem of truth, on her head. - - Anubis--the jackal-headed, presided over tombs and mummification. - - The Sphinx--a beneficent being who personified the fruit-bearing - earth, and was a deity of wisdom and knowledge. - - -Hindoo Gods - - Dyaus--the most ancient name for the supreme god. Dyaus, the heaven, - married Prithivi, the earth, and they became the father and mother - of the other Hindu gods. Dyaus is also the god of rain. - - Indra--the rain-bringer. The son of Dyaus. He is a strong, impetuous - warrior, drives a chariot drawn by pawing steeds, bears a - resistless lance that is lightning. - - Vishnu--one name for the sun; second god of the Hindu triad, - literally the Pervader. (Brahma and Siva are the other two of the - trinity.) - - Vishnu is represented as being of blue color. His _sacti_, or wife, - is Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth. - - Mitra--another name for the sun-god. - - Rudra--the father of the storm-gods, the Maruts. - - Maruts--the storm gods. "They overturn trees, destroy whole forests, - they roar like lions, are swift as thought. In the Maruts we see - blind strength and fury without judgment." - - Vayu--sometimes the wind was thought of as a single personality. He - was called Vayu. - - Agni--the fire-god. Considered the messenger between the Hindus and - heaven. He carried their offerings to Dyaus-pitar. - - Varuna--the noblest figure of the Vedic religion. The supreme god at - one time. Sometimes he was the All-Surrounder. Later he was ruler - of the seas. - - Yama--the judge of the dead. He had a dog with four eyes and wide - nostrils, whom he sent to earth to collect those about to die. - - Vritva--an evil snake which had stolen some treasure and a maiden, - Ushas. She was rescued by Indra. - - Ushas (Ahana)--a pure, white-robed being from whose presence every - dark thing fled away. Ushas never grows old, but she makes others - old. (Same as Eos, Greek; Aurora, Latin.) She is the dawn; is also - known by the name of Dahana. - - Rita--a word to signify the all-pervading law of nature. It was the - power that settled the path of the sun. The abode of Rita was in - the east, and finally every good thing traveled in the path of Rita. - - Asoura Medhas--the wise living one, the animation of moving mind and - matter. He is the mysterious principle of life, is represented as - one god high over everything. However, he mingles in the affairs of - men. - - Surya (same as Gr. Helios)--the special god who dwelt in the body of - the sun. - - Savitar--another personification of the sun. He is spoken of as - golden-eyed, golden-tongued and golden-handed. - - -MINOR DEITIES - - Kuvera--the god of riches. - - Kamadeva--the god of love, represented as riding on a dove, and armed - with an arrow of flowers and a bow, whose string is formed of bees. - - Ganesha--the god of prudence and policy. - - -Russian Gods - - Peroun--Lightning; the chief god. - - Svaroga--begetter of fire and of the sun gods. Used also sometimes as - name of chief god. - - Dajh'bog--grandfather of the sun. - - Kolyada--beneficent spirit who was supposed to visit the farms and - villages in mid-winter and bring fertility to the pent-up herds and - frost-bound seeds. A festival in honor of Kolyada was held about - December 25, the date when the sun was supposed to triumph over the - death in which Nature had gripped him, and to enter again on his - new span of life. - - Stribog--wind-god. - - -Finnish Mythology (derived from Kalevala) - - Ahto--god of the sea. - - Hisi--evil spirit, also called Lempo. His son was Ahti, another name - for Lemminkainen. - - Lowjatar--Tuoni's daughter; mother of the nine diseases. - - Mana--also called Tuoni; the god of death. - - Manala--also called Tuonela; the Deathland, for it was the abode of - Mana. - - Suonetar--the goddess of the veins. - - Tapio--the forest-god. - - Ukko--the greatest god of the Finns. - - Mielikki--the forest-goddess. - - Osmotar--the wise maiden who first made beer. - - Sampo--the magic mill forged by Ilmarinen, which brought wealth and - happiness to its possessor. - - -Norse Deities - - Odin--the All-father. - - Thor--the thunderer. - - Baldr--the shining god; he typifies day. - - Freyr (Fro)--fruitfulness; the patron of seafarers. - - Tyr--the god of war and athletic sports. - - Bragi--god of poetry and eloquence. - - Hodur--Baldur's twin brother; the god of darkness. - - Heimdall--kept the keys of heaven; was the watchman of Asgard. - - Ulle--god of the chase and of archery. A fast runner on stilts or - snowshoes. - - Mimir--most celebrated of the giants; god of wisdom and knowledge. - - Loki--the god of strife and the spirit of evil. He had three cruel - and hateful children: Fenris, a huge wolf; Hel, half black and half - blue, who lived on men's brains and marrow; and Formungard, the - monstrous serpent of Midgard. Loki's wife was Sigura. - - -Filipino Deities - -TAGALOG - - Atasip--a demon of the ancient Tagalogs. - - Bathala--principal god of the Tagalogs. - - Dian Masalanta--the god which was the patron of lovers and the god of - procreation. - - Idinale--the god of husbandry. - - Lakhanbakor or Lakhanbakod--a god who cured sickness. - - Lakambui--a god who first (according to some writers) gave food. - - Pasing-tabi sa nono--with this phrase the Tagalogs used to pray - the gods of the fields to allow them to walk on the fields and - cultivate them. - - Sinaya--a divinity which the fishermen used to pray to. - - Sitan--a kind of evil spirit (a Mohametan word). - - Sonat--the pontifex maximus of the ancient Tagalogs. - - -VISAYAN - - Laon--the supreme god. - - Makabantog--the god of licentiousness and tumult. - - Sigbin--certain familiar spirits, which used to accompany any woman. - They made a bargain with her and served her constantly. - - Solad--the Inferno. - - Sikabay--Eve, the first woman. - - Sikalak--the first man, Adam. - - Sinburanen--the god who conducted the souls of the dead consigned to - Hades. - - Suigaguran } - Suinuran } gods of the Inferno. - Sumpay } - - Tagalabong--spirits who lived in the fields and woods. - - Yatangao--a god which made himself visible in the rainbow. Warriors - going to battle invoked this god. - - -BAGOBOS - - Bayguebay--the first woman or Eve. - - Damakolen--the god who made the hills and mountains. - - Makakoret--the god who created the air. - - Makaponquis--the god who created water. - - Malibud--the deity (fem.) who created woman. - - Mamale--the god who created the earth. - - Rioa-Rioa--a horrible and evil being which, suspended from the zenith - like a large pendulum, approaches the earth and devours those men - which his servant Tabankak gives him. - - Salibud--the god who taught the first men to cultivate the fields, to - trade, and to practice other industries. - - Note: In the Filipino themes a foreign word is italicized only the - first time it appears. - - -=The World's Creation and the Birth of Wainamoinen= - -Long, long ago, before this world was created, there lived a lovely -maiden called Ilmatar, the daughter of the Ether. She dwelt in the -air--there were only air and water then--but at length she grew tired -of always being on high, and came down and floated on the surface of -the water. Suddenly, as she lay there, a mighty storm-wind began to -blow and poor Ilmatar was tossed about helplessly on the waves, until -at length the wind died down, the waves became still, and Ilmatar, worn -out by the violence of the tempest, sank beneath the waters. - -Then a magic spell overpowered her, and she swam on and on vainly -seeking to rise above the waters, but always unable to do so. Seven -hundred long weary years she swam thus, until one day she could not -bear the loneliness longer, and cried out: "Woe is me that I have -fallen from my happy home in the air, and cannot now rise above the -surface of the waters. O great Ukko, ruler of the skies, come and aid -me in my sorrow!" - -No sooner had she ended her appeal to Ukko than a lovely duck flew -down out of the sky, and hovered over the waters looking for a place -to alight; but it found none. Then Ilmatar raised her knees above the -water, so that the duck might rest upon them; and no sooner did the -duck spy them than it flew towards them and, without even stopping to -rest, began to build a nest upon them. - -When the nest was finished, the duck laid in it six golden eggs, and a -seventh of iron, and sat upon to hatch them. Three days the duck sat -on the eggs, and all the while the water around Ilmatar's knees grew -hotter and hotter, and her knees began to burn as if they were on fire. -The pain was so great that it caused her to tremble all over, and her -quivering shook the nest off her knees, and the eggs all fell to the -bottom of the ocean and broke in pieces. But these pieces came together -into two parts and grew to a huge size, and the upper one became the -arched heavens above us, and the lower one our world itself. From the -white part of the egg came the moonbeams, and from the yolk the bright -sunshine. - -At last the unfortunate Ilmatar was able to raise her head out of the -waters, and she then began to create the land. Wherever she put her -hand there arose a lovely hill, and where she stepped she made a lake. -Where she dived below the surface are the deep places of the ocean, -where she turned her head towards the land there grew deep bays and -inlets, and where she floated on her back she made hidden rocks and -reefs where so many ships and lives have been lost. Thus the islands -and the rocks and the firm land were created. - -After the land was made Wainamoinen was born, but he was not born a -child, but a full-grown man, full of wisdom and magic power. For seven -whole years he swam about in the ocean, and in the eighth he left the -water and stepped upon the dry land. Thus was the birth of Wainamoinen, -the wonderful magician.--From the _Kalevala_. - - "Finnish Legends for English Children," by R. Eivind (T. Fisher - Unwin). - - -_TRIBAL MYTH_ - -=Origin of the Moon= - -South and east of Manila Bay stretches a piece of land, on which there -used to be a large forest surrounded and fringed by the Sierra Madre -mountains on the east, and guarded by the active Taal volcano on the -south. This volcano, which is on a small lake, is said to be always -looking toward the east, shouting with his big mouth the name of _Buan -Buan_, a very beautiful nymph who dwelt once in this deep forest. The -large trees formed towering pillars, the vines and moss that grew wild, -together with the blooming flowers, were ornaments of her court. The -birds, the insects, and all kinds of animals were her subjects. - -The people who live now in this land say that in the beginning of the -world there was no such thing as the moon that shines at night. They -assert that the origin of the moon came in this wise: - -Many thousands of years ago, when the beautiful nymph Buan was in her -court, a warlike tribe settled on her land of enjoyment. The invaders -began to cultivate the rich soil of this place. Buan, seeing that her -flowers would be destroyed and her birds driven away, fled toward the -west in grief. On the sea she saw a little _banca_ into which she -climbed and in which she drifted along until she came to an island near -where the Sun sleeps. - -One afternoon when the Sun was about to hide his last rays, he was met -by the beautiful nymph, who at once said to him, "O Sun, bear me with -you, and I will be your faithful wife forever." Without hesitation -or doubt, the gallant Sun, who had been shining over the earth with -open eyes looking for a wife, took Buan under his golden arm, and they -together, as true lovers, departed. - -The Arch-Queen of the Nymphs, ever quarrelsome and jealous, seeing the -departure of Buan, sent lightning and hurled thunderbolts after the two -fleeing lovers. Buan, who was peacefully slumbering on the breast of -her lover, fell down into the water. The Sun in his fright ran away, -and continued his course as usual. Pitied by the gods Buan did not -drown, but floated on the foam of the sea. The Sun lighted the world -the next morning with a great deal of heat and sorrow in his eyes, -searching for his lost sweetheart. Buan, who was hidden in the foam -that floated on the sea, did not come out until evening. By that time -Sun had retired to his wonderful cave beneath the ocean. Buan wandered -about until finally she saw a glittering light within the waves. In her -fright she cried aloud. The Sun, who was suddenly awakened from his -cave by her grief, saw her. With a satisfied heart he took her into his -cave, where they dwelt for a whole night. They sat and talked about -their love. The Sun taught her how to travel across the sky. However, -he asked Buan not to follow him in any of his journeys. - -One afternoon Buan was sitting before the door of the cave waiting for -her lover. Longing and sentiment grew strong in her, and she remembered -the past days when she had lived in her forest court. This state of -mind made her come out of the cave, and she rode on the air by magic. -For fifteen successive nights she did this, yet she could not see her -old home. Finally she asked her husband to bear her across heaven in -order that she might see her home. The next morning the Sun took Buan -on his back, and they sailed across the sky. The world became dark, -for the sun could not then well illuminate the earth. The gods were -astonished. The Arch-Queen of the Nymphs sent a storm of wind and rain, -which made Buan turn into a soft brilliant mass of light. She was to be -with her husband but once every thirty days. She was also punished by -not being allowed to show herself entirely every night. She could not -sail across heaven for more than thirteen or fourteen days at a time. - - --Emanuel Baja. - - -_TRIBAL MYTH_ - -=The First Cocoanut Tree and the Creation of Man= - -There were three gods, Bathala, Ulilangkalulua, and Galangkalulua. -Bathala, a very large giant, ruled the earth; Ulilangkalulua, a very -large snake, ruled the clouds; and Galangkalulua, a winged head, -wandered from place to place. In fact, each of these gods thought that -he was the only living being in the universe. - -The earth was composed of hard rocks. There were no seas and no oceans. -There were also no plants and no animals. It was indeed a very lonely -place. Bathala, its true inhabitant, had often wanted to have some -companions, but he wondered how he could provide these companions with -food, drink, and shelter when there was nothing on the earth but rocks. - -What was true of Bathala was also true of Ulilangkalulua. In his -kingdom Ulilangkalulua saw nothing but white clouds. His solitary -condition led him to visit other places. He often came down to the -earth and enjoyed himself climbing high mountains and entering deep -caves. - -As he was at the top of a very high hill one day, he saw some one -sitting on a large stone down below him. He was very greatly amazed and -it was a very long time before he could speak. At last he said, "Sir, -tell me who you are." - -"I am Bathala, the ruler of the universe," answered the god. -Ulilangkalulua was filled with anger when he heard these words. He -approached Bathala and said, "If you declare yourself to be the ruler -of all things, I challenge you to combat." - -A long struggle took place, and after the fighting had continued about -three hours Ulilangkalulua was slain. Bathala burned his body near his -habitation. - -Not many years after this event Galangkalulua, the wandering god, -happened to find Bathala's house. Bathala received him and treated him -kindly. Thus, they lived together for many years as true friends. - -Unfortunately, Galangkalulua became sick. Bathala did not sleep day and -night for taking care of his friend. When Galangkalulua was about to -die, he called Bathala and said, "You have been very kind to me, and -I have nothing to repay your kindness with. But if you will do what -I tell you, there is a way in which I can benefit you. You once told -me that you had planned to create creatures of the same appearance as -you in order that you might have subjects and companions, and that you -had not been successful because you did not know how you could supply -them with all the necessary things. Now, when I die, bury my body in -Ulilangkalulua's grave. In this grave will appear the thing that will -satisfy you." - -Bathala did what Galangkalulua told him, and Galangkalulua's promise -was fulfilled. From the grave grew a plant, whose nut contained water -and meat. Bathala was very anxious to examine the different parts of -the tree because he had never seen such a thing before. He took a nut -and husked it. He found that its inner skin was hard and that the -nut itself resembled the head of his friend, Galangkalulua. It had -two eyes, a flat nose, and a round mouth. Bathala then looked at the -tree itself and discovered that its leaves were really the wings of -Galangkalulua and its trunk the body of his enemy, Ulilangkalulua. - -Bathala was now free to carry out his plan. He created the first man -and woman. He built a house for them, the roof and walls of which were -made of the leaves of the cocoanut and the posts of which were cocoanut -tree trunks. Thus lived happily under the cocoanut palm this couple for -many years until the whole world was crowded with their children. These -children still use the cocoanut for food and clothing--the leaves for -making mats, hats, and brooms, and the fiber for rope and other things. - - --Manuel Reyes. - - -_ORIGINAL MYTH_ - -=The Lotus= - -Long ago, when the world was young, the Nile loved a maiden. She was -Isis, daughter of a hundred stars, who, as she nightly climbed the dark -pinnacle of cloud, drew her silver drapery across the stream's dark -bosom. Many were the sighs he breathed throughout the long nights--but -Isis heard him not; for the wind had told her of Osiris, Osiris the -beautiful, the well-beloved, who daily waked the dreaming earth with -his warm kiss. And afterwards Mira, the great Star-Mother, bending from -her gleaming throne, had spoken of Osiris and his glittering steeds, -while Isis listening, yearned for him whom she had never seen, whose -radiance was brighter even than that of Nefra-the-fire-bearer, who, -once in a century, flashed through the still heavens. So Isis heeded -not the Nile, moaning at her feet, for her eyes were ever bent on the -rim of the world, whence would come in rosy haste the heralds of Osiris. - -But one morning, when the starry sisters were fleeing, one by one, -to the silent underworld, Isis stayed in the dark cloudland. The -night winds called her to hasten, but she heard them not, and stood -waiting--while above the eastern horizon rose the Hours, streaking -the heavens with their amber veils, and borne along behind them, -Osiris himself, more radiant than her dreams. But Osiris, glad in the -greetings of the jubilant earth, saw only a star-maiden lingering in -her pale robes on the borders of the forbidden Kingdom. Catching up a -barbed shaft, he hurled it shrieking through the air--and Isis fell. - -The winds fled in horror from the earth; the air shuddered, and shrank -away; but the Nile, roaming in agony through the fields, stretched -out his mighty arms and, with a great cry, gathered the lifeless -star-maiden to his bosom. And there, where Isis fell, rose a starry -flower, pale, but with the stain of the dawn in its heart. - - --Ida F. Treat. - - -II. The Legend - -[Myth and legend compared] - -Historically the legend may or may not be a later development than the -myth. The bards may have ascribed the fanciful deeds of the gods to -their tribal heroes, or they may have elevated their tribal heroes into -gods by exaggerating actual adventures into far-reaching phenomena. For -our present study the descent is immaterial; the distinction is all. -In the myth the chief actors are gods; in the legend, men--men endowed -with superhuman strength often, to be sure, but still men, though the -favorites of the gods. The course of events in the typical myth is pure -and absolute imagination; the course of events in the typical legend -is somewhat held down by facts. When the deeds are magnified or wholly -fanciful, the characters are semi-historical; when the events or places -are historical, the chief actors are generally imaginary. - -[Saga] - -In the myth-legend, or saga, the deeds transcend the ordinarily -credible and the heroes are often directed by superhuman agencies. -Perhaps the oldest examples of this kind are those recorded in the -Sanscrit "Mahabharata" and "Ramayana", and the Persian "Shah Nameh." -In the last occurs the beautiful story of Sohrab and Rustam, who lived -six hundred years before Christ. Firdousi, writing as late as the -first decade of the eleventh century, was therefore working over very -ancient material. Such combinations likewise of older tradition and -later writing are the Anglo-Saxon "Beowulf", the French "Chanson de -Roland", the Spanish "Cid", the Italian "Orlando Furioso" (which is the -French story adapted), the German "Hildebrand", "Waltharilied", and -"Nibelungen Nôt", and the Icelandic "Grettir the Strong" and "Volsunga -Saga". The "Volsunga Saga" as we have it today is prose with some songs -from the "Elder Edda". Legend in its written form as a composition -type we think of as prose, though it may be verse, or prose and verse -combined. - -[Saint legends] - -To the early church a legend meant the narrative of the life of a saint -or a martyr, especially the account of his triumphs over temptation -and of the miracles he witnessed or performed. Even to-day in some -monasteries such stories are read at meals while the monks eat. It is -interesting to note that the church distinguishes between _legenda_, -things to be read, and _credenda_, things to be believed. What appears -to be the earliest of these legends and the model of the others is said -to have been written by St. John of Damascus, a monk of Syria, who -lived in the eighth century. It is called "Barlaam and Josaphat" and -contains besides the lives of the prince and the prophet many beautiful -parables, one of which Shakespeare immortalized in the casket scene in -the "Merchant of Venice". The life of Josaphat is in turn said to be -the legendary life of the Buddha. There are many beautiful Celtic and -Anglo-Saxon Christian stories of this type. In the Cynewulfian group -of Anglo-Saxon Lives of the Saints, the "Andreas" is considered very -fine. With its account of St. Andrew's miraculous rescue of St. Matthew -from prison among the heathen is a sturdy, realistic description of -a stormy voyage on northern seas. "The Golden Legend", published by -Caxton in 1483, is a translation of a celebrated medieval collection of -lives of the greater saints, composed in Latin by Jacobus de Voragine, -a Dominican archbishop of Genoa, in the thirteenth century. - -[Geoffrey of Monmouth] - -The great English legendary history and a great source-book of English -literary legend is the _Historia Britonum_ of Geoffrey of Monmouth. -Besides giving us the original story of Lear and many other things in -his record of British rulers down to the Saxon Invasion, this twelfth -century author, building on the meager basis of an unknown Nennius -and possibly a cleric's version of Welsh traditions, started the -magnificent Arthurian cycle on its way. This Latin account joined the -great stream of continental legendary romance, added to it and took -from it, and came back into English in Layamon's "Brut" in the form of -a series of metrical legends for the common people. - -[Legendary romance] - -That most original and enchanting of all the medieval legendary romance -books, Malory's "Morte Darthur", stands between the old and the new -English fiction in that it has the content of the one and the form -of the other. In it were gathered up the religious element (that had -come in with the tradition of Joseph of Arimathæa), the love element -(of the Launcelot-Guinevere stories), and the national element -(Arthur, his wonderful Excalibur and his knights), and so emphasized, -so incomparably set forth, so shaken together, if you please, that -they combined and stayed together ever afterwards. On the form side, -this work is prose and it is art--the first English prose fiction, so -announced and so taken. It is literary legend. An artist conscious of -his art offered the material not as history or religion, but as a thing -of beauty. The preface states, "And for to pass the time this book -shall be pleasant to read in, but for to give faith and belief that all -is true that is contained herein, ye be at your liberty." - -When stories such as these, either by an aim at history or at art, -emphasize what has been believed, they are classed as legend; when they -emphasize magic and combine history in a riotous way for the mere sake -of astonishing, they are classed as wonder tales. - -While on the one side legend shades off into myth and wonder tales, -on the other it shades off into anecdote. A tendency to write legend -instead of fact is always present. As soon as a man or a place becomes -prominent, fictitious stories begin to spring up, founded not only on -what was done, but also on what might have been done. But to persist, a -legendary account must be true to the character and traits of the hero -or town or tribe or race with which it deals; at least, it must be true -to the popular conception of the character. Though innumerable, the -versions of the Faust story, for example, are nevertheless essentially -consistent. Typical legends shading off into history and anecdote are -those about William Tell, Robert the Bruce, Alfred the Great, John -Smith and Pocahontas, and many of the popular tales about Columbus, -Washington, Lincoln, and Rizal. - -[Modern literary legends] - -There are modern literary legends. An exquisite legend of a place -is "Rip Van Winkle" by Washington Irving. A terrific French novel -is founded on the legendary idea of the Wandering Jew. A wholesome -boys' story that is often mistaken for history is "The Man Without a -Country." Selma Lagerlöf, who was given the Nobel prize in 1909 for the -most original piece of literature, has written among others a saint's -legend about a hermit who was won to brotherly love by a pair of birds -that built a nest and hatched their young in his outstretched palms as, -keeping a vow, he stood day and night praying heaven to take vengeance -and destroy the sinful world. Allied to this species is one of Count -Tolstoy's most widely read stories. It is built upon an idea current in -all races and appearing in many legends; namely, of an angel sent by -God to live a while among men. But Tolstoy, with his fervent devotion -to the good of the people, has turned his narrative into a parable, and -calls it "What Men Live By." Another beautiful religious narrative, an -art legend tangent to tradition, is Henry Van Dyke's "The Other Wise -Man." - -[How to select and record a legend of growth] - -It is easy for one to select a place legend. Every town in the world, -I suppose, has stories connected with it that are only typically -true. Almost every prominent topographical feature has an explanatory -narrative current about it. Take any of these popular tales concerning -the cliffs, river, mountain peak, spring, lake, gully, or pictured -rocks of your neighborhood and you have a legend, so long as your -story confines itself to that particular spot, and does not let its -subject be emphatically the result of great natural forces or of the -cause of all subsequent similar formations. In other words, one must -remember that the basis of legend is particular incident, while that -of myth is universal phenomenon; the content of legend is exaggerated -history, while the content of myth is fanciful science. All one needs -to do to record such a place legend is to arrange the details in a -coherent fashion and to write out the sentences in good, clear, simple -English, sticking as close to the original oral account as correct -syntax will allow. If one cares to write about people instead of -places, one follows in general the same directions, being sure not -to fall into mere anecdote or incident, but to have a full, complete -account. - -[How to write a legend of art] - -To write a literary art legend, an author selects in history some -period that he likes very much or some hero or heroine he has always -admired, and notes down a number of facts that are connected with one -another and with his subject; then he lets his imagination loose upon -them. He uses terms and expressions of the age of which he is writing; -phrases that now appear quaint add a flavor of reality to the tale. But -he is careful, however, not to misuse words and thus commit what the -critics call anachronism, by putting the idioms peculiar to one age or -one people into the mouth of another. An occasional special touch is -good, but too much straining for effect spoils a story. He gets rather -into the mood of simple faith in greatness and goodness, and tells -of brave deeds and generous actions that might well have happened. -Dramatic truth there must be; literal truth, not necessarily. A working -definition runs somewhat like this: - -[Working definition] - -Legend is a narrative partly true and partly imaginary, about a -particular person, event, place or natural feature; a story that has -the semblance of history, but is in reality almost altogether fanciful, -since the basic fact is amplified, abridged, or wholly changed at the -will of the narrator. - - -=Kenach's Little Woman= - -As the holy season of Lent drew nigh the Abbot Kenach felt a longing -such as a bird of passage feels in the south when the first little -silvery buds on the willow begin here to break their ruddy sheaths, -and the bird thinks tomorrow it will be time to fly over seas to the -land where it builds its nest in pleasant croft or under the shelter -of homely eaves. And Kenach said, "_Levabo oculos_--I will lift up -mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help," for every year -it was his custom to leave his abbey and fare through the woods to the -hermitage on the mountainside, so that he might spend the forty days in -fasting and prayer in the heart of solitude. - -Now on the day which is called the Wednesday of Ashes he set out, but -first he heard the mass of remembrance and led his monks to the altar -steps, and knelt there in great humility to let the priest sign his -forehead with a cross of ashes. And on the forehead of each of the -monks the ashes were smeared in the form of a cross, and each time the -priest made the sign he repeated the words, "Remember, man, that thou -art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return." - -So with the ashes still in his brow and with the remembrance of the end -of earthly days in his soul, he bent his steps towards the hermitage; -and as he was now an aged man and nowise strong, Diarmait, one of the -younger brethren, accompanied him in case any mischance should befall. - -They passed through the cold forest, where green there was none, unless -it were the patches of moss and the lichens on the rugged tree trunks -and tufts of last year's grass, but here and there the white blossoms -of the snowdrops peered out. The dead gray leaves and dry twigs -crackled and snapped under their feet with such a noise as a wood fire -makes when it is newly lighted; and that was all the warmth they had on -their wayfaring. - -The short February day was closing in as they climbed among the -boulders and withered bracken on the mountainside, and at last reached -the entrance of a cavern hollowed in the rock and fringed with ivy. -This was the hermitage. The Abbot hung his bell on a thick ivy bough -in the mouth of the caves; and they knelt and recited vespers and -compline; and thrice the Abbot struck the bell to scare away the evil -spirits of the night; and they entered and lay down to rest. - -Hard was the way of their sleeping; for they lay not on wool or on -down, neither on heather or bracken, nor yet on dry leaves, but their -sides came against the cold stone, and under the head of each there was -a stone for pillow. But being weary with the long journey, they slept -sound and felt nothing of the icy mouth of the wind blowing down the -mountainside. - -Within an hour of daybreak, when the moon was setting, they were -awakened by the wonderful singing of a bird, and they rose for matins -and strove not to listen, but so strangely sweet was the sound in the -keen moonlight morning that they could not forbear. The moon set, and -still in the dark sang the bird, and the gray light came, and the bird -ceased; and when was white day they saw that all the ground and every -stalk of bracken was hoary with frost, and every ivy leaf was crusted -white round the edge, but within the edge it was all glossy green. - -"What bird is this that sings so sweet before day in the bitter cold?" -said the Abbot. "Surely no bird at all, but an Angel from heaven waking -us from the death of sleep." - -"It is the blackbird, Domine Abbas," said the young monk; "often they -sing thus in February, however cold it may be." - -"O soul, O Diarmait, is it not wonderful that the senseless small -creatures should praise God so sweetly in the dark, and in the light -before the dark, while we are fain to lie warm and forget His praise?" -And afterwards he said, "Gladly could I have listened to that singing, -even till tomorrow was a day; and yet it was but the singing of a -little earth wrapped in a handful of feathers. O soul, tell me what -it must be to listen to the singing of an Angel, a portion of heaven -wrapped in the glory of God's love!" - -Of the forty days thirty went by, and oftentimes now, when no wind -blew, it was bright and delightsome among the rocks, for the sun was -gaining strength, and the days were growing longer, and the brown trees -were being speckled with numberless tiny buds of white and pale green, -and wild flowers were springing between the boulders and through the -mountain turf. - -Hard by the cave there was a wall of rock covered with ivy, and as -Diarmait chanced to walk near it, a brown bird darted out from among -the leaves. The young monk looked at the place from which it had flown, -and behold! among the leaves and the hairy sinews of the ivy there was -a nest lined with grass, and in the nest there were three eggs--pale -green with reddish spots. And Diarmait knew the bird and knew the eggs, -and he told the Abbot, who came noiselessly, and looked with a great -love at the open house and the three eggs of the mother blackbird. - -"Let us not walk too near, my son," he said, "lest we scare the mother -from her brood, and so silence beforehand some of the music of the cold -hours before the day." And he lifted his hand and blessed the nest and -the bird, saying, "And He shall bless thy bread and thy water." After -that it was very seldom they went near the ivy. - -Now after days of clear and benign weather a shrill wind broke out -from beneath the North Star, and brought with it snow and sleet and -piercing cold. And the woods howled for distress of the storm, and -the gray stones of the mountain chattered with discomfort. Harsh cold -and sleeplessness were their lot in the cave, and as he shivered, the -Abbot bethought him of the blackbird in her nest, and of the wet flakes -driving in between the leaves of the ivy and stinging her brown wings -and patient bosom. And lifting his head from his pillow of stone he -prayed the Lord of the elements to have the bird in His gentle care, -saying, - -"How excellent is Thy loving kindness, O God! therefore the children of -men put their trust under the shadow of Thy wings." - -Then after a little while he said, "Look out into the night, O son, and -tell me if yet the storm be abated." - -And Diarmait, shuddering, went to the mouth of the cavern, and stood -there gazing and calling in a low voice, "Domine Abbas! My Lord Abbot! -My Lord Abbot!" - -Kenach rose quickly and went to him, and as they looked out the sleet -beat on their faces, but in the midst of the storm there was a space -of light, as though it were moonshine, and the light streamed from -an Angel, who stood near the wall of rock with outspread wings, and -sheltered the blackbird's nest from the wintry blast. - -And the monks gazed at the shining loveliness of the Angel, till the -wind fell and the snow ceased and the light faded away and the sharp -stars came out and the night was still. - -Now at sundown of the day that followed, when the Abbot was in the -cave, the young monk, standing among the rocks, saw approaching a woman -who carried a child in her arms; and crossing himself, he cried aloud -to her, "Come not any nearer; turn thy face to the forest, and go down." - -"Nay," replied the woman, "for we seek shelter for the night, and food -and the solace of fire for the little one." - -"Go down, go down," cried Diarmait; "no woman may come to this -hermitage." - -"How canst thou say that, O monk?" said the woman. "Was the Lord Christ -any worse than thou? Christ came to redeem woman no less than to redeem -man. Not less did He suffer for the sake of woman than for the sake of -man. Women gave service and tendance to Him and His Apostles. A woman -it was who bore Him, else had men been left forlorn. It was a man who -betrayed Him with a kiss; and woman it was who washed His feet with -tears. It was a man who smote Him with a reed, but a woman who broke -the alabaster box of precious ointment. It was a man who thrice denied -Him; a woman stood by His cross. It was a woman to whom He first spoke -on Easter morn, but a man thrust his hand into His side and put his -finger in the prints of the nails before he would believe. And not less -than men do women enter the heavenly kingdom. Why, then, shouldst thou -drive my little child and me from thy hermitage and thy hospitality?" - -Then Kenach, who had heard all that was said, came forth from the cave, -and blessed the woman. "Well hast thou spoken, O daughter; come, and -bring the small child with thee." And turning to the young monk, he -said, "O soul, O son, O Diarmait, did not God send His Angel out of -high heaven to shelter the mother bird? And was not that, too, a little -woman in feathers? But now hasten, and gather wood and leaves, and -strike fire from the flint, and make a hearth before the cave, that -the woman may rest and the boy have the comfort of the bright flame." - -This was soon done, and by the fire sat the woman eating a little -barley bread; but the child, who had no will to eat, came round to the -old man, and held out two soft hands to him. And the Abbot caught him -up from the ground to his breast, and kissed his golden head, saying, -"God bless thee, sweet little son, and give thee a good life and a -happy, and strength of thy small body, and if it be His holy will, -length of glad days; and ever mayest thou be a gladness and deep joy to -thy mother." - -Then, seeing that the woman was strangely clad in an outland garb of -red and blue and that she was tall, with a golden-hued skin and olive -eyes, arched, very black eyebrows, aquiline nose, and a rosy mouth, he -said, "Surely O daughter, thou art not of this land of Erinn in the -sea, but art come out of the great world beyond?" - -"Indeed, then, we have traveled far," replied the woman; "as thou -sayest, out of the great world beyond. And now the twilight deepens -upon us, and we would sleep." - -"Thou shalt sleep safe in the cave, O daughter, but we will rest here -by the embers. My cloak of goat's hair shalt thou have, and such dry -bracken and soft bushes as may be found." - -"There is no need," said the woman, "mere shelter is enough," and she -added in a low voice, "Often has my little son had no bed wherein he -might lie." - -Then she stretched out her arms to the boy, and once more the little -one kissed the Abbot, and as he passed by Diarmait he put the palms of -his hands against the face of the young monk, and said laughingly, "I -do not think thou hadst any ill-will to us, though thou wert rough and -didst threaten to drive us away into the woods." - -And the woman lifted the boy on her arm, and rose and went towards the -cavern; and when she was in the shadow of the rocks she turned towards -the monks beside the fire and said, "My son bids me thank you." - -They looked up, and what was their astonishment to see a heavenly glory -shining about the woman and her child in the gloom of the cave. And in -his left hand the child carried a little golden image of the world, and -round his head was a starry radiance, and his right hand was raised in -blessing. - -For such a while as it takes the shadow of a cloud to run across a -rippling field of corn, for so long the vision remained; and then it -melted into the darkness, even as a rainbow melts away into the rain. - -On his face fell the Abbot, weeping for joy beyond words; but Diarmait -was seized with fear and trembling till he remembered the way in which -the child had pressed warm palms against his face and forgiven him. - -The story of these things was whispered abroad, and ever since, in -that part of Erinn in the sea, the mother blackbird is called Kenach's -Little Woman. - -And as for the stone on which the fire was lighted in front of the -cave, rain rises quickly from it in mist, and leaves it dry, and snow -may not lie upon it, and even in the dead of winter it is warm to -touch. And to this day it is called the Stone of Holy Companionship. - - --William Canton. - - "W. V.'s Golden Legend" (Dodd, Mead & Co.). - - -=A Legend of Gapan= - -In the early part of December, in the year 1889, a poor man named -Carlos left the town where he lived to go to Gapan, about twenty miles -distant. - -Day was beginning to break as Carlos reached the foot of a hill, which -he was just about to climb, when he heard the sound of music. Looking -upward to find whence the sound came, he saw a bright white cloud. From -the center of this cloud shone a ray of light, forming a circle in -which were all the colors of the rainbow. - -Carlos could scarcely believe his eyes, till he heard a sweet voice -call his name. He hastened to climb the hill, and at the top found a -very beautiful woman, around whom shone a light that made the stones -and bushes sparkle like gems. - -When the man had drawn near, our Blessed Lady--for it was she--told him -that she wished a church to be built on that spot, and bade him go to -Gapan and tell this fact to the priest. On reaching the town, Carlos -went straight to the priest, and related what the Blessed Virgin had -confided to him. - -"I believe you," said the priest, "but to be still more certain, ask -her who sends you for some sign by which we may know that she is really -the Mother of God." - -Afterwards Carlos went to the spot where the Blessed Mother was -waiting for him. As soon as he saw her, he immediately threw himself at -her feet, and told her what the priest had said. With great tenderness -our Lady bade him come to her the next day, saying she would give him -the sign for which the priest had asked. - -Carlos came the next day. "Go now," said the Blessed Virgin, "to the -top of the hill, and gather the roses that are blooming there. Put them -in your handkerchief, and bring them to me; I will tell you what to do -with them." - -Though Carlos believed that there were no roses there, he obeyed -without a word. How great, then, was his surprise to find a garden rich -with flowers! Filling his handkerchief with roses, he hurried back to -the Blessed Virgin. - -Our Lady took the roses in her pure hands, and letting them drop back -into the handkerchief, said to Carlos, "Present these roses to the -priest, and say that they are the proof of the command I give you. Do -not show any one what you carry, and open your handkerchief only in the -presence of the priest." - -Thanking the Blessed Virgin, Carlos started once more for the town. -When he reached the convent and was brought before the priest, he -opened his handkerchief to show the sign that was to prove his words, -and fresh, sweet-smelling roses, wet with dew, fell to the floor, while -on the handkerchief itself appeared a beautiful picture of the Mother -of God. - -"The Blessed Virgin is here," said the father, and then he knelt before -the picture and gave praise to God. The miraculous handkerchief was -placed in the church of Gapan, where it remained until a suitable -chapel was built on the very top of the hill, as our Lady desired. - - --Teofilo P. Corpus. - - -=A Legend of the Incas= - -"We will rest here for a time, Uira." The hollow-eyed, tired-looking -youth dismounted from his burro. His companion Uira, a short, -swarthy-skinned Peruvian, turned and gazed down the mountainside whence -they had come, upon the flat roofs of Quito, which seemed like a dream -city, so lovely did the distance make it. "It is beautiful, is it not, -Juan? My home, the home of the Incas, the most ancient city in all the -land?" - -"Yes, indeed, it is beautiful, and, Uira, while we rest, you shall -tell me a tale of your people; some pretty legend of the Incas. I -think nothing else would so thoroughly refresh me." Now Juan could by -no exercise of ingenuity have touched a more responsive chord in the -nature of his friend. - -"Well, what shall it be, Juan? You have never heard the story of Manca, -have you? It may not be what you would call a pretty legend; yet I -think you would like it," said Uira, readily complying. - -"Very well, I know I cannot help but enjoy it," said Juan, as he -settled himself comfortably, with dried leaves for a couch and a tree -stump for a pillow. - -"Well," began Uira, his gaze still on the town below them. - -"Uira, you're not beginning right; you should say many, many, years -ago." The fine-featured Spanish boy looked mischievously at the stolid -descendant of the Incas. - -"You perhaps have heard," went on Uira, discouraging flippancy by -disregarding it, "of the story of Attahualpa; at least you have known -something of it from the histories you have studied; how, before he -died, the mighty Huayan Capar divided his kingdom between his two -sons, Attahualpa and Huascar, half-brothers, giving to Attahualpa -the northern region, Quito, which your geography calls Ecuador; how -Huascar, arrogant in his newly-acquired greatness, demanded tribute -from Quito. You know how Attahualpa angrily refused; how he came at -the head of a great army to the seat of his brother's power, defeated -Huascar, and taking from the conquered man kingdom and freedom, left -him only his life. Then the Spaniards, curses on them all----" - -"You forget that I am proud of my Spanish blood, Uira," the lad -interrupted, his cheeks flushing with resentment. - -"Ah, yes, Juan, I forgot. Forgive my hasty speech and unintended -insult. But to go on, the Spaniards, mad with lust for gold, marched -with armies legion in number. If you do not know, boy, how many legion -is, look at the tree tops above you; the leaves are countless; they are -legion. The invaders, with the Pizarro at their head, burned our homes, -desecrated our temples, and captured Attahualpa, who, elated with his -conquest, was returning to Quito. The Attahualpa, the records say, -collected in one room and gave the Pizarro the wealth of the Incas; and -your traditions tell you that in fear of his own life, Pizarro put his -captive to death. This is the story of Attahualpa as you have been -taught it. - -But I will now tell you what it is given only the few in whose veins -still flows the blood of the Incas to know. Huayan had a daughter -Manca, whose name is not written in the annals. She was sister to -Attahualpa, and in her heart was all the mighty pride of the Incas. -Oh, how she loved the name of her race! How she rejoiced in their -conquests, their prowess! How she delighted to look upon the gold in -the temples, and think that it was all part of the prosperity of her -people! There was a woman, Juan, perhaps not beautiful, I cannot say, -well worthy to bear the name of an Incan. - -How she wept when Pizarro, with his Spanish followers, seized -Attahualpa! But do not think that it was for fear that she wept, Juan. -It was for injured pride; for sorrow that she was to lose her dearest -friend, her brother. - -But when the loyal girl found that Attahualpa, a ruler, a conqueror -of men, and most of all, an Incan, was bargaining for his life with a -roomful of gold as the price, she prayed to the gods she worshiped, to -take her brother to the spirit world, before he should place this blot -upon the nation. She--heroine that she was--would rather a thousand -times have lost her companion than have had him coward enough to buy -his life thus. Day and night she pondered and prayed, and planned ways -by which she might ward off so awful an outrage against Incan pride. -After a week of despair and vain thought, while Attahualpa was robbing -the shrines of their ornaments to fill the great chamber chosen by the -Spanish general, Manca determined that since she could not by pleading -with Attahualpa or by playing upon his love for his sister or his -country or even for his gods, move him from his purpose, she would at -least save him from himself. - -This was Manca's purpose. Perhaps, Juan, I failed to tell you that -Manca bore a very strong resemblance to her brother," and for the first -time Uira looked away from Quito, and glanced questioningly at Juan. -The boy nodded. "Go on," he said, his gaze, too, traveling to the city -of antiquity, where, centuries ago, Manca made her hitherto unrecorded -sacrifice. - -"The spirited girl," went on Uira, "realized that when Pizarro had his -booty, his cowardly fear for himself would outweigh his honor, and -cause him to kill his prisoner; and so, when the day came on which -Attahualpa was to open the doors of the treasure-filled chamber, -Attahualpa lay at his home, guarded by servants, who were not to -liberate him till sundown; and Manca, garbed in her brother's clothes, -gave to Pizarro the store of wealth. As she walked home, along a -lonely forest path, she received the poisoned arrow intended for -Attahualpa. He, when he discovered his sister's bravery, slunk off to -the mountains, with never a thought of the rumors which would forever -darken his name. Thus Manca's life, by the sacrifice of which she had -hoped that she might keep bright the fame of her brother, was given -up for the sake of a coward's reputation. By crediting herself with -the surrender of the wealth, she had intended that Attahualpa, though -he had been defeated in battle, should still remain the hero of the -Incas." - -There was a pause. The man and the boy both were now staring down at -Ecuador's capital city, whose pillars seemed to be floating in the mist -just rising from Pinchincha's side. - -"As you said, it is not a pretty legend. But don't you think, Uira, -that Manca must have been very beautiful?" - - --Dorothea Knoblock. - - -=The Place of the Red Grass: or, The Invasion of Pangasinan by the -Ilocanos= - -Long before the Spaniards discovered the Philippines, there was war in -Luzon among the Pangasinan and Ilocano tribes. Each tribe had powerful -chiefs of remarkable courage and bravery. It was believed that they -were sons of gods, and possessed magical power. Among them was Palaris, -the distinguished chief of the Pangasinanes, and Lumtuad, the skillful -chief of the Ilocanos. These rulers were neighbors and the army of the -one plundered the towns of the other. On account of this reason and -also of the ambition of each to enlarge his dominion, a war broke out. -Lumtuad collected three hundred ships in Laoag, Ilocos Norte. These -ships were loaded with his chosen men armed with bolos, spears, and -bows and arrows. These ships sailed toward the south, and entered the -Gulf of Lingayen, Pangasinan. Palaris and his army went to meet them. - -At first, the battle took place on the water. Lumtuad showed his skill -to his enemy. He fought jumping from one ship to another. Unfortunately -he was shot by an arrow and fell into the water. After his death, his -soldiers fought furiously, and drove back the enemy into the town. - -When the invading army had landed all its forces, it pursued Palaris's -army as far as Mangaldan, a town fifteen miles from Lingayen. When -Palaris foresaw the future defeat of his army, he escaped into a sugar -field. There by Lumtuad's scouts he was found sleeping. They thrust a -lance through the middle of his body. But Palaris whirled himself free -from the lance, killed some of these soldiers, and pursued the rest -until his last breath was gone. He was then succeeded by his lieutenant -Afilado, and the battle was renewed. Afilado's forces were entirely -defeated and those who survived were killed outright. A river of blood -flowed from the spot where the battle took place, and the grass that -grows there today is red. The place where Palaris was struck was named -after him. - -After the war the victorious Ilocanos settled in the province of -Pangasinan; so that now they constitute a greater number in population -than the Pangasinanes themselves. - - --Sixto Guico. - - -III. The Fairy Tale - -[The attitude toward fairy stories] - -"From Ghoulies and Ghoosties, long-leggetty Beasties, and Things that -go Bump in the Night, Good Lord, deliver us!" the quaint old litany -pleads, and is probably better representative of the attitude of -primitive peoples toward the extraordinary personages of the sub-world -than is our more modern and debonair view. We have come to look upon a -fairy story as a mental holiday, to enjoy which the narrator and the -listener are off on a picnic. But not so do the unsophisticated folk -think of the events. The grown-up primitive man believes more seriously -in the tricks of goblins and sprites than do our most credulous modern -children. To him, the good or malicious influence of the nunu or -ticbalan is not a fiction, but a reality that must be reckoned with. -Luckily he can reckon with it; for even in the earlier folk tales the -fairies are not generally immortal, and they do not have unlimited -power. - -[Fundamental characteristics of fairies] - -One chief characteristic that distinguishes these extra-natural beings -from the gods is that the extra-natural are for the most part small and -belong to the under-world. They are not so much superhuman as other -than human. They may be checked or outwitted or even finally overcome. -They have power to tease a man, though not the power utterly to destroy -him. A pixy may cast a spell, but not forever. Jack-o-lantern, or -Will-o-the-wisp, may lead astray into a bog and may hope that his -victim be not a good wader, but the trick and the malicious wish are -the extent of the evil. The victim usually in the end escapes. If he -perishes, he has forgotten his charms or neglects to say his prayers. - -There is a somewhat well-fixed literary atmosphere for English fairy -stories and allusions. As we have said, they must have about them the -air of holiday. The English elfin people are a merry folk from the -dainty queen to the clumsiest boggart, and enjoy a bit of fun even at -their own expense,--though, to tell the truth, the joke is usually the -other way. - -If you wish to write an original narrative about these charming -creatures, the best way to prepare is to get acquainted with them. -No doubt you know where some of them live. Perhaps only this morning -you chanced upon a forgotten hammock left swinging between two stout -little sprigs of grass where a fairy had slept, or maybe last night -you clearly heard the tinkle of pranckling feet and were too lazy -or indifferent to go to the window to catch a glimpse of a wondrous -sight. I pray you, if you have the chance again, join the masquerade, -remembering only that if Oberon asks you why you are there, you must -speak out frankly. His promise is - - "We fairies never injure men - Who dare to tell us true." - -Oh, yes, one more thing to remember! Leave before cock-crow if you -expect to bring your wits with you. - -If you are afraid to try the experiment of original sightseeing and -fear Sir Topas's fate, do the next best thing. Seek out somebody who -has witnessed a fairy revel, or been at a brownies' banquet, has -outtricked a bogie, or propitiated an angry gnome, or, best of all, -likely, has made a little green cloak and hood for the lubber-fiend -of the kitchen hearth, and has seen him fling himself out-of-doors in -high glee to return no more except with good luck. Watchers who have -seen these things, I dare say, will have much to tell you. Get their -narratives. - -The Filipino fairies are not so winsome as the English, but they are -far more actual. The English fairies are "but mortals beautifully -masquerading," says Mr. W. B. Yeats. He could find no fault with the -Filipino fairies; for they are potent forces. Like the Irish deenee -shee, the Filipino supernatural beings are thoroughly believed in by -the peasants, and, like the Irish creatures, the Malayan are not always -small, but may be small or large at will. Some of their manifestations -are indeed gruesome; a few are harmless or even helpful; all are very -interesting. - -The educated young people of the Philippines have a mission to perform -for the native fairies. It has become the fashion in some places to -frown upon the unseen folk and to attempt to drive them out. The -endeavor is commendable so far as it discriminates. The bad fairies -should go. The wholesome ones should stay. They should stay for the -sake of future native poetry and for the sake of all the little brown -children who love stories. - -[Northern fairies and their attributes] - -A bare list of the names of fairies and subhuman beings is inspiring. -In the Norse countries there are dwarfs, known also as trolls, kobalds, -goblins, brownies, pucks, or elle-folk. It is said that 'they are -less powerful than gods, but far more intelligent than men; that -their knowledge is boundless and extends even to the future. They can -transport themselves with celerity from one place to another, and love -to hide behind rocks and repeat the last words of every conversation -they overhear. Echoes are known as dwarfs' talk. A Tarnkappe each one -owns, a tiny red cap which makes the wearer invisible. Dwarfs are ruled -by a king spoken of in various northern countries as Andvari, Alberich, -Elbegast, Gondemar, Laurin, or Oberon. He dwells in a magnificent -subterranean palace and owns a magic ring, an invisible sword, and a -belt of strength. His subjects often fashion marvelous weapons and -girdles. In general, dwarfs are kindly and helpful: sometimes they -knead bread, grind flour, brew beer, and perform countless other -household tasks; sometimes they harvest and thresh grain for the -farmers. If ill-treated or turned to ridicule, these little creatures -forsake the house never to come back to it again. Sometimes they take -vengeance by means of changelings. Changelings are the weazened and -puny offspring of the dwarfs which they substitute for unbaptized -children that they steal from people who have offended them. The -dwarfs, envious of the taller stature of the human race, desire to -improve their own, and so consider it good morals thus to make their -enemies their benefactors.' - -Fairies, elves, and ariels include all the small creatures who are -fair, good, and useful. They have their dwelling-place, it is said, -'in the airy realm of Alf-heim (home of the light-elves), situated -between heaven and earth, whence they can flit downwards whenever they -please, to attend to the plants and flowers, sport with the birds and -butterflies, or dance in the silvery moonlight on the green.' They have -golden hair, sweet musical voices, and magic harps. These gentle aerial -beings, scholars say, were introduced into Europe by the Crusaders and -the Moors of Spain. Before that time the creatures of the North had -been cold and ungenial, like their heath-clad mountains, chilly lakes, -and piny solitudes; but after the advent of the Peri of the East, who -live in the sun or the rainbow and subsist on the odor of flowers, the -Northern elves took on more winning attributes and finally became -beneficent and beautiful. - -Many of the stories in the so-called fairy books are technically -not fairy stories but nursery sagas, as we use the term today; for -instance, most of those in Miss Mulock's "Fairy Book" and the larger -part in the "Blue and the Green Fairy Books." They are English, French, -German, and other _Märchen_ retold. Jean Ingelow's "Mopsa the Fairy" -has a good-sounding title for a typical fairy book, though the material -seems to be literary rather than traditional. Brentano's creatures -in translation surely bear literary names, whatever they have in the -original. Dream-my-Soul and Sir Skip-and-a-Jump are suggestive of -the pen. But Puck of Pook's Hill comes near to being of the solid -traditional Northern type--at least in declaration. He says he is -the oldest Old Thing in England--very much at your service if you -care to have anything to do with him; but, by Oak and Ash and Thorn, -he hates the painty-winged, wand-waving, sugar-and-shake-your-head -set of imposters! He is for Wayland-Smith and magic and the old days -before the Conquest. Charles Kingsley's Madam How and Lady Why are -noble fairies without dispute--really goddesses; yet, strange to say, -they have revealed themselves to a pedagogue and have permitted their -work to be the subject of lectures. Still, they are companionable and -wholesome and none the less marvelous than their more common sisters. -This is an interesting contamination of genres--the pedagogical -narrative combined with the fairy tale. Usually the combination is not -so happily made. - -[How to proceed to write a fairy-tale] - -If a writer cares to attempt a new "old" fairy tale of the real sort, -he might observe the following more specific suggestions, which were -written out before "Puck of Pook's Hill" came into the hands of the -author of this book, but which happen to express fairly well what might -be deduced as Kipling's procedure. (1) Decide on the country in which -the events are to take place. (2) If you are not already familiar -with that country through the medium of traveling or residence, make -yourself familiar with it by reading. The more you know about the -common people and their superstitions, the better your story will be. -(3) Make lists of names of the good and bad spirits of that country -together with their occupations and powers. (4) From these lists pick -out the being you are going to treat as your chief personage and -clearly define to yourself its relation to the other spirits. (5) -Then weave about this personality a series of events for which it is -directly or indirectly responsible. (6) Be sure to make the fairies -or spirits of the other world the chief actors. If living man comes -in, he must be simply the object to whom they offer their favors or on -whom they play their pranks or wreak their vengeance. It is the doings -of the fairies or of the beings of the extra-natural world that you -must make your reader interested in. (7) If you care to write a weird -fairy tale, select the unpleasant spirits and proceed; but be sure not -to make your story revolting instead of weird. A good weird tale is -the work of a master and pleases because of its art. A horrible story -any bungler can tell. (8) Finally, remember the working definition: -[Summary definition] A fairy tale is a narrative of imaginary events -wherein the chief actors are beings other than man and the gods--beings -who have power to help man or to tease and molest him, but not the -power utterly to destroy him. - - -PARTIAL LIST OF FAIRIES, GOOD AND BAD, OF DIFFERENT COUNTRIES: - -=Northern Fairies= - - Duergar, or Dwerger--Gotho-German dwarfs, dwelling in rocks and - hills; noted for their strength, subtlety, magical powers, and - skill in metallurgy. They are personifications of the subterranean - powers of nature. - - Kobold--a house-spirit in German superstition; same as English Robin - Goodfellow, or Puck. - - Nick--a water-wraith or Kelpie. There are nicks in sea, lake, river, - or waterfall. Sometimes represented as half-child, half-horse, the - hoofs being reversed. - - Nis, or Nisse--a Scandinavian fairy friendly to farm-houses. - - Trolls--similar to Duergar; dwarfs of Northern mythology living - in hills and mounds. They are represented as stumpy, misshapen, - humpbacked, inclined to thieving and fond of carrying off children - or substituting one of their own offspring for that of a human - mother. They are said to dislike noise very much. - - Stromkarl--a Norwegian musical spirit, like Neck. - - -=Irish and Scotch Fairies= - - Banshee--domestic Spirit of certain Irish or Highland Scotch - families; supposed to take an interest in their welfare. - - Boggart (Scotch)--a local hobgoblin or spirit. - - Bogie (Scotch, Welsh, and Irish)--a scarecrow, a goblin. - - Brownie--the house spirit in Scottish superstition. Called in England - Robin Goodfellow. Farms are his favorite abode. - - Jack-a-lantern--a bog or marsh spirit who delights to mislead. - - Lepracaun, or Leprechaun (Irish)--a fairy shoemaker. - - -=Filipino Fairies and Other Minor Supernatural Creatures= - -The list that follows is necessarily very brief, for every tribe of the -Philippine Islands has its host of mischievous creatures, whose chief -delight is to annoy or frighten men. Others are of a more malignant -nature, however; some cause sickness; some insanity; and occasionally -some cause death, for the Filipinos as well as the Hungarians have -their vampires. - -The name of the tribe in which the belief in the spirit is most common -is given in parentheses after the description: - - Salut--the spirits of pestilence in general and cholera in - particular. They are described as tall, thin persons dressed in - flowing black robes, who walk the streets at night and knock at the - doors of the houses to which they wish to carry death. (Tagalog, - Pampango, Bicol.) - - Matanda sa punso--a little old man who lives in a mound of earth. He - loves children, and is willing to help those who respect him and - his house. (Tagalog.) - - Lampong--a tall harmless creature with a horse's head and feet but - a man's body. He lives in the woods, can travel very rapidly, and - is deathly afraid of a rosary. He possesses some magic power. - (Pangasinan.) - - Camana--an evil spirit that lives in gloomy places. It can assume the - form of any small animal, or can make itself invisible. If a person - who comes across the camana does not propitiate it with food or - something entertaining, he will become sick; and he can be cured - only by an old woman who is a manganito. (Parts of Zambales.) - - Patianak--Accounts about patianak are very contradictory. It is most - commonly believed, however, to be a mischievous fairy that assumes - the form of a small child and misleads travelers at night. It has a - mirthful laugh that is very attractive. The only way for the victim - to drive the fairy away and to find the right road is for him to - take off his coat and wear it inside out. (Tagalog and Bicol.) - - Mamamarang--a sorceress who fights with travelers in lonely places - and tries to kill them that she may eat them. (Visayan.) - - Managbatu--a spirit in the form of a man, which lives in trees and at - midnight throws stones and clods at the houses near his dwelling. - He can cause sickness to those that try to injure him. (Cagayan.) - - Cafre--an enormous black man that smokes long cigars. He does very - little harm, but delights in frightening people. Some say he can - transform himself into almost anything from a pig to a ball of - fire. He appears only at night, of course. (Pampango, Tagalog, - Bicol.) - - Tigbalang--a demon who lives in trees, especially the baliti tree. - His body is covered with long hair and one of his feet is a horse's - hoof. His chief delight is to lead people astray and make them - crazy, or to ravage banana plantations, to empty water jars, shake - houses, and disturb people generally. (Tagalog.) - - Tigabulak--a demon who in the form of an old man entices children - with candy and cakes. After he has led them far from home, he puts - them in a sack and carries them to his dwelling. Then he kills them - and makes money out of their blood. (Tagalog.) - - Caibaan--little mischievous field spirits who play tiny guitars. - They steal dishes and hide them, and indulge in other pranks. - (Pangasinan and Ilocano.) - - -=Russian Fairies and Witches= - - Domovoy--the Russian brownie that lives behind the stove. If he is - neglected, he waxes wroth and knocks the tables and benches around - at night. - - Baba-yaga--an ogress who lives on the edge of the forest, in a hut - built so as to turn with the wind like a weathercock. - - Rusalki--water sprites. - - Vodianoi--river genii. - - Lieshii and the Liesnik--forest demons. - - Vampires--ghosts who steal by night from their tombs, and suck the - blood of the living during their sleep. - - -=Arabian Fairies and Witches= - - Jinn--a sort of fairies of Arabian mythology--the offspring of fire. - (The singular of jinn is jinnee.) - - Afreet--a sort of Arabian ghoul or demon--the epitome of what is - terrible and monstrous in Arabian superstition. - - Peri (plural of Peris)--Peri are delicate, gentle, fairy-like beings - of Eastern mythology, begotten by fallen spirits. With a wand they - direct the pure in mind the way to heaven. - - -=Miscellaneous Fairies and Other Supernatural Creatures= - - Esprit Follet--the house-spirit of France. - - Familiar spirit--a spirit or demon supposed to be summoned by a - necromancer or a soothsayer from the unseen world to attend upon - him as a servant. - - Fay--the French word for fairy, anglicised. - - Gnome--one of a fabulous race of dwarfed and misshapen earth-spirits - or goblins, reputed to be special guardians of mines and miners. - (<French _gnome_, from the Greek.) - - Hag--a forbidding or malicious old woman; a witch. (<A. S. _haegtes_, - a fury.) - - Hamadryad--a wood-nymph fabled to live and die with the tree she - inhabited, the oak being considered as the tree preferred. (Greek - mythology.) - - Hornie, or Horny--the devil; so called because commonly represented - with horns. - - Imp--an evil spirit of low rank; a small, puny, or contemptible - devil. (Russian folk tales often make use of this spirit.) - - Undine--a female water-spirit without a soul, with which she might - be endowed only by marrying a mortal and bearing a child. (<Latin - _unda_, wave.) - - Werwolf--a person who, according to mediæval superstition, became - voluntarily or involuntarily a wolf and in that form practiced - cannibalism. (<A. S. _wer_, man + _wulf_, wolf.) - - Wraith--a fantom of a living person, supposed to be ominous of that - person's death. - - Lamia--a female demon or vampire that enticed youths and fed upon - their flesh and blood. (Classical mythology.) - - Merrow--a mermaid. (Irish mythology.) - - Monaciello--the house-spirit of Naples. - - Nightmare--an evil spirit once supposed to oppress people during - sleep. Called also Incubus. (<A. S. _niht_, night + _maere_, a - nightmare.) - - Ogre--a demon or monster that was supposed to devour human beings. - (<French _ogre_. The derivation is uncertain.) - - Ouphe--an elf or fairy. (<the Scandinavian. A variation of _oaf_ = - elf.) - - Pigwidgeon--a very small fairy. - - Sprite--a spirit of the earth or air. - - Sylph--originally, a being, male or female, living in and on the air - and intermediate between material and immaterial beings. (Used by - Paracelsus. The word is undoubtedly of Greek origin.) - - -=The Boggart= - -In the house of an honest farmer in Yorkshire, named George Gilbertson, -a Boggart had taken up his abode. He here caused a good deal of -annoyance, especially by tormenting the children in various ways. -Sometimes their bread and butter would be snatched away, or their -porringers of milk be capsized by an invisible hand; for the Boggart -never let himself be seen; at other times the curtains of their beds -would be shaken backwards and forwards, or a heavy weight would press -on them and nearly suffocate them. The parents had often, on hearing -their cries, to fly to their aid. There was a kind of closet, formed -by a wooden partition on the kitchen stairs, and a large knot having -been driven out of one of the deal boards of which it was made, there -remained a hole. Into this one day the farmer's youngest boy stuck -the shoe horn with which he was amusing himself, when immediately it -was thrown out again, and hit the boy on the head. The agent was, of -course, the Boggart, and it soon became the children's sport (called -_laking with Boggart_) to put the shoe horn into the hole and have it -shot back at them. - -The Boggart at length proved such a torment that the farmer and his -wife resolved to quit the house and let him have it all to himself. -This decision was put into execution, and the farmer and his family -were following the last loads of furniture, when a neighbor named John -Marshall came up: "Well, Georgey," said he, "and soa you're leaving -t'ould hoose at last?" "Heigh, Johnny, my lad, I'm forced tull it; for -that villain Boggart torments us soa, we can neither rest neet nor -day for't. It seems loike to have such a malice again t'poor bairns, -it ommost kills my poor dame here at thoughts on't, and soa, ye see, -we're forced to flitt loike." He scarce had uttered the words when a -voice from a deep upright churn cried out: "Aye, aye, Johnny, we 're -flitting, ye see." "Od hang thee," cried the poor farmer, "if I'd known -thou'd been there, I wadn't ha' stirred a peg. Nay, nay, it's no use, -Mally," said he to his wife, "we may as weel turn back to t'ould hoose -as be tormented in another that's not so convenient." - - From "English Fairy and Other Folk Tales." Selected and edited by - Edwin Sidney Hartland (Walter Scott Pub. Co.). - - -=Cafre and the Fisherman's Wife= - -Once in the little village of Babancal there lived a happy couple. They -were poor and it was necessary for them both to work for their living. -The husband's occupation was farming during the wet season and fishing -during the dry season. The wife kept the house, helped the husband in -some of his work, and in addition, made mats of _buli_, _pandan_, or -_ticay_, and sacks of _buli_. - -One night, at about six o'clock after a slight supper, when it was -_dolom_ (moonless), the husband went to fish. The wife remained alone -at home and sat waiting for the husband, and, at the same time, making -a mat. The house was lighted with a home-made lamp of bamboo and earth. -The lampwick of ragged doth dipped in oil made from the fruit of the -bitaog tree gave a very poor light. - -At about midnight some one threw a _dalag_ (a kind of fish) through -the window. The wife was frightened and surprised. In a minute she -recovered herself. - -"Come in, Gregorio," she said, for she thought her husband was outside. - -No one answered. - -"Stop this nonsense. You know it is late now," she said angrily. "You -had better come in and let us cook the fish and eat our supper." She -did not rise from her seat and went on with her work. - -In a few minutes a rod with another _dalag_ hanging on it was thrust -into the room. The fish fell on the floor before her. - -"Oh, how foolish! Come in, I say," she said. - -Hardly had she uttered the last word when the fish on the hook came -down upon her head. She muttered some oaths and tried to catch the fish -and take hold of the rod. But before she could do so, it was raised. -Then she got up, took the lamp, and went to the window. - -When she peeped out, she saw Cafre, the Spirit, grinning at her. His -smile showed his large white teeth, forming a strong contrast with -his dark complexion and the darkness of the night. The woman was -frightened. She trembled and could not move an inch. She bent down her -head to avoid his gaze. At last when she raised her eyes, he was gone. - - --Benito C. Ebuen. - - -=The Friendship of an Aswang and a Duende= - -About a half mile from Noveleta there is a small pond. The tall bamboo -trees that grow at the edge of the water bow their heads toward each -other so that they form a complete vaulted arch over the pond. There -are but small spaces left between the thick leaves above and so the -sunshine can hardly go through them. The lilies, the sea weed, and -the falling leaves of the bamboo trees, decaying under the water have -deposited a deep layer of sediment. - -A long time ago a shooting meteor from heaven fell on the water of -this pond. This meteor bore within it a beautiful nymph named Bituin. -Her slender white body, whose skin was very delicate, was covered with -beautiful leaves of the lilies whenever she came out of the water. -Every night numberless fireflies lighted her dwelling with their fresh -rays. Bituin had a large diamond, which she always put on a floating -leaf at the center of the pond to serve as a light when it was dark. - -Bituin had no neighbors for a number of years, and so she was not -familiar with the form of man. However, as time glided on she was known -by many, who began to love her. She did not dare to speak with men, -because she was not familiar with the ugly complexion of the skin of -mortals. One night an aswang was passing by this pond, and he heard the -musical vibration of the bamboo leaves in harmony with the whistling -sound of the wings of fireflies. He stopped and admired the beautiful -nymph, who was sitting on the water, watching the wonderful rays of -light from her large diamond. He was led to wonder at her beauty, and -he fell in love with her. He asked Bituin to approach him, but his -words had hardly died from his ugly lips when Bituin upon hearing his -unfamiliar voice disappeared. There began the sadness of this aswang. -Every night he passed by the pond only to see and to speak with Bituin, -the beautiful and elusive nymph. Yet all his hopes and efforts were in -vain. - -This aswang laid himself to die near a heap of hay. Here lived an army -of small men called duendes. The duendes are usually good to those who -are very strongly in love with women. At midnight one of these little -creatures came out of the hay with a flute longer than himself. Little -duende blew the flute, and the aswang thinking that the sweet vibration -of the air came from the lips of Bituin, at once raised up his head and -looked around. Aswang being a wild man said, "How is it that you little -duendes are so troublesome?" "Master," said the little duende, "I came -here to restore the broken heart of a lover and it is you." "How now -can you comfort me?" said the aswang. "Come with me," said the little -duende, "and show me where Bituin lives." - -So they started toward the pond. On their way the duende, being as -small as a little doll, often lost himself from the sight of his friend -aswang. The duende was full of fun and jokes, and he was happy all -the way. When they came near the pond little duende jumped over the -thorny bushes that fringed the dwelling of Bituin. Now he rode on a -lily leaf floating on the water, and he was singing a song at the same -time that he was playing on his flute. He gathered some lily flowers -and put one of them on his head. Duende skipped over the sea weeds as -light as could be. Strange to say, the attractive music caught the -ears of Bituin, and so she appeared before the duende. The music was -so sweet, so charming, and so pleasant to her ears that fear of such -a being never entered her thoughts. She approached the little duende, -but he would not allow her to touch his enchanting flute. Aswang could -not come inside. He tried to jump over the bushes, but he knew that he -could not. All at once he roared with a sharp tone that put Bituin to -flight, and she never returned again. - -Duende blamed the aswang for roaring, but the broken-hearted aswang -in anger said, "Why did you not catch hold of her?" Duende did not -answer and tried to flee, but aswang held him by the neck and tore him -to pieces. So from that time on the duendes have not often been heard -of; and, if they ever come, they do evil things and cause misfortune -to little children. None of the aswangs since has ever been afraid of -small creatures. - - --Emanuel E. Baja. - - -=A Tianac Frightens Juan= - -One harvest day, one of our neighbors, whose name is Juan, built a nipa -hut on a farm amid his rice plantation. There he slept alone during the -harvest time to look after his grain. - -One night about twelve o'clock he began to feel the cold north wind, -and the leaves began to rustle. By and by the wind stopped. He tried -to sleep, but he could not, for the mosquitoes were too thick. He then -went out of his hut and gathered some dry twigs and grasses and made -a small fire to drive the mosquitoes away. When the fire began to -kindle, he sat before his hut, facing a small hill. Not long afterward -he heard the laughing of a child from the top of the hill. The child -seemed to be very happy, for it laughed as hard as it could. Juan then -began to wonder who the child was, for he knew that no one was living -near him. Soon the laughing grew louder and louder and Juan began to be -frightened. He supposed that the child was approaching him, but at once -the laughing stopped and again everything was silent about the field. -He looked around him several times because he did not know what kind of -creature that child was, and he feared that she might take hold of him -from behind. - -While Juan was thinking of what to do, a girl with white complexion and -golden hair appeared before him laughing as hard as she could. Juan -then was about to run away and call for help, but he knew that there -was no one to help him, so he gathered all his strength and courage and -approached the girl with his _bolo_ in hand and said, "Tell me who you -are or else this night is your last." The girl did not answer him, but -continued laughing. He struck at her, but she at once vanished away -and reappeared behind him laughing as hard as she could. He struck at -her several times. He did not touch her at all and she laughed louder. -Juan then threw his _bolo_ at her and ran home shouting as he went -along calling for help, "St. John, St. Peter, St. Nicholas, come and -help me!" When he came to the forest a cricket alighted on his coat -and began to sing. He mistook it for the girl, so he ran very fast. -When he came to the town, the policemen tried to stop him, but they -could not. He tried to tell them that a girl was singing behind him, -but he was so terribly frightened that his calling to the gods confused -him, and while he was running he shouted, "St. John sings, St. John -sings, etc.," until he came to his house. His family asked him what the -matter was, but he could not speak because of fatigue. By this time the -cricket had flown away. Later the family found out that Juan had seen a -_tianac_. - - --Santiago Ochoa. - - -=The Black Cloth of the Calumpang Tree= - -Once there lived on a lonely farm about two miles from the town of San -Juan two brothers whose names were Mariano and Pedro. They were the -sons of a farmer named Rafael. - -Along the road leading from this farm to the town there was not a -single house. There was a big calumpang tree by this road about a mile -from the farm. Some of its large branches almost touched the ground. -Many stories had been told about this calumpang; some said that they -saw a ghost in the form of a white dog under it; others said they saw -it in the form of a tall, thin black man sitting sideways on a big -branch with eyes as large as saucers and with a big cigar a meter long -in his mouth. - -One day Mariano with his little brother Pedro went to the town to -attend a procession. It was night when they started for home. On their -way when they were out of the town, they heard a noise on one side of -the road not far from them. It seemed to them that the noise was caused -by the walking of a carabao, which was going along the road in the -same direction they were going. They could not tell whether it was a -carabao or not, for the grass was very tall. At last at an open side of -the road, where the noise was, Pedro saw a little white dog. "Mariano, -Mariano, see that little dog," whispered Pedro, touching the back of -his brother with his finger. Pedro looked at it with great surprise. He -could hardly believe that the little creature could make such a loud -noise. The oftener they looked at the dog, the larger it appeared. -Pedro now began to think that this dog was the one that somebody had -seen under the calumpang. He was afraid; he would not go behind nor -before his brother; his hair stood on end, and he felt as if he were -wearing a hat having a large brim; his heart beat faster than before, -but he said not a word. The appearance of the dog reminded Mariano of -the black man of the calumpang. For this reason he was more afraid than -his little brother. - -After a while a noise was again heard on the other side of the road. -There appeared a white hog about the size of a carabao. It was also -going in the same direction as the two brothers were. The hog was -grunting, while there was seen coming from his mouth a continuous -discharge of living charcoals. The minute the boys stopped, the dog -and the hog stopped also. The two brothers intended to go back, but -suddenly they heard another noise--_pac, pac, pac_. They looked behind -them and saw a tall black horse mounted by a man dressed like the -prince usually seen in comedies. The man's feet were so long that they -almost touched the ground. The two brothers could do nothing but walk -faster, in order that the horseman might not overtake them. - -When they came near the calumpang, a black cloth was extended across -the road. This cloth prevented their further advance, for it would bind -them in case they should touch it. Mariano was then so much frightened -that he could not keep from trembling. He felt as if the very hand of -the black man of the calumpang was holding his head. - -"Father, father!" cried Pedro with a prolonged voice, but nobody -answered. The dog growled; the horse pounded the ground with his feet; -the hog snorted, while a greater amount of charcoal than before poured -out of its mouth; the black cloth waved, producing a sound like the -groaning of a sick man. Pedro grabbed his brother by the waist so -tightly that Mariano could hardly breathe. Then Mariano remembered that -he had in his pocket the remainder of a candle which a sexton had given -him at the procession. He quickly lighted it. Instantly the ghosts -disappeared. Mariano and Pedro reached home, but alas! they could -neither eat nor sleep, for it seemed to them as if the ghosts were -still around them. - - --Eusebio Ramos. - - -IV. The Nursery Saga or Märchen - -[Origin] - -The ethnologists are not agreed concerning the history of nursery -sagas, or _märchen_, as they call them. Whether such stories as -"Jack-the-Giant-Killer" are reduced and modified forms of once greater -sagas or whether they are immature stories arrested in their growth -toward sagas, the scientists are still discussing. But happily for the -narrator, as we noticed before, the question of origin is not of prime -importance. He need consider it only so far as it helps to reveal the -distinctions of the type. - -As the generic title indicates, nursery sagas are tales told to -children after lessons are done. Nobody wants instruction; nobody wants -facts. "Once upon a time in a certain village" is definite enough. -What the listener desires is action, things a-doing, Jack to kill the -giant, Cinderella to marry the prince, Tom Thumb to get safely home. -The end is always happy, no matter how many troubles the hero or -heroine encounters during the course of the narrative. The brothers -Grimm expressed their realization that such an end is essential to a -_märchen_. Their devoted scientific collecting and their charmingly -sympathetic retelling have given back not only to Germany but also to -the whole world much of its otherwise lost pleasure. - -[English nursery sagas] - -Good native nursery sagas are scarce in English. Many of our best -known, like Cinderella, are importations. "Jack-the-Giant-Killer" and -"Jack and the Bean-Stalk" and "Rumpelstiltskin"--or "Tom Tit Tot," as -the older version has it--are recorded, however, as of English origin. -They have been handed down verbally and in chapbooks and various other -written forms for hundreds of years. - -[Distinguishing elements--the kind of hero] - -The most important distinguishing element of a nursery saga is the -kind of hero. He is always human, very often sagacious of himself as -well as finally fortunate because of the aid of some supernatural -being or charm; but before the beginning of his adventure he is pretty -generally considered foolish or a lazy ne'er-do-well. He is always of -obscure origin, and is persistently ignored by history. The place where -he lives or where he performs his deeds is selected at random, is of -no practical importance, and might just as well have been any other. -If the locality is definite and the details of the story are really -pertinent, we have crossed the borderland into legend, which is very -near to nursery saga. Indeed, say the students of folk-lore, the same -story is often told in one country as a nursery saga and in another as -a dignified national epic. - -[Rhymes] - -The uncouth rhymes occurring here and there within the story are to -the nursery saga what the refrain is to the ballad--a sure sign of its -type. All the original tales I dare say had rhymes at first, even if -many are without them to-day. - -The artificial nursery saga is not always marked off closely from the -fairy story. Some writers do not appear to have felt the traditional -distinctions; but, when a differentiation is made, it is on the basis -of the chief actor. The irresistible Alice is a true nursery saga -heroine. Whether in "Wonderland" or "Through the Looking Glass" her -adventures are her adventures, and not a fairy's. And although the -dialogue of the characters is imposed by the brilliant naïveté of the -author, it is yet clearly within our classification--as the delectable -rhymes attest. - -[Repetition of situation] - -Another characteristic you will observe is the repetition of situation: -Cinderella goes to the ball more than once; Jack-of-the-Bean-Stalk -visits the castle in the sky three times; the king's wife is allowed -two false guesses; and there are Cormelian's and Thunderdell's heads to -be cut off as well and Gallingantus's. - -Two of our worthy literary men, G. K. Chesterton and Bernard Shaw, have -recently bandied words over the value and significance of such heroes -as Jack. When you come to write an original nursery saga, you can -decide for yourself whether you want your hero to conquer a foe greater -and stronger than he or whether you want your hero to conquer a foe -lesser than he because he himself is greater and stronger than all his -foes and conquers by the magic force of his personality. In making the -decision, however, you should remember that "greater" and "lesser" are -terms subject to a number of varying interpretations. - -[Supernatural element] - -After you have decided which kind your hero is to be, you must set -about making him human despite the wonderful deeds you mean him to do. -The more human, the more interesting; but he must be naturally human, -not merely philosophically so. The homeliest touches of every-day life -are exactly in keeping with your subject. No poetry here. If you have -metrics interspersed, they must be "from jigging veins or rhyming -mother wits." Nothing higher than "Fee, fi, fo, fum," or "Ninny, ninny -not," or "Be bold, be bold, but not too bold," or "It is not so, nor -'twas not so, but indeed God forbid it should be so." Although your -hero is to be human, he need not stand alone; he may have supernatural -aid. A fairy, a witch, a charm, or anting-anting may help him. Success, -of course, however, must ultimately depend upon his own bravery and -wit. What makes the nursery saga different from the fairy story is -just the element of the independence and prominence of the human hero. -If supernatural agents are present in the nursery saga, they are only -assistants: they are not the chief actors; in fact, they are usually at -first opponents. The human person is the chief actor. - -Tolstoy's Ivan the Fool surely wins by the force of his personality -alone. He is one of the _pure_ fools who think no evil and therefore -make men good. Although he has the power the imps have given him to -call up soldiers, rub gold out of oak leaves, and to cure the sick, he -uses this power only for fool-wise ends: he heals beggars, gives away -the gold, and makes the soldiers sing. Despite its didactic purpose, -this is a typical _märchen_ in having the human fool hero in repeated -situations, chanting crude rhymes, and being assisted finally by the -supernatural agents that first opposed him. - -[A few specific suggestions] - -When you come to the writing, remember that your story is for a -child, grown-up or not grown-up, and that you must therefore make -the language simple and vivid. Use a good many crude similes and -metaphores. Be concrete in comparisons about size, shape, color, garb, -and the like. Though you select your hero with care, you need make -no fine distinctions of character, since broad strokes will be most -effective. Endow your personages, both the hero and his enemy, with a -few mannerisms and let them display these often. Get quickly into the -action of the story and keep things lively to the end. - -[Working definition] - -Here is the working definition: A nursery saga is a narrative of -imaginary events wherein is celebrated a hero of a more-or-less humble -origin, a child's hero, who, by his own wit and energy, together with -the possession of a charm, is enabled to do stupendous deeds, which -bring to him material happiness. - - -=Princess Helena the Fair= - -We say that we are wise folks, but our people dispute the fact, saying, -"No, no, we were wiser than you are." But shaskas tell us that before -our grandfathers had learned anything, before their grandfathers were -born---- - -There lived in a certain land an old man of this kind who instructed -his three sons in reading and writing and all book learning. Then he -said to them, "Now, my children, when I die, mind you, come and read -prayers over my grave." - -"Very good, father, very good," they replied. - -The two elder brothers were such fine strapping fellows, so tall and -stout! But as for the youngest one, Ivan, he was like a half-grown lad -or a half-fledged duckling, terribly inferior to the others. Well, -their old father died. At that very time there came tidings from the -king that his daughter, the Princess Helena the Fair, had ordered a -shrine to be built for her with twelve columns, with twelve rows of -beams. In that shrine she was sitting upon a high throne and awaiting -her bridegroom, the bold young youth who with a single bound of his -swift steed should reach high enough to kiss her on the lips. A stir -ran through the whole youth of the nation. They took to licking their -lips and scratching their heads, and wondering to whose share so great -an honor would fall. - -"Brothers," said: Vanyusha (Ivan), "our father is dead; which of us is -to read prayers over his grave?" - -"Whoever feels inclined, let him go!" answered the brothers. - -So Vanya went. But as for his elder brothers they did nothing but -exercise their horses and curl their hair and dye their mustaches. - -The second night came. - -"Brothers," said Vanya, "I've done my share of reading. It is your turn -now; which of you will go?" - -"Whoever likes can go and read. We've business to look after; don't you -meddle." - -And they cocked their caps and shouted and whooped and flew this way -and shot that way and roved about the open country. - -So Vanyusha read prayers this time also--and on the third night, too. - -Well, his brothers got ready their horses, combed out their mustaches -and prepared to go next morning to test their mettle before the eyes of -Helena the Fair. - -"Shall we take the youngster?" they thought. "No, no. What would be the -good of him? He'd make folks laugh and put us to confusion; let's go by -ourselves." - -So away they went. But Vanyusha wanted very much to have a look at the -Princess Helena the Fair. He cried, cried bitterly, and went out to his -father's grave. And his father heard him in his coffin, and came out to -him, shook the damp earth off his body, and said, "Don't grieve, Vanya. -I'll help you in your trouble." - -And immediately the old man drew himself up and straightened himself -and called aloud and whistled with a ringing voice, with a shrill -whistle. - -From goodness knows where appeared a horse, the earth quaking beneath -it, a flame rushing from its ears and nostrils. To and fro it flew, and -then stood still before the old man, as if rooted in the ground, and -cried, "What are thy commands?" - -Vanya crept into one of the horse's ears and out of the other, and -turned into such a hero as no skazka can tell of, no pen describe! He -mounted the horse, set his arms akimbo, and flew, just like a falcon, -straight to the home of the Princess Helena. With a wave of his hand, -with a bound aloft, he failed only by the breadth of two rows of beams. -Back again he turned, galloped up, leapt aloft, and got within one beam -row's breadth. Once more he turned, once more he wheeled, then shot -past the eye like a streak of fire, took an accurate aim, and kissed -the fair Helena right on the lips! - -"Who is he? Who is he? Stop him!" was the cry. Not a trace of him was -to be found! - -Away he galloped to his father's grave, let the horse go free, -prostrated himself on the earth, and besought his father's counsel. And -the old man held counsel with him. - -When he got home, he behaved as if he hadn't been anywhere. His -brothers talked away, describing where they had been, what they had -seen, and he listened to them as of old. - -The next day there was a gathering again. In the princely halls there -were more boyars and nobles than a single glance could take in. The -elder brothers rode there. Their younger brother went there, too, -but on foot, meekly and modestly, just as if he hadn't kissed the -Princess, and seated himself in a distant corner. The Princess Helena -asked for her bridegroom, wanted to show him to the world at large, -wanted to give him half her kingdom; but the bridegroom did not put -in an appearance! Search was made for him among the boyars, among -the generals; everyone was examined in his turn--but with no result! -Meanwhile, Vanya looked on, smiling and chuckling, and waiting till the -bride should come to him herself. - -"I pleased her then," says he, "when I appeared as a gay gallant; now -let her fall in love with me in my plain caftan." - -Then up she rose, looked around with bright eyes that shed a radiance -on all who stood there, and saw and knew her bridegroom, and made him -take his seat by her side, and speedily was wedded to him. And he--good -heavens! How clever he turned out, and how brave, and what a handsome -fellow! Only see him mount his flying steed, give his cap a cock, and -stick his elbows akimbo! Why, you'd say he was a king, a born king! -You'd never suspect he was once only Vanyusha. - - From "Russian Fairy and Folk Tales." Translated and edited by W. R. - S. Ralston (Hurst and Company). - - -=Juan the Guesser= - -Once there lived a youth by the name of Juan. He was the only son of -a family and so he was dearly loved. One day his father said to him, -"Juan, you are quite old now so you have to study." "Yes, father," said -Juan obediently. Juan was then sent to a large town to school. But he -did not study; he spent all his time going to places of amusement. When -vacation was coming near, Juan bought a reader so that he could give -proof that he studied. His father was very anxious to see him and so -prepared a large fiesta in honor of his arrival. When Juan arrived, -he would not speak his dialect, and if he was asked something he just -answered "Si, señor." Everybody then was astonished; for all thought -that he had learned so much that he had forgotten his own dialect. - -One day Juan threw his father's plow into a well because he wanted to -show the people that he knew how to divine. The father came to him then -and said, "Dear Juan, will you tell me where I can find the plow which -I lost yesterday?" "Ah, father!" said Juan, "there is no difficulty in -finding it; fetch my book and I will look it up." The father obeyed -instantly and Juan looked in his book and said: - - "A B C, A B C, - Oh, my father's plow is lost! - A B C, A B C, - It has the well for a host." - -"Well, my book tells me that it is in the bottom of the well." The -father ordered the servants to look in the well, and sure enough they -found the plow in it. The father was very proud of his son now, for he -had had a real proof of his ability. So Juan was called prophet and his -name was heard everywhere. - -Once the princess of his country lost a very valuable ring, and the -king offered to marry her to the one who could find the ring. But he -ordered that anyone who might attempt and not guess rightly should be -beheaded. Many of the wise men in the kingdom attempted to guess, but -nobody was right and so they had to be killed. The rumors of Juan's -knowledge reached the king's ears, so he sent a carriage to his home -in order to bring him to the palace. Juan did not want to go because -he knew that he would surely be killed. He could not disobey the king, -however, and so he got into the carriage. As soon as he entered the -carriage he became very sad and thoughtful and repented of having -tricked his father. When they were quite near the town of the king, -Juan opened his book and groaned sadly: - - "Someone is to die, - Not far from here, oh, my!" - -Instantly the carriage stopped and the driver presented himself before -Juan and said, "Oh, sir! I beg you to pardon me; I am the one who stole -the princess's ring. She was washing her hands in a dish one day and -took the ring off her hand, and then threw the water away. While I was -cleaning the garden I saw it and picked it up. Kindly forgive me, here -is the ring!" Juan did not take the ring, but said, "I forgive you now; -I thought you would not tell me anything about it, and I was going to -tell the king to have you killed, for I knew, that you were the one who -stole it; my book said so. As soon as we arrive at the palace, place -the ring under the stairs and cover it with a cocoanut shell." The -driver was very happy and promised to do everything he was commanded. - -Juan was received with honors in the palace and when he was asked about -the ring, he told everything about the theft of it from the information -he had got from the driver and said, "My book tells me all of this and -says that now it is under a cocoanut shell under the stairs." Everybody -went down to look for it and they found it. Once more now Juan's -knowledge was talked of everywhere. According to the king's promise, he -was married to the princess. The marriage ceremony was celebrated with -much pomp and splendor, and many kings from different countries came to -attend it. - -Once a neighbor king came to Juan's country. When he went to the -palace and met the other king, he said, "If your son-in-law is really -a prophet, I propose to you a wager. I have three watermelons in my -ship; one of them has one seed, the other has two, and the other has -three. Should your son-in-law guess which has one, which has two, and -which has three seeds, I will give you half of my kingdom. But if he -fails, you will have to give me half of yours." The king was well -pleased to hear the proposal, and being confident of Juan's knowledge, -he accepted it. Fortunately, while the two kings were conversing, the -vassals of the foreign king stood near the door of Juan's room and -talked about the watermelons. One of them said, "If I were the one to -guess I would say that the smallest has three seeds, the largest has -two, and the middle-sized has one, then I should be very rich and would -be as powerful a king as our master." Juan, after hearing all that the -men had said, went to his bed and pretended to be asleep. When the -foreign king had gone away, his father-in-law went to awake him in his -room, and told him everything about the challenge. Juan said that he -was afraid of no defiance so long as he had his book. The next morning, -when the king and he went to the boat, Juan told exactly the number -of seeds in each watermelon, according to what he had heard, after -reading, or rather feigning to read, some characters in his book. The -fruits were cut open then and it was found out that Juan was right. The -king, his father-in-law, was very happy and liked Juan very much, for -he said that Juan was, without any doubt, the wisest man the world ever -knew. - -Not long after this another king came on a large ship loaded with -money. He came to propose another challenge. He said that he had -three earthen jars, filled with salt, water, and vinegar. And if Juan -should guess what each contained, the load of this ship would be his -father-in-law's; but if he should fail, the king had to give him in -turn another ship full of money also. The king accepted the proposal -immediately; but Juan was very sad because he knew that the king would -order him to be beheaded if he should not guess rightly. So he decided -to commit suicide before the day when he should appear before the -contending monarchs. During the night he went down silently and threw -himself in the river behind the palace, in which the foreign ship was -anchored. He tried to drown himself, but he could not, for he knew how -to swim. He heard then some men talking in the ship, and one of them -said, "If that guesser could just know that the jar with white marking -on the neck contains salt, and the one which has the largest lid holds -vinegar, he would be the richest man on earth." Juan swam quietly back -after hearing this and slept. The next morning Juan and the king went -to the ship, and Juan, after turning back and forth the leaves of his -reader, told rightly the contents of every jar. The king was very happy -and held a large festival in honor of the wise Juan the Prophet. - -Juan was afraid to hazard his life any more, so he burned his magic -volume. From that time on he never guessed any more, because he said -that his book was gone and so his knowledge, too. - - --Bienvenido Gonzales. - - -=The Shepherd Who Became King= - -Many years before the birth of Christ, when the victorious legions -of Rome were gradually conquering the then known world, there lived -in a foreign country a cruel and despotic king. He had a daughter in -the very bloom and freshness of youth. She was so beautiful that many -a young man of the country asked her father to allow him to be his -son-in-law. The suitors were so many that the king determined to marry -his daughter to somebody. But he could not find the right man. He sent -proclamations to the different provinces of his kingdom, telling the -people that he intended to marry his daughter to the man who could -accomplish three things which the king would require the competitor to -do; but if the competitor should fail to do the three things within the -required time, his head should be cut off. Many young men attempted, -but they were all killed. - -Near the king's palace there was living at that time a shepherd. This -man had, since his boyhood, devoted his life to the interests of his -fellow countrymen. Everybody loved him. - -One day while he was tending his sheep out in the fields, an old woman -saw him and said, "Receive this pipe as a present from me. Whenever you -want anything from any animal, blow this pipe and the desired animal -will come to you. Keep this carefully for it will be of great service -to you." The shepherd thanked her and went away. He wanted to know -whether the woman was telling the truth or not. So he blew the pipe -and said, "Come here, all the serpents." He no sooner said these words -than hundreds of serpents came to him hissing and twisting. Then he -dismissed them. - -He decided to compete for the hand of the princess. So he went to the -palace in the evening and expressed his desire. "Ha! ha!" said the -king, "do you want to have your head cut off, young man?" "We will see -the result," said the shepherd proudly. "All right," said the king; -"the first thing you must do is to eat in one day all of the bread -there is to be found in my granary. You must either eat the bread or -lose your head." - -"I will go to the granary now and begin eating," said the shepherd. - -"Well, go!" said the king, and he told a soldier to conduct the -shepherd to the granary. The shepherd was locked up in the granary with -nobody but himself and the bread. He took out the pipe which he had -concealed under his coat. He blew the instrument and said, "Come here, -all of the rats." He had just finished his command when thousands of -rats came to him. He told them to eat all of the bread. The rats were -so numerous that all of the bread was eaten before daybreak. Not a -single crumb was left. Many rats arrived too late to get their share. - -When the king and his court went to the granary in the morning, they -were surprised to see that the building which was full of bread the day -before was now totally empty. "All right," said the king, "you have to -do the second thing. You must separate in one day the grains of corn -from the grains of rice. Go to my granary, where you will find the corn -and the rice. Remember the punishment." - -"All right," said the shepherd; "I'll go to the granary this evening -and begin my work." - -So he went to the building where the corn and the rice were and there -he was locked up again. He then blew his pipe and said, "Come here, all -of the ants." Just then millions of ants arrived. He told the big ants -to pick up all of the grains of corn and place them on one side of the -granary. To the small ants he assigned the work of selecting the grains -of rice and placing them on the other side of the building. The ants -were so numerous that the entire work was finished before morning. - -The king and his court were surprised to see that the shepherd had done -his work. "Very well," said the king, "you have to accomplish the third -and last thing and then you may marry my daughter." - -"I'll do the work this afternoon," said the shepherd. "Good!" said the -king. "Come here this afternoon at two o'clock. I'll give you twelve -wild hares. Tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock you must return them to -me without a change in any of them. The number must be exact." - -At two o'clock in the afternoon the shepherd went to the palace. The -king gave him the twelve hares. They were no sooner in the hands of the -shepherd than they ran away. The king and his court laughed loudly and -said, "He will not catch them. He is sure to fail in his work." - -"We will see," said the shepherd proudly. He then went to his cottage. -He blew his pipe and said, "Come all of the twelve hares of the king." -He had no sooner said these words than the twelve hares came to him and -began to jump about him. - -An hour later the king sent one of his servants to see whether the -shepherd was out looking for the hares or not. When the servant reached -the shepherd's cottage, he was surprised to see the hares sleeping -quietly by the side of the shepherd. The servant went back to the king -and related to him all that he saw. The king grew pale and did not -know what to do. He told the princess to go to the shepherd and try to -get one of the hares. So the princess disguised herself as a country -girl and went to the shepherd's cottage. The shepherd recognized her -immediately. Her solicitations were all in vain. At last the shepherd -said, "I'll give you one of the hares if you scrub my kitchen for me." -To prevent herself from being married to the shepherd she said "Yes." -So the shepherd told her to do her work. When she had finished her -work, the shepherd gave her one of the hares. When she was a hundred -yards from the shepherd's cottage, the shepherd blew his pipe and said, -"Come here, the hare with the princess." He had just finished speaking -when the hare ran away from the princess to the side of the cottage. - -The princess was crying when she reached the palace and told the king -how she had been fooled. The king determined to get one of the hares -by means of money. So he disguised himself as a merchant, mounted a -horse with two panniers slung on the sides, and went to the shepherd's -cottage. But the shepherd recognized him at once. His solicitations -also were in vain. Even the bag of gold was useless. The shepherd would -not allow himself to be fooled. At last he said, "I'll give you one of -the hares if you wash my feet." To prevent the marriage of the princess -with the shepherd, the king agreed. So he dismounted and washed the -shepherd's dusty feet. Then the shepherd gave him one of the hares. The -King put the animal in one pannier and went away. But his undertaking -was unsuccessful. The note of the pipe and the cry of the shepherd -excited the hare, who jumped out of the pannier and ran away. - -The king went to the palace with a sad face. He told his courtiers how -unsuccessful he had been, and went to his private room. The next day at -two o'clock in the afternoon the shepherd returned the twelve hares. -Not a single hare was changed. - -But the king still refused to fulfill his promise. He told the shepherd -to fill a bag with all the bad words he knew. The shepherd uttered -every kind of bad words; but the bag was still empty. But one thing -came to his mind. He said loudly, "The princess scrubbed my kitchen -yesterday afternoon." The princess jumped from her seat and said, "The -bag is full." - -"No," said the king. "Continue." "The king," said the shepherd, -"wa--wa--wash----" The king jumped from his throne and said, "That's -enough," and tied the bag. The marriage was then arranged and the next -day the shepherd and the princess were married. - -From this time on the shepherd and princess lived happily for many -years. He succeeded his father-in-law as king. - - --Vincente M. Hilario. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE SYMBOLIC-DIDACTIC GROUP - - -We now turn to a set of stories with a new basis, the symbolic-didactic -narratives: fables, parables, and allegories. By the word "symbolic" -we shall understand that the stories mean something more than appears -on the surface. By "didactic," the fact that the narratives are told -for the purpose of teaching a lesson. The hearer no more believes in -the mere literal occurrence than does the narrator himself. The meaning -is the concern of both. For the time being, the story-teller has set -himself up as a preacher, or the preacher as a story-teller. His object -is to make vivid and dramatic a lesson in manners, morals, religion, -politics, or art. - - -I. The Fable - -[Æsop] - -The fable is a very old type of narrative, so old that critics are not -sure of the place of its origin. Some think that it rose at the court -of Crœsus with Æsop and spread eastward and westward. Others maintain -that it came from India to the court of the Lydian king, and was -adopted by Æsop, the king's state orator, as a most convenient device -for impressing political lessons on a restless people in a scattered -empire. Others say that there never was a man Æsop at all. But legend -goes into detail to the effect that this ancient politician was once a -slave and that he rose from his servile condition to be the counsellor -of kings by the sheer force of his brains and an appreciation of -practical problems (much as our self-made men of today have risen). -Once even, when sent as a royal messenger to a rebellious and distant -part of the empire, he quelled a mob and saved his own life by his -ready wit in telling a story and applying the moral. He wrote nothing -himself, legend goes on to admit, but he scattered his practical -narratives far and wide, and they were finally collected as a distinct -species of literature. - -[Other early fabulists] - -Whatever the truth of the legend may be, it is certain that there were -in the Greek language early collections of fables called "Æsop." More -than three hundred years before Christ, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle -translated stories from "Æsop." Plutarch and Lucian, in the second -century after Christ, remade them. In the thirteenth century Marie de -France versified a hundred of them, using an old English source which -we cannot now find. She called her collection Ysopet, or "Little Æsop." -Finally in 1447, Planudes, a monk of Constantinople, put forth in prose -a collection of about three hundred stories, which bears the name of -"Æsop." - -[Hitopadesa and Panchatantra] - -The East never stopped to cavil about the source of fables. It has -always loved the type. The Hindoos have two very ancient Sanscrit -collections of fable-like discourses--the "Panchatantra" (Five Books), -written in prose, and the "Hitopadesa" (Friendly Instruction), in -verse. These differ from ordinary sets of fables in having the -principle of connection throughout and in being, instead of mere -brief tales, rather romantic and dramatic dialogues and expositions -designed as text-books for the instruction of princes and those called -to govern. Many selections, however, have been taken out, translated, -modified, and used either as whole stories or as elements of larger -ones. - -[Reynard the Fox and beastiaries] - -The very widely read and extensively translated eleventh century -"Reynard the Fox" is a beast-epic, and not a fable in the technical -sense of the term. As likewise the bestiaries are not fables. Those -quaint medieval collections of false lore, modeled probably on -some earlier Greek or Latin _physiologus_, were meant as doctrinal -expository allegories rather than zoological treatises or than -narratives which would fall within our present classification. Yet they -are allied to this group in that they are symbolic and didactic and -permit unnatural natural history. - -[Some more writers of fables] - -There have always been men who wrote of their own times original -satires in the form of fables, exposing vice and folly. Phædrus, a -freedman of Augustus, wrote five such books in the reign of Tiberius. -Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio, and Poggio knew and used the type. The -greatest name in modern literature in connection with the fable is that -of the Frenchman Jean de la Fontaine, who lived at the court of Louis -Fourteenth. He expressed in exquisite verse-narrative very high social -maxims. Many of our finest well-known fables are paraphrases of his -lines. His own favorite was the "Oak and the Reed." He is supposed -to have drawn his inspirations from Phædrus. Our own English writers, -Gay and Pope, Addison and Prior, Steele and Dodsley, Moore, Goldsmith, -Cowper, and others, wrote fables both in prose and verse. Indeed, -worthy old Henryson, of "Robin and Makyne" fame, wrote in the fifteenth -century a book of "Morall Fables of Esope the Phrygian" in Chaucerian -stanzas. One of these poems he calls the "Uplondish Mous and the Berger -Mous." Kriloff, the Russian fabulist, who died in the middle of the -nineteenth century, disputes the highest place with La Fontaine in the -minds of many critics, especially for his originality. A twentieth -century humorous set of rational apologues is George Ade's "Fables in -Slang." - -The popular "Uncle Remus" stories are negro animal-myths rather than -fables. Though Kipling's first "Jungle Book" narratives are in effect -_sui generis_, they belong with fable typically if anywhere, as the -unnatural very natural beast philosophy evinces. "His Majesty's -Servant," the last of the volume, is easily classified. Some of the -later tales are animal-myths, however--to wit, "How Fear Came" and -"How the Camel Got His Hump;" and some, like "The Miracle of Purun -Bhagat," are legends; but the talk and actions of the animals in all -are fable-wise. The French, it seems, have lately pushed the type -the farthest, though in a logical direction. They have retained the -animal talk and the satire, but have cast away the narrative. Under the -patronage of Rostand, Sir Chanticler has come before the footlights. -This play happens to be an anomalous union of the two old distinct -meanings of the word "fable"--one, the undelying story of a drama; the -other, a symbolic, usually satiric, didactic tale. - -[Working definition] - -In the narrative sense of the term, a fable is a very brief invented, -double-meaning story in which a lesson of every day practical morality -is taught. The kind of lesson is one of the points that distinguish -fable from parable and allegory. The fable never aims higher than -inculcating maxims of prudential conduct--industry, caution, foresight, -and the like--and these it will sometimes recommend at the expense of -the higher, self-forgetting virtues. A typical fable reaches just the -pitch of morality which the world will approve. In spirit the fable -is often humorous, often ironical. In diction it is always simple, -forceful, and appropriate. - -Three classes of fables have been noticed: (1) the rational--in -which the actors and speakers are solely human beings or the gods -of mythology, (2) the non-rational--in which the heroes are solely -animals, trees, vegetables, or inanimate objects, (3) the mixed--in -which the rational and non-rational are combined. - -[Classes of fables] - -Now what distinguishes all these from myth and legend is the presence -of the evident and acknowledged didactic purpose. What distinguishes -the first class, the rational fable, from a parable is the low plane -of the motive. Above the utilitarian the fable never rises. If the -fable teaches honesty, it teaches it merely as the best policy. What -distinguishes the non-rational and the mixed fables from allegory is -both the limitation of the moral and the kind of hero. The lesson of -the fable is always piquant, single, and clear. The actors in a fable -are always things concrete in nature as well as in the story. - -The most popular, and hence the most typical of the three classes of -fables, is the second, often called also the "beast fable." The beast -fable departs somewhat from the laws of nature. In the dialogue, -animals and inanimate objects act like human beings. A fox and a bear, -for instance, will philosophize on politics. A lion and a mouse will -exchange courtesies. But it is a remarkable feature of this type of -story that we do not resent the incongruity. And that we do not resent -it is because there is a truthfulness that is more interesting to us -than is the natural order of the universe--namely, the truthfulness of -characterization. Here the verisimilitude must be complete. Although -acting the part of rational beings, the animals must be true to our -accepted notion of their animal nature--a fox must be foxy; a bear, -bearish; a lion, haughty; a mouse, timid; a cat, deceptive; a monkey, -mischievous; a canary, dependent; an eagle, lofty; and so on, and so -on. It is not necessary that they have no other characteristics, but it -is necessary that they possess the commonly ascribed ones. - -[How to write an original fable] - -To write what is strictly a fable, a person will need to observe the -distinctions of the type in general as cut off from parable on the one -hand and allegory on the other, and to observe the distinctions of the -subdivisions within the type. Then he must decide, of course, which -subdivision he is going to follow, must select his moral, pick out his -actors, think over their characteristics, and finally narrate a brief -occurrence in a vivid, homely style. The dialogue, while correct, -should be very colloquial. It is well for one to pay especial attention -to author's narrative, likewise, that it may be informing though -limited. After all is told, the writer may or may not affix a maxim at -the end, definitely and neatly stated. In either case, however, the -lesson taught should be unmistakable. Original and spirited fables -could be written in the field of civic morals, about which the world -has just begun to think seriously. Despite the good work that is being -done in the name of charity, there is room surely for pleasant satire -when a Happy Childhood Society gives elaborately dressed dolls to naked -babies. - -If one chooses to write a rational fable, where the actors are human -beings, one must be careful not to write a parable. The lesson of a -fable is always unsentimentally practical--not spiritual. Where the -actors are gods, or gods and men, the student-writer must distinguish -fable from myth. He should not aim at explaining a universal -phenomenon, but simply at teaching a single, acute, work-a-day lesson. - - -=Armenian proverbs that might be used for fable maxims= - -1. When a man sees that the water does not follow him, he follows the -water. - -2. Strong vinegar bursts the cask. - -3. Dogs quarrel among themselves, but against the wolf they are united. - -4. Only a bearded man can laugh at a beardless face. - -5. Make friends with a dog, but keep a stick in your hand. - -6. One should not feel hurt at the kick of an ass. - -7. Running is also an art. - -8. He who speaks the truth must have one foot in the stirrup. - -9. Before Susan had done prinking, church was over. - -10. When you are going in, first consider how you are coming out. - -11. The ass knows seven ways of swimming, but when he sees the water he -forgets them all. - -12. A shrewd enemy is better than a stupid friend. - -13. Because the cat could get no meat he said, "Today is Friday." - -14. A goat prefers one goat to a whole herd of sheep. - -15. A near neighbor is better than a distant kinsman. - -16. When I have honey, the flies come even from Bagdad. - - -_RATIONAL, WITH THE ACTORS GODS AND MEN_ - -=Jupiter and the Countryman= - -Jupiter, to reward the piety of a certain countryman, promised to -give him whatever he would ask. The countryman desired that he might -have the management of the weather in his own estate. He obtained his -request, and immediately distributed rain, snow, and sunshine among his -several fields as he thought the nature of the soil required. At the -end of the year when he expected to see a more than ordinary crop, his -harvest fell infinitely short of that of his neighbors. Thereupon he -desired Jupiter to take the weather again into his own hands, for the -countryman knew that otherwise he should utterly ruin himself. - - --Spectator No. 25. - - -_NON-RATIONAL--INANIMATE OBJECT_ - -=The Drop of Water= - -A drop of water fell out of a cloud into the sea, and finding itself -lost amid such a countless number of its companions, broke out in -complaint of its lot. "Alas! what an insignificant creature am I -in this vast ocean of waters! My existence is of no concern to the -universe; I am reduced to a kind of nothing, and I am less than the -least works of God." It so happened that an oyster, which lay in the -neighborhood of this drop, chanced to gape and swallow it up in the -midst of its humble soliloquy. The drop lay a great while hardening in -the shell till by degrees it was ripened into a pearl. The pearl fell -into the hands of a diver, after a long series of adventures, and is at -present the famous ornament fixed on the top of the Persian diadem. - - --Persian fable. Adapted in the Spectator No. 293. - - -_POLITICAL SATIRE_ - -=The Grandee at the Judgment-Seat= - -Once in the days of old a certain Grandee passed from his richly dight -bed into the realm which Pluto sways. To speak more simply, he died. -And so, as was anciently the custom, he appeared before the justice -seat of Hades. Straightway he was asked, "Where were you born? What -have you been?" - -"I was born in Persia, and my rank was that of a Satrap. But, as my -health was feeble during my lifetime, I never exercised any personal -control in my province, but left everything to be done by my secretary." - -"But you--what did you do?" - -"I ate, drank, and slept; and I signed everything he set before me." - -"In with him then at once to Paradise." - -"How now, where is the justice of this?" thereupon exclaimed Mercury, -forgetting all politeness. - -"Ah, brother," answered Eacus, "you know nothing about it. But don't -you see this? The dead man was a fool. What would have happened if -he, who had such power in his hands, had unfortunately interfered in -business? Why, he would have ruined the whole province. The tears -which would have flowed then would have been beyond all calculation. -Therefore, it is that he has gone into Paradise, because he did not -interfere with business." - -I was in court yesterday, and I saw a judge there. There can be no -doubt that he will go into Paradise. - - --Kriloff. - - -_BEAST FABLES_ - -=The Lion and the Old Hare= - -On the Mandara mountain there lived a Lion named Fierce-of-Heart, -and he was perpetually making massacre of all the wild animals. The -thing grew so bad that the beasts held a public meeting, and drew up a -respectful remonstrance to the Lion in these words: - -"Wherefore should your Majesty thus make carnage of us all? If it may -please you, we ourselves will daily furnish a beast for your Majesty's -meal." Thereupon the Lion responded, "If that arrangement is more -agreeable to you, be it so;" and from that time a beast was allotted to -him daily, and daily devoured. One day it came to the turn of an old -hare to supply the royal table, who reflected to himself as he walked -along, "I can but die, and will go to my death leisurely." - -Now Fierce-of-Heart, the lion, was pinched with hunger, and seeing the -Hare so approaching, he roared out, "How darest thou thus delay in -coming?" - -"Sire," replied the Hare, "I am not to blame. I was detained on the -road by another lion, who exacted an oath from me to return when I -should have informed your Majesty." - -"Go," exclaimed King Fierce-of-Heart in a rage; "show me instantly -where this insolent villain of a lion lives." - -The Hare led the way accordingly until he came to a deep well, whereat -he stopped, and said, "Let my lord the King come hither and behold -him." The Lion approached, and beheld his own reflection in the water -of the well, upon which, in his passion, he directly flung himself, and -so perished. - - --Hitopadesa. Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold. - - -=The Fox and the Crab= - -The Fox and the Crab lived together like brothers; together they sowed -their land, reaped the harvest, thrashed the grain and garnered it. - -The Fox said one day: "Let us go to the hill-top, and whoever reaches -it first shall carry off the grain for his own." - -While they were (starting) to mount the steep, the Crab said: - -"Do me a favor; before we set off running, touch me with your tail, so -that I shall know it and be able to follow you." - -The Crab opened his claws, and when the Fox touched him with his tail, -he leaped forward and seized it, so that when the Fox reached the goal -and turned around to see where the Crab was, the Crab fell upon the -heap of grain and said: "These three bushels and a half are all mine." -The Fox was thunderstruck and exclaimed: - -"How did you get here, you rascal?" - -This fable shows that deceitful men devise many methods and actions for -getting things their own way, but that they are often defeated by the -feeble. - - --Turkish Fable. Translated by Epiphanius Wilson. - - -_RATIONAL, WITH THE ACTORS MEN_ - -=The Fool Who Sells Wisdom= - -A certain fool kept constantly passing through the streets of a town. - -"Who will buy wisdom?" he cried in a loud voice. A citizen met him on -his way, accosted him, and presented him with some small pieces of -money. - -"Sell me a little wisdom," he said. - -"Here it is," replied the other, cuffing him heartily, and immediately -putting into his hands a long thread. - -"If you wish in the future to be wise and prudent," said the hawker to -him, "always keep as far away from fools as the length of this thread." - -Moral: We should avoid all connection and communication with fools and -cranks. - - --Ibid. - - -_ALMOST A PARABLE_ - -=The Archer and the Trumpeter= - -The Archer and the Trumpeter were travelling together in a lonely -place. The Archer boasted of his skill as a warrior, and asked the -Trumpeter if he bore arms. - -"No," replied the Trumpeter, "I cannot fight. I can only blow my horn, -and make music for those who are at war." - -"But I can hit a mark at a hundred paces," said the Archer. As he -spoke, an eagle appeared, hovering over the tree tops. He drew out an -arrow, fitted it on the string, shot at the bird, which straightway -fell to the ground, transfixed to the heart. - -"I am not afraid of any foe; for that bird might just as well have been -a man," said the Archer proudly. "But you would be quite helpless if -anyone attacked you." - -They saw at the moment a band of robbers, approaching them with drawn -swords. The Archer immediately discharged a sharp arrow which laid low -the foremost of the wicked men. But the rest soon overpowered him and -bound his hands. - -"As for this trumpeter, he can do us no harm, for he has neither sword -nor bow," they said, and did not bind him, but took away his purse and -wallet. - -Then the Trumpeter said: "You are welcome, friends, but let me play you -a tune on my horn." - -With their consent he blew loud and long on his trumpet, and in a short -space of time the guards of the King came running up at the sound, and -surrounded the robbers and carried them off to prison. - -When they unbound the hands of the Archer, he said to the Trumpeter: -"Friend, I have learned to-day that a trumpet is better than a bow; for -you have saved our lives without doing harm to anyone." - -This fable shows that one man ought not to despise the trade of -another. It also shows that it is better to be able to gain the help of -others than to trust to our own strength. - - --Ibid. - - -=The Courtship of Sir Butterfly= - -It was a beautiful May morning. The air was soft and balmy, still -retaining the freshness of the evening. Sir Butterfly woke up very -early to go to the garden and pay a visit to the beautiful flowers -that grew there. The garden looked inviting. For there was already -Miss Sampaguita, fresh as the morning with little drops of dew on her -cheeks; there was the tall and graceful Miss Champaka; there was Miss -Ilang-ilang, giving perfume to the balmy air that kissed her; there was -Miss Sunflower with her face toward the Eastern Gate--all of them were -expecting early and courteous visitors. - -However, Sir Butterfly was a shrewd critic, and could find faults in -each one of these beauties. But when he came before Miss Rose, he -found himself at a loss what to say. In fact, he was fascinated by her -beauty, and soon began to flutter about her. After a while he addressed -her in this way: - - "Fair Rose, thou art the queen of flowers; - This throne I give alone to thee; - And this I'll say at all hours, - The sweetest nectar thine must be. - - "Thy garment of the purest green - Befits right well thy being a queen; - And this I have to say to thee, - The sweetest nectar thine must be. - - "Thy cheeks are rosy, lips are red - With tints of freshness never dead; - Come, give me a kiss, sweet Rose, - Of thine own nectar sweet, a dose." - -Here Miss Rose interrupted him. "Nay, nay, please do not flatter me," -she said in a tone of affected coquetry. - -But Sir Butterfly continued his recitation: - - "Thy graceful form invites me - A dear embrace to give thee." - -Saying this, he drew near her and passed his arms around her body. -But what an embrace! The thorns held him fast; he was now a wounded -prisoner. In a tone of anger and despair he cried: "Let me free, you -ugly, ugly Miss Rose!" - -MORAL: The seemingly desirable is not always desirable, or -circumstances alter estimates. - - --Máximo M. Kalaw. - - -=The Hat and the Shoes= - -Once a man owned two faithful servants, a hat and a pair of shoes. The -shoes had always been jealous of the hat: in the first place, because -the master carried the hat instead of the hat's carrying him; secondly, -because the hat was given a great deal of care and had a regular place -where it was put; while the shoes, who carried both the master and the -hat, were just thrown anywhere after their service. - -Of course the shoes did not feel satisfied with such partial treatment, -and had long wished to have a short talk with the hat to discuss this -matter of importance; but they had always been put far apart. - -One day, while their master was asleep and while they were having a -rest, a child got hold of the hat and the shoes as playthings. The -shoes were then glad of this; for they could have a hearty chat. Soon -afterwards, the child grew tired of playing and feel asleep. They then -discussed their respective positions. - -"Why is it, my friend," asked the shoes, who began the discussion, -"that you are always carried by our master and taken good care of?" - -"Don't be envious of my position, my friend shoes. Our master takes -such good care of me because I protect the most important part of his -body, while you, you just serve his feet," replied the hat. - -"You are mistaken. Yes, you are entirely mistaken. I serve not only his -feet, but his legs, body, and hands, and head too, and what is more, I, -a servant, also serve you who are like myself," argued the shoes. The -hat was ashamed because of what the shoes had expounded and was unable -to continue the discussion. - -MORAL: When you occupy a position of dignity, don't think that those -below you are your servants and their work is of little value; for -generally those men are the ones who support you, and their services -may be of more importance than yours. - - --José R. Perez. - - -=The Crocodile and the Peahen= - -Once there lived a young crocodile on the bank of the Pasig River. He -was so fierce and so greedy that no animals dared to approach him. One -day while he was resting on a rock, he thought of getting married. He -said aloud, "I will give all that I have for a wife." As he pronounced -these words, a coquettish peahen passed near him. The naughty crocodile -expressed his wish again. The coquette listened carefully, and began to -examine the crocodile's looks. - -She said to herself, "I will marry this crocodile. He is very rich. -Oh, my! If I could only have all those pearls and diamonds, I should -be the happiest wife in the world." She made up her mind to marry the -crocodile. She then alighted on the rock where the crocodile was, who -made his offer again with extreme politeness, as a hypocrite always -does. She thought that the big eyes of the crocodile were two beautiful -diamonds and that the rough skin was made of pearls, so she accepted -the proposal. The crocodile asked the peahen to sit on his mouth, that -she might not spoil her beautiful feathers with mud. The foolish bird -did as she was told. What do you think happened! He made a good dinner -of his new wife. - -MORAL: Be attracted by quality rather than wealth. - - --Elisa R. Esquerra. - - -=The Old Man, His Son, and His Grandson= - -In olden times, when men lived to be two or three hundred years old, -there dwelt a very poor family near a big forest. The household had but -three members--a grandfather, a father, and a son. The grandfather was -an old man of one hundred and twenty-five years. He was so old that -the help of his housemates was needed to feed him. Many a time, and -especially after meals, he related to his son and to his grandson his -brave deeds while serving in the king's army, the responsible positions -he filled after leaving a soldier's life; and he told entertaining -stories of hundreds of years gone by. The father was not satisfied with -the arrangement, however, and planned to get rid of the old man. - -One day he said to his son, "At present, I am receiving a peso daily, -but half of it is spent to feed your worthless grandfather. We do not -get any real benefit from him. To-morrow let us bind him and take him -to the woods, and leave him there to die." - -"Yes, father," said the boy. - -When the morning came, they bound the old man and took him to the -forest. On their way home the boy said to his father, "Wait, I will -go back, and get the rope." "What for?" asked his father, raising -his voice. "To have it ready when your turn comes," replied the boy, -believing that to cast every old man into the forest was the usual -custom. "Ah! if that is likely to be the case with me, back we go, and -get your grandfather again." - - --Eutiquiano Garcia. - - -II. Parable - -[Parable contrasted with fable] - -The parable, like the fable, is a short didactic story; but the -lesson of the parable is always spiritual, though not necessarily -religious. The fable never rises above the common-place: it preaches a -worldly morality. Self-interest and prudence are its tenets; it often -satirizes; it laughs at mankind. The parable, on the contrary, is -always serious: it is earnest and high in its purpose. It tries to win -mankind to generosity and self-forgetting, or tries to shame him for -his neglect by presenting good deeds in contrast with his, or tries -to drive him forth to an awe-struck repentance by a representation of -righteous anger. - -The actors in a parable never violate the laws of nature. If animals -appear, for instance, they do not talk. They follow as the friends -or subjects of man, as in actual life. Man's dominion over them is -spiritual; hence they may have a place in the parable along with him -but not without him. - -[Characteristics of parables] - -Where the parable departs from the true story is in the fact that the -men in the parable are types, and the deeds are symbolic. We have not -Mr. John W. Richards, a particular farmer and an individual, plowing -a field of corn in Mason County, Illinois, on July 3; but instead we -have such statements as these: "The Farmer went out to plow his corn," -"The Sower went out to sow the seeds," "A Householder hired laborers -for his vineyard;" or "Once a King had two servants," or "The Prodigal -sat among the swine in a far country." If the name of an actor is ever -individual--like that of Abraham, for instance, in Franklin's prose -parable, or Abou Ben Adhem in Leigh Hunt's poem--the actor himself is -nevertheless representative. Abraham stands for the whole Jewish people -in its exclusiveness; and Abou Ben Adhem, for all doubters who yet love -their fellow-men. A character's seeing of angels or hearing of the -voice of the Deity does not break the versimilitude of parables; for -these matters are readily taken subjectively. - -The spiritual truth of a parable is generally independent and separable -from the story, which can always be read as narrative of actual events, -though it is meant to be symbolic. The interpretation comes from -without. It is either left to be inferred by the reader or is written -before or after the narrative in the form of a summarizing figure of -speech or a detailed collated exposition. You remember that Christ took -his disciples aside and explained his parables to them. - -[Tolstoy] - -Count Tolstoy has written many parables. He combines his teaching with -virile realism until he is as enthusiastically read as are the popular -and less spiritual authors. "What Men Live By" is an exquisite example -of his teaching, and, while it embodies a church legend, is a regular -parable in form. It has the requisite generic atmosphere about it: the -shoemaker and his wife, the rich purchaser, the kind foster-mother, -and the children are all types. The intense realism comes in in the -representation of Russian life. The lesson is given in an orderly -exposition after the narrative of events is finished. - -[Suggestions on writing parables] - -In writing an original parable, one should avoid the diction of -the Bible, that is, should avoid phraseology archaic or especially -religious; but it would be well to imitate the simplicity and -straightforwardness of the Biblical narrative. A modern parable writer -to be successful would avoid mawkishness, and what is popularly -designated as "preaching,"--but he would shadow forth nevertheless -very clearly a high, spiritual truth. He would study living examples -carefully so as to express inevitable actions in a few luminous words. -There are many noble lessons to be taught by the actions of typical men -in typical situations. - -[Working definition] - -The adjectives symbolic, serious, spiritual, typical, and natural might -be embodied in a working definition thus: A parable is a narrative of -imaginary events, a symbolic didactic story, wherein the actors are -always types of men or types of men and animals (never exclusively -of animals), and whereof the lesson is always spiritual, single, and -separate, and the tone is always serious, and the events always appear -natural and customary. - - -A list of proverbs that might be expanded into parables - -1. God understands the dumb. - -2. What a man acquires in his youth serves as a crutch in his old age. - -3. Begin with small things that you may achieve great. - -4. He who steals an egg will steal a horse also. - -5. One can spoil the good name of a thousand. - -6. One bad deed begets another. - -7. The grandfather ate unripe grapes and the grandson's teeth were set -on edge. - -8. What is play to the cat is death to the mouse (modern, political -parable). - -9. When a man grows rich, he thinks his walls are awry. - -10. Better lose one's eyes than one's calling. - -11. What the wind brings it will take away. - -12. No one is sure that his light will burn till morning. - -13. The scornful soon grow old. - -14. A merry heart doeth good like a medicine. - -15. Love ever so well, there is also hate; hate ever so much, there is -also love. - -16. To rise early is not everything; happy are they who have the help -of God. - -17. By asking, one finds the way to Jerusalem. - -18. When God gives, he gives with both hands. - -19. Until you see trouble you will never know joy. - -20. We are intelligence, that we may be will. - -21. Act only on that maxim which thou couldst will to become a -universal law. - - -=The Three Questions= - -It once occurred to a certain king, that if he always knew the right -time to begin everything; if he knew who were the right people to -listen to, and whom to avoid; and, above all, if he always knew what -was the most important thing to do, he would never fail in anything he -might undertake. - -And this thought having occurred to him, he had it proclaimed -throughout his kingdom that he would give a great reward to any one -who would teach him what was the right time for every action, and who -were the most necessary people, and how he might know what was the most -important thing to do. - -And learned men came to the King, but they all answered his questions -differently. - -In reply to the first question, some said that to know the right time -for every action, one must draw up in advance, a table of days, months -and years, and must live strictly according to it. Only thus, said -they, could everything be done at its proper time. Others declared -that it was impossible to decide beforehand the right time for every -action; but that, not letting oneself be absorbed in idle pastimes, -one should always attend to all that was going on, and then do what -was most needful. Others, again, said that however attentive the King -might be to what was going on, it was impossible for one man to decide -correctly what is the right time for every action, but that he should -have a Council of wise men, who would help him to fix the proper time -for everything. - -But then again others said there were some things which could not wait -to be laid before a Council, but about which one had at once to decide -whether to undertake them or not. But in order to decide that, one must -know beforehand what was going to happen. It is only magicians who know -that; and, therefore, in order to know the right time for every action, -one must consult magicians. - -Equally various were the answers to the second question. Some said, -the people the King most needed were his councillors; others, the -priests; others, the doctors; while some said the warriors were the -most necessary. - -To the third question, as to what was the most important occupation: -some replied that the most important thing in the world was science. -Others said it was skill in warfare; and others, again, that it was -religious worship. - -All the answers being different, the King agreed with none of them, and -gave the reward to none. But still wishing to find the right answers to -his questions, he decided to consult a hermit, widely renowned for his -wisdom. - -The hermit lived in a wood which he never quitted, and he received none -but common folk. So the King put on simple clothes, and before reaching -the hermit's cell dismounted from his horse, and, leaving his bodyguard -behind, went on alone. - -When the King approached, the hermit was digging the ground in front -of his hut. Seeing the King, he greeted him and went on digging. The -hermit was frail and weak, and each time he stuck his spade into the -ground and turned a little earth, he breathed heavily. - -The King went up to him and said: "I have come to you, wise hermit, -to ask you to answer three questions: How can I learn to do the right -thing at the right time? Who are the people I most need, and to whom -should I, therefore, pay more attention than to the rest? And what -affairs are the most important, and need my first attention?" - -The hermit listened to the King, but answered nothing. He just spat on -his hand and recommenced digging. - -"You are tired," said the King, "let me take the spade and work a while -for you." - -"Thanks," said the hermit, and, giving the spade to the King, he sat -down on the ground. - -When he had dug two beds, the King stopped and repeated his questions. -The hermit again gave no answer, but rose, stretched out his hand for -the spade, and said: - -"Now rest awhile--and let me work a bit." - -But the King did not give him the spade, and continued to dig. One hour -passed, and another. The sun began to sink behind the trees, and the -King at last stuck the spade into the ground, and said: - -"I come to you, wise man, for an answer to my questions. If you can -give me none, tell me so, and I will return home." - -"Here comes some one running," said the hermit, "let us see who it is." - -The King turned around, and saw a bearded man come running out of the -wood. The man held his hands pressed against his stomach, and blood was -flowing from under them. When he reached the King, he fell fainting on -the ground moaning feebly. The King and the hermit unfastened the man's -clothing. There was a large wound in his stomach. The King washed it -as best as he could, and bandaged it with his handkerchief and with a -towel the hermit had. But the blood would not stop flowing, and this -King again and again removed the bandage soaked with warm blood, and -washed and rebandaged the wound. When at last the blood ceased flowing, -the man revived and asked for something to drink. The King brought -fresh water and gave it to him. Meanwhile the sun had set, and it had -become cool. So the King with the hermit's help, carried the wounded -man into the hut and laid him on the bed. Lying on the bed the man -closed his eyes and was quiet; but the King was so tired with his walk -and with the work he had done, that he crouched down on the threshold, -and also fell asleep--so soundly that he slept all through the short -summer night. When he awoke in the morning, it was long before he could -remember where he was, or who was the strange bearded man lying on the -bed and gazing intently at him with shining eyes. - -"Forgive me!" said the bearded man in a weak voice, when he saw that -the King was awake and was looking at him. - -"I do not know you, and have nothing to forgive you for," said the King. - -"You do not know me, but I know you. I am that enemy of yours who -swore to revenge himself on you because you executed his brother and -seized his property. I knew you had gone alone to see the hermit, and I -resolved to kill you on your way back. But the day passed and you did -not return. So I came out from my ambush to find you, and I came upon -your bodyguard, and they recognized me, and wounded me. I escaped from -them, but should have bled to death had you not dressed my wound. I -wished to kill you, and you have saved my life. Now if I live, and if -you wish it, I will serve you as your most faithful slave, and will bid -my sons do the same. Forgive me!" - -The King was very glad to have made peace with his enemy so easily, and -to have gained him for a friend, and he not only forgave him, but said -he would send his servants and his own physician to attend him, and -promised to restore his property. - -Having taken leave of the wounded man, the King went out into the porch -and looked around for the hermit. Before going away he wished once more -to beg answer to the question he had put. The hermit was outside, on -his knees, sowing seeds in the beds that had been dug the day before. - -The King approached him, and said: - -"For the last-time, I pray you to answer my questions, wise man." - -"You have already been answered," said the hermit still crouching on -his thin legs, and looking at the King, who stood before him. - -"How answered? What do you mean?" asked the King. - -"Do you not see," replied the hermit. "If you had not pitied my -weakness yesterday, and had not dug these beds for me, but had gone -your way, that man would have attacked you, and you would have repented -of not having stayed with me. So the most important time was when you -were digging the beds; and I was the most important man, and to do me -good was your most important business. Afterwards, when that man ran to -us, the most important time was when you were attending to him, for if -you had not bound up his wounds he would have died without having made -peace with you. So he was the most important man, and what you did for -him was your most important business. Remember then: there is only one -time that is important--Now! It is the most important time because it -is the only time when we have any power. The most necessary man is he -with whom you are, for no man knows whether he will ever have dealings -with any one else: and the most important affair is, to do him good, -because for that purpose alone was man sent into this life!" - - --Count Leo M. Tolstoy. - - "Twenty-Three Tales from Tolstoy," translated by L. and A. Maude - (Oxford Press). - - -=A Master and His Servant= - -Once a rich man was riding on horseback over a desert. He was going to -the palace to be knighted by the king. With him was his trusty servant, -who was to take care of their baggage and their food. As the master's -horse was stronger than the servant's, the master went very far ahead. -At last he came to a lonely tree by the road. He intended to stop in -the shade, but when he got there, he found a poor trader almost dying -of hunger. He had pity on him, so he threw him a piece of cake, which -fell on his breast. Alas! the poor man could not move his hands to pick -it up. The master, however, would not dismount and help the wretched -man, but started on, leaving him about to die. - -Soon the servant came to the same place. His heart was greatly moved -upon seeing the traveler's pitiful appearance. As the servant was about -to drink a few drops of water that still remained in a bottle, the -suffering man looked at him. Therefore, he dismounted from his horse, -and poured the water into the man's mouth. After a while the man could -move his body a little. The servant thought that with a cup of pure -warm water the poor traveler would recover his strength. But no water -could be found in the desert. So he killed his horse, took the blood -from its heart, and gave it to the traveler. The servant did not leave -the traveler until he could get up without help. At last the servant -started on his journey with the baggage on his head, leaving his dead -horse and the traveler in the middle of the desert. He left to the -traveler some bread, clothes, the saddle and his hat. - -It was evening when he arrived at the palace. His master had been -waiting for him impatiently. Without asking a question, the master -began to whip his servant, because he had lost everything except their -baggage. The servant would have suffered more had not the king chanced -to see him. Both were brought before the king, who asked the servant -what the matter was. The poor servant knelt before the king with his -hands crossed over his breast, and then told the whole story. Seeing -that the servant was as respectful, brave, and kind as a knight ought -to be, the king made him a noble instead of his master. - - --Eusebio Ramos. - - -=The Parable of the Beggar and the Givers= - -"Good people, alms! Alms for the poor!" whined an uncouth beggar who -stood huddled close, to the cold stones of a shop wall, and there -sought shelter from the wind. - -Two brothers, well clad and warm, walking homeward together, turned -and looked to see whence the appeal came. The elder carelessly tossed -a silver piece into the out-stretched palm, and muttered, "Odious -beggars!" Then he hastened on. The younger man, however, stopped and -asked how such willing pauperism had gained ascendancy over pride. -The alms-seeker then told a story of search for employment, of -repeated failures, and of the final surrender of self-esteem. The youth -pitied the vagrant, and offered to furnish him a method of gaining -independence. He readily accepted the help and a new worker began to -labor in the vineyards of the brothers. - -Some years later, when the time arrived for the people to send a new -burgher to the capital to represent them, men came from the city to -ask the fruit-gatherers which of their employers should be the choice -for the office. Then the chief of the workmen spoke out, "The elder -will fling you a coin and a curse. The younger will give you laws and -improvements for your city. He will teach you to earn the coin for -yourself." - -The next year the giver of charity went to the great council in Berlin, -while the giver of alms superintended the vine-growing and envied his -brother's good fortune. - - --Dorothea Knoblock. - - -III. Allegory - -The word allegory is used widely to signify any figurative and symbolic -writing (proverb, parable, metaphor, simile, or allegory proper); but -we are going to use it in its distinctive and academic sense as a -rhetorical and narrative type. - -[Characteristics] - -Like the fable and the parable, the allegory teaches a lesson; like -them it is a story, but longer than either, more detailed than either. -Connected with the actors in it are generally abstract ideas used -figuratively, directly personified as people on adventures or used to -form the atmosphere, the goal of attainment, the place of destination, -the road over which the hero travels. For instance, Youth sets out -from the House of Innocence over the Road of Life and strays into -the Path of Temptation that leads through the Wood of Error. Here he -meets Falsehood and Shame, and overcomes them, for the time at least, -and passes through the clearing of Experience toward the Castle of -Perseverance, grim and dark and uninviting, that stands hard by, yet -beyond, the House of Mirth, etc., etc. - -When you write an allegory, you will not be so trite as this -illustrative example, but will get a good idea, a good spiritual -lesson, and will teach it with a unique and original plot in which -the adventures themselves are interesting. The world's greatest prose -allegory, "Pilgrim's Progress," has always been read for the story. -The "Faerie Queene" as a metrical romance and a triple allegory of -religion, Elizabeth's court, and the perfect man, has been a storehouse -for prose narrators as well as for poets for three hundred years. -Practically all the old morality plays were allegories. "Everyman," the -best extant, is very vital indeed when put on the stage. - -[Plato's "Vision of Er"] - -Plato's great myth-allegory in the "Republic" was designed by him to -teach his people his theory of the transmigration of souls and how they -might safely pass over the river of Forgetfulness without being defiled -and might hold fast to the heavenly way and follow after Justice and -Virtue always, considering that the soul is immortal and able to endure -every sort of good and every sort of evil. Popularly the story is known -as a vision; but Socrates, Plato's literary character who tells the -story, calls it a tale, a tale of a brave man Er, the Son of Armenius, -who, on the twelfth day, as he was lying on the funeral pile, returned -to life and told what he had seen in the other world. - -This device of a vision was widely adopted, doubtless indirectly from -Plato, as a good framework for allegory. We find the medieval poets -dreaming dreams and letting their souls depart from their bodies pretty -generally. - -[Modern Allegories] - -The romance and the allegory were the prime medieval types, and we -find them persisting together or apart in our own English literature -from William Langland's "Piers the Plowman" with its Tower of Truth, -Conscience, Envy, Advice of Hunger, and the like, to Henry Van Dyke's -"Blue Flower" with its crystal river flowing from a mysterious source. -"The Hunter" and the "Artist's Secret" by Olive Schreiner and "Poems -in Prose" by Oscar Wilde are exquisite modern examples. Nathaniel -Hawthorne wrote scarcely anything that is not inlaid with allegory. The -"Great Stone Face" is a fine instance of how concrete pure allegory -can be. It teaches a beautifully spiritual truth by the portrayal of -American customs and everyday human shortsightedness. A good German -prose allegory is "Peter Schlemihl: or, The Man Who Sold his Shadow." -Stevenson's tremendous study, "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. -Hyde," is really allegory. - -A review of the names of the older but famous allegories will be -perhaps more interesting and suggestive than the perusal from beginning -to end of any one of them would be, for they are for the most part -long and tedious. - -[Some famous English allegories] - -In early Anglo-Saxon verse we find appearing the favorite device of -allegory, the vision. In the "Dream of the Rood" the author tells of -how he saw a strange Tree, the gallows of shame, now the glorious Tree -of the Savior, and how it told its life-history. "The Address of the -Soul to the Body" is a grim allegorical dialogue. In "The Phoenix," the -fabulous bird represents Christ, as does also the Panther in the other -poem, the sweet-breathed, lonely, harmless beast. These are all verse, -and with the exception of the "Dream of the Rood" hardly narrative. The -last two are really English bestiaries. "The Romaunt of the Rose," the -greatest medieval allegory, in its English form, contains seventy-six -hundred ninety-eight lines. You will find all these included in -Chaucer's work, but only seventeen hundred five are his.[1] The -"Parlament of Foules" and the "House of Fame," however, are his, but -not "The Court of Love," "the Flower and the Leaf," "The Cockowe and -the Nightingale." Between Chaucer and Spenser come Dunbar's "Thistle -and the Rose" and "The Golden Targe;" Lydgate's "Temple of Glass;" -Hawes's "Pastime of Pleasure;" Douglas's "Palace of Honour" and "King -Hart;" Lyndesay's "Dream" and "Complaint of Papingo;" Barclay's "Ship -of Fooles;" Sackville's "Induction" to the "Mirror for Magistrates." -After Spenser, besides Phineas Fletcher's "The Purple Island" and -Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress," come Addison's "Vision of Mirza," -Parnell's "Paradise of Fooles," Thomson's "Castle of Indolence," -Johnson's "Journey of a Day," Collin's "The Passions," and Aikin's "The -Hill of Science." - -In the beautiful Elizabethan English translation we have also the -allegories of the Bible, of which the "Twenty-third Psalm" is doubtless -the best known example, as it is perhaps the best loved quotation -from the Old Testament. All the psalms put their truths allegorically -in the broad literary sense. Ezekiel, Isaiah, and the other prophets -often speak in strict allegorical narratives, which they explain either -immediately or later. The great literary beauty of the "Revelation" -depends on the exquisite use of allegory; the leaves of the tree of -life are for the healing of the nations; the water of the river of life -is for everyone that thirsteth. - -[Allegory and parable distinguished] - -Mention of Hawthorne's use of allegory calls to mind the distinction a -student of narrative types must make between parable on the one hand -and a particular kind of allegory on the other, that kind in which -there are no abstractions. He asks himself, What is the difference -when both narratives have only people for actors? He finds the answer -in the fact that the actors of the parable are always representatives -of a type, doing nothing outside the type, nothing individual, while -the actors of that sort of allegory in which there are no personified -abstractions are always individual men even though they may have -universal vices or virtues; that is, they perform individual deeds -and go through peculiar experiences, that not all the men of their -class could perform and go through. But although more individual, -the allegory is less human than the parable; for the happenings of -the parable are always probable, while those of the allegory may be -probable, improbable, or so fantastic as to be wholly impossible. - -The allegory is usually longer also than the parable. Besides, unlike -the parable, the allegory demands no interpretation from without, but -carries its interpretation along from name to name. Hence the allegory -can be said to be an extended metaphor, and the parable, a long half -simile. On the other hand, many proverbs are concise parables and many -are also brief allegories. - -[Allegory and fable distinguished] - -Allegory meets fable on the fact that both may be satiric; but stands -aside from fable on the fact that allegory is much longer and employs -personified abstractions as characters. Hawthorne's "Celestial -Railroad" is an example of humorous-satiric allegory. Parable, we -recall, is always spiritual, allegory often so, and fable never. - -[Working definition] - -When you set out to write, therefore, you will have in mind a general -summary somewhat like this: An allegory is a narrative of imaginary -events designed to teach a series of utilitarian or spiritual -truths--the actors in the events being either individuals with typical -follies, vices, and virtues, or personified abstractions that go -through individual and particular experiences. - -[How to write allegory] - -To proceed to write original allegory you will need to pay especial -attention to (1) the series of lessons you mean to teach: Shall it be -in the realm of politics, trade, education, or general morals? (2) The -tone of your teaching: Shall it be humorous or grave? (3) The kind -of personages: Shall they be real persons made more-or-less typical -and abstract, or shall they be abstractions made more-or-less concrete -and individual? (4) The course of the action: What shall happen? There -must be something a-doing that is in itself interesting and that has a -beginning, a middle, and an end. You must not fall into the error of -merely enumerating and cataloguing. You must have a definite action -going forward in which your personages take a necessary part. Allegory -fell into disrepute in the past because of the attempts of lazy and -careless writers. There is evidence of its revival as a popular type. A -present-day writer in the _Atlantic Monthly_ has shown us how vigorous, -informing, and pungent it may be: "The Novelist's Allegory" is -entirely worth while with its good old-fashioned flavor. (5) You must -pay attention to the characterizations: you must see to it that the -speeches you put into the mouths of your creatures could be delivered -by them in the world or society you have got together. Everything in -the action--the time, the place, the characters of the persons--must -conform to the ideal nature of the subject. The laws of the actual -universe you may violate, but not the laws of your imaginary universe. -Moreover, the nearer the actual and the imaginary come together on -essentials, the more effective your preaching will be. What you write -as author's narrative must be vital and contributive. - -Make your description of dress and gesture so vivid that it will -quicken the imagination of your readers. Never yourself think of your -personages as abstractions. Let them live and move before you as real -beings; then tell about them. - -A testimony to the return of allegory into good favor is its use on -the stage. We no longer are afraid to see that Ibsen's "Peer Gynt" is -an allegorical satire and not the bucolic love tale that some persons -try to make it, and that even the wonderful scene of Ase's death is -pathos serving satire. Maeterlinck's "Blue Bird," which is unmistakable -allegory, has pleased the latest theater-going public high and low. - -[Present-day interest in primitive types] - -This thought leads to a word in general on primitive types. Although -it is becoming the fashion to be interested in them, and hence many -poor specimens both in prose and verse will get into print, yet the -writing of such simple and idealistic things by way of reaction from -our intense and often hectic realism, is surely in the main wholesome, -regardless of the value of the individual pieces. Years ago Count -Tolstoy said, "The artist of the future will understand that to compose -a fairy-tale, a little song which will touch, a lullaby or a riddle -which will entertain, a jest which will amuse, or to draw a sketch -such as will delight dozens of generations or millions of children -and adults, is incomparably more important and more fruitful than to -compose a novel, or a symphony, or paint a picture of the kind which -diverts some members of the wealthy classes for a short time and is -then forever forgotten. The region of this art of the simplest feelings -accessible to all is enormous, and it is as yet almost untouched." Of -course the hope of literary excellence for such an epoch, if it comes, -will lie in the possibility of the pieces being kept as Tolstoy's own -are, very near to the naïve. - - -=The Artist= - -One evening there came into his soul the desire to fashion an image of -_The Pleasure that abideth for a Moment_. And he went forth into the -world to look for bronze. For he could think only in bronze. - -But all the bronze of the whole world had disappeared, nor anywhere in -the whole world was there any bronze to be found, save only the bronze -of the image of _The Sorrow that endureth Forever_. - -Now this image he had himself, and with his own hands, fashioned, and -had set it on the tomb of the one thing he had loved in life. On the -tomb of the dead thing he had most loved had he set this image of his -own fashioning, that it might serve as a sign of the love of man that -dieth not, and a symbol of the sorrow of man that endureth forever. And -in the whole world there was no other bronze save the bronze of this -image. - -And he took the image he had fashioned, and set it in a great furnace, -and gave it to the fire. - -And out of the bronze of the Image of The Sorrow that endureth forever, -he fashioned an image of _The Pleasure that abideth for a moment_. - - --Oscar Wilde. - - "Poems in Prose" (Fortnightly Review, July 1, 1894). - - -=The House of Judgment= - -And there was silence in the House of Judgment, and the Man came naked -before God. - -And God opened the Book of the Life of the Man. - -And God said to the Man, "Thy life hath been evil, and thou hast -shown cruelty to those in need of succor, and to those who lacked -help thou hast been bitter and hard of heart. The poor called to thee -and thou did'st not hearken, and thine ears were closed to the cry -of my afflicted. The inheritance of the fatherless thou did'st take -unto thyself, and thou did'st send the foxes into the vineyard of thy -neighbor's field. Thou did'st take the bread of the children and give -it to the dogs to eat, and my lepers who lived in the marshes, and were -at peace and praised me thou did'st drive forth on the highway, and on -mine earth out of which I made thee thou did'st spill innocent blood." - -And the Man made answer and said, "Even so did I." - -And again God opened the Book of the Life of the Man. - -And God said to the Man, "Thy life hath been evil, and the Beauty I -have shown, thou hast sought for, and the Good I have hidden, thou -did'st pass by. The walls of thy chamber were painted with images, and -from the bed of thine abominations thou did'st rise up to the sound of -flutes. Thou did'st build seven altars to the sins I have suffered, and -did'st eat of the thing that may not be eaten, and the purple of thy -raiment was broidered with the three signs of shame. Thy idols were -neither of gold nor of silver that endure, but of flesh that dieth. -Thou did'st stain their hair with perfumes, and put pomegranates in -their hands. Thou did'st stain their feet with saffron and spread -carpets before them. With antimony thou did'st stain their eyelids and -their bodies thou did'st smear with myrrh. Thou did'st bow thyself to -the ground before them, and the thrones of thy idols were set in the -sun. Thou did'st show to the sun thy shame and to the moon thy madness." - -And the Man made answer and said, "Even so did I." - -And the third time God opened the Book of the Life of the Man. - -And God said to the Man, "Evil hath been thy life, and with evil did'st -thou requite good, and with wrong-doing kindness. The hands that fed -thee thou did'st wound, and the breasts that gave thee suck thou did'st -despise. He who came to thee with water went away thirsting and the -outlawed men who hid thee in their tents at night thou did'st betray -before dawn. Thine enemy who spared thee thou did'st slay in an ambush, -and the friend who walked with thee thou did'st sell for a price, and -to those who brought thee Love, thou did'st ever give Lust in thy turn." - -And the Man made answer and said, "Even so did I." - -And God closed the Book of the Life of the Man and said, "Surely I will -send thee to Hell. Even into Hell will I send thee." - -And the Man cried out, "Thou can'st not." - -And God said to the Man, "Wherefore can I not send thee to Hell, and -for what reason?" - -"Because in Hell I have always lived," answered the Man. - -And there was silence in the House of Judgment. - -And after a space God spake, and said to the Man, "Seeing that I may -not send thee into Hell, surely I will send thee unto Heaven. Even unto -Heaven will I send thee." - -And the Man cried out, "Thou can'st not." - -And God said to the Man, "Wherefore can I not send thee unto Heaven and -for what reason?" - -"Because never, and in no place, have I been able to imagine it," -answered the man. - -And there was silence in the House of Judgment. - - --Ibid. - - -=The Chain That Binds= - -It was morning when the youth started out from his father's house and -sought the highway. Those the young man met on the road inquired of -him, "Where are you going? What do you seek?" - -He answered, "I seek Freedom!" - -"Freedom!" exclaimed his questioners. "Are you not free? Are we not all -our own masters?" - -The young man smiled. "I do not mean freedom of thought and speech. -That you may have. What I seek is liberation from heredity and -environment, from the physical, intellectual, and spiritual laws that -tyrannize over us and make us slaves." - -His listeners turned away, some laughed, and some scorned, and some -wept, and the young man traveled on. But all along the road he met -those that scorned him and laughed at him, and soon his steps lagged, -and his feet seemed leaden. Looking down, he saw a chain binding his -ankles--the chain of Public Opinion. Now he must delay. Angrily he tore -at the chain until the hasps broke, and he stood unbound. - -Then he made haste; for he had already lost much time. Soon he met a -vender of goods, and the vender stopped and besought the youth to buy -a jewel. The young man desired the jewel, and he thought, "Why can I -not beat this man and steal his jewel?" But lo, his hands were fettered -with the chain of Conscience, and he wrenched the chain till it fell -apart. Then he beat the man and took his jewel and went on his way. - -Ahead of him he saw a cloud, and from the cloud arose a mist, and the -mist formed itself into many shapes, strange signs and symbols, the -like of which he had never seen before. The youth cried out, "This is a -new faith; I will embrace it." But his arms were bound behind him with -the chain of Superstition; and he strove to break the chain, but when -the lock gave way, the cloud and mist had disappeared. - -Thus year after year sped on; the youth became a man; the man grew old -before his time. When he broke a fetter, a new one took its place. The -chains that bound him were innumerable. One by one he broke the laws -that society and the ages had formed for him, but each wish that he -gratified gave place to another. - -The chains that he had worn and wrenched weighed on him. His flesh and -spirit were chafed and sore. Weak and disheartened he sank down, and -the memory of his fruitless life recurred to him. A voice arrested him, -and looking up he saw a man older and more withered than he was. - -And the stranger said, "Behold the chain that binds you now." The -Seeker-after-Freedom looked down. His ankles were encumbered by the -heaviest chain he had yet worn. - -The old man continued. "You flaunted yourself in the face of your -fellows. You boasted that you were greater than they. You are, in that -you are the arch-sinner. You have sought to destroy those gifts with -which the Almighty endowed you. You found it easy to break the fetter -of Love, of Conscience, of Remorse. This chain you cannot break. You -welded it yourself. The strength of an armed force cannot tear it -asunder; the fires of Perdition cannot melt it." - -The traveler died, bound with the chain of Insatiable Desire. - - --Elizabeth Sudborough. - - -=The Love Which Surpassed All Other Loves= - -The girl's heart was lonely. She had never had the comforts of a home. -And there was a yearning for some love which would fill her life. So -she determined to set out in search of such a love. In her wanderings -she met many hardships, and was scorned by everyone as a simpleton. - -After she had wandered a year, one day a great eagle flew to her, and -said, "I know what you are seeking. I can satisfy your wants. I am the -governing force of the world; I am Love of Gold. Take me, and while I -am with you, all will be well with you." - -For a moment the girl was dazzled by the comforts which seemed -stretched out before her if she would accept this Love. But her heart -was not satisfied, and she shook her head. The eagle flew away with a -taunting laugh. - -Another year passed and still she had met nothing to quiet her longing. -But one day as she was walking through a village, she saw a happy -family seated on the door-step of a neat cottage. While she was looking -at this group, she heard a voice, and, glancing down, saw a beautiful -little wren. - -"I am the Love of a Mother's Heart," said the little bird. "When all -others fail, I still remain true. Take me and hide me in your bosom, -that your mother's heart may be tender to you." - -Tears came to the girl's eyes, for the little bird had touched a wound -in her life, the neglect of her by her mother. But her longing was not -yet satisfied, and so she passed on. - -At the end of another year she was walking along the side of a quiet -pond. She stopped and looked at the water, envying it its peace. A -blue-jay was perched on the branch of a tree nearby, and soon he spoke -to her. "I am the Love of Man for Woman. I have been known since the -beginning of time. Let me be with you, that you may be a good wife." - -The girl was strongly tempted to take this Love of which she had heard -so much. Perhaps this was, after all, the Love she was seeking. As she -meditated, the old longing came back with redoubled force. It would -not do to make this Love a part of her life, so she sadly left the -blue-jay, and went on. - -The next year came, and the girl had become a woman, but her heart -was still empty of love. She entered a quiet grove one evening, and, -wearied, sat down on a log. - -A lovely nightingale came and perched itself on her shoulder, and in -a sweetly comforting tone said, "Many have had the same longing which -you have had; but few have possessed the courage to resist temptations -offered by other loves. I am the Love of Woman for Woman, the Love of -True Friendship. I am greater and more enduring than any other love. -Take me and hide me in your heart. You will be happy then as few are -privileged to be." - -The girl was comforted, and she took the beautiful bird and placed it -next her heart. At last her longing was satisfied, and she praised God -for His Gift. - - --Florence Gifford. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE INGENIOUS-ASTONISHING GROUP - - -This large division of narratives of imaginary events is somewhat -hard to name briefly, though it is definitely enough marked off as a -distinct class when we consider the tone, the source, and the purpose. -The whole air of these extravagant tales is that of sophistication. No -reader however ignorant would mistake them for stories of primitive -people. Though they sometimes contain supernatural creatures as actors, -though they recount stupendous deeds, though they often proceed in -simple diction, yet the reader is never confused as to the state of -mind of the narrator. It is plain that, however much he may seem to -wish to create credulity in the mind of the reader, the story-teller -has none in his own mind. He is a non-believer--or better perhaps, a -"make-believer," in the children's sense of the term. The source of his -narrative is ingenuity, and the purpose is astonishment or satire. In -the present study we shall notice four smaller divisions of this group: -(1) the tale of mere wonder, (2) the imaginary voyage with a satiric -or instructive purpose, (3) the tale of scientific discovery and -mechanical invention, (4) the detective story and other tales of pure -plot. - - -I. The Tale of Mere Wonder - -[Collections of wonder stories] - -In the species Tales of Mere Wonder, we mean to classify those stories -of marvels that are told with the simple purpose of astonishing. -The adventures of Sinbad the Sailor are typical. He comes upon a -bird's egg, for instance, which he at first mistakes for the dome of -a cathedral, or walks in a valley covered with diamonds the size of -apples. The "Persian Tales" like the Arabian "Thousand and One Nights" -are stories of wonder and enchantment. Though they are very old, -many of them much older than their written form and traceable to the -traditions of various countries, these Oriental stories as we have them -to-day are not folk-tales in the strict sense of the term. They are put -into a frame-work and are acknowledged to be narratives of ingenuity. -The two earlier sets, translated into French, produced many imitations. -Besides these there are the "Tartar Tales," the "Chinese Tales," "Mogol -Tales," the "Turkish Tales," and so on. The most literary and perhaps -the most valuable from the point of view of real thinking displayed in -them are the very modern Oriental stories of George Meredith, published -under the title "The Shaving of Shagpat." They are all wonder tales -though extremely philosophical. Robert Louis Stevenson has given us the -"New Arabian Nights." - -[Suggestions for writing] - -To write one of these exaggerations you need only recall your own or -other persons' attempts at the fireside when the stock of folk stories -has run low. You address your efforts to your eight and ten-year-old -brothers who have got past Jack-the-Giant-Killer and are in the stage -of development that the people of the twelfth century were to whom -Marie de France told her fables and her stories of mere wonder. The -fine ladies and gentlemen of Henry the Second's day loved to hear of -costly robes and magic carpets and jewelled beds worth half a kingdom, -that came at the touch of a ring or at the murmuring of a secret -phrase. Unfortunate princes, too, they enjoyed being told about, who -allowed themselves to be misled by wily councilors, and lost for a time -their kingdoms; beautiful princesses who sat enchanted in gorgeous -underground palaces, waiting their deliverers; wonderful plants with -otherwhere unheard-of properties; and animals with stupendous powers, -like the monstrous birds that the Arabian writer says carried Nimrod -through the air in a cage or with out-stretched wings sheltered -Solomon's army from the sun. Chaucer, you know, began and - - "left half told - The story of Cambuscan bold, - Of Camball and of Algarsife, - And who had Canace to wife, - That owned the virtuous ring and glass, - And of the wondrous horse of brass - On which the Tartar king did ride." - -This horse had a screw in his ear. If one got upon his back, turned -the screw, and whispered a word, one might be instantly in the kingdom -one named. If you can not dream out an original oriental story of your -own, you might finish this of Chaucer's--The Squire's Tale. Remember -that probability is not called for, but only magnificence, splendor, -magic, daring, and success on the part of your hero or heroine. Either -may have wealth untold, dominion unlimited, and knowledge supernatural. -Your diction may range from the simplest and the baldest to the most -luxuriant and extravagant. Whatever matches your subject, no matter how -extravagantly improbable, will be acceptable. - -[Medieval tales of chivalry] - -Like the stories of mere wonder in--fact a blending of them with -legend--were the medieval tales of chivalry in the later and perverted -editions. The elements are the same as those of the wonder tale, with -the addition of riotous history; that is, the using of any deed of any -hero for him or for someone else, with all the glamour of magic and -luxuriance thrown about it. - -[Heroic romances] - -To modern readers a very uninteresting perversion of this type of -narrative is the heroic romance of the second and third quarters of -the seventeenth century, best represented perhaps by _Le Grand Cyrus_ -of Madam de Scudéri. Nobody, I suppose, to-day who had not a theory to -prove could be persuaded to wade through the 6,679 pages of the ten -octavo volumes of this walty story. But although the particular style -of writing of Scudéri and her contemporaries has passed away, and -fortunately never can return--thanks to Molière and Boileau--fantastic -and gorgeous prose history had great popularity both on the Continent -and in England for fifty years. The attitude of mind of those narrators -is found in many moderns; namely, a desire to deal only with titled -folk, or at least millionaires, for fear that heroes of lower social -standing or smaller bank accounts might be dull. - -Our present-day mixers of fact and non-fact lean toward the probable, -of course, rather than the marvelous, and would resent being classed -with the heroic romancers; but any narrator would be proud to be able -to tell well, as everybody with a child-like heart is delighted to -listen to, an out-and-out story of mere wonder. - - -=Story of the City of Brass= - -There was in olden times in Damascus of Syria a caliph named -Abdel-Melik, the son of Marwan. One day as he was sitting with the -great men of his empire, many of them being kings and sultans, a -discussion took place among them about the tales of ancient nations. -They called to mind the stories of Solomon, the son of David, and -the power God gave him over genies and wild beasts and birds and -other creatures, and they said, "We have heard, from those who lived -before us that God bestowed not upon any one the like of that which he -bestowed upon Solomon. So great was his power that he used to imprison -genies and evil spirits in bottles of brass, and pour molten lead over -them, and seal this cover with his seal." - -Then Talib, one of the sultans, related that a man once embarked in a -ship with a company of others, and they sailed away towards the island -of Sicily, until a storm arose which drove them out of their course and -carried them to the shores of an unknown land. This happened during -the darkness of the night. In the morning, there came out to them from -caves in that land, black men who wore no clothes, and who neither -spoke nor understood any language. They had a king of their own race, -and he knew Arabic. The king, with a party of his companions, came to -the ship, saluted and welcomed those who were in it, and inquired who -they were and to what country they belonged. When they informed him, he -said to them, "No harm shall befall you. There hath not come to us one -of the sons of Adam before you." - -The king then entertained them with a banquet, and after this the -people of the ship went to amuse themselves on the shore. There they -found a fisherman who had cast his net into the sea to catch fish. -He drew the net up, and in it was a bottle of brass stopped with -lead, which was sealed with the seal of Solomon, the son of David. -The fisherman broke the seal, and there came forth from the bottle a -blue smoke which united with the clouds of heaven, and instantly they -heard a horrible voice saying, "Repentance! repentance! O prophet of -God!" Then they saw the smoke form into a man of frightful appearance -and gigantic size, whose head reached as high as a mountain, and -immediately he disappeared from before their astonished eyes. - -The blacks thought nothing of this event, but the people of the ship -were terrified at the spectacle, and they went to the king to inquire -about it. In answer to their inquiries the king said, "This is one of -the genies who rebelled against King Solomon, and Solomon, to punish -them, imprisoned them in bottles and threw them into the sea. When the -fisherman casts his net, it generally brings up one of these bottles, -and when the bottle is broken, a genie comes forth, and thinking that -Solomon is still living, he repents and cries out, "Repentance! O -Prophet of God!" - -The Prince of the Faithful, Abdel-Melik, wondered very much at this -story, and he said, "I desire to see some of these bottles." Talib -replied, "O Prince of the Faithful, thou canst do so. Send to thy -viceroy in the western country, the Emeer Moosa, ordering him to -journey to the sea we have mentioned, and to bring what thou desirest -of these bottles." The Prince of the Faithful approved of this advice, -and he sent Talib himself with a letter to the Emeer Moosa. - -When the Emeer received the letter he read it, and he said to Talib, -"I hear and obey the command of the Prince of the Faithful." Then -he called together his great men, and he inquired of them about the -bottles of King Solomon, and they told him to send for Abdes-Samad, -"for," said they, "he is a knowing man and has traveled much. He -is acquainted with the deserts and wastes and the seas, and their -inhabitants, and their wonders, and their countries, and their -districts. Send for him, and he will direct thee to the object of thy -desire." So the Emeer sent for Abdes-Samad, and when he came he said to -him, "O Abdes-Samad, our lord the Prince of the Faithful has commanded -us to get for him some of the bottles of Solomon. I have little -knowledge of the place where they are to be found, but it has been told -to me that thou art acquainted with that country and routes. Wilt thou -then help us to accomplish the wish of the Prince of the Faithful?" -To this Abdes-Samad replied, "O Emeer, the route is difficult, far -extending, and there are few tracks. It is a journey of two years going -and the same returning, and on the way there are dangers and horrors -and extraordinary and wonderful things. Nevertheless, since it is the -wish of the Prince of the Faithful, I am willing to undertake the -journey with thee." - -Then they began to make preparations, and as soon as everything was -ready, the Emeer Moosa and Talib and Abdes-Samad set forth, accompanied -by a troop of soldiers, and taking with them all things necessary for -their expedition. They journeyed on till they came to a great palace. -As the gates were opened, and they saw no guards at the doors, they -dismounted from their horses and entered. The rooms were all of vast -size and richly furnished, and the ceilings and walls were decorated -with gold and silver, but in the whole building they did not see a -single human being. In the midst of the palace was a chamber covered -with a lofty dome, rising high into the air, around which were four -hundred tombs. They went into one chamber, and they found in it a table -with four feet made of alabaster, and having this inscription engraved -on it - - "Upon this table a thousand one-eyed kings have eaten and a - thousand kings each sound in both eyes. All of them have quitted - the world and taken up their abode in the burial grounds and the - graves." - -The Emeer Moosa and his companions took this table with them and -went forth from the palace. Then they proceeded on their journey and -traveled for three days, when they came to a high hill. On the top of -the hill was a horseman of brass with a spear in his hand. The spear -had a flat, wide head, and it was so bright that it almost dazzled -the eyes of the Emeer and his companions. Nevertheless they looked at -it closely, and they were astonished at finding the following words -inscribed upon it: - - "O thou who comest unto me, if thou know not the way that leads to - the City of Brass, rub the hand of the horseman, and he will turn, - and then will stop, and in whatever direction he faces when he - stops, travel in that direction without fear, for it will lead thee - to the City of Brass." - -When he read this the Emeer Moosa rubbed the hand of the horseman. -Immediately the figure turned round with the speed of lightning, and -when it stopped it faced a different direction from that in which they -had been traveling. The party therefore turned to the way pointed out -by the brazen horseman, and proceeded on their journey. One day they -came to a round pillar of black stone, on the top of which appeared -the upper half of the body of a black giant, or genie, with the lower -part sunk down in the pillar. He was an object frightful to behold. He -had two huge wings and four arms. Two of the arms were like those of a -man, and the other two were like the legs of a lion. He had hair upon -his head like the tails of horses, two eyes like two burning coals, and -he had a third eye in his forehead, like the eye of a lynx, from which -sparks of fire shot forth. - -When the Emeer Moosa's party saw this genie they almost lost their -senses through fear, and they turned round to flee away, but the Emeer -told them that in the state in which he was he could do them no harm. -Then Abdes-Samad drew near to the pillar, and raising his voice he said -to the genie, "O thou person, what is thy name, what is thy nature, -and what has placed thee here in this manner!" Immediately the genie -answered saying, "I am a genie and my name is Dahish." [And then he -told them his nature and what had placed him there.] - -And then Abdes-Samad said to the genie in the pillar, "Are there in -this place any of the genies confined in bottles of brass from the -time of Solomon?" He answered, "Yes, in the sea of El-Karkar, where -dwell some of the descendants of Noah, whose country the deluge did -not reach. They are separated from the rest of the sons of Adam." "And -where," said Abdes-Samad, "is the way to the City of Brass, and the -place in which are the bottles? What distance is there between us and -it?" The genie answered, "It is near." - -The party then proceeded in their journey, and in a little while they -saw in the distance a great black object, and in it there seemed to -be two fires corresponding with each other in position. "What is this -great black object," asked the Emeer Moosa, "and what are these two -corresponding fires?" "Be rejoiced, O Emeer," answered Abdes-Samad; -"it is the City of Brass, and this is the appearance of it that I find -described in the book of hidden treasures--that its wall is of black -stones and it has two towers of brass, which resemble two corresponding -fires; hence it is named the City of Brass." - -Hastening on they arrived at the city, and they found that it was -strongly fortified, and that its buildings were lofty, rising high -into the air. Its walls were one hundred and twenty feet high, and it -had five and twenty gates. They stopped before the walk and endeavored -to find one of the gates, but they could not. Then Emeer Moosa said -to Abdes-Samad, "I do not see any gate to this city." Abdes-Samad -answered, "I find it described in the book of hidden treasures that it -has five and twenty gates, and that none of them may be opened but from -within the city." - -Then the Emeer Moosa took Talib and Abdes-Samad with him, and they -ascended a mountain which was close by. And looking down upon the city, -they saw it was greater and more beautiful than anything they had ever -beheld. Its palaces were lofty, its domes were shining; rivers were -running within it, and there were delightful gardens with trees bearing -ripe fruit. But they did not see a human being within its walls. It was -empty, still, without a voice, or a cheering inhabitant but the owl -hooting in its gardens, and birds skimming in circles in its areas, and -the raven croaking in its great streets. - -After coming down from the mountain they passed the day trying to -devise means of entering the city. At last it occurred to them to make -a ladder, and the Emeer called to the carpenters and blacksmiths and -ordered them to construct a ladder covered with plates of iron. This -work occupied a month, and when it was finished, the ladder was set up -against the wall, and one of the party ascended it. When he reached the -top he stood, and, fixing his eyes towards the city, clapped his hands -and cried out with a loud voice, "Thou art beautiful!" Then he cast -himself down into the city and was killed. Seeing this the Emeer Moosa -said, "If we do this with all our companions, there will not remain one -of them, and we shall be unable to accomplish the wish of the Prince -of the Faithful. Let us depart and have no more to do with this city." -But one of them answered, "Perhaps another may be more steady than he." -Then a second ascended, and he did the same as the first, and then a -third, and a fourth, and a fifth, and they continued to ascend by that -ladder to the top of the wall, one after another, until twelve men of -them had gone, acting as the first had acted. - -Abdes-Samad now arose and said, "There is none can do this but myself." -So he ascended the ladder, reciting verses of the Koran until he -reached the top, when he clapped his hands and fixed his eyes. The -people therefore called out to him, "O Abdes-Samad, do not cast thyself -down. If you fall, we all perish." Then Abdes-Samad sat down upon the -wall for a long time, reciting verses of the Koran, after which he -rose and cried out, "O Emeer, no harm shall happen to you, for God -has averted from me the effect of the artifice and fraud of the Evil -One." The Emeer then said to him, "What hast thou seen, O Abdes-Samad?" -He answered, "When I reached the top of the wall, I saw ten damsels, -beautiful to behold, who made a sign to me with their hands as though -they would say, 'Come to us.' And it seemed to me that beneath me -was a sea, or great river, and I desired to cast myself down as our -companions did. But I saw them dead, and I recited some words of the -Koran, and so I cast not myself down. Therefore the damsels departed. -There is no doubt that this is an enchantment contrived by the -inhabitants of the city to keep every one from entering it." - -Abdes-Samad then walked along the wall till he came to the two towers -of brass, when he saw that they had two gates of gold, without locks -upon them, or any sign of the means of opening them. He remained -looking at them a long time, and at last he saw in the middle of one of -the gates a figure of a horseman of brass, having one hand stretched -out as though he were pointing with it, and on the hand these words -were inscribed: - - "Turn the pin that is in the middle of the front of the horseman's - body twelve times, and then the gate will open." - -Abdes-Samad, having read this inscription, examined the horseman, and -found in the middle of the front of this body a pin, strong, firm, and -well fixed. He turned it twelve times, and immediately the gate opened -with a noise like thunder. Abdes-Samad entered, and he walked on until -he came to stairs, which he descended. At the foot of the stairs he -found a place with handsome wooden benches on which there were dead -people, and over their heads were shields, and swords, and bows, and -arrows. One of the dead men, who appeared to be the oldest, was upon -a high bench above the rest. Abdes-Samad thought that the keys of the -city might be with this man. "Perhaps," said he to himself, "he was the -gatekeeper, and these were under his authority." He therefore went up -to the man, and raised his outer garment, and he found the keys hung to -his waist. At the sight of them Abdes-Samad rejoiced exceedingly, and -he took the keys and approached the gate in the wall of the city. He -found that the keys fitted the locks, so he turned them, and pulled -the gate, which opened with a great noise. Then he cried out with a cry -of joy, and the Emeer Moosa rejoiced at the safety of Abdes-Samad, and -the opening of the gate of the city. The people thanked Abdes-Samad -for what he had done, and they all hastened to enter the gate. But the -Emeer Moosa cried out to them, saying, "O people, some accident may -happen, and if all enter, all may perish. Therefore, let half of us -enter and half remain outside." - -The Emeer Moosa then entered the gate, and with him half of his troops, -carrying their weapons of war. They saw their companions lying dead, -and they buried them. They then entered the market of the city, which -contained a number of lofty buildings. The shops were open, the scales -hung up, and the stores full of all kinds of goods, but the merchants -were all dead. They passed on to the silk market, in which were silks -and brocades interwoven with gold and silver upon various colors, and -the owners were dead, lying upon skins, and appearing almost as though -they would speak. Leaving these they went on to the market of the money -changers, all of whom they found dead, with varieties of silks beneath -them, and their shops filled with gold and silver. After going through -several other markets they came to a lofty palace, which they entered. -There they found banners unfurled, and swords, and bows, and shields -hung up by chains of gold and silver. In the passages of the palace -were benches of ivory, ornamented with plates of brilliant gold and -with silk, on which were dead men, whose skins had dried upon their -bones. Going into the interior of the palace they came to a great -hall, and four large and lofty chambers, each one fronting another, -and decorated with gold and silver and various colors. In the midst of -the hall was a great fountain of alabaster, over which was a canopy of -brocade, and in the chambers were decorated fountains, and tanks lined -with marble, and channels of water flowed along the floors, the four -streams meeting together in a great tank made of colored marbles. - -The Emeer Moosa and his companions now entered the first chamber, and -they found it filled with gold and silver, and pearls and jewels, -and jacinths and precious minerals. They found in it chests full of -red and yellow and white brocades. They then went into the second -chamber, and opened a closet in it, and it was filled with weapons of -war, consisting of gilded helmets, and coats of mail, and swords, and -lances, and other instruments of war and battle. Then they passed to -the third chamber, in which they found closets having upon their doors -closed locks, and over them were curtains worked with various kinds of -embroidery. They opened one of these closets, and found it filled with -weapons decorated with varieties of gold and silver and jewels. From -there they went to the fourth chamber, and it was full of utensils for -food and drink, consisting of various vessels of gold and silver, and -saucers of crystal, and cups set with brilliant pearls, and cups of -carnelian. They took what suited them of these things, and each of the -soldiers carried off what he could. - -Then they passed on, and found a chamber constructed of polished marble -adorned with jewels. They thought that upon the floor was running -water, and if any one walked upon it he would slip. The Emeer Moosa -therefore ordered Abdes-Samad to throw upon it something, that they -might be enabled to walk on it, and he did so, and they passed on. -And they found in it a great dome constructed of stones gilt with red -gold. The party had not beheld in all that they had seen anything more -beautiful than this. In the midst of it there was a great dome-crowned -structure of alabaster, around which were lattice windows, decorated -and adorned with oblong emeralds. In it was a pavilion of brocade, -raised upon columns of red gold, and within this were birds, the feet -of which were emeralds. Beneath each bird was a net of brilliant -pearls, spread over a fountain, and by the brink of the fountain was -placed a couch adorned with pearls and jewels and jacinths, on which -sat a damsel resembling the shining sun. Eyes had not beheld one more -beautiful. She wore a garment of brilliant pearls, on her head was a -crown of red gold, on her neck was a necklace of jewels, and upon her -forehead were two jewels the light of which was like that of the sun. -She seemed as though she were looking at the people round about her, -and observing them to the right and left. - -When the Emeer Moosa beheld this damsel, he wondered extremely at her -loveliness, and he saluted her respectfully. But Talib said to the -Emeer, "This damsel is dead. There is no life in her. How, then, can -she return the salutation?" And he added, "O Emeer, she is skillfully -embalmed. Her eyes were taken out after her death, and quicksilver put -beneath them, after which they were restored to their places; so they -gleam, and whenever the air puts them in motion the beholder imagines -that she twinkles her eyes, though she is dead." Then they saw that the -couch upon which the damsel sat had steps, and upon the steps were -two slaves, one of them white and the other black. In the hand of one -of them was a weapon of steel, and in the hand of the other a jeweled -sword that dazzled the eyes. Before the two slaves was a tablet of gold -on which was the following inscription: - - "O thou, if thou know me not, I will acquaint thee with my name and - descent. I am Tedmur, the daughter of the King of the Amalekites. I - possessed what none of the kings possessed, and ruled with justice. - I gave and bestowed, and lived a long time in the enjoyment of - happiness and an easy life, and emancipated female and male slaves. - Thus I did until death came to my abode, and the case was this: - Seven years in succession came upon us, during which no water - descended on us from heaven, nor did any grass grow for us on the - face of the earth. So we ate what food we had in our dwellings, - and after that we fell upon the beasts and ate them, and there - remained nothing. Upon this I caused the wealth to be brought, and - measured it with a measure, and sent it by trusty men, who went - about with it through all the districts, not leaving unvisited a - single large city, to seek for some food. But they found none, and - they returned to us with the wealth, after a long absence. Then - we exposed to view our riches and our treasures, locked the gates - of the fortresses in our city, and we all died, as thou beholdest - and left what we had built and what we had treasured. This is our - story. Whoever arrives at our city, and enters it, let him take of - the wealth what he can, but not touch anything that is on my body, - for it is the covering of my person, and the attire with which I am - fitted forth from the world. Therefore, let him not seize aught of - it; for he would destroy himself." - -The Emeer Moosa, when he read these words, was greatly astonished. Then -he said to his companions, "Bring the sacks, and fill them with part -of these riches and these vessels and rarities and jewels." But Talib -said to him, "O Emeer, shall we leave this damsel with the things that -are upon her? They are things that have no equal, and they are more -than the riches thou hast taken, and will be the best present for the -Prince of the Faithful." But the Emeer replied, "Seest thou, not that -which the damsel hath given as a charge, in the inscription upon this -tablet?" Talib, however, said, "And on account of these words wilt thou -leave these riches and these jewels, when she is dead? What then should -she do with these things, which are the ornaments of the world, and the -decoration of the living? With a garment of cotton this damsel might be -covered, and we are more worthy of the things than she." Then he drew -near to the steps, and ascended them until he reached the spot between -the two slaves, when suddenly one of them smote him upon his back and -the other smote him with the sword that was in his hand, and struck -off his head, and he fell down dead. Seeing this the people were much -terrified, and the Emeer Moosa commanded them to leave the city and -close the gate as it was before. - -They then proceeded on until they came in sight of a high mountain -overlooking the sea. In it were many caves in which was a people of -black, clad in hides, whose language was not known. And when the -blacks saw the troops they ran away from them, while their women and -children stood at the entrance of the cave. So the Emeer Moosa said, "O -Abdes-Samad, what are these people?" And he answered, "These are the -objects of the inquiry of the Prince of the Faithful." They therefore -alighted and the tents were pitched and they had not rested when the -king of the blacks came down from the mountain, and drew near to the -troops. He was acquainted with the Arabic language, and when he came -to Emeer Moosa he saluted him, and the Emeer returned his salute and -treated him with honor. Then the king of the blacks said to the Emeer, -"Are ye of mankind, or of the genies?" The Emeer answered, "We are of -mankind, but as to you, there is no doubt that ye are of the genies, -because of the greatness of your size." But the king of the blacks -replied, "Nay, we are a people of the race of Adam, of the sons of Ham, -the son of Noah. And this sea is known by the name of El-Karkar." - -The Emeer then said to him, "We are the messengers and servants of the -Caliph Abdel-Melik, and we have come on account of the bottles of brass -that are here in your sea, in which are the genies imprisoned from the -time of Solomon, the son of David. He hath commanded us to bring him -some of them, that he may see them. Wilt thou help us in this matter?" -The king of the blacks replied, "Most willingly." Then he ordered the -divers to bring up from the sea some of the bottles of Solomon, and -they brought up twelve bottles, which the king gave to the Emeer. The -Emeer Moosa was delighted, and Abdes-Samad also, and the soldiers, -on account of the accomplishment of the wish of the Prince of the -Faithful. The Emeer then presented to the king of the blacks many gifts. - -Then they bade him farewell, and they journeyed back until they came -to the land of Syria, and went to the palace of the Prince of the -Faithful. The Emeer Moosa told him of all that he had seen, and of the -case of Talib. And the Prince of the Faithful said to him, "Would that -I had been with you that I might have beheld what ye beheld." He then -took the bottles, and proceeded to open one after another, and the -genies came forth from them saying, "Repentance! O Prophet of God! We -will not return to the like conduct ever." After this the Prince of the -Faithful caused the riches to be brought before him, and divided them -among the people. - -This is the end of that which hath come down to us of the history of -the City of Brass. - - "Stories from the Arabian Nights." Selected and edited by M. - Clarke. (American Book Company.) - - -=The Magic Ring, the Bird, and the Basket= - -The night was clear and cool when Juan and his father went to bed. Soon -they fell asleep, lulled by the wind whistling among the trees. When -midnight came, they were aroused from their sound sleep by the shouting -of men and the roaring of fire. Juan and his father jumped out of the -house to save themselves. As they were hiding under a bamboo tree, four -men came and tied the hands of the father and son with vines. Juan was -strong enough to break the vines, but he did not try to, for fear that -the robbers would kill them. The four men carried the poor captives to -their boat and sailed away. Many of Juan's friends and relatives were -also captured. - -As they were sailing southward a terrible storm came. All the boats -were sunk by the merciless waves. Before Juan reached the bottom, for -he could not swim, a very big shark swallowed him. The shark, after -swallowing Juan, went to its home in a big cave under the water. While -he was kicking in the stomach of the shark, his knife fell from his -pocket and the vines with which his hands were tied, broke. He opened -his knife with his hands and teeth, and cut a hole through the stomach -of the shark. Instead of floating to the surface of the water, Juan -began to sink and sink as if something were pulling him downward. At -last he came to a dry place. He met nobody there except a gray-bearded -man, who asked him where he was going. Juan told his story. - -"You are unfortunate, my boy," said the old man, "you will have a very -hard time in reaching your home." - -"But how may I reach home again?" said Juan. - -The old man told him to climb the high mountain which could be seen -from where they were standing. "When you reach the top, jump into the -hole and you will be thrown up to the other world." When Juan was about -to go, the old man gave him a ring. "This ring," he said, "is powerful. -You can conquer the fiercest demon on earth with the help of this -ring. Ask from it anything, food, clothes, and other things, and you -will have what you want. If you want to go to some place, you can reach -it in a second. This ring will carry you to the top of the mountain." - -When the old man was through giving the instructions, Juan found -himself on the top of the mountain. Then he jumped into the hole. -Suddenly he was blown up through the water and up in the air. He -fell back on the water. He wished he were on land and instantly he -was carried to a small village full of savages. Juan performed many -miracles for the savages, so they elected him king. - -One day they went hunting and soon they caught a deer. While they were -taking off the hide, a big bird swooped and took the deer with it. -Juan clung to the horns of the deer trying to take it from the bird, -but in vain. The bird did not mind Juan for he was very small compared -with it. It alighted on a very high cliff, left Juan and the dead deer -there, and flew away. On the cliff was the bird's nest, and in it were -three diamond-like round eggs which were about three feet in diameter. - -Juan asked his magical ring to give him a very big basket. The basket -came. Then he rolled the eggs into the basket. Juan seated himself -between the eggs and asked his ring again to take him and the basket -home. The basket was so heavy that the ring could not make it fly very -fast. While they were sailing in the air, the bird came with its mate. -They held the handle of the basket with their beaks and carried the -basket back to the cliff. The power of the magical ring was helpless -because the birds were very strong. Juan, then, wished to be clad in -armor. So said, so done. But he had no sword, so he asked the ring to -give him one. When the birds reached the cliff, they alighted. Juan -stepped from the basket and drew his sword. Whenever the birds pecked -him, he would strike them on their necks with his sword. After fighting -with him for more than half a day, the birds fell helpless on the rock. - -Then the victor, Juan, asked the ring again to take him and the basket -to his old home. When he reached the place, the once flourishing -village was gone. Only a few huts were left standing.--Facundo Esquivel. - - -II. The Imaginary Voyage with a Satiric or Instructive Purpose - -To the class of marvelous tales belong also what are known in France -as "Voyages Imaginaires." In so far as the adventurers meet with -super-extraordinary beings, or ride on fleas of the dimensions of -elephants, or have monstrous spiders weave for a field of battle a web -between the moon and the morning star, or in so far as they sail on -seas of milk to islands of cheese and altogether suspend the semblance -of possibility--in so far are they heroes of absurd tales of wonder. -But the narrators of the stories of imaginary voyages for the most -part had primarily other objects than mere amusement in view; namely, -ridicule of the extravagant narrative by means of imitation and -exaggeration, or ridicule of political and philosophic tenets by absurd -application; or the story-tellers had instruction to give in civic and -social theories by presenting the ideal in contrast with the real. - -[Source of the type] - -The first example and perhaps the source of this whole species of -narrative is the "True History" of Lucian, which, is professedly -fabulous and satiric. Lucian says that by his seas of milk and islands -of cheese and the like, he is ridiculing the extravagant relations -of the old poets and historians who tell incredible tales. Hundreds -of years after Lucian, Marco Polo and Sir John Mandeville by their -marvelous accounts of remote countries set themselves in the class -Lucian satirized. But we will take them up later, since they were real -travellers simply exaggerating what they had seen in order the more -surely to please a perverted historical taste. We are dealing now with -acknowledged imagination. There are many famous imaginary voyages -professedly satiric besides Lucian's. Savinien Cyrano de Bergerac's -"History of the States and Empires of the Moon" is a satire on the -pedantry and scholastic disputations of his age, the early seventeenth -century, concerning the uninhabitableness of the lunar world. To the -moon Bergerac makes an excursion and settles matters for himself. "Niel -Klim's Underground Journey," by Ludvig Holberg of Denmark, is another -famous imaginary trip. - -[Swift and Defoe] - -But no nation has surpassed England, and none indeed has even equalled -her, in the production of this class of stories. "Gulliver's Travels," -"Gaudentio de Lucca," and "Robinson Crusoe" are supreme. Swift's -marvelous tale is, of course, satire; Berkley's extravagant one, -philosophy and polemic; Defoe's seemingly true narration, religious -dissent. But in the minds of the critics--and in the mind of every -school boy, I suppose--there is the judgment that Defoe succeeded in -writing the best pure "story" story in all the world. On the one hand, -accordingly, by its content of a sea voyage and a wreck on an unknown -shore and by the controversial purpose of its author, and by the fact -that it became the progenitor of a long line of marvelous narratives, -the story of "Robinson Crusoe" links itself with the species of -imaginary voyages and stands forth as the highest, though because of -its virtues not the most representative, attainment of the class. On -the other hand, "Robinson Crusoe" by its unaffected simplicity of -diction, by its many minute circumstances, by its particularity as -to persons, places, dates, and references, stands at the head as the -greatest and best representative of another type of narratives,--the -story of probable adventures. But one would finally class Defoe's story -with realistic romance. - -More typical of the present species, because more extravagant and not -so seemingly actual, is the somewhat charming though long-forgotten -story of the "Voyage of Peter Wilkins," written about 1750 by R. -Paltock or Pultock. In this narrative the author created a new species -of beings, which have been ranked among the most beautiful offsprings -of imagination. In the "Curse of Kehama" Southey acknowledged them as -the origin of the Glendoveers, - - "The loveliest race of all of heavenly birth, - Hovering with gentle motion o'er the earth, - Amid the moonlight air, - In sportive flight, still floating round and round." - -In Paltock's story they are not fairies, but flying men and women. - -In imitation of Bergerac's voyage to the moon there appeared -descriptions of journeys to the various heavenly bodies. The planet -Venus, for instance, afforded opportunity for satire on amatory -tendencies; Mercury, on fraud and avarice; and so on through the other -planets and vices. Ridicule of the predominant passions of individuals -was come at also. The arrant boaster is delectably set forth in the -"Adventures of Baron Munchausen." - -To narrate an imaginary voyage, therefore, on lines laid down in the -past, you must take to yourself to begin with either a political and -social theory or a general spirit of ridicule, either an instructive or -a corrective temper. - -If you take a political and social theory to establish you must show it -in operation in a realm where there is perfect and ideal wisdom, where -the obstacles in the world do not hold, as they do not in the Happy -Valley, Utopia, and the New Atlantis. - -[Suggestion on how to write a satiric imaginary voyage] - -If you undertake to ridicule present mistaken tendencies and follies, -your task will be a little harder. First you must work out your -argument somewhat in detail before you begin your voyage, since you -will need to fit adventures, objects, people, and speeches, either by -way of exaggeration or oppositeness, to their modern counterparts. -Next, you should have definitely in mind a few prominent leaders -in the movement or a few promoters of the policy you mean to laugh -at. You may take the portrait and characteristics of these men as -basis, and exaggerate and modify to suit your purpose. Just as a -good cartoonist must know anatomy and the rules of correct drawing, -so a caricaturist and satirist must know real people. It will happen -probably that readers not in the secret of your originals will fail to -recognize them surely, as people now fail to recognize de Bergerac's -and Swift's; yet your story can not but be the livelier and better for -your concrete thinking. And as we now read the "Journey to the Moon" -and "Gulliver's Travels" for the amusing adventures, so your audience -will enjoy your story for the same reason and no other. But you can -hardly create amusing adventures without something to create them of, -and the lives of real people are to be the stuff. This suggestion is -merely the embodiment of the psychological fact that all the chimeras -that man ever thought of are but modifications of real images. Then it -will be well also to remember the convenience of allegory and to use it -upon occasion. In fact, many imaginary voyages are but rough-and-ready -allegories. Yet you must be careful not to over-do the allegory; for -in the fourth place, you should strive for minute versimilitude. The -nearer like the details of a real journey your small incidents are, the -better your readers will be pleased with your large incidents. It is -the little surprises of familiarity among strangeness that create the -emotion of pleasure. - -Last of all, and first of all, and altogether requisite is this virtue: -To be a good narrator of imaginary voyages, you must be, like Defoe, -the "best of liars." Nothing is too stupendous to tell if you only know -how to tell it. - - -=Mellonta Tauta= - - On Board Balloon "Skylark," - April 1, 2848. - -Now, my dear friend--now, for your sins, you are to suffer the -infliction of a long gossiping letter. I tell you distinctly that I am -going to punish you for all your impertinences by being as tedious, as -discursive, as incoherent, and as unsatisfactory as possible. Besides, -here I am, cooped up in a dirty balloon, with some one or two hundred -of the _canaille_, all bound on a _pleasure_ excursion (what a funny -idea some people have of pleasure!), and I have no prospect of touching -_terra firma_ for a month at least. Nobody to talk to. Nothing to do. -When one has nothing to do, then is the time to correspond with one's -friends. You perceive then, why it is that I write you this letter--it -is on account of my _ennui_ and your sins. - -Get ready your spectacles and make up your mind to be annoyed. I mean -to write at you every day during this odious voyage. - -Heigho! when will any _Invention_ visit the human pericranium? -Are we forever to be doomed to the thousand inconveniences of the -balloon? Will _nobody_ contrive a more expeditious mode of progress? -The jog-trot movement, to my thinking, is little less than positive -torture. Upon my word, we have not made more than a hundred miles the -hour since leaving home! The very birds beat us--at least some of them. -I assure you that I do not exaggerate at all. Our motion, no doubt, -seems slower than it actually is--this on account of our having no -objects about us by which to estimate our velocity, and on account of -our going with the wind. To be sure, whenever we meet a balloon we -have a chance of perceiving our rate, and then, I admit, things do not -appear so very bad. Accustomed as I am to this mode of traveling, I -cannot get over a kind of giddiness whenever a balloon passes us in a -current directly overhead. It always seems to me like an immense bird -of prey about to pounce upon us and carry us off in its claws. One went -over us this morning about sunrise, and so nearly overhead that its -drag-rope actually brushed the net-work suspending our car, and caused -us very serious apprehension. Our captain said that if the material of -the bag had been the trumpery varnished "silk" of five hundred or a -thousand years ago, we should inevitably have been damaged. This silk, -as he explained it to me, was a fabric composed of the entrails of a -species of earth-worm. The worm was carefully fed on mulberries--a -kind of fruit resembling a water-melon--and, when sufficiently fat, -was crushed in a mill. The paste thus arising was called _papyrus_ in -its primary state, and went through a variety of processes until it -finally became "silk." Singular to relate, it was once much admired -as an article of _female dress_! Balloons were also very generally -constructed from it. A better kind of material, it appears, was -subsequently found in the down surrounding the seed-vessels of a plant -vulgarly called _euphorbium_, and at that time botanically termed -milk-weed. This latter kind of silk was designated as silk-buckingham, -on account of its superior durability, and was usually prepared for use -by being varnished with a solution of gum caoutchouc--a substance which -in some respects must have resembled the _guttapercha_ now in common -use. This caoutchouc was occasionally called Indian rubber or rubber -of twist, and was no doubt one of the numerous _fungi_. Never tell me -again that I am not at heart an antiquarian. - -Talking of drag-ropes--our own, it seems, has this moment knocked a -man overboard from one of the small magnetic propellers that swarm -in the ocean below us--a boat of about six thousand tons, and, from -all accounts, shamefully crowded. These diminutive barques should be -prohibited from carrying more than a definite number of passengers. -The man, of course, was not permitted to get on board again, and was -soon out of sight, he and his life-preserver. I rejoice, my dear -friend, that we live in an age so enlightened that no such a thing -as an individual is supposed to exist. It is the mass for which the -true Humanity cares. By-the-by, talking of Humanity, do you know that -our immortal Wiggins is not so original in his views of the Social -Condition and so forth, as his contemporaries are inclined to suppose? -Pundit assures me that the same ideas were put nearly in the same way, -about a thousand years ago, by an Irish philosopher called Furrier, on -account of his keeping a retail shop for cat peltries and other furs. -Pundit _knows_, you know; there can be no mistake about it. How very -wonderfully do we see verified every day, the profound observation -of the Hindoo Aries Tottle (as quoted by Pundit): "Thus must we say -that, not once or twice, or a few times, but with almost infinite -repetitions, the same opinions came round in a circle among men." - -_April 2d._--Spoke to-day the magnetic cutter in charge of the middle -section of floating telegraph wires. I learn that when this species -of telegraph was first put into operation by Horse, it was considered -quite impossible to convey the wires over sea, but now we are at -a loss to comprehend where the difficulty lay! So wags the world. -_Tempora mutantur_--excuse me for quoting the Etruscan. What would -we do without the Atlantic telegraph? (Pundit says Atlantic was the -ancient adjective.) We lay to a few minutes to ask the cutter some -questions, and learned, among other glorious news, that civil war is -raging in Africa, while the plague is doing its good work beautifully -both in Yurope and Ayesher. Is it not truly remarkable that, before -the magnificent light shed upon philosophy by Humanity, the world was -accustomed to regard War and Pestilence as calamities? Do you know that -prayers were actually offered up in the ancient temples to the end that -these evils (!) might not be visited upon mankind? Is it not really -difficult to comprehend upon what principle of interest our forefathers -acted? Were they so blind as not to perceive that the destruction of a -myriad of individuals is only so much positive advantage to the mass! - -_April 3d._--It is really a very fine amusement to ascend the -rope-ladder leading to the summit of the balloon-bag, and thence survey -the surrounding world. From the car below you know the prospect is -not so comprehensive--you can see little vertically. But seated here -(where I write this) in the luxuriously-cushioned opened piazza of the -summit, one can see everything that is going on in all directions. -Just now there is quite a crowd of balloons in sight, and they present -a very animated appearance, while the air is resonant with the hum of -so many millions of human voices. I have heard it asserted that when -Yellow or (Pundit will have it) Violet, who is supposed to have been -the first aeronaut, maintained the practicability of traversing the -atmosphere in all directions, by merely ascending or descending until -a favorable current was attained, he was scarcely hearkened to at all -by his contemporaries, who looked upon him as merely an ingenious sort -of madman, because the philosophers (!) of the day declared the thing -impossible. Really now, it does seem to me quite unaccountable how -anything so obviously feasible could have escaped the sagacity of the -ancient _savans_. But in all ages the great obstacles to advancement -in Art have been opposed by the so-called men of science. To be sure, -our men of science are not quite so bigoted as those of old--oh, I -have something so queer to tell you on this topic. Do you know that -it is not more than a thousand years ago since the metaphysicians -consented to relieve the people of the singular fancy that there -existed but _two possible roads for the attainment of Truth_! Believe -it if you can! It appears that long, long ago, in the night of Time, -there lived a Turkish philosopher (or Hindoo possibly), called Aries -Tottle. This person introduced or at all events propagated what was -termed the deductive or _a priori_ mode of investigation. He started -with what he maintained to be _axioms_, or "self-evident truths," and -thence proceeded "logically" to results. His greatest disciples were -one Neuclid, and one Cant. Well, Aries Tottle flourished supreme until -the advent of one Hog, surnamed the "Ettrick Shepherd," who preached -an entirely different system, which he called the _a posteriori_ or -inductive. His plan referred altogether to Sensation. He proceeded by -observing, analyzing, and classifying facts--_instantiae naturae_, as -they were affectedly called--into general laws. Aries Tottle's mode, -in a word, was based on _noumena_; Hog's on _phenomena_. Well, so -great was the admiration excited by this latter system that, at its -first introduction, Aries Tottle fell into disrepute; but finally he -recovered ground and was permitted to divide the realm of Truth with -his more modern rival. The _savans_ now maintained the Aristotelian -and _Baconian_ roads were the sole possible avenues to knowledge. -"Baconian," you must know, was an adjective invented as equivalent to -Hog-ian and more euphonious and dignified. - -Now, my dear friend, I do assure you, most positively, that I represent -this matter fairly, on the soundest authority; and you can easily -understand how a notion so absurd on its very face must have operated -to retard the progress of all true knowledge--which makes its advances -almost invariably by intuitive bounds. The ancient idea confined -investigations to _crawling_; and for hundreds of years so great was -the infatuation about Hog especially, that a virtual end was put to all -thinking, properly so called. No man dared utter a truth to which he -felt himself indebted to his _Soul_ alone. It mattered not whether the -truth was even _demonstrably_ a truth, for the bullet-headed _savans_ -of the time regarded only the road by which he had attained it. They -would not even look at the end. "Let us see the means," they cried, -"the means!" If, upon investigation of the means, it was found to come -under neither the category Aries (that is to say, Ram), nor under the -category Hog, why then the savans went no farther, but pronounced the -"theorist" a fool, and would have nothing to do with him or his truth. - -Now, it cannot be maintained even that by the crawling system the -greatest amount of truth would be attained in any long series of ages, -for the repression of _imagination_ was an evil not to be compensated -for by any superior _certainty_ in the ancient modes of investigation. -The error of these Jurmains, these Vrinch, these Inglitch, and these -Amriccans (the latter, by the way, were our own immediate progenitors), -was an error quite analogous with that of the wiseacre who fancies -that he must necessarily see an object the better the more closely -he holds it to his eyes. These people blinded themselves by details. -When they proceeded Hoggishly, their "facts" were by no means always -facts--a matter of little consequence had it not been for assuming that -they were facts and must be facts because they appeared to be such. -When they proceeded on the path of the Ram, their course was scarcely -as straight as a ram's horn, for they never had an axiom which was an -axiom at all. They must have been very blind not to see this, even in -their own day; for even in their own day many of the long "established" -axioms had been rejected. For example, "_Ex nihilo nihil fit_"; "a body -cannot act where it is not"; "there cannot exist antipodes"; "darkness -cannot come out of light"--all these, and a dozen other similar -propositions, formerly admitted without hesitation as axioms, were, -even at the period of which I speak, seen to be untenable. How absurd -in these people, then, to persist in putting faith in "axioms" as -immutable bases of Truth! But even out of the mouths of their soundest -reasoners it is easy to demonstrate the futility, the impalpability -of their axioms in general. Who was the soundest of their logicians? -Let me see! I will go and ask Pundit and be back in a minute.... Ah, -here we have it! Here is a book written nearly a thousand years ago and -lately translated from Inglitch--which, by the way, appears to have -been the rudiment of the Amriccan. Pundit says it is decidedly the -cleverest ancient work on its topic, Logic. The author (who was much -thought of in his day) was one Miller, or Mill; and we find it recorded -of him, as a point of some importance, that he had a mill-horse called -Bentham. But let us glance at the treatise! - -Ah! "Ability or inability to conceive," says Mr. Mill, very properly, -"is in no case, to be received as a criterion of axiomatic truth." What -modern in his senses would ever think of disputing this truism? The -only wonder with us must be, how it happened that Mr. Mill conceived it -necessary even to hint at anything so obvious. So far, good--but let -us turn over another paper. What have we here? "Contradictories cannot -both be true--that is, cannot coexist in nature." Here Mr. Mill means, -for example, that a tree must be either a tree or not a tree--that it -cannot be at the same time a tree and not a tree. Very well; but I ask -him why. His reply is this--and never pretends to be anything else -than this--"Because it is impossible to conceive that contradictories -can both be true." But this is no answer at all, by his own showing; -for has he not just admitted as a truism that "ability or inability -to conceive is in no case to be received as a criterion of axiomatic -truth"? - -Now I do not complain of these ancients so much because their logic -is, by their own showing, utterly baseless, worthless and fantastic -altogether, as because of their pompous and imbecile proscription -of all other roads of Truth, of all other means for its attainment -than the two preposterous paths--the one creeping and the one of -crawling--to which they have dared to confine the Soul that loves -nothing so well as to soar. - -By the by, my friend, do you not think it would have puzzled these -ancient dogmaticians to have determined by which of their two roads it -was that the most important and most sublime of all their truths was, -in effect, attained? I mean the truth of Gravitation. Newton owed it -to Kepler. Kepler admitted that his three laws were guessed at--these -three laws of all laws which led the great Inglitch mathematician to -his principle, the basis of all physical principle--to go behind which -we must enter the Kingdom of Metaphysics: Kepler guessed--that is to -say, imagined. He was essentially a "theorist"--that word now of so -much sanctity, formerly an epithet of contempt. Would it not have -puzzled these old moles, too, to have explained by which of the two -"roads" a cryptographist unriddles a cryptograph of more than usual -secrecy, or by which of the two roads Champollion directed mankind to -those enduring and almost innumerable truths which resulted from his -deciphering the Hieroglyphics? - -One word more on this topic and I will be done boring you. Is it not -passing strange that, with their eternal prattling about roads to -Truth, these bigoted people missed what we now so clearly perceive to -be the great highway--that of Consistency? Does it not seem singular -how they should have failed to deduce from the works of God the vital -fact that a perfect consistency must be an absolute truth! How plain -has been our progress since the late announcement of this proposition! -Investigation has been taken out of the hands of the groundmoles and -given, as a task, to the true and only true thinkers, the men of ardent -imagination. These latter _theorize_. Can you not fancy the shout -of scorn with which my words would be received by our progenitors -were it possible for them to be now looking over my shoulder? These -men, I say, _theorize_; and their theories are simply corrected, -reduced, systematized--cleared, little by little, of their dross of -inconsistency--until, finally, a perfect consistency stands apparent -which even the most stolid admit, because it is a consistency, to be an -absolute and an unquestionable truth. - -_April 4th._--The new gas is doing wonders, in conjunction with the new -improvement with gutta percha. How very safe, commodious, manageable, -and in every respect convenient are our modern balloons? Here is an -immense one approaching us at the rate of at least a hundred and fifty -miles an hour. It seems to be crowded with people--perhaps there are -three or four hundred passengers--and yet it soars to an elevation -of nearly a mile, looking down upon poor us with sovereign contempt. -Still, a hundred or even two hundred miles an hour is slow traveling -after all. Do you remember our flight on the railroad across the -Kanadaw continent? Fully three hundred miles the hour--_that_ was -traveling. Nothing to be seen, though--nothing to be done but flirt, -feast and dance in the magnificent saloons. Do you remember what an -odd sensation was experienced, when, by chance, we caught a glimpse of -external objects while the cars were in full flight? Everything seemed -unique--in one mass. For my part, I cannot say but that I preferred -the traveling by the slow train of a hundred miles the hour. Here we -were permitted to have glass windows--even to have them open--and -something like a distinct view of the country was attainable.... Pundit -says that _the route_ for the great Kanadaw railroad must have been -in some measure marked out about nine hundred years ago! In fact, -he goes so far as to assert that actual traces of a road are still -discernible--traces referable to a period quite as remote as that -mentioned. The track, it appears, was _double_ only; ours, you know, -has twelve paths; and three or four new ones are in preparation. The -ancient rails are very slight, and placed so close together as to be, -according to modern notions, quite frivolous, if not dangerous, in the -extreme. The present width of track--fifty feet--is considered, indeed, -scarcely secure enough. For my part, I make no doubt that a track of -some sort must have existed in very remote times, as Pundit asserts; -for nothing can be clearer, to my mind, than that, at some period--not -less than seven centuries ago, certainly--the Northern and Southern -Kanadaw continents were _united_; the Kanawdians, then, would have been -driven, by necessity, to a great railroad across the continent. - -_April 5th._--I am almost devoured by _ennui_. Pundit is the only -conversible person on board; and he, poor soul, can speak of nothing -but antiquities. He has been occupied all the day in the attempt to -convince me that ancient Americans _governed themselves_! Did ever -anybody hear of such an absurdity? That they existed in a sort of -every-man-for-himself confederacy, after the fashion of the "prairie -dogs" that we read of in fable. He says that they started with the -queerest ideas conceivable, viz: that all men are born free and -equal--this in the very teeth of the laws of _gradation_ so visibly -impressed upon all things both in the moral and physical universe. -Every man "voted," as they called it--that is to say, meddled with -public affairs--until at length, it was discovered that what is -everybody's business is nobody's, and that the "Republic" (so the -absurd thing was called) was without a government at all. It is -related, however, that the first circumstance which disturbed, very -particularly, the self-complacency of the philosophers who constructed -this "Republic" was the startling discovery that universal suffrage -gave opportunity for fraudulent schemes, by means of which any desired -number of votes might at any time be polled, without the possibility -of prevention or even detection, by any party which should be merely -villainous enough not to be ashamed of the fraud. A little reflection -upon this discovery sufficed to render evident the consequences, which -were that rascality _must_ predominate--in a word, that a republican -government _could_ never be anything but a rascally one. While the -philosophers, however, were busied in blushing at their stupidity -in not having foreseen these inevitable evils, and intent upon the -invention of new theories, the matter was put to an abrupt issue by a -fellow of the name of _Mob_, who took everything into his own hands -and set up a despotism, in comparison with which those of the fabulous -Zeros and Hellofagabaluses were respectable and delectable. This Mob (a -foreigner, by the by) is said to have been the most odious of all men -that ever encumbered the earth. He was a giant in stature--insolent, -rapacious, filthy; had the gall of a bullock with the heart of a -hyena and the brains of a peacock. He died, at length, by dint of his -own energies, which exhausted him. Nevertheless, he had his uses, as -everything has, however vile, and taught mankind a lesson which to this -day it is in no danger of forgetting--never to run directly contrary to -the natural analogies. As for Republicanism, no analogy could be found -for it upon the face of the earth--unless we except the case of the -"prairie dogs," an exception which seems, to demonstrate, if anything, -that democracy is a very admirable form of government--for dogs. - -_April 6th._--Last night had a fine view of Alpha Lyrae, whose disk, -through our captain's spy glass, subtends an angle of half a degree, -looking very much as our sun does to the naked eye on a misty day. -Alpha Lyrae, although so very much larger than our sun, by the by, -resembles him closely as regards its spots, its atmosphere, and in -many other particulars. It is only within the last century, Pundit -tells me, that the binary relation existing between these two orbs -began even to be suspected. The evident motion of our system in the -heavens was (strange to say!) referred to an orbit about a prodigious -star in the center of the galaxy. About this star, or at all events -about a center of gravity common to all the globes of the Milky Way and -supposed to be near Alcyone in the Pleiades, every one of these globes -was declared to be revolving, our own performing the circuit in a -period of 117,000,000 of years! _We_, with our present lights, our vast -telescopic improvements, and so forth, of course find it difficult to -comprehend _the ground_ of an idea such as this. Its first propagator -was one Mudler. He was led, we must presume, to this wild hypothesis -by mere analogy in the first instance; but, this being the case, he -should have at least adhered to analogy in its development. A great -central orb was, in fact, suggested; so far Mudler was consistent. This -central orb, however, dynamically, should have been greater than all -its surrounding orbs taken together. The question might then have been -asked, "Why do we not see it?" _We_, especially, who occupy the mid -region of the cluster--the very locality _near_ which, at least, must -be situated this inconceivable central sun. The astronomer, perhaps, -at this point, took refuge in the suggestion of non-luminosity; and -here analogy was suddenly let fall. But even admitting the central orb -non-luminous, how did he manage to explain its failure to be rendered -visible by the incalculable host of glorious suns glaring in all -directions about it? No doubt what he finally maintained was merely -a center of gravity common to all the revolving orbs--but here again -analogy must have been let fall. Our system revolves, it is true, about -a common center of gravity, but it does this in connection with and -in consequence of a material sun whose mass more than counterbalances -the rest of the system. The mathematical circle is a curve composed of -an infinity of straight lines; but this idea of the circle--this idea -of it which, in regard to all earthly geometry, we consider as merely -the mathematical, in contradistinction from the practical, idea--is, -in sober fact, the _practical_ conception which alone we have any -right to entertain in respect to those Titanic circles with which we -have to deal, at least in fancy, when we suppose our system, with -its fellows, revolving about a point in the center of the galaxy. Let -the most vigorous of human imaginations but attempt to take a single -step toward the comprehension of a circuit so unutterable! It would -scarcely be paradoxical to say that a flash of lightning itself, -traveling _forever_ upon the circumference of this inconceivable -circle, would still _forever_ be traveling in a straight line. That -the path of our sun along such a circumference--that the direction of -our system in such an orbit--would, to any human perception, deviate -in the slightest degree from a straight line even in a million of -years, is a proposition not to be entertained; and yet these ancient -astronomers were absolutely cajoled, it appears, into believing that -a decisive curvature had become apparent during the brief period of -their astronomical history--during the mere point--during the utter -nothingness of two or three thousand years! How incomprehensible, that -considerations such as this did not at once indicate to them the true -state of affairs--that of the binary revolution of our sun and Alpha -Lyrae around a common center of gravity! - -_April 7th._--Continued last night our astronomical amusements. Had -a fine view of the five Neptunian asteroids, and watched with much -interest the putting of a huge impost on a couple of lintels in the new -temple at Daphnis in the moon. It was amusing to think that creatures -so diminutive as the lunarians, and bearing so little resemblance to -humanity, yet evinced a mechanical ingenuity so much superior to our -own. One finds it difficult, too, to conceive the vast masses which -these people handle so easily, to be as light as our own reason tell us -they actually are. - -_April 8th._--Eureka! Pundit is in his glory. A balloon from Kanadaw -spoke us today and threw on board several late papers; they contain -some exceedingly curious information relative to Kanawdian or rather -Amriccan antiquities. You know, I presume, that laborers have for -some months been employed in preparing the ground for a new fountain -at Paradise, the Emperor's principal pleasure garden. Paradise, -it appears, has been, _literally_ speaking, an island time out of -mind--that is to say, its northern boundary was always (as far back as -any record extends) a rivulet, or rather a very narrow arm of the sea. -This arm was gradually widened until it attained its present breadth--a -mile. The whole length of the island is nine miles; the breadth varies -materially. The entire area (so Pundit says) was, about eight hundred -years ago, densely packed with houses, some of them twenty stories -high: land (for some most unaccountable reason) being considered as -especially precious just in this vicinity. The disastrous earthquake, -however, of the year 2050, so totally uprooted and overwhelmed the -town (for it was almost too large to be called a village) that the -most indefatigable of our antiquarians have never yet been able to -obtain from the site any sufficient data (in the shape of coins, medals -or inscriptions) wherewith to build up even the ghost of a theory -concerning the manners, customs, etc., etc., etc., of the aboriginal -inhabitants. Nearly all that we have hitherto known of them is that -they were a portion of the Knickerbocker tribe of savages infesting -the continent at its first discovery by Recorder Riker, a knight of -the Golden Fleece. They were by no means uncivilized, however, but -cultivated various arts and even sciences after a fashion of their -own. It it related of them that they were acute in many respects, but -were oddly afflicted with monomania for building what, in the ancient -Amriccan, was denominated "churches"--a kind of pagoda instituted -for the worship of two idols that went by the names of Wealth and -Fashion. In the end, it is said, the island became, nine-tenths of it, -church. The women, too, it appears, were oddly deformed by a natural -protuberance of the region just below the small of the back--although, -most unaccountably, this deformity was looked upon altogether in the -light of a beauty. One or two pictures of these singular women have, in -fact, been miraculously preserved. They looked very odd, _very_--like -something between a turkeycock and a dromedary. - -Well, these few details are nearly all that have descended to us -respecting the ancient Knickerbockers. It seems, however, that while -digging in the center of the emperor's garden (which, you know, -covers the whole island), some of the workmen unearthed a cubical and -evidently chiseled block of granite, weighing several hundred pounds. -It was in good preservation, having received, apparently, little injury -from the convulsion which entombed it. On one of its surfaces was a -marble slab with (only think of it!) _an inscription_--_a legible -inscription_. Pundit is in ecstasies. Upon detaching the slab, a cavity -appeared, containing a leaden box filled with various coins, a long -scroll of names, several documents which appear to resemble newspapers, -with other matters of intense interest to the antiquarian! There can be -no doubt that all these are genuine Amriccan relics belonging to the -tribe called Knickerbocker. The papers thrown on board our balloon -are filled with fac-similes of the coins, MSS., typography, etc., etc. -I copy for your amusement the Knickerbocker inscription on the marble -slab: - - This Corner Stone of a Monument to the - Memory of - GEORGE WASHINGTON, - was laid with appropriate ceremonies on the - 19th day of October, 1847, - the anniversary of the surrender of - Lord Cornwallis - to General Washington at Yorktown, - A. D. 1781, - under the auspices of the - Washington Monument Association of the - City of New York. - -This, as I give it, is a verbatim translation done by Pundit himself, -so there _can_ be no mistake about it. From the few words thus -preserved, we gleam several important items of knowledge, not the least -interesting of which is the fact that a thousand years ago _actual_ -monuments had fallen into disuse--as was all very proper--the people -contenting themselves, as we do now, with a mere indication of the -design to erect a monument at some future time; a cornerstone being -cautiously laid by itself "solitary and alone" (excuse me for quoting -the great Amriccan poet Benton!) as a guarantee of the magnanimous -_intention_. We ascertain, too, very distinctly, from this admirable -inscription, the how as well as the where and the what, of the great -surrender in question. As to the _where_, it was Yorktown (wherever -that was), and as to the _what_, it was General Cornwallis (no doubt -some wealthy dealer in corn). _He_ was surrendered. The inscription -commemorates the surrender of--what?--why, "of Lord Cornwallis." The -only question is what could the savages wish him surrendered for. But -when we remember that these savages were undoubtedly cannibals, we -are led to the conclusion that they intended him for sausage. As to -the _how_ of the surrender, no language can be more explicit. Lord -Cornwallis was surrendered (for sausage) "under the auspices of the -Washington Monument Association"--no doubt a charitable institution -for the depositing of cornerstones. But, Heaven bless me! what is the -matter? Ah, I see--the balloon has collapsed, and we shall have a -tumble into the sea. I have, therefore, only time enough to add that, -from a hasty inspection of the fac-similes of newspapers, etc., etc., -I find that the great men in those days among the Amriccans, were one -John, a smith, and one Zacchary, a tailor. - -Good-bye, until I see you again. Whether you ever get this letter or -not is point of little importance, as I write altogether for my own -amusement. I shall cork the MS. up in a bottle, however, and throw it -into the sea. - - Yours everlastingly, - PUNDITA. - --Edgar Allan Poe. - - -=Busyong's Trip to Jupiter= - -Singular indeed among such ordinary men as we come across in our -everyday life Busyong might have seemed to us, both on account of his -features and of his attitude. He had wrinkles on his face which showed -that he had smiled and laughed much in his life; but his expression -was rather sardonic. He was a lively man, with a keen sense of what -is serious and what is ludicrous. Owing to this peculiarity Busyong -did not have many acquaintances among his tribe. However, he did not -feel lonesome or forlorn; often he amused himself in observing in his -people what he regarded as the overstepping of limits of propriety -and decency. He was not a man of vast knowledge, yet he had exquisite -common sense, which his few good friends admired. - -Busyong entertained the idea of visiting the brightest planet, next -to Venus, of our solar system, namely, Jupiter; for he had read in a -certain book that Jupiter is inhabited, and the inhabitants can float -in the air because of their lightness. "This is something to me," he -said to himself. "Let us see what sort of people they are." So, led by -curiosity, Busyong after several attempts succeeded in finding means -by which he could go to Jupiter. He made a large balloon-like machine. -When Busyong had prepared everything necessary for this aerial voyage, -he began ascending from the top of Mt. Makiling at sunset. Nobody -witnessed him, because he did not make the purpose of his voyage known -to anybody. While he was ascending, he was delighted to observe the -earth growing smaller and smaller. The machine of the balloon was so -powerful that by turning a sort of button to its maximum capacity, as -Busyong did, he had the balloon soon piercing the clouds and like a -large condor soaring in the sky. When Busyong found out that he could -hardly breathe, he accelerated the speed of the balloon, so that in a -few moments he found himself in a different atmosphere where he could -breathe as well as before when he was yet near the earth. He was now -near Jupiter, whose brightness had served him as a lighthouse. He had -puffed out some of the vapor in the balloon, so that he might go down -nearer the planet. It being very early in the morning, he resolved to -take a rest; for he was tired of seeing nothing but stars and sky. - -Presently, after about two hours, when the sun was just appearing from -behind the planet, Busyong woke up. He was glad; for he had dreamt that -he should see things which he had never seen before. After rubbing his -eyes with a handkerchief, he began to look around him. With the aid -of a telescope which he had brought he saw to his surprise large and -small bodies of land and water, which he took for continents, islands, -oceans, and lakes, respectively. Descending lower, he perceived -mountains, some of which were hidden by clouds, and others that were -unhidden, covered with trees. When he had directed his telescope -towards a valley, he noticed to his happiness a poor dwelling of some -human being. It was a hut with a roof similar to _nipa_ and with a -wooden ladder, near which was a cock. The sight of this dwelling gave -rise in Busyong mind to a train of ideas regarding the inhabitants of -the planet. So far it certainly looked like the country he had come -from: it might still be the Philippines. Busyong decided to alight -from his balloon on the top of a mountain near the hut. After he had -eaten his breakfast, he began to descend the mountain. It was not long -before he reached its foot through devious paths. - -When he appeared before the entrance of the cottage and looked in, he -found a haggard middle-aged man, a sluttish old woman, and a wan-faced -boy, all of a swarthy appearance, sitting on the floor. They were -eating their frugal breakfast, which consisted of fried rice, coffee, -and dried fish. They did not use spoons, but their plain dirty-nailed -fingers. Busyong was surprised to find so great a similarity both in -the form of the house and in the manner of eating between these people -and those of his own country. Presently upon his saluting these inmates -with a _magandang araw po_, a small lean red dog began to bark at him. -The man, who was sitting in a squatting posture, turned his face and -remained for a few moments staring at Busyong with a little fright -mingled with wonder. Unfortunately when the old woman had cleaned her -shriveled hands unconsciously with a piece of brown ragged cloth, the -dog vomited on it without being noticed by any one of the family. Then -with her disheveled hair she stood up to receive Busyong, who was a -stranger to them; but the man prevented her from doing so. The man did -not appear to understand Busyong, who again bade him a good morning, -and so Busyong resolved to talk to him like a mute by signs. Having -noticed a large farm not very far from the hut, Busyong beckoned the -man, and made signs, asking him who the owner of the field was. The -man, who seemed to be a farm laborer, pointed to him the way to the -rich farmer's house. Busyong soon left him still staring with a vacant -countenance and wide-open mouth. - -Busyong had noticed the folly of the old woman when she wiped her hands -with the dirty piece of cloth. It was not long after he had started to -go that he heard such loud retchings from the hut that he stopped and -turned around. He returned anxious to see what the matter was. When -he appeared before the entrance of the cottage, he saw the peasant, -who kept asking his wife in a compassionate manner what was the matter -with her. The man received no answer; for his wife kept on retching so -constantly that she thought that, like a sea cucumber, she had everted -all her alimentary canal or was going to do so. The poor husband was -so perplexed that he did not know what to do with her; sometimes he -patted her breast; sometimes he rubbed her back as if he were stroking -the _bulik sa pula_ (a cock spotted with white and red, but mostly with -red) that was near the ladder of the hut. - -Presently, when the peasant saw Busyong observing his action, he drew -near to him and said something in a tremulous voice. Busyong explained -to the man by motions that the cause of all the trouble was perhaps the -vomit of the dog on the piece of cloth. The man hurried to convince -himself; and in his great anger he would have killed the poor animal, -were it not for Busyong, who stopped him. The husband and the wife, -whose convulsions had calmed somewhat, were angry with the dog, and -even their little boy, pouting with smeared face, showed his anger by -squalling at and whipping the animal; but at the same time the man -and the old woman were afraid that Busyong might call an ambulance to -take them all to a hospital or police station. In the midst of this -excitement Busyong availed himself of the opportunity to "strike when -the emotional iron was hot." He exhorted the family concerning the -custom of eating with fingers in such a philippic as might have had -a very deep impression on the minds of all his hearers if they had -understood him. - -Busyong then departed, and he said to himself nodding, "Aha, I remember -my grandmother often said to me when she would tell me amusing stories -that in the vineyard of the Lord there are all sorts of things. I see -now that her statement seems to hold good even in this new planet." -When he had walked some distance, he looked around him, and took his -handkerchief out of a pocket of his coat and with it wiped off the -perspiration on his face. Feeling himself warm, he whiffed and said, -"I see, this country appears to have the same warm climate as that of -my native land. I wonder if the people here are all brown like the -farm-laborer and me." After a few minutes' walk he saw a large town at -a short distance, and among the small houses he perceived a steep roof -which he took for the steeple of the church of the village. The first -house he came to in the town was that of the rich farmer. It was a -two-storied square wooden structure; in front of it was a small garden, -and behind a small orchard. Busyong knocked at the door, and in a few -moments a servant appeared. - -"Is the farmer in?" Busyong inquired, hardly expecting to be -understood. He knew no language but his own, and had to try to get -along with that. - -"Yes, sir," answered the servant, whose curiosity was awakened by the -rather unfamiliar appearance of Busyong, but who seemed to wonder not -at all at his speech. - -"Tell him, please, that a stranger desires to speak with him." - -Without uttering a word, the servant went to comply with Busyong's -request. - -"Yes, invite him to come in," said the old farmer to his servant. "And, -Andoy," he added, "tell Islao to come here to try these new sound -assorters." - -"Yes, sir," was the boy's reply as he went down the stairs. - -The servant first led Busyong before the farmer. - -"Here, Islao, see if you can put these new filterers into your ears -without discomfort. I've improved on the others considerably, I think," -said the old man as Busyong stepped into the room. - -"Good morning, sir," said Busyong very respectfully, taking the -proffered package and bowing, though he understood not a word. - -"Oh! excuse me, sir, excuse me! I mistook you for my son," exclaimed -the farmer, but seeing that Busyong was confused he motioned him -to sit down, and then drawing from his ears a tiny pair of soft -elastic-looking objects, put them back and motioned Busyong to -imitate him by applying what was in the package to his own ears. -Being naturally very curious and desiring above all things to make a -good impression on the inhabitants of this strange planet, Busyong -obeyed. But what was his astonishment to find that he now began to -understand perfectly what the old man was saying, whom before he had -not comprehended in the least, although the old fellow was already well -launched on a long exposition. Busyong's understanding began to work -at about this point: "You see, I have greatly improved them. There -has always hitherto been a sort of buzzing accompaniment. You don't -feel any, do you? You understand me perfectly, don't you? I told my -son Islao the difficulty could be overcome, But, you see, people have -been so accustomed to getting along with the noise that they stopped -being impatient at it. But I said since we had all the language sounds -assorted and distributed to their proper concept centers, there was -no reason why we should not be able to conduct outward the so-to-say -'mechanical' sounds. You understand me perfectly, don't you, sir, and -with no buzzing. Is not that so?" - -"Yes, truly; but much to my astonishment," replied Busyong, "for a -moment ago I did not understand you, and now I do. On our planet I -have heard of light or ray filterers that would distribute colors on -a sensitive camera plate, but this is the first time I've heard of a -language filterer, though I see that it works perfectly. But, sir, I -remember that you were very busy when I came in, and now I am bothering -you." - -"Oh, no, sir; keep your seat, keep your seat, please. This is the time -when I attend to visitors; from nine to twelve o'clock in the morning -and from three to five o'clock in the afternoon; and even at any other -time I am disposed to receive a guest, especially a stranger." - -"Thank you, sir. My intrusion is perhaps justifiable by my being a -stranger to this planet." - -"A stranger to this planet! Will you explain yourself? Otherwise I -shall think you are some ghost." - -"Why, yes, I'll make myself clear as I can. I arrived here just this -morning from the planet Earth. Near the foot of that neighboring -mountain I saw the hut of your farm laborer, who showed me your house." - -"But how did you come to this planet!" - -"By a special balloon which I made myself." - -"Oh, yes, I remember now; I remember to have read--I do not recollect -the name of the book--that such an aerial voyage from the earth to this -planet or _vice versa_ is possible. Oh, please, stay here with us; we -shall be very glad to have you remain with us." - -"Thank you, sir; yes, I'll stay here. Especially if you will explain -to me this wonderful device by means of which I can understand your -language and you mine. Now on Earth we have to go to the labor of -memorizing a whole dictionary if we wish to converse with a fellow -mortal of another nationality." - -"Oh, yes; that's very bad. A great loss of time and energy. A long -while ago, after we had perfected mechanical talking machines, somebody -realized that we were wasting a great amount of time conversing with -machinery when we couldn't understand our fellow men. So he set -himself to thinking and he soon saw that the difference in languages -is not a difference in ideas, but in sounds. So if he could just -filter the sound waves as they entered the cranium, he could trust -to consciousness to do the rest; for it always responds to phenomena -after its own nature, not after the nature of the phenomena that it -takes up--as the philosophers had long before proved. But I must stop -talking. I want to hear about the Earth. I dare say your planet is much -wiser than ours. Ours is very foolish in many ways, as you will see -before long." And the farmer got up to order one of his servants to -prepare a room for Busyong. - -The family of the old man, consisting of a wife and a grown-up son and -a young daughter, then spent most of the day in eagerly questioning -Busyong about the earth and its inhabitants. Night came on and the -farmer remained alone conversing with Busyong beside a window until -very late. They were beginning to feel sleepy when a confused noise of -stringed instruments was heard from a neighboring house. Busyong soon -lost his drowsiness. - -"What is that music for? What does it mean at such at an hour as this? -'Tis one o'clock," Busyong said. - -"These people are courting a lady, and their cackling is intended to -win the love of the maiden--nay, I should say to annoy and disturb the -neighbors from their rest; for that's really what they do," replied -the old man with indignation. "This custom," he added, "although not -widespread in this country, is yet after all very troublesome and -indeed very ridiculous also." - -"Now, I wonder if these people know the woman for whom they are -offering their sacrifices." - -"That is another folly about them. That is often the case; these people -work hard making a loud noise with their wooden rattles in order to -attain their purpose, but they don't have the slightest idea of the -real character of the woman for whom they die deliriously; nay, they -don't know even how she looks; whether she is ugly and haggard or -whether she is like Venus, charming with beauty." - -"Ha, ha, ha, ha, O Folly! But let us not fret ourselves at the errors -of mankind, for they seem to be natural both to this planet and to that -of mine. Hark! who is that singing now so affectedly?" - -"That is the head of the band, the Faust. Listen to his fastidious -voice and the _balder-dash_ with which it is accompanied." - -Silence reigned for a time between the old man and Busyong. Upon -hearing no longer the music which had occasioned his remarks the old -man said, "Thanks to Dios, I think they are gone. Now let us go to bed. -You must be very tired, Busyong. Good night." - -"Good night," replied Busyong. - -Next morning the old man told his son Islao to take a walk with -Busyong around the town. In this exploration, for such did it appear -rather than just a mere promenade to Busyong, who was a stranger to -the planet, Islao led his friend directly to his large farm of rice. -Then they went to the busiest part of the large town, where Busyong -was delighted to observe the different kinds of stores--dry goods -and hardware. When they came to a very lively street, Busyong found -occasion to laugh in his characteristic sarcastic manner at the -tremendous numbers of different kinds of signboards, some hanging flat -against the doors of the stores, and some sticking out a long distance -or even stretching across the entire width of the street. The size of -the signboards ranged from the smallest of those which professional men -use to the very large ones with which the managers of theaters announce -a dramatic performance. - -While the two friends were walking slowly along the street, for there -were many people out, their attention was very curiously attracted by -the appearance of a scrawny young man, who came mincing by them. They -stopped beside a telegraph post, while the young man went on, meeting a -friend at a short distance, to whom he said, "Hallo, Tetoy (Aniceto). -_Donde vamus you?_" "Hallo, Balatong," replied the friend. The rest of -their conversation went on in a low tone in their peculiar dialect. -Busyong and Islao overheard only their slipshod greetings. - -"Islao, who is that man--that one who wears the hat with a wide ribbon -whose colors are light blue and green, and black with white stripes -resembling the skin of a skunk?" inquired Busyong. - -"What man? Excuse me, I was looking at somebody else," said Islao. "Do -you mean that one who wears a bright red, yellow, and green----" - -"Crumpled small fish net around his collar I should say; yes, exactly, -that one. Who's he?" - -"Ha, ha, ha; oh, yes. He is one of the suitors of the girl who lives in -front of our house. Balatong, I think is his name." - -"Aha, the one who cackled last night, as your father said?" - -"I don't know," laughing. - -"And that other one with cross eyes, whose trousers are folded up five -times, I think, showing his stockings, which are like the tidies of a -chair back--who's he?" - -"Who? That one who wears broad ribbon-like strings on his shoes? -I don't know him. Don't you think he looks like a woman--I mean -both of them--with their way of dressing? Aha, one of them--not the -cross-eyed--has powder on his face, I think." - -"Oh, yes, yes. You know, in my native country in the planet Earth only -women are fond of and use such gaudy colors and such kind of stockings; -and, indeed, they are only proper for women. But we used to----" - -"But that's not all here; the worst is when these people use -stockings--as I have had occasion to notice many times--stockings -which are elaborately ornamented with the queerest fantastic designs; -such as a burning dainty heart, a dove carrying a bunch of _dama de -noche_ with its toes--rather, a falcon or vulture I should say--great -goodness!--make the dove carry a flower in its claws!" - -"Aha, is that so? Why, thanks to goodness, in my native land no such -queer people are to be found now, except very, very few. There used to -be--but do you know what we call them in pure, simple Tagalog? We call -them _binabae_; that is a bit worse than the English term 'sissy.' But -from your own experience, tell me, Islao, what living being other than -man have you observed making such a liberal display of gaudy colors in -that most affected manner?" - -"Why, among plants you mean? Like the parasite with beautifully colored -flowers hanging on that window?" - -"Well, not so low in the organic world as that," laughing heartily. "I -don't mean a plant; I mean----" - -"Oh, I get your point. You mean among birds like the gayly colored -rooster of that man who is now hawking in that store, don't you?" - -"Exactly, upon my wish, you have slipped from your tongue what I was -precisely going to say." - -"And I think you know why the birds, most especially the males, do have -such bright colors." - -"Why, yes; I suppose those smart young men have the same view in mind -as that of the male birds, and meditate and dream that it is 'not -proper at all for a man to be alone,' as, thinking of Priscilla, Miles -Standish would say." - -"Possibly, possibly," laughing. Islao did not understand the allusion, -but he let it pass. - -"Now be careful; don't speak loud," whispered Busyong. - -Presently the two friends who were the object of Busyong and Islao's -rather severe remarks shuffled towards Busyong and Islao, stopping near -the telegraph post beside them. The two chums were going to separate -when one of them, the cross-eyed, jabbered, "Oh, you _teni espijo_, ah? -_Porque? You ajos malo, eh?_" - -A sudden insuppressible peal of laughter was heard from Busyong and -Islao, who soon tried to act as if they did not hear the blunder. - -"_Cosa ajos?_ Am no cook as you," said the other grinning over his -glasses a little more easily than the first one. - -"_Cosa esti?_" asked the cross-eyed one, pointing to his eyes with his -dirty-nailed finger. - -"T'at is call 'esquinting eyes.'" - -"Ah, yes. _Porque got espijo_ you, esquinting ais?" - -"Oh, you don' know its value; t'at is to add weight," erecting his body -and raising his low chest, but forgetting that the other had called him -cross-eyed. - -Their gabble would have lasted longer if it were not for two ladies who -passed between them. Balatong, as the young man who wore spectacles -was called, started to mince along the busy street, scowling at Busyong -and at Islao, who were suppressing their laughter as best they could, -as he strutted before them. In a few moments Busyong and Islao began -also to move about, and soon kept pace with two bald-headed men who -happened to be walking the street in the same direction as theirs. -Presently, one of the old men observed Balatong, who was peering at -and caressing with a handkerchief one of his tapped shoes which had -been stepped upon by a "brat," to use his own expression, as he had -struggled along, distorting carefully his body to force a way through -an idle crowd. Then in a sarcastic but indignant manner and forgetting -what his companion was speaking about, the man said, "Oh, look at that -Enigo. See how the lower edge of his long cloak flaps like a sail -battered by the wind!" - -"No," said the other old man, "that is not a cloak, but a plain coat." - -"Well, I thought it was a cloak like those used by the people in the -neighboring continent in time of cold weather. That's the reason why -I said he was Enigo, for he uses a cloak now when it is warm, and I -suppose he would use light clothes when it is cold." - -"That is the fashion they say--and the latest one, too." - -"Go to, the fashion!" - -Meanwhile Busyong nudged Islao and whispered close to his ear, "Did you -hear what these old men were talking about?" - -Islao nodded, smiling. - -Then the two old men climbed into a vehicle very much like a -_carretela_, and drove away. Busyong and Islao went into a saloon of -fresh drinks and asked for a refreshment similar to milkshake. - -"The owner of this saloon is a woman, according to the signboard at the -door," remarked Busyong. - -"Yes," said Islao, smiling; "I am sorry to say." - -In the meantime Balatong stopped in front of a dry goods store on the -opposite sidewalk and began to ruminate on his image as reflected in -the glass of a counter, and at times twitched his scrawny body. Busyong -and Islao were observing him. After a while a clerk of the store opened -the door of the counter and turned a button on the back of a puppet, -which hereto had been unnoticed by Balatong. Soon the dainty hands of -the puppet, which were raised in front of its small breast, began to -move back and forth, especially the delicate fingers, as if the whole -figure had come to life. Balatong looked at the doll rather pleased -at first. But when he noticed the remarkable similarity of all the -clothes of the puppet with his own clothes, he began to be aroused and -to feel offended, insomuch that he could not help going into the store -to complain. He approached the man who had made the hands of the puppet -move and called him to come outside. The man, who thought that he was -going to show something on the counter which he wished to buy, followed -him obediently. They stuttered in their native tongue, which ran thus -in English: - -"I think that that puppet is intended to offend me, because -it is dressed exactly in the same way as I am; that is, -with the same clothes, necktie, and hat, which I bought -from this very store some time ago. However, you have -willfully--made--the--pup--pup--pup--pet--move its hands in such a way -as that--pointing to himself and then to me--that is as much as to say -I am a puppet," said Balatong, who began to be angry with the man, who -was laughing candidly. - -The man went back into the store, shrugging his square shoulders and -paying no attention to the complaint of Balatong. Balatong insisted, -squalling at the door in an aggressive attitude, "Aren't you goin' to -take 'way the puppet from t'at counter?" - -"_E ko visa_," muttered the clerk in his native dialect as he was -dusting the chairs in the store. - -Presently Busyong and Islao, who all this while had been mute -spectators of the fray, came out of the saloon with a view to settle -the dispute peacefully and justly, for, after all, they pitied -Balatong, who, they thought, had got now into an inextricable strait. -Islao, who could speak a little the peculiar dialect of the clerk, -addressed the clerk confidentially in his own tongue, asking him what -was the matter. The man answered in the same language which Busyong -understood thus: "Why, this friend orders me to remove the puppet from -that counter; for he says that he is not pleased with it." - -"Well, well, is that the whole cause of this fuss?" asked Busyong, -smiling. - -Meanwhile Balatong was setting forth to Islao earnestly all his -complaint with many, many studied complicated movements of both hands -and body. Islao waited for him to finish stuttering, for he wanted to -talk with him. Then, suspecting from the tone of his voice a smack -of Kamkangan blood in Balatong, Islao thought it best to feign -comradeship for the sake of persuading him to behave in a more manly -way. So, when Balatong had finished jabbering, Islao addressed him in -the most friendly manner, saying laconically, "_Abe, e ka makisankut -ketang é mo balú._[2]" - -Upon hearing these words, which he at first pretended not to have -understood, Balatong suddenly became excited and perplexed. He gnashed -his widely separated teeth, clenched his fists, and looked up into -Islao's face with fiery eyes, saying, "Why d'you insult an' curse me? -If I ha-have done wron', show me how; an' if not, _qua de causa_?" - -Busyong and Islao smiled pityingly and ironically instead of being -offended. On the other hand, bursting into a peal of laughter, the -juvenile clerk said jocosely in a sort of Kamkanga dialect the -following: "Aroo, our _abe_ is an evangelical man--fine!--nay, he is a -priest. How was it?--_qua re cosa_--ha, ha, ha." - -Balatong became the more angry with the clerk inasmuch as he saw that -the clerk was poking fun at him. - -"I don' want to be the laughing stock of anybody," said Balatong -indignantly. - -"Don't be touchy, _abe_," said the clerk in his own dialect. - -All of a sudden the exasperated Balatong seized a big stone from the -street and dashed it against the glass of the counter, which broke into -a thousand pieces. The people of the store and some passers-by were -alarmed at the violent action of Balatong. Presently a robust old man -came hurriedly shuffling with his wooden shoes towards Balatong, and -would have strangled him were it not for the opportune presence of a -fat man who was one of the idle crowd that had been gathering at the -door of the shop. - -The fat man, who was carrying under his arm two large scissors in -a folded white coat, interposed himself between the aggressor and -Balatong, saying in dialect, "For the sake of our beloved country! -Don't behave that way, fellow patriot! Don't, especially with one of -the same skin as yours and in whose veins runs the same pure blood -as that of yours. For the noblest ideal of our _Talukap_[3] party, -countrymen, bethink yourselves!" - -"Surely," replied the old man, whose anger was appeased by the slushy -encomium of the intruder. "But this fellow here does not seem to be -like a true native of this country, for look at what he has done with -that counter, simply because he says he isn't pleased with that puppet -there." - -"Well, well," said in a friendly manner the intruder as he faced -Balatong, "why do you behave that way?" - -"Sherup! don' interfere with me; you had better mind only your -incisors," retorted Balatong, imitating with his bony fingers the -movement of the scissors he meant. - -Busyong and Islao suddenly burst into prolonged laughter, while the -rest remained silent drivelling with wide-opened mouths as they beheld -the two men laughing heartily. - -"Do you see! This friend is angry with me according to the tone of his -voice. What did he say?" asked the fat man turning towards Busyong and -Islao. - -Islao nudged Busyong to get him to come out of the store. - -"Come, come, let us go home, lest we hurt with our laughing their -susceptible feelings, especially of that young dandy--pardon me, I mean -doctor," said Islao aside to Busyong when they reached the corner of a -street and turned to the left. - -"O Momus, son of Mox!" exclaimed Busyong smiling after a short time, -"how jocund indeed must you be with the people here!" - -"Surely, he must be," said Islao. - -"By the way, I remember that the tailor--that is, the fat man--seemed -to boast a political party." - -"Oh, yes!" - -"What is that party?" - -"It is called the National Talukap Party. You know, this country is a -democracy in name, but an oligarchy in fact, as the people here say, -for the government is in the hands of only a very few of the native -countrymen; most of the power is in foreign hands. So the _Talukap_ -party aims to reverse the condition of things; nay, to have the control -of the government wholly in the hands of the people of this country. -I am warmly in favor of this policy. But what I do find objectionable -in this Talukap party is their affectation and tautology, and their -pretension and empty show in their outward conduct. For my part, I -believe in doing things silently but effectively. On the other hand, -I am not in favor of the other party, which is called the National -Kinagisnan Party, whose policy is to be contented slavishly with the -present condition of things or with whatever condition for the time -being. The people who belong to this Kinagisnan party are very few in -comparison with those that belong to the Talukap party. Being in very -close contact with the sovereign, the Kinagisnan people are very apt to -become flatterers." - -"Moreover, the ideal of your Talukap party, I think, becomes less -feasible, if not impossible, when you consider these dandies like those -two chums over there who are clasping one another by the waist. Indeed, -they live in a very peculiar world by themselves." - -"And with Momus, I suppose, as their Supreme Being." - -"Ha, yes, I should think so, too. But after all they are not to be -blamed. Everything goes step by step. Even my native country in the -planet Earth has had the same defects practically as these people here. -Now I am glad that there in my native land the people, especially -the young men, have reached, by education and the bitter lesson of -experience, of course, a stage where their old views of the world have -become greatly changed, most especially in this respect: now they -hate affectation under any form whatever, whether in dress, manners, -knowledge or in deeds." - -"Why, that is a condition to be envied greatly." - -By this time the two friends, Busyong and Islao, were standing in front -of the farmer's house. The old man and his wife were awaiting them -in order that all might dine together. The rest of the day glided by -pleasantly. - -Next morning Busyong decided to return to the planet Earth, although -the old farmer and his son tried to delay him longer in Jupiter. -He promised to come back to them. While in his large balloon, and -recollecting vividly all the things he had observed in the country he -was leaving, Busyong let his mind run upon the following ancient lines: - - "Tell me not, in mournful numbers, - Life is but an empty dream! - For the soul is dead that slumbers, - And things are not what they seem. - Life is real! Life is earnest!" - -Just then he remembered with a start that when he had begun to crank -his balloon he had taken out his sound assorters and laid them on the -edge of the car. He had wanted to hear the familiar noise without -distribution in order to feel that all was safe. And now when he looked -for those precious assorters he could not find them. They must have -fallen overboard. And worst of all, he had neglected to get the whole -explanation from the Jupiterite. - - --Manuel Candido. - - -III. Tale of Scientific Discovery and Mechanical Invention - -[Beginning in imaginary voyages] - -Tales of scientific discovery and mechanical invention appeal to us -as being extremely modern. Yet the essential elements had a beginning -at least two centuries and a half ago. The quality of the marvelous -is easy enough to trace; and the logicalness hardly less so. We find -both in the imaginary voyages. De Bergerac discovers that he can lift -himself from the earth by the expansion of phials of dew affixed to -his person, and from this experiment he goes on to invent an elastic -machine which bears him to the moon. Klim, too, arrives at his -wonderful adventures by a scientific beginning: he sets out to explore -a rocky orifice in the Weathercock Mountain, and causes himself to be -let down by a rope. The rope snaps, and he is precipitated into an -intra-terrestrial astral system, where he begins immediately to revolve -around a planet Azar, his biscuits which he had attempted to throw -away performing meanwhile an orbit around his own body. He alights, -of course, finally by accident, and goes on with his governmental -experiences. - -[Difference one of emphasis] - -These learned elements in the imaginary voyages point definitely to -our modern stories. The difference lies in the emphasis: our modern -stories are severely and consistently logical, and interest centers in -the machine or the scientific theory. The reader does not ask to go on -long journeys to see chimeras, but he asks to see ultra-logical man. -He does not encourage the author in being satiric; he wants him to be -inventive, to be more ingenious than the race has been. The reader -wants the author to show him what man would be if he were consistently -progressive and wise, what he would come to if he worked day and night -at his science and applied what he learned,--indeed, what he already -knows. For it is an open secret in the scientific world that there -is hardly a wonderful modern machine that is not an almost foolishly -simple application of a well-known law. Take our marvelous future -trains, for instance, that are to run on one rail and be as wide and -commodious as houses--they are but to follow a principle that every -school-boy sees in operation when he spins a top. I dare say, if some -person would only write a story telling us where to affix the wheel and -the balance, we might convert our present houses into private Pullmans, -as it were, that could at any time transport us, family and all, with -everyone of our personal and familiar conveniences intact therein, to -any spot we chose, the only extra expense to us for each trip being a -slight rent for wheel space for the time that we were running over the -single-rail track that led thitherward. - -[Essential elements] - -Shading off from the imaginary voyage type, therefore, is this modern -one which I have designated by the somewhat long title, tales of -scientific discovery and mechanical invention. By this title I mean to -distinguish stories in which the occurrences, though startling, are -perfectly logical in sequence, granted the premise--extraordinary, but -not improbable under the conditions set forth. The words discovery -and mechanical express the fact that the sustaining structure of a -story such as these is often some invention superimposed upon modern -science. In the use of electricity, for instance, the characters in the -narrative go one step further than Mr. Edison; in the construction and -operation of the flying-machine, several steps further than the Wright -brothers; in the discovery of elements, someone finds something more -useful and of greater power than radium; or, after long experimenting, -he mixes a paint so black or so white that the object beneath it -becomes invisible; and so on and so on--but all plausible, all with -precise truth-likeness. - -[Stories of this type] - -Many of our present-day magazine stories are of this type. Of -the earlier modern, the "Diamond Lens" by Fitz-James O'Brien is -interesting. "The Spider's Eye" is still sometimes read. "The Life -Magnet" is well known. A burlesque verse tale of mechanical invention -is "The Wonderful One Hoss Shay" by Oliver Wendell Holmes. The prince -of all ingenious story-tellers, however, is Frank R. Stockton. - -To construct a narrative of this class, you must of course first get -your underlying theory. Experiments in the chemical and physical -laboratory will afford many a starting point. They will at least -suggest the realm in which to proceed. Astronomy, meteorology, geology, -mechanics, mineralogy, geometry, optics, domestic science even,--select -a simple problem in any of these and begin to imagine. - -[Suggestions on how to write the type] - -After you have the starting point, it is a good idea to fix your goal. -Where should you like to go, what should you like to do, what powers -should you like to have above those of your fellows? Do you wish to -overcome the restrictions of distance, absence, darkness, death, birth, -poverty, the past, the future, the present? - -With these points of your theory settled, you must then look to the -course of events. Shall the incidents befall you while discovering or -while applying the scientific fact, while constructing or while working -your machine? Shall you be looking forward or shall you be looking back -upon the events? Next you must find the point of greatest stress. -The climax of a story with the first alternative will evidently be -reached at the culmination of the inventor's labors; with the second -alternative, at the most exciting adventure in the use of the machine -or in the direct application of the scientific fact. - -The logical close of the story is in both cases the disappearance -of the machine or the scientist; but you will be repaid by thinking -carefully over this matter and being here as elsewhere as ingenious and -original as you can. - -Your deductions must appear to be sound. Of course, your reasoning may -have to be largely specious and in the gross, as it were, unless you -are a better inventor than the inventors. But you have this advantage -over the practical man: you can avoid the greater difficulties -by keeping silent about them; and for actual achievement you can -substitute assertion. You must seem on the surface, however, to be -perfectly logical. The reader will not question you too closely, if you -are only spirited and entertaining. But the next is a point that you -must note without fail. - -If the reader's interest in any particular part of your narrative will -depend upon an understanding of a bit of mechanism or a scientific -theory, you must be careful to supply the information beforehand. -However trite to a mechanic or a scientist the principle may be, you -must not assume that the casual reader knows it. He probably does not -know it, or if he does, more than likely he has forgotten it. On the -other hand, you must not appear to be self-assertively instructing -him. What you can do is this: you can politely seem to be recalling -something to his memory, and can thus make the point clear, so that -your future use of it will not fall flat. - -To add a semblance of reality, it will be permissible to employ a few -technical terms; but these also must be indisputably clear in meaning, -and their use must not be pedantic. You should study, however, to -put into the mouths of your characters the vocabulary that would be -actually used by the kind of people you represent. - -Genial humor is a fine asset to a writer of this type of narrative. -If you can be artistically serious and philosophically gay at the -same time you will not fail to please. The relationship of stories of -scientific discovery and mechanical invention to imaginary voyages is -testified to by the reader's expectation of a display of wit. But in -the scientific, ridicule is softened down to genial logic. Although -the aim in this kind of narrative is good construction rather than -character-sketching, yet every neat touch of portraiture that you can -add will help draw your composition away from the mere exercise and -toward the literary production. - -If you should choose your theory in the realm of art, you would by that -very choice raise your story above the ordinary--I mean to say, of -course, you would if you knew anything about art. Mr. Alexander Wilson -Drake knows a great deal about art and has given us, besides many -other beautiful surprises in _Saint Nicholas_ and the _Century_, some -narratives embodying exquisite theories of shadow and color. - - -[Illustration] - - -=The Curious Vehicle= - - Reprinted by permission of the Century Company. - -It was midnight in early December. A dense silver mist hid the sleeping -city, the street-lamps gave a faint yellow glimmer through the almost -impenetrable gloom, the air was like the cold breath from the dying, -the fog hanging in great drops on my clothing. Stray policemen had -taken refuge in sheltering doorways, and my own footsteps echoed with -unfamiliar and uncanny sound down the long street--the only sound that -broke the midnight stillness, save the hoarse whistles of wandering and -belated ferryboats on the distant river. - -As I emerged from a narrow street into the main thoroughfare, my -shivering attention was attracted to a curious covered vehicle standing -in the bright glare of an electric light. It was neither carriage nor -wagon, but an odd, strongly made affair, painted olive green, with -square windows in the sides, reaching from just above the middle of the -roof, and a smaller window in the back near the top. On each side of -the middle window were two panels of glass. From the middle window only -a dim light shone, like the subdued light from a nurse's lamp. On the -seat in front, underneath a projecting hood, sat a little old black -man wrapped in a buffalo-robe and a great fur coat partly covered with -a rubber cape or mackintosh, and with a fur cap pulled down over his -ears. The horse was heavily blanketed, and also well protected with -rubber covers. Both man and beast waited with unquestioning patience. -Both seemed lost in reverie or sleep. - -With chattering teeth I stood, wondering what could be going on in that -queer box-like wagon at that time of night. The silence was oppressive. -There stood the dimly lighted wagon; there stood the horse; there sat -the negro--and I the only observer of this queer vehicle. - -I stepped cautiously to the side of the wagon, and listened. Not a -sound from within. Shivering and benumbed, I, too, like the policemen, -took refuge in a doorway, and waited and watched for some sound or sign -from that mysterious interior. I was too fond of adventure to give it -up. It seemed to me that hours passed and I stood unrewarded. Just as -I was reluctantly leaving, much chagrined to find that I had waited -in vain, I saw, thrown against the window for a few moments only, a -curious enlarged shadow of a man's head. It seemed to wear a kind of -tam-o'-shanter, below which was a shade or visor sticking out beyond -the man's face like the gigantic beak of a bird. A mass of wavy hair -and beard showed underneath the cap. Suddenly the shadow disappeared, -much to my disappointment, and although I watched in the fog and -dampness for half an hour longer, it did not again appear. - -I wandered home, puzzled and speculating, but determined that I would -wait until morning if I were ever fortunate enough to come across -the vehicle again. Weeks passed before the opportunity occurred, and -even then, had it not been for a very singular incident, I doubt if I -should ever have fathomed the mystery of the curious vehicle. - -It was Christmas eve, the night bitterly cold. I had clothed myself -in my thickest ulster. My feet were incased in arctics, my hands in -warm fur gloves, and with rough Scotch cap I felt sure I could brave -the coldest night. Thus equipped, I started out, and when I returned -at midnight in the beginning of a whirling, almost blinding snowstorm, -the Christmas chimes were ringing, and the whole air seemed filled with -Christmas cheer. - -Turning a corner, I discovered the vehicle in the same place and -position. This time, as I had before resolved, I would wait until -morning if necessary. So I began pacing up and down the sidewalk in -front of the vehicle, taking strolls of five or ten minutes apart, and -then returning. I walked until I was almost exhausted. In spite of my -heavy ulster I began to feel chilly, so I again took refuge in the -doorway of a building opposite. - -Should I give it up, I asked myself, after waiting so long? I stood -debating the question. No, I would wait a little longer; so, puffing -my pipe, I shivered, and watched for developments. At last I was about -determined that I must go or perish, when suddenly I saw through the -blinding snow the shadow of a pair of hands appear at the dimly lighted -window, adjusting a frame or inner sash. You can imagine my interest in -the proceedings. - -Just at this moment a street sparrow, numb with the cold, and crowded -from a window-blind by its companions, dropped, half falling, half -flying, to the sidewalk directly in front of the window of the vehicle. -It sat blinking in the bright rays of the electric light, quite -bewildered, turning its little head first one way, then the other. In -the meantime the shadows of the two hands were still visible. The -sparrow, probably attracted by the light and the movement of the hands, -suddenly flew up, not striking the glass, but hovering with a quick -motion of the wings directly in front of the window, its magnified -shadow thrown on it by the rays of the electric light. Then the bird -dropped to the ground. The occupant was evidently much startled by the -large shadow coming so suddenly and at such a time of night. The shadow -of his hands quickly disappeared, and so did the frame. In another -moment the door of the vehicle opened, giving me a glimpse of a cozy -and remarkable interior. It seemed, in contrast with the cold and storm -without, filled with warmth and sunshine. It was like a pictorial -little room rather than the inside of a wagon or carriage. The occupant -looked out in a surprised, excited, and questioning way, as much as to -say, "What could that have been?" His whole manner implied that he had -been disturbed. - -This was my opportunity, and, seizing it instantly, I walked boldly to -the door of the vehicle, and said, "It was a little sparrow benumbed -with the cold, that fluttered down to the sidewalk, where it lay for a -moment, until, probably attracted by the light, it hovered for a few -seconds before your window, then fell to the ground again." - -I felt the man eying me intently, studying me with a most searching -glance. Was he in doubt as to my sincerity? Was it a hidden bond of -sympathy between us that made him suddenly relent and invite me to -enter his vehicle? What else could have prompted him? For my own part, -I instinctively felt for the man, without knowing why, a deep pity. - -"Please step inside," he said; "it is cold." - -And so, at last, I was really admitted, invited into the little -interior--that little interior which had piqued my curiosity for so -long a time. Yes, I was admitted at last, and now had a chance to look -about, and to study the general appearance of the occupant as he moved -over for me to sit beside him on the roomy, luxurious seat. What a -curious personality! He was a tall, raw-boned man of strong character. -His soft, gray beard and hair made a marked contrast to the dark -surroundings. Now I understood the shadow which I had seen thrown on -the window for a few seconds. He wore a tam-o'-shanter cap, and beneath -it, to protect his eyes from the lamp-light, a large visor, or shade, -which threw his entire face into deep shadow, giving him the look of -a painting by an old master. He had on a loose coat of some rough -material. - -Surely the interior of no conveyance could be more interesting than -this. In the front, just back of the driver, were two square windows -with sliding wooden shutters, and between the two was a little square -mirror. Above these was a rod, from which hung a dark-green cloth -curtain which could be drawn at will. Underneath was a chest, or -cabinet, of shallow drawers filling the entire width of the carriage, -with small brass rings by which to pull them out. On top of this -cabinet stood several clear glass jars half filled with pure water. -There were two or three oil-lamps with large shades hung in brackets -with sockets like steamer-lamps, only one of which was lighted. -Underneath the seat was a locker. On the floor of the conveyance, along -its four sides, were oblong bars of iron, and in the center was a warm -fur rug. One side only of the carriage opened. On the side opposite the -door was a rack reaching from the window to the floor, in which stood -six or eight light but strongly made frames, over which was stretched -the thinnest parchment-like paper. The top of the vehicle was tufted -and padded. The prevailing color was dark green. In shape it was -somewhat longer and broader than the usual carriage. There was a small -revolving circular ventilator in front, over the mirror, which could be -opened or closed at will, and which could also be used by the occupant -for conversing with the driver. - -The man arose, and, opening the ventilator, told the coachman to -drive on. Meanwhile I enjoyed the wonderful effect of the little -interior--its rich gloom, the strong light from the shaded lamp which -was thrown over the floor, the bright electric light gleaming through -the falling snow into the window on my left. - -The night, being so disagreeable, made the interior seem very bright -and comfortable by contrast, as the man closed the sliding wooden -shutters, separating us entirely from the snowstorm without. There was -an artificial warmth which I could not understand, and with it all a -sense of security and coziness. The stranger's manner was both gentle -and reassuring. We rode in silence over the rough pavement until we -reached the smooth asphalt. Then he began: - -"I do not consider myself superstitious, but somehow I don't like -it--that little bird hovering in front of my window. It seems like a -bad omen, and it was a shadow which startled me. My life seems haunted -with shadows, and they always bring misfortune to me." - -We were both silent for a time, when he went on: "How curious life is! -Here am I riding with you, a total stranger, long past midnight. You -are the first I have ever admitted into this wagon, with the exception -of my faithful Cato, who is driving. If one could only see from the -beginning how strangely one's life is to be ordered." - -The stranger's voice was rich and deep. I hoped he would continue so -that I might get some idea of him and his peculiar mode of life, and -what was going on night after night in this interior. I waited for him -to proceed. - -"Have you known trouble or sorrow in your life?" he asked. - -"Yes," I replied; "I have lost nearly all who were dear to me in this -round world." - -"Then," said he, "I will tell you my story with the hope that it will -be both understood and appreciated. I loved from childhood a charming -girl, sweet and pure. I need not go into the detail of all that -boyish love, but in my early manhood and her early womanhood we were -married--and what a sweet bride she was! - -"We lived in an old white farmhouse in a village near the great city--a -beautiful place, a long, low, two-story-and-attic, farmhouse, probably -fifty or sixty years old. How well I can see it--its sloping roof, -the extension, the quaint doorway with side-lights and with a window -over the top, the front porch with graceful shaped newels, the long -piazza running the entire length of the extension, great chimneys at -each end, and enormous pine-trees in front of the house! The house -stood on a little elevation, with terraced bank, and with a pretty -fence inclosing it. Beyond was an old well with lattice-work sides -and door, and a pathway trodden by the foot of former occupants, long -since dead. In front of the house were circular beds of old-time -flowers--sweet-williams, lady's-slippers, larkspur, and foxglove. At -the rear, great banks of tiger-lilies threw their delicate blue shadows -against the white surface of our little home. In one corner of our -garden we had left the weeds to grow luxuriantly, like miniature forest -trees, and found much pleasure in studying their beautiful forms. How -fine they looked in silhouette against the sunset sky! On one side of -the old-fashioned doorway were shrubs and a rose-of-Sharon tree, and on -the other, honeysuckle and syringa-bushes. There were also many kinds -of fruit and shade-trees. - -"How happily we walked up and down the shady lanes of that little -village! For us the birds sang sweetly. We took delight in our flowers -and everything about us. In the evening we would enjoy the sunsets, -returning home arm in arm in the afterglow, to sit in the cool of the -evening on the piazza and to listen to the wind as it sighed through -the pines. What music they made for us! We compared it with what poets -of all ages had sung of them, and went to sleep, lulled to rest by the -wind through their soft boughs." - -He paused again, evidently thinking of the happy time. - -"How can I tell you," he resumed, "of the life that went on in -that simple old farmhouse? Our pleasant wood-fire on the hearth; -a few photographs from the old masters on the walls; our favorite -books of poetry and fiction, which we read together during the long -winter evenings, while the pine-trees sighed outside, and all was so -comfortable and cozy within; or the lovely walks in spring and summer, -through the byways of the pretty little village, with its hedgerows, -blackberries, and wild flowers. How we watched for the first violets, -and what joy the early blossoms gave us! What pleasure we took in those -delightful years, and how smoothly our lives ran on! Each day I went -to the city, and was always cheered by the thought that my sweet wife -would be at the station to meet me. How pure she looked in the summer -evening, clad in her thin white dresses, with a silver fan and brooch, -her dark hair and eyes like those of a startled fawn! - -"Well, I need not dwell longer on all this. It was only for a few short -years, when one cruel, cold day, about the happy Christmas-time, she -was taken ill, and grew steadily worse, and all that could be done for -her would not save her. She died. I can see her now--her dark hair -laid back on the pillow, and the peaceful, happy smile on her face. -We buried her beneath the snow, in the old graveyard overlooking the -river, and I went home broken-hearted." - -I heard the poor fellow sigh, and for a time he was silent as the -carriage went on through the snow. "What can be the connection of this -queer craft with what he is telling me?" I thought. When he resumed, he -said: - -"For months I tried to live on in the little house, but life became -terrible. In the evenings, as I sat by the pleasant log-fire, I would -imagine I heard her footsteps on the stairs, and her voice calling me. -I did my best to conquer my grief, but it was of no use. The light -seemed gone out of my life. At last I could stand it no longer, and I -moved all my worldly possessions to another house in the same village. -I could not bear to think of going away from the place entirely. - -"When the springtime came again, and the lovely flowers were in bloom, -and the birds were singing their sweet songs; when the wind breathed -softly through the pine-trees, and she was gone, the sunsets were in -vain, and all nature seemed mourning. After this I busied myself with -all kinds of occupation, but without success. Life became sadder and -sadder, until finally in despair I took a foreign trip. I traveled far -and wide, but always with the same weary despondency and gloom. The -image of my loved one was always with me. Nothing in life satisfied me. -I wandered through country after country, looking at the old masters, -grand churches, listening to cathedral music, but always before me was -the same picture--the old, white farm-house, the great mournful pines, -and with it all the memory of the sweet life now departed, for which -nothing could make amends." - -Then he was silent, and as we drove over the soft, snow-covered asphalt -he became absorbed in thought. - -"After a year or so of restless travel I drifted back to my own country -and to the little village. Night after night I wandered around the -empty house where we had lived, and through the little garden, and -would stand at midnight listening to the sad sighing of the wind -through the pine-trees, which to me sounded like a requiem for the -dead. Many a moonlight night have I stood gazing into the windows, and -imagined her looking out at me as in the happy days of old, and I would -walk up and down the path thinking, oh, how sadly! of the times we used -to return by it from our evening walks. - -"Finally the little village became hateful to me. I could endure it -no longer, and I shook its dust from my feet. With reluctance I moved -away into the heart of the great city, but with the same longing in my -heart--the same despair. I hunted up my two faithful black servants -who had lived with us for several years. I bought a house in the old -part of the city, and there we now live, and I am well cared for by -them. Let me read you portions of a letter from her--one of the last -she wrote," and he took from his pocket a little morocco book with -monogram in silver script letters. He rose and asked the driver to -stop, and, turning the light up, said: "This will give you some idea -of the sweet life, with its love of nature, that went on in and about -that little cottage. The letter was written to me when I was in another -city." He read as follows: - -"My dear, I can hardly tell you how lovely the shadows looked as I -strolled around our little house this evening, and was filled with -delight by their beautiful but evasive forms. To begin with, you -remember the exquisite, almost silhouette, shadow of the rose-of-Sharon -bush by the front door. I gave it a long study to-night. Its fine, -decorative character reminded me of a Japanese drawing, only it is far -more delicate and subtle. If this could be painted in soft gray on the -door-posts and around the little side windows, how it would beautify -our plain dwelling, and what a permanent reminder it would be of our -delightful summer days! - -"But if I spend too much time on a single shadow, I shall have no room -left to tell you of the greater ones we have enjoyed together.... From -the path near the gate, and looking toward the house, I saw to-night, -and seemed to feel for the first time, the wonderful tenderness of the -great shadow which nearly covers the end and side of our home. How -mysterious our kitchen became, with its shed completely inclosed in -velvety gloom, suggesting both sorrow and tragedy; while the other end -of the house was covered with fantastic forms, soft and ethereal, and -with a delicacy indescribable.... But when the moon came up, and the -soft shadows of the pines were cast on the pure white weather-boards -of our little home,--the shadows of our own pines, the pines we love -so well, and through whose branches we have heard music sweet and -low, soft and sad,--then I thought of you as I studied their masses -tossing so gently, their movement almost imperceptible, and I longed -for you as I studied their moving forms, their richness, variety, and -texture--for you tell me of their artistic beauty--your delicate, -poetic appreciation of their loveliness.... And at last, may the sun -and moon shine brightly and cast beautiful shadows among and over the -tombstones for you and for me, my dear, and may a blessed hope make the -sunset of life glorious for us both." - -When he had finished reading, and had asked the driver to drive on, he -became absorbed and silent, and I thought, "How strange to be riding -through the streets of the city after midnight in a whirling snow-storm -with a stranger, in a vehicle so remarkable, listening to such a -pathetic love-story, such a beautiful description of quiet domestic -life." It was a charming idyl. - -"You can get an idea from this," he said, "of the delightful, contented -life which went on in the little cottage," and he sat holding the -book in his hands as though he were living it all over again, while -the bright silver script monogram gleamed and glistened on the cover -until he turned down the light, and for a time we drove over the smooth -asphalt in utter silence. - -"Do you wonder," he suddenly asked, "that the shadow of that little -bird has caused me uneasiness, and yet do you not see that almost the -last letter she wrote to me was filled with omens, shadows? It is but -natural that I should have some feeling about it--and yet, why should I -care? I have only myself and my two old servants who could be affected -by it, bad or good. For myself, my only desire is to live long enough -to complete my work; then I am both ready and willing to go. I shall -welcome death with delight." - -I had become so absorbed in his story that I had forgotten all about my -surroundings; but now as he paused I again asked myself what strange -connection had this sad story, and the letter, and all that he had been -telling me, with the wagon; for I was sure that in some queer way the -story would help to explain it all. - -"While in Europe," he went on, "I studied the old masters a great -deal, particularly the halos and nimbuses surrounding the heads of -the saints. I cannot begin to tell you how interesting they became to -me. I was struck with the exquisite workmanship bestowed on many of -them, but fine as they were, they never came up to my idea of what -a halo should be. As my loved one was so pure and gentle, I always -thought of her as a saint (and indeed she is such), and I would become -interested and imagine what kind of halo I would surround her with if -I were painting her--not one of the halos of the old masters seemed -fine enough or ethereal enough for her. I had always been fond of art, -and had been considered a fair amateur artist. One evening after I -had moved to the city, and while riding in a cab (oh, how gloomy!) on -a snowy evening something like this very night, I looked through the -window at an electric light, and there I saw the loveliest halo, in -miniature. Such tints! A heavenly vision! I thought of the old masters, -of the beautiful Siena Madonnas, and with sudden joy I thought: Why -should I not paint the image of her I love? Why should I not clothe -her in Madonna-like robes, with a halo which could come only out of -the nineteenth century? Why should she not have a halo far outshining -and far surpassing in beauty halo ever painted by mortal man?' I -rode nearly the whole night through, evidently to the despair of the -driver, as I repeatedly asked him to stop opposite electric lights and -street-lamps. - -"From that day I had a new purpose in life. I had this wagon built just -as you see it. For months I thought of it. Over and over again I drew -my plans before the vehicle was actually constructed. Then I began -my work. Old Cato, who is driving, sits night after night, unmindful -of the cold, wrapped in his great fur coat, and he waits and I work -through the midnight hours to conceive and make real the new Madonna." - -What a strange, subtle connection the whole thing had, as he suddenly -tapped on the small window and we stopped directly in front of an -electric light! As he opened the sliding shutter I saw, through the -frosted window and the feathery snow, such a vision of loveliness--a -little halo that could scarcely be described in words. It was like a -miniature circular rainbow, intensified and glorified by the glittering -rays of the penetrating electric light. - -"What could be more beautiful than that? Isn't it exquisite?" he asked. -"Did ever painted saint have a halo like that?" - -I held my breath, for I had never seen anything so beautiful. - -"I have worked at it for a long time. I have not yet accomplished -it, but I hope to. I am coming nearer to it every night in which -I can work. There are not many during the winter; the conditions -of atmosphere and temperature must be just right. On foggy nights, -or when the air is filled with light, flying snow--these are the -nights in which the little halos glow around the electric lights, -street-lamps, and lights in show-windows. Oh," he said, "they fill me -with a happiness and delight I cannot describe, as I try all kinds of -experiments to transfix the beautiful colors of their delicate rays! - -"Let me show you," he went on, and he lifted one of the frames which -I have already described, covered with a thin parchment-like paper. -This he carefully buttoned to a groove in the window. On the surface -of the stretched parchment the little halo glowed with its prismatic -tints, and again I held my breath at the beauty of it. I, too, was -becoming a halo-worshiper. Then he lifted from the rack on the side, -and held up to the light, first one and then another of the frames, on -the parchment surface of which he had actually traced lines of color, -against the gloom beyond, radiating lines crossing and re-crossing, -glowing with rainbow tints seen through and against the window. - -"Do you know anything of Frankenstein's wonderful Magic Reciprocals, -sometimes called Harmonic Responses?"[4] he asked. "How I longed for -his marvelous power, so that I might experiment with them. But they -were far beyond my skill, and also, perhaps, too scientific and -geometric for my purpose; and so I was forced to discard them and -begin afresh in my own way. I have had reasonable success, although -I have not yet reached the purity of color nor the brilliancy that I -wish. I do not know that mortal man ever can. I have tried all sorts -of experiments--lines of silver crossed with lines of gold; prismatic -threads of silk; and now I have abandoned them all, and am beginning -again, perhaps for the fortieth time. But if I am only able to do it, -nothing can give me greater happiness. I can close my eyes in peace at -last." - -After he had shown me his experiments, he removed the little frame from -the window, closed the sliding shutter on the side, and, turning the -circular ventilator, asked the driver to drive on. - -"Now for an extended view," he said, and he opened the shutter of one -of the front windows, and then of the other on each side of the mirror. -What a vista of loveliness! A long perspective of glowing halos, -vanishing down the street through the flying snow, until they were mere -specks of light in the distance. The whole atmosphere was filled with -circular rainbows, and again he dwelt on their beauty. They glowed -with ultramarine, with delicate green, with gold and silver, and like -light from burnished copper, and our little vehicle seemed a moving -palace of delight as we drove on through the blinding storm. Turning -into one of the narrower streets, away from the electric lights, we -saw the long line of receding gas-lamps, each with its softly subdued -nimbus, and he said in a low and gentle voice, almost a whisper, "The -street of halos." - -When he had closed the shutters again he said, "Let me show you my -cabinet of colors and working tools." He pulled out a shallow drawer, -and there, on small porcelain plaques (the kind used by water-color -painters), side by side, in regular order, was every shade of red, -from the faintest pink to the deepest crimson. He opened the next -drawer, and instead of the red was an arrangement of blues, from -delicate turquoise to deepest ultramarine. In the third drawer was an -arrangement of yellows, running from Naples to deepest cadmium. - -"I deal in primary colors," he said, "for what would you paint rainbows -in but red, blue, and yellow?" - -Then he opened the fourth drawer, and there, laid with precision, were -long-handled brushes from the finest sable (mere pin-points) up to -thick ones as large as one's finger. There were flat ones and round -ones, short ones and long ones. As he opened the fifth drawer, "For -odds and ends," he said. This was a little deeper than the others, and -in it were sponges fine and coarse, erasers, scrapers, and boxes of -drawing-tacks of various sizes. In the last drawer were soft white rags -and sheets of blotting-paper of assorted sizes. - -After he had shown me the contents of the cabinet he said, "I have been -quite disturbed by the shadow of that little bird. Will you join me -in a glass of old sherry?" He opened the locker underneath the seat, -and brought out an odd-shaped bottle, which he unscrewed, handing me a -small, thistle-shaped glass and a tin box containing crackers. - -"It is a bad night," he said, "a very bad night. I feel it, even with -the warmth of this interior. Those long bars of iron are filled with -hot water, which usually keeps me very warm." - -Then he passed through the ventilator, to the driver, some crackers -and sherry. After he had closed it, and put away the bottle, box, and -glasses, we both mused a long time, the halo-painter completely lost -in reverie, and I thinking of the undying love of such a man--a man -who could love but one, and for whom no other eyes or voice could ever -mean so much. With him love was an all-absorbing passion. He had given -his heart without reserve, and for him no other love could ever bloom -again. I thought of him sitting, night after night, in his solitary -vehicle working at the halo--a new halo which should surround the head -of her he loved. I thought of him in the lonely early morning hours, -working at a nimbus which was far to outshine in beauty and delicacy -any painted or dreamed of by God-fearing saint-painters of old. - -He opened the shutters, and the light from the lamp began to grow -dimmer as the early morning light shone faintly through the windows. I -noticed the deep furrows of care and sorrow which marked his strong, -pathetic face, purified by suffering and lighted by divine hope--the -face of one who lived in another world, and for whom all of life was -centered in his ideal--one who was in the world, but not of it. - -As he bade me good-by, his face beamed in the early Christmas morning -light with indescribable tenderness; and as the little wagon with its -faithful old black driver disappeared through the snow, I thought again -and again of the beautiful, touching love of the man who would sit -night after night trying to realize his dream of beauty, to clothe in -the garb of a saint the form of her he loved. - - --Alexander W. Drake. - - -=The Spyglass of the Past= - -It is possible for a man to have two hobbies. Dr. Aukirt demonstrated -the fact. No one would have thought that the quiet man, who was so -often poring over the Egyptian cases at the British Museum, was an -optician; but then the truth is apt to be unsuspected. He used to say -that it was all a mistake--that he was an explorer pure and simple, -but that he explored the past and the heavens instead of the forest -and rivers. At any rate, an archeologist he was, and a noted one -too, or the British government would not have put him at the head of -the expedition to excavate the ruins of Karnac, that greatest of all -temples. - -The men had gone to their camp as usual, but Dr. Aukirt remained -behind. During the day an interesting inscription had been uncovered, -and the moon shone in among the pillars of Karnac before the explorer -thought of leaving the scene of the day's work. As he turned to go, -he noticed a slight movement at his feet, and stopped. A tiny stream -of sand was sliding slowly into a crevice between two stones in the -pavement, and was disappearing beneath him. He seized a pick and at -length was able to dislodge the block. A flight of steps led down -into the darkness. He soon stood at the foot of the stairway with the -wealth of his discovery about him. The light from his pocket lamp was -reflected from the thousands of silver points in the ceiling of _lapis -lazuli_ and from the porphyry pillars with their exquisite capitals -of lotus leaves. Under a frieze of small windows was a divan with the -imprint of a head so plainly visible in the draperies that it seemed as -though the sleeper must have but just arisen, but the fabric crumbled -to dust under the Doctor's hand. - -At the other side of the room was a table, evidently a student's desk, -with a litter of writing materials and curious instruments. Across -an unfinished papyrus lay a brass tube with a lens at each end. Dr. -Aukirt picked up the strange telescope and instinctively applied it -to his eye, although he was convinced that he should be unable to see -anything, for the body of the glass was a double curve, like a much -elongated S. But as he pointed the lens toward the divan, a priestly -figure seemed to be sleeping there, and this room brightened, light -streamed in through the windows which had been hidden by the sand of -hundreds of years. The Doctor looked up; everything was dusty and -deserted. - -When he reached the open air again, he saw that the sun was rising away -at the rim of the desert; and once more he looked through the new-found -spy-glass. The surface of the Nile that had been so peaceful a moment -ago, was aswarm with boats. Figures of dusky slaves with sad Hebraic -features passed and repassed with their burdens. He turned to the ruin -which he had just left, and beheld a stately temple with the sunbeams -flashing from its carved and polished façade. - -The puzzled and astonished archeologist went to his tent with his -treasures, the papyrus and the glass, and for weeks he studied them -that he might learn to use the instrument. Sometimes it seemed to him -as though his search were to be rewarded, but the truth constantly -eluded him, although by a smaller and smaller margin, or so he was -pleased to think. One day he brought his glass once more to the banks -of the Nile near Karnac. Victory seemed very near just now. Carefully -he opened the instrument to its full extent--and saw a savage people -warring with each other on the peaceful river bank. Then came a -stronger tribe, and then a stronger still, until at length he saw -the mighty procession of the Pharaoh coming to inspect the temple of -Karnac. He saw the rise and fall of nations: the slow march of the ages -passed before his vision like the gliding of a dream. The Egyptian -had written truth: "I have made an instrument which will gather up -the scattered and tangled images of the past, and focus them upon the -present." - -Appalled at the magnitude of his discovery, Dr. Aukirt stood in -silence, and then the thought came, "Victory is not complete, the -instrument can be so adjusted as to presage the future." He made what -seemed to him the necessary changes; but when he attempted to look -through his glass again, there was no light; the lens was broken. - - --Hazel Adelle Orcutt. - - -=Up a Water-Spout= - -I was a poor, hard-working sailor on a fishing smack plying between -Nantucket Island and Cape Cod. My parents before me had been of scanty -means, living from hand to mouth, and I was compelled early in life -to provide for myself. Naturally, I had little education; that is, -education from books; but if traveling possesses half the advantages -attributed to it in that line, I own I must be the best educated man--I -say this with all modesty--on this small globe of ours. - -Once a year the captains of the several boats with their respective -crews made a more extended trip down the coast for pickerel. This year -with the usual company of fishing-craft we sailed southward toward the -Bahamas. - -Favorable winds hastened our journey until at a point just off Cape -Fear we ran into a dead calm. For four days we never moved. The heat -was scorching. The boards warped and cracked, and not even a flapping -sail indicated the slightest disturbance in the air. All the boats had -dropped anchor within hailing distance of each other, so with the aid -of the dories to carry us around from one ship to another we passed the -time quite agreeably. - -On the fifth morning, however, a thick rim of cloud covered the western -horizon and seemed to be moving rapidly toward us. Almost in the center -of this cloud projected a small point of mist. It grew and widened, -then shrank back to half its size, finally running down a long, slender -finger until it reached the water. Instantly foam and spray began to -rise, and we knew that we were in the path of a water-spout. All -anchors had been hoisted and the captains were giving hoarse orders -to put on every inch of sail. But there seemed to be an upper current -that was carrying that water-spout right among us; yet we were still -becalmed and helpless. - -As it approached it grew in circumference into a huge column of water, -foaming and swirling in a horrible manner. Every man rushed for the -cabin. We tightly closed the doors and windows. Then--we waited. The -boat gave a sharp twist as we entered the whirling pool, and a great -wave passed over us. - -Silently we sat there expecting the boat to be swamped and broken into -bits. But this is far from what really took place; for after the first -shock, we felt the boat to be rising. Trembling and cautious we peeped -out of the window. All the other boats were circling around in the air -near us, and were rising too. We seemed to be surrounded by a hollow -cylinder of water, also rising like ourselves. It seemed impossible, -and yet we were forced to recognize the fact that we were inside the -water-spout, and the suction that was drawing up the water, had picked -our vessel up bodily and was carrying us--where? Where, indeed? Miles -we went. Finally we left behind the column of water which had been -growing thinner and thinner, and we passed swiftly through clouds and -mists. Gradually these cleared away and the earth came into view. For -three months our journey lasted. We wandered here and there over the -earth wherever currents bore us. Luckily, we had an extraordinarily -large supply of provisions on board. - -One day we saw a dim speck in the distance and the watch involuntarily -cried out, "A sail." We laughed, but sure enough, within a few hours, -another boat wheeled up along side. We had no way of stopping, so our -communication was short. It was found out that they had met the same -fate as we, and had, like us, probably been reported at home as lost -at sea. They said that if by any chance we should return to earth, we -should tell their friends that they were quite happy, only, were weary -of such constant travel, but must continue it, they supposed, unless -sometime in their course they might come upon another water-spout to -afford them a passage to earth again. And I might add here, if we had -not been thus fortunate, we should still be journeying monotonously -through the heavens. - -But the circumstance of all our trip that I felt would interest you -most, is the fact that we saw and talked with Captain Anson. You -remember Captain Anson, the man who set out in an airship to find the -South Pole? Well, he has found it. He declares that it is a veritable -Eden to which man can gain admittance only by passing through a -water-spout, and it seems that his machine was thus transported, being -caught in a spout while crossing an inland lake. Also he wished us to -tell the people at home not to expect his return, for, he declares, -he is supremely happy and has found a place far superior in climate -and beauty to anything yet discovered on the earth. There, he asserts -further, and we know this to be true for we beheld it ourselves, the -problem of supplying energy is not a problem at all; for as a result -of the magnetic force, so strong everywhere there, perpetual motion -machines are used entirely for mechanical purposes. And I might add -here that it was only through this magnetic attraction for the bolts -in our ship that we were able to stop at all. But here we hovered for -several days until a particularly strong current seized the boat and -carried us on. We sped from ocean to ocean, time and time again until -we, too, were almost in despair, of ever seeing the earth again, except -by a bird's-eye view. - -But one cloudy day, as we were shipping quietly through the mist, we -all experienced a sensation of falling. The mist began to grow thicker, -and we were again surrounded by curved walls of rising water. We were -filled with a sense of familiarity, for we recognized our water-spout. -Having reached the bottom, with one short dive we were through that -wall of water, and were sailing swiftly across the Atlantic in an -opposite direction from the water-spout, which was fast disappearing -over the horizon. We looked at it with regret; for we realized that -probably never again should we have the opportunity of another such -trip, unless perhaps sometime in our future journeyings we should come -upon its like. - -If fortune should never so favor us, then the way to that delightful -land of the South Pole would be closed forever. - -But if any of you feel inclined to travel, and see the world in a -large perspective, go to some body of water, and watch for one of -these natural elevators, and if one does happen in your way, be sure -that all the hatches and windows are closed, and then steer straight -for the center of that swirling mass; for this is a pleasant mode of -travel--slow, and doesn't jar. - - --Edna Collister. - - -=IV. The Detective Story and Other Tales of Pure Plot= - -[Detective story: Connection with stories of ingenuity] - -A few detective stories could be classed with our last preceding type -as well as with this. Those like F. R. Burton's suppressed prize -contribution to a Western newspaper might be put under mechanical -inventions; that is, all that contain, like his, a practicable -theory. The report goes that Mr. Burton and a friend worked together -and produced a story of bank robbers who overcame the time-lock -device. So explicitly was the ingenious method written out that the -editors decided not to publish it, convinced that if they spread the -knowledge abroad no time-lock thereafter would be secure. "The Black -Pearl" by Victorien Sardou, on the other hand, might be called a -scientific-discovery detective tale. It perfectly combines the two -elements--mystery and the astounding action of a nature phenomenon. - -Not all detective stories, however, are so dangerous or so interesting -as these. Most, rather, are amusing or merely entertaining; but we -class them in the ingenious group because of the effort at pure plot. -There are many crude attempts at writing detective stories, and -the cheap, ten-cent-novel kind disgusts persons of taste; but the -popularity of the type attests its excellence. When in the hands of -such men as Edgar Allan Poe and A. Conan Doyle, it yields an artistic -short-story. "The Purloined Letter" and the "Adventures of Sherlock -Holmes" are worthy of their fame. "The Murders in the Rue Morgue" and -the "Mystery of Marie Rogêt" are not so pleasant, but are equally -ingenious. - -Of course, the author of the ordinary tale of this type has the -advantage over the real detective, since the author first creates the -mystery before solving it. His ingenuity, therefore, will lie revealed -in the construction of the crime which he pretends to be unearthing and -explaining. Evidently, though, his process of mind can be no different -from that of the actual analyzer, who must unravel what to him is a -real mystery. He, too, if he is to succeed, must re-image the whole -train of events, not as points or dots, but as vivid scenes. Thus -only will both workers come at small incidents that are original and -ingenious and essentially pertinent. It happened that Poe, in the story -of Marie Rogêt, was acting the part of a real detective, since he was -reasoning upon an actual mystery, the details of which had baffled -the police. In his imaginary case he reinstalled the crime as he felt -it must have taken place, and, strange to say--or rather not strange -to say, for Poe had the qualities of more than a paper detective--the -facts, by a woman's confessions later, were found to be exactly as Poe -had imagined them, even in minor details. - -[Other stories of plot] - -But stories that emphasize plot do not wholly lie in the detective's -realm. There is the pure reasoner's great domain of fancy. "The Lady -or the Tiger" illustrates the class completely, even by the whimsical -ending. The man that could make up that situation could have solved it, -or have carried it on interminably, as he laughingly shows you in the -"Discourager of Hesitancy." His "Transferred Ghost" is another quirk, -of "reasonable" fantasy. Poe's "Gold Bug" is almost pure plot and has -the interesting device of the cryptogram in addition. Pushkin's "Snow -Storm" is built upon a queer coincidence. - -The story that emphasizes plot is primarily a narrative of a series of -happenings, and only incidentally the record of character or place. The -author has no interest in what kind of men perform the deeds, except -that they shall be the general large types: the soldier and his friend, -the lover and his rival, the magistrate and the citizen, the sovereign -and his subject, the doctor and his patient, and so on. Interest -centers in the question, What will they do next? not, What are they and -what will they become? - -[Romance] - -In longer prose the story with a plot is the romance, the modern -romance. In it, too, the author is concerned mainly with the course of -events. Take "Ivanhoe" or "The Prisoner of Zenda," for instance, and -what have you?--actors about whom there is no question of character -growth. What they were at the beginning, that they are at the -end--except, perhaps, Rebecca. In romance the happenings are largely -adventure. As they become preposterous the narrative borders on the -mere wonder type. - -[A few suggestions] - -To write a detective tale or other story of pure plot, you must first -get your plot--as the old fisherman would say about the eel when you -wish to skin it. If you can grasp one and hold it, you are an expert. -The difficulty will be that you will probably find your plot a shadow, -when you hoped for a good solid piece of reasoning. In the detective -tale you must propound your mystery at the beginning of the narrative -and then work backwards to the first step. In the other story, you -must start out with the simplest and seemingly most insignificant -incident and work steadily up to a fantastic or astounding climax. In -the second you naïvely keep adding one to one, as it were, and get a -hundred; in the first, you subtract one after one from your hundred -until you get a unit. - - -=Thou Art the Man= - -I will now play the Œdipus to the Rattleborough enigma. I will expound -to you--as I alone can--the secret of the enginery that effected the -Rattleborough miracle--the one, the true, the admitted, the undisputed, -the indisputable miracle, which put a definite end to infidelity among -the Rattleburghers and converted to the orthodox of the grandames all -the carnal-minded who had ventured to be sceptical before. - -This event--which I should be sorry to discuss in a tone of unsuitable -levity--occurred in the summer of 18--. Mr. Barnabas Shuttleworthy--one -of the wealthiest and most respectable citizens of the borough--had -been missing for several days under circumstances which gave rise -to suspicion of foul play. Mr. Shuttleworthy had set out from -Rattleborough very early one Saturday morning, on horseback, with the -avowed intention of proceeding to the city of----, about fifteen miles -distant, and of returning the night of the same day. Two hours after -his departure, however, his horse returned without him, and without the -saddle-bags which had been strapped on his back at starting. The animal -was wounded too, and covered with mud. These circumstances naturally -gave rise to much alarm among the friends of the missing man; and -when it was found, on Sunday morning, that he had not yet made his -appearance, the whole borough arose _en masse_ to go and look for his -body. - -The foremost and most energetic in instituting this search was the -bosom friend of Mr. Shuttleworthy--a Mr. Charles Goodfellow, or, as -he was universally called, "Charley Goodfellow," or "Old Charley -Goodfellow." Now, whether it is a marvellous coincidence, or whether -it was that the name itself has an imperceptible effect upon the -character, I have never yet been able to ascertain; but the fact is -unquestionable, that there never yet was any person named Charles who -was not an open, manly, honest, good-natured, and frank-hearted fellow, -with a rich, clear voice, that did you good to hear it, and an eye that -looked you always straight in the face, as much as to say: "I have a -clear conscience myself, am afraid of no man, and am altogether above -doing a mean action." And thus all the hearty, careless, "walking -gentlemen", of the stage are very certain to be called Charles. - -Now, "Old Charley Goodfellow," although he had been in Rattleborough -not longer than six months or thereabouts, and although nobody knew -anything about him before he came to settle in the neighborhood, had -experienced no difficulty in the world in making the acquaintance of -all the respectable people in the borough. Not a man of them but would -have taken his bare word for a thousand at any moment; and as for the -women, there is no saying what they would not have done to oblige him. -And all this came of his having been christened Charles, and of his -possessing, in consequence, that ingenuous face which is proverbially -the very "best letter of recommendation." - -I have already said that Mr. Shuttleworthy was one of the most -respectable and, undoubtedly, he was the most wealthy man in -Rattleborough, while "Old Charley Goodfellow" was upon as intimate -terms with him as if he had been his own brother. The two old gentlemen -were next-door neighbors, and, although Mr. Shuttleworthy seldom, -if ever, visited "Old Charley," and never was known to take a meal -in his house, still that did not prevent the two friends from being -exceedingly intimate, as I have just observed; for "Old Charley" never -let a day pass without stepping in three or four times to see how his -neighbor came on, and very often he would stay to breakfast or tea, and -always to dinner; and then the amount of wine that was made way with -by the two cronies at a sitting, it would really be a difficult thing -to ascertain. "Old Charley's" favorite beverage was _Chateau Margaux_, -and it appeared to do Mr. Shuttleworthy's heart good to see the old -fellow swallow it, as he did, quart after quart; so that, one day, -when the wine was _in_ and the wit, as a natural consequence, somewhat -_out_, he said to his crony, as he slapped him upon the back: "I tell -you what it is, 'Old Charley,' you are, by all odds, the heartiest old -fellow I ever came across in all my born days; and, since you love to -guzzle the wine at that fashion, I'll be darned if I don't have to make -thee a present of a big box of the Chateau Margaux. Od rot me," (Mr. -Shuttleworthy had a sad habit of swearing, although he seldom went -beyond "Od rot me," or "By gosh," or "By the jolly golly"). "Od rot -me," says he, "if I don't send an order to town this very afternoon -for a double box of the best that can be got, and I'll make ye a -present of it, I will!--ye needn't say a word now--I _will_, I tell ye, -and there's an end of it; so look out for it--it will come to hand some -of these fine days, precisely when ye are looking for it the least!" I -mention this little bit of liberty on the part of Mr. Shuttleworthy, -just by way of showing you how _very_ intimate an understanding existed -between the two friends. - -Well, on the Sunday morning in question, when it came to be fairly -understood that Mr. Shuttleworthy had met with foul play, I never -saw any one so profoundly affected as "Old Charley Goodfellow." When -he first heard that the horse had come home without his master, and -without his master's saddle-bags, and all bloody from a pistol-shot, -that had gone clean through and through the poor animal's chest without -quite killing him--when he heard all this, he turned as pale as if the -missing man had been his own dear brother or father, and shivered and -shook all over as if he had had a fit of the ague. - -At first he was too much overpowered with grief to be able to do -anything at all, or to decide upon any plan of action; so that for a -long time he endeavored to dissuade Mr. Shuttleworthy's other friends -from making a stir about the matter, thinking it best to wait a -while--say for a week or two, or a month, or two--to see if something -wouldn't turn up, or if Mr. Shuttleworthy wouldn't come in the natural -way, and explain his reasons for sending his horse on before. I dare -say you have often observed this disposition to temporize, or to -procrastinate, in people who are laboring under any very poignant -sorrow. Their powers of mind seem to be rendered torpid, so that they -have a horror of anything like action, and like nothing in the world -so well as to lie quietly in bed and "nurse their grief," as the old -ladies express it--that is to say, ruminate over the trouble. - -The people of Rattleborough had, indeed, so high an opinion of the -wisdom and discretion of "Old Charley," that the greater part of -them felt disposed to agree with him, and not make a stir in the -business "until something should turn up," as the honest old gentleman -worded it; and I believe that, after all, this would have been the -general determination, but for the very suspicious interference of -Mr. Shuttleworthy's nephew, a young man of very dissipated habits, -and otherwise of rather bad character. This nephew, whose name was -Pennifeather, would listen to nothing like reason in the matter of -"lying quiet," but insisted upon making immediate search for the -"corpse of the murdered man." This was the expression he employed, and -Mr. Goodfellow acutely remarked at the time, that it was "a _singular_ -expression, to say no more." This remark of "Old Charley's" too, -had great effect upon the crowd; and one of the party was heard to -ask, very impressively, "how it happened that young Mr. Pennifeather -was so intimately cognizant of all the circumstances connected with -his wealthy uncle's disappearance, as to feel authorized to assert, -distinctly and unequivocally, that his uncle _was_ 'a murdered man.'" -Hereupon some little squibbling and bickering occurred among the -various members of the crowd, and especially between "Old Charley" -and Mr. Pennifeather--although this latter occurrence was, indeed, -by no means a novelty, for little good-will had subsisted between -the parties for the last three or four months; and matters had been -gone so far that Mr. Pennifeather had actually knocked down his -uncle's friend for some alleged excess of liberty that the latter had -taken in the uncle's house, of which the nephew was an inmate. Upon -this occasion "Old Charley" is said to have behaved with exemplary -moderation and Christian charity. He arose from the blow, adjusted his -clothes, and made no attempt at retaliation at all--merely muttered -a few words about "taking summary vengeance at the first convenient -opportunity,"--a natural and very justifiable ebullition of anger, -which meant nothing, however; and, beyond doubt, was no sooner given -vent to than forgotten. - -However these matters may be (which have no reference to the point -now at issue), it is quite certain that the people of Rattleborough, -principally through the persuasion of Mr. Pennifeather, came at length -to the determination of dispersion over the adjacent country in search -of the missing Mr. Shuttleworthy. I say they came to this determination -in the first instance. After it had been fully resolved that a search -should be made, it was considered almost a matter of course that the -seekers should disperse--that is to say, distribute themselves in -parties--for the more thorough examination of the region round about. -I forgot, however, by what ingenious train of reasoning it was that -"Old Charley" finally convinced the assembly that this was the most -injudicious plan that could be pursued. Convince them, however, he -did--all except Mr. Pennifeather; and, in the end, it was arranged that -a search should be instituted, carefully and very thoroughly, by the -burghers _en masse_, "Old Charley" himself leading the way. - -As for the matter of that, there could have been no better pioneer -than "Old Charley," whom everybody knew to have the eye of a lynx; -but, although he led them into all manner of out-of-the-way holes and -corners, by routes that nobody had ever suspected of existing in the -neighborhood, and although the search was incessantly kept up day and -night for nearly a week, still no trace of Mr. Shuttleworthy could be -discovered. When I say no trace, however, I must not be understood -to speak literally; for trace, to some extent, there certainly was. -The poor gentleman had been tracked, by his horse's shoes (which were -peculiar), to a spot about three miles to the east of the borough, -on the main road leading to the city. Here the track made off into a -bypath through a piece of woodland--the path coming out again into the -main road, and cutting off about half a mile of the regular distance. -Following the shoemarks down this lane, the party came at length to -a pool of stagnant water, half hidden by the brambles, to the right -of the lane, and opposite this pool all vestige of the track was -lost sight of. It appeared, however, that a struggle of some nature -had here taken place, and it seemed as if some large and heavy body, -much larger and heavier than a man, had been drawn from the bypath to -the pool. This latter was carefully dragged twice, but nothing was -found; and the party were upon the point of going away, in despair -of coming to any result, when Providence suggested to Mr. Goodfellow -the expediency of draining the water off altogether. This project was -received with cheers, and many high compliments to "Old Charley" upon -his sagacity and consideration. As many of the burghers had brought -spades with them, supposing that they might possibly be called upon -to disinter a corpse, the drain was easily and speedily effected; and -no sooner was the bottom visible, than right in the middle of the mud -that remained was discovered a black silk velvet waistcoat, which -nearly every one present immediately recognized as the property of Mr. -Pennifeather. This waistcoat was much torn and stained with blood, -and there were several persons among the party who had a distinct -remembrance of its having been worn by its owner on the very morning of -Mr. Shuttleworthy's departure for the city; while there were others, -again, ready to testify upon oath, if required, that Mr. P. did not -wear the garment in question at any period during the remainder of -that memorable day; nor could any one be found to say that he had -seen it upon Mr. P.'s person at any period at all subsequent to Mr. -Shuttleworthy's disappearance. - -Matters now wore a very serious aspect for Mr. Pennifeather, and it -was observed, as an indubitable confirmation of the suspicions which -were excited against him, that he grew exceedingly pale, and when asked -what he had to say for himself, was utterly incapable of saying a word. -Hereupon, the few friends his riotous mode of living had left him -deserted him at once to a man, and were even more clamorous than his -ancient and avowed enemies for his instantaneous arrest. But, on the -other hand, the magnanimity of Mr. Goodfellow shone forth with only the -more brilliant lustre through contrast. He made a warm and intensely -eloquent defense of Mr. Pennifeather, in which he alluded more than -once to his own sincere forgiveness of that wild young gentleman--"the -heir of the worthy Mr. Shuttleworthy"--for the insult which he (the -young gentleman) had, no doubt in the heat of passion, thought proper -to put upon him (Mr. Goodfellow). "He forgave him for it," he said, -"from the very bottom of his heart; and for himself (Mr. Goodfellow), -so far from pushing the suspicious circumstances to extremity, which he -was sorry to say, really had arisen against Mr. Pennifeather, he (Mr. -Goodfellow) would make every exertion in his power, would employ all -the little eloquence in his possession to--to--to--soften down, as much -as he could conscientiously do so, the worst features of this really -exceedingly perplexing piece of business." - -Mr. Goodfellow went on for some half hour longer in this strain, -very much to the credit both of his head and of his heart; but your -warm-hearted people are seldom opposite in their observations--they run -into all sorts of blunders, _contre-temps_ and _mal-apropos-isms_, in -the hot-headedness of their zeal to serve a friend--thus, often with -the kindest intentions in the world, doing infinitely more to prejudice -his cause than to advance it. - -So, in the present instance, it turned out with all the eloquence of -"Old Charley"; for, although he labored earnestly in behalf of the -suspected, yet it so happened, somehow or other that every syllable he -uttered of which the direct but unfitting tendency was not to exalt -the speaker in the good opinion of his audience, had the effect of -deepening the suspicion already attached to the individual whose cause -he pled, and of arousing against him the fury of the mob. - -One of the most unaccountable errors committed by the orator was his -allusion to the suspected as "the heir of the worthy old gentleman, Mr. -Shuttleworthy." The people had really never thought of this before? -They had only remembered certain threats of disinheritance uttered -a year or two previously by the uncle (who had no living relative -except the nephew), and they had, therefore, always looked upon this -disinheritance as a matter that was settled--so single-minded a race -of beings were the Rattleburghers; but the remark of "Old Charley" -brought them at once to a consideration of this point, and thus gave -them to see the possibility of the threats having been nothing more -than a threat. And straightway hereupon, arose the natural question -of _cui bono?_--a question; that tended even more than the waistcoat -to fasten the terrible crime upon the young man. And here, lest I -may be misunderstood, permit me to digress for one moment merely to -observe that the exceedingly brief and simple Latin phrase which I -have employed, is invariably mistranslated and misconceived. "_Cui -bono_" in all the crack novels and elsewhere--in those of Mrs. Gore, -for example (the author of "Cecil"), a lady who quotes all tongues from -the Chaldaean to Chickasaw, and is helped to her learning, "as needed," -upon a systematic plan, by Mr. Beckford--in all the crack novels, -I say, from those of Bulwer and Dickens to those of Turnapenny and -Ainsworth, the two little Latin words _cui bono_ are rendered "to what -purpose?" or (as if _quo bono_), "to what good?" Their true meaning, -nevertheless, is "for whose advantage." _Cui_, to whom; _bono_, is it -for a benefit. It is a purely legal phrase, and applicable precisely in -cases such as we have under consideration, where probability of the -doer of a deed hinges upon the probability of the benefit accruing to -this individual or to that from the deed's accomplishment. Now in the -present instance, the question _cui bono?_ very pointedly implicated -Mr. Pennifeather. His uncle had threatened him, after making a will in -his favor, with disinheritance. But the threat had not been actually -kept; the original will, it appeared, had not been altered. Had it -been altered, the only supposable motive for murder on the part of the -suspected would have been the ordinary one of revenge; and even this -would have been counteracted by the hope of reinstation into the good -graces of the uncle. But the will being unaltered, while the threat -to alter remained suspended over the nephew's head, there appears at -once the very strongest possible inducement for the atrocity; and so -concluded very sagaciously, the worthy citizens of the borough of -Rattle. - -Mr. Pennifeather was, accordingly, arrested upon the spot, and the -crowd, after some further search, proceeded homeward, having him in -custody. On the route, however, another circumstance occurred tending -to confirm the suspicion entertained. Mr. Goodfellow, whose zeal led -him to be always a little in advance of the party, was seen suddenly -to run forward a few paces, stoop, and then apparently to pick up -some small object from the grass. Having quickly examined it, he -was observed too, to make a sort of attempt at concealing it in his -coat pocket; but this action was noticed, as I say, and consequently -prevented, when the object picked up was found to be a Spanish -knife which a dozen persons at once recognized as belonging to Mr. -Pennifeather. Moreover, his initials were engraved upon the handle. -The blade of this knife was open and bloody. - -No doubt now remained of the guilt of the nephew, and immediately upon -reaching Rattleborough he was taken before a magistrate for examination. - -Here matters again took a most unfavorable turn. The prisoner, being -questioned as to his whereabouts on the morning of Mr. Shuttleworthy's -disappearance, had absolutely the audacity to acknowledge that on that -very morning he had been out with his rifle deer-stalking, in the -immediate neighborhood of the pool where the bloodstained waistcoat had -been discovered through the sagacity of Mr. Goodfellow. - -This latter now came forward, and, with tears in his eyes, asked -permission to be examined. He said that a stern sense of the duty he -owed his Maker, not less than his fellow-men, would permit him no -longer to remain silent. Hitherto, the sincerest affection for the -young man (notwithstanding the latter's ill-treatment of himself, -Mr. Goodfellow), had induced him to make every hypothesis which -imagination could suggest, by way of endeavoring to account for what -appeared suspicious in the circumstances that told so seriously against -Mr. Pennifeather; but these circumstances were now altogether too -convincing--too damning; he would hesitate no longer--he would tell all -he knew, although his heart (Mr. Goodfellow's), should absolutely burst -asunder in the effort. He then went on to state that on the afternoon -of the day previous to Mr. Shuttleworthy's departure for the city, that -worthy old gentleman had mentioned to his nephew, in his hearing (Mr. -Goodfellow's), that his object in going to town on the morrow was to -make a deposit of an unusually large sum of money in the "Farmers' and -Merchants' Bank," and that, then and there, the said Mr. Shuttleworthy -had distinctly avowed to the said nephew his irrevocable determination -of rescinding the will originally made, and of cutting him off with -a shilling. He (the witness) now solemnly called upon the accused to -state whether what he (the witness) had just stated was or was not the -truth in every substantial particular. Much to the astonishment of -every one present, Mr. Pennifeather frankly admitted that it was. - -The magistrate now considered it his duty to send a couple of -constables to search the chamber of the accused in the house of his -uncle. From this search they almost immediately returned with the -well-known steel-bound, russet leather pocket-book which the old -gentleman had been in the habit of carrying for years. Its valuable -contents, however, had been abstracted, and the magistrate in vain -endeavored to extort from the prisoner the use which had been made of -them, or the place of their concealment. Indeed, he obstinately denied -all knowledge of the matter. The constables also discovered, between -the bed and sacking of the unhappy man, a shirt and neck-handkerchief -both marked with the initials of his name, and both hideously besmeared -with the blood of the victim. - -At this juncture, it was announced that the horse of the murdered man -had just expired in the stable from the effects of the wound he had -received, and it was proposed by Mr. Goodfellow that a _post-mortem_ -examination of the beast should be immediately made, with the view, if -possible, of discovering the ball. This was accordingly done; and, -as if to demonstrate beyond a question the guilt of the accused, Mr. -Goodfellow, after considerable searching in the cavity of the chest, -was enabled to detect and to pull forth a bullet of very extraordinary -size which, upon trial, was found to be exactly adapted to the bore of -Mr. Pennifeather's rifle, while it was far too large for that of any -other person in the borough or its vicinity. To render the matter even -surer yet, however, this bullet was discovered to have a flaw or seam -at a right angles to the usual suture, and upon examination, this seam -corresponded precisely with an accidental ridge or elevation in a pair -of moulds acknowledged by the accused himself to be his own property. -Upon finding of this bullet, the examining magistrate refused to listen -to any further testimony, and immediately committed the prisoner for -trial--declining resolutely to take any bail in the case, although -against this severity Mr. Goodfellow very warmly remonstrated, and -offered to become surety in whatever amount might be required. This -generosity on the part of "Old Charley" was only in accordance with the -whole tenor of his amiable and chivalrous conduct during the entire -period of his sojourn in the borough of Rattle. In the present instance -the worthy man was so entirely carried away by the excessive warmth of -his sympathy, that he seemed to have quite forgotten, when he offered -to go bail for his young friend, that he himself (Mr. Goodfellow) did -not possess a single dollar's worth of property upon the face of the -earth. - -The result of the committal may be readily foreseen. Mr. Pennifeather, -amid the loud execrations of all Rattleborough, was brought to trial at -the next criminal sessions, when the chain of circumstantial evidence -(strengthened as it was by some additional damning facts, which Mr. -Goodfellow's sensitive conscientiousness forbade him to withhold from -the court), was considered so unbroken and so thoroughly conclusive, -that the jury, without leaving their seats, returned an immediate -verdict of "_Guilty of murder in the first degree_." Soon afterward -the unhappy wretch received sentence of death, and was remanded to the -county jail to await the inexorable vengeance of the law. - -In the meantime, the noble behavior of "Old Charley Goodfellow" -had doubly endeared him to the honest citizens of the borough. He -became ten times a greater favorite than ever; and, as a natural -result of the hospitality with which he was treated, he relaxed, -as it were, perforce, the extremely parsimonious habits which his -poverty had hitherto impelled him to observe, and very frequently -had little _réunions_ at his own house, when wit and jollity reigned -supreme--dampened a little, of course, by the occasional remembrance of -the untoward and melancholy fate which impended over the nephew of the -late lamented bosom friend of the generous host. - -One fine day, this magnanimous old gentleman was agreeably surprised at -the receipt of the following letter: - - Charles Goodfellow, Esq., Rattleborough. - From H., F., B. & Co. - Chat. Mar. A.--No. 1--6 doz. bottles. (½ gross.) - - "Charles Goodfellow, Esquire: - - "Dear Sir--In conformity with an order transmitted to our firm - about two months since, by our esteemed correspondent, Mr. - Barnabas Shuttleworthy, we have the honor of forwarding this - morning, to your address, a double box of Chateau-Margaux, of the - antelope brand, violet seal. Box numbered and marked as per margin. - - "We remain, sir, - "Your most ob'nt ser'ts, - "Hoggs, Frogs, Bogs & Co." - - "City of----, - June 21, 18--. - - "P. S.--The box will reach you by wagon, on the day after your - receipt of this letter. Our respects to Mr. Shuttleworthy. - "H., F., B. & Co." - -The fact is, that Mr. Goodfellow had, since the death of Mr. -Shuttleworthy, given over all expectation of ever receiving the -promised Chateau-Margaux; and he, therefore, looked upon it now as -a sort of especial dispensation of Providence in his behalf. He was -highly delighted, of course, and in the exuberance of his joy, invited -a large party of friends to a _petit souper_ on the morrow, for the -purpose of broaching the good old Shuttleworthy's present. Not that he -said anything about "the good old Mr. Shuttleworthy" when he issued the -invitations. The fact is, he thought much and concluded to say nothing -at all. He did not mention to any one--if I remember aright--that he -had received a present of Chateau-Margaux. He merely asked his friends -to come and help him drink some of a remarkably fine quality and rich -flavor that he had ordered up from the city a couple of months ago, -and of which he would be in the receipt upon the morrow. I have often -puzzled myself to imagine _why_ it was that "Old Charley" came to -the conclusion to say nothing about having received the wine from his -old friend, but I could never precisely understand his reason for the -silence, although he had _some_ excellent and very magnanimous reason, -no doubt. - -The morrow at length arrived, and with it a very large and highly -respectable company at Mr. Goodfellow's house. Indeed, half the borough -was there--I myself among the number--but, much to the vexation of the -host, the Chateau-Margaux did not arrive until a late hour, and when -the sumptuous supper supplied by "Old Charley" had been done very ample -justice by the guests. It came at length, however--a monstrously big -box of it there was, too--and as the whole party were in excessively -good humor, it was decided, _nem. con._, that it should be lifted upon -the table and its contents disembowelled forthwith. - -No sooner said than done. I lent a helping hand; and, in a trice, -we had the box upon the table, in the midst of all the bottles and -glasses, not a few of which were demolished in the scuffle. "Old -Charley," who was pretty much intoxicated, and excessively red in the -face, now took a seat, with an air of mock dignity, at the head of the -board, and thumped furiously upon it with a decanter, calling upon -the company to keep order "during the ceremony of disinterring the -treasure." - -After some vociferation, quiet was at length fully restored, and, as -very often happens in similar cases, a profound and remarkable silence -ensued. Being then requested to force open the lid, I complied, of -course, "with an infinite deal of pleasure." I inserted a chisel, and -giving it a few slight taps with a hammer, the top of the box flew -suddenly off, and, at the same instant, there sprang up into a sitting -position, directly facing the host, the bruised, bloody, and nearly -putrid corpse of the murdered Mr. Shuttleworthy himself. It gazed for a -few seconds, fixedly and sorrowfully, with its decaying and lack-lustre -eyes, full into the countenance of Mr. Goodfellow; uttered slowly, -but clearly and impressively, the words, "Thou art the man!" and -then, falling over the side of the chest as if thoroughly satisfied, -stretched out its limbs quivering upon the table. - -The scene that ensued is altogether beyond description. The rush for -the doors and windows was terrific, and many of the most robust men -in the room fainted outright through sheer horror. But after the -first wild, shrieking burst of affright, all eyes were directed to -Mr. Goodfellow. If I live a thousand years, I can never forget the -more than mortal agony which was depicted in that ghastly face of his, -so lately rubicund with triumph and wine. For several minutes he sat -rigidly as a statue of marble; his eyes seeming, in the intense vacancy -of their gaze, to be turned inward and absorbed in the contemplation of -his own miserable, murderous soul. At length their expression appeared -to flash suddenly out into the external world, when, with a quick -leap, he sprang from his chair, and falling heavily with his head and -shoulders upon the table, and in contact with the corpse, poured out -rapidly and vehemently a detailed confession of the hideous crime for -which Mr. Pennifeather was then imprisoned and doomed to die. - -What he recounted was in substance this: He followed his victim to the -vicinity of the pool; there shot his horse with a pistol; despatched -its rider with the butt end; possessed himself of the pocket-book; -and, supposing the horse dead, dragged it with great labor to the -brambles by the pond. Upon his own beast he slung the corpse of Mr. -Shuttleworthy, and thus bore it to a secure place of concealment a long -distance off through the woods. - -The waistcoat, the knife, the pocket-book, and bullet had been placed -by himself where found, with the view of avenging himself upon Mr. -Pennifeather. He had also contrived the discovery of the stained -handkerchief and shirt. - -Toward the end of the blood-chilling recital the words of the guilty -wretch faltered and grew hollow. When the record was finally exhausted, -he arose, staggered backward from the table, and fell--_dead_. - - * * * * * - -The means by which this happily-timed confession was extorted, although -efficient, were simple indeed. Mr. Goodfellow's excess of frankness had -disgusted me, and excited my suspicions from the first. I was present -when Mr. Pennifeather had struck him, and the fiendish expression which -then arose upon his countenance, although momentary, assured me that -his threat of vengeance would, if possible, be rigidly fulfilled. I -was thus prepared to view the _maneuvering_ of "Old Charley" in a very -different light from that in which it was regarded by the good citizens -of Rattleborough. I saw at once that all the criminating discoveries -arose, either directly or indirectly, from himself. But the fact which -clearly opened my eyes to the true state of the case, was the affair -of the bullet, found by Mr. G. in the carcass of the horse. I had not -forgotten, although the Rattleburghers had, that there was a hole -where the ball had entered the horse, and another where it went out. -If it were found in the animal then, after having made its exit, I saw -clearly that it must have been deposited by the person who found it. -The bloody shirt and handkerchief confirmed the idea suggested by the -bullet; for the blood on examination proved to be capital claret, and -no more. When I came to think of these things, and also of the late -increase of liberality and expenditure an the part of Mr. Goodfellow, I -entertained a suspicion which was none the less strong because I kept -it altogether to myself. - -In the meantime, I instituted a rigorous private search for the corpse -of Mr. Shuttleworthy, and, for good reasons, searched in quarters as -divergent as possible from those to which Mr. Goodfellow conducted his -party. The result was that, after some days, I came across an old dry -well, the mouth of which was nearly hidden by brambles; and here, at -the bottom, I discovered what I sought. - -Now, it so happened that I had overheard the colloquy between the two -cronies, when Mr. Goodfellow had contrived to cajole his host into the -promise of a box of Chateau-Margaux. Upon this hint I acted. I procured -a stiff piece of whalebone, thrust it down the throat of the corpse; -and deposited the latter in an old wine box--taking care so to double -the body up as to double the whalebone with it. In this manner I had -to press forcibly upon the lid to keep it down while I secured it with -nails; and I anticipated, of course, that as soon as these latter were -removed, the top would fly off and the body up. - -Having thus arranged the box, I marked, numbered and addressed it -as already told; and then writing a letter in the name of the wine -merchants with whom Mr. Shuttleworthy dealt, I gave instructions to my -servant to wheel the box to Mr. Goodfellow's door, in a barrow, at a -given signal from myself. For the words which I intended the corpse to -speak I confidently depended upon my ventriloquial abilities; for their -effect, I counted upon the conscience of the murderous wretch. - -I believe there is nothing more to be explained. Mr. Pennifeather was -released upon the spot, inherited the fortune of his uncle, profited by -the lessons of experience, turned over a new leaf, and led happily ever -afterward a new life. - - --Edgar Allan Poe. - - -=The Picture of Lhasa= - -"Jim, Jim, come here quick! She's in sight! Oh, hustle!" - -"Well, she'll stay where she is until I get there, won't she?" came a -drawl from a little lower down on the precipitous path, as the speaker, -in spite of his indifferent words, made strenuous efforts to join his -companion on the rocky ledge with as little delay as possible. Behind -him, scarcely visible, lay the trail winding about along the sides of -the lofty mountains which have for so long been keeping this little -corner of the earth from the knowledge of Western nations, while, far -beneath him, rolled a little stream, the Kyi-chu, which dashed against -the rocks as though it were impatient to be out in a broader world. - -"I'm glad she's in sight, Chad," Jim continued, when he had gained the -shelf of rock on which his companion stood, "but what is she, anyhow? -I don't believe you said," and he laughed, with his eyes fastened upon -the flash of reflected sunlight, his first sight of Lhasa and her -wonderful Buddhist Cathedral. - -"Is the camera all right?" Chad's voice was anxious. "It would be a -pity to come so far and then have the plates no good." - -"What's wrong with you, Chad? You don't intend to take a picture of a -place ten miles away, do you?" - -"Of course not, you idiot, but I wish that you had kept the camera -yourself, instead of leaving it with John's load. I don't like the look -of his yellow cap just now." - -"You're too suspicious, Chad. John's a good fellow; aren't you -Chinkey?" Jim called out as an evil-looking Chinaman came around a bend -in the trail. - -The Chinaman's only response was a look of utter ignorance, at which -Jim laughed again, and said, "Just one look at the man ought to -convince you that he is too dull to frighten a Yankee. Besides, he -doesn't understand English, and can't possibly know that we are here to -get the picture of Lhasa, and that of the Grand Lama, too, if we can." -Had either of the men been looking, he might have seen the cunning in -the one black eye of the servant; but the expression passed unnoticed. - -"Another day and we'll be near enough to begin on the pictures. I'll -be glad to start home, too. It has been a hard trip. I don't see why -Milligan couldn't have taken the pictures for his book himself, -instead of sending us off here for them." - -"Jim, my boy, where's your regard for your daily bread--and the butter -therefor? Where should you be if you hadn't had this chance?" - -"Well," Jim returned quickly, "I shouldn't have been ruining my -constitution in this infernal climate, at any rate." - -Chad looked him over with profound gravity. "Well, Jim, I'm glad you -are telling me that you are cut out for an early grave; I should never -have believed it if you hadn't said so yourself." - -"Wouldn't there be a rumpus if the Lamas knew about this trip of ours?" -Chad resumed as though fascinated with the idea. "I can see ourselves -calling each other lucky because we only got kicked over this precipice -here." - -"You can occupy yourself with such thoughts if you want to," exclaimed -Jim; "but I'm going to hustle up that John Chinaman. It seems to me -he's pretty slow this evening, and I'm hungry." - -"If your constitution is spoiled?" laughed Chad. "Well, good luck; call -me when you're ready," and the young reporter threw himself down upon -the rocks and looked off toward Lhasa. In a few minutes he heard Jim's -voice raised in alarm. "John! John! Oh, John-n!" As Chad sprang up and -started along the path, he met Jim coming back. - -"Say, Chad, that rascal of a chink has vanished completely with a good -half of the supplies, and if you say, 'I told you so,' I'll light out -too!" - -"Is the camera safe?" was Chad's instant response. - -"Why, I guess so; the box is anyhow--I didn't look inside." - -"Well, I guess we'll get along then. I ought to be able to cook well -enough to suit a man of your enfeebled condition," and Chad looked at -Jim's broad shoulders in some amusement in spite of the seriousness of -the situation. - -"Really, Chad, is it safe to go on? Do you think we ought to risk it?" - -"Risk it! Are we going to take three months for preparation, and then -come four thousand miles on a trip of this sort, only to give it up in -sight of the end, because a rogue runs off? Well, I guess not." - -"All right," Jim returned laconically, "I just wanted to know how you -felt about it." - -Some three hours later the two men were wrapped up in their furs ready -for the night. "Say, Chad," said Jim, as he lay watching the stars in -the clear sky, "what makes a Chinaman so afraid of a camera? I am quite -certain that you never told me." - -"I believe that they think a man's soul is killed when his picture is -taken," said Chad sleepily. "'Buddha doesn't like it' is quite reason -enough for most of 'em." The last sentence was half lost in a snore, -and the Grand Lama was photographed a dozen times in Jim's dreams. - -The next morning the two men set out again with the one donkey and -its load which the Chinaman left to them, and, after a few hours' -hard travel, they came to the mountain spur just above the capital of -Tibet. The city was well within range, and a few minutes after they had -arrived the camera was set up, and Chad was finding the focus. While -they were both occupied busily, a group of yellow-clad figures was -approaching from a lamasery that was half-hidden on the mountainside. -The leader of the band, a one-eyed Chinaman with an almost idiotic -expression, was evidently greatly respected by his followers; for the -party did not change its position without his direction. Slowly and -with the utmost caution they approached the unconscious workers and -surrounded them; then with a yell the mob of Buddhist priests was about -the camera. In another instant it was rattling down the mountainside, -Chad and Jim were firmly bound, and the march back had begun. - -The few rays of sunlight that found entrance into the Buddhist lamasery -served only to reveal the filthiness of the place; but not even the -disgusting sights and odors could suppress the strangers' curiosity. In -the first room was an immense statue of Buddha with a large cylinder in -front of it. "A prayer wheel," whispered Chad. Jim nodded. - -Suddenly Chad's eyes flashed with an inspiration. Turning to the leader -he exclaimed, "You speak English _now_, don't you?" - -The man bowed gravely, courteously. The honorable strangers' honorable -conversation was greatly edifying, he murmured. - -"Well, then," Chad continued, "Will you tell me why we are detained -here?" - -"The insignificant custom of the Tibetans is to resent having their -souls destroyed." The voice was calm and matter-of-fact, but the words -were terrible to the two men looking into the circle of hostile faces -which showed so clearly their superstition and ignorance. - -"You know, John, or Your Highness, if that suits your present position -better," the Chinaman's face remained impassive, "you know how -carefully we guarded the black box. Did you know that it was not an -ordinary instrument, but the home of a spirit more powerful than even -your Buddha there? The photographic spirit is the child of the Fire -God, and the Fire God protects all who guard his children. See, here is -a part of the Spirit's house," and Chad pulled an extra lens from his -pocket. "With this I can attract the god's attention, and he will do -my bidding." He placed the glass in the sunlight and the robe of the -nearest Lama began to smolder. The priests started back in great alarm, -but Chad continued with only a sufficient number of pauses for the -leading Lama to translate to the others. "While you were masquerading -as my servant, you saw how careful I was of the camera; you can judge -for yourself whether or not the Fiery One will protect me. What do you -think will be the fate of you who have destroyed this mighty spirit's -home? I will tell you. He will descend from the sky and will burn you -with a hotter fire than you have ever felt--a fire so hot that the -spirit of the camera cannot approach it in intensity." And the Lama -screamed as he felt the heat of the powerful ray upon his arm. "What do -you think? Will you anger this mighty one by further crimes against his -favorites?" - -"Buddha will protect us," stolidly responded a priest. - -"Ask your leader if Buddha could protect him from the burning of the -camera spirit, and then judge whether Buddha can guard you against the -power of the Fire Dragon when he is roused to vengeance. - -Panic began to seize upon the priests. One by one they disappeared -until at length only the Chief Lama was left. "If the honorable -gentlemen will tarry for a few moments I will bring them their beasts." -When the donkeys were brought in, Chad looked their packs over and -prepared them for the journey, while Jim started back to the ledge, -hoping that part of their supplies might have been unmolested. When -Chad came around the rock ten minutes later, he stopped in amazement -and stared at the camera, which Jim had rescued from the tree in which -it had lodged uninjured save for a broken plate. - -As Chad approached, Jim looked up and said, "I've got one; I'll bet -it's a dandy!" - - --Hazel Orcutt. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE ENTERTAINING GROUP - - -In the group "entertaining" we may class all those narratives that -are told simply for the purpose of pleasing the reader and passing -away his time for him--tales of probable adventure, society stories, -humorous stories, and stories for special occasions, like Thanksgiving -and Christmas. The bulk of magazine fiction is of this kind. The chief -endeavor of the writer is to create the illusions of probability for a -series of events that after all is imaginary. However numerous may be -the actual incidents embodied, the course of the happening as a whole -is nevertheless made-up. There is always a heightening or lowering of -natural color, a modification of real occurrences, in order to produce -the desired effect; namely, acceptance by the reader of the whole -series, and especially the climax, which may be, for instance, the -capture of the wild animal, the culmination of the love episode, the -emphasis of the funny point, or the accident at the special celebration. - - -I. The Tale of Probable Adventure - -Adventure narratives are essentially boys' stories--the grammar and -high school boys who are past the "foolishness" of fairy tales and -even of Oriental wonder stories, but are not yet appreciative of -realism, the quiet reflection of humdrum life. For many decades _The -Youth's Companion_ has furnished among its other good things excellent -stories of adventure probable and actual. Stevenson's masterpiece is, -of course, one of the two top-notches of excellence in the extended -form of this type of story. How the species may be historically but a -modification of the _voyages imaginaires_ is obviously suggested no -less by "Treasure Island" than by "Robinson Crusoe." It is the short -form of this type that we are dealing with at present. - -[Definition] - -Stories of probable adventure are narratives of exciting and -extraordinary events that, though really fictitious, might have -happened. We can tell many of them from true adventures only by the -testimony of the authors. "Captain Singleton's Tour Across Africa," -critics have said, seems to the general reader quite as true an account -as Stanley's; while the "Memoirs of a Cavalier," which records the -adventures of a soldier in the army of Gustavus Adolphus, was long -mistaken for autobiography. - -[The writing of a probable adventure] - -To write a tale of this kind you must put yourself into the mood -of the bold hunter or traveller. You must imagine exciting things. -Many of your own experiences have just missed being astounding. -Add what-might-have-been, and you have a story of the type we are -discussing. You catch the bear or the bear catches you. You swim across -a turbulent river. You spend the night on an iceberg. You coast down -the frightful curves of the twenty-five miles of the Benguet road -with the steering gear of your automobile entirely useless. Remember, -though, that the adventure must seem real, however much you have drawn -on your reading and imagination. You must know enough of animal, plant, -and human life, and of geography, to be particular here and there and -thus give verisimilitude to your pictures. In order to get a subject, -suppose you think of what you consider the bravest physical act; then -build up around it a swift, crisp narrative. You may use technical -terms once in a while, such as a nervous story-teller would be likely -to fling off and then explain; only be sure they are intelligible very -soon. - -An ordinary imagination supplemented by a "Baedeker" will enable any -one to construct an acceptable probable adventure. Superior excellence -will lie in the diction and style. - -[A warning] - -Because of the prevalence of this kind of narrative, you will need to -guard yourself with especial care against the temptation to plagiarize. -Be sure that your certification of authorship really tells the truth. -It is easier to be original than you think; as George Bernard Shaw -says, any man with brains can more easily compose a story or a play -than steal one. - - -=A Fight with a Bear= - -One day, being in a forest a few leagues from Dusseldorf, as Gerard was -walking like one in a dream, thinking of Margaret and scarce seeing the -road he trod, his companion laid a hand on his shoulder, and strung his -cross-bow with glittering eye. "Hush!" said he, in a low whisper that -startled Gerard more than thunder. Gerard grasped his axe tight, and -shook a little; he heard a rustling in the wood hard by, and at the -same moment Denys sprang into the wood, and his crossbow went to his -shoulder, even as he jumped. =Twang!= went the metal string; and after -an instant's suspense he roared, "Run forward, guard the road! he is -hit! he is hit!" - -Gerard darted forward, and, as he ran, a young bear burst out of the -wood right upon him; finding itself intercepted, it went upon its hind -legs with a snarl, and, though not half-grown, opened formidable jaws -and long claws. Gerard, in a fury of excitement and agitation, flung -himself on it, and delivered a tremendous blow on its nose with his -axe, and the creature staggered; another, and it lay groveling, with -Gerard hacking it. - -"Hallo, stop! You are mad to spoil the meat." - -"I took it for a robber," said Gerard, panting. "I mean I had made -ready for a robber, so I could not hold my hand." - -"Ay, these chattering travelers have stuffed your head full of thieves -and assassins; they have not got a real live robber in their whole -nation. Nay, I'll carry the beast; bear you, though, my cross-bow." - -"We will carry it by turns, then," said Gerard, "for 'tis a heavy load; -poor thing, how its blood drips. Why did we slay it?" - -"For supper and the reward the baillie of the next town shall give us." - -"And for that it must die, when it had but just begun to live; and -perchance it hath a mother that will miss it sore this night, and loves -it as ours love us; more than mine does me." - -"What, know you not that his mother was caught in a pitfall last -month, and her skin is now at the tanner's? and his father was stuck -full of clothyard shafts t'other day, and died like Julius Cæsar, with -his hands folded on his bosom, and a dead dog in each of them?" - -But Gerard would not view it jestingly. "Why, then," said he, "we have -killed one of God's creatures that was all alone in the world--as I am -this day, in this strange land." - -"You young milksop," roared Denys, "these things must not be looked at -so, or not another bow would be drawn nor quarrel fly in the forest -nor battlefield. Why, one of your kidney consorting with a troop of -pike-men should turn them to a row of milk pails; it is ended; to Rome -thou goest not alone; for never wouldst thou reach the Alps in a whole -skin. I take thee to Remiremont, my native place, and there I marry -thee to my young sister. She is blooming as a peach. Thou shakest thy -head? Ah! I forgot; thou lovest elsewhere, and art a one-woman man, a -creature to me scarce conceivable. Well, then, I shall find thee, not -a wife, nor a leman, but a friend; some honest Burgundian who shall go -with thee as far as Lyons; and much I doubt that honest fellow will -be myself, into whose liquor thou hast dropped sundry powders to make -me love thee; for erst I endured not doves in doublet and hose. From -Lyons, I say, I can trust thee by ship to Italy, which being by all -accounts the very stronghold of milksops, thou wilt there be safe; they -will hear thy words, and make thee their duke in a twinkling." - -Gerard sighed. "In sooth I love not to think of this Dusseldorf, where -we are to part company, good friend." - -They walked silently, each thinking of the separation at hand; the -thought checked trifling conversation, and at these moments it is a -relief to do something, however insignificant. Gerard asked Denys to -lend him a bolt. "I have often shot with a long-bow, but never with one -of these." - -"Draw thy knife and cut this one out of the cub," said Denys slyly. - -"Nay, nay, I want a clean one." - -Denys gave him three out of his quiver. - -Gerard strung the bow and leveled it at a bough that had fallen into -the road at some distance. The power of the instrument surprised him; -the short but thick steel bow jarred him to the very heel as it went -off, and the swift steel shaft was invisible in its passage. Only the -dead leaves, with which November had carpeted the narrow road, flew -about on the other side of the bough. - -"Ye aimed a thought too high," said Denys. - -"What a deadly thing! No wonder it is driving out the long-bow--to -Martin's much discontent." - -"Ay, lad," said Denys, triumphantly, "it gains ground every day, in -spite of their laws and their proclamations to keep up the yewen bow, -because, forsooth, their grandsires shot with it, knowing no better. -You see, Gerard, war is not pastime. Men will shoot at their enemies -with the hittingest arm and the killingest, not with the longest and -missingest." - -"Then these new engines I hear of will put both bows down; for these, -with a pinch of black dust and a leaden ball, and a child's finger, -shall slay you Mars and Goliath and the Seven Champions." - -"Pooh! pooh!" said Denys, warmly; "petrone nor harquebuss shall -ever put down Sir Arbalest. Why, we can shoot ten times while they -are putting their charcoal and their lead into their leathern smoke -belchers, and then kindling their matches. All that is too fumbling for -the field of battle; there a soldier's weapon needs be aye ready, like -his heart." - -Gerard did not answer, for his ear was attracted by a sound behind -them. It was a peculiar sound, too, like something heavy, but not hard, -rushing softly over the dead leaves. He turned round with some little -curiosity. A colossal creature was coming down the road at about sixty -paces distance. - -He looked at it in a sort of calm stupor at first; but the next moment -he turned ashy pale. - -"Denys!" he cried. "O God! Denys!" - -Denys whirled round. - -It was a bear as big as a cart horse. - -It was tearing along with its huge head down, running on a hot scent. - -The very moment he saw it, Denys said in a sickening whisper: - -"The cub!" - -Oh! the concentrated horror of that one word, whispered hoarsely, with -dilating eyes! For in that syllable it all flashed upon them both -like a sudden stroke of lightning in the dark--the bloody trail, the -murdered cub, the mother upon them, and it. DEATH. - -All this in a moment of time. The next she saw them. Huge as she was, -she seemed to double herself (it was her long hair bristling with -rage); she raised her head big as a bull's, her swine-shaped jaws -opened wide at them, her eyes turned to blood and flame, and she rushed -upon them, scattering the leaves about her like a whirlwind as she came. - -"Shoot!" screamed Denys, but Gerard stood shaking from head to foot, -useless. - -"Shoot, man! ten thousand devils, shoot! Too late! Tree! tree!" and he -dropped the cub, pushed Gerard across the road, and flew to the first -tree and climbed it, Gerard the same on his side; and, as they fled, -both men uttered inhuman howls like savage creatures grazed by death. - -With all their speed one or other would have been torn to fragments at -the foot of his tree; but the bear stopped a moment at the cub. - -Without taking her bloodshot eyes off those she was hunting, she smelt -it all round, and found, how, her Creator only knows, that it was dead, -quite dead. She gave a yell such as neither of the hunted ones had ever -heard, nor dreamed to be in nature, and flew after Denys. She reared -and struck at him as he climbed. He was just out of reach. - -Instantly she seized the tree, and with her huge teeth tore a great -piece out of it with a crash. Then she reared again, dug her claws deep -into the bark and began to mount it slowly, but as surely as a monkey. - -Denys's evil star had led him to a dead tree, a mere shaft, and of no -very great height. He climbed faster than his pursuer, and was soon at -the top. He looked this way and that for some bough of another tree -to spring to. There was none; and if he jumped down he knew the bear -would be upon him ere he could recover the fall, and make short work of -him. Moreover, Denys was little used to turning his back on danger, and -his blood was rising at being hunted. He turned to bay. - -"My hour is come," thought he. "Let me meet death like a man." He -kneeled down and grasped a small shoot to steady himself, drew his long -knife, and clenching his teeth, prepared to job the huge brute as soon -as it should mount within reach. - -Of this combat the result was not doubtful. - -The monster's head and neck were scarce vulnerable for bone and masses -of hair. The man was going to sting the bear, and the bear to crack the -man like a nut. - -Gerard's heart was better than his nerves. He saw his friend's mortal -danger, and passed at once from fear to blindish rage. He slipped down -his tree in a moment, caught up the cross-bow which he had dropped in -the road, and, running furiously up, sent a bolt into the bear's body -with a loud shout. The bear gave a snarl of rage and pain and turned -its head irresolutely. - -"Keep aloof," cried Denys, "or you are a dead man." - -"I care not," and in a moment he had another bolt ready and shot it -fiercely into the bear, screaming "Take that! that! that!" - -Denys poured a volley of oaths down at him. "Get away, idiot!" - -He was right; the bear finding so formidable and noisy a foe behind -him, slipped growling down the tree, rending deep furrows in it as -she slipped. Gerard ran back to his tree and climbed it swiftly. But -while his legs were dangling some eight feet from the ground the bear -came rearing and struck with her forepaw, and out flew a piece of -bloody cloth from Gerard's hose. He climbed and climbed, and presently -he heard as it were in the air a voice say, "Go out on the bough!" He -looked, and there was a long massive branch before him shooting upwards -at a slight angle; he threw his body across it, and by a series of -convulsive efforts worked up it to the end. - -Then he looked round panting. - -The bear was mounting the tree on the other side. He heard her claws -scrape; and saw her bulge on both sides of the massive tree. Her eye -not being very quick, she reached the fork and passed it, mounting the -main stem. Gerard drew breath more freely. The bear either heard him or -found by scent she was wrong; she paused; presently she caught sight of -him. She eyed him steadily, then quietly descended to the fork. - -Slowly and cautiously she stretched out a paw and tried the bough. It -was a stiff oak branch, sound as iron. Instinct taught the creature -this; it crawled carefully out on the bough, growling savagely as it -came. - -Gerard looked wildly down. He was forty feet from the ground. Death -below. Death moving slow but sure on him in a still more horrible -form. His hair bristled. The sweat poured from him. He sat helpless, -fascinated, tongue-tied. - -As the fearful monster crawled growling towards him, incongruous -thoughts coursed through his mind. Margaret, the Vulgate, where it -speaks of the rage of a she-bear robbed of her whelps--Rome--Eternity. - -The bear crawled on. And now the stupor of death fell on the doomed -man; he saw the open jaws and bloodshot eyes coming, but in a mist. - -As in a mist he heard a twang; he glanced down; Denys, white and silent -as death, was shooting up at the bear. The bear snarled at the twang; -but crawled on. Again the cross-bow twanged; and the bear snarled and -came nearer. Again the cross-bow twanged, and the next moment the bear -was close upon Gerard, where he sat, with hair standing stiff on end, -and eyes starting from their sockets, palsied. The bear opened her jaws -like a grave, and hot blood spouted from them upon Gerard as from a -pump. The bough rocked. The wounded monster was reeling; it clung, it -stuck its sickles of claws deep into the wood; it toppled, its claws -held firm, but its body rolled off, and the sudden shock to the branch -shook Gerard forward on his stomach with his face upon one of the -bear's straining paws. At this, by a convulsive effort, she raised her -head up, up, till he felt her hot fetid breath. Then huge teeth snapped -together loudly close below him in the air, with a last effort of -baffled hate. The ponderous carcass rent the claws out of the boughs; -then pounded the earth with a tremendous thump. There was a shout of -triumph below, and the very next instant a cry of dismay, for Gerard -had swooned, and, without an attempt to save himself, rolled headlong -from the perilous height. - -Denys caught at Gerard and somewhat checked his fall; but it may be -doubted whether this alone would have saved him from breaking his neck -or a limb. His best friend now was the dying bear, on whose hairy -carcass his head and shoulders descended. Denys tore him off her. It -was needless. She panted still, and her limbs quivered, but a hare was -not so harmless; and soon she breathed her last, and the judicious -Denys propped Gerard up against her, being soft, and fanned him. He -came to by degrees, but confused, and feeling the bear all round him, -rolled away, yelling. - -"Courage," cried Denys, "_le diable est mort_." - -"Is it dead, quite dead?" inquired Gerard from behind a tree; for his -courage was feverish, and the cold fit was on him just now, and had -been for some time. - -"Behold," said Denys, and pulled the brute's ear playfully, and opened -her jaws and put in his head, with other insulting antics; in the midst -of which Gerard was violently sick. - -Denys laughed at him. - -"What is the matter now?" said he; "also, why tumble off your perch -just when we had won the day?" - -"I swooned, I trow." - -"But why?" - -Not receiving an answer, he continued, "Green girls faint as soon as -look at you, but then they choose time and place. What woman ever -fainted up a tree?" - -"She sent her nasty blood all over me. I think the smell must have -overpowered me. Faugh! I hate blood." - -"I do believe it potently." - -"See what a mess she has made me!" - -"But with her blood, not yours. I pity the enemy that strives to -satisfy you." - -"You need not to brag, Maitre Denys; I saw you under the tree, the -color of your shirt." - -"Let us distinguish," said Denys coloring; "it is permitted to tremble -for a friend." - -Gerard, for answer, flung his arm around Denys's neck in silence. - - --Charles Reade. - From "The Cloister and the Hearth." - - -=The Secret of the Jade Tlaloc= - -"If only this paper on jade were finished!" sighed tall, -dignified, blond Dolores. "These notes sound so interesting. 'Jade -implements,'" she read, "'found in Mexico--source of mineral not yet -discovered--theory that implements are relics of Eastern invasion -disproved--jade said to exist in America,' My! I do think jade is the -most delightful subject for investigation." - -"Um-m!" Elsa, who, like her Spanish mother, was small, quick, dark, -and adventure-loving, did not consider jade a particularly fascinating -topic for study. "Now if--we--a--we--a----" she ruminated. - -"If we--a----?" Dolores's sentences were always clearly thought out -before she spoke them. - -"If we--a--now if we could finish that paper, we might be able to -sell it, you know," Elsa went on. "We certainly haven't an enviably -large fortune." She reached into one of the dark pigeon-holes of her -father's ponderous desk. "Ook-ook!" she pursed up her full red lips, -as she held a yellow scroll from her and gingerly flicked away the -dust which had collected upon it since her father's death. "Now here's -what I call interesting. An old letter or something, written on -agave-leaf paper." From their long association with their father in his -archeological researches, the girls had gained a more than superficial -knowledge of Aztec customs and antiquities. "'We, the Aztecs, are a -proud race,'" she readily translated. "'It is not for the Spaniards to -glory in complete victory over us, for though they have conquered our -bodies, they have not conquered our spirits. Well may they rejoice in -the ruining of our beautiful cities. But when they search, and search -in vain, for the wealth which they know has been ours, how they will -rage! But their anger shall be as vain as their searching. Those of -us who are left will not see the invaders glorying in what was once -the splendor of the Aztecs. Rather will we bury, and hide from all -future generations, if need be, the secrets of our riches. It is that -my descendants may one day scoff at the descendants of those who have -made me, who was a prince, a slave, that I am making this record. Among -the mountains which the Spaniards have called the "Corderillas" is one -in whose top is a hole of great depth, from which it is said, there -once flowed streams of liquid fire, the vengeance of the gods upon -the people. This mountain stands between two sister mountains of far -greater height than itself, and is near the middle of the range.' Why, -that might be Ahualtaper, right near here." Elsa had the topography of -the country around their home very clearly mapped out in her mind. - -Dolores nodded. "Go on," she said. - -"'Half-way up the side which faces the rising sun,'" Elsa continued, -"'is a ledge, upon which is a rock, apparently one with the -mountainside, and in which, when viewed from a distance, can be seen a -resemblance to the cross of Tlaloc. One day a descendant of mine will -find and displace this rock; whereupon, the entrance to the tomb of my -ancestors will be revealed. There are many such tombs and many such -mountains as those which I have described, but which I have not named. -However, in the particular burial place to which I refer is a jade -image of the god Tlaloc. It is studded with valuable turquoise. Where -this image is found will also be found what should be the source of -untold wealth to the discoverer. - -"'In warning, let me say that none but the eldest son of a family must -ever know of this document; and should he be tempted, ever, to part -with it, let him remember that bodily want is preferable to the curses -of the dead!'" - -The two girls remained silent for a few moments. "Well," asked Elsa, at -last, "what do you think of that?" - -Dolores turned again to the desk. "It is interesting," she replied, -"but of what use can it ever be to us? We could never find the place. -Why, we've been in dozens of burial grottos already, and they are all -pretty much alike." She opened another drawer. "Here is father's diary." - -The book fell open at the page upon which the last entry had been -made. "'May 15'--the day father became ill--'poor wrinkled old Gomez -died today,'" she read. "'He wanted to give me information about a -jade Tlaloc, some famous image which has been lost. He tried with his -last breath to do me the service of aiding me in my research. He gave -me also a very ancient manuscript. I do not know where he got it. I -hardly feel equal, to-night, to the task of translating it. Perhaps -Elsa will do the translation tomorrow. If I could find such an idol, it -would be of great value to me in my treatise on jade.'" - -Elsa waited long enough only for Dolores to stop reading. "Dolores, we -must find that idol." - -Dolores looked gravely at her sister. "This is really a serious matter, -Elsa. It would save us from the necessity of working if we could find -it. But how can you and I alone accomplish anything? We should have to -go into the mountains, and have a donkey, and camp in the open air, -and----" - -"Well," Elsa impatiently interrupted the enumeration of objections, -"what of that? You and father and I used often to go into the -mountains, and have a donkey, and camp in the open air; and father -always depended more upon us than we upon him. You think it over while -I get tea." Elsa left her sister sitting alone and looking out of the -study windows to the solemn rugged Corderillas. - -Dolores did consider the matter, with the result that, after a few -weeks of study, of consulting maps and plans, and of preparation for -the journey, the sisters were ready to begin the daring exploit whose -aim was to complete the investigations which their father had begun. - -Clad in rough, unsightly denim, and leading a burro which carried a -very considerable store of provisions, they clambered up the jagged -sides of Ahualtapec; they tore their way through thickets and fell upon -cacti. - -"We're lost," panted Dolores, finally, as she pulled the many thorns -from her clothing. "Elsa, we're lost." - -They had stopped, at about noon on the tenth day of their trip, to -rest, and again to consult their maps. - -Elsa stood upon a ledge and looked across to where, between two lofty -mountains, rising to the south of Ahualtapec, a smaller rock mass -showed itself, like a much overgrown hill-the shell of a long extinct -volcano, and a very counterpart of Ahualtapec. - -"Dolores," she pointed straight before her, "do you remember? A stone -in which, when viewed from a distance, can be seen a resemblance to the -cross of Tlaloc?" - -"Oh, dear," complained Dolores, dejectedly, "and all this time wasted!" - -"Now, Dolores!" small Elsa turned about determinedly, "you ought to -shout for joy, for that certainly must be it. The rocks are bare around -that spot, and you can see it plainly from here. It's on a ledge, too, -just like the one we're on. We will start this very minute, Dolores." - -Delaying long enough only for Elsa, who had a fine sense of location, -to impress upon her mind the position of the cross, they began once -more the tedious scrambling, tearing, tumbling down slopes and up -slopes, across streams and through, streams; but they did not lose -themselves again. - -"Do you suppose," Dolores anxiously asked, "that we can ever move it?" -as she saw how the ages had packed, and hardened the damp soil about -the base of the boulder. - -"We must." Elsa was resolved not to be defeated. "We absolutely must," -she reiterated. - -"How?" demanded Dolores. - -Elsa's reply was to unstrap a bag from the burro's back, to take from -it two trowels, and silently to offer one to Dolores. No explanation -was necessary. For five days the girls scraped and dug away the -hardened soil from the lower part of the cross-shaped stone, until at -last the block began to tremble as though about to fall. - -"Dolores! Dolores! It's top heavy, bless it!" Elsa was -enthusiastically, insanely happy. - -The fact that the stone was top-heavy made it possible for the girls, -by dint of much tugging, heaving, and pushing, to roll it over the -ledge, and to send it bumping down the mountainside. A narrow passage, -wide enough to admit only one at a time, was thus opened. Pine torches -were lit. Even Dolores was excited. They squeezed into the entrance, -Elsa first. They rushed through the short tunnel, until, at the end, -Elsa stumbled and sank to her knees. - -"Oh, my! Dolores, just look!" she was holding her torch down to see -what had caused her fall. "It's it," she remarked, disregarding -rhetoric, while she pointed to a small turquoise-studded image of -Tlaloc, the Neptune of the Aztecs. - -The girls carried the idol into the little ante-room which was always -a part of the burial grotto of an Aztec noble family. How pleasant, -how cool, and damp it seemed in here, after their hot toil outside. -The sisters had been in too many tombs to know any fear, to have any -feeling of the presence of the dead. Their own breathing sounded loud -and labored amid the silence of the cave. - -Dolores sat down on the moist floor, and examined the statues; she was -thinking of the treasure; but Elsa, now that she was sure of finding -the gold, or the jewels, or whatever the promise might have meant, -desired to explore the grotto. - -From the little ante-room she passed into the larger chamber. Here, for -the first time, she felt chilled; she seemed so alone. She was sure she -felt a ghost whisper near her. Her feet slipped on the wet earth. On -the further side of the tomb she saw upon the ground an urn, on which -rested a skull. By the shape of the urn and by the arrangement of the -ornaments above it Elsa knew that it contained the ashes of a warrior. -A drop of water splashed down from the ceiling and aroused her. She -held her torch aloft. She looked unbelievingly at the roof. Then she -walked slowly around the room, wonderingly, feeling and scrutinizing -the walls. - -"Dolores!" she called, "come quick!" - -Dolores was not long in coming. - -"And here is also what should be the source of untold wealth to the -discoverer," Elsa was murmuring. "Dolores, do you see that green, that -dull gray? How it shines? Don't you know, Dolores? It's jade, royal -jade, Dolores!" - - --Dorothea Knoblock. - - -II. The Society Story - -[What the society story is] - -Society stories are those non-consequential narratives of modern -fashionable life which have in their very lightness their sole excuse -for being. They are set up as only partial reflections of the actual. -Since their chief purpose is to please, they have no studied realism -in them. All things intense and unattractive are omitted. If trouble -appears, it is but as "sweet bells jangled out of tune and harsh," as -one of their authors might promptly quote, and everything is brought to -harmonize with everything else at last. Richard Harding Davis for his -"Van Bibber" tales seems to have found a wide public. - -[The pastoral romance] - -An older representative of the society story is the pastoral romance, -once a very popular form of the love tale. In it we have a picture of -country life, but it is not the hard, toil-beleaguered life of the real -peasant. It is the imaginary out-of-doors living-for-a-few-days of the -courtier who masquerades as a shepherd and sits cavalierly on a grassy -bank with a golden crook in his hand, sighing out his heart in silvery -madrigals. His lady-love is no ordinary milk-maid, but a courtly -princess on vacation. In this romantic land of shepherd loves, nothing -realistic enters. The talk in even the first examples is philosophic -and in the later becomes euphuistic as well. The critics maintain that -the pastoral romance as a type does not go more than ten years back of -the middle of the fourteenth century, although we have "Aucassin and -Nicolette" of the thirteenth and "Daphnis and Chloe" of the fifth. The -prime fact of the history of the pastoral romance as a society story -is that it grew up as a revolt against the licentious realism of the -Italian novellieri. The "Arcadia" by Sannazaro, written about 1500, is -the book that made the epoch and established the rule for pastoral -romance in all languages. Sannazaro took what had been foreshadowed -by Boccaccio in the "Ameto" in 1340, and, enriching it with elements -derived from Theocritus and Virgil, created the "perfect" example. From -Sannazaro, Sir Philip Sidney borrowed the spirit, many episodes, and -part of the name for his notable combination of prose and verse--the -"Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia." Shakespeare, too, derived much from -this important Italian book. For one thing, he took the name Ophelia; -for another, his charming society pastoral drama "As You Like It" goes -historically back to Sannazaro's "Arcadia" for its lyrics, out-of-doors -courting, its real shepherds, its obvious love of nature, its touch of -magic, and its wholesome morality. The lack of allegorical significance -is also straight example from Sannazaro; but the love chain, the -disguised shepherd princesses, the humorous element in connection -with the coarse shepherds, a touch of adventure, and the cavalier -tone are of later Spanish and English contamination, immediately -through Lodge's prose romance "Rosalynd," and more remotely through -Greene's three pastorals--"England's Mourning Garment," "Menaphon," -and "Pandosto,"--and through Cervantes's "Galatea" and Montemayor's -"Diana," and Ribeyro's Portuguese "Fragments." - -Though the pastoral romance, as we notice, became more and more -artificial, it always remained pure in tone. It centered itself in -idealism and stood against the low, utterly debased, more realistic -novella, which was its predecessor and continued rival for popularity. -The pastoral held the field as the chief and most influential prose -form in Spain until the picaresque romance came to be recognized as a -distinct genre. - -[Suggestions for writing] - -To write a modern society story that will be worth while is no easy -task; for here an author readily descends to banalities, and the class -itself is hardly acceptable to the serious critic. Yet stories of -this kind are so popular and form (I am sorry to say) so large a part -of the reading of our young women--and our young men, too, for that -matter--that the type surely has come to stay for sometime and must be -taken account of. To make your story commendable, then, you will need -to be original and striking in your choice of situation and to write -with a succinctness and verve that will animate even the commonplace. -Be careful not to be sentimental. If you touch on love, do so with -dignity--with either clean, pure humor, or unaffected seriousness. -Try hard to save your hero from being a cad. The namby-pamby, -third-generation-millionaire protagonist, if not altogether -uninteresting, is surely exasperating to a sensible reader. By playful -imitation, you might write a good satire on this class of story. If you -do so, you will need to be familiar with one or more of the popular -examples in order to use them specifically. Or you might try your hand -at a pastoral, just for the history of the thing. If you care to adhere -to certain elements of the genre, you could put together under this -guise allegorical scenes in which the present lords of the earth figure -as weak or lusty shepherds piping a tune to the watch-dogs of war, the -sheep of commerce, and the Goddess of Getting-On. If you wish to be -more than half serious, you can find countenance in a number of our -most recent light stories that undoubtedly turn toward the pastoral. -This type, too, will give you a chance at a mixture of prose and verse. -Here you can put in some of those fetching sylvan lyrics that you must -have composed long before now and have always been afraid to mention. - - -=The Fur Coat= - - Translated by Mrs. J. M. Lancaster. Copyright, 1903, by The Current - Literature Publishing Company. Reprinted by permission. - -_Prof. Max Wiegand to Dr. Gustav Strauch_ - - BERLIN, November 20. - -DEAR GUSTAV--I have some news to tell you to-day which will certainly -surprise you. I have separated from my wife, or rather we have -separated from each other. We have come to an amicable agreement -henceforth to live entirely independent of each other. My wife has gone -to her family in Freiburg, where she will no doubt remain. I am for -the present in our old house; perhaps in the spring I may look for a -smaller house--perhaps not, for I can hardly hope to find so quiet a -workroom as I now have, and the idea of moving appals me, especially -when I think of my large library. You will, of course, want to know -what has happened, though, to tell the truth, nothing has happened. -The world will seek for all possible and impossible reasons why two -people who married for love and who have for eleven years lived what -is called happily together should now have decided to part. Yes, this -world which thinks itself so wise, but whose judgments are nevertheless -so petty, so superficial, will doubtless be of the opinion that there -is something hidden--will include this case too in one of the two great -categories prepared for such affairs, because it can not conceive of -the fact that life in its inexhaustible variety never repeats itself -and that the same circumstances may assume different aspects according -to the character and disposition of those interested. I need not tell -you this, my dear Gustav. You will understand how two finely organized -natures should rebel against a tie which binds them together after they -have once become fully convinced that in all matters of real importance -a mutual understanding is possible. - -My wife and I are too unlike. Between her views of life and mine there -yawns an impassable gulf. The first few years I hoped to influence -her, to win her to my ways of thinking--she seemed so docile, so -yielding, took so warm an interest in my work, so willingly allowed -herself to be taught by me. Not till after our children's death did -she begin to change. Her grief at this loss--a grief which neither of -us has ever been able to live down--matured her, made her independent -of me. A tendency to morbid introspection took possession of her, -and gave increased tenacity to those ideas and convictions which my -influence had hitherto held in check, though not wholly eradicated. She -plunged deeper and deeper into those mists of sentimentally fantastic -imaginings, passionately demanding my concurrence in her views. She -lost all interest in my professional work, evidently regarding the -results of my researches in natural science as troops from an enemy's -camp. At last there was hardly a subject in the wide realm of nature -and human existence on which we agreed. To be sure we never came to -an open quarrel, but the breach between us was constantly widening. -Every day we saw more and more plainly that though we lived side by -side, we no longer belonged to each other. This discovery irritated -and distressed us, and at last forced all other feelings into the -background. If we had not once loved each other so dearly, or even -if we had now ceased to feel a mutual respect, this state of affairs -might perhaps have lasted for years, but our ideas of the true meaning -of marriage were too lofty, our sense of our own dignity as human -beings too profound to permit us to be content with so incomplete a -realization of our ideals. I hardly know who spoke first, but our -resolution was at once taken, and the decisive words uttered as calmly -and naturally as the overripe fruit falls from the tree. For the first -time in many years we were able with perfect unanimity of sentiment -to discuss a subject of the greatest importance to us both, and this -fact alone soothed our overwrought nerves. We parted yesterday with the -utmost decorum, without a word of reproach, a note of discord. - -The many beautiful memories of our early married life, of the long -years we had lived together, made it difficult to refrain from some -manifestation of tenderness, and I assure you that I never felt greater -respect for my wife than at the moment when, all petty considerations -cast aside, the true magnanimity of her nature asserted itself. Her -manner, what she said, and also what she did not say, robbed the -situation of all trace of the commonplace, and gave it dignity. Deeply -moved, almost in tears, we clasped hands in farewell, so we may -look back upon the closing scene of our wedded life with unalloyed -satisfaction. - -I had already, with her consent, referred all business details to our -lawyers, for we were not even to communicate with each other by letter. - -Life must begin again for both of us, and already I breathe more -freely. The Rubicon is passed. I believe that you will congratulate me. - - -_Prof. Max Wiegand to Dr. Gustav Strauch_ - - BERLIN, December 12. - -DEAR GUSTAV--Pardon me that I have so long delayed thanking you for -your answer of friendly sympathy to my last letter. - -I have been in no condition to write, and even now find it difficult. -You congratulate me without reserve on a step which you regard as -essential to my welfare and to my intellectual development, but you do -not take into consideration what it means to separate from one who has -for eleven years been one's constant companion, day and night. Indeed, -it is only during these last dreary weeks that I, myself, have realized -what the change signifies to me. Habit is all powerful, especially with -men who, like you and me, live in the intellectual world and so require -a solid sub-structure. - -How are we to take observations from the tower battlements when its -foundations are not firmly established? Of course, I am as certain as -ever I was that our decision is for the best interests of us both, but -in this queer world of ours we can take no step without unlooked-for -results. - -I am bothered from morn till night with trifles to which I have never -given a thought since my bachelor days--things which I will not -mention, so absurdly insignificant are they--and yet they rob me of my -time and destroy my peace. I am at a loss what steps to take to rid -myself of the thousand petty cares and annoyances which my wife has -hitherto borne for me. These servants! Now that the cat is away they -think that they can do just as they please, and you have no idea of the -silly obstacles over which I am continually stumbling, of the wretched -pitfalls which beset my path. Here is one instance out of many: For -several days it has been very cold, and I can not find my fur coat. -With the chambermaid's assistance I have turned the whole house upside -down, until she finally remembered that my wife, last spring, sent it -to a furrier's to be kept from the moth. But to which furrier? I have -been to a dozen and can not find it. - -If I had only not agreed with my wife that we were, under no -circumstances, to write to each other, I should simply ask her--but -it is best so. No strain of the commonplace must mingle with the sad -echoes of our farewell. No--a farce never follows a drama. Perhaps she -might even imagine that I seize the first pretext to renew relations -with her. - -Never! - -To-day it is six below zero. - - -_Prof. Max Wiegand to Frau Emma Wiegand_ - - BERLIN, December 14. - -DEAR EMMA--You will be greatly surprised at receiving a letter from -me in spite of our mutual agreement, but do not fear that I have -any intention of opening a correspondence with you. Our relations -terminated with all possible dignity, and the sealed door shall never -be re-opened. I have but to ask a simple question which you alone -can answer. What is the name of the man to whom you sent my fur coat -last spring? Lina has forgotten the address. Hoping soon to receive an -answer, for which I thank you in advance, - - MAX. - - -_Frau Emma Wiegand to Prof. Max Wiegand_ - - FREIBURG, December 15. - -DEAR MAX--His name is Palaschke, and he is on Zimmer Street. I can not -understand Lina's forgetfulness, as she took the coat there herself. - - EMMA. - - -_Prof. Max Wiegand to Frau Emma Wiegand_ - - BERLIN, December 17. - -DEAR EMMA--I must trouble you once more--for the last time. Herr -Palaschke refuses to let the coat go without the ticket, as he has had -several disagreeable experiences which have made it necessary to be -very strict. But where is the ticket? I spent the whole morning looking -for it, and, of course, Lina has not the slightest idea where it is. -She flew into a rage when I found a little fault with her, and she -leaves the house to-morrow. I prefer paying her till the end of her -engagement, and in addition shall give her a moderate Christmas gift, -for I can not stand for a great length of time such an impertinent -person about me. - -Well--be so kind as to write me a line telling me where to find the -ticket. I have already taken a severe cold for want of the fur coat. - -Hoping that you are well and quite comfortable with your family. - - MAX. - - -_Frau Emma Wiegand to Prof. Max Wiegand_ - - FREIBURG, December 19. - -DEAR MAX--The ticket is either in the second or third upper drawer of -the little wardrobe in the dressing-room or in my desk, in the right or -left pigeon-hole. I could find it in a minute if I were there. Lina has -great faults, but she is very respectable. I doubt whether you can do -better, and now, just before Christmas, you will not be able to replace -her. You should have put up with her at least a fortnight longer, but -it is none of my business. I hope your cold is better. I am quite well. - - EMMA. - - -_Prof. Max Wiegand to Frau Emma Wiegand_ - - BERLIN, December 21. - -DEAR EMMA--The ticket is not to be found either in the wardrobe or in -the desk. Perhaps it slipped out when you were packing, and was thrown -away. I can think of no other explanation. - -To-morrow or next day I will again go to Herr Palaschke, and try to -wheedle him out of my property by all possible blandishments and -assurances, but to-day I am confined to my room, for my cold has -resulted in a severe attack of neuralgia. - -I had a dreadful scene with the cook yesterday. On the day of your -departure she gave me notice, and when I tried to persuade her to -remain she turned on me and told me in a very insolent manner that I -knew nothing about house-keeping, and that it was only out of sympathy -for you, dear Emma, that she had so long remained with us at such low -wages, and that she should leave immediately. I answered calmly, but -firmly, that she must stay till the end of her engagement. Then she -began to cry and storm, and at last was so outrageously impertinent as -to declare that even _you_ could not manage to live with me. I lost -my temper and must, I suppose, have called her an "impudent woman," -though I can not remember saying it. Unfortunately for me I have had no -experience in dealing with viragos. - -Two hours later, after supper, I rang and discovered that she was -already gone, bag and baggage, leaving in the kitchen a badly spelled -_billet doux_, in which she threatened me with a lawsuit for calling -her an "impudent woman," in case I should refuse to give her a -certificate of character. - -I am now entirely without servants. The porter's wife blacks my shoes -for a handsome consideration, and brings me from the café meals which -ought to be condemned by the health inspector. As you have truly -remarked, it will be impossible to replace these women before the New -Year, but I have already written to a dozen employment bureaus, and -will go myself as soon as I am able to leave the house. This has grown -into a long letter, my dear Emma, but when the heart is full the pen -runs rapidly. - -I also suspect that abominable cook of taking my gold sleeve -buttons--those left me by Uncle Friedrich--though I have, of course, no -proof. Have you any idea where they are? If so please drop me a line. -Good-by, my dear Emma, and I trust you are more comfortable than I am. - - Your MAX. - - -_Frau Emma Wiegand to Prof. Max Wiegand_ - - FREIBURG, December 23. - -DEAR MAX--I have read with much sympathy your account of your little -mishaps and annoyances. The cook often spoke to me very much as she -did to you, but I put up with it because she is a good cook, and only -cooks who know nothing are polite. Now you see what I have had to stand -for years, and that there are problems in that department also which -can not be solved by natural science. - -I can not, at this instance, advise you what to do, and should not -consider myself justified in doing so now that our intimate relations -have been terminated in so dignified a manner, as you so truly remark -in your first letter. As for the furrier's ticket and the sleeve -buttons, I will wager that I could find them both in five minutes. You -_must_ remember how often you have hunted in vain for a thing which I -have found at the first attempt. Men occasionally discover a new truth -but never an old button. - -Since a correspondence has been begun by you, I have a little request -to make. I forgot before I left to ask you for the letters which you -wrote me during our engagement, and which at my request you put in -your safe. They are my property, and I should like to have them as a -reminder of happier days. Will you be so kind as to send them to me? - -Wishing you a Merry Christmas, - - EMMA. - - -_Prof. Max Wiegand to Frau Emma Wiegand_ - - BERLIN, December 25. - -MY DEAR EMMA--Your kind wish that I might have a Merry Christmas has -not been fulfilled. I never spent so melancholy a Christmas Eve. You -will not wonder that I could not bear to accept the invitations of -friends--to be a looker-on at family rejoicings--so I stayed at home, -entirely alone. I found it utterly impossible to get a servant before -New Year's, and yesterday was even without a helper from outside. -The porter's wife put a cold supper on the table for me early in the -afternoon, for she was too busy later with Christmas preparations for -her children. A smoky oil lamp took the place of the Christmas tree -which you always adorned so charmingly and with such exquisite taste -every year, and there were none of those pretty surprises by which -you supplied my wants and wishes almost before I was conscious of -them. There was nothing on the Christmas table but my old fur coat, -which Herr Palaschke--softened by my entreaties and assurances and -perhaps also by the spirit of Christmastide--had allowed me to take the -preceding day. It was as cold as charity in the room, for the fire had -gone out and it was beyond my skill to rekindle it, so I put on the fur -coat, sat down by the smoky lamp, and read over the letters which I -wrote you during the time of our engagement and which I had taken from -their eleven years' resting-place to send to you to-day. - -Dear Emma, I can not tell you how they have moved me. I cried like a -child, not over the tragic ending of our marriage alone, but at the -change in myself which I recognize. They are very immature and in many -ways not in accordance with my present way of thinking, but what a -fresh, frank, warm-blooded fellow I was then, and how I loved you! How -happy I was! How artlessly and unreservedly did I give myself up to my -happiness! Till now I have thought that there has been a gradual, slow -change in you alone, but now I see that I also have altered, and God -knows, when I compare the Max of those days with the Max of to-day, I -do not know to which to give the preference. In the sleepless nights -which I have lately spent, I have thought over the possibility of -transforming myself into the Max I then was, and grave doubts have -suggested themselves whether the differences in our views of matters -and things were really as great as they seemed to us, whether there -is not outside of them something eternally human, some neutral ground -where we might continue to have interests in common. - -Try and see, dear Emma, whether such a voice does not speak also to -your soul. We can not undo the past, but nothing could give me greater -consolation in my present unhappy condition than to know that you could -say yes to this question, for your departure has left a void in my -house and in my life that I can never, never fill. - - Thy most unhappy MAX. - - -_Frau Emma Wiegand to Prof. Max Wiegand_ - - FREIBURG, December 27. - -DEAR MAX--I very willingly gave you information as long as it related -only to tickets and sleeve buttons, but I must decline answering the -question contained in your last letter. Did you really believe, you -old Pedant, that I left your home--which was also mine--because we -disagreed in our views of matters and things in general? Then you are -mightily mistaken. I left you because I saw more plainly every day that -you no longer loved me. Yes, I had become a burden to you--you wanted -to get rid of me. If in that dignified parting scene you had said one -single tender word to me, I should probably have stayed, but, as usual, -you were on your high horse, from which you have now had so lamentable -a tumble just because your servants have left you. _I_ too have served -you faithfully, though you do not seem to have recognized that fact. -_I_ never let the fire go out on your hearth. It was not _my_ fault -when it grew cold. - -Who knows whether you would have noticed the void left by my going if -your fur coat had not also been missing? This gave you an opportunity -of opening a correspondence with me, and it seems to be only fitting -that it should now close, since you have once more regained possession -of your property. I, at least, have nothing more to say. - - Good-by forever, - EMMA. - - -_Prof. Max Wiegand to Dr. Gustav Strauch_ - - BERLIN, January 8. - -DEAR GUSTAV--I have a great piece of news to tell you. My wife -returned to me yesterday, and at my earnest solicitation. I thought -I could no longer live _with_ her, but I find it equally impossible -to live _without_ her. I have just discovered that she too was very -unhappy during the time of our separation, but she would never have -acknowledged it, for hers is the stronger character of the two. I do -not know how to explain the miracle, but we love each other more dearly -than ever. We are celebrating a new honeymoon. The great questions of -life drove us apart, but is it only the little ones which have reunited -us? Would you suppose that one could find a half-desiccated heart -in the pocket of an old fur coat? The stately edifice of my worldly -knowledge totters on its foundations, dear Gustav. I have a great deal -to unlearn. - - MAX. - --Ludwig Fulda. - - -=The Lady in Pink= - -If I hadn't had to stop in the middle of my painting and run down to -the house to get some more rose-madder I never in the world should -have seen her; I had to leave all my things up on the hill with little -David, and on the way down to the village I passed the place. - -The only thing I remember now is that I was hurrying along by a stone -wall which was higher than my head and that above it dark pines -clustered in pointed masses against a blue and white sky--it was -just the kind of sky Bougereau would have loved, with soft, opaque -clouds--when I came past the gate, and one can never go by a gate, -you know, and not look in, and it was there that I saw her. She was -sitting on a bench built under a tree--the trunk of which did for the -perpendicular in the composition and gave such a good contrast in -color, too, for she--well, there she was just sitting there with her -hands in her lap, her head against the tree and her feet out in front -of her, and oh, dreams of loveliness--her dress was pink! Think of -that! Rose pink where it touched the grass, lavender pink where it fell -in shadows, shell pink where the sun flickered on it--and in her hand -she held a kind of golden straw hat, and that was just dripping with -roses, and they were the pinkest of all. Oh! it was a picture for the -gods. I made quick work of my errand and hastened back to tell David -about it. - -"Well, I've seen it," I announced breathlessly, coming up the slope. - -"Seen what?" asked David, not stopping from his clover chain. - -"My masterpiece," I answered, squirting out much more of the -rose-madder than I needed--this paltry little sketch I was working on -now would have to be finished up and gotten out of the road for real -work. - -"Where?" asked David, with the laconic briefness of childhood. - -"Down inside the big gate--behind the stone wall." - -"Oh, that's where the Cory's live--there's a stream there, with -pollywogs in it." David's mind was beginning to wander. - -"But you never saw such a study in pink in all your life--think of -it--pink dress--all different shades of pink--pink roses for the -high-note, and then pale pink repeated in the cheeks and then way off -in the background there were some pink hollyhocks." "My, oh, my," I -added to myself, stubbing gamboge into the canvass to get a sunshiny -effect, "My, oh, my--she sat there just like a Grenze--a Gainsborough -lady, now, never would have had the courage to have leaned against the -tree in that lackadaisical manner; the Lady in Pink--Whistler painted a -Lady in White--I shall paint the Lady in Pink! Tomorrow I shall begin, -David," I said, "tomorrow I am going down to get my masterpiece." - -"Well, but you can't go in the Cory's to get it," said David; "that's -private grounds." - -Private grounds! The words stunned me. Couldn't an artist usually go -any place he liked? - -"Private grounds!" I echoed, "oh, yes; why that's so. Why, what on -earth will I do?" - -"I don't know," said David, with a half-rising inflection showing an -abstract sympathy. - -"Think of that! And there it all is just waiting to be painted. Why, -look here, David, how on earth did you ever get in to know there were -pollywogs?" - -"Oh," said David, "the folks were away." - -"Well, I will wait then till they are all away! But, good heavens, -what am I thinking about! The garden isn't what I want--it's the Lady -in Pink." I began packing up my paints--there was no use trying to do -anything more now. - -"Well, at any rate, we will go down tomorrow," said I, wiping some -brushes on my handkerchief, "and maybe in the meanwhile we can think up -a way to get in." - -"Oh, let's go now," suggested David, seeing that things were really -moving. - -"You mean it?" I asked, rather astonished at his sudden desire for -action. - -"All right, then! You fold up the camp stool and umbrella and I'll take -the box and the pallet along with me." - -"Dear me! What on earth now will we ever say when we get there?" I -began on the way down the hill. - -"We might ask for a glass of milk." - -"Oh, no, we can't do that--it isn't in the country." - -"Well, I might ask for some hollyhocks." - -"Well, I guess not! The hollyhocks can't be picked--they're part of the -masterpiece." - -"Then you think something yourself," and David lapsed into a -discouraged silence. - -But I couldn't think of anything save that I must and would have the -lady at any cost and though I couldn't see how I was going to get it, -I had a very clear picture of myself in the garden, painting away. - -"You just wait till we get there," I said to David, as we stumped down -the walk together. David was used to my enthusiasms over all sorts -of things which he usually only vaguely assented that he could see, -and though he never said much when I fell to talking about principles -of art, I liked to have him with me always when I worked, because he -had such a joyous, fresh little face. I couldn't help but catch the -sunshine of it when I did an outdoor sketch; and if I had lived in the -days when no picture was complete without a Love in it, David would -always have been the one to have posed for me. - -Presently we came near the gate and, to speak truly, I was becoming a -bit fearful as to just what was going to happen, but David, eager and -anticipatory, hopped on ahead of me and peered in. - -"Oh!" he called back, "there isn't anything here at all." - -"Oh, isn't there?" I said; "you don't mean to say it's gone in." - -"If you mean the lady, she isn't here." - -And true enough, when I came up there wasn't a soul in sight. How empty -the place looked! It was just like a disappointing exhibition--here -were all the people come to see the great works, and when the door -was reached, there hung a sign which said that the management was -sorry, but the best paintings had been delayed on the way, and -wouldn't be here till tomorrow at two o'clock! I gazed at my ruined -masterpiece--the background was all there, but there was no picture, -for what moaning had broad green masses of foliage and shaded distances -apart from a contrasting center of interest, of what meaning was there -anyhow in a landscape without a human touch? - -David pressed his hand on the latch of the gate and it opened for him. -I have always liked to think since that he was the one that really -opened the way there. - -"Let's go in," he said in a half challenging whisper, but with eyes -pleading authority from me. - -I couldn't resist. "Well, all right--it will be like Corot wandering -around in the forest of Fontainbleau--and if anybody comes----" I -didn't know what I would do, so I took my pallet in my hand fancying to -myself it would do very well for a shield against any contingent. So we -slowly walked up the winding path together. - -"The pollywogs are over there," said David, pointing a slender finger -toward the house. - -"You never mind them," I answered, "what we are here for is to get the -setting of this picture. My! Almost any view would do--I never saw so -many colors in all my life. Look, David, at that bust over there with -the gray-green leaves brushing up against the gray stone--oh, there -ought to be a peacock under there, to give a strong iridescent blue -note--do you suppose there is a peacock around any place?" I said, -laying down my pallet and circling my eyes with my hands so as to -localize the color masses better. - -But David was sorting pebbles on the walk and so I expected no answer -from him, but was scarcely prepared for the one I did receive. - -"No, there is no peacock here, but--can I do anything for you?" - -I swept around and there was that radiant figure in pink, melting -into the green behind her, the soft roundness of her figure echoed -in the larger circling outlines of the trees, her brown hair the -delicate counterpart in color of the ground she stood on, and her eyes, -deep ultramarine, the concentrated blue of all the pale sky--what a -picture, what a picture! My imagination flew to grasp it, and I forgot -everything but that I must have it, swept up clean from the pallet and -made living on the canvas. - -"Yes," I said, "yes--there is something you can do for me. You can stay -right there--or you can go over there and sit down, while I get you," -and I dashed back to the gate after my paints. - -When I returned she was still standing and the corners of her lips were -twitching. They were very red. I began unpacking my tubes and unfolding -my easel. "Wouldn't you like to sit on the bench over there? You have -no idea how much the tree trunk will help out the composition." And I -begged her silently. - -But she stood there perfectly still and looked at me with eyes full -of question; they had a moving highlight in them, like the sun on a -wave--if I could only catch that! - -"You want to get me!" she finally stammered. - -"Oh, yes!" I said, "don't you see? I was walking by the gate and I saw -you, and I want you to pose for me," and then as I saw her hesitate, -"oh, surely you don't mind being gotten?" With what a terror the -thought filled me--but I had to do it somehow. - -"Well--only--but why don't you paint the little boy?" - -"Oh, David! Oh, I paint him in everything--he comes in the sunshine -and the blowing wind and all the feeling of movement I ever get in a -picture--and then if people are happy when they look at the picture, -that is because David was with me when I painted it. David is a little -Love." - -Well, she never said a word, but I think she understood what I meant, -because she went over and sat down and called David to her and began -talking with him. I am sure I had no idea what she was saying to him, -because I set to the work then with all my might. I sketched in the -figure, and set up my pallet with plenty of color and then flew to the -brushes; it seemed as if I could work with the culminative inspiration -of all the painting I had ever done. - -While I was blocking in the hat with the roses, she looked up. - -"Won't you tell me what it is going to be?" she asked with the air of -having thought of the question some time before. - -"Well," I replied, knowing I would have to make a step somehow, -"Whistler painted a Lady in White, so I thought I would call this the -Lady in Pink; and if it comes out and I really get you----" - -"If you really get me?" - -"Why, yes; if I can just catch you the way I want you; that is one of -the troubles of the artist, you know--he never really is sure whether -he is going to be able to get what he wants or----" - -"Not even when he is so eager about it?" - -"No, not always then," I laughed, wondering though if she didn't know -that inspiration was in truth something more than eagerness. - -"Not even--when he is painting in a garden--like this?" - -Her eyes were brimming with a half-concealed mirth. - -"Oh, this garden is a lovely place," I answered, "but it wouldn't make -all the picture--there's got to be some spirit in it beside--a kind of -informing mood. Now it is very quiet here and you are posing for me----" - -"Oh! so I must be quiet, too?" - -"Yes, I suppose so," I answered boldly enough; "only, of course, a -different kind of quiet, you know; for if the garden is still, that's -because--well, there isn't anybody mowing the grass, or there isn't any -wind or--oh, the quietness of a person sitting in a garden is quite a -different thing." - -She kept looking at me all the time I was saying this, and then replied -slowly: - -"I see; you don't want me just to sit still." - -"Certainly not," I answered. "I want you to be--" - -Her eyes suddenly became dreamy, and I felt much more at ease. - -"It's like David and the sunshine," she went on. - -"Yes, just exactly; you are to be the spirit of the garden, the -human symbol of its mood--its real meaning," and happy that she -understood the way I felt about David, I fell to laying on the paint -in broad, easy strokes, wondering how I could ever imitate the emerald -transparency of the trees. - -She did not speak again and presently my glance returned to her. She -was holding David's cap in her hand and looking out--nowhere, I guess. -I stopped my work, stepping back to study it and survey the scene. - -"I'm glad you like my garden," she finally said, smiling; and such a -smile as she gave me--it was like a stream of golden haze on a white -flower, a change very subtle, and yet so striking. - -"Your garden is the very best place yet I've found to work in," I -said, well pleased. "It is just as fine a place as the Forest of -Fontainebleau, and Corot did some great masterpieces there." - -"Well, then, this surely ought to be your masterpiece, because, -according to your own definition, you have all the conditions just -perfect; the garden, and David----" - -"Besides you," I interrupted, looking at her through the point of the -easel, hoping to see the smile again; but she had suddenly changed -her position, quite unconscious that in doing so she had spoiled the -composition. But it made no difference, for I already had the posture, -and the dress with its lavender and shell-pink lights and all the green -behind--it was all there on the canvas, and the echo of it all on my -pallet just like the memory of an overture which has played with all -the various themes; and as to the rest--ah, she had indeed given me a -glimpse of the tender mood and the stilling charm with which I wished -to finish the picture. I was quite content. - -Presently a tide of yellow evening light flooded into the garden, -making the ground luminous and throwing deep shadows everywhere. I laid -down my brushes. - -"I shall have to stop now," I said, "evening is coming on--I shall have -to be going," and I whistled for David. - -He came running across the grass, one hand full of hollyhocks. "Oh, my -stars, David!" I exclaimed, "what have you been doing?" - -"Never mind," said the lady, "you know you have been helping yourself -to things, too," and she rose and came over. - -"Oh, there I am," she said lightly, looking at what I had done. - -"No, indeed," I hastened to assure her, "that isn't you--yet; so far it -is a composition in pink and green, but you aren't in it. When I put -in the sunlit background, then David comes, you know, and then when I -put a gentle repose in every line of the figure, and a dreamy, tender -sweetness in the face, then I will be painting the real spirit of the -garden--don't you see?" - -And then, oh, my heart, she smiled again, but this time such a smile as -no man deserves twice--and stooped and kissed David. - -"He says he wants to get me for his painting, David. Shall I let him?" - -"Why, hasn't he gotten you already?" asked David, tying the hollyhocks -with grass. - -"Yes, I think he has," she answered slowly. "David, you are a little -Love," she added. - -"Yes, isn't he, though!" I said. - - --Wilma I. Ball. - - -III. The Humorous Story - -The humorous story is but the other side of the society story. It is -not a thorough study in realism either, for then it would be sad for -a large part--as George Meredith has shown us; but it is rather a -course of events more or less skilfully arranged to produce a laugh. -There is transposition here, suppression there, exaggeration in many -places. The reader joins the author in the conspiracy to concoct -fun, and as a result both have a good time. The refinement and taste -of these narratives range all the long distance from the vulgar -horse-play and impossible dialect of the newspaper "funny page" to the -genuine humor of Mrs. Stowe's "Sam Lawson" fireside stories and the -quiet pleasantness of Sarah Orne Jewett's character sketches in "The -Country of the Pointed Firs." Mark Twain began the foundation of that -distinction which he now has as the greatest of modern humorists in his -early volume of sketches, entitled "The Celebrated Jumping Frog." - -[The fableau] - -This type of story probably originated in the medieval French -_fableau_,[5] which was a short humorous tale of the people--one -recounting some ludicrous situation. It was generally written in -octosyllabic couplets, a metrical form which was admirably suited to -sharp, spirited narrative by reason of its skip, its carelessness, its -sauciness. Boccaccio and his long train of Italian and other followers -retold in prose many of these French stories; but it must be admitted -that the condensation and the rapidity of the older metrical tales -become diffuseness and sometimes tediousness in the prose version. The -fableau was sometimes satiric; usually baldly, even coarsely realistic. -Its purpose, however, was always to amuse. Chaucer retold five or -more fableaux. He is a jolly narrator, and carries one along often in -spite of one's prejudice in favor of modesty and decency. He is honest -enough, however, to warn the reader of possible unpalatableness and -modern enough to attempt to excuse himself on the basis of art. - -[Picaresque romance] - -That the picaresque romances embody such stories as the fableau is -perfectly evident. Dissect, for instance, "Lazarillo de Tormes," or -better, "Guzman de Alfarache," and you will see that the various -adventures of the heroes would make capital _fableaux_ or humorous -_contes_. The idea of combining low adventures into a series connected -with one hero comes down from the days of Nero, when Petronius Arbiter -wrote his "Satyricon." But the term picaresque romance refers to the -Spanish popular tales of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the -heroes of which are rascals, or picaros. As sharpers, they are the -prototypes of our more modern Yankee in fiction who always "does" the -other fellow before the other fellow "does" him. Some of them, like -the "Yank," are not so much mean as just bold and resourceful when -at a disadvantage. They go to court like the Connecticut Yankee and -see their betters, whom they criticise most straightforwardly. They -are older and naughtier Tom Sawyers and Huckleberry Finns. In short, -by their vernacular of the highway and by their impudent deeds they -stand in the historical line of types which includes the heroes of -the fableau and the heroes of the modern burlesque or comic tale. The -difference between humorous and comic and between comic and burlesque -is a difference of degree. - -Of the direct imitations of these Spanish rogues there is the French -Gil Blas; there are the English Roderick Random, Jonathan Wild, and -Miss Becky Sharp; there is the Amateur Cracksman; and, come to think -about it, there is our own late American _Saturday Evening Post's_ -ubiquitous Mr. Farthest North, promoter, success attend him! - -To write a humorous story you will need to employ epigram, point, -climax, colloquialisms, and perhaps dialect. If you touch dialect, -however, take care to know what you are about; for nothing is more -repellent to a reader familiar with a particular vernacular than to be -confronted with pitiful and incorrect attempts at it. To write negro -dialect you should be as well versed as Joel Chandler Harris; to write -Irish, as apt as Samuel Lover or W. B. Yeats; to reveal children, as -sympathetic as Kate Douglas Wiggin; to give us boy's fun, as charming -and wholesome as Thomas Bailey Aldrich; to combine humor and the -ingenious tale, you should be as inventive as Frank R. Stockton; and -to smile at Americans and their foibles you should be as patriotic and -kindly as Charles Battell Loomis. - -George Washington Cable, Ian Maclaren, Thomas Nelson Page, J. M. -Barrie, and Mary E. Wilkins Freeman have written excellent dialect, but -they are not primarily humorists. They use the vernacular of the people -as aids to character revelation. - -The difference between a humorous story and comic anecdote is the -difference of length and veracity. An anecdote purports to be true. A -humorous story, only "drawn from life." - - -=The Expatriation of Jonathan Taintor= - - Reprinted by permission from Loomis's "Cheerful Americans." - Copyright, Henry Holt and Company. - -While I was in London I met a New York friend who was stopping in that -America-in-London, Bloomsbury, and during our conversation he told me -that he had for a fellow-boarder no less a person than Jonathan Taintor. - -I felt that I ought to know Jonathan Taintor, and I have since found -out that most people have heard something concerning him; but although -the name had a good old Connecticut sound, I could not fit Mr. Taintor -into any nook, so I frankly said to my friend: "Jonathan Taintor lies -in the future for me." - -"Why, I'll have to introduce you. I believe he's been written up -before, but he's such a character that it will do you good to meet him. -Can't you come to dinner tonight?" - -Now, I had been reckoning on going that evening to the opera at Covent -Garden; but characters do not pop around every corner, and, besides, -I had not seen my New York friend for a long time, so I accepted his -cordial invitation. - -That evening at seven I went to the American boarding-house in Bedford -Place, just off High Holborn, and was soon sitting at dinner with my -friend. - -Directly opposite me sat a man who might have left the valley of the -Connecticut five minutes before. There are Taintors all about the -Haddams that look just like him. He was short, thick-set, with dreamy -blue eyes, a ruddy face that betokened a correct life, a curved nose, -broad, straight, shaven upper lip, and a straggling silver chin-beard. - -There was more or less twang in the tones of every one at the table, -but his voice had a special nasal quality that seemed to bespeak a -lifetime of bucolic Yankee existence. It was really so pronounced as to -sound stagy. - -The talk at dinner was desultory, and Mr. Taintor said little. I -noticed that he had a dish of corned beef and cabbage, although the -pièce de résistance for the rest of us was beef with a Yorkshire -pudding. He left the table before coffee was served, but not before my -friend had asked him to join us later on the balcony for a smoke and -chat. - -When we went up we found him already on the balcony, smoking a corn-cob -pipe of American manufacture. My friend introduced us, and he shook my -hand with one downward jerk. How often have I felt that pressure in the -rural districts of Connecticut! - -When Mr. Taintor learned that I had been in London only a week and had -just come from Middletown, his face lighted up with interest, and he -said: - -"You have passed my wife in the street. She often comes to town market -days." - -"Oh, then she's not with you," was my somewhat idiotic reply. - -"No, she ain't; an' unless the good Lord heaves enough sand into the -Atlantic to make the walkin' good, she won't never be with me." - -"You must be anxious to get back? Been over here some weeks?" said I. - -"A matter of thirty year," he replied, and sighed prodigiously. - -"Why, you must be quite an Englishman by this time." - -He looked troubled. "Dew I look English?" said he. - -"No, no," I replied, comfortingly; "you might pass for Uncle Sam." - -"Well, I hope I'll never pass fer anythin' wuss," said he. "It's jest -thirty year in November sence I left America, an' I've be'n in this -dreary taown ever sence; but I ain't never read an English noospaper -nor ridden in an English omnibus or horse-car or steam-car, neither, -an' I try to eat as much as possible what I would ef I was at home with -Cynthy. An' I'm a Republican clean through." - -"Well, what's keeping you here?" said I. - -Mr. Taintor pressed down the tobacco in his pipe to make it burn -better, and said: "I can't stan' the trip. Y'see, when we was married -we thought we'd cross the ocean on aour weddin'-trip. Father hed lef' -me comfor'ble, an' Cynthy hed be'n dead-set on crossin' all through -aour courtship. Fact is, her sister Sairy said 'at 'at was all she -was marryin' fer; but of course Sairy was a great joker, an' I knowed -better. Well, we went daown to Noo York the day before the steamer -sailed, an' we put up at a hotel there on Broadway, an' durin' the -evenin' some women got talkin' to Cynthy, an' told her haow awful sick -she was like to be ef she hedn't never be'n on the ocean before. Well, -it frightened her so that she backed plumb aout er the harness--said -she guessed we'd better go to Saratogy instead; an' the upshot was we -hed aour fust an' last quar'l then. I told her I'd bought the tickets -fer Europe an' we'd hev to go, an' she said she would n' expose herself -to two or three weeks of sickness under the idee it was a picnic -party, an' all I could say to her couldn't shake her. Well, it was bad -enough losin' the price of one ticket, but I couldn't lose the price -of two, an' so we finally come to an agreement. She was to go up to -Saratogy, although the season up ther' was over, an' I was to cross the -ocean alone. It was too late to git my money back, an', to tell the -truth, I allers did hate to give a plan up, 'thout I hed sufficient -reason; so nex' mornin' we went daown to the dock, fer we'd made up, -an' she was comin' ter see me off. She took on consid'able, an' I was -cut up myse'f, partic'larly when I thought of the ticket thet was bein' -thrown away. But she caught a glimpse of the waves behind a ferry-boat, -an' she turned white as a sheet an' shook her head; so I kissed her -good-by, an' the steamer sailed away with me on it, an' her a-wavin' -her arms an' cryin' on the dock." - -"Poor fellow!" said I, sympathetically. - -"Well, the amount of seasickness she saved herself by stayin' to hum -couldn't be reckoned 'thougt I was a scholar, which I ain't. I took to -my berth before we was aout of sight of land, an' ef the brimstun of -the future is any wuss 'an what I suffered, I don't want to die. But -I wished I could die all the way over. I come right here to London, -because there was a man I knew comin' here, too, an' I wrote to Cynthy -to come right over as soon as she could, an' we'd live aour lives aout -here; fer bad as it was here, nothin' on top of creation could temp' me -to go back, not even her pretty face." - -He stopped a minute and half closed his eyes, and I fancy he was -calling her pretty face back through the thirty years. - -"Well, well, that was hard lines," said I. - -"Yes, but it was wuss when I got her reply. She told me she hed n't -hed a happy minute sence I left, although she hed gone up to Saratogy, -but the water tasted like something was into it, an' she'd come away -after one day, an' was now on the farm at Goodspeed's Landing. An' she -said thet ef _I'd_ be'n so sick _she 'd_ proba'ly die, an' she could -n't bear to think of bein' heaved into the Atlantic, an' must stop -where she was. Ah me! Sence then we 've be'n as lovin' as we could be, -writin' reg'lar an' rememberin' each other's birthdays an' aour weddin' -anniversaries; but we hain't sot eyes on each other, an' won't until we -'re both safe on that other shore they tell us abaout. An' I hope thet -trip 'll be a smooth one." - -"And what does Mrs. Taintor do all alone?" - -He knocked the ashes out of his pipe and put it into his pocket before -he replied: - -"She runs the old farm as I never could have run it. She's a born -farmer, that wife of mine is. She has a hired man to help, but she does -a good share of the work herself, an' every year she sen's me half the -airnings; an' I live on here, hatin' it all an' hopin' for the time to -come when the ocean'll either dry up or freeze over, or that Cynthy -will overcome her dislike to the trip. Married life ain't e'zac'ly -pleasant so fur apart, but I c'n truthfully say we 've never quar'led -sence I come here, an' I ain't seen a woman sence I landed thet could -hold a candle to Cynthy. Cynthy is a pretty gal." - -Shortly afterward the old man retired to his own room, and then my -friend, who had not spoken once since we came out, wickedly hinted -that maybe Mr. Taintor only imagined that he loved Cynthia, and -that they were happier separated; but I hate to spoil idyls in that -way. To me it is very beautiful, the thought of that dear old lady -in Connecticut, who runs the farm and writes loving letters to her -expatriated spouse and sends him a share of the profits, but who cannot -overcome her antipathy to the unstable sea. And when I think of Mr. -Taintor as he appeared that evening in Bloomsbury, with his honest -Yankee traditions, and his ardent love far his absent wife, I say, -"Hurrah for both of them!" - - --Charles Battell Loomis. - - -=Kileto and the Physician= - -It was now about a month and a half since Kileto felt something harsh -in his throat. He took a mirror and opened his mouth as wide as -possible. On looking at the mirror he saw some of his large papillae. -He was so greatly frightened to see such "red bodies," as he called -them, that he exclaimed, "Ah, dear Life, you are going to depart soon! -But, anyhow, I will at once go to the doctors to have these things -identified." Without further delay, he went to a doctor, whose name I -must not mention, lest he be angry with me for publishing this piece of -news. - -The doctor, after examining Kileto's throat, opened his book of -medicine and searched in it for half an hour. Then after he was tired -of not finding the right place to read, he said to Kileto, "Such -sickness as you have is rarely found in other men. Your disease -is called 'Sampaga' in our dialect. However, I will give you a -prescription." "Doctor," said Kileto, "do you think I shall ever be -cured of my sickness?" "Why, yes," answered the doctor; "only it will -take several months before your disease can be cured. Perhaps, with the -help of God and me, you will recover sooner. I want to ask you several -questions. Will you answer me patiently?" - -"Yes," answered Kileto. - -"Well, do you smoke cigarettes?" - -"Yes, sir; three packages a day would not be sufficient." - -"Well, this is the first habit you must abstain from. Do you chew -betel-nut?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"That is the second habit you must abstain from. Do you often go to -church?" - -"Yes, sir; once in a year, if my wife happens to remind me of it." - -"You!--a Catholic!--or a pagan?" - -"I am both Catholic and pagan." - -"Well, well, if ever you expect to recover, these three things you must -do--you must abstain from smoking, chewing betel-nut, and you must go -to church every Sunday, for the purification of your soul." - -Kileto went home, somewhat relieved. He told his wife what the doctor -bade him do. He did all that the doctor had ordered. He went to the -church every day--morning and afternoon--praying the whole "rosario." -Moreover, he confessed his sins to the priest. He abstained from -smoking and from chewing betel-nut. - -Every day, after he had gone to church, he went to consult the doctor, -who always gave him medicine. Almost all sorts of poisons to kill -bacteria were prescribed. One day the doctor said to Kileto, "Do not -come here for several days. I am going to study about your sickness. I -will tell you the truth--you will die when your sampaga bursts." This -statement of the doctor made Kileto very sad. - -After a week, Kileto consulted the doctor again. "I think," said the -doctor, "I had better burn your 'sampaga.' What do you say?" - -"Well, you may do whatever you think best." - -"But no," rejoined the doctor; "I'd better inject medicine into your -body." - -"All right, sir. I told you that you may do whatever you think best." -Then the doctor injected medicine into Kileto's body. Kileto, because -of the results of this injection, was displeased with the doctor, for -he could hardly walk home. - -One day as Kileto's wife was looking in a mirror, she found the image -of her large papillae, which were like her husband's. Of course, she -was very much frightened, lest she also had "Sampaga." She took her -small boy of ten years to the window and looking at his tongue, found -out that he also had papillae. "These sampagas," she said, "must be -common." So she examined the tongues of everybody who came near her. -"Ah!" she exclaimed, "these things must be natural. Oh, God, you save -my husband! But I will fool my husband. I will tell him I have the same -disease that he has." - -When her husband came, she immediately led him to the window and -showed her papillae. "You see," she said, "I have the same disease -as you have. How now? Then we shall die together." To frighten her -husband more, she said, "Open your mouth, and let me see how your -'sampagas' are getting along." Then Kileto opened his mouth. His wife -examined then, and said to him, "Your sampagas are increasing." At -this statement Kileto jumped with great horror, and said, "Oh, yes, my -end is coming." "Now I see," replied the wife, "how like a small boy -you are. I have been told by a student that with these 'red bodies' we -taste our food. So you need not be afraid. Just look at the tongues -of everybody, and you will see that they have the 'papillae,' as the -student calls them." - -Kileto was convinced, and regretted the great error he had committed. -He had spent on medicine all his and his wife's earnings for two years. - -One day Kileto, when left alone in the house, said to himself, "I know -now the reason why the doctor said that I would die when my 'sampagas' -burst. Of course, these are not 'sampagas'; and how could they burst? -These things grow with the man. I am uncertain, however, whether the -doctor had a private purpose in not telling me at once that the things -I have on my tongue are 'papillae,' or whether he had not acquired -enough knowledge in his medical studies to be able to distinguish the -papillae from the disease called 'sampaga.' - -"But in spite of all the trouble he gave me--injecting medicine into -my limbs, which made me lame for three days, wringing, as it were, -all my money from my hands--I am grateful to him. Why? Because I was -made religious, going to church once every two days. I abstained from -chewing betel-nut, and smoking cigarettes, and now I care no more for -them." - -Whenever the members of the family are in good humor, they talk of -this story and laugh until they are out of breath. - - --Lorenzo Licup. - - -_A FILIPINO FABLEAU_[6] - -=The Lame Man and the Deaf Family= - -One cloudy afternoon while I was wandering along the road between Paco -and Pandacan, I met a lame man limping down the way. The man seemed -very tired, and he was carrying on his head a pot which I thought -contained water. The fellow was a mestizo and was dressed in a white -suit. Seeing me, he said, "Will you please show me a house where I can -ask for a drink of water?" I could not answer him at once, because I -nearly laughed in his face when I saw it was only his long _bigote_ -that made his split upper-lip unnoticed at a distance. Wishing to have -some fun out of him I showed him the house that stood in an orchard on -one side of the road. - -The house that I pointed out belonged to a family all the members -of which were deaf; namely, the father, the mother, and a daughter. -Because of a kind of sickness that occurred in the family some years -before, they had lost their sense of hearing. People had nicknamed them -the "Deaf Family." - -The man, or Mr. Bigote as I shall call him in honor of his long -mustache, went limping directly to the house; and, without letting Mr. -Bigote notice me, I followed him and hid behind the tall grasses that -grew near the orchard. From my place I had a good view of the orchard -and could hear the conversation between Mr. Bigote and the members of -the family. - -The orchard was a trapezium in shape. Except the front, which was -separated by a wire fence from the road, all sides of it were -surrounded by tall grasses. On each vertex of the trapezium stood an -ilang-ilang tree. At the center stood a small nipa house facing the -road. Around the house were several banana trees and camote plants. The -house was old, and yet its stairs were made of stone. Under the bamboo -floor of the building I could see a large blind dog. Near the foot of -the stairs the daughter of the Deaf Family was sitting on a stone, -giving food to her hog. It was a very fat hog, but neither ear nor tail -could be seen attached to its great body. - -The dialogue was begun by Mr. Bigote. "Good morning, madam," he said -politely. - -"We do not want to sell our hog, sir," answered the girl. - -"I do not mean to buy your hog, but I only ask for a drink of water, -for I am very thirsty," said the lame man quietly. - -"Sir, it is very fat, because I always feed it well. You will not see -its ears and tail because that bad dog ate them when their owner was -yet small," answered the girl, pointing to the blind dog that was -barking at Mr. Bigote. - -Noticing that she did not hear him very well, Mr. Bigote shouted, "Let -me have a drink of water!" - -"Mother, here is a man who wants to buy our hog," shouted the young -person to her mother, who was then, I supposed, cooking their lunch. - -The mother peeped through the window and when she saw Mr. Bigote -exclaimed angrily, "What! Are you going to marry that _Bangus_? I will -wake your father. Tambucio, here is your daughter. She wants to marry a -_bangus_." - -"I am only asking for a drink of water, madam," said Mr. Bigote. - -But when the father saw his wife very angry at the man who was standing -near their stairs, he asked Mr. Bigote angrily, "Why did you hurt my -dog?" - -"Do not be angry, sir. I come to ask for a drink of water and not to -harm your dog," answered Mr. Bigote. - -Thinking that the man had said something bad to him, the father took a -piece of wood and went down stairs. Seeing the danger, Mr. Bigote ran -limping to the road, but the father followed him and struck the pot he -was carrying on his head. The pot, which I had thought contained water, -was broken, and I was very much surprised to see Mr. Bigote covered -with molasses. - - --Santiago Y. Rotea. - - -IV. The Occasional Story - -[The spirit of the occasional story] - -A story for a special occasion may be of any narrative type the author -chooses: it may be a legend, a tale of mere wonder, a humorous story, -a study in realism, a weird tale, or a ghost story (if one should -select All Saints' Eve). Anything the author feels inclined to write -will fall within the class provided it have about it the general -atmosphere of a particular celebration. If that be the Fourth of July, -the reader expects patriotism or its popular substitute, firecrackers; -if Thanksgiving, gladness and generosity; if Christmas, reverence and -good-will, and for the Northern people some pagan jollity in addition, -for it is well recognized that we Anglo-Saxons have incorporated into -the Christian festival our Druidical Yule-tide; if New Year's, then -forgiveness and well-wishing to all and a sense of everybody's putting -his best foot foremost; if Easter, hope and the joy of spring-time. - -[Its masters] - -It might be well to think and read a little about Easter if you want to -write a special story. Not much has been done with that season, though -it is full of possibilities. It, too, is a combination of old and new -ideals. We have many beautiful Christmas legends and tales, even by the -great authors--Dickens, Thackeray and many of the French and Spanish -short-story tellers; and by our later writers, as well. Professor Van -Dyke, Professor Mabie, Kate Douglas Wiggin, William Canton, Bret Harte, -almost everyone who has written, in fact,--but Easter stories are -harder to find. - -[Suggestions] - -The English-speaking peoples have not so many special days as have the -Latin. The adherents of the Catholic church have all the Saints' days -to celebrate. These yield many pretty fancies. Keats has made famous -St. Agnes' Eve. The other religions, too, are worth thinking about. -The Mohammedans and the Buddhists are devotees, and have interesting -customs. Besides the religious memorials there are the nations' -hero days. And then, too, the special anniversaries of societies and -associations. One's own school commencement, the best event of one's -favorite college--there are surely many inspirations for occasional -stories. - - -=The Lost Child= - - Translated by J. Matthewman. Copyright, 1894, by The Current - Literature Publishing Company. Reprinted by permission. - -On that morning, which was the morning before Christmas, two -important events happened simultaneously--the sun rose, and so did M. -Jean-Baptiste Godefroy. - -Unquestionably the sun, illuminating suddenly the whole of Paris -with its morning rays, is an old friend, regarded with affection by -everybody. It is particularly welcome after a fortnight of misty -atmosphere and gray skies, when the wind has cleared the air and -allowed the sun's rays to reach the earth again. Besides all of which -the sun is a person of importance. Formerly, he was regarded as a -god, and was called Osiris, Apollyon, and I don't know what else. But -do not imagine that because the sun is so important he is of greater -influence than M. Jean-Baptiste Godefroy, millionaire banker, director -of the _Comptoir Général de Crédit_, administrator of several big -companies, deputy and member of the General Counsel of the Eure, -officer of the Legion of Honor, etc., etc. And whatever opinion the sun -may have about himself, he certainly has not a higher opinion than M. -Jean-Baptiste Godefroy has of _himself_. So we are authorized to state, -and we consider ourselves justified in stating, that on the morning -in question, at about a quarter to eight, the sun and M. Jean-Baptiste -Godefroy rose. - -Certainly the manner of rising of these two great powers mentioned -was not the same. The good old sun began by doing a great many pretty -actions. As the sleet had, during the night, covered the bare branches -of the trees in the boulevard Malesherbes, where the _hôtel_ Godefroy -is situated, with a powdered coating, the great magician sun amused -himself by transforming the branches into great bouquets of red -coral. At the same time he scattered his rays impartially on those -poor passers-by whom necessity sent out, so early in the morning, to -gain their daily bread. He even had a smile for the poor clerk, who, -in a thin overcoat, was hurrying to his office, as well as for the -_grisette_, shivering under her thin, insufficient clothing; for the -workman carrying half a loaf under his arm, for the car-conductor as -he punched the tickets, and for the dealer in roast chestnuts, who was -roasting his first panful. In short, the sun gave pleasure to everybody -in the world. M. Jean-Baptiste Godefroy, on the contrary, rose in -quite a different frame of mind. On the previous evening he had dined -with the Minister for Agriculture. The dinner, from the removal of -the _potage_ to the salad, bristled with truffles, and the banker's -stomach, aged forty-seven years, experienced the burning and biting of -pyrosis. So the manner in which M. Jean-Baptiste Godefroy rang for his -valet-de-chambre was so expressive that, as he got some warm water for -his master's shaving, Charles said to the kitchen-maid: - -"There he goes! The monkey is barbarously ill-tempered again this -morning. My poor Gertrude, we're going to have a miserable day." - -Whereupon, walking on tiptoe, with eyes modestly cast down, he entered -the chamber of his master, opened the curtains, lit the fire, and -made all the necessary preparations for the toilet with the discreet -demeanor and respectful gestures of a sacristan placing the sacred -vessels on the altar for the priest. - -"What sort of weather this morning?" demanded M. Godefroy curtly, as -he buttoned his undervest of gray swansdown upon a stomach that was -already a little too prominent. - -"Very cold, sir," replied Charles meekly. "At six o'clock the -thermometer marked seven degrees above zero. But, as you will see, -sir, the sky is quite clear, and I think we are going to have a fine -morning." - -In stropping his razor, M. Godefroy approached the window, drew aside -one of the hangings, looked on the boulevard, which was bathed in -brightness, and made a slight grimace which bore some resemblance to a -smile. - -It is all very well to be perfectly stiff and correct, and to know -that it is bad taste to show feeling of any kind in the presence of -domestics, but the appearance of the roguish sun in the middle of -December sends such a glow of warmth to the heart that it is impossible -to disguise the fact. So M. Godefroy deigned, as before observed, to -smile. If some one had whispered to the opulent banker that his smile -had anything in common with that of the printer's boy, who was enjoying -himself by making a slide on the pavement, M. Godefroy would have been -highly incensed. But it really was so all the same; and during the -space of one minute this man, who was so occupied by business matters, -this leading light in the financial and political worlds, indulged in -the childish pastime of watching the passers-by, and following with -his eyes the files of conveyances as they gaily rolled in the sunshine. - -But pray do not be alarmed. Such a weakness could not last long. -People of no account, and those who have nothing to do, may be able to -let their time slip by in doing nothing. It is very well for women, -children, poets, and riffraff. M. Godefroy had other fish to fry; and -the work of the day which was commencing promised to be exceptionally -heavy. From half-past eight to ten o'clock he had a meeting at his -office with a certain number of gentlemen, all of whom bore a striking -resemblance to M. Godefroy. Like him, they were very nervous; they had -risen with the sun, they were all _blasés_, and they all had the same -object in view--to gain money. After breakfast (which he took after the -meeting), M. Godefroy had to leap into his carriage and rush to the -Bourse, to exchange a few words with other gentlemen who had also risen -at dawn, but who had not the least spark of imagination among them. -(The conversations were always on the same subject--money.) From there, -without losing an instant, M. Godefroy went to preside over another -meeting of acquaintances entirely void of compassion and tenderness. -The meeting was held round a baize-covered table, which was strewn with -heaps of papers and well provided with ink-wells. The conversation -again turned on money, and various methods of gaining it. - -After the aforesaid meeting he, in his capacity of deputy, had to -appear before several commissions (always held in rooms where there -were baize-covered tables and ink-wells and heaps of papers). There he -found men as devoid of sentiment as he was, all utterly incapable of -neglecting any occasion of gaining money, but who, nevertheless, had -the extreme goodness to sacrifice several hours of the afternoon to the -glory of France. - -After having quickly shaved he donned a morning suit, the elegant cut -and finish of which showed that the old beau of nearly fifty had not -ceased trying to please. When he shaved he spared the narrow strip -of pepper-and-salt beard round his chin, as it gave him the air of a -trustworthy family man in the eyes of the Arrogants and of fools in -general. Then he descended to his cabinet, where he received the file -of men who were entirely occupied by one thought--that of augmenting -their capital. These gentlemen discussed several projected enterprises, -all of them of considerable importance, notably that of a new railroad -to be laid across a wild desert. Another scheme was for the founding of -monster works in the environs of Paris, another of a mine to be worked -in one of the South American republics. It goes without saying that no -one asked if the railway would have passengers or goods to carry, or -if the proposed works should manufacture cotton nightcaps or distil -whisky; whether the mine was to be of virgin gold or of second-rate -copper: certainly not. The conversation of M. Godefroy's morning -callers turned exclusively upon the profits which it would be possible -to realize during the week which should follow the issue of the shares. -They discussed particularly the values of the shares, which they knew -would be destined before long to be worth less than the paper on which -they were printed in fine style. - -These conversations, bristling with figures, lasted till ten o'clock -precisely, and then the director of the _Comptoir Général de Crédit_, -who, by the way, was an honest man--at least, as honest as is to -be found in business--courteously conducted his last visitor to -the head of the stairway. The visitor named was an old villain, as -rich as Crœsus, who, by a not uncommon chance, enjoyed the general -esteem of the public; whereas, had justice been done to him, he -would have been lodging at the expense of the State in one of those -large establishments provided by a thoughtful government for smaller -delinquents; and there he would have pursued a useful and healthy -calling for a lengthy period, the exact length having been fixed -by the judges of the supreme court. But M. Godefroy showed him out -relentlessly, notwithstanding his importance--it was absolutely -necessary to be at the Bourse at 11 o'clock--and went into the -dining-room. - -It was a luxuriously furnished room. The furniture and plate would have -served to endow a cathedral. Nevertheless, notwithstanding that M. -Godefroy took a gulp of bicarbonate of soda, his indigestion refused -to subside, consequently the banker could only take the scantiest -breakfast--that of a dyspeptic. In the midst of such luxury, and under -the eye of a well-paid butler, M. Godefroy could only eat a couple of -boiled eggs and nibble a little mutton chop. The man of money trifled -with dessert--took only a crumb of Roquefort--not more than two cents' -worth. Then the door opened and an overdressed but charming little -child--young Raoul, four years old--the son of the company director, -entered the room, accompanied by his German nursery governess. - -This event occurred every day at the same hour--a quarter to eleven, -precisely, while the carriage which was to take the banker to the -Bourse was awaiting the gentleman who had only a quarter of an hour to -give to paternal sentiment. It was not that he did not love his son. He -did love him--nay, he adored him, in his own particular way. But then, -you know, business is business. - -At the age of forty-two, when already worldly-wise and _blasé_, he -had fancied himself in love with the daughter of one of his club -friends--Marquis de Neufontaine, an old rascal--a nobleman, but one -whose card-playing was more than open to suspicion, and who would have -been expelled from the club more than once but for the influence of M. -Godefroy. The nobleman was only too happy to become the father-in-law -of a man who would pay his debts, and without any scruples he handed -over his daughter--a simple and ingenuous child of seventeen, who was -taken from a convent to be married--to the worldly banker. The girl -was certainly sweet and pretty, but she had no dowry except numerous -aristocratic prejudices and romantic illusions, and her father thought -he was fortunate in getting rid of her on such favorable terms. M. -Godefroy, who was the son of an avowed old miser of Andelys, had always -remained a man of the people, and intensely vulgar. In spite of his -improved circumstances, he had not improved. His entire lack of tact -and refinement was painful to his young wife, whose tenderest feelings -he ruthlessly and thoughtlessly trampled upon. Things were looking -unpromising, when, happily for her, Madame Godefroy died in giving -birth to her firstborn. When he spoke of his deceased wife, the banker -waxed poetical, although had she lived they would have been divorced in -six months. His son he loved dearly for several reasons--first, because -the child was an only son; secondly, because he was a scion of two -such houses as Godefroy and Neufontaine; finally, because the man of -money had naturally great respect for the heir to many millions. So the -youngster had golden rattles and other similar toys, and was brought -up like a young Dauphin. But his father, overwhelmed with business -worries, could never give the child more than fifteen minutes per day -of his precious time--and, as on the day mentioned, it was always -during "cheese"--and for the rest of the day the father abandoned the -child to the care of the servants. - -"Good morning, Raoul." - -"Good morning, papa." - -And the company director, having put his serviette away, sat young -Raoul on his left knee, took the child's head between his big paws, and -in stroking and kissing it actually forgot all his money matters and -even his note of the afternoon, which was of great importance to him, -as by it he could gain quite an important amount of patronage. - -"Papa," said little Raoul suddenly, "will Father Christmas put anything -in my shoe to-night?" - -The father answered with "Yes, if you are a good child." This was -very striking from a man who was a pronounced freethinker, who always -applauded every anti-clerical attack in the Chamber with a vigorous -"Hear, hear." He made a mental note that he must buy some toys for his -child that very afternoon. - -Then he turned to the nursery governess with: - -"Are you quite satisfied with Raoul, Mademoiselle Bertha?" - -Mademoiselle Bertha became as red as a peony at being addressed, as if -the question were scarcely _comme il faut_, and replied by a little -imbecile snigger, which seemed fully to satisfy M. Godefroy's curiosity -about his son's conduct. - -"It's fine to-day," said the financier, "but cold. If you take Raoul -to Monceau Park, mademoiselle, please be careful to wrap him up well." - -Mademoiselle, by a second fit of idiotic smiling, having set at rest -M. Godefroy's doubts and fears on that essential point, he kissed his -child, left the room hastily, and in the hall was enveloped in his fur -coat by Charles, who also closed the carriage door. Then the faithful -fellow went off to the café which he frequented, Rue de Miromesnil, -where he had promised to meet the coachman of the baroness who lived -opposite, to play a game of billiards, thirty up--and spot-barred, of -course. - -Thanks to the brown bay--for which a thousand francs over and above -its value was paid by M. Godefroy as a result of a sumptuous snail -supper given to that gentleman's coachman by the horse-dealer--thanks -to the expensive brown bay which certainly went well, the financier was -able to get through his many engagements satisfactorily. He appeared -punctually at the Bourse, sat at several committee tables, and at a -quarter to five, by voting with the ministry, he helped to reassure -France and Europe that the rumors of a ministerial crisis had been -totally unfounded. He voted with the ministry because he had succeeded -in obtaining the favors which he demanded as the price of his vote. - -After he had thus nobly fulfilled his duty to himself and his country, -M. Godefroy remembered what he had said to his child on the subject -of Father Christmas, and gave his coachman the address of a dealer -in toys. There he bought, and had put in his carriage, a fantastic -rocking-horse, mounted on castors--a whip in each ear; a box of leaden -soldiers--all as exactly alike as those grenadiers of the Russian -regiment of the time of Paul I, who all had black hair and snub noses; -and a score of other toys, all equally striking and costly. Then, as -he returned home, softly reposing in his well-swung carriage, the rich -banker, who, after all, was a father, began to think with pride of his -little boy and to form plans for his future. - -When the child grew up he should have an education worthy of a prince, -and he would be one, too, for there was no longer any aristocracy -except that of money, and his boy would have a capital of about -30,000,000 francs. - -If his father, a pettifogging provincial lawyer, who had formerly dined -in the Latin Quarter when in Paris, who had remarked every evening -when putting on a white tie that he looked as fine as if he were going -to a wedding--if he had been able to accumulate an enormous fortune, -and to become thereby a power in the republic; if he had been able to -obtain in marriage a young lady, one of whose ancestors had fallen at -Marignan, what an important personage little Raoul might become. M. -Godefroy built all sorts of air-castles for his boy, forgetting that -Christmas is the birthday of a very poor little child, son of a couple -of vagrants, born in a stable, where the parents only found lodging -through charity. - -In the midst of the banker's dreams the coachman cried: "Door, please," -and drove into the yard. As he went up the steps M. Godefroy was -thinking that he had barely time to dress for dinner; but on entering -the vestibule he found all the domestics crowded in front of him in a -state of alarm and confusion. In a corner, crouching on a seat, was the -German nursery-governess, crying. When she saw the banker she buried -her face in her hands and wept still more copiously than before. M. -Godefroy felt that some misfortune had happened. - -"What's the meaning of all this? What's amiss? What has happened?" - -Charles, the _valet de chambre_, a sneaking rascal of the worst type, -looked at his master with eyes full of pity and stammered: "Mr. Raoul--" - -"My boy?" - -"Lost, sir. The stupid German did it. Since four o'clock this afternoon -he has not been seen." - -The father staggered back like one who had been hit by a ball. The -German threw herself at his feet, screaming: "Mercy, mercy!" and the -domestics all spoke at the same time. - -"Bertha didn't go to _parc Monceau_. She lost the child over there on -the fortifications. We have sought him all over, sir. We went to the -office for you, sir, and then to the Chamber, but you had just left. -Just imagine, the German had a rendezvous with her lover every day, -beyond the ramparts, near the gate of Asniéres. What a shame! It is a -place full of low gipsies and strolling players. Perhaps the child has -been stolen. Yes, sir, we informed the police at once. How could we -imagine such a thing? A hypocrite, that German! She had a rendezvous, -doubtless, with a countryman--a Prussian spy, sure enough!" - -His son lost! M. Godefroy seemed to have a torrent of blood rushing -through his head. He sprang at Mademoiselle, seized her by the arms and -shook her furiously. - -"Where did you lose him, you miserable girl? Tell me the truth before I -shake you to pieces. Do you hear? Do you hear?" - -But the unfortunate girl could only cry and beg for mercy. - -The banker tried to be calm. No, it was impossible. Nobody would dare -to steal _his_ boy. Somebody would find him and bring him back. Of that -there could be no doubt. He could scatter money about right and left, -and could have the entire police force at his orders. And he would set -to work at once, for not an instant should be lost. - -"Charles, don't let the horses be taken out. You others, see that this -girl doesn't escape. I'm going to the Prefecture." - -And M. Godefroy, with his heart thumping against his sides as if it -would break them, his hair wild with fright, darted into his carriage, -which at once rolled off as fast as the horses could take it. What -irony! The carriage was full of glittering playthings, which sparkled -every time a gaslight shone on them. For the next day was the birthday -of the divine Infant at whose cradle wise men and simple shepherds -alike adored. - -"My poor little Raoul! Poor darling! Where is my boy?" repeated the -father as in his anguish he dug his nails into the cushions of the -carriage. At that moment all his titles and decorations, his honors, -his millions, were valueless to him. He had one single idea burning in -his brain. "My poor child! Where is my child?" - -At last he reached the Prefecture of Police. But no one was there--the -office had been deserted for some time. - -"I am M. Godefroy, deputy from L'Eure--. My little boy is lost in -Paris; a child of four years. I must see the Prefect." - -He slipped a louis into the hand of the _concièrge._ - -The good old soul, a veteran with a gray mustache, less for the sake -of the money than out of compassion for the poor father, led him to -the Prefect's private apartments. M. Godefroy was finally ushered -into the room of the man in whom were centred all his hopes. He was in -evening dress, and wore a monocle; his manner was frigid and rather -pretentious. The distressed father, whose knees trembled through -emotion, sank into an armchair, and, bursting into tears, told of the -loss of his boy--told the story stammeringly and with many breaks, for -his voice was choked by sobs. - -The Prefect, who was also father of a family, was inwardly moved at the -sight of his visitor's grief, but he repressed his emotion and assumed -a cold and self-important air. - -"You say, sir, that your child has been missing since four o'clock." - -"Yes." - -"Just when night was falling, confound it. He isn't at all precocious, -speaks very little, doesn't know where he lives, and can't even -pronounce his own name?" - -"Unfortunately that is so." - -"Not far from Asnières gate? A suspected quarter. But cheer up. We have -a very intelligent _Commissaire de Police_ there. I'll telephone to -him." - - * * * * * - -The distressed father was left alone for five minutes. How his temples -throbbed and his heart beat! - -Then, suddenly, the Prefect reappeared, smiling with satisfaction. -"Found!" - -Whereupon M. Godefroy rushed to the Prefect, whose hand he pressed till -that functionary winced with the pain. - -"I must acknowledge that we were exceedingly fortunate. The little chap -is blond, isn't he? Rather pale? In blue velvet? Black felt hat, with a -white feather in it?" - -"Yes, yes; that's he. That's my little Raoul." - -"Well, he's at the house of a poor fellow down in that quarter who -had just been at the police office to make his declaration to the -Commissaire. Here's his address, which I took down: '_Pierron, rue des -Cailloux, Levallois-Perret._' With good horses you may reach your boy -in less than an hour. Certainly, you won't find him in an aristocratic -quarter; his surroundings won't be of the highest. The man who found -him is only a small dealer in vegetables." - -But that was of no importance to M. Godefroy, who, having expressed -his gratitude to the Prefect, leaped down the stairs four at a time, -and sprang into his carriage. At that moment he realized how devotedly -he loved his child. As he drove away he no longer thought of little -Raoul's princely education and magnificent inheritance. He was decided -never again to hand over the child entirely to the hands of servants, -and he also made up his mind to devote less time to monetary matters -and the glory of France and attend more to his own. The thought also -occurred to him that France wouldn't be likely to suffer from the -neglect. He had hitherto been ashamed to recognize the existence of an -old-maid sister of his father, but he decided to send for her to his -house. She would certainly shock his lackeys by her primitive manners -and ideas. But what of that? She would take care of his boy, which to -him was of much more importance than the good opinion of his servants. -The financier, who was always in a hurry, never felt so eager to -arrive punctually at a committee meeting as he was to reach the lost -little one. For the first time in his life he was longing through pure -affection to take the child in has arms. - -The carriage rolled rapidly along in the clear, crisp night air down -boulevard Malesherbes; and, having crossed the ramparts and passed the -large houses, plunged into the quiet solitude of suburban streets. -When the carriage stopped M. Godefroy saw a wretched hovel, on which -was the number he was seeking; it was the house where Pierron lived. -The door of the house opened immediately, and a big, rough-looking -fellow with red mustache appeared. One of his sleeves was empty. Seeing -the gentleman in the carriage, Pierron said cheerily: "So you are the -little one's father. Don't be afraid. The little darling is quite -safe," and, stepping aside in order to allow M. Godefroy to pass, he -placed his finger on his lips with: "Hush! The little one is asleep!" - -Yes, it was a real hovel. By the dim light of a little oil lamp M. -Godefroy could just distinguish a dresser from which a drawer was -missing, some broken chairs, a round table on which stood a beer-mug -which was half empty, three glasses, some cold meat on a plate, and -on the bare plaster of the wall two gaudy pictures--a bird's-eye view -of the Exposition of 1889, with the Eiffel Tower in bright blue, and -the portrait of General Boulanger when a handsome young lieutenant. -This last evidence of weakness of the tenant of the house may well -be excused, since it was shared by nearly everybody in France. The -man took the lamp and went on tiptoe to the corner of the room where, -on a clean bed, two little fellows were fast asleep. In the little -one, around whom the other had thrown a protecting arm, M. Godefroy -recognized his son. - -"The youngsters were tired to death, and so sleepy," said Pierron, -trying to soften his rough voice. "I had no idea when you would come, -so gave them some supper and put them to bed, and then I went to make -a declaration at the police office. Zidore generally sleeps up in the -garret, but I thought they would be better here, and that I should be -better able to watch them." - -M. Godefroy, however, scarcely heard the explanation. Strangely moved, -he looked at the two sleeping infants on an iron bedstead and covered -with an old blanket which had once been used either in barracks or -hospital. Little Raoul, who was still in his velvet suit, looked so -frail and delicate compared with his companion that the banker almost -envied the latter his brown complexion. - -"Is he your boy?" he asked Pierron. - -"No," answered he. "I am a bachelor, and don't suppose I shall ever -marry, because of my accident. You see, a dray passed over my arm--that -was all. Two years ago a neighbor of mine died, when that child was -only five years old. The poor mother really died of starvation. -She wove wreaths for the cemeteries, but could make nothing worth -mentioning at that trade--not enough to live. However, she worked for -the child for five years, and then the neighbors had to buy wreaths for -her. So I took care of the youngster. Oh, it was nothing much, and I -was soon repaid. He is seven years old, and is a sharp little fellow, -so he helps me a great deal. On Sundays and Thursdays, and the other -days after school, he helps me push my handcart. Zidore is a smart -little chap. It was he who found your boy." - -"What!" exclaimed M. Godefroy--"that child!" - -"Oh, he's quite a little man, I assure you. When he left school he -found your child, who was walking on ahead, crying like a fountain. -He spoke to him and comforted him, like an old grandfather. The -difficulty is, that one can't easily understand what your little -one says--English words are mixed up with German and French. So we -couldn't get much out of him, nor could we learn his address. Zidore -brought him to me--I wasn't far away; and then all the old women in the -place came round chattering and croaking like so many frogs, and all -full of advice. - -"'Take him to the police,'" said some. - -But Zidore protested. - -"That would scare him," said he, for like all Parisians, he has no -particular liking for the police--"and besides, your little one didn't -wish to leave him. So I came back here with the child as soon as I -could. They had supper, and then off to bed. Don't they look sweet?" - -When he was in his carriage, M. Godefroy had decided to reward the -finder of his child handsomely--to give him a handful of that gold so -easily gained. Since entering the house he had seen a side of human -nature with which he was formerly unacquainted--the brave charity of -the poor in their misery. The courage of the poor girl who had worked -herself to death weaving wreaths to keep her child; the generosity of -the poor cripple in adopting the orphan, and above all, the intelligent -goodness of the little street Arab in protecting the child who was -still smaller than himself--all this touched M. Godefroy deeply and -set him reflecting. For the thought had occurred to him that there -were other cripples who needed to be looked after as well as Pierron, -and other orphans as well as Zidore. He also debated whether it would -not be better to employ his time looking after them, and whether money -might not be put to a better use than merely gaining money. Such was -his reverie as he stood looking at the two sleeping children. - -Finally, he turned round to study the features of the greengrocer, and -was charmed by the loyal expression in the face of the man, and his -clear, truthful eyes. - -"My friend," said M. Godefroy, "you and your adopted son have rendered -me an immense service. I shall soon prove to you that I am not -ungrateful. But, for to-day--I see that you are not in comfortable -circumstances, and I should like to leave a small proof of my -thankfulness." - -But the hand of the cripple arrested that of the banker, which was -diving into his coat-pocket where he kept bank-notes. - -"No, sir; no! Anybody else would have done just as we have done. I will -not accept any recompense; but pray don't take offense. Certainly, I -am not rolling in wealth, but please excuse my pride--that of an old -soldier; I have the Tonquin medal--and I don't wish to eat food which I -haven't earned." - -"As you like," said the financier; "but an old soldier like you is -capable of something better. You are too good to push a handcart. I -will make some arrangement for you, never fear." - -The cripple responded by a quiet smile, and said coldly: "Well, sir, if -you really wish to do something for me--" - -"You'll let me care for Zidore, won't you?" cried M. Godefroy, eagerly. - -"That I will, with the greatest of pleasure," responded Pierron, -joyfully. "I have often thought about the child's future. He is a sharp -little fellow. His teachers are delighted with him." - -Then Pierron suddenly stopped, and an expression came over his face -which M. Godefroy at once interpreted as one of distrust. The thought -evidently was: "Oh, when he has once left us he'll forget us entirely." - -"You can safely pick the child up in your arms and take him to the -carriage. He'll be better at home than here, of course. Oh, you needn't -be afraid of disturbing him. He is fast asleep, and you can just pick -him up. He must have his shoes on first, though." - -Following Pierron's glance M. Godefroy perceived on the hearth, where -a scanty coke fire was dying out, two pairs of children's shoes--the -elegant ones of Raoul, and the rough ones of Zidore. Each pair -contained a little toy and a package of bonbons. - -"Don't think about that," said Pierron in an abashed tone. "Zidore put -the shoes there. You know children still believe in Christmas and the -child Jesus, whatever scholars may say about fables; so, as I came back -from the _commissaire_, as I didn't know whether your boy would have to -stay here to-night, I got those things for them both." - -At which the eyes of M. Godefroy, the freethinker, the hardened -capitalist, and _blasé_ man of the world, filled with tears. - -He rushed out of the house, but returned in a minute with his arms full -of the superb mechanical horse, the box of leaden soldiers, and the -rest of the costly playthings bought by him in the afternoon, and which -had not even been taken out of the carriage. - -"My friend, my dear friend," said he to the green grocer, "see, these -are the presents which Christmas has brought to my little Raoul. I want -him to find them here, when he awakens, and to share them with Zidore, -who will henceforth be his playmate and friend. You'll trust me now, -won't you? I'll take care both of Zidore and of you, and then I shall -ever remain in your debt, for not only have you found my boy, but you -have also reminded me, who am rich and lived only for myself, that -there are other poor who need to be looked after. I swear by these two -sleeping children, I won't forget them any longer." - -Such is the miracle which happened on the 24th of December of last -year, ladies and gentlemen, at Paris, in the full flow of modern -egotism. It doesn't sound likely--that I own; and I am compelled to -attribute this miraculous event to the influence of the Divine Child -who came down to earth nearly nineteen centuries ago to command men to -love one another. - - --François Coppée. - - -=The Peace of Yesterdays= - -It was a wet, unpleasant evening in February, and little Miss Hicks, -hurrying homeward with her chop for to-morrow's dinner, felt wet and -unpleasant, too. Her jacket was too thin for such weather, and her -worn shoes, splashing over the muddy pavement, made her dread the -twinges of rheumatism which would surely follow. She paused a moment -for breath beneath the sheltering awning of a book-store, and, as she -shook her dripping skirts, she glanced into the gaily lighted windows. -It happened to be the evening before Valentine's day, and the windows -of the shop were filled with the usual "tokens of affection"; riotous -cupids with garlands of roses and forget-me-nots, reposing on beds of -celluloid; lovely scrolls in delicate pinks and blues with amorous, -gilded verses inscribed on them; wonderful creations in silks of -brilliant hue, at which all the small girls of the neighborhood gazed -covetously. On one side lay a heap of comic valentines in ugly, staring -reds and yellows, but Miss Hicks never noticed them, for she had eyes -only for the gorgeous visions on the other side. As she looked at them, -a flood of suddenly-released memories came into her head which made her -cheeks for a moment grow youthfully pink and her faded eyes glow like -stars. - -The door of the shop closed with a final bang, and the lights went out -suddenly. But Miss Hicks only smiled happily to herself, as she hurried -through the remaining squares to her own dingy little house in dingy -little Lombard street. The dim street lamp showed a sign, battered and -discolored, of "Miss M. Hicks, Fashionable Milliner," and as the owner -of the shop opened the creaking door, stepped inside, and lighted a -lamp, a few old-fashioned hats and bonnets could be faintly discerned -on the narrow counter, while in the one small showcase were sundry -faded ribbons and drooping birds. - -"It's a wonder to me," her nearest neighbors would often say, "how -that Miss Hicks manages to get along; kith nor kin she don't seem to -have none, and the customers she's got ain't enough to keep body and -soul together. But I've heard as how she gets an annuity from some -dead relatives and that probably helps her out, if she's real good at -scrimping and saving." - -But in spite Of the solicitude of her neighbors, they never found out -any certain facts about the little woman in rusty black, who was always -either sitting at her window, sewing on the hats of her few customers, -or else taking a solitary stroll through the dingy, narrow streets. She -went walking usually when the daylight was nearly gone, for in a timid, -childish way she shrank from observation, and preferred to commune with -herself rather than join her neighbors in friendly gossip. - -Generally she liked to be slow about preparing and eating her meals, -for in this way they took up quite a part of the long, lonely day; but -to-night she was in such a hurry about her few preparations and did -everything with such an air of abstraction that she nearly amputated a -finger while cutting bread, and entirety forgot to put anything in the -tea-pot except hot water. When at last the dishes had been washed and -carefully put away, each in its own proper place, when the sleek white -cat had been given a generous saucer of milk, then Miss Hicks, with -an air of trembling and hesitating eagerness, placed a chair against -the old-fashioned cupboard in the living-room, and reaching up, to the -peril of life and limb, drew forth from its inmost recesses a square -pasteboard box. She carefully wiped off the dust on its surface--it -was probably the only dusty article in her whole establishment--and, -carrying the box to the kitchen table, deposited it there with a loving -little pat. - -But now, when her intentions seemed practically accomplished, something -held her back; it seemed an though invisible fingers were closing over -her own to keep her from opening the box, from prying into the things -which she had not had the courage to look at for such long, long years. -She thought, with a shiver, of these years. Fifteen of them! And so -clear does memory sometimes become that Miss Hicks could distinctly -remember when she had placed the last letter in the box--her "Treasure -Box" she had often called it lovingly--and as she thought of all that -had happened since she had put that letter in, of all the loneliness -and desolation of those fifteen years, she bent her head on the little -green box and cried softly. - -After a while she raised her head, and with a quick flash of -determination in her grey eyes, took the lid from the box and turned -the contents out on the table. On top of the heap lay several yellowed -envelopes, quaintly embossed, with "Miss Mary Ellen Hicks" written on -them in faded, boyish writing. With a caressing touch Miss Hicks put -these aside and picked up a bent tintype of a boy with laughing eyes -and a tender, pleasant mouth. At this she looked a long time, at first -with a little answering smile for the smile in the picture, then with -misty reminiscent eyes. More modern valentines came next in the pile; -much more elaborate, too, these were, and the verses seemed chosen by -a more discriminating eye. She put them all aside, with a sigh and a -loving look for each, and picked up the one at the very bottom; the -envelope bore a western postmark and was not elaborate nor fanciful as -the others had been, nor were the contents anything more than a sheet -of paper folded around the picture of a man--a man who, in spite of -the lines of weariness in his face, had still the boyish eyes and kind -mouth of the other picture. On the paper was written, in a strong, -angular hand: - - "Dear heart, try to think of me and remember me to-day, even though - I am so far away from home and you. I am sorry that I have no other - valentine to send you, but there is more love in this scrap of - paper than in all the valentines in creation. I am thinking just - now how, a year ago, you and I were sitting in the dear old home - parlor, making valentines for the neighbors' children, and when I - think of the difference between then and now, I feel as sad and - depressed as the wailing pines around me. I have had such strange - premonitions to-day, too; I seem to see such a long vista of years - before me and you do not seem to have a share in any of them. Dear - heart, I want you to promise me that you will never forget me, no - matter where I may be, whether I am living or dead. If I know this - it will take away, in part at least, my loneliness and my feeling - of desertion on this desolate ranch. Good-bye, dear, and God bless - you. - Your Dan." - -The paper dropped from Miss Hicks' nerveless fingers as she remembered -that first long year of separation--a lonely year, even though it was -she herself who had urged Dan to be independent of his rich, crotchety -old uncle and to seek his own fortune away somewhere, so that he might -be the man she wanted him to be. She remembered achingly how long -she had waited for another letter, at first with eager anticipation, -later with dread; how slowly time had passed after that tender little -valentine note, and how one day some of her own letters came back to -her, marked unclaimed. And then she thought of the time, several years -later, when her mother had died and when she felt for the first time -the old grief of utter loneliness and misery, and the desolation of -those months came over her again, in one great sickening wave that made -her shake from head to foot; she recalled the days that followed, full -of visits from kind and condoling neighbors, who gradually let her -alone when they saw how much she desired it; the nights, full of grief -and unsatisfied longing, when she gave way unrestrainedly to the sorrow -which was pent up during the day. - -But--and Miss Hicks straightened up with a proud little smile, though -her lips still trembled--at all events she had remained faithful to -her promise; though doubts had often assailed her, she had kept the -tryst bravely, and she comforted herself often by thinking, when she -felt especially tired and alone, that if Dan were living, he would -surely find his way back to her some day, and if he were dead she had -a childish little feeling of relief that he was watching over her and -protecting her all the time. - -The clock struck eleven slow, even strokes, and Miss Hicks, in -amazement at the lateness of the hour, hastily put the valentines in -the box, and with one last look, set it back on the shelf, and went to -bed. She tossed restlessly for a long time, for her thoughts and the -recollections they had awakened were sadder than usual. But still she -felt glad that at last she had had the courage to call back openly the -memories that she had striven to put aside for so long. And when she -did finally fall asleep, her dreams made her thin lips part in happy -curves, and caused her to utter now and then deep, unconscious sighs of -content. - -The next morning was sunshiny, with no trace of yesterday's gloom, and -the little street seemed to have become dry as if by magic, and to have -lost for the time being its dinginess in the sunshine poured out on it -so liberally. Miss Hicks sat at her window, busied with re-trimming an -old bonnet; but there was no reflection of sunshine in her face. The -reaction due to what she had done last night had come over her, and the -memories which had seemed sweet then were unpleasant and bitter this -morning. All her life, she thought sadly, was made up of unrealised -hopes and ungranted desires; whatever had been dear to her had been -taken away when she most needed it; every disaster and trouble had come -upon her when she was least ready to meet it. And now she thought with -a sigh, she had become too old to ever have it different; it seemed to -her that never had her eyes been so lifeless, her mouth so lined and -careworn, her hair so thin and grey as they had appeared this morning -in her little mirror. What an unfair thing the world was anyway, -she thought, as she bit off her thread reflectively and watched the -mail-carrier coming briskly across the street. What a lot of mail those -people next door did get! Even that was not divided fairly. - -But--and she stared in astonishment--the mail-carrier was actually -coming to her house; at this very minute he was climbing her rickety -little steps and knocking at her battered little door. She hastily -dropped her work and hurried to open the latch. - -"It must be the wrong place," she began deprecatingly, but he shoved a -bulky envelope through the crack in the door and with a pleasant "Guess -it's yours, all right; good morning," was off again before she could -demonstrate further. It certainly must be hers, for it said, "Miss Mary -Ellen Hicks, Lombard Street, Midville," in big, bold characters on the -envelope; it was an embossed one, too, with gay cupids and garlands of -roses on the border. Miss Hicks looked at it wonderingly at first; then -she smiled with the pleased anticipation of a child, and she prepared -to cut the envelope carefully, carefully. She looked at the post-mark, -but it was too blurred to be plainly seen--and just then a thought came -to her that made her grow suddenly white and tremble. No, no, it was -impossible; but what if--? Such things had happened, many and many a -time, and just because such things never had happened to her was no -reason that they might not occur now. She was almost afraid to see what -the envelope held, and she turned it over hesitatingly in her hand; but -finally with shaking fingers she cut the paper, blew it open, and drew -out the folded paper inside. Expectantly she unfolded it, her heart -beating high, her lips parted in anticipation. Then suddenly daylight -seemed to leave her, and when the mistiness had cleared away, she found -herself staring at a hideous cartoon in flaring red and green, of an -old maid with cork-screw curls, a thin, angular figure, and a long -hooked nose, while underneath was boldly printed: - - "You're the meanest old maid in the city-- - With that we'll all surely agree; - We know you once thought you were pretty, - But no trace of it now can we see. - And, say, have you e'er learned the meaning - Of sweetheart, or lover, or beau? - One look at your face, and we needn't - Take the trouble to hear you say 'no'." - -The cutting doggerel seemed imprinted in letters of fire on Miss -Hicks's brain; it burned through her and made her heart beat nearly to -suffocation. But the two small boys who were waiting at the corner, -were grievously disappointed; they expected at least to see her come -out off her house in wrath, and demand justice somewhere, as several -others of their victims had done. They waited for nearly an hour; then, -when a mate called them across the street, they ran off with him, -forgetting their disappointment altogether after a few moments of play. - -But the numb little figure in the milliner's shop had not forgotten; at -noon she was still sitting limply in her chair, gazing out at nothing -with burning, brilliant eyes, that now had knowledge in their depths -where before there had been only wonder. Her mouth quivered pitifully, -though she tried bravely to make it firm and resolute. She had had a -glimpse into the Present, harsh and unsympathetic, and she shrank back -again into the Past, where she had been much more happy and contented. -The To-days were not for her; from henceforth, she knew, all her solace -and companionship, all her brief happiness and pleasures, all her -longings and desires--the rest of her life, in short--must be lived in -the quiet, peace-bringing Yesterdays. - - --Katherine Kurz. - - -=A Christmas Legend= - -There was great commotion in the forest, for the south wind, heavy -with cloying fragrance of the jasmine, had been the bearer of wondrous -tidings. The forest sang with joy, for, after these many years, it was -to have a share in the great festival of the Master's birthday. This, -was the news that the south wind had brought, and he had told, too, how -an angel would come to choose the tree whom the Master had most loved. - -"It is I whom the Master loves," spoke the oak, rearing his great head -in the still air. "I heard the angels sing at his birth; and often has -he rested in the shade at my feet. It is fitting that I be chosen." - -"Nay, old oak," cried the palm, shaking her plumes in eager denial. -"Whose branches did the multitude wave at the Master's entry into -Jerusalem? I have been already chosen!" There were many in the forest -who nodded their approval to this speech of the palm's, but the olive -sighed, and whispered: - -"I have watched with him in Gethsemane, and he has wet my feet with his -tears." - -"But I," cried the cedar, stretching his tense arms to the listening -stars, "I heard his dying groans, and my heart is stained with his -blood; it was upon me that his body was nailed--me, who watched over -his boyhood on the plains of Nazareth!" The forest was very still as -the cedar finished, and only the chestnut ventured to speak--shaking -out her broad leaves, and distilling everywhere the heavy fragrance of -her blossoms. - -"I am ready for the feast," she said complacently. "Last night, while -all of you were sleeping, an angel came, and lit these candles of mine." - -Thus spoke among themselves the rulers of the forest, while the south -wind played among their branches; nor did they notice the tiny tree -that listened at their feet, and crooned lullabies to the drowsy birds. - -The winged months flew by. In the forest, the days passed as before; -and, after the south wind had sung its farewell to the tree-tops, the -forest forgot the tidings which the breeze had brought. Only one tree -remembered; the lullaby which it sang to the birds nestled in its arms -was of the wonderful birthday festival of the Master. - -Finally came the North Wind, calling to the forest to prepare for -its long sleep. The trees, one by one, cast off their brilliant -raiment--the cedar, last of all--and stood gaunt and naked under the -dark sky. Only the tiny tree in the shadow of the oak did not heed, -and bravely defied the fierce jestings of the North Wind. "Oho' little -tree," he roared, whirling the snowflakes through its tiny boughs, -"doff your green garment and go to sleep! Or, perhaps, you are waiting -for the angel?" Then the forest laughed long and loud. "Little tree," -it jeered, "cling to the oak; the angel will step upon you!" - -But even as it jeered, a great light broke through the forest; the -trees were afraid and bowed themselves as before a storm. And when they -lifted up their heads, behold! the little tree stood straight and tall -in its robes of green, and in its topmost branch there gleamed a star. - - --Ida F. Treat. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE INSTRUCTIVE GROUP - - -The Instructive Group is composed of those narratives whose chief -purpose is to inform the reader of certain conditions and problems of -which he ought to take intelligent account. The writer may offer a -solution, as in the moral story; or a theory, as in the pedagogical -narrative; or he may simply present the picture, as in a realistic -sketch, and leave knowledge to bring reform by the sheer natural law by -which daylight scatters the evils of darkness. - - -I. The Moral Story - -[Distinguished from symbolic-didactic group] - -The moral story must not be confused with the fable, parable, or -allegory. It is like them in that its chief purpose is to teach, but -it differs from them in not being figurative or symbolic. It is always -particular and professedly literal. Its boast is that it sticks close -to facts--the facts of "life," people's needs, if not their history. In -other words, though fictitious, it pretends to be entirely worth while -because of the concrete lesson it teaches. It sets out to show you the -evil consequences of some vice or folly or the good result of a pious -act. - -The critics have never had a very cordial word for this type of -narrative: the usual smugness of it is offensive. Many old legends are -moral tales. The "Gesta Romanorum" was largely meant to instruct in -pious ways. Boccaccio, even, cares for ethical effect, when he writes -such stories as "Griselda." A modern reader is entirely out of patience -with the complacent self-righteousness of Gualtieri. Chaucer's easy -and captivating style and his true pathos and appreciation of dramatic -moments can not altogether keep down our irritation at an egregious -monster parading under the guise of a beneficent lord and a loving -husband. Our irritation, of course, is really directed not toward -Chaucer or Boccaccio, but toward the Middle Ages, that could take such -a character as this and feel no umbrage--no shadowing of the brute over -man. - -[Hawthorne] - -There have been a number of examples of moral tales in modern -literature. Hawthorne's "Ambitious Guest" is one. "Lady Eleanor's -Mantle" is another, though it is also a legend; for a moral narrative, -just as an occasional narrative, may be of any type the author chooses. -"Murad the Unlucky" by Maria Edgeworth is the Oriental wonder tale -turned didactic. What makes this or that a story with a moral is -the author's obvious concern about the lesson he means to teach. -His narrative is nothing in itself: it is what it is because of the -author's purpose. [Stowe] Doubtless the most widely influential moral -story ever written is "Uncle Tom's Cabin." It is a striking example of -how much more powerful is concrete narrative than abstract argument. -The Americans were ready for the sermon, but they never would have -listened to it from the pages of a controversial tract. A story, -they took to their heads and their hearts. It is the fate of moral -narratives of this sort, however, to be for the time only; and seldom -do any rise to the plane of real literature. "Rasselas" has endured -partly because of the fame of its great author, and partly because of -its high and true pessimism. Readers naturally like pessimism, and -when it is of this good, philosophic sort, they feel justified in -their taste. [Johnson and Voltaire] The theme is Johnson's favorite -topic--the vanity of human wishes, the futility of the quest for -happiness. Voltaire's "Candide," which came out in France two weeks -before "Rasselas," is on the same topic with practically the same -moral. But Voltaire was an agnostic and a cynic, while Johnson was -a most conventional pietist. Addison and Steele as well as Johnson -included didactic stories in their periodicals. [Tolstoy, Cervantes] -Count Tolstoy, in his desire to help his countrymen, has written many -parables, allegories, and moral tales. They are read by foreigners -because of the pictures of Russian life. So are Cervantes's "Novelas -Ejemplares" read for their fresh and spritely character-pictures of -Andalusia. They are instructive moral tales, as their name indicates -and as their author very definitely asserted. So idiomatic, spirited, -and graceful are they that, though the oldest stories of their class in -Spanish literature, they are without successful rivals. - -An exercise in this kind of narrative surely will not hurt you, and you -may get some benefit from it, even if the chance reader should not like -your preaching. Try, however, to make the story interesting in itself -and to have the moral seem to grow naturally out of the action, rather -than the action out of the moral. Avoid platitudes, and reveal the -customs and manners of your people so faithfully that the student of -social science might use your narrative for data. - - -=Jeannot and Colin= - -Many trustworthy persons can vouch for having seen Jeannot and Colin -when they went to school at Issoire in Auvergne, a town famous all -over the world for its college and its kettles. Jeannot was the son -of a dealer in mules, a man of considerable reputation; Colin owed -his existence to a worthy husbandman who dwelt on the outskirts of -the town, and cultivated his farm with the help of four mules, and -who, after paying tolls and tallage, scutage and salt duty, poundage, -poll-tax, and tithes, did not find himself particularly well off at the -end of the year. - -Jeannot and Colin were very handsome lads for natives of Auvergne; -they were much attached to each other, and had little secrets together -and private understandings, such as old comrades always recall with -pleasure when they afterward meet in a wider world. - -Their school days were drawing near their end, when a tailor one -day brought Jeannot a velvet coat of three colors, with a waistcoat -of Lyons silk in excellent taste to match. This suit of clothes was -accompanied by a letter addressed to Monsieur de La Jeannotiere. Colin -admired the coat, and was not at all jealous; but Jeannot assumed an -air of superiority which distressed Colin. From that moment Jeannot -paid no more heed to his lessons, but was always looking at his -reflection in the glass, and despised everybody but himself. Some time -afterward a footman arrived post-haste bringing a second letter, -addressed this time to His Lordship the Marquis de La Jeannotiere; it -contained an order from his father for the young nobleman, his son, -to be sent to Paris. As Jeannot mounted the chaise to drive off, he -stretched out his hand to Colin with a patronizing smile befitting his -rank. Colin felt his own insignificance, and wept. So Jeannot departed -in all his glory. - -Readers who like to know all about things may be informed that Monsieur -Jeannot, the father, had rapidly gained immense wealth in business. -You ask how those great fortunes are made? It all depends upon luck. -Monsieur Jeannot had a comely person, and so had his wife; moreover, -her complexion was fresh and blooming. They had gone to Paris to -prosecute a lawsuit which was ruining them, when Fortune, who lifts up -and casts down human beings at her pleasure, presented them with an -introduction to the wife of an army hospital contractor, a man of great -talent, who could boast of having killed more soldiers in one year -than the cannon had destroyed in ten. Jeannot took the lady's fancy, -and Jeannot's wife captivated the gentleman. Jeannot soon became a -partner in business, and entered into other speculations. When one is -in the current of the stream, one need only let one's self drift, and -thus an immense fortune may sometimes be made without any trouble. The -beggars watch you from the bank, as you glide along in full sail, open -their eyes in astonishment; they wonder how you have managed to get on; -they envy you, at all events, and write pamphlets against you which -you never read. That was what happened to Jeannot senior, who was soon -styled Monsieur de La Jeannotiere, and, after buying a marquisate, at -the end of six months he took the young nobleman, his son, away from -school, to launch him into the fashionable world of Paris. - -Colin, always affectionately disposed, wrote a kind letter to his old -schoolfellow, offering his congratulations. The little marquis sent him -no answer, which grieved Colin sorely. - -The first thing that his father and mother did for the young gentleman -was to get him a tutor. This tutor, who was a man of distinguished -manners and profound ignorance, could teach his pupil nothing. The -marquis wished his son to learn Latin, but the marchioness would not -hear of it. They consulted the opinion of a certain author who had -obtained considerable celebrity at that time from some popular works -which he had written. He was invited to dinner, and the master of the -house began by saying: - -"Sir, as you know Latin, and are conversant with the manners of the -court--" - -"I, sir! Latin! I don't know a word of it," answered the man of -learning; "and it is just as well for me that I don't, for one can -speak one's own language better when the attention is not divided -between it and foreign tongues. Look at all our ladies; they are far -more charming in conversation than men; their letters are written with -a hundred times more grace of expression. They owe that superiority -over us to nothing else but their ignorance of Latin." - -"There, now! Was I not right?" said the lady. "I want my son to be a -man of wit, and to make his way in the world. You see that if he were -to learn Latin it would be his ruin. Tell me, if you please, are plays -and operas performed in Latin? Are the proceedings in court conducted -in Latin, when one has a lawsuit on hand? Do people make love in Latin?" - -The marquis, confounded by these arguments, passed sentence, and it was -decided that the young nobleman should not waste his time in studying -Cicero, Horace, and Virgil. - -"But what is he to learn, then? For, I suppose, he will have to know -something. Might he not be taught a little geography?" - -"What good will that do him?" answered the tutor. "When my lord marquis -goes to visit his country-seat, will not his postillions know the -roads? There will be no fear of their going astray. One does not want a -sextant in order to travel, and it is quite possible to make a journey -between Paris and Auvergne without knowing anything about the latitude -and longitude of either." - -"Very true," replied the father; "but I have heard people speak of a -noble science, which is, I think, called _astronomy_." - -"Bless my soul!" rejoined the tutor. "Do we regulate our behavior in -this world by the stars? Why should my lord Marquis wear himself out -in calculating an eclipse, when he will find it predicted correctly -to a second in the almanac, which will moreover inform him of all the -movable feasts, the age of the moon, and that of all the princesses in -Europe?" - -The marchioness was quite of the tutor's opinion, the little marquis -was in a state of highest delight, and his father was very undecided. - -"What is my son to be taught, then?" said he. - -"To make himself agreeable," answered the friend whom they had -consulted; "for, if he knows the way to please, he will know everything -worth knowing. It is an art which he will learn from her Ladyship, his -mother, without the least trouble to either of them." - -The marchioness, at these words, smiled graciously upon the courtly -ignoramus, and said: - -"It is easy to see, sir, that you are a most accomplished gentleman; my -son will owe all his education to you. I imagine, however, that it will -not be a bad thing for him to know a little history." - -"Nay, madam, what good would that do him?" he answered. "Assuredly, -the only entertaining and useful history is that of the passing hour. -All ancient history, as one of our clever writers has observed, is -admitted to consist of nothing but fables, and for us moderns it is an -inextricable chaos. What does it matter to the young gentleman, your -son, if Charlemagne instituted the twelve Paladins of France, or if his -successor had an impediment in his speech?" - -"Nothing was ever more wisely said!" exclaimed the tutor. "The minds -of children are smothered under a mass of useless knowledge, but of -all sciences, that which seems to me the most absurd, and the one -best adapted to extinguish every spark of genius, is geometry. That -ridiculous science concerns itself with surfaces, lines, and points -which have no existence in nature. In imagination a hundred thousand -curved lines may be made to pass between a circle and a straight line -which touches it, although in reality you could not insert as much as a -straw. Geometry, indeed, is nothing more than a bad joke." - -The marquis and his lady did not understand much of the meaning of -what the tutor was saying, but they quite agreed with him. "A nobleman -like his Lordship," he continued, "should not dry up his brain with -such unprofitable studies. If, some day, he should want one of those -sublime geometricians to draw a plan of his estates, he can have them -measured for money. If he should wish to trace out the antiquity of his -lineage, which goes back to the most remote ages, all he will have to -do will be to send for some learned Benedictine. It is the same with -all the other arts. A young lord born under a lucky star is neither a -painter, nor a musician, nor an architect, nor a sculptor, but he may -make all these arts flourish by encouraging them with his generous -approval. Doubtless it is much better to patronize than to practice -them. It will be quite enough if my lord the young Marquis has taste; -it is the part of artists to work for him, and thus there is a great -deal of truth in the remark that people of quality (that is, if they -are very rich), know everything without learning anything, because, -in point of fact and in the long run, they are masters of all the -knowledge they can order and pay for." - -The agreeable ignoramus then resumed his part in the conversation, and -said: - -"You have well remarked, madam, that the great end of man's existence -is to succeed in society. Is it, forsooth, any aid to the attainment of -this success to have devoted one's self to the sciences? Does any one -ever think in select company of talking about geometry? Is a gentleman -ever asked what star rises to-day with the sun? Does any one at the -supper-table ever want to know if Clodion, the Long-Haired, crossed the -Rhîne?" - -"No, indeed!" exclaimed the marchioness de la Jeannotiere, whose -charms had been her passport into the world of fashion, "and my son -must not stifle his genius by studying all that trash. But, after all, -what is he to be taught? For it is a good thing that a young lord -should be able to shine when occasion offers, as my noble husband has -said. I remember once hearing an abbé remark that the most entertaining -science was something the name of which I have forgotten--it begins -with a B." - -"With a B, madam? It was not botany, was it?" - -"No, it certainly was not botany that he mentioned; it began, as I tell -you, with a B, and ended in onry." - -"Ah, madam, I understand! It was blazonry, or heraldry. That is -indeed a most profound science. But it has ceased to be fashionable -since the custom has died out of having one's coat of arms painted -on one's carriage doors; it was the most useful thing imaginable in -a well-ordered state. Besides, that line of study would be endless, -for at the present day there is not a barber who is without his -armorial bearings, and you know that whatever becomes common loses its -attraction." - -Finally, after all the pros and cons of the different sciences had been -examined and discussed, it was decided that the young marquis should -learn dancing. - -Dame Nature, who arranges everything according to her own will and -pleasure, had given him a talent which soon developed, securing him -prodigious success; it was that of singing street ballads in a charming -style. His youthful grace accompanying this superlative gift caused him -to be regarded as a young man of the highest promise. He was a favorite -with the ladies, and, having his head crammed with songs, he had no -lack of mistresses to whom to address his verses. He stole the line -"Bacchus with the Loves at play" from one ballad, and made it rhyme -with "night and day" taken from another, while a third furnished him -with "charms" and "alarms." But inasmuch as there were always a few -feet more or less than were wanted in his verses, he had them corrected -at the rate of twenty sovereigns a song. And "The Literary Year" -placed him in the same rank with such sonneteers as La Fare, Chaulieu, -Hamilton, Sarrasin, and Voiture. - -Her ladyship the marchioness then believed that she was indeed the -mother of a genius, and gave a supper to all the wits of Paris. The -young man's head was soon turned; he acquired the art of talking -without knowing the meaning of what he said, and perfected himself in -the attainment of being fit for nothing. When his father saw him so -eloquent, he keenly regretted that he had not had him taught Latin, -or he would have purchased some high legal appointment for him. His -mother, who was of more heroic sentiments took upon herself to solicit -a regiment for her son; in the meantime he made love--and love is -sometimes more expensive than a regiment. He squandered his money -freely, while his parents drained their purses and credit to a lower -and lower ebb by living in the grandest style. - -A young widow of good position in their neighborhood, who had only a -moderate income, was kind enough to make some effort to prevent the -great wealth of the Marquis and Marchioness de La Jeannotiere from -going altogether, by consenting to marry the young marquis with a -view to appropriating what remained. She enticed him to her house, -let him make love to her, allowed him to see that she was not quite -indifferent to him, and made him her devoted slave without the least -difficulty. At one time she would give him commendation, and at another -time counsel; she became his father's and mother's best friend. An old -neighbor suggested marriage. The parents, dazzled with the splendor -of the alliance, joyfully fell in with the scheme, and promised their -only son to their most intimate lady friend. The young marquis was thus -about to wed the woman he adored, and by whom he was loved in return. -The friends of the family congratulated him; the marriage settlement -was ready to be signed; the bridal dress and the nuptial hymn were both -well under way. - -One morning our young gentleman was on his knees before the charmer -whom fond affection and esteem were so soon to make his own. They were -tasting in animated and tender converse the first fruits of future -happiness, settling how they should lead a life of perfect bliss, when -one of his mother's footmen presented himself, scared out of his wits. - -"Here's fine news which may surprise you!" said he; "the bailiffs are -in the house of my lord and lady, removing the furniture. Everything -has been seized by the creditors. There is talk of arresting people, -and I am going to do what I can to get my wages paid." - -"Let us see what has happened," said the marquis, "and discover the -meaning of all this." - -"Yes," said the widow, "go and punish those rascals--go, at once!" - -He hurried homeward. When he arrived at the house his father was -already in prison, and all the servants had fled, each in a different -direction, carrying off whatever they had been able to lay their hands -on. His mother was alone, helpless, forlorn, and bathed in tears; she -had nothing left her but the remembrance of her former prosperity, her -beauty, her faults, and her foolish extravagance. - -After the son had condoled with his mother for a long time, he said at -last: - -"Let us not despair. This young widow loves me to distraction; she is -even more generous than she is wealthy, I can assure you. I will fly to -her for help, and bring her to you." - -So he returned to his mistress, and found her engaged in private -conversation with a fascinating young officer. - -"What! Is that you, my Lord de La Jeannotiere? What business have you -with me? How can you leave your mother by herself in this way? Go, and -stay with the poor woman, and tell her that she shall always have my -good wishes. I am in want of a waiting woman now, and will gladly give -her the preference." - -"My lad," said the officer, "you seem pretty tall and straight; if you -would like to enter my company, I will make it worth your while to -enlist." - -The marquis, utterly astounded and inwardly furious, went off in search -of his former tutor, confided all his troubles to him, and asked his -advice. He proposed that he should become like himself, a tutor of the -young. - -"Alas! I know nothing; you have taught me nothing whatever, and you are -the primary cause of all my unhappiness!" And as he spoke he began to -sob. - -"Write novels," said a wit who was present; "it is an excellent -resource to fall back upon in Paris." - -The young man, in more desperate straits than ever, hastened to the -house of his mother's father-confessor. He was a Theatine monk of the -very highest reputation, who had charge of the souls of none but ladies -of the first rank in society. As soon as he saw him, the reverend -gentleman rushed to meet him. - -"Good gracious! My lord Marquis, where is your carriage? How is your -honored mother, the Marchioness?" - -The unfortunate young fellow related the disaster that had befallen -his family. As he explained the matter further the Theatine assumed a -graver air, one of less concern and more self-importance. - -"My son, herein you may see the hand of Providence; riches serve only -to corrupt the heart. The Almighty has shown special favor to your -mother in reducing her to beggary. Yes, sir, so much the better! She is -now sure of her salvation." - -"But, father, in the meantime are there no means of finding some help -in this world?" - -"Farewell, my son! A lady of the court is waiting for me." - -The marquis almost fainted. He was treated after much the same manner -by all his friends, and learned to know the world better in half a day -than he had in all the rest of his life. - -While thus plunged in overwhelming despair, he saw an old-fashioned -traveling chaise, more like a covered tumbril than anything else, and -furnished with leather curtains, followed by four enormous wagons, all -heavily laden. In the chaise was a young man in rustic attire; his -round and rubicund face had an air of kindness and good temper. His -little wife, whose sunburnt countenance had a pleasing if not refined -expression, was jolted about as she sat beside him; and since the -vehicle did not go quite so fast as a dandy's chariot, the traveler had -plenty of time to look at the marquis as he stood motionless, absorbed -in his grief. - -"Oh, good heavens!" he exclaimed, "I believe that is Jeannot there!" - -Hearing that name, the marquis raised his eyes, and the chaise stopped. - -"'Tis Jeannot himself! Yes, it is Jeannot!" - -The fat little man sprang to the ground with a single leap, and ran to -embrace his companion. Jeannot recognized Colin, shame showing in his -face. - -"You have forsaken your old friend," said Colin, "but be you as grand a -lord as you like, I shall never cease to love you." - -Jeannot, confounded and cut to the heart, amid sobs, told him something -of his history. - -"Come into the inn where I am lodging, and tell me the rest," said -Colin; "kiss my little wife, and let us go and dine together." - -They went, all three of them, on foot, and the baggage followed. - -"What in the world is all this paraphernalia? Does it belong to you!" -inquired Jeannot. - -"Yes, it is all mine and my wife's; we are just come from the country. -I am at the head of a large tin, iron, and copper factory, and have -married the daughter of a rich tradesman and general provider of all -useful commodities for great folks and small. We work hard, and God -gives us His blessing. We are satisfied with our condition in life, -and are quite happy. We will help our friend Jeannot. Give up being a -marquis; all the splendor in the world is not worth a good friend. -Return with me into the country. I will teach you my trade, which is -not a difficult one to learn; I will give you a share in the business, -and we will live together with light hearts in the little place where -we were born." - -Jeannot, overcome by this kindness, struggled between sorrow and joy, -tenderness and shame. He said to himself: - -"All my fashionable friends have proved false to me, and Colin, whom I -despised, is the only one who comes to my rescue. What a lesson!" - -Colin's example in generosity revived in Jeannot's heart the germ of -goodness that the world had never quite choked. He felt that he could -not desert his father and mother. - -"We will take care of your mother," said Colin, "and as for your good -father, who is in prison--I know something of business matters--his -creditors, when they see that he has nothing more, will agree to an -easy settlement. I will see to all that myself." - -Colin was as good as his word, and succeeded in effecting the father's -release from prison. Jeannot returned to his old home with his parents, -who resumed their former occupation. He married Colin's sister, who, -being like her brother in disposition, rendered her husband very happy. -And so Jeannot the father, and Jeannotte the mother, and Jeannot the -son, came to see that vanity is no true source of happiness. - - --Francois Marie Arouet de Voltaire. - - From "Little Masterpieces of Fiction," Vol. VII (Doubleday, Page & - Co). - - -II. The Pedagogical Narrative - -[Some famous pedagogical books] - -The pedagogical narrative can hardly be called "story," not only -because of the intent of the writer to instruct, but also because of -the specialness of the subject-matter itself. "Leonard and Gertrude," -however, has continued to be read as story in an interpreted form for -many years. "Interpreted" connotes what the modern versions of "Leonard -and Gertrude" really are, redactions. When the cumbersome and somewhat -eccentric sentences of the original were made over, the plot was found -to be of a good deal of interest, the character-sketching peculiarly -fine, and the lessons taught high and noble and practical as well. -Pestalozzi himself had gradually learned how to teach children, and -he not only told, but showed others. For that is what a pedagogical -story is--a working theory of instruction set up in scenes and actions: -it is exposition made narrative. Do you want to know how to teach -Jimmy and Margaret? This good old Swiss pedagogue will show you how -Gertrude taught her children, mother and school mistress, priest and -village reformer as she was. If you had lived in Queen Elizabeth's day -and wanted to know how and what to teach your boy or girl, you could -have asked the gentle Roger, the queen's own schoolmaster. You can -ask him now how he taught; for he put his thoughts down in a volume -which bears the name of his professional office--quaintly spelled -"Scholemaster"--and shows you his methods of work in forming the mind -of the perfect gentleman. This sober pedagogical treatise, which is -not narrative, not story, was published only after Ascham's death; -but many years before, when he was a very young man and much gayer but -hardly less wise, he set forth in "Toxophilus," the archer, a picture -of how amusement and learning can be combined. The exposition proceeds -in the form of a dialogue (the old fashioned literary type called -_débat_) between a lover of books and a lover of exercise. "Toxophilus" -is not exactly story either, but it approaches story, and is important -to our type because of the intense and far-reaching influence it has -had on modern pedagogy in inspiring a looking-out for the development -of the body as well as the mind, and in emphasizing the giving of -instruction in an interesting form. - -From Ascham's "Schoolmaster" John Lyly got the suggestion for his -two famous romances of Euphues, the "well-formed" one. A young man -should be euphues in all things, said Ascham, and Lyly undertook to -show a Briton thus as he moved about in society, at home, abroad, in -friendship and love. So popular did Euphues become that all the ladies -and gentlemen of Elizabeth's court modelled their speech on his. - -Charming old Sir Isaac Walton joined the pedagogues and gave us a -set of delightful walks and talks on angling. He teaches one to be a -"complete" angler--an artist at his pastime. - -A sort of hand-book of etiquette for the golden youths of the -Renaissance was Castiglione's "Courtier," "a sketch of a cultivated -nobleman in those most cultivated days." The author shows by what -precepts and practice a fine gentleman is made. So well did he write -that his own name ever since has been a synonym for nobility and -manliness. He gives us a picture of the purest and most elevated -court in Italy, that of Guidobaldo da Montefeltra, duke of Urbino. -A discussion is held in the duchess's drawing-room to settle the -question, what constitutes a perfect courtier. The type selected -differs in no material way from the ideal gentleman of the present day. - -All of these books are the work of persons who set out seriously to -teach--except perhaps the gentle Isaac, who probably wrote what he -wrote for sheer pleasure and taught by the way. And they all include -what the modern pedagogical narrative includes--disguised exposition. -For the most part the modern species is short. A publisher now-a-days, -I suppose, could hardly be induced to present an educational system -thinly disguised in a long romance. Consequently most of such stories -come out in our educational periodicals as better or poorer literature, -better or poorer teaching. - -Rousseau's "The New Héloise" and "Emile" might be mentioned here were -they not more nearly harangues than stories. Their effect in renovating -France domestically, though, will forever connect them with the word -pedagogy. They are surely a pedagogue's "fiction," since their author -took no care of his real children. - -These treatises were almost immediately influential in England, but -now the theories began to be set forth in more truly narrative form. -In "The Fool of Quality" (by Henry Brooke), the hero goes about -spreading benevolence and cash and displaying his physical strength -and an educational theory as well, as to how an English Christian -young gentleman should be brought up. The later development of such -teaching was naturally books addressed directly to children. Thomas -Day's "Sandford and Merton" had in it stories and dialogues for young -people to read for themselves, in which they were taught the value of -the sciences and the virtues. Maria Edgeworth's "Frank" and "Rosamond" -and Jacob Abbott's "Rollo Books" are for still more juvenile audiences, -and in Froebel's "Mother Plays" the baby, even, comes into its own. - -[Froebel] - -This work necessarily, however, was addressed to the parent. A tiny -cyclopedia of story, song, game, and theory, it is great pedagogy, -and in the original, at least, acceptable literature. The object of -all teaching-narratives should be that which Froebel expresses in his -comment on one of his own little games taught in a dialogue between a -mother and her son. You recall that his double purpose is to teach the -mother what and how to teach the child. He says, "The deep import of -The Light-Bird is hinted in the song and motto. Beware, however, of the -only one contained in the play. Not only The Light-Bird but all the -plays which precede and follow it have many meanings. Neither must it -be supposed that the meaning suggested by me is, if not the sole, at -least the highest one. My songs, mottoes, and commentaries are offered -simply with the hope that they may aid you to recognize and hold fast -some part of what you yourself feel while playing these games and to -suggest to you how you may awaken corresponding feelings in your child." - -If you want to write a pedagogical narrative that will startle the -world, adopt the motto of Froebel, the charm of Ascham and Walton, the -graciousness of Castiglione, and the hard common sense of Pestalozzi, -and then proceed. But hold! You will need to have something to teach. -Perhaps you would better not try romance as a vehicle, but would better -stick to our briefer types. Suppose you put into narrative form, as -others have done since the days of the great kindergartner, a simple -game for children, or your favorite and most helpful method of study. - - -=Gertrude's Method of Instruction= - -It was quite early in the morning when Arner (the people's father), -Glulhi (his lieutenant), and the pastor went to the mason's cottage. -The room was not in order when they entered, for the family had just -finished breakfast, and the dirty plates and spoons still lay upon -the table. Gertrude was at first somewhat disconcerted, but the -visitors reassured her, saying kindly: "This is as it should be; it is -impossible to clear the table before breakfast is eaten!" - -The children all helped wash the dishes, and then seated themselves in -their customary places before their work. The gentlemen begged Gertrude -to let everything go on as usual, and after the first half hour, during -which she was a little embarrassed, all proceeded as if no stranger -were present. First the children sang their morning hymns, and then -Gertrude read a chapter of the Bible aloud, which they repeated after -her while they were spinning, rehearsing the most instructive passages -until they knew them by heart. In the mean time, the oldest girl had -been making the children's beds in the adjoining room, and the visitors -noticed through the open door that she silently repeated what the -others were reciting. When this task was completed, she went into the -garden and returned with vegetables for dinner, which she cleaned while -repeating Bible-verses with the rest. - -It was something new for the children to see three gentlemen in the -room, and they often looked up from their spinning toward the corner -where the strangers sat. Gertrude noticed this, and said to them: -"Seems to me you look more at these gentlemen than at your yarn." But -Harry answered: "No, indeed! We are working hard, and you'll have finer -yarn to-day than usual." - -Whenever Gertrude saw that anything was amiss with the wheels or -cotton, she rose from her work, and put it in order. The smallest -children, who were not old enough to spin, picked over the cotton for -carding, with a skill which excited the admiration of the visitors. - -Although Gertrude thus exerted herself to develop very early the -manual dexterity of her children, she was in no haste for them to -learn to read and write. But she took pains to teach them early how to -speak; for, as she said, "of what use is it for a person to be able -to read and write, if he cannot speak?--since reading and writing are -only an artificial sort of speech." To this end she used to make the -children pronounce syllables after her in regular succession, taking -them from an old A-B-C book she had. This exercise in correct and -distinct articulation was, however, only a subordinate object in her -whole scheme of education, which embraced a true comprehension of -life itself. Yet she never adopted the tone of instructor toward her -children; she did not say to them: "Child, this is your head, your -nose, your hand, your finger;" or: "Where is your eye, your ear?"--but -instead, she would say: "Come here, child, I will wash your little -hands," "I will comb your hair," or: "I will cut your finger-nails." -Her verbal instruction seemed to vanish in the spirit of her real -activity, in which it always had its source. The result of her system -was that each child was skillful, intelligent and active to the full -extent that its age and development allowed. - -The instruction she gave them in the rudiments of arithmetic was -intimately connected with the realities of life. She taught them to -count the number of steps from one end of the room to the other; and -two of the rows of five panes each, in one of the windows, gave her -an opportunity to unfold the decimal relations of numbers. She also -made them count their threads while spinning, and the number of turns -on the reel, when they wound the yarn into skeins. Above all, in -every occupation of life she taught them an accurate and intelligent -observation of common objects and the forces of nature. - -All that Gertrude's children knew, they knew so thoroughly that they -were able to teach it to the younger ones; and this they often begged -permission to do. On this day, while the visitors were present, Jones -sat with each arm around the neck of a smaller child, and made the -little ones pronounce the syllables of the A-B-C book after him; while -Lizzie placed herself with her wheel between two of the others, and -while all three spun, taught them the words of a hymn with the utmost -patience. - -When the guests took their departure, they told Gertrude they would -come again on the morrow. "Why?" she returned. "You will only see the -same thing over again." But Glulphi said: "That is the best praise you -could possibly give yourself." Gertrude blushed at this compliment, and -stood confused when the gentlemen kindly pressed her hand in taking -leave. - -The three could not sufficiently admire what they had seen at the -mason's house, and Glulphi was so overcome by the powerful impression -made upon him, that he longed to be alone and seek counsel of his own -thoughts. He hastened to his room, and as he crossed the threshold, -the words broke from his lips: "I must be schoolmaster in Bonnal!" All -night visions of Gertrude's schoolroom floated through his mind, and he -only fell asleep toward morning. Before his eyes were fairly open, he -murmured: "I will be schoolmaster!"--and hastened to Arner to acquaint -him with his resolution. - - --Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi. - - "Leonard and Gertrude" (D. C. Heath & Co.). - - -=Lawin-Lawinan= - -In the beautiful town of Santa Maria, children were very fond of -playing many curious games. Not a single day or moonlight evening could -pass without one's seeing some children playing along the wide streets. - -One bright evening in the month of July, after the angelus bell rang, -Mapacla, in company with some playmates, went to Zandoval Street, where -many children were romping. When they reached the place, they agreed -to play _Lawin-lawinan_. Mapacla was chosen by all to be the _sisiw_ -(chicken), and a playmate, Malacas by name, to be the _lawin_ (hawk). -The chicken and the hawk were the principal characters of the game. The -rest of the children formed a circle: each one with outstretched arms -held the hand of the one next him till the circle was formed. The space -between each two children was called the door, the owners of which -were the children by whom it was formed. The chicken stood inside the -circle, and the hawk stood outside. - -The game was then begun. The hawk went to the first door, asking, "What -door is this?" - -"To your honorable stomach," answered the owner of the door. - -"And this?" asked the hawk, after approaching another door. - -"To your long throat," answered the owner. - -The hawk repeated the same question, as he went around from door to -door, till he reached the last one. - -"Have you anything to sell me?" asked the hawk of the door owner. - -"A good fat red chicken!" answered the owner. - -"Let me see its scales," remarked the hawk, as he grasped the feet of -the chicken. "This is a fine quality of wild bird," he added; "will you -have him crow?" - -"Crow!" said the owner to the chicken. - -"Tic--to--la--la--oe," cried the chicken. - -"Fine!" said the hawk. "How much will you sell him for?" - -"For one peso," answered the owner. - -After the bargain had been made and the hawk was about to catch the -chicken, the circle began to whirl around, allowing no space for the -hawk to enter. By chance, however, the hawk, thrusting himself through -a space, reached the interior of the circle. Every owner was then -afraid that the chicken might be caught by the hawk. The whirling of -the circle was immediately stopped, and every door was left wide open. -The chicken with all his might ran swiftly out of the circle. The -hawk was so slow in following that he was captured inside. The circle -began to whirl again, till, accidentally, the hawk, struggling for his -escape, made his way out. Sometimes the chicken, pursued by the hawk, -entered the circle, but immediately ran out whenever there was danger -of being caught. At last when the chicken became tired, the hawk caught -him. - -The punishment was then inflicted. The hawk ordered himself to be -carried on the shoulders of the chicken. The order was obeyed without -delay. After the chicken had walked a few paces with the heavy load on -him, he stopped and started another game, choosing another chicken to -be chased by the hawk. - - --Leopoldo Uichanco. - - -III. The Story of Present Day Realism - -[Realism] - -"Realism," says Mr. Howells, "is nothing more and nothing less than -the truthful treatment of material." The business of the narrator is -to observe and record, he says; all that enters into fiction should -be simple, natural and honest. The material must be plain, average, -everyday humanity. There is no need of a hero or heroine. There is no -need of a plot. The love of the passionate and heroic is a crude and -unwholesome thing. - -Following these tenets there has grown up a school of writers who -undertake to present the world just as it is with no heightening and -no lowering of color. They select bits of life and reproduce them -exactly. The process is "not so much photographic as microscopic." -Nothing is too inane or commonplace. All that a workman needs is a -seeing eye, honesty, and a vocabulary, say they. Many of the sketches, -of course, seem extremely flat, and the reader involuntarily asks, -Why and wherefore? The answer is laconic--life: these are the actual -problems of humanity rather than abstract moral truths or highflown -idealism; the Scab and Trusty No. 49 are with us in the street; these -are the Children of the Public, the Children of the Ghetto; this is the -modern Jungle; these are Vignettes of Manhattan; these are the feelings -of a maiden lady in a Massachusetts village; these are the happenings -of a real Wedding Journey; thus the new-rich build houses in the Back -Bay district and attempt to get into society; this is a Modern Instance. - -For source of realistic method we shall need to notice again the -audacious intimacy of the picaresque romance and the extraordinary -minuteness of detail that marked the illustrations and pretended -anecdotes of the controversial pamphleteers of the early eighteenth -century. Take for illustration the verisimilitude of the repetitions -and digressions in the "True Relation of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal," -by which Defoe hoodwinked the public--so completely, in fact, that -critics are even now divided on the question as to whether he was or -was not reporting a real interview. Most of his contemporaries took the -matter as _bona fide_ news; their successors took it as invention; and -now Mr. George Aitken comes forward with proof of its occurrence; that -is, he maintains that Defoe got--in just the way he says he got it--the -written report of the actual interview with the person who saw the -ghost. The contention only goes to demonstrate that Defoe was a great -captain of the pen who could sail extremely close to life. That he -could make romance truer than fact we well know. - -Added to the patient minuteness of the controversialists and the -boldness of the rogue narrators who dared to take us to the back-doors -and bed-rooms of the nobility and to the haunts of criminals, came -later as an element of realistic method, Jane Austen's home subjects, -non-partizanship, and gentle raillery. - -[Some realistic writers] - -When "Daisy Miller" was written a few decades ago, the Americans -were incensed. Henry James did not care, however. Just so we appear -abroad, he said, among the more restrained and more cultivated peoples. -Howells's "Lady of the Aroostook" seemed a kinder if similar and no -less true picture. These brief narratives are hardly novels; and though -they are more than tales, they yet are not what we technically call the -artistic short-story; they are surely, however, studies in realism. - -It is upon this distinction,--namely, that absolute realism would -naturally preclude even the slight artificiality that there must be -about the truly technical short-story--that we make two divisions in -our study of such work as that of Howells, James, and Mary E. Wilkins -Freeman. The point is, realism may be as long-drawn out or as brief as -life. The technical short-story, however, has a limit on both sides. -So has the novel. Each of our great realists has attempted novels; all -have written exquisite short stories. - -[Suggestions on characters to treat] - -To write a present-day realistic sketch you will not need to look -far for a subject. Just divest yourself of preconceived ideas of the -romantic in fiction, and begin anywhere. Everything is of interest to -the realist. A butcher's boy; an octogenarian millionaire; a petty -thief; a plodding, respectable, humdrum government clerk; an ordinary -mother with her ordinary baby on an ordinary day; a flighty society -belle, and a society belle who is not flighty; a sensible matron; an -idiot child,--all are his. The interest of your sketch will be in -the particularity and niceness of details. You will need to be more -truthful than a camera, which always makes people and surroundings -look either better or worse than they are. Color and sound and smell -and atmosphere and temperature, and temperament, gesture and thought, -passing impression and settled purpose, you can record. If any of -your characters succeeds, it must be as in life--with half defeat; -if any one is defeated, it must be as in life--with half success and -a conflicting sense of shame and of relief. You must have something -happening, however slight, and thus avoid a mere enumeration of -characteristics. You are to show us the person in action. A mere -analysis of his vices and virtues, his general mental attitude, would -be pure exposition, when you want narrative. - -Your diction should be as good as you can make it by care and revision. -Howells and James are both stylists of the most polished kind; though -Tolstoy, whom Howells recognizes as master, thirty years ago left off -any concern for sentence effect. He repeats or reiterates at will. You, -however, cannot afford to disregard the rules of the rhetoricians--not -until you have become as famous as the Russian count or have a message -as distinct as his. - -Remember, then, that a good realistic sketch demands on your part an -honest, and truthful purpose, a mind freed from the glamor of romance -or climax, a sure eye, and exquisite workmanship, in the relation of an -ordinary, every-day event. - - -=The Piece of String= - -On all the roads leading to Goderville the peasants and their wives -were coming to town for market day. The men shambled along at an -easy-going gait, with bodies bent forward. Their long legs were -deformed and twisted through hard work--from the weight of the plough, -which at the same time throws the left shoulder too high and ruins -the figure; from mowing the grain, which effort causes the knees to -spread too far apart; and from all the other slow and painful labours -of country life. Their blue blouses, starched to a sheenlike varnish -and finished at collar and waistbands with little designs in white -stitching, stood from their bony bodies like balloons ready for flight, -with a head, two arms and two feet protruding. - -Some of the men had a cow or calf in tow at the end of a rope, while -their wives followed close behind the animal, switching it over the -haunches with a leafy branch to hasten its pace. - -The women carried large baskets, out of which stuck the heads of -chickens and ducks. They took much shorter and quicker steps than the -man. Their lanky, spare figures were decorated with mean little shawls -pinned across their flat breasts. Each head bore a white linen cover, -bound close to the hair and surmounted by a cap. - -Now and then there went by a waggonette drawn by a pony on a jerky -trot, which jostled the two men on the seat in a ludicrous manner and -made the woman at the end of the cart hold the sides firmly for ease -from the rough jolting. - -In the Goderville market-place was a great crowd of men and animals. -The horns of the cattle, the high, long-napped hats of the well-to-do -peasants, and the head-dresses of women bobbed above the level of that -crowd. Noisy voices, sharp and shrill, kept up a wild and ceaseless -clamour, only outdone now and then by a great guffaw of laughter from -the strong lungs of a jolly bumpkin, or a prolonged moo from a cow tied -to the wall of some house. - -Everywhere it smelled of stables, of milk and manure, of hay and sweat. -The air was redolent with that sourish, disagreeable odour savouring of -man and beast which is peculiar to the labourers of the fields. - -Master Hauchecorne, of Bréauté, had just arrived at Goderville and -was directing his steps to the square when he observed on the ground -a little bit of string. Economical like all true Normans, Master -Hauchecorne considered that anything useful was worth picking up, and -he bent down painfully, for he suffered from rheumatism. He picked up -the scrap of twine from the ground, and was preparing to wind it up -carefully when he noticed Master Malandain, the harness-maker, looking -at him from his doorway. Once they had a quarrel over a halter and had -kept angry ever since, both of them holding spite. Master Hauchecorne -was smitten with a certain sense of shame at being seen thus by his -enemy searching in the dirt for a mere bit of string. He hastily hid -his find under his blouse, then in the pocket of his breeches--after -which he pretended to be still looking at his feet for something which -he had not yet found. At length, he started toward the market-place, -his body almost bent double by his chronic pains. - -He lost himself at once in the slow, clamorous throng, which was -agitated by perpetual bickerings. The prospective buyers, after looking -the cows over, would go away only to return perplexed; always fearing -to be taken in; never reaching a decision, but narrowly watching the -seller's eyes, seeking in the end to detect the deceit of the man and -the defect in his animal. - -The women, having put their big baskets at their feet, had pulled out -the poultry, which lay upon the ground with legs tied, with frightened -eyes and scarlet combs. - -They listened to offers, maintaining their prices with a sharp air and -impressive face, or else at a sweep accepting a reduced price, crying -after the customer who left reluctantly, "It's settled, Anthime; I'll -let you have them!" - -Then, by degrees, the square emptied, and, as the Angelus struck noon, -those living at a distance flocked to the inns. - -At Jourdain's, the dining-room was filled with guests, as full as the -great courtyard was with vehicles of every description--carts, gigs, -waggonettes, tilburies, nondescript jaunting cars, yellow with mud, -misshapen, patched up, lifting their shafts to heaven like two arms, -or else in a sorry plight with nose in the mud and back in the air. - -Right opposite to where the diners were at table, the immense -fireplace, all brightly aflame, imparted a genial warmth to the backs -of the people ranged on the right. Three spits were turning, loaded -with chickens, with pigeons, and with legs of mutton; and a delicious -odour of roast meat and of gravy gushing over roast brown skin took -wing from the hearth, kindled good humour, and made mouths water. - -All the aristocracy of the plough were eating there at Jourdain's, the -innkeeper who dealt in horses--a shrewd fellow, who had a goodish penny -put by. - -The dishes were passed and emptied, as were likewise huge jugs of -yellow cider. Every one recounted his dealings--his buying and selling. -They gave news of the crops. The weather was good for greens, but -somewhat wet for wheat. - -All at once a drum rolled in the court before the house. Almost -everybody save the too indifferent, immediately sprang to their feet -and ran to the door, or to the windows, with mouth still full and -napkin in hand. - -After the public crier had stopped his racket, he launched forth in a -jerky voice, making his pauses at the wrong time: - -"Be it known to the inhabitants of Goderville, and in general to all -persons present at the market, that there was lost this morning on -the Beauzeville road, between nine and ten o'clock, a black leather -pocketbook containing five hundred francs and business papers. You are -requested to return it to the mayor's office at once, or to Master -Fortune Houlbreque, of Manneville. There will be twenty francs reward." - -Then the man went away. They heard once more from afar the dull -drum-beats and the fading voice of the crier. - -After that, they began to discuss this event, counting the chances -Master Houlbreque yet had of recovering or not recovering his -pocketbook. - -And the meal went on. - -They were finishing their coffee when the corporal of police appeared -on the threshold. - -He asked: - -"Master Hauchecorne, of Bréauté--is he here?" - -Hauchecorne, seated at the other end of the table, answered: - -"Here I am." - -And the corporal resumed: - -"Master Hauchecorne, will you have the kindness to come with me to the -mayor's office? The mayor would like to speak to you." - -The peasant, surprised and disturbed, tossed off his drink and arose, -worse bent than in the morning; because the first steps after a rest -were always especially difficult. He started off, repeating: - -"Here I am; here I am." - -And he followed the corporal. - -The mayor was awaiting him, seated in his official chair. He was the -notary of the place, a large, grave man of pompous speech. - -"Master Hauchecorne," he said, "you were seen this morning, on the -Beauzeville road, to pick up the pocket-book lost by Master Houlbreque, -of Manneville." - -The countryman, confused, stared at the mayor, already frightened by -this suspicion attaching to him--why he could not understand. - -"I--I--I picked up that pocket-book?" - -"Yes, you." - -"On my word of honour, I didn't even know nothing about it." - -"You were seen." - -"They saw me--me? Who's they what saw me?" said Master Hauchecorne. - -"Master Malandain, the harness-maker." - -Then the old man remembered, understood, and reddened with anger. - -"Ah! he saw me, did he, the rascal? He saw me pick up this here string. -Look, your worship." - -And, rummaging at the bottom of his pocket, he pulled out the little -piece of string. - -But the incredulous mayor shook his head. - -"You will not make me believe, Master Hauchecorne, that Master -Malandain, who is a man worthy of all respect, has taken this bit of -cord for a pocket-book." - -The peasant, furious, raised his hand, and spit at his side to bear -witness to his honour, repeating: - -"F'r all that, it's God's truth, holy truth, your worship. There! My -soul and my salvation knows it's true!" - -The mayor resumed: - -"After having picked the article up, you even searched also a long -while in the mud to make sure if money had fallen out of it." - -The good man choked with rage and terror. - -"If them can say--if them can say--such lies as that to take away an -honest man's name! If them can say--" - -However he might protest, he was not believed. - -He was confronted by Master Malandain, who repeated and supported his -statement. They railed at each other for an hour. Master Hauchecorne -demanded that they search his pockets. Nothing was found upon him. - -Finally, the mayor, very much perplexed, let him go with the warning -that he would inform the public prosecutor, and ask for orders. - -The news had spread abroad. When he came out of the mayor's office, the -old man was the centre of curiosity and questioning, both serious and -jeering, but into which not the least resentment entered. And he began -recounting the long rigmarole of the string. They did not believe him. -They grinned. - -He went along, stopped by every one, or accosting his acquaintances, -going over and over his story and his protestations, pointing to his -pockets turned inside out to prove he had nothing. - -They said to him: - -"Come now, you old rascal!" - -And he became angry, exasperated, feverish, disconsolate at being -doubted, and forever telling his story. - -Night fell. It became time to go home. He started out with three of his -neighbours, to whom he pointed out the spot where he had picked up the -bit of string; and, all along the road, he recited his adventure. - -That evening he made a round of the village of Bréauté so as to tell -everyone. He found only unbelievers. - -He was ill of it all through the night. - -The next day about one in the afternoon, Marius Paumelle, a farm helper -of Master Breton, the market-gardener at Ymauville, returned the -pocket-book and its contents to Master Houlbreque of Manneville. - -This man maintained he had found it on the road, but, not knowing how -to read, had carried it home and turned it over to his master. - -The news spread to the suburbs. Master Hauchecorne was informed. -Immediately he set himself the task of going about relating his story, -capping it with this climax. He was triumphant. - -"What hurt me the mostest," he said, "was not the thing itself, don't -you see, but the lies. Nothing hurts so as when lies 's told about you." - -All day long he talked of his adventure. He told it on the roads to the -people passing, at the tavern to people who were drinking, and then -to the people coming out of church the next Sunday. He even stopped -strangers to tell them the tale. He felt relieved by this time, yet -something troubled him without his knowing just what it was. People had -a mocking manner as they listened. - -They did not appear convinced. He almost felt their tattle behind his -back. - -Tuesday of the next week, he went to the Goderville market, solely -impelled by the need of recounting his affair. - -Malandain, standing in his doorway, began to laugh as he saw him pass. -For what? - -He accosted a farmer of Criquetot who did not permit him to finish, -but, landing him a thump in the pit of the stomach, cried in his face, -"Get out, you great rogue!" Then he turned on his heel. - -Master Hauchecorne, altogether abashed, grew more and more disturbed. -Why had he been dubbed "a great rogue?" - -When seated at table in Jourdain's tavern, he again began to explain -the particulars. - -A Montvilliers horse-dealer yelled at him: - -"Don't tell me, you old fox! I know your piece of string yarn!" - -Hauchecorne stammered, "B--b--but it's found, the pocket-book!" - -To which the other retorted: - -"That'll do, daddy! There's one who finds, and another who gives up. -Neither is no one the wiser." - -The peasant was choked off. At last he understood. They accused him of -having had the pocket-book returned by a crony--by an accomplice. - -He tried to protest. The whole table started to laugh. - -He could not finish his meal, and took his leave amidst their mocking -and derision. - -He returned to his home, ashamed and indignant, stifled with rage, with -confusion; all the more dejected because, with his Norman cunning, -he was capable of having done what they accused him of, and even of -bragging of it as a good trick. His innocence vaguely appeared to him -as impossible to prove; his roguery was too well known. And he felt -struck to the heart by the injustice of the suspicion. - -Again he commenced to tell of his adventure; every day its recital -lengthened, each time containing new proofs, more energetic -protestations, and more solemn oaths which he prepared in his solitary -hours. His mind was altogether occupied by the story of the piece -of string. He was believed all the less as his defense grew more -complicated and his arguments more artful. - -"Now, those are the proofs of a liar," they said behind his back. - -He felt this. It consumed his strength. He exhausted himself in useless -efforts. - -He went into a visible decline. - -The jokers now made him detail the story of "The Piece of String" to -amuse them, just as you persuade a soldier who has come through a -campaign to tell his version of a battle. At last his mind began to -give way. - -Near the end of December he took to his bed. - -He died the first week in January, and, in the delirium of the throes -of death he protested his innocence, repeating, "A little piece of -string--little piece of string--see, here it is, your worship." - - --Henri René Albert Guy de Maupassant. - - "Little Masterpieces of Fiction," Vol. VI (Doubleday, Page & Co.). - - -=A Social Error= - -The little kindergarten teacher turned hastily from the office window. - -"Miss Adams," she said abruptly, "I'm worried." - -The "Lady Head" looked up from her ledger. - -"Worried," she repeated, with an odd little smile, "are you ever -anything so plebeian?" - -The other woman tossed her chin impatiently. - -"Really, Miss Adams," she said stiffly, "I wish you had given that -class of Italians to--well, anyone but Caroline." - -The lady at the desk stiffened perceptibly. - -"And why not?" she inquired tersely. "You certainly must be aware that -the reason I chose Caroline to fill the vacancy was because I thought -her fitted--particularly fitted," she added, with deliberate emphasis. - -The little woman looked down at her excited chief with a quietly -speculative smile. - -"Do you think," she said slowly, "that Caroline has the real social -instinct?" - -The Lady Head was becoming annoyed. - -"One might think," she snapped, "that the training Caroline has -received in her own home would amply fit her to meet--" - -"Any of the men of her own set," interrupted the other woman. "But as -for managing a club of hot-headed Italians--" - -"Well, doesn't she manage them?" reiterated the woman at the desk, half -rising from her low chair. "I should like to have you name a club that -is more orderly--more--" - -"Indeed, it is orderly enough," admitted the little kindergartner. - -"There!" sniffed the Lady Head triumphantly, then with a sudden change -of tone, "I really do not understand your objection. As for the -boys--they adore her!" - -"That is where the trouble lies." The little kindergartner leaned -forward over the desk and her voice was very serious. "Miss Adams," she -began slowly, "you have been here five weeks--I have worked in this -district for fifteen years. I know every boy and girl, every man and -woman, who comes to this house. And I also know"--the speaker paused -impressively--"that when a girl who is as young and as good-looking as -Caroline treats the young men of her club with the same informality -that she would show to the callers in her father's home--believe me, -there will be disastrous consequences." - -"Do you mean--Do you dare--" the Lady Head's lifted eyebrows completed -her question. - -This little kindergartner stood firm. "I think Caroline should -be warned," she insisted quietly. "Her Italians are so young--so -hot-blooded, and I'm afraid she has been encouraging them a little, -too--" - -"Nonsense!" the other woman sprang quickly to her feet. "I have never -heard anything so ridiculous--so utterly preposterous! Do my years of -experience count for nothing in comparison with yours? Am I entirely -lacking in good judgment--in common sense? My dear woman, I have always -made friends of my club boys, invited them to my home--even young -anarchists! Falling in love with her! Preposterous!" She paused for a -moment breathless, and then began a fresh onslaught. - -"If Caroline has not sufficient tact--" - -A girl's blonde head appeared in the office doorway. - -"Did you call met?" she lisped sweetly. "I was passing through the hall -and I thought I heard my name spoken." She paused, with a questioning -glance at the two women. - -The Lady Head was the first to recover her composure, and she rustled -across the room with outstretched hands. "My dear Caroline," she said. -"We were just speaking of you--and your charming little club," she -added, with a side glance at her assistant. - -The girl threw back her dark furs with a smile. "How good of you," she -said gratefully. "I'm frightfully late to-day, but to-night is our -party, and I stopped down town for the boys." - -The Lady Head patted the girl's plump fingers. "Are you going to dance, -too?" she inquired. - -The girl laughed. "Indeed I am. But I really don't know how I'm going -to manage it. The boys are all so jealous, and Tony--oh, Tony is the -grandest dancer!" - -She flitted out of the tiny office, and the two women watched her -as she climbed the broad stairs followed closely by her chattering, -gesticulating pupils. - -As the last peal of laughter floated down over the balusters the little -kindergartner turned to the Lady Head. - -"You see?" she said simply. - -The Lady Head turned upon her a sweet, uncomprehending smile. "I think -it is lovely!" she breathed. - -The night lamp burned steadily in the office of the settlement. The -wind howled through the deserted street, flinging the rain in noisy -gusts against the window panes and shrieking dismally down the empty -corridors. From somewhere on the floor above came the rhythmic banging -of a piano and the shuffle and stamp of dancing feet. - -The Lady Head closed her book with a yawn. - -"What a stupid evening," she sighed. The kindergarten teacher laid down -her sewing and walked slowly to the window. - -"The elements are attempting to enliven things," she remarked dryly as -she lifted the heavy curtains. Even as she spoke there was a blinding -flash, a click and the house was dark. - -Up stairs the music ceased, there was a confused murmur of voices--a -shout--a crash--and a woman's scream. The lights come on again--the two -women turned, their faces ashen, and hastened up the long stairs. - -A pale-faced girl was crouched against the farther wall of the big -gymnasium. At her feet sprawled the limp body of a man, and behind her -a swarthy black-browed girl was struggling in the grasp of two stalwart -Italians who were trying to wrest something from her frantic fingers. -Her hands relaxed as the two women appeared in the door, and a shining -bit of steel flew across the room and tinkled on the floor at the feet -of the Lady Head. She picked it up grimly and pushed her way to the -center of the crowd. The girl by the wall sprang to her feet with a -wild shriek, but the woman turned on her savagely. - -"Hush!" she hissed, "you little fool!" Then to the crowd, "What does -this mean?" she demanded sternly. "What does this mean?" - -A young Italian, who stood at one side nursing his slashed knuckles, -was the spokesman. - -"Him--" with a wave towards the man on the floor--"he's Tony De Sil', -and her"--the gesture included the hysterical girl--"She dance with -Ton' all-a-time." - -"And she?" The Lady Head looked toward the Italian girl whose stiletto -she was holding gingerly between her fingers. - -"Her?"--the narrator pointed a laconic forefinger. "She's Tony's girl." - -When the weeping Caroline had been sent home in her father's carriage, -and when the ambulance had creaked out through the gateway, the Lady -Head turned to her little assistant. - -"If there are any fatal results from this--this criminal bit of -negligence," she stated coldly, "I shall hold you personally -responsible. You should have informed me of this long ago. Remember, -you have been here fifteen years!" - - --Ida F. Treat. - - -=The Lot of the Poor= - -Two women were walking with rapid but tired steps down one of the most -disreputable streets in the city. - -"My," said the tallest one, turning up the collar of her threadbare -coat, "don't this wind make you feel like you was dressed in your -bones?" - -The other woman, who was, if possible, more shabby-looking, pushed her -red gloveless hands deeper into her pockets. - -"Yes, and I forgot to wear my sables to-day, ain't it too bad?" she -returned in a dreary tone, whose irony was somewhat modified by the -chattering of her teeth. - -"Mary Jane, you just quit talkin' like that," burst out the other, -evidently the older of the two. "You didn't never use to be that way -before you commenc't workin' out by the day. Why you was the jolliest -girl in the factory and allays made the best of everything; but now -nothin' is ever good enough for you. Of course none of us would -mind having things a little better, but as far as I can see, things -have allays been this way with us and allays will be, wishin' or no -wishin'." - -"I ain't sayin' they won't," Mary Jane said shortly. - -"Well, I know it, you ain't sayin' nothin'; that's just the trouble. -I wish you'd tell me what's the matter with you, Mary Jane, 'Tain't -natural for a girl like you to be so dull and sulky." - -"'Tain't natural, did you say?" flared up the other. "'Tain't natural -to wonder why the lady you work for wears silks and satins, while your -own clothes are almost too ragged to cover you? Ain't it natural," she -asked with blazing eyes, "to want to tear a few silks off of her back -to cover your own? You ain't never seen nice things near you, Ann. -You've allays worked in the factory; so what do you know about such -things? I tell you, if you worked in one of those palaces on Fifth -Avenue all day and then come back to this at night, you'd see the -difference." - -"Don't you s'pose I've seen swell things and people?" remonstrated the -older woman. "I ain't no fool; but I've reasoned out that there's a few -people meant to be rich, and the rest of us ain't, that's all!" - -"But it ain't a few people, Ann. It seems like most everybody had -plenty to eat and wear but us. Why ain't we in it, too? Why don't I -live in that fine house where I work instead down in this hole? It -seems like we'd been cheated somewhere; but I s'pose there ain't no use -talkin' about it. Good-night." - -Ann watched the girl as she climbed the rickety steps of the "palace" -which fate had assigned to her. - -"They're all that way sometimes. I remember--well, she'll get used to -it like all the rest of us." - - --Agnes Palmer. - - -=Filipino Fear.= - -One cloudy afternoon when a heavy rain seemed swaying back and forth in -a thick mist which was then lowering, and long red streaks of lightning -followed by loud rolling thunder seemed trying to break the mist to -let the rain fall, there were in a little nipa house in the country -below, among aged cocoanut palms, two lonely persons suffering from -superstition and fear of the extraordinary phenomena that surrounded -them. - -The house was just big enough for the two. Its roof, windows and sides -were made of _cogon_. The floor and door were made of narrow bamboo -strips nailed side by side. In one corner of the room on a bed, made -also of bamboo, sat a boy of eight. There was in the expression and -look of the boy a feeling of unknown fear mingled with surprise, -because his father, a lusty old superstitious man, who was then holding -a blunt stick, had driven their domestic creatures from the house -to the open field where there was no means of securing shelter from -the heavy rain, whose first large drops were now clattering on the -leaves. The boy had a kind disposition, especially toward his pets--a -sense that he had inherited from his father. This was the first time -that he had seen his father act thus unkindly toward their animals. -His surprise was much increased when he saw his father dash at the -windows and doors and fling everyone of them open, then retreat to -the middle and look sideways. He saw him draw a long agitated breath. -Then, seeming to have recovered his wits, he hastened toward one of the -windows and took from the outside a portion of a dried cocoanut leaf. -He cut two long narrow strips from it and made them into loops. After -placing one around his neck, he uttered a short prayer. He then handed -the other loop to his still amazed child and said, "Wear this, dear -child, around thy neck." - -"Why, father?" inquired the innocent boy, "can this protect me?" - -"Yes, child, prayer and that alone can save us." - -"What has this in it, father? It seems to me to be nothing but a piece -of cocoanut leaf. Isn't it?" said the boy. - -"It is a strip from a cocoanut leaf, but--it has--" - -"If so, then," interrupted the acute boy, "why can't these palms around -us that bear these leaves protect themselves against the elements. I -have often seen, father, palms burned to their very stalks, which older -people told me had been struck by lightning. Where did you get this -strip, father?" - -"Well, I got this from a bunch of leaves which is tied just below our -front window," pointing to the place, "together with some live leaves. -That bunch you yourself carried to the church two years ago when your -mother was yet living. You have never peeped into church since then. -But once a year in town the mass of the Sunday immediately before Fast -Friday is dedicated to palm and olive leaves. Hundreds of children like -you crowd the church on that day carrying with them their bunch of -leaves, and while the service is being celebrated they will joyfully -shake them. After holy water has been sprinkled on the leaves, then -they are holy, and it is not pious to play with them. After the mass -the bunch of leaves is to be tied to the door or to the window of the -house as a protection from thunder and lightning. On days of this kind -every one wears a strip of these leaves around his neck. When you go -out again, you may look at the windows of the houses to see if what I -say is true." - -Indeed; those bunches of palms and olive leaves are marked -characteristics of typical Filipino houses. The leaves are usually tied -or wound in artistic ways, with beautiful hangings on them. All the -decorations, however, are composed of the same kind of leaves. - -The boy was quite satisfied at his father's story. After a little -reflection he remembered that he had truly carried such leaves to -church. The rain was then falling fast, and the lightning and thunder -still followed one another in rapid succession. The cold winds from -outside and the fearful sight of the brilliant flashes made the boy -shrink. - -"I am cold, father, and I fear those long and fiery zigzag paths which -the whip of the driver of that rolling thunder is making in heaven. I -wonder why you don't shut those windows," said the boy. - -"Never, my son, for there is danger in shutting them. Remember that -the thunder will pass thru anything and burn that which dares obstruct -its way. Besides, my grandfather told me that days of this kind are -rare, for they are days for scourging foul things on earth. If we shut -ourselves up here, Bathala, the ruler of the earth, who watches and -sees all things done, may suspect that we are hiding something foul and -so send his scourger here to punish us." - -The young listener who was attentive to the story of his father started -up at a sudden and astounding crash of thunder. He curled himself up in -the lap of his father, folded his arms around his father's neck, and -shut his eyes. After a while he continued, "And, therefore, every foul -deed on earth will be punished?" - -"Yes, everything foul; so runs our proverb: 'Debt must be paid.' If you -commit a sin you must be punished according to the nature of your sin." - -The fearful peal of thunder that had so frightened the boy was the -last. It silenced the fury of the weather. The rain was falling lightly -now and sheets of fire were distinguished only from afar, but no more -thunder sounded. The boy was dropping off into a light slumber when -he heard his kitty mew. He opened his eyes and saw his pet very wet -and cold. He pitied the little creature, so he said almost with tears, -"I wish, father, you had not been so unkind to our animals, our sole -friends in this solitary place. See what you have done. You have driven -them out in the rain where they could get no shelter; and now every one -of them is wet and shivering." - -"Now, don't worry about them, my boy," said his father rather moved by -his filial appeal, "they are not hurt at all. I drove them away, not -because I was cross or unkind, but because it is not safe to keep them -inside on such a stormy day as this. For thunder is likely to strike -them. Boys of your age are likely to be harmed by such animals. For to -some of them thunder imparts its explosive power. And sometimes thunder -takes the form of animals. Here is a story that has been told to me by -many and which they believe true. - -"'Once there was a boy riding on a carabao on a stormy day. He was -hurrying home lest the rain should catch him, but when he was near home -he caught sight of a small pig wandering aimlessly down the road. It -was very fat and very tame. The boy dismounted from the carabao and -tried to catch the pig, but when he was yet quite a long way off from -it the animal ran against a tree and there was a loud sound of thunder. -The tree ignited. The boy fell down unconscious and was slightly hurt. -He recovered only at home. His story has been told and retold ever -since. It was said that if that boy had caught the animal and it had -received a jar while in the boy's arms it would have burst like thunder -and so burned the boy. But if the boy had safely carried it home and -treated it with a vinegar bath the explosive power would have been gone -and the animal would have been the best kind of food on earth.' Old men -say that such animals are fruits of thunder." - -"Oh, then, it would not be so bad after all, father. I might try to -catch one some time," said the boy. - -"That you must not," said the father sternly. - -"But is that true, father, that the fungi which we find abounding -in bamboo groves are the flowers caused by thunder?" said the boy -inquisitively. - -"Yes, my son, truly, and that's why they are very delicious. You can't -find them growing except after stormy days and after thunder and -lightning. After days of lightning and thunder like the present, groups -of women and boys may be seen roaming about the country in search of -these delicious flowers for their food." - -By this time the storm was over. The two prepared their supper, since -it was already evening. After eating they went to bed feeling secure in -the efficacy of the palm leaves hung in the door. - - --Walfrido de Leon. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE ARTISTIC GROUP: THE REAL SHORT-STORY - - -The short-story as a production of an artist conscious of rules and -striving for definite effects within limitations is a thing of the -nineteenth century. Only gradually have writers come to the feeling -for singleness and unity. It would appear that before the days of Poe -and Maupassant brief narratives were brief because of their source or -their type, or because the author did not happen to have a rich vein -of digression and incident. They were then rather what we think of as -tales than what we have come to regard as the real short-story. - -We have hitherto in our study been making little or no distinction in -our use of the terms narrative, story, and tale, nor have we understood -the adjective short with any but its usual significance. We shall -from now on, however, understand the term short-story technically, -and employ the hyphen, as Matthews has employed it, to suggest the -significance. - -A short-story is very perceptibly shorter than a romance or a novel. -It is indeed about like a chapter of one of these. In no case must the -reading require more than one sitting, says Poe. On the other hand, -it may not be so short as an ordinary incident or anecdote, but far -longer. It is more complex, more dignified, and has distinguishing -essential elements. - -It is not possible, of course, to make a hard and fast definition, -but there are certain qualities we pretty generally expect to find. A -short-story may be of any type from a myth to a realistic sketch; it -may emphasize environment, plot, or character; but it must have unity, -it must have directness, it must have climax, however slight. The -effect should be single, not multiple. Hence anything like digression -or episode is entirely out of place. The end should not be delayed, nor -yet should it be precipitated. It should come just at the right time, -and be as proper as the catastrophe of a tragedy. It should be but the -beginning made special and concrete, the middle continued in harmony, -the conclusion come upon both inevitably. "Make another end to it?" -says Stevenson[7] in answering an objection to one of his stories. "Ah, -yes, but that's not the way I write; the whole tale is implied; I never -use an effect when I can help it unless it prepares the effects that -are to follow; that's what a story consists in. To make another end; -that is to make the beginning all wrong. The _dénouement_ of a long -story is nothing, it is just 'a full close,' which you may approach and -accompany as you please--it is a coda, not an essential number in the -rhythm; but the body and end of a short-story is bone-of-the-bone and -blood-of-the-blood of the beginning." - -Students of this type of narrative find Poe the first man to reveal a -consciousness of any strictly limiting tenets. Poe worked to definite -rules which he himself made. He saw intrinsic reasons why a short-story -should be short. His predecessors, Irving and others, had not seen -them. Even Hawthorne, who fulfilled them many times, said nothing about -them. But Poe both formulated and preached them. He exemplified them, -too, and other men followed. - -The list of good short-story writers is so great that particular -mention of any seems invidious. Some of our less known men have done -as good work as our best. For names by countries, you may notice the -bibliography at the end of this book. Kipling's stories for a large -part emphasize place; Poe's, very often plot; and Hawthorne's and -Stevenson's, mostly psychological phenomena--character and whimsical -expressions of it; Miss Wilkins's altogether reveal temperament and -characteristics; while Maupassant's generally record events which -include a stab of fate. - -On the basis of artistic purpose, the short-story divides itself into -three types: the weird tale, stories that emphasize environment and -typical personality, stories that emphasize events and character. - -Every narrator whenever he sets his pen to paper must deal with place, -plot, and people; but the artistic short-story writer, because of the -limitation of his form, is forced to a selection of emphasis. He can -not at will, as the biographer can, dilate upon the ancestry of his -hero if he means to present the personage in action; if he wants to -indulge in an environment analysis, the short-story writer has not -time to wind up and unwind a mystery; if he has decided to give us the -crisis event of a character, he must perforce touch but lightly on -place. We shall find, then, that while each good short-story has the -three elements present and skilfully managed, it has also one or the -other more strongly emphasized--or at most two, in practical neglect of -the third. - - -I. The Psychological Weird Tale - -[Origin] - -Our idea of the required form of the weird tale has come to be that of -the modern artistic short-story; but all the elements of the type save -form were present in England in the middle of the eighteenth century in -the terror school started by Walpole's "Castle of Otranto." The author -declared his work to be an attempt to blend the ancient romance and -the modern novel. By modern novel he meant the stories of Richardson, -Fielding, Smollet, and their less worthy contemporaries; by ancient -romance he must have meant the Oriental wonder tale; for he has sliding -panels, trap doors, subterranean passages, and a general extravagance -in an attempt at magnificence. Indeed, in regard to the multiplicity of -detail, this school is often called the Gothic. The difference between -the narratives of the school of terror and the Oriental wonder tale is -the difference of atmosphere. While the ancient tale is mysterious, -it is seldom if ever morbid. Especially is the cheerfulness true of -the stories of mediæval chivalry that later embodied the wonder tale. -Enchantment there is, but it is airy; if there be any vaults, they -are not damp. [The school of terror] But the "Castle of Otranto" by -Walpole, the "Old English Baron" by Clara Reeve, the "Romance of -the Forest," the "Mysteries of Udolpho," and the "Italian" by Mrs. -Radcliffe, and "The Monk" by Matthew Lewis,--the six chief romances of -the school of terror,--are all damp, dark, ghostly, and morbid. Mrs. -Radcliffe, however, added an element of eighteenth-century rationalism -in her attempt at explanation; inasmuch as she always refers her -constant suggestions of the supernatural to ordinary causes. Moreover, -she interspersed her work with excellent landscape description in -harmony or contrast with her theme. The contributions, then, of the -romances of the school of terror are (1) frightful mechanism, (2) a -general tone of Gothic fantasticalness, (3) weird place-impressions -that can be explained by natural causes, and (4) terror of physical or -supernatural punishment and death. - -[Edgar Allen Poe] - -To point out how much Edgar Allan Poe on the mere material side is -indebted to this set of writers, possibly through Charles Brockden -Brown and the American school of terror, we need only to name over to -ourselves two of his famous weird tales together with their grosser -elements. "The Fall of the House of Usher" has general arabesqueness -plus hollow groans, echoing footsteps, high pointed windows excluding -light, a person imprisoned in a metal vault (the hero in the "Castle of -Otranto" is imprisoned in a gigantic metal helmet), terror of death, -consonant landscape description, natural causes for weird sounds. The -"Pit and the Pendulum" has a dungeon of the Inquisition, horrible -instrument of torture, brink over which to fall, bodily and mental fear -of death (Lewis's monk is snatched by demons from the Inquisition and -carried to a cliff of the Sierra Morena off which he is commanded to -fling himself). - -But Poe is as far away from the crude and bungling methods of the -earlier writers as he is near their materials. How cracking doors -and opening vaults, quaking houses, and walking dead, outer terrific -elements and inner terrific sensation and morbid imaginative perception -reaching madness, can be fused into one harmonized, unified, piercing, -intense prose poem he has shown us in this same "Fall of the House of -Usher." Nothing of the kind could be better. His own cruder attempt is -set forth in the fore-study, "Berenice," which might be considered good -if the other story were not immeasurably better. A side sketch of quite -a different tone, yet almost as weird, is his beautiful color symphony -of the "Masque of the Red Death." All are exquisite artistic creations. - -[Stevenson] - -Poe's "William Wilson," an imaginative psychological horror study -of conscience, has been paralleled if not surpassed by Stevenson's -"Markheim." "Markheim" is more concrete, especially at the beginning; -there is more of story and less of symbolism about it; but the climax -is the same, or rather the reverse; for in Poe's story William Wilson's -worse self murders his better, while in Stevenson's story Markheim's -better self, the murderer, who really hates his deed, triumphs over his -worse self, the coward and liar. - -In Poe's story the weirdness results from the fact that Wilson's -conscience, which he kills, is a concrete double with the same name and -appearance. Stevenson has united this device of a double with weird -place-description and weird deed-narrative. He has kept the thing -more psychological and less symbolic by making the second presence -explainable as an hallucination, more shadowy than Poe's. - -[Maupassant and others] - -"What is It? a Mystery" by Fitz James O'Brien shows how very, very -material the horror story may be; and yet O'Brien's is not an -uninteresting narrative; for it is full of vigor and truth-likeness in -the beginning; the end only is bad art; where the frightened people -take a plaster cast of the mysterious being they have captured and can -not see. "The Hand" by Maupassant is another such touch horror tale, -but of course better told. His "Apparition" is almost pure narrative -and builds to a fine realistic climax, despite the ghostliness of -the visitant. Matthew's "Venetian Glass" is also weird plot rather -than weird place, while "The Wind in the Rose Bush" is emphatically -character study, and the "Phantom Rickshaw" is a good old-fashioned, if -Oriental, ghost story. - -[Suggestions on writing a weird tale] - -For your first attempt at this type of narrative, you might try the -modern ghost story, and later, when more practised, the delicate -psychological analysis of states of conscience. The modern ghost -stories differ from folk-tales concerning weird beings in this respect -particularly: the modern ghost is usually explainable, a fact you would -expect because of our inheritance from the terror school. He is a -logical ghost--a creature of one's own making, an hallucination at best -or a white cow at worst. The author sets out to depict not so much the -ghost, as the ghost's effect upon the hero. In a number of instances -the modern narrative of this kind rises to the plane of the true -short-story, complying with all the canons of art. Read for example -one of Mary E. Wilkins Freeman's six "Stories of the Supernatural," of -which the "Wind in the Rose Bush" is one. - -[Material and method] - -The material is comparatively simple. Get eerie circumstances, a -credulous or boastfully incredulous mind, a probable incident, an -explainable apparition, and any modern setting that will hold the -course of events together. See to it that the construction is unified -and coherent. Build to a climax, and stop quickly afterwards. Make -the apparition a logical outgrowth of the environment and the state -of mind of the victim. The ghost of the folk-tale usually appears to -the half-witted, the foolish, the credulous; but the ghost of the -modern story, to prove his existence, perhaps, is far bolder; he speaks -out to the skeptic, the person who calls a shadow a shadow. That the -unearthly spirit must catch the strong man at his weak moment is -obvious--otherwise there would be no story. But when the events are -given, stop. Do not explain too much. - -[Form] - -It is well to notice the different methods of getting the facts before -the reader. Sometimes everything is set forth by the author, and the -characters speak but little or not at all. Sometimes one character -speaks in a continued monologue. Sometimes the events come out in -conversation or dialogue, the dramatic method, and the author appears -but little. When he appears not at all we have true drama instead of -narrative. The larger number of stories, doubtless, are a mixture of -author and character talk. - - -=The Signal-Man= - -"Halloa! Below there!" - -When he heard a voice thus calling to him he was standing at the door -of his box with a flag in his hand, furled around its short pole. One -would have thought, considering the nature of the ground, that he could -not have doubted from what quarter the voice came; but, instead of -looking up to where I stood oh the top of the steep cutting nearly over -his head, he turned himself about and looked down the line. There was -something remarkable in his manner of doing so, though I could not have -said for my life what. But I know it was remarkable enough to attract -my notice, even though his figure was foreshortened and shadowed down -in the deep trench, and mine was high above him, so steeped in the glow -of an angry sunset that I had shadowed my eyes with my hand before I -saw him at all. - -"Halloa! Below!" - -From looking down the line he turned himself about again and, raising -his eyes, saw my figure high above him. - -"Is there any path by which I can come down and speak to you?" - -He looked up at me without replying, and I looked down at him without -pressing him too soon with a repetition of my idle question. Just then -there came a vague vibration in the earth and air, quickly changing -into a violent pulsation, and an oncoming rush that caused me to start -back as though it had force to draw me down. When such vapor as rose -to my height from this rapid train had passed me and was skimming away -over the landscape, I looked down again and saw him refurling the flag -he had shown while the train went by. - -I repeated my inquiry. After a pause, during which he seemed to regard -me with fixed attention, he motioned with his rolled-up flag towards a -point on my level, some two or three hundred yards distant. I called -down to him, "All right!" and made for that point. There, by dint -of looking closely about me, I found a rough zigzag descending path -notched out, which I followed. - -The cutting was extremely deep and unusually precipitate. It was made -through a clammy stone that became oozier and wetter as I went down. -For these reasons I found the way long enough to recall a singular air -of reluctance or compulsion with which he had pointed out the path. - -When I came down low enough upon the zigzag descent to see him again, -I saw that he was standing between the rails on the way by which the -train had lately passed, in an attitude as if he were waiting for me to -appear. He had his left hand at his chin, and that left elbow rested on -his right hand, crossed over his breast. His attitude was one of such -expectant watchfulness that I stopped a moment, wondering at it. - -I resumed my downward way and, stepping out upon the level of the -railroad and drawing nearer to him, saw that he was a dark, sallow -man with a dark beard and rather heavy eyebrows. His post was in -as solitary and dismal a place as ever I saw. On either side a -dripping-wet wall of jagged stone, excluding all view but a strip of -sky; the perspective one way only a crooked prolongation of this great -dungeon; the shorter perspective in the other direction terminating -in a gloomy red light, and the gloomier entrance to a black tunnel, -in whose massive architecture there was a barbarous, depressing and -forbidding air. So little sunlight ever found its way to this spot that -it had an earthy, deadly smell; and so much cold wind rushed through it -that it struck chill to me, as if I had left the natural world. - -Before he stirred I was near enough to him to have touched him. Not -even then removing his eyes from mine, he stepped back one step and -lifted his hand. - -This was a lonesome post to occupy (I said), and it had riveted my -attention when I looked down from up yonder. A visitor was a rarity, -I should suppose; not an unwelcome rarity, I hoped! In me he merely -saw a man who had been shut up within narrow limits all his life, and -who, being at last set free, had a newly awakened interest in these -great works. To such purpose I spoke to him; but I am far from sure -of the terms I used, for besides that I am not happy in opening any -conversation, there was something in the man that daunted me. - -He directed a most curious look towards the red light near the tunnel's -mouth and looked all about it, as if something were missing from it, -and then looked at me. - -That light was part of his charge--was it not? - -He answered in a low voice, "Don't you know it is?" - -The monstrous thought came into my mind as I perused the fixed eyes and -the saturnine face that this was a spirit, not a man. I have speculated -since whether there may have been infection in his mind. - -In my turn I stepped back. But in making the action I detected in his -eyes some latent fear of me. This put the monstrous thought to flight. - -"You look at me," I said, forcing a smile, "as if you had a dread of -me." - -"I was doubtful," he returned, "whether I had seen you before." - -"Where?" - -He pointed to the red light he had looked at. - -"There?" I said. - -Intently watchful of me, he replied (but without sound), "Yes." - -"My good fellow, what should I do there? However, be that as it may, I -never was there, you may swear." - -"I think I may," he rejoined. "Yes. I am sure I may." - -His manner cleared, like my own. He replied to my remarks with -readiness and in well-chosen words. Had he much to do there? Yes, that -was to say, he had enough responsibility to bear; but exactness and -watchfulness were what was required of him, and of actual work--manual -labor--he had next to none. To change that signal, to trim those -lights and to turn this iron handle now and then was all he had to do -under that head. Regarding those many long and lonely hours of which -I seemed to make so much he could only say that the routine of his -life had shaped itself into that form and he had grown used to it. He -had taught himself a language down here--if only to know it by sight -and to have formed his own crude ideas of its pronunciation could be -called learning it. He had also worked at fractions and decimals, and -tried a little algebra; but he was, and had been as a boy, a poor hand -at figures. Was it necessary for him when on duty always to remain in -that channel of damp air, and could he never rise into the sunshine -from between those high stone walls? Why, depended upon times and -circumstances. Under some conditions there would be less upon the line -than under others, and the same held good as to certain hours of the -day and night. In bright weather he did choose occasions for getting -a little above these lower shadows; but, being at all times liable to -be called by his electric bell and at such times listening for it with -redoubled anxiety, the relief was less than I would suppose. - -He took me into his box, where there was a fire, a desk for an official -book in which he had to make certain entries, a telegraphic instrument -with its dial, face and needle, and the little bell of which he had -spoken. On my trusting that he would excuse the remark that he had -been well educated and (I hoped I might say without offence) perhaps -educated above that station, he observed that instances of slight -incongruity in such wise would rarely be found wanting among large -bodies of men; that he had heard it was so in work-houses, in the -police force, even in that last desperate resource, the army; and -that he knew it was so, more or less, in any great railway staff. He -had been, when young (if I could believe it, sitting in that hut--he -scarcely could), a student of natural philosophy, and had attended -lectures; but he had run wild, misused his opportunities, gone down, -and never risen again. He had no complaint to offer about that. He had -made his bed and he lay upon it. It was far too late to make another. - -All that I have here condensed he said in a quiet manner, with his -grave dark regards divided between me and the fire. He threw in the -word "Sir" from time to time, and especially when he referred, to his -youth--as though to request me to understand that he claimed to be -nothing but what I found him. He was several times interrupted by the -little bell, and had to read off messages, and send replies. Once he -had to stand without the door and display a flag as a train passed and -make some verbal communication to the driver. In the discharge of his -duties I observed him to be remarkably exact and vigilant, breaking off -his discourse at a syllable and remaining silent until what he had to -do was done. - -In a word, I should have set this man down as one of the safest of men -to be employed in that capacity, but for the circumstance that while he -was speaking to me he twice broke off with a fallen color, turned his -face towards the little bell when it did not ring, opened the door of -the hut (which was kept shut to exclude the unhealthy damp), and looked -out towards the red light near the mouth of the tunnel. On both of -those occasions he came back to the fire with the inexplicable air upon -him which I had remarked, without being able to define when we were so -far asunder. - -Said I, when I rose to leave him, "You almost make me think that I have -met with a contented man." - -(I am afraid I must acknowledge that I said it to lead him on.) - -"I believe I used to be so," he rejoined in the low voice in which he -had first spoken; "but I am troubled, sir, I am troubled." - -He would have recalled the words if he could. He had said them, -however, and I took them up quickly. - -"With what? What is your trouble?" - -"It is very difficult to impart, sir. It is very, very difficult to -speak of. If ever you make me another visit I will try to tell you." - -"But I expressly intend to make you another visit. Say, when shall it -be?" - -"I go off early in the morning, and I shall be on again at ten -to-morrow night, sir." - -"I will come at eleven." - -He thanked me and went to the door with me. "I'll show my white light, -sir," he said in his peculiar low voice, "till you have found the way -up. When you have found it, don't call out! And when you are at the -top, don't call out!" - -His manner seemed to make the place strike colder to me, but I said no -more than "Very well." - -"And when you come down to-morrow night, don't call out! Let me ask you -a parting question. What made you cry 'Halloa! Below there!' to-night?" - -"Heaven knows," said I. "I cried something to that effect--" - -"Not to that effect, sir. Those were the very words. I know them well." - -"Admit those were the very words. I said them, no doubt because I saw -you below." - -"For no other reason?" - -"What other reason could I possibly have?" - -"You had no feeling that they were conveyed to you in any supernatural -way?" - -"No." - -He wished me good-night and held up his light. I walked by the side of -the down line of rails (with a very disagreeable sensation of a train -coming behind me) until I found the path. It was easier to mount than -to descend, and I got back to my inn without any adventure. - -Punctual to my appointment, I placed my foot on the first notch of -the zigzag next night as the distant clocks were striking eleven. He -was waiting for me at the bottom with his white light on. "I have not -called out," I said when we came close together; "may I speak now?" "By -all means, sir." "Good-night, then, and here's my hand." "Good-night, -sir, and here's mine." With that we walked side by side to his box, -entered it, closed the door and sat down by the fire. - -"I have made up my mind, sir," he began, bending forward as soon as we -were seated, and speaking in a tone but a little above a whisper, "that -you shall not have to ask me twice what troubles me. I took you for -some one else yesterday evening. That troubles me." - -"That mistake?" - -"No. That some one else." - -"Who is it?" - -"I don't know." - -"Like me?" - -"I don't know. I never saw the face. The left arm is across the face -and the right arm is waved--violently waved. This way." - -I followed his action with my eyes and it was the action of an arm -gesticulating with the utmost passion and vehemence, "For God's sake -clear the way!" - -"One moonlight night," said the man, "I was sitting here when I heard -a voice cry 'Halloa! Below there!' I started up, looked from that -door, and saw this some one else standing by the red light near the -tunnel waving as I just now showed you. The voice seemed hoarse with -shouting and it cried, 'Look out! Look out!' And then again, 'Halloa! -Below there! Look out!' I caught up my lamp, turned it on red, and ran -towards the figure, calling, 'What's wrong? What has happened? Where?' -It stood just outside the blackness of the tunnel. I advanced so close -upon it that I wondered at its keeping the sleeve across its eyes. I -ran right up at it, and had my hand stretched out to pull the sleeve -away, when it was gone." - -"Into the tunnel," said I. - -"No. I ran on into the tunnel five hundred yards. I stopped and held -up my lamp above my head and saw the figures of the measured distance -and saw the wet stains stealing down the walls and trickling through -the arch. I ran out again faster than I had run in (for I had a mortal -abhorrence of the place upon me), and I looked all round the red light, -with my own red light, and I went up the iron ladder to the gallery -atop of it, and I came down again and ran back here. I telegraphed both -ways, 'An alarm has been given. Is anything wrong?' The answer came -back, both ways, 'All well.'" - -Resisting the slow touch of a frozen finger tracing out my spine, I -showed him how that this figure must be a deception of his sense of -sight, and how that figures, originating in disease of the delicate -nerves that minister to the functions of the eye, were known to have -often troubled patients, some of whom had become conscious of the -nature of their affliction and had even proved it by experiments upon -themselves. "As to an imaginary cry," said I, "do but listen for a -moment to the wind in this unnatural valley, while we speak so slow -and to the wild harp it makes of the telegraph wires!" - -That was all very well, he returned, after we had sat listening for a -while, and he ought to know something of the wind and wires--he who so -often passed long winter nights there, alone and watching. But he would -beg to remark that he had not finished. - -I asked his pardon and he slowly added these words, touching my arm: - -"Within six hours after the appearance the memorable accident on this -line happened, and within ten hours the dead and the wounded were -brought along through the tunnel over the spot where the figure had -stood." - -A disagreeable shudder crept over me, but I did my best against it. -It was not to be denied, I rejoined, that this was a remarkable -coincidence, calculated deeply to impress his mind. But it was -unquestionable that remarkable coincidences did continually occur and -they must be taken into account in dealing with such a subject. Though -to be sure I must admit, I added (for I thought I saw that he was going -to bring the objection to bear upon me), men of common sense did not -allow much for coincidence making the ordinary calculations of life. - -He again begged to remark that he had not finished. - -I again begged his pardon for being betrayed into interruptions. - -"This," he said, again laying his hand upon my arm and glancing over -his shoulder with hollow eyes, "was just a year ago. Six or seven -months passed and I had recovered from the surprise and shock, when -one morning, as the day was breaking, I, standing at the door, looked -towards the red light and saw the spectre again." He stopped with a -fixed look at me. - -"Did it cry out?" - -"No. It was silent." - -"Did it wave its arm?" - -"No. It leaned against the shaft of the light with both hands before -the face. Like this." - -Once more I followed his action with my eyes. It was an action of -mourning. I have seen such an attitude in stone figures on tombs. - -"Did you go up to it?" - -"I came in and sat down, partly to collect my thoughts, partly because -it had turned me faint. When I went to the door again, daylight was -above me and the ghost was gone." - -"But nothing followed? Nothing came of this?" - -He touched me on the arm with his forefinger twice or thrice, giving a -ghastly nod each time. - -"That very day, as the train came out of the tunnel, I noticed at a -carriage window on my side what looked like a confusion of hands and -heads and something waved. I saw it just in time to signal the driver, -stop! He shut off and put his brake on, but the train drifted past -here a hundred and fifty yards or more. I ran after it and as I went -along heard terrible screams and cries. A beautiful young lady had died -instantaneously in one of the compartments and was brought in here and -laid down on this floor between us." - -Involuntarily I pushed my chair back suddenly, as I looked from the -boards, at which he pointed, to himself. - -"True, sir. True. Precisely as it happened, so I tell it you." - -I could think of nothing to say, to any purpose, and my mouth was very -dry. The wind and the wires took up the story with a long lamenting -wail. - -He resumed. "Now, sir, mark this and judge how my mind is troubled. The -spectre came back a week ago. Ever since it has been there, now and -again, by fits and starts." - -"At the light?" - -"At the danger-light." - -"What does it seem to do?" - -He repeated, if possible, with increased passion and vehemence, that -former gesticulation of, "For God's sake, clear the way!" - -Then he went on. "I have no peace or rest for it. It calls to me, for -many minutes together, in an agonized manner, 'Below there! Look out! -Look out!' It stands waving to me. It rings my little bell--" - -I caught at that. "Did it ring your bell yesterday evening when I was -here and you went to the door?" - -"Twice." - -"Why, see," said I, "how your imagination misleads you. My eyes were on -the bell and my ears were open to the bell, and if I am a living man -it did not ring at those times. No, nor at any other time, except when -it was rung in the natural course of physical things by the station -communication with you." - -He shook his head. "I have never made a mistake as to that yet, sir. I -have never confused the spectre's ring with the man's. The ghost's ring -is a strange vibration in the bell that it derives from nothing else, -and I have not asserted that the bell stirs to the eye. I don't wonder -that you failed to hear it. But I heard it." - -"And did the spectre seem to be there when you looked out?" - -"It was there." - -"Both times?" - -He repeated firmly: "Both times." - -"Will you come to the door with me and look for it now?" - -He bit his under lip as though he were somewhat unwilling, but arose. -I opened the door and stood on the step while he stood in the doorway. -There was the danger-light. There was the dismal mouth of the tunnel. -There were the high, wet stone wells of the cutting. There were the -stars above them. - -"Do you see it?" I asked him, taking particular note of his face. His -eyes were prominent and strained, but not very much more so, perhaps, -than my own had been when I had directed them earnestly towards the -same spot. - -"No," he answered. "It is not there." - -"Agreed," said I. - -We went in again, shut the door, and resumed our seats. I was thinking -how best to improve this advantage, if it might be called one, when he -took up the conversation in such a matter-of-course way, so assuming -that there could be no serious question of fact between us, that I felt -myself placed in the weakest of positions. - -"By this time you will fully understand, sir," he said, "that what -troubles me so dreadfully is the question, What does the spectre mean?" - -I was not sure, I told him, that I did fully understand. - -"What is its warning against?" he said, ruminating, with his eyes on -the fire and only by times turning them on me. "What is the danger? -Where is the danger? There is danger overhanging somewhere on the line. -Some dreadful calamity will happen. It is not to be doubted this third -time after what has gone before. But surely this is a cruel haunting of -me. What can I do?" - -He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the drops from his heated -forehead. - -"If I telegraph danger on either side of me, or on both, I can give no -reason for it," he went on, wiping the palms of his hands. "I should -get into trouble and do no good. They would think I was mad. This is -the way it would work--Message: 'Danger! Take care!' Answered: 'What -danger? Where?' Message: 'Don't know. But for God's sake, take care!' -They would discharge me. What else could they do?" - -His pain of mind was most pitiable to see. It was the mental torture -of a conscientious man oppressed beyond endurance by an unintelligible -responsibility involving life. - -"When it first stood under the danger-light," he went on, putting his -dark hair back from his head and drawing his hands outward across and -across his temples in an extremity of feverish distress, "why not -tell me where that accident was to happen, if it must happen? Why not -tell me how it could be averted, if it could have been averted? When -on its second coming it hid its face, why not tell me, instead, 'She -is going to die. Let them keep her at home?' If it came, on those -two occasions, only to show me that its warnings were true and so to -prepare me for the third, why not warn me plainly now? And I, Lord help -me! A mere poor signal man in this solitary station! Why not go to -somebody with credit to be believed and power to act?" - -When I saw him in this state I saw that for the poor man's sake, as -well as for the public safety, what I had to do for the time was to -compose his mind. Therefore, setting aside all question of reality or -unreality between us, I represented to him that whoever thoroughly -discharged his duty must do well, and that at least it was his comfort -that he understood his duty, though he did not understand these -confounding appearances. In this effort I succeeded far better than in -the attempt to reason him out of his conviction. He became calm; the -occupations incidental to his post as the night advanced began to make -larger demands on his attention; and I left him at two in the morning. -I had offered to stay through the night, but he would not hear of it. - -That I more than once looked back at the red light as I ascended the -pathway, that I did not like the red light, and that I should have -slept but poorly if my bed had been under it, I see no reason to -conceal. Nor did I like the two sequences of the accident and the dead -girl. I see no reason to conceal that, either. - -But what ran most in my thoughts was the consideration, how ought I -to act, having become the recipient of this disclosure? I had proved -the man to be intelligent, vigilant, painstaking and exact; but how -long might he remain so, in his state of mind? Though in a subordinate -position, still he held a most important trust, and would I (for -instance) like to stake my own life on the chances of his continuing to -execute it with precision? - -Unable to overcome a feeling that there would be something treacherous -in my communicating what he had told me to his superiors in the -company, without first being plain with himself and proposing a -middle course to him, I ultimately resolved to offer to accompany him -(otherwise keeping his secret for the present) to the wisest medical -practitioner we could hear of in those parts, and to take his opinion. -A change in his time of duty would come round next night, he had -apprised me, and he would be off an hour or two after sunrise, and on -again soon after sunset. I had appointed to return accordingly. - -Next evening was a lovely evening, and I walked out early to enjoy it. -The sun was not yet quite down when I traversed the field-path near the -top of the deep cutting. I would extend my walk for an hour, I said to -myself, half an hour on and half an hour back, and it would then be -time to go to my signal-man's box. - -Before pursuing my stroll I stepped to the brink and mechanically -looked down from the point from which I had first seen him. I cannot -describe the thrill that seized upon me, when, close at the mouth of -the tunnel I saw the appearance of a man with his left sleeve across -his eyes, passionately waving his right arm. - -The nameless horror that oppressed me passed in a moment, for in a -moment I saw that this appearance of a man was a man indeed, and that -there was a little group of other men standing at a short distance to -whom he seemed to be rehearsing the gesture he made. The danger-light -was not yet lighted. Against its shaft a little low hut, entirely new -to me, had been made of some wooden supports and tarpaulin. It looked -no bigger than a bed. - -With an irresistible sense that something was wrong--with a flashing -self-reproachful fear that fatal mischief had come of my leaving the -man here and causing no one to be sent to overlook or correct what he -did--I descended the notched path with all the speed I could make. - -"What is the matter?" I asked the men. - -"Signal-man killed this morning, sir." - -"Not the man belonging to that box?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Not the man I know?" - -"You will recognize him, sir, if you knew him," said the man who spoke -for the others, solemnly uncovering his own head and raising an end of -the tarpaulin, "for his face is quite composed." - -"O, how did this happen, how did this happen?" I asked, turning from -one to another as the hut closed in again. - -"He was cut down by an engine, sir. No man in England knew his work -better, but somehow he was not clear of the outer rail. It was just at -broad day. He had struck the light and had the lamp in his hand. As -the engine came out of the tunnel his back was towards her and she cut -him down. That man drove her and was showing how it happened. Show the -gentleman, Tom." - -The man, who wore a rough dark dress, stepped back to his former place -at the mouth of the tunnel: - -"Coming round the curve in the tunnel, sir," he said, "I saw him at -the end, like as if I saw him down a perspective glass. There was no -time to check speed, and I knew him to be very careful. As he didn't -seem to take heed of the whistle, I shut it off when we were running -down upon him and called to him as loud as I could call." - -"What did you say?" - -"I said, 'Below there! Look out! Look out! For God's sake, clear the -way!" - -I started. - -"Ah! it was a dreadful time, sir. I never left off calling to him. I -put this arm before my eyes not to see, and I waved this arm to the -last; but it was no use." - -Without prolonging the narrative to dwell on any one of its curious -circumstances more than any other, I may, in closing it, point out the -coincidence that the warning of the engine driver included not only the -words which the unfortunate signal-man had repeated to me as haunting -him, but also the words which I myself--not he--had attached, and that -only in my own mind, to the gesticulation he had imitated. - - --Charles Dickens. - - -="Like a Thief in the Night"= - -"How many more days of this miserable tramping have we before us, -Ivan?" It was a rough voice that spoke--a voice hardened with -bitterness and hatred. - -"But four days more, Peter, and then the railroad. There lies Mansk -below us, and it is not far from Mansk to Vilna, not even by such a -detour as we must make." - -Peter paused again in his eating and looking out from their woodland -hiding-place toward the scraggly village, asked doubtingly, "You are -sure they will not fail us? For I swear, Ivan, I'll walk no further -than Vilna." - -Ivan twisted his scarred lips into a semblance of a smile. "The -brotherhood never fail," he said. "And now that we have finished our -supper, we may rest for the night, eh, Lev?" The speaker, who showed -evidences of association with the upper classes, turned to the young -Jewish lad sprawled beside him on the mouldy ground. The boy was -laboriously spelling out words in a greasy, dog-eared tract which he -tried to conceal when he saw Ivan's eyes upon him. - -"Hello," exclaimed the nihilist fanatic, "what have we here?" He -took the grimy pamphlet from the likewise grimy hands of the youth. -"Ho-ho," he laughed boisterously, for once forgetting that sometimes -even trees have ears. "Ho-ho! a merry jest, indeed! Lev reading up on -transmigration! Did you think to become learned, you pitiable young -dog? Have you not had meted out to you the full amount of education -allowed you miserable Jews? What can you understand of such things as -these? Ho-ho! yes, a joke indeed!" - -The boy gulped. His narrow nostrils widened, and the corners of his -sensitive mouth twitched. "I know I don't know much, Ivan. I found it -on the way and kept it, for it helps sometimes, wh-when I wish I hadn't -come." - -"Ho-ho," laughed Ivan again. "When he wishes he hadn't come! As if -he could have helped coming! Where, indeed, could the brotherhood -have found a more innocent-looking hiding-place for their papers? -But there, Lev, you shall have your thesis, since you feel the need -of amusement, you precious infant. And, Peter, perhaps you will rest -more peacefully when I tell you that Loris Pleschivna, that government -spy-cat--" here Ivan paused to observe the interest which he knew that -this name would create, while Lev, frightened, glanced backward--"was -shot two weeks ago," finished the narrator, impressively. - -Peter's yellow face showed great relief, but the boy whitened. "Well, -Lev, are you not glad! Or perhaps, mighty philosopher, you think that -his soul will come and steal the papers while you keep watch to-night, -eh?" And Ivan grinned--a hideous, tooth-displaying grin. But Lev only -shivered and looked around at the darkness. - -The night, one of those dear nights whose very paleness intensifies the -shadows and pictures the ghosts of the past to the guilty mind, had -fallen. The two older men rolled themselves in blankets and went to -sleep without delay. - -The young Jew sat alone, waiting for morning. For hours he remained -in the same position, his hands over his eyes that he might not see; -but his ears were alert to the slightest suggestion of sound. In -those weary minutes he lived over the scanty pleasures and the great -tribulations of his life, the joyless life of the persecuted Polish -Jew. The crackling of a dry leaf nearby aroused him. He looked up -quickly, apprehensively. A long wailing howl came from somewhere in -the darkness. Lev stiffened, staring into the shadows before him. From -a clump of bushes directly opposite peered two weird green eyes. The -lad's lower lip sagged loosely. As the strange eyes approached he -unconsciously moaned. Ivan and Peter stirred. Suddenly Ivan jumped up. -"Lev, Lev, what is it?" But the boy sat rigid. Ivan also looked at -the green eyes in the underbrush. Then he laughed, laughed long and -heartily. "Did you think it was a soul, Lev? A dog, and you afraid! -Perhaps it is a soulful dog." Ivan had sufficient culture not to laugh -at his own joke, but he waited for Peter's appreciation and Peter gave -it. Lev's only reply was to draw his hand across his brow. The palm -came down damp and clammy. "But it is just as well," went on Ivan, -"that we are awake, for it will soon be daylight, and we had best be -moving." - -In five minutes the trio were on their watchful way to skirt the little -village of Mansk. The trio, did I say? No, the quartet, I meant, -for two men, one with misshapen lips, the other with decided Jewish -features, went ahead; and close behind them walked a leathery visaged -man, who had for a companion a scraggly half-starved cur, with ghastly -green eyes. Occasionally the Jew turned, and, looking into those -green eyes, shivered. "Well," said Ivan, "perhaps it is the soul of -Pleschivna, eh?" In answer the dog whimpered. "It may be," said the -Jew, stupidly, "it may be," and he shivered again. - -The cold was of the damp clinging sort, against which no amount of -clothing can protect one. The three men on the tree-covered hill -overlooking the thatched brown cottages of Mansk, drew up their coat -collars and shivered. They had turned back and were seeking for -something. The scrawny green-eyed dog with them whined a low whine like -a human moan. - -"Curse the dog!" exclaimed one vagabond in a rasping voice. "I'll have -him following us no longer with his ghostly howls. And I tell you, -Ivan, it is useless to go back further, for Lev had the papers when we -were here before." - -"Yes, curse the dog," returned the man with the ever-grinning mouth. -"Curse him, of course; and since you feel such deep affection for him, -why not present him with one of those tablets meant for Pleschivna's -palate? Perhaps they would even so fulfill their intended purpose. What -say you, Lev?" - -The dull-eyed Jewish lad stared at the dog as if fascinated. "It may -be," he said and shivered again. It was, indeed, a very cold night. - -"Well, and the papers?" Peter impatiently queried. - -"I say, then, it is useless to go forward to Vilna without them. We -must search about here. Perhaps Lev has an opinion." But Lev was -thinking only of a much-thumbed philosophical tract in his pocket. "Or, -perhaps, learned theosophist, you believe that the dog has taken them. -You could not tell us somewhat of them yourself, could you, Lev?" - -"Lev! Why, he's afraid of his own shadow! He would not dare to tell a -lie, not even to himself," Peter scoffed. - -Again the dog whimpered. He went up to Lev and licked the boy's hand. -Ivan watched the performance interestedly. "None the less," he said, -"the dog shall have his dose; and that right now. He follows us about -like an evil spirit." The men disposed themselves as on the evening -before. - -How Lev had prayed for the night! And now that his prayer was answered, -how he stared into the thick, solid blackness and longed for the grey -light of morning! With straining ears he listened to the midnight -stillness. He had not even thought of sleep. If only he could rid -himself of that dullness or could concentrate his thoughts! - -A figure broke through the bushes. "Ivan, Ivan!" came Peter's voice. -"Ivan, wake up!" Ivan roused himself. "Well, Peter, why do you create -such a disturbance?" Ivan's speech was pettish, though still husky -from interrupted sleep. "Ivan, I got up and gave the dog the dose, as -you said. He slunk off into the woods. I followed. I don't know why. -It was almost midnight when he gave a sharp cry and dropped. I swear I -had never lost sight of him for an instant. I went up to look. He was -dead. And, Ivan, from his very mouth I took--the papers!" Peter waxed -triumphantly dramatic, his every low-spoken word sounding in Lev's ears -with the loudness of a tribal war-whoop. After much fumbling in the -darkness he placed in Ivan's hands a slightly torn packet. - -"A light!" Ivan spoke tersely. - -Peter struck a light. Trembling, Ivan spread out the documents. A -gruesome, unearthly howl, like the triumphant screech of a resentful -soul came to them through the blackness. With an awful oath Ivan turned -to Peter. "The signatures, you ignoramus, you imbecile!" he cried, -pointing to the ragged holes in the papers. "They are gone!" - -And Lev shivered, for the night was very cold. - - --Dorothea Knobloch. - - -II. The Story That Emphasizes Character and Environment. - -[Rudyard Kipling] - -The large number of Kipling's stories could not have been written -outside India, or at least the Orient. They are of the East eastern. -"Without Benefit of Clergy," "Muhammad Din," "The Gate of the Hundred -Sorrows," "The Man Who Would Be King"--the very names conjure up the -environment. They do more than that; they almost tell the story. -Before he began to write, Kipling knew thoroughly his adopted literary -land; in the same way all successful writers must know theirs if -they mean to reveal the influence of surroundings on character, if -they mean to give, as many writers do, a miniature of the locality -in each sketch. To read one of Mary E. Wilkins's stories is to catch -the flavor of all New England. Her nun is indeed a New England -nun. Nowhere else do people keep house quite so; but in scores of -Massachusetts and Connecticut homes the women, married and single, -are 'that partic'lar'--or nearly as particular as Louisa Ellis. But -wait a minute! [Mary E. Wilkins Freeman] If there are tens of women -like Louisa Ellis, wherein comes the story? Why, do you not see?--just -in the plus, the superfluity of New Englandishness that there is in -Louisa. It is the breadth of that more-so that gave Miss Wilkins her -twenty-four stories in the same book, and others outside it. And here -is the point: in this kind of story, your writer must know his locality -so well that the sameness of the people has a difference in each family -and in each member of that family. In other words, his characters must -be persons, not figureheads; they may be types, it is true, but they -must have the soul of individuality breathed into them. For instance, -in this one collection of stories Miss Wilkins has two Louisas, and -they both are typically of New England, they both have suitors, and -they both are averse to marriage; moreover, each slight course of -events is built on the impulse of the woman to avoid matrimony. But -here the likeness ends; for the women are individuals, and the lovers -are different from each other. The character-drawing of these two -stories is a daring attempt on the part of the author, but it is a -remarkably successful one. - -[Hamlin Garland] - -Hamlin Garland has been almost as successful with his middle Northwest -as Miss Wilkins has with her New England. His stories can not be called -quaint, as hers can, nor sweet exactly; but they can be said to be as -graphic, faithful, straightforward, homely, and to have been compiled -with as patient and sympathetic an observation--not so minute, but as -unerring. They are freer, bolder, more like the country he portrays. -With Mr. Garland perhaps we have more of the out-of-doors, literal -country, the black soil into which the people's lives are ploughed -and from which they come out again sometimes at the top of the corn -tassel. With Miss Wilkins the country is more that country not built -with hands, eternal in characteristics. Of both writers the work is -great work, and you can not go astray in taking either for your model. -"Up the Coolly" is a remarkable tragedy--for tragedy it is. "The Return -of the Private" is all too pathetically true. "Among the Corn Rows" is -startlingly realistic, and "A Branch Road"--well, doubtless people -have varying opinions about the usefulness of such pictures, but nobody -can gainsay the excellence of the craftsmanship. - -[Bret Harte] - -In a somewhat different way, with just as much realism maybe, but -surely with a large dash of romance, Bret Harte pre-empted California -as a literary land two decades before these younger writers staked -out their claims. "Tennessee's Partner" and "The Outcasts of Poker -Flat" are perfect in their way, and their way is this way: the -place-character narrative. - -[Suggestions and precautions] - -To write such a narrative, you must have vividly and accurately in mind -your selected environment. It is to form the color of your picture. -If you do not think you know thus intimately any locality, open your -eyes. The beautiful fact about living is, that we all always live -somewhere, and that same somewhere is full of a number of things, and -of nothing more surely than of local color. It is your business as a -writer to add this color constantly to your stories; but the best way -to proceed is not to attempt to spread it on from the outside, but to -let it shine through from within. To be sure, it must be on the valleys -and hills, the streets and the houses and the window curtains; but it -must also be in the speech of your peoples, in their notions, their -attitude toward each other and toward the great and little questions -of human relationship. Besides knowing the environment, you must -know indisputably some individuals of the place. You can not draw a -life-like sketch from an abstraction. The canvas painters have taught -us that truth, and so have the sculptors. For every figure they have -a living model. They must know where the bones and sinews are, even if -they mean to etherealize. So must you, and you have a harder problem; -your figure must speak. One false tone, and you mar the impression. -Mary E. Wilkins, excellent artist that she is, has impaired one of her -strongest stories, "The Revolt of Mother," by a lapse of art in respect -to two of her characters. The girl and boy are not old enough for the -age the author intimates; or what she says that they are is too old for -what they prove that they are when they speak and when they keep silent -even,--especially the girl. Moreover, we feel that the mother is ten or -fifteen years younger, than the age given her. These are minor points, -one admits, and, as we say, the story is excellent; but in so far as -it fails in little ways it is not superfine, though one of the most -lovable and dramatic, of Miss Wilkins's productions. In art you must -not make this mistake; it is no answer to assert that in life the woman -was sixty and the boy and girl fourteen and twenty. On the basis of the -character-drawing the woman is forty-five or fifty and the children -are twins, less than sixteen years old. In other words, a realist -that is an artist as well selects not only what is true but also what -will immediately without argument seem true. Miss Wilkins usually is -convincing. - -In addition to an unmistakably clear knowledge of place and -personality, you must know both local dialect and family vernacular. -The various individuals of your sketch, if they happen to belong to the -same household, must speak as if they so belonged. In actual life when -you converse with a company of persons, you can pick out two members -of the same family as readily as you can pick out two members of the -same community. Your character-narrative must reveal this likeness, not -by declaration especially, but by a subtle unity of vocabulary that -does not at the same time preclude individuality. - -[The character Overbury and Hall] - -The writers of this kind of short-story owe much to the past. We are -inclined to think of quiet and truthful character sketchers, who -reveal an appreciative knowledge of the influence of environment, as -distinctly a late nineteenth century brotherhood; but the fact is -that while moderate realism is undoubtedly the last artistic word on -the subject of effective character-revelation, it is also the first. -The modern novel of manners (and the artistic short-story of the same -class as an offshoot of it) drew from a full stream of realism. As far -back as the age of Overbury and Bishop Hall the public was interested -in prose character-sketches. The fact that essays could have such -names as "The Tinker" and "The Milkmaid" was a promise of the light -of common day. Then the gentle de Coverley papers came on with their -slight narrative and continued portrait, their delightful skits on -class environment and tradition; [The novel of manners] then, Tristram -Shandy's frank shamelessness about familiar things; then the Vicar of -Wakefield's struggling poverty; and finally the women entered--Evelina, -Belinda, Emma, Mary Barton, and the gentle ladies of Cranford, bringing -with them the tea-table and the trials of the parlor and of factory -life. The only thing that was needed to make the archetype complete -by the middle of the nineteenth century was for some one to take -persistently the same large yet specific environment. [Trollope's -Cathedral Town Studies] Anthony Trollope did so in his Cathedral Town -Studies. What ran parallel for a time with the novel of manners, but -had a later and fuller development, is the psychological problem novel, -begun by Richardson and Fielding and handed over to the late nineteenth -century writers by Charlotte Brontë. This psychological problem novel -bears the same relation to the novel of manners as the character-events -short-story bears to the character-environment one. - -You doubtless realize, as every one realizes, that a good short-story -is hard to write, but in the hardness comes the inspiration. If you -succeed, you have scored a triumph. But for your comfort, be assured -that the possibility is not beyond even a high-school student. The -attempt in very instructive at least. - -Remember that you are not writing a biography, but a place-character -narrative in the short-story form. You are not called on to record -every incident in the life of your subject or even every important -incident. The happenings may all be minor, in fact. The only essential -thing is that you reveal the indissoluble connection between -environment and characteristics. The person is what he is because he -has lived at that place with those habitual surroundings. - -There is this precaution, however, that you must take; you must not -let your narrative degenerate into a mere analysis and enumeration of -qualities. You are to write a story. And to write a story you must -have a happening or a series of happenings, however mild. Usually one -of these should be of more importance than the others, and the others -should be related to it as subordinates, in order that the effect may -be single. Any part of the life of your people that lies behind the day -of your revelation, if mentioned at all, should be told in retrospect; -whatever lies ahead, if mentioned at all, can be only prophecy. And, -finally, here is a little secret, an open one among artists, but one -shut away from the herd of common scribblers; what you do not tell but -only skilfully suggest is what makes for excellence and immortality. - - -=The Story of Muhammad Din= - - "Who is the happy man? He that sees in his own house at home, - little children crowned with dust, leaping and falling and - crying."--_Munichandra_, translated by Professor Peterson. - -The polo ball was an old one, scarred, chipped and dinted. It stood on -the mantelpiece among the pipe-stems which Iman Din, _khitmatgar_, was -cleaning for me. - -"Does the heaven-born want this ball?" said Imam Din, deferentially. - -The heaven-born set no particular store by it; but of what use was a -polo ball to a _khitmatgar_? - -"By your honour's favour, I have a little son. He has seen this ball -and desires it to play with. I do not want it for myself." - -No one would for an instant accuse portly old Imam Din of wanting -to play with polo balls. He carried out the battered thing into the -veranda, and there followed a hurricane of joyful squeaks, a patter -of small feet, and the _thud-thud-thud_ of the ball rolling along the -ground. Evidently the little son had been waiting outside the door to -secure his treasure. But how had he managed to see that polo ball? - -Next day, coming back from office half an hour earlier than usual, I -was aware of a small figure in the dining-room--a tiny, plump figure -in a ridiculously inadequate shirt, which came, perhaps, half way down -the tubby stomach. It wandered round the room, thumb in mouth, crooning -to itself as it took stock of the pictures. Undoubtedly this was the -"little son." - -He had-no business in my room, of course; but was so deeply absorbed in -his discoveries that he never noticed me in the doorway. I stepped into -the room and startled him nearly into a fit. He sat down on the ground -with a gasp. His eyes opened and his mouth followed suit. I knew what -was coming and fled, followed by a long, dry howl which reached the -servants' quarters far more quickly than any command of mine had ever -done. In ten seconds Imam Din was in the dining-room. Then despairing -sobs arose, and I returned to find Imam Din admonishing the small -sinner, who was using most of his shirt as a handkerchief. - -"This boy," said Imam Din, judiciously, "is a _budmash_--a big -_budmash_. He will, without doubt, go to the _jail-khana_ for his -behaviour." Renewed yells from the penitent, and an elaborate apology -to myself from Imam Din. - -"Tell the baby," I said, "that the _Sahib_ is not angry and take him -away." Imam Din conveyed my forgiveness to the offender, who had -now gathered all his shirt round his neck, stringwise, and the yell -subsided into a sob. The two set off for the door. "His name," said -Imam Din, as though the name were part of the crime, "is Muhammad Din, -and he is a _budmash_." Freed from present danger, Muhammad Din turned -round in his father's arms and said gravely, "It is true that my name -is Muhammad Din, _Tahib_, but I am not a _budmash_. I am a man!" - -From that day dated my acquaintance with Muhammad Din. Never again did -he come into my dining-room; but on the neutral ground of the garden -we greeted each other with much state, though our conversation was -confined to "_Talaam, Tahib_" from his side, and "_Salaam, Muhammad -Din_" from mine. Daily on my return from office the little white -shirt and the fat little body used to rise, from the shade of the -creeper-covered trellis where they had been hid, and daily I checked -my horse there that my salutation might not be slurred over or given -unseemly. - -Muhammad Din never had any companions. He used to trot about the -compound, in and out of the castor-oil bushes, on mysterious errands -of his own. One day I stumbled upon some of his handiwork far down -the grounds. He had half buried the polo-ball in dust, and stuck six -shriveled old marigold flowers in a circle round it. Outside that -circle again was a rude square, traced out in its bits of red brick -alternating with fragments of broken china; the whole bounded by a -little bank of dust. The water-man from the well-curb put in a plea for -the small architect, saying that it was only the play of a baby and did -not much disfigure my garden. - -Heaven knows that I had no intention of touching the child's work -then or later; but that evening a stroll through the garden brought -me unawares full on it, so that I trampled, before I knew, marigold -heads, dust bank and fragments of broken soap-dish into confusion past -all hope of mending. Next morning I came upon Muhammad Din crying -softly to himself over the ruin I had wrought. Some one had cruelly -told him that the _Sahib_ was very angry with him for spoiling the -garden, and he had scattered his rubbish, using bad language the -while. Muhammad Din laboured for an hour at effacing every trace of -the dust-bank and pottery fragments, and it was with a tearful and -apologetic fact that he said, "_Talaam, Tahib_," when I came home -from office. A hasty inquiry resulted in Imam Din informing Muhammad -Din that, by my singular favour, he was permitted to disport himself -as he pleased. Whereat the child took heart and fell to tracing the -ground-plan of an edifice which was to eclipse the marigold-polo-ball -creation. - -For some months the chubby little eccentricity revolved in his humble -orbit among the castor-oil bushes and in the dust; always fashioning -magnificent palaces from stale flowers thrown away by the bearer, -smooth water-worn pebbles, bits of broken glass, and feathers pulled, I -fancy, from my fowls--always alone, and always crooning to himself - -A gaily spotted sea-shell was dropped one day close to the last of -his little buildings, and I looked that Muhammad Din should build -something more than ordinarily splendid on the strength of it. Nor was -I disappointed. He meditated for the better part of an hour, and his -crooning rose to a jubilant song. Then he began tracing in the dust. -It would certainly be a wondrous palace, this one, for it was two -yards long and a yard broad in ground-plan. But the palace was never -completed. - -Next day there was no Muhammad Din at the head of the carriage-drive, -and no "_Talaam, Tahib_" to welcome my return. I had grown accustomed -to the greeting, and its omission troubled me. Next day Imam Din told -me that the child was suffering slightly from fever and needed quinine. -He got the medicine, and an English doctor. - -"They have no stamina, these brats," said the doctor, as he left Imam -Din's quarters. - -A week later, though I would have given much to have avoided it, I met -on the road to the Mussulman burying-ground Imam Din, accompanied by -one other friend, carrying in his arms, wrapped in a white cloth, all -that was left of little Muhammad Din. - - --Rudyard Kipling. - - "Plain Tales from the Hills." (Doubleday, Page & Co., 1907.) - - -=The Fetters= - -The cool maples rustled temptingly before the open kitchen window, and -seemed to mock the busy worker within. Flies buzzed at the screen, -door, and at intervals found entrance through sundry gaps in the -rusty screening. Inside there was the endless clatter of dishes, the -hissing sound of frying meat, and occasionally a sharp exclamation in a -nervous, high-pitched voice. The owner of the voice, a woman of about -thirty-five, was walking busily around the kitchen. A soiled gingham -apron nearly covered a worn gray skirt, and several large safety-pins -held her waist together over her flat chest. Premature wrinkles -hardened her eyes and mouth. Her hair drawn back over a high, bony -forehead, was twisted into an untidy little knot at the back of her -head. On each of her cheeks, just below the bone, came and went bright -spots of color--the only color about her, for her hair had no glints of -light and her apathetic blue eyes seemed absolutely devoid of luster. - -As she hastened back and forth, opening the oven door, setting the -table, inspecting the contents of various kettles steaming on the big -stove, she still found time to throw a glance, now and then, out to -the rickety porch, where a pale-faced little girl sat in an old red -porch-chair. The child's big eyes, startlingly prominent in her wan -face, followed the woman, and, when the latter looked at her, a sudden -smile would curve the straight little lips. But at times she would look -away from the kitchen out beyond to the wheat-fields, gleaming yellow -in the August sun--and still farther to the cool green woods, with the -hard blue sky above them. Then the child would sigh, and her face would -grow wondering and anxious, as she turned back again and smiled at the -woman in the kitchen--a curious, wistful, unchildlike smile. On the -step beside her lay a worn little home-made crutch. - -"Here come the men-folks, mother," the child exclaimed suddenly. Her -mother came to the door, and shading her eyes with her apron, peered up -the dusty lane. Then she went back to the house and hurriedly finished -setting the table. The heavy plates and cups were hardly in place on -the red-checked cloth before the men came clattering up the walk and up -the porch. Most of them had a smile for the pale little girl in the -chair, and one had brought her a bunch of red field-poppies, already -half withered, in his big hand. The child took them eagerly, laying -their vivid petals lovingly against her pale cheek. The rest of the men -filed past with a grin or a roughly tender, word--all but the last. He -came up the steps, his forehead wrinkled in a scowl evidently habitual, -his mouth hard, his eyes deep-set and forbidding. He did not even -notice the child, and she shrank back in her chair, her lip trembling, -her eyes wide with fear. - -"Dinner near ready, Jane?" he demanded in a gruff tone. Jane gave a -brief little nod and hurried on with the rest of the preparations. -Rough laughter, scraping of boots, loud clattering of knives on plates, -and a continual demand for replenishment, followed the course of the -dinner. Jane sat wearily, but her plateful of cabbage and pork lay -untasted before her. Out on the porch the little girl sipped a glass of -milk and watched the cool dimness of the distant woods. - -The men pushed back their chairs, wiped their mouths with the backs -of their brown hands, and hurried away to the fields. Jane's husband -stopped for a moment to mend a rip in his boot. It was a difficult rip -to mend and his temper was soon exhausted. - -"Why don't ye learn that white-faced brat out there to work!" he -stormed, "us short o' hands an' her less good than none at all--an' -a nuisance to boot." Jane suddenly turned and let a saucer fall. Her -lips were compressed for a moment, then she went down on one knee and -carefully picked up the fragments of china. - -"What a snap ye've got, next to what brother Dan's wife had," Jim went -surlily on. "Dan made her go out an' tend his grapes, while all ye've -got to do is cook a little and wash up--an' ye act as if ye was worked -hard. Dan's wife never kicked--she'd be'n sorry if she had," and he -gave a hard dry laugh in appreciation of his own humor. - -But Jane did not hear this last remark; she was thinking of her -brother-in-law's wife, a frail little woman whose life had been made up -of pruning grapevines or cutting grapes, working side by side with the -Italian women whom her husband hired, working harder than any of them -did, too, and for far less recompense. She remembered how angry Dan -had been because his wife had appeared one afternoon in a shirt-waist, -instead of the usual wrapper. It was a clumsy, cheap, ill-made thing, -but Margaret's eyes had danced when Jane came to see her that day. -And she remembered how Dan had come in and declared he wanted no -high-falutin' things around his house; that he had married to get some -one to work for him, not for a parlor ornament. Poor little Margaret! -How her thin cheeks had flushed and her timid eyes filled with tears! -But she died not long after--Jane gave a half-envious sigh. - -"Goin' to stand there all day lookin' at nothin'?" a gruff voice -asked suddenly, and she started. The knife with which she had been -peeling potatoes to fry for supper, slipped and cut her finger. She -went over to the sink and wiped away the red streak, while her husband -shufflingly made his exit, grumbling to himself over the foolishness of -ever bothering with such a useless baggage as a woman. On the porch he -stumbled over the little crutch and kicked it aside with an oath. - -The afternoon wore away slowly. Little Meg slept on her cot upstairs, -her cheeks hot and damp, her arms flung wide in the weariness of -childhood. Jane sewed steadily at a heap of burlap grain bags, -until the sun went down in a riot of yellow and crimson behind the -trees. Jane put away her sewing, gently woke Meg, and prepared to go -downstairs to get supper ready. She stopped to look at the sunset -before she went down. Along the road beyond came the rattle of wheels; -a buggy passed in which sat a woman in solitary state. A striped silk -dress enveloped her ample person, a hat with nodding red roses and a -broad white brim shaded a pair of stupid, comfortable eyes, and cast -its shadow over a mouth that fairly sagged with good humor and good -living. Her fat hands, lying idly in her lap and holding the reins -loosely, were pulled back and forth by the jogging brown horse. Jane -recognized in the woman Mrs. Petersen, her nearest neighbor, and -half hungrily surmised that she was returning home from a meeting of -the "Tuesday Social Club." The buggy leisurely passed the house and -disappeared along the dusty lane. - -Suddenly, in one rush of emotion, the whole barrenness of Jane's lot -came over her. She thought of the long days filled with unceasing -labor--the dull, gray days that stretched endlessly behind her and -yet more endlessly before her. Her life seemed one wearying round of -dish-washing and cooking, of going to bed utterly worn out and of -rising next morning just as tired as she had been the night before. She -felt a terrible grudge rise in her against her husband--and she allowed -this grudge now to fill her soul completely, instead of crushing out -such feelings as she had hitherto done. Why had he never helped her -to have a good time as other women had? Why had he forgotten that she -was a woman and fond of dainty things? She thought of the stern young -fellow who had courted her when she was a girl--so very long ago that -was. And how she had married him, and how proud she had been of him, -and how she had boasted of his thrift to all her neighbors. And then -she remembered how sternness which she admired in the youth had changed -into surliness in the man; how gradually--little by little--she had -lost hope--she who had hoped for so much and had had to little given -her. On her, and on her alone, the brunt of all his displeasure and of -all his wrath had fallen. - -Then suddenly her face cleared; as she heard a sleepy yawn from the -bed; little Meg lay watching her, her sleep-filled eyes smiling their -same brave smile. At least, Jane thought, she had Meg--and Dan's wife -had not even had a Meg. Dan's wife had never known the sweetness of -clinging hands and the comfort of damp baby kisses. So even for her, -life still held compensation. She looked out at the west where the -riotous reds had now faded to soft rose and gray. The outlines of the -woods were softened and the nodding tree-tops seemed beckoning her to -come away with them. Almost involuntarily the woman stretched out her -hands towards the trees, and her hungry eyes filled with tears. Perhaps -some day, when little Meg became stronger--perhaps some day they -two--just they--might go away somewhere, together--somewhere where the -world was all soft rose and gray, where there were no endless days of -toil, no angry voice, nothing but peace. Then perhaps Meg would-- - -"Jane," a rough voice broke in on her musings, "fer God's sake, woman, -what ails ye? Seven o'clock an' no bite to eat ready!" - -Jane hurriedly rose from the window. For the first time in her life she -had let her day-dreams really make her forget her dull, common-place -world. She stopped to smooth Meg's moist curls, and ran downstairs. -There at the foot stood her husband, a whole day's displeasure frowning -forth in his face, an angry light in his eyes. - -"I know it's late, Jim--it's too bad," Jane faltered, "but you never -had to wait before. I was busy--I was thinking--I--" - -"Busy!" he sneered. "Busy! Settin' down doin' nothin' but hushin' that -blamed brat. Let her alone. She ain't only a nuisance anyhow--spend yer -time on something worth while." - -Half unconsciously Jane looked at her hands; the forefinger of the -right was rough and needle-pricked, and her hands were red and raw -from much dish-washing and cleaning. She thought to herself how often -she longed to caress little Meg, to hug her and rock her for a whole -afternoon, to love, love, love her to her heart's content--but she had -never found time. Then her husband's last cutting words came back to -her. She took a step forward, the suffering of years in her face. The -red spots on her cheeks were very red now. "Can I help it," she gasped, -"that my baby is a puny little thing? Is it my fault? What care has she -ever had, excepting what I have been able to steal for her? If you were -a man like other men--not a brute--then perhaps you would understand!" -She clinched her hand and looked defiantly up into his face. - -Jim stood still for a moment, astonished at the outburst from his meek -wife. Then his quick anger blazed up, and, lifting his big hand, he -struck Jane full in the face. She fell back against the stairway, her -face white, save for the red spots which were livid now. Her eyes, were -full of tears from the force of the blow. She heard Jim's voice from a -distance. - -"No use waitin' here forever," he grumbled. "I'll go to Reynold's an' -get a bite; his wife'll probably have it waitin'." And she saw him turn -to the door along which Meg just came tapping. The child hurried to get -out of his way. Jim slouched heavily through the room, and out of the -house, his big boots creaking as he went. - -Jane sat down on the step. Her head ached from the force of the blow. -She felt dazed with the suddenness of everything. Little Meg came and -sat down beside her, patting Jane's rough hand with her soft palm to -attract her attention; then she settled down quietly beside her, her -bright head leaning on her mother's apron. Darkness came, but Jane did -not stir. Meg had gone to sleep. - -Suddenly the crutch beside them slipped and rattled against the wall. -Meg woke and cried out with fright. Jane absently took the child in her -arms and tried to soothe her, but Meg was thoroughly frightened and -refused to be comforted. At length she was quiet and Jane carried her -to bed. In a few moments, her baby-fear forgotten, she was again fast -asleep. Jane went over to the window and crouched there, bitterness -in her heart. Over in the west the shadowy outlines of the trees -looked mysterious, aloof, unsympathetic; so did the cold white stars -over them. Sympathy seemed to have gone out of everything in the whole -world. And Jane leaned heavily on the sill and thought. - -For a long time she sat there, until she heard Meg stir restlessly on -the bed. Then she rose and looked mechanically towards the Reynolds -house. A bright light burned in a lower room, so she knew that her -husband was still there, talking over the day's affairs with Farmer -Reynolds. Her husband! She felt a sudden shrinking at the mere word. -She decided that she hated him, she knew that she hated him, with -the pent-up hatred of years. And she shuddered when she thought of -to-morrow and the next to-morrow, and all the dull to-morrows that -would have to come--and he must be in them all; that was the thought -which made her sick and faint. She lay down on the bed beside Meg, -merely loosening her waist and uncoiling her hair. Physical weariness -brought a dreamless sleep. She woke with a start, after a sleep -that seemed to have lasted for centuries. There was strange noises -downstairs--gruff, muffled voices, queer shuffling as of heavy boots, -and then a sudden scraping against the outer door. With a quick -unreasoning fear at her heart, Jane flew down the stairs and out into -the kitchen. Some one had lighted the oil lamp there. Her eyes saw at -first only a blurred group before her. Her vision cleared gradually, -until the blur resolved itself into four men, with alarmed, puzzled -faces, who were carrying several boards on which lay something covered -with a big coat. Jane held her breath, while the men looked sheepishly -at one another. Then she ran to the heap, lifted the coat, and looked -down at her husband. His face was hard and set, the jaw projecting; but -the usual sneer was gone from his mouth, and his closed eyes gave him -an expression of peace. Jane dropped the coat as if dazed and turned -helplessly to the men. They, equally helpless, nudged Farmer Reynolds -forward to act as spokesman. His big, kindly face was abashed and -solemn, his fingers nervously twirled his rough cap. - -"It was a stroke, mum," he managed to jerk out at last, "some kind of -a fit, Doc says. It carried him right, off, too, quicker'n a wink, -an' not a mite o' pain. There he was a-sittin' an' scrappin' like -a good feller one minute--an' then his face kind o' went pale, an' -over he keeled. First we knew it was him on the floor, clean knocked -out." Reynolds was becoming garrulous in his efforts to relieve the -embarrassment of the situation, but Jane had already forgotten him. -They had laid Jim on the floor and Jane sat down beside him, carefully -adjusting his tumbled coat and smoothing the rough hair off his low -forehead. She did it all in a calm and matter-of-fact way. The men -looked helplessly at one another, while Jane, utterly unconscious of -them, continued her ministrations to the dead. Was it a few hours ago -or was it many years ago that she had vowed never to call him husband -again? She had forgotten--after all, it didn't matter. Nothing really -mattered now. - -Suddenly there came a tapping down the steps. The stair door was pushed -open, and a towsled, barefooted, night-gowned little figure appeared on -the threshold. "Mother," Meg quivered, "where are you?" When she saw -her mother, she made straight for her, almost tumbling over the crutch -in her haste. She threw her arms, lovingly around her mother's neck. -Jane started--the queer, dazed look left her eyes, though her cheeks -were still pale, save for one long red mark. With a little sob she -turned, crushed the child to her, and began to cry. - -"Oh, but we did love him, Meg, didn't we?" she sobbed. "And he was good -to us, just as good as he knew how to be. Oh, Meg, Meg, if I had only -been a better wife to him!" - - --Katherine Kurz. - - -=When Terry "Quit"= - -"Gad! and to think, Jim, that I ever lived on Front street!" The -frock-coated, silk-hatted stage manager removed the big black cigar -from his mouth, and with a pudgy little finger, on which sparkled -a blue diamond of unusual size, he flicked away the ashes. "Though -it really was a rather decent sort of a place then, you know." He -addressed his companion, a press-agent, first, however, carefully -readjusting the cigar so that it should be at such an angle to his lips -as to suggest sportiness. - -Now, the south side of the thoroughfare just mentioned consists chiefly -of warehouses and saloons, the north side chiefly of saloons and -pawnshops. On summer days the street squirms with chickens, bulldogs -and babies; but on the warm evenings, when the pawnshops and the -warehouses are closed, when the saloons are doing a lucrative business, -then the chickens roost on the back fences, the bulldogs doze lazily -on the stone flaggings, and in the stuffy little sleeping apartments -above the saloons the children of the saloon-keepers dream of the envy -which, by means of delicious chili-sauce sandwiches, they will create -the next day among the children of the pawnbrokers. - -The two men were now approaching the most prosperous saloon in the -street. Streams of light, coming from both above and below the -little green baize door, shone on a swinging signboard. "Tim Dugan's -Café," the gilt letters informed any who were unacquainted with the -neighborhood. Boorish men could be heard calling jocularly for more -beer, and the constant slamming of the cash drawer mingled with the -clinking of heavy glasses. - -"A song! It's time fer a chune!" called a raucous voice. - -"Aha, yer right there, it's Terry fer us," acquiesced one of the crowd. - -"Terry! Terry! it's oop on the table fer ye, Terry." The cry was -accompanied by much loud laughter and the shuffling of heavy boots. -Labor-hardened hands clapped approval, and then for a moment there was -silence. - -"'A sailor's wife a sailor's star shall be.'" - -The sweet, though untrained tenor voice, rang high and clear. - -"'Yo-ho-oh, boyoys, ho--'" - -The two fashionably dressed men stopped in front of the short door. - -"Jove! what a voice!" the manager breathed. - -"'A long, long life to my sweet wife!'" - -No sound interrupted the ringing sailor ballad. - -"Let's go in and have a drink," suggested the press-agent, when the -song was finished. - -As unobtrusively as possible the two men entered. - -"More! more!" the appreciative, if unschooled, audience was demanding, -and in the clatter of applause the strangers were unnoticed. - -"'I have come to say good-bye, Dolly Grey.'" - -The then new popular song thrilled the listeners with its martial -rhythm, as the plaintive cadences of the beautiful voice rang in their -ears. - -"'Good-bye, Dolly, I must leave you.'" - -The singer's glance fell on the new listeners. His merry eyes wavered -and his face flushed until it became as red as his curly hair. He -stopped short in the chorus. - -"I guess it's me that's been yowling anough fer tunight, byes," he -mumbled, as he climbed down from the table and, sliding behind the -counter, donned the white apron which proclaimed him a bartender. - -"Wy, Terry, wat's the matter wit ye? We got a have one more afore ye -quit." - -But Terry shook his head vigorously in an emphatic "no," as he rapidly -cleaned the thick glasses. - -The two men from the world of dazzling footlights ordered drinks, paid -doubly for them, made a bluff at enjoying the poor liquor, and then -quietly left the _café_, and continued their walk past the warehouses, -pawnshops and saloons of Front street. - -The next morning, when the heavy wagons were rattling over the -cobble-stones of the narrow, dirty thoroughfare, and the children of -the pawnbrokers were engaged in throwing "spit-balls" at the children -of the saloon-keepers, "Tim Dugan's Café" was for the second time -honored with the entrance of the stage-manager of the minstrel show -which was to be in town the next week. This potentate had come on ahead -of his company to adjust some little difficulty with the play-house -owners, and now that that business had been settled, another matter of -importance presented itself: the tenor soloist, no longer in his prime, -had left. - -The manager sauntered up to the bar, rested his right elbow on the -marble slab, settled his "silk" hat more comfortably on his head, -shoved his left hand deep into his trousers' pocket--whereupon an -attractive chinking sound could be heard--and crossed his gaitered feet. - -"One," he announced, and the ruddy-haired Irish lad, who had been busy -washing glasses, quickly, deftly, filled a mug with frothy beer. - -"Ahem!" The manager puffed up his heavy chest and leaned both elbows on -the bar. - -Then, ensued a whispered dialogue, during which Terry Flynn's laughing -eyes alternately grew round with wonder and twinkled with pleasure. - -"Sorry!" gasped the bartender at last, "not a bit of it. Ye cin bet yer -shiny, boots, an' it's me as 'll do it!" - -The manager, smiling with the satisfaction of having clinched an -excellent bargain, made his way among the chickens, bulldogs and babies -of Front street and soon left the beery atmosphere far behind him. - -Terry, however, kept his own council. Not until the following Monday -did he give any information concerning the identity of the "swell gent" -who had so strangely visited him. - -Then how the inhabitants of Front street rejoiced! Terry Flynn--often -called "Irish" for short--redheaded Terry Flynn, who had many a time -caused a quarrel to be forgotten by breaking into a song as he rattled -the mugs on the bar--Terry--their Terry--was going on the stage! He -would own a silk tile, and wear diamond studs--but he would sing no -more for Front street. - -How the bony-fisted, generous men, in spite of their keen regret at -losing him, rejoiced in Terry's good fortune! - -"Ha'n't I said, ag'in an' ag'in, as Terry could sing twicet as fine as -the feller 'at sang 'atween the acks o' 'Uncle Tom's Cabin,' one time -w'en I went an' seen it? Ha'n't I now?" queried a delighted teamster. - -"Aye, that ye 'ave, Jawn, that ye 'ave," replied a pensioned sailor, -also jubilant over the fame in store for Terry. - -As for Terry himself, he had not yet recovered from his surprise, and -so had little room for other emotions. He was too ignorant, too fresh -from his peat-carrying labors in the shamrock country, to have any fear -of stage fright. Indeed, that word was not in his stunted vocabulary. - -He went that afternoon to rehearse "Nancy Lee," with the rest of the -company, newly arrived, who were to join him in the "yo-ho's." How -well the song sounded when supplemented by such a chorus! Terry's -blood quickened! He did not observe the coldness of the other singers -towards him. He would have cared little if he had felt the lack of -friendliness, for so sunny was his Irish temperament, so strong his -Irish independence and congeniality, that he would not easily have -lost hope of winning the good will of his associates. Moreover Terry -was so humble that he would rather have expected them to stand a little -aloof at first; but when, black-faced and white-gloved, he stood upon -the great stage of the Opera House, and filled the domed auditorium -with his strong, beautiful tenor notes, he knew nothing save that -he was one of "them actor fellows" now; that the men and women from -the world of wealth were listening to him. His eyes sparkled with -excitement. - -"A long, long life to my sweet wife," he sang. - -In the silence of the people Terry instinctively recognized their -appreciation. - -"Nancy Lee--" - -The vaulted ceiling sent the round, high notes back to the eager ears -of the audience. - -"Yo-ho-boyoys, ho--" - -The "yo-ho" didn't sound with the proper vigor. It was flat. A frown -appeared between Terry's arched eyebrows. He was singing his "Yo-ho's" -alone! Slowly he turned, still singing, to face the other minstrels. -Some one snickered, "Do you see us singing with a bar-tender?" - -"Nance--" - -Terry stopped. A calloused fist, with strong muscle and Irish temper to -speed it, shot out. - -"Curtain!" called the manager, wildly. The audience, though somewhat -surprised, accepted this performance as a ridiculous climatic ending -to one of the "stunts," and gave a vigorous applause. But Terry heeded -neither applause nor curtain. He was demonstrating to these unmannerly -show men, that though they might refuse to sing with a bar-tender, -they could not refuse to accept from one a lesson in pugilism. - -Terry paused to take a long breath. He glared at the men, one of whom -was holding a handkerchief to a rapidly swelling eye, another of whom -was hugging an aching side. Terry had done his work quickly. The -manager hastened up to interfere. - -"They might a' told me so afore. It isn't me as they need be makin' -a fool of. I'm made as good as them, even if it do be a truth that I -sell the beer they drink," Terry said, dazed. He picked up the battered -opera hat which had been part of his costume and started towards the -door. - -"My dear Mr. Flynn, I will adjust this little misunderstanding. I -assure you, it shall not occur again." - -Terry turned. "Why," he laughed strangely, as he picked a bit of lint -from his sleeve. "Aren't ye knowin'? I'd be ashamed t' sing, with -such dum poor excuses fer men," he replied, and made his way down -the rickety stairway, to the street, not stopping even to remove the -grease-paint. - -"It's them as might a been men, and told me," he sobbed as he walked -slowly back again to dirty, ill-lighted Front street, to don again his -white apron; to pass the amber-colored foamy liquid over the bar; to -sing "Nancy Lee" in Tim Dugan's Café; to sing for the rough men who -would deem it a sacrilege to lift their harsh voices with Terry's sweet -plaintive tones. - - --Dorothea G. Knoblock. - - -=Nora Titay and Chiquito= - -Nora Titay, a widow of fifty, came home from the gambling house one -afternoon in bad humor. Her hair hung carelessly over her wrinkled -face, which always looked as if it had been dipped in a barrel of -flour. As she walked along the street, she spat and muttered, with her -mouth full of _buyo_, "Pshe, this cursed _panguingue_ will ruin me. I -had bad luck this week. Yesterday I lost ten pesos, and now twelve. I -haven't a single penny left. I wonder where Rosa and I will get the -money to buy our food. I have sold her ring to pay my debts. To-morrow, -there will be another game. I shall play again to see if I can recover -what I have lost. But where shall I get money? Oh, I see! Chiquito is -coming to-night to court Rosa. He is very rich, and is willing to give -anything he has if he can only win my daughter's love. But foolish -girl! She does not like him, because he is a Chinaman. She prefers -to love that poor, simple student, Pedro. I will force her to marry -Chiquito; then I can play panguingue at any time. I shall soon be rich." - -"Rosa," said Titay as soon as she arrived at the house, "you must look -well to-night, for Chiquito is coming. You must not show any sour face -to him. I want you to marry him whether you like to or no. Do you -understand me? Now, don't say anything or I will whip you," said Titay, -seriously. "Why don't you marry him yourself, mamma? You will be a -good partner for him since you love him better than I do," said Rosa -laughing. "What, you foolish girl! Do you mean to joke me, your mother? -I am looking out for your good," said Titay angrily, then slapped and -pinched her daughter. They were still quarreling when Chiquito came. - -"Buena noche, Nola Tetay y Senolita Losa," said Chiquito in his poor -Spanish, when he came. - -"Buenas noches, Chiquito," replied Titay with a smile. "Here is -a basket of oranges and _tikoy_ for you and Senolita Losa," said -Chiquito, while he was uncovering the basket. "What a very good -son-in-law, I have!" murmured Titay. "Chiquito, to-morrow afternoon -you must come here ready to marry Rosa. Bring a priest with you, and -get a wedding dress for her. But, by the way, lend me a sum of money, -for I must buy something." Chiquito was so glad that he immediately -handed to her his purse. "What kind of dress shall I bring, mother?" -asked Chiquito eagerly. "You must ask Rosa about that," murmured Titay. -Chiquito went to Rosa, who was looking out of the window, absorbed in -thought. "Senolita Losa, what kind of dress should you like for our -wedding?" asked Chiquito politely. "_Baboy!_ (swine) what wedding do -you mean? Do you think I would marry you, _baboy_?" said Rosa, angrily. -"Your mother told me that I must come here to-morrow afternoon, and -you and I should be married," said Chiquito. "You had better marry -mother. She is more fit for you. Now, go away." Nora Titay was so -busily counting her money and thinking how many times she could play -panguingue with it that she did not hear the quarrel. "Nola Tetay, Losa -is angry with me. She does not want to marry me," said Chiquito. - -"Never mind, you can go home now, Chiquito, and be ready for to-morrow. -I will see that she accepts the proposal," said Titay. Chiquito went -home gladly, and Titay got busy compelling Rosa to marry Chiquito, -till the daughter was forced to make a promise. - -The next day, at the appointed hour, Chiquito came with a priest. But -Rosa could not be found in the house. A letter was found instead saying -that Rosa had eloped with Pedro. Chiquito, disliking to lose his money, -asked for Titay's hand. They were married that very day. - - --Joaquina E. Tirona. - - -III. The Story That Emphasizes Character and Events - -[Difference between character-place story and character-events story] - -Obviously the character-events story is different from the -character-place story just in the emphasis and because of it. The -personality of the chief actor of a story of events, does not -necessarily spring from the scene of action. In fact, the personality -very often is in strong contrast with the place. A soldier for instance -by some chance may be left stranded on an oasis in the desert; the -purpose of the writer in having him there may be to set forth a number -of strange occurrences that bring out his character, or the author may -wish to demonstrate some truth about wild animals. A woman may be on -a Pullman car bringing her dying husband home with her from Denver to -New York. The author will then be concerned with an analysis of the -woman's mind as events come to her. A person may be standing at the -prisoner's dock and may tell his life. Place will concern the author a -great deal in a certain sense, but it will be not the character-making -place, but the event-making place,--the battle-ground, the cricket -field. If a different character met the same events in the same place, -he might act otherwise. It is the conjunction of character and events -that the author is revealing and the reader watching. Let us name over -a few of the great stories and collections of this kind to see if the -titles suggest anything: "The Necklace" by Maupassant; "The Father" by -Björnson; "The Siege of Berlin" by Daudet; "The Substitute" by Coppée; -"The Insurgent" by Halévy; "Mateo Falcone" by Mérimeé; "The Shot" by -Pushkin; "The Greater Inclination," "Crucial Instances," "The Descent -of Man, and Other Stories," by Mrs. Wharton. - -[Component elements of this type] - -We might say that the representative short-story of this type is -a combination of romanticism, realism, metaphysics, and modern -journalism. A concentrated extract of the work of Scott, Jane Austen, -Thackeray, George Eliot and Reade. The list suggests the history -of the novel since Fielding's day and the elements it acquired and -transmitted to the short-story. You have probably studied how Scott, -when Lord Byron out-ran him, turned from metrical to prose romance; -how Scott created with the "Waverley Novels" (which of course are -not novels in the usual sense) a new romance, the historical, which -immediately took its place as a permanent type of literature. On the -side of stirring events our present short-story often epitomises Scott. -He said himself he wrote for soldiers, sailors, and young people of -bold and daring dispositions. There is no limit, therefore, in choice -of events. The record may be the most startling. It usually, however, -is not extravagant beyond what a healthy and cheerful imagination can -enjoy. Our temperance is due no doubt to the restraining influence of -Jane Austen and her late followers in realism. She tried to teach her -own age to laugh at itself good-naturedly and to bridle romance with -common sense. "Northanger Abbey," written in 1798, was a direct satire -of the terror school, which was popular before her day and Scott's. -Moderns have enthroned Jane Austen as a perfect artist, and all good -fiction writers have learned the lesson she taught. In general, her -work belongs with the story that emphasizes manners and environment; -but her most popular novel, "Pride and Prejudice," has in addition to -the reflection of environment a sequence of interesting events and a -spiritedness that together make it an extended prototype of the story -that emphasizes both character and happenings. To Scott's boldness and -Jane Austen's satiric restraint, time added George Eliot's metaphysical -curiosity. Since her day we are all interested in duty, destiny, -freedom of will, mind-habit. She showed us how a neighborly man becomes -a miser, how a miser becomes once more a neighborly man; how a lovable -but morally and physically timid man becomes a scoundrel. Most of -our short stories now-a-days display an element of such analysis; -many of them are wholly constituted upon an inquiry; some, beginning -just in front of the crisis, give us a feeling of past complicating -events, and with one flash show us the present tangle; others with -a swift relentlessness pile happening upon happening until, panting -for breath, we stumble upon the momentous climax. Very often, too, at -the end, we are left in an atmosphere of pessimism--sometimes it is -only a companionable little chill like that Thackeray used to give us, -wherein, laughing and chattering, we shake hands with our brothers to -keep warm; sometimes, it is like Maupassant's, a hard, dull bitterness -of cold-- - - "A chill no coat however stout, - Of homespun stuff can quite shut out." - -Wherever the pessimism comes from, almost invariably a little bit of it -joins swiftness, realism, metaphysical curiosity, and one other element -probably inherited from the novel; namely, a striking semblance of -actuality. No matter how thrilling the events may be, they are usually -convincing. Charles Reade had the trick of taking his facts from -newspaper reports. Many of our present-day writers keep a scrap-book, -and they very often build their most successful stories on actual -events, making up the participants from what they imagine they must -have been. - -The characters, then, in this kind of narrative are often more or -less fictitious, being a combination of traits well-known to the -author--traits of different individuals of the type displayed; while -in the other kind of artistic short-story, it is the slight course of -events that is made up, to fit the actual character and the actual -place. - -[A scrap-book suggestion] - -Whatever else you do as a writer--even as an amateur one in school--it -will surely repay you to keep a scrap-book. The very old adage that -facts are stranger than fiction is indisputably true. When in your -newspaper reading you run across a fine course of events that is -character-revealing, or ought to be, just cut out the report and paste -it in your book. Think upon the case leisurely and let the personages -develop; then write up the events as simply and swiftly as you can -consistent with the effect you mean to produce. Hawthorne's "Ambitious -Guest" originated thus. - -[Other suggestions] - -If at present you have in mind no series of happenings, suppose you -ask some acquaintance what is the strangest course of actual events -he ever personally knew about. When he answers you, then question him -on the actors concerned, remembering that this time you are going to -write not a pure plot story but one that will express the conjunction -of character and events. Keep in mind also your present limitations. -You do not need to tell everything that might be told about your -protagonists; you do not have to follow them from the baptismal font -to the marriage altar and from the marriage altar to the grave. You -may not know the facts about them connected therewith; you may know -only a small portion of their lives; but ten to one you will know more -incidents than it is necessary to mention. What you do tell, however, -must be absolutely clear. The actual events may have been but a string -of episodes in real life, but when you relate them they must appear -like a full, round period. Look carefully after your connectives; on -them hangs largely the success of your story. It goes without saying -that you must have a climax, or highest point. Every sentence that you -write before it, even the first, must lead toward it; every sentence -that you write after it, even the last, must lead from it. You must -ruthlessly suppress any phrase that does not add strength to your -chosen scene. Be sure your story has totality. - - -=The Necklace= - -She was one of those pretty, charming girls who are sometimes, as -if through the irony of fate, born into a family of clerks. She was -without dowry or expectations, and had no means of becoming known, -appreciated, loved, wedded, by any rich or influential man; so she -allowed herself to be married to a small clerk belonging to the -Ministry of Public Instruction. She dressed plainly because she -could not afford to dress well, and was unhappy because she felt she -had dropped from her proper station, which for women is a matter of -attractiveness, beauty, and grace, rather than of family descent. Good -manners, an intuitive knowledge of what is elegant, nimbleness of wit, -are the only requirements necessary to place a woman of the people on -an equality with one of the aristocracy. - -She fretted constantly, feeling all things delicate and luxurious to -be her birthright. She suffered on account of the meagreness of her -surroundings, the bareness of the walls, the tarnished furniture, the -ugly curtains; deficiencies which would have left any other woman of -her class untouched, irritated and tormented her. The sight of the -little Breton peasant who did her humble housework engendered hopeless -regrets followed by fantastic dreams. She thought of a noiseless, -hallowed anteroom, with Oriental carpets, lighted with tall branching -candlesticks of bronze and of two big, knee-breeched footmen, drowsy -from the stove-heated air, dozing in great armchairs. She thought of -a long drawing-room hung with ancient brocade, of a beautiful cabinet -holding priceless curios, of an alluring, scented boudoir intended for -five o'clock chats with intimates, with men famous and courted, and -whose acquaintance is longed for by all women. - -When she sat down to dinner, at the round table spread with a cloth -three days old, opposite her husband, who uncovered the tureen, and -exclaimed with ecstasy, "Ah, I like a good stew! I know nothing to beat -this!" she thought of dainty dinners, of shining plate, of tapestry -which peopled the walls with human shapes, and with strange birds -flying among fairy trees. And then she thought of delicious viands -served in costly dishes, and of murmured gallantries which you listen -to with a comfortable smile while you are eating the rose-tinted flesh -of a trout or the wing of a quail. - -She had no handsome gowns, no jewels--nothing, though these were her -whole life; it was these that meant existence to her. She would so have -liked to please, to be thought fascinating, to be envied, to be sought -out. She had a friend, a former schoolmate at the convent, who was very -rich, but whom she did not like to go to see any more because she would -come home jealous, covetous. - -But one evening her husband returned home jubilant, holding a large -envelope in his hand. - -"Here is something for you," he said. - -She tore open the cover sharply, and drew out a printed card bearing -these words: "The Minister of Public Instruction and Mme. Georges -Ramponneau request the honor of M. and Mme. Loisel's company at the -palace of the Ministry on Monday evening, January 18th." - -Instead of being delighted as her husband expected, she threw the -invitation on the table with disgust, muttering, "What do you think I -can do with that?" - -"But, my dear, I thought you would be pleased. You never go anywhere, -and this is such a rare opportunity. I had hard work to get it. Every -one is wild to go; it is very select, and invitations to clerks are -scarce. The whole official world will be there." - -She looked at him with a scornful eye, as she said petulantly, "And -what have I to put on my back?" He had not thought of that. He -stammered, "Why, the dress you wear to the theatre; it certainly looks -all right to me." - -He stopped in despair, seeing his wife was crying. Two big tears rolled -down from the corners of her eyes to the corners of her mouth. - -"What's the matter? What's the matter?" he faltered. - -With great effort she controlled herself, and replied coldly, while she -dried her wet cheeks: - -"Nothing, except that I have no dress, and for that reason, cannot go -to the ball. Give your invitation to some fellow-clerk whose wife is -better provided than I am." - -He was dumfounded, but replied: - -"Come, Mathilde, let us see now--how much would a suitable dress cost; -one you could wear at other times--something quite simple?" - -She pondered several moments, calculating, and guessing too, how much -she could safely ask for without an instant refusal or bringing down -upon her head a volley of objections from her frugal husband. - -At length she said hesitatingly, "I can't say exactly, but I think I -could do with four hundred francs." - -He changed color because he was laying aside just that sum to buy a -gun and treat himself to a little shooting next summer on the plain of -Nanterre, with several friends, who went down there on Sundays to shoot -larks. Nevertheless, he said: "Very well, I will give you four hundred -francs. Get a pretty dress." - -The day of the ball drew nearer, and Mme. Loisel seemed despondent, -nervous, upset, though her dress was all ready. One evening her husband -observed: "I say, what is the matter, Mathilde? You have been very -queer lately." And she replied, "It exasperates me not to have a single -ornament of any kind to put on. I shall look like a fright--I would -almost rather stay at home." He answered: "Why not wear flowers? They -are very fashionable at this time of the year. You can get a handful of -fine roses for ten francs." - -But she was not to be persuaded. "No, it's so mortifying to look -poverty-stricken among women who are rich." - -Then her husband exclaimed: "How slow you are! Go and see your friend, -Mme. Forestier, and ask her to lend you some jewels. You know her well -enough to do that." - -She gave an exclamation of delight: "True! I never thought of that!" - -Next day she went to her friend and poured out her woes. Mme. Forestier -went to a closet with a glass door, took out a large jewel box, brought -it back, opened it, and said to Mme. Loisel, "Here, take your choice, -my dear." - -She looked at some bracelets, then at a pearl necklace, and then at a -Venetian cross curiously wrought of gold and precious stones. She tried -on the ornaments before the mirror, hesitated, was loath to take them -off and return them. She kept inquiring, "Have you any more?" - -"Certainly, look for yourself. I don't know what you want." - -Suddenly Mathilde discovered, in a black satin box, a magnificent -necklace of diamonds, and her heart began to beat with excitement. With -trembling hands she took the necklace and fastened it round her neck -outside her dress, becoming lost in admiration of herself as she looked -in the glass. Tremulous with fear lest she be refused, she asked, "Will -you lend me this--only this?" - -"Yes, of course I will." - -Mathilde fell upon her friend's neck, kissed her passionately, and -rushed off with her treasure. - -The day of the ball arrived. - -Mme. Loisel was a great success. She was prettier than them all, -lovely, gracious, smiling, and wild with delight. All the men looked -at her, inquired her name, tried to be introduced; all the officials -of the Ministry wanted a waltz--even the minister himself noticed her. -She danced with abandon, with ecstacy, intoxicated with joy, forgetting -everything in the triumph of her beauty, in the radiance of her -success, in a kind of mirage of bliss made up of all this worship, this -adulation, of all these stirring impulses, and of that realization of -perfect surrender, so sweet to the soul of woman. - -She left about four in the morning. - -Since midnight her husband had been sleeping in a little deserted -anteroom with three other men whose wives were enjoying themselves. He -threw over her shoulders the wraps he had brought, ordinary, everyday -garments, contrasting sorrily with her elegant ball dress. She felt -this, and wanted to get away so as not to be seen by the other women, -who were putting on costly furs. - -Loisel detained her: "Wait a little; you will catch cold outside; I -will go and call a cab." - -But she would not listen to him, and hurried downstairs. When they -reached the street they could not find a carriage, and they began to -look for one, shouting to the cabmen who were passing by. They went -down toward the river in desperation, shivering with cold. At last -they found on the quays one of those antiquated, all-night broughams, -which, in Paris, wait till after dark before venturing to display their -dilapidation. It took them to their door in the Rue des Martyrs, and -once more, wearily, they climbed the stairs. - -Now all was over for her; as for him, he remembered that he must be at -the office at ten o'clock. She threw off her cloak before the glass, -that she might behold herself once more in all her magnificence. -Suddenly she uttered a cry of dismay--the necklace was gone! - -Her husband, already half-undressed, called out, "Anything wrong?" - -She turned wildly toward him: "I have--I have--I've lost Mme. -Forestier's necklace!" - -He stood aghast: "Where? When? You haven't!" - -They looked in the folds of her dress, in the folds of her cloak, in -her pocket, everywhere. They could not find it. - -"Are you sure," he said, "that you had it on when you left the ball?" - -"Yes; I felt it in the corridor of the palace." - -"But if you had lost it in the street, we should have heard it fall. It -must be in the cab." - -"No doubt. Did you take his number?" - -"No. And didn't you notice it either?" - -"No." - -They looked at each other, terror-stricken. At last Loisel put on his -clothes. - -"I shall go back on foot," he said, "over the whole route we came by, -to see if I can't find it." - -He went out, and she sat waiting in her ball dress, too dazed to go to -bed, cold, crushed, lifeless, unable to think. - -Her husband came back at seven o'clock. He had found nothing. He went -to Police Headquarters, to the newspaper office--where he advertised -a reward. He went to the cab companies--to every place, in fact, that -seemed at all hopeful. - -She waited all day in the same awful state of mind at this terrible -misfortune. - -Loisel returned at night with a wan, white face. He had found nothing. - -"Write immediately to your friend," said he, "that you have broken the -clasp of her necklace, and that you have taken it to be mended. That -will give us time to turn about." - -She wrote as he told her. - -By the end of the week they had given up all hope. Loisel, who looked -five years older, said, "We must plan how we can replace the necklace." - -The next day they took the black satin box to the jeweler whose name -was found inside. He referred to his books. - -"You did not buy that necklace of me, Madame. I can only have supplied -the case." - -They went from jeweler to jeweler, hunting for a necklace like the -lost one, trying to remember its appearance, heartsick with shame and -misery. Finally, in a shop at the Palais Royal, they found a string -of diamonds which looked to them just like the other. The price was -forty thousand francs, but they could have it for thirty-six thousand. -They begged the jeweler to keep it three days for them, and made an -agreement with him that he should buy it back for thirty-four thousand, -francs if they found the lost necklace before the last of February. - -Loisel had inherited eighteen thousand francs from his father. He -could borrow the remainder. And he did borrow right and left, asking -a thousand francs from one, five hundred of another, five louis here, -three louis there. He gave notes, assumed heavy obligations, trafficked -with money-lenders at usurious rates, and, putting the rest of his -life in pawn, pledged his signature over and over again. Not knowing -how he was to make it all good, and terrified by the penalty yet to -come, by the dark destruction which hung over him, by the certainty of -incalculable deprivations of body and tortures of soul, he went to get -the new bauble, throwing down upon the jeweler's counter the thirty-six -thousand francs. - -When Mme. Loisel returned the necklace, Mme. Forestier said to her -coldly: "Why did you not bring it back sooner? I might have wanted it." - -She did not open the case--to the great relief of her friend. - -Supposing she had! Would she have discovered the substitution, and what -would she have said? Would she not have accused Mme. Loisel of theft? - -Mme. Loisel now knew what it was to be in want, but she showed sudden -and remarkable courage. That awful debt must be paid, and she would pay -it. - -They sent away their servant, and moved up into a garret under the -roof. She began to find out what heavy housework and the fatiguing -drudgery of the kitchen meant. She washed the dishes, scraping the -greasy pots and pans with her rosy nails. She washed the dirty linen, -the shirts and dish-towels, which dried upon the line. She lugged -slops and refuse down to the street every morning, bringing back fresh -water, stopping on every landing, panting for breath. With her basket -on her arm, and dressed like a woman of the people, she haggled with -the fruiterer, the grocer, and the butcher, often insulted, but getting -every sou's worth that belonged to her. Each month notes had to be met, -others renewed, extensions of time procured. Her husband worked in the -evenings, straightening out tradesmen's accounts; he sat up late at -night, copying manuscripts at five sous a page. - -And this they did for ten years. - -At the end of that time they had paid up everything, everything--with -all the principal and the accumulated compound interest. - -Mme. Loisel looked old now. She had become a domestic drudge, sinewy, -rough-skinned, coarse. With towsled hair, tucked-up skirts, and red -hands, she would talk loudly while mopping the floor with great -splashes of water. But sometimes, when alone, she sat near the window, -and she thought of that gay evening long ago, of the ball where she -had been so beautiful, so much admired. Supposing she had not lost -the necklace--what then? Who knows? Who knows? Life is so strange and -shifting. How exceedingly easy it is to be ruined or saved! - -But one Sunday, going for a walk in the Champs Élysées to refresh -herself after her hard week's work, she accidentally came upon a -familiar-looking woman with a child. It was Mme. Forestier, still -young, still lovely, still charming. - -Mme. Loisel became agitated. Should she speak to her? Of course. Now -that she had paid, she would tell her all about it. Why not? She went -up to her. - -"How do you do, Jeanne?" - -The other, astonished at the easy manner toward her assumed by a plain -housewife whom she did not recognize, said: - -"But, Madame, you have made a mistake; I do not know you. - -"Why, I am Mathilde Loisel!" - -Her friend gave a start. - -"Oh, my poor Mathilde," she cried, "how you have changed!" - -"Yes; I have seen hard days since last I saw you; hard enough--and all -because of you." - -"Of me? And why?" - -"You remember the diamond necklace you loaned me to wear at the -Ministry ball?" - -"Yes, I do. What of it?" - -"Well, I lost it!" - -"But you brought it back--explain yourself." - -"I bought one just like it, and it took us ten years to pay for it. It -was not easy for us who had nothing, but it is all over now, and I am -glad." - -Mme. Forestier stared. - -"And you bought a necklace of diamonds to replace mine?" - -"Yes; and you never knew the difference, they were so alike." And she -smiled with joyful pride at the success of it all. - -Mme. Forestier, deeply moved, took both her hands. - -"Oh, my poor Mathilde! My necklace was paste. It was worth only about -five hundred francs!" - - --Henri Rene Albert Guy de Maupassant. - - "Little Masterpieces of Fiction." Volume V. (Doubleday, Page & Co.) - - -=Andong= - -Andong was the only son of Isio, an _ex-gobernadorcillo_ (president) -of Tuao, Cagayan. At an early age Andong went to Manila to study; -but, unfortunately, his father died and the boy could not finish his -career, but returned to his native town to take care of his helpless -mother. Shortly after his arrival at Tuao, his mother died, and Andong -became a poor orphan. During his orphanage he lived miserably, but -worked hard in order to release himself from poverty. He cultivated, -year after year, his small piece of land, which he inherited from his -father. After ten years he had earned a considerable sum, and bought -twenty-five carabaos and one hundred hectares of land. He made a trip -to Ilocos Norte, and succeeded in getting several Ilocano families to -live and to work on his plantation. - -One day, while he was working in his field, he received a message from -the gobernadorcillo, notifying him of his nomination as a _cabeza de -barangay_ (councilor), and Andong, instead of insulting the police, -as many had done, said, "Well, leave with me the letter, and I will -call on the gobernadorcillo this afternoon." When Andong had finished -his work in the field, he called at the gobernadorcillo's house, and -talked with him about his unexpected nomination. Andong said, "I have -no objection to serving my municipality, for it is the duty of every -citizen to serve his town government the best he can, and I am thankful -to the government for having nominated me as one of the _principales_; -but before I accept the office, I wish to see the tax list of my -district to know whether any of the people are in arrears, for I do not -want to lose my property, which I have earned by hard labor, to answer -for the debts of the people of my district, nor can I go to look for -them in other provinces, nor--" - -"Whether you are willing, or not, you are forced to accept your -nomination," interrupted the gobernadorcillo, "and to-day your property -is hypothecated to pay the debts of your people to the government." - -"But, sir, who has hypothecated my property? Is it possible that -anybody has the right to confiscate my property?" - -"Surely," said the gobernadorcillo. "Some of the principales and I -have been informed that you own many hectares of land, and that you -are immensely rich, so the governor of our province has confirmed your -nomination as cabeza de barangay." - -"I accept my nomination, but I do not want to answer for the debt of -the people under my command," said Andong. - -"Whether you like it or not, you will be cabeza de barangay, and -be compelled to pay all the debts of your people," answered the -gobernadorcillo. - -"Well, I will think about the matter first," replied Andong, and he -went to the house of Aning, an old ex-gobernadorcillo, to consult him. - -The gobernadorcillo was not surprised at Andong's nomination, for he -was one of those principales who had recommended Andong to the council. -Aning advised Andong to accept the office. "A cabeza de barangay is -always respected and honored by the people," said the gobernadorcillo. -"He receives no salary, to be sure, but he gets gifts of eggs, -chickens, pigs, fruits, which when sold bring much money. Besides, when -he wants to build a house for himself, some of his people bring him -lumber, rattan, cogon, and other materials, while the others erect the -house without any pay." "But I do not like to molest my people, and -I hate to see them serve me as a master, for they are my brothers," -answered Andong. - -"Do you prefer then to die from hunger rather than to cheat your people -as your predecessors did?" asked Aning. "Yes, I prefer death, to -seeing my people oppressed," replied Andong. Disgusted at the servile -conversation of the ex-gobernadorcillo, Andong left him in vegetating -complacency, sitting on a bamboo chair with a fan in his hand. - -Unwillingly Andong became a cabeza de barangay. During the first year -of his office he gave eighty pesos to the government to pay the debts -of his runaway people. - -Now his wealth was decreasing, for his duties made him neglect his work -in the field. The fact that he was becoming poorer each day, led him -into despair. He remembered the advice of Aning; but he had no courage -to abuse his poor people. He could not deceive them, for to deceive -such people would be the same as stealing. But who would pay back the -money lost? This was the question which worried him many times. - -To forget his painful situation he took to drinking _basi_ (Ilocano -wine which is extracted from the sugar cane), and became a drunkard. -He forgot entirely his old business, and in his intoxicated moments he -often exclaimed: "While I live, let me enjoy the fruit of my own toil -instead of paying it all over to the government." - -On account of his drunkenness, he neglected to collect the taxes from -his people, and the deficit doubled the following year. At first nobody -wanted to lend him money to pay his debt to the government; for his -property was already hypothecated; but, at last a kind and rich officer -lent him the money he needed, at twenty per cent interest, and with -the condition that if he could not pay his debt within the period of -two-years, his property would be pledged for the second time in favor -of the creditor. Andong fell into a long meditation. He remembered once -more the advice of Aning, and he was revolving in his mind plans which -might release him from bankruptcy. Meanwhile, he decided to go to -Ittong, an ex-cabeza de barangay, to ask for advice. - -Andong asked Ittong to work for his election to the office of -gobernadorcillo, in order that he might be saved from his critical -situation. But wise Ittong advised him not to seek such an office; for -it was worse than a cabeza de barangay: "The best thing for you to do -is to let the government confiscate your property, go to prison, and -then when you are released from jail, you can earn again your lost -property," he said. - -"Your advice seems excellent to me," answered Andong, "but can't -they nominate me again as cabeza de barangay when I accumulate more -property?" - -"Since you have not held the office during a period of ten years, they -can oblige you to accept the office again," said Ittong. - -Andong, after a long pause, said to Ittong: "I want to be elected -gobernadorcillo so that I can save my property instead of going to -jail." - -"If you desire it, I can recommend you to my friends Islao, Ansong, -Momong, Ipi, and Cadio, who will nominate you as the candidate of our -party for the coming election," said Ittong. "I thank you for your -kindness," said Andong, and bade good-bye to his future advocate, -Ittong. - -Andong was nominated as the candidate of Ittong's party for -gobernadorcillo. Ambeng, the candidate of the opposing party, was more -popular than Ittong, consequently he was more sure to succeed in the -coming election. The critical day was approaching. Many of the cabezas -de barangay went to pay their contributions to the municipal treasurer, -in order to be allowed to vote. On the eve of the election the drum -of the tribunal never stopped beating and the voters of the town kept -flocking to the polling-place. On the morning of the election, all -the principales in their holiday dresses awaited the governor at the -tribunal. When the governor came, they took off their hats and followed -him. They entered the tribunal, and sat around a long table, presided -over by the governor. Before beginning the election, the governor -delivered a short speech of welcome and he emphasized that they -must elect that man who was rich, honest, and capable. After a long -discussion, Ambeng was elected by a big majority. - -Andong was disappointed and disgusted over his defeat. But while -Ambeng's party was still celebrating their triumph the governor of the -province received a telegram from the central government, announcing -Andong's nomination as gobernadorcillo of Tuao. Ambeng was elected by -the people, but Andong had been recommended to the governor-general by -the curate of the town, the governor of the province, and the chief of -the _guardia civil_; so Andong was appointed to the office he sought. - -On the day of Andong's possession, the people of Tuao held a holiday in -his honor. There was a land parade in which all the princapales of the -town took part. After the parade, Andong went to the tribunal to take -his oath before the justice of the peace. After this ceremony the chief -of police read his administrative program, in which he obliged every -one of his people to go to mass on Sundays and holidays, and prohibited -gambling, drunkenness, and stealing. - -Time flew. After three months' administration, Andong became worried -over his business; for he was compelled to visit every day his -superiors, and to go to mass on Sundays and holidays. However, he was -a zealous ruler. He organized a militia. He succeeded in pacifying the -Igorrotes, who were fighting one another, and he caught many of the -bandits, who were ravaging the neighboring towns. - -Everything was going all right, when, unexpectedly, Andong received an -order from the court of justice to appear before the judge to answer -all the complaints of the people about his abuses in the government. -Andong, before going to court went to see Ittong, his old advocate. -Ittong advised him not to be afraid. "Call officially your witnesses," -he said, "and tell them that you will put them into prison if they -declare against you." The wind was strong against Andong. Nobody -could save him from his trouble. The prison was awaiting him. Andong -was perplexed; he did not know what to do. While he was looking at -the neighboring mountains, a wise thought came to his mind. "I will -go and live in those woods with the Igorrotes, rather than to suffer -the oppression of my superiors and the hatred of my own people!" he -exclaimed. Meanwhile, he received an urgent despatch from a friend, -announcing that the government had discharged him from his office, and -had sentenced him to be put into prison. Immediately, Andong and one -of his servants fled from Tuao and sought refuge in the neighboring -forests, there to live like wild men, with no ambition above that of -the brute, caring only for their next meal, but harboring in their -hearts a deadly hatred of Spanish rule. - - --Justo E. Avila. - - - - -PART II - -NARRATIVES OF ACTUAL EVENTS - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -PARTICULAR ACCOUNTS - - -The second large division heading explains itself. In an atmosphere -of facts all the true narrative types stand. Whether these types are -used as retainers of truth only is another question. Manifestly they -are not. Manifestly there is much fiction that succeeds merely because -it is cast in the true story mold. But the concern of the writer who -chooses any one of these forms is to pour truth into it, whether the -truth be historical actualities or only artistic probabilities. - -It is more helpful to consider the types on their simplest basis; -hence in a study like this, one would assume for content always -real happenings. The necessity that the story go unquestioned does -not, however, excuse the recorder of actual events from using his -imagination. Indeed, only by using it can he come to write true history -or true biography. Without "the inward eye" one cannot see the past. -Without sympathy--which is another word for imagination--one cannot -know his fellowman. A biographer, an historian, above all else should -be able to see the unseen, not the unseen of the unreal, but the unseen -of the real, a vastly different thing! The two are exact opposites, -the what-is and the what-was set over against the what-was-not and the -what-could-not-be. - -In this chapter five types of narratives of actual events are grouped -as particular accounts, or adventitious history, in contrast with -continuous personal history, and continuous impersonal, or community -history. - -Particular accounts have to do with those small happenings that seem -to come by chance, those events that form, as it were, complete and -detachable bits of life. That is to say, each relation is of something -that has taken place or been witnessed in a comparatively short -time--an incident of a trip downtown, a characteristic action of a -great man, an important political event, an adventure, a brief series -of pleasures. - - -I. The Incident - -[Definition] - -The word "incident" comes from the Latin and means "falling upon or -into something, impinging from without;" hence something depending upon -or contained in another thing, as its principal. In narrative, then, it -is the record of a subordinate act or of an event happening at the same -time as some other event and of less importance. Any little occurrence -may be considered an incident. The report of it generally has excuse -for being in the fact that knowledge of it throws light on the main -event or intensifies interest therein. Accordingly every good narrative -of this type possesses a horizon larger than itself. Somewhere within -the story there is a clause connecting the event with other occurrences -or with the prime occurrence. - -[How to tell an incident] - -An incident may or may not be an eye-witness account. Indeed, an -incident may be told by a person removed the third, the hundredth -degree from the happening. The essential thing is the evidence of -reality. Of course there are fictitious incidents--like those in -"Robinson Crusoe"--but the whole care of the writer in such cases is to -simulate truth. Very often a work of fiction is but a skillful piecing -together of actual small happenings. An incident is valued in itself -for one of two reasons--either for the fact which it records or for the -author's humanity revealed in the narration. Though slight, an incident -should be well told. It need not be pointed, but it should proceed in -an orderly and interesting fashion. The diction should be natural. As -hinted before, an incident should have a setting. The reader ought to -be able to feel something of where the characters have come from and -whither they are going. The more nicely such a coherence is suggested, -the more pleasing the little story will be. - -One thinks of the quiet delightfulness of Wordsworth's Incidents which -he calls "Poems on the Naming of Places." They are small stories out of -his life and the lives of his friends--natural records out of natural -living, but as charming and interesting as any tale of - - "Naiad by the side - Of Grecian brook, or Lady of the Mere, - Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance." - -Robert Browning's "Incident of the French Camp" is an example of the -more stirring small happening. Books of travel are largely series -of incidents, but because of the continued presence of the same -personality fall into a class distinct from this. Good letter-writers -are usually fascinating relators of incidents. Cowper, Jane Welsh -Carlyle, Dorothy Osborne, Gray, Lowell, Edward Fitzgerald, charmed -not only their correspondents but all their later readers. The earlier -accounts of his life away from home that "R. L. S." sent back to his -mother contain exquisite small bits of narration. - - -=A Near Tragedy= - -A most tragical incident fell out this day at sea. While the ship was -under sail, but making, as will appear, no great way, a kitten, one of -four of the feline inhabitants of the cabin, fell from the window into -the water: an alarm was immediately given to the captain, who was then -upon deck, and received it with the utmost concern. He immediately gave -orders to the steersman in favor of the poor thing, as he called it; -the sails were instantly slackened, and all hands, as the phrase is, -employed to recover the poor animal. I was, I own, extremely surprised -at all this; less, indeed, at the captain's extreme tenderness, than at -his conceiving any possibility of success; for, if puss had had nine -thousand instead of nine lives, I concluded they had been all lost. The -boatswain, however, had more sanguine hopes; for, having stript himself -of his jacket, breeches, and shirt, he leapt boldly into the water, -and, to my great astonishment, in a few minutes, returned to the ship, -bearing the motionless animal in his mouth. Nor was this, I observed, -a matter of such great difficulty as it appeared to my ignorance, and -possibly may seem to that of my fresh-water readers: the kitten was -now exposed to air and sun on the deck, where its life, of which it -retained no symptoms, was despaired of by all. - -The captain's humanity, if I may so call it, did not so totally -destroy his philosophy as to make him yield himself up to affliction on -this melancholy occasion. Having felt his loss like a man, he resolved -to show he could bear it like one; and, having declared he had rather -have lost a cask of rum or brandy, betook himself to thrashing at -backgammon with the Portuguese friar, in which innocent amusement they -passed nearly all their leisure hours. - -But as I have, perhaps, a little too wantonly endeavored to raise the -tender passions of my readers in this narrative, I should think myself -unpardonable if I concluded it without giving them the satisfaction of -hearing that the kitten at last recovered, to the great joy of the good -captain; but to the great disappointment of some of the sailors, who -asserted that the drowning a cat was the very surest way of raising a -favorable wind: a supposition of which, though we have heard several -plausible accounts, we will not presume to assign the true original -reason. - - --Henry Fielding. - - "Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon." - - -=Birds Divulge Army Secrets= - -During the night, before the battle of Sadowa, an Austrian division -commanded by the archduke, retreating before the Prussian army, had -bivouacked near a town in Bohemia, facing north, says Sir Evelyn Wood, -in the _London Gazette_. - -At midnight the archduke, when resting in a peasant's cottage, was -awakened by the arrival of a gypsy, having come to report the advance -of the enemy. - -The archduke, who spoke Romany fluently, asked: "How do you know? Our -outposts have not reported any movement." - -"That, your highness, is because the enemy is some way off." - -"Then how do you know?" - -The gypsy, pointing to the dark sky, lighted by the moon, observed: -"You see those birds flying over the woods from north to south?" - -"Yes; what of them?" - -"Those birds do not fly by night unless disturbed, and the direction of -their flight indicates that the enemy is coming this way." - -The archduke put his division under arms and reinforced the outposts, -which in two hours' time were heavily attacked. - - -=An Incident Related In a Letter= - -7:20 P. M.--I must tell you a thing I saw to-day. I was going down to -Portobello in the train, when there came into the next compartment -(third-class) an artisan, strongly marked with smallpox, and with -sunken, heavy eyes--a face hard and unkind, and without anything -lovely. There was a woman on the platform seeing him off. At first -sight, with her one eye blind and the whole cast of her features -strongly plebeian, and even vicious, she seemed as unpleasant as the -man; but there was something beautifully soft, a sort of light of -tenderness, as on some Dutch Madonna, that came over her face when she -looked at the man. They talked for a while together through the window; -the man seemed to have been asking for money. "Ye ken the last time," -she said, "I gave ye two shillings for your lodgin', and ye said--"it -died off in a whisper. Plainly Falstaff and Dame Quickly over again. -The man laughed unpleasantly, even cruelly, and said something; and the -woman turned her back on the carriage and stood a long while so, and, -do what I might, I could catch no glimpse of her expression, although I -thought I saw the heave of a sob in her shoulders. At last, after the -train was already in motion, she turned and put two shillings into his -hand. I saw her stand and look after us with a perfect heaven of love -on her face--this poor one-eyed Madonna--until the train was out of -sight; but the man, sordidly happy with his gains, did not put himself -to the inconvenience of one glance to thank her for her ill-deserved -kindness. - - --Robert Louis Stevenson. - - In letter to Mrs. Stillwell, Sept. 16, 1873. - - -=A Hero Dead= - -It was very dark in the east corridor of the Armory, and, save for the -quiet footfall of the ever-watchful orderly, there was no sound in -the silent room where the nation's dead lay wrapped in the great silk -flag. In the shadow of the stairway, a group of secret-service men -were nervously whispering among themselves, with occasional glances -that strove to penetrate the black void that lay beyond the crape-hung -doorway. - -Their sergeant stood a little apart from the others, an alert figure, -with a hand that lingered suggestively about his hip-pocket. For three -days he had kept unwearied watch while thousands had paid their last -homage to the dead servant of the people, and the strain was telling -upon him. The nation had lost a hero, but John MacDonald had lost his -idol--and his best friend. Through his mind was sweeping a strong -revulsion at conditions which could have fostered so wanton a murder; -and a sudden and passionate hatred of the dark race to whose salvation -this man had been a martyr threatened almost to unman this stern son of -the service. That very day he had sent away with a curse a paralytic -old negro who had brought his handful of field-lilies to the bier of -the savior of his race. MacDonald had felt no qualm at his action, -and when, later, he had found the poor flowers lying withered outside -the closed door, he kicked them aside with an oath. In a measure, the -stern old Scotchman had not been responsible for his actions at that -time, for it was just then that he had heard the dread rumor which was -spreading its dark wake through the crapehung corridors. That very -night while the whole nation was yet bowed in its sorrow, an attempt -was to be made to steal the body of the dead hero. The crime seemed -scarcely to be believed, but the men of the secret-service, scattered -throughout the dark corridor, were awake and ready. - -John MacDonald, striving vainly in his grief-saddened heart to frame -a reason for it all, wondered how he had been able to resist the old -negro with his tear-wet face and pleading voice. That black creature -was a man like himself, and he, also, had loved the great man who was -lying so quietly in the folds of his country's flag. "O Lincoln," he -spoke, raising a clenched hand toward the black doorway, "they have -murdered you, they have taken you from us, but still--" Suddenly his -muscles stiffened, and something very akin to a chill crept about the -roots of his hair. There had come the quiet but unmistakable sound of a -footfall from the room where the dead lay. The Scotchman stood a man -of stone, and while his very hair stiffened with horror, a mighty wrath -swept over his whole being. They were at it, then, those fiends who -dared to desecrate the body of his lord with their filthy touch. With a -movement like a cat, MacDonald drew his ready weapon, and, with a call -to his startled subordinates, stepped boldly over the threshold. - -In a moment, the room was filled with the glare of torches, and the -secret-service men, crowding in the doorway, saw the leveled weapon of -their chief sink inertly to his side. - -On the black catafalque the hero lay, beneath the outstretched wings -of the eagle of the republic, and at his feet, sobbing out his -grief-stricken heart, knelt an old negro. - - --Ida Treat. - - -=My First Day at School= - -The room was not large enough for a schoolroom. The floor, the wall, -and the roof were all made of bamboo. In the center of the room was -a long, narrow, roughly-made table, at which sat closely twenty or -thirty pupils. There were also two or three benches here and there, on -which sat new boys and girls. At the end of the long table sat a rather -old but fierce-looking man, the schoolmaster. In his left hand he -held a book, and in his right, a whip; for at that time the principle -governing schools was that knowledge could not be gained without severe -bodily punishment. - -When I entered the schoolroom, my "cartilla" in hand, this was the -first scene that met my eyes. It happened that Titay, a cousin of -mine, had been sent to school on that day also; so we had the same -lesson. In harsh tones the teacher ordered us to study the vowels of -the Spanish alphabet. And with a loud voice we repeated again and -again, _a_, _e_, _i_, _o_, _u_, until we knew them--at least we thought -so--by heart. - -At last our turn came; and we were called to go to our teacher. My -cousin (a girl) was at his left side, while I was at his right. - -"What is this?" the teacher asked my cousin. - -"A," she answered, correctly. - -However, at his second, third, and fourth questions, she was confused -and could not answer. But I really knew "_a_, _e_, _i_, _o_, _u_," by -heart, for my kind mother had taught them to me; so I proudly corrected -every mistake she had made. After every correction, the teacher would -say to me, "Tira la oreja" (meaning, "Pull her ears"). And with what -boyish pleasure did I pull her ears! She cried and resolved never to go -to school again. - -When I returned home, I was very boastful, and told everybody in the -household of my triumph. Thus I received encouragement in my first -school day, and after that I continued to study with interest till I -myself received some bodily punishment. - - --Máximo M. Kalaw. - - -=The Guinatan Prize= - -One day I came to the schoolhouse tardy. When I entered the door, I saw -the pupils standing side by side in a row and facing the teacher. There -was one column of numbers on the blackboard, near which the teacher -stood with a long wooden pointer in his hand. As soon as I saw the -numbers on the board, I knew at once that there would be a contest. So -I laid down my books on the floor, took off my hat, and stood next to -the last boy. - -"Teacher, Leopoldo does not belong here. He is the captain-general. -Therefore, he should stand next to Federico," said the last boy as soon -as he saw me. - -"No," said the teacher, "he came in tardy. Boys, you must learn to come -to school on time," he continued. - -The teacher then gave us names: he named the first boy general, the -second major-general, the third captain-general, and so on. I, being -the last boy, was named ranchero, or the cook of the army. - -"He who is the general at the end of the contest will be given a cup of -_guinatan_ as a prize," said the teacher. - -"Now begin, Martin," he continued. Martin began to add the numbers -on the board with accuracy, and finished within forty seconds. The -major-general did the same, but he finished within forty-five seconds. -The captain-general added the numbers within forty-two seconds. So he -pulled the ear of the major-general, and they exchanged places. Before, -my turn came, there had been many changes already, a soldier had beaten -a colonel, a sergeant had passed a lieutenant. - -"All right, Leopoldo," said the teacher. - -"One--six--fourteen--twenty-two--thirty--thirty-six--forty-five. Carry -four. Eight--ten--fifteen--twenty-one--twenty-nine--thirty-five--forty!" -I said without stopping to take a breath. - -"Forty seconds!" announced the teacher. - -The teacher wanted to try me again, but the boys said they should like -to hear the general first. - -"All right. Go on, Martin," said the teacher. - -This time Martin failed. He finished within thirty-seven seconds, but -he made a mistake. The boys shouted. - -Fortunately, the time was up. So I was pronounced the victor. The -teacher bought a cup of _guinatan_, the sweet fruit mixture that -Filipino children so much love, and gave it to me. I was very proud -then. When I reached home, I told my mother all that had happened. She -was very happy. - - --Leopoldo Faustino. - - -II. The Anecdote - -[Meaning of the term] - -In the sense in which a proverb is a condensed parable, an anecdote is -a condensed character-sketch or biography. Like many of our other terms -the word "anecdote" itself reveals to an extent its present meaning. -It is derived from the Greek and signifies "something not published." -This is the sense in which Cicero uses it when he speaks of a book of -anecdotes on which he was engaged, but which he talks of confiding to a -single friend only, as if it were not intended ever to be published. In -literature the word has been used to denote either secret histories or -portions of ancient writers which have remained long in manuscript and -are edited for the first time. The anecdotes of Procopius, which were -published in London in 1674 under the title "The Secret History of the -Court of Justinian," are evidence of the first significance; and Dr. -Johnson's reference to the English-French fashion of using the word for -a "biographical minute passage of private life" establishes the second -meaning. - -In our day, collections of anecdotes--criticisms and observations, -smart sayings and ludicrous tales, delivered by eminent men in -conversation and recorded by their friends or discovered among their -papers after their death, and put together with historical incidents -concerning them--are published under the term _ana_. - -[Ana] - -The ancients were in the habit of indulging in this species of -literature. From earliest periods Oriental nations have preserved the -intimate talk of their wise men. From them the Greeks and Romans took -up the practice. Plato and Xenophon recorded the colloquially expressed -ideas of their master Socrates. It appears that Julius Cæsar compiled a -book of apophthegms in which he related the _bon mots_ of Cicero; and -a freedman of that orator, taken with his master's liveliness and wit, -composed three books of a work entitled "De Jocis Ciceronis." - -[Eighteenth century collections] - -But the term ana seems to have been applied to such collections only -so far back as the fifteenth century. The information and anecdotes -picked up by Poggio and his friend Barthelemi Montepolitiano during a -literary trip in Germany "are to be called," says another friend in a -letter, "Poggiana and Montepolitiana." Perhaps the most typical, and -surely a very famous and interesting, production of this species of -narrative in English is the "Walpoliana," a transcript of the literary -conversation of Horace Walpole, Earl of Oxford. Selden's "Table Talk" -was considered by Dr. Johnson good ana, better than the French. But -incomparably superior to all, a collection the most remarkable in -the English language-and indeed, in any language (as a writer in the -"Britannica" asserts)--is James Boswell's "Life of Samuel Johnson." -Though not conforming to the type of collection either in name or -in form of presentation, this, according to Carlyle, "the greatest -production of the eighteenth century," depends for its value mainly -upon its ana. "Its interest," the same writer goes on to say, "arises, -not from the details it furnishes of the events of Dr Johnson's career, -still less from any attempt at a discriminating estimate of his work -and character, but the graphic representation it gives of his habitual -manner of life and speech. The animate greatness of Johnson appears, -more than in all his writings, in his portrait delineated with the -exactness of sharply-defined photograph, as he appeared, to the eyes of -his admiring biographer, in his daily deshabille." - -That is the secret of anecdote--it must get at the real man in however -small a part. - -While a book of ana is a collection of short, pointed, true colloquial -relations of more or less detached interesting particulars concerning -a person of consequence, a single anecdote is one of those interesting -particulars entirely detached, short, pointed, true, and colloquial. -A book of anecdotes is a group of stories, miscellaneous so far as -subject matter is concerned. Spence's "Anecdotes" is a very famous -eighteenth century literary set; and Percy's is an early nineteenth, -with the stories selected--as the preface ostensibly gives notice--for -their moral effect, and arranged according to the virtue illustrated -or the subject treated--humanity, generosity, kindness; science, art, -and so on. - -[How to write an anecdote] - -As we have seen, to be most interesting an anecdote must be singularly -expressive of the peculiarities of the person represented; or if the -event recorded is not in the form of a character episode, but rather -in the form of an unusual happening, it must be consonant with the -accepted popular notion of the man's personality. To write an original -anecdote you will need to pick out of your past experience or the -experience of some one of your acquaintances a story of a more or less -important personage in your neighborhood, a happening that has never -hitherto been written down. If the person concerned is not very well -known or if the trait of character revealed would not be immediately -recognized by his friends, you might prefix a slight statement that -will help point your narrative. Remember, however, that an anecdote -must be very brief; also that it must have a single and complete -climax; and that you must under no circumstance be induced to add -another word after the climax is reached. - - -=Coleridge's Retort= - -Samuel Taylor Coleridge was so bad a horseman that when he mounted he -generally attracted unfavorable notice. On a certain occasion he was -riding along a turnpike road in the country of Durham, when he was met -by a wag, who, mistaking his man, thought the rider a good subject for -sport. "I say, young man," cried the rustic, "did you see a _tailor_ -on the road?" "Yes, I did; and he told me that if I went a little -farther, I should meet a _goose_." - - -=An Inevitable Misfortune= - -When Boswell was first introduced to Dr. Johnson, he apologized to him -for being a Scotchman. "I find," said he, "that I am come to London at -a bad time when great popular prejudice has gone forth against us North -Britons; but when I am talking to you, I am talking to a large and -liberal mind, and you know that I cannot help coming from Scotland." -"Sir, replied the doctor, archly, "no more can the rest of your -countrymen." - - -=A Point Needing to Be Settled= - -A Scottish clergyman, being one day engaged in visiting some member -of his flock, came to the door of a house where his gentle tapping -could not be heard for the noise of contention inside. After waiting a -little, he opened the door and walked in, saying with an authoritative -voice, "I should like to know who is the head of this house?" - -"Weel, sir," said the husband and father, "if ye sit doon a wee, we'll -may be able to tell ye, for we're just trying to settle that point." - - -=Patience= - -When Lord Chesterfield was one day at Newcastle House, the Duke -happened to be particularly busy, so the Earl was requested to sit -down in an anteroom. "Garnet upon Job," a book dedicated to the Duke, -happened to lie in the window; and his Grace, upon entering found -the Earl so busily engaged in reading, that he asked how he liked the -commentary. "In any other place," replied Chesterfield, "I should not -think much of it; but there is such great propriety in putting a volume -upon patience in the room where every visitor has to wait for your -Grace, that here it must be considered as one of the best books in the -world." - - -=Preaching and Practice= - -Dr. Channing had a brother, a physician, and at one time they both -lived in Boston. One day, a countryman in search of a _divine_, knocked -at the _doctor's_ door, when the following dialogue ensued: - -"Does Mr. Channing live here?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Can I see him?" - -"I am he." - -"Who--you?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"You must have altered considerably since I heard you preach!" - -"Oh, I see your mistake now. It's my brother who _preaches_. I -_practice_." - - -=Johnson's Dictionary= - -When Dr. Johnson had completed his dictionary, which had quite -exhausted the patience of Mr. Andrew Millar, his bookseller, the latter -acknowledged the receipt of the last sheet, in the following note: - -"Andrew Millar sends his compliments to Mr. Samuel Johnson with the -money for the last sheet of the copy of the dictionary, and thanks God -he has done with him." - -To this rude note the doctor returned the following smart answer: - -"Samuel Johnson returns his compliments to Mr. Andrew Millar, and is -very glad to find (as he does by his note), that Andrew Millar has the -grace to thank God for anything." - - --Percy's "Anecdotes." - - -=The Boy Kipling= - -Rudyard Kipling's keen and sympathetic understanding of all the -diversified and picturesque varieties of human nature found in British -India, is too well recognized as part of his power to need assertion; -but a little anecdote which his mother remembers of his boyhood is -not without a pretty allegorical significance. It was at Nasik, -on the Dekhan plain, not far from Bombay, when the little fellow, -trudging over the ploughed field, with his hand in that of the native -husbandman, called back to her in the Hindustani, which was as familiar -to him as English, "Good-by, this is my brother!" - - --Professor Norton, in a biographical sketch. - - -=Sir Godfrey Kneller= - -Pope tells the following story about the great portrait painter: - -"As I was sitting by Sir Godfrey Kneller one day, whilst he was drawing -a picture, he stopped and said: 'I can't do so well as I should do, -unless you flatter me a little; pray flatter me, Mr. Pope! you know I -love to be flattered.' I was at once willing to try how far his vanity -would carry him, and, after considering a picture, which he had just -finished, for a good while very attentively, I said to him in French -(for he had been talking for some time before in that language): "On -lit dans les Écritures Saintes, que le bon Dieu faisoit l'homme aprés -son image: mais, je crois, que s'il voudroit faire un autre a présent, -qu'il le feroit apres l'image que voilá.' Sir Godfrey turned round and -said very gravely, 'Vous avez raison, Mons Pope; par Dieu, je le crois -aussi.'" - - --Pope. - - -Here is another: Mr. Pope was with Sir Godfrey Kneller one day, when -his nephew, a Guinea trader, came in. "Nephew," said Sir Godfrey, "you -have the honor of seeing the two greatest men in the world." "I don't -know how great you may be," said the Guinea man, "but I don't like your -looks; I have often bought a man much better than both of you together, -all muscles and bones, for ten guineas." - - --Dr. Warburton. - - -=The Capitan Municipal and the Jokers= - -Once there lived in the town of Balanga an old Capitan Municipal who -was nicknamed carabao; for he was a very big man and also a very great -eater. - -One day as a land parade was going on in honor of Dr. Rizal, three -well-known jokers of the town were following the procession, when they -suddenly came to a small pond in the street. And one of them said, -"What a nice time our public carabao had taking his mid-day bath in -here." "Oh! yes, he must have had a very good time indeed," replied -the two. But unexpectedly the Capitan was at their back, hearing all -they said about him. - -Therefore as soon as the procession was over, they were arrested in the -Municipal building. And on the next day they were tried and sentenced -by the Capitan to fill in all the ponds of the streets around the town, -and also to drain them properly. - - --José Feliciano. - - -=An Instance of Bamboo Spanish= - -In the Ateneo de Manila all the pupils are forbidden to speak any -language except Spanish. - -One day the pupils of the college went out to the yard to play -baseball. It happened that one of the boys who was watching the game -was hurt at the kneejoint, and fell down on the ground. The boy -cried so loud that the rector at once went hurriedly to see what was -happening in the yard. He saw the boy sitting on the ground with one -of his legs bent. He approached him, and said, "What has happened to -you, my boy?" And the boy feeling yet the pain that the ball had caused -him, answered, "Father, while I was watching my companions who were -playing baseball my--, my--," "What?" said the rector, impatiently. -"Father, my--, my--," answered the boy, showing his kneejoint as -he was pronouncing the word "my." "Do you mean your leg?" said the -rector. "No, father I mean my--," replied the boy. "But your what" -cried the rector, "say what you mean to say." The boy, who was trying -hard to find the word in Spanish for kneejoint, answered at last, "my -_vino-vinohan_, father, was hurt." The rector, though very angry at -the boy's dullness, laughed heartily at his dictionary-making powers. - -NOTE--The word in Tagalog for knee-joint is "alak-alakan," which -is similar to the Tagalog word "alak," meaning wine in English and -_vino_ in Spanish. The boy, not knowing the proper word in Spanish -for knee-joint, derived the word "vino-vinohan" from the Spanish word -_vino_, which means _alak_ (wine) in Tagalog. - - -=Mr. Taft's Mistake= - -It was a bright day when a crowd of people stood before a platform -decorated with palm leaves and roofed with a banner of stars and -stripes. The eyes of the spectators, who were all eager to hear the -speech of the well-known eloquent orator and skillful politician, Mr. -William H. Taft, were fixed on the personages on the platform. - -At last, after an ovation by the multitude, Mr. Taft rose up and -addressed the audience thus: "_Señoras y caballos_."[8] - - --Amando Clemente. - - -III. The Eye-Witness Account - -Eye-witness account is to true story what realism is to fiction. -Exactness is the aim of the narrator. He endeavors to tell precisely -what he saw and heard. A great deal of our newspaper "copy" is supposed -to be of this type, and likewise much court testimony. The attorneys -try to separate distinctly fact from fancy. What a man really must have -seen and what he thought he saw are often very different. It appears -at first that an unembellished account would be the easiest thing in -the world to give, but it takes only a little observation to convince -one that few persons can tell what they see or hear; few indeed know -what they see or hear. With the bare actuality, they are constantly -confounding what they thought or inferred. As a rule, only the man -educated to the work can report truthfully. - -A unique and curious ancient document of this type is found in a -little book that was published by the Spanish Academy of History -in 1783, called "El Passo Honroso" or the Passage of Honor. It is -a formal eyewitness account prepared on the spot by Delena, one of -the authorized scribes of John II, and gives minutely the events of -a passage of arms held against all comers in 1434 at the bridge of -Orbigo, near the city of Leon, during thirty days, at a moment when the -road was thronged with knights going over for a solemn festival to the -neighboring shrine of Santiago.[9] Suero de Quiñones, the challenger, -was a true gentleman of chivalry, it seems, and had been wearing in -sentimental bondage to a noble lady a chain of iron around his neck one -day in each week. From his bondage he could be freed only by bringing -to her as ransom a minimum number of real spears broken by him and his -friends in fair fight. So they stood--ten of them--for thirty days -challenging all comers. Delena records sixty-eight opponents; six -hundred and twenty-seven encounters; sixty-six broken lances; one dead -knight; and many wounded, among whom were Quiñones himself and eight -of his fellow-champions. Along with the general narrative is a full -account of the religious and chivalric ceremonies as they were actually -indulged in from day to day. Such a minute and elaborate and fully -authenticated eye-witness record of not fictitious but real "knightly -guists and fierce encounters" is manifestly invaluable to a student of -chivalry. - -It is interesting to think of this dapper young scribe sitting on the -side-lines watching the combatants and taking down his notes as the -telling rushes were made by either party; and then sending his copy hot -from the pen to his royal reader. I suppose we might well call Señor -Delena the historical prototype of our modern athletics reporter. - -Many of our best literary men have had longer or shorter -apprenticeships at getting "copy." Dickens served for a number of -years. Facts for a reporter do not come at call; he can not turn -them on, so to speak, nor is he permitted to make them up. He must -find them. Consequently to be successful he needs to have an ear for -news, and an eye for the graphic, a simple but full vocabulary, and a -pen made supple by much practice. He must seem to be at home in any -department of human action. All his words must carry with them a large -tone of veracity. He can hardly afford to make slips even on his minor -details, since his brother reporters visit the same scene at the same -time. - -Literary eye-witness account, however, need not be devoid of all -expression of personal feeling. It is only necessary that the writer -make clear to his reader which are thoughts and feelings and which -are facts. Indeed, the best effect of such a narration will often -come from the contrast. The artist lets us into his own state of mind, -describes perhaps more or less minutely the stage-setting of his -little occurrence--especially if any part is necessary to complete -understanding later--portrays in general the types of people who were -or might have been concerned, and then drops from his pen one by one -the facts cold, clear-cut, unembellished, orderly in sequence, with -their participants graphically and cleanly outlined, and thus gains his -effect. He is as precise as a lawyer, but he has been also as crafty, -in the good sense of the word. He has prepared us to appreciate his -facts. If he interprets to us afterwards, he does so in a reflective -and an apparently hesitating way that seems to leave us in full -possession of our own opinions, which will prove to be in reality only -corroborative of his. - -It will be good practice for you to attempt to give an eye-witness -account of some occurrence. If two or three of your friends were -present at the same happening, you may enjoy comparing reports. There -will probably be more than one incident to relate; if there is, you -must be careful to have sequence and coherence in all that you say. -You should anticipate and answer any questions one would naturally -ask of an oral reporter. Stop when you have finished. Doubtless you -have noticed the unpleasant habit many narrators have of starting over -again and repeating all or part of the tale. The temptation does not so -readily come to a writer, of course, as to a speaker--unless the writer -is paid by the word. - -Your readers will not resent interpretation even if it be -philosophical, if it be not mixed with the narration and be only -honest and of the pragmatic school--interrogative and not dogmatic. -Indeed, mankind likes philosophy when it seems to come as an inevitable -though tentative summing-up of our almost bewilderingly multiple -phenomena. - - -=Story of the Revolution in the Portuguese Capital= - -Cherbourg, October 8.--On board the Royal Mail Steam Packet liner -_Asturias_, which arrived from Lisbon this morning, were a number of -passengers who witnessed the fighting in the Portuguese capital on -Wednesday, among them M. Octave Castaigne, a lawyer, of Tournai, who -was among the passengers by the _Asturias_ who ventured to land at -Lisbon on Wednesday. - -"On Tuesday evening," said M. Castaigne, "we were informed by a -wireless message that the revolution had broken out in Portugal. From -far out at sea was heard the thunder of the cannon and as we entered -the Tagus the crackle of rifle fire. On our arrival before Lisbon we -noticed that the cruisers _Sao Rafael_ and _Adamastor_, which were -flying the Republican flag, were still firing on the town. - -"About ten o'clock the fusillade ceased and a party of five passengers, -including two Americans and myself, went ashore. The lower part of the -town had the appearance of a city of the dead. The houses were shut and -marks of rifle-shots and shells were to be seen everywhere. The centre -of the city, on the contrary, was alive with people. The crowd was -vociferously acclaiming the Republican flag, which was flying, not only -from the public buildings, but from nearly every house. It struck me -very clearly that anyone who had had the courage to shout "Long live -the King!" would have been shot dead on the spot. The crowd was largely -composed of soldiers and sailors under arms, and patrols were also -moving about in automobiles to any part of the town that appeared to be -greatly menaced by the Royalist troops. - -"We reached the City Hall, which was surrounded by a huge crowd, just -at the moment when the Republic was being proclaimed. The Republican -leaders from the balcony of the building were haranguing the people, -whose enthusiasm was indescribable. From time to time the cheers of the -crowd were broken by rifle volleys and the reports of cannon. - -"When the official ceremony was ended, we succeeded in entering -the City Hall. The new Ministers were receiving visitors and were -conversing with anyone who presented himself. One of the passengers -by the _Asturias_ approached President Braga, and in a short speech -congratulated him on the proclamation of the Republic. Dr. Braga -replied that he was happy to receive our visit, and added that the -Portuguese Republic was definitely established. - -"After leaving the City Hall, we proceeded to the most dangerous part -of the city, that is to say, the Avenida do Liberdade and the Dom Pedro -square. The houses showed signs off cannon shots and the roofs of the -majority of them had collapsed. The Avenida do Liberdade was still -occupied by the opposing forces. The Republican troops occupied one -end of the street, while the Royalists were in possession of the other -extremity, being separated by a distance of about five hundred yards. -The battle was still in progress. I admit that I was somewhat afraid, -and as the shots whistled by I hid myself behind the shelter of a house. - -"At the risk of being killed any minute our party succeeded in reaching -the Avenida restaurant. That part of the restaurant facing the -Avenida do Liberdade was in ruins, and the walls were full of bullet -holes. (M. Castaigne has saved some of the bullets as souvenirs.) The -Recio railway station had been destroyed by artillery fire and the -railway lines had been torn up. The Necessidades Palace shows traces -of numerous shells, but it is stated that the interior of the royal -residence has suffered even more, shells having simply rained on the -roof. - -"The Red Cross Society showed admirable devotion during the fighting. I -saw its members go into the thick of the fight to pick up the wounded, -who on Wednesday were estimated to number over a thousand. The number -of killed is considerable, but at the time it was impossible to obtain -correct figures." - -London, October 9.--The Royal Mail Steam Packet Company's steamer -_Asturias_, which left Lisbon on Thursday, arrived at Southampton -yesterday morning, having among her passengers several Englishmen and -South Americans who witnessed many of the episodes of the revolution. -Among these was General Garcia, who has had experience enough of -revolution in South America. - -The general told an "Evening News" correspondent that he and six others -went into Lisbon on Wednesday. "We found the streets littered with -wounded," he said. "A body of troops was being moved from one side of -the city to the other, and in the districts through which they passed -people were flying panic-stricken, but otherwise everybody was orderly -and the city was quiet. - -"The Republican flags were on the buildings and all trace of resistance -was over. Soldiers were going into shops and houses pulling down -pictures of the king, tearing them up and trampling them underfoot. As -we passed along, a picture of the King came flying out of a doorway -and dropped at our feet. My secretary picked it up. He was immediately -surrounded by soldiers, who ordered him to destroy it at once. - -"I went to the municipal buildings and there saw members of the -provisional government, who allowed me to cable to my own government -in Cuba. I should say the estimate of fifty killed and three hundred -wounded is not high enough, but the list is remarkably small, all -considered. I have seen many revolutions, but none so beautifully -carried out as this." - -Paris, October 9.--"The abounding joying joy of the people--tempered -by admirable self-control--and repeated evidences of careful -organization--these were the things which impressed me most." - -In these words Mr. Charles H. Sherrill, American Minister to Argentina, -told a _Herald_ correspondent at the Hotel Majestic last night, of a -visit he paid to Lisbon on Wednesday, a few hours after the overthrow -of the Portuguese monarchy. With Mrs. Sherrill and their young son he -was a passenger on the _Asturia_, which touched at Lisbon. - -"The shooting began about two o'clock on Tuesday morning," he -continued. "It was at six o'clock on Wednesday morning that we came -into the harbor. The bombardment of the palace had ceased, but with our -glasses we could see the dents which the shells had made in the walls. - -"I disembarked at about one o'clock in the afternoon and went to the -American Legation to see if it had suffered damage. I found the streets -swarming with inhabitants, who were singing and shouting in their joy. -Save for this celebration there were few evidences of the conflict in -the lower part of the town. - -"But it was different in the Avenida, the broad thoroughfare leading -to the elevation back of the city. The insurgents had permitted the -Royalists to form in Rocio square, in the down town district. The -insurgents then took their position on the hills above, holding the -Royalists in a trap, hedged in on the other side by the attacking ships -in the bay. - -"From the elevation at the upper end of the field, guns had been aimed -down the Avenida. The avenue had been stripped of trees, windows had -been shattered and the fronts of buildings which projected farther than -others had been partly demolished. The American Legation escaped even -the slightest damage. - -"Occasionally I encountered a wall which bore striking evidence of -the battle. Blood was matted upon it and blood had coagulated in the -gutters, indicating only too plainly that several lives had been lost -there. Whole groups in the sidewalk had been mowed down by shell from -the field-guns. - -"Nearly every man I saw and many boys carried guns. They were not -rifles of the 'homespun' variety--these arms--but Mausers and equally -effective weapons. These were evidences of preparation. Fully a -thousand people were waving flags--the red and green flag of the new -Republic--a further proof that the revolution had not come just when it -did by accident. - -"For the new Portuguese flag is a rather complicated affair. Across -a blue circle in the centre is a curved line in white bearing the -inscription, 'Patria e Liberdade.' Half the space of the background is -red--revolution--and green, symbolizing hope. - -"I followed a crowd and a band into the City Hall. There in a large -room I saw the President and his cabinet in session, probably drawing -up one of the new government's addresses to the people. It was plain to -me that these were not men who had been 'pitchforked' into office over -night. Their appearance was that of sober, responsible officials. I was -simply a curiosity-seeker, of course, and kept my identity concealed. - -"As I walked along I heard two shots fired in a side street. A moment -later a cart drove by in which lay two bodies. A crowd formed at the -scene of the shooting, but there was no suspicion of a riot. Among -the thousands of people I saw that day there was not a single person -who appeared to be under the influence of liquor. There seemed to -be no looting; no outrages were committed. It was a most impressive -object-lesson of the self-control which a Latin people is able to -maintain when it is imbued with a serious purpose. - -"Country folk were pouring into town by the thousands, and these -reflected the joy and satisfaction felt by the residents of the city. -They afforded a rebuke to the suspicion that the revolutionary feeling -was confined to Lisbon itself. The spirit of the people was best -expressed by two words, composing a headline which stretched across the -front page of an afternoon newspaper. Translated, it read simply: 'At -Last!' - -"And it was apparent also that the revolution was accomplished with -as little bloodshed as possible. The insurgents were merciful--if that -term is permissible in this connection. Shells fired from the ships in -the bay were directed in such a way that they should explode over the -town, carrying the desired warning, but causing the minimum amount of -damage. - -"I was told that the dead and wounded numbered three thousand. I am -certain this was a great exaggeration. My estimate is about 600 or 700, -basing these figures on information obtained at the headquarters of the -Red Cross Society. - -"Most of the residents of Lisbon give the greatest share of credit for -the result to the seamen. A hero was made of every sailor who appeared -in the streets. The crowds cheered him heartily, but the army officers -aroused much less enthusiasm. - -"Save for these evidences of jubilation Lisbon was quiet and -orderly--think of it, only a few hours after such an uprising as this! -The bodies of the dead had been removed, the wounded were being nursed -and business was proceeding almost normally. In front of every bank was -a guard of sailors to protect the financial interests of the people. It -seems strange that I, who have lived in South America two years, was -forced to come to Europe in order to see a revolution." - - -=A Contrast= - -On the night of February 4, 1910, the eve of the carnival, I went to -take a walk in the Luneta. Already from the distance I could see the -hippodrome in the carnival grounds well illuminated. "What is going -on in there?" I asked myself, and not being able to explain the -matter, and urged by my curiosity to know everything, I walked in that -direction. - -Many people, foreigners as well as natives, were crowding up and down -the sidewalk near the fence enclosing the carnival grounds. There were -also constabulary guards at almost every thirty spaces to prevent the -people from peeping through the fence. But in spite of the presence -of these guards some people, nevertheless, seized the opportunity -that offered now and then while the guard was not looking, and peeped -through the fence. - -I then saw that I was not the only one who was anxious to know what -was going on in the hippodrome, and, what is more, my anxiety grew -stronger. Then a moment came when I lost a little self-control, and -I, too, shared some of those opportunities that offered. But suddenly -there came the guard who warned us to stop the business. At that very -moment, an American came along and he, too, could not help wanting to -see what was going on inside. But the guard went to him at once and -said: "No se permite eso, si tu quieres ver lo que hay adentro, puede -Vd. pasar por la puerta central." "Vd. sabi muy bein que eso no verdad, -sabi," replied the American angrily. Then the guard told him that he -had received orders to see that people did not peep through the fence. -"To h---- with your orders!" said the American. "Well, este habla el -commanding officer," replied the guard. "Oh, nom porta!" At this moment -an American policeman came along and asked the American what was the -matter. "This fellow wants to prevent me from peeping through this -fence when I am on neutral ground," "Well, that is just what I am going -to do," replied the policeman, and he again explained him the order. -"I don't care for that order!" "Well, if you don't shut up, I shall -take you to the police station!" "You may!" Then the policeman told him -to walk on; for he did not know what he was talking about. "All right," -said the gentleman, and he walked away; but he came back and asked the -policeman what his number was. "It makes no difference what my number -is," said the officer of the law. "Well, I want to know it." "My number -is----, and my name is----; and what's your name?" "My name is----, -and I am the _secretary in the public_----"(!). "All right," said the -policeman, and both men took opposite directions. - -Two bystanders who witnessed this incident began to argue as to what -would have happened had the American gentleman been a Filipino. One -of them said that if the man were a Filipino and had argued with the -officer of the law in that way, he would have received a good knock -on his head. The other said that he was satisfied with the way the -American policeman behaved himself. - -I then returned and walked toward the central gate of the carnival -grounds, and there, to my surprise, I saw the very same American -gentleman come and walk straight inside without saying a word to the -guard. Then a Filipino came along and asked the guard to be allowed -to go in, but, unfortunately, according to the guard, only the -stockholders were allowed to enter. - -Was the American gentleman a stockholder? He alone knows. - - --Adolfo Scheerer. - - -IV. The Tale of Actual Adventure - -Tales of actual adventure differ from the other true narratives in -the fact of the necessary presence of an exciting occurrence. Danger -at hand and overcome is the keynote of the action. The happening may -be slight or tremendous, or serious or humorous; but in every case it -acquires a certain amount of dignity from the possible disaster. - -The narration is usually in the first person, though not necessarily. -In the "Library of Universal Adventure," compiled by William Dean -Howells and Thomas Sergeant Perry eighteen years ago, the larger -number of the stories are autobiographic in form. This book is a -quaint comment on Howells's non-sensationalistic attitude of today. -Though purporting to be true, these stories are almost lurid in their -romanticism. They present man in the familiar struggle with untimely -death, led thither by various motives and accidents. We see Pliny the -Elder with insatiable curiosity sailing calmly toward the destructive -volcano; we see the lonely scientist Audubon on his Western trip in -early America weighing his chance of life against his watch, that is -coveted by a murderous hag and her two drunken sons; we see the runaway -slave Frederick Douglass, attempting to slip along the very precarious -underground railroad to safety; of course, there is mutiny at sea, and -shipwreck on unknown shores. Indeed, here we find all the despised -paraphernalia of blood-curdling romance, true, with Mr. Howells's name -signed on the package.[10] - -Obviously such stories are written to climaxes, though any manifest -straining for emphasis in a true narrative is resented by the reader. -All the skill you have got from your former attempts to write -realistically ought to help you here. You should put in enough minutiæ -to convince, but omit enough to be interesting. The general effect of -your style should be that of directness and swiftness. Whatever power -of psychological analysis you have, should come to your aid, but it -should appear only in keen and brief flashes as you hurry along with -the events. Descriptive touches of objective nature may be used for -emphasis in harmony or contrast, especially at the end or the beginning -of the adventure, though these are a somewhat trite device. Whatever -else you do, try to write simply and naturally. Do not exaggerate. You -will be judged chiefly on your tone of veracity. - -There is a large and interesting field here for the amateur writer. -This type of story allies itself with the probable adventure, and in -fact is generally lost therein. The successful authors of boys' books -for the most part make use of the coalescence. Boys at a certain age -are extremely exacting, and when their entertainers have to relate -their stories orally as well as pen them, they are often as solicitous -to find authority for their fictions as were Macpherson and Chatterton. - - -=The Bear-Hunt= - - (The adventure here narrated is one that happened to Tolstoy - himself in 1858. More than twenty years later he gave up hunting on - humanitarian grounds.) - -We were out on a bear-hunting expedition. My comrade had shot at a -bear, but only gave him a flesh wound. There were traces of blood on -the snow, but the bear had got away. - -We all collected in a group in the forest to decide whether we ought -to go after the bear at once or wait two or three days till he should -settle down again. We asked the peasant bear-drivers whether it would -be possible to get round the bear that day. - -"No. It's impossible," said an old bear-driver. "You must let the bear -quiet down. In five days' time it will be possible to surround him; but -if you followed him now, you would only frighten him away and he would -not settle down." - -But a young bear-driver began disputing with the old man, saying that -it was quite possible to get round the bear now. - -"On such snow as this," said he, "he won't go far, for he is a fat -bear. He will settle down before evening; or, if not, I can overtake -him on snow-shoes." - -The comrade I was with was against following up the bear, and advised -waiting. But I said: - -"We need not argue. You do as you like, but I will follow up the track -with Damian. If we get round the bear, all right. If not, we lose -nothing. It is still early, and there is nothing else for us to do -to-day." - -The others went back to the sledges and returned to the village. -Damian and I took some bread and remained behind in the forest. - -When they had all left us, Damian and I examined our guns, and after -tucking the skirts of our warm coats into our belts, we started off, -following the bear's tracks. - -The weather was fine, frosty and calm; but it was hard work -snow-shoeing. The snow was deep and soft; it had not caked together at -all in the forest, and fresh snow had fallen the day before, so that -our snow-shoes sank six inches deep in the snow, and sometimes more. - -The bear's tracks were visible from a distance, and we could see how -he had been going; sometimes sinking in up to his belly and ploughing -up the snow as he went. At first, while under large trees, we kept in -sight of his track; but when it turned into a thicket of small firs, -Damian stopped. - -"We must leave the trail now," said he. "He has probably settled -somewhere here. You can see by the snow that he has been squatting -down. Let us leave the track and go round; but we must go quietly. -Don't shout or cough, or we shall frighten him away." - -Leaving the track, therefore, we turned off to the left. But when he -had gone about five hundred yards, there were the bear's traces again -right before us. We followed them and they brought us out onto the -road. There we stopped, examining the road to see which way the bear -had gone. Here and there in the snow were prints of the bear's paw, -claws and all, and here and there the marks of a peasant's bark shoes. -The bear had evidently gone towards the village. - -As we followed the road, Damian said: - -"It's no use watching the road now. We shall see where he has turned -off, to right or left, by the marks in the soft snow at the side. -He must have turned off somewhere, for he won't have gone on to the -village." - -We went along the road for nearly a mile, and then saw, ahead of us, -the bear's track turning off the road. We examined it. How strange! -It was a bear's track right enough, only not going from the road into -the forest, but from the forest onto the road! The toes were pointing -towards the road. - -"This must be another bear," I said. - -Damian looked at it and considered a while. - -"No," said he. "It's the same one. He's been playing tricks, and walked -backwards when he left the road." - -We followed the track and found it really was so! The bear had gone -some ten steps backwards, and then, behind a fir tree, had turned round -and gone straight ahead. Damian stopped and said: - -"Now, we are sure to get round him. There is a marsh ahead of us and he -must have settled down there. Let us go round it." - -We began to make our way round through a fir thicket. I was tired out -by this time, and it had become still more difficult to get along. Now -I glided onto juniper bushes and caught my snow-shoes in them, now a -tiny fir tree appeared between my feet, or, from want of practice, my -snow-shoes slipped off; and now I came upon a stump or a log hidden by -the snow. I was getting very tired, and was drenched with perspiration, -and I took off my fur cloak. And there was Damian all the time, gliding -along as if in a boat, his snow-shoes moving as if of their own accord, -never catching against anything, nor slipping off. He even took my fur -and slung it over his shoulders, and still kept urging me on. - -We went on for two more miles, and came out on the other side of the -marsh. I was lagging behind. My snow-shoes kept slipping off, and my -feet stumbled. Suddenly Damian, who was ahead of me, stopped and waved -his arm. When I came up to him, he bent down, pointing with his hand -and whispered: - -"Do you see the magpie chattering above that undergrowth? It scents the -bear from afar. That is where he must be." - -We turned off and went on for more than another half-mile, and -presently we came onto the old track again. We had, therefore, been -right round the bear, who was now within the track we had left. We -stopped, and I took off my cap and loosened all my clothes. I was as -hot as in a steam bath, and as wet as a drowned rat. Damian, too, was -flushed, and wiped his face with his sleeve. - -"Well, sir", he said, "we have done our job, and now we must have a -rest." - -The evening glow already showed red through the forest. We took off our -snow-shoes and sat down on them, and get some bread and salt out of our -bags. First I ate some snow, and then some bread; and the bread tasted -so good that I thought I had never in my life had any like it before. -We sat there resting until it began to grow dusk, and then I asked -Damian if it was far to the village. - -"Yes," he said, "it must be above eight miles. We will go on there -tonight, but now we must rest. Put on your fur coat, sir, or you'll be -catching cold." - -Damian flattened down the snow, and breaking off some fir branches made -a bed of them. We lay down side by side, resting our heads on our arms. -I do not remember how I fell asleep. Two hours later I woke up, hearing -something crack. - -I had slept so soundly that I did not know where I was. I looked -around me. How wonderful! I was in some sort of a hall, all glittering -and white with gleaming pillars, and when I looked up I saw, through -delicate white tracery, a vault, raven black and studded with coloured -lights. After a good look I remembered that we were in the forest and -that what I took for a hall and pillars were trees covered with snow -and hoar-frost, and the coloured lights were stars twinkling between -the branches. - -Hoar-frost had settled in the night; all the twigs were thick with -it, Damian was covered with it, it was on my fur coat, and it dropped -down from the trees. I woke Damian, and we put on our snow-shoes and -started. It was very quiet in the forest. No sound was heard but that -of our snow-shoes pushing through the soft snow, except when now and -then a tree, cracked by the frost, made the forest resound. Only once -we heard the sound of a living creature. Something rustled close to us -and then rushed away. I felt sure it was the bear, but when we went to -the spot whence the sound had come we found the footmarks of hares, and -saw several young aspen trees with their bark gnawed. We had startled -some hares while they were feeding. - -We came out on the road and followed it, dragging our snow-shoes behind -us. It was easy walking now. Our snow-shoes clattered as they slid -behind us from side to side of the hard-trodden road: The snow creaked -under our boots, and the cold hoar-frost settled on our faces like -down. Seen through the branches, the stars seemed to be running to meet -us, now twinkling, now vanishing, as if the whole sky were on the move. - -I found my comrade sleeping, but woke him up and related how we had got -round the bear. After telling our peasant host to collect beaters for -the morning, we had supper and lay down to sleep. - -I was so tired that I could have slept on till midday if my comrade had -not roused me. I jumped up and saw that he was already dressed and busy -doing something to his gun. - -"Where is Damian?" said I. - -"In the forest long ago. He has already been over the tracks you made, -and been back here, and now he has gone to look after the beaters." - -I washed and dressed and loaded my guns, and then we got into a sledge -and started. - -The sharp frost still continued. It was quiet and the sun could not -be seen. There was a thick mist above us and hoar-frost still covered -everything. - -After driving about two miles along the road, as we came near the -forest, we saw a cloud of smoke raising from a hollow, and presently -reached a group of peasants, both men and women, armed with cudgels. - -We got out and went up to them. The men sat roasting potatoes and -laughing and talking with the women. - -Damian was there, too, and when we arrived the people got up and Damian -led them to place them in the circle we had made the day before. They -went along in single file, men and women, thirty in all. The snow was -so deep that we could only see them from their waists upwards. They -turned into the forest and my friend and I followed in their track. - -Though they had trodden a path, walking was difficult; but, on the -other hand, it was impossible to fall; it was like walking between two -walls of snow. - -We went on in this way for nearly half a mile, when all at once we -saw Damian coming from another direction--running towards us on his -snow-shoes and beckoning us to join him. We went towards him and he -showed us where to stand. I took my place and looked round me. - -To my left were tall fir trees, between the trunks of which I could see -a good way, and, like a black patch just visible behind the trees, I -could see a beater. In front of me was a thicket of young firs about -as high as a man, their branches weighed down and stuck together with -snow. Through this copse ran a path thickly covered with snow, and -leading straight up to where I stood. The thicket stretched away to the -right of me and ended in a small glade where I could see Damian placing -my comrade. - -I examined both my guns and considered where I had better stand. Three -steps behind me was a tall fir. - -"That's where I'll stand," thought I, "and then I can lean my second -gun against the tree;" and I moved towards the tree, sinking up to -my knees in the snow at each step. I trod the snow down, and made a -clearance about a yard square to stand on. One gun I kept in my hand; -the other, ready cocked, I placed leaning up against the tree. Then I -unsheathed and replaced my dagger, to make sure that I could draw it -easily in case of need. - -Just as I had finished these preparations, I heard Damian shouting in -the forest: - -"He's up! He's up!" - -And as soon as Damian shouted, the peasants round the circle all -replied in their different voices. - -"Up, up, up! Ou! Ou! Ou!" shouted the men. - -"Ay! Ay! Ay!" screamed the women in high pitched tones. - -The bear was inside the circle, and as Damian drove him on, the -people all round kept shouting. Only my friend and I stood silent and -motionless, waiting for the bear to come towards us. As I stood gazing -and listening, my heart beat violently. I trembled, holding my gun fast. - -"Now, now," I thought. "He will come suddenly. I shall aim, fire, and -he will drop--" - -Suddenly, to my left, but at a distance, I heard something falling on -the snow. I looked between the tall fir trees, and, some fifty paces -off, behind the trunks, saw something big and black. I took aim and -waited, thinking: - -"Won't he come any nearer?" - -As I waited I saw him move his ears, turn and go back, and then I -caught a glimpse of the whole of him in profile. He was an immense -brute. In my excitement I fired and heard my bullet go "flop" against a -tree. Peering through the smoke I saw my bear scampering back into the -circle and disappearing among the trees. - -"Well," thought I, "My chance is lost. He won't come back to me. -Either my comrade will shoot him or he will escape through the line of -beaters. In any case he won't give me another chance." - -I reloaded my gun, however, and again stood listening. The peasants -were shouting all round, but to the right, not far from where my -comrade stood, I heard a woman screaming in a frenzied voice: - -"Here he is! Here he is! Come here, come here! Oh! Oh! Ay! Ay!" - -Evidently she could see the bear. I had given up expecting him and was -looking to the right at my comrade. All at once I saw Damian with a -stick in his hand, and without his snow-shoes, running along a footpath -towards my friend. He crouched down beside him, pointing his stick as -if aiming at something, and then I saw my friend raise his gun and aim -in the same direction. Crack! He fired. - -"There," thought I, "he has killed him." - -But I saw that my comrade did not run towards the bear. Evidently he -had missed him, or the shot had not taken full effect. - -"The bear will get away," I thought. "He will go back, but he won't -come a second time towards me. But what is that?" - -Something was coming towards me like a whirlwind, snorting as it came, -and I saw the snow flying up quite near me. I glanced straight before -me, and there was the bear, rushing along the path through the thicket -right at me, evidently beside himself with fear. He was hardly half a -dozen paces off; and I could see the whole of him--his black chest and -enormous head with a reddish patch. There he was, blundering straight -at me and scattering the snow about as he came. I could see by his -eyes that he did not see me, but, mad with fear, was rushing blindly -along, and his path led him straight at the tree under which I was -standing. I raised my gun and fired. He was almost upon me now, and I -saw that I had missed. My bullet had gone past him, and he did not even -hear me fire, but still came headlong towards me. I lowered my gun and -fired again, almost touching his head. Crack! I had hit but not killed -him. - -He raised his head and, laying his ears back, came at me, showing his -teeth. - -I snatched at my other gun, but almost before I had touched it he had -flown at me and, knocking me over into the snow, had passed right over -me. - -"Thank goodness, he has left me," thought I. - -I tried to rise, but something pressed me down and prevented my getting -up. The bear's rush had carried him past me, but he had turned back and -had fallen on me with the whole weight of his body. I felt something -heavy weighing me down and something warm above my face, and I realized -that he was drawing my whole face into his mouth. My nose was already -in it, and I felt the heat of it and smelt his blood. He was pressing -my shoulders down with his paws so that I could not move; all I could -do was to draw my head down towards my chest, away from his mouth, -trying to free my nose and eyes, while he tried to get his teeth into -them. Then I felt that he had seized my forehead just under the hair -with the teeth of his lower jaw and the flesh below my eyes with his -upper jaw, and was closing his teeth. It was as if my face were being -cut with knives. I struggled to get away, while he made haste to close -his jaws, like a dog gnawing. I managed to twist my face away, but he -began drawing it again into his mouth. - -"Now," thought I, "my end has come!" - -Then I felt the weight lifted and, looking up, I saw that he was no -longer there. He had jumped off me and run away. - -When my comrade and Damian had seen the bear knock me down and begin -worrying me, they rushed to the rescue. My comrade, in his haste, -blundered and, instead of following the trodden path, ran into the deep -snow and fell down. While he was struggling out of the snow the bear -was gnawing at me. But Damian, just as he was, without a gun and with -only a stick in his hand, rushed along the path shouting: - -"He's eating the master! He's eating the master!" - -And, as he ran, he called to the bear: - -"Oh, you idiot! What are you doing? Leave off! Leave off!" - -The bear obeyed him and, leaving me, ran away. When I rose there was -as much blood on the snow as if a sheep had been killed, and the flesh -hung in rags above my eyes, though in my excitement I felt no pain. - -My comrade had come up by this time, and the other people collected -round; they looked at my wound and put snow on it. But I, forgetting -about my wounds, only asked: - -"Where's the bear? Which way has he gone?" - -Suddenly I heard: - -"Here he is! Here he is!" - -And we saw the bear again running at us. We seized our guns, but before -any one had time to fire he had run past He had grown ferocious and -wanted to gnaw me again, but, seeing so many people, he took fright. -We saw by his track that his head was bleeding, and we wanted to follow -him up, but, as my wounds had become very painful, we went, instead, to -the town to find a doctor. - -The doctor stitched up my wounds with silk and they soon began to heal. - -A month later we went to hunt that bear again, but I did not get a -chance of finishing him. He would not come out of the circle, but went -round and round, growling in a terrible voice. - -Damian killed him. The bear's lower jaw had been broken and one of his -teeth knocked out by my bullet. He was a huge creature and had splendid -black fur. - -I had him stuffed and he now lies in my room. The wounds on my forehead -healed up so that the scars can scarcely be seen. - - --Leo M. Tolstoy. - - "Twenty-three Tales from Tolstoy." (Oxford.) Written about 1872. - - -=Saladin and I Fight an Alupong= - -As I remember, it was a windy afternoon in April, 1906, that I was -nearly bitten by an _alupong_, a very poisonous snake, when I was out -on our farm during harvest. The day was beginning to cool. The men and -women were busy cleaning the rice that had been threshed the night -before. - -I went out with my dog, Saladin, to play with the other boy on the -farm. While we were running and jumping on the great, long pile of hay -I heard my dog barking. I quickly ran to see what was the matter. -Saladin was leaping and running as he barked. He was after a big snake, -which from time to time stopped and raised its crested head to bite. - -I was very much excited. I shouted to encourage my dog. I took a -good-sized lump of dried earth and threw it with all my might at the -snake. Then I cried to the boys, "A snake, a snake! Come, here is a big -snake! Look!" - -All the boys came, but when they reached the place the poisonous animal -was gone. Saladin was standing on his hind legs and was barking as he -scratched the side of an ant hill. I went near the dog. I saw what was -the matter. Then I turned to the boys and said, "It is gone into this -hole. Let us make it come out." - -I pulled up one of the poles of the fence surrounding the place where -the rice was being cleaned, and with it I hastened back to the ant -hill. Then I pushed this pointed pole, about one and one-half inches in -diameter and four feet in length, into the hole. The other boys were -far from me, but my dog was alert near the place. I heard the snake -spit and hiss inside. Then I suddenly pulled away the pole. When I saw -the animal coming out quickly, I speedily turned to run, but I missed -my first step and fell to the ground. - -You may fancy how greatly I was frightened. During that short, critical -moment I expected the deadly bite, but to my great relief I had time -to stand up without being bitten. I looked back and saw how my dog had -saved my life. He was fighting with the snake. In that very place the -two killed each other, after a short time. - - --Cecilio R. Esquivel. - - -=I Get Two Beatings= - -One afternoon my mother beat me for some cause which I have forgotten. -After I had wiped my tears I went into our orchard just across the -road. It was very nice to stay under the orange and cocoa trees because -of the sweet breeze which was coming from the river at the end of the -orchard. - -As I was rambling about I came to the river bank, which is about thirty -feet high. When I looked down I saw two wild tomato plants full of red -fruit. "Ah!" I exclaimed, "what good tomato plants. I will take the -fruit home to appease mother's anger." Accordingly I began to look for -a path down to the water. The path which I found was very steep, and so -it was hard for me to go down. When I reached the edge of the water I -saw a man catching insects to use for bait. - -"Where are you going, my lad?" he said. - -"I am going to get the fruit of those two tomato plants. Can't you see -them?" I asked, pointing to the plants. - -"I tried to get those this morning, but I could not." - -"Anyhow, I will try," I continued. - -So I began to climb the steep slope with both hands and feet. While I -was climbing the man said, "Look out. If you fall, you will surely roll -into the water." My desire to appease my mother's anger was so great -that I paid no heed to what he said. After struggling for a few minutes -I caught hold of a long root of the _madre cacao_ tree, which was -growing on the bank. With the help of this and several others I reached -the place where the tomatoes were. When I had filled one of my pockets -with the red fruits the root to which I was holding broke in two and -down I rolled, with my head foremost, into the water. I should have -drowned had not the man saved me. When I was carried on land I found -out that my back was badly hurt. I had received two wounds, one over -the left eyebrow and one in the forehead, from some thorns. The scars -can be seen to this day. When I went home my mother asked me why I had -my clothes wet. I told her the whole story, but when she saw my wounds -she became so angry that she beat me again. - - --Facundo Esquivel. - - -=The Fall of Juan= - -One day while Juan, Pedro and I were in the church tower looking at a -procession, we saw a nest hanging from the _cogon_ roof. For a while -no one of us seemed to want it, but soon Juan said, "That is mine." -Then Pedro approached him, saying, "I will have it," and he pushed Juan -away. As I was very much interested in the beautiful nest, I went near -them and said, "The first one that can get it shall have it." So I -jumped and grabbed it. Then Pedro said, "Let us divide the eggs so that -each of us will have a share." - -"No, no," I cried, "I must have it all." - -For a long time the quarrel grew worse and worse until it finally -became a fight. Then a sad thing occurred. Pedro rushed toward me and -snatched at the nest, but I pushed him away. Then Juan came with the -same intention. Seeing that I was in danger, I laid the nest on the -floor and grasped Juan by the neck. As he tried to throw me, I pushed -him out of the door. Down, down he went as fast as an arrow. Now all of -us thought that he would be dashed to pieces, but when, by scrambling -and sliding, we at last reached the bottom of the long, dark, winding -stairs, we found him swelling with pride and boasting of himself as a -brave boy. - - --Gregorio Farrales. - - -=A Narrow Escape from a Wild Carabao= - -In 1903 I narrowly escaped being killed by a wild carabao. There were -many of us pursuing this animal, but, after seeing that the buffalo was -very fierce, all of my companions got so afraid that they withdrew. -Since I had the best horse, I continued following the wild beast. -My ambition to distinguish myself both in horseback riding and in -catching wild cattle was great. So, at the time when we were pursuing -the animal, I had in mind that if I alone could succeed in catching -the wild carabao, it would surely be an honor to me. So I followed the -animal closely. When I was just a few feet behind it it suddenly turned -back and fell upon my pony. I also tried to turn back, but in vain; the -carabao overcame us. At this time I was entirely hopeless of my life. -The sharp horn of the cruel beast stuck deeply into the thighs of my -poor pony. I did not know what to do then, for the cruel beast would -surely pursue me if I should dismount. So I grasped my saddle with all -my might. But after a while my poor pet languished and fell. Then I -did my best to get away from danger. The carabao would have pursued -me at once, but its horns stuck tight into the muscles of my horse, -and consequently it was delayed a little. Meanwhile I got into a cell -of a big rock, and exactly at the very moment I squeezed in the mad -buffalo struck the opening with its horns. Fortunately, the aperture -was too small for the head of the animal to enter. But still the sharp -points of its horns could reach me and I received a wound at the back -of my neck. Luckily, I had a bolo with me, and reaching out bravely, I -stabbed the nose of the cruel beast. It surely received a severe wound. -But, instead of running away, the animal became angrier than before and -butted again and again at the opening. My eyes were nearly struck by -the sharp pointed horns. In order to save myself from further injury I -stabbed this time one of the glowing eyes of the buffalo. Blood gushed -out at me. When the wild beast felt the pains of the wounds it began to -move away with regret. After the carabao had gone I bemoaned the death -of my favorite pony. I decided to take revenge upon the beast. In order -to accomplish this I first went home. When I told my parents about -the accident they at once consented to my taking their gun. So the -next morning I set out with many companions. We easily found the same -wild carabao roaming in the broad forest. It was still very mad, for -it began to chase us immediately, coming swiftly towards us, looking -sidewise with its one eye. Without hesitation I let my bullet go and -the beast fell dead. - - --José M. Cariño. - - -V. The Traveler's Sketch - -A traveler's sketch is an orderly and extended account of the -incidents of a journey--the sights, sounds, experiences, impressions -and conclusions of the writer. Incidents and anecdotes may be given -by the narrator in the first or third person; but a traveler's sketch -is always first person. There may be the other forms included, -together with descriptions and historical references; but what makes -a traveler's sketch a traveler's sketch is the personal flavor. The -question the reader always asks is, not what kind of city is Lisbon, -but what impression did it make on Fielding. - -[Great travel books] - -There have been only a few great travel books written. Perhaps, because -the people that are worth while are not gadabouts; perhaps, because -only a few men are generous enough or idle enough to give themselves -over completely to impressions; surely, because not every one who -travels has the ability to see what ought to be seen or to express -himself entertainingly after he has seen it. The narrator needs an eye -made quiet, that looks into the heart of things. He needs also wit and -a wide humanity. If he stalks his way through a place as an Englishman -only, or if he buys it through lavishly as an American, he will have -nothing to tell that we care to listen to. The public is not won by a -string of foreign names merely. A little trip from New York to Boston -would furnish a Smollet or a Sterne with more observations than a -journey around the world would a dull-minded pedant. George Borrow -could tell of distributing Bibles in Spain, and yet give us one of -the best travel books in any language. Henry Fielding could be on his -death journey, as he was on his voyage to Lisbon, and well know it, as -he did, and yet he could write with such an 'indomitable gallantry of -spirit, such an irrepressible joy of life, such an insatiably curious -eye for humanity,' such a new relish for every fresh face, that the -reader could easily imagine that the laughing, genial, ironic, but -altogether compassionate and broad-minded, manly fellow had not a care -in the world. - -The "Voyage and Travaille of Sir John Mandeville" is a book very -precious to the English language, if not to the history of facts. It -was intended as a road-book to the Holy Land, and was produced as -early as 1356. It is precious not only because of the marvelous tales -skillfully woven in as reports of the belief of various cities--stories -which have been inspirations to hundreds of romancers--but because of -the fact that it was, so far as we know, the first piece of English -prose of any considerable extent to depart from the beaten track of -medieval theology and philosophy, and the first piece of original prose -to reveal any personality, to have any style, any flavor of the author. -Altho because of its stooping to the delight that men of that day took -in marvels it places itself really in the class of imaginary voyages, -it yet belongs with good travel books in this one essential--vivacity -and personal charm. - -Marco Polo, the Venetian traveler of the thirteenth and fourteenth -centuries, because of his irresponsibility in padding his account -with marvelous tales, placed himself with Mandeville and the wonder -books; but the result of his "Travels" was scientific in the effect his -evidence that he had really been to the far East had upon Columbus and -the earlier navigators. - -An interesting bit of Anglo-Saxon actual travel account is the story of -Ohthere and Wulfstan inserted by King Alfred into his translation of -the "History of Orosius," and told as the king took it down from the -lips of these sea-rovers themselves sometime during the ninth century. - -Sturdy old Sam Johnson by his "Journey to the Western Isles" added a -substantial volume to the very short eight-or-ten-inch shelf of great -travel book. - -In many ways Bayard Taylor was the ideal traveler, putting himself -into sympathy with the people whom he went among, wearing their dress, -eating their food, speaking their language. But he failed to produce -great literature, for some reason or other--perhaps because he wrote -for the newspapers. His "Views Afoot, or Europe seen with Knapsack and -Staff" and other "copy" of the sort are interesting reading, however. -Darwin's record of the Voyage of the Beagle is invaluable to science. - -Richard Henry Dana's "Two Years Before the Mast" is an excellent boys' -book, and has a fine feeling of adventure about it. But we may not -mention the work of any more travel writers, Stevenson, James, Curtis, -Stanley, Roosevelt, or others in other languages. - -[Fielding's gentle warning] - -Many of our travel books were written as letters and journals; some, -as notes or strict diaries. You might put your sketch into the form of -a letter to a friend. The chief thing you need to remember in relating -any journey, however long or short, is Fielding's gentle warning to -know what to omit: "To make a traveler an agreeable companion to a man -of sense, it is necessary, not only that he should have seen much, -but that he should have overlooked much of what he hath seen.... [A -motto for the narrator] [Some voyage-writers] waste their time and -paper with recording things and facts of so common a kind that they -challenge no other right of being remembered than as they had the -honor of having happened to the author, to whom nothing seems trivial -that in any manner happens to himself. Of such consequence do his own -actions appear to one of his kind that he would probably think himself -guilty of infidelity should he omit the minutest thing in the detail of -his journal. That the fact is true, is sufficient to give it a place -there without any consideration whether it is capable of pleasing or -surprising, of diverting or informing the reader." By implication -Fielding gives the travel book its motto: to please and surprise, -divert and inform. - - -="On the Way to Talavera"= - -The next day's journey brought me to a considerable town, the name -of which I have forgotten. It is the first in New Castile, in this -direction. I passed the night as usual in the manger of the stable, -close beside the Caballeria; for, as I traveled upon a donkey, I deemed -it incumbent upon me to be satisfied with a couch in keeping with my -manner of journeying, being averse, by any squeamish and over delicate -airs, to generate a suspicion amongst the people with whom I mingled -that I am aught higher than what my equipage and outward appearance -might lead them to believe. Rising before daylight, I again proceeded -on my way, hoping ere night to be able to reach Talavera, which I was -informed was ten leagues distant. The way lay entirely over an unbroken -level, for the most part covered with olive trees. On the left, -however, at the distance of a few leagues, rose the mighty mountains -which I have already mentioned. They run eastward in a seemingly -interminable range, parallel with the route which I was pursuing; their -tops and sides were covered with dazzling snow, and the blasts which -came sweeping from them across the wide and melancholy plains were of -bitter keenness. - -"What mountains are those?" I inquired of a barber-surgeon, who, -mounted like myself on a grey burra, joined me about noon, and -proceeded in my company for several leagues. "They have many names, -Caballero," replied the barber; "according to the names of the -neighbouring places so they are called. Yon portion of them is styled -the Serriania of Plasencia; and opposite to Madrid they are termed the -Mountains of Guadarama, from a river of that name which descends from -them; they run a vast way, Caballero, and separate the two kingdoms, -for on the other side is Old Castile. They are mighty mountains, and -though they generate much cold, I take pleasure in looking at them, -which is not to be wondered at, seeing that I was born among them, -though at present, for my sins, I live in a village of the plain. -Caballero, there is not another such range in Spain; they have their -secrets, too--their mysteries--strange tales are told of those hills, -and of what they contain in their deep recesses, for they are a broad -chain, and you may wander days and days amongst them without coming -to any termino. Many have lost themselves on those hills, and have -never again been heard of. Strange things are told of them; it is -said that in a certain place there are deep pools and lakes in which -dwell monsters, huge serpents as long as a pine tree, and horses of -the flood, which sometimes come out and commit mighty damage. One -thing is certain, that yonder, far away to the west, in the heart -of those hills, there is a wonderful valley, so narrow that only at -midday is the face of the sun to be descried from it. That valley lay -undiscovered and unknown for thousands of years; no person dreamed of -its existence, but at last, a long time ago, certain hunters entered -it by chance, and then what do you think they found, Caballero? They -found a small nation or tribe of unknown people, speaking an unknown -language, who perhaps, had lived there since the creation of the -world, without intercourse with the rest of their fellow creatures, -and without knowing that other beings besides themselves existed! -Caballero, did you never hear of the valley of the Batuecas? Many books -have been written about that valley and those people, Caballero, I am -proud of yonder hills; and were I independent, and without wife or -children, I would purchase a burra like that of your own, which I see -is an excellent one, and far superior to mine, and travel amongst them -till I knew all their mysteries, and had seen all the wondrous things -they contain." - -Throughout the day I pressed the burra forward, only stopping once in -order to feed the animal; but, notwithstanding that she played her -part very well, night came on, and I was still about two leagues from -Talavera. As the sun went down, the cold became intense; I drew the -old Gypsy cloak, which I still wore, closer around me, but I found it -quite inadequate to protect me from the inclemency of the atmosphere. -The road, which lay over a plain, was not very distinctly traced, and -became in the dusk rather difficult to find, more especially as cross -roads leading to different places were of frequent occurrence. - -I however, proceeded in the best manner I could, and when I became -dubious as to the course which I should take, I invariably allowed the -animal on which I was mounted to decide. At length the moon shone out -faintly, when suddenly by its beams I beheld a figure moving before -me at a slight distance. I quickened the pace of the burra, and was -soon close at its side. It went on, neither altering its pace nor -looking round for a moment. It was the figure of a man, the tallest and -bulkiest that I had hitherto seen in Spain, dressed in a manner strange -and singular for the country. On his head was a hat with a low crown -and broad brim, very much resembling that of an English waggoner; about -his body was a long loose tunic or slop, seemingly of coarse ticken, -open in front, so as to allow the interior garments to be occasionally -seen; these appeared to consist of a jerkin and short velveteen -pantaloons. I have said that the brim of the hat was broad, but broad -as it was, it was insufficient to cover an immense bush of coal-black -hair, which, thick and curly, projected, on either side; over the left -shoulder was flung a kind of satchel, and in the right hand was held a -long staff or pole. - -There was something peculiarly strange about the figure, but what -struck me the most was the tranquility with which it moved along, -taking no heed of me, though of course aware of my proximity, but -looking straight forward along the road, save when it occasionally -raised a huge face and large eyes toward the moon, which was now -shining forth in the eastern quarter. - -"A cold night," said I at last. "Is this the way to Talavera?" - -"It is the way to Talavera, and the night is cold." - -"I am going to Talavera," said I, "as I suppose you are yourself." - -"I am going thither, so are you, _Bueno_." - -The tones of the voice which delivered these words were in their -way quite as strange and singular as the figure to which the voice -belonged; they were not exactly the tones of a Spanish voice, and -yet there was something in them that could hardly be foreign; the -pronunciation also was correct, and the language, though singular, -faultless. But I was most struck with the manner in which the last -word, _bueno_, was spoken. I had heard something like it before, but -where or when I could by no means remember. A pause now ensued; the -figure stalking on as before with the most perfect indifference, and -seemingly with no disposition either to seek or avoid conversation. - -"Are you not afraid," said I at last, "to travel these roads in the -dark? It is said that there are robbers abroad." - -"Are you not rather afraid," replied the figure, "to travel these roads -in the dark?--you who are ignorant of the country, who are a foreigner, -an Englishman?" - -"How is it that you know me to be an Englishman?" demanded I, much -surprised. - -"That is no difficult matter," replied the figure; "the sound of your -voice was enough to apprise me of that." - -"You speak of voices," said I; "suppose the tone of your own voice were -to tell me who you are?" - -"That it will not do," replied my companion; "you know nothing about -me--you can know nothing about me." - -"Be not sure of that, my friend; I am acquainted with many things of -which you have little idea." - -"For example," said the figure. - -"For example," said I, "you speak two languages." - -The figure moved on, seemed to consider a moment and then said slowly, -_bueno_. - -"You have two names," I continued; "one for the house and the other for -the street; both are good, but the one by which you are called at home -is the one which you like best." - -The man walked on about ten paces, in the same manner as he had -previously done; all of a sudden he turned, and taking the bridle -of the burra gently in his hand, stopped her. I had now a full view -of his face and figure, and those huge features and Herculean form -still occasionally revisit me in my dreams. I see him standing in the -moonshine, staring me in the face with his deep calm eyes. At last he -said: - -"Are you then one of us?" - - --George Borrow. - - "The Bible in Spain." The World's Classics (Oxford Press). - - -="Smyrna: First Glimpses of the East"= - -"I am glad that the Turkish part of Athens was extinct, so that I -should not be baulked of the pleasure of entering an Eastern town by an -introduction to any garbled or incomplete specimen of one. Smyrna seems -to me the most Eastern of all have seen; as Calais will probably remain -to the Englishman, the most French town in the world. The jack-boots -of the postilions don't seem so huge elsewhere, or the tight stockings -of the maid-servants so Gallic. The churches and the ramparts and -the little soldiers on them, remain forever impressed upon your -memory; from which larger temples and buildings, and whole armies have -subsequently disappeared; and the first words of actual French heard -spoken, and the first dinner at 'Quillacq's' remain after twenty years -as clear as on the first day. Dear Jones, can't you remember the exact -smack of the white hermitage, and the toothless old fellow singing -'Largo al factotum?'" - -The first day in the East is like that. After that there is nothing. -The wonder is gone, and the thrill of that delightful shock, which so -seldom touches the nerves of plain men of the world, though they seek -for it everywhere. One such looked out at Smyrna from our steamer and -yawned without the least excitement, and did not betray the slightest -emotion, as boats with real Turks on board came up to the ship. There -lay the town with minarets and cypresses, domes and castles; great guns -were firing off, and the blood-red flag of the Sultan flaring over -the gulf's edge, and as you looked at them with the telescope, there -peered out of the general mass a score of pleasant episodes of Eastern -life--there were cottages with quaint roofs; silent cool kioska, where -the chief of the eunuchs brings down the ladies of the harem. I saw -Hassan, the fisherman, getting his nets; and Ali Baba going off with -his donkey to the great forest for wood. Smith looked at these wonders -quite unmoved; and I was surprised at his apathy; but he had been at -Smyrna before. A man only sees the miracle once: though you yearn after -it ever so, it won't come again. I saw nothing of Ali Baba and Hassan -the next time we came to Smyrna, and had some doubts (recollecting -the badness of the inn) about landing at all. A person who wishes to -understand France and the East should come in a yacht to Calais or -Smyrna, land for two hours, and never afterward go back again. - -But those two hours are beyond measure delightful. Some of us were -querulous up to that time and doubted of the wisdom of making the -voyage. Lisbon, we owned, was a failure. Athens a dead failure; -Malta very well, but not worth the trouble and seasickness; in fact, -Baden-Baden or Devonshire would be a better move than this; when -Smyrna came and rebuked all mutinous Cockneys into silence. Some men -may read this who are in want of a sensation. If they love the odd -and picturesque, if they loved the "Arabian Nights" in their youth, -let them book themselves on board one of the Peninsular and Oriental -vessels and try one _dip_ into Constantinople or Smyrna. Walk into the -bazaar and the East is unveiled to you; how often and often have you -tried to fancy this, lying out on a summer holiday at school! It is -wonderful, too, how _like_ it is; you may imagine that you have been in -the place before, you seem to know it so well! - -"The beauty of that poetry is, to me, that it was never too handsome; -there is no fatigue of sublimity about it. Schacabac and the little -Barber play as great a part in it as the heroes; there are no -uncomfortable sensations of terror; you may be familiar with the great -Afreet, who was going to execute the travelers for killing his son with -a date stone. Morgiana, when she kills the Forty Robbers with boiling -oil, does not seem to hurt them in the least; and though King Schahrier -makes a practice of cutting off his wives' heads, yet you fancy they -got them on again in some of the back rooms of the palace, where they -are dancing and playing on dulcimers. How fresh, easy, good-natured is -all this! How delightful is that notion of the pleasant Eastern people -about knowledge, where the height of science is made to consist in the -answering of riddles and all the mathematicians and magicians bring -their great beards to bear on a conundrum! - -"When I got into the bazaar among this race, somehow I felt as if they -were all friends. There sat the merchants in their little shops, quiet -and solemn, but with friendly looks. There was no smoking, it was the -Ramazan; no eating--the fish and meats fizzing in the enormous pots -of the cook-shops are only for the Christians. The children abounded; -the law is not so stringent upon them, and many wandering merchants -were there selling figs (in the name of the Prophet, doubtless), -for their benefit, and elbowing onward with baskets of grapes and -cucumbers. Countrymen passed bristling over with arms, each with a -huge bellyful of pistols and daggers in his girdle; fierce, but not -the least dangerous. Wild swarthy Arabs, who had come in with the -caravans, walked solemnly about, very different in look and demeanor -from the sleek inhabitants of the town. Greeks and Jews squatted and -smoked, their shops tended by sallow-faced boys, with large eyes, who -smiled and welcomed you in; negroes bustled about in gaudy colors; and -women, with black nose-bags and shuffling yellow slippers chattered and -bargained at the doors of the little shops. There was the rope quarter -and the sweetmeat quarter, and the pipe bazaar and the arm bazaar, and -the little turned-up shoe quarter, and the shops where ready-made -jackets and pelisses were swinging, and the region where, under the -ragged awnings, regiments of tailors were at work. The sun peeps -through these awnings of mat or canvas, which are hung over the narrow -lanes of the bazaar and ornaments them with a thousand freaks of light -and shadow. Cogia Hassan Alhabbal's shop is in a blaze of light; while -his neighbor, the barber and coffee-house keeper, has his premises, his -low seats and narghilés, his queer pots and basins, in the shade. The -cobblers are always good-natured; there was one who, I am sure, has -been revealed to me in my dreams, in a dirty old green turban, with a -pleasant wrinkled face like an apple; twinkling his little gray eyes as -he held them up to the gossips, and smiling under a delightful old gray -beard, which did the heart good to see. You divine the conversation -between him and the cucumber man, as the Sultan used to understand the -language of birds. Are any of those cucumbers stuffed with pearls, -and is that Armenian with the black square turban Haroun Alraschid -in disguise, standing yonder by the fountain where the children are -drinking--the gleaming marble fountain, checked all over with light and -shadow, and engraved with delicate Arabesques and sentences from the -Koran? - -"But the greatest sensation of all is when the camels come. Whole -strings of real camels, better even than in the procession of Blue -Beard, with soft rolling eyes and bended necks, swaying from one side -of the bazaar to the other to and fro, and treading gingerly with their -great feet. Oh, you fairy dreams of boyhood! Oh, you sweet meditations -of half-holidays, here you are realized for half an hour! The genius -which presides over youth led up to do a good action that day. There -was a man sitting in an open room ornamented with fine long-tailed -sentences of the Koran; some in red, some in blue; some written -diagonally over the paper; some so shaped as to represent ships, -dragons, or mysterious animals. The man squatted on a carpet in the -middle of this room, with folded arms, waggling his head to and fro, -swaying about, and singing through his nose choice phrases from the -sacred work. But from the room above came a clear voice of many little -shouting voices, much more musical than that of Naso in the matted -parlor, and the guide told us it was a school, so we went upstairs to -look. - -"I declare, an my conscience, the master was in the act of bastinadoing -a little mulatto boy; his feet were in a bar, and the brute was laying -on with a cane; so we witnessed the howling of the poor boy, and the -confusion of the brute who was administering the correction. The other -children were made to shout, I believe, to drown the noise of their -little comrade's howling; but the punishment was instantly discontinued -as our hats came up over the stair-trap, and the boy cast loose, and -the bamboo huddled into a corner, and the schoolmaster stood before us -abashed. All the small scholars in red caps, and the little girls in -gaudy handkerchiefs turned their big wondering dark eyes toward us; and -the caning was over for _that_ time, let us trust. I don't envy some -schoolmasters in a future state. I pity that poor little blubbering -Mahometan; he will never be able to relish the 'Arabian Nights' in the -original as long as he lives. - -"From this scene we rushed off somewhat discomposed to make a -breakfast off red mullets and grapes, melons, pomegranates, and Smyrna -wine, at a dirty little comfortable inn to which we were recommended; -and from the windows of which we had a fine, cheerful view of the gulf -and its busy craft, and the loungers and merchants along the shore. -There were camels unloading at one wharf, and piles of melons much -bigger than the Gibraltar cannon-balls at another. It was the fig -season, and we passed through several alleys encumbered with long rows -of fig-dressers, children and women for the most part, who were packing -the fruit diligently into drums, dipping them in salt water first, and -spreading them neatly over with leaves; while the figs and leaves are -drying, large white worms crawl out of them and swarm over the decks -of the ships which carry them to Europe and to England, where small -children eat them with pleasure--I mean the figs, not the worms--and -where they are still served at wine parties at the universities. -When fresh they are not better than elsewhere; but the melons are -of admirable flavor, and so large that Cinderella might almost be -accommodated with a coach made of a big one, without any very great -distention of its original proportions. - -"Our guide, an accomplished swindler, demanded two dollars as the fee -for entering the mosque, which others of our party subsequently saw -for sixpence, so we did not care to examine that place of worship. But -there were other cheaper sights, which were to the full as picturesque, -for which there was no call to pay money, or indeed, for a day, -scarcely to move at all. I doubt whether a man who would smoke his pipe -on a bazaar counter all day, and let the city flow by him, would not -be almost as well employed as the most active curiosity hunter. - -"To be sure he would not see the women. Those in the bazaar were -shabby people for the most part, whose black masks nobody would feel a -curiosity to remove. You could see no more of their figure than if they -had been stuffed in holsters; and even their feet were brought to a -general splay uniformity by the double yellow slippers which the wives -of true believers wear. But it is in the Greek and Armenian quarters, -and among those poor Christians who were pulling figs, that you see the -beauties; and a man of a generous disposition may lose his heart half -a dozen times a day in Smyrna. There was the pretty maid at work at -a tambour frame in an open porch, with an old duenna spinning by her -side, and a goat tied up to the railings of the little court garden; -there was the nymph who came down the stair with the pitcher on her -head, and gazed with great calm eyes, as large and stately as Juno's; -there was the gentle mother, bending over a queer cradle, in which lay -a small crying bundle of infancy. All these three charmers were seen in -a single street in the Armenian quarter, where the house doors are all -open, and the women of the families sit under the arches in the court. -There was the fig girl, beautiful beyond all others, with an immense -coil of deep black hair twisted round a head of which Raphael was -worthy to draw the outline, and Titian to paint the color. I wonder the -Sultan has not swept her off, or that the Persian merchants, who come -with silks and sweetmeats have not kidnapped her for the Shah of Tehean. - -"We went to see the Persian merchants at their khan, and purchased -some silks there from a swarthy, black-bearded man with a conical cap -of lambswool. Is it not hard to think that silks bought of a man in -a lambswool cap, in a caravanseria, brought hither on the backs of -camels, should have been manufactured after all at Lyons? Others of our -party bought carpets, for which the town is famous; and there was one -absolutely laid in a stock of real Smyrna figs, and purchased three or -four real Smyrna sponges for his carriage; so strong was his passion -for the genuine article. - -"I wonder that no painter has given us familiar views of the East; not -processions, grand sultans, or magnificent landscapes, but faithful -transcripts of everyday Oriental life, such as each street will supply -to him. The camels afford endless motives, couched in the market -places, lying by thousands in the camel square, snorting and bubbling -after their manner, the sun blazing down on their backs, their slaves -and keepers lying behind them in the shade; and the Caravan Bridge, -above all, would afford a painter subjects for a dozen of pictures. -Over this Roman arch, which crosses the Meles river, all the caravans -pass on their entrance to the town. On one side, as we sat and looked -at it, was a great row of plane trees; on the opposite bank a deep -wood of tall cypresses, in the midst of which rose up innumerable gray -tombs, surmounted with the turbans of the defunct believers. Beside -the stream the view was less gloomy. There was under the plane trees -a little coffee house, shaded by a trellis-work, covered over with a -vine and ornamented with many rows of shining pots and water-pipes, for -which there was no use at noonday now, in the time of Ramazan. - -"Hard by the coffee house was a garden and a bubbling marble fountain, -and over the stream was a broken summerhouse, to which amateurs may -ascend for the purpose of examining the river, and all round the plane -trees plenty of stools for those who were inclined to sit and drink -sweet, thick coffee or cool lemonade made of fresh green citrons. The -master of the house, dressed in a white turban and light blue pelisse, -lolled under the coffee-house awning; the slave in white with a crimson -striped jacket, his face as black as ebony, brought up pipes and -lemonade again, and returned to his station at the coffee house, where -he curled his black legs together and began singing out of his flat -nose to the thrumming of a long guitar with wire string. The instrument -was not bigger than a soup ladle, with a long straight handle, but its -music pleased the performer, for his eyes rolled shining about, and his -head wagged, and he grinned with an innocent intensity of enjoyment -that did one good to look at. And there was a friend to share his -pleasure; a Turk dressed in scarlet and covered all over with dagger -and pistols, sat leaning forward on his little stool, rocking about and -grinning quite as eagerly as the black minstrels. As he sang and we -listened, figures of women bearing pitchers went passing over the Roman -bridge which we saw between the large trunks of the planes; or gray -forms of camels were seen stalking across it, the string preceded by -the little donkey, who is always here their long-eared conductor. - -"These are very humble incidents of travel. Wherever the steamboat -touches the shore adventure retreats into the interior, and what is -called romance vanishes. It won't bear the vulgar gaze; or rather the -light of common day puts it out, and it is only in the dark that it -shines at all. There is no cursing and insulting of Giaours now. If a -cockney looks or behaves in a particularly ridiculous way, the little -Turks come out and laugh at him. A Londoner is no longer a spittoon for -true believers; and now that dark Hassan sits in his divan and drinks -champagne, and Selim has a French watch, and Zuleika perhaps takes -Morrison's pills, Byronism becomes absurd instead of sublime, and is -only a foolish expression of cockney wonder. They still occasionally -beat a man for going into a mosque, but this is almost the only sign -of ferocious vitality left in the Turk of the Mediterranean coast, -and strangers may enter scores of mosques without molestation. The -paddlewheel is the great conqueror. Wherever the captain cries 'Stop -her!' civilization stops, and lands in the ship's boat, and makes -a permanent acquaintance with the savages on shore. Whole hosts of -crusaders have passed and died and butchered here in vain. But to -manufacture European iron into pikes and helmets was a waste of metal; -in the shape of piston rods and furnace pokers it is irresistible; and -I think an allegory might be made showing how much stronger commerce is -than chivalry, and finishing with a grand image of Mahomet's crescent -being extinguished in Fulton's boiler. - -"This I thought was the moral of the day's sights and adventures. We -pulled off the steamer in the afternoon--the Inbat blowing fresh and -setting all the craft in the gulf dancing over its blue waters. We -were presently under weigh again, the captain ordering his engines to -work only at half power, so that a French steamer which was quitting -Smyrna at the same time might come up with us and fancy she could beat -the irresistible _Tagus_. Vain hope! Just as the Frenchman neared us, -the _Tagus_ shot out like an arrow and the discomfited Frenchman went -behind. Though we all relished the joke exceedingly, there was a French -gentleman on board who did not seem to be by any means tickled with -it; but he had received papers at Smyrna containing news of Marshal -Bugeaud's victory at Isley and had this land victory to set against our -harmless little triumph at sea. - -"That night we rounded the Island of Mitylene, and next day the coast -of Troy was in sight, and the tomb of Achilles--a dismal-looking -mound that rises on a low, dreary, barren shore--less lively and not -more picturesque than the Schelot or the mouth of the Thames. Then we -passed Tenedos and the forts and town at the mouth of the Dardanelles. -The weather was not too hot, the water as smooth as at Putney, and -everybody happy and excited at the thought of seeing Constantinople -tomorrow. We had music on board all the way from Smyrna. A German -_commis voyageur_, with a guitar, who had passed unnoticed until -that time, produced his instrument about midday and began to whistle -waltzes. He whistled so divinely that the ladies left their cabins and -men laid down their books. He whistled a polka so bewitchingly that -two young Oxford men began whirling round the deck and performed that -popular dance with much agility until they sank down tired. He still -continued an unabated whistling, and as nobody would dance, pulled -off his coat, produced a pair of castanets and whistling a mazurka, -performed it with tremendous agility. His whistling made everybody -gay and happy--made those acquainted who had not spoken before, and -inspired such a feeling of hilarity in the ship that that night, as -we floated over the Sea of Marmora, a general vote was expressed for -broiled bones and a regular supper party. Punch was brewed and speeches -were made, and, after a lapse of fifteen years, I heard the 'Old -English Gentleman' and 'Bright Chanticleer Proclaims the Morn,' sung in -such style that you would almost fancy the proctors must hear and send -us all home." - - --William Makepeace Thackeray. - - "A Journey from Cornhill to Cairo." - - -=A Trip from Currimao to Laoag= - -Late in the afternoon of last April third, Mr. C. Guia and I left -Currimao for San Nicolas and Laoag, respectively. We traveled in a cart -drawn by a fat gray cow. - -At first it was not altogether pleasant to go now up then down the -irregular road, and besides, the cart--a shoe-box-shaped sort of buggy -with bamboo sides and floor--was far from being comfortable. The -driver was a sturdy broad-shouldered country fellow, dressed in a red -home-spun shirt worn outside of his tight dark-green trousers, rolled -up above his knees. His big bolo, suspended from his tough belt that he -wore outside, was at his left; while his callugung--a saucer-shaped hat -made from a dried wild squash--was dangling at his right. - -Since we left Currimao he had not addressed us a single word, but all -of a sudden when the cart stopped in front of a ragged cottage, he -cried out loud as if we were deaf, "Apu, arac quen maiz," which means, -"Sirs, wine and corn." Mr. Guia and I rose from our squatting posture -on the floor by the side of our steamer trunks and suit cases and got -down to buy for our driver the things that he needed. - -When we entered, the inner appearance of the cottage in the dim light -of a small oil lamp hanging from the middle of the ceiling aroused -somewhat my pity for the occupants. In one corner a rather old though -fat woman was cooking supper, while in another corner were fishing -nets, a new plow, a hunting spear and a callugung. In the corner near -the door were rough boxes on which were ragged mats and red pillows. In -the middle of the room was a basket of corn which an old, muscular man -was husking when we entered and which he left to attend to our needs. -We were invited to sit on a long bamboo bench which occupied one side -of the room and where we remained as mute as statues until our driver, -having filled his stomach with vino and having given his animal enough -corn, summoned us to continue our journey. - -We went out, and as the moon was now shining brightly, we had a front -view of the cottage. The cogon roof, on which were perched some -chickens, was pyramid-like, and the walls, broken at places but patched -with rice-sacks through which the dim light of the lamp was visible, -were made of bamboo. The porch, at the middle of which was a wooden -staircase shaded by broad eaves, was piled full of corn. - -After we paid the old man for what he supplied our now half-drunk -driver, we again assumed our uncomfortable position in the cart. The -road was now smooth and I was surprised to find ourselves suffering -still the disagreeable upward and downward movement of the cart. I -examined the two solid wooden wheels, and I found that they were not -round, but oval. But the beautiful panorama of the country soon made -me forget my discomfort in the cart. On our left and right were square -rice-fields--some yellow with ripe grain and others green with young -leaves--dotted here and there with hamlets or solitary trees so that -they resembled a checker-board. - -All the while that I was admiring this view, Mr. Guia seemed to -be buried in deep thought. We were cabin-mates in the steamship -_Bustamante_ that brought us from Manila, and therefore I had known him -for but three days, during which he was always cheerful and gay. But -now what a sad and mournful countenance! His youthful and oval face, -hitherto jovial and beaming with health, was pale. I was very sorry to -see my companion thus afflicted with grief, and I said in a sympathetic -voice, "Mr. Guia, are you sick?" He answered, "No, I am not. But, my -friend, my mo-mo-mother died nine days ago, and that's why, as you -see, I am mourning." Indeed, he was mourning, for he wore a black cap, -suit, tie and shoes. I dared not continue our conversation along that -line, for I knew it would but grieve him the more. So I expressed my -condolence by silence. After a moment of quietude he told the driver -something in Ilocano which I did not understand. - -Suddenly the driver began to sing with a tremulous voice a common -country ditty called "Dalla-dalluc." As it was getting late, I was soon -lulled into a sound sleep. I think I had slept for about two hours when -a loud barking of five dogs awoke me. When I looked around, I found -that we were in a town, for we were passing by a church whose stone -wall was black with moss and at whose rear a river was flowing. I asked -Mr. Guia in what town we were and he answered, "Why, we are in San -Nicolas now." I replied, "Then here we part." He exclaimed, "Oh, no! -You are very tired, and it would be better for you to spend the rest of -the night at my house. Besides you will not, I am sure, be able to wake -the _banquero_ (boatman), for it is now past midnight. To-night is also -the celebration of what we call _Umbras_ in honor of my dead mother, -and I should like you to be my special guest." I thanked him very much -for his kind invitation, and, of course, in the face of the obstacle he -foretold, I was glad enough to accept. - -The cart turned a corner and stopped suddenly in front of a somewhat -large wooden corrugated iron roofed house--a typical town residence in -the Philippines. We got down immediately from the cart, and we were met -at the gate by a boy of about fifteen years of age. After Mr. Guia told -the boy to look to our baggage, he conducted me to the sala, where he -met his relatives. - -While the affectionate greetings were going on between Mr. Guia and -his family, I had time to observe all that was in the room. In one -corner were young women and young men playing cards around a circular -marble table, while in another corner were old women, talking of the -high merits of the departed one. In the corner near the door where -I was standing, a crowd of old fellows were drinking _basi_--a wine -made from sugar cane--and I noticed our driver joining them. The walls -seemed to be very plain; indeed all the decorations were covered with -black cloth. In the center of the _sala_ was a large rectangular table -on which were different kinds of food ready to be eaten. The viands, -however, were cold, so I judged that the table must have been set early -in the evening. - -As I was wondering why the table was placed there, Mr. Guia came and -took me into his room where my baggage was put. My thought was still -centered upon the table, and my curiosity led me to ask my friend -about it. Before he answered me, he smiled, and then said, "You must -know that it is the custom of the Ilocanos the ninth night after the -death of any grown-up person to celebrate a mourning festival called -_Umbars_. Each friend of the dead person brings during that day food -either cooked or uncooked. That on the table is the cooked food, which -is considered to be sacred and which, as you have just seen, is being -watched by the people in the room. Nobody is supposed to touch the food -before the prayer, which will begin at three o'clock. After the prayer -is over, which will last for about two hours, then all the guests will -eat the food, but at the head of the table a vacant seat is left for -the spirit of the dead to sit. After the feast the guests depart, and -the festival ends." - -During the time that Mr. Guia was explaining to me the _Umbras_, I -was able to wash myself and to change my traveling suit. So after he -finished, he conducted me into the dining-room where we both ate a -hearty meal. Naturally, after we had finished eating, we joined the -company of young men and young women, to each of whom I was introduced -and with whom we played cards until the time for prayers. In the midst -of the prayer I asked the permission of Mr. Guia to go to his room to -pack up my things so that I should be able to leave after the prayer. - -When all the guests had departed, I bade good-bye to my friend and his -sorrow-stricken relatives. Within fifteen minutes I reached Laoag, -and was once more safe in the hands of a brother with whom I spent a -pleasant three weeks' sojourn. - - --Fernando M. Maramág. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -PERSONAL ACCOUNTS - - -Within the group of personal accounts come the more-or-less extended -records of the sayings and doings of men and women in their most acute -individuality. It is intimate, detailed living that is expressed in -a diary, in memoirs, or a biography. These have a peculiar charm. -We expect endearing things in a diary, interesting ones in an -autobiography, and, if not surprisingly informing, then surely upright -and praiseworthy ones, often patriotic, in a biography. - - -I. Journal and Diary - -[Definition] - -As words, journal and diary mean the same thing. They both denote a -daily record. Journal comes immediately from the French _jour_ meaning -day, and remotely from the same Latin word from which we get diurnal. -Diary comes directly from the Latin _dies_. If there be any difference -in the use of the titles, it lies in the object the maker of the daily -record has in mind. A journal is written for a reader. A diary is kept -for the writer's own amusement or profit. Both mix little and great -affairs promiscuously. - -[The range of journals] - -A journal, of course, is likely to treat of a fewer number of trivial -things than is a diary, and oftener the less personal, though Swift's -wonderful "Journal to Stella," written in the little language and meant -for "no eye but hers and the faithful Dingley's" is as personal as -can be. James Madison's stately record of the American Constitutional -Convention stands at the antipodes, we might say; and Hesdin's -"Journal of a Spy in Paris during the Reign of Terror," far off to -the right perhaps; and the Swiss poet, Henri Fréderic Amiel's private -philosophical and moral reflections, his "Journal Intime," far to the -left. In the middle might come the travelers' journals--like Fielding's -"Voyage to Lisbon" and Montaigne's "Voyage in Italy," or even John C. -Fremont's soldier explorations--as typical of the daily record that is -personal, yet not intensely so, and is written to be read. - -A quaint and at once extremely romantic travel-journal of this sort -is the _Vida del Gran Tamurlan_, perhaps the oldest piece of travel -writing in Spanish literature. It is the daily record of the voyages -and residences of the ambassadors of Henry the Third on a diplomatic -mission to Tamburlane the Great--that same old Tartar potentate and -conqueror whom Marlowe made immortal by putting into his mouth those -high-astounding terms and that flowing blank verse, which so exactly -suited his character as well as Marlowe's own. The adventures of this -embassy were minutely written down by Ruy Gonsalez de Clavijo from -May, 1403, when it started, to March, 1406, when it returned. In the -report he describes the city of Constantinople which the ambassadors -passed through when it was at the height of its tottering greatness. -An incident recorded is very quaint. These fifteenth century public -servants, extremely human and not at all unlike our modern ones, -were desirous when off on special business not only to serve their -government well but also to do as much sight-seeing on their own -account as possible. Hence they haunted the churches and other places -of relics. But one day they failed to see all they wished to in the -church of San Juan de la Piedra, and for the following reason, bless -you! "The Emperor went to hunt, and left the keys with the Empress his -wife, and when she gave them she forgot to give those where the said -relics were, etc., etc." Delicious episode! Exactly the essence of this -type of narrative. It makes one suspect that despite all the pompous -history that has been got together about them the kings and queens of -old were really human beings. But Clavijo was writing a journal as well -as a diary, for he tells us of bigger things. He and his two friends go -on to Samarcand and find the great Conqueror and experience his lavish -hospitality in a series of magnificent festivals, but, strange to say, -witness also his death; at least he dies when they are at his court, -and Clavijo tells of the troubles the embassy had therefore in getting -ready to return. Argote de Molina, in 1582, a hundred and seventy-six -years later, wrote a _discourso_ upon Clavijo and got out the first -public edition of this journal, which, for the sake of sales probably, -he called "The Life of the Great Tamerlane," a thing it was not, but -only partly. Marlowe wrote his "Tamburlane" in 1586 or 1587. He might -well have seen Clavijo's journal. - -[Great diaries] - -Diary is for the most part more intimate, more private than journal, -though a diary need not necessarily be private. In fact a writer of -such a record sometimes hands it about among his friends--that is, part -of it. Other parts he invariably keeps to himself, either never to be -read by another or to be read only after the writer has ceased to live -or has ceased to care about the effect of his words. The astoundingly -frank and intimate diary of the famous Samuel Pepys, kept up by him -through the first nine years of the Restoration, has only just now -reached its complete publication. Details at first suppressed for one -reason or another have, as they have been made public from time to -time, gradually changed the world's conception of the character of this -bustling servant of the crown. And not strange to say; for a diary of -all forms of writing is the most revealing. John Evelyn, the friend -and patron of Pepys, wrote himself down no less surely a non-genius -than Pepys wrote himself a genius. They both, however, give us, in -addition to a knowledge of their personal affairs, invaluable pictures -of the men and doings of their day. Fanny Burney's "Diary," egotistical -and minute, but one of the great books of literature, is a gallery of -portraits of the late eighteenth century celebrities--King George and -Queen Charlotte, Reynolds, Burke, Dr. Johnson, Mrs. Thrale, Garrick, -and many others--all her friends. Gideon Welles's "Diary," which -appeared in the _Atlantic Monthly_ during 1909-10, though, like that of -Pepys, an account of public matters, was, like that of Pepys, a private -account not meant to be seen at the time. All these records have -their value for late readers in their honesty and minuteness. It is on -such revelations that we depend for our correct conception of by-gone -affairs. - -A diary or a journal, then, is first of all a narrative of real events. -Fiction in this form, like Defoe's "Journal of the Plague" or the diary -parts of Charles Reade's "Cloister and the Hearth," is so for the sake -of the verisimilitude. - -[Writing the type] - -If you wish to write a journal, you might imagine yourself sending it -across the ocean to some relative or acquaintance who cares to know -about the doings of you yourself, your family, your friends, your -community. You may reflect your own sentiments and those of others; -you may give anecdotes, eye-witness accounts, reports, hear-says, -incidents, opinions, explanations, and bare facts. You may touch upon -your pleasures, your joys, and even your troubles; but your vexations -and regrets you would surely reserve for your diary. - -If you write a diary, you should be frank and absolutely natural. Any -playing to the gallery is a denial of the whole tone of diary. You may -be ever so selfish and egotistical, or ever so trivial and vain, if you -are only honest. If we feel that you are recording exactly what you -think, revealing exactly what is, we shall read you with delight, so -seldom does one man get at the real thought of another. You may even be -pious--a most severe trial on a reader's interest--and we will follow -you so long as you are sincere. - - -=Extracts from Diary of Samuel Pepys= - - November, 1661. - -3d. (Lord's day.) At night my wife and I had a good supper by ourselves -of a pullet hashed, which pleased me much to see my condition come to -allow ourselves a dish like that. - -4th. With my wife to the opera, where we saw "The Bondman," which of -old we both did so doate on, and do still, though to both our thinking -not so well acted here, having too great expectations, as formerly at -Salisbury Court. But for Betterton, he is called by us both the best -actor in the world. - -5th. To the Dolphin, where Armiger and I and Captaine Cocke sat late -and drank much, seeing the boys in the streets flying their crackers. -This day being kept all day very strictly in the city. - -7th. I met with letters at home from my Lord at Lisbon, which speak of -his being well, and he tells me he had seen at the court there, the day -before he wrote this letter, the Juego de Toro (bullfight). Peg Kite -now hath declared she will have the beggarly rogue the weaver, and so -we are resolved neither to meddle nor make with her. - -8th. This morning up early, and to my Lord Chancellor's, with a letter -to him from my Lord, and did speak with him, and he did ask me whether -I was son to Mr. Talbot Pepys or no (with whom he was once acquainted -in the Court of Requests), and spoke to me with great respect. To the -Sunne in New Fish Street, where Sir J. Minnes, Sir William Batten -and we all were to dine, and by discourse found Sir J. Minnes a fine -gentleman and a very good scholler. - -9th. With my Lady all the afternoon. My Lady did mightily urge me to -lay out money upon my wife, which I perceived was a little more earnest -than ordinary, and so I seemed to be pleased with it, and do resolve to -bestow a lace on her. - -10th. (Lord's day.) At St. Gregory's, where I heard our Queen Katherine -the first time by name publicly prayed for. And heard Dr. Buck upon -"Woe unto thee, Corazin," &c., where he started a difficulty, which -he left to another time to answer, about why God should give means of -grace to those people which he knew would not receive them, and deny to -others, which he himself confesses, if they had had them, would have -received them and they would have been effectual, too. I would I could -hear him explain this when he do come to it. - -11th. Captain Ferrers carried me the first time that ever I saw any -gaming-house, to one, entering into Lincolne's Inn Fields, at the end -of Bell Yard, where strange the folly of men to lay and lose much -money, and very glad I was to see the manner of a gamester's life, -which I see is very miserable and poor and unmanly. And thence he took -me to a dancing school in Fleet Streete, where we saw a company of -pretty girls dance, but I do not in myself like to have young girls -exposed to so much vanity. So to the Wardrobe, where I found my Lady -had agreed upon a lace for my wife at £6, which I seemed much glad -of that it was no more, tho in my mind I think it too much, and I -pray God to keep me so to order myself and my wife's expenses that no -inconvenience in purse or honour follow my prodigality. - - "Diary and Correspondence of Samuel Pepys," 4 volumes. (David - McKay. 1889. Philadelphia.) - - -=A Diary of Four Days= - - Feb. 5, Saturday. - -I awoke at 6 o'clock. It has become my habit not to get up earlier than -half past 6 on vacation days. After breakfast I went to the physics -laboratory to make up my back work. - -The first experiment that I tried to perform was about Atwood's -Machine. I was not half thru when the string broke. Not being able to -find another, I went to the office to see whether I had a letter or -not. I was very glad to receive one, for it was from home. I was very -much disappointed, however, to hear that my mother was sick. My father -asked me to go and see Dr. Bautista, so after dinner I went to Santa -Cruz. The office was closed when I reached it. At last the doctor came. -I had a long talk with him about the sickness of my mother. He gave me -the formula of the medicine which my mother should take and told me the -dose. After giving him five pesos I went away and bought the medicine. -I stayed in the Escolta till it was dark, looking for some one who was -going to our town. Not being able to find anybody, I have come back to -my boarding-house with the determination to go home myself and take -mother's medicine. I must study my lesson in physics, however, before I -go to bed. - - - Feb. 6, Sunday. - -At about 6 o'clock this morning I was in the railroad station. At 6 -sharp the train left for San Isidro. I was very lonely in the car, for -the passengers were few. There were six Chinamen and a few Filipinos. -While the train was going on I kept myself busy reading my textbook in -chemistry. I reached the station of San Isidro at 10 o'clock. It was -about 11 when I reached home. I was very glad to find my mother better -then. - -I ate my dinner with all the members of our family. After staying at -home for about two hours I started for San Isidro with my brother. I -was delayed at the ferry, for a company of American soldiers was using -the _banca_. I reached the station at about 2 o'clock, and as the train -would not leave for an hour, I went to the cock-pit nearby. It so -happened that they were having a _surtada_. This is the first time I -have entered a cock-pit since 1904. - -At 3 o'clock the train came. I reached Manila at 8 o'clock. It is now -9:30. I am going to bed earlier than usual, for I am very tired. - - - Feb. 7, Monday. - -I went to school as usual this morning, though I did not recite my -lessons very well. This evening I attended the Harty Club. We were -few in number, so Father Finnegan, our director, took us with him to -the observatory. All of us had a chance to look at the moon. Thru the -telescope the moon looked like the yolk of an egg with black spots. The -astronomer said that the black spots are craters of volcanoes. The moon -when seen thru the telescope is not so beautiful as when you look at it -with the naked eye. - -The astronomer, who was a Spanish priest, explained the way the moon -gets its light. He could speak English very well, but his pronunciation -was bad. He pronounced "sun," "soon," and "top," "tawp." There were -many other words which he did not pronounce very well, but he used -these two so often that they were impressed on my mind. Another word he -used very often was "extremities." - -When you asked this fat man a question, he would laugh at you if what -you asked was not sensible. Lava asked him what planets are inhabited. -He laughed without ceasing for about two minutes, and then said, "Why, -my boy, none except ours. If any planet is inhabited, the people must -be very different from us." - -It was 8 o'clock when we went home. Tomorrow is a laboratory day, so I -am going to bed, for I have no lesson to prepare except in English. - - - Feb. 8, Tuesday. - -I was awakened from a sound sleep by a dreadful dream. When I opened -my eyes it was daylight. My dream was about Halley's comet. We talked -so much about this thing last night that it came into my dream. I -thought it was the 19th of May. My mother roused me, for they could -see something beautiful. When I looked out I saw that it was Halley's -comet. I tried to explain to them what it was, but I was interrupted -in my explanation because I perceived that the comet was coming nearer -to us. We were obliged to leave the house, for the comet was coming -directly toward us. When we were out of the house the comet struck -it. It was set on fire. We tried our best to quench the flames, but -in vain. While the house was burning I awoke. I was very glad that I -awoke, for my lesson in English was not yet prepared. - -I recited my lessons as usual. This afternoon Mr. Bulatao and I visited -the observatory again. Our guide showed all the pieces of apparatus -to us. From the top of the building I had a very fine general view of -Manila. After our visit I came home, and now I am going to study my -lessons. - - --Facundo Esquivel. - - -="Something Doing"= - - _A JOURNAL: MOCK HEROIC_ - -Thursday, March 17, 1910.--My friend Protasio and I went to one of the -fairs in the Tondo church-yard to buy an _awit_ for the instructor -in English. On our way home we met a group of gentlemen, eight of -them, among whom I recognized one of my schoolmates, Pedro Pineda. My -companion looked Pedro squarely in the face, but this one came up to -us, with arms akimbo, and presently addressed my companion in this -manner: "What do you want? Why do you look at me?" "Is there any cause -for which you speak to me thus?" answered my companion. "Why? What do -you want? Let us have a boxing match!" - -I did my best to make my acquaintances desist from their plan, but my -efforts were in vain. Protasio took off his diamond ring and handed it -to me. I put it on the upper part of my right thumb, suspecting nothing -from the companions of Pedro. - -In the dark this unworthy fellow thrust his hands into his big pocket, -and by the dim light of the evening star I noticed him put on iron -knuckles. Mad with rage, I shouted, "Take off your--!" but hardly had I -begun when just above my left ear fell a terrible blow. I felt no pain, -but the stroke deafened me. Still I lost no time mustering my courage, -and no sooner had I summoned my latent forces than I stood with my back -against the church-yard fence. Confronted by four young men, one of -whom was the sturdy machinist who delivered me the first blow, I raised -my right arm to ward off another dreadful box in the face, when, to my -surprise, I heard the crash of an iron rod. The cane which I had with -me had done its duty; when I was about to receive a blow more serious -than the first, up rose my hand and with an impulse it hit hard the -right shoulder of my sturdy opponent. Overjoyed at this incident I -caused my bent cane to swing back and forth until my four opponents, -realizing that I had an iron cane, ran away as fast as their legs could -carry them. - -Protasio received several wounds from the iron knuckles--one on the -right arm, two on the head and one just above the left ear. Breathless -and bloody, I heard him utter the cry, "What! Four people to one?" The -people at the fair overheard the tumult; they rushed to the scene and -saw us two, one bloody, the other holding a bent cane, safe and sound. -But our good opponents had run away, carrying with them my friend's new -_baliwag_ hat. - -"Fie! Cowards!" roared my companion, as we turned around the narrow -street beside the church. "Why did those folks fight with us four to -one?" - -"Well, although they have made a serious mistake, Tasio," I remarked, -"you cannot blame them; you will know the cause when you study the -psychology of a mob." - -He found no word with which to answer me; his right arm he could hardly -raise, and the blood streamed in great quantities from the back of his -head. I conducted him to his house and told him not to go to school -for two days. For my part, I felt nothing particularly painful except -two things--a swelling on my forehead and the bruised place on my face -where I received that blow without notice. - -Friday, March 18.--This morning I went to school, and, although -I was tired from last night's pugilistic contest, I worked at the -office of the English department. But in the midst of my meditations -on a perplexing mistake which a second-year student had made in his -short-story theme, upon my shoulders fell two hands. I looked up, -rather amazed at the sudden attack, but I saw Mr. Fansler's familiar -face. "Ready, Victor!" said he. "Ready for the banquet, do you mean?" -"No, to meet Mr. Beattie." - -I remembered I had to go with several people on a launch to meet Mr. -Beattie, who had returned from a visit to the States. I put on my -_buntal_ hat, with a minute-man's start, and ran down the flight of -steps of the Normal School building. - -Gathered around the portico were the superintendent of the Normal -School, the representatives of the faculty and the representatives -of the various classes. Mr. Fansler and I joined the cheerful group, -three-fifths of which consisted of blooming femininity. As we walked -along the acacia grove we felt no heat, but on the open road, where -fell the blistering sun's rays, the women lagged. "They feel the -heat, to be sure!" I said to myself. "These women at the Normal, I -suppose, are not used to heat. Tender and fresh, they have little or no -exercise." - -But necessity was to compel them to run a short race that day. The buzz -of the street car wire along Calle Real made them walk faster, and -finally they really began to run; as lightly as doves, however. The car -took us down to Plaza de Magallanes, back of the Treasury building, but -we did not find our launch there. - -As I walked along the edge of the Pasig River bank I noticed a small, -booth-like hut, in which I saw an old woman seated on a stool. She -held in her right hand a bunch of perforated banana leaves, with which -she drove away the flies that tried to alight on the rice and fried -fish. Presently a man came, ate his ten-centavo meal of rice and a half -fish, and departed after the manner of a Frenchman. But soon I saw my -companions going on board the launch and I followed them. - -The boat was not very big; it had just enough room to accommodate the -young women and to allow the fellows to sit contiguously on the sides. -All at once the launch began sailing down the smooth river and within -ten minutes we had passed around Engineer Island. - -Out in the bay the billows rose. The foam began to appear in greater -quantities as we sailed farther and farther into the sea. The boat -swung to and fro as she courtesied to the waves. But upon looking -round, I discovered that some of the young ladies were seasick. I was -trying to reason out the cause of this malady when all of a sudden a -spray of salt water threw itself directly at my face and my tongue felt -the liquid. - -"What a nasty taste salt water has!" I exclaimed, as I tried to -suppress with an effort the sudden change in my stomach. - -"How do you like it, Yamzon?" asked fat Memije, the spherical student -of the Academy. Without waiting for an answer, "That's good! The water -will make you fat. Should you like to know how I got fat?" continued -he, whom I always compare to a sponge because of his capacity for -imbibing water in great quantities. "Yes," I muttered, ungraciously. -"Well, I drink four glasses of water before meals and after meals." -"But not salt water," I rejoined. "No, no; fresh water is what you -need." - -Just then we spied the _Tean_, which was bringing back Mr. Beattie. -As we approached we saw a man who was so much like him that the ample -instructor of the correspondence department exclaimed in her not too -melodious and high-pitched voice, "There's our dear old superintendent!" - -"He's no longer _your_ dear old superintendent," thought I. - -Fifteen minutes passed, and Mr. Beattie showed no signs of ever having -come back. But when the ship-master appeared on the upper deck he told -us Mr. Beattie would soon be ready to show his face to us. And he was. -We cheered him and hailed him; hats were taken off; handkerchiefs -waved in the air; and the former superintendent of the Normal School -responded to us, while a twelve-inch smile beamed on his countenance. - -Saturday, March 19, 1910.--My short trip yesterday reminded me of our -voyage to Lucena last Thanksgiving. The first thing I did immediately -after breaking-my-fast was to go to my desk and take out from the -lowest case the account of this trip which I wrote while we were -sailing. I have read the thing through and I will gladly repeat it for -you. It begins thus: - -"On Thanksgiving afternoon the Normal debating team, on board of the -steamer _Lal-Loc_, set out for Lucena."--There! I can't write it for -you now. My brother is calling me. But I'll just say we won the debate -and had a glorious time. - - --Victoriano Yamzon. - - -II. Autobiography and Memoirs - -[Distinction between autobiography and memoirs] - -Although the words "autobiography" and "memoirs" are often used -interchangeably, the meanings differ somewhat as journal and diary; -that is, an autobiography is always written to be read by a public, -large or small; memoirs are sometimes secret, like those of Mirabeau -when on his mission to Prussia. The two forms are both, however, -personal accounts by the writer of his own doings and sayings as well -as of the doings and sayings of others connected with him in the same -events. - -Gibbon has used the word memoirs as a title for what we generally call -his autobiography; but critics consider the term "memoirs" strictly as -signifying a record of events put down within a limited time in the -author's life--or a record of important events that he can "remember," -selected out of a long life. Memoirs in the first sense are usually -written by persons of large affairs, like Prince von Metternich in the -French-Austrian crisis, or Mme. de Staël-Holstein during her ten years -of exile, or the Italian poet Silvio Pellico while serving his decade -of imprisonment for taking part in the Carbonari movements. Many of the -writers other than English seem to try to exclude the personal element -from memoirs; though Catherine II of Russia in her account of her life -as Grand Duchess is straightforward and intimate enough. Frederick the -Great, too, in his memoirs of his military and political campaigns has -succeeded in delineating quite exactly his own character as conceived -of by others; while Charles V in his "Autobiographical Leaves" (which -are memoirs) has revealed to the world an entirely new side of himself. - -[Cellini, Franklin and others] - -Autobiography is more extended than memoirs. This "self-life-writing" -runs from the birthday of the author to the time of the composition of -the narrative. Details are sometimes many, sometimes few, according -to the taste and leisure of the recorder, but the account is always -complete and unified. One of the greatest autobiographies written -is that of Benvenuto Cellini, a Florentine artist of the sixteenth -century. Men lived intense and violent lives in those days, fervidly -devoted to ideals and grossly material at the same time. Cellini -epitomizes them all. His narrative is an Italian classic. A most -entertaining English autobiography is Colley Cibber's "Apology for My -Life." Actor and dramatist, he too had much to tell. But the American -philosopher and statesman, Benjamin Franklin, has carried off the prize -for widespread popularity and readableness. The story goes, whether -true or not, that his "Autobiography" has been translated into more -languages than any other book except the Bible. The narrative is full -of shrewd common-sense and practical example. Our fathers used to say -that no one is a true American who has not read it. What is of value to -us now in the consideration of it is its simplicity both in diction and -tone. Franklin was truly a very great man, and nowhere greater than in -his unpretentious honesty. - -Like a diary, an autobiography should be most genuine and original in -content. Sometimes the impulse to record one's life goes even so far as -to take the form of confessions, like those of the great Latin father, -St. Augustine. Our own English ecclesiastic, Cardinal Newman, defended -himself and his faith in his "Apologia." But this that ought to be the -truest of the true forms very easily becomes forced and hectic, like -Rousseau's. Though a man must be honest, there is no need for him to -tell everyone of his inmost thoughts, or mention all his meannesses. De -Quincey's "Confessions of an English Opium Eater" long ago justified -itself by its high tone, and by the fact that it became the basis of -his "Autobiography." - -[Some points to be observed in writing] - -It is easy to start an autobiography. Most writers begin with their -birth and parentage. To proceed after the first few pages is not so -easy perhaps, because of the possibilities. What to choose is the -question; for everybody has had more experiences than he could possibly -record. Apt selection is what makes a good life history--selection -under a governing sense of unity and progression. Moreover, a writer -of any chronical story should carefully arrange the transitions. Good -including phrases both backward and forward-looking should be used, -as well as precise small conjunctions. Such sets as Cellini has, "At -this moment the whole world was, etc.," "I am now making a great leap -forward when I tell," "Continuing as I did my artillery practice for -a whole month," "In the meantime I had," "I must not forget to give -some indication of how large the figure was, a thing which I can best -do by telling you a very laughable occurrence," "The more I longed -for rest the more did troubles spring up," "Before this I should -have told of my friendship with, etc." The diction of memoirs is -somewhat determined by circumstances and subject; but if you write an -autobiography, you should see to it that your words and constructions -are unmistakably simple. Be as modest as is consistent with your great -deeds, and as cheerful as the fates will allow. If you make yourself -out a good fellow, do so by the general impression of your narrative, -not by assertion. Set before the reader enough of your actions and he -will tabulate your character for you. Your business is to relate; his, -to judge. You may, however, disclose some of your motives. The only -difficulty here is, that people may not believe you, or you may not -have understood yourself at the time. Whatever else you do, be sure to -let us see a human being like ourselves, not some impossible creature -made out of paper and ink. If you care for an outline, it would not be -amiss to follow that prepared for biography. - - -=The Life of David Hume, Esq., Written by Himself= - -It is difficult for a man to speak long of himself without vanity; -therefore, I shall be short. It may be thought an instance of vanity -that I pretend at all to write my life; but this narrative shall -contain little more than the history of my writings; as indeed almost -all my life has been spent in literary pursuits and occupations. The -first success of most of my writings was not such as to be an object of -vanity. - -I was born the twenty-sixth of April, 1711, old style, at Edinburgh. I -was of a good family, both by father and mother: my father's family is -a branch of the Earl of Home's, or Hume's; and my ancestors had been -proprietors of the estate which my brother possesses, for several -generations. My mother was daughter of Sir David Falconer, president of -the college of justice; the title of Lord Halkerton came by succession -to her brother. - -My family, however, was not rich, and being myself a younger brother, -my patrimony, according to the mode of my country, was, of course, -very slender. My father, who passed for a man of parts, died when I -was an infant, leaving me, with an elder brother and a sister, under -the care of our mother, a woman of singular merit, who, though young -and handsome, devoted herself entirely to the rearing and educating -of her children. I passed through the ordinary course of education -with success, and was seized very early with a passion for literature, -which has been the ruling passion of my life and the great source of -my enjoyments. My studious disposition, my sobriety and my industry -gave my family a notion that the law was the proper profession for me; -but I found an insurmountable aversion to everything but the pursuits -of philosophy and general learning, and while they fancied I was -poring upon Voet and Vinnius, Cicero and Virgil were the authors I was -secretly devouring. - -My very slender fortune, however, being unsuitable to this plan of -life, and my health being a little broken by my ardent application, I -was tempted, or rather forced, to make a very feeble trial for entering -into a more active scene of life. In 1734 I went to Bristol with some -recommendations to several eminent merchants, but in a few months found -that scene totally unsuitable to me. I went over to France with a view -of prosecuting my studies in a country retreat, and I there laid that -plan of life which I have steadily and successfully pursued. I resolved -to make a very rigid frugality supply my deficiency of fortune, to -maintain unimpaired my independency, and to regard every object as -contemptible except the improvement of my talents in literature. - -During my retreat in France, first at Rheims, but chiefly at La -Fletche, in Anjou, I composed my Treatise of Human Nature. After -passing three years very agreeably in that country, I came over to -London in 1737. In the end of 1738 I published my treatise, and -immediately went down to my mother and my brother, who lived at -his country house and was employing himself very judiciously and -successfully in the improvement of his fortune. - -Never literary attempt was more unfortunate than my Treatise of Human -Nature. It fell dead-born from the press, without reaching such -distinction as even to excite a murmur among the zealots. But being -naturally of a cheerful and sanguine temper, I very soon recovered -the blow and prosecuted with great ardor my studies in the country. -In 1742 I printed at Edinburgh the first part of my Essays. The work -was favorably received and soon made me entirely forget my former -disappointment. I continued with my mother and brother in the country, -and in that time recovered the knowledge of the Greek language, which I -had too much neglected in my early life. - -In 1745 I received a letter from the Marquis of Annandale, inviting me -to come and live with him in England; I found also that the friends -and family of that young nobleman were desirous of putting him under -my care and direction, for the state of his mind and health required -it. I lived with him a twelve-month. My appointments during that time -made a considerable accession to my small fortune. I then received -an invitation from General St. Clair to attend him as a secretary to -his expedition, which was at first meant against Canada, but ended -in an incursion on the coast of France. Next year, to wit, 1747, I -received an invitation from the general to attend him in the same -station in his military embassy to the courts of Vienna and Turin. -I then wore the uniform of an officer and was introduced at these -courts as aide-de-camp to the general, along with Sir Harry Erkine and -Captain Grant, now General Grant. These two years were almost the only -interruptions which my studies have received during the course of my -life: I passed them agreeably and in good company; and my appointments, -with my frugality, had made me reach a fortune which I called -independent, the most of my friends were inclined to smile when I said -so: in short, I was now master of near a thousand pounds. - -I had always entertained a notion that my want of success in publishing -the Treatise of Human Nature had proceeded more from the manner than -the matter, and that I had been guilty of a very usual indiscretion -in going to the press too early. I, therefore, cast the first part -of the work anew in the Inquiry concerning Human Understanding while -I was at Turin. But this piece was at first little more successful -than the Treatise of Human Nature. On my return from Italy I had the -mortification to find all England in a ferment on account of Dr. -Middleton's Free Inquiry, while my performance was entirely overlooked -and neglected. A new edition, which had been published at London, of -my Essays, moral and political, met not with a much better reception. - -Such is the force of natural temper that these disappointments made -little or no impression on me. I went down, in 1749, and lived two -years with my brother at his country house, for my mother was now dead. -I there composed the second part of my Essay, which I called Political -Discourses, and also my Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, -which is another part of my Treatise that I cast anew. Meanwhile my -bookseller, A. Millar, informed me that my former publications (all -but the unfortunate Treatise) were beginning to be the subject of -conversation; that the sale of them was gradually increasing and that -new editions were demanded. Answers by reverends and right reverends -came out two or three in a year, and I found by Dr. Warburton's railing -that the books were beginning to be esteemed in good company. However, -I had fixed a resolution, which I inflexibly maintained, never to reply -to anybody, and not being very irascible in my temper, I have easily -kept myself dear of all literary squabbles. These symptoms of a rising -reputation gave me encouragement, as I was ever more disposed to see -the favorable than unfavorable side of things, a turn of mind which it -is more happy to possess than to be born to an estate of ten thousand a -year. - -In 1751 I removed from the country to the town, the true scene for -a man of letters. In 1752 were published at Edinburgh, where I then -lived, my Political Discourses, the only work of mine that was -successful on its first publication. It was well received at home and -abroad. In the same year was published at London my Inquiry concerning -the Principles of Morals, which, in my own opinion (who ought not -to judge on that subject), is, of all my writings, historical, -philosophical or literary, incomparably the best. It came unnoticed and -unobserved into the world. - -In 1752 the Faculty of Advocates chose me their librarian, an office -from which I received little or no emolument, but which gave me the -command of a large library. I then formed the plan of writing the -History of England, but, being frightened with the notion of continuing -a narrative through a period of seventeen hundred years, I commenced -with the accession of the house of Stuart, an epoch when, I thought, -the misrepresentations of faction began chiefly to take place. I was, I -own, sanguine in my expectations of the success of this work. I thought -that I was the only historian that had at once neglected present -power, interest and authority and the cry of popular prejudices, and -as the subject was suited to every capacity, I expected proportional -applauses. But miserable was my disappointment; I was asailed by one -cry of reproach, disapprobation, and even detestation; English, Scotch -and Irish, Whig and Tory, churchman and sectary, free thinker and -religionist, patriot and courtier, united in their rage against the man -who had presumed to shed a generous tear for the fate of Charles I and -the Earl of Strafford; and after the first ebullitions of their fury -were over, what was still more mortifying, the book seemed to sink into -oblivion. Mr. Millar told me that in a twelve-month he had sold only -forty-five copies of it. I scarcely, indeed, heard of one man in the -three kingdoms, considerable for rank or letters, that could endure the -book. I must only except the primate of England, Dr. Herring, and the -primate of Ireland, Dr. Stone, which seemed two odd exceptions. These -dignified prelates separately sent me messages not to be discouraged. - -I was, however, I confess, discouraged; and had not the war been at -that time breaking out between France and England, I had certainly -retired to some provincial town of the former kingdom, have changed -my name and never more have returned to my native country. But as -this scheme was not now practicable, and the subsequent volume was -considerably advanced, I resolved to pick up courage and to persevere. - -In this interval I published at London my Natural History, of -Religion, along with some other small pieces. Its public entry was -rather obscure, except only that Dr. Hurd wrote a pamphlet against -it, with all the illiberal petulance, arrogance and scurrility which -distinguished the Warburtonian school; This pamphlet gave me some -consolation for the otherwise indifferent reception of my performance. - -In 1756, two years after the fall of the first volume, was published -the second volume of my history, containing the period from the death -of Charles I till the revolution. This performance happened to give -less displeasure to the Whigs and was better received. It not only -rose, itself, but helped to buoy up its unfortunate brother. - -But though I had been taught by experience that the Whig party were -in possession of bestowing all places, both in the state and in -literature, I was so little inclined to yield to their senseless clamor -that in above a hundred alterations, which study, reading or reflection -engaged me to make in the reigns of the two first Stuarts, I have made -all of them invariably on the Tory side. It is ridiculous to consider -the English constitution before that period as a regular plan of -liberty. - -In 1759, I published my history of the house of Tudor. The clamor -against this performance was almost equal to that against the history -of the two first Stuarts. The reign of Elizabeth was particularly -obnoxious. But I was now callous against the impressions of public -folly and continued very peaceably and contentedly, in my retreat at -Edinburgh, to finish in two volumes the more early part of the English -history, which I gave to the public in 1761 with tolerable, and but -tolerable, success. - -But, notwithstanding this variety of winds and seasons, to which my -writings had been exposed, they had still been making such advances -that the copy money given me by the book-sellers much exceeded anything -formerly known in England; I was become not only independent but -opulent. I retired to my native country of Scotland, determined never -more to set my foot out of it; and retaining the satisfaction of never -having preferred a request to one great man or ever making advances -of friendship to any of them. As I was now turned of fifty, I thought -of passing all the rest of my life in this philosophical manner, when -I received, in 1763, an invitation' from the earl of Hertford, with -whom I was not in the least acquainted, to attend him on his embassy -to Paris, with a near prospect of being appointed secretary to the -embassy, and in the meanwhile of performing the functions of that -office. This offer, however inviting, I at first declined; both because -I was reluctant to begin connections with the great, and because I -was afraid that the civilities and gay company of Paris would prove -disagreeable to a person of my age and humor; but on his lordship's -repeating the invitation I accepted of it. I have every reason, both -of pleasure and interest, to think myself happy in my connections with -that nobleman, as well as afterwards with his brother, General Conway. - -Those who have not seen the strange effects of modes will never imagine -the reception I met with at Paris, from men and women of all ranks and -stations. The more I recoiled from their excessive civilities, the -more I was loaded with them. There is, however, a real satisfaction in -living at Paris, from the great number of sensible, knowing and polite -company with which that city abounds above all places in the universe. -I thought once of settling there for life. - -I was appointed secretary to the embassy; and in summer, 1765, Lord -Hertford left me, being appointed lord lieutenant of Ireland. I was -_chargé d'affaires_ till the arrival of the Duke of Richmond, towards, -the end of the year. In the beginning of 1766 I left Paris, and next -summer went to Edinburgh, with the same view as formerly of burying -myself in a philosophical retreat. I returned to that place, not rich -but with much more money, and a much larger income by means of Lord -Hertford's friendship, than I left it; and I was desirous of trying -what superfluity could produce; as I had formerly made an experiment -of a competency. But in 1767 I received from Mr. Conway an invitation -to be an undersecretary, and this invitation both the character of -the person and my connections with Lord Hertford prevented me from -declining. I returned to Edinburgh in 1768, very opulent (for I -possessed a revenue of one thousand pounds a year), healthy and, though -somewhat stricken in years, with the prospect of enjoying long my ease -and of seeing the increase of my reputation. - -In spring, 1775, I was struck with a disorder of the bowels, which at -first occasioned no alarm, but has since, as I apprehended it, become -mortal and incurable. I now reckon upon a speedy dissolution. I have -suffered very little pain from my disorder, and, what is more strange, -have, notwithstanding the great decline of my person, never suffered a -moment's abatement of my spirits; insomuch that were I to name a period -of my life which I should most choose to pass over again, I might be -tempted to point to this later period. I possess the same ardor as ever -in study and the same gayety in company. I consider, besides, that a -man of sixty-five, by dying cuts off only a few years of infirmities; -and though I see many symptoms of my literary reputation's breaking out -at last with additional luster, I know that I could have but few years -to enjoy it. It is difficult to be more detached from life than I am at -the present time. - -To conclude historically with my own character: I am, or rather was -(for that is the style I must now use in speaking of myself, which -emboldens me the more to speak my sentiments); I was, I say, a man of -mild disposition, of command of temper, of an open, social and cheerful -humor, capable of attachment, but little susceptible of enmity, and -of great moderation in all my passions. Even my love of literary -fame, my ruling passion, never soured my temper, notwithstanding my -frequent disappointments. My company was not unacceptable to the -young and careless, as well as to the studious and literary; and as I -took a particular pleasure in the company of modest women, I had no -reason to be displeased with the reception I met with from them. In a -word, though most men anywise eminent have found reason to complain -of Calumny, I never was touched or even attacked by her baleful -tooth; and though I wantonly exposed myself to the rage of both civil -and religious factions, they seemed to be disarmed in my behalf of -their wonted fury. My friends never had occasion to vindicate any one -circumstance of my character and conduct; not but that the zealots, -we may well suppose, would have been glad to invent and propagate any -story to my disadvantage, but they could never find any which they -thought would wear the face of probability. I cannot say that there -is no vanity in making this funeral oration of myself, but I hope it -is not a misplaced one, and this is a matter of fact which is easily -cleared and ascertained. - - April 18, 1776. - - -=Autobiography= - -I was born on the twentieth of December in the year 1887, in Gapan, -province of Nueva Ecija. - -My mother, Manuela Tinio, died when I was but two years of age, and I -was left to the care of my beloved grandfather, Esteban Tinio, uncle -Quintin Tinio and my aunts Paula and Felipa Tinio. I had two brothers -and three sisters, but all of them died except one of my brothers, -Valentin, who is now attending the Philippine Medical School. My uncle -Valentin was one of the active leaders of the revolutionary movement -in Nueva Ecija. He bore a deadly hatred against the Spaniards. On -several occasions secret meetings were held in our house shortly before -the uprising of the people. When the revolution broke out unexpectedly -in 1896 he was forced to flee to the mountain, where he was captured -afterwards, and was finally shot. My grandfather died in 1903 in his -eighty-ninth year, and thus I was left to the care of my father, -Francisco Guanio, and my two aunts, Paula and Felipa, who are still -unmarried. Altho my aunts are over sixty years of age, yet they are -still strong, active and diligent women. They have never wasted their -time in idleness, and are always at work from morning till night. To -them who are more than mothers to me I owe my present education. - -I was born in the most extraordinary period of Philippine history. I -lived to see the days when our fathers were struggling hard against -Spain. During my boyhood I saw men imprisoned, exiled and executed -for no offense whatever. I have heard the voice of the oppressed -people crying for justice. I have seen men, rich and poor, wise and -ignorant, fighting for the common cause of the Filipino people. I -witnessed one of the fierce attacks of our patriots upon the Spanish -regiment at Gapan. When I was twelve years old many towns were entirely -depopulated; churches, and schoolhouses converted into hospitals; -men and women impelled by fear to flee from their homes with their -children. I once enjoyed seeing the humiliating race-distinction -effaced. Early one morning I was awakened from my sleep by the loud -booming of cannon and by the shouting of the once happy and satisfied -people, inaugurating the short-lived Philippine republic. These past -events changed my gentle nature entirely. It has been my ambition ever -since to make the most of myself for my country's sake. - -I attended the public school at Gapan in 1894. Here I learned the -alphabet and catechism. At that time Spanish was taught in nearly all -the schools of the Islands. The sudden outbreak of the revolution of -1896 brought about the closing of the schools for a short time. And -altho they were soon reopened, yet there was not the same enthusiasm -for learning among the great mass of students as had been previously -shown. They attended schools simply because they were compelled to do -so by the government (for education was compulsory under the Spanish -administration in these islands). In 1898 I attended school very -irregularly on account of the revolution. Then in the beginning of the -year 1899 schools were closed on account of the troubles which the -Filipinos had had with the Americans, and consequently I had to stay at -home for two years. In October, 1901, I entered the Gapan Intermediate -School, which was then under the supervision of an American teacher. On -January 1, 1904, I left the school of Gapan and attended the S. Isidro -High School. In June, 1905, I was transferred to the Philippine Normal -School, where I have stayed since then. - -My uncle Quintin's plan was to make me a lawyer, but his unexpected -death prevented his desire. My father and my two aunts, Paula and -Felipa, allowed me to pursue any course I liked. It is their wish to -give me a good and thorough education. - -My own plan is different from that of my uncle Quintin. I desire to -complete the high school course first, then the college course, and -finish with the engineering course. - - --Domingo T. Guanio. - - -=What I Remember of the Coming of the Americans= - -In the afternoon of November 15, 1900, while I was at a small private -school conducted by an educated woman, the wife of the colonel in -Ponciano's army, one of my classmates called my attention to the -running of men and women up and down the street. - -"What is the matter? Why are those people running?" asked our teacher -of her husband, who was then entering the gate. - -"They say there is a _casco_ of rice in Laguna de Bay. I do not know -what kind of casco it is; it has a flag. Send all the children home," -said the colonel. - -"The class is dismissed," said our teacher to us. - -She had scarcely spoken these words when we jumped to our feet and ran -as fast as we could to our homes. - -"Have you not seen your father? Where is he?" said my mother as soon as -she caught sight of me. I looked back and saw my father coming. - -"Here he comes," I said to my mother. - -"Prepare yourself, Leopoldo. We will go to the mountain," said my -mother. - -"Why? There is a casco of rice coming," I answered. - -"No, that is not a casco of rice. If that is a casco of rice, the -people on the beach wouldn't run away to the mountain. Get yourself -ready, quick," replied my mother. - -It was a cloudy afternoon. The wind blew hard. Nothing could be heard -but the moaning of the wind on the trees and houses, the running of -men and women along the streets and the crying of babies. The streets -were full of people, all running in the same direction. Some carried -trunks on their heads, others had bundles of clothes on their backs. -Some carried infants in their arms, others had them on their hips. The -little boys and girls ran beside their parents. It was indeed a piteous -sight! - -While my father and mother were busy putting our things in a _carreton_ -I was going up and down the stairs every ten minutes. I did not know -what to do. When I was upstairs I wanted to go downstairs. When I -was downstairs I wanted to go up. I wished to carry with me my shoes -because I knew I needed them on the mountain. But I also wanted to -carry my black coat. At last I thought of the bread that my mother had -bought that morning. I took it all. Just then my father and mother -had put our trunks, in the carreton. We all got into the carreton--my -father, my mother, my little brother, my sister, and myself. My father -was the driver. We left our home, our minds full of the gloomiest -forebodings. - -We had not gone very far from the town when we heard -per-r-rrok-rok-pook-pook-pook-pok--bung. - -"Jesus, Maria, y Josep!" exclaimed my mother. - -We all looked at each other speechless. At a distance we heard a cry, -"_Nacu! nanay co_." - -"Perhaps a bullet struck that man," I said to myself. - -In a few minutes we arrived at the Lecheria hill. It was already dark. -There was a moon, but it was hidden behind the clouds. At the bottom -of the hill was a large house made of nipa and bamboo. The house was -very dark. When we came to it a voice inside said, "Who is that? -Aniceto?" - -"Yes," answered my father. - -"Why are you late? Have you eaten your supper?" asked the voice. - -"No, but we have to go now. The bullets will reach us here. We can eat -our supper in the carreton," replied my father. - -All the people in the house silently went down to the ground. They got -into their carts and we began our journey. There were four vehicles -in all. One was loaded with rice. Uncle Paulino and his family were -in one. The other one was occupied by Grandmother Tereza and her four -sons. We traveled over low hills and valleys beneath the outspreading -branches of the wild trees and over thick _cogon_ grasses. The moon had -gained full brightness, but the night was cold. After I had eaten my -supper I fell asleep. My mother wrapped me in her blanket. When I awoke -I found that we were in Pasong Calabaw. It was four o'clock in the -morning. We had been traveling all night. - - --Leopoldo Faustino. - - -III. Biography - -[Beginning in England of literary biography] - -With Johnson's "Lives of the Poets" biography in England took on a -literary quality. Before that time such work had been perfunctory and -had been done by hack writers; but with the appearance of the "Life -of Savage" (1744), says Macaulay, a new era began. "The little work -with all its faults was a masterpiece. No finer specimen of literary -biography existed in any language living or dead. The discerning -critic might confidently have predicted that the author was destined -to be the founder of a new school of English eloquence." And he was. -Thirty-three years later, after he had become famous, a company of -booksellers called on Dr. Johnson to add to the "Life of Savage" a -series of biographical prefaces for an edition of the poets from -Cowley downwards. Although intending at first to write only a few -short paragraphs, this great and good talker let himself run on until -he handed, over to the publishers ten volumes--somewhat short volumes -to be sure, but a fine piece of work, and most of it very precious. -From that time on, no biographer who expected to be read, dared -be uninteresting. Prejudiced in temperament he might be, mistaken -sometimes, but henceforth he must prove himself lively, vigorous, -faithful, penetrating, sagacious, warm yet discriminating in praise, -reasonable in censure, fearless in judgments, and fresh and exact in -expression. The model had been set. The thing had been done not for one -poet, but for many. Biography was now a literary type, to be written -with care by a qualified person. It is worthy of note that the original -type was short. - -[Great biographies in English] - -Since Johnson's day English literature has gained through biography -some of the best books in the world. Boswell's "Life of Johnson" and -Lockhart's "Life of Scott" are to be so ranked. Lockhart did also a -superfine example of the short form, a biographical sketch of Theodore -Hook, a very strange "bohemian." Lockhart's "Life of Napoleon" and -"Life of Burns" are also standard. Trevelyan's "Life of Macaulay," -Forster's "Life of Goldsmith" and "Life of Dickens" rank here, as -possibly likewise Southey's "Life of Nelson," Mrs. Gaskell's "Life of -Charlotte Bronté," and Thomas Moore's brilliant "Life of Lord Byron." -Macaulay's own short "Life of Johnson," though displaying Macaulay's -faults of prejudice and exaggeration, is in itself a classic. - -[Writer and subject] - -Very naturally a biography is a double revelation--one of writer and -subject. What you choose to praise or blame, how you praise or blame, -what you notice, what you omit, how you emphasize, how you show your -erudition, where you give your sympathy, the largeness or smallness -of your view of life--all these and more are tale-tellers of your own -personality. A luminous illustration of this fact is Goldy's "Life of -Beau Nash." Oliver and the great beau had much in common, and when the -biographer is commenting on "the mixed silliness and shrewdness" of -his subject, "the taste and tawdriness, blossomed-colored coats and -gambling debts, vanity, carelessness, and good-heart," he is writing -a critique of his own life, past and to come. When he mentions Nash's -"ill-controlled sensibility which was so strong that, unable to witness -the misfortunes of the miserable, he was always borrowing money, to -relieve them," we see the unlucky and reckless poet himself. - - -[Beginning] - -Since it is the uncertain quantity of your own personality that will -make your narrative dry or entertaining, we need hardly say more on -the tone side of the work, unless it be to caution you about your -diction, to have it simple and fresh. On the other hand, you might -profitably notice at the end of this division the outline of general -facts that the world expects in every biography. A certain number of -questions ought to be answered, not in any set order, not with any set -emphasis, but surely in sum finally. See if you can not be original in -your beginning and ending. The amount of space that you will devote -to one topic or the other will be determined by your purpose and your -audience. If you are writing for children, as Hawthorne was in his -"Biographical Sketches," you will emphasize those divisions of the -life that a child would most naturally be interested in, or would be -instructed by. [Emphasis] Be careful, however, not to make your poor -hero or heroine the opportunity for a sermon. Besides being not quite -fair, the device is trite and tiresome. Hawthorne we may forgive for -preaching when we remember the taste of his day and the nearness of -it to Puritanical ideals; but you live in an age that likes to take -its own lessons from unvarnished facts and from truths put forth -concretely, not deduced. Avoid fulsomeness and heroics. [Attitude] -Set yourself to the task of revealing the personality just as it was, -and it will teach its own lesson. Many people are more inspired by an -erring soul that yet achieved, than they are by an icy paragon who knew -no struggles. Be sure that in this history of another person you give -us a human fellow. - -Now, do not fly to the encyclopedia and cull facts about Napoleon or -Cromwell. Take some one whom you know--a man or woman of attainment in -your own neighborhood. Do the character-sketching with care. Be crisp -and original in attack. The outline given below is a skeleton which you -must hide with a pleasing exterior. But do not forget to put the heart -and lungs in him. Exact and full information is the motor power of a -living biography. - - -=Outline for a Life= - - I. Birth: place and date--country, city, epoch. - Nationality of parents and noteworthy facts connected with the - family. - - II. Boyhood and early education: - Disposition and temperament displayed by the youth. - His chief interests; hobbies. - Anecdotes about the boy: both true and only typical. - Primary and secondary schooling: at private or public institutions. - - III. Later education and the choice of a career: College life. - His family's plan for his profession or career. - His own plan. - Circumstances influencing the ultimate choice. - Success resulting from the choice: - Intellectual and personal. - Financial and worldly. - Final professional training. - Travel. - - IV. Family and domestic life: marriage, children. - Influence of wife and children on his success. - Anecdotes and particular instances to illustrate personality and - character. - - V. Friends and enemies: names, professions, and influence. - - VI. Accomplishment and title to fame: - His rank in his own nation and the world. - His especial characteristics as displayed in style and - subject-matter. - His masterpieces: something of their content. - - -=Queen Christina= - - (Born 1626. Died 1689.) - -In the royal palace at Stockholm, the capital city of Sweden, there was -born, in 1626, a little princess. The king, her father, gave her the -name of Christina, in memory of a Swedish girl with whom he had been in -love. His own name was Gustavus Adolphus, and he was also called the -Lion of the North, because he had gained greater fame in war than any -other prince or general then alive. With this valiant king for their -commander, the Swedes had made themselves terrible to the Emperor of -Germany and to the King of France, and were looked upon as the chief -defense of the Protestant religion. - -The little Christina was by no means a beautiful child. To confess the -truth, she was remarkably plain. The queen, her mother, did not love -her so much as she ought; partly, perhaps, on account of Christina's -want of beauty, and also both the king and queen had wished for a son, -who might have gained as great renown in battle as his father had. - -The king, however, soon became exceedingly fond of the infant princess. -When Christina was very young she was taken violently sick. Gustavus -Adolphus, who was several hundred miles from Stockholm, traveled night -and day and never rested until he held the poor child in his arms. On -her recovery he made a solemn festival in order to show his joy to -the people of Sweden and express his gratitude to Heaven. After this -event he took his daughter with him in all the journeys which he made -throughout his kingdom. - -Christina soon proved herself a bold and sturdy little girl. When she -was two years old the king and herself, in the course of a journey, -came to the strong fortress of Colmar. On the battlements were soldiers -clad in steel armor, which glittered in the sunshine. There were -likewise great cannons, pointing their black mouths at Gustavus and -little Christina and ready to belch out their smoke and thunder; for, -whenever a king enters a fortress, it is customary to receive him with -a royal salute of artillery. - -But the captain of the fortress met Gustavus and his little daughter as -they were about to enter the gateway. - -"May it please your Majesty," said he, taking off his steel cap and -bowing profoundly, "I fear that, if we receive you with a salute of -cannon, the little princess will be frightened almost to death." - -Gustavus looked earnestly at his daughter, and was indeed apprehensive -that the thunder of so many cannon might perhaps throw her into -convulsions. He had almost a mind to tell the captain to let them enter -the fortress quietly, as common people might have done, without all -this head-splitting racket. But, no; this would not do. - -"Let them fire," said he, waving his hand. "Christina is a soldier's -daughter and must learn to bear the noise of cannon." - -So the captain uttered the word of command and immediately there was a -terrible peal of thunder from the cannon and such a gush of smoke that -it enveloped the whole fortress in its volumes. But amid all the din -and confusion Christina was seen clapping her little hands and laughing -in an ecstasy of delight. Probably nothing ever pleased her father so -much as to see that his daughter promised to be fearless as himself. -He determined to educate her exactly as if she had been a boy and to -teach her all the knowledge needful to the ruler of a kingdom and the -commander of an army. - -But Gustavus should have remembered that Providence had created her to -be a woman, and that it was not for him to make a man of her. - -However, the king derived great happiness from his beloved Christina. -It must have been a pleasant sight to see the powerful monarch of -Sweden playing in some magnificent hall of the palace with his merry -little girl. Then he forgot that the weight of a kingdom rested upon -his shoulders. He forgot that the wise Chancellor Oxenstiern was -waiting to consult with him how to render Sweden the greatest nation of -Europe. He forgot that the Emperor of Germany and the King of France -were plotting together how they might pull him down from his throne. - -Yes, Gustavus forgot all the perils and cares and pompous irksomeness -of a royal life, and was as happy while playing with his child as -the humblest peasant in the realm of Sweden. How gayly did they dance -along the marble floor of the palace, this valiant king, with his -upright, martial figure, his war-worn visage and commanding aspect, -and the small, round form of Christina, with her rosy face of childish -merriment! Her little fingers were clasped in her father's hand, which -had held the leading staff in many famous victories. His crown and -scepter were her playthings. She could disarm Gustavus of his sword, -which was so terrible to the princes of Europe. - -But, alas! the king was not long permitted to enjoy Christina's -society. When she was four years old Gustavus was summoned to take -command of the allied armies of Germany, which were fighting against -the emperor. His greatest affliction was the necessity of parting with -his child; but people in such high stations have little opportunity for -domestic happiness. He called an assembly of the senators of Sweden and -confided Christina to their care, saying that each one of them must be -a father to her if he himself should fall in battle. - -At the moment of his departure Christina ran towards him and began -to address him with a speech which somebody had taught her for the -occasion. Gustavus was busied with thoughts about the affairs of the -kingdom, so that he did not immediately attend to the childish voice -of his little girl. Christina, who did not love to be unnoticed, -immediately stopped short and pulled him by the coat. - -"Father," said she, "why do not you listen to my speech?" - -In a moment the king forgot everything except that he was parting -with what he loved best in all the world. He caught the child in his -arms, pressed her to his bosom and burst into tears. Yes; though he was -a brave man, and though he wore a steel corselet on his breast, and -though armies were waiting for him to lead them to battle, still his -heart melted within him and he wept. Christina, too, was so afflicted -that her attendants began to fear that she would actually die of grief. -But probably she was soon comforted, for children seldom remember their -parents quite so faithfully as their parents remember them. - -For two years more Christina remained in the palace at Stockholm. The -queen, her mother, had accompanied Gustavus to the wars. The child, -therefore, was left to the guardianship of five of the wisest men in -the kingdom. But these wise men knew better how to manage the weighty -affairs of state than how to govern and educate a little girl so as to -render her a good and happy woman. - -When two years had passed away tidings were brought to Stockholm which -filled everybody with triumph and sorrow at the same time. The Swedes -had won a glorious victory at Lutzen. But, alas! the warlike King of -Sweden, the Lion of the North, the father of our little Christina, had -been slain at the foot of a great stone, which still marks the spot of -that hero's death. - -Soon after this sad event a general assembly of congress, consisting of -deputations from the nobles, the clergy, the burghers, and the peasants -of Sweden, was summoned to meet at Stockholm. It was for the purpose -of declaring little Christina to be Queen of Sweden and giving her the -crown and scepter of her deceased father. Silence being proclaimed, -the Chancellor Oxenstiern arose. - -"We desire to know," said he, "whether the people of Sweden will take -the daughter of our dead King Gustavus Adolphus to be their queen." - -When the chancellor had spoken an old man, with white hair and coarse -apparel, stood up in the midst of the assembly. He was a peasant, Lars -Larrson by name, and had spent most of his life in laboring on a farm. - -"Who is this daughter of Gustavus?" asked the old man. "We do not know -her. Let her be shown to us." - -Then Christina was brought into the hall and placed before the old -peasant. It was strange, no doubt, to see a child--a little girl of six -years old--offered to the Swedes as their ruler instead of the brave -king, her father, who had led them to victory so many times. Could her -baby fingers wield a sword in war? Could her childish mind govern the -nation wisely in peace? - -But the Swedes do not appear to have asked themselves these questions. -Old Lars Larrson took Christina up in his arms and gazed earnestly -into her face. He had known the great Gustavus well, and his heart was -touched when he saw the likeness which the little girl bore to that -heroic monarch. - -"Yes," cried he, with the tears gushing down his furrowed cheeks, "this -is truly the daughter of our Gustavus! Here is her father's brow!--here -is his piercing eye! She is his very picture! This child shall be our -queen!" - -Then all the proud nobles of Sweden and the reverend clergy, and the -burghers, and the peasants knelt down at the child's feet and kissed -her hand. - -"Long live Christina, Queen of Sweden!" shouted they. - -Even after she was a woman grown, Christina remembered the pleasure -which she felt in seeing all these men at her feet and hearing them -acknowledge her as their supreme ruler. Poor child! she was yet to -learn that power does not insure happiness. As yet, however, she had -not any real power. All the public business, it is true, was transacted -in her name; but the kingdom was governed by a number of the most -experienced statesmen, who were called a regency. - -But it was considered necessary that the little queen should be -present at the public ceremonies and should behave just as if she -were in reality the ruler of the nation. When she was seven years of -age, some ambassadors from the Czar of Muscovy came to the Swedish -court. They wore long beards and were clad in a strange fashion, with -furs and other outlandish ornaments; and as they were inhabitants of -a half-civilized country, they did not behave like other people. The -Chancellor Oxenstiern was afraid that the young queen would burst out -laughing at the first sight of these queer ambassadors, or else that -she would be frightened by their unusual aspect. - -"Why should I be frightened?" said the little queen. "And do you -suppose that I have no better manners than to laugh? Only tell me how I -must behave and I will do it." - -Accordingly, the Muscovite ambassadors were introduced, and Christina -received them and answered their speeches with as much dignity and -propriety as if she had been a grown woman. - -All this time, though Christina was now a queen, you must not suppose -that she was left to act as she pleased. She had a preceptor, named -John Mathias, who was a very learned man and capable of instructing -her in all the branches of science. But there was nobody to teach her -the delicate graces and gentle virtues of a woman. She was surrounded -almost entirely by men, and had learned to despise the society of her -own sex. At the age of nine years she was separated from her mother, -whom the Swedes did not consider a proper person to be intrusted with -the charge of her. No little girl who sits by a New England fireside -has cause to envy Christina in the royal palace at Stockholm. - -Yet she made great progress in her studies. She learned to read the -classical authors of Greece and Rome, and became a great admirer of the -heroes and poets of old times. Then as for active exercises, she could -ride on horseback as well as any man in her kingdom. She was fond of -hunting and could shoot at a mark with wonderful skill. But dancing was -the only feminine accomplishment with which she had any acquaintance. - -She was so restless in her disposition that none of her attendants were -sure of a moment's quiet either day or night. She grew up, I am sorry -to say, a very unamiable person, ill-tempered, proud, stubborn, and, in -short, unfit to make those around her happy or to be happy herself. Let -every little girl who has been taught self-control and a due regard for -the rights of others thank Heaven that she has had better instruction -than this poor little Queen of Sweden. - -At the age of eighteen Christina was declared free to govern the -kingdom by herself without the aid of a regency. At this period of -her life she was a young woman of striking aspect, a good figure and -intelligent face, but very strangely dressed. She wore a short habit -of gray cloth, with a man's vest over it; and a black scarf around her -neck; but no jewels nor ornaments of any kind. - -Yet, though Christina was so negligent of her appearance, there was -something in her air and manner that proclaimed her as the ruler of a -kingdom. Her eyes, it is said, had a very fierce and haughty look. Old -General Wrangel, who had often caused the enemies of Sweden to tremble -in battle, actually trembled himself when he encountered the eyes of -the queen. But it would have been better for Christina if she could -have made people love her, by means of soft and gentle looks, instead -of affrighting them by such terrible glances. - -And now I have told you almost all that is amusing or instructive in -the childhood of Christina. Only a few more words need be said about -her; for it is neither pleasant nor profitable to think of many things -that she did after she grew to be a woman. - -When she had worn the crown a few years, she began to consider it -beneath her dignity to be called a queen, because the name implied -that she belonged to the weaker sex. She therefore caused herself to -be proclaimed King; thus declaring to the world that she despised -her own sex and was desirous of being ranked among men. But in the -twenty-eighth year of her age Christina grew tired of royalty and -resolved to be neither a king nor a queen any longer. She took the -crown from her head with her own hands and ceased to be the ruler of -Sweden. The people did not greatly regret her abdication, for she had -governed them ill, and had taken much of their property to supply her -extravagance. - -Having thus given up her hereditary crown, Christina left Sweden and -traveled over many of the countries of Europe. Everywhere she was -received with great ceremony, because she was the daughter of the -renowned Gustavus, and had herself been a powerful queen. Perhaps you -would like to know something about her personal appearance in the -latter part of her life. She is described as wearing a man's vest, a -short gray petticoat, embroidered with gold and silver, and a black -wig, which was thrust awry upon her head. She wore no gloves, and so -seldom washed her hands that nobody could tell what had been their -original color. In this strange dress, and, I suppose, without washing -her hands or face, she visited the magnificent court of Louis XIV. - -She died in 1689. None loved her while she lived, nor regretted her -death, nor planted a single flower upon her grave. Happy are the -little girls of America who are brought up quietly and tenderly at the -domestic hearth, and thus become gentle and delicate women! May none -of them ever lose the loveliness of their sex by receiving such an -education as that of Queen Christina. - - --Nathaniel Hawthorne. - - Biographical Stories. (Houghton Mifflin Company.) - - -=Joan Luna's Life= - -The parents of Juan Luna, the greatest and most eminent Filipino -painter, were Ilocanos and of humble birth. The young artist was born -in Ilocos Norte in the year 1857 and died in Hong Kong in 1899. From -childhood he was hot-tempered. His early education was at home. At the -age of twelve he was a good caricaturist. His father then sent him to -Manila to attend the "Ateneo Municipal." At the age of twenty-one he -was sent to Madrid, where he studied art under several famous Spanish -and Italian painters. He was given prizes at the expositions in Madrid -and Paris. In Spain he met Miss Paz Pardo de Tavera, whom he married -three years later. He became very popular. Some of his friends were Dr. -Jose Rizal, Dr. Roxas, the famous Italian tenor, Payarre, and many of -the French and Spanish nobility. He was especially loved by women, of -whose hearts and inclinations he showed a knowledge very intimate. Juan -Luna had an art which is seldom found in man, an instinct found only in -real genius, a power to portray and interpret life, tenderness and the -emotions of wrath and pity. - -He was tall and well built, with a high forehead, a short flat nose -and large black impressive eyes. In about the year 1890, while he was -at Paris, a terrible thing occurred. His wife began to be untrue to -him. It is said that one day Paz asked Juan to let her go to a certain -shop to buy some thread. He allowed her to go, but soon followed her -because he suspected her. He saw that Paz did not go to a shop but to a -private house. He walked in and found his wife with another man. Then -the crisis began. Luna was blind with anger. He took Paz home and asked -her to explain to him her late behaviour. After many a tear, after -many excuses and explanations, after many promises to be good, Paz was -pardoned. - -Two months later Luna asked his wife to go with him and their two -children to live in a village near by. Paz at first said she would not -go; but through the request of her mother and brothers, she assented to -Luna's plan. On the day of their departure, when the carriages which -were to take them to the neighboring village were in front of the door, -Paz went to the bath-room with her mother. Juan knocked at the door and -asked her to come down for it was getting late. Paz then shouted out -of the window, saying that her husband was killing her. All at once -Luna rushed to his room, took his pistol, opened the bath-room door -with a sudden push, and fired at every one who came in his way. His -mother-in-law, wife and elder son were killed, and his younger son was -wounded. - -In this deed we see the real character of Luna. He was generous -and cold-blooded; but when his pride, name and honor were wounded, -his blood boiled in his head, he trembled, and saw nothing before -him--neither God nor man--but only the guilty. - -The police then arrested him. He was tried the following day. The -newspapers spread this piece of news to the world under their title: -"_La Tragedia en Paris._" Fortunately he was acquitted. The judges -decided that man's honor is his life, and that when it is once -destroyed it can never be supplied. - -Luna was the greatest artist and painter that the Philippines has ever -produced. He is great in his own country and ranks among the world's -good painters. - -In 1899 he came back to the Philippines; but on his way home, while at -Hong Kong, he died of apoplexy and a broken heart. His son was brought -to Manila by a friend. Andres, his son, is now twenty years of age and -is also a good painter, but not like his father. - -The Philippines produced one of the world painters, showing the fact -that a great worker and a great mind can not be hidden, even by tyranny -and oppression. - - --Dolores Asuncion. - - -=Elizabeth Glade= - -Elizabeth Glade was born in Baltimore, Maryland, about the year 1816. -Her mother was a poor widow, but gave her as much money as the family -purse could afford, for education in those days was very expensive. - -Having finished with school, Elizabeth began to occupy herself in -making buttons and fringe, which at that time were made by hand. At -the age of twenty-three she married John Arnold, a carpenter. They -both moved to the city of Washington to live. In 1849, when gold was -discovered in California, Mr. Arnold caught the fever of the excitement -and joined the forty-niners. A few years afterwards his wife received -news of his death. - -Elizabeth was left with only two hundred dollars, and with five -children who looked to her for food and care. So she began the trade -she had learned in her girlhood and struggled along in spite of hard -times. Her mother took care of the children while Elizabeth gave her -entire attention to her trade. - -Gradually her work increased. She bought land in the business part of -Washington and started a store. Later she bought more property. As -Washington grew, land and houses became more valuable, and Elizabeth -became wealthy. She expended much money on her children's education. -One son she sent to Yale college and afterwards to Europe to continue -his studies. This son died before he had opportunity to make a name -for himself. Her other two sons also died young; but her two daughters -lived to survive her, and were a great comfort to her. - -Elizabeth had a peculiar disposition; for, though she was exceedingly -charitable, in small things she sometimes showed indifference to other -people's feelings. In this petty selfishness, however, she was always -frank and never attempted to hide her actions. - -When a young girl, before she married, Elizabeth once went to town to -buy two veils for herself and her sister. She had received from her -sister the money for her veil. Before Elizabeth bought the veils she -saw a poor woman, who asked her for money. Elizabeth opened her purse -and gave the women the money for her sister's veil. She then bought a -veil for herself and returned home. Her sister was surprised to see her -with only one veil and asked her where the other was. "I thought that -as you were younger you would not mind losing your veil, and that you -would like to give the money to the poor woman," Elizabeth replied in -her most innocent manner. - -One time she had company to supper and, as was her custom, took all -the cream off the milk for her own coffee before passing the pitcher -to anyone else. The guest, when asked if she would have milk in her -coffee, said: "No, I do not care for milk in my coffee when the cream -has been taken off." Elizabeth burst out laughing and said, "Well, -Jane, I did not think anybody saw me do that." - -Elizabeth supported two of her brothers and their families when they -became ill and poor. - - --Nellie Barrington. - - -=Biography of a Traitor= - -Vicente was born in Santa Cruz, Laguna, in the year 1868. His parents -were poor, so that he did not have a high education. Very little is -known about his childhood. He seemed to have attended the primary -school of the town, where he learned a little Spanish. He was not -properly brought up by his parents. He was allowed to indulge in bad -society. Being thus left alone, exposed to vice, he grew to be an -unscrupulous and unruly young man. He became an orphan at the age of -eighteen. To earn his living and to satisfy his craving for any easy, -idle and dependent life, he joined the _Guardia Civil_, a body of -soldiers employed by the Spaniards to maintain peace in the islands. -Unfortunately, instead of being the guardians of peace, these men -became the malefactors of the country. As I have said, Vicente joined -this most dreaded army of oppressors and in a few days he became one -of the most cruel and abusive men in the corps. He put many guiltless -persons in prison, just because of animosity or revenge. He sent many -innocent persons to the block simply because he wished to gain the -favor of the high officials. Such injustices were much admired and -were even encouraged by the Spaniards--for they also practised such -acts. Often such base conduct brought promotion to a soldier of that -behavior. So Vicente was appointed a sergeant. Being thus gratuitously -rewarded he grew more atrocious than before. He was, then, a terror, -an awful monster to humble citizens, a murderer and a robber in -every sense. His tyrannical and arbitrary character, however, often -succumbed to the tinkling of coins--a fact that was universally true -of government officials of that time, from the highest to the lowest. -Once or twice through perfidious ways, Vicente acquired a few large -tracts of land, but this unlawfully attained property was soon lost in -gambling. - -Spanish rule was ended by the revolution of 1898. This body of _Guardia -Civiles_ was torn asunder. Many of them were killed in the fight, but -many were taken prisoners and some were pardoned. Vicente, evidently, -was to live longer to play another plot against his country. - -At the beginning of the Filipino-American war, while all the people -left the town, with a heartless friend Vicente surrendered. They -allied themselves with the Americans to betray their countrymen in the -battlefield. During the year following 1898, these two men were the -sole guides of the Americans in their campaigns. They caused many to be -thrown in prison. They laid heavy taxes upon the goods of the tradesmen -for their own use. - -Vicente's friend was elected president of the town the first time that -the civil government was established here. He was unfortunate, however, -in being stabbed to death soon afterwards. Vicente succeeded his friend -in 1900, and later married the wife of his predecessor. By this time -Vicente was very rich with the spoils of his own countrymen. In fact, -he was, then, living a glorious life at the expense of his suffering -country. He did not wield his power long. Naturally, the Americans had -no confidence in him. When the war was over, his office was taken from -him and was given to a good and honest citizen. - -From that time Vicente lived a retired life with his family. Because -of cock-fighting, gambling and card playing, his seemingly abounding -wealth was soon exhausted. After all, he was a poor ordinary man, -devoid of influence, respect and rank in society. Even his house was -sold. He then rented his former house and set up as a notary public -in 1904; by which he could hardly support his family. His repressed -ambition for power was, however, kindled again and in January, 1909, he -proclaimed himself candidate for the presidency in the coming election. -But fortune, health and success deserted him. He grew consumptive and, -after a few weeks, he was confined to his bed. - -One night in June, 1909, Vicente suddenly rose from his bed and before -his companions could ask him what he wished, he jumped out of the -window, shouting that he was chased by some devils who were compelling -him to go with them to hell. He did not live long after this event. He -died a few hours later. In the morning, the incident of his tragical -death reached the ears of almost everybody, and all these people said, -"He is just paying for some of his injustices. God is punishing him. -Who knows what punishment he will receive in the other world!" - - --Walfrido de Leon. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -IMPERSONAL ACCOUNTS - - -In its general sense narrative history includes all true-story forms, -even incidents and eye-witness accounts. But annals and chronicles -may be grouped by themselves on the basis of the non-personal and -scientific attitude of the writer and the fact that the story is -usually of the doings of a set of people living as a unit. Of course -we find such type blendings as the "Annals" of Goethe, which are true -but autobiographical, and the "Annals of the Parish" by John Galt, and -the "Chronicles of the Schönberg-Cotta Family," which though collective -are fictitious; yet for the most part these forms are thought of as -embodying community and actual history, and we will take them up as -such, remembering that fiction has drawn on all true-narrative forms -for verisimilitude. History is often classified into narrative, scenic, -and philosophical. Only with the first kind have we anything to do. - -There are a number of histories that have extraordinary literary value, -that are not mere recitals of past events with tame descriptions of -by-gone scenes and more-or-less acute analysis of epochs and causes, -but are intense human documents with the life-blood of nations -throbbing and beating in their pages. Green gave his health and the -best days of his living to write his "History of the English People," -and we love it. It has something more than a scholar's accuracy in it. -It has a broad and deep inspiration that brings a catch in the throat -and a gleam of pride in the eye of any who are fortunate enough to -belong to the magnificent race whose deeds it records. Enthusiasts -fought for Macaulay's "History" at the door of the bindery, fulfilling -the author's hope that it might be considered more interesting than -a novel. Motley's "Rise of the Dutch Republic" is one of the most -creditable things in American letters. Prescott's "Ferdinand and -Isabella," "Conquest of Mexico" and of "Peru," and Parkman's "Montcalm -and Wolfe" are along side for literary qualities. Carlyle's "French -Revolution" is a unique and graphic set of pictures. Gibbon's "Decline -and Fall of the Roman Empire" has long stood as a classic example of -literary high-seriousness in an allied department. Grote's "History -of Greece," Machiavel's "History of Florence," Sismondi's "Italian -Republics," Hallam's "Middle Ages," Symond's "Italian Renaissance" and -Schiller's "Thirty Years' War" are all worthy the name of literature -and have excellent narrative in them. We can study at present, -however, only those forms of history that are shorter and are merely -narrative--annals, chronicles, and true relations. - - -I. Annals - -[What annals are] - -Annals are a concise historical record in which events are arranged -chronologically, year by year. The accounts of necessity are brief, -since they are made and kept for reference. They contain any matter -the recorders deemed worthy of notice, especially, of course, whatever -affected the community as a whole. The report stands in relation to -the community much as a diary stands in relation to a person. Intimate -facts are to be expected. The ambitions, hopes, defeats, expenditures, -future plans, of the city or state, are mentioned perhaps, as are also, -maybe, its success and honor--in the carrying out of a town fiesta -or county fair, or in being host to some distinguished visitor or to -a session of some large political party. The essential element of -this kind of narrative history is the yearly periods, though the term -"annals" has been loosely used in modern literature to signify almost -any temporal order. Indeed, except in studies like this such titles are -never very strictly applied. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, for instance, -is in large part annals. However, we have a few clear cases, especially -among the ancients. - -[Famous old annals] - -Tacitus wrote annals. Then later there are the _Annales Ecclesiastici_ -of Baronius; the _Annales et Historia de Rebus Belgicis_ by Grotius, -published at Amsterdam in 1557; Hailes's "Annals of Scotland from the -Accession of Malcolm III to the Accession of the House of Stuart;" -Chamber's "Domestic Annals of Scotland," and others. John Stow bears -a very high reputation as "an accurate and impartial recorder of -public events." He travelled on foot through a considerable part of -England examining old manuscripts in cathedrals and other places of -preservation. He wrote down impartially what he judged to be the truth, -and, unswayed by "fear, favor, or malice," as he himself declared, he -established trustworthy history in his native land. His "Survey of -London" (1598) is the best known of his writings. A scholarly piece of -work, it has served us the foundation of all subsequent histories of -the metropolis. - -American history, so badly treated in the past, is being written -accurately for the first time, think our present day historians. -They go about their work in the good old Stow fashion: they use -authenticated local records. The friendly fable is current that the -way a noted professor composes his many histories is this: he merely -reaches about from left to right and up and down of his mammoth desk -and pulls from the numerous cubby-holes bundles of closely written -pages, sorts them a little, ties a string around them, and says, -"Here's your book." But these closely written pages are carefully -prepared, minutely accurate material--monographs on the local annals -and traditions of various places, done by the professor's own students -under the scrutinizing eye of their master. Whether the fable is based -on truth or not, it is illustrative of the value of annals. - -[Suggestions on material] - -If you live in a small town, you can easily get at its records, and -with the permission of a person in authority copy a few items. If you -yourself very well know the events written of, you might edit the -report, adding details of your own by way of notes. You should not -change the statements, however, in the original; but, where there is -evidence of error or omissions, you could supply a corrective amendment -with the real facts in support. If you translate from one tongue into -another be careful to give the idiomatic equivalent. The annals of a -society or club might be easily enough compiled. All that you would -need to do would be to arrange the narrative by years, culling your -facts from the secretaries' reports. - - -=The State of England in Stephen's Reign= - -1137. This year King Stephen went across the sea to Normandy. There -he was well received because the people thought that he must be the -same sort of man as his uncle; for he still had his treasure and he -distributed it and squandered it foolishly. In large quantities had -King Henry gathered gold and silver together. No good did any of it do -his soul, however. - -When King Stephen came to England he made his parliament at Oxenford. -There he took Robert, bishop of Salisbury; Alix, bishop of Lincoln; -also Chancellor Robert, his nephew; he put them all in prison until -they gave up their castles. When the traitors understood that he was -a mild man, soft and good, and did no justice, they did every kind of -wrong. They had sworn homage to him, had made oaths, but they did not -keep faith. All were foresworn and their word of truth was gone. For -every rich man made him a castle, which they all held against the king. -They filled the land full of castles. They oppressed very much the -wretched men of the land with castle-building. When the castles were -finished, they filled them with evil and devilish men. They captured -and imprisoned there by night and by day all persons whom they thought -had any possessions, both men and women. They put them in prison for -the sake of gold and silver. They tortured them with indescribable -tortures; never were martyrs tormented as were these people. They -hanged up men by the feet and smoked them with foul smoke. Some were -hanged up by the thumbs, others by the head, and burning things were -hung on to their feet. They put knotted strings around men's heads and -writhed them until they went into the brain. They put men into prison -where adders and snakes and toads were crawling, and so they tormented -them. Some they put into a chest short and narrow and not deep, that -had sharp stones within, and forced men therein so that they broke all -their limbs. In many of the castles were hateful and grim things called -_tachenteges_, which two or three men had enough to do to carry. It was -thus made: it was fastened to a beam and had a sharp iron to go around -a man's neck and throat, so that he might noways sit, or lie, or sleep, -but he bore all the iron. Many thousands they starved with hunger. - -I cannot nor may I tell all the wickedness and all the torture which -they did the poor wretches of this land. This condition lasted nineteen -years while Stephen was king, and it grew ever worse and worse. -They laid tribute on the enclosures (_tunes_) always, and called it -_censerie_. When the miserable inhabitants had no more to give, then -they were plundered. The nobles burned all the enclosures. So that you -might easily go a whole day's journey and you would find no man sitting -in his enclosure. No land was tilled. Corn was dear; also flesh, -cheese, and butter, for there was none in the country. The wretched -peasants died of hunger. Some who were once rich men went a begging; -others fled the country. - -Never was there before more destitution and suffering in the land; -never did heathen men act worse than they did. For everywhere -subsequently did they forbear neither church or churchyard; but they -took all the property that was in them. And sometimes they burned the -church and all together. Nor did they spare bishops' land, or abbots', -or priests'. They spoiled monks and clerks. And every man (plundered) -the other wherever he could. If two or three men came riding up to -an enclosure, all the people of the farmstead fled because of them; -for they thought that they were robbers. The bishops and the clergy -always cursed them, but that was nothing to them; for they were all -fore-cursed, fore-sworn, and lost. - -Wheresoever the peasants cultivated, the earth produced no grain; for -the land was all destroyed with such deeds. And they said openly that -Christ and his saints slept. Such things and more than we can mention -we suffered nineteen years because of our sins. - -During all this evil time Abbot Martin held his abbacy twenty years, -six months and eight days, with great toil. He provided his monks and -his guests all that they needed; he practiced much charity in his -house. Nevertheless he worked on the church, and appointed for its -lands and rents. He endowed it richly, he caused it to be roofed, he -brought them (the monks) into the new minister on St. Peter's day (June -29) with much honor. And he went to Rome; there he was well received -by Pope Eugenius. He obtained privileges; one, of all the lands of -the abbacy and another, of the lands which belong to the office of -sacrist. And, if he might live longer, he meant to do the same with -respect to the office of treasurer. And he gained property in lands -that powerful men held by force or violence; from William Maldint, who -held Rockingham, he obtained Cottingham and Easton, and from Hugo of -Walteville he secured Irlingborough and Stanwick, and forty sols from -Oldwinkle each year. And he created many monks and planted vineyards. -And he performed many works. And he changed the town to a better state -than it ever was before. He was a good monk and a good man; therefore -God and other men loved him. - -Now we will say a little about what befell in King Stephen's time. -During his reign the Jew of Norwich bought a Christian boy before -Easter and tortured him with all the torture that our Lord suffered. -And on Good Friday they hanged him to a cross for the love of our Lord. -Then they buried him. They thought it would be concealed, but our -Lord showed that he was a holy martyr. The monks took him and buried -him splendidly in the minster. And he performed through our Lord many -wonderful miracles. They called him Saint William. - -1138. This year King David of Scotland came to this land with an -immense army. He wanted to obtain possession of the country by -fighting. And there came against him William, Earl of Albermar, to -whom the king had entrusted York and to other faithful men with a few -followers, and fought with him. He put the king to flight at the battle -of the Standard, and slew very many of his army. - -1140. This year King Stephen wanted to take Robert, Earl of Gloucester, -King Henry's son; but he could not, for he became aware of it. - -Thereafter in the Lenten season the sun and the day grew dark, about -the ninth hour of the day, while people were eating; so that they -had to light candles to eat by. It was on the 20th of March that the -inhabitants were so greatly astonished. - -Later William, archbishop of Canterbury, died. And the king made -Theobald archbishop, who was abbot in the abbey of Bec. - -Then there waxed a very great war between the king and Randolf, earl -of Chester, not for the reason that he (the king) did not give him -(evidently the earl) all that he demanded of him, as he did to all the -others. But always the more he gave them, the worse they were to him. -The earl held Lincoln against the king and deprived him of all that -he ought to have. Thither went the king and besieged the earl and his -brother William of Romare in the castle. But the earl stole out and -went after Robert, earl of Gloucester, and brought him thither with a -large army. They fought hard on Candlemas day against their lord. They -captured him because his men betrayed him and fled. They led him to -Bristol and put him in prison. Then was all England stirred more than -it ever was before. And all kinds of evil were in the land. - -Later came King Henry's daughter that had been empress of Germany. Now -she was the countess of Anjou. She came to London and the London folk -wanted to seize her. And she fled and lost there very much. - -Then Henry, bishop of Winchester, brother of King Stephen, spoke -with Earl Robert and with the empress and swore them oaths that he -would never again hold with the king his brother, and he cursed all -those that were allied to him. And he told them that he would give -up to them Winchester, and he caused them to come thither. When they -were within the castle, the king's queen came with all her forces -and besieged them. And a great famine occurred in the castle. When -they could no longer endure it, they stole out and fled. But those -without were aware, and followed them. And they took Robert, earl of -Gloucester, and led him to the Rochester and put him in prison. The -empress escaped into a minster. Then went wise men between the king's -friends and the earl's friends. And they negotiated that the king -should be let out of prison in exchange for the earl, and so they -exchanged captives. - - --Peterborough Chronicle. - - -=Annals of the Town of Mangaldan, 1879-1882= - -I. July 2, 1879. An army of locusts swept over the town. Crops were -destroyed; panic followed. - -II. August 8, 1879. The _cura_ (priest) ordered the improvement of -streets. - -III. August 21, 1879. A cardinal from Rome visited the town. The -priests waited on his table. Several persons arrested for violating a -certain ordinance were pardoned through the grace of the holy visitor. - -IV. February 29, 1880. The gold rosary of the image of Virgin Mary was -stolen; consequently, the _cura_ forbade the procession on the evening -of that day. - -V. July 17. A terrible earthquake shook the town, destroying some -houses. - -VI. November 27. The Governor General visited Mangaldan. There was -great rejoicing; all the houses around the _plaza_ were hung with -damasks. - -VII. December 1. A Moro was taken around the town. He carried a flag -with a pig painted on it. - - --Don Domingo Ydio,[11] 1879-1880. - - -I. January 1, 1881. Mariano Cendaña, after murdering all the members of -his family, went around the town, killing all whom he met. He was at -last captured. - -II. October. A big comet appeared in the east. It was so low that the -people said it was only as high up as the tallest cocoanut. The rays, -spreading far and wide, struck superstitious persons with awe and -admiration. - -III. November. General epidemic, caused by some disease scattered by -water (perhaps cholera), killed many people. - -IV. June, 1882. Another murder, Adriano Torralba, killed three men in -the barrio of Maasin. - - --Kept by Don Mariano Cortes, 1881-1882. - - (Obtained and translated by Bernabe B. Aquino.) - - -=Annals of Pagsanjan= - -It has been said that about the middle of the seventeenth century -some Chinese traders arrived at the junction of the Bumbungan and the -Balanac rivers. They chose this place to establish a trading post, for -the boats and barges could anchor close to the land. At that time the -San Isidro Hill extended to the Balanac river, and there were rice -and corn fields on the site of the present town. As time went on, the -Chinese married Filipino women, and quite a settlement grew up. The -Chinese built houses and stores, and formed a small village with other -Filipino families. This village was under the control of Lumbang, its -neighboring town. The inhabitants, of the village went to hear mass at -Lumbang. The men, especially the Chinese and their sons, gradually grew -rich. One of these rich mestizos supported the priest of Lumbang, who, -accordingly, could not say the mass before they were all in the church. - -One day, however, when the priest was hungry, he said the mass before -their arrival. Then, the man who supported him became angry. He -assembled all his fellowmen to talk concerning the separation of the -village from Lumbang. They all agreed to build a church of their own -and call a priest. They contributed money, and then asked some Chinese -carpenters to build a church for them. It was completed, in 1690. At -the completion of the church they agreed to build streets and enlarge -their village in order that it might accommodate the increasing -population. They dug up a part of the San Isidro Hill, and on that -cleared space laid out the streets which are now called Maura, Rizal, -and Moret. They also covered the fields with sand, and built other -streets. They kept enlarging the village till it became a town. The -people named this town Pinagsangajan, which means branching. They so -called it Pinagsangajan, for it was located at the junction of the -Balanac and the Bumbungan rivers. Now the people called it Pagsanjan, -contraction of Pinagsangajan. - -In 1763 the church was burned. It was rebuilt in 1764. It was not -completed till 1882. - -In 1880 a great earthquake occurred, and many buildings in Pagsanjan -were destroyed. These ruined buildings were not repaired for seven -years. - -In 1890 a severe storm occurred, and the Balanac and the Bumbungan -rivers overflowed their banks. The water flowed all over the town. Many -buildings were carried away by the flood, and many people were drowned. - -In 1893 a great fire happened, and more than one hundred and fifty -buildings were burned. Before the big fire there were some large -houses. Very few houses at that time were made of stone. So after the -fire the people used stone materials in rebuilding their ruined houses. - -They made their new houses larger than the old ones. It took them many -years to finish beautifying the town. - -On November 14, 1896, the _Katipunan_ arrived at Pagsanjan. The next -day they went to Santa Cruz to storm the town, but they could not -carry out their plan, for all the people who were faithful to their -country fought against them. Then they returned to Pagsanjan. They went -back again to Santa Cruz, but they accomplished nothing. On Tuesday -afternoon nearly all the inhabitants of Pagsanjan fled from the town, -because many soldiers were come to storm the place. But the shelling -did not happen; instead they pardoned those who did not run away when -they saw that the people in the town were few. The leader of these -soldiers was General Aguirre. - -In 1901 the Americans came to Pagsanjan. When they came the church -plaza served as barracks for the soldiers. These soldiers erected -their tents and staked their horses there. This plaza has had a -checkered history. In 1892 when Don Pedro Paterno, a deputy of the -first district of the province of Laguna, was spending his vacation -in Pagsanjan, a meeting was held at his house, and he urged upon the -people the advantage of erecting a monument in the center of the -park, so as to commemorate the concession of municipal government -in the Philippines. The people all agreed with him, so immediately -they contributed money and within a week the proposed monument was -completed. In the dedication of this monument many people joined. -As the monument was erected to thank the government of Spain, the -inscription engraven on the tablets was about the Queen of Spain, Don -Angel Aviles, the director general of the civil administration, and -others. In 1898 just after the insurrection of the Filipinos against -the Spaniards, the four marble tablets with their inscriptions were -taken from the faces of the monument and reversed; then on the blank -surface were painted inscriptions of the revolutionary government in -honor of Emilio Aguinaldo and Apolinario Mabini. In 1902 after the -Philippines became subject to the American government, the councillors -agreed to remove the inscriptions, replacing them with others--William -McKinley, José Rizal, W. H. Taft and the honorable Civil Commission of -the United States in the Philippines. But the people were not contented -with the inscriptions, so after a short time an agreement was made -that the tablets were to be turned as they were originally mounted, -presenting the old inscriptions, so that the founders and the names of -those in whose honor the monument was first erected and who granted the -early liberties should not be forgotten. - - --Dolores Zafra. - - -II. Chronicles - -[Definition. Froissart] - -When the order of time is most conspicuous, history is called -chronicle. The work is usually divided into sections, each section -covering a separate period. The periods may be long or short. The -account of occurrences may be somewhat elaborate, but it is most often -bare and simple. Froissart's chronicles (1326-1400), however, are a -rich pageantry of feudal times. "The din of arms, the shouting of -knights, and marshalling of troops are there. Visions Of fair women -rise before us. Gorgeous feasts and spectacles in which this knight -of France and England so much delighted are set forth in copious -details, and though he is no philosopher, his shrewd observations, and -richly minute descriptions have helped others to philosophize."[12] -Froissart's Chronicles first appeared at Paris about the end of -the fifteenth century under the title of _Chroniques de France, -d'Angleterre, d'Escosse, d'Espagne, de Bretagne, de Gascogne, de -Flanders et lieux d'aleutour_. In English there are two versions: one -executed in 1523-25 by Lord Berners (reprinted in 1812); and the other -1803-5 by Thomas Johnes. The later is more correct. In the 13th and -14th centuries chroniclers sprung up all over Europe, and created the -non-church history of the highways. - -[Ayala] - -Contemporaneous with Froissart was Ayala, who is first of the Spanish -chroniclers to be entirely safe as an historical source. Ayala wrote -calm, business-like prose, and was bent upon recording facts whether -glorious or inglorious. In contrast with Froissart's simple-hearted -enthusiasm Ayala's attitude is one of cool sagacity and experience. He -looks quite through the deeds of men. He as dispassionately records -the crimes of the lords of the earth as he does their pretentions -to greatness. He lived in "four wild reigns"--those of Peter the -Cruel, Henry the Second, John the First, and Henry the Third--and, -as a minister of state in each, had every opportunity to become -disillusioned, about chivalry. An event that both Ayala and Froissart -record is the murder of Blanche of Bourbon by her husband the king, Don -Pedro the Cruel. - -The circumstantial minuteness of an account by a chronicler, who was -an eight-years' eye-witness of the king's inhumanity to his young and -beautiful queen, and who recorded step by step the series of murders -by which the king came up to the final crime, seems more moving to -a modern reader than would seem the wildest and most impassioned -ballad on the subject. Indeed, Ayala's account has settled the -character of Don Pedro forever, despite the occasional attempts by -some personally interested countryman to defend him, and despite the -sentimental-tragedy of the theater, and such metrical outbursts as that -of Chaucer's in the "Monk's Tale." But Chaucer, as Ayala himself would -have told us, was an "interested party," since he was attached to the -Duke of Lancaster who was attached to Don Pedro. - -[General chronicle of Spain] - -Seventy-five or eighty years before Ayala, Alfonso the Wise had -begun the general chronicle of Spain by collecting old ballads and -redoing them into prose, and by adding thereto the history of his own -day. Sixty years after him, Alfonso the Eleventh appointed a court -chronicler; and so the habit in Spain of recording the chief events of -the kingdom was kept up from 1320 with more or less regularity down to -the establishment of the Academy of History in the eighteenth century. -It is interesting to note that this chronicle, that first preserved the -popular metrical tales by putting them into prose, in turn gave rise to -popular metrical tales that have kept the traditions--such as those of -the Cid and Bernardo del Carpio. - -[Saxo Grammaticus] - -Like this earlier part of the Spanish Chronicle, the still older -legendary chronicles of the North promoted literature. That of -the Britons by Geoffrey of Monmouth and that of the Danes by Saxo -Grammaticus have served, perhaps, a better purpose than true accounts; -for they have quickened the imagination of subsequent times and given -us themes for many ballads and for some of the marvelous productions of -Shakespeare. - -[Holinshed] - -Because of the industry of Shakespeare's commentators in assigning so -much of the great dramatist's subject-matter to Holinshed, the Tudor -chronicler will always live. Regardless of whatever he may be worth -personally, the whole world owes him a debt for doing the hack work and -thus leaving a great genius free to construct. - -A chronicle is not hard to write. The only requirements are that you -shall select a definite period of time, and, proceeding in order, draw -in it simple and graphic pictures of the life lived and the deeds -wrought. You might put together the events of your own neighborhood for -the last three years. - -[True relation] - -Or you might write up some important happening as it reaches back -into the past and culminates in the present. You would then be -writing a true relation. A true relation does not differ much from -a chronicle except in the fact that the author as one person takes -full responsibility for all the statements. He must record nothing, -therefore, that he does not himself actually know; of every thing, else -he must give warning as hearsay or as oral or written tradition or as -records of someone else. A true relation may even be a travel sketch -or a partial biography. It differs from journal and diary in being a -narrative of the doings of units of mankind or of events that are of -scientific or general importance and that are not necessarily recorded -daily and have no essentially personal bearing upon the author beyond, -the relationship of vouched and voucher. - -In 1589 Richard Hakluyt published a folio of various relations which -he called "The Principal Navigations, Voyages, and Discoveries Made -by the English Nation." The events recorded, however, are not always -authentic. Modern historians are impatient with Hakluyt, because he -did not select more carefully and sacrifice bulk to trustworthiness. -Well-known Spanish relations found in Blair and Robertson's "Philippine -Islands" are those of Loarca, Chirino, Morga, Plascencia. They are -considered reliable. - - -_CHRONICLE_ - - =Rivalry Between Two Towns= - -During the time that the Earl of Flanders was in his greatest -prosperity there was a citizen of Ghent, by name John Lyon, subtle and -enterprising, and very much in favor of the earl. This man having been -banished from Ghent on account of some murder in which he had been -concerned, retired to Donay, where the earl, who is said to have been -the promotion of the murder, supported him in the greatest affluence, -after a while recovered for him his freedom, and made him deacon of the -pilots, which office might be worth about 1,000 francs a year. At the -same time there was a family in Ghent called the Matthews, consisting -of seven brothers, who were the most considerable of all the pilots. -One of these, by name Gilbert Matthew, from jealousy and other causes, -bore in secret great hatred toward this John Lyon, and determined, -without striking a blow, to do him the greatest injury in his power. -With this view he got acquainted with one of the earl's chamberlains, -and in the course of conversation with him took an opportunity of -saying that if the Earl of Flanders pleased he might gain every year -a handsome revenue from the pilots; that it might be collected on the -foreign trade, provided John Lyon, the deacon, would acquit himself -honestly. The hint was conveyed by the chamberlain to the earl, who -(like other great lords, naturally eager of gain) ordered Gilbert -Matthew to be sent for. Gilbert was introduced accordingly and made his -scheme appear so reasonable that the earl agreed to adopt it. John Lyon -was forthwith sent for, and in Gilbert's presence the earl proposed the -scheme to him. Now John saw at once that this was not a reasonable -demand, and consequently said, "What you require, as it seems at -Gilbert's proposing, I cannot execute alone; it will be too heavy upon -the mariners." However, the earl persisted, and John Lyon replied that -he would do the best in his power. - -When this conference was over, Gilbert Matthew, whose only object was -to ruin John Lyon, went to his six brothers and said to them, "You must -now give me every possible assistance, and we shall effect our purpose. -A meeting is to be held about this tax; now, notwithstanding all I may -say at the meeting, you must refuse to comply. I will dissemble and -argue that if John Lyon did his duty, this ordinance would be obeyed. -I know the earl well, and sooner than lose his point, John Lyon will -be displaced; from his office, which will be given to me, and then, of -course, you can comply. With regard to the other mariners, we are too -powerful for them to oppose us." - -The six brothers agreed to do exactly as Gilbert had directed them, -and at the meeting everything turned out as he wished; for John was -deposed and the office was given to Gilbert. Not contented with having -effected the ruin of their unhappy victim, one of the brothers wanted -to contrive to have him put to death, but to this the others would not -agree, saying that he had done them no wrong and that no man ought to -lose his life but by sentence of a judge. Things went quietly for some -time, until the people of Bruges began to make a canal from the River -Lys. The canal had often before been attempted; but as the inhabitants -of Ghent considered it to be injurious to the interests of their town, -it was always opposed by them. On the present occasion the Earl of -Flanders had sanctioned the plan, and even sent pioneers with a body -of men-at-arms to annoy them in the execution of their work. - -As chance would have it, one day a woman on her return from a -pilgrimage to Our Lady of Boulogne, being weary, sat down in the -market-place of Ghent; when many people collected around her, asking -whence she came. "From Boulogne," said the woman, "and I have seen on -my road the greatest curse that ever befell the town of Ghent; for -there are upward of five hundred men laboring night and day to open a -canal for the Lys, and if they be not immediately prevented, the course -of the river will soon be turned." This speech of the woman was echoed -far and wide, and served to inflame men's minds in all directions. Many -said that if John Lyon had been deacon no such attempt would ever have -been made; and to him they resorted for advice. John thought this a -favorable opportunity to redress the injury he had received; however, -he did not wish to seem to thrust himself forward; but when prevailed -upon to speak, after much entreaty said: "Gentlemen, if you wish to -put an end to this business, you must renew an ancient custom which -formerly existed in this town of Ghent. I mean you must first put on -white hoods and choose a leader." - -"We will have it so! We will have it so!" was heard on all sides. "We -will put on white hoods." - -White hoods were accordingly provided and given out to those who -preferred war to peace; and John Lyon was elected chief. Most willingly -did he accept the office, for he rejoiced at the opportunity of -embroiling the towns of Ghent and Bruges with each other and with the -earl, their lord. Gilbert Matthew, on the other hand, was by no means -well pleased when he saw in what numbers the white hoods had collected. -News was soon carried to the pioneers that a large force from Ghent -was coming against them, upon which they immediately left their work -and returned to Bruges, so that John Lyon and his party returned to -the town without any encounter. During the same week in which these -white hoods had placed themselves under the command of John Lyon, -another cause of distrust originated at Ghent by some persons who were -alarmed for its franchises; which circumstances also favored greatly -John's desire of embroiling the town. The hope of success made him -more active than ever. He spread secret rumors in different parts and -took every opportunity of suggesting "That never could the privileges -of any town be properly maintained when offices were put to sale," -intending this in allusion to the manner in which Gilbert Matthew had -become possessed of the deaconship. Moreover, he frequently harangued -his people in public; on which occasions he spoke so well and with so -much art that he always left them highly impressed in his favor. At -length the men of Ghent determined to send to the Earl of Flanders -requesting a redress of their grievances, and especially that he would -put a stop to the canal. The earl, thinking to abolish the white hoods, -immediately granted the request, but John Lyon, who was present when -the earl's answer was received, thus addressed the meeting: "My good -people, you see clearly at present the value of these white hoods. Do -they not guard your privileges better than those of the red and black, -or hoods of any other color? Be assured, then, by me, that as soon as -they shall be laid aside I will not give three farthings for all your -privileges." - -This speech had the desired effect upon the people, and they determined -to do as John Lyon had advised them. But Gilbert Matthew, who was very -ill at ease, concerted a plan with the earl to arrest John and some -of the principals of the white hoods, hoping thereby to disperse the -rest. With this view the bailiff of Ghent came to the town with about -200 horsemen; galloped up the streets with the earl's banner in his -hand, and posted himself in the market-place, where he was joined by -Gilbert and several others. John Lyon, suspecting what was intended, -immediately got together a large body of his men, for they were -instructed to be always ready, and ordered them to advance. The moment -Gilbert Matthew and his party saw the white hoods advancing they left -the bailiff and ran off as fast as they could. John Lyon on entering -the market-place, without saying a word, seized the bailiff and slew -him. He then ordered the earl's banner to be dragged through the dirt -and torn to pieces; and, upon seeing this, the men at arms took to -flight and left the town, which the victorious party pillaged as they -pleased. - -After this event, several of the wisest and richest of the citizens in -Ghent, tired of these constant contentions, called an assembly in which -it was debated how they could best make up matters with the earl and -promote the advantage of the town. John Lyon and other leaders of the -white hoods were invited to attend; indeed, without them they would -not have dared to assemble. Many proposals were made, and long debates -ensued; at last, however, it was determined to elect twelve of the -most respectable inhabitants, who should entreat the earl's pardon for -the murder of the bailiff, and endeavor by this means to obtain peace; -but in this peace every person was to be included, and nothing moved in -the business hereafter. - -The resolution was acted upon, and on an appointed day twelve citizens -waited upon the earl, who pleaded their cause so well, and appeared so -contrite that the earl was on the point of pardoning all the outrages -that had been committed, when he received information that the castle -of Andreghien had been burned to the ground. "Burned!" replied the earl -to the messenger who brought the intelligence. "And by what means?" - -"By an accidental fire, as they say," was the reply. - -"Ah! ah!" answered the earl. "Now it is all over; there can never be -peace in Flanders while John Lyon lives." - -Then sending for the deputies from Ghent, he said to them, "Wretches, -you supplicate my pardon with sword in hand. I had acceded to your -wishes and your people have been base enough to burn down my favorite -castle. Was it not sufficient to have murdered my bailiff and trampled -on my banner? Quit my presence directly; and tell the men of Ghent -they shall never have peace until they shall have given up to me to be -beheaded those whom I shall point out." - -The earl was right in his conjecture. It was, indeed, John Lyon and a -refractory band of white hoods under him who, discontented with the -proposal of the assembly, had actually destroyed the beautiful castle -of Andreghien while the deputies were at Male in conference with -the earl. Of course the poor deputies knew nothing of John Lyon's -intention; and, like people perfectly innocent, endeavored to excuse -themselves, but in vain. The earl was now so much enraged that he -would not listen to them, and as soon as they had left he summoned -all the knights of Flanders, and every gentleman dependent on him, to -be advised by them how he could best revenge himself on the people of -Ghent. - -This was the very thing that John Lyon wanted; for the people of Ghent -would now be obliged to make war, whether they liked it or not. He -therefore seized the opportunity, and, having collected the white -hoods, publicly harangued the people, and advised them without delay -to get together all the support from neighboring towns they could, and -make an attack upon Bruges. Such even now was his influence that in a -short time he mustered a very large army, and placing himself at their -head advanced to Bruges, which town was so taken by surprise that after -a short parley at the wicket, the burgomaster and magistrates opened -the gates and the men of Ghent entered. A formal alliance was then -drawn up, which the men of Ghent and Bruges mutually swore to keep, and -to remain forever as good friends and neighbors. - - "Froissart's Chronicles," in World's Great Classics Series. - - -=A Short History of Ilagan= - -The town of Ilagan derived its name from the inverted form of the -Ibanag word _nagaly_, which means "transfer." Why the town was named -Ilagan was the fact that in early times it was moved to its present -location from a plain a few miles away, which is always overflowed by -the annual inundation of the Cagayan river. - -The early inhabitants were well-trained warriors, for they had to -fight with the Igorrotes--a wild head-hunting tribe in the mountains. -Their religion was somewhat similar to Brahmanism, for they worshiped -the crocodile and practiced _anito_ widely. Even after the Spaniards -came to the town, the people were barbarous, and it was only after -the arrival of the Dominicans, about 1689, that civilization began to -spread itself among the people; for these benevolent friars established -schools, converted the pagan inhabitants into Christians, and taught -them better modes of living. - -Although the people seemed to be contented, still it was not very long -until they began to feel the heavy grasp of the iron hand of Spanish -oppression. In 1776 a revolt occurred, and the people in their frenzy -burned the church and nearly all the Spanish residences. The causes of -the revolt were the high rates of taxation and the compulsory public -labor. But the uprising, which spread throughout central Luzon, was -soon quelled, and peace was restored. - -Then followed a period of advancement and progress. The inhabitants -were for about one hundred and thirty years peaceful. During this -long period a new church was finished, in 1787; the town became -the capital of the province, and commerce progressed by leaps and -bounds. But in 1897 when the news of Rizal's execution, which -caused a tide of patriotism to sweep over the land, became known to -the people, they again revolted, but without accomplishing much. -In the Filipino-American war the inhabitants took no active part, -although, owing to the presence of a handful of Tagalog soldiers from -Palanan, then a barrio of Ilagan, where Aguinaldo was captured, some -skirmishing was done in the barrio of San Antonio. - -Ilagan is situated on a three-cornered star-shaped plateau at the -junction of the Pinacanauan and Cagayan rivers, about ninety miles -from Aparri. It is divided into four districts: Bagumbayan, which -occupies the northern corner of the star; Baculod, the eastern corner; -St. Vicente, the southwestern comer, and Central, the center. The -residences of the rich, the municipal and provincial buildings, the -church and the principal European and Chinese business houses are in -the central district; while the farmers, artisans, shoemakers and other -classes of people inhabit the other districts. In the district of St. -Vicente are the ruins of the church burned in 1776. The lot where it -is situated is now overgrown with large trees, and the crumbling brick -wall which formed the background of the church, and is now covered with -moss and vines, remains as a memento of the uprising. - -The inhabitants, being near the Ilocanos, are industrious, and being -far from the Tagalogs are peaceful. But what is to be admired more -than any of their other characteristics is their political belief. -The majority is--I hope it will be always--in favor of the indefinite -retention of the islands by America, the spread of democratic education -among the people, and the speedy development of agriculture. If the -people do not depart from their present policies, the future history of -the town will be one of happiness. - - -_A TRUE RELATION_ - - =Some Incidents of the Rebellion of 1898= - -The Filipino rebellion against Spanish rule really began in the -year 1896, in southern Luzon. The northwestern provinces rebelled -much later, owing perhaps to the lack of communication or to some -disagreement among the leaders of certain districts. I was about eight -years old at the time the war broke out in western Pangasinan and -northern Zambales, and I write from what I saw with my own eyes, and -what was afterwards told me by my parents and older friends. - -About the beginning of the year 1898 the northwestern provinces of -Luzon became restless, seeing that their brothers in Cavite and other -southern provinces were already in the field. The Spaniards grew more -and more uneasy and so a detachment of from fifteen to twenty Spanish -soldiers was placed in each town, in addition to the _guardia civil_, -which was also stationed in the large towns. It must be borne in mind -that in that war no quarter could be expected from either side and all -the prisoners were invariably put to death. So that unusual cruelty -should not be imputed to the common Filipino fighter in the massacres -which he committed. - -Just about the beginning of the year 1898, some time in the month of -January, the people of my town, as well as the neighboring towns, -agreed to massacre the detachment of soldiers in their respective -municipalities. The agreement was kept a great secret, and in my town -at least the Spanish soldiers had not the slightest idea of the fatal -compact. The day decided upon was a certain Monday in February, 1898, -the exact date of which I do not remember. - -Outside the town, in the dead of night, you would find groups talking -in whispers as to the final arrangements, for the chief men would go -to the _barrios_ in the night and hold secret meetings in hidden and -solitary places. In the afternoons you would find men grinding their -long bolos or _talibongs_ in the solitude of their houses. At the same -time you would see the women making trousers and hat-bands of red cloth -for their husbands or brothers. In the meantime the Spaniards had a -vague idea of how things were going on, and becoming rather uneasy, -they ordered a barricade of bamboo to be built around their barracks. -The guardia civil did the same, except that instead of bamboo, they -used big logs, which they made each _principal_ (councilor) give. -But unfortunately the very workmen themselves were rebels, and were -the first ones to strike the blow. I also remember clearly how the -lieutenant and the town friar forbade people to talk in groups of three -or more. So men walked in the streets alone or with only one companion, -not even daring to engage in earnest conversation. Men visited their -friends, going to the back doors at night. - -It must be stated here that in order to get all the able-bodied men to -join the rebellion a form of ceremony was gone through in the case of -every single convert. Certain men who were influential and eloquent -were appointed to do the hard work of conversion. A leader of this -kind had to coax and persuade men singly, at the same time taking care -that the Spanish forces did not hear of his proceedings. After a man -had expressed his willingness to join, he was made to take a solemn -oath, the non-fulfilment of which would bring upon him temporal and -spiritual condemnation. Besides, his arm was pricked with a sharp -knife, and with his own blood he wrote, or else caused to be written, -his name in a large book. This made the ceremony to the new recruit -exceedingly impressive. - -One thing that made men so bold at that time was the belief in the -power of the _anting anting_ (talisman). There were two kinds of -anting anting that were bullet proof. They were made of flour like -sacred bread, except that they were as large in circumference only -as a _peseta_. Some Latin words were printed on them. One kind was -eaten, while the other was placed on the forehead. So after the -town was in the hands of the revolutionists, everybody seemed to be -having a headache, for they all had their foreheads bound around with -handkerchiefs, or more often with red bands of cloth. I must add that -the color of the revolution was red, the sign of blood. I remember that -when we left the town to hide in the country I left my expensive felt -hat, and used a cheap native sombrero with a red band around it. When -the town was again retaken by the Spaniards we tore off all these red -signs and buried them in the ground. - -As I have said, the day agreed upon for the massacre was Monday. -My uncle told me the Spanish soldiers in town heard of the people -in the barrios assembling, but they entirely ignored the danger, -feeling sure that the rebels with bolos would not by any means dare -to cope with their powerful Mausers. My uncle further added that, had -the Spanish been discreet, considering that they were twenty-two in -number, including a lieutenant, besides the town friar, they would -have fortified the convent and would have been able to hold out till -reinforcements from eastern Pangasinan could come. - -On the morning of that fatal day I was in the house of my grandmother, -which was near the plaza where the soldiers had their quarters. I could -not see the whole of the slaughter, for my grandmother when she saw us -looking at the fight, sent us to the cellar, and made us lie there flat -on our stomachs to protect us from spent bullets. - -Early that morning about eight o'clock the guardia civil, hearing that -there was a great crowd of armed men near the town cemetery about a -mile away, went out there. The guardia civil soldiers, who were all -Filipinos, were in league with the movement, but their sergeant was a -Spaniard. When they saw the men near the cemetery and when the sergeant -ordered them to fire, they did not aim at the rebels. But the rebels -instead, thinking that the soldiers had changed their minds, fought in -earnest and killed the guardia civil to a man. - -In the meantime the Spanish soldiers in the town were being massacred. -At the appointed time a workman who was working on the barricade, gave -the guard a blow with his axe, and the guard fell without a groan. Then -the rest of the workmen went up to the barracks with the pretense of -asking for their pay. When the big drum began to beat they seized the -guns and hacked and struck the unarmed soldiers. - -The slaughter was indeed terrible to see. From all the streets of the -town leading to the public square issued hundreds of men all at the -same time. I think I still see those men with red-banded hats shouting -at the top of their lungs, holding and wielding aloft their long -sharp bolos, which as they caught the rays of the morning sun dazzled -our eyes. These men advanced toward the barracks and there finished -the massacre. Some of the Spaniards, deprived of their guns and hard -pressed by the workmen who had gone up to the barracks, jumped down -from the windows; but it was like jumping from the frying pan to the -fire, for they were met by bristling swords and lances. - -Of the twenty-one soldiers, four chanced to be out, two being in the -market, and two being in my uncle's house. On hearing the tumult and -seeing men issue from all the streets and alleys, they ran like mad to -their quarters; but they were all killed before reaching the place. -One of the soldiers had a bayonet slung to his belt, and drawing it he -tried to ward off the blows rained upon him from all sides; but in a -moment a shower of clubs and stones laid him low. Some of the soldiers -fell on their knees and implored for mercy, but the blood of those men, -many of whom had already experienced cruelty and torture under the -Spanish servitude, was boiling with vengeance toward the Spaniards as a -whole people. - -The lieutenant was just going from the convent, where he had his -quarters, to the barracks, and on seeing the hordes of men, he turned -back, ran up in the church steeple, and from there with his revolver -fired shot after shot at the multitude below. Strange to say he hit not -even a man, probably through excitement. The men, seeing him, climbed -up the tower. He surrendered, knelt down and threw away his revolver; -but no quarter was given. He was cut all through and his body was -thrown from the dizzy height of about a hundred and fifty feet to the -ground. His blood, which trickled from the tower down the church wall -may still be seen to this day. - -In the afternoon two native carts full of corpses, their arms and -legs dangling in the air, were all that was left of those twenty-two -_cazadores_. I liked the Spanish soldiers, for they were such jolly, -good fellows, fond of dancing _fandango_ and singing airs of old -Spain. Many of them were mere boys seized and shipped over here from -their unwilling parents. To them the only civilized and good country -was Spain; and they often excited my boyish fancy with exaggerated -descriptions of the wonders of Spain and extravagant tales about its -people. So as the carts passed by our house and I saw the dead, I felt -quite sad, wondering within my childish heart what fault they had -committed to entitle them to such a sad end. - -The town friar, the town tyrant and dictator, had now also come to the -end of his reign. Men who formerly used to kneel to him denounced him -and gave vent to all their accumulated hatred. The friar was sentenced -to death and a few days afterwards was executed outside the town. The -infuriated ignorant people sacked the convent, which at that time -was like a palace. They were so enraged that even the library of the -convent was burned and cut to pieces. A funny incident is connected -with the convent. It was circulated about that on the outbreak of the -disturbance the friar had dropped a large box of silver into one of the -convent wells, of which there were several. A few years after the war -some people began to inquire as to which of the wells the money had -been dropped into; for the American soldiers, on occupying the convent, -filled up some of the wells. Finally there was discovered on the trunk -of a santol tree growing near one of the wells a cross carved in the -wood. People said it was the sign made by the friar to mark the spot, -and henceforth began to dig up the well. They worked for days and days -expecting every moment to find the box, but in vain. As a result of -their over-credulity they expended a good deal of hard labor. - - --Marcelino Montemayor. - - - - -BIBLIOGRAPHY - - -=LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS= - -A. B.--Ariel Booklets (G. P. Putnam's Sons). - -Bohn.--Bohn's Libraries (Geo. Bell, London). - -C. N. L.--Cassell's National Library (Cassell). - -E. L.--Everyman's Library (Dent and Dutton). - -N. U. L.--New Universal Library (E. P. Dutton). - -P. W. C.--Putnam's World's Classics (G. P. Putnam's Sons). - -T. C.--Temple Classics (J. M. Dent). - -W. C.--World's Classics (Oxford University Press). - -W. G. C.--World's Great Classics (Colonial Press). - - -=GENERAL REFERENCE WORKS ON THE HISTORY OF FICTION= - -Dunlop, _History of Prose Fiction_, 2 vols. (Bohn, 1896). - -Ticknor, _History of Spanish Fiction_, revised edition (Boston, 1866). - -Raleigh, _The English Novel from its Origin to Sir Walter Scott_ -(Scribner). - -Cross, _The Development of the English Novel_ (Macmillan). - -Simonds, _An Introduction to the Study of English Fiction_ (Heath). - -Warren, _History of the Novel Previous to the Seventeenth Century_ -(Holt). - -Hamilton, Clayton, _The Materials and Methods of Fiction_, with introd. -by Brander Matthews (The Baker and Taylor Co.) - -Jusserand, _The English Novel in the Time of Shakespeare_ (Putnam). - -Forsyth, _Novels and Novelists of the Eighteenth Century_ (Appleton). - -Matthews, _The Short-Story_ (American Book Co.) - -Jessup and Canby, _The Book of the Short-Story_ (Appleton). - -Canby, H. S., _The Short-Story in English_ (Holt). - -Stoddard, _Evolution of the English Novel_ (Macmillan). - -Tuckerman, _History of English Prose Fiction_ (Putnam). - -In Lanier's _The English Novel_, Whitcomb's _The Study of a Novel_, and -Barrett's _Short-Story Writing_ the criticism is analytical rather than -historical. - - -=CHAPTER I. PRIMITIVE RELIGIOUS GROUP= - -=Myth= - -CRITICAL BOOKS. - -Andrew Lang, _Custom and Myth_ (Longmans). Max Müller, _Chips from -a German Workshop_, vol. II and IV. Max Müller, _Last Essays_, 2nd -series. W. G. Wood Martin, _Traces of the Elder Faiths in Ireland_, 2 -vols. E. B. Tylor, _Primitive Culture_. Laura E. Poor, _Sanscrit and -Its Kindred Literatures_. Jacob Grimm, _Teutonic Mythology_. - -DICTIONARIES - -Fernando Blumentritt, _Dictionario Mitológico de las Filipinas_. -Isabelo de los Reyes, _La Religion Antigua de los Filipinos_. E. C. -Brewer, _Dictionary of Phrase and Fable_ (Altemus). A. S. Murray, -_Manual of Mythology_. - -COLLECTIONS OF MYTHS - -Hawthorne's _Wonder Book and Tanglewood Tales_ (E. L.). The works of -Jeremiah Curtin: _Creation Myths of Primitive America_; _Myths and -Folk-lore of Ireland_; _Myths and Folk-tales of the Russians, Western -Slavs, and Magyars_; _A Journey in Southern Siberia_ [the religion and -myths of the Mongols]. The works of C. M. Skinner: _American Myths -and Legends_, 2 vols; _Myths and Legends of Our New Possessions and -Protectorates_; _Myths and Legends of Our Own Land_, 2 vols.; _Myths -and Legends Beyond Our Borders_. Florence J. Stoddard's _As Old as -the Moon_ [Folk-lore of the Antillas] (Doubleday, Page); _Myths of -the Quichas_. Guerber's _Myths of Greece and Rome_; Bulfinch's _Age -of Fable_; Katherine B. Judson's _Myths and Legends of the Pacific -Northwest_ (McClurg); T. G. Thrum's _Stories of the Menehunes_ (1910). - -=Legend and Saga= - -_The Legends of St. Patrick_, by Aubrey de Vere (C. N. L.); H. A. -Guerber's _Legends of Switzerland_, and _Legends of the Rhine_; Sidney -Lanier's Boys' Library of Legend and Chivalry contains _The Boy's -King Arthur_, _The Boy's Percy_, and _The Knightly Legends of Wales_ -(Scribners); Selma Lagerlöf's _Invisible Links_; Ruskin's _King of the -Golden River_ (A. B.); Canton's _W. V.'s Golden Legend_ (Dodd, Mead); -_Finnish Legends_, stories from the Kalevala, told by Eivind (T. Fisher -Unwin). S. Baring Gould's _Curious Myths of the Middle Ages_ (Longmans) -are really legends. Hawthorne's _Twice Told Tales_ includes a number -of legends. _Mediaeval Tales_ in Morley's Universal Library contains -stories from the _Gesta Romanorum_ and the Faust legend. Nutt's -_Legends of the Holy Grail_. Dr. Whitley Stokes has translated many -of the early Irish sagas (_Revue Celtique_, 1869-1902, and in _Irische -Texte_, 1880-1902). Kipling's _Puck of Pooh's Hill_ [fairy tale and -legend] (Doubleday); Eleanor H. Broadus' _The Book of the Christ Child_ -(Appleton); Van Dyke's _Other Wise Man_ (Harpers) is purely literary. -_The Story of Grettir the Strong_, translated from the Icelandic by -Magnusson and Morris (Longmans); _The Volsunga Saga_, translated by -Magnusson and Morris (Scott); _Beowulf_, translated into modern English -prose, by J. Clark Hall (Sonnenschein); J. Baldwin's _Story of Roland_ -(Scribners); C. D. Wilson's _Story of the Cid for Young People_. _The -Nibelungenlied_ is well translated in the World's Great Classics Series -and contains a good introduction. _Orlando Furioso_, translated by W. -S. Rose (Bohn). _The Mabinogion_, translated by Lady Charlotte Guest -(Nutt); _The Stories of the Ramayana and Mahabharata_, told by Oman -(Bohn). An English translation of the _Shah Nameh_ may be found in -Oriental Literature (W. G. C.). - -=Fairy Tale and Nursery Saga= - -Collectors have not distinguished carefully between fairy tales and -nursery sagas. Many of the collections cited as fairy tales contain -nursery sagas. A general term often used to include both is folk-tales; -Tolstoy has re-done several of the Russian folk stories, which may -be found in _Twenty-three Tales from Tolstoy_, translated by L. & F. -Maude (W. C.). T. G. Thrum's _Hawaiian Folk-Tales_; F. H. Cushing's -_Zuñi Folk-Tales_ (Putnam); Blue, Red, Green, Gray, Yellow, Pink, -Violet, Crimson, and Brown Fairy Books, edited by A. Lang (Longmans). -_The Fairy Library_ (Putnam), collected and edited by Joseph Jacobs, -contains English, Celtic, Indian, East Indian, Persian, Chinese, South -Sea Island, African, and Japanese fairy tales. W. R. S. Ralston's -_Russian Fairy and Folk Tales_ (Hurst); _English Fairy and Folk Tales_, -edited by E. S. Hartland (Scott); _Scottish Fairy and Folk Tales_, -edited by Sir Geo. Douglas (Scott); _Irish Fairy and Folk Tales_, -edited by W. B. Yeats (Scott); Grimm's _Household Tales_ in any of the -good editions (E. L., Lippincott, Bohn); Hans Christian Andersen's -_Fairy Tales_ (E. L.). Burt's Fairy Library includes among others -_Cossack Fairy Tales_, _Russian Fairy Tales_, _Turkish Fairy Tales_. -_Fairy Gold_, stories chosen by E. Rhys (E. L.). Thomas Keightley's -_Fairy Mythology_ (Bohn) is a standard reference work. Alfred Nutt's -_Fairy Mythology of Shakespeare_ (1900). - - -=CHAPTER II. SYMBOLIC-DIDACTIC GROUP= - -=Fable= - -Thomas Newbigging's _Fables and Fabulists_ (New York), critical and -historical discussion of writers of the type. - -Fables in the Bible, Judges 9:8-15; II Kings 14:9. _Kalilah and -Dimnah_, or the _Fables of Bidpai_: an historical account with -a translation into English, by Keith Falconer (London, 1885); -_Hitopadesa_ (The Book of Good Counsels), translated by Sir Edwin -Arnold: Oriental Literature, vol. III (W. G. C.), also in N. U. -L.; Aesop's _Fables_ (Astor Library, Crowell; P. W. C.); _Fables_ -of Phaedrus, translated into prose and verse (Bohn); La Fontaine's -_Fables_ (T. C., Bohn); Iriarte's _Literary Fables_ (first publ. 1782), -English version by Rockliffe, 3rd edition, 1866; Gay's _Fables_, in -Muses Library (Dutton); Richard Steele's _Mastiff and His Puppy_ -(Tatler, No. 115); _Kriloff and His Fables_, translated by J. R. S. -Ralston (J. S. Ogilvie, N. Y.); _Turkish Fables_ [46 in number], -translated by Epiphanius Wilson: Turkish Literature (W. G. C.). - -=Parable= - -R. C. Trench, _Notes on the Parables of Our Lord_. - -Parables of the Bible: II Samuel 12:1-4; 14:5-7; I Kings 20:39-40; -Isaiah 5:1-6; 28:23-28; Matthew 13:4-7, 24-33; 18:23-35; 20:1-16; -21:33-41; 22:1-14; 25:1-13; 26:14-30, 31-46. - -For a summary of _Barlaam and Josaphat_, see Dunlop's History of -Fiction, vol. I, pp. 64-77. - -Hamilton W. Mabie's _Parables of Life_. A number of the stories in -_Twenty-three Tales from Tolstoy_ (W. C.). - -=Allegory= - -James Baldwin's _The Famous Allegories_ (Silver, Burdett); Olive -Schreiner's _Dreams_; Oscar Wilde's _Poems in Prose_, (Fortnightly -Review, 1894), also in Ideal Series of Little Masterpieces; _Everyman, -and eight other Moralities_ (E. L.); Henry Van Dyke's _Blue Flower_ -(Scribners); Hawthorne's _Twice Told Tales_ and _Mosses from an Old -Manse_ (Houghton). Alfred de Musset's _Story of a White Blackbird_ -(Brentano) is a unique and daring autobiographical allegory. - - -=CHAPTER III. INGENIOUS-ASTONISHING GROUP= - -=Tale of Mere Wonder= - -Meredith's _Shaving of Shagpat_ (Bozhill edition); Stevenson's _New -Arabian Nights_, and _More New Arabian Nights_ (Scribners); H. W. -Weber's _Tales of the East_, 3 vols. (Edinburgh, 1812); Dandin's -_Hindoo Tales_ (London, 1873); S. Julien's _Nouvelles Chinoises_ -(Paris, 1860). _History of the Forty Vezirs_, Turkish tales translated -by Epiphanius Wilson: Turkish Literature, pp. 361-460 (W. G. C.). -_Egyptian Tales_, translated by W. F. Petrie: Egyptian Literature, -pp. 135-177 (W. G. C.). _Moorish Tales_, translated by Rene Basset, -Chauncey Starkweather, and others: Moorish Literature (W. G. C.). -_Tales of the Genii_, translated from the Persian by Sir Charles -Morell (Bohn); _Arabian, Nights' Entertainments_, edited by Stanley -Lane-Pool, in 6 vols. (A. B.), or in 4 vols. (Bohn); _The Golden Ass_, -by Apuleius (Bohn). - -=Imaginary Voyage With a Satiric or Instructive Purpose= - -Lucian 's _Trips to the Moon_ (C. N. L. No. 71); More's _Utopia_ (T. -C.); Bacon's _New Atlantis_ (Bohn); Barclay's _Argenis_, English -translation by Sir R. Le Grys, 1629; Swift's _Gulliver's Travels_ -(T. C.). For Swift's obligations to previous writers, see article -by Borkowsky in "Anglia," vol. 15. F. C. Sibbern (1785-1872), a -Scandinavian writer, wrote "Contents of a MS. of the year 2,135." _The -Adventures of Baron Munchausen_, by Rudolphe Eric Raspe (P. W. C.); -_Robinson Crusoe_, in Defoe's Works, vol. 7 (Bohn). - -For summaries of the imaginary voyages of Lucian, Holberg, Cyrano de -Bergerac, Berkeley, and others, see Dunlop _History of Prose Fiction_, -vol. II, pp. 518-538, 588-591, 619-622 (Bohn, revised edition, 1896). - -=Tale of Scientific Discovery and of Mechanical Invention= - -H. G. Wells's stories and novels are good examples of the -pseudo-scientific tale. His imaginary voyages are not without gentle -satire on the learned theories of the day (Scribners, Harpers, -Century). "With the Night Mail; a Story of 2000 A. D.," by Rudyard -Kipling (Doubleday, 1909); _The Mystery_, by Stewart Edward White and -Samuel Hopkins Adams. Most of the short stories of this type mentioned -in the discussion can be found in the collections of short stories (see -below). - -=The Detective Story and Other Tales of Mere Plot= - -Among the earliest detective stories and stories of crime belong -Charles Brockden Brown's _Edgar Huntley_ and _Arthur Mervyn_ (Works, -Philadelphia, 1877); Edgar Allan Poe's famous detective stories have -been mentioned in the text. Emile Gaboriau (1835-1873) popularized the -story of crime in France. M. Lecoq is a direct forerunner of Sherlock -Holmes. His _Works_ are published (in English translation) in 6 vols. -A. Conan Doyle's _Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_, _Memoirs of Sherlock -Holmes_, _The Return of Sherlock Holmes_, _The Sign of the Four_, -_A Study in Scarlet_, _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, etc., are -worth reading. Anna Katherine Green surely does not lack popularity -whatever else she may lack. Her earlier stories are better than her -later, with the exception of _The Filigree Ball_, which is perhaps her -best. Meredith Nicholson's _House of a Thousand Candles_ has a good -mysterious plot. The works of Rodriguez Ottolengui (Putnam). For other -stories of pure plot see writers mentioned in bibliography to Chapter -VI. - - -=CHAPTER IV. THE ENTERTAINING GROUP= - -=Tale of Probable Adventure= - -_Tales of Daring and Danger_, by G. A. Henty; F. H. Spearman's _Held -for Orders_; _Tales of Railroad Life_ (McClure), _Nerve of Foley and -other Railroad Stories_ (Harpers); Cy Warman's _The Last Spike and -Other Railroad Stories_ and _The Express Messenger_ (Scribners); -Stewart Edward White's _Blazed Trail Stories and Stories of the Wild -Life_ (Doubleday). Many of R. L. Stevenson's tales. - -=The Society Story= - -This is the type of the larger number of love tales in current -periodicals. When well done under certain restrictions of length and -development a narrative of this kind rises to the class of the artistic -short-story. - -Pastoral Romance--_Aucassin and Nicolette_, translated by Andrew -Lang (Chiswick Series); _Greek Romances of Heliodorus, Longus, and -Achilles_ Tatius (Bohn); Cervantes' _Galatea_ is a typical example. It -is published in English translation in Bohn's Libraries. Montemayor's -_Diana_ is summarized rather fully in Dunlop II, pp. 365-376. For -Sidney's pastoral see E. A. Baker's edition of the _Countess of -Pembroke's Arcadia_. Lodge's _Rosalind_ (C. N. L.). For historical -criticism of the type, see E. K. Chambers' _English Pastorals_ (Warwick -Library), W. W. Greg's _Pastoral Poetry and Pastoral Drama_, 1906, and -J. B. Fletcher's _The Pastoral_ (Types of English Literature, Houghton -Mifflin & Co.). - -=The Humorous Story= - -As in the case of the society story, the best collections of humorous -stories are the cheaper current magazines. - -Fableaux--A. de Montaiglon et G. Raynaud, _Receuil général et complet -des fabliaux des XIIIe et XIVe siecles_, Paris, 1872-88, 6 vols. See -Dunlop, _History of Fiction_, vol. II, p. 23 et seqq. - -Picaresque romances--_Romances of Roguery_, by F. W. Chandler, 2 vols., -1899, is the standard book of criticism of the type. For the picaresque -romances themselves, see Petronius Arbiter's _Satyricon_, English -translation (Bohn); Apuleius' _Golden Ass_, English translation (Bohn). -English translations of _Lazarillo de Tormes_, by Roscoe, and _Guzman -d'Alfarache_, by Brandy, can be obtained from Lemcke and Buechner -(N. Y.). _Gil Blas_, 2 vols. (W. C.); Smollett's _Roderick Random_, -_Peregrine Pickle_, _Ferdinand_, _Count Fathom_, in works, edited by -Saintsbury (London, 1895); Fielding's _Jonathan Wild_, in works, edited -by Saintsbury (London, 1893); Thackeray's _Barry Lyndon_ (Macmillan); -E. W. Hornung's _Amateur Cracksman_ (Tauchnitz) and _Further Adventures -of the Amateur Cracksman_. - -=The Occasional Story= - -_Christmas Stories from the French and Spanish_, translated by -Antoinette Ogden (McClurg, 1892). E. E. Hale's _In His Name_, and -_Christmas Stories_ (Library edition); Stockton's _The Christmas -Wreck_ (Scribners); Dickens' _Christmas Books and Stories_, 2 vols. -(Houghton); Thackeray's _Christmas Books_ (Macmillan). The source of -the nineteenth century emphasis of Christmas festivities in English was -Irving's _Christmas Sketches_. _Unter dem Christbaum_ (Heath) contains -five Christmas stories by Helene Stökl. - - -=CHAPTER V. THE INSTRUCTIVE GROUP= - -=The Moral Story= - -Edgeworth's _Stories for Children_ (Bohn), _Moral Stories_ (Tauchnitz), -_Murad the Unlucky_ (C. N. L.); _Gesta Romanorum_ (P. W. C., Bohn); -_Forty Tales from the "Decameron"_ (Morley's Universal Library); -_Rasselas_, by Samuel Johnson (P. W. C., A. B., Burt); Voltaire's -_Tales_ (Bohn); Cervantes' _Novelas Ejemplares_, translated into -English by W. K. Kelly (Bohn); _Essays and Tales_, from Addison (C. -N. L.); _Essays and Tales_, from Steele (C. N. L.); _Twenty-three -Tales_, from Tolstoy (W. C.); Hawthorne's _Twice Told Tales_ -(Houghton). Leopoldo Alas's _Cuentos Morales_ (in Spanish), and Emilia -Pardo-Bazán's _Novelas Ejemplares_ (also in Spanish). - -=The Pedagogical Commentary and Story= - -Pestalozzi's _Leonard and Gertrude_ (Heath); Ascham's _Scholemaster_ -(Heath); Machiavelli's _Prince_ (Oxford, W. C.); Thomas Elyot's _The -Boke Named the Governour_, edited by Croft, 2 vols. (London, 1883); -Ascham's _Toxophilus_ (Arber's Reprints); Walton's _Compleat Angler_ -(editions innumerable); Castiglione's _Courtier_; Froebel: _The Mottoes -and Commentaries of Froebel's Mother Play_ (Appleton). - -=The Story of Present Day Realism= - -Kipling's _Life's Handicap_ and _Plain Tales from the Hills_ -(Doubleday); William Carleton's _Traits and Stories of the Irish -Peasantry_, edited by D. J. O'Donoghue, 4 vols. (London and New York, -1896); Edgeworth's _Castle Rackrent and Other Irish Tales_ (A. B.); -O. Henry's _Trimmed Lamp and Other Stories of the Four Million_; B. -Matthew's _Vignettes of Manhattan_ (Harper); W. D. Howells' _A Modern -Instance_ (Houghton), _The Lady of the Aroostook_, _The Rise of Silas -Lapham_, etc.; Israel Zangwill's _Children of the Ghetto_ (Macmillan); -Upton Sinclair's _The Jungle_ (1906); Jacob A. Riis's _Children of the -Tenements_; Henry James' _Daisy Miller_ (Harpers). Count Tolstoy's -method is always realistic, although his types are extremely varied; -see _A Russian Proprietor and Other Stories_ (Crowell). In method at -least, most of the stories of Bret Harte, Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, -and Hamlin Garland are of this type. In his _Kriegsnovellen_ (Berlin, -1899) Detlev von Liliencron gives vigorous and sincere pictures of the -Franco-German war, though he sees with the eye of the poet and selects -his material. - - -=CHAPTER VI. THE SHORT STORY= - -=Collections of Short Stories= - -Stories by American Authors, 10 vols. (Scribners). - -Stories by English Authors, 9 vols. (Scribners). - -Stories by Foreign Authors, containing works from the French, German, -Italian, Russian, Scandinavian, Spanish, Polish, Greek, Belgian, -Hungarian, 10 vols. (Scribners). _Tales from "Blackwood,"_ 2 vols. -(Tauchnitz). _Masterpieces of Fiction_, 8 vols. (Doubleday, Page). -_American Short Stories_, edited by Charles S. Baldwin (Wampum Library -of American Literature). A selection of the _World's Greatest Short -Stories_, edited by Sherwin Cody (World's Best Series). _The Short -Story_, by Brander Matthews (American Book Co.), contains twenty-three -short stories. _The Book of the Short Story_, by Jessup and Canby -(Appleton), contains eighteen representative examples. For bibliography -of other collections of the short stories of the world, see lists at -the ends of the chapters in Jessup and Canby. - -=The Psychological Weird Tale= - -E. A. Poe's _Prose Tales_, 3 vols. (Illustrated Sterling edition). The -Odd Number Series contains Maupassant's _Odd Number_. Mary E. Wilkins' -_The Wind in the Rose-Bush_, and other _Stories of the Supernatural_ -(1903); Irving's _Tales of a Traveller_, 2 vols. (A. B.); _Modern -Ghosts_, edited by G. W. Curtis (Harpers, 1890). - -GOTHIC ROMANCE AS SOURCE. Horace Walpole's _Castle of Otranto_ (C. N. -L. No. 10); Clara Reeve's _The Old English Baron_ (C. N. L., No. 127); -Mrs. Radcliffe's _Italian, Romance of the Forest_, and _Mysteries -of Udolpho_ (London, 1877); Lewis's _The Monk_ (Phila., 1884); Mrs. -Shelley's _Frankenstein_ (Routledge's Pocket Library). Peacock -satirized the school of terror and other forms of romance in _Nightmare -Abbey_ (E. L.), and _Crotchet Castle_ (C. N. L. No. 56). - -=Miscellaneous Short-Story Writers of Europe and America= - -SPAIN - - Pedro Antonio de Alarcon (1833-1891). - Leopoldo Alas (1852-1901). - Emilia Pardo-Bazán (b. 1851). - Gustavo Adolfo Becquer (1836-1870). - Vicente Blasco Ibañez (b. 1867). - Fernán Caballero (1796-1877). - Benito Pérez Galdós (b. 1845). - Antonio de Trueba (1819-1889). - Juan Valera y Alcalá Galiano (b. 1824). - Armand Palacio Valdes (b. 1853). - Antonio Maré. - -FRANCE - - Edmond About (1828-1885). - Honoré de Balzac (1799-1850). - Paul Bourget (b. 1852). - François Coppee (b. 1842). - Alphonse Daudet (b. 1840). - Gustav Droz (b. 1832). - Alexandre Dumas the Elder (1806-1870). - Alexandre Dumas the Younger (1824-1895). - Emile Erckmann (1822-1899) and Alexandre Chatrian (1826-1890). - Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880). - Theophile Gautier (1811-1872). - Paul Margueritte (b. 1860). - Ludovic Halévy (b. 1834). - Guy de Maupassant (1850-1893). - Prosper Mérimée (1803-1870). - Alfred de Musset (1810-1851). - Eugene Marcel Prévost (b. 1862). - George Sand [pseud. of Mm. Dudevant] (1804-1876). - Julien Viaud ("Pierre Loti") (b. 1850). - Emile Zola (b. 1840). - -GERMANY - - Berthold Auerbach (1810-1882). - Rudolf Baumbach (b. 1840). - Adelbert von Chamisso (1781-1881). - Gustav Freytag (1816-1895). - Wilhelm Hauff (1802-1827). - Paul Heyse (b. 1830). - Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann (1776-1822). - Leopold Kompert [Austrian] (1822-1886). - Detlev von Liliencron (b. 1844). - Johann Karl August Musäus (1735-1787). - Joseph Victor von Scheffel (1826-1886). - Theodor Storm (1817-1888). - Hermann Sudermann (b. 1857). - J. Ludwig Tieck (1773-1853). - Johann Heinrich Daniel Zschokke (1771-1848). - -RUSSIA - - Alex. Bestiezheff (1797-1837). - Nicolai V. Gogol (1809-1852). - Alex. Poushkin (1802-1837). - A. Pyeshkoff ["Gorky"] (b. 1868). - A. P. Tchéhoff (1860-1904). - Lyof N. Tolstoi (1828-1910). - Ivan Turgenev (1818-1883). - -SCANDINAVIA - - Björastjerne Björnson (b. 1832). - Juhani Aho. - Frederika Bremer (1801-1865). - Meyer Aaron Goldschmidt [Danish] (1819-1887). - Alex. Lange Kielland (b. 1849). - Selma Lagerlöf (b. 1858). - Hans Christian Andersen [Danish] (1805-1875). - -ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, IRELAND, UNITED STATES - - Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1907). - James Matthew Barrie (b. 1860). - H. C. Bunner (1855-1896). - George W. Cable (b. 1844). - William Canton (b. 1845). - William Carleton (1794-1869). - Samuel L. Clemens [Mark Twain] (1835-1910). - Wilkie Collins (1824-1889). - Richard Harding Davis (b. 1864). - Charles Dickens (1812-1870). - A. Conan Doyle (b. 1859). - Maria Edgeworth (1767-1849). - Edward Eggleston (1837-1902). - Mary Ann Evans [George Eliot] (1819-1880). - Hamlin Garland (b. 1860). - Edward Everett Hale (1822-1909). - Joel Chandler Harris (b. 1848). - Thomas Hardy (b. 1840). - Francis Bret Harte (1839-1902). - Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864). - Anthony Hope Hawkins (b. 1863). - William Dean Howells (b. 1837). - Washington Irving (1783-1859). - Henry James (b. 1843). - Sarah Orne Jewett (b. 1849). - Rudyard Kipling (b. 1865). - Charles J. Lever (1806-1872). - Jack London (b. 1876). - Samuel Lover (1791-1868). - James Brander Matthews (b. 1852). - George Meredith (1828-1909). - Mary N. Murfree [Charles Egbert Craddock] (b. 1850). - Fitz-James O'Brien (1828-1862). - Thomas Nelson Page (b. 1853). - Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849). - Charles Reade (1814-1884). - Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894). - F. Hopkinson Smith (b. 1838). - Frank B. Stockton (1834-1902). - Louise de la Ramée ["Ouida"] (d. 1909). - Harriet Beecher Stowe (1812-1896). - William Makepeace Thackeray (1811-1862). - Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward (b. 1844). - John Watson [Ian Maclaren] (1850-1907). - Edith Wharton (b. 1862). - Mary E. Wilkins Freeman (b. 1862). - - -=CHAPTER VII= - -=Incident= - -Many well-told and interesting incidents are found in the -correspondence of the letter-writers whose works are indicated below. - -_The Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson_, 2 vols. (Scribners); _The -Letters of Thomas Gray_, 2 vols. (Bohn); _Cowper's Letters_, edited -by E. V. Lucas (W. C.); _Lady Montagu's Letters_ (E. L.); _Letters -and Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle_, by J. A. Froude, 2 vols. -(Scribners); _Letters of Charles Lamb_, 2 vols. (E. L.); _Letters of -Mme. de Sévigné_ (In French--Paris, 1844); _Life and Letters of George -Eliot_, by J. W. Cross, 2 vols. (Crowell); _Matthew Arnold's Letters_, -collected by George W. E. Russell (Macmillan); _Darwin's Life and -Letters_, 2 vols. (Appleton); _Letters of Robert Browning and Elizabeth -Barrett Browning_, with notes by R. Barrett Browning and F. G. Kenyon, -2 vols. - -=Anecdote= - -Spence's _Anecdotes_: a selection (Scott Library); _Johnsoniana_, -edited by J. Wilson Croker (Philadelphia, 1842); _The Percy Anecdotes_, -by Reuben and Sholte Percy (Warne: London); _The Jest Book_, by Mark -Lemon (Cambridge, 1865); _Anecdotes of Samuel Johnson_, by Hester Lynch -Poizzi (C. N. L. No. 106); _Familiar Anecdotes of Sir Walter Scott_, by -James Hogg (Harpers, 1834). - -=Eye-Witness Account= - -Eye-witness accounts may be found in autobiographies, memoirs, letters, -travel sketches, diaries and journals, and some true relations. (See -bibliography of these types.) - -=Tale of Actual Adventure= - -J. Burroughs's _Camping and Tramping with President Roosevelt_ -(Houghton); H. W. G. Hyrst's _Adventures in the Great Deserts_; -Hakluyt's _Voyagers' Tales_ (C. N. L., No. 23); _Library of Universal -Adventure by Sea and Land_, including the original narratives and -authentic stories of personal prowess and peril in all waters and -regions of the globe from the year 79 A. D. to the year 1888 A. D., -compiled and edited by William Dean Howells and Thomas Sergeant Perry -(Harper, 1893). - -=The Traveler's Sketch= - -Mandeville's _Voyages and Travels_ (C. N. L.); Marco Polo's _Voyages -and Travels_ (Bohn); Captain Cook's _Voyages of Discovery_ (E. L.); -_Travels of Mungo Park_ (E. L.); Hakluyt's _Voyages_, 8 vols. (E. -L.); Darwin's _Voyage of the Beagle_ (E. L.); Fielding's _Journal of -a Voyage to Lisbon_ (W. C.); Smollett's _Travels through France and -Italy_ (W. C.); Borrow's _Bible in Spain_ (E. L.) and _Wild Wales_ -(E. L.); Bayard Taylor: _Library of Travel_, 6 vols.; W. D. Howells's -_Italian Journeys and London Films_; Henry James's _Little Tour in -France_; F. Hopkinson Smith's _White Umbrella in Mexico_; H. M. -Stanley's _In Darkest Africa_ and _How I Found Livingstone_; Lafcadio -Hearn's _Gleanings in Buddha-fields_ and _Glimpses of Unfamiliar -Japan_; W. E. Curtis's _Between the Andes and the Ocean_ and _Egypt, -Burma, and British Malaysia_. For Western travel and adventure in -America between 1748 and 1846, see _Early Western Travels_, 32 vols. -(A. H. Clark & Co. Cleveland, 1904). A tour through the island of -Luzon in 1800 is charmingly recorded by Joaquin Martinez y Zuñiga in -his _Estadismo de las Islas Filipinas_, ed. by W. E. Retana (Madrid). -An English translation under the title _An Historical View of the -Philippine Islands_ was issued at London in 2 vols. 1814 (printed for -J. Asperne). A breezy artist-sketch, written with the purpose only to -please and to satirize, is Heine's _Die Harzreise_ (American Book Co.). - - -=CHAPTER VIII= - -=Journal and Diary= - -John Evelyn's _Diary and Correspondence_ (E. L., Bohn); Amiel's -_Journal Intime_, translated by Mrs. Humphrey Ward. 2 vols. -(Macmillan); Mme. D'Arblay's _Diary and Letters_, edited by her -niece, with preface and notes by Austin Dobson, 6 vols. Samuel Pepys's -_Diary and Correspondence_ (Globe edition); Fielding's _Journal of a -Voyage to Lisbon_ (W. C.); Hesdin's _Journal of a Spy in Paris during -January-July, 1794_ (Harpers, 1896); Swift's _Journal to Stella_ (N. -U. L., Bohn); _Journal of the Reigns of George III and William IV_, -by Charles C. F. Greville. 3 vols. (Longmans). Gideon Welles' _Diary_ -(_Atlantic Monthly_, 1909-1910); John W. Audubon's _Western Journals_ -1849-1850 (A H. Clark, Cleveland). - -=Autobiography and Memoirs= - -J. S. Mill's _Autobiography_ (Holt); Benvenuto Cellini's -_Autobiography_ (E. L.); _Autobiography_ of Franklin (P. W. C., A. B.); -Helen Keller's _Story of My Life_ (Doubleday); Gibbon's _Autobiography_ -(W. C.); Herbert Spencer's _Autobiography_, 2 vols. (Appleton). -Joseph Jefferson's _Autobiography_. A good collection of memoirs and -autobiography is the Colonial Press's _Classic Memoirs_, 3 vols. (W. G. -C.). J. H. Newman's _Apologia pro Vita Sua_ (N. U. L.); De Quincey's -_Confessions of an Opium-Eater_ (E. L.); St. Augustine's _Confessions_ -(E. L.). - -=Biography= - -_Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay_, by G. O. Trevelyan (Longmans); -_History of Carlyle's Life_, by J. A. Froude (Longmans); _Life of -Shakespeare_, by Sidney Lee. _Life of Sir Walter Scott_, by J. G. -Lockhart, 5 vols. (Macmillan); _Life of Johnson_, by James Boswell, -edited by Geo. Birkbeck Hill, 6 vols. (Cambridge); _Lives of the -Poets_, by Samuel Johnson, edited by G. B. Hill (Cambridge); J. -Forster's _Life of Dickens_, 2 vols. (Scribners), _Life of Goldsmith_ -(Stokes); Gaskell's _Life of Charlotte Bronte_ (Crowell); Goldsmith's -_Biographies_, vol. IV of collected works (Bohn); Lockhart's _Life of -Burns_ (E. L.); Southey's _Life of Nelson_ (Bohn); Hazlitt's _Life of -Napoleon_, 6 vols. (Illust. Cabinet Ed.); Macaulay's _Life of Johnson_ -(Heath); Carlyle's _Life of John Sterling_ (W. C.); Carlyle's _Life of -Frederick the Great_, 8 vols. (Scribners). - - -=CHAPTER IX= - -=Notable Histories= - -Grote's _History of Greece_, 12 vols. (E. L.); Green's _Short History -of the English People_ (American Book Co.). _History of the English -People_, 4 vols. (Burt); Macaulay's _History of England_, 3 vols. (E. -L.); Hume's _History of England_, 6 vols. (Harper); Machiavelli's -_History of Florence_ (W. G. C.); Gibbon's _Decline and Fall of -the Roman Empire_, 7 vols. (W. C.); Motley's _Rise of the Dutch -Republic_, 3 vols. (E. L., W. C.); Sismondi's _Italian Republics_ (E. -L.); Hallam's _Middle Ages_ (W. G. C.); Prescott's _Works_, 14 vols. -(Lippincott); Parkman's _Works_, 12 vols. (Library edition); J. A. -Symond's _Renaissance in Italy_, 7 vols. (Holt); Carlyle's _French -Revolution_, 2 vols. (E. L.). - -=Annals= - -Tacitus's _Annals_ (E. L.); _Annals of English History_, by Roger de -Hoveden, 2 vols. (Bohn). _Anglo-Saxon Chronicle_, with an English -translation by Richard Price: in the "Monuments Historica Britannica" -(1848). Voltaire's _Annales de l'Empire_ was first published in 1753-4. -It has been translated into English. - -=Chronicles and True Relations= - -_Chronica Jocelini de Brakelonda, de rebus gestis Samsonis Abbatis -Monasterii Sancti Edmundi_ (Camden Society, London, 1840). The second -book of Carlyle's _Past and Present_ is based on this old chronicle. -Froissart's _Chronicles_ (E. L.); William of Malmesbury's _Chronicles -of the Kings of England_ (Bohn); _Old English Chronicles_, including -Ethelwerd's Chronicle, Geoffrey of Monmouth's History of the Britons, -Gildas's Chronicle, Nennius's Chronicle, and the spurious Chronicle of -Richard of Cirencester, (Bohn); _Chronicles of the Crusades_, by Lord -John de Joinville (Bohn). - -Ticknor discusses in detail the origin, subjects, and character of the -Spanish chronicles, in his _History of Spanish Literature_, Vol. I. pp. -166-228 (fourth American edition, Houghton, Mifflin & Co.). For account -of early French chronicles see Saintsbury's _Short History of French -Literature_, Book I, chapter XI (Oxford, 1907). - -Blair and Robertson's _The Philippine Islands, 1493-1898_, in 55 -vols. (A. H. Clark Co., 1905) contains many early Spanish relations -translated into English. Among the notable ones are Loarca's _Relacion_ -(vol. 5), Chirino's _Relacion_ (vols. 12-13), Morga's _Sucesos_ (vols. -15-16), Medina's _Historia de la Orden de S. Agustin_ (vols. 23-24). - - - - -INDEX - - - Abbott, Jacob (1803-1879), 364. - - _Abou Ben Adhem_, 102. - - Actual adventure, Tale of: 512-513; characteristics, 512; directions - for writing, 513. - - Addison, Joseph (1672-1719), 86, 115, 347. - - _Address of the Soul to the Body_, 115. - - Ade, George (b. 1866), 86. - - _Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_, 225. - - Adventures; see Probable adventure; Actual adventure. - - Aesop (619?-564 B. C.), 83-84. - - Aikin, John, M. D. (1747-1822), 116. - - Aitken, George, 371. - - Alberich, 46. - - Aldrich, T. B. (1836-1907), 301. - - Alfred the Great, (848-901), 532 - - Alfonso the Wise (1221-1284), 627. - - _Alice in Wonderland_, 67. - - Allegory: 112-120, 154, 345; defined, 112, 117; combined with myth, - 113-114; distinguished from myth, 6; distinguished from parable, - 116; how to write, 117-118; distinguished from fable, 117. - - _Amateur Cracksman_, 301. - - _Ambitious Guest_, 346, 459. - - _Ameto_, 275. - - Amiel, Fréderic (1821-1881), 558. - - _Among the Corn Rows_, 427. - - Ana, 491-492; defined, 491. - - _Andreas_, 24. - - _Andvari_, 46. - - Anecdote: 490-496, 302, 371; compared with legend, 25; defined, 490, - 492; how to write an, 493. - - _Anecdotes_ (Percy's), 492. - - _Anecdotes_ (Spence's), 492. - - Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 614. - - Annals: 613-616; defined, 613-614; suggestions on material, 615. - - _Annales Ecclesiastici_, 614. - - _Annales et Historia de Rebus Legicis_, 614. - - _Annals_ (Goethe's), 612. - - _Annals of the Parish_, 612. - - _Annals of Scotland_, 614. - - _Apologia pro Sua Vita_ (Newman's), 574. - - _Apology for My Life_ (Cibber's), 573. - - _Apparition, The_, 401. - - _Arabian Nights, The_, 129. - - _Arcadia_ (Sannazaro), 274. - - _Arcadia, Countess of Pembroke's_, 275. - - Aristotle (383-320 B. C.), 84. - - Arthur, King (500?-537?), 24-25. - - _Artist's Secret, The_, 114. - - Ascham, Roger (1515-1568), 361-362. - - _As You Like It_, 275. - - _Atlantic Monthly_, 118, 560. - - _Aucassin and Nicolette_, 274. - - Austen, Jane (1775-1817), 372, 456, 457. - - Autobiography: 572-575; distinguished from memoirs, 572; suggestions - for writing, 574-575. - - _Autobiographical Leaves_, 573. - - Audubon, John James (1780-1851), 512. - - _Autobiography of Cellini_, 573. - - _Autobiography of De Quincey_, 574. - - _Autobiography of Franklin_, 574. - - Ayala, Pedro Lopez de (1332-1407), 626-627. - - - _Barlaam and Josaphat_, 23. - - Barclay, Alexander (1475?-1552), 115. - - _Baron Munchausen_, 153. - - Baronius, 614. - - Barrie, J. M. (b. 1860), 301. - - Beast epics, 88. - - _Belinda_, 430. - - _Berenice_, 400. - - Bergerac, Cyrano de (1619-1655), 151, 153, 154. - - Berkeley, George (1685-1753), 151. - - _Beowulf_, 23. - - Berners, Lord (1467-1533), 626. - - Bestiaries, 85, 115. - - _Bible_, 3, 103, 116. - - Bibliography, 648-660. - - _Biographical Sketches_, 593. - - Biography: 590-595; beginnings of English literary biography, 591; - great biographies in English, 591-592; special characteristics, - 592-593; outline for, 594-595. - - Björnson, Björnsterne (b. 1832), 456. - - _Black Pearl, The_, 225. - - _Blue Bird, The_, 119. - - _Blue Flower, The_, 114. - - Boccaccio, Giovanni (1313-1375), 85, 275, 299, 346. - - Boileau, Nicolas (1636-1711), 131. - - Borrow, George (1803-1881), 531. - - Boswell, James (1740-1795), 492, 591. - - _Branch Road, A_, 427. - - Brentano, Clemens (1778-1842), 48. - - Bronté, Charlotte (1816-1855), 431. - - Brooke, Henry (1703-1783), 363. - - Brown, Charles Brockden (1771-1810), 399. - - Browning, Robert (1812-1889), 481. - - _Brut, The_, 24. - - Buddha (6th century B. C.), 23. - - Bunyan, John (1628-1688), 115. - - Burney, Frances (1752-1840), 560. - - Burton, F. R. (b. 1861), 225. - - Byron, Lord (1788-1824), 456. - - - Cable, G. W. (b. 1844), 301. - - Caesar, Julius (100-44 B. C.), 491. - - _Candide_, 347. - - Canton, William (b. 1845), 314. - - _Captain Singleton_, 256. - - _Career of Farthest North, The_, 301. - - Carlyle, Jane Welsh (1801-1866), 481. - - Carlyle, Thomas (1795-1881), 492, 613. - - Castiglione, Baldasarre (1478-1529), 362. - - _Castle of Indolence, The_, 116. - - _Castle of Otranto, The_, 398-399. - - Catherine II (1729-1796), 572. - - Caxton, William (1422-1491), 24. - - _Celestial Railroad, The_, 117. - - Cellini, Benvenuto (1500-1571), 573. - - Cervantes (1547-1616), 275, 347. - - Changelings, 47. - - _Chanson de Roland, The_, 23. - - "Character," The, 430. - - Character-environment story: 426-432. - - Character-events story: 455-460. - - Charles V (1500-1558), 570. - - Chatterton, Thomas (1752-1770), 513. - - Chaucer, Geoffrey (1340-1400), 115, 130, 300, 346, 627. - - Chesterton, G. K. (b. 1874), 67. - - _Chinese Tales_, 129. - - Chirino, Pedro, 629. - - Chivalry, Tales of, 131. - - Christmas, 314. - - Chronicles: 626-629; defined, 626. - - _Chronicles of the Schönberg-Cotta Family_, 612. - - _Chroniques de France, etc._, 626. - - Cibber, Colley (1671-1757), 573. - - Cicero, Marcus Tullius (106-43 B. C.), 490, 491. - - _Cid, The_, 23. - - Cinderella, 65, 66, 67. - - Clavijo, Ruy Gonzales de (15th century), 558-559. - - Clemens, Samuel Langhorne ['Mark Twain'] (1835-1910), 299. - - _Cloister and the Hearth, The_, 561. - - _Cockowe and the Nightingale, The_, 115. - - Collins, William (1721-1759), 116. - - _Complaint of Papingo, The_, 115. - - _Comus_, 3. - - _Confessions of an English Opium-Eater_, 574. - - _Conquest of Mexico_, 613. - - Coppee, Francois (b. 1842), 456. - - _Country of the Pointed Firs, The_, 299. - - _Court of Love, The_, 115. - - _Courtier, The_, 362-363. - - Cowper, William (1731-1800), 86, 481. - - _Coverley Papers, de_, 430. - - Craik, Dinah Maria (née Mulock) (1826-1887), 48. - - _Cranford_, 430. - - Croesus (fl. 560 B. C.), 83. - - _Crucial Instances_, 456. - - _Curse of Kehama, The_, 152. - - Curtis, W. E. (b. 1850), 533. - - Cynewulf, 24. - - - _Daisy Miller_, 372. - - Dana, R. H., Jr. (1815-1882), 533. - - Dante (1265-1321), 85. - - Daudet, Alphonse (b. 1840), 456. - - _Daphnis and Chloe_, 274. - - Darwin, Charles Robert (1809-1882), 533. - - Davis, Richard Harding (b. 1864), 274. - - Day, Thomas (1748-1789), 364. - - _Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_, 613. - - Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731), 151, 152, 154, 371, 561. - - Deities-- Egyptian, 8; Filipino, 12-13; Finnish, 11; Greek, 7; - Hindoo, 9-10; Norse, 12; Roman, 7; Russian, 11. - - _De Jocis Ciceronis_, 491. - - Delena (scribe to John II of Spain), 500-501. - - De Quincey, Thomas (1785-1859), 574. - - _Descent of Man_ (Wharton), 456. - - Detective story: 225-228; relation to tales of ingenuity, 225; - suggestions for writing, 227. - - Dialect, 301, 429. - - _Diamond Lens, The_, 197. - - _Diana_, 275. - - Diary: 533, 557-561; defined, 557; distinguished from journal, 557; - great diaries and their characteristics, 560; suggestions on - writing, 561. - - _Diary of Mme. D'Arblay_ [Fanny Burney], 560. - - _Diary of Evelyn_, 560. - - _Diary of Gideon Welles_, 560. - - _Diary of Pepys_, 560. - - Dickens, Charles (1812-1870), 314, 501. - - _Discourager of Hesitancy, The_, 226. - - _Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_, 114. - - Dodsley, Robert (1703-1764), 86. - - _Domestic Annals Of Scotland_, 614. - - Douglass, Frederick (1817-1895), 512. - - Douglas, Gawain (1474?-1522), 115. - - Doyle, A. C. (b. 1859), 225. - - Drake, Alexander Wilson (b. 1843), 199. - - _Dream_, 115. - - _Dream of the Rood, The_, 115. - - Dunbar, William (1465-1530), 115. - - - Easter, 314. - - Edgeworth, Maria (1767-1849), 346, 364. - - Elbegast, 46. - - _Elder Edda_, 23. - - Eliot, George (1820-1881), 456, 457. - - _El Passo Honroso_, 500-501. - - _Emile_, 363. - - _Emma_, 430. - - _England's Mourning Garment_, 275. - - _Euphues_, 362. - - _Evelina_, 430. - - Evelyn, John (1620-1706), 560. - - _Everyman_, 113. - - Eye-witness account: 499-503; defined, 499; methods of writers of - the, 501-502; suggestions on writing, 502-503. - - - Fable, 83-89, 345; distinguishing characteristics, 87-88; kinds of - fables, 87-88; defined, 87; origin, 83-84; distinguished from - allegory, 117. - - _Fables in Slang_, 86. - - Fableaux, 299-300. - - _Faerie Queene_, 113. - - Fairies: characteristics of, 44, 45, 46, 47; Northern, 46, 50; Irish, - 51; Scotch, 51; Filipino, 51-53; Russian, 53; Arabian, 54; Malayan, - 46; Miscellaneous, 54-55. - - Fairy tale: 43-50; characteristics of, 43; distinguished from nursery - sagas, 48; directions for writing, 49; defined, 50. - - _Fall of the House of Usher, The_, 399-400. - - _Father, The_, 456. - - Faust, legend of, 25. - - _Ferdinand and Isabella_, 613. - - Fielding, Henry (1707-1754), 398, 431, 531, 533, 534, 558. - - Firdousi [Abul Kasim Mansur] (c. 940-1020), 23. - - FitzGerald, Edward (1809-1883), 482. - - Fletcher, Phineas (1582-1650?), 115. - - _Flower and the Leaf, The_, 115. - - Fontaine, Jean de la (1631-1697), 85. - - _Fool of Quality, The_, 363. - - Forster, John (1812-1876), 592. - - _Frank_, 364. - - Franklin, Benjamin (1706-1790), 102, 573. - - Frederick the Great (1711-1786), 572. - - Freeman, Mary E. Wilkins (b. 1862), 301, 372, 397, 402, 420, 427, 429. - - Fremont, J. C. (1813-1890), 558. - - _French Revolution_, 613. - - Froebel, Friedrich Wilhelm August (1782-1852), 364. - - Froissart, Jean (1337-1410), 626. - - - _Galatea_, 275. - - Galt, John (1779-1839), 612. - - Garland, Hamlin (b. 1860), 427-428. - - Gaskell, Mrs. [Elizabeth Stevenson] (1810-1865), 592. - - _Gate of the Hundred Sorrows, The_, 426. - - _Gaudentio de Lucca_, 151. - - Gay, John (1685-1732), 86. - - _General Chronicle of Spain_, 628. - - Geoffrey of Monmouth (12th century), 24, 628. - - _Gesta Romanorrum_, 346. - - Gibbon, Edward (1737-1794), 572, 613. - - _Gil Blas_, 301. - - Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von (1749-1832), 612. - - _Gold Bug, The_, 226-227. - - _Golden Legend, The_, 24. - - _Golden Targe, The_, 115. - - Goldsmith, Oliver (1728-1774), 86, 592. - - Gondemar, 46. - - Gothic romances, 398-399; characteristics of, 399. - - Gray, Thomas (1716-1771), 481. - - _Great Stone Face, The_, 114. - - _Greater Inclination, The_, 456. - - Green, J. R. (1837-1883), 612. - - Greene, Robert (1560?-1592), 275. - - _Grettir the Strong_, 23. - - Grimm, Jacob (1785-1863), 66. - - Grimm, Wilhelm (1786-1859), 66. - - _Griselda_, 346. - - Grote, George (1794-1871), 613. - - Grotius, 614. - - _Gulliver's Travels_, 151, 154. - - _Guzman de Alfarache_, 300. - - - Hailes, Sir David Dalrymple, Lord (1726-92), 614. - - Hakluyt, Richard (1553-1616), 629. - - Halévy, L. (b. 1834), 456. - - Hall, Bishop Joseph (1574-1656), 430. - - Hallam, Henry (1777-1859), 613. - - _Hand, The_, 401. - - Harris, J. C. (b. 1848), 301. - - Harte, Bret (1839-1902), 314, 428. - - Hawes, Stephen (?-1523?), 115. - - Hawthorne, Nathaniel (1804-1864), 3, 114, 116, 117, 346, 397, 459, - 593. - - Henryson, Robert (15th century), 86. - - Heroes of nursery sagas: 66, 67-68; of legends, 22, 27. - - Heroic romances, 131. - - Hesdin, Raoul, 558. - - _Hildebrand_, 23. - - _Hill of Science, The_, 116. - - _Historia Britonum_, 24. - - _History of England_ (Macauley's), 613. - - _History of Orosius_, 532. - - _History of the English People_, 613. - - _History of the States and Empires of the Moon_, 151. - - _Hitopadesa_, 84-85. - - Holberg, Ludwig (1684-1754), 151. - - Holinshed, Ralph (died about 1580), 628. - - Holmes, C. W. (1809-1894), 197. - - Hook, Theodore (1788-1841), 591. - - _House of Fame, The_, 115. - - Howells, W. D. (b. 1837), 370, 371, 372, 373, 512. - - Humorous story: 299-302; relation to _fableau_ 299; relation to - picaresque romance, 300; relation to comic anecdote, 302. - - Hunt, Leigh (1784-1859), 102. - - _Hunter, The_, 114. - - - Ibsen, Heinrich (1828-1906), 119. - - Igorots, 3. - - Imaginary voyage: 150-154; characteristics, 150; suggestions on how - to write, 153-154. - - Incident: 480-482; defined, 480; distinguished from eye-witness - account, 480. - - _Incident of the French Camp, An_., 481. - - Ingelow, Jean (1830-1897), 48. - - _Insurgent, The_, 456. - - Irving, Washington (1783-1859), 26, 397. - - _Italian Republics_, 613. - - _Italian, The_, 398. - - _Italian Renaissance_, 613. - - _Ivan the Fool_, 68. - - _Ivanhoe_, 227. - - - _Jack and the Beanstalk_, 66, 67. - - _Jack the Giant Killer_, 65, 66, 67. - - Jacobus de Voragine (13th century), 24. - - James, Henry (b. 1843), 371, 372, 373, 533. - - Jewett, Sarah Orne (b. 1849), 299. - - John of Damascus (b. at end of 7th century; died c. 760?), 23. - - Johnson, Samuel (1709-1784), 116, 347, 491, 492, 533, 590, 591. - - Johnes, Thomas, 626. - - _Jonathan Wild_, 301. - - Journal: 533, 557-561; defined, 557; distinguished from diary, 557; - great journals and their characteristics, 558; suggestions on - writing, 561. - - _Journal Intime_, 558. - - _Journal of the Plague_, 561. - - _Journal of a Spy in Paris. A_, 558. - - _Journal to Stella_, 558. - - _Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, A_, 558. - - _Journey of a Day, The_, 116. - - _Journey to the Western Isles, A_, 533. - - _Jumping Frog, The_, 299. - - _Jungle Book, The_, 86. - - - Keats, John (1795-1821), 3, 314. - - _King Hart_, 115. - - Kingsley, Charles (1819-1875), 48. - - Kipling, Rudyard (b. 1865), 48, 49, 86, 397, 426. - - Kriloff (1768-1844), 86. - - - _Lady Eleanor's Mantle_, 346. - - _Lady of the Aroostook, The_, 372. - - _Lady or the Tiger, The_, 226. - - Lagerlöf, Selma (b. 1858), 26. - - Langland, W. (14th century), 114. - - Laurin, 46. - - Layamon (fl. 1200), 24. - - _Lazarillo de Tormes_, 300. - - Legend: 22-28; defined, 28; compared with myth, 6, 22; myth-legend - or saga, 22-23; saint legends, 23; legends of growth, 25; legends - of art, 26-27; legend compared with anecdote, 25; legends about - places, 26; legends about persons, 24-25, 131. - - Legendary Romance, 24-25. - - _Le Grand Cyrus_, 131. - - _Leonard and Gertrude_, 361. - - Letters, 481, 533. - - Lewis, Matthew (1775-1818), 399. - - _Library of Universal Adventure_, 512. - - _Life of Beau Nash_, 592. - - _Life of Burns_, 592. - - _Life of Byron_, 592. - - _Life of Charlotte Bronte_, 592. - - _Life of Dickens_, 592. - - _Life of Goldsmith_, 592. - - _Life of Johnson_ (Macaulay's), 592. - - _Life of Macaulay_, 592. - - _Life Magnet, The_, 197. - - _Life of Napoleon_, 592. - - _Life of Nelson_, 592. - - _Life of Samuel Johnson_ (Boswell's), 492, 591. - - _Life of Savage_, 590, 591. - - _Life of Scott_, 591. - - _Lives of the Poets, The_, 590, 591. - - Loarca, Miguel de, 629. - - Lockhart, J. G. (1794-1854), 592. - - Lodge, Thomas (1558?-1625), 275. - - Loomis, Charles Battell (1861-1911), 301. - - Lover, Samuel (1791-1868), 301. - - Lowell, James Russell (1819-1891), 482. - - Lucian (125?-210?), 84, 151. - - Lyly, John (1554?-1606), 362. - - Lyndesay, Sir David (1490-1555?), 115. - - - Mabie, Hamilton (b. 1846), 314. - - Macaulay, T. B. (1800-1859), 590, 592, 613. - - Machiavelli (1469-1527), 613. - - Maclaren, Ian [Reverend John Watson] (b. 1850), 301. - - Macpherson, James (1738-1796), 513. - - _Madam How and Lady Why_, 48. - - Madison, James (1751-1836), 558. - - Maeterlink, Maurice (b. 1862), 119. - - _Mahabharata, The_, 22. - - Malory, Thomas (15th century), 24-25. - - _Man Who Would be King, The_, 426. - - _Man without a Country, The_, 26. - - Mandeville, Sir John (14th century), 151, 532. - - Märchen, 48, 65-69. - - Marie de France (12th century), 84, 130. - - _Markheim_, 400. - - Marlowe, Christopher (1564-1593), 558. - - _Mary Barton_, 430. - - _Masque of the Red Death, The_, 400. - - _Mateo Falcone_, 456. - - Matthews, Brander (b. 1852), 396n, 401. - - Maupassant, Guy de (1850-1893), 395, 397, 456, 458. - - Memoirs: 572-575; distinguished from autobiography, 572; suggestions - for writing, 574. - - _Memoirs of a Cavalier, The_, 256. - - _Memoirs of My Life and Writings_ (Gibbon's), 572. - - _Menaphon_, 275. - - _Merchant of Venice, The_, 23. - - Meredith, George (1828-1909), 129. - - Merimée, Prosper (1803-1870), 456. - - Metternich, Prince von (1773-1859), 572. - - _Middle Ages_, 613. - - Milton, John (1608-1674), 3. - - Mirabeau, Comte de (1749-1791), 572. - - _Mirror for Magistrates, A_, 115. - - _Mogol Tales_, 129. - - "Molière" [pseud. of John Baptiste Poquelin] (1622-1673), 131. - - _Monk, The_, 399. - - _Monk's Tale, The_, 627. - - Montaigne, Michel Eyquem (1533-1592), 558. - - _Montcalm and Wolfe_, 613. - - Montemayor, Jorge de (d. 1561), 275. - - Montepolitiano, Barthelemi (15th century), 491. - - Moore, Thomas (1779-1852), 86, 592. - - _Mopsa the Fairy_, 48. - - Moral story, 345-348; distinguished from symbolic-didactic group, - 345; purpose defined, 345-346. - - _Morall Fables of Æsop the Phrygian_, 86. - - Morga, Dr. Antonio de, 629. - - _Morte d'Arthur_, 24. - - _Mother Plays_, 364. - - Motley, John (1814-1877), 613. - - _Muhammad Din_, 426. - - Mulock, Miss, _see_ Craik. - - _Murad the Unlucky_, 346. - - _Murders in the Rue Morgue, The_, 225. - - _Mystery of Marie Rogêt, The_, 225-226. - - _Mysteries of Udolpho, The_, 398. - - Myths: 1-15; classes of, 1; Igorot myths, 3; how to collect, 4-5; how - to compose, 5-6; distinguished from allegory, 6; distinguished from - legend, 6, 22; defined, 7. - - - _Necklace, The_, 456. - - Nennius, (fl. 796?), 24. - - _New Atlantis_, 153. - - _New Arabian Nights_, 129. - - _New England Nun, A_, 426. - - _New Heloise_, 363. - - Newman, J. H. (1801-90), 573. - - _Nibelungenlied_, 23. - - _Niel Klim's Underground Journey_, 151. - - _Northanger Abbey_, 457. - - Novel, 430-431; manners, 430; psychological problem novel, 431. - - _Novelas Ejemplares_, 347. - - _Novelist's Allegory, The_, 118. - - Nursery saga: 65-69; origin, 65; distinguishing elements, 66-68; - defined, 69. - - - _Oak and the Reed, The_, 85. - - Oberon, 46. - - O'Brien, Fitz-James (1828-1862), 197, 401. - - Occasional story, 313-315; spirit of the, 313, 314; suggestions for - writing, 314. - - Ohthere, 532. - - _Old English Baron, The_, 398. - - _One Hoss Shay, The_, 197. - - _Orlando Furioso_, 23. - - Osborne, Dorothy (1627-1695), 481. - - _Other Wise Man, The_, 26. - - _Outcasts of Poker Flat, The_, 428. - - Overbury, Thomas (1581-1613), 430. - - - Page, Thomas Nelson (b. 1853), 301. - - _Palace of Honor, The_, 115. - - Paltock, R. (1697-1767), 152-153. - - _Panchatantra_, 84-85. - - _Pandosto_, 275. - - _Panther, The_, 115. - - _Paradise Lost_, 3. - - _Paradise of Fooles_, 115. - - Parable: 101-103; contrasted with fable, 101; defined, 103; - characteristics, 101-102; suggestions on writing, 103; - distinguished from allegory, 116-117. - - Parkman, Francis (1823-1893), 613. - - _Parlament of Foules, The_, 115. - - Parnell, Thomas (1679-1718), 115. - - _Passions, The_, 116. - - _Pastime of Pleasure, The_, 115. - - Pastoral romance, 274-276. - - Pedagogical narrative: 48, 361-365; characteristics, 361, 363. - - _Peer Gynt_, 119. - - Pellico, Silvio (1788-1854), 572. - - Pepys, Samuel (1633-1703), 560. - - Percy (anecdote writers), 492. - - Peri, 47. - - Perry, T. S., 512. - - _Persian Tales_, 129. - - Pessimism, 347. - - Pestalozzi, Johann Heinrich (1745-1827), 361, 365. - - _Peter Schlemihl_, 114. - - Petrarch, Francesco (1304-1374), 85. - - Petronius Arbiter (d. 62), 300. - - Phædrus (time of Nero), 85. - - _Phantom 'Rickshaw, The_, 401. - - Philippines, 3, 46, 629. - - _Phoenix, The_, 115. - - Picaresque romance, 300-301, 371. - - _Piers Plowman_, 114. - - _Pilgrim's Progress, The_, 113, 115. - - _Pit and the Pendulum, The_, 399. - - Planudes, 84. - - Plasencia, Juan de la, 629. - - Plato (427-347 B. C.), 3, 4, 84, 113-114, 491. - - Pliny the Elder (23-79), 512. - - Plot, Tales of Pure, 225-8. - - Plutarch (46?-120?), 3, 84. - - Poe, E. A. (1809-1849), 225-226, 395, 396, 397, 399, 400. - - _Poems in Prose_, 114. - - _Poems on the Naming of Places_, 481. - - Poggio, Gian Francesco (1380-1459), 85, 491. - - Polo, Marco (1254-1324), 151, 532. - - Pope, Alexander (1688-1744), 86. - - Prescott, W. H. (1796-1859), 613. - - _Pride and Prejudice_, 457. - - _Principal Navigations, Voyages, and Discoveries_, 629. - - Prior, Matthew (1664-1721), 86. - - _Prisoner of Zenda, The_, 227. - - Probable adventure: tale of, 255-257; definition, 256; the writing - of, 256-257. - - Procopius (6th century), 490. - - Proverbs: Armenian to be used for fables, 89-90; to be used for - parables, 103-104. - - _Puck of Pook's Hill_, 48, 49. - - _Purloined Letter, The_, 225. - - _Purple Island, The_, 115. - - Pushkin, A. (1802-1837), 227, 456. - - - Quiñiones, Suero de, 500, 501. - - - Radcliffe, Anne (1764-1822), 399. - - _Ramayana_, 22. - - _Rasselas_, 347. - - Reade, Charles (1814-1884), 458, 561. - - Realism, 370, 371, 372, 373, 457. - - Realism, story of present day: 370-374; elements of, 370-371; - suggestions on types to treat, 373. - - Reeve, Clara (1729-1807), 398. - - Religion, Primitive, 1-2. - - Reporting, 501. - - _Republic, The_, 113. - - _Return of the Private, The_, 427. - - _Revelation, The_, 116. - - _Revolt of Mother, The_, 429. - - _Reynard the Fox_, 85. - - Rhyme in nursery sagas, 66, 67, 68. - - Ribeyro, Bernardino (fl. 1500), 275. - - Richardson, Samuel (1689-1761), 398, 431. - - _Rise of the Dutch Republic_, 613. - - _Rip van Winkle_, 26. - - _Robin and Makyne_, 86. - - _Robinson Crusoe_, 151, 152, 256, 481. - - _Roderick Random_, 301. - - _Rollo Books, The_, 364. - - Romance, 114, 130-131, 227. - - _Romance of the Forest, The_, 398. - - _Romaunt of the Rose, The_, 115. - - Roosevelt, Theodore (b. 1858), 533. - - _Rosalynd_, 275. - - _Rosamond_, 364. - - Rostand, Edmond (b. 1862), 86. - - Rousseau, Jean Jacques (1712-1778), 363, 574. - - _Rumpelstiltskin_, 66. - - - Sackville, Thomas (1536?-1608), 115. - - Saga: defined, 22; compared with legend, 22-23; compared with nursery - tale, 65. - - St. Augustine (354-430), 574. - - Saints, legends of, 23-24. - - _Sam Lawson's Fireside Stories_, 299. - - _Sandford and Merton_, 364. - - Sannazaro, Jacopo (1458-1530), 274-275. - - Sardou, Victorien (b. 1831), 225. - - _Saturday Evening Post_, 301. - - _Satyricon_, 300. - - Saxo Grammaticus (fl. 12th century), 628. - - Schiller, Johann Friedrich (1759-1805), 613. - - _Scholemaster, The_, 361-362. - - School of Terror, 398-399. - - Scientific discovery, tale of: 194-199; origin, 194; differentiated - from imaginary voyage, 195-196; essential elements, 196; - suggestions for writing, 197-199; humor in, 199. - - Scott, Sir Walter (1771-1832), 456, 457. - - Scrap-books, 458-459. - - Schreiner, Olive (b. 1862), 114. - - Scudéri, Mme. de (1607-1701), 131. - - _Secret History of the Court of Justinian_, 490. - - Selden, John (1584-1654), 491. - - _Shah Nameh_, 22. - - Shakespeare, (1564-1616), 23, 275, 628. - - _Shaving of Shagpat, The_, 129. - - Shaw, G. B. (b. 1856), 67, 257. - - _Ship of Fooles, The_, 115. - - Short-story, the artistic: 395-398; elements analyzed, 396, 497; - compared with romance and novel, 395-396; kinds of, 397. - - _Shot, The_, 456. - - Sidney, Sir Philip (1554-1586), 275. - - _Siege of Berlin, The_, 456. - - Sismondi (1773-1842), 613. - - Skeat, Walter William, 115n. - - Smollett, Tobias (1721-1771), 398, 531. - - _Snow Storm, The_, 227. - - Society story: 273-277; defined, 274; compared with pastoral romance, - 274-275; suggestions for writing, 276-277. - - Socrates (469-399 B. C.), 84, 491. - - Southey, Robert (1774-1843), 152, 592. - - Spence, Joseph (1699-1768), 492. - - Spenser, Edmund (1552-1599), 115. - - _Spider's Eye, The_, 197. - - _Squire's Tale, The_, 130. - - Staël-Holstein, Mme. de (1776-1817), 572. - - Stanley, Sir Henry M. (1841-1904), 256, 533. - - Steele, Richard (1672-1729), 86, 347. - - Stevenson, R. L. (1850-1894), 114, 129, 256, 397, 400, 482, 533. - - Stockton, F. R. (1834-1902), 197, 301. - - _Stories of the Supernatural_, 402. - - Stow, John (1525-1605), 614-615. - - Stowe, Harriet Beecher (1812-1896), 299, 346, 347. - - _Substitute, The_, 456. - - Supernatural elements, 67-68. - - _Survey of London_, 615. - - Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745), 151, 558. - - Symonds, J. A. (1840-1893), 613. - - - Taal volcano, eruption of, 512, 513n. - - _Table Talk_, 491. - - Tacitus, Caius Cornelius (fl. about 75-120), 6. - - _Tamburlane_, 558-559. - - _Tartar Tales_, 129. - - Tarnkappe, 46. - - Taylor, Bayard (1825-1878), 533. - - _Temple of Glass, The_, 115. - - _Tennessee's Partner_, 428. - - Terror, School of, 398-399. - - Thackeray, W. M. (1811-1863), 314, 466, 458. - - Theocritus (fl. 3rd century B. C.) 275. - - _Thirty Years' War_, 613. - - _Thistle and the Rose, The_, 115. - - Thomson, James (1700-1748), 116. - - Tiberius (45 B. C.-37 A. D.), 85. - - Ticknor, George (1791-1871), 500n. - - Tolstoy, Count Leo (1828-1910), 26, 68, 102, 119, 347, 373. - - _Tom Tit Tot_, 66. - - _Toxophilus_, 362. - - _Transferred Ghost, The_, 226. - - Traveler's sketch, 530-534; defined, 530. - - _Travels of Marco Polo_, 532. - - _Treasure Island_, 256. - - Trevelyan, Sir George Otto (b. 1838), 592. - - _Tristram Shandy_, 430. - - Trollope, Anthony (1815-1882), 431. - - _True History_, 151. - - _True relation of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal_, 371. - - True relations, 629; distinguished from chronicle, 629. - - _Turkish Tales_, 129. - - Twain, Mark [pseud. of Samuel L. Clemens]. _See_ Clemens. - - _Two Years Before the Mast_, 533. - - - _"Uncle Remus" stories_, 86. - - _Uncle Tom's Cabin_, 346. - - _Uplondish Mous and the Berger Mous_, 86. - - _Up the Coolly_, 427. - - _Utopia_, 153. - - - _Van Bibber, and Others_, 274. - - Van Dyke, Henry (b. 1852), 26, 114, 314, 626n. - - _Venetian Glass, The_, 401. - - _Vicar of Wakefield, The_, 430. - - _Vida del Gran Tamurlan_, 558-559. - - _Views Afoot_, 583. - - Virgil (70-19 B. C.), 275. - - _Vision of Er, The_, 4, 113-114. - - _Vision of Mirza, The_, 115. - - _Volsunga Saga, The_, 23. - - Voltaire, F. Arouet de (1694-1778), 347. - - _Voyage and Travaille_, 532. - - _Voyage in Italy, A_, 558. - - _Voyage of Peter Wilkins, The_, 152. - - _Voyage of the Beagle, The_, 533. - - _Voyages Imaginaires_, 150, 256. - - - Walpole, Horace (1717-1797), 398, 491. - - _Walpoliana_, 491. - - _Waltharilied_, 23. - - Walton, Isaac (1593-1683), 362-363. - - Wandering Jew, legend of the, 26. - - Waverley Novels, 456. - - Weird tale: 49, 398-402; origin, 398; material and method, 402; form, - 402; suggestions for writing, 401-402. - - Welles, Gideon (1802-1878), 560. - - Wharton, Edith (b. 1862), 456. - - _What is It? a Mystery_, 401. - - _What Men Live By_, 26, 102. - - Wiggin, Kate Douglas (b. 1857), 301, 314. - - Wilde, Oscar (1856-1900), 114. - - _William Wilson_, 400. - - _Wind in the Rose Bush, The_, 401, 402. - - _Without Benefit of Clergy_, 426. - - Wilkins, M. E.; see Freeman. - - _Wonder Book_, 3. - - Wonder, tales of mere: 6, 25, 128, 129-132, 346, 398; defined, 129; - suggestions for writing, 129-131; contrasted with folk tales, 129. - - Wordsworth, William (1770-1850), 481. - - Wulfstan, 532. - - - Xenophon (435 B. C.), 491. - - - Yeats, William Butler (b. 1865), 46, 301. - - _Youth's Companion_, 256. - - _Ysopet_, 84. - - - Zeus, 2. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] According to Skeat. - -[2] Friend, don't poke your nose into another's business which you -don't understand. - -[3] A Tagalog word meaning husk; but here it is used as an adjective -husky, and signifies a political party. - -[4] The Magic Reciprocals, or Harmonic Responses, were discovered by -Gustavus Frankenstein, and are properly drawn in color. The following -are extracts from letters received from Mr. Frankenstein, to whom the -author is indebted for the drawing which appears at the beginning of -this story: "Tomorrow morning I shall send them. They are most lovely. -They are halos, if ever there was a halo. So wonderfully magical are -they that I think thou wilt modify thy language, and perhaps say -that Frankenstein produces halos almost, if not quite, to the very -perfection. Why, they seem to dazzle and bewilder like the very sun -itself. They do not actually emit light, but they look like the soul of -light. More like beautiful thoughts are they, spirits of loveliness, -than like anything tangible." ... "I was a long time working out -the mathematical problem of the perfectly balanced and completely -symmetrical circular harmonic responses; and then the drawings were -executed with the greatest care as to perfect precision and accuracy." -... "The little round white spot in the center imparts an animating -expression to the whole Response; and now, as I write, it occurs to me -very forcibly that the whole Response looks something like--and very -much like--the iris of the eye, and the little round spot in the center -is the pupil. If the iris were all iris, having no pupil in the center, -it would appear expressionless and not vividly suggestive of the soul -of life. The spot in the center may be looked upon as the tangible -existence or thing which is the source of the surrounding halo. Again: -The true and complete Response--the mathematical assertion--has the -animating spot in the center." - -[5] I follow M. Gaston Paris's spelling of the word. - -[6] This is a translation of a Tagalog prose version. The episode -of the story appears in metrical form as a beggar's song among the -Pampangos. - -[7] "Vailima Letters," I., p. 147, quoted by Matthews. - -[8] _Caballos_, horses; _Caballeros_, gentlemen. - -[9] See Ticknor's History of Spanish Literature--Volume 1, page 204. - -[10] In the interest of the unusual I can not refrain here from -personal reference. As I sit writing this notice of Pliny and old -Vesuvius, my house continues being shaken every few minutes by one of -the most prolonged series of earthquakes known to science, according -to the report of our famous observatory chief, the Jesuit, Father -Jose Algue. Taal volcano, fifty miles from Manila, is now in violent -eruption, January 29. The microseismographs by 9:15 last night had -already recorded one hundred and seventy-two shocks in five minutes -less than twenty-four hours, and the shaking still goes on, while a -party of scientists from the government bureau is preparing to visit -the spot. There should surely be material for a story in that trip. - -[11] The reigning _Capitan_ (town President). - -[12] Van Dyke's Introduction to Froissart's Chronicles (Colonial Press). - - - - -Transcriber's Note - -Variable spelling and hyphenation have been retained. Minor punctuation -inconsistencies have been silently repaired. - -Corrections - -p. xvii - - The Expatriation of Jonathan Trantor - The Expatriation of Jonathan Taintor - -p. 9 - - They overturn trees, destoy whole forests - They overturn trees, destroy whole forests - -p. 49 - - From these lists pick our the being - From these lists pick out the being - -p. 81 - - When she was a hundred yards from the shehperd's cottage, - When she was a hundred yards from the shepherd's cottage, - -p. 90 - - 9. Before Susan had done princking, church was over. - 9. Before Susan had done prinking, church was over. - -p. 101 - - we have such statements are these: - we have such statements as these: - -p. 130 - - or at the murmuring of a secret phase. - or at the murmuring of a secret phrase. - -p. 149 - - Juan asked him magical ring to give him - Juan asked his magical ring to give him - -p. 177 - - for his wife kept on retching so constanty that - for his wife kept on retching so constantly that - -p. 184 - - by the appearance of a scawny young man - by the appearance of a scrawny young man - -p. 213 - - through the frosted window and the feathery snow, such a vision of - lovliness - through the frosted window and the feathery snow, such a vision of - loveliness - -p. 259 - - bow would be drawn nor quarel - bow would be drawn nor quarrel - -p. 274 - - but it is not the hard, toil-beleagured life of - but it is not the hard, toil-beleaguered life of - -p. 284 - - of taking my gold sleeve bottons - of taking my gold sleeve buttons - -p. 323 - - the faithful fellow went off to the café which he frequentel - the faithful fellow went off to the café which he frequented - -p. 377 - - at Jourdain's, the inkeeper who dealt in horses - at Jourdain's, the innkeeper who dealt in horses - -p. 425 - - After much fumbling in the darkness he placed in Ivan't hands - After much fumbling in the darkness he placed in Ivan's hands - -p. 433 - - But how had be managed to see that polo ball? - But how had he managed to see that polo ball? - -p. 460 - - the tarnished furniture, the ugly curtains; deficienices which would - the tarnished furniture, the ugly curtains; deficiencies which would - -p. 475 - - the governor delivered a short spech of welcome - the governor delivered a short speech of welcome - -p. 483 - - retreating before the Prussian army, had bivoucked near a town - retreating before the Prussian army, had bivouacked near a town - -p. 549 - - the little Turks come out and laugh it him. - the little Turks come out and laugh at him. - -p. 629 - - If differs from journal and diary - It differs from journal and diary - -p. 677 - - _Peirs Plowman_, 114. - _Piers Plowman_, 114. - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TYPES OF PROSE NARRATIVES *** - -***** This file should be named 64210-0.txt or 64210-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/2/1/64210/ - -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. 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margin-right: 2%; margin-top: 1%; margin-bottom: 1%; text-align: left;} -ul {list-style-type: none;} -li { list-style-type: none; } - } - </style> - </head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Types of Prose Narratives, by Harriott Ely Fansler</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Types of Prose Narratives</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>A Text-Book for the Story Writer</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Harriott Ely Fansler</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 04, 2021 [eBook #64210]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: MFR, Eleni Christofaki and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TYPES OF PROSE NARRATIVES ***</div> - -<div class="transnote"><h3>Transcriber's note.</h3> - -<p>A list of the changes made can be found <a href="#Transcribers_Note">at the end of the book</a>. -</p></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1>TYPES OF PROSE NARRATIVES</h1> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="center"><big>TYPES OF PROSE -NARRATIVES</big></p> - -<p class="center p2">A TEXT-BOOK FOR THE -STORY WRITER</p> - -<p class="center p4">BY</p> - -<p class="center">HARRIOTT ELY FANSLER</p> - -<p class="center">Assistant Professor of English in the University of the<br /> -Philippines. Formerly Instructor in English<br /> -in Western Reserve University<br /> -at Cleveland, Ohio</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illustration.jpg" width="100" height="96" alt="illustration" /> -</div> - -<p class="center p4">CHICAGO</p> -<p class="center">ROW, PETERSON & COMPANY</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1911,<br /> -Harriott Ely Fansler.</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_v"></a>[v]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE">PREFACE</h2> - -<p>Inspiration for any craftsman lies in the history of -his art and in a definite problem at hand. He feels his -task dignified when he knows what has been done before -him, and he has a starting point when he can enumerate -the essentials of what he wants to produce. He then -goes to his work with a zest that is in itself creative. -There is a popular misconception, especially in the -minds of young people and seemingly in the minds of -many teachers and critics of literature, that geniuses -have sprung full-worded from the brain of Jove and -have worked without antecedents. There could not be -to a writer a more cramping idea than that. It is the -aim of the present volume to help dispel that illusion, -and to set in a convenient form before students of narrative -the twofold inspiration mentioned—a feeling for -the past and a series of definite problems.</p> - -<p>There has been no attempt at minuteness in tracing -the type developments; though there has been the constant -ideal of exactness and trustworthiness wherever -developments are suggested. In other words, this book -is not a scrutiny of origins, but a setting forth of -essentials in kinds of narratives already clearly established. -The analysis that gives the essentials has, of -course, the personal element in it, as all such analyses -must have; but the work is the work of one mind and is -at least consistent. Since I have not had the benefit of -other texts on the subject (for there are none that I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vi"></a>[vi]</span> -know of) and since the inquiry into narrative types -with composition in view is thus made, put together with -illustrations, and published for the first time, it has been -my especial aim to exclude everything dogmatic. As -can readily be seen, the details have been worked out in -the actual classroom. The safe thing about the use of -such a text by other instructors is the fact that they and -their pupils can test the truth of the generalizations by -first-hand inquiry of their own.</p> - -<p>The examples chosen from literature and here printed -are specific as well as typical. They have been selected -not only to illustrate general principles, but for other -reasons as well—some for superior intrinsic worth; some -for historical position; all because of possible inspiration. -But none have been selected as models.</p> - -<p>The themes written by my present and former pupils -are added for the last reason—as sure reinforcement of -the inspiration, as provokers to action. Often students -fail to write because there is held up to them a model, -something complicated and perfect in detail. They feel -their apprenticeship keenly and hesitate to attempt a -likeness to a masterpiece. But, on the other hand, when -they get a glimpse of history and when they see the work -of a fellow tyro, they know that an equally good or even -better result is within their reach and so set to work at -once. The productions of pupils under this historical-illustrative -method, wherever it has been tried, have been -encouraging. Seldom has any one failed to present an -acceptable piece of work. Once in a while a "mistake" -has been made that has reassured a teacher and a class -of the accuracy of the contamination theory—the historical -cross-grafting or counter influence of types; that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vii"></a>[vii]</span> -is, sometimes in the endeavor to produce a theme that -should vary from those he thought the other students -would write, an earnest worker has unconsciously produced -an example of the next succeeding type to be -studied; unconsciously, because hitherto, of course, the -classes have gone forward without a printed text.</p> - -<p>This statement leads to the question, Why publish the -literary examples? Why not merely give the references? -Because school and even town libraries are limited. -Twenty-five card-holders can scarcely get the same -volume within the same week. Besides, the plan I consider -good to insure the pupil's thorough acquaintance -with the library accessible to him and with library -methods and possibilities is quite other than this. This -book is meant as a work-table guide for the student and -as a time-saver for the teacher; hence all the necessary -material should be immediately at hand. The instructor's -concern in the teaching of narrative writing -is just the twofold one mentioned before—to orientate -the young scribbler and to give him a quick and sure -inspiration. After that he is to be left alone to write, -and the fewer the books around him the better.</p> - -<p>The bibliography is added for two other classes of -persons: those who desire to make a somewhat further -and more minute study of type developments, and those -who wish merely to read extensively or selectively in -the works of fiction and history themselves. The list of -books and authors is intended simply to be helpful, not -exhaustive, and consequently contains, with but few exceptions, -only those works that one might reasonably -expect to find in a well-stocked college or city library.</p> - -<p>I confess I hope that some amateur writer out of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_viii"></a>[viii]</span> -college or high school may chance upon the book and be -encouraged by it to persevere. There are many delightful -hours possible for one who enjoys composition, if -he can but get a bit of a lift here and there or a new -impulse to an occasionally flagging imagination. All -but the very earliest literature has been produced thus—namely, -by a conscious writing to a type, with an idea -either of direct imitation, as in the case of Chaucer, who -gloried in his "authorities;" or of variation and combination, -as in the case of Walpole; or of equaling or -surpassing in excellence, as in the case of James Fenimore -Cooper; or of satire and supersedence, as in the -case of Cervantes.</p> - -<p>But to go back to the student themes here presented. -They were written, with the exception of two, for -regular class credit. These two were printed in a college -paper as sophomore work. A number of the -remaining came out in school publications after serving -in the English theme box. All in all, they are -the productions of actual students; from whom, it is -hoped, other young writers may get some help and a -good deal of entertainment. In each case the name of -the author is affixed to his narrative, since he alone is -responsible for the merits and faults of the piece.</p> - -<p>In regard to the Filipino pupils no word is necessary: -they speak for themselves. The work here given as -theirs is theirs. I have not treated it in any way different -from the way I treat all school themes, American -or other. It is everyday work—criticized by the instructor, -corrected by the pupil, and returned to the -English office. The examples could be replaced from -my present stock to the extent literally of some ten,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ix"></a>[ix]</span> -some twenty, some two hundred fold. Naturally, of -course, as is true of all persons using a foreign language, -the Filipinos mistake idiom more often than anything -else, and they write more fluently than they talk; but -there is among them no dearth of material and no lack -of thought. Indeed, the publishers have been embarrassed -by the supply of interesting stories, especially -in the earlier types. The temptation has been to add -beyond the limits of the merely helpful and illustrative -and to pass into the realm of the curious and entertaining. -Regardless of literary quality, Filipino themes -have today an historic value; many of them are the -first written form of hitherto only oral tradition.</p> - -<p>To say to how great an extent a writer and talker -is indebted to his everyday working library is difficult. -Like a sculptor to an excellent quarry, a teacher can -indeed forget to give credit where credit is due, -especially to the more general books of reference such as -encyclopedias and histories of literature—Saintsbury, -Chambers, Ticknor, Jusserand. I would speak of the -"Standard Dictionary," that does all my spelling for me -and not a little of my defining; and the "Encyclopedia -Britannica," which in these days of special treatises is -sometimes superciliously passed over, though it offers in -its pages not only much valuable literary information, -but some of that information in the form of very valuable -literature. Next to these might be placed Dunlop's -"History of Fiction;" and last, particular and occasional -compilations like Brewer's and Blumentritt's, and -criticism like Murray's, Keightley's and Newbigging's. -Then there is the "World's Great Classics Series." Just -how much I owe to these general texts I cannot perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_x"></a>[x]</span> -tell definitely; though I am not conscious of borrowing -where I have not given full credit. As I have said -before, direct treatises on my subject are lacking; so I -shall have to bear alone the brunt of criticism on the -analysis, or the main body of the book. I know of no -one else to blame.</p> - -<p>Grateful acknowledgment is due to my husband, -Dean Spruill Fansler, for long-suffering kindness in -answering appeals to his opinion and for reading the -manuscript, compiling the bibliography, and making the -index. Without his generous help I should hardly have -found time or courage to put the chapters together.</p> - -<p>In justice to former assistant English instructors in -the United States who have successfully followed earlier -unpublished outlines, and to my colleagues in the University -of the Philippines who have been teaching from -the book in manuscript form for nine months, it ought -to be said that, whatever faults the work may have—and -I fear they are all too many—it can hardly be dismissed -as an immature and untried theory.</p> - -<p>If there should be found any merit in the content of -the book in general, I should like to have that ascribed -to the influence of the department of English and Comparative -Literature of Columbia University, where I -had the privilege of graduate study with such scholars -as Ashley Horace Thorndike, William Peterfield Trent -and Jefferson Butler Fletcher.</p> - -<p>My chief material debt is to the publishing firms -who have very courteously permitted the reprinting of -narratives selected from their copyrighted editions.</p> - -<p class="right"> -H. E. F. -</p> - -<p class="center">University of the Philippines, Manila, 1911.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xi"></a>[xi]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="contents"> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">List of Stories</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_xv">xv-xx</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Introduction</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_xxi">xxi-xxvi</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td colspan="2" class="tdc"><b>Part 1. Narratives of Imaginary Events</b></td> -</tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Chapter I. The Primitive-Religious Group</span> </td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1-82</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">I. <span class="smcap">Myth</span>—Classes of myths: primitive-tribal and artificial-literary—Myth -age not a past epoch—How traditional -myths are collected—How original myths are composed—Difference -between myth and allegory, and myth -and legend—Working definition—List of mythological -deities: Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Hindu, Russian, Finnish, -Norse, Filipino—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">II. <span class="smcap">Legend</span>—Myth and legend compared—Saga—Saint -legends—Geoffrey of Monmouth—Legendary romance—Modern -literary legends—How to select and record a -legend of growth—How to write a legend of art—Working -definition—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">III. <span class="smcap">Fairy Tale</span>—Attitude toward fairy stories—Fundamental -characteristics of fairies—Northern fairies and -their attributes—Some literary fairy tales—How to proceed -to write a fairy tale—Summary definition—Partial -lists of fairies of different countries: Northern, Irish -and Scotch, Filipino, Russian, Arabian, and Miscellaneous—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">IV. <span class="smcap">Nursery Saga</span>—Origin—The brothers Grimm—English -nursery sagas—Distinguishing elements: kind of -hero, rhymes, repetition of situation, supernatural element—A -few specific suggestions—Working definition—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Chapter II. Symbolic-Didactic Group</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_83">83-127</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">I. <span class="smcap">Fable</span>—Æsop—Other early fabulists—"Hitopadesa" -and "Panchatantra"—"Reynard the Fox" and bestiaries—Some -more writers of fables—Working definition—Classes -of fables: rational, non-rational, mixed—How -to write an original fable—Maxims upon which fables -may be built—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xii"></a>[xii]</span> -II. <span class="smcap">Parable</span>—Distinguishing characteristics—Tolstoy—Suggestions -on writing a parable—Working definition—A -list of proverbs that might be expanded into parables—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">III. <span class="smcap">Allegory</span>—Characteristics—Plato's "Vision of -Er"—Modern allegories—Some famous English allegories—Allegory -fable, and parable differentiated—Working -definition—How to write an allegory—Present-day interest -in primitive types—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Chapter III. Ingenious-Astonishing Group</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_128">128-254</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">I. <span class="smcap">Tale of Mere Wonder</span>—Definition—Collections of -wonder stories, ancient and modern—Suggestions for -writing—Characteristic elements—Mediæval tales of chivalry—Heroic -romances—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">II. <span class="smcap">Imaginary Voyage with a Satiric or Instructive -Purpose</span>—Distinguishing elements—Source of the type—Famous -imaginary voyages—Suggestions on how to write -a satiric imaginary voyage—Examples</td> <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">III. <span class="smcap">Tale of Scientific Discovery and of Mechanical -Invention</span>—Relation to imaginary voyages—Essential -elements—Kind of stories included in this type—Suggestions -on how to write the type—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">IV. <span class="smcap">The Detective Story and Other Tales of Pure -Plot</span>—The detective story: connection with stories of -ingenuity—Poe and Doyle—Other stories of plot—Romance—A -few suggestions—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Chapter IV. The Entertaining Group</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_255">255-344</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">I. <span class="smcap">Tale of Probable Adventure</span>—Characteristics and -definition—How to write a probable adventure—A warning—Examples</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">II. <span class="smcap">The Society Story</span>—Definition—Pastoral Romance—Suggestions -on writing a society story—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">III. <span class="smcap">The Humorous Story</span>—Definition—Fableaux—Picaresque -romance—Difference between a humorous story -and a comic anecdote—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_299">299</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">IV. <span class="smcap">The Occasional Story</span>—The spirit of the occasional -story—Its masters—Suggestions for subjects—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_313">313</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xiii"></a>[xiii]</span> -<span class="smcap">Chapter V. The Instructive Group</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_345">345-394</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">I. <span class="smcap">The Moral Story</span>—Differentiated from the symbolic-didactic -group—Great authors who have written this type: -Hawthorne, Johnson, Voltaire, Tolstoy, Cervantes—What -to put in and what to leave out—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_345">345</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">II. <span class="smcap">The Pedagogical Narrative</span>—Definition—Some -famous pedagogical books—Froebel—Examples </td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_361">361</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">III. <span class="smcap">The Story of Present Day Realism</span>—What -realism is—The realistic school—Suggestions on characters -to treat—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_370">370</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Chapter VI. The Artistic Group: the Real Short-Story</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_395">395-478</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">I. <span class="smcap">The Psychological Weird Tale</span>—Origin—The -School of Terror—Poe, Stevenson, Maupassant, and others—Suggestions -on writing a weird tale—Material and -method—Form—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_398">398</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">II. <span class="smcap">Story That Emphasizes Character and Environment</span>—Kipling—Mary -E. Wilkins Freeman—Hamlin -Garland—Bret Harte—Suggestions and precautions—The -"Character": Overbury and Hall—Novel of Manners—Trollope's -Cathedral Town Studies—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_426">426</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">III. <span class="smcap">Story That Emphasizes Character and Events</span>—Difference -between character-place story and character-events -story—Component elements of this type—A scrapbook -suggestion—Other suggestions—Examples </td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_455">455</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="2" class="center"><b>Part II. Narratives of Actual Events</b></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Chapter VII. Particular Accounts</span> </td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_479">479 -556</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">I. <span class="smcap">Incident</span>—Definition—How to tell an incident—Examples -</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_480">480</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">II. <span class="smcap">Anecdote</span>—Meaning of the term—Ana—Collection of -anecdotes—How to write an original anecdote—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_490">490</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">III. <span class="smcap">Eye-Witness Account</span>—What it is and how to -write it—An ancient eye-witness account—Literary eyewitness -accounts—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_499">499</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">IV. <span class="smcap">Tale of Actual Adventure</span>—The one necessary -element—Suggestions for writing—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_512">512</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">V. <span class="smcap">The Traveler's Sketch</span>—What a traveler's sketch -includes—Great travel books—Fielding's gentle warning—A -motto for the narrator—Examples </td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_530">530</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xiv"></a>[xiv]</span> -<span class="smcap">Chapter VIII. Personal Accounts</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_557">557-611</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">I. <span class="smcap">Journal and Diary</span>—The two distinguished—The -range of journals—"Vida del Gran Tamurlan"—Great -diaries—How to write journal and diary—Examples </td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_557">557</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">II. <span class="smcap">Autobiography and Memoirs</span>—Distinction—Cellini, -Franklin, and others—Selection and coherence—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_572">572</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">III. <span class="smcap">Biography</span>—Beginning in England of literary -biography—Great biographies in English—Writer and -subject—Beginning, emphasis, and attitude—Outline for -a life—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_590">590</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Chapter IX. Impersonal Accounts</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_612">612-645</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">I. <span class="smcap">Annals</span>—What annals are—Famous old annals—Stow—Suggestions -on material—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_613">613</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">II. <span class="smcap">Chronicles</span>—Definition—Froissart, Ayala, "General -Chronicle of Spain"—Saxo Grammaticus—Holinshed—True -relations—Examples</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_626">626</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Bibliography</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_647">647-660</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Index</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_661">661-672</a></td></tr> -</table> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xv"></a>[xv]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="LIST_OF_STORIES">LIST OF STORIES</h2> -</div> - -<h3>NARRATIVES OF FICTITIOUS EVENTS</h3> -<table summary="narratives"> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="3"><h4> -Myths</h4></td> -</tr> -<tr><td> </td><td> </td><td><small>PAGE</small></td> -</tr> -<tr><td>The World's Creation and the Birth of Wainamoinen</td> -<td>From the <i>Kalevala</i></td> <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td> -</tr> -<tr><td>Origin of the Moon</td> -<td>Emanuel Baja</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The First Cocoanut Tree</td> -<td>Manuel Reyes</td> <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Lotus</td> -<td>Ida Treat</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Legends</h4></td> -</tr> -<tr><td>Kenach's Little Woman</td> -<td>William Canton </td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td> -</tr> -<tr><td>A Legend of Gapan</td> -<td>Teofilo Corpus </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Manca: a Legend of the Incas</td> -<td>Dorothea Knoblock</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Place of the Red Grass</td> -<td>Sixto Guico</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Fairy Tales</h4></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td>The Boggart</td> -<td>From the English</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>Cafre and the Fisherman's Wife </td> -<td>Benito Ebuen</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Friendship of an Asuang and a Duende</td> -<td>Emanuel Baja</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>A Tianac Frightens Juan</td> -<td>Santiago Ochoa</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Black Cloth of the Calumpang</td> -<td>Eusebio Ramos </td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Nursery Tales</h4></td> -</tr> -<tr><td>Princess Helena the Fair</td> -<td>From the Russian</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td> -</tr> -<tr><td>Juan the Guesser</td> - <td>Bienvenido Gonzalez</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Shepherd who became King</td> - <td>Vicente Hilario</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"> -<h4>Fables</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>Jupiter and the Countryman</td> -<td>From the <i>Spectator</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Drop of Water (Persian) </td> -<td>From the <i>Spectator</i></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Grandee at the Judgment Seat</td> -<td>Kriloff</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xvi"></a>[xvi]</span> -The Lion and the Old Hare</td> -<td>From the <i>Hitopadesa</i></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Fox and the Crab</td> -<td>From the Turkish</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Fool who Sells Wisdom</td> -<td>From the Turkish</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Archer and the Trumpeter</td> -<td>From the Turkish</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td> -</tr> -<tr><td>The Courtship of Sir Butterfly</td> -<td>Maximo M. Kalaw</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Hat and the Shoes</td> -<td>José R. Perez</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Crocodile and the Peahen</td> -<td>Elisa Esguerra</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Old Man, his Son, and his Grandson</td> -<td>Eutiquiano Garcia</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Parables</h4></td> -</tr> -<tr><td>The Three Questions </td> -<td>Tolstoy </td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td> -</tr> -<tr><td>A Master and his Servant</td> -<td>Eusebio Ramos</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Parable of the Beggar and the Givers</td> -<td>Dorothea Knoblock</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Allegories</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>The Artist</td> -<td>Oscar Wilde</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The House of Judgment</td> -<td>Oscar Wilde</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>The Chain that Binds</td> -<td>Elizabeth Sudborough</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Love which Surpassed All Other Loves</td> -<td>Florence Gifford</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Tales of Mere Wonder</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>The Story of the City of Brass</td> -<td>From the <i>Arabian Nights</i></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Student's Theme</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>The Magic Ring, the Bird, and the Basket</td> -<td>Facundo Esquivel</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr> - -<tr> -<td colspan="3"><h4>Imaginary Voyages</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>Mellonta Tauta</td> -<td>Edgar Allan Poe</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Student's Theme</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>Busyong's Trip to Jupiter</td> -<td>Manuel Candido</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"> -<h4>Tale of Scientific Discovery and Mechanical Invention</h4></td> -</tr> -<tr><td>A Curious Vehicle</td> -<td>Alexander Wilson Drake</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td> -</tr> -<tr><td>The Spyglass of the Past</td> -<td>Hazel Orcutt</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Up a Water Spout</td> -<td>Edna Collister</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xvii"></a>[xvii]</span> - -<h4>Detective Story and Tale of Mere Plot</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>Thou Art the Man</td> -<td>Edgar Allan Poe</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Student's Theme</i>—</td></tr> -<tr> -<td>The Picture of Lhasa</td> -<td>Hazel Orcutt</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Tales of More-or-Less Probable Adventure</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>Fight with a Bear</td> -<td>Charles Reade</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Student's Theme</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>Secret of the Jade Tlaloc</td> - <td>Dorothea Knoblock</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Society Stories</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>The Fur Coat</td> -<td>Ludwig Fulda</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Student's Theme</i>—</td> -</tr> -<tr><td>The Lady in Pink </td> -<td>Wilma I. Ball</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td></tr> - -<tr> -<td colspan="3"><h4>Humorous Stories</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>The Expatriation of Jonathan <span class="err" title="original: Trantor">Taintor</span></td> -<td>Charles Battell Loomis</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_302">302</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td> -</tr> -<tr><td>Kileto and the Physician</td> -<td>Lorenzo Licup</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_307">307</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Lame Man and the Deaf Family</td> - <td>Santiago Rotea</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_311">311</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Occasional Stories</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>The Lost Child</td> -<td>François Coppée</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_315">315</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>The Peace of Yesterdays</td> -<td>Katherine Kurz</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_334">334</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>A Christmas Legend</td> - <td>Ida F. Treat</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_342">342</a></td></tr> - -<tr> -<td colspan="3"><h4>Moral Story</h4></td></tr> -<tr> -<td>Jeannot and Colin</td> - <td>Voltaire</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_348">348</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Pedagogical Narratives</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>Gertrude's Method of Instruction</td> -<td>Pestalozzi</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_365">365</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Student's Theme</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>Lawin-lawinan (a Filipino game)</td> -<td>Leopoldo Uichanco</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_368">368</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xviii"></a>[xviii]</span> - -Stories of Present-Day Realism</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>The Piece of String</td> -<td> Maupassant </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_374">374</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>A Social Error</td> - <td>Ida Treat</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_382">382</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Lot of the Poor</td> - <td>Agnes Palmer</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_388">388</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Filipino Fear</td> - <td>Walfrido de Leon</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_390">390</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Psychological Weird Tales</h4></td> -</tr> -<tr><td>The Signal-Man</td> - <td>Charles Dickens</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_403">403</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Student's Theme</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>Like a Thief in the Night</td> - <td>Dorothea Knoblock</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_420">420</a></td></tr> - -<tr> -<td colspan="3"><h4>Stories That Emphasize Character and Environment</h4></td> -</tr> -<tr><td>Muhammad Din</td> - <td>Rudyard Kipling</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_432">432</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>The Fetters</td> - <td>Katherine Kurz</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_436">436</a> -</td></tr> -<tr><td>When Terry Quit</td> - <td>Dorothea Knoblock</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_446">446</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Nora Titay and Chiquito</td> - <td>Joaquina E. Tirona</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_453">453</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Stories That Emphasize Character and Events</h4></td> -</tr> -<tr><td>The Necklace</td> -<td>Maupassant</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_460">460</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Student's Theme</i>—</td> -</tr> -<tr><td>Andong</td> -<td>Justo Avila</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_470">470</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<h3>NARRATIVES OF ACTUAL EVENTS</h3> -<table summary="narratives actual events"> -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Incidents</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>A Near Tragedy</td> - <td>Fielding</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_482">482</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>An Incident before Sadowa: Birds Divulge Army Secrets</td> -<td>Newspaper</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_483">483</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>An Incident Related in a Letter</td> - <td>Robert Louis Stevenson</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_484">484</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>A Hero Dead</td> - <td>Ida Treat</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_485">485</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>My First Day at School</td> - <td>Máximo Kalaw</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_487">487</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Guinatan Prize</td> - <td>Leopoldo Faustino</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_488">488</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Anecdotes</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="2">Coleridge's Retort</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_493">493</a></td></tr> -<tr><td colspan="2">An Inevitable Misfortune</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_494">494</a></td></tr> -<tr><td colspan="2">A Point Needing to be Settled</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_494">494</a></td></tr> -<tr><td colspan="2">Patience</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_494">494</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xix"></a>[xix]</span> -Preaching and Practice</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_495">495</a></td></tr> -<tr><td colspan="2">Johnson's Dictionary</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_495">495</a></td></tr> -<tr><td colspan="2">The Boy Kipling</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_496">496</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Sir Godfrey Kneller</td> -<td>Spence</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_496">496</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Pope and the Trader</td> - <td>Spence</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_497">497</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Capitan Municipal and the -Jokers</td> -<td>José Feliciano</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_497">497</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>An Instance of Bamboo Spanish</td> -<td>Pilar Ejercito</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_498">498</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Mr. Taft's Mistake</td> - <td>Amando Clements</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_499">499</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Eye-Witness Accounts</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>The Portuguese Revolution</td> - <td>Newspaper</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_503">503</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Student's Theme</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>A Contrast</td> - <td>Adolfo Scheerer</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_509">509</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Tales of Actual Adventures</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>The Bear Hunt</td> - <td>Tolstoy</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_514">514</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>Saladin and I Fight an Alupong</td> - <td>Cecilio Esquivel</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_525">525</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>I Get Two Beatings</td> - <td>Facundo Esquivel</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_527">527</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Fall of Juan</td> - <td>Gregorio Farrales</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_528">528</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>A Narrow Escape from a Wild Carabao</td> - <td>José Cariño</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_529">529</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Travellers' Sketches</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>On the Way to Talavera</td> - <td>George Borrow</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_534">534</a></td></tr> -<tr><td colspan="2">Smyrna—First Glimpses of the East - Thackeray</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_539">539</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Student's Theme</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>A Trip from Curimao to Laoag</td> - <td>Fernando Maramag</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_551">551</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="2"><h4>Journals and Diaries</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="2">Extracts from Pepys' Diary </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_562">562</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td></tr> - -<tr><td>A Diary of Four Days</td> - <td>Facundo Esquivel</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_564">564</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>A Journal: Mock Heroic</td> - <td>Victoriano Yamzon</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_567">567</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Autobiography and Memoirs</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>The Life of David Hume, Esq. </td> -<td>Written by himself</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_575">575</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Student autobiography</td> -<td>Domingo Guanio</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_585">585</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>What I Remember of the Coming of -the Americans</td> - <td>Leopoldo Faustino</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_588">588</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xx"></a>[xx]</span> -Biographies</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>Queen Christina</td> -<td>Hawthorne</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_595">595</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td> -</tr> -<tr><td>Juan Luna's Life</td> -<td>Dolores Asuncion</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_604">604</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Life of Elizabeth Glade</td> -<td>Nellie Barrington</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_607">607</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Biography of a Traitor</td> -<td>Walfrido de Leon</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_609">609</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Annals</h4></td></tr> - -<tr><td>The State of England, in Stephen's -Reign</td> - <td><i>Peterborough Chronicle</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_616">616</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td> -</tr> -<tr><td>Annals of Mangaldan</td> -<td>Translated by Bernabe -Aquino</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_621">621</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Annals of Pagsanjan</td> -<td>Dolores Zafra</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_622">622</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr><td colspan="3"><h4>Chronicles</h4></td> -</tr> -<tr><td>Rivalry between Two Towns</td> -<td>Froissart</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_630">630</a></td> -</tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Students' Themes</i>—</td> -</tr> -<tr><td>A Short History of Ilagan</td> -<td>Fernando Maramag</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_636">636</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Some Incidents of the Rebellion of -1898: A True Relation</td> - <td>Marcelino Montemayor</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_639">639</a></td></tr> -</table> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxi"></a>[xxi]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</h2> -</div> - -<p>There are many interesting possibilities for both the -reader and the writer in a study of narrative types. -It is a truism to say that everybody loves a story. Every -race, every nation, every tribe, every family, has its -favorite narratives. Every person has his and likes to -repeat them. Even the driest old matter-of-fact curmudgeon -delights in relating an incident if nothing else. -Perhaps he tells you of how he lost and found again his -pocket talisman—a buckeye, maybe, or a Portuguese <i>cruzado</i>. -He will assure you that he does not really believe -that the unfortunate events that followed his loss of it -were occasioned by its absence, or the return of good-luck -casually connected with its recovery; but still, he adds, -he feels much better with the old thing in his pocket. -"And that was a queer coincidence, wasn't it?" he insists, -starting again over the details of the happening. -So with us all: we all know and love stories, our own -or another person's.</p> - -<p>It is a fine thing to write a story. It is good through -one's imagination and skill to entertain one's fellows or -through one's accurate observation of life and history -to benefit society. The narrator has always been honored. -In earliest times he was the seer and prophet, forming -the religion of his wandering tribe; later he was the -welcomed guest, for whom alone the frowning castle's -gate stood always open; and after the dark ages, in the -time of the revival-of-the-love-of-written-things, he was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxii"></a>[xxii]</span> -the favorite at the court of favoring princes, who lavished -upon him preferment and money and humbly -offered him the laurel crown, their highest tribute. In -our own day his reward surpasses that of kings and -presidents. They come to him, and for immortality invoke -his name. In earliest times he composed in verse -so that his story might be remembered and handed down. -In latest times he writes most often in prose—a more -difficult medium to handle with distinction, but one more -widely understood and more readily appreciated than -poetry.</p> - -<p>Narrative as a general type needs no definition. What -pure description is the ordinary reader might hesitate -to assert, or exposition, or argumentation; but not story: -he knows that. Let an author combine these others with -a series of events, let him put them in as aids to the -understanding or as ornaments on the thread of his -recital, and they are accepted without question as elements -of narration, be it prose or verse in form, true or -fictitious in content. That is to say, though a story often -contains to some extent all the other forms of writing -too, we think of it as narrative because it carries us -along a course of events. Frequently the teller spends -much time in studying different styles and kinds of -description and in analyzing various devices used to -secure definite effects, because he wishes to call to his -aid every bit of skill possible in portraying his characters -and places; but general readers take his fine -points of description and exposition as matters of course -and are crudely interested in the happenings he has to -relate. They are unconscious of the fact that much of -their enjoyment comes from knowing how a hero looks,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxiii"></a>[xxiii]</span> -what his surroundings are, and what his disposition and -usual character. A story-writer gives no small amount -of attention also to transcribing conversations; but the -ordinary reader takes these likewise as expected parts -of narrative. But there is one thing that the author -and the reader agree on at the outset as necessary to be -settled; namely, the kind of story to be written or -to be read.</p> - -<p>It is pleasant to know that there are definite types -of narratives that the world has always loved, and that -there are new forms growing up as civilization becomes -more complex. Some of the kinds of stories discussed -in this book are older than the English language, older -than Christianity, older even than the divisions of -Aryan speech. They seem to be inherent forms of all -literatures, to be as ancient as thought and as young as -inspiration. They are in use to-day in every tongue.</p> - -<p>This book attempts to set forth the distinguishing -elements of the types that have persisted, those matters -that a writer must take into account when producing or -a critic when judging. Though its title emphasizes the -fact that now-a-days most persons think of stories as -being always in prose, the book discriminates but little -in this respect. In reality a student of narrative cares -hardly at all whether the vehicle be meter or not. He -is concerned with something else. Language form is -rather an accident of the time and the fashion than anything -essential. It is not dependent on the author's -personality even. Chaucer undoubtedly would write in -prose to-day, whereas our modern idealists would certainly -have lisped in numbers a hundred years ago. -We study narrative types, therefore, with the idea that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxiv"></a>[xxiv]</span> -verse tales are but measured and rhythmical expression -of the same forms—sometimes the best, sometimes -merely the most popular expression—but that the development -in presentation has been toward prose, -especially for the more psychological and complex material.</p> - -<p>On the basis of content, narratives fall naturally into -two large divisions: those that recount imaginary happenings -and those that recount actual happenings. These -large divisions in turn fall into smaller and still smaller -groups upon one basis or another—source, purpose, -method, or what not.</p> - -<p>Under the division of narratives of fictitious events -we notice six groups, when we are thinking of source and -purpose: (1) the primitive-religious; (2) the symbolic-didactic; -(3) the ingenious-astonishing; (4) the merely -entertaining; (5) the instructive; (6) the artistic. -Within these groups come the following individual -types: (1) myth, legend, fairy tale, nursery saga; (2) -fable, parable, allegory; (3) the tale of mere wonder, -the imaginary voyage with a satiric or expository purpose, -the tale of scientific discovery and mechanical invention, -the detective story; (4) the probable adventure, -the society story, the humorous and picaresque story, the -occasional story; (5) the moral tale, the pedagogical -narrative, the realistic sketch; (6) the psychological -weird tale; the story that emphasises place and character, -the story that emphasizes events and character.</p> - -<p>On the basis of form and of the attitude of the -teller, narratives of actual events fall into three groups. -The first set has five types: incident, anecdote, eye-witness -account, traveler's sketch, and the tale of actual<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxv"></a>[xxv]</span> -adventure. The second set includes journal and diary, -autobiography and memoirs, biography. The third set -is composed of annals, and chronicles and true relations. -Instead of naming these sets, we might describe them -thus: The first is made up of particular accounts of the -doings of the writer and others in chance groups; the -second, of more-or-less extended accounts of the sayings -and doings of individual personages who for the time -are important and either write about themselves or are -written about; the third, of impersonal accounts of the -doings of larger or smaller sections of mankind as units.</p> - -<p>Of course, the types fade into one another, and it is -only in analyzing that a person would draw a hard and -fast line between any two of them; but it is permissible -to draw this line for the convenience of study and discussion. -After an investigator has learned all the kinds, -he may classify a given story into one or the other group -according to the predominating characteristics, or he -may make a group of narratives of mixed kinds, and consider -the various elements.</p> - -<p>If he is trying, however, to write also, as well as to -study according to the suggestions of this book, it would -be a good plan for him to endeavor to produce at each attempt -a rather more than less pure example of the type -under consideration, so as to get as a result not only an -interesting narrative, but a working model either for criticism -or further production. For a person to have studied -carefully an analysis of a type, to have read a distinct -literary example of it, and to have attempted to put together -a narrative that contains the essential elements, -ought to mean that he has in his possession a piece of -knowledge that will be valuable to him all his life, irrespective<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxvi"></a>[xxvi]</span> -of any purely artistic quality of his achievement. -That quality will probably be present much more -surely than he at first expects; for a large part of the excellence -of a piece of literature results from definite -knowledge on the part of the writer, a clear aim to produce -a particular kind of composition, and an indefatigable -perseverance in revision of details. By emphasis -on knowledge and work one would not preclude inspiration. -Indeed, one would thereby court it; for, as we all -know, it comes usually only to the expert and patient -toiler. Even Robert Burns labored long over his reputedly -spontaneous songs. The thought came to him often -at the plough, it is true; but he confesses that afterwards -he spent many hours polishing his lines.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center"><strong>PART I</strong></p> - -<p class="center"><strong>NARRATIVES OF IMAGINARY -EVENTS</strong></p> -</div> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span></p> - -<p class="center"><big><strong>TYPES OF PROSE NARRATIVES</strong></big></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I<br /> - -THE PRIMITIVE-RELIGIOUS GROUP</h2> - -<p>The traditional types—myth, legend, fairy tale, and -nursery saga—are designated as primitive-religious in -order to express the fact that they grew up in response -to the reverent credulity of simple folk. The myths -of all races are the embodiment of their highest prehistoric -religious thinking. The legends are their semi-historical, -semi-religious thinking. The fairy and nursery -stories are modified forms of the other two. Consequently -they all belong together in one group.</p> - -<h3>I. The Myth</h3> - -<p>There are two general classes of myths: the primitive-tribal -and the artificial-literary, or myths of -growth and myths of art.</p> - -<p>From the point of view of ethnology, the myth of -growth is primitive philosophy, and represents racial -anthropomorphic thinking concerning the universe. -Anthropomorphic is a term derived from the Greek -ἄνθρωπος, meaning man, and μορφἠ, meaning shape or -form, and is used to describe the tendency of people to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span> -represent invisible forces as having human form (for -example, the Deity), or natural forces like fire and wind -as being animate, volitional agents. It is probably -true that, at a very early stage in the development of -both the individual and the race, every object is looked -upon as having life; and later, if any distinction is -made between animate and inanimate, spirits are yet -regarded as agents controlling the inanimate and causing -changes therein. A myth of growth is the verbal -expression of this attitude of the mind of a people in -its wider and deeper imaginings.</p> - -<p>Doubtless after the first or second repetition of a -myth, which some seer of a tribe chants in rude verse, -the primitive listener is confused between fact and -fancy. The non-essential incidents which the narrator -adds from sheer love of making up a story are not distinguished -from the incidents that really express the -working of natural forces. So it happens that, in -the time between the first starting up of the account -and the analysis and explanation of it by some philosopher, -a narrative handed down from father to son is -believed in, word for word, as religious truth, though -gaining details and losing its original meaning as it -goes. As some one has said, it was because the Greeks -had forgotten that Zeus meant <i>the bright sky</i> that they -could talk of him as a king ruling a company of manlike -deities on Mount Olympus.</p> - -<p>There are many beautiful myths existing to-day in -prose and poetry. In the tribal species, there is the -great mass of Greek and Roman early religious stories -and there are the Oriental and the Norse cycles. In -the artificial group there are the later Greek and Roman<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span> -myths like those devised by Plato and Plutarch, -and there are our more modern beautiful creations with -myth elements like Milton's "Comus" and many of -the poems of Keats, where not only the incidents are -newly made but the deities also. In prose we have the -delightful "Wonder Book," which Hawthorne prepared -for children. We have become so familiar with -"Paradise Lost" that we hardly realize that it is essentially -myth—a great seer's expression of the anthropomorphism -of his people. Like a true bard of old, Milton -added much also to his people's thinking on the universe. -How much he added we see fully only when we -deliberately compare the extension and concreteness -of his account with the meagerness of the Hebrew -Scriptures.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Myth age -not a past -epoch</div> - -<p>An error we are liable to fall into concerning myths -is that of presuming that they are wholly things of the -past; that nowadays nobody believes in -them or tells them. In fact, many persons -and many tribes believe in them and tell -them. The myth age is not a past epoch, but a condition -of thinking. It is always present somewhere and -present to some extent always among all races. The -primitive tribes of the Philippines believe implicitly in -their myths. The Bontoc Igorots, for example, tell how -the Moon woman, Kabigat, cut off the head of a child -of the Sun man, Chal-chal, and thus taught head-hunting -to earth people; some of them tell, too, how Coling, -the Serpent Eagle, was made, and happens to be always -hovering over their pueblo. Even the youngest child -knows how the rice-bird came about, and why an -Igorot never harms O-wug, the snake. These stories<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span> -are being gathered to-day by American scientists and -are being written down for the first time. The native -college students of the Islands have joined in a movement -to preserve the traditions of the more civilized -tribes also, and are industriously putting into written -form the stories of their people. Most of these are not -beliefs that are past, but beliefs about the past—a -distinction noteworthy to the student of myths. Little -children of all races are naturally in a myth age, and -many of their imaginings are as beautiful as those of the -old Greeks, and, if made known, would be as contributive -to literature, I dare say. Poets are but grown-up -children to whom Nature makes a continued concrete -appeal, and they are always thinking myth-wise, we -well know.</p> - -<p>So it happens that even the most learned man is -willing to listen to a new myth. All the reader demands -is that it shall be either a scientifically made -record of some present tribal belief or a beautiful and -philosophical interpretation of the workings of nature—such -a one as a simple, early pagan, but poetic and -essentially refined, mind might imagine. Plato's myths -were advisedly artificial. He deliberately set out to -modify and improve the government of his time by -means of religious stories, and he begged the other -philosophers to attempt the like also. He gave his -magnificent "Vision of Er" as an example of what -might be done.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">How traditional -myths are -collected</div> - -<p>If one wishes to collect traditional myths among a -primitive people, this is in general the way he proceeds: -He calls to his aid the more elderly folk and the -little children—those that have time and inclination to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span> -talk. If he can not speak their dialect, he obtains an -interpreter—if possible, one very intimate and sociable -with the tribe. Then he himself tries to get -into good fellowship with all, and to induce -free and natural talking. He asks for tales -of the sun and moon, the wind and the rain, -grasses, flowers, birds, clouds, mountain-systems, river-chains, -lightning, thunder, and whatever else their gods -have charge of. He asks about the relation of these -gods with the deities of neighboring peoples—which, if -any, are to be feared and why. Then he makes note of -as many historical facts as he can about the tribe—where -it first lived, what are the topographical features -of the remote and the immediate places of abode, how -powerful the warriors are, what respect they command -from outsiders, what are considered most honored occupations, -and so on. These facts are not to go explicitly -into the story, but are to form the background of -explanation if he cares to seek or give one. Then, too, -they may aid him in making a happy translation of the -primitive oral narrative. The aim of the collector, however, -is accuracy rather than beauty, though beauty may -be present in his versions.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">How original -myths -are composed</div> - -<p>The writer of an original myth, on the other hand, -tries to make his diction as exquisite as he can without -affectation. He proceeds somewhat differently, -though with no less forethought. If -he wishes to use gods and goddesses already -known, he attempts not to violate the generally -accepted notions of their characteristics. He -bears in mind that the beings of myths are large, -ample, superhuman, of the race of the infinite. Above<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span> -mortals, they rule mortals or ignore them. The gods -are never petty, though they may be trivial. They -belong to the over-world. They are essential: they -make day and night, the coming of the seasons, the -roll of the ocean, the rising and setting of the constellations. -Connected with them too, of course, he -knows, are the lesser events of Nature's activity, the -speaking of echo, the blooming of the slender narcissus -at the edge of the pool, the drooping of the poplars. -Hence the writer of a myth of art modifies or adds, but -avoids making radical changes. If he chooses wholly -to invent his deities, he picks out for each a definite -phenomenon and keeps it steadily in mind in order -that his created personage may be an appropriate one -to perform the well-known actions of the natural force -he is explaining. He makes the deeds of his beings -far-reaching in result and does not forget to give them -euphonious and suggestive names.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Difference -between -myth and -allegory</div> - -<p>There is a difference between myth and allegory -as narratives, although myth is fundamentally allegorical -in the broad sense of the term. The -actors of myth are rather representative -than figurative. Being grander they are at -once more simple and dignified than those -of allegory. The gods are not thin abstractions raised -to concreteness, but are powerful forces reduced to the -likeness of men.</p> - -<p>Pure myth is different from pure legend likewise, -though legend may have gods in it. Legend is generally -confined to a particular person or event, or is connected -with a definite spot and a limited result; whereas -myth deals with universal phenomena.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote">Working -definition -of -myth</div> - -<p>The collector or composer of myths, accordingly, -posits for himself some such working definition as -this: A myth is a story accounting in a fanciful -way for a far-reaching natural phenomenon. -The basis on which the narrator proceeds -is emphatically not science, but imagination -and philosophy. He pictures the activities of the -universe as the conduct of personal beings, as gods and -goddesses doing good or evil, creating and destroying, -ruling man or ignoring him, punishing and rewarding.</p> - -<h4>A List of Deities</h4> - -<table summary="deities"> -<tr><td><b>Great Greek Deities</b></td> <td><b>Great Roman Deities</b></td></tr> -<tr><td>Zeus</td> <td>Jupiter (king)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Appollon</td> <td>Apollo (the sun)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Ares</td> <td>Mars (war)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Hermes</td> <td>Mercury (messenger)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Poseidon</td> <td>Neptune (ocean)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Hephaistos</td> <td>Vulcan (smith who made the armor of the gods)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Hera</td> <td>Juno (queen)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Demeter</td> <td>Ceres (tillage)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Artemis</td> <td>Diana (moon, hunting)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Athena</td> <td>Minerva (wisdom)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Aphrodite</td> <td>Venus (love and beauty)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Hestia</td> <td>Vesta (home life)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Dionysos</td> <td>Bacchus (wine and revelry)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Eros</td> <td>Cupid (the lad Love)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Pluton</td> <td>Pluto (king of Hades)</td></tr> -<tr><td>Kronos</td> <td>Saturn (Time, who devoured all his children except Jupiter, Neptune and Pluto) -</td> -</tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span> -Juno was the wife of Jupiter, Hera of Zeus, -Venus of Vulcan, Aphrodite of Hephaistos.</p> - -<p>Persephone was wife of Pluton, Proserpine was -wife of Pluto, Cybele was wife of Saturn, -Rhea was wife of Kronos. -</p> - -<h4>Egyptian Gods</h4> - -<p class="hang">Ra—the sun, usually represented as a hawk-headed -man. He protects mankind, but has nothing in common -with men.</p> - -<p class="hang">Shu—light, a type of celestial force, for he is represented -supporting the goddess of heaven. His consort -was Tefnet.</p> - -<p class="hang">Seb—the god of the earth; Nut was the goddess of -heaven. These two are called "father of the gods."</p> - -<p class="hang">Osiris—the good principle. He is in perpetual warfare -with evil. He is the source of warmth, life and -fruitfulness. Isis, his wife, was his counterpart -in many respects. Osiris became the judge of the -under-world, and Isis was the giver of death.</p> - -<p class="hang">Horus—the son of Osiris. He avenged his father, who -was slain by Typhon.</p> - -<p class="hang">Seth, or Typhon—the brother of Osiris, and his chief -opponent. He represented physical evil; he was -the enemy of all good. His consort was Nebti.</p> - -<p class="hang">Thoth—the god of letters, the clerk of the underworld, -and the keeper of the records for the great judge, -Osiris. The chief moon-god.</p> - -<p class="hang">Ptah—the Egyptian Hephaestus, the divine architect.</p> - -<p class="hang">Ma-t—the goddess of truth. She is characterized by -the ostrich feather, the emblem of truth, on her -head.</p> - -<p class="hang"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span> -Anubis—the jackal-headed, presided over tombs and -mummification.</p> - -<p class="hang">The Sphinx—a beneficent being who personified the -fruit-bearing earth, and was a deity of wisdom and -knowledge.</p> - -<h4>Hindoo Gods</h4> - -<p class="hang">Dyaus—the most ancient name for the supreme god. -Dyaus, the heaven, married Prithivi, the earth, and -they became the father and mother of the other -Hindu gods. Dyaus is also the god of rain.</p> - -<p class="hang">Indra—the rain-bringer. The son of Dyaus. He is a -strong, impetuous warrior, drives a chariot drawn -by pawing steeds, bears a resistless lance that is -lightning.</p> - -<p class="hang">Vishnu—one name for the sun; second god of the -Hindu triad, literally the Pervader. (Brahma and -Siva are the other two of the trinity.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Vishnu is represented as being of blue color. His -<i>sacti</i>, or wife, is Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth.</p> - -<p class="hang">Mitra—another name for the sun-god.</p> - -<p class="hang">Rudra—the father of the storm-gods, the Maruts.</p> - -<p class="hang">Maruts—the storm gods. "They overturn trees, <span class="err" title="original: destoy">destroy</span> -whole forests, they roar like lions, are swift as -thought. In the Maruts we see blind strength and -fury without judgment."</p> - -<p class="hang">Vayu—sometimes the wind was thought of as a single -personality. He was called Vayu.</p> - -<p class="hang">Agni—the fire-god. Considered the messenger between -the Hindus and heaven. He carried their offerings -to Dyaus-pitar.</p> - -<p class="hang">Varuna—the noblest figure of the Vedic religion. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> -supreme god at one time. Sometimes he was the -All-Surrounder. Later he was ruler of the seas.</p> - -<p class="hang">Yama—the judge of the dead. He had a dog with -four eyes and wide nostrils, whom he sent to earth -to collect those about to die.</p> - -<p class="hang">Vritva—an evil snake which had stolen some treasure -and a maiden, Ushas. She was rescued by Indra.</p> - -<p class="hang">Ushas (Ahana)—a pure, white-robed being from whose -presence every dark thing fled away. Ushas never -grows old, but she makes others old. (Same as Eos, -Greek; Aurora, Latin.) She is the dawn; is also -known by the name of Dahana.</p> - -<p class="hang">Rita—a word to signify the all-pervading law of nature. -It was the power that settled the path of the -sun. The abode of Rita was in the east, and finally -every good thing traveled in the path of Rita.</p> - -<p class="hang">Asoura Medhas—the wise living one, the animation of -moving mind and matter. He is the mysterious -principle of life, is represented as one god high over -everything. However, he mingles in the affairs of -men.</p> - -<p class="hang">Surya (same as Gr. Helios)—the special god who dwelt -in the body of the sun.</p> - -<p class="hang">Savitar—another personification of the sun. He is -spoken of as golden-eyed, golden-tongued and -golden-handed.</p> - -<h5>MINOR DEITIES</h5> - -<p class="hang">Kuvera—the god of riches.</p> - -<p class="hang">Kamadeva—the god of love, represented as riding on a -dove, and armed with an arrow of flowers and a -bow, whose string is formed of bees.</p> - -<p class="hang">Ganesha—the god of prudence and policy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span></p> - -<h4>Russian Gods</h4> - -<p class="hang">Peroun—Lightning; the chief god.</p> - -<p class="hang">Svaroga—begetter of fire and of the sun gods. Used -also sometimes as name of chief god.</p> - -<p class="hang">Dajh'bog—grandfather of the sun.</p> - -<p class="hang">Kolyada—beneficent spirit who was supposed to visit -the farms and villages in mid-winter and bring fertility -to the pent-up herds and frost-bound seeds. -A festival in honor of Kolyada was held about -December 25, the date when the sun was supposed -to triumph over the death in which Nature had -gripped him, and to enter again on his new span of -life.</p> - -<p class="hang">Stribog—wind-god.</p> - -<h4>Finnish Mythology (derived from Kalevala)</h4> - -<p class="hang">Ahto—god of the sea.</p> - -<p class="hang">Hisi—evil spirit, also called Lempo. His son was Ahti, -another name for Lemminkainen.</p> - -<p class="hang">Lowjatar—Tuoni's daughter; mother of the nine -diseases.</p> - -<p class="hang">Mana—also called Tuoni; the god of death.</p> - -<p class="hang">Manala—also called Tuonela; the Deathland, for it was -the abode of Mana.</p> - -<p class="hang">Suonetar—the goddess of the veins.</p> - -<p class="hang">Tapio—the forest-god.</p> - -<p class="hang">Ukko—the greatest god of the Finns.</p> - -<p class="hang">Mielikki—the forest-goddess.</p> - -<p class="hang">Osmotar—the wise maiden who first made beer.</p> - -<p class="hang">Sampo—the magic mill forged by Ilmarinen, which -brought wealth and happiness to its possessor.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span></p> - -<h4>Norse Deities</h4> - -<p class="hang">Odin—the All-father.</p> - -<p class="hang">Thor—the thunderer.</p> - -<p class="hang">Baldr—the shining god; he typifies day.</p> - -<p class="hang">Freyr (Fro)—fruitfulness; the patron of seafarers.</p> - -<p class="hang">Tyr—the god of war and athletic sports.</p> - -<p class="hang">Bragi—god of poetry and eloquence.</p> - -<p class="hang">Hodur—Baldur's twin brother; the god of darkness.</p> - -<p class="hang">Heimdall—kept the keys of heaven; was the watchman -of Asgard.</p> - -<p class="hang">Ulle—god of the chase and of archery. A fast runner -on stilts or snowshoes.</p> - -<p class="hang">Mimir—most celebrated of the giants; god of wisdom -and knowledge.</p> - -<p class="hang">Loki—the god of strife and the spirit of evil. He had -three cruel and hateful children: Fenris, a huge -wolf; Hel, half black and half blue, who lived on -men's brains and marrow; and Formungard, the -monstrous serpent of Midgard. Loki's wife was -Sigura.</p> - -<h4>Filipino Deities</h4> - -<h5>TAGALOG -</h5> - -<p class="hang">Atasip—a demon of the ancient Tagalogs.</p> - -<p class="hang">Bathala—principal god of the Tagalogs.</p> - -<p class="hang">Dian Masalanta—the god which was the patron of -lovers and the god of procreation.</p> - -<p class="hang">Idinale—the god of husbandry.</p> - -<p class="hang">Lakhanbakor or Lakhanbakod—a god who cured sickness.</p> - -<p class="hang">Lakambui—a god who first (according to some writers) -gave food.</p> - -<p class="hang">Pasing-tabi sa nono—with this phrase the Tagalogs<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> -used to pray the gods of the fields to allow them to -walk on the fields and cultivate them.</p> - -<p class="hang">Sinaya—a divinity which the fishermen used to pray to.</p> - -<p class="hang">Sitan—a kind of evil spirit (a Mohametan word).</p> - -<p class="hang">Sonat—the pontifex maximus of the ancient Tagalogs.</p> - -<h5>VISAYAN</h5> - -<p class="hang">Laon—the supreme god.</p> - -<p class="hang">Makabantog—the god of licentiousness and tumult.</p> - -<p class="hang">Sigbin—certain familiar spirits, which used to accompany -any woman. They made a bargain with her -and served her constantly.</p> - -<p class="hang">Solad—the Inferno.</p> - -<p class="hang">Sikabay—Eve, the first woman.</p> - -<p class="hang">Sikalak—the first man, Adam.</p> - -<p class="hang">Sinburanen—the god who conducted the souls of the -dead consigned to Hades.</p> - -<table summary="gods of the inferno"> -<tr><td>Suigaguran</td><td rowspan="3"><span class="xlarge">}</span></td></tr> -<tr><td>Suinuran</td> <td>gods of the Inferno.</td></tr> -<tr><td>Sumpay </td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p class="hang">Tagalabong—spirits who lived in the fields and woods.</p> - -<p class="hang">Yatangao—a god which made himself visible in the -rainbow. Warriors going to battle invoked this god.</p> - -<h5>BAGOBOS</h5> - -<p class="hang">Bayguebay—the first woman or Eve.</p> - -<p class="hang">Damakolen—the god who made the hills and mountains.</p> - -<p class="hang">Makakoret—the god who created the air.</p> - -<p class="hang">Makaponquis—the god who created water.</p> - -<p class="hang">Malibud—the deity (fem.) who created woman.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span></p> - -<p class="hang">Mamale—the god who created the earth.</p> - -<p class="hang">Rioa-Rioa—a horrible and evil being which, suspended -from the zenith like a large pendulum, approaches -the earth and devours those men which his servant -Tabankak gives him.</p> - -<p class="hang">Salibud—the god who taught the first men to cultivate -the fields, to trade, and to practice other industries.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Note: In the Filipino themes a foreign word is italicized -only the first time it appears.</p></div> - -<h4>The World's Creation and the Birth of Wainamoinen -</h4> -<p>Long, long ago, before this world was created, there -lived a lovely maiden called Ilmatar, the daughter of -the Ether. She dwelt in the air—there were only air -and water then—but at length she grew tired of always -being on high, and came down and floated on the surface -of the water. Suddenly, as she lay there, a mighty -storm-wind began to blow and poor Ilmatar was tossed -about helplessly on the waves, until at length the wind -died down, the waves became still, and Ilmatar, worn -out by the violence of the tempest, sank beneath the -waters.</p> - -<p>Then a magic spell overpowered her, and she swam -on and on vainly seeking to rise above the waters, but -always unable to do so. Seven hundred long weary -years she swam thus, until one day she could not bear -the loneliness longer, and cried out: "Woe is me that -I have fallen from my happy home in the air, and cannot -now rise above the surface of the waters. O great -Ukko, ruler of the skies, come and aid me in my sorrow!"</p> - -<p>No sooner had she ended her appeal to Ukko than -a lovely duck flew down out of the sky, and hovered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> -over the waters looking for a place to alight; but it -found none. Then Ilmatar raised her knees above the -water, so that the duck might rest upon them; and no -sooner did the duck spy them than it flew towards -them and, without even stopping to rest, began to build -a nest upon them.</p> - -<p>When the nest was finished, the duck laid in it six -golden eggs, and a seventh of iron, and sat upon to -hatch them. Three days the duck sat on the eggs, and -all the while the water around Ilmatar's knees grew -hotter and hotter, and her knees began to burn as if -they were on fire. The pain was so great that it caused -her to tremble all over, and her quivering shook the -nest off her knees, and the eggs all fell to the bottom -of the ocean and broke in pieces. But these pieces -came together into two parts and grew to a huge size, -and the upper one became the arched heavens above us, -and the lower one our world itself. From the white -part of the egg came the moonbeams, and from the yolk -the bright sunshine.</p> - -<p>At last the unfortunate Ilmatar was able to raise -her head out of the waters, and she then began to create -the land. Wherever she put her hand there arose a -lovely hill, and where she stepped she made a lake. -Where she dived below the surface are the deep places -of the ocean, where she turned her head towards the -land there grew deep bays and inlets, and where she -floated on her back she made hidden rocks and reefs -where so many ships and lives have been lost. Thus -the islands and the rocks and the firm land were created.</p> - -<p>After the land was made Wainamoinen was born, -but he was not born a child, but a full-grown man,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> -full of wisdom and magic power. For seven whole -years he swam about in the ocean, and in the eighth -he left the water and stepped upon the dry land. Thus -was the birth of Wainamoinen, the wonderful magician.—From the <i>Kalevala</i>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Finnish Legends for English Children," by R. Eivind (T. -Fisher Unwin).</p></div> - -<h4><i>TRIBAL MYTH</i> -<br /> -Origin of the Moon</h4> - -<p>South and east of Manila Bay stretches a piece of -land, on which there used to be a large forest surrounded -and fringed by the Sierra Madre mountains on the -east, and guarded by the active Taal volcano on the -south. This volcano, which is on a small lake, is said -to be always looking toward the east, shouting with his -big mouth the name of <i>Buan Buan</i>, a very beautiful -nymph who dwelt once in this deep forest. The large -trees formed towering pillars, the vines and moss that -grew wild, together with the blooming flowers, were -ornaments of her court. The birds, the insects, and all -kinds of animals were her subjects.</p> - -<p>The people who live now in this land say that in -the beginning of the world there was no such thing as -the moon that shines at night. They assert that the -origin of the moon came in this wise:</p> - -<p>Many thousands of years ago, when the beautiful -nymph Buan was in her court, a warlike tribe settled -on her land of enjoyment. The invaders began to cultivate -the rich soil of this place. Buan, seeing that -her flowers would be destroyed and her birds driven -away, fled toward the west in grief. On the sea she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> -saw a little <i>banca</i> into which she climbed and in which -she drifted along until she came to an island near where -the Sun sleeps.</p> - -<p>One afternoon when the Sun was about to hide his -last rays, he was met by the beautiful nymph, who at -once said to him, "O Sun, bear me with you, and I -will be your faithful wife forever." Without hesitation -or doubt, the gallant Sun, who had been shining -over the earth with open eyes looking for a wife, took -Buan under his golden arm, and they together, as true -lovers, departed.</p> - -<p>The Arch-Queen of the Nymphs, ever quarrelsome -and jealous, seeing the departure of Buan, sent lightning -and hurled thunderbolts after the two fleeing lovers. -Buan, who was peacefully slumbering on the -breast of her lover, fell down into the water. The Sun -in his fright ran away, and continued his course as -usual. Pitied by the gods Buan did not drown, but -floated on the foam of the sea. The Sun lighted the -world the next morning with a great deal of heat and -sorrow in his eyes, searching for his lost sweetheart. -Buan, who was hidden in the foam that floated on the -sea, did not come out until evening. By that time Sun -had retired to his wonderful cave beneath the ocean. -Buan wandered about until finally she saw a glittering -light within the waves. In her fright she cried aloud. -The Sun, who was suddenly awakened from his -cave by her grief, saw her. With a satisfied heart he -took her into his cave, where they dwelt for a whole -night. They sat and talked about their love. The Sun -taught her how to travel across the sky. However, he -asked Buan not to follow him in any of his journeys.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span> - -One afternoon Buan was sitting before the door of -the cave waiting for her lover. Longing and sentiment -grew strong in her, and she remembered the past days -when she had lived in her forest court. This state of -mind made her come out of the cave, and she rode on -the air by magic. For fifteen successive nights she did -this, yet she could not see her old home. Finally she -asked her husband to bear her across heaven in order -that she might see her home. The next morning the -Sun took Buan on his back, and they sailed across the -sky. The world became dark, for the sun could not then -well illuminate the earth. The gods were astonished. -The Arch-Queen of the Nymphs sent a storm of wind -and rain, which made Buan turn into a soft brilliant -mass of light. She was to be with her husband but once -every thirty days. She was also punished by not being -allowed to show herself entirely every night. She could -not sail across heaven for more than thirteen or fourteen -days at a time.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Emanuel Baja. -</p> - -<h4><i>TRIBAL MYTH</i> -<br /> -The First Cocoanut Tree and the Creation of Man</h4> - -<p>There were three gods, Bathala, Ulilangkalulua, and -Galangkalulua. Bathala, a very large giant, ruled the -earth; Ulilangkalulua, a very large snake, ruled the -clouds; and Galangkalulua, a winged head, wandered -from place to place. In fact, each of these gods thought -that he was the only living being in the universe.</p> - -<p>The earth was composed of hard rocks. There were -no seas and no oceans. There were also no plants and -no animals. It was indeed a very lonely place. Bathala,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> -its true inhabitant, had often wanted to have some companions, -but he wondered how he could provide these -companions with food, drink, and shelter when there -was nothing on the earth but rocks.</p> - -<p>What was true of Bathala was also true of Ulilangkalulua. -In his kingdom Ulilangkalulua saw nothing -but white clouds. His solitary condition led him to -visit other places. He often came down to the earth -and enjoyed himself climbing high mountains and entering -deep caves.</p> - -<p>As he was at the top of a very high hill one day, -he saw some one sitting on a large stone down below -him. He was very greatly amazed and it was a very -long time before he could speak. At last he said, "Sir, -tell me who you are."</p> - -<p>"I am Bathala, the ruler of the universe," answered -the god. Ulilangkalulua was filled with anger when he -heard these words. He approached Bathala and said, -"If you declare yourself to be the ruler of all things, I -challenge you to combat."</p> - -<p>A long struggle took place, and after the fighting -had continued about three hours Ulilangkalulua was -slain. Bathala burned his body near his habitation.</p> - -<p>Not many years after this event Galangkalulua, the -wandering god, happened to find Bathala's house. Bathala -received him and treated him kindly. Thus, they -lived together for many years as true friends.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, Galangkalulua became sick. Bathala -did not sleep day and night for taking care of his friend. -When Galangkalulua was about to die, he called Bathala -and said, "You have been very kind to me, and I have -nothing to repay your kindness with. But if you will<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span> -do what I tell you, there is a way in which I can benefit -you. You once told me that you had planned to create -creatures of the same appearance as you in order that -you might have subjects and companions, and that you -had not been successful because you did not know how -you could supply them with all the necessary things. -Now, when I die, bury my body in Ulilangkalulua's -grave. In this grave will appear the thing that will -satisfy you."</p> - -<p>Bathala did what Galangkalulua told him, and Galangkalulua's -promise was fulfilled. From the grave -grew a plant, whose nut contained water and meat. Bathala -was very anxious to examine the different parts -of the tree because he had never seen such a thing before. -He took a nut and husked it. He found that its -inner skin was hard and that the nut itself resembled -the head of his friend, Galangkalulua. It had two eyes, -a flat nose, and a round mouth. Bathala then looked at -the tree itself and discovered that its leaves were really -the wings of Galangkalulua and its trunk the body of his -enemy, Ulilangkalulua.</p> - -<p>Bathala was now free to carry out his plan. He -created the first man and woman. He built a house -for them, the roof and walls of which were made of -the leaves of the cocoanut and the posts of which were -cocoanut tree trunks. Thus lived happily under the -cocoanut palm this couple for many years until the -whole world was crowded with their children. These -children still use the cocoanut for food and clothing—the -leaves for making mats, hats, and brooms, and the -fiber for rope and other things.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Manuel Reyes. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span></p> - -<h4><i>ORIGINAL MYTH</i> -<br /> -The Lotus</h4> - -<p>Long ago, when the world was young, the Nile loved -a maiden. She was Isis, daughter of a hundred stars, -who, as she nightly climbed the dark pinnacle of cloud, -drew her silver drapery across the stream's dark bosom. -Many were the sighs he breathed throughout the long -nights—but Isis heard him not; for the wind had told -her of Osiris, Osiris the beautiful, the well-beloved, who -daily waked the dreaming earth with his warm kiss. -And afterwards Mira, the great Star-Mother, bending -from her gleaming throne, had spoken of Osiris and -his glittering steeds, while Isis listening, yearned for -him whom she had never seen, whose radiance was -brighter even than that of Nefra-the-fire-bearer, who, -once in a century, flashed through the still heavens. So -Isis heeded not the Nile, moaning at her feet, for her -eyes were ever bent on the rim of the world, whence -would come in rosy haste the heralds of Osiris.</p> - -<p>But one morning, when the starry sisters were fleeing, -one by one, to the silent underworld, Isis stayed -in the dark cloudland. The night winds called her to -hasten, but she heard them not, and stood waiting—while -above the eastern horizon rose the Hours, streaking -the heavens with their amber veils, and borne along -behind them, Osiris himself, more radiant than her -dreams. But Osiris, glad in the greetings of the jubilant -earth, saw only a star-maiden lingering in her pale robes -on the borders of the forbidden Kingdom. Catching up -a barbed shaft, he hurled it shrieking through the air—and -Isis fell.</p> - -<p>The winds fled in horror from the earth; the air<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> -shuddered, and shrank away; but the Nile, roaming in -agony through the fields, stretched out his mighty arms -and, with a great cry, gathered the lifeless star-maiden -to his bosom. And there, where Isis fell, rose a starry -flower, pale, but with the stain of the dawn in its heart.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Ida F. Treat. -</p> - -<h3>II. The Legend</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Myth and -legend -compared</div> - -<p>Historically the legend may or may not be a later -development than the myth. The bards may have -ascribed the fanciful deeds of the gods to -their tribal heroes, or they may have -elevated their tribal heroes into gods by -exaggerating actual adventures into far-reaching phenomena. -For our present study the descent is immaterial; -the distinction is all. In the myth the chief -actors are gods; in the legend, men—men endowed -with superhuman strength often, to be sure, but still -men, though the favorites of the gods. The course of -events in the typical myth is pure and absolute imagination; -the course of events in the typical legend is -somewhat held down by facts. When the deeds are -magnified or wholly fanciful, the characters are semi-historical; -when the events or places are historical, the -chief actors are generally imaginary.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Saga</div> - -<p>In the myth-legend, or saga, the deeds transcend the -ordinarily credible and the heroes are often directed -by superhuman agencies. Perhaps the oldest -examples of this kind are those recorded -in the Sanscrit "Mahabharata" and "Ramayana", and -the Persian "Shah Nameh." In the last occurs the beautiful -story of Sohrab and Rustam, who lived six hundred<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> -years before Christ. Firdousi, writing as late as -the first decade of the eleventh century, was therefore -working over very ancient material. Such combinations -likewise of older tradition and later writing are the -Anglo-Saxon "Beowulf", the French "Chanson de Roland", -the Spanish "Cid", the Italian "Orlando Furioso" -(which is the French story adapted), the German -"Hildebrand", "Waltharilied", and "Nibelungen -Nôt", and the Icelandic "Grettir the Strong" and -"Volsunga Saga". The "Volsunga Saga" as we have -it today is prose with some songs from the "Elder -Edda". Legend in its written form as a composition -type we think of as prose, though it may be verse, or -prose and verse combined.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Saint -legends</div> - -<p>To the early church a legend meant the narrative of -the life of a saint or a martyr, especially the account -of his triumphs over temptation and of the miracles he -witnessed or performed. Even to-day in some monasteries -such stories are read at meals while the -monks eat. It is interesting to note that the -church distinguishes between <i>legenda</i>, things to be -read, and <i>credenda</i>, things to be believed. What appears -to be the earliest of these legends and the model -of the others is said to have been written by St. John -of Damascus, a monk of Syria, who lived in the eighth -century. It is called "Barlaam and Josaphat" and -contains besides the lives of the prince and the prophet -many beautiful parables, one of which Shakespeare -immortalized in the casket scene in the "Merchant of -Venice". The life of Josaphat is in turn said to be -the legendary life of the Buddha. There are many beautiful -Celtic and Anglo-Saxon Christian stories of this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> -type. In the Cynewulfian group of Anglo-Saxon Lives -of the Saints, the "Andreas" is considered very fine. -With its account of St. Andrew's miraculous rescue of -St. Matthew from prison among the heathen is a -sturdy, realistic description of a stormy voyage on -northern seas. "The Golden Legend", published by -Caxton in 1483, is a translation of a celebrated medieval -collection of lives of the greater saints, composed in -Latin by Jacobus de Voragine, a Dominican archbishop -of Genoa, in the thirteenth century.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Geoffrey of -Monmouth</div> - -<p>The great English legendary history and a great -source-book of English literary legend is the <i>Historia -Britonum</i> of Geoffrey of Monmouth. Besides -giving us the original story of Lear and -many other things in his record of British rulers down -to the Saxon Invasion, this twelfth century author, -building on the meager basis of an unknown Nennius -and possibly a cleric's version of Welsh traditions, -started the magnificent Arthurian cycle on its way. -This Latin account joined the great stream of continental -legendary romance, added to it and took from it, -and came back into English in Layamon's "Brut" in -the form of a series of metrical legends for the common -people.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Legendary -romance</div> - -<p>That most original and enchanting of all the medieval -legendary romance books, Malory's "Morte Darthur", -stands between the old and the new -English fiction in that it has the content of -the one and the form of the other. In it were gathered -up the religious element (that had come in with the -tradition of Joseph of Arimathæa), the love element -(of the Launcelot-Guinevere stories), and the national<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span> -element (Arthur, his wonderful Excalibur and his -knights), and so emphasized, so incomparably set forth, -so shaken together, if you please, that they combined -and stayed together ever afterwards. On the form -side, this work is prose and it is art—the first English -prose fiction, so announced and so taken. It is literary -legend. An artist conscious of his art offered the -material not as history or religion, but as a thing of -beauty. The preface states, "And for to pass the time -this book shall be pleasant to read in, but for to give -faith and belief that all is true that is contained herein, -ye be at your liberty."</p> - -<p>When stories such as these, either by an aim at history -or at art, emphasize what has been believed, they -are classed as legend; when they emphasize magic and -combine history in a riotous way for the mere sake of -astonishing, they are classed as wonder tales.</p> - -<p>While on the one side legend shades off into myth -and wonder tales, on the other it shades off into anecdote. -A tendency to write legend instead of fact is -always present. As soon as a man or a place becomes -prominent, fictitious stories begin to spring up, founded -not only on what was done, but also on what might -have been done. But to persist, a legendary account -must be true to the character and traits of the hero -or town or tribe or race with which it deals; at least, -it must be true to the popular conception of the character. -Though innumerable, the versions of the Faust -story, for example, are nevertheless essentially consistent. -Typical legends shading off into history and -anecdote are those about William Tell, Robert the -Bruce, Alfred the Great, John Smith and Pocahontas,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span> -and many of the popular tales about Columbus, Washington, -Lincoln, and Rizal.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Modern -literary -legends</div> - -<p>There are modern literary legends. An exquisite -legend of a place is "Rip Van Winkle" by Washington -Irving. A terrific French novel is founded -on the legendary idea of the Wandering -Jew. A wholesome boys' story that is often -mistaken for history is "The Man Without a Country." -Selma Lagerlöf, who was given the Nobel prize in 1909 -for the most original piece of literature, has written -among others a saint's legend about a hermit who was -won to brotherly love by a pair of birds that built a -nest and hatched their young in his outstretched palms -as, keeping a vow, he stood day and night praying -heaven to take vengeance and destroy the sinful world. -Allied to this species is one of Count Tolstoy's most -widely read stories. It is built upon an idea current in -all races and appearing in many legends; namely, of an -angel sent by God to live a while among men. But -Tolstoy, with his fervent devotion to the good of the -people, has turned his narrative into a parable, and -calls it "What Men Live By." Another beautiful religious -narrative, an art legend tangent to tradition, is -Henry Van Dyke's "The Other Wise Man."</p> - -<div class="sidenote">How to select -and -record a -legend of -growth</div> - -<p>It is easy for one to select a place legend. Every -town in the world, I suppose, has stories connected with -it that are only typically true. Almost every -prominent topographical feature has an explanatory -narrative current about it. Take -any of these popular tales concerning the -cliffs, river, mountain peak, spring, lake, -gully, or pictured rocks of your neighborhood and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> -you have a legend, so long as your story confines itself -to that particular spot, and does not let its subject -be emphatically the result of great natural forces or of -the cause of all subsequent similar formations. In -other words, one must remember that the basis of -legend is particular incident, while that of myth is -universal phenomenon; the content of legend is exaggerated -history, while the content of myth is fanciful -science. All one needs to do to record such a place -legend is to arrange the details in a coherent fashion -and to write out the sentences in good, clear, simple -English, sticking as close to the original oral account -as correct syntax will allow. If one cares to write -about people instead of places, one follows in general -the same directions, being sure not to fall into mere -anecdote or incident, but to have a full, complete -account.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">How to -write -a legend -of art</div> - -<p>To write a literary art legend, an author selects in -history some period that he likes very much or some -hero or heroine he has always admired, and -notes down a number of facts that are connected -with one another and with his subject; -then he lets his imagination loose -upon them. He uses terms and expressions of the age -of which he is writing; phrases that now appear quaint -add a flavor of reality to the tale. But he is careful, -however, not to misuse words and thus commit what -the critics call anachronism, by putting the idioms -peculiar to one age or one people into the mouth of -another. An occasional special touch is good, but too -much straining for effect spoils a story. He gets rather -into the mood of simple faith in greatness and goodness,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> -and tells of brave deeds and generous actions that -might well have happened. Dramatic truth there must -be; literal truth, not necessarily. A working definition -runs somewhat like this:</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Working -definition</div> - -<p>Legend is a narrative partly true and partly imaginary, -about a particular person, event, place or natural -feature; a story that has the semblance of -history, but is in reality almost altogether -fanciful, since the basic fact is amplified, abridged, or -wholly changed at the will of the narrator.</p> - -<h4>Kenach's Little Woman</h4> - -<p>As the holy season of Lent drew nigh the Abbot -Kenach felt a longing such as a bird of passage feels -in the south when the first little silvery buds on the -willow begin here to break their ruddy sheaths, and the -bird thinks tomorrow it will be time to fly over seas to -the land where it builds its nest in pleasant croft or -under the shelter of homely eaves. And Kenach said, -"<i>Levabo oculos</i>—I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills -from whence cometh my help," for every year it was -his custom to leave his abbey and fare through the -woods to the hermitage on the mountainside, so that he -might spend the forty days in fasting and prayer in the -heart of solitude.</p> - -<p>Now on the day which is called the Wednesday -of Ashes he set out, but first he heard the mass of -remembrance and led his monks to the altar steps, and -knelt there in great humility to let the priest sign his -forehead with a cross of ashes. And on the forehead -of each of the monks the ashes were smeared in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span> -form of a cross, and each time the priest made the -sign he repeated the words, "Remember, man, that thou -art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return."</p> - -<p>So with the ashes still in his brow and with the -remembrance of the end of earthly days in his soul, -he bent his steps towards the hermitage; and as he -was now an aged man and nowise strong, Diarmait, one -of the younger brethren, accompanied him in case any -mischance should befall.</p> - -<p>They passed through the cold forest, where green -there was none, unless it were the patches of moss and -the lichens on the rugged tree trunks and tufts of -last year's grass, but here and there the white blossoms -of the snowdrops peered out. The dead gray leaves -and dry twigs crackled and snapped under their feet -with such a noise as a wood fire makes when it is newly -lighted; and that was all the warmth they had on their -wayfaring.</p> - -<p>The short February day was closing in as they -climbed among the boulders and withered bracken on -the mountainside, and at last reached the entrance of -a cavern hollowed in the rock and fringed with ivy. -This was the hermitage. The Abbot hung his bell -on a thick ivy bough in the mouth of the caves; and -they knelt and recited vespers and compline; and thrice -the Abbot struck the bell to scare away the evil spirits -of the night; and they entered and lay down to rest.</p> - -<p>Hard was the way of their sleeping; for they lay -not on wool or on down, neither on heather or bracken, -nor yet on dry leaves, but their sides came against the -cold stone, and under the head of each there was a -stone for pillow. But being weary with the long journey,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> -they slept sound and felt nothing of the icy mouth -of the wind blowing down the mountainside.</p> - -<p>Within an hour of daybreak, when the moon was -setting, they were awakened by the wonderful singing -of a bird, and they rose for matins and strove not to -listen, but so strangely sweet was the sound in the -keen moonlight morning that they could not forbear. -The moon set, and still in the dark sang the bird, and -the gray light came, and the bird ceased; and when -was white day they saw that all the ground and every -stalk of bracken was hoary with frost, and every ivy -leaf was crusted white round the edge, but within the -edge it was all glossy green.</p> - -<p>"What bird is this that sings so sweet before day -in the bitter cold?" said the Abbot. "Surely no bird -at all, but an Angel from heaven waking us from the -death of sleep."</p> - -<p>"It is the blackbird, Domine Abbas," said the -young monk; "often they sing thus in February, however -cold it may be."</p> - -<p>"O soul, O Diarmait, is it not wonderful that the -senseless small creatures should praise God so sweetly -in the dark, and in the light before the dark, while we -are fain to lie warm and forget His praise?" And -afterwards he said, "Gladly could I have listened to -that singing, even till tomorrow was a day; and yet it -was but the singing of a little earth wrapped in a handful -of feathers. O soul, tell me what it must be to -listen to the singing of an Angel, a portion of heaven -wrapped in the glory of God's love!"</p> - -<p>Of the forty days thirty went by, and oftentimes -now, when no wind blew, it was bright and delightsome<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> -among the rocks, for the sun was gaining strength, -and the days were growing longer, and the brown trees -were being speckled with numberless tiny buds of white -and pale green, and wild flowers were springing between -the boulders and through the mountain turf.</p> - -<p>Hard by the cave there was a wall of rock covered -with ivy, and as Diarmait chanced to walk near it, a -brown bird darted out from among the leaves. The -young monk looked at the place from which it had -flown, and behold! among the leaves and the hairy -sinews of the ivy there was a nest lined with grass, -and in the nest there were three eggs—pale green with -reddish spots. And Diarmait knew the bird and knew -the eggs, and he told the Abbot, who came noiselessly, -and looked with a great love at the open house and -the three eggs of the mother blackbird.</p> - -<p>"Let us not walk too near, my son," he said, "lest -we scare the mother from her brood, and so silence -beforehand some of the music of the cold hours before -the day." And he lifted his hand and blessed the -nest and the bird, saying, "And He shall bless thy -bread and thy water." After that it was very seldom -they went near the ivy.</p> - -<p>Now after days of clear and benign weather a shrill -wind broke out from beneath the North Star, and -brought with it snow and sleet and piercing cold. And -the woods howled for distress of the storm, and the -gray stones of the mountain chattered with discomfort. -Harsh cold and sleeplessness were their lot in -the cave, and as he shivered, the Abbot bethought him -of the blackbird in her nest, and of the wet flakes -driving in between the leaves of the ivy and stinging<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> -her brown wings and patient bosom. And lifting his -head from his pillow of stone he prayed the Lord of -the elements to have the bird in His gentle care, saying,</p> - -<p>"How excellent is Thy loving kindness, O God! -therefore the children of men put their trust under the -shadow of Thy wings."</p> - -<p>Then after a little while he said, "Look out into -the night, O son, and tell me if yet the storm be -abated."</p> - -<p>And Diarmait, shuddering, went to the mouth of the -cavern, and stood there gazing and calling in a low -voice, "Domine Abbas! My Lord Abbot! My Lord -Abbot!"</p> - -<p>Kenach rose quickly and went to him, and as they -looked out the sleet beat on their faces, but in the -midst of the storm there was a space of light, as though -it were moonshine, and the light streamed from an -Angel, who stood near the wall of rock with outspread -wings, and sheltered the blackbird's nest from the wintry -blast.</p> - -<p>And the monks gazed at the shining loveliness of -the Angel, till the wind fell and the snow ceased and -the light faded away and the sharp stars came out -and the night was still.</p> - -<p>Now at sundown of the day that followed, when -the Abbot was in the cave, the young monk, standing -among the rocks, saw approaching a woman who carried -a child in her arms; and crossing himself, he cried -aloud to her, "Come not any nearer; turn thy face to -the forest, and go down."</p> - -<p>"Nay," replied the woman, "for we seek shelter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> -for the night, and food and the solace of fire for the -little one."</p> - -<p>"Go down, go down," cried Diarmait; "no woman -may come to this hermitage."</p> - -<p>"How canst thou say that, O monk?" said the -woman. "Was the Lord Christ any worse than thou? -Christ came to redeem woman no less than to redeem -man. Not less did He suffer for the sake of woman -than for the sake of man. Women gave service and -tendance to Him and His Apostles. A woman it was -who bore Him, else had men been left forlorn. It was -a man who betrayed Him with a kiss; and woman it -was who washed His feet with tears. It was a man -who smote Him with a reed, but a woman who broke -the alabaster box of precious ointment. It was a man -who thrice denied Him; a woman stood by His cross. -It was a woman to whom He first spoke on Easter morn, -but a man thrust his hand into His side and put his -finger in the prints of the nails before he would believe. -And not less than men do women enter the -heavenly kingdom. Why, then, shouldst thou drive -my little child and me from thy hermitage and thy hospitality?"</p> - -<p>Then Kenach, who had heard all that was said, -came forth from the cave, and blessed the woman. "Well -hast thou spoken, O daughter; come, and bring the -small child with thee." And turning to the young -monk, he said, "O soul, O son, O Diarmait, did not -God send His Angel out of high heaven to shelter the -mother bird? And was not that, too, a little woman -in feathers? But now hasten, and gather wood and -leaves, and strike fire from the flint, and make a hearth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span> -before the cave, that the woman may rest and the boy -have the comfort of the bright flame."</p> - -<p>This was soon done, and by the fire sat the woman -eating a little barley bread; but the child, who had -no will to eat, came round to the old man, and held -out two soft hands to him. And the Abbot caught him -up from the ground to his breast, and kissed his golden -head, saying, "God bless thee, sweet little son, and -give thee a good life and a happy, and strength of thy -small body, and if it be His holy will, length of glad -days; and ever mayest thou be a gladness and deep joy -to thy mother."</p> - -<p>Then, seeing that the woman was strangely clad in -an outland garb of red and blue and that she was -tall, with a golden-hued skin and olive eyes, arched, -very black eyebrows, aquiline nose, and a rosy mouth, -he said, "Surely O daughter, thou art not of this land -of Erinn in the sea, but art come out of the great world -beyond?"</p> - -<p>"Indeed, then, we have traveled far," replied the -woman; "as thou sayest, out of the great world beyond. -And now the twilight deepens upon us, and we would -sleep."</p> - -<p>"Thou shalt sleep safe in the cave, O daughter, but -we will rest here by the embers. My cloak of goat's -hair shalt thou have, and such dry bracken and soft -bushes as may be found."</p> - -<p>"There is no need," said the woman, "mere shelter -is enough," and she added in a low voice, "Often has -my little son had no bed wherein he might lie."</p> - -<p>Then she stretched out her arms to the boy, and -once more the little one kissed the Abbot, and as he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> -passed by Diarmait he put the palms of his hands -against the face of the young monk, and said laughingly, -"I do not think thou hadst any ill-will to us, -though thou wert rough and didst threaten to drive us -away into the woods."</p> - -<p>And the woman lifted the boy on her arm, and -rose and went towards the cavern; and when she was -in the shadow of the rocks she turned towards the -monks beside the fire and said, "My son bids me thank -you."</p> - -<p>They looked up, and what was their astonishment -to see a heavenly glory shining about the woman and -her child in the gloom of the cave. And in his left -hand the child carried a little golden image of the -world, and round his head was a starry radiance, and -his right hand was raised in blessing.</p> - -<p>For such a while as it takes the shadow of a cloud -to run across a rippling field of corn, for so long the -vision remained; and then it melted into the darkness, -even as a rainbow melts away into the rain.</p> - -<p>On his face fell the Abbot, weeping for joy beyond -words; but Diarmait was seized with fear and trembling -till he remembered the way in which the child -had pressed warm palms against his face and forgiven -him.</p> - -<p>The story of these things was whispered abroad, and -ever since, in that part of Erinn in the sea, the mother -blackbird is called Kenach's Little Woman.</p> - -<p>And as for the stone on which the fire was lighted -in front of the cave, rain rises quickly from it in mist, -and leaves it dry, and snow may not lie upon it, and -even in the dead of winter it is warm to touch. And<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span> -to this day it is called the Stone of Holy Companionship.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—William Canton. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"W. V.'s Golden Legend" (Dodd, Mead & Co.).</p></div> - -<h4>A Legend of Gapan</h4> - -<p>In the early part of December, in the year 1889, a -poor man named Carlos left the town where he lived to -go to Gapan, about twenty miles distant.</p> - -<p>Day was beginning to break as Carlos reached the -foot of a hill, which he was just about to climb, when -he heard the sound of music. Looking upward to find -whence the sound came, he saw a bright white cloud. -From the center of this cloud shone a ray of light, -forming a circle in which were all the colors of the -rainbow.</p> - -<p>Carlos could scarcely believe his eyes, till he heard -a sweet voice call his name. He hastened to climb the -hill, and at the top found a very beautiful woman, -around whom shone a light that made the stones and -bushes sparkle like gems.</p> - -<p>When the man had drawn near, our Blessed Lady—for -it was she—told him that she wished a church to -be built on that spot, and bade him go to Gapan and -tell this fact to the priest. On reaching the town, -Carlos went straight to the priest, and related what -the Blessed Virgin had confided to him.</p> - -<p>"I believe you," said the priest, "but to be still -more certain, ask her who sends you for some sign by -which we may know that she is really the Mother of -God."</p> - -<p>Afterwards Carlos went to the spot where the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span> -Blessed Mother was waiting for him. As soon as he -saw her, he immediately threw himself at her feet, and -told her what the priest had said. With great tenderness -our Lady bade him come to her the next day, -saying she would give him the sign for which the priest -had asked.</p> - -<p>Carlos came the next day. "Go now," said the -Blessed Virgin, "to the top of the hill, and gather the -roses that are blooming there. Put them in your handkerchief, -and bring them to me; I will tell you what to -do with them."</p> - -<p>Though Carlos believed that there were no roses -there, he obeyed without a word. How great, then, -was his surprise to find a garden rich with flowers! -Filling his handkerchief with roses, he hurried back to -the Blessed Virgin.</p> - -<p>Our Lady took the roses in her pure hands, and -letting them drop back into the handkerchief, said to -Carlos, "Present these roses to the priest, and say that -they are the proof of the command I give you. Do -not show any one what you carry, and open your handkerchief -only in the presence of the priest."</p> - -<p>Thanking the Blessed Virgin, Carlos started once -more for the town. When he reached the convent and -was brought before the priest, he opened his handkerchief -to show the sign that was to prove his words, and -fresh, sweet-smelling roses, wet with dew, fell to the -floor, while on the handkerchief itself appeared a beautiful -picture of the Mother of God.</p> - -<p>"The Blessed Virgin is here," said the father, and -then he knelt before the picture and gave praise to -God. The miraculous handkerchief was placed in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> -church of Gapan, where it remained until a suitable -chapel was built on the very top of the hill, as our Lady -desired.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Teofilo P. Corpus. -</p> - -<h4>A Legend of the Incas</h4> - -<p>"We will rest here for a time, Uira." The hollow-eyed, -tired-looking youth dismounted from his burro. -His companion Uira, a short, swarthy-skinned Peruvian, -turned and gazed down the mountainside whence -they had come, upon the flat roofs of Quito, which -seemed like a dream city, so lovely did the distance -make it. "It is beautiful, is it not, Juan? My home, -the home of the Incas, the most ancient city in all the -land?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, indeed, it is beautiful, and, Uira, while we -rest, you shall tell me a tale of your people; some pretty -legend of the Incas. I think nothing else would so -thoroughly refresh me." Now Juan could by no exercise -of ingenuity have touched a more responsive -chord in the nature of his friend.</p> - -<p>"Well, what shall it be, Juan? You have never -heard the story of Manca, have you? It may not be -what you would call a pretty legend; yet I think you -would like it," said Uira, readily complying.</p> - -<p>"Very well, I know I cannot help but enjoy it," -said Juan, as he settled himself comfortably, with dried -leaves for a couch and a tree stump for a pillow.</p> - -<p>"Well," began Uira, his gaze still on the town below -them.</p> - -<p>"Uira, you're not beginning right; you should say -many, many, years ago." The fine-featured Spanish<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span> -boy looked mischievously at the stolid descendant of -the Incas.</p> - -<p>"You perhaps have heard," went on Uira, discouraging -flippancy by disregarding it, "of the story of -Attahualpa; at least you have known something of it -from the histories you have studied; how, before he -died, the mighty Huayan Capar divided his kingdom -between his two sons, Attahualpa and Huascar, half-brothers, -giving to Attahualpa the northern region, -Quito, which your geography calls Ecuador; how Huascar, -arrogant in his newly-acquired greatness, demanded -tribute from Quito. You know how Attahualpa angrily -refused; how he came at the head of a great -army to the seat of his brother's power, defeated Huascar, -and taking from the conquered man kingdom and -freedom, left him only his life. Then the Spaniards, -curses on them all——"</p> - -<p>"You forget that I am proud of my Spanish blood, -Uira," the lad interrupted, his cheeks flushing with -resentment.</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes, Juan, I forgot. Forgive my hasty speech -and unintended insult. But to go on, the Spaniards, -mad with lust for gold, marched with armies legion in -number. If you do not know, boy, how many legion is, -look at the tree tops above you; the leaves are countless; -they are legion. The invaders, with the Pizarro -at their head, burned our homes, desecrated our temples, -and captured Attahualpa, who, elated with his conquest, -was returning to Quito. The Attahualpa, the records -say, collected in one room and gave the Pizarro the -wealth of the Incas; and your traditions tell you that in -fear of his own life, Pizarro put his captive to death.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> -This is the story of Attahualpa as you have been -taught it.</p> - -<p>But I will now tell you what it is given only the -few in whose veins still flows the blood of the Incas to -know. Huayan had a daughter Manca, whose name -is not written in the annals. She was sister to Attahualpa, -and in her heart was all the mighty pride of -the Incas. Oh, how she loved the name of her race! -How she rejoiced in their conquests, their prowess! -How she delighted to look upon the gold in the temples, -and think that it was all part of the prosperity of her -people! There was a woman, Juan, perhaps not beautiful, -I cannot say, well worthy to bear the name of an -Incan.</p> - -<p>How she wept when Pizarro, with his Spanish -followers, seized Attahualpa! But do not think that -it was for fear that she wept, Juan. It was for injured -pride; for sorrow that she was to lose her dearest -friend, her brother.</p> - -<p>But when the loyal girl found that Attahualpa, -a ruler, a conqueror of men, and most of all, an Incan, -was bargaining for his life with a roomful of gold as -the price, she prayed to the gods she worshiped, to -take her brother to the spirit world, before he should -place this blot upon the nation. She—heroine that she -was—would rather a thousand times have lost her companion -than have had him coward enough to buy his -life thus. Day and night she pondered and prayed, and -planned ways by which she might ward off so awful -an outrage against Incan pride. After a week of despair -and vain thought, while Attahualpa was robbing -the shrines of their ornaments to fill the great chamber<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span> -chosen by the Spanish general, Manca determined -that since she could not by pleading with Attahualpa -or by playing upon his love for his sister or his country -or even for his gods, move him from his purpose, -she would at least save him from himself.</p> - -<p>This was Manca's purpose. Perhaps, Juan, I failed -to tell you that Manca bore a very strong resemblance -to her brother," and for the first time Uira looked away -from Quito, and glanced questioningly at Juan. The -boy nodded. "Go on," he said, his gaze, too, traveling -to the city of antiquity, where, centuries ago, Manca -made her hitherto unrecorded sacrifice.</p> - -<p>"The spirited girl," went on Uira, "realized that -when Pizarro had his booty, his cowardly fear for himself -would outweigh his honor, and cause him to kill -his prisoner; and so, when the day came on which Attahualpa -was to open the doors of the treasure-filled -chamber, Attahualpa lay at his home, guarded by servants, -who were not to liberate him till sundown; and -Manca, garbed in her brother's clothes, gave to Pizarro -the store of wealth. As she walked home, along a lonely -forest path, she received the poisoned arrow intended -for Attahualpa. He, when he discovered his sister's -bravery, slunk off to the mountains, with never a thought -of the rumors which would forever darken his name. -Thus Manca's life, by the sacrifice of which she had -hoped that she might keep bright the fame of her -brother, was given up for the sake of a coward's reputation. -By crediting herself with the surrender of the -wealth, she had intended that Attahualpa, though he -had been defeated in battle, should still remain the hero -of the Incas."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span></p> - -<p>There was a pause. The man and the boy both were -now staring down at Ecuador's capital city, whose pillars -seemed to be floating in the mist just rising from -Pinchincha's side.</p> - -<p>"As you said, it is not a pretty legend. But don't -you think, Uira, that Manca must have been very -beautiful?"</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Dorothea Knoblock. -</p> - -<h4>The Place of the Red Grass: or, The Invasion of Pangasinan -by the Ilocanos</h4> - -<p>Long before the Spaniards discovered the Philippines, -there was war in Luzon among the Pangasinan and -Ilocano tribes. Each tribe had powerful chiefs of remarkable -courage and bravery. It was believed that -they were sons of gods, and possessed magical power. -Among them was Palaris, the distinguished chief of the -Pangasinanes, and Lumtuad, the skillful chief of the -Ilocanos. These rulers were neighbors and the army -of the one plundered the towns of the other. On account -of this reason and also of the ambition of each -to enlarge his dominion, a war broke out. Lumtuad -collected three hundred ships in Laoag, Ilocos Norte. -These ships were loaded with his chosen men armed -with bolos, spears, and bows and arrows. These ships -sailed toward the south, and entered the Gulf of Lingayen, -Pangasinan. Palaris and his army went to meet -them.</p> - -<p>At first, the battle took place on the water. Lumtuad -showed his skill to his enemy. He fought jumping -from one ship to another. Unfortunately he was -shot by an arrow and fell into the water. After his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> -death, his soldiers fought furiously, and drove back -the enemy into the town.</p> - -<p>When the invading army had landed all its forces, -it pursued Palaris's army as far as Mangaldan, a town -fifteen miles from Lingayen. When Palaris foresaw -the future defeat of his army, he escaped into a sugar -field. There by Lumtuad's scouts he was found sleeping. -They thrust a lance through the middle of his -body. But Palaris whirled himself free from the lance, -killed some of these soldiers, and pursued the rest until -his last breath was gone. He was then succeeded -by his lieutenant Afilado, and the battle was renewed. -Afilado's forces were entirely defeated and those who -survived were killed outright. A river of blood flowed -from the spot where the battle took place, and the grass -that grows there today is red. The place where Palaris -was struck was named after him.</p> - -<p>After the war the victorious Ilocanos settled in the -province of Pangasinan; so that now they constitute a -greater number in population than the Pangasinanes -themselves.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Sixto Guico. -</p> - -<h3>III. The Fairy Tale</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">The attitude -toward -fairy -stories</div> - -<p>"From Ghoulies and Ghoosties, long-leggetty Beasties, -and Things that go Bump in the Night, Good Lord, -deliver us!" the quaint old litany pleads, -and is probably better representative of the -attitude of primitive peoples toward the -extraordinary personages of the sub-world -than is our more modern and debonair view. We have -come to look upon a fairy story as a mental holiday,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> -to enjoy which the narrator and the listener are off -on a picnic. But not so do the unsophisticated folk -think of the events. The grown-up primitive man believes -more seriously in the tricks of goblins and sprites -than do our most credulous modern children. To him, -the good or malicious influence of the nunu or ticbalan -is not a fiction, but a reality that must be reckoned -with. Luckily he can reckon with it; for even in the -earlier folk tales the fairies are not generally immortal, -and they do not have unlimited power.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Fundamental -characteristics -of -fairies</div> - -<p>One chief characteristic that distinguishes these extra-natural -beings from the gods is that the extra-natural -are for the most part small and -belong to the under-world. They are not -so much superhuman as other than human. -They may be checked or outwitted or even -finally overcome. They have power to tease a man, -though not the power utterly to destroy him. A pixy -may cast a spell, but not forever. Jack-o-lantern, or -Will-o-the-wisp, may lead astray into a bog and may -hope that his victim be not a good wader, but the trick -and the malicious wish are the extent of the evil. The -victim usually in the end escapes. If he perishes, he has -forgotten his charms or neglects to say his prayers.</p> - -<p>There is a somewhat well-fixed literary atmosphere -for English fairy stories and allusions. As we have -said, they must have about them the air of holiday. -The English elfin people are a merry folk from the -dainty queen to the clumsiest boggart, and enjoy a bit -of fun even at their own expense,—though, to tell the -truth, the joke is usually the other way.</p> - -<p>If you wish to write an original narrative about<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> -these charming creatures, the best way to prepare is to -get acquainted with them. No doubt you know where -some of them live. Perhaps only this morning you -chanced upon a forgotten hammock left swinging between -two stout little sprigs of grass where a fairy had -slept, or maybe last night you clearly heard the tinkle -of pranckling feet and were too lazy or indifferent to go -to the window to catch a glimpse of a wondrous sight. -I pray you, if you have the chance again, join the -masquerade, remembering only that if Oberon asks -you why you are there, you must speak out frankly. -His promise is</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"><div class="i0">"We fairies never injure men</div> -<div class="i0">Who dare to tell us true."</div></div> -</div></div> - -<p class="noin">Oh, yes, one more thing to remember! Leave before -cock-crow if you expect to bring your wits with you.</p> - -<p>If you are afraid to try the experiment of original -sightseeing and fear Sir Topas's fate, do the next best -thing. Seek out somebody who has witnessed a fairy -revel, or been at a brownies' banquet, has outtricked a -bogie, or propitiated an angry gnome, or, best of all, -likely, has made a little green cloak and hood for the -lubber-fiend of the kitchen hearth, and has seen him -fling himself out-of-doors in high glee to return no -more except with good luck. Watchers who have seen -these things, I dare say, will have much to tell you. Get -their narratives.</p> - -<p>The Filipino fairies are not so winsome as the English, -but they are far more actual. The English fairies -are "but mortals beautifully masquerading," says Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span> -W. B. Yeats. He could find no fault with the Filipino -fairies; for they are potent forces. Like the Irish -deenee shee, the Filipino supernatural beings are thoroughly -believed in by the peasants, and, like the Irish -creatures, the Malayan are not always small, but may -be small or large at will. Some of their manifestations -are indeed gruesome; a few are harmless or even helpful; -all are very interesting.</p> - -<p>The educated young people of the Philippines have a -mission to perform for the native fairies. It has become -the fashion in some places to frown upon the unseen -folk and to attempt to drive them out. The endeavor -is commendable so far as it discriminates. The bad -fairies should go. The wholesome ones should stay. -They should stay for the sake of future native poetry -and for the sake of all the little brown children who -love stories.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Northern -fairies and -their attributes</div> - -<p>A bare list of the names of fairies and subhuman -beings is inspiring. In the Norse countries there are -dwarfs, known also as trolls, kobalds, goblins, -brownies, pucks, or elle-folk. It is said -that 'they are less powerful than gods, but -far more intelligent than men; that their -knowledge is boundless and extends even to the future. -They can transport themselves with celerity from one -place to another, and love to hide behind rocks and -repeat the last words of every conversation they overhear. -Echoes are known as dwarfs' talk. A Tarnkappe -each one owns, a tiny red cap which makes the -wearer invisible. Dwarfs are ruled by a king spoken -of in various northern countries as Andvari, Alberich, -Elbegast, Gondemar, Laurin, or Oberon. He dwells<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span> -in a magnificent subterranean palace and owns a magic -ring, an invisible sword, and a belt of strength. His -subjects often fashion marvelous weapons and girdles. -In general, dwarfs are kindly and helpful: sometimes -they knead bread, grind flour, brew beer, and perform -countless other household tasks; sometimes they harvest -and thresh grain for the farmers. If ill-treated -or turned to ridicule, these little creatures forsake the -house never to come back to it again. Sometimes they -take vengeance by means of changelings. Changelings -are the weazened and puny offspring of the dwarfs -which they substitute for unbaptized children that they -steal from people who have offended them. The dwarfs, -envious of the taller stature of the human race, desire -to improve their own, and so consider it good morals -thus to make their enemies their benefactors.'</p> - -<p>Fairies, elves, and ariels include all the small -creatures who are fair, good, and useful. They have -their dwelling-place, it is said, 'in the airy realm of -Alf-heim (home of the light-elves), situated between -heaven and earth, whence they can flit downwards -whenever they please, to attend to the plants and flowers, -sport with the birds and butterflies, or dance in -the silvery moonlight on the green.' They have golden -hair, sweet musical voices, and magic harps. These -gentle aerial beings, scholars say, were introduced into -Europe by the Crusaders and the Moors of Spain. Before -that time the creatures of the North had been cold -and ungenial, like their heath-clad mountains, chilly -lakes, and piny solitudes; but after the advent of the -Peri of the East, who live in the sun or the rainbow -and subsist on the odor of flowers, the Northern elves<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span> -took on more winning attributes and finally became -beneficent and beautiful.</p> - -<p>Many of the stories in the so-called fairy books are -technically not fairy stories but nursery sagas, as we -use the term today; for instance, most of those in Miss -Mulock's "Fairy Book" and the larger part in the -"Blue and the Green Fairy Books." They are English, -French, German, and other <i>Märchen</i> retold. Jean -Ingelow's "Mopsa the Fairy" has a good-sounding -title for a typical fairy book, though the material seems -to be literary rather than traditional. Brentano's -creatures in translation surely bear literary names, -whatever they have in the original. Dream-my-Soul -and Sir Skip-and-a-Jump are suggestive of the pen. -But Puck of Pook's Hill comes near to being of the -solid traditional Northern type—at least in declaration. -He says he is the oldest Old Thing in England—very -much at your service if you care to have anything -to do with him; but, by Oak and Ash and Thorn, he -hates the painty-winged, wand-waving, sugar-and-shake-your-head -set of imposters! He is for Wayland-Smith -and magic and the old days before the Conquest. -Charles Kingsley's Madam How and Lady Why are -noble fairies without dispute—really goddesses; yet, -strange to say, they have revealed themselves to a pedagogue -and have permitted their work to be the subject -of lectures. Still, they are companionable and -wholesome and none the less marvelous than their more -common sisters. This is an interesting contamination -of genres—the pedagogical narrative combined with -the fairy tale. Usually the combination is not so -happily made.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote">How to -proceed -to write a -fairy-tale</div> - -<p>If a writer cares to attempt a new "old" fairy tale -of the real sort, he might observe the following more -specific suggestions, which were written out -before "Puck of Pook's Hill" came into the -hands of the author of this book, but which -happen to express fairly well what might be -deduced as Kipling's procedure. (1) Decide on the -country in which the events are to take place. (2) If -you are not already familiar with that country through -the medium of traveling or residence, make yourself familiar -with it by reading. The more you know about -the common people and their superstitions, the better -your story will be. (3) Make lists of names of the -good and bad spirits of that country together with -their occupations and powers. (4) From these lists -pick <span class="err" title="original: our">out</span> the being you are going to treat as your chief -personage and clearly define to yourself its relation to -the other spirits. (5) Then weave about this personality -a series of events for which it is directly or indirectly -responsible. (6) Be sure to make the fairies or -spirits of the other world the chief actors. If living -man comes in, he must be simply the object to whom -they offer their favors or on whom they play their -pranks or wreak their vengeance. It is the doings of -the fairies or of the beings of the extra-natural world -that you must make your reader interested in. (7) If -you care to write a weird fairy tale, select the unpleasant -spirits and proceed; but be sure not to make -your story revolting instead of weird. A good weird -tale is the work of a master and pleases because of its -art. A horrible story any bungler can tell. (8) Finally,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span> -remember the working definition: <span class="sni">Summary -definition</span> A fairy tale is a -narrative of imaginary events wherein the chief actors -are beings other than man and the gods—beings -who have power to help man or to tease -and molest him, but not the power utterly to destroy -him.</p> - -<h4>PARTIAL LIST OF FAIRIES, GOOD AND BAD, OF DIFFERENT -COUNTRIES:</h4> - -<h5>Northern Fairies</h5> - -<p class="hang">Duergar, or Dwerger—Gotho-German dwarfs, dwelling -in rocks and hills; noted for their strength, subtlety, -magical powers, and skill in metallurgy. They are -personifications of the subterranean powers of -nature.</p> - -<p class="hang">Kobold—a house-spirit in German superstition; same -as English Robin Goodfellow, or Puck.</p> - -<p class="hang">Nick—a water-wraith or Kelpie. There are nicks -in sea, lake, river, or waterfall. Sometimes represented -as half-child, half-horse, the hoofs being -reversed.</p> - -<p class="hang">Nis, or Nisse—a Scandinavian fairy friendly to farm-houses.</p> - -<p class="hang">Trolls—similar to Duergar; dwarfs of Northern mythology -living in hills and mounds. They are represented -as stumpy, misshapen, humpbacked, inclined -to thieving and fond of carrying off children or substituting -one of their own offspring for that of a -human mother. They are said to dislike noise very -much.</p> - -<p class="hang">Stromkarl—a Norwegian musical spirit, like Neck.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span></p> - -<h5>Irish and Scotch Fairies</h5> - -<p class="hang">Banshee—domestic Spirit of certain Irish or Highland -Scotch families; supposed to take an interest in their -welfare.</p> - -<p class="hang">Boggart (Scotch)—a local hobgoblin or spirit.</p> - -<p class="hang">Bogie (Scotch, Welsh, and Irish)—a scarecrow, a goblin.</p> - -<p class="hang">Brownie—the house spirit in Scottish superstition. -Called in England Robin Goodfellow. Farms are -his favorite abode.</p> - -<p class="hang">Jack-a-lantern—a bog or marsh spirit who delights to -mislead.</p> - -<p class="hang">Lepracaun, or Leprechaun (Irish)—a fairy shoemaker.</p> - -<h5>Filipino Fairies and Other Minor Supernatural Creatures</h5> - -<p>The list that follows is necessarily very brief, for -every tribe of the Philippine Islands has its host of mischievous -creatures, whose chief delight is to annoy or -frighten men. Others are of a more malignant nature, -however; some cause sickness; some insanity; and occasionally -some cause death, for the Filipinos as well -as the Hungarians have their vampires.</p> - -<p>The name of the tribe in which the belief in the -spirit is most common is given in parentheses after the -description:</p> - -<p class="hang">Salut—the spirits of pestilence in general and cholera -in particular. They are described as tall, thin persons -dressed in flowing black robes, who walk the -streets at night and knock at the doors of the houses -to which they wish to carry death. (Tagalog, -Pampango, Bicol.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Matanda sa punso—a little old man who lives in a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span> -mound of earth. He loves children, and is willing -to help those who respect him and his house. -(Tagalog.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Lampong—a tall harmless creature with a horse's head -and feet but a man's body. He lives in the woods, -can travel very rapidly, and is deathly afraid of a -rosary. He possesses some magic power. (Pangasinan.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Camana—an evil spirit that lives in gloomy places. It -can assume the form of any small animal, or can -make itself invisible. If a person who comes across -the camana does not propitiate it with food or something -entertaining, he will become sick; and he can -be cured only by an old woman who is a manganito. -(Parts of Zambales.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Patianak—Accounts about patianak are very contradictory. -It is most commonly believed, however, to -be a mischievous fairy that assumes the form of a -small child and misleads travelers at night. It has -a mirthful laugh that is very attractive. The only -way for the victim to drive the fairy away and to -find the right road is for him to take off his coat -and wear it inside out. (Tagalog and Bicol.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Mamamarang—a sorceress who fights with travelers in -lonely places and tries to kill them that she may -eat them. (Visayan.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Managbatu—a spirit in the form of a man, which lives -in trees and at midnight throws stones and clods at -the houses near his dwelling. He can cause sickness -to those that try to injure him. (Cagayan.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Cafre—an enormous black man that smokes long -cigars. He does very little harm, but delights in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span> -frightening people. Some say he can transform -himself into almost anything from a pig to a ball of -fire. He appears only at night, of course. (Pampango, -Tagalog, Bicol.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Tigbalang—a demon who lives in trees, especially the -baliti tree. His body is covered with long hair and -one of his feet is a horse's hoof. His chief delight -is to lead people astray and make them crazy, or to -ravage banana plantations, to empty water jars, -shake houses, and disturb people generally. -(Tagalog.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Tigabulak—a demon who in the form of an old man -entices children with candy and cakes. After he has -led them far from home, he puts them in a sack and -carries them to his dwelling. Then he kills them -and makes money out of their blood. (Tagalog.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Caibaan—little mischievous field spirits who play tiny -guitars. They steal dishes and hide them, and indulge -in other pranks. (Pangasinan and Ilocano.)</p> - -<h5>Russian Fairies and Witches</h5> - -<p class="hang">Domovoy—the Russian brownie that lives behind the -stove. If he is neglected, he waxes wroth and -knocks the tables and benches around at night.</p> - -<p class="hang">Baba-yaga—an ogress who lives on the edge of the -forest, in a hut built so as to turn with the wind -like a weathercock.</p> - -<p class="hang">Rusalki—water sprites.</p> - -<p class="hang">Vodianoi—river genii.</p> - -<p class="hang">Lieshii and the Liesnik—forest demons.</p> - -<p class="hang">Vampires—ghosts who steal by night from their tombs, -and suck the blood of the living during their sleep.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span></p> - -<h5>Arabian Fairies and Witches</h5> - -<p class="hang">Jinn—a sort of fairies of Arabian mythology—the offspring -of fire. (The singular of jinn is jinnee.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Afreet—a sort of Arabian ghoul or demon—the epitome -of what is terrible and monstrous in Arabian superstition.</p> - -<p class="hang">Peri (plural of Peris)—Peri are delicate, gentle, fairy-like -beings of Eastern mythology, begotten by fallen -spirits. With a wand they direct the pure in mind -the way to heaven.</p> - -<h5>Miscellaneous Fairies and Other Supernatural Creatures</h5> - -<p class="hang">Esprit Follet—the house-spirit of France.</p> - -<p class="hang">Familiar spirit—a spirit or demon supposed to be summoned -by a necromancer or a soothsayer from the -unseen world to attend upon him as a servant.</p> - -<p class="hang">Fay—the French word for fairy, anglicised.</p> - -<p class="hang">Gnome—one of a fabulous race of dwarfed and misshapen -earth-spirits or goblins, reputed to be special -guardians of mines and miners. (<French <i>gnome</i>, -from the Greek.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Hag—a forbidding or malicious old woman; a witch. -(<A. S. <i>haegtes</i>, a fury.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Hamadryad—a wood-nymph fabled to live and die with -the tree she inhabited, the oak being considered as -the tree preferred. (Greek mythology.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Hornie, or Horny—the devil; so called because commonly -represented with horns.</p> - -<p class="hang">Imp—an evil spirit of low rank; a small, puny, or contemptible -devil. (Russian folk tales often make use -of this spirit.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Undine—a female water-spirit without a soul, with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> -which she might be endowed only by marrying a -mortal and bearing a child. (<Latin <i>unda</i>, wave.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Werwolf—a person who, according to mediæval superstition, -became voluntarily or involuntarily a wolf -and in that form practiced cannibalism. (<A. S. -<i>wer</i>, man + <i>wulf</i>, wolf.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Wraith—a fantom of a living person, supposed to be -ominous of that person's death.</p> - -<p class="hang">Lamia—a female demon or vampire that enticed youths -and fed upon their flesh and blood. (Classical -mythology.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Merrow—a mermaid. (Irish mythology.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Monaciello—the house-spirit of Naples.</p> - -<p class="hang">Nightmare—an evil spirit once supposed to oppress -people during sleep. Called also Incubus. (<A. S. -<i>niht</i>, night + <i>maere</i>, a nightmare.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Ogre—a demon or monster that was supposed to devour -human beings. (<French <i>ogre</i>. The derivation is -uncertain.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Ouphe—an elf or fairy. (<the Scandinavian. A -variation of <i>oaf</i> = elf.)</p> - -<p class="hang">Pigwidgeon—a very small fairy.</p> - -<p class="hang">Sprite—a spirit of the earth or air.</p> - -<p class="hang">Sylph—originally, a being, male or female, living in -and on the air and intermediate between material -and immaterial beings. (Used by Paracelsus. The -word is undoubtedly of Greek origin.)</p> - -<h4>The Boggart</h4> - -<p>In the house of an honest farmer in Yorkshire, named -George Gilbertson, a Boggart had taken up his abode. -He here caused a good deal of annoyance, especially<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span> -by tormenting the children in various ways. Sometimes -their bread and butter would be snatched away, or -their porringers of milk be capsized by an invisible -hand; for the Boggart never let himself be seen; at -other times the curtains of their beds would be shaken -backwards and forwards, or a heavy weight would press -on them and nearly suffocate them. The parents had -often, on hearing their cries, to fly to their aid. There -was a kind of closet, formed by a wooden partition on -the kitchen stairs, and a large knot having been driven -out of one of the deal boards of which it was made, -there remained a hole. Into this one day the farmer's -youngest boy stuck the shoe horn with which he was -amusing himself, when immediately it was thrown out -again, and hit the boy on the head. The agent was, -of course, the Boggart, and it soon became the children's -sport (called <i>laking with Boggart</i>) to put the shoe horn -into the hole and have it shot back at them.</p> - -<p>The Boggart at length proved such a torment that -the farmer and his wife resolved to quit the house and -let him have it all to himself. This decision was put -into execution, and the farmer and his family were -following the last loads of furniture, when a neighbor -named John Marshall came up: "Well, Georgey," said -he, "and soa you're leaving t'ould hoose at last?" -"Heigh, Johnny, my lad, I'm forced tull it; for that -villain Boggart torments us soa, we can neither rest -neet nor day for't. It seems loike to have such a malice -again t'poor bairns, it ommost kills my poor dame here -at thoughts on't, and soa, ye see, we're forced to flitt -loike." He scarce had uttered the words when a voice -from a deep upright churn cried out: "Aye, aye,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> -Johnny, we 're flitting, ye see." "Od hang thee," cried -the poor farmer, "if I'd known thou'd been there, I -wadn't ha' stirred a peg. Nay, nay, it's no use, Mally," -said he to his wife, "we may as weel turn back to -t'ould hoose as be tormented in another that's not so -convenient."</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>From "English Fairy and Other Folk Tales." Selected and -edited by Edwin Sidney Hartland (Walter Scott Pub. Co.).</p></div> - -<h4>Cafre and the Fisherman's Wife</h4> - -<p>Once in the little village of Babancal there lived a -happy couple. They were poor and it was necessary -for them both to work for their living. The husband's -occupation was farming during the wet season and fishing -during the dry season. The wife kept the house, -helped the husband in some of his work, and in addition, -made mats of <i>buli</i>, <i>pandan</i>, or <i>ticay</i>, and sacks of -<i>buli</i>.</p> - -<p>One night, at about six o'clock after a slight supper, -when it was <i>dolom</i> (moonless), the husband went to -fish. The wife remained alone at home and sat waiting -for the husband, and, at the same time, making a -mat. The house was lighted with a home-made lamp -of bamboo and earth. The lampwick of ragged doth -dipped in oil made from the fruit of the bitaog tree -gave a very poor light.</p> - -<p>At about midnight some one threw a <i>dalag</i> (a kind -of fish) through the window. The wife was frightened -and surprised. In a minute she recovered herself.</p> - -<p>"Come in, Gregorio," she said, for she thought her -husband was outside.</p> - -<p>No one answered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span></p> - -<p>"Stop this nonsense. You know it is late now," -she said angrily. "You had better come in and let us -cook the fish and eat our supper." She did not rise -from her seat and went on with her work.</p> - -<p>In a few minutes a rod with another <i>dalag</i> hanging -on it was thrust into the room. The fish fell on the -floor before her.</p> - -<p>"Oh, how foolish! Come in, I say," she said.</p> - -<p>Hardly had she uttered the last word when the fish -on the hook came down upon her head. She muttered -some oaths and tried to catch the fish and take hold -of the rod. But before she could do so, it was raised. -Then she got up, took the lamp, and went to the window.</p> - -<p>When she peeped out, she saw Cafre, the Spirit, -grinning at her. His smile showed his large white -teeth, forming a strong contrast with his dark complexion -and the darkness of the night. The woman was -frightened. She trembled and could not move an inch. -She bent down her head to avoid his gaze. At last -when she raised her eyes, he was gone.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Benito C. Ebuen. -</p> - -<h4>The Friendship of an Aswang and a Duende</h4> - -<p>About a half mile from Noveleta there is a small -pond. The tall bamboo trees that grow at the edge of -the water bow their heads toward each other so that -they form a complete vaulted arch over the pond. There -are but small spaces left between the thick leaves above -and so the sunshine can hardly go through them. The -lilies, the sea weed, and the falling leaves of the bamboo -trees, decaying under the water have deposited a deep -layer of sediment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span></p> - -<p>A long time ago a shooting meteor from heaven -fell on the water of this pond. This meteor bore within -it a beautiful nymph named Bituin. Her slender white -body, whose skin was very delicate, was covered with -beautiful leaves of the lilies whenever she came out of -the water. Every night numberless fireflies lighted her -dwelling with their fresh rays. Bituin had a large -diamond, which she always put on a floating leaf at -the center of the pond to serve as a light when it was -dark.</p> - -<p>Bituin had no neighbors for a number of years, -and so she was not familiar with the form of man. -However, as time glided on she was known by many, -who began to love her. She did not dare to speak -with men, because she was not familiar with the ugly -complexion of the skin of mortals. One night an aswang -was passing by this pond, and he heard the musical -vibration of the bamboo leaves in harmony with -the whistling sound of the wings of fireflies. He stopped -and admired the beautiful nymph, who was sitting on -the water, watching the wonderful rays of light from -her large diamond. He was led to wonder at her -beauty, and he fell in love with her. He asked Bituin -to approach him, but his words had hardly died from -his ugly lips when Bituin upon hearing his unfamiliar -voice disappeared. There began the sadness of this -aswang. Every night he passed by the pond only to -see and to speak with Bituin, the beautiful and -elusive nymph. Yet all his hopes and efforts were in -vain.</p> - -<p>This aswang laid himself to die near a heap of hay. -Here lived an army of small men called duendes. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span> -duendes are usually good to those who are very strongly -in love with women. At midnight one of these little -creatures came out of the hay with a flute longer than -himself. Little duende blew the flute, and the aswang -thinking that the sweet vibration of the air came from -the lips of Bituin, at once raised up his head and -looked around. Aswang being a wild man said, "How -is it that you little duendes are so troublesome?" "Master," -said the little duende, "I came here to restore -the broken heart of a lover and it is you." "How now -can you comfort me?" said the aswang. "Come with -me," said the little duende, "and show me where Bituin -lives."</p> - -<p>So they started toward the pond. On their way -the duende, being as small as a little doll, often lost -himself from the sight of his friend aswang. The -duende was full of fun and jokes, and he was happy -all the way. When they came near the pond little -duende jumped over the thorny bushes that fringed -the dwelling of Bituin. Now he rode on a lily leaf floating -on the water, and he was singing a song at the -same time that he was playing on his flute. He gathered -some lily flowers and put one of them on his head. -Duende skipped over the sea weeds as light as could -be. Strange to say, the attractive music caught the -ears of Bituin, and so she appeared before the duende. -The music was so sweet, so charming, and so pleasant -to her ears that fear of such a being never entered her -thoughts. She approached the little duende, but he -would not allow her to touch his enchanting flute. Aswang -could not come inside. He tried to jump over the -bushes, but he knew that he could not. All at once he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span> -roared with a sharp tone that put Bituin to flight, and -she never returned again.</p> - -<p>Duende blamed the aswang for roaring, but the -broken-hearted aswang in anger said, "Why did you -not catch hold of her?" Duende did not answer and -tried to flee, but aswang held him by the neck and tore -him to pieces. So from that time on the duendes have -not often been heard of; and, if they ever come, they -do evil things and cause misfortune to little children. -None of the aswangs since has ever been afraid of small -creatures.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Emanuel E. Baja. -</p> - -<h4>A Tianac Frightens Juan -</h4> -<p>One harvest day, one of our neighbors, whose name -is Juan, built a nipa hut on a farm amid his rice plantation. -There he slept alone during the harvest time to -look after his grain.</p> - -<p>One night about twelve o'clock he began to feel the -cold north wind, and the leaves began to rustle. By -and by the wind stopped. He tried to sleep, but he -could not, for the mosquitoes were too thick. He then -went out of his hut and gathered some dry twigs and -grasses and made a small fire to drive the mosquitoes -away. When the fire began to kindle, he sat before -his hut, facing a small hill. Not long afterward he -heard the laughing of a child from the top of the hill. -The child seemed to be very happy, for it laughed as -hard as it could. Juan then began to wonder who -the child was, for he knew that no one was living near -him. Soon the laughing grew louder and louder and -Juan began to be frightened. He supposed that the -child was approaching him, but at once the laughing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> -stopped and again everything was silent about the field. -He looked around him several times because he did not -know what kind of creature that child was, and he -feared that she might take hold of him from behind.</p> - -<p>While Juan was thinking of what to do, a girl with -white complexion and golden hair appeared before him -laughing as hard as she could. Juan then was about to -run away and call for help, but he knew that there -was no one to help him, so he gathered all his strength -and courage and approached the girl with his <i>bolo</i> in -hand and said, "Tell me who you are or else this night -is your last." The girl did not answer him, but continued -laughing. He struck at her, but she at once -vanished away and reappeared behind him laughing as -hard as she could. He struck at her several times. He -did not touch her at all and she laughed louder. Juan -then threw his <i>bolo</i> at her and ran home shouting as -he went along calling for help, "St. John, St. Peter, -St. Nicholas, come and help me!" When he came to -the forest a cricket alighted on his coat and began -to sing. He mistook it for the girl, so he ran very -fast. When he came to the town, the policemen tried -to stop him, but they could not. He tried to tell them -that a girl was singing behind him, but he was so terribly -frightened that his calling to the gods confused -him, and while he was running he shouted, "St. John -sings, St. John sings, etc.," until he came to his house. -His family asked him what the matter was, but he -could not speak because of fatigue. By this time the -cricket had flown away. Later the family found out -that Juan had seen a <i>tianac</i>.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Santiago Ochoa. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span></p> - -<h4>The Black Cloth of the Calumpang Tree</h4> - -<p>Once there lived on a lonely farm about two miles -from the town of San Juan two brothers whose names -were Mariano and Pedro. They were the sons of a -farmer named Rafael.</p> - -<p>Along the road leading from this farm to the town -there was not a single house. There was a big calumpang -tree by this road about a mile from the farm. -Some of its large branches almost touched the ground. -Many stories had been told about this calumpang; some -said that they saw a ghost in the form of a white dog -under it; others said they saw it in the form of a tall, -thin black man sitting sideways on a big branch with -eyes as large as saucers and with a big cigar a meter -long in his mouth.</p> - -<p>One day Mariano with his little brother Pedro went -to the town to attend a procession. It was night when -they started for home. On their way when they were -out of the town, they heard a noise on one side of the -road not far from them. It seemed to them that the -noise was caused by the walking of a carabao, which -was going along the road in the same direction they -were going. They could not tell whether it was a carabao -or not, for the grass was very tall. At last at an -open side of the road, where the noise was, Pedro saw -a little white dog. "Mariano, Mariano, see that little -dog," whispered Pedro, touching the back of his brother -with his finger. Pedro looked at it with great surprise. -He could hardly believe that the little creature could -make such a loud noise. The oftener they looked at -the dog, the larger it appeared. Pedro now began to -think that this dog was the one that somebody had seen<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span> -under the calumpang. He was afraid; he would not -go behind nor before his brother; his hair stood on end, -and he felt as if he were wearing a hat having a large -brim; his heart beat faster than before, but he said -not a word. The appearance of the dog reminded -Mariano of the black man of the calumpang. For this -reason he was more afraid than his little brother.</p> - -<p>After a while a noise was again heard on the other -side of the road. There appeared a white hog about -the size of a carabao. It was also going in the same -direction as the two brothers were. The hog was grunting, -while there was seen coming from his mouth a -continuous discharge of living charcoals. The minute -the boys stopped, the dog and the hog stopped also. -The two brothers intended to go back, but suddenly -they heard another noise—<i>pac, pac, pac</i>. They looked -behind them and saw a tall black horse mounted by a -man dressed like the prince usually seen in comedies. -The man's feet were so long that they almost touched -the ground. The two brothers could do nothing -but walk faster, in order that the horseman might not -overtake them.</p> - -<p>When they came near the calumpang, a black cloth -was extended across the road. This cloth prevented -their further advance, for it would bind them in case -they should touch it. Mariano was then so much frightened -that he could not keep from trembling. He felt -as if the very hand of the black man of the calumpang -was holding his head.</p> - -<p>"Father, father!" cried Pedro with a prolonged -voice, but nobody answered. The dog growled; the -horse pounded the ground with his feet; the hog snorted,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> -while a greater amount of charcoal than before poured -out of its mouth; the black cloth waved, producing a -sound like the groaning of a sick man. Pedro grabbed -his brother by the waist so tightly that Mariano could -hardly breathe. Then Mariano remembered that he had -in his pocket the remainder of a candle which a sexton -had given him at the procession. He quickly lighted it. -Instantly the ghosts disappeared. Mariano and Pedro -reached home, but alas! they could neither eat nor sleep, -for it seemed to them as if the ghosts were still around -them.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Eusebio Ramos. -</p> - -<h3>IV. The Nursery Saga or Märchen</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Origin</div> - -<p>The ethnologists are not agreed concerning the -history of nursery sagas, or <i>märchen</i>, as they call them. -Whether such stories as "Jack-the-Giant-Killer" -are reduced and modified forms of -once greater sagas or whether they are immature stories -arrested in their growth toward sagas, the scientists are -still discussing. But happily for the narrator, as we noticed -before, the question of origin is not of prime -importance. He need consider it only so far as it -helps to reveal the distinctions of the type.</p> - -<p>As the generic title indicates, nursery sagas are -tales told to children after lessons are done. Nobody -wants instruction; nobody wants facts. "Once upon a -time in a certain village" is definite enough. What the -listener desires is action, things a-doing, Jack to kill -the giant, Cinderella to marry the prince, Tom Thumb -to get safely home. The end is always happy, no matter -how many troubles the hero or heroine encounters -during the course of the narrative. The brothers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> -Grimm expressed their realization that such an end is -essential to a <i>märchen</i>. Their devoted scientific collecting -and their charmingly sympathetic retelling have -given back not only to Germany but also to the whole -world much of its otherwise lost pleasure.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">English -nursery -sagas</div> - -<p>Good native nursery sagas are scarce in English. -Many of our best known, like Cinderella, are importations. -"Jack-the-Giant-Killer" and "Jack -and the Bean-Stalk" and "Rumpelstiltskin"—or -"Tom Tit Tot," as the older version -has it—are recorded, however, as of English origin. -They have been handed down verbally and in chapbooks -and various other written forms for hundreds -of years.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Distinguishing -elements—the -kind -of hero</div> - -<p>The most important distinguishing element of a -nursery saga is the kind of hero. He is always human, -very often sagacious of himself as well as -finally fortunate because of the aid of some -supernatural being or charm; but before the -beginning of his adventure he is pretty generally -considered foolish or a lazy ne'er-do-well. He -is always of obscure origin, and is persistently ignored -by history. The place where he lives or where he performs -his deeds is selected at random, is of no practical -importance, and might just as well have been -any other. If the locality is definite and the details -of the story are really pertinent, we have crossed the -borderland into legend, which is very near to nursery -saga. Indeed, say the students of folk-lore, the same -story is often told in one country as a nursery saga -and in another as a dignified national epic.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Rhymes</div> - -<p>The uncouth rhymes occurring here and there<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span> -within the story are to the nursery saga what the refrain -is to the ballad—a sure sign of its type. All the -original tales I dare say had rhymes at first, -even if many are without them to-day.</p> - -<p>The artificial nursery saga is not always marked -off closely from the fairy story. Some writers do not -appear to have felt the traditional distinctions; but, -when a differentiation is made, it is on the basis of the -chief actor. The irresistible Alice is a true nursery -saga heroine. Whether in "Wonderland" or -"Through the Looking Glass" her adventures are her -adventures, and not a fairy's. And although the dialogue -of the characters is imposed by the brilliant -naïveté of the author, it is yet clearly within our -classification—as the delectable rhymes attest.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Repetition -of situation</div> - -<p>Another characteristic you will observe is the repetition -of situation: Cinderella goes to the ball more -than once; Jack-of-the-Bean-Stalk visits the -castle in the sky three times; the king's wife -is allowed two false guesses; and there are Cormelian's -and Thunderdell's heads to be cut off as well and -Gallingantus's.</p> - -<p>Two of our worthy literary men, G. K. Chesterton -and Bernard Shaw, have recently bandied words over -the value and significance of such heroes as Jack. -When you come to write an original nursery saga, you -can decide for yourself whether you want your hero -to conquer a foe greater and stronger than he or -whether you want your hero to conquer a foe lesser -than he because he himself is greater and stronger -than all his foes and conquers by the magic force of -his personality. In making the decision, however, you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span> -should remember that "greater" and "lesser" are -terms subject to a number of varying interpretations.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Supernatural -element</div> - -<p>After you have decided which kind your hero is to -be, you must set about making him human despite -the wonderful deeds you mean him to do. The more -human, the more interesting; but he must be naturally -human, not merely philosophically so. The homeliest -touches of every-day life are exactly in keeping with -your subject. No poetry here. If you have metrics -interspersed, they must be "from jigging veins or -rhyming mother wits." Nothing higher than "Fee, -fi, fo, fum," or "Ninny, ninny not," or "Be bold, be -bold, but not too bold," or "It is not so, nor 'twas not -so, but indeed God forbid it should be so." Although -your hero is to be human, he need not stand -alone; he may have supernatural aid. A fairy, a -witch, a charm, or anting-anting may help him. Success, -of course, however, must ultimately depend upon -his own bravery and wit. What makes the nursery -saga different from the fairy story is just -the element of the independence and prominence -of the human hero. If supernatural agents are -present in the nursery saga, they are only assistants: -they are not the chief actors; in fact, they are usually at -first opponents. The human person is the chief actor.</p> - -<p>Tolstoy's Ivan the Fool surely wins by the force -of his personality alone. He is one of the <i>pure</i> fools -who think no evil and therefore make men good. -Although he has the power the imps have given him to -call up soldiers, rub gold out of oak leaves, and to -cure the sick, he uses this power only for fool-wise -ends: he heals beggars, gives away the gold, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> -makes the soldiers sing. Despite its didactic purpose, -this is a typical <i>märchen</i> in having the human fool -hero in repeated situations, chanting crude rhymes, -and being assisted finally by the supernatural agents -that first opposed him.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">A few -specific -suggestions</div> - -<p>When you come to the writing, remember that your -story is for a child, grown-up or not grown-up, and -that you must therefore make the language -simple and vivid. Use a good many crude -similes and metaphores. Be concrete in comparisons -about size, shape, color, garb, and the like. -Though you select your hero with care, you need make -no fine distinctions of character, since broad strokes -will be most effective. Endow your personages, both -the hero and his enemy, with a few mannerisms and -let them display these often. Get quickly into the -action of the story and keep things lively to the end.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Working -definition</div> - -<p>Here is the working definition: A nursery saga -is a narrative of imaginary events wherein is celebrated -a hero of a more-or-less humble -origin, a child's hero, who, by his own wit -and energy, together with the possession of a charm, -is enabled to do stupendous deeds, which bring to him -material happiness.</p> - -<h4>Princess Helena the Fair</h4> - -<p>We say that we are wise folks, but our people dispute -the fact, saying, "No, no, we were wiser than you -are." But shaskas tell us that before our grandfathers -had learned anything, before their grandfathers were -born——</p> - -<p>There lived in a certain land an old man of this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> -kind who instructed his three sons in reading and writing -and all book learning. Then he said to them, "Now, -my children, when I die, mind you, come and read -prayers over my grave."</p> - -<p>"Very good, father, very good," they replied.</p> - -<p>The two elder brothers were such fine strapping -fellows, so tall and stout! But as for the youngest -one, Ivan, he was like a half-grown lad or a half-fledged -duckling, terribly inferior to the others. Well, -their old father died. At that very time there came -tidings from the king that his daughter, the Princess -Helena the Fair, had ordered a shrine to be built for -her with twelve columns, with twelve rows of beams. -In that shrine she was sitting upon a high throne and -awaiting her bridegroom, the bold young youth who -with a single bound of his swift steed should reach high -enough to kiss her on the lips. A stir ran through the -whole youth of the nation. They took to licking their -lips and scratching their heads, and wondering to whose -share so great an honor would fall.</p> - -<p>"Brothers," said: Vanyusha (Ivan), "our father is -dead; which of us is to read prayers over his grave?"</p> - -<p>"Whoever feels inclined, let him go!" answered the -brothers.</p> - -<p>So Vanya went. But as for his elder brothers they -did nothing but exercise their horses and curl their -hair and dye their mustaches.</p> - -<p>The second night came.</p> - -<p>"Brothers," said Vanya, "I've done my share of -reading. It is your turn now; which of you will go?"</p> - -<p>"Whoever likes can go and read. We've business -to look after; don't you meddle."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span></p> - -<p>And they cocked their caps and shouted and whooped -and flew this way and shot that way and roved about -the open country.</p> - -<p>So Vanyusha read prayers this time also—and on -the third night, too.</p> - -<p>Well, his brothers got ready their horses, combed -out their mustaches and prepared to go next morning -to test their mettle before the eyes of Helena the Fair.</p> - -<p>"Shall we take the youngster?" they thought. "No, -no. What would be the good of him? He'd make -folks laugh and put us to confusion; let's go by ourselves."</p> - -<p>So away they went. But Vanyusha wanted very -much to have a look at the Princess Helena the Fair. -He cried, cried bitterly, and went out to his father's -grave. And his father heard him in his coffin, and -came out to him, shook the damp earth off his body, -and said, "Don't grieve, Vanya. I'll help you in your -trouble."</p> - -<p>And immediately the old man drew himself up and -straightened himself and called aloud and whistled with -a ringing voice, with a shrill whistle.</p> - -<p>From goodness knows where appeared a horse, the -earth quaking beneath it, a flame rushing from its ears -and nostrils. To and fro it flew, and then stood still -before the old man, as if rooted in the ground, and -cried, "What are thy commands?"</p> - -<p>Vanya crept into one of the horse's ears and out of -the other, and turned into such a hero as no skazka can -tell of, no pen describe! He mounted the horse, set -his arms akimbo, and flew, just like a falcon, straight -to the home of the Princess Helena. With a wave of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> -his hand, with a bound aloft, he failed only by the -breadth of two rows of beams. Back again he turned, -galloped up, leapt aloft, and got within one beam row's -breadth. Once more he turned, once more he wheeled, -then shot past the eye like a streak of fire, took an -accurate aim, and kissed the fair Helena right on the -lips!</p> - -<p>"Who is he? Who is he? Stop him!" was the cry. -Not a trace of him was to be found!</p> - -<p>Away he galloped to his father's grave, let the horse -go free, prostrated himself on the earth, and besought -his father's counsel. And the old man held counsel -with him.</p> - -<p>When he got home, he behaved as if he hadn't been -anywhere. His brothers talked away, describing where -they had been, what they had seen, and he listened to -them as of old.</p> - -<p>The next day there was a gathering again. In the -princely halls there were more boyars and nobles than -a single glance could take in. The elder brothers rode -there. Their younger brother went there, too, but on -foot, meekly and modestly, just as if he hadn't kissed -the Princess, and seated himself in a distant corner. -The Princess Helena asked for her bridegroom, wanted -to show him to the world at large, wanted to give him -half her kingdom; but the bridegroom did not put in -an appearance! Search was made for him among the -boyars, among the generals; everyone was examined -in his turn—but with no result! Meanwhile, Vanya -looked on, smiling and chuckling, and waiting till the -bride should come to him herself.</p> - -<p>"I pleased her then," says he, "when I appeared as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> -a gay gallant; now let her fall in love with me in my -plain caftan."</p> - -<p>Then up she rose, looked around with bright eyes -that shed a radiance on all who stood there, and saw -and knew her bridegroom, and made him take his seat -by her side, and speedily was wedded to him. And he—good -heavens! How clever he turned out, and how -brave, and what a handsome fellow! Only see him -mount his flying steed, give his cap a cock, and stick -his elbows akimbo! Why, you'd say he was a king, -a born king! You'd never suspect he was once only -Vanyusha.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>From "Russian Fairy and Folk Tales." Translated and -edited by W. R. S. Ralston (Hurst and Company).</p></div> - -<h4>Juan the Guesser</h4> - -<p>Once there lived a youth by the name of Juan. He -was the only son of a family and so he was dearly loved. -One day his father said to him, "Juan, you are quite -old now so you have to study." "Yes, father," said -Juan obediently. Juan was then sent to a large town -to school. But he did not study; he spent all his time -going to places of amusement. When vacation was coming -near, Juan bought a reader so that he could give -proof that he studied. His father was very anxious -to see him and so prepared a large fiesta in honor of -his arrival. When Juan arrived, he would not speak his -dialect, and if he was asked something he just answered -"Si, señor." Everybody then was astonished; for all -thought that he had learned so much that he had forgotten -his own dialect.</p> - -<p>One day Juan threw his father's plow into a well<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> -because he wanted to show the people that he knew how -to divine. The father came to him then and said, "Dear -Juan, will you tell me where I can find the plow which -I lost yesterday?" "Ah, father!" said Juan, "there -is no difficulty in finding it; fetch my book and I will -look it up." The father obeyed instantly and Juan -looked in his book and said:</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"A B C, A B C,</div> - <div class="i2">Oh, my father's plow is lost!</div> - <div class="i0">A B C, A B C,</div> - <div class="i2">It has the well for a host."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"Well, my book tells me that it is in the bottom -of the well." The father ordered the servants to look -in the well, and sure enough they found the plow in it. -The father was very proud of his son now, for he had -had a real proof of his ability. So Juan was called -prophet and his name was heard everywhere.</p> - -<p>Once the princess of his country lost a very valuable -ring, and the king offered to marry her to the one who -could find the ring. But he ordered that anyone who -might attempt and not guess rightly should be beheaded. -Many of the wise men in the kingdom attempted to -guess, but nobody was right and so they had to be killed. -The rumors of Juan's knowledge reached the king's -ears, so he sent a carriage to his home in order to -bring him to the palace. Juan did not want to go because -he knew that he would surely be killed. He could -not disobey the king, however, and so he got into the -carriage. As soon as he entered the carriage he became -very sad and thoughtful and repented of having tricked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span> -his father. When they were quite near the town of -the king, Juan opened his book and groaned sadly:</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Someone is to die,</div> - <div class="i0">Not far from here, oh, my!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Instantly the carriage stopped and the driver presented -himself before Juan and said, "Oh, sir! I beg -you to pardon me; I am the one who stole the princess's -ring. She was washing her hands in a dish one day -and took the ring off her hand, and then threw the -water away. While I was cleaning the garden I saw -it and picked it up. Kindly forgive me, here is the -ring!" Juan did not take the ring, but said, "I forgive -you now; I thought you would not tell me anything -about it, and I was going to tell the king to have you -killed, for I knew, that you were the one who stole it; -my book said so. As soon as we arrive at the palace, -place the ring under the stairs and cover it with a -cocoanut shell." The driver was very happy and promised -to do everything he was commanded.</p> - -<p>Juan was received with honors in the palace and -when he was asked about the ring, he told everything -about the theft of it from the information he had got -from the driver and said, "My book tells me all of this -and says that now it is under a cocoanut shell under -the stairs." Everybody went down to look for it and -they found it. Once more now Juan's knowledge was -talked of everywhere. According to the king's promise, -he was married to the princess. The marriage ceremony -was celebrated with much pomp and splendor, and many -kings from different countries came to attend it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span></p> - -<p>Once a neighbor king came to Juan's country. When -he went to the palace and met the other king, he said, -"If your son-in-law is really a prophet, I propose to you -a wager. I have three watermelons in my ship; one of -them has one seed, the other has two, and the other has -three. Should your son-in-law guess which has one, -which has two, and which has three seeds, I will give -you half of my kingdom. But if he fails, you will have -to give me half of yours." The king was well pleased -to hear the proposal, and being confident of Juan's -knowledge, he accepted it. Fortunately, while the two -kings were conversing, the vassals of the foreign king -stood near the door of Juan's room and talked about -the watermelons. One of them said, "If I were the -one to guess I would say that the smallest has three seeds, -the largest has two, and the middle-sized has one, then -I should be very rich and would be as powerful a king -as our master." Juan, after hearing all that the -men had said, went to his bed and pretended to be -asleep. When the foreign king had gone away, his father-in-law -went to awake him in his room, and told -him everything about the challenge. Juan said that he -was afraid of no defiance so long as he had his book. -The next morning, when the king and he went to the -boat, Juan told exactly the number of seeds in each watermelon, -according to what he had heard, after reading, -or rather feigning to read, some characters in his book. -The fruits were cut open then and it was found out -that Juan was right. The king, his father-in-law, was -very happy and liked Juan very much, for he said that -Juan was, without any doubt, the wisest man the world -ever knew.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span></p> - -<p>Not long after this another king came on a large -ship loaded with money. He came to propose another -challenge. He said that he had three earthen jars, filled -with salt, water, and vinegar. And if Juan should guess -what each contained, the load of this ship would be his -father-in-law's; but if he should fail, the king had to -give him in turn another ship full of money also. The -king accepted the proposal immediately; but Juan was -very sad because he knew that the king would order -him to be beheaded if he should not guess rightly. So -he decided to commit suicide before the day when he -should appear before the contending monarchs. During -the night he went down silently and threw himself in -the river behind the palace, in which the foreign ship -was anchored. He tried to drown himself, but he could -not, for he knew how to swim. He heard then some -men talking in the ship, and one of them said, "If -that guesser could just know that the jar with white -marking on the neck contains salt, and the one which -has the largest lid holds vinegar, he would be the richest -man on earth." Juan swam quietly back after -hearing this and slept. The next morning Juan and -the king went to the ship, and Juan, after turning -back and forth the leaves of his reader, told rightly the -contents of every jar. The king was very happy and -held a large festival in honor of the wise Juan the -Prophet.</p> - -<p>Juan was afraid to hazard his life any more, so he -burned his magic volume. From that time on he never -guessed any more, because he said that his book was -gone and so his knowledge, too.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Bienvenido Gonzales. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span></p> - -<h4>The Shepherd Who Became King</h4> - -<p>Many years before the birth of Christ, when the -victorious legions of Rome were gradually conquering -the then known world, there lived in a foreign country -a cruel and despotic king. He had a daughter in the -very bloom and freshness of youth. She was so beautiful -that many a young man of the country asked her -father to allow him to be his son-in-law. The suitors -were so many that the king determined to marry his -daughter to somebody. But he could not find the right -man. He sent proclamations to the different provinces -of his kingdom, telling the people that he intended to -marry his daughter to the man who could accomplish -three things which the king would require the competitor -to do; but if the competitor should fail to do the -three things within the required time, his head should -be cut off. Many young men attempted, but they were -all killed.</p> - -<p>Near the king's palace there was living at that time -a shepherd. This man had, since his boyhood, devoted -his life to the interests of his fellow countrymen. Everybody -loved him.</p> - -<p>One day while he was tending his sheep out in the -fields, an old woman saw him and said, "Receive this -pipe as a present from me. Whenever you want anything -from any animal, blow this pipe and the desired -animal will come to you. Keep this carefully for it -will be of great service to you." The shepherd thanked -her and went away. He wanted to know whether the -woman was telling the truth or not. So he blew the -pipe and said, "Come here, all the serpents." He -no sooner said these words than hundreds of serpents<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> -came to him hissing and twisting. Then he dismissed -them.</p> - -<p>He decided to compete for the hand of the princess. -So he went to the palace in the evening and expressed -his desire. "Ha! ha!" said the king, "do you want -to have your head cut off, young man?" "We will see -the result," said the shepherd proudly. "All right," -said the king; "the first thing you must do is to eat -in one day all of the bread there is to be found in my -granary. You must either eat the bread or lose your -head."</p> - -<p>"I will go to the granary now and begin eating," -said the shepherd.</p> - -<p>"Well, go!" said the king, and he told a soldier to -conduct the shepherd to the granary. The shepherd -was locked up in the granary with nobody but himself -and the bread. He took out the pipe which he had concealed -under his coat. He blew the instrument and said, -"Come here, all of the rats." He had just finished his -command when thousands of rats came to him. He told -them to eat all of the bread. The rats were so numerous -that all of the bread was eaten before daybreak. Not a -single crumb was left. Many rats arrived too late to get -their share.</p> - -<p>When the king and his court went to the granary -in the morning, they were surprised to see that the -building which was full of bread the day before was now -totally empty. "All right," said the king, "you have -to do the second thing. You must separate in one day -the grains of corn from the grains of rice. Go to my -granary, where you will find the corn and the rice. Remember -the punishment."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span></p> - -<p>"All right," said the shepherd; "I'll go to the -granary this evening and begin my work."</p> - -<p>So he went to the building where the corn and the -rice were and there he was locked up again. He then -blew his pipe and said, "Come here, all of the ants." -Just then millions of ants arrived. He told the big ants -to pick up all of the grains of corn and place them on -one side of the granary. To the small ants he assigned -the work of selecting the grains of rice and placing them -on the other side of the building. The ants were so numerous -that the entire work was finished before morning.</p> - -<p>The king and his court were surprised to see that -the shepherd had done his work. "Very well," said -the king, "you have to accomplish the third and last -thing and then you may marry my daughter."</p> - -<p>"I'll do the work this afternoon," said the shepherd. -"Good!" said the king. "Come here this afternoon at -two o'clock. I'll give you twelve wild hares. Tomorrow -afternoon at two o'clock you must return them to me -without a change in any of them. The number must be -exact."</p> - -<p>At two o'clock in the afternoon the shepherd went -to the palace. The king gave him the twelve hares. -They were no sooner in the hands of the shepherd than -they ran away. The king and his court laughed loudly -and said, "He will not catch them. He is sure to fail -in his work."</p> - -<p>"We will see," said the shepherd proudly. He then -went to his cottage. He blew his pipe and said, "Come -all of the twelve hares of the king." He had no sooner -said these words than the twelve hares came to him and -began to jump about him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span></p> - -<p>An hour later the king sent one of his servants to -see whether the shepherd was out looking for the hares -or not. When the servant reached the shepherd's cottage, -he was surprised to see the hares sleeping quietly -by the side of the shepherd. The servant went back to -the king and related to him all that he saw. The king -grew pale and did not know what to do. He told the -princess to go to the shepherd and try to get one of the -hares. So the princess disguised herself as a country -girl and went to the shepherd's cottage. The shepherd -recognized her immediately. Her solicitations were all -in vain. At last the shepherd said, "I'll give you one -of the hares if you scrub my kitchen for me." To prevent -herself from being married to the shepherd she -said "Yes." So the shepherd told her to do her work. -When she had finished her work, the shepherd gave her -one of the hares. When she was a hundred yards from -the <span class="err" title="original: shehperd's">shepherd's</span> cottage, the shepherd blew his pipe and -said, "Come here, the hare with the princess." He -had just finished speaking when the hare ran away from -the princess to the side of the cottage.</p> - -<p>The princess was crying when she reached the palace -and told the king how she had been fooled. The -king determined to get one of the hares by means of -money. So he disguised himself as a merchant, mounted -a horse with two panniers slung on the sides, and went to -the shepherd's cottage. But the shepherd recognized -him at once. His solicitations also were in vain. Even -the bag of gold was useless. The shepherd would not -allow himself to be fooled. At last he said, "I'll give -you one of the hares if you wash my feet." To prevent -the marriage of the princess with the shepherd, the king -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> -agreed. So he dismounted and washed the shepherd's -dusty feet. Then the shepherd gave him one of the -hares. The King put the animal in one pannier and -went away. But his undertaking was unsuccessful. The -note of the pipe and the cry of the shepherd excited the -hare, who jumped out of the pannier and ran away.</p> - -<p>The king went to the palace with a sad face. He -told his courtiers how unsuccessful he had been, and -went to his private room. The next day at two o'clock -in the afternoon the shepherd returned the twelve hares. -Not a single hare was changed.</p> - -<p>But the king still refused to fulfill his promise. He -told the shepherd to fill a bag with all the bad words -he knew. The shepherd uttered every kind of bad -words; but the bag was still empty. But one thing -came to his mind. He said loudly, "The princess -scrubbed my kitchen yesterday afternoon." The princess -jumped from her seat and said, "The bag is full."</p> - -<p>"No," said the king. "Continue." "The king," -said the shepherd, "wa—wa—wash——" The king -jumped from his throne and said, "That's enough," and -tied the bag. The marriage was then arranged and the -next day the shepherd and the princess were married.</p> - -<p>From this time on the shepherd and princess lived -happily for many years. He succeeded his father-in-law -as king.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Vincente M. Hilario. -</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II -<br /> - -THE SYMBOLIC-DIDACTIC GROUP</h2> - -<p>We now turn to a set of stories with a new basis, -the symbolic-didactic narratives: fables, parables, and -allegories. By the word "symbolic" we shall understand -that the stories mean something more than appears -on the surface. By "didactic," the fact that the -narratives are told for the purpose of teaching a lesson. -The hearer no more believes in the mere literal -occurrence than does the narrator himself. The meaning -is the concern of both. For the time being, the -story-teller has set himself up as a preacher, or the -preacher as a story-teller. His object is to make vivid -and dramatic a lesson in manners, morals, religion, -politics, or art.</p> - -<h3>I. The Fable</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Æsop</div> - -<p>The fable is a very old type of narrative, so old -that critics are not sure of the place of its origin. Some -think that it rose at the court of Crœsus -with Æsop and spread eastward and westward. -Others maintain that it came from India to the -court of the Lydian king, and was adopted by Æsop, the -king's state orator, as a most convenient device for impressing -political lessons on a restless people in a scattered -empire. Others say that there never was a man -Æsop at all. But legend goes into detail to the effect that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span> -this ancient politician was once a slave and that he -rose from his servile condition to be the counsellor of -kings by the sheer force of his brains and an appreciation -of practical problems (much as our self-made men -of today have risen). Once even, when sent as a royal -messenger to a rebellious and distant part of the empire, -he quelled a mob and saved his own life by his -ready wit in telling a story and applying the moral. -He wrote nothing himself, legend goes on to admit, -but he scattered his practical narratives far and wide, -and they were finally collected as a distinct species of -literature.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Other early -fabulists</div> - -<p>Whatever the truth of the legend may be, it is certain -that there were in the Greek language early collections -of fables called "Æsop." More -than three hundred years before Christ, -Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle translated -stories from "Æsop." Plutarch and Lucian, in the -second century after Christ, remade them. In the -thirteenth century Marie de France versified a hundred -of them, using an old English source which we -cannot now find. She called her collection Ysopet, or -"Little Æsop." Finally in 1447, Planudes, a monk of -Constantinople, put forth in prose a collection of about -three hundred stories, which bears the name of -"Æsop."</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Hitopadesa -and Panchatantra</div> - -<p>The East never stopped to cavil about the source of -fables. It has always loved the type. The Hindoos -have two very ancient Sanscrit collections -of fable-like discourses—the "Panchatantra" -(Five Books), written in prose, and -the "Hitopadesa" (Friendly Instruction), in verse.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> -These differ from ordinary sets of fables in having the -principle of connection throughout and in being, instead -of mere brief tales, rather romantic and dramatic -dialogues and expositions designed as text-books for -the instruction of princes and those called to govern. -Many selections, however, have been taken out, translated, -modified, and used either as whole stories or as -elements of larger ones.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Reynard -the Fox and -beastiaries</div> - -<p>The very widely read and extensively translated -eleventh century "Reynard the Fox" is a beast-epic, -and not a fable in the technical sense of the -term. As likewise the bestiaries are not -fables. Those quaint medieval collections of -false lore, modeled probably on some earlier Greek -or Latin <i>physiologus</i>, were meant as doctrinal expository -allegories rather than zoological treatises or -than narratives which would fall within our present -classification. Yet they are allied to this group in that -they are symbolic and didactic and permit unnatural -natural history.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Some more -writers of -fables</div> - -<p>There have always been men who wrote of their -own times original satires in the form of fables, exposing -vice and folly. Phædrus, a freedman of -Augustus, wrote five such books in the reign -of Tiberius. Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio, and -Poggio knew and used the type. The greatest name in -modern literature in connection with the fable is that -of the Frenchman Jean de la Fontaine, who lived at -the court of Louis Fourteenth. He expressed in exquisite -verse-narrative very high social maxims. Many -of our finest well-known fables are paraphrases of his -lines. His own favorite was the "Oak and the Reed."<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> -He is supposed to have drawn his inspirations from -Phædrus. Our own English writers, Gay and Pope, -Addison and Prior, Steele and Dodsley, Moore, Goldsmith, -Cowper, and others, wrote fables both in prose -and verse. Indeed, worthy old Henryson, of "Robin -and Makyne" fame, wrote in the fifteenth century a -book of "Morall Fables of Esope the Phrygian" in -Chaucerian stanzas. One of these poems he calls the -"Uplondish Mous and the Berger Mous." Kriloff, the -Russian fabulist, who died in the middle of the nineteenth -century, disputes the highest place with La -Fontaine in the minds of many critics, especially for -his originality. A twentieth century humorous set of -rational apologues is George Ade's "Fables in Slang."</p> - -<p>The popular "Uncle Remus" stories are negro -animal-myths rather than fables. Though Kipling's -first "Jungle Book" narratives are in effect <i>sui generis</i>, -they belong with fable typically if anywhere, as the -unnatural very natural beast philosophy evinces. -"His Majesty's Servant," the last of the volume, is -easily classified. Some of the later tales are animal-myths, -however—to wit, "How Fear Came" and -"How the Camel Got His Hump;" and some, like "The -Miracle of Purun Bhagat," are legends; but the talk -and actions of the animals in all are fable-wise. The -French, it seems, have lately pushed the type the -farthest, though in a logical direction. They have retained -the animal talk and the satire, but have cast -away the narrative. Under the patronage of Rostand, -Sir Chanticler has come before the footlights. This play -happens to be an anomalous union of the two old distinct -meanings of the word "fable"—one, the undelying<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> -story of a drama; the other, a symbolic, usually -satiric, didactic tale.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Working -definition</div> - -<p>In the narrative sense of the term, a fable is a very -brief invented, double-meaning story in which a lesson -of every day practical morality is taught. -The kind of lesson is one of the points that -distinguish fable from parable and allegory. The -fable never aims higher than inculcating maxims of -prudential conduct—industry, caution, foresight, and -the like—and these it will sometimes recommend at the -expense of the higher, self-forgetting virtues. A typical -fable reaches just the pitch of morality which the -world will approve. In spirit the fable is often humorous, -often ironical. In diction it is always simple, -forceful, and appropriate.</p> - -<p>Three classes of fables have been noticed: (1) the -rational—in which the actors and speakers are solely -human beings or the gods of mythology, (2) the non-rational—in -which the heroes are solely animals, trees, -vegetables, or inanimate objects, (3) the mixed—in -which the rational and non-rational are combined.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Classes of -fables</div> - -<p>Now what distinguishes all these from myth and -legend is the presence of the evident and acknowledged -didactic purpose. What distinguishes -the first class, the rational fable, from a -parable is the low plane of the motive. Above the -utilitarian the fable never rises. If the fable teaches -honesty, it teaches it merely as the best policy. What -distinguishes the non-rational and the mixed fables -from allegory is both the limitation of the moral and -the kind of hero. The lesson of the fable is always -piquant, single, and clear. The actors in a fable are<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span> -always things concrete in nature as well as in the -story.</p> - -<p>The most popular, and hence the most typical of -the three classes of fables, is the second, often called -also the "beast fable." The beast fable departs somewhat -from the laws of nature. In the dialogue, animals -and inanimate objects act like human beings. A fox -and a bear, for instance, will philosophize on politics. -A lion and a mouse will exchange courtesies. But it -is a remarkable feature of this type of story that we -do not resent the incongruity. And that we do not -resent it is because there is a truthfulness that is more -interesting to us than is the natural order of the universe—namely, -the truthfulness of characterization. -Here the verisimilitude must be complete. Although -acting the part of rational beings, the animals must be -true to our accepted notion of their animal nature—a -fox must be foxy; a bear, bearish; a lion, haughty; a -mouse, timid; a cat, deceptive; a monkey, mischievous; -a canary, dependent; an eagle, lofty; and so on, and so -on. It is not necessary that they have no other characteristics, -but it is necessary that they possess the -commonly ascribed ones.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">How to -write an -original -fable</div> - -<p>To write what is strictly a fable, a person will need -to observe the distinctions of the type in general as -cut off from parable on the one hand and -allegory on the other, and to observe the distinctions -of the subdivisions within the type. -Then he must decide, of course, which subdivision -he is going to follow, must select his moral, -pick out his actors, think over their characteristics, -and finally narrate a brief occurrence in a vivid, homely<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> -style. The dialogue, while correct, should be very -colloquial. It is well for one to pay especial attention -to author's narrative, likewise, that it may be informing -though limited. After all is told, the writer may -or may not affix a maxim at the end, definitely and -neatly stated. In either case, however, the lesson -taught should be unmistakable. Original and spirited -fables could be written in the field of civic morals, -about which the world has just begun to think seriously. -Despite the good work that is being done in -the name of charity, there is room surely for pleasant -satire when a Happy Childhood Society gives elaborately -dressed dolls to naked babies.</p> - -<p>If one chooses to write a rational fable, where the -actors are human beings, one must be careful not to -write a parable. The lesson of a fable is always -unsentimentally practical—not spiritual. Where the -actors are gods, or gods and men, the student-writer -must distinguish fable from myth. He should not aim -at explaining a universal phenomenon, but simply at -teaching a single, acute, work-a-day lesson.</p> - -<p class="center"><b>Armenian proverbs that might be used for fable maxims</b></p> - -<p>1. When a man sees that the water does not follow -him, he follows the water.</p> - -<p>2. Strong vinegar bursts the cask.</p> - -<p>3. Dogs quarrel among themselves, but against -the wolf they are united.</p> - -<p>4. Only a bearded man can laugh at a beardless -face.</p> - -<p>5. Make friends with a dog, but keep a stick in -your hand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span></p> - -<p>6. One should not feel hurt at the kick of an ass.</p> - -<p>7. Running is also an art.</p> - -<p>8. He who speaks the truth must have one foot -in the stirrup.</p> - -<p>9. Before Susan had done <span class="err" title="original: princking">prinking</span>, church was -over.</p> - -<p>10. When you are going in, first consider how you -are coming out.</p> - -<p>11. The ass knows seven ways of swimming, but -when he sees the water he forgets them all.</p> - -<p>12. A shrewd enemy is better than a stupid friend.</p> - -<p>13. Because the cat could get no meat he said, -"Today is Friday."</p> - -<p>14. A goat prefers one goat to a whole herd of -sheep.</p> - -<p>15. A near neighbor is better than a distant kinsman.</p> - -<p>16. When I have honey, the flies come even from -Bagdad.</p> - -<h4><i>RATIONAL, WITH THE ACTORS GODS AND MEN</i> -<br /> -Jupiter and the Countryman</h4> - -<p>Jupiter, to reward the piety of a certain countryman, -promised to give him whatever he would ask. The countryman -desired that he might have the management of -the weather in his own estate. He obtained his request, -and immediately distributed rain, snow, and sunshine -among his several fields as he thought the nature of the -soil required. At the end of the year when he expected -to see a more than ordinary crop, his harvest fell infinitely -short of that of his neighbors. Thereupon he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> -desired Jupiter to take the weather again into his own -hands, for the countryman knew that otherwise he should -utterly ruin himself.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Spectator No. 25. -</p> - -<h4><i>NON-RATIONAL—INANIMATE OBJECT</i> -<br /> -The Drop of Water</h4> - -<p>A drop of water fell out of a cloud into the sea, and -finding itself lost amid such a countless number of its -companions, broke out in complaint of its lot. "Alas! -what an insignificant creature am I in this vast ocean -of waters! My existence is of no concern to the universe; -I am reduced to a kind of nothing, and I am less -than the least works of God." It so happened that an -oyster, which lay in the neighborhood of this drop, -chanced to gape and swallow it up in the midst of its -humble soliloquy. The drop lay a great while hardening -in the shell till by degrees it was ripened into a -pearl. The pearl fell into the hands of a diver, after a -long series of adventures, and is at present the famous -ornament fixed on the top of the Persian diadem.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Persian fable. Adapted in the Spectator No. 293. -</p> - -<h4><i>POLITICAL SATIRE</i> -<br /> -The Grandee at the Judgment-Seat</h4> - -<p>Once in the days of old a certain Grandee passed -from his richly dight bed into the realm which Pluto -sways. To speak more simply, he died. And so, as was -anciently the custom, he appeared before the justice seat -of Hades. Straightway he was asked, "Where were you -born? What have you been?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span></p> - -<p>"I was born in Persia, and my rank was that of a -Satrap. But, as my health was feeble during my lifetime, -I never exercised any personal control in my province, -but left everything to be done by my secretary."</p> - -<p>"But you—what did you do?"</p> - -<p>"I ate, drank, and slept; and I signed everything -he set before me."</p> - -<p>"In with him then at once to Paradise."</p> - -<p>"How now, where is the justice of this?" thereupon -exclaimed Mercury, forgetting all politeness.</p> - -<p>"Ah, brother," answered Eacus, "you know nothing -about it. But don't you see this? The dead man -was a fool. What would have happened if he, who had -such power in his hands, had unfortunately interfered -in business? Why, he would have ruined the whole -province. The tears which would have flowed then -would have been beyond all calculation. Therefore, it is -that he has gone into Paradise, because he did not interfere -with business."</p> - -<p>I was in court yesterday, and I saw a judge there. -There can be no doubt that he will go into Paradise.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Kriloff. -</p> - -<h4><i>BEAST FABLES</i> -<br /> -The Lion and the Old Hare</h4> - -<p>On the Mandara mountain there lived a Lion named -Fierce-of-Heart, and he was perpetually making massacre -of all the wild animals. The thing grew so bad that -the beasts held a public meeting, and drew up a respectful -remonstrance to the Lion in these words:</p> - -<p>"Wherefore should your Majesty thus make carnage<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> -of us all? If it may please you, we ourselves will daily -furnish a beast for your Majesty's meal." Thereupon -the Lion responded, "If that arrangement is more agreeable -to you, be it so;" and from that time a beast was -allotted to him daily, and daily devoured. One day -it came to the turn of an old hare to supply the royal -table, who reflected to himself as he walked along, "I -can but die, and will go to my death leisurely."</p> - -<p>Now Fierce-of-Heart, the lion, was pinched with hunger, -and seeing the Hare so approaching, he roared out, -"How darest thou thus delay in coming?"</p> - -<p>"Sire," replied the Hare, "I am not to blame. I -was detained on the road by another lion, who exacted -an oath from me to return when I should have informed -your Majesty."</p> - -<p>"Go," exclaimed King Fierce-of-Heart in a rage; -"show me instantly where this insolent villain of a lion -lives."</p> - -<p>The Hare led the way accordingly until he came -to a deep well, whereat he stopped, and said, "Let my -lord the King come hither and behold him." The Lion -approached, and beheld his own reflection in the water -of the well, upon which, in his passion, he directly flung -himself, and so perished.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Hitopadesa. Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold. -</p> - -<h4>The Fox and the Crab</h4> - -<p>The Fox and the Crab lived together like brothers; -together they sowed their land, reaped the harvest, -thrashed the grain and garnered it.</p> - -<p>The Fox said one day: "Let us go to the hill-top, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> -whoever reaches it first shall carry off the grain for his -own."</p> - -<p>While they were (starting) to mount the steep, the -Crab said:</p> - -<p>"Do me a favor; before we set off running, touch me -with your tail, so that I shall know it and be able to -follow you."</p> - -<p>The Crab opened his claws, and when the Fox touched -him with his tail, he leaped forward and seized it, so that -when the Fox reached the goal and turned around to -see where the Crab was, the Crab fell upon the heap of -grain and said: "These three bushels and a half are all -mine." The Fox was thunderstruck and exclaimed:</p> - -<p>"How did you get here, you rascal?"</p> - -<p>This fable shows that deceitful men devise many -methods and actions for getting things their own way, -but that they are often defeated by the feeble.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Turkish Fable. Translated by Epiphanius Wilson. -</p> - -<h4><i>RATIONAL, WITH THE ACTORS MEN</i> -<br /> -The Fool Who Sells Wisdom</h4> - -<p>A certain fool kept constantly passing through the -streets of a town.</p> - -<p>"Who will buy wisdom?" he cried in a loud voice. -A citizen met him on his way, accosted him, and presented -him with some small pieces of money.</p> - -<p>"Sell me a little wisdom," he said.</p> - -<p>"Here it is," replied the other, cuffing him heartily, -and immediately putting into his hands a long thread.</p> - -<p>"If you wish in the future to be wise and prudent," -said the hawker to him, "always keep as far away from -fools as the length of this thread."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span></p> - -<p>Moral: We should avoid all connection and communication -with fools and cranks.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Ibid. -</p> - -<h4><i>ALMOST A PARABLE</i> -<br /> -The Archer and the Trumpeter</h4> - -<p>The Archer and the Trumpeter were travelling together -in a lonely place. The Archer boasted of his -skill as a warrior, and asked the Trumpeter if he bore -arms.</p> - -<p>"No," replied the Trumpeter, "I cannot fight. I can -only blow my horn, and make music for those who are at -war."</p> - -<p>"But I can hit a mark at a hundred paces," said -the Archer. As he spoke, an eagle appeared, hovering -over the tree tops. He drew out an arrow, fitted it on -the string, shot at the bird, which straightway fell to -the ground, transfixed to the heart.</p> - -<p>"I am not afraid of any foe; for that bird might -just as well have been a man," said the Archer proudly. -"But you would be quite helpless if anyone attacked -you."</p> - -<p>They saw at the moment a band of robbers, approaching -them with drawn swords. The Archer immediately -discharged a sharp arrow which laid low the foremost -of the wicked men. But the rest soon overpowered him -and bound his hands.</p> - -<p>"As for this trumpeter, he can do us no harm, for -he has neither sword nor bow," they said, and did not -bind him, but took away his purse and wallet.</p> - -<p>Then the Trumpeter said: "You are welcome, -friends, but let me play you a tune on my horn."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span></p> - -<p>With their consent he blew loud and long on his -trumpet, and in a short space of time the guards of the -King came running up at the sound, and surrounded the -robbers and carried them off to prison.</p> - -<p>When they unbound the hands of the Archer, he said -to the Trumpeter: "Friend, I have learned to-day that -a trumpet is better than a bow; for you have saved our -lives without doing harm to anyone."</p> - -<p>This fable shows that one man ought not to despise -the trade of another. It also shows that it is better to -be able to gain the help of others than to trust to our -own strength.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Ibid. -</p> - -<h4>The Courtship of Sir Butterfly</h4> - -<p>It was a beautiful May morning. The air was soft -and balmy, still retaining the freshness of the evening. -Sir Butterfly woke up very early to go to the garden -and pay a visit to the beautiful flowers that grew there. -The garden looked inviting. For there was already Miss -Sampaguita, fresh as the morning with little drops of -dew on her cheeks; there was the tall and graceful Miss -Champaka; there was Miss Ilang-ilang, giving perfume -to the balmy air that kissed her; there was Miss Sunflower -with her face toward the Eastern Gate—all of -them were expecting early and courteous visitors.</p> - -<p>However, Sir Butterfly was a shrewd critic, and -could find faults in each one of these beauties. But -when he came before Miss Rose, he found himself at a -loss what to say. In fact, he was fascinated by her -beauty, and soon began to flutter about her. After a -while he addressed her in this way:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span></p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Fair Rose, thou art the queen of flowers;</div> - <div class="i0">This throne I give alone to thee;</div> - <div class="i0">And this I'll say at all hours,</div> - <div class="i0">The sweetest nectar thine must be.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Thy garment of the purest green</div> - <div class="i0">Befits right well thy being a queen;</div> - <div class="i0">And this I have to say to thee,</div> - <div class="i0">The sweetest nectar thine must be.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Thy cheeks are rosy, lips are red</div> - <div class="i0">With tints of freshness never dead;</div> - <div class="i0">Come, give me a kiss, sweet Rose,</div> - <div class="i0">Of thine own nectar sweet, a dose."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Here Miss Rose interrupted him. "Nay, nay, please -do not flatter me," she said in a tone of affected coquetry.</p> - -<p>But Sir Butterfly continued his recitation:</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Thy graceful form invites me</div> - <div class="i0">A dear embrace to give thee."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Saying this, he drew near her and passed his arms -around her body. But what an embrace! The thorns -held him fast; he was now a wounded prisoner. In a -tone of anger and despair he cried: "Let me free, you -ugly, ugly Miss Rose!"</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Moral</span>: The seemingly desirable is not always desirable, -or circumstances alter estimates.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Máximo M. Kalaw. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span></p> - -<h4>The Hat and the Shoes</h4> - -<p>Once a man owned two faithful servants, a hat and -a pair of shoes. The shoes had always been jealous of -the hat: in the first place, because the master carried -the hat instead of the hat's carrying him; secondly, because -the hat was given a great deal of care and had a -regular place where it was put; while the shoes, who carried -both the master and the hat, were just thrown anywhere -after their service.</p> - -<p>Of course the shoes did not feel satisfied with such -partial treatment, and had long wished to have a short -talk with the hat to discuss this matter of importance; -but they had always been put far apart.</p> - -<p>One day, while their master was asleep and while -they were having a rest, a child got hold of the hat and -the shoes as playthings. The shoes were then glad of -this; for they could have a hearty chat. Soon afterwards, -the child grew tired of playing and feel asleep. -They then discussed their respective positions.</p> - -<p>"Why is it, my friend," asked the shoes, who began -the discussion, "that you are always carried by our -master and taken good care of?"</p> - -<p>"Don't be envious of my position, my friend shoes. -Our master takes such good care of me because I protect -the most important part of his body, while you, you just -serve his feet," replied the hat.</p> - -<p>"You are mistaken. Yes, you are entirely mistaken. -I serve not only his feet, but his legs, body, and hands, -and head too, and what is more, I, a servant, also -serve you who are like myself," argued the shoes. The -hat was ashamed because of what the shoes had expounded -and was unable to continue the discussion.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Moral</span>: When you occupy a position of dignity, -don't think that those below you are your servants and -their work is of little value; for generally those men are -the ones who support you, and their services may be of -more importance than yours.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—José R. Perez. -</p> - -<h4>The Crocodile and the Peahen</h4> - -<p>Once there lived a young crocodile on the bank of the -Pasig River. He was so fierce and so greedy that no -animals dared to approach him. One day while he was -resting on a rock, he thought of getting married. He -said aloud, "I will give all that I have for a wife." As -he pronounced these words, a coquettish peahen passed -near him. The naughty crocodile expressed his wish -again. The coquette listened carefully, and began to -examine the crocodile's looks.</p> - -<p>She said to herself, "I will marry this crocodile. He -is very rich. Oh, my! If I could only have all those -pearls and diamonds, I should be the happiest wife in -the world." She made up her mind to marry the crocodile. -She then alighted on the rock where the crocodile -was, who made his offer again with extreme politeness, -as a hypocrite always does. She thought that the big -eyes of the crocodile were two beautiful diamonds and -that the rough skin was made of pearls, so she accepted -the proposal. The crocodile asked the peahen to sit on -his mouth, that she might not spoil her beautiful feathers -with mud. The foolish bird did as she was told. -What do you think happened! He made a good dinner -of his new wife.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Moral</span>: Be attracted by quality rather than wealth.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Elisa R. Esquerra. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span></p> - -<h4>The Old Man, His Son, and His Grandson</h4> - -<p>In olden times, when men lived to be two or three -hundred years old, there dwelt a very poor family near a -big forest. The household had but three members—a -grandfather, a father, and a son. The grandfather was -an old man of one hundred and twenty-five years. He -was so old that the help of his housemates was needed -to feed him. Many a time, and especially after meals, -he related to his son and to his grandson his brave -deeds while serving in the king's army, the responsible -positions he filled after leaving a soldier's life; and he -told entertaining stories of hundreds of years gone by. -The father was not satisfied with the arrangement, however, -and planned to get rid of the old man.</p> - -<p>One day he said to his son, "At present, I am receiving -a peso daily, but half of it is spent to feed your -worthless grandfather. We do not get any real benefit -from him. To-morrow let us bind him and take him to -the woods, and leave him there to die."</p> - -<p>"Yes, father," said the boy.</p> - -<p>When the morning came, they bound the old man and -took him to the forest. On their way home the boy said -to his father, "Wait, I will go back, and get the rope." -"What for?" asked his father, raising his voice. "To -have it ready when your turn comes," replied the boy, -believing that to cast every old man into the forest -was the usual custom. "Ah! if that is likely to be the -case with me, back we go, and get your grandfather -again."</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Eutiquiano Garcia. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span></p> - -<h3>II. Parable</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Parable -contrasted -with fable</div> - -<p>The parable, like the fable, is a short didactic story; -but the lesson of the parable is always spiritual, though -not necessarily religious. The fable never -rises above the common-place: it preaches -a worldly morality. Self-interest and prudence -are its tenets; it often satirizes; it laughs at -mankind. The parable, on the contrary, is always -serious: it is earnest and high in its purpose. It tries -to win mankind to generosity and self-forgetting, or -tries to shame him for his neglect by presenting good -deeds in contrast with his, or tries to drive him forth -to an awe-struck repentance by a representation of -righteous anger.</p> - -<p>The actors in a parable never violate the laws of -nature. If animals appear, for instance, they do not -talk. They follow as the friends or subjects of man, -as in actual life. Man's dominion over them is spiritual; -hence they may have a place in the parable along -with him but not without him.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Characteristics -of -parables</div> - -<p>Where the parable departs from the true story is in -the fact that the men in the parable are types, and the -deeds are symbolic. We have not Mr. John -W. Richards, a particular farmer and an -individual, plowing a field of corn in Mason -County, Illinois, on July 3; but instead we have such -statements <span class="err" title="original: are">as</span> these: "The Farmer went out to plow -his corn," "The Sower went out to sow the seeds," -"A Householder hired laborers for his vineyard;" or -"Once a King had two servants," or "The Prodigal -sat among the swine in a far country." If the name<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span> -of an actor is ever individual—like that of Abraham, -for instance, in Franklin's prose parable, or Abou Ben -Adhem in Leigh Hunt's poem—the actor himself is -nevertheless representative. Abraham stands for the -whole Jewish people in its exclusiveness; and Abou -Ben Adhem, for all doubters who yet love their fellow-men. -A character's seeing of angels or hearing -of the voice of the Deity does not break the versimilitude -of parables; for these matters are readily taken -subjectively.</p> - -<p>The spiritual truth of a parable is generally independent -and separable from the story, which can always -be read as narrative of actual events, though it is -meant to be symbolic. The interpretation comes from -without. It is either left to be inferred by the reader -or is written before or after the narrative in the form -of a summarizing figure of speech or a detailed collated -exposition. You remember that Christ took his -disciples aside and explained his parables to them.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Tolstoy</div> - -<p>Count Tolstoy has written many parables. He -combines his teaching with virile realism until he is -as enthusiastically read as are the popular -and less spiritual authors. "What Men Live -By" is an exquisite example of his teaching, and, while -it embodies a church legend, is a regular parable in -form. It has the requisite generic atmosphere about -it: the shoemaker and his wife, the rich purchaser, the -kind foster-mother, and the children are all types. -The intense realism comes in in the representation of -Russian life. The lesson is given in an orderly exposition -after the narrative of events is finished.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Suggestions -on writing -parables</div> - -<p>In writing an original parable, one should avoid<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> -the diction of the Bible, that is, should avoid phraseology -archaic or especially religious; but it would be -well to imitate the simplicity and straightforwardness -of the Biblical narrative. A modern -parable writer to be successful would avoid -mawkishness, and what is popularly designated as -"preaching,"—but he would shadow forth nevertheless -very clearly a high, spiritual truth. He would -study living examples carefully so as to express inevitable -actions in a few luminous words. There are -many noble lessons to be taught by the actions of -typical men in typical situations.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Working -definition</div> - -<p>The adjectives symbolic, serious, spiritual, typical, -and natural might be embodied in a working definition -thus: A parable is a narrative of imaginary events, a -symbolic didactic story, wherein the actors are always -types of men or types of men and animals -(never exclusively of animals), and whereof -the lesson is always spiritual, single, and separate, and -the tone is always serious, and the events always -appear natural and customary.</p> - -<p class="center"><b>A list of proverbs that might be expanded into parables</b></p> - -<p>1. God understands the dumb.</p> - -<p>2. What a man acquires in his youth serves as a -crutch in his old age.</p> - -<p>3. Begin with small things that you may achieve -great.</p> - -<p>4. He who steals an egg will steal a horse also.</p> - -<p>5. One can spoil the good name of a thousand.</p> - -<p>6. One bad deed begets another.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span></p> - -<p>7. The grandfather ate unripe grapes and the -grandson's teeth were set on edge.</p> - -<p>8. What is play to the cat is death to the mouse -(modern, political parable).</p> - -<p>9. When a man grows rich, he thinks his walls -are awry.</p> - -<p>10. Better lose one's eyes than one's calling.</p> - -<p>11. What the wind brings it will take away.</p> - -<p>12. No one is sure that his light will burn till -morning.</p> - -<p>13. The scornful soon grow old.</p> - -<p>14. A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.</p> - -<p>15. Love ever so well, there is also hate; hate ever -so much, there is also love.</p> - -<p>16. To rise early is not everything; happy are they -who have the help of God.</p> - -<p>17. By asking, one finds the way to Jerusalem.</p> - -<p>18. When God gives, he gives with both hands.</p> - -<p>19. Until you see trouble you will never know -joy.</p> - -<p>20. We are intelligence, that we may be will.</p> - -<p>21. Act only on that maxim which thou couldst -will to become a universal law.</p> - -<h4>The Three Questions</h4> - -<p>It once occurred to a certain king, that if he always -knew the right time to begin everything; if he knew who -were the right people to listen to, and whom to avoid; -and, above all, if he always knew what was the most -important thing to do, he would never fail in anything -he might undertake.</p> - -<p>And this thought having occurred to him, he had it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> -proclaimed throughout his kingdom that he would give -a great reward to any one who would teach him what -was the right time for every action, and who were the -most necessary people, and how he might know what -was the most important thing to do.</p> - -<p>And learned men came to the King, but they all answered -his questions differently.</p> - -<p>In reply to the first question, some said that to know -the right time for every action, one must draw up in -advance, a table of days, months and years, and must -live strictly according to it. Only thus, said they, could -everything be done at its proper time. Others declared -that it was impossible to decide beforehand the right -time for every action; but that, not letting oneself be -absorbed in idle pastimes, one should always attend to -all that was going on, and then do what was most needful. -Others, again, said that however attentive the King -might be to what was going on, it was impossible for one -man to decide correctly what is the right time for -every action, but that he should have a Council of wise -men, who would help him to fix the proper time for -everything.</p> - -<p>But then again others said there were some things -which could not wait to be laid before a Council, but -about which one had at once to decide whether to undertake -them or not. But in order to decide that, one -must know beforehand what was going to happen. It -is only magicians who know that; and, therefore, in order -to know the right time for every action, one must -consult magicians.</p> - -<p>Equally various were the answers to the second question. -Some said, the people the King most needed were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> -his councillors; others, the priests; others, the doctors; -while some said the warriors were the most necessary.</p> - -<p>To the third question, as to what was the most important -occupation: some replied that the most important -thing in the world was science. Others said it was -skill in warfare; and others, again, that it was religious -worship.</p> - -<p>All the answers being different, the King agreed with -none of them, and gave the reward to none. But still -wishing to find the right answers to his questions, he decided -to consult a hermit, widely renowned for his wisdom.</p> - -<p>The hermit lived in a wood which he never quitted, -and he received none but common folk. So the King -put on simple clothes, and before reaching the hermit's -cell dismounted from his horse, and, leaving his bodyguard -behind, went on alone.</p> - -<p>When the King approached, the hermit was digging -the ground in front of his hut. Seeing the King, he -greeted him and went on digging. The hermit was -frail and weak, and each time he stuck his spade -into the ground and turned a little earth, he breathed -heavily.</p> - -<p>The King went up to him and said: "I have come to -you, wise hermit, to ask you to answer three questions: -How can I learn to do the right thing at the right time? -Who are the people I most need, and to whom should I, -therefore, pay more attention than to the rest? And -what affairs are the most important, and need my first -attention?"</p> - -<p>The hermit listened to the King, but answered nothing. -He just spat on his hand and recommenced digging.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span></p> - -<p>"You are tired," said the King, "let me take the -spade and work a while for you."</p> - -<p>"Thanks," said the hermit, and, giving the spade to -the King, he sat down on the ground.</p> - -<p>When he had dug two beds, the King stopped and -repeated his questions. The hermit again gave no answer, -but rose, stretched out his hand for the spade, and -said:</p> - -<p>"Now rest awhile—and let me work a bit."</p> - -<p>But the King did not give him the spade, and continued -to dig. One hour passed, and another. The sun -began to sink behind the trees, and the King at last -stuck the spade into the ground, and said:</p> - -<p>"I come to you, wise man, for an answer to my questions. -If you can give me none, tell me so, and I will -return home."</p> - -<p>"Here comes some one running," said the hermit, -"let us see who it is."</p> - -<p>The King turned around, and saw a bearded man -come running out of the wood. The man held his hands -pressed against his stomach, and blood was flowing from -under them. When he reached the King, he fell fainting -on the ground moaning feebly. The King and the -hermit unfastened the man's clothing. There was a -large wound in his stomach. The King washed it as -best as he could, and bandaged it with his handkerchief -and with a towel the hermit had. But the blood would -not stop flowing, and this King again and again removed -the bandage soaked with warm blood, and washed and -rebandaged the wound. When at last the blood ceased -flowing, the man revived and asked for something to -drink. The King brought fresh water and gave it to him.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> -Meanwhile the sun had set, and it had become cool. So -the King with the hermit's help, carried the wounded -man into the hut and laid him on the bed. Lying on -the bed the man closed his eyes and was quiet; but -the King was so tired with his walk and with the work -he had done, that he crouched down on the threshold, -and also fell asleep—so soundly that he slept all through -the short summer night. When he awoke in the morning, -it was long before he could remember where he was, or -who was the strange bearded man lying on the bed and -gazing intently at him with shining eyes.</p> - -<p>"Forgive me!" said the bearded man in a weak voice, -when he saw that the King was awake and was looking -at him.</p> - -<p>"I do not know you, and have nothing to forgive you -for," said the King.</p> - -<p>"You do not know me, but I know you. I am that -enemy of yours who swore to revenge himself on you -because you executed his brother and seized his property. -I knew you had gone alone to see the hermit, and I -resolved to kill you on your way back. But the day -passed and you did not return. So I came out from -my ambush to find you, and I came upon your bodyguard, -and they recognized me, and wounded me. I -escaped from them, but should have bled to death had -you not dressed my wound. I wished to kill you, and -you have saved my life. Now if I live, and if you wish it, -I will serve you as your most faithful slave, and will bid -my sons do the same. Forgive me!"</p> - -<p>The King was very glad to have made peace with his -enemy so easily, and to have gained him for a friend, -and he not only forgave him, but said he would send his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span> -servants and his own physician to attend him, and promised -to restore his property.</p> - -<p>Having taken leave of the wounded man, the King -went out into the porch and looked around for the hermit. -Before going away he wished once more to beg -answer to the question he had put. The hermit was outside, -on his knees, sowing seeds in the beds that had been -dug the day before.</p> - -<p>The King approached him, and said:</p> - -<p>"For the last-time, I pray you to answer my questions, -wise man."</p> - -<p>"You have already been answered," said the hermit -still crouching on his thin legs, and looking at the King, -who stood before him.</p> - -<p>"How answered? What do you mean?" asked the -King.</p> - -<p>"Do you not see," replied the hermit. "If you had -not pitied my weakness yesterday, and had not dug -these beds for me, but had gone your way, that man -would have attacked you, and you would have repented -of not having stayed with me. So the most important -time was when you were digging the beds; and I was the -most important man, and to do me good was your most -important business. Afterwards, when that man ran to -us, the most important time was when you were attending -to him, for if you had not bound up his wounds he -would have died without having made peace with you. -So he was the most important man, and what you did for -him was your most important business. Remember then: -there is only one time that is important—Now! It is the -most important time because it is the only time when we -have any power. The most necessary man is he with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span> -whom you are, for no man knows whether he will ever -have dealings with any one else: and the most important -affair is, to do him good, because for that purpose alone -was man sent into this life!"</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Count Leo M. Tolstoy. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Twenty-Three Tales from Tolstoy," translated by L. and -A. Maude (Oxford Press).</p></div> - -<h4>A Master and His Servant</h4> - -<p>Once a rich man was riding on horseback over a -desert. He was going to the palace to be knighted by -the king. With him was his trusty servant, who was -to take care of their baggage and their food. As the -master's horse was stronger than the servant's, the master -went very far ahead. At last he came to a lonely -tree by the road. He intended to stop in the shade, but -when he got there, he found a poor trader almost dying -of hunger. He had pity on him, so he threw him a piece -of cake, which fell on his breast. Alas! the poor man -could not move his hands to pick it up. The master, however, -would not dismount and help the wretched man, -but started on, leaving him about to die.</p> - -<p>Soon the servant came to the same place. His heart -was greatly moved upon seeing the traveler's pitiful -appearance. As the servant was about to drink a few -drops of water that still remained in a bottle, the suffering -man looked at him. Therefore, he dismounted -from his horse, and poured the water into the man's -mouth. After a while the man could move his body a -little. The servant thought that with a cup of pure warm -water the poor traveler would recover his strength. But -no water could be found in the desert. So he killed his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span> -horse, took the blood from its heart, and gave it to the -traveler. The servant did not leave the traveler until -he could get up without help. At last the servant started -on his journey with the baggage on his head, leaving his -dead horse and the traveler in the middle of the desert. -He left to the traveler some bread, clothes, the saddle and -his hat.</p> - -<p>It was evening when he arrived at the palace. His -master had been waiting for him impatiently. Without -asking a question, the master began to whip his servant, -because he had lost everything except their baggage. -The servant would have suffered more had not the king -chanced to see him. Both were brought before the king, -who asked the servant what the matter was. The poor -servant knelt before the king with his hands crossed over -his breast, and then told the whole story. Seeing that -the servant was as respectful, brave, and kind as a knight -ought to be, the king made him a noble instead of his -master.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Eusebio Ramos. -</p> - -<h4>The Parable of the Beggar and the Givers</h4> - -<p>"Good people, alms! Alms for the poor!" whined an -uncouth beggar who stood huddled close, to the cold -stones of a shop wall, and there sought shelter from the -wind.</p> - -<p>Two brothers, well clad and warm, walking homeward -together, turned and looked to see whence the appeal -came. The elder carelessly tossed a silver piece into the -out-stretched palm, and muttered, "Odious beggars!" -Then he hastened on. The younger man, however, -stopped and asked how such willing pauperism had -gained ascendancy over pride. The alms-seeker then told<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> -a story of search for employment, of repeated failures, -and of the final surrender of self-esteem. The youth -pitied the vagrant, and offered to furnish him a method -of gaining independence. He readily accepted the help -and a new worker began to labor in the vineyards of -the brothers.</p> - -<p>Some years later, when the time arrived for the people -to send a new burgher to the capital to represent -them, men came from the city to ask the fruit-gatherers -which of their employers should be the choice for the -office. Then the chief of the workmen spoke out, "The -elder will fling you a coin and a curse. The younger -will give you laws and improvements for your city. He -will teach you to earn the coin for yourself."</p> - -<p>The next year the giver of charity went to the great -council in Berlin, while the giver of alms superintended -the vine-growing and envied his brother's good fortune.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Dorothea Knoblock. -</p> - -<h3>III. Allegory</h3> - -<p>The word allegory is used widely to signify any -figurative and symbolic writing (proverb, parable, -metaphor, simile, or allegory proper); but we are going -to use it in its distinctive and academic sense as a -rhetorical and narrative type.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Characteristics</div> - -<p>Like the fable and the parable, the allegory teaches -a lesson; like them it is a story, but longer than either, -more detailed than either. Connected with -the actors in it are generally abstract ideas -used figuratively, directly personified as people on adventures -or used to form the atmosphere, the goal of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span> -attainment, the place of destination, the road over -which the hero travels. For instance, Youth sets out -from the House of Innocence over the Road of Life -and strays into the Path of Temptation that leads -through the Wood of Error. Here he meets Falsehood -and Shame, and overcomes them, for the time at least, -and passes through the clearing of Experience toward -the Castle of Perseverance, grim and dark and uninviting, -that stands hard by, yet beyond, the House -of Mirth, etc., etc.</p> - -<p>When you write an allegory, you will not be so -trite as this illustrative example, but will get a good -idea, a good spiritual lesson, and will teach it with a -unique and original plot in which the adventures themselves -are interesting. The world's greatest prose -allegory, "Pilgrim's Progress," has always been read -for the story. The "Faerie Queene" as a metrical romance -and a triple allegory of religion, Elizabeth's -court, and the perfect man, has been a storehouse for -prose narrators as well as for poets for three hundred -years. Practically all the old morality plays were -allegories. "Everyman," the best extant, is very vital -indeed when put on the stage.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Plato's -"Vision -of Er"</div> - -<p>Plato's great myth-allegory in the "Republic" was -designed by him to teach his people his theory of the -transmigration of souls and how they might -safely pass over the river of Forgetfulness -without being defiled and might hold fast -to the heavenly way and follow after Justice and -Virtue always, considering that the soul is immortal -and able to endure every sort of good and every sort -of evil. Popularly the story is known as a vision; but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> -Socrates, Plato's literary character who tells the story, -calls it a tale, a tale of a brave man Er, the Son of -Armenius, who, on the twelfth day, as he was lying -on the funeral pile, returned to life and told what he -had seen in the other world.</p> - -<p>This device of a vision was widely adopted, doubtless -indirectly from Plato, as a good framework for -allegory. We find the medieval poets dreaming dreams -and letting their souls depart from their bodies pretty -generally.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Modern -Allegories</div> - -<p>The romance and the allegory were the prime -medieval types, and we find them persisting together -or apart in our own English literature from -William Langland's "Piers the Plowman" -with its Tower of Truth, Conscience, Envy, Advice of -Hunger, and the like, to Henry Van Dyke's "Blue -Flower" with its crystal river flowing from a mysterious -source. "The Hunter" and the "Artist's Secret" -by Olive Schreiner and "Poems in Prose" by -Oscar Wilde are exquisite modern examples. Nathaniel -Hawthorne wrote scarcely anything that is not -inlaid with allegory. The "Great Stone Face" is a -fine instance of how concrete pure allegory can be. -It teaches a beautifully spiritual truth by the portrayal -of American customs and everyday human shortsightedness. -A good German prose allegory is "Peter -Schlemihl: or, The Man Who Sold his Shadow." Stevenson's -tremendous study, "The Strange Case of Dr. -Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," is really allegory.</p> - -<p>A review of the names of the older but famous -allegories will be perhaps more interesting and suggestive -than the perusal from beginning to end of any<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> -one of them would be, for they are for the most part -long and tedious.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Some -famous -English -allegories</div> - -<p>In early Anglo-Saxon verse we find appearing the -favorite device of allegory, the vision. In the "Dream -of the Rood" the author tells of how he saw -a strange Tree, the gallows of shame, now -the glorious Tree of the Savior, and how it -told its life-history. "The Address of the Soul to the -Body" is a grim allegorical dialogue. In "The -Phoenix," the fabulous bird represents Christ, as does -also the Panther in the other poem, the sweet-breathed, -lonely, harmless beast. These are all verse, and with -the exception of the "Dream of the Rood" hardly narrative. -The last two are really English bestiaries. -"The Romaunt of the Rose," the greatest medieval -allegory, in its English form, contains seventy-six -hundred ninety-eight lines. You will find all these -included in Chaucer's work, but only seventeen hundred -five are his.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The "Parlament of Foules" and -the "House of Fame," however, are his, but not "The -Court of Love," "the Flower and the Leaf," "The -Cockowe and the Nightingale." Between Chaucer and -Spenser come Dunbar's "Thistle and the Rose" and -"The Golden Targe;" Lydgate's "Temple of Glass;" -Hawes's "Pastime of Pleasure;" Douglas's "Palace of -Honour" and "King Hart;" Lyndesay's "Dream" and -"Complaint of Papingo;" Barclay's "Ship of Fooles;" -Sackville's "Induction" to the "Mirror for Magistrates." -After Spenser, besides Phineas Fletcher's "The -Purple Island" and Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress," -come Addison's "Vision of Mirza," Parnell's "Paradise -of Fooles," Thomson's "Castle of Indolence," -Johnson's "Journey of a Day," Collin's "The Passions," -and Aikin's "The Hill of Science."</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span></p> -<p>In the beautiful Elizabethan English translation we -have also the allegories of the Bible, of which the -"Twenty-third Psalm" is doubtless the best known example, -as it is perhaps the best loved quotation from -the Old Testament. All the psalms put their truths -allegorically in the broad literary sense. Ezekiel, -Isaiah, and the other prophets often speak in strict -allegorical narratives, which they explain either immediately -or later. The great literary beauty of the -"Revelation" depends on the exquisite use of allegory; -the leaves of the tree of life are for the healing of the -nations; the water of the river of life is for everyone -that thirsteth.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Allegory -and -parable -distinguished</div> - -<p>Mention of Hawthorne's use of allegory calls to -mind the distinction a student of narrative types must -make between parable on the one hand and a -particular kind of allegory on the other, that -kind in which there are no abstractions. He -asks himself, What is the difference when -both narratives have only people for actors? He finds -the answer in the fact that the actors of the parable -are always representatives of a type, doing nothing -outside the type, nothing individual, while the actors -of that sort of allegory in which there are no personified -abstractions are always individual men even -though they may have universal vices or virtues; that -is, they perform individual deeds and go through peculiar -experiences, that not all the men of their class -could perform and go through. But although more<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> -individual, the allegory is less human than the parable; -for the happenings of the parable are always probable, -while those of the allegory may be probable, improbable, -or so fantastic as to be wholly impossible.</p> - -<p>The allegory is usually longer also than the parable. -Besides, unlike the parable, the allegory demands no -interpretation from without, but carries its interpretation -along from name to name. Hence the allegory can -be said to be an extended metaphor, and the parable, -a long half simile. On the other hand, many proverbs -are concise parables and many are also brief allegories.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Allegory -and fable -distinguished</div> - -<p>Allegory meets fable on the fact that both may be -satiric; but stands aside from fable on the fact that -allegory is much longer and employs personified -abstractions as characters. Hawthorne's -"Celestial Railroad" is an example -of humorous-satiric allegory. Parable, we -recall, is always spiritual, allegory often so, and fable -never.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Working -definition</div> - -<p>When you set out to write, therefore, you will have -in mind a general summary somewhat like this: An -allegory is a narrative of imaginary events -designed to teach a series of utilitarian or -spiritual truths—the actors in the events being either -individuals with typical follies, vices, and virtues, or -personified abstractions that go through individual and -particular experiences.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">How to -write -allegory</div> - -<p>To proceed to write original allegory you will need -to pay especial attention to (1) the series of -lessons you mean to teach: Shall it be in the -realm of politics, trade, education, or general -morals? (2) The tone of your teaching: Shall it be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> -humorous or grave? (3) The kind of personages: Shall -they be real persons made more-or-less typical and abstract, -or shall they be abstractions made more-or-less -concrete and individual? (4) The course of the action: -What shall happen? There must be something a-doing -that is in itself interesting and that has a beginning, -a middle, and an end. You must not fall into the error -of merely enumerating and cataloguing. You must -have a definite action going forward in which your -personages take a necessary part. Allegory fell into -disrepute in the past because of the attempts of lazy -and careless writers. There is evidence of its revival -as a popular type. A present-day writer in the -<i>Atlantic Monthly</i> has shown us how vigorous, informing, -and pungent it may be: "The Novelist's Allegory" -is entirely worth while with its good old-fashioned -flavor. (5) You must pay attention to the characterizations: -you must see to it that the speeches you -put into the mouths of your creatures could be delivered -by them in the world or society you have got -together. Everything in the action—the time, the -place, the characters of the persons—must conform to -the ideal nature of the subject. The laws of the actual -universe you may violate, but not the laws of your -imaginary universe. Moreover, the nearer the actual -and the imaginary come together on essentials, the -more effective your preaching will be. What you -write as author's narrative must be vital and contributive.</p> - -<p>Make your description of dress and gesture so -vivid that it will quicken the imagination of your -readers. Never yourself think of your personages as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span> -abstractions. Let them live and move before you as -real beings; then tell about them.</p> - -<p>A testimony to the return of allegory into good -favor is its use on the stage. We no longer are afraid -to see that Ibsen's "Peer Gynt" is an allegorical satire -and not the bucolic love tale that some persons try to -make it, and that even the wonderful scene of Ase's -death is pathos serving satire. Maeterlinck's "Blue -Bird," which is unmistakable allegory, has pleased the -latest theater-going public high and low.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Present-day -interest -in primitive -types</div> - -<p>This thought leads to a word in general on primitive -types. Although it is becoming the fashion to be -interested in them, and hence many poor -specimens both in prose and verse will get -into print, yet the writing of such simple -and idealistic things by way of reaction -from our intense and often hectic realism, is surely in -the main wholesome, regardless of the value of the -individual pieces. Years ago Count Tolstoy said, "The -artist of the future will understand that to compose a -fairy-tale, a little song which will touch, a lullaby or a -riddle which will entertain, a jest which will amuse, -or to draw a sketch such as will delight dozens of -generations or millions of children and adults, is incomparably -more important and more fruitful than to -compose a novel, or a symphony, or paint a picture of -the kind which diverts some members of the wealthy -classes for a short time and is then forever forgotten. -The region of this art of the simplest feelings accessible -to all is enormous, and it is as yet almost untouched." -Of course the hope of literary excellence -for such an epoch, if it comes, will lie in the possibility<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span> -of the pieces being kept as Tolstoy's own are, very -near to the naïve.</p> - -<h4>The Artist</h4> - -<p>One evening there came into his soul the desire to -fashion an image of <i>The Pleasure that abideth for a Moment</i>. -And he went forth into the world to look for -bronze. For he could think only in bronze.</p> - -<p>But all the bronze of the whole world had disappeared, -nor anywhere in the whole world was there any -bronze to be found, save only the bronze of the image -of <i>The Sorrow that endureth Forever</i>.</p> - -<p>Now this image he had himself, and with his own -hands, fashioned, and had set it on the tomb of the one -thing he had loved in life. On the tomb of the dead -thing he had most loved had he set this image of his own -fashioning, that it might serve as a sign of the love of -man that dieth not, and a symbol of the sorrow of man -that endureth forever. And in the whole world there -was no other bronze save the bronze of this image.</p> - -<p>And he took the image he had fashioned, and set it -in a great furnace, and gave it to the fire.</p> - -<p>And out of the bronze of the Image of The Sorrow -that endureth forever, he fashioned an image of <i>The -Pleasure that abideth for a moment</i>.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Oscar Wilde. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Poems in Prose" (Fortnightly Review, July 1, 1894).</p></div> - -<h4>The House of Judgment</h4> - -<p>And there was silence in the House of Judgment, -and the Man came naked before God.</p> - -<p>And God opened the Book of the Life of the Man.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span></p> - -<p>And God said to the Man, "Thy life hath been evil, -and thou hast shown cruelty to those in need of succor, -and to those who lacked help thou hast been bitter and -hard of heart. The poor called to thee and thou did'st -not hearken, and thine ears were closed to the cry of my -afflicted. The inheritance of the fatherless thou did'st -take unto thyself, and thou did'st send the foxes into the -vineyard of thy neighbor's field. Thou did'st take the -bread of the children and give it to the dogs to eat, -and my lepers who lived in the marshes, and were at -peace and praised me thou did'st drive forth on the highway, -and on mine earth out of which I made thee thou -did'st spill innocent blood."</p> - -<p>And the Man made answer and said, "Even so did I."</p> - -<p>And again God opened the Book of the Life of the -Man.</p> - -<p>And God said to the Man, "Thy life hath been evil, -and the Beauty I have shown, thou hast sought for, and -the Good I have hidden, thou did'st pass by. The walls -of thy chamber were painted with images, and from the -bed of thine abominations thou did'st rise up to the sound -of flutes. Thou did'st build seven altars to the sins I -have suffered, and did'st eat of the thing that may not -be eaten, and the purple of thy raiment was broidered -with the three signs of shame. Thy idols were neither of -gold nor of silver that endure, but of flesh that dieth. -Thou did'st stain their hair with perfumes, and put -pomegranates in their hands. Thou did'st stain their -feet with saffron and spread carpets before them. With -antimony thou did'st stain their eyelids and their bodies -thou did'st smear with myrrh. Thou did'st bow thyself -to the ground before them, and the thrones of thy idols<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span> -were set in the sun. Thou did'st show to the sun thy -shame and to the moon thy madness."</p> - -<p>And the Man made answer and said, "Even so -did I."</p> - -<p>And the third time God opened the Book of the Life -of the Man.</p> - -<p>And God said to the Man, "Evil hath been thy life, -and with evil did'st thou requite good, and with wrong-doing -kindness. The hands that fed thee thou did'st -wound, and the breasts that gave thee suck thou did'st -despise. He who came to thee with water went away -thirsting and the outlawed men who hid thee in their -tents at night thou did'st betray before dawn. Thine -enemy who spared thee thou did'st slay in an ambush, -and the friend who walked with thee thou did'st sell for -a price, and to those who brought thee Love, thou did'st -ever give Lust in thy turn."</p> - -<p>And the Man made answer and said, "Even so -did I."</p> - -<p>And God closed the Book of the Life of the Man and -said, "Surely I will send thee to Hell. Even into Hell -will I send thee."</p> - -<p>And the Man cried out, "Thou can'st not."</p> - -<p>And God said to the Man, "Wherefore can I not -send thee to Hell, and for what reason?"</p> - -<p>"Because in Hell I have always lived," answered the -Man.</p> - -<p>And there was silence in the House of Judgment.</p> - -<p>And after a space God spake, and said to the Man, -"Seeing that I may not send thee into Hell, surely I -will send thee unto Heaven. Even unto Heaven will I -send thee."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span></p> - -<p>And the Man cried out, "Thou can'st not."</p> - -<p>And God said to the Man, "Wherefore can I not -send thee unto Heaven and for what reason?"</p> - -<p>"Because never, and in no place, have I been able to -imagine it," answered the man.</p> - -<p>And there was silence in the House of Judgment.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Ibid. -</p> - -<h4>The Chain That Binds</h4> - -<p>It was morning when the youth started out from his -father's house and sought the highway. Those the young -man met on the road inquired of him, "Where are you -going? What do you seek?"</p> - -<p>He answered, "I seek Freedom!"</p> - -<p>"Freedom!" exclaimed his questioners. "Are you -not free? Are we not all our own masters?"</p> - -<p>The young man smiled. "I do not mean freedom of -thought and speech. That you may have. What I seek -is liberation from heredity and environment, from the -physical, intellectual, and spiritual laws that tyrannize -over us and make us slaves."</p> - -<p>His listeners turned away, some laughed, and some -scorned, and some wept, and the young man traveled on. -But all along the road he met those that scorned him and -laughed at him, and soon his steps lagged, and his feet -seemed leaden. Looking down, he saw a chain binding -his ankles—the chain of Public Opinion. Now he must -delay. Angrily he tore at the chain until the hasps -broke, and he stood unbound.</p> - -<p>Then he made haste; for he had already lost much -time. Soon he met a vender of goods, and the vender -stopped and besought the youth to buy a jewel. The -young man desired the jewel, and he thought, "Why can<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> -I not beat this man and steal his jewel?" But lo, his -hands were fettered with the chain of Conscience, and -he wrenched the chain till it fell apart. Then he beat -the man and took his jewel and went on his way.</p> - -<p>Ahead of him he saw a cloud, and from the cloud -arose a mist, and the mist formed itself into many shapes, -strange signs and symbols, the like of which he had never -seen before. The youth cried out, "This is a new faith; -I will embrace it." But his arms were bound behind him -with the chain of Superstition; and he strove to break -the chain, but when the lock gave way, the cloud and -mist had disappeared.</p> - -<p>Thus year after year sped on; the youth became a -man; the man grew old before his time. When he broke -a fetter, a new one took its place. The chains that bound -him were innumerable. One by one he broke the laws -that society and the ages had formed for him, but each -wish that he gratified gave place to another.</p> - -<p>The chains that he had worn and wrenched weighed -on him. His flesh and spirit were chafed and sore. Weak -and disheartened he sank down, and the memory of his -fruitless life recurred to him. A voice arrested him, and -looking up he saw a man older and more withered than -he was.</p> - -<p>And the stranger said, "Behold the chain that binds -you now." The Seeker-after-Freedom looked down. His -ankles were encumbered by the heaviest chain he had yet -worn.</p> - -<p>The old man continued. "You flaunted yourself in -the face of your fellows. You boasted that you were -greater than they. You are, in that you are the arch-sinner. -You have sought to destroy those gifts with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span> -which the Almighty endowed you. You found it easy -to break the fetter of Love, of Conscience, of Remorse. -This chain you cannot break. You welded it yourself. -The strength of an armed force cannot tear it asunder; -the fires of Perdition cannot melt it."</p> - -<p>The traveler died, bound with the chain of Insatiable -Desire.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Elizabeth Sudborough. -</p> - -<h4>The Love Which Surpassed All Other Loves</h4> - -<p>The girl's heart was lonely. She had never had the -comforts of a home. And there was a yearning for some -love which would fill her life. So she determined to set -out in search of such a love. In her wanderings she met -many hardships, and was scorned by everyone as a simpleton.</p> - -<p>After she had wandered a year, one day a great eagle -flew to her, and said, "I know what you are seeking. I -can satisfy your wants. I am the governing force of the -world; I am Love of Gold. Take me, and while I am -with you, all will be well with you."</p> - -<p>For a moment the girl was dazzled by the comforts -which seemed stretched out before her if she would accept -this Love. But her heart was not satisfied, and she -shook her head. The eagle flew away with a taunting -laugh.</p> - -<p>Another year passed and still she had met nothing -to quiet her longing. But one day as she was walking -through a village, she saw a happy family seated on the -door-step of a neat cottage. While she was looking at -this group, she heard a voice, and, glancing down, saw a -beautiful little wren.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span></p> - -<p>"I am the Love of a Mother's Heart," said the little -bird. "When all others fail, I still remain true. Take -me and hide me in your bosom, that your mother's heart -may be tender to you."</p> - -<p>Tears came to the girl's eyes, for the little bird had -touched a wound in her life, the neglect of her by her -mother. But her longing was not yet satisfied, and so she -passed on.</p> - -<p>At the end of another year she was walking along -the side of a quiet pond. She stopped and looked at -the water, envying it its peace. A blue-jay was perched -on the branch of a tree nearby, and soon he spoke to her. -"I am the Love of Man for Woman. I have been known -since the beginning of time. Let me be with you, that -you may be a good wife."</p> - -<p>The girl was strongly tempted to take this Love of -which she had heard so much. Perhaps this was, after -all, the Love she was seeking. As she meditated, the old -longing came back with redoubled force. It would not -do to make this Love a part of her life, so she sadly left -the blue-jay, and went on.</p> - -<p>The next year came, and the girl had become a -woman, but her heart was still empty of love. She entered -a quiet grove one evening, and, wearied, sat down -on a log.</p> - -<p>A lovely nightingale came and perched itself on her -shoulder, and in a sweetly comforting tone said, "Many -have had the same longing which you have had; but few -have possessed the courage to resist temptations offered -by other loves. I am the Love of Woman for Woman, -the Love of True Friendship. I am greater and more enduring -than any other love. Take me and hide me in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span> -your heart. You will be happy then as few are privileged -to be."</p> - -<p>The girl was comforted, and she took the beautiful -bird and placed it next her heart. At last her longing -was satisfied, and she praised God for His Gift.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Florence Gifford. -</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III - -<br /> -THE INGENIOUS-ASTONISHING GROUP</h2> - -<p>This large division of narratives of imaginary events -is somewhat hard to name briefly, though it is definitely -enough marked off as a distinct class when we -consider the tone, the source, and the purpose. The -whole air of these extravagant tales is that of sophistication. -No reader however ignorant would mistake -them for stories of primitive people. Though they -sometimes contain supernatural creatures as actors, -though they recount stupendous deeds, though they -often proceed in simple diction, yet the reader is never -confused as to the state of mind of the narrator. It -is plain that, however much he may seem to wish to -create credulity in the mind of the reader, the story-teller -has none in his own mind. He is a non-believer—or -better perhaps, a "make-believer," in the children's -sense of the term. The source of his narrative -is ingenuity, and the purpose is astonishment or satire. -In the present study we shall notice four smaller divisions -of this group: (1) the tale of mere wonder, -(2) the imaginary voyage with a satiric or instructive -purpose, (3) the tale of scientific discovery and -mechanical invention, (4) the detective story and other -tales of pure plot.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span></p> - -<h3>I. The Tale of Mere Wonder</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Collections -of wonder -stories</div> - -<p>In the species Tales of Mere Wonder, we mean to -classify those stories of marvels that are told with the -simple purpose of astonishing. The adventures -of Sinbad the Sailor are typical. He -comes upon a bird's egg, for instance, which -he at first mistakes for the dome of a cathedral, or -walks in a valley covered with diamonds the size of -apples. The "Persian Tales" like the Arabian "Thousand -and One Nights" are stories of wonder and -enchantment. Though they are very old, many of -them much older than their written form and traceable -to the traditions of various countries, these -Oriental stories as we have them to-day are not folk-tales -in the strict sense of the term. They are put into -a frame-work and are acknowledged to be narratives -of ingenuity. The two earlier sets, translated into -French, produced many imitations. Besides these there -are the "Tartar Tales," the "Chinese Tales," "Mogol -Tales," the "Turkish Tales," and so on. The most -literary and perhaps the most valuable from the point -of view of real thinking displayed in them are the -very modern Oriental stories of George Meredith, published -under the title "The Shaving of Shagpat." -They are all wonder tales though extremely philosophical. -Robert Louis Stevenson has given us the -"New Arabian Nights."</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Suggestions -for -writing</div> - -<p>To write one of these exaggerations you need only -recall your own or other persons' attempts at -the fireside when the stock of folk stories has -run low. You address your efforts to your -eight and ten-year-old brothers who have got past Jack-the-Giant-Killer<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span> -and are in the stage of development that -the people of the twelfth century were to whom Marie -de France told her fables and her stories of mere -wonder. The fine ladies and gentlemen of Henry the -Second's day loved to hear of costly robes and magic -carpets and jewelled beds worth half a kingdom, that -came at the touch of a ring or at the murmuring of a -secret <span class="err" title="original: phase">phrase</span>. Unfortunate princes, too, they enjoyed -being told about, who allowed themselves to be misled -by wily councilors, and lost for a time their kingdoms; -beautiful princesses who sat enchanted in gorgeous -underground palaces, waiting their deliverers; wonderful -plants with otherwhere unheard-of properties; -and animals with stupendous powers, like the monstrous -birds that the Arabian writer says carried -Nimrod through the air in a cage or with out-stretched -wings sheltered Solomon's army from the sun. -Chaucer, you know, began and</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">"left half told</div> - <div class="i0">The story of Cambuscan bold,</div> - <div class="i0">Of Camball and of Algarsife,</div> - <div class="i0">And who had Canace to wife,</div> - <div class="i0">That owned the virtuous ring and glass,</div> - <div class="i0">And of the wondrous horse of brass</div> - <div class="i0">On which the Tartar king did ride."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noin">This horse had a screw in his ear. If one got upon -his back, turned the screw, and whispered a word, one -might be instantly in the kingdom one named. If you -can not dream out an original oriental story of your -own, you might finish this of Chaucer's—The Squire's -Tale. Remember that probability is not called for,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span> -but only magnificence, splendor, magic, daring, and -success on the part of your hero or heroine. Either -may have wealth untold, dominion unlimited, and -knowledge supernatural. Your diction may range -from the simplest and the baldest to the most luxuriant -and extravagant. Whatever matches your subject, -no matter how extravagantly improbable, will be -acceptable.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Medieval -tales of -chivalry</div> - -<p>Like the stories of mere wonder in—fact a blending -of them with legend—were the medieval tales of chivalry -in the later and perverted editions. -The elements are the same as those of the -wonder tale, with the addition of riotous -history; that is, the using of any deed of any hero for -him or for someone else, with all the glamour of magic -and luxuriance thrown about it.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Heroic -romances</div> - -<p>To modern readers a very uninteresting perversion -of this type of narrative is the heroic romance of the -second and third quarters of the seventeenth -century, best represented perhaps by <i>Le -Grand Cyrus</i> of Madam de Scudéri. Nobody, I suppose, -to-day who had not a theory to prove could be -persuaded to wade through the 6,679 pages of the ten -octavo volumes of this walty story. But although the -particular style of writing of Scudéri and her contemporaries -has passed away, and fortunately never -can return—thanks to Molière and Boileau—fantastic -and gorgeous prose history had great popularity both -on the Continent and in England for fifty years. The -attitude of mind of those narrators is found in many -moderns; namely, a desire to deal only with titled -folk, or at least millionaires, for fear that heroes of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span> -lower social standing or smaller bank accounts might -be dull.</p> - -<p>Our present-day mixers of fact and non-fact lean -toward the probable, of course, rather than the marvelous, -and would resent being classed with the heroic -romancers; but any narrator would be proud to be -able to tell well, as everybody with a child-like heart -is delighted to listen to, an out-and-out story of mere -wonder.</p> - -<h4>Story of the City of Brass</h4> - -<p>There was in olden times in Damascus of Syria a -caliph named Abdel-Melik, the son of Marwan. One day -as he was sitting with the great men of his empire, many -of them being kings and sultans, a discussion took place -among them about the tales of ancient nations. They -called to mind the stories of Solomon, the son of David, -and the power God gave him over genies and wild beasts -and birds and other creatures, and they said, "We have -heard, from those who lived before us that God bestowed -not upon any one the like of that which he bestowed upon -Solomon. So great was his power that he used to imprison -genies and evil spirits in bottles of brass, and pour -molten lead over them, and seal this cover with his seal."</p> - -<p>Then Talib, one of the sultans, related that a man -once embarked in a ship with a company of others, and -they sailed away towards the island of Sicily, until a -storm arose which drove them out of their course and -carried them to the shores of an unknown land. This -happened during the darkness of the night. In the -morning, there came out to them from caves in that land, -black men who wore no clothes, and who neither spoke<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span> -nor understood any language. They had a king of their -own race, and he knew Arabic. The king, with a party -of his companions, came to the ship, saluted and welcomed -those who were in it, and inquired who they were -and to what country they belonged. When they informed -him, he said to them, "No harm shall befall you. -There hath not come to us one of the sons of Adam before -you."</p> - -<p>The king then entertained them with a banquet, and -after this the people of the ship went to amuse themselves -on the shore. There they found a fisherman who -had cast his net into the sea to catch fish. He drew -the net up, and in it was a bottle of brass stopped -with lead, which was sealed with the seal of Solomon, -the son of David. The fisherman broke the seal, and -there came forth from the bottle a blue smoke which -united with the clouds of heaven, and instantly they -heard a horrible voice saying, "Repentance! repentance! -O prophet of God!" Then they saw the smoke -form into a man of frightful appearance and gigantic -size, whose head reached as high as a mountain, and immediately -he disappeared from before their astonished -eyes.</p> - -<p>The blacks thought nothing of this event, but the -people of the ship were terrified at the spectacle, and -they went to the king to inquire about it. In answer to -their inquiries the king said, "This is one of the genies -who rebelled against King Solomon, and Solomon, to -punish them, imprisoned them in bottles and threw them -into the sea. When the fisherman casts his net, it generally -brings up one of these bottles, and when the bottle -is broken, a genie comes forth, and thinking that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span> -Solomon is still living, he repents and cries out, "Repentance! -O Prophet of God!"</p> - -<p>The Prince of the Faithful, Abdel-Melik, wondered -very much at this story, and he said, "I desire to see -some of these bottles." Talib replied, "O Prince of the -Faithful, thou canst do so. Send to thy viceroy in the -western country, the Emeer Moosa, ordering him to journey -to the sea we have mentioned, and to bring what -thou desirest of these bottles." The Prince of the Faithful -approved of this advice, and he sent Talib himself -with a letter to the Emeer Moosa.</p> - -<p>When the Emeer received the letter he read it, and -he said to Talib, "I hear and obey the command of the -Prince of the Faithful." Then he called together his -great men, and he inquired of them about the bottles of -King Solomon, and they told him to send for Abdes-Samad, -"for," said they, "he is a knowing man and has -traveled much. He is acquainted with the deserts and -wastes and the seas, and their inhabitants, and their -wonders, and their countries, and their districts. Send -for him, and he will direct thee to the object of thy -desire." So the Emeer sent for Abdes-Samad, and -when he came he said to him, "O Abdes-Samad, our -lord the Prince of the Faithful has commanded us to -get for him some of the bottles of Solomon. I have little -knowledge of the place where they are to be found, -but it has been told to me that thou art acquainted -with that country and routes. Wilt thou then help us -to accomplish the wish of the Prince of the Faithful?" -To this Abdes-Samad replied, "O Emeer, the route -is difficult, far extending, and there are few tracks. It -is a journey of two years going and the same returning,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span> -and on the way there are dangers and horrors and -extraordinary and wonderful things. Nevertheless, -since it is the wish of the Prince of the Faithful, I am -willing to undertake the journey with thee."</p> - -<p>Then they began to make preparations, and as soon -as everything was ready, the Emeer Moosa and Talib -and Abdes-Samad set forth, accompanied by a troop of -soldiers, and taking with them all things necessary for -their expedition. They journeyed on till they came to -a great palace. As the gates were opened, and they saw -no guards at the doors, they dismounted from their -horses and entered. The rooms were all of vast size -and richly furnished, and the ceilings and walls were -decorated with gold and silver, but in the whole building -they did not see a single human being. In the midst -of the palace was a chamber covered with a lofty dome, -rising high into the air, around which were four hundred -tombs. They went into one chamber, and they -found in it a table with four feet made of alabaster, -and having this inscription engraved on it</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Upon this table a thousand one-eyed kings -have eaten and a thousand kings each sound in -both eyes. All of them have quitted the world -and taken up their abode in the burial grounds -and the graves."</p></div> - -<p>The Emeer Moosa and his companions took this table -with them and went forth from the palace. Then they -proceeded on their journey and traveled for three days, -when they came to a high hill. On the top of the hill -was a horseman of brass with a spear in his hand. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span> -spear had a flat, wide head, and it was so bright that it -almost dazzled the eyes of the Emeer and his companions. -Nevertheless they looked at it closely, and they were astonished -at finding the following words inscribed upon it:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"O thou who comest unto me, if thou know -not the way that leads to the City of Brass, -rub the hand of the horseman, and he will turn, -and then will stop, and in whatever direction he -faces when he stops, travel in that direction -without fear, for it will lead thee to the City of -Brass."</p></div> - -<p>When he read this the Emeer Moosa rubbed the hand -of the horseman. Immediately the figure turned round -with the speed of lightning, and when it stopped it faced -a different direction from that in which they had been -traveling. The party therefore turned to the way -pointed out by the brazen horseman, and proceeded on -their journey. One day they came to a round pillar of -black stone, on the top of which appeared the upper half -of the body of a black giant, or genie, with the lower part -sunk down in the pillar. He was an object frightful to -behold. He had two huge wings and four arms. Two -of the arms were like those of a man, and the other two -were like the legs of a lion. He had hair upon his head -like the tails of horses, two eyes like two burning coals, -and he had a third eye in his forehead, like the eye of a -lynx, from which sparks of fire shot forth.</p> - -<p>When the Emeer Moosa's party saw this genie they -almost lost their senses through fear, and they turned -round to flee away, but the Emeer told them that in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span> -state in which he was he could do them no harm. Then -Abdes-Samad drew near to the pillar, and raising his -voice he said to the genie, "O thou person, what is thy -name, what is thy nature, and what has placed thee here -in this manner!" Immediately the genie answered saying, -"I am a genie and my name is Dahish." [And then -he told them his nature and what had placed him there.]</p> - -<p>And then Abdes-Samad said to the genie in the pillar, -"Are there in this place any of the genies confined in -bottles of brass from the time of Solomon?" He answered, -"Yes, in the sea of El-Karkar, where dwell some -of the descendants of Noah, whose country the deluge -did not reach. They are separated from the rest of the -sons of Adam." "And where," said Abdes-Samad, "is -the way to the City of Brass, and the place in which -are the bottles? What distance is there between us and -it?" The genie answered, "It is near."</p> - -<p>The party then proceeded in their journey, and in a -little while they saw in the distance a great black object, -and in it there seemed to be two fires corresponding -with each other in position. "What is this great -black object," asked the Emeer Moosa, "and what are -these two corresponding fires?" "Be rejoiced, O -Emeer," answered Abdes-Samad; "it is the City of -Brass, and this is the appearance of it that I find described -in the book of hidden treasures—that its wall -is of black stones and it has two towers of brass, which -resemble two corresponding fires; hence it is named the -City of Brass."</p> - -<p>Hastening on they arrived at the city, and they -found that it was strongly fortified, and that its buildings -were lofty, rising high into the air. Its walls were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> -one hundred and twenty feet high, and it had five and -twenty gates. They stopped before the walk and endeavored -to find one of the gates, but they could not. -Then Emeer Moosa said to Abdes-Samad, "I do not see -any gate to this city." Abdes-Samad answered, "I -find it described in the book of hidden treasures that it -has five and twenty gates, and that none of them may -be opened but from within the city."</p> - -<p>Then the Emeer Moosa took Talib and Abdes-Samad -with him, and they ascended a mountain which was close -by. And looking down upon the city, they saw it was -greater and more beautiful than anything they had ever -beheld. Its palaces were lofty, its domes were shining; -rivers were running within it, and there were delightful -gardens with trees bearing ripe fruit. But they did not -see a human being within its walls. It was empty, still, -without a voice, or a cheering inhabitant but the owl -hooting in its gardens, and birds skimming in circles in -its areas, and the raven croaking in its great streets.</p> - -<p>After coming down from the mountain they passed -the day trying to devise means of entering the city. At -last it occurred to them to make a ladder, and the Emeer -called to the carpenters and blacksmiths and ordered -them to construct a ladder covered with plates of iron. -This work occupied a month, and when it was finished, -the ladder was set up against the wall, and one of the -party ascended it. When he reached the top he stood, -and, fixing his eyes towards the city, clapped his hands -and cried out with a loud voice, "Thou art beautiful!" -Then he cast himself down into the city and was killed. -Seeing this the Emeer Moosa said, "If we do this with -all our companions, there will not remain one of them,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span> -and we shall be unable to accomplish the wish of the -Prince of the Faithful. Let us depart and have no more -to do with this city." But one of them answered, "Perhaps -another may be more steady than he." Then a -second ascended, and he did the same as the first, and -then a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, and they continued -to ascend by that ladder to the top of the wall, -one after another, until twelve men of them had gone, -acting as the first had acted.</p> - -<p>Abdes-Samad now arose and said, "There is none -can do this but myself." So he ascended the ladder, reciting -verses of the Koran until he reached the top, when -he clapped his hands and fixed his eyes. The people -therefore called out to him, "O Abdes-Samad, do not -cast thyself down. If you fall, we all perish." Then -Abdes-Samad sat down upon the wall for a long time, -reciting verses of the Koran, after which he rose and -cried out, "O Emeer, no harm shall happen to you, for -God has averted from me the effect of the artifice and -fraud of the Evil One." The Emeer then said to him, -"What hast thou seen, O Abdes-Samad?" He answered, -"When I reached the top of the wall, I saw ten damsels, -beautiful to behold, who made a sign to me with their -hands as though they would say, 'Come to us.' And it -seemed to me that beneath me was a sea, or great river, -and I desired to cast myself down as our companions did. -But I saw them dead, and I recited some words of the -Koran, and so I cast not myself down. Therefore the -damsels departed. There is no doubt that this is an enchantment -contrived by the inhabitants of the city to -keep every one from entering it."</p> - -<p>Abdes-Samad then walked along the wall till he came<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span> -to the two towers of brass, when he saw that they had -two gates of gold, without locks upon them, or any -sign of the means of opening them. He remained looking -at them a long time, and at last he saw in the -middle of one of the gates a figure of a horseman of -brass, having one hand stretched out as though he were -pointing with it, and on the hand these words were inscribed:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Turn the pin that is in the middle of the -front of the horseman's body twelve times, and -then the gate will open."</p></div> - -<p>Abdes-Samad, having read this inscription, examined -the horseman, and found in the middle of the front of -this body a pin, strong, firm, and well fixed. He turned -it twelve times, and immediately the gate opened with a -noise like thunder. Abdes-Samad entered, and he walked -on until he came to stairs, which he descended. At the -foot of the stairs he found a place with handsome wooden -benches on which there were dead people, and over their -heads were shields, and swords, and bows, and arrows. -One of the dead men, who appeared to be the oldest, -was upon a high bench above the rest. Abdes-Samad -thought that the keys of the city might be with this -man. "Perhaps," said he to himself, "he was the gatekeeper, -and these were under his authority." He therefore -went up to the man, and raised his outer garment, -and he found the keys hung to his waist. At the sight -of them Abdes-Samad rejoiced exceedingly, and he took -the keys and approached the gate in the wall of the -city. He found that the keys fitted the locks, so he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span> -turned them, and pulled the gate, which opened with a -great noise. Then he cried out with a cry of joy, and -the Emeer Moosa rejoiced at the safety of Abdes-Samad, -and the opening of the gate of the city. The people -thanked Abdes-Samad for what he had done, and they -all hastened to enter the gate. But the Emeer Moosa -cried out to them, saying, "O people, some accident may -happen, and if all enter, all may perish. Therefore, let -half of us enter and half remain outside."</p> - -<p>The Emeer Moosa then entered the gate, and with -him half of his troops, carrying their weapons of war. -They saw their companions lying dead, and they buried -them. They then entered the market of the city, which -contained a number of lofty buildings. The shops were -open, the scales hung up, and the stores full of all -kinds of goods, but the merchants were all dead. They -passed on to the silk market, in which were silks and -brocades interwoven with gold and silver upon various -colors, and the owners were dead, lying upon skins, and -appearing almost as though they would speak. Leaving -these they went on to the market of the money -changers, all of whom they found dead, with varieties -of silks beneath them, and their shops filled with gold -and silver. After going through several other markets -they came to a lofty palace, which they entered. There -they found banners unfurled, and swords, and bows, -and shields hung up by chains of gold and silver. In -the passages of the palace were benches of ivory, ornamented -with plates of brilliant gold and with silk, on -which were dead men, whose skins had dried upon -their bones. Going into the interior of the palace they -came to a great hall, and four large and lofty chambers,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span> -each one fronting another, and decorated with gold -and silver and various colors. In the midst of the hall -was a great fountain of alabaster, over which was a -canopy of brocade, and in the chambers were decorated -fountains, and tanks lined with marble, and channels -of water flowed along the floors, the four streams meeting -together in a great tank made of colored marbles.</p> - -<p>The Emeer Moosa and his companions now entered -the first chamber, and they found it filled with gold -and silver, and pearls and jewels, and jacinths and precious -minerals. They found in it chests full of red and -yellow and white brocades. They then went into the -second chamber, and opened a closet in it, and it was -filled with weapons of war, consisting of gilded helmets, -and coats of mail, and swords, and lances, and other instruments -of war and battle. Then they passed to the -third chamber, in which they found closets having upon -their doors closed locks, and over them were curtains -worked with various kinds of embroidery. They opened -one of these closets, and found it filled with weapons -decorated with varieties of gold and silver and jewels. -From there they went to the fourth chamber, and it was -full of utensils for food and drink, consisting of various -vessels of gold and silver, and saucers of crystal, and -cups set with brilliant pearls, and cups of carnelian. -They took what suited them of these things, and each -of the soldiers carried off what he could.</p> - -<p>Then they passed on, and found a chamber constructed -of polished marble adorned with jewels. They -thought that upon the floor was running water, and if -any one walked upon it he would slip. The Emeer -Moosa therefore ordered Abdes-Samad to throw upon it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> -something, that they might be enabled to walk on it, and -he did so, and they passed on. And they found in it a -great dome constructed of stones gilt with red gold. The -party had not beheld in all that they had seen anything -more beautiful than this. In the midst of it there was a -great dome-crowned structure of alabaster, around which -were lattice windows, decorated and adorned with oblong -emeralds. In it was a pavilion of brocade, raised -upon columns of red gold, and within this were birds, -the feet of which were emeralds. Beneath each bird -was a net of brilliant pearls, spread over a fountain, -and by the brink of the fountain was placed a couch -adorned with pearls and jewels and jacinths, on which -sat a damsel resembling the shining sun. Eyes had not -beheld one more beautiful. She wore a garment of brilliant -pearls, on her head was a crown of red gold, on her -neck was a necklace of jewels, and upon her forehead -were two jewels the light of which was like that of the -sun. She seemed as though she were looking at the people -round about her, and observing them to the right -and left.</p> - -<p>When the Emeer Moosa beheld this damsel, he wondered -extremely at her loveliness, and he saluted her -respectfully. But Talib said to the Emeer, "This damsel -is dead. There is no life in her. How, then, can she -return the salutation?" And he added, "O Emeer, -she is skillfully embalmed. Her eyes were taken out -after her death, and quicksilver put beneath them, after -which they were restored to their places; so they gleam, -and whenever the air puts them in motion the beholder -imagines that she twinkles her eyes, though she is -dead." Then they saw that the couch upon which the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span> -damsel sat had steps, and upon the steps were two slaves, -one of them white and the other black. In the hand of -one of them was a weapon of steel, and in the hand of the -other a jeweled sword that dazzled the eyes. Before -the two slaves was a tablet of gold on which was the -following inscription:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"O thou, if thou know me not, I will acquaint -thee with my name and descent. I am -Tedmur, the daughter of the King of the -Amalekites. I possessed what none of the kings -possessed, and ruled with justice. I gave and -bestowed, and lived a long time in the enjoyment -of happiness and an easy life, and emancipated -female and male slaves. Thus I did until -death came to my abode, and the case was -this: Seven years in succession came upon us, -during which no water descended on us from -heaven, nor did any grass grow for us on the -face of the earth. So we ate what food we had -in our dwellings, and after that we fell upon the -beasts and ate them, and there remained nothing. -Upon this I caused the wealth to be -brought, and measured it with a measure, and -sent it by trusty men, who went about with it -through all the districts, not leaving unvisited -a single large city, to seek for some food. But -they found none, and they returned to us with -the wealth, after a long absence. Then we exposed -to view our riches and our treasures, -locked the gates of the fortresses in our city, -and we all died, as thou beholdest and left what<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span> -we had built and what we had treasured. This -is our story. Whoever arrives at our city, and -enters it, let him take of the wealth what he -can, but not touch anything that is on my body, -for it is the covering of my person, and the attire -with which I am fitted forth from the -world. Therefore, let him not seize aught of -it; for he would destroy himself."</p></div> - -<p>The Emeer Moosa, when he read these words, was -greatly astonished. Then he said to his companions, -"Bring the sacks, and fill them with part of these riches -and these vessels and rarities and jewels." But Talib -said to him, "O Emeer, shall we leave this damsel with -the things that are upon her? They are things that -have no equal, and they are more than the riches thou -hast taken, and will be the best present for the Prince -of the Faithful." But the Emeer replied, "Seest thou, -not that which the damsel hath given as a charge, in the -inscription upon this tablet?" Talib, however, said, -"And on account of these words wilt thou leave these -riches and these jewels, when she is dead? What then -should she do with these things, which are the ornaments -of the world, and the decoration of the living? With a -garment of cotton this damsel might be covered, and -we are more worthy of the things than she." Then he -drew near to the steps, and ascended them until he -reached the spot between the two slaves, when suddenly -one of them smote him upon his back and the other smote -him with the sword that was in his hand, and struck off -his head, and he fell down dead. Seeing this the people -were much terrified, and the Emeer Moosa commanded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span> -them to leave the city and close the gate as it was -before.</p> - -<p>They then proceeded on until they came in sight -of a high mountain overlooking the sea. In it were -many caves in which was a people of black, clad in hides, -whose language was not known. And when the blacks -saw the troops they ran away from them, while their -women and children stood at the entrance of the cave. -So the Emeer Moosa said, "O Abdes-Samad, what are -these people?" And he answered, "These are the objects -of the inquiry of the Prince of the Faithful." -They therefore alighted and the tents were pitched and -they had not rested when the king of the blacks came -down from the mountain, and drew near to the troops. -He was acquainted with the Arabic language, and when -he came to Emeer Moosa he saluted him, and the Emeer -returned his salute and treated him with honor. Then -the king of the blacks said to the Emeer, "Are ye of -mankind, or of the genies?" The Emeer answered, -"We are of mankind, but as to you, there is no doubt -that ye are of the genies, because of the greatness of your -size." But the king of the blacks replied, "Nay, we -are a people of the race of Adam, of the sons of Ham, -the son of Noah. And this sea is known by the name of -El-Karkar."</p> - -<p>The Emeer then said to him, "We are the messengers -and servants of the Caliph Abdel-Melik, and we -have come on account of the bottles of brass that are here -in your sea, in which are the genies imprisoned from -the time of Solomon, the son of David. He hath commanded -us to bring him some of them, that he may see -them. Wilt thou help us in this matter?" The king of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span> -the blacks replied, "Most willingly." Then he ordered -the divers to bring up from the sea some of the bottles -of Solomon, and they brought up twelve bottles, which -the king gave to the Emeer. The Emeer Moosa was delighted, -and Abdes-Samad also, and the soldiers, on account -of the accomplishment of the wish of the Prince of -the Faithful. The Emeer then presented to the king of -the blacks many gifts.</p> - -<p>Then they bade him farewell, and they journeyed -back until they came to the land of Syria, and went to -the palace of the Prince of the Faithful. The Emeer -Moosa told him of all that he had seen, and of the case -of Talib. And the Prince of the Faithful said to him, -"Would that I had been with you that I might have -beheld what ye beheld." He then took the bottles, and -proceeded to open one after another, and the genies -came forth from them saying, "Repentance! O Prophet -of God! We will not return to the like conduct ever." -After this the Prince of the Faithful caused the riches -to be brought before him, and divided them among the -people.</p> - -<p>This is the end of that which hath come down to us -of the history of the City of Brass.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Stories from the Arabian Nights." Selected and edited by -M. Clarke. (American Book Company.)</p></div> - -<h4>The Magic Ring, the Bird, and the Basket</h4> - -<p>The night was clear and cool when Juan and his -father went to bed. Soon they fell asleep, lulled by the -wind whistling among the trees. When midnight came, -they were aroused from their sound sleep by the shouting -of men and the roaring of fire. Juan and his father<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span> -jumped out of the house to save themselves. As they -were hiding under a bamboo tree, four men came and -tied the hands of the father and son with vines. Juan -was strong enough to break the vines, but he did not try -to, for fear that the robbers would kill them. The four -men carried the poor captives to their boat and sailed -away. Many of Juan's friends and relatives were also -captured.</p> - -<p>As they were sailing southward a terrible storm came. -All the boats were sunk by the merciless waves. Before -Juan reached the bottom, for he could not swim, a very -big shark swallowed him. The shark, after swallowing -Juan, went to its home in a big cave under the water. -While he was kicking in the stomach of the shark, his -knife fell from his pocket and the vines with which his -hands were tied, broke. He opened his knife with his -hands and teeth, and cut a hole through the stomach of -the shark. Instead of floating to the surface of the water, -Juan began to sink and sink as if something were -pulling him downward. At last he came to a dry place. -He met nobody there except a gray-bearded man, who -asked him where he was going. Juan told his story.</p> - -<p>"You are unfortunate, my boy," said the old man, -"you will have a very hard time in reaching your -home."</p> - -<p>"But how may I reach home again?" said Juan.</p> - -<p>The old man told him to climb the high mountain -which could be seen from where they were standing. -"When you reach the top, jump into the hole and you -will be thrown up to the other world." When Juan was -about to go, the old man gave him a ring. "This ring," -he said, "is powerful. You can conquer the fiercest demon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span> -on earth with the help of this ring. Ask from it -anything, food, clothes, and other things, and you will -have what you want. If you want to go to some place, -you can reach it in a second. This ring will carry you -to the top of the mountain."</p> - -<p>When the old man was through giving the instructions, -Juan found himself on the top of the mountain. -Then he jumped into the hole. Suddenly he was blown -up through the water and up in the air. He fell back -on the water. He wished he were on land and instantly -he was carried to a small village full of savages. Juan -performed many miracles for the savages, so they elected -him king.</p> - -<p>One day they went hunting and soon they caught a -deer. While they were taking off the hide, a big bird -swooped and took the deer with it. Juan clung to the -horns of the deer trying to take it from the bird, but in -vain. The bird did not mind Juan for he was very -small compared with it. It alighted on a very high cliff, -left Juan and the dead deer there, and flew away. On -the cliff was the bird's nest, and in it were three diamond-like -round eggs which were about three feet in -diameter.</p> - -<p>Juan asked <span class="err" title="original: him">his</span> magical ring to give him a very big -basket. The basket came. Then he rolled the eggs into -the basket. Juan seated himself between the eggs and -asked his ring again to take him and the basket home. -The basket was so heavy that the ring could not make -it fly very fast. While they were sailing in the air, the -bird came with its mate. They held the handle of the -basket with their beaks and carried the basket back to -the cliff. The power of the magical ring was helpless<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span> -because the birds were very strong. Juan, then, wished -to be clad in armor. So said, so done. But he had no -sword, so he asked the ring to give him one. When the -birds reached the cliff, they alighted. Juan stepped from -the basket and drew his sword. Whenever the birds -pecked him, he would strike them on their necks with -his sword. After fighting with him for more than half -a day, the birds fell helpless on the rock.</p> - -<p>Then the victor, Juan, asked the ring again to take -him and the basket to his old home. When he reached -the place, the once flourishing village was gone. Only -a few huts were left standing.—Facundo Esquivel.</p> - -<h3>II. The Imaginary Voyage with a Satiric or Instructive -Purpose</h3> - -<p>To the class of marvelous tales belong also what -are known in France as "Voyages Imaginaires." In -so far as the adventurers meet with super-extraordinary -beings, or ride on fleas of the dimensions of -elephants, or have monstrous spiders weave for a field -of battle a web between the moon and the morning -star, or in so far as they sail on seas of milk to islands -of cheese and altogether suspend the semblance of possibility—in -so far are they heroes of absurd tales of -wonder. But the narrators of the stories of imaginary -voyages for the most part had primarily other objects -than mere amusement in view; namely, ridicule of the -extravagant narrative by means of imitation and -exaggeration, or ridicule of political and philosophic -tenets by absurd application; or the story-tellers had -instruction to give in civic and social theories by presenting -the ideal in contrast with the real.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote">Source of -the type</div> - -<p>The first example and perhaps the source of this -whole species of narrative is the "True History" of -Lucian, which, is professedly fabulous and -satiric. Lucian says that by his seas of milk -and islands of cheese and the like, he is ridiculing the -extravagant relations of the old poets and historians -who tell incredible tales. Hundreds of years after -Lucian, Marco Polo and Sir John Mandeville by their -marvelous accounts of remote countries set themselves -in the class Lucian satirized. But we will take them -up later, since they were real travellers simply exaggerating -what they had seen in order the more surely -to please a perverted historical taste. We are dealing -now with acknowledged imagination. There are many -famous imaginary voyages professedly satiric besides -Lucian's. Savinien Cyrano de Bergerac's "History of -the States and Empires of the Moon" is a satire on the -pedantry and scholastic disputations of his age, the -early seventeenth century, concerning the uninhabitableness -of the lunar world. To the moon Bergerac -makes an excursion and settles matters for himself. -"Niel Klim's Underground Journey," by Ludvig -Holberg of Denmark, is another famous imaginary -trip.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Swift and -Defoe</div> - -<p>But no nation has surpassed England, and none -indeed has even equalled her, in the production of this -class of stories. "Gulliver's Travels," -"Gaudentio de Lucca," and "Robinson -Crusoe" are supreme. Swift's marvelous tale is, of -course, satire; Berkley's extravagant one, philosophy -and polemic; Defoe's seemingly true narration, religious -dissent. But in the minds of the critics—and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span> -in the mind of every school boy, I suppose—there is -the judgment that Defoe succeeded in writing the best -pure "story" story in all the world. On the one hand, -accordingly, by its content of a sea voyage and a wreck -on an unknown shore and by the controversial purpose -of its author, and by the fact that it became the progenitor -of a long line of marvelous narratives, the -story of "Robinson Crusoe" links itself with the -species of imaginary voyages and stands forth as the -highest, though because of its virtues not the most -representative, attainment of the class. On the other -hand, "Robinson Crusoe" by its unaffected simplicity -of diction, by its many minute circumstances, by its -particularity as to persons, places, dates, and references, -stands at the head as the greatest and best -representative of another type of narratives,—the -story of probable adventures. But one would finally -class Defoe's story with realistic romance.</p> - -<p>More typical of the present species, because more -extravagant and not so seemingly actual, is the somewhat -charming though long-forgotten story of the -"Voyage of Peter Wilkins," written about 1750 by R. -Paltock or Pultock. In this narrative the author -created a new species of beings, which have been -ranked among the most beautiful offsprings of imagination. -In the "Curse of Kehama" Southey acknowledged -them as the origin of the Glendoveers,</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"The loveliest race of all of heavenly birth,</div> - <div class="i0">Hovering with gentle motion o'er the earth,</div> - <div class="i4">Amid the moonlight air,</div> - <div class="i0">In sportive flight, still floating round and round."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span></p> -<p>In Paltock's story they are not fairies, but flying -men and women.</p> - -<p>In imitation of Bergerac's voyage to the moon there -appeared descriptions of journeys to the various -heavenly bodies. The planet Venus, for instance, -afforded opportunity for satire on amatory tendencies; -Mercury, on fraud and avarice; and so on through the -other planets and vices. Ridicule of the predominant -passions of individuals was come at also. The arrant -boaster is delectably set forth in the "Adventures of -Baron Munchausen."</p> - -<p>To narrate an imaginary voyage, therefore, on lines -laid down in the past, you must take to yourself to -begin with either a political and social theory or a -general spirit of ridicule, either an instructive or a -corrective temper.</p> - -<p>If you take a political and social theory to establish -you must show it in operation in a realm where there -is perfect and ideal wisdom, where the obstacles in the -world do not hold, as they do not in the Happy Valley, -Utopia, and the New Atlantis.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Suggestion -on how to -write a -satiric -imaginary -voyage</div> - -<p>If you undertake to ridicule present mistaken tendencies -and follies, your task will be a little harder. -First you must work out your argument -somewhat in detail before you begin your -voyage, since you will need to fit adventures, -objects, people, and speeches, either -by way of exaggeration or oppositeness, to -their modern counterparts. Next, you -should have definitely in mind a few prominent leaders -in the movement or a few promoters of the policy you -mean to laugh at. You may take the portrait and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span> -characteristics of these men as basis, and exaggerate -and modify to suit your purpose. Just as a good cartoonist -must know anatomy and the rules of correct -drawing, so a caricaturist and satirist must know real -people. It will happen probably that readers not in -the secret of your originals will fail to recognize them -surely, as people now fail to recognize de Bergerac's -and Swift's; yet your story can not but be the livelier -and better for your concrete thinking. And as we now -read the "Journey to the Moon" and "Gulliver's -Travels" for the amusing adventures, so your audience -will enjoy your story for the same reason and no other. -But you can hardly create amusing adventures without -something to create them of, and the lives of real -people are to be the stuff. This suggestion is merely -the embodiment of the psychological fact that all the -chimeras that man ever thought of are but modifications -of real images. Then it will be well also to -remember the convenience of allegory and to use it -upon occasion. In fact, many imaginary voyages are -but rough-and-ready allegories. Yet you must be careful -not to over-do the allegory; for in the fourth place, -you should strive for minute versimilitude. The nearer -like the details of a real journey your small incidents -are, the better your readers will be pleased with your -large incidents. It is the little surprises of familiarity -among strangeness that create the emotion of pleasure.</p> - -<p>Last of all, and first of all, and altogether requisite -is this virtue: To be a good narrator of imaginary -voyages, you must be, like Defoe, the "best of liars." -Nothing is too stupendous to tell if you only know -how to tell it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span></p> - -<h4>Mellonta Tauta</h4> - -<p class="right"> -On Board Balloon "Skylark," -<br /> -April 1, 2848. -</p> - -<p>Now, my dear friend—now, for your sins, you are to -suffer the infliction of a long gossiping letter. I tell you -distinctly that I am going to punish you for all your impertinences -by being as tedious, as discursive, as incoherent, -and as unsatisfactory as possible. Besides, here -I am, cooped up in a dirty balloon, with some one or two -hundred of the <i>canaille</i>, all bound on a <i>pleasure</i> excursion -(what a funny idea some people have of pleasure!), -and I have no prospect of touching <i>terra firma</i> for a -month at least. Nobody to talk to. Nothing to do. -When one has nothing to do, then is the time to correspond -with one's friends. You perceive then, why it is -that I write you this letter—it is on account of my <i>ennui</i> -and your sins.</p> - -<p>Get ready your spectacles and make up your mind to -be annoyed. I mean to write at you every day during -this odious voyage.</p> - -<p>Heigho! when will any <i>Invention</i> visit the human -pericranium? Are we forever to be doomed to the thousand -inconveniences of the balloon? Will <i>nobody</i> contrive -a more expeditious mode of progress? The jog-trot -movement, to my thinking, is little less than positive -torture. Upon my word, we have not made more -than a hundred miles the hour since leaving home! -The very birds beat us—at least some of them. I assure -you that I do not exaggerate at all. Our motion, -no doubt, seems slower than it actually is—this on account -of our having no objects about us by which to estimate -our velocity, and on account of our going with the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span> -wind. To be sure, whenever we meet a balloon we have -a chance of perceiving our rate, and then, I admit, things -do not appear so very bad. Accustomed as I am to this -mode of traveling, I cannot get over a kind of giddiness -whenever a balloon passes us in a current directly overhead. -It always seems to me like an immense bird of -prey about to pounce upon us and carry us off in its -claws. One went over us this morning about sunrise, -and so nearly overhead that its drag-rope actually -brushed the net-work suspending our car, and caused us -very serious apprehension. Our captain said that if the -material of the bag had been the trumpery varnished -"silk" of five hundred or a thousand years ago, we -should inevitably have been damaged. This silk, as he -explained it to me, was a fabric composed of the entrails -of a species of earth-worm. The worm was carefully -fed on mulberries—a kind of fruit resembling a -water-melon—and, when sufficiently fat, was crushed in -a mill. The paste thus arising was called <i>papyrus</i> in its -primary state, and went through a variety of processes -until it finally became "silk." Singular to relate, it -was once much admired as an article of <i>female dress</i>! -Balloons were also very generally constructed from it. -A better kind of material, it appears, was subsequently -found in the down surrounding the seed-vessels of a plant -vulgarly called <i>euphorbium</i>, and at that time botanically -termed milk-weed. This latter kind of silk was designated -as silk-buckingham, on account of its superior -durability, and was usually prepared for use by being -varnished with a solution of gum caoutchouc—a substance -which in some respects must have resembled the -<i>guttapercha</i> now in common use. This caoutchouc was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span> -occasionally called Indian rubber or rubber of twist, and -was no doubt one of the numerous <i>fungi</i>. Never tell -me again that I am not at heart an antiquarian.</p> - -<p>Talking of drag-ropes—our own, it seems, has this -moment knocked a man overboard from one of the small -magnetic propellers that swarm in the ocean below us—a -boat of about six thousand tons, and, from all accounts, -shamefully crowded. These diminutive barques should -be prohibited from carrying more than a definite number -of passengers. The man, of course, was not permitted -to get on board again, and was soon out of sight, -he and his life-preserver. I rejoice, my dear friend, that -we live in an age so enlightened that no such a thing as -an individual is supposed to exist. It is the mass for -which the true Humanity cares. By-the-by, talking of -Humanity, do you know that our immortal Wiggins is -not so original in his views of the Social Condition and -so forth, as his contemporaries are inclined to suppose? -Pundit assures me that the same ideas were put nearly -in the same way, about a thousand years ago, by an Irish -philosopher called Furrier, on account of his keeping a -retail shop for cat peltries and other furs. Pundit -<i>knows</i>, you know; there can be no mistake about it. How -very wonderfully do we see verified every day, the profound -observation of the Hindoo Aries Tottle (as quoted -by Pundit): "Thus must we say that, not once or twice, -or a few times, but with almost infinite repetitions, the -same opinions came round in a circle among men."</p> - -<p><i>April 2d.</i>—Spoke to-day the magnetic cutter in -charge of the middle section of floating telegraph wires. -I learn that when this species of telegraph was first put -into operation by Horse, it was considered quite impossible<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span> -to convey the wires over sea, but now we are at a -loss to comprehend where the difficulty lay! So wags the -world. <i>Tempora mutantur</i>—excuse me for quoting the -Etruscan. What would we do without the Atlantic telegraph? -(Pundit says Atlantic was the ancient adjective.) -We lay to a few minutes to ask the cutter some -questions, and learned, among other glorious news, that -civil war is raging in Africa, while the plague is doing -its good work beautifully both in Yurope and Ayesher. -Is it not truly remarkable that, before the magnificent -light shed upon philosophy by Humanity, the world was -accustomed to regard War and Pestilence as calamities? -Do you know that prayers were actually offered up in -the ancient temples to the end that these evils (!) might -not be visited upon mankind? Is it not really difficult to -comprehend upon what principle of interest our forefathers -acted? Were they so blind as not to perceive -that the destruction of a myriad of individuals is only -so much positive advantage to the mass!</p> - -<p><i>April 3d.</i>—It is really a very fine amusement to ascend -the rope-ladder leading to the summit of the balloon-bag, -and thence survey the surrounding world. -From the car below you know the prospect is not so -comprehensive—you can see little vertically. But seated -here (where I write this) in the luxuriously-cushioned -opened piazza of the summit, one can see everything that -is going on in all directions. Just now there is quite a -crowd of balloons in sight, and they present a very animated -appearance, while the air is resonant with the -hum of so many millions of human voices. I have heard -it asserted that when Yellow or (Pundit will have it) -Violet, who is supposed to have been the first aeronaut,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span> -maintained the practicability of traversing the atmosphere -in all directions, by merely ascending or descending -until a favorable current was attained, he was -scarcely hearkened to at all by his contemporaries, who -looked upon him as merely an ingenious sort of madman, -because the philosophers (!) of the day declared the -thing impossible. Really now, it does seem to me quite -unaccountable how anything so obviously feasible could -have escaped the sagacity of the ancient <i>savans</i>. But in -all ages the great obstacles to advancement in Art have -been opposed by the so-called men of science. To be -sure, our men of science are not quite so bigoted as those -of old—oh, I have something so queer to tell you on this -topic. Do you know that it is not more than a thousand -years ago since the metaphysicians consented to relieve -the people of the singular fancy that there existed but -<i>two possible roads for the attainment of Truth</i>! Believe -it if you can! It appears that long, long ago, in the -night of Time, there lived a Turkish philosopher (or -Hindoo possibly), called Aries Tottle. This person introduced -or at all events propagated what was termed -the deductive or <i>a priori</i> mode of investigation. He -started with what he maintained to be <i>axioms</i>, or "self-evident -truths," and thence proceeded "logically" to -results. His greatest disciples were one Neuclid, and one -Cant. Well, Aries Tottle flourished supreme until the -advent of one Hog, surnamed the "Ettrick Shepherd," -who preached an entirely different system, which he -called the <i>a posteriori</i> or inductive. His plan referred -altogether to Sensation. He proceeded by observing, -analyzing, and classifying facts—<i>instantiae naturae</i>, as -they were affectedly called—into general laws. Aries<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span> -Tottle's mode, in a word, was based on <i>noumena</i>; Hog's -on <i>phenomena</i>. Well, so great was the admiration excited -by this latter system that, at its first introduction, -Aries Tottle fell into disrepute; but finally he recovered -ground and was permitted to divide the realm of Truth -with his more modern rival. The <i>savans</i> now maintained -the Aristotelian and <i>Baconian</i> roads were the sole possible -avenues to knowledge. "Baconian," you must know, -was an adjective invented as equivalent to Hog-ian and -more euphonious and dignified.</p> - -<p>Now, my dear friend, I do assure you, most positively, -that I represent this matter fairly, on the soundest authority; -and you can easily understand how a notion so -absurd on its very face must have operated to retard the -progress of all true knowledge—which makes its advances -almost invariably by intuitive bounds. The ancient -idea confined investigations to <i>crawling</i>; and for -hundreds of years so great was the infatuation about -Hog especially, that a virtual end was put to all thinking, -properly so called. No man dared utter a truth to which -he felt himself indebted to his <i>Soul</i> alone. It mattered -not whether the truth was even <i>demonstrably</i> a truth, for -the bullet-headed <i>savans</i> of the time regarded only the -road by which he had attained it. They would not even -look at the end. "Let us see the means," they cried, -"the means!" If, upon investigation of the means, it -was found to come under neither the category Aries (that -is to say, Ram), nor under the category Hog, why then -the savans went no farther, but pronounced the -"theorist" a fool, and would have nothing to do with -him or his truth.</p> - -<p>Now, it cannot be maintained even that by the crawling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span> -system the greatest amount of truth would be attained -in any long series of ages, for the repression of -<i>imagination</i> was an evil not to be compensated for by -any superior <i>certainty</i> in the ancient modes of investigation. -The error of these Jurmains, these Vrinch, -these Inglitch, and these Amriccans (the latter, by the -way, were our own immediate progenitors), was an error -quite analogous with that of the wiseacre who fancies -that he must necessarily see an object the better the -more closely he holds it to his eyes. These people -blinded themselves by details. When they proceeded -Hoggishly, their "facts" were by no means always facts—a -matter of little consequence had it not been for assuming -that they were facts and must be facts because -they appeared to be such. When they proceeded on -the path of the Ram, their course was scarcely as straight -as a ram's horn, for they never had an axiom which was -an axiom at all. They must have been very blind not -to see this, even in their own day; for even in their own -day many of the long "established" axioms had been -rejected. For example, "<i>Ex nihilo nihil fit</i>"; "a body -cannot act where it is not"; "there cannot exist antipodes"; -"darkness cannot come out of light"—all -these, and a dozen other similar propositions, formerly -admitted without hesitation as axioms, were, even at -the period of which I speak, seen to be untenable. How -absurd in these people, then, to persist in putting faith -in "axioms" as immutable bases of Truth! But even -out of the mouths of their soundest reasoners it is easy -to demonstrate the futility, the impalpability of their -axioms in general. Who was the soundest of their logicians? -Let me see! I will go and ask Pundit and be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span> -back in a minute.... Ah, here we have it! Here -is a book written nearly a thousand years ago and lately -translated from Inglitch—which, by the way, appears -to have been the rudiment of the Amriccan. Pundit -says it is decidedly the cleverest ancient work on its -topic, Logic. The author (who was much thought of -in his day) was one Miller, or Mill; and we find it recorded -of him, as a point of some importance, that he -had a mill-horse called Bentham. But let us glance at -the treatise!</p> - -<p>Ah! "Ability or inability to conceive," says Mr. -Mill, very properly, "is in no case, to be received as a -criterion of axiomatic truth." What modern in his -senses would ever think of disputing this truism? The -only wonder with us must be, how it happened that -Mr. Mill conceived it necessary even to hint at anything -so obvious. So far, good—but let us turn over another -paper. What have we here? "Contradictories cannot -both be true—that is, cannot coexist in nature." -Here Mr. Mill means, for example, that a tree must be -either a tree or not a tree—that it cannot be at the -same time a tree and not a tree. Very well; but I ask -him why. His reply is this—and never pretends to be -anything else than this—"Because it is impossible to -conceive that contradictories can both be true." But -this is no answer at all, by his own showing; for has -he not just admitted as a truism that "ability or inability -to conceive is in no case to be received as a -criterion of axiomatic truth"?</p> - -<p>Now I do not complain of these ancients so much -because their logic is, by their own showing, utterly -baseless, worthless and fantastic altogether, as because<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> -of their pompous and imbecile proscription of all other -roads of Truth, of all other means for its attainment -than the two preposterous paths—the one creeping and -the one of crawling—to which they have dared to confine -the Soul that loves nothing so well as to soar.</p> - -<p>By the by, my friend, do you not think it would have -puzzled these ancient dogmaticians to have determined -by which of their two roads it was that the most important -and most sublime of all their truths was, in -effect, attained? I mean the truth of Gravitation. -Newton owed it to Kepler. Kepler admitted that his -three laws were guessed at—these three laws of all -laws which led the great Inglitch mathematician to his -principle, the basis of all physical principle—to go behind -which we must enter the Kingdom of Metaphysics: -Kepler guessed—that is to say, imagined. He was -essentially a "theorist"—that word now of so much -sanctity, formerly an epithet of contempt. Would it -not have puzzled these old moles, too, to have explained -by which of the two "roads" a cryptographist unriddles -a cryptograph of more than usual secrecy, or by which -of the two roads Champollion directed mankind to those -enduring and almost innumerable truths which resulted -from his deciphering the Hieroglyphics?</p> - -<p>One word more on this topic and I will be done -boring you. Is it not passing strange that, with their -eternal prattling about roads to Truth, these bigoted -people missed what we now so clearly perceive to be the -great highway—that of Consistency? Does it not seem -singular how they should have failed to deduce from -the works of God the vital fact that a perfect consistency -must be an absolute truth! How plain has been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span> -our progress since the late announcement of this proposition! -Investigation has been taken out of the hands -of the groundmoles and given, as a task, to the true and -only true thinkers, the men of ardent imagination. These -latter <i>theorize</i>. Can you not fancy the shout of scorn -with which my words would be received by our progenitors -were it possible for them to be now looking over my -shoulder? These men, I say, <i>theorize</i>; and their theories -are simply corrected, reduced, systematized—cleared, -little by little, of their dross of inconsistency—until, -finally, a perfect consistency stands apparent -which even the most stolid admit, because it is a consistency, -to be an absolute and an unquestionable truth.</p> - -<p><i>April 4th.</i>—The new gas is doing wonders, in conjunction -with the new improvement with gutta percha. -How very safe, commodious, manageable, and in every -respect convenient are our modern balloons? Here is -an immense one approaching us at the rate of at least -a hundred and fifty miles an hour. It seems to be -crowded with people—perhaps there are three or four -hundred passengers—and yet it soars to an elevation -of nearly a mile, looking down upon poor us with sovereign -contempt. Still, a hundred or even two hundred -miles an hour is slow traveling after all. Do you remember -our flight on the railroad across the Kanadaw -continent? Fully three hundred miles the hour—<i>that</i> -was traveling. Nothing to be seen, though—nothing -to be done but flirt, feast and dance in the magnificent -saloons. Do you remember what an odd sensation was -experienced, when, by chance, we caught a glimpse of external -objects while the cars were in full flight? Everything -seemed unique—in one mass. For my part, I cannot<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span> -say but that I preferred the traveling by the slow -train of a hundred miles the hour. Here we were permitted -to have glass windows—even to have them open—and -something like a distinct view of the country was -attainable.... Pundit says that <i>the route</i> for the -great Kanadaw railroad must have been in some measure -marked out about nine hundred years ago! In fact, he -goes so far as to assert that actual traces of a road are -still discernible—traces referable to a period quite as -remote as that mentioned. The track, it appears, was -<i>double</i> only; ours, you know, has twelve paths; and three -or four new ones are in preparation. The ancient rails -are very slight, and placed so close together as to be, -according to modern notions, quite frivolous, if not dangerous, -in the extreme. The present width of track—fifty -feet—is considered, indeed, scarcely secure enough. -For my part, I make no doubt that a track of some -sort must have existed in very remote times, as Pundit -asserts; for nothing can be clearer, to my mind, than -that, at some period—not less than seven centuries ago, -certainly—the Northern and Southern Kanadaw continents -were <i>united</i>; the Kanawdians, then, would have -been driven, by necessity, to a great railroad across the -continent.</p> - -<p><i>April 5th.</i>—I am almost devoured by <i>ennui</i>. Pundit -is the only conversible person on board; and he, poor -soul, can speak of nothing but antiquities. He has been -occupied all the day in the attempt to convince me -that ancient Americans <i>governed themselves</i>! Did ever -anybody hear of such an absurdity? That they existed -in a sort of every-man-for-himself confederacy, after the -fashion of the "prairie dogs" that we read of in fable.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span> -He says that they started with the queerest ideas conceivable, -viz: that all men are born free and equal—this -in the very teeth of the laws of <i>gradation</i> so visibly impressed -upon all things both in the moral and physical -universe. Every man "voted," as they called it—that is -to say, meddled with public affairs—until at length, it -was discovered that what is everybody's business is nobody's, -and that the "Republic" (so the absurd thing -was called) was without a government at all. It is related, -however, that the first circumstance which disturbed, -very particularly, the self-complacency of the philosophers -who constructed this "Republic" was the startling -discovery that universal suffrage gave opportunity for -fraudulent schemes, by means of which any desired -number of votes might at any time be polled, without -the possibility of prevention or even detection, by any -party which should be merely villainous enough not -to be ashamed of the fraud. A little reflection upon -this discovery sufficed to render evident the consequences, -which were that rascality <i>must</i> predominate—in -a word, that a republican government <i>could</i> never -be anything but a rascally one. While the philosophers, -however, were busied in blushing at their stupidity -in not having foreseen these inevitable evils, and -intent upon the invention of new theories, the matter -was put to an abrupt issue by a fellow of the name of -<i>Mob</i>, who took everything into his own hands and set up -a despotism, in comparison with which those of the -fabulous Zeros and Hellofagabaluses were respectable -and delectable. This Mob (a foreigner, by the by) is -said to have been the most odious of all men that ever -encumbered the earth. He was a giant in stature—insolent,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span> -rapacious, filthy; had the gall of a bullock with -the heart of a hyena and the brains of a peacock. He -died, at length, by dint of his own energies, which exhausted -him. Nevertheless, he had his uses, as everything -has, however vile, and taught mankind a lesson -which to this day it is in no danger of forgetting—never -to run directly contrary to the natural analogies. -As for Republicanism, no analogy could be found for -it upon the face of the earth—unless we except the case -of the "prairie dogs," an exception which seems, to demonstrate, -if anything, that democracy is a very admirable -form of government—for dogs.</p> - -<p><i>April 6th.</i>—Last night had a fine view of Alpha -Lyrae, whose disk, through our captain's spy glass, subtends -an angle of half a degree, looking very much as -our sun does to the naked eye on a misty day. Alpha -Lyrae, although so very much larger than our sun, by -the by, resembles him closely as regards its spots, its atmosphere, -and in many other particulars. It is only -within the last century, Pundit tells me, that the binary -relation existing between these two orbs began even to -be suspected. The evident motion of our system in -the heavens was (strange to say!) referred to an orbit -about a prodigious star in the center of the galaxy. -About this star, or at all events about a center of gravity -common to all the globes of the Milky Way and -supposed to be near Alcyone in the Pleiades, every one -of these globes was declared to be revolving, our own -performing the circuit in a period of 117,000,000 of -years! <i>We</i>, with our present lights, our vast telescopic -improvements, and so forth, of course find it difficult -to comprehend <i>the ground</i> of an idea such as this. Its<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span> -first propagator was one Mudler. He was led, we must -presume, to this wild hypothesis by mere analogy in -the first instance; but, this being the case, he should -have at least adhered to analogy in its development. A -great central orb was, in fact, suggested; so far Mudler -was consistent. This central orb, however, dynamically, -should have been greater than all its surrounding -orbs taken together. The question might then have -been asked, "Why do we not see it?" <i>We</i>, especially, -who occupy the mid region of the cluster—the very -locality <i>near</i> which, at least, must be situated this inconceivable -central sun. The astronomer, perhaps, at -this point, took refuge in the suggestion of non-luminosity; -and here analogy was suddenly let fall. But even -admitting the central orb non-luminous, how did he -manage to explain its failure to be rendered visible by -the incalculable host of glorious suns glaring in all -directions about it? No doubt what he finally maintained -was merely a center of gravity common to all -the revolving orbs—but here again analogy must have -been let fall. Our system revolves, it is true, about a -common center of gravity, but it does this in connection -with and in consequence of a material sun whose -mass more than counterbalances the rest of the system. -The mathematical circle is a curve composed of an infinity -of straight lines; but this idea of the circle—this -idea of it which, in regard to all earthly geometry, we -consider as merely the mathematical, in contradistinction -from the practical, idea—is, in sober fact, the <i>practical</i> -conception which alone we have any right to entertain -in respect to those Titanic circles with which we -have to deal, at least in fancy, when we suppose our<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span> -system, with its fellows, revolving about a point in the -center of the galaxy. Let the most vigorous of human -imaginations but attempt to take a single step toward -the comprehension of a circuit so unutterable! It would -scarcely be paradoxical to say that a flash of lightning -itself, traveling <i>forever</i> upon the circumference of this -inconceivable circle, would still <i>forever</i> be traveling in -a straight line. That the path of our sun along such -a circumference—that the direction of our system in -such an orbit—would, to any human perception, deviate -in the slightest degree from a straight line even in a -million of years, is a proposition not to be entertained; -and yet these ancient astronomers were absolutely -cajoled, it appears, into believing that a decisive curvature -had become apparent during the brief period of -their astronomical history—during the mere point—during -the utter nothingness of two or three thousand years! -How incomprehensible, that considerations such as this -did not at once indicate to them the true state of affairs—that -of the binary revolution of our sun and Alpha -Lyrae around a common center of gravity!</p> - -<p><i>April 7th.</i>—Continued last night our astronomical -amusements. Had a fine view of the five Neptunian -asteroids, and watched with much interest the putting -of a huge impost on a couple of lintels in the new temple -at Daphnis in the moon. It was amusing to think -that creatures so diminutive as the lunarians, and bearing -so little resemblance to humanity, yet evinced a -mechanical ingenuity so much superior to our own. One -finds it difficult, too, to conceive the vast masses which -these people handle so easily, to be as light as our own -reason tell us they actually are.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span></p> - -<p><i>April 8th.</i>—Eureka! Pundit is in his glory. A -balloon from Kanadaw spoke us today and threw on -board several late papers; they contain some exceedingly -curious information relative to Kanawdian or rather -Amriccan antiquities. You know, I presume, that laborers -have for some months been employed in preparing -the ground for a new fountain at Paradise, the Emperor's -principal pleasure garden. Paradise, it appears, -has been, <i>literally</i> speaking, an island time out of mind—that -is to say, its northern boundary was always (as -far back as any record extends) a rivulet, or rather a -very narrow arm of the sea. This arm was gradually -widened until it attained its present breadth—a mile. -The whole length of the island is nine miles; the breadth -varies materially. The entire area (so Pundit says) -was, about eight hundred years ago, densely packed with -houses, some of them twenty stories high: land (for -some most unaccountable reason) being considered as -especially precious just in this vicinity. The disastrous -earthquake, however, of the year 2050, so totally uprooted -and overwhelmed the town (for it was almost -too large to be called a village) that the most indefatigable -of our antiquarians have never yet been able -to obtain from the site any sufficient data (in the shape -of coins, medals or inscriptions) wherewith to build up -even the ghost of a theory concerning the manners, customs, -etc., etc., etc., of the aboriginal inhabitants. Nearly -all that we have hitherto known of them is that they -were a portion of the Knickerbocker tribe of savages -infesting the continent at its first discovery by Recorder -Riker, a knight of the Golden Fleece. They were by -no means uncivilized, however, but cultivated various<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span> -arts and even sciences after a fashion of their own. It -it related of them that they were acute in many respects, -but were oddly afflicted with monomania for -building what, in the ancient Amriccan, was denominated -"churches"—a kind of pagoda instituted for the -worship of two idols that went by the names of Wealth -and Fashion. In the end, it is said, the island became, -nine-tenths of it, church. The women, too, it appears, -were oddly deformed by a natural protuberance of the -region just below the small of the back—although, most -unaccountably, this deformity was looked upon altogether -in the light of a beauty. One or two pictures -of these singular women have, in fact, been miraculously -preserved. They looked very odd, <i>very</i>—like something -between a turkeycock and a dromedary.</p> - -<p>Well, these few details are nearly all that have descended -to us respecting the ancient Knickerbockers. It -seems, however, that while digging in the center of the -emperor's garden (which, you know, covers the whole -island), some of the workmen unearthed a cubical and -evidently chiseled block of granite, weighing several -hundred pounds. It was in good preservation, having -received, apparently, little injury from the convulsion -which entombed it. On one of its surfaces was a marble -slab with (only think of it!) <i>an inscription</i>—<i>a -legible inscription</i>. Pundit is in ecstasies. Upon detaching -the slab, a cavity appeared, containing a leaden -box filled with various coins, a long scroll of names, -several documents which appear to resemble newspapers, -with other matters of intense interest to the antiquarian! -There can be no doubt that all these are genuine -Amriccan relics belonging to the tribe called Knickerbocker.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span> -The papers thrown on board our balloon are -filled with fac-similes of the coins, MSS., typography, -etc., etc. I copy for your amusement the Knickerbocker -inscription on the marble slab:</p> - -<p class="center"> -This Corner Stone of a Monument to the<br /> -Memory of<br /> -GEORGE WASHINGTON,<br /> -was laid with appropriate ceremonies on the<br /> -19th day of October, 1847,<br /> -the anniversary of the surrender of<br /> -Lord Cornwallis<br /> -to General Washington at Yorktown,<br /> -A. D. 1781,<br /> -under the auspices of the<br /> -Washington Monument Association of the<br /> -City of New York. -</p> - -<p>This, as I give it, is a verbatim translation done -by Pundit himself, so there <i>can</i> be no mistake about it. -From the few words thus preserved, we gleam several -important items of knowledge, not the least interesting -of which is the fact that a thousand years ago <i>actual</i> -monuments had fallen into disuse—as was all very -proper—the people contenting themselves, as we do now, -with a mere indication of the design to erect a monument -at some future time; a cornerstone being cautiously -laid by itself "solitary and alone" (excuse me -for quoting the great Amriccan poet Benton!) as a -guarantee of the magnanimous <i>intention</i>. We ascertain, -too, very distinctly, from this admirable inscription, the -how as well as the where and the what, of the great<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span> -surrender in question. As to the <i>where</i>, it was Yorktown -(wherever that was), and as to the <i>what</i>, it was -General Cornwallis (no doubt some wealthy dealer in -corn). <i>He</i> was surrendered. The inscription commemorates -the surrender of—what?—why, "of Lord Cornwallis." -The only question is what could the savages -wish him surrendered for. But when we remember -that these savages were undoubtedly cannibals, we are -led to the conclusion that they intended him for sausage. -As to the <i>how</i> of the surrender, no language can -be more explicit. Lord Cornwallis was surrendered (for -sausage) "under the auspices of the Washington Monument -Association"—no doubt a charitable institution -for the depositing of cornerstones. But, Heaven bless -me! what is the matter? Ah, I see—the balloon has collapsed, -and we shall have a tumble into the sea. I have, -therefore, only time enough to add that, from a hasty -inspection of the fac-similes of newspapers, etc., etc., I -find that the great men in those days among the Amriccans, -were one John, a smith, and one Zacchary, a -tailor.</p> - -<p>Good-bye, until I see you again. Whether you ever -get this letter or not is point of little importance, as I -write altogether for my own amusement. I shall cork -the MS. up in a bottle, however, and throw it into the -sea.</p> - -<p class="right"> -Yours everlastingly,<br /> -PUNDITA. -</p> -<p class="right"> -—Edgar Allan Poe. -</p> - -<h4>Busyong's Trip to Jupiter</h4> - -<p>Singular indeed among such ordinary men as we -come across in our everyday life Busyong might have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span> -seemed to us, both on account of his features and of his -attitude. He had wrinkles on his face which showed -that he had smiled and laughed much in his life; but -his expression was rather sardonic. He was a lively -man, with a keen sense of what is serious and what -is ludicrous. Owing to this peculiarity Busyong did -not have many acquaintances among his tribe. However, -he did not feel lonesome or forlorn; often he -amused himself in observing in his people what he regarded -as the overstepping of limits of propriety and -decency. He was not a man of vast knowledge, yet he -had exquisite common sense, which his few good friends -admired.</p> - -<p>Busyong entertained the idea of visiting the brightest -planet, next to Venus, of our solar system, namely, -Jupiter; for he had read in a certain book that Jupiter -is inhabited, and the inhabitants can float in the air -because of their lightness. "This is something to me," -he said to himself. "Let us see what sort of people -they are." So, led by curiosity, Busyong after several -attempts succeeded in finding means by which he could -go to Jupiter. He made a large balloon-like machine. -When Busyong had prepared everything necessary for -this aerial voyage, he began ascending from the top -of Mt. Makiling at sunset. Nobody witnessed him, because -he did not make the purpose of his voyage known -to anybody. While he was ascending, he was delighted -to observe the earth growing smaller and smaller. The -machine of the balloon was so powerful that by turning -a sort of button to its maximum capacity, as Busyong -did, he had the balloon soon piercing the clouds -and like a large condor soaring in the sky. When Busyong<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span> -found out that he could hardly breathe, he accelerated -the speed of the balloon, so that in a few moments -he found himself in a different atmosphere where he -could breathe as well as before when he was yet near -the earth. He was now near Jupiter, whose brightness -had served him as a lighthouse. He had puffed -out some of the vapor in the balloon, so that he might -go down nearer the planet. It being very early in the -morning, he resolved to take a rest; for he was tired -of seeing nothing but stars and sky.</p> - -<p>Presently, after about two hours, when the sun was -just appearing from behind the planet, Busyong woke -up. He was glad; for he had dreamt that he should -see things which he had never seen before. After rubbing -his eyes with a handkerchief, he began to look -around him. With the aid of a telescope which he -had brought he saw to his surprise large and small -bodies of land and water, which he took for continents, -islands, oceans, and lakes, respectively. Descending -lower, he perceived mountains, some of which were hidden -by clouds, and others that were unhidden, covered -with trees. When he had directed his telescope towards -a valley, he noticed to his happiness a poor dwelling -of some human being. It was a hut with a roof similar -to <i>nipa</i> and with a wooden ladder, near which was -a cock. The sight of this dwelling gave rise in Busyong -mind to a train of ideas regarding the inhabitants -of the planet. So far it certainly looked like the -country he had come from: it might still be the -Philippines. Busyong decided to alight from his balloon -on the top of a mountain near the hut. After he -had eaten his breakfast, he began to descend the mountain.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span> -It was not long before he reached its foot through -devious paths.</p> - -<p>When he appeared before the entrance of the cottage -and looked in, he found a haggard middle-aged -man, a sluttish old woman, and a wan-faced boy, all -of a swarthy appearance, sitting on the floor. They -were eating their frugal breakfast, which consisted of -fried rice, coffee, and dried fish. They did not use -spoons, but their plain dirty-nailed fingers. Busyong -was surprised to find so great a similarity both in the -form of the house and in the manner of eating between -these people and those of his own country. Presently -upon his saluting these inmates with a <i>magandang -araw po</i>, a small lean red dog began to bark at him. -The man, who was sitting in a squatting posture, turned -his face and remained for a few moments staring at -Busyong with a little fright mingled with wonder. Unfortunately -when the old woman had cleaned her shriveled -hands unconsciously with a piece of brown ragged -cloth, the dog vomited on it without being noticed by -any one of the family. Then with her disheveled hair -she stood up to receive Busyong, who was a stranger -to them; but the man prevented her from doing so. -The man did not appear to understand Busyong, who -again bade him a good morning, and so Busyong resolved -to talk to him like a mute by signs. Having -noticed a large farm not very far from the hut, Busyong -beckoned the man, and made signs, asking him who -the owner of the field was. The man, who seemed to -be a farm laborer, pointed to him the way to the rich -farmer's house. Busyong soon left him still staring -with a vacant countenance and wide-open mouth.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span></p> - -<p>Busyong had noticed the folly of the old woman -when she wiped her hands with the dirty piece of cloth. -It was not long after he had started to go that he -heard such loud retchings from the hut that he stopped -and turned around. He returned anxious to see what -the matter was. When he appeared before the entrance -of the cottage, he saw the peasant, who kept asking his -wife in a compassionate manner what was the matter -with her. The man received no answer; for his wife -kept on retching so <span class="err" title="original: constanty">constantly</span> that she thought that, like -a sea cucumber, she had everted all her alimentary canal -or was going to do so. The poor husband was so perplexed -that he did not know what to do with her; sometimes -he patted her breast; sometimes he rubbed her -back as if he were stroking the <i>bulik sa pula</i> (a cock -spotted with white and red, but mostly with red) that -was near the ladder of the hut.</p> - -<p>Presently, when the peasant saw Busyong observing -his action, he drew near to him and said something in -a tremulous voice. Busyong explained to the man by -motions that the cause of all the trouble was perhaps -the vomit of the dog on the piece of cloth. The man -hurried to convince himself; and in his great anger he -would have killed the poor animal, were it not for Busyong, -who stopped him. The husband and the wife, -whose convulsions had calmed somewhat, were angry -with the dog, and even their little boy, pouting with -smeared face, showed his anger by squalling at and -whipping the animal; but at the same time the man -and the old woman were afraid that Busyong might -call an ambulance to take them all to a hospital or police -station. In the midst of this excitement Busyong<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span> -availed himself of the opportunity to "strike when the -emotional iron was hot." He exhorted the family concerning -the custom of eating with fingers in such a -philippic as might have had a very deep impression -on the minds of all his hearers if they had understood -him.</p> - -<p>Busyong then departed, and he said to himself nodding, -"Aha, I remember my grandmother often said to -me when she would tell me amusing stories that in the -vineyard of the Lord there are all sorts of things. I -see now that her statement seems to hold good even in -this new planet." When he had walked some distance, -he looked around him, and took his handkerchief out of -a pocket of his coat and with it wiped off the perspiration -on his face. Feeling himself warm, he whiffed -and said, "I see, this country appears to have the same -warm climate as that of my native land. I wonder if -the people here are all brown like the farm-laborer and -me." After a few minutes' walk he saw a large town -at a short distance, and among the small houses he perceived -a steep roof which he took for the steeple of -the church of the village. The first house he came to -in the town was that of the rich farmer. It was a two-storied -square wooden structure; in front of it was a -small garden, and behind a small orchard. Busyong -knocked at the door, and in a few moments a servant -appeared.</p> - -<p>"Is the farmer in?" Busyong inquired, hardly expecting -to be understood. He knew no language but his -own, and had to try to get along with that.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," answered the servant, whose curiosity -was awakened by the rather unfamiliar appearance of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span> -Busyong, but who seemed to wonder not at all at his -speech.</p> - -<p>"Tell him, please, that a stranger desires to speak -with him."</p> - -<p>Without uttering a word, the servant went to comply -with Busyong's request.</p> - -<p>"Yes, invite him to come in," said the old farmer -to his servant. "And, Andoy," he added, "tell Islao to -come here to try these new sound assorters."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," was the boy's reply as he went down -the stairs.</p> - -<p>The servant first led Busyong before the farmer.</p> - -<p>"Here, Islao, see if you can put these new filterers -into your ears without discomfort. I've improved on the -others considerably, I think," said the old man as Busyong -stepped into the room.</p> - -<p>"Good morning, sir," said Busyong very respectfully, -taking the proffered package and bowing, though -he understood not a word.</p> - -<p>"Oh! excuse me, sir, excuse me! I mistook you for -my son," exclaimed the farmer, but seeing that Busyong -was confused he motioned him to sit down, and -then drawing from his ears a tiny pair of soft -elastic-looking objects, put them back and motioned Busyong -to imitate him by applying what was in the package -to his own ears. Being naturally very curious and -desiring above all things to make a good impression -on the inhabitants of this strange planet, Busyong -obeyed. But what was his astonishment to find that -he now began to understand perfectly what the old man -was saying, whom before he had not comprehended in the -least, although the old fellow was already well launched<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span> -on a long exposition. Busyong's understanding began -to work at about this point: "You see, I have greatly -improved them. There has always hitherto been a sort -of buzzing accompaniment. You don't feel any, do you? -You understand me perfectly, don't you? I -told my son Islao the difficulty could be overcome, -But, you see, people have been so accustomed to getting -along with the noise that they stopped being impatient -at it. But I said since we had all the language sounds -assorted and distributed to their proper concept centers, -there was no reason why we should not be able to -conduct outward the so-to-say 'mechanical' sounds. -You understand me perfectly, don't you, sir, and with -no buzzing. Is not that so?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, truly; but much to my astonishment," replied -Busyong, "for a moment ago I did not understand you, -and now I do. On our planet I have heard of light or -ray filterers that would distribute colors on a sensitive -camera plate, but this is the first time I've heard of a -language filterer, though I see that it works perfectly. -But, sir, I remember that you were very busy when I -came in, and now I am bothering you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, sir; keep your seat, keep your seat, please. -This is the time when I attend to visitors; from nine -to twelve o'clock in the morning and from three to five -o'clock in the afternoon; and even at any other time -I am disposed to receive a guest, especially a stranger."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, sir. My intrusion is perhaps justifiable -by my being a stranger to this planet."</p> - -<p>"A stranger to this planet! Will you explain yourself? -Otherwise I shall think you are some ghost."</p> - -<p>"Why, yes, I'll make myself clear as I can. I arrived<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span> -here just this morning from the planet Earth. -Near the foot of that neighboring mountain I saw the -hut of your farm laborer, who showed me your house."</p> - -<p>"But how did you come to this planet!"</p> - -<p>"By a special balloon which I made myself."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, I remember now; I remember to have read—I -do not recollect the name of the book—that such -an aerial voyage from the earth to this planet or <i>vice -versa</i> is possible. Oh, please, stay here with us; we -shall be very glad to have you remain with us."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, sir; yes, I'll stay here. Especially if -you will explain to me this wonderful device by means -of which I can understand your language and you -mine. Now on Earth we have to go to the labor of -memorizing a whole dictionary if we wish to converse -with a fellow mortal of another nationality."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes; that's very bad. A great loss of time -and energy. A long while ago, after we had perfected -mechanical talking machines, somebody realized that we -were wasting a great amount of time conversing with -machinery when we couldn't understand our fellow -men. So he set himself to thinking and he soon saw -that the difference in languages is not a difference in -ideas, but in sounds. So if he could just filter the -sound waves as they entered the cranium, he could trust -to consciousness to do the rest; for it always responds -to phenomena after its own nature, not after the nature -of the phenomena that it takes up—as the philosophers -had long before proved. But I must stop talking. -I want to hear about the Earth. I dare say your planet -is much wiser than ours. Ours is very foolish in many -ways, as you will see before long." And the farmer<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span> -got up to order one of his servants to prepare a room -for Busyong.</p> - -<p>The family of the old man, consisting of a wife and -a grown-up son and a young daughter, then spent most -of the day in eagerly questioning Busyong about the -earth and its inhabitants. Night came on and the -farmer remained alone conversing with Busyong beside -a window until very late. They were beginning to feel -sleepy when a confused noise of stringed instruments -was heard from a neighboring house. Busyong soon -lost his drowsiness.</p> - -<p>"What is that music for? What does it mean at -such at an hour as this? 'Tis one o'clock," Busyong -said.</p> - -<p>"These people are courting a lady, and their cackling -is intended to win the love of the maiden—nay, -I should say to annoy and disturb the neighbors from -their rest; for that's really what they do," replied the -old man with indignation. "This custom," he added, -"although not widespread in this country, is yet after -all very troublesome and indeed very ridiculous also."</p> - -<p>"Now, I wonder if these people know the woman -for whom they are offering their sacrifices."</p> - -<p>"That is another folly about them. That is often -the case; these people work hard making a loud noise -with their wooden rattles in order to attain their purpose, -but they don't have the slightest idea of the real -character of the woman for whom they die deliriously; -nay, they don't know even how she looks; whether she -is ugly and haggard or whether she is like Venus, -charming with beauty."</p> - -<p>"Ha, ha, ha, ha, O Folly! But let us not fret<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span> -ourselves at the errors of mankind, for they seem to -be natural both to this planet and to that of mine. -Hark! who is that singing now so affectedly?"</p> - -<p>"That is the head of the band, the Faust. Listen -to his fastidious voice and the <i>balder-dash</i> with which -it is accompanied."</p> - -<p>Silence reigned for a time between the old man and -Busyong. Upon hearing no longer the music which had -occasioned his remarks the old man said, "Thanks to -Dios, I think they are gone. Now let us go to bed. You -must be very tired, Busyong. Good night."</p> - -<p>"Good night," replied Busyong.</p> - -<p>Next morning the old man told his son Islao to take -a walk with Busyong around the town. In this exploration, -for such did it appear rather than just a -mere promenade to Busyong, who was a stranger to the -planet, Islao led his friend directly to his large farm of -rice. Then they went to the busiest part of the large -town, where Busyong was delighted to observe the different -kinds of stores—dry goods and hardware. When -they came to a very lively street, Busyong found occasion -to laugh in his characteristic sarcastic manner at -the tremendous numbers of different kinds of signboards, -some hanging flat against the doors of the stores, -and some sticking out a long distance or even stretching -across the entire width of the street. The size of -the signboards ranged from the smallest of those which -professional men use to the very large ones with which -the managers of theaters announce a dramatic performance.</p> - -<p>While the two friends were walking slowly along the -street, for there were many people out, their attention<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span> -was very curiously attracted by the appearance of a -<span class="err" title="original: scawny">scrawny</span> young man, who came mincing by them. They -stopped beside a telegraph post, while the young man -went on, meeting a friend at a short distance, to whom -he said, "Hallo, Tetoy (Aniceto). <i>Donde vamus you?</i>" -"Hallo, Balatong," replied the friend. The rest of their -conversation went on in a low tone in their peculiar -dialect. Busyong and Islao overheard only their slipshod -greetings.</p> - -<p>"Islao, who is that man—that one who wears the -hat with a wide ribbon whose colors are light blue -and green, and black with white stripes resembling the -skin of a skunk?" inquired Busyong.</p> - -<p>"What man? Excuse me, I was looking at somebody -else," said Islao. "Do you mean that one who wears -a bright red, yellow, and green——"</p> - -<p>"Crumpled small fish net around his collar I should -say; yes, exactly, that one. Who's he?"</p> - -<p>"Ha, ha, ha; oh, yes. He is one of the suitors of -the girl who lives in front of our house. Balatong, I -think is his name."</p> - -<p>"Aha, the one who cackled last night, as your father -said?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," laughing.</p> - -<p>"And that other one with cross eyes, whose trousers -are folded up five times, I think, showing his stockings, -which are like the tidies of a chair back—who's he?"</p> - -<p>"Who? That one who wears broad ribbon-like strings -on his shoes? I don't know him. Don't you think he -looks like a woman—I mean both of them—with their -way of dressing? Aha, one of them—not the cross-eyed—has -powder on his face, I think."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span></p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, yes. You know, in my native country in -the planet Earth only women are fond of and use -such gaudy colors and such kind of stockings; and, indeed, -they are only proper for women. But we used -to——"</p> - -<p>"But that's not all here; the worst is when these -people use stockings—as I have had occasion to notice -many times—stockings which are elaborately ornamented -with the queerest fantastic designs; such as a burning -dainty heart, a dove carrying a bunch of <i>dama de noche</i> -with its toes—rather, a falcon or vulture I should say—great -goodness!—make the dove carry a flower in its -claws!"</p> - -<p>"Aha, is that so? Why, thanks to goodness, in my -native land no such queer people are to be found now, -except very, very few. There used to be—but do you -know what we call them in pure, simple Tagalog? We -call them <i>binabae</i>; that is a bit worse than the English -term 'sissy.' But from your own experience, tell me, -Islao, what living being other than man have you observed -making such a liberal display of gaudy colors -in that most affected manner?"</p> - -<p>"Why, among plants you mean? Like the parasite -with beautifully colored flowers hanging on that window?"</p> - -<p>"Well, not so low in the organic world as that," -laughing heartily. "I don't mean a plant; I mean——"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I get your point. You mean among birds like -the gayly colored rooster of that man who is now hawking -in that store, don't you?"</p> - -<p>"Exactly, upon my wish, you have slipped from -your tongue what I was precisely going to say."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span></p> - -<p>"And I think you know why the birds, most especially -the males, do have such bright colors."</p> - -<p>"Why, yes; I suppose those smart young men have -the same view in mind as that of the male birds, and -meditate and dream that it is 'not proper at all for a -man to be alone,' as, thinking of Priscilla, Miles Standish -would say."</p> - -<p>"Possibly, possibly," laughing. Islao did not understand -the allusion, but he let it pass.</p> - -<p>"Now be careful; don't speak loud," whispered -Busyong.</p> - -<p>Presently the two friends who were the object of -Busyong and Islao's rather severe remarks shuffled towards -Busyong and Islao, stopping near the telegraph -post beside them. The two chums were going to separate -when one of them, the cross-eyed, jabbered, "Oh, -you <i>teni espijo</i>, ah? <i>Porque? You ajos malo, eh?</i>"</p> - -<p>A sudden insuppressible peal of laughter was heard -from Busyong and Islao, who soon tried to act as if they -did not hear the blunder.</p> - -<p>"<i>Cosa ajos?</i> Am no cook as you," said the other -grinning over his glasses a little more easily than the -first one.</p> - -<p>"<i>Cosa esti?</i>" asked the cross-eyed one, pointing to -his eyes with his dirty-nailed finger.</p> - -<p>"T'at is call 'esquinting eyes.'"</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes. <i>Porque got espijo</i> you, esquinting ais?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, you don' know its value; t'at is to add weight," -erecting his body and raising his low chest, but forgetting -that the other had called him cross-eyed.</p> - -<p>Their gabble would have lasted longer if it were not -for two ladies who passed between them. Balatong, as the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span> -young man who wore spectacles was called, started to -mince along the busy street, scowling at Busyong and -at Islao, who were suppressing their laughter as best -they could, as he strutted before them. In a few moments -Busyong and Islao began also to move about, and -soon kept pace with two bald-headed men who happened -to be walking the street in the same direction -as theirs. Presently, one of the old men observed Balatong, -who was peering at and caressing with a handkerchief -one of his tapped shoes which had been stepped -upon by a "brat," to use his own expression, as he had -struggled along, distorting carefully his body to force a -way through an idle crowd. Then in a sarcastic but -indignant manner and forgetting what his companion -was speaking about, the man said, "Oh, look at that -Enigo. See how the lower edge of his long cloak flaps -like a sail battered by the wind!"</p> - -<p>"No," said the other old man, "that is not a cloak, -but a plain coat."</p> - -<p>"Well, I thought it was a cloak like those used by -the people in the neighboring continent in time of cold -weather. That's the reason why I said he was Enigo, -for he uses a cloak now when it is warm, and I suppose -he would use light clothes when it is cold."</p> - -<p>"That is the fashion they say—and the latest one, -too."</p> - -<p>"Go to, the fashion!"</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Busyong nudged Islao and whispered close -to his ear, "Did you hear what these old men were -talking about?"</p> - -<p>Islao nodded, smiling.</p> - -<p>Then the two old men climbed into a vehicle very<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span> -much like a <i>carretela</i>, and drove away. Busyong and -Islao went into a saloon of fresh drinks and asked for -a refreshment similar to milkshake.</p> - -<p>"The owner of this saloon is a woman, according -to the signboard at the door," remarked Busyong.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Islao, smiling; "I am sorry to say."</p> - -<p>In the meantime Balatong stopped in front of a dry -goods store on the opposite sidewalk and began to ruminate -on his image as reflected in the glass of a counter, -and at times twitched his scrawny body. Busyong and -Islao were observing him. After a while a clerk of the -store opened the door of the counter and turned a button -on the back of a puppet, which hereto had been -unnoticed by Balatong. Soon the dainty hands of the -puppet, which were raised in front of its small breast, -began to move back and forth, especially the delicate -fingers, as if the whole figure had come to life. Balatong -looked at the doll rather pleased at first. But -when he noticed the remarkable similarity of all the -clothes of the puppet with his own clothes, he began -to be aroused and to feel offended, insomuch that he -could not help going into the store to complain. He -approached the man who had made the hands of the -puppet move and called him to come outside. The man, -who thought that he was going to show something on -the counter which he wished to buy, followed him obediently. -They stuttered in their native tongue, which -ran thus in English:</p> - -<p>"I think that that puppet is intended to offend me, -because it is dressed exactly in the same way as I am; -that is, with the same clothes, necktie, and hat, which I -bought from this very store some time ago. However,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span> -you have willfully—made—the—pup—pup—pup—pet—move -its hands in such a way as that—pointing to -himself and then to me—that is as much as to say I -am a puppet," said Balatong, who began to be angry -with the man, who was laughing candidly.</p> - -<p>The man went back into the store, shrugging his -square shoulders and paying no attention to the complaint -of Balatong. Balatong insisted, squalling at the -door in an aggressive attitude, "Aren't you goin' to -take 'way the puppet from t'at counter?"</p> - -<p>"<i>E ko visa</i>," muttered the clerk in his native dialect -as he was dusting the chairs in the store.</p> - -<p>Presently Busyong and Islao, who all this while -had been mute spectators of the fray, came out of the -saloon with a view to settle the dispute peacefully and -justly, for, after all, they pitied Balatong, who, they -thought, had got now into an inextricable strait. Islao, -who could speak a little the peculiar dialect of the -clerk, addressed the clerk confidentially in his own -tongue, asking him what was the matter. The man answered -in the same language which Busyong understood -thus: "Why, this friend orders me to remove the puppet -from that counter; for he says that he is not pleased -with it."</p> - -<p>"Well, well, is that the whole cause of this fuss?" -asked Busyong, smiling.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Balatong was setting forth to Islao earnestly -all his complaint with many, many studied complicated -movements of both hands and body. Islao waited -for him to finish stuttering, for he wanted to talk -with him. Then, suspecting from the tone of his voice -a smack of Kamkangan blood in Balatong, Islao thought<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span> -it best to feign comradeship for the sake of persuading -him to behave in a more manly way. So, when Balatong -had finished jabbering, Islao addressed him in the -most friendly manner, saying laconically, "<i>Abe, e ka -makisankut ketang é mo balú.</i><a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>"</p> - -<p>Upon hearing these words, which he at first pretended -not to have understood, Balatong suddenly became -excited and perplexed. He gnashed his widely -separated teeth, clenched his fists, and looked up into -Islao's face with fiery eyes, saying, "Why d'you insult -an' curse me? If I ha-have done wron', show me how; -an' if not, <i>qua de causa</i>?"</p> - -<p>Busyong and Islao smiled pityingly and ironically -instead of being offended. On the other hand, bursting -into a peal of laughter, the juvenile clerk said jocosely -in a sort of Kamkanga dialect the following: "Aroo, -our <i>abe</i> is an evangelical man—fine!—nay, he is a priest. -How was it?—<i>qua re cosa</i>—ha, ha, ha."</p> - -<p>Balatong became the more angry with the clerk -inasmuch as he saw that the clerk was poking fun at -him.</p> - -<p>"I don' want to be the laughing stock of anybody," -said Balatong indignantly.</p> - -<p>"Don't be touchy, <i>abe</i>," said the clerk in his own -dialect.</p> - -<p>All of a sudden the exasperated Balatong seized a -big stone from the street and dashed it against the glass -of the counter, which broke into a thousand pieces. The -people of the store and some passers-by were alarmed -at the violent action of Balatong. Presently a robust -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span>old man came hurriedly shuffling with his wooden shoes -towards Balatong, and would have strangled him were -it not for the opportune presence of a fat man who -was one of the idle crowd that had been gathering at -the door of the shop.</p> - -<p>The fat man, who was carrying under his arm two -large scissors in a folded white coat, interposed himself -between the aggressor and Balatong, saying in dialect, -"For the sake of our beloved country! Don't behave -that way, fellow patriot! Don't, especially with one -of the same skin as yours and in whose veins runs the -same pure blood as that of yours. For the noblest ideal -of our <i>Talukap</i><a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> party, countrymen, bethink yourselves!"</p> - -<p>"Surely," replied the old man, whose anger was -appeased by the slushy encomium of the intruder. "But -this fellow here does not seem to be like a true native -of this country, for look at what he has done with that -counter, simply because he says he isn't pleased with -that puppet there."</p> - -<p>"Well, well," said in a friendly manner the intruder -as he faced Balatong, "why do you behave that way?"</p> - -<p>"Sherup! don' interfere with me; you had better -mind only your incisors," retorted Balatong, imitating -with his bony fingers the movement of the scissors he -meant.</p> - -<p>Busyong and Islao suddenly burst into prolonged -laughter, while the rest remained silent drivelling with -wide-opened mouths as they beheld the two men laughing -heartily.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span></p> -<p>"Do you see! This friend is angry with me according -to the tone of his voice. What did he say?" -asked the fat man turning towards Busyong and Islao.</p> - -<p>Islao nudged Busyong to get him to come out of the -store.</p> - -<p>"Come, come, let us go home, lest we hurt with -our laughing their susceptible feelings, especially of that -young dandy—pardon me, I mean doctor," said Islao -aside to Busyong when they reached the corner of a -street and turned to the left.</p> - -<p>"O Momus, son of Mox!" exclaimed Busyong smiling -after a short time, "how jocund indeed must you be -with the people here!"</p> - -<p>"Surely, he must be," said Islao.</p> - -<p>"By the way, I remember that the tailor—that is, -the fat man—seemed to boast a political party."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes!"</p> - -<p>"What is that party?"</p> - -<p>"It is called the National Talukap Party. You know, -this country is a democracy in name, but an oligarchy -in fact, as the people here say, for the government is -in the hands of only a very few of the native countrymen; -most of the power is in foreign hands. So the -<i>Talukap</i> party aims to reverse the condition of things; -nay, to have the control of the government wholly in -the hands of the people of this country. I am warmly -in favor of this policy. But what I do find objectionable -in this Talukap party is their affectation and tautology, -and their pretension and empty show in their outward -conduct. For my part, I believe in doing things -silently but effectively. On the other hand, I am not -in favor of the other party, which is called the National<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span> -Kinagisnan Party, whose policy is to be contented -slavishly with the present condition of things or with -whatever condition for the time being. The people -who belong to this Kinagisnan party are very few in -comparison with those that belong to the Talukap party. -Being in very close contact with the sovereign, the -Kinagisnan people are very apt to become flatterers."</p> - -<p>"Moreover, the ideal of your Talukap party, I think, -becomes less feasible, if not impossible, when you consider -these dandies like those two chums over there who -are clasping one another by the waist. Indeed, they -live in a very peculiar world by themselves."</p> - -<p>"And with Momus, I suppose, as their Supreme -Being."</p> - -<p>"Ha, yes, I should think so, too. But after all they -are not to be blamed. Everything goes step by step. -Even my native country in the planet Earth has had -the same defects practically as these people here. Now -I am glad that there in my native land the people, -especially the young men, have reached, by education -and the bitter lesson of experience, of course, a stage -where their old views of the world have become greatly -changed, most especially in this respect: now they hate -affectation under any form whatever, whether in dress, -manners, knowledge or in deeds."</p> - -<p>"Why, that is a condition to be envied greatly."</p> - -<p>By this time the two friends, Busyong and Islao, -were standing in front of the farmer's house. The old -man and his wife were awaiting them in order that all -might dine together. The rest of the day glided by -pleasantly.</p> - -<p>Next morning Busyong decided to return to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span> -planet Earth, although the old farmer and his son tried -to delay him longer in Jupiter. He promised to come -back to them. While in his large balloon, and recollecting -vividly all the things he had observed in the -country he was leaving, Busyong let his mind run upon -the following ancient lines:</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"Tell me not, in mournful numbers,</div> - <div class="i2">Life is but an empty dream!</div> - <div class="i0">For the soul is dead that slumbers,</div> - <div class="i2">And things are not what they seem.</div> - <div class="i0">Life is real! Life is earnest!"</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Just then he remembered with a start that when -he had begun to crank his balloon he had taken out -his sound assorters and laid them on the edge of the -car. He had wanted to hear the familiar noise without -distribution in order to feel that all was safe. And now -when he looked for those precious assorters he could -not find them. They must have fallen overboard. And -worst of all, he had neglected to get the whole explanation -from the Jupiterite.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Manuel Candido. -</p> - -<h3>III. Tale of Scientific Discovery and Mechanical -Invention</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Beginning -in -imaginary -voyages</div> - -<p>Tales of scientific discovery and mechanical invention -appeal to us as being extremely modern. -Yet the essential elements had a beginning at -least two centuries and a half ago. The -quality of the marvelous is easy enough to -trace; and the logicalness hardly less so. We find<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span> -both in the imaginary voyages. De Bergerac discovers -that he can lift himself from the earth by the expansion -of phials of dew affixed to his person, and from this -experiment he goes on to invent an elastic machine -which bears him to the moon. Klim, too, arrives at his -wonderful adventures by a scientific beginning: he -sets out to explore a rocky orifice in the Weathercock -Mountain, and causes himself to be let down by a rope. -The rope snaps, and he is precipitated into an intra-terrestrial -astral system, where he begins immediately -to revolve around a planet Azar, his biscuits which he -had attempted to throw away performing meanwhile -an orbit around his own body. He alights, of course, -finally by accident, and goes on with his governmental -experiences.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Difference -one of -emphasis</div> - -<p>These learned elements in the imaginary voyages -point definitely to our modern stories. The difference -lies in the emphasis: our modern stories are -severely and consistently logical, and interest -centers in the machine or the scientific -theory. The reader does not ask to go on long journeys -to see chimeras, but he asks to see ultra-logical man. -He does not encourage the author in being satiric; he -wants him to be inventive, to be more ingenious than -the race has been. The reader wants the author to -show him what man would be if he were consistently -progressive and wise, what he would come to if he -worked day and night at his science and applied what -he learned,—indeed, what he already knows. For it -is an open secret in the scientific world that there is -hardly a wonderful modern machine that is not an -almost foolishly simple application of a well-known<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span> -law. Take our marvelous future trains, for instance, -that are to run on one rail and be as wide and commodious -as houses—they are but to follow a principle -that every school-boy sees in operation when he spins -a top. I dare say, if some person would only write -a story telling us where to affix the wheel and the -balance, we might convert our present houses into -private Pullmans, as it were, that could at any time -transport us, family and all, with everyone of our -personal and familiar conveniences intact therein, to -any spot we chose, the only extra expense to us for -each trip being a slight rent for wheel space for the -time that we were running over the single-rail track -that led thitherward.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Essential -elements</div> - -<p>Shading off from the imaginary voyage type, therefore, -is this modern one which I have designated by -the somewhat long title, tales of scientific -discovery and mechanical invention. By -this title I mean to distinguish stories in which the -occurrences, though startling, are perfectly logical in -sequence, granted the premise—extraordinary, but not -improbable under the conditions set forth. The words -discovery and mechanical express the fact that the -sustaining structure of a story such as these is often -some invention superimposed upon modern science. In -the use of electricity, for instance, the characters in the -narrative go one step further than Mr. Edison; in the -construction and operation of the flying-machine, several -steps further than the Wright brothers; in the -discovery of elements, someone finds something more -useful and of greater power than radium; or, after long -experimenting, he mixes a paint so black or so white<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> -that the object beneath it becomes invisible; and so on -and so on—but all plausible, all with precise truth-likeness.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Stories of -this type</div> - -<p>Many of our present-day magazine stories are of -this type. Of the earlier modern, the "Diamond Lens" -by Fitz-James O'Brien is interesting. "The -Spider's Eye" is still sometimes read. "The -Life Magnet" is well known. A burlesque verse tale of -mechanical invention is "The Wonderful One Hoss -Shay" by Oliver Wendell Holmes. The prince of all -ingenious story-tellers, however, is Frank R. Stockton.</p> - -<p>To construct a narrative of this class, you must of -course first get your underlying theory. Experiments -in the chemical and physical laboratory will afford -many a starting point. They will at least suggest the -realm in which to proceed. Astronomy, meteorology, -geology, mechanics, mineralogy, geometry, optics, -domestic science even,—select a simple problem in any -of these and begin to imagine.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Suggestions -on how to -write the -type</div> - -<p>After you have the starting point, it is a good idea -to fix your goal. Where should you like to go, what -should you like to do, what powers should -you like to have above those of your -fellows? Do you wish to overcome the -restrictions of distance, absence, darkness, -death, birth, poverty, the past, the future, the present?</p> - -<p>With these points of your theory settled, you must -then look to the course of events. Shall the incidents -befall you while discovering or while applying the -scientific fact, while constructing or while working -your machine? Shall you be looking forward or shall -you be looking back upon the events? Next you must<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span> -find the point of greatest stress. The climax of a story -with the first alternative will evidently be reached at -the culmination of the inventor's labors; with the -second alternative, at the most exciting adventure in -the use of the machine or in the direct application of -the scientific fact.</p> - -<p>The logical close of the story is in both cases the -disappearance of the machine or the scientist; but you -will be repaid by thinking carefully over this matter -and being here as elsewhere as ingenious and original -as you can.</p> - -<p>Your deductions must appear to be sound. Of -course, your reasoning may have to be largely specious -and in the gross, as it were, unless you are a better -inventor than the inventors. But you have this advantage -over the practical man: you can avoid the greater -difficulties by keeping silent about them; and for actual -achievement you can substitute assertion. You must -seem on the surface, however, to be perfectly logical. -The reader will not question you too closely, if you -are only spirited and entertaining. But the next is a -point that you must note without fail.</p> - -<p>If the reader's interest in any particular part of -your narrative will depend upon an understanding of -a bit of mechanism or a scientific theory, you must be -careful to supply the information beforehand. However -trite to a mechanic or a scientist the principle -may be, you must not assume that the casual reader -knows it. He probably does not know it, or if he does, -more than likely he has forgotten it. On the other hand, -you must not appear to be self-assertively instructing -him. What you can do is this: you can politely seem<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span> -to be recalling something to his memory, and can thus -make the point clear, so that your future use of it will -not fall flat.</p> - -<p>To add a semblance of reality, it will be permissible -to employ a few technical terms; but these also must -be indisputably clear in meaning, and their use must -not be pedantic. You should study, however, to put -into the mouths of your characters the vocabulary that -would be actually used by the kind of people you -represent.</p> - -<p>Genial humor is a fine asset to a writer of this type -of narrative. If you can be artistically serious and -philosophically gay at the same time you will not fail -to please. The relationship of stories of scientific discovery -and mechanical invention to imaginary voyages -is testified to by the reader's expectation of a display -of wit. But in the scientific, ridicule is softened down -to genial logic. Although the aim in this kind of narrative -is good construction rather than character-sketching, -yet every neat touch of portraiture that you can -add will help draw your composition away from the -mere exercise and toward the literary production.</p> - -<p>If you should choose your theory in the realm of art, you -would by that very choice raise your story above the ordinary—I -mean to say, of course, you would if you knew -anything about art. Mr. Alexander Wilson Drake knows -a great deal about art and has given us, besides many other -beautiful surprises in <i>Saint Nicholas</i> and the <i>Century</i>, -some narratives embodying exquisite theories of shadow -and color.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/circle.jpg" width="200" height="197" alt="circle" /> -</div> - -<h4>The Curious Vehicle</h4> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Reprinted by permission of the Century Company.</p></div> - -<p>It was midnight in early December. A dense silver -mist hid the sleeping city, the street-lamps gave a faint -yellow glimmer through the almost impenetrable gloom, -the air was like the cold breath from the dying, the fog -hanging in great drops on my clothing. Stray policemen -had taken refuge in sheltering doorways, and my own footsteps -echoed with unfamiliar and uncanny sound down the -long street—the only sound that broke the midnight stillness, -save the hoarse whistles of wandering and belated -ferryboats on the distant river.</p> - -<p>As I emerged from a narrow street into the main -thoroughfare, my shivering attention was attracted to a -curious covered vehicle standing in the bright glare of an -electric light. It was neither carriage nor wagon, but an -odd, strongly made affair, painted olive green, with square -windows in the sides, reaching from just above the middle -of the roof, and a smaller window in the back near the -top. On each side of the middle window were two panels -of glass. From the middle window only a dim light shone, -like the subdued light from a nurse's lamp. On the seat in -front, underneath a projecting hood, sat a little old black<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span> -man wrapped in a buffalo-robe and a great fur coat partly -covered with a rubber cape or mackintosh, and with a fur -cap pulled down over his ears. The horse was heavily -blanketed, and also well protected with rubber covers. -Both man and beast waited with unquestioning patience. -Both seemed lost in reverie or sleep.</p> - -<p>With chattering teeth I stood, wondering what could be -going on in that queer box-like wagon at that time of night. -The silence was oppressive. There stood the dimly lighted -wagon; there stood the horse; there sat the negro—and I -the only observer of this queer vehicle.</p> - -<p>I stepped cautiously to the side of the wagon, and -listened. Not a sound from within. Shivering and -benumbed, I, too, like the policemen, took refuge in a doorway, -and waited and watched for some sound or sign from -that mysterious interior. I was too fond of adventure to -give it up. It seemed to me that hours passed and I stood -unrewarded. Just as I was reluctantly leaving, much -chagrined to find that I had waited in vain, I saw, thrown -against the window for a few moments only, a curious -enlarged shadow of a man's head. It seemed to wear a -kind of tam-o'-shanter, below which was a shade or visor -sticking out beyond the man's face like the gigantic beak -of a bird. A mass of wavy hair and beard showed underneath -the cap. Suddenly the shadow disappeared, much to -my disappointment, and although I watched in the fog and -dampness for half an hour longer, it did not again appear.</p> - -<p>I wandered home, puzzled and speculating, but determined -that I would wait until morning if I were ever -fortunate enough to come across the vehicle again. Weeks -passed before the opportunity occurred, and even then, had -it not been for a very singular incident, I doubt if I should<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span> -ever have fathomed the mystery of the curious vehicle.</p> - -<p>It was Christmas eve, the night bitterly cold. I had -clothed myself in my thickest ulster. My feet were incased -in arctics, my hands in warm fur gloves, and with rough -Scotch cap I felt sure I could brave the coldest night. Thus -equipped, I started out, and when I returned at midnight -in the beginning of a whirling, almost blinding snowstorm, -the Christmas chimes were ringing, and the whole -air seemed filled with Christmas cheer.</p> - -<p>Turning a corner, I discovered the vehicle in the same -place and position. This time, as I had before resolved, I -would wait until morning if necessary. So I began pacing -up and down the sidewalk in front of the vehicle, taking -strolls of five or ten minutes apart, and then returning. I -walked until I was almost exhausted. In spite of my heavy -ulster I began to feel chilly, so I again took refuge in the -doorway of a building opposite.</p> - -<p>Should I give it up, I asked myself, after waiting so -long? I stood debating the question. No, I would wait -a little longer; so, puffing my pipe, I shivered, and watched -for developments. At last I was about determined that I -must go or perish, when suddenly I saw through the blinding -snow the shadow of a pair of hands appear at the dimly -lighted window, adjusting a frame or inner sash. You can -imagine my interest in the proceedings.</p> - -<p>Just at this moment a street sparrow, numb with the -cold, and crowded from a window-blind by its companions, -dropped, half falling, half flying, to the sidewalk directly in -front of the window of the vehicle. It sat blinking in the -bright rays of the electric light, quite bewildered, turning -its little head first one way, then the other. In the meantime -the shadows of the two hands were still visible. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span> -sparrow, probably attracted by the light and the movement -of the hands, suddenly flew up, not striking the glass, but -hovering with a quick motion of the wings directly in front -of the window, its magnified shadow thrown on it by the -rays of the electric light. Then the bird dropped to the -ground. The occupant was evidently much startled by the -large shadow coming so suddenly and at such a time of -night. The shadow of his hands quickly disappeared, and -so did the frame. In another moment the door of the -vehicle opened, giving me a glimpse of a cozy and remarkable -interior. It seemed, in contrast with the cold and -storm without, filled with warmth and sunshine. It was -like a pictorial little room rather than the inside of a wagon -or carriage. The occupant looked out in a surprised, -excited, and questioning way, as much as to say, "What -could that have been?" His whole manner implied that -he had been disturbed.</p> - -<p>This was my opportunity, and, seizing it instantly, I -walked boldly to the door of the vehicle, and said, "It was -a little sparrow benumbed with the cold, that fluttered -down to the sidewalk, where it lay for a moment, until, -probably attracted by the light, it hovered for a few seconds -before your window, then fell to the ground again."</p> - -<p>I felt the man eying me intently, studying me with a -most searching glance. Was he in doubt as to my sincerity? -Was it a hidden bond of sympathy between us that -made him suddenly relent and invite me to enter his vehicle? -What else could have prompted him? For my own -part, I instinctively felt for the man, without knowing -why, a deep pity.</p> - -<p>"Please step inside," he said; "it is cold."</p> - -<p>And so, at last, I was really admitted, invited into the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span> -little interior—that little interior which had piqued my -curiosity for so long a time. Yes, I was admitted at last, -and now had a chance to look about, and to study the general -appearance of the occupant as he moved over for me -to sit beside him on the roomy, luxurious seat. What -a curious personality! He was a tall, raw-boned man of -strong character. His soft, gray beard and hair made a -marked contrast to the dark surroundings. Now I understood -the shadow which I had seen thrown on the window -for a few seconds. He wore a tam-o'-shanter cap, and beneath -it, to protect his eyes from the lamp-light, a large -visor, or shade, which threw his entire face into deep -shadow, giving him the look of a painting by an old master. -He had on a loose coat of some rough material.</p> - -<p>Surely the interior of no conveyance could be more interesting -than this. In the front, just back of the driver, were -two square windows with sliding wooden shutters, and between -the two was a little square mirror. Above these was -a rod, from which hung a dark-green cloth curtain which -could be drawn at will. Underneath was a chest, or cabinet, -of shallow drawers filling the entire width of the carriage, -with small brass rings by which to pull them out. -On top of this cabinet stood several clear glass jars half -filled with pure water. There were two or three oil-lamps -with large shades hung in brackets with sockets like -steamer-lamps, only one of which was lighted. Underneath -the seat was a locker. On the floor of the conveyance, -along its four sides, were oblong bars of iron, and in the -center was a warm fur rug. One side only of the carriage -opened. On the side opposite the door was a rack reaching -from the window to the floor, in which stood six or eight -light but strongly made frames, over which was stretched<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span> -the thinnest parchment-like paper. The top of the vehicle -was tufted and padded. The prevailing color was dark -green. In shape it was somewhat longer and broader than -the usual carriage. There was a small revolving circular -ventilator in front, over the mirror, which could be opened -or closed at will, and which could also be used by the occupant -for conversing with the driver.</p> - -<p>The man arose, and, opening the ventilator, told the -coachman to drive on. Meanwhile I enjoyed the wonderful -effect of the little interior—its rich gloom, the strong light -from the shaded lamp which was thrown over the floor, -the bright electric light gleaming through the falling snow -into the window on my left.</p> - -<p>The night, being so disagreeable, made the interior seem -very bright and comfortable by contrast, as the man closed -the sliding wooden shutters, separating us entirely from -the snowstorm without. There was an artificial warmth -which I could not understand, and with it all a sense of -security and coziness. The stranger's manner was both -gentle and reassuring. We rode in silence over the rough -pavement until we reached the smooth asphalt. Then he -began:</p> - -<p>"I do not consider myself superstitious, but somehow I -don't like it—that little bird hovering in front of my window. -It seems like a bad omen, and it was a shadow which -startled me. My life seems haunted with shadows, and -they always bring misfortune to me."</p> - -<p>We were both silent for a time, when he went on: "How -curious life is! Here am I riding with you, a total -stranger, long past midnight. You are the first I have -ever admitted into this wagon, with the exception of my -faithful Cato, who is driving. If one could only see<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span> -from the beginning how strangely one's life is to be -ordered."</p> - -<p>The stranger's voice was rich and deep. I hoped he -would continue so that I might get some idea of him and -his peculiar mode of life, and what was going on night -after night in this interior. I waited for him to proceed.</p> - -<p>"Have you known trouble or sorrow in your life?" he -asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I replied; "I have lost nearly all who were dear -to me in this round world."</p> - -<p>"Then," said he, "I will tell you my story with the hope -that it will be both understood and appreciated. I loved -from childhood a charming girl, sweet and pure. I need -not go into the detail of all that boyish love, but in my -early manhood and her early womanhood we were married—and -what a sweet bride she was!</p> - -<p>"We lived in an old white farmhouse in a village near -the great city—a beautiful place, a long, low, two-story-and-attic, -farmhouse, probably fifty or sixty years old. -How well I can see it—its sloping roof, the extension, the -quaint doorway with side-lights and with a window over -the top, the front porch with graceful shaped newels, the -long piazza running the entire length of the extension, -great chimneys at each end, and enormous pine-trees in -front of the house! The house stood on a little elevation, -with terraced bank, and with a pretty fence inclosing it. -Beyond was an old well with lattice-work sides and door, -and a pathway trodden by the foot of former occupants, -long since dead. In front of the house were circular beds -of old-time flowers—sweet-williams, lady's-slippers, larkspur, -and foxglove. At the rear, great banks of tiger-lilies -threw their delicate blue shadows against the white surface<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span> -of our little home. In one corner of our garden we had -left the weeds to grow luxuriantly, like miniature forest -trees, and found much pleasure in studying their beautiful -forms. How fine they looked in silhouette against the -sunset sky! On one side of the old-fashioned doorway -were shrubs and a rose-of-Sharon tree, and on the other, -honeysuckle and syringa-bushes. There were also many -kinds of fruit and shade-trees.</p> - -<p>"How happily we walked up and down the shady lanes -of that little village! For us the birds sang sweetly. We -took delight in our flowers and everything about us. In -the evening we would enjoy the sunsets, returning home -arm in arm in the afterglow, to sit in the cool of the -evening on the piazza and to listen to the wind as it sighed -through the pines. What music they made for us! We -compared it with what poets of all ages had sung of them, -and went to sleep, lulled to rest by the wind through their -soft boughs."</p> - -<p>He paused again, evidently thinking of the happy time.</p> - -<p>"How can I tell you," he resumed, "of the life that went -on in that simple old farmhouse? Our pleasant wood-fire -on the hearth; a few photographs from the old masters on -the walls; our favorite books of poetry and fiction, which -we read together during the long winter evenings, while -the pine-trees sighed outside, and all was so comfortable -and cozy within; or the lovely walks in spring and summer, -through the byways of the pretty little village, with -its hedgerows, blackberries, and wild flowers. How we -watched for the first violets, and what joy the early blossoms -gave us! What pleasure we took in those delightful -years, and how smoothly our lives ran on! Each day I -went to the city, and was always cheered by the thought<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span> -that my sweet wife would be at the station to meet me. -How pure she looked in the summer evening, clad in her -thin white dresses, with a silver fan and brooch, her dark -hair and eyes like those of a startled fawn!</p> - -<p>"Well, I need not dwell longer on all this. It was only -for a few short years, when one cruel, cold day, about the -happy Christmas-time, she was taken ill, and grew steadily -worse, and all that could be done for her would not save -her. She died. I can see her now—her dark hair laid -back on the pillow, and the peaceful, happy smile on her -face. We buried her beneath the snow, in the old graveyard -overlooking the river, and I went home broken-hearted."</p> - -<p>I heard the poor fellow sigh, and for a time he was -silent as the carriage went on through the snow. "What -can be the connection of this queer craft with what he is -telling me?" I thought. When he resumed, he said:</p> - -<p>"For months I tried to live on in the little house, but -life became terrible. In the evenings, as I sat by the pleasant -log-fire, I would imagine I heard her footsteps on the -stairs, and her voice calling me. I did my best to conquer -my grief, but it was of no use. The light seemed gone -out of my life. At last I could stand it no longer, and I -moved all my worldly possessions to another house in the -same village. I could not bear to think of going away -from the place entirely.</p> - -<p>"When the springtime came again, and the lovely flowers -were in bloom, and the birds were singing their sweet -songs; when the wind breathed softly through the pine-trees, -and she was gone, the sunsets were in vain, and all -nature seemed mourning. After this I busied myself with -all kinds of occupation, but without success. Life became<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span> -sadder and sadder, until finally in despair I took a foreign -trip. I traveled far and wide, but always with the same -weary despondency and gloom. The image of my loved one -was always with me. Nothing in life satisfied me. I -wandered through country after country, looking at the -old masters, grand churches, listening to cathedral music, -but always before me was the same picture—the old, white -farm-house, the great mournful pines, and with it all the -memory of the sweet life now departed, for which nothing -could make amends."</p> - -<p>Then he was silent, and as we drove over the soft, snow-covered -asphalt he became absorbed in thought.</p> - -<p>"After a year or so of restless travel I drifted back to -my own country and to the little village. Night after -night I wandered around the empty house where we had -lived, and through the little garden, and would stand at -midnight listening to the sad sighing of the wind through -the pine-trees, which to me sounded like a requiem for the -dead. Many a moonlight night have I stood gazing into -the windows, and imagined her looking out at me as in -the happy days of old, and I would walk up and down the -path thinking, oh, how sadly! of the times we used to -return by it from our evening walks.</p> - -<p>"Finally the little village became hateful to me. I could -endure it no longer, and I shook its dust from my feet. -With reluctance I moved away into the heart of the great -city, but with the same longing in my heart—the same -despair. I hunted up my two faithful black servants who -had lived with us for several years. I bought a house in -the old part of the city, and there we now live, and I am -well cared for by them. Let me read you portions of a -letter from her—one of the last she wrote," and he took<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span> -from his pocket a little morocco book with monogram in -silver script letters. He rose and asked the driver to stop, -and, turning the light up, said: "This will give you some -idea of the sweet life, with its love of nature, that went -on in and about that little cottage. The letter was written -to me when I was in another city." He read as follows:</p> - -<p>"My dear, I can hardly tell you how lovely the shadows -looked as I strolled around our little house this evening, -and was filled with delight by their beautiful but evasive -forms. To begin with, you remember the exquisite, almost -silhouette, shadow of the rose-of-Sharon bush by the front -door. I gave it a long study to-night. Its fine, decorative -character reminded me of a Japanese drawing, only it is -far more delicate and subtle. If this could be painted in -soft gray on the door-posts and around the little side windows, -how it would beautify our plain dwelling, and what -a permanent reminder it would be of our delightful summer -days!</p> - -<p>"But if I spend too much time on a single shadow, I -shall have no room left to tell you of the greater ones we -have enjoyed together.... From the path near the gate, -and looking toward the house, I saw to-night, and seemed -to feel for the first time, the wonderful tenderness of the -great shadow which nearly covers the end and side of our -home. How mysterious our kitchen became, with its shed -completely inclosed in velvety gloom, suggesting both sorrow -and tragedy; while the other end of the house was -covered with fantastic forms, soft and ethereal, and with a -delicacy indescribable.... But when the moon came up, -and the soft shadows of the pines were cast on the pure -white weather-boards of our little home,—the shadows of -our own pines, the pines we love so well, and through whose<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span> -branches we have heard music sweet and low, soft and sad,—then -I thought of you as I studied their masses tossing -so gently, their movement almost imperceptible, and I -longed for you as I studied their moving forms, their richness, -variety, and texture—for you tell me of their artistic -beauty—your delicate, poetic appreciation of their loveliness.... -And at last, may the sun and moon shine -brightly and cast beautiful shadows among and over the -tombstones for you and for me, my dear, and may a blessed -hope make the sunset of life glorious for us both."</p> - -<p>When he had finished reading, and had asked the driver -to drive on, he became absorbed and silent, and I thought, -"How strange to be riding through the streets of the city -after midnight in a whirling snow-storm with a stranger, -in a vehicle so remarkable, listening to such a pathetic love-story, -such a beautiful description of quiet domestic life." -It was a charming idyl.</p> - -<p>"You can get an idea from this," he said, "of the delightful, -contented life which went on in the little cottage," -and he sat holding the book in his hands as though he were -living it all over again, while the bright silver script monogram -gleamed and glistened on the cover until he turned -down the light, and for a time we drove over the smooth -asphalt in utter silence.</p> - -<p>"Do you wonder," he suddenly asked, "that the shadow -of that little bird has caused me uneasiness, and yet do you -not see that almost the last letter she wrote to me was filled -with omens, shadows? It is but natural that I should -have some feeling about it—and yet, why should I care? -I have only myself and my two old servants who could be -affected by it, bad or good. For myself, my only desire -is to live long enough to complete my work; then I am<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span> -both ready and willing to go. I shall welcome death with -delight."</p> - -<p>I had become so absorbed in his story that I had forgotten -all about my surroundings; but now as he paused -I again asked myself what strange connection had this sad -story, and the letter, and all that he had been telling me, -with the wagon; for I was sure that in some queer way -the story would help to explain it all.</p> - -<p>"While in Europe," he went on, "I studied the old masters -a great deal, particularly the halos and nimbuses surrounding -the heads of the saints. I cannot begin to tell -you how interesting they became to me. I was struck with -the exquisite workmanship bestowed on many of them, but -fine as they were, they never came up to my idea of what -a halo should be. As my loved one was so pure and gentle, -I always thought of her as a saint (and indeed she is -such), and I would become interested and imagine what -kind of halo I would surround her with if I were painting -her—not one of the halos of the old masters seemed fine -enough or ethereal enough for her. I had always been -fond of art, and had been considered a fair amateur artist. -One evening after I had moved to the city, and while -riding in a cab (oh, how gloomy!) on a snowy evening -something like this very night, I looked through the window -at an electric light, and there I saw the loveliest halo, -in miniature. Such tints! A heavenly vision! I thought -of the old masters, of the beautiful Siena Madonnas, and -with sudden joy I thought: Why should I not paint the -image of her I love? Why should I not clothe her in -Madonna-like robes, with a halo which could come only out -of the nineteenth century? Why should she not have a -halo far outshining and far surpassing in beauty halo<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span> -ever painted by mortal man?' I rode nearly the whole -night through, evidently to the despair of the driver, as I -repeatedly asked him to stop opposite electric lights and -street-lamps.</p> - -<p>"From that day I had a new purpose in life. I had this -wagon built just as you see it. For months I thought of -it. Over and over again I drew my plans before the vehicle -was actually constructed. Then I began my work. Old -Cato, who is driving, sits night after night, unmindful of -the cold, wrapped in his great fur coat, and he waits and -I work through the midnight hours to conceive and make -real the new Madonna."</p> - -<p>What a strange, subtle connection the whole thing had, -as he suddenly tapped on the small window and we stopped -directly in front of an electric light! As he opened the -sliding shutter I saw, through the frosted window and the -feathery snow, such a vision of <span class="err" title="original: lovliness">loveliness</span>—a little halo -that could scarcely be described in words. It was like a -miniature circular rainbow, intensified and glorified by the -glittering rays of the penetrating electric light.</p> - -<p>"What could be more beautiful than that? Isn't it exquisite?" -he asked. "Did ever painted saint have a halo -like that?"</p> - -<p>I held my breath, for I had never seen anything so -beautiful.</p> - -<p>"I have worked at it for a long time. I have not yet -accomplished it, but I hope to. I am coming nearer to it -every night in which I can work. There are not many -during the winter; the conditions of atmosphere and temperature -must be just right. On foggy nights, or when -the air is filled with light, flying snow—these are the nights -in which the little halos glow around the electric lights,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span> -street-lamps, and lights in show-windows. Oh," he said, -"they fill me with a happiness and delight I cannot describe, -as I try all kinds of experiments to transfix the -beautiful colors of their delicate rays!</p> - -<p>"Let me show you," he went on, and he lifted one of -the frames which I have already described, covered with a -thin parchment-like paper. This he carefully buttoned -to a groove in the window. On the surface of the stretched -parchment the little halo glowed with its prismatic tints, -and again I held my breath at the beauty of it. I, too, -was becoming a halo-worshiper. Then he lifted from the -rack on the side, and held up to the light, first one and -then another of the frames, on the parchment surface of -which he had actually traced lines of color, against the -gloom beyond, radiating lines crossing and re-crossing, -glowing with rainbow tints seen through and against the -window.</p> - -<p>"Do you know anything of Frankenstein's wonderful -Magic Reciprocals, sometimes called Harmonic Responses?"<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> -he asked. "How I longed for his marvelous -power, so that I might experiment with them. But they -were far beyond my skill, and also, perhaps, too scientific -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span>and geometric for my purpose; and so I was forced to discard -them and begin afresh in my own way. I have had -reasonable success, although I have not yet reached the -purity of color nor the brilliancy that I wish. I do not -know that mortal man ever can. I have tried all sorts of -experiments—lines of silver crossed with lines of gold; -prismatic threads of silk; and now I have abandoned them -all, and am beginning again, perhaps for the fortieth time. -But if I am only able to do it, nothing can give me greater -happiness. I can close my eyes in peace at last."</p> - -<p>After he had shown me his experiments, he removed the -little frame from the window, closed the sliding shutter -on the side, and, turning the circular ventilator, asked the -driver to drive on.</p> - -<p>"Now for an extended view," he said, and he opened the -shutter of one of the front windows, and then of the other -on each side of the mirror. What a vista of loveliness! A -long perspective of glowing halos, vanishing down the -street through the flying snow, until they were mere specks -of light in the distance. The whole atmosphere was filled -with circular rainbows, and again he dwelt on their beauty.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span> -They glowed with ultramarine, with delicate green, with -gold and silver, and like light from burnished copper, and -our little vehicle seemed a moving palace of delight as we -drove on through the blinding storm. Turning into one of -the narrower streets, away from the electric lights, we saw -the long line of receding gas-lamps, each with its softly -subdued nimbus, and he said in a low and gentle voice, -almost a whisper, "The street of halos."</p> - -<p>When he had closed the shutters again he said, "Let me -show you my cabinet of colors and working tools." He -pulled out a shallow drawer, and there, on small porcelain -plaques (the kind used by water-color painters), side by -side, in regular order, was every shade of red, from the -faintest pink to the deepest crimson. He opened the next -drawer, and instead of the red was an arrangement of -blues, from delicate turquoise to deepest ultramarine. In -the third drawer was an arrangement of yellows, running -from Naples to deepest cadmium.</p> - -<p>"I deal in primary colors," he said, "for what would you -paint rainbows in but red, blue, and yellow?"</p> - -<p>Then he opened the fourth drawer, and there, laid with -precision, were long-handled brushes from the finest sable -(mere pin-points) up to thick ones as large as one's finger. -There were flat ones and round ones, short ones and long -ones. As he opened the fifth drawer, "For odds and ends," -he said. This was a little deeper than the others, and in -it were sponges fine and coarse, erasers, scrapers, and boxes -of drawing-tacks of various sizes. In the last drawer were -soft white rags and sheets of blotting-paper of assorted -sizes.</p> - -<p>After he had shown me the contents of the cabinet he -said, "I have been quite disturbed by the shadow of that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span> -little bird. Will you join me in a glass of old sherry?" -He opened the locker underneath the seat, and brought out -an odd-shaped bottle, which he unscrewed, handing me a -small, thistle-shaped glass and a tin box containing -crackers.</p> - -<p>"It is a bad night," he said, "a very bad night. I feel -it, even with the warmth of this interior. Those long bars -of iron are filled with hot water, which usually keeps me -very warm."</p> - -<p>Then he passed through the ventilator, to the driver, -some crackers and sherry. After he had closed it, and put -away the bottle, box, and glasses, we both mused a long -time, the halo-painter completely lost in reverie, and I -thinking of the undying love of such a man—a man who -could love but one, and for whom no other eyes or voice -could ever mean so much. With him love was an all-absorbing -passion. He had given his heart without reserve, -and for him no other love could ever bloom again. I -thought of him sitting, night after night, in his solitary -vehicle working at the halo—a new halo which should surround -the head of her he loved. I thought of him in the -lonely early morning hours, working at a nimbus which -was far to outshine in beauty and delicacy any painted or -dreamed of by God-fearing saint-painters of old.</p> - -<p>He opened the shutters, and the light from the lamp -began to grow dimmer as the early morning light shone -faintly through the windows. I noticed the deep furrows -of care and sorrow which marked his strong, pathetic face, -purified by suffering and lighted by divine hope—the face -of one who lived in another world, and for whom all of -life was centered in his ideal—one who was in the world, -but not of it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span></p> - -<p>As he bade me good-by, his face beamed in the early -Christmas morning light with indescribable tenderness; -and as the little wagon with its faithful old black driver -disappeared through the snow, I thought again and again -of the beautiful, touching love of the man who would sit -night after night trying to realize his dream of beauty, to -clothe in the garb of a saint the form of her he loved.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Alexander W. Drake. -</p> - -<h4>The Spyglass of the Past</h4> - -<p>It is possible for a man to have two hobbies. Dr. -Aukirt demonstrated the fact. No one would have -thought that the quiet man, who was so often poring -over the Egyptian cases at the British Museum, was an -optician; but then the truth is apt to be unsuspected. -He used to say that it was all a mistake—that he was -an explorer pure and simple, but that he explored the -past and the heavens instead of the forest and rivers. -At any rate, an archeologist he was, and a noted one -too, or the British government would not have put him -at the head of the expedition to excavate the ruins of -Karnac, that greatest of all temples.</p> - -<p>The men had gone to their camp as usual, but Dr. -Aukirt remained behind. During the day an interesting -inscription had been uncovered, and the moon shone -in among the pillars of Karnac before the explorer -thought of leaving the scene of the day's work. As he -turned to go, he noticed a slight movement at his feet, -and stopped. A tiny stream of sand was sliding slowly -into a crevice between two stones in the pavement, and -was disappearing beneath him. He seized a pick and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span> -at length was able to dislodge the block. A flight of -steps led down into the darkness. He soon stood at the -foot of the stairway with the wealth of his discovery -about him. The light from his pocket lamp was reflected -from the thousands of silver points in the ceiling -of <i>lapis lazuli</i> and from the porphyry pillars with their -exquisite capitals of lotus leaves. Under a frieze of -small windows was a divan with the imprint of a head so -plainly visible in the draperies that it seemed as though -the sleeper must have but just arisen, but the fabric -crumbled to dust under the Doctor's hand.</p> - -<p>At the other side of the room was a table, evidently -a student's desk, with a litter of writing materials and -curious instruments. Across an unfinished papyrus lay -a brass tube with a lens at each end. Dr. Aukirt picked -up the strange telescope and instinctively applied it to -his eye, although he was convinced that he should be -unable to see anything, for the body of the glass was a -double curve, like a much elongated S. But as he pointed -the lens toward the divan, a priestly figure seemed to be -sleeping there, and this room brightened, light streamed -in through the windows which had been hidden by the -sand of hundreds of years. The Doctor looked up; everything -was dusty and deserted.</p> - -<p>When he reached the open air again, he saw that -the sun was rising away at the rim of the desert; and -once more he looked through the new-found spy-glass. -The surface of the Nile that had been so peaceful a -moment ago, was aswarm with boats. Figures of dusky -slaves with sad Hebraic features passed and repassed -with their burdens. He turned to the ruin which he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span> -had just left, and beheld a stately temple with the sunbeams -flashing from its carved and polished façade.</p> - -<p>The puzzled and astonished archeologist went to his -tent with his treasures, the papyrus and the glass, and -for weeks he studied them that he might learn to use -the instrument. Sometimes it seemed to him as though -his search were to be rewarded, but the truth constantly -eluded him, although by a smaller and smaller margin, -or so he was pleased to think. One day he brought his -glass once more to the banks of the Nile near Karnac. -Victory seemed very near just now. Carefully he -opened the instrument to its full extent—and saw a -savage people warring with each other on the peaceful -river bank. Then came a stronger tribe, and then a -stronger still, until at length he saw the mighty procession -of the Pharaoh coming to inspect the temple of -Karnac. He saw the rise and fall of nations: the slow -march of the ages passed before his vision like the gliding -of a dream. The Egyptian had written truth: -"I have made an instrument which will gather up the -scattered and tangled images of the past, and focus them -upon the present."</p> - -<p>Appalled at the magnitude of his discovery, Dr. Aukirt -stood in silence, and then the thought came, "Victory -is not complete, the instrument can be so adjusted -as to presage the future." He made what seemed to -him the necessary changes; but when he attempted to -look through his glass again, there was no light; the lens -was broken.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Hazel Adelle Orcutt. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span></p> - -<h4>Up a Water-Spout</h4> - -<p>I was a poor, hard-working sailor on a fishing smack -plying between Nantucket Island and Cape Cod. My -parents before me had been of scanty means, living from -hand to mouth, and I was compelled early in life to provide -for myself. Naturally, I had little education; that -is, education from books; but if traveling possesses half -the advantages attributed to it in that line, I own I -must be the best educated man—I say this with all modesty—on -this small globe of ours.</p> - -<p>Once a year the captains of the several boats with -their respective crews made a more extended trip down -the coast for pickerel. This year with the usual company -of fishing-craft we sailed southward toward the -Bahamas.</p> - -<p>Favorable winds hastened our journey until at a -point just off Cape Fear we ran into a dead calm. For -four days we never moved. The heat was scorching. -The boards warped and cracked, and not even a flapping -sail indicated the slightest disturbance in the air. All -the boats had dropped anchor within hailing distance -of each other, so with the aid of the dories to carry us -around from one ship to another we passed the time -quite agreeably.</p> - -<p>On the fifth morning, however, a thick rim of cloud -covered the western horizon and seemed to be moving -rapidly toward us. Almost in the center of this cloud -projected a small point of mist. It grew and widened, -then shrank back to half its size, finally running down -a long, slender finger until it reached the water. Instantly -foam and spray began to rise, and we knew that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span> -we were in the path of a water-spout. All anchors had -been hoisted and the captains were giving hoarse orders -to put on every inch of sail. But there seemed to be -an upper current that was carrying that water-spout -right among us; yet we were still becalmed and helpless.</p> - -<p>As it approached it grew in circumference into a -huge column of water, foaming and swirling in a horrible -manner. Every man rushed for the cabin. We -tightly closed the doors and windows. Then—we waited. -The boat gave a sharp twist as we entered the whirling -pool, and a great wave passed over us.</p> - -<p>Silently we sat there expecting the boat to be swamped -and broken into bits. But this is far from what really -took place; for after the first shock, we felt the boat to -be rising. Trembling and cautious we peeped out of -the window. All the other boats were circling around -in the air near us, and were rising too. We seemed to -be surrounded by a hollow cylinder of water, also rising -like ourselves. It seemed impossible, and yet we -were forced to recognize the fact that we were inside -the water-spout, and the suction that was drawing up -the water, had picked our vessel up bodily and was carrying -us—where? Where, indeed? Miles we went. -Finally we left behind the column of water which had -been growing thinner and thinner, and we passed swiftly -through clouds and mists. Gradually these cleared away -and the earth came into view. For three months our -journey lasted. We wandered here and there over the -earth wherever currents bore us. Luckily, we had an extraordinarily -large supply of provisions on board.</p> - -<p>One day we saw a dim speck in the distance and the -watch involuntarily cried out, "A sail." We laughed,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span> -but sure enough, within a few hours, another boat -wheeled up along side. We had no way of stopping, so -our communication was short. It was found out that -they had met the same fate as we, and had, like us, probably -been reported at home as lost at sea. They said -that if by any chance we should return to earth, we -should tell their friends that they were quite happy, -only, were weary of such constant travel, but must continue -it, they supposed, unless sometime in their course -they might come upon another water-spout to afford -them a passage to earth again. And I might add here, -if we had not been thus fortunate, we should still be -journeying monotonously through the heavens.</p> - -<p>But the circumstance of all our trip that I felt -would interest you most, is the fact that we saw and -talked with Captain Anson. You remember Captain Anson, -the man who set out in an airship to find the South -Pole? Well, he has found it. He declares that it is a -veritable Eden to which man can gain admittance only -by passing through a water-spout, and it seems that his -machine was thus transported, being caught in a spout -while crossing an inland lake. Also he wished us to -tell the people at home not to expect his return, for, he -declares, he is supremely happy and has found a place -far superior in climate and beauty to anything yet discovered -on the earth. There, he asserts further, and we -know this to be true for we beheld it ourselves, the problem -of supplying energy is not a problem at all; for as -a result of the magnetic force, so strong everywhere -there, perpetual motion machines are used entirely for -mechanical purposes. And I might add here that it -was only through this magnetic attraction for the bolts<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span> -in our ship that we were able to stop at all. But here -we hovered for several days until a particularly strong -current seized the boat and carried us on. We sped from -ocean to ocean, time and time again until we, too, were -almost in despair, of ever seeing the earth again, except -by a bird's-eye view.</p> - -<p>But one cloudy day, as we were shipping quietly -through the mist, we all experienced a sensation of falling. -The mist began to grow thicker, and we were again -surrounded by curved walls of rising water. We were -filled with a sense of familiarity, for we recognized our -water-spout. Having reached the bottom, with one short -dive we were through that wall of water, and were sailing -swiftly across the Atlantic in an opposite direction -from the water-spout, which was fast disappearing over -the horizon. We looked at it with regret; for we realized -that probably never again should we have the opportunity -of another such trip, unless perhaps sometime in -our future journeyings we should come upon its like.</p> - -<p>If fortune should never so favor us, then the way -to that delightful land of the South Pole would be closed -forever.</p> - -<p>But if any of you feel inclined to travel, and see the -world in a large perspective, go to some body of water, -and watch for one of these natural elevators, and if one -does happen in your way, be sure that all the hatches -and windows are closed, and then steer straight for the -center of that swirling mass; for this is a pleasant mode -of travel—slow, and doesn't jar.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Edna Collister. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span></p> - -<h3><b>IV. The Detective Story and Other Tales of Pure Plot</b></h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Detective -story: -Connection -with stories -of ingenuity</div> - -<p>A few detective stories could be classed with our -last preceding type as well as with this. Those like -F. R. Burton's suppressed prize contribution -to a Western newspaper might be put under -mechanical inventions; that is, all that contain, -like his, a practicable theory. The -report goes that Mr. Burton and a friend -worked together and produced a story of bank robbers -who overcame the time-lock device. So explicitly was -the ingenious method written out that the editors -decided not to publish it, convinced that if they spread -the knowledge abroad no time-lock thereafter would -be secure. "The Black Pearl" by Victorien Sardou, -on the other hand, might be called a scientific-discovery -detective tale. It perfectly combines the two elements—mystery -and the astounding action of a nature phenomenon.</p> - -<p>Not all detective stories, however, are so dangerous -or so interesting as these. Most, rather, are amusing -or merely entertaining; but we class them in the -ingenious group because of the effort at pure plot. -There are many crude attempts at writing detective -stories, and the cheap, ten-cent-novel kind disgusts -persons of taste; but the popularity of the type attests -its excellence. When in the hands of such men as -Edgar Allan Poe and A. Conan Doyle, it yields an -artistic short-story. "The Purloined Letter" and the -"Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" are worthy of their -fame. "The Murders in the Rue Morgue" and the -"Mystery of Marie Rogêt" are not so pleasant, but are -equally ingenious.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span></p> - -<p>Of course, the author of the ordinary tale of this -type has the advantage over the real detective, since -the author first creates the mystery before solving it. -His ingenuity, therefore, will lie revealed in the construction -of the crime which he pretends to be -unearthing and explaining. Evidently, though, his -process of mind can be no different from that of the -actual analyzer, who must unravel what to him is a -real mystery. He, too, if he is to succeed, must -re-image the whole train of events, not as points or -dots, but as vivid scenes. Thus only will both workers -come at small incidents that are original and ingenious -and essentially pertinent. It happened that Poe, in -the story of Marie Rogêt, was acting the part of a real -detective, since he was reasoning upon an actual -mystery, the details of which had baffled the police. -In his imaginary case he reinstalled the crime as he -felt it must have taken place, and, strange to say—or -rather not strange to say, for Poe had the qualities of -more than a paper detective—the facts, by a woman's -confessions later, were found to be exactly as Poe had -imagined them, even in minor details.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Other -stories of -plot</div> - -<p>But stories that emphasize plot do not wholly lie in -the detective's realm. There is the pure reasoner's -great domain of fancy. "The Lady or the -Tiger" illustrates the class completely, even -by the whimsical ending. The man that -could make up that situation could have solved it, or -have carried it on interminably, as he laughingly shows -you in the "Discourager of Hesitancy." His "Transferred -Ghost" is another quirk, of "reasonable" fantasy. -Poe's "Gold Bug" is almost pure plot and has<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span> -the interesting device of the cryptogram in addition. -Pushkin's "Snow Storm" is built upon a queer coincidence.</p> - -<p>The story that emphasizes plot is primarily a narrative -of a series of happenings, and only incidentally -the record of character or place. The author has no -interest in what kind of men perform the deeds, except -that they shall be the general large types: the soldier -and his friend, the lover and his rival, the magistrate -and the citizen, the sovereign and his subject, the -doctor and his patient, and so on. Interest centers in -the question, What will they do next? not, What are -they and what will they become?</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Romance</div> - -<p>In longer prose the story with a plot is the romance, -the modern romance. In it, too, the author is concerned -mainly with the course of events. -Take "Ivanhoe" or "The Prisoner of Zenda," -for instance, and what have you?—actors about whom -there is no question of character growth. What they -were at the beginning, that they are at the end—except, -perhaps, Rebecca. In romance the happenings -are largely adventure. As they become preposterous -the narrative borders on the mere wonder type.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">A few -suggestions</div> - -<p>To write a detective tale or other story of pure plot, -you must first get your plot—as the old fisherman -would say about the eel when you wish to -skin it. If you can grasp one and hold it, -you are an expert. The difficulty will be that -you will probably find your plot a shadow, when you -hoped for a good solid piece of reasoning. In the detective -tale you must propound your mystery at the beginning -of the narrative and then work backwards to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span> -first step. In the other story, you must start out with the -simplest and seemingly most insignificant incident and -work steadily up to a fantastic or astounding climax. -In the second you naïvely keep adding one to one, as -it were, and get a hundred; in the first, you subtract -one after one from your hundred until you get a -unit.</p> - -<h4>Thou Art the Man</h4> - -<p>I will now play the Œdipus to the Rattleborough -enigma. I will expound to you—as I alone can—the secret -of the enginery that effected the Rattleborough -miracle—the one, the true, the admitted, the undisputed, -the indisputable miracle, which put a definite end to infidelity -among the Rattleburghers and converted to the -orthodox of the grandames all the carnal-minded who -had ventured to be sceptical before.</p> - -<p>This event—which I should be sorry to discuss in a -tone of unsuitable levity—occurred in the summer of -18—. Mr. Barnabas Shuttleworthy—one of the wealthiest -and most respectable citizens of the borough—had -been missing for several days under circumstances which -gave rise to suspicion of foul play. Mr. Shuttleworthy -had set out from Rattleborough very early one Saturday -morning, on horseback, with the avowed intention -of proceeding to the city of——, about fifteen miles -distant, and of returning the night of the same day. -Two hours after his departure, however, his horse returned -without him, and without the saddle-bags which -had been strapped on his back at starting. The animal -was wounded too, and covered with mud. These circumstances -naturally gave rise to much alarm among the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span> -friends of the missing man; and when it was found, -on Sunday morning, that he had not yet made his appearance, -the whole borough arose <i>en masse</i> to go and -look for his body.</p> - -<p>The foremost and most energetic in instituting this -search was the bosom friend of Mr. Shuttleworthy—a -Mr. Charles Goodfellow, or, as he was universally called, -"Charley Goodfellow," or "Old Charley Goodfellow." -Now, whether it is a marvellous coincidence, or whether -it was that the name itself has an imperceptible effect -upon the character, I have never yet been able to ascertain; -but the fact is unquestionable, that there never -yet was any person named Charles who was not an -open, manly, honest, good-natured, and frank-hearted -fellow, with a rich, clear voice, that did you good to -hear it, and an eye that looked you always straight in -the face, as much as to say: "I have a clear conscience -myself, am afraid of no man, and am altogether above -doing a mean action." And thus all the hearty, careless, -"walking gentlemen", of the stage are very certain -to be called Charles.</p> - -<p>Now, "Old Charley Goodfellow," although he had -been in Rattleborough not longer than six months or -thereabouts, and although nobody knew anything about -him before he came to settle in the neighborhood, had experienced -no difficulty in the world in making the acquaintance -of all the respectable people in the borough. -Not a man of them but would have taken his bare word -for a thousand at any moment; and as for the women, -there is no saying what they would not have done to -oblige him. And all this came of his having been christened -Charles, and of his possessing, in consequence, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span> -ingenuous face which is proverbially the very "best letter -of recommendation."</p> - -<p>I have already said that Mr. Shuttleworthy was one -of the most respectable and, undoubtedly, he was the -most wealthy man in Rattleborough, while "Old Charley -Goodfellow" was upon as intimate terms with him as if -he had been his own brother. The two old gentlemen -were next-door neighbors, and, although Mr. Shuttleworthy -seldom, if ever, visited "Old Charley," and -never was known to take a meal in his house, still that -did not prevent the two friends from being exceedingly -intimate, as I have just observed; for "Old Charley" -never let a day pass without stepping in three or four -times to see how his neighbor came on, and very often -he would stay to breakfast or tea, and always to dinner; -and then the amount of wine that was made way -with by the two cronies at a sitting, it would really be -a difficult thing to ascertain. "Old Charley's" favorite -beverage was <i>Chateau Margaux</i>, and it appeared to do -Mr. Shuttleworthy's heart good to see the old fellow -swallow it, as he did, quart after quart; so that, one -day, when the wine was <i>in</i> and the wit, as a natural consequence, -somewhat <i>out</i>, he said to his crony, as he -slapped him upon the back: "I tell you what it is, 'Old -Charley,' you are, by all odds, the heartiest old fellow I -ever came across in all my born days; and, since you -love to guzzle the wine at that fashion, I'll be darned -if I don't have to make thee a present of a big box of -the Chateau Margaux. Od rot me," (Mr. Shuttleworthy -had a sad habit of swearing, although he seldom went -beyond "Od rot me," or "By gosh," or "By the jolly -golly"). "Od rot me," says he, "if I don't send an order<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span> -to town this very afternoon for a double box of the best -that can be got, and I'll make ye a present of it, I will!—ye -needn't say a word now—I <i>will</i>, I tell ye, and there's -an end of it; so look out for it—it will come to hand -some of these fine days, precisely when ye are looking -for it the least!" I mention this little bit of liberty on -the part of Mr. Shuttleworthy, just by way of showing -you how <i>very</i> intimate an understanding existed between -the two friends.</p> - -<p>Well, on the Sunday morning in question, when it -came to be fairly understood that Mr. Shuttleworthy had -met with foul play, I never saw any one so profoundly -affected as "Old Charley Goodfellow." When he first -heard that the horse had come home without his master, -and without his master's saddle-bags, and all bloody -from a pistol-shot, that had gone clean through and -through the poor animal's chest without quite killing -him—when he heard all this, he turned as pale as if the -missing man had been his own dear brother or father, -and shivered and shook all over as if he had had a fit -of the ague.</p> - -<p>At first he was too much overpowered with grief to -be able to do anything at all, or to decide upon any plan -of action; so that for a long time he endeavored to dissuade -Mr. Shuttleworthy's other friends from making a -stir about the matter, thinking it best to wait a while—say -for a week or two, or a month, or two—to see if something -wouldn't turn up, or if Mr. Shuttleworthy -wouldn't come in the natural way, and explain his reasons -for sending his horse on before. I dare say you -have often observed this disposition to temporize, or to -procrastinate, in people who are laboring under any very<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span> -poignant sorrow. Their powers of mind seem to be rendered -torpid, so that they have a horror of anything -like action, and like nothing in the world so well as to -lie quietly in bed and "nurse their grief," as the old -ladies express it—that is to say, ruminate over the -trouble.</p> - -<p>The people of Rattleborough had, indeed, so high an -opinion of the wisdom and discretion of "Old Charley," -that the greater part of them felt disposed to agree with -him, and not make a stir in the business "until something -should turn up," as the honest old gentleman worded it; -and I believe that, after all, this would have been the -general determination, but for the very suspicious interference -of Mr. Shuttleworthy's nephew, a young man -of very dissipated habits, and otherwise of rather bad -character. This nephew, whose name was Pennifeather, -would listen to nothing like reason in the matter of -"lying quiet," but insisted upon making immediate -search for the "corpse of the murdered man." This -was the expression he employed, and Mr. Goodfellow -acutely remarked at the time, that it was "a <i>singular</i> -expression, to say no more." This remark of "Old -Charley's" too, had great effect upon the crowd; and -one of the party was heard to ask, very impressively, -"how it happened that young Mr. Pennifeather was so -intimately cognizant of all the circumstances connected -with his wealthy uncle's disappearance, as to feel authorized -to assert, distinctly and unequivocally, that -his uncle <i>was</i> 'a murdered man.'" Hereupon some little -squibbling and bickering occurred among the various -members of the crowd, and especially between "Old -Charley" and Mr. Pennifeather—although this latter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span> -occurrence was, indeed, by no means a novelty, for little -good-will had subsisted between the parties for the -last three or four months; and matters had been gone -so far that Mr. Pennifeather had actually knocked down -his uncle's friend for some alleged excess of liberty that -the latter had taken in the uncle's house, of which the -nephew was an inmate. Upon this occasion "Old -Charley" is said to have behaved with exemplary moderation -and Christian charity. He arose from the blow, -adjusted his clothes, and made no attempt at retaliation -at all—merely muttered a few words about "taking summary -vengeance at the first convenient opportunity,"—a -natural and very justifiable ebullition of anger, which -meant nothing, however; and, beyond doubt, was no -sooner given vent to than forgotten.</p> - -<p>However these matters may be (which have no reference -to the point now at issue), it is quite certain that -the people of Rattleborough, principally through the persuasion -of Mr. Pennifeather, came at length to the determination -of dispersion over the adjacent country in -search of the missing Mr. Shuttleworthy. I say they -came to this determination in the first instance. After -it had been fully resolved that a search should be made, -it was considered almost a matter of course that the -seekers should disperse—that is to say, distribute themselves -in parties—for the more thorough examination of -the region round about. I forgot, however, by what ingenious -train of reasoning it was that "Old Charley" -finally convinced the assembly that this was the most -injudicious plan that could be pursued. Convince them, -however, he did—all except Mr. Pennifeather; and, in -the end, it was arranged that a search should be instituted,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span> -carefully and very thoroughly, by the burghers -<i>en masse</i>, "Old Charley" himself leading the way.</p> - -<p>As for the matter of that, there could have been no -better pioneer than "Old Charley," whom everybody -knew to have the eye of a lynx; but, although he led -them into all manner of out-of-the-way holes and corners, -by routes that nobody had ever suspected of existing -in the neighborhood, and although the search was -incessantly kept up day and night for nearly a week, -still no trace of Mr. Shuttleworthy could be discovered. -When I say no trace, however, I must not be understood -to speak literally; for trace, to some extent, there certainly -was. The poor gentleman had been tracked, by -his horse's shoes (which were peculiar), to a spot about -three miles to the east of the borough, on the main road -leading to the city. Here the track made off into a bypath -through a piece of woodland—the path coming out -again into the main road, and cutting off about half a -mile of the regular distance. Following the shoemarks -down this lane, the party came at length to a pool of -stagnant water, half hidden by the brambles, to the -right of the lane, and opposite this pool all vestige of -the track was lost sight of. It appeared, however, that -a struggle of some nature had here taken place, and it -seemed as if some large and heavy body, much larger -and heavier than a man, had been drawn from the bypath -to the pool. This latter was carefully dragged -twice, but nothing was found; and the party were upon -the point of going away, in despair of coming to any result, -when Providence suggested to Mr. Goodfellow the -expediency of draining the water off altogether. This -project was received with cheers, and many high compliments<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span> -to "Old Charley" upon his sagacity and consideration. -As many of the burghers had brought spades -with them, supposing that they might possibly be called -upon to disinter a corpse, the drain was easily and -speedily effected; and no sooner was the bottom visible, -than right in the middle of the mud that remained was -discovered a black silk velvet waistcoat, which nearly -every one present immediately recognized as the property -of Mr. Pennifeather. This waistcoat was much torn -and stained with blood, and there were several persons -among the party who had a distinct remembrance of its -having been worn by its owner on the very morning of -Mr. Shuttleworthy's departure for the city; while there -were others, again, ready to testify upon oath, if required, -that Mr. P. did not wear the garment in question -at any period during the remainder of that memorable -day; nor could any one be found to say that he -had seen it upon Mr. P.'s person at any period at all -subsequent to Mr. Shuttleworthy's disappearance.</p> - -<p>Matters now wore a very serious aspect for Mr. -Pennifeather, and it was observed, as an indubitable -confirmation of the suspicions which were excited against -him, that he grew exceedingly pale, and when asked what -he had to say for himself, was utterly incapable of saying -a word. Hereupon, the few friends his riotous mode -of living had left him deserted him at once to a man, -and were even more clamorous than his ancient and -avowed enemies for his instantaneous arrest. But, on -the other hand, the magnanimity of Mr. Goodfellow -shone forth with only the more brilliant lustre through -contrast. He made a warm and intensely eloquent defense -of Mr. Pennifeather, in which he alluded more than<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span> -once to his own sincere forgiveness of that wild young -gentleman—"the heir of the worthy Mr. Shuttleworthy"—for -the insult which he (the young gentleman) had, no -doubt in the heat of passion, thought proper to put upon -him (Mr. Goodfellow). "He forgave him for it," he -said, "from the very bottom of his heart; and for himself -(Mr. Goodfellow), so far from pushing the suspicious -circumstances to extremity, which he was sorry -to say, really had arisen against Mr. Pennifeather, he -(Mr. Goodfellow) would make every exertion in his -power, would employ all the little eloquence in his possession -to—to—to—soften down, as much as he could -conscientiously do so, the worst features of this really exceedingly -perplexing piece of business."</p> - -<p>Mr. Goodfellow went on for some half hour longer -in this strain, very much to the credit both of his -head and of his heart; but your warm-hearted people -are seldom opposite in their observations—they run into -all sorts of blunders, <i>contre-temps</i> and <i>mal-apropos-isms</i>, -in the hot-headedness of their zeal to serve a friend—thus, -often with the kindest intentions in the world, doing -infinitely more to prejudice his cause than to advance -it.</p> - -<p>So, in the present instance, it turned out with all the -eloquence of "Old Charley"; for, although he labored -earnestly in behalf of the suspected, yet it so happened, -somehow or other that every syllable he uttered of which -the direct but unfitting tendency was not to exalt the -speaker in the good opinion of his audience, had the effect -of deepening the suspicion already attached to the -individual whose cause he pled, and of arousing against -him the fury of the mob.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span></p> - -<p>One of the most unaccountable errors committed by -the orator was his allusion to the suspected as "the heir -of the worthy old gentleman, Mr. Shuttleworthy." The -people had really never thought of this before? They -had only remembered certain threats of disinheritance -uttered a year or two previously by the uncle (who had -no living relative except the nephew), and they had, -therefore, always looked upon this disinheritance as a -matter that was settled—so single-minded a race of beings -were the Rattleburghers; but the remark of "Old -Charley" brought them at once to a consideration of -this point, and thus gave them to see the possibility of -the threats having been nothing more than a threat. -And straightway hereupon, arose the natural question -of <i>cui bono?</i>—a question; that tended even more than the -waistcoat to fasten the terrible crime upon the young -man. And here, lest I may be misunderstood, permit me -to digress for one moment merely to observe that the exceedingly -brief and simple Latin phrase which I have -employed, is invariably mistranslated and misconceived. -"<i>Cui bono</i>" in all the crack novels and elsewhere—in -those of Mrs. Gore, for example (the author of "Cecil"), -a lady who quotes all tongues from the Chaldaean to -Chickasaw, and is helped to her learning, "as needed," -upon a systematic plan, by Mr. Beckford—in all the -crack novels, I say, from those of Bulwer and Dickens -to those of Turnapenny and Ainsworth, the two little -Latin words <i>cui bono</i> are rendered "to what purpose?" -or (as if <i>quo bono</i>), "to what good?" Their true meaning, -nevertheless, is "for whose advantage." <i>Cui</i>, to -whom; <i>bono</i>, is it for a benefit. It is a purely legal -phrase, and applicable precisely in cases such as we have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span> -under consideration, where probability of the doer of a -deed hinges upon the probability of the benefit accruing -to this individual or to that from the deed's accomplishment. -Now in the present instance, the question <i>cui -bono?</i> very pointedly implicated Mr. Pennifeather. His -uncle had threatened him, after making a will in his -favor, with disinheritance. But the threat had not been -actually kept; the original will, it appeared, had not -been altered. Had it been altered, the only supposable -motive for murder on the part of the suspected would -have been the ordinary one of revenge; and even this -would have been counteracted by the hope of reinstation -into the good graces of the uncle. But the will being -unaltered, while the threat to alter remained suspended -over the nephew's head, there appears at once -the very strongest possible inducement for the atrocity; -and so concluded very sagaciously, the worthy citizens -of the borough of Rattle.</p> - -<p>Mr. Pennifeather was, accordingly, arrested upon -the spot, and the crowd, after some further search, proceeded -homeward, having him in custody. On the route, -however, another circumstance occurred tending to confirm -the suspicion entertained. Mr. Goodfellow, whose -zeal led him to be always a little in advance of the party, -was seen suddenly to run forward a few paces, stoop, -and then apparently to pick up some small object from -the grass. Having quickly examined it, he was observed -too, to make a sort of attempt at concealing it in his -coat pocket; but this action was noticed, as I say, and -consequently prevented, when the object picked up was -found to be a Spanish knife which a dozen persons at -once recognized as belonging to Mr. Pennifeather. Moreover,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span> -his initials were engraved upon the handle. The -blade of this knife was open and bloody.</p> - -<p>No doubt now remained of the guilt of the nephew, -and immediately upon reaching Rattleborough he was -taken before a magistrate for examination.</p> - -<p>Here matters again took a most unfavorable turn. -The prisoner, being questioned as to his whereabouts on -the morning of Mr. Shuttleworthy's disappearance, had -absolutely the audacity to acknowledge that on that very -morning he had been out with his rifle deer-stalking, in -the immediate neighborhood of the pool where the bloodstained -waistcoat had been discovered through the sagacity -of Mr. Goodfellow.</p> - -<p>This latter now came forward, and, with tears in his -eyes, asked permission to be examined. He said that a -stern sense of the duty he owed his Maker, not less than -his fellow-men, would permit him no longer to remain -silent. Hitherto, the sincerest affection for the young -man (notwithstanding the latter's ill-treatment of himself, -Mr. Goodfellow), had induced him to make every -hypothesis which imagination could suggest, by way of -endeavoring to account for what appeared suspicious in -the circumstances that told so seriously against Mr. Pennifeather; -but these circumstances were now altogether -too convincing—too damning; he would hesitate no longer—he -would tell all he knew, although his heart (Mr. -Goodfellow's), should absolutely burst asunder in the -effort. He then went on to state that on the afternoon -of the day previous to Mr. Shuttleworthy's departure -for the city, that worthy old gentleman had mentioned to -his nephew, in his hearing (Mr. Goodfellow's), that his -object in going to town on the morrow was to make a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span> -deposit of an unusually large sum of money in the -"Farmers' and Merchants' Bank," and that, then and -there, the said Mr. Shuttleworthy had distinctly avowed -to the said nephew his irrevocable determination of rescinding -the will originally made, and of cutting him -off with a shilling. He (the witness) now solemnly -called upon the accused to state whether what he (the -witness) had just stated was or was not the truth in -every substantial particular. Much to the astonishment -of every one present, Mr. Pennifeather frankly admitted -that it was.</p> - -<p>The magistrate now considered it his duty to send a -couple of constables to search the chamber of the accused -in the house of his uncle. From this search they -almost immediately returned with the well-known steel-bound, -russet leather pocket-book which the old gentleman -had been in the habit of carrying for years. Its -valuable contents, however, had been abstracted, and the -magistrate in vain endeavored to extort from the prisoner -the use which had been made of them, or the place of -their concealment. Indeed, he obstinately denied all -knowledge of the matter. The constables also discovered, -between the bed and sacking of the unhappy man, a -shirt and neck-handkerchief both marked with the initials -of his name, and both hideously besmeared with the -blood of the victim.</p> - -<p>At this juncture, it was announced that the horse of -the murdered man had just expired in the stable from -the effects of the wound he had received, and it was proposed -by Mr. Goodfellow that a <i>post-mortem</i> examination -of the beast should be immediately made, with the -view, if possible, of discovering the ball. This was accordingly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span> -done; and, as if to demonstrate beyond a question -the guilt of the accused, Mr. Goodfellow, after considerable -searching in the cavity of the chest, was enabled -to detect and to pull forth a bullet of very extraordinary -size which, upon trial, was found to be exactly -adapted to the bore of Mr. Pennifeather's rifle, while -it was far too large for that of any other person in the -borough or its vicinity. To render the matter even surer -yet, however, this bullet was discovered to have a flaw -or seam at a right angles to the usual suture, and upon -examination, this seam corresponded precisely with an -accidental ridge or elevation in a pair of moulds acknowledged -by the accused himself to be his own property. -Upon finding of this bullet, the examining magistrate -refused to listen to any further testimony, and immediately -committed the prisoner for trial—declining -resolutely to take any bail in the case, although against -this severity Mr. Goodfellow very warmly remonstrated, -and offered to become surety in whatever amount might -be required. This generosity on the part of "Old -Charley" was only in accordance with the whole tenor -of his amiable and chivalrous conduct during the entire -period of his sojourn in the borough of Rattle. In the -present instance the worthy man was so entirely carried -away by the excessive warmth of his sympathy, that he -seemed to have quite forgotten, when he offered to go -bail for his young friend, that he himself (Mr. Goodfellow) -did not possess a single dollar's worth of property -upon the face of the earth.</p> - -<p>The result of the committal may be readily foreseen. -Mr. Pennifeather, amid the loud execrations of all Rattleborough, -was brought to trial at the next criminal sessions,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span> -when the chain of circumstantial evidence -(strengthened as it was by some additional damning -facts, which Mr. Goodfellow's sensitive conscientiousness -forbade him to withhold from the court), was considered -so unbroken and so thoroughly conclusive, that the jury, -without leaving their seats, returned an immediate verdict -of "<i>Guilty of murder in the first degree</i>." Soon -afterward the unhappy wretch received sentence of -death, and was remanded to the county jail to await the -inexorable vengeance of the law.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, the noble behavior of "Old Charley -Goodfellow" had doubly endeared him to the honest citizens -of the borough. He became ten times a greater -favorite than ever; and, as a natural result of the hospitality -with which he was treated, he relaxed, as it were, -perforce, the extremely parsimonious habits which his -poverty had hitherto impelled him to observe, and very -frequently had little <i>réunions</i> at his own house, when wit -and jollity reigned supreme—dampened a little, of -course, by the occasional remembrance of the untoward -and melancholy fate which impended over the nephew -of the late lamented bosom friend of the generous host.</p> - -<p>One fine day, this magnanimous old gentleman was -agreeably surprised at the receipt of the following letter:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="center"> -Charles Goodfellow, Esq., Rattleborough.</p> -<p class="center">From H., F., B. & Co.</p> -<p class="center">Chat. Mar. A.—No. 1—6 doz. bottles. (½ gross.)</p> -<p class="noin"> -"Charles Goodfellow, Esquire: -</p> - -<p>"Dear Sir—In conformity with an order -transmitted to our firm about two months since, -by our esteemed correspondent, Mr. Barnabas<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span> -Shuttleworthy, we have the honor of forwarding -this morning, to your address, a double box of -Chateau-Margaux, of the antelope brand, violet -seal. Box numbered and marked as per margin.</p> - -<p> -"We remain, sir,<br /> -"Your most ob'nt ser'ts,<br /> -"Hoggs, Frogs, Bogs & Co." -</p> - -<p> -"City of——,<br /> -June 21, 18—. -</p> - -<p>"P. S.—The box will reach you by wagon, -on the day after your receipt of this letter. Our -respects to Mr. Shuttleworthy.</p> - -<p class="right"> -"H., F., B. & Co." -</p></div> - -<p>The fact is, that Mr. Goodfellow had, since the death -of Mr. Shuttleworthy, given over all expectation of ever -receiving the promised Chateau-Margaux; and he, therefore, -looked upon it now as a sort of especial dispensation -of Providence in his behalf. He was highly delighted, -of course, and in the exuberance of his joy, invited -a large party of friends to a <i>petit souper</i> on the -morrow, for the purpose of broaching the good old Shuttleworthy's -present. Not that he said anything about -"the good old Mr. Shuttleworthy" when he issued the -invitations. The fact is, he thought much and concluded -to say nothing at all. He did not mention to any one—if -I remember aright—that he had received a present of -Chateau-Margaux. He merely asked his friends to come -and help him drink some of a remarkably fine quality -and rich flavor that he had ordered up from the city a -couple of months ago, and of which he would be in the -receipt upon the morrow. I have often puzzled myself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span> -to imagine <i>why</i> it was that "Old Charley" came to the -conclusion to say nothing about having received the wine -from his old friend, but I could never precisely understand -his reason for the silence, although he had <i>some</i> excellent -and very magnanimous reason, no doubt.</p> - -<p>The morrow at length arrived, and with it a very -large and highly respectable company at Mr. Goodfellow's -house. Indeed, half the borough was there—I -myself among the number—but, much to the vexation of -the host, the Chateau-Margaux did not arrive until a -late hour, and when the sumptuous supper supplied by -"Old Charley" had been done very ample justice by the -guests. It came at length, however—a monstrously big -box of it there was, too—and as the whole party were in -excessively good humor, it was decided, <i>nem. con.</i>, that -it should be lifted upon the table and its contents disembowelled -forthwith.</p> - -<p>No sooner said than done. I lent a helping hand; -and, in a trice, we had the box upon the table, in the -midst of all the bottles and glasses, not a few of which -were demolished in the scuffle. "Old Charley," who was -pretty much intoxicated, and excessively red in the face, -now took a seat, with an air of mock dignity, at the -head of the board, and thumped furiously upon it with -a decanter, calling upon the company to keep order -"during the ceremony of disinterring the treasure."</p> - -<p>After some vociferation, quiet was at length fully restored, -and, as very often happens in similar cases, a -profound and remarkable silence ensued. Being then -requested to force open the lid, I complied, of course, -"with an infinite deal of pleasure." I inserted a chisel, -and giving it a few slight taps with a hammer, the top<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span> -of the box flew suddenly off, and, at the same instant, -there sprang up into a sitting position, directly facing -the host, the bruised, bloody, and nearly putrid corpse -of the murdered Mr. Shuttleworthy himself. It gazed -for a few seconds, fixedly and sorrowfully, with its decaying -and lack-lustre eyes, full into the countenance of -Mr. Goodfellow; uttered slowly, but clearly and impressively, -the words, "Thou art the man!" and then, falling -over the side of the chest as if thoroughly satisfied, -stretched out its limbs quivering upon the table.</p> - -<p>The scene that ensued is altogether beyond description. -The rush for the doors and windows was terrific, -and many of the most robust men in the room fainted -outright through sheer horror. But after the first wild, -shrieking burst of affright, all eyes were directed to Mr. -Goodfellow. If I live a thousand years, I can never forget -the more than mortal agony which was depicted in -that ghastly face of his, so lately rubicund with triumph -and wine. For several minutes he sat rigidly as a -statue of marble; his eyes seeming, in the intense vacancy -of their gaze, to be turned inward and absorbed in the -contemplation of his own miserable, murderous soul. At -length their expression appeared to flash suddenly out -into the external world, when, with a quick leap, he -sprang from his chair, and falling heavily with his head -and shoulders upon the table, and in contact with the -corpse, poured out rapidly and vehemently a detailed -confession of the hideous crime for which Mr. Pennifeather -was then imprisoned and doomed to die.</p> - -<p>What he recounted was in substance this: He followed -his victim to the vicinity of the pool; there shot -his horse with a pistol; despatched its rider with the butt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span> -end; possessed himself of the pocket-book; and, supposing -the horse dead, dragged it with great labor to the -brambles by the pond. Upon his own beast he slung the -corpse of Mr. Shuttleworthy, and thus bore it to a secure -place of concealment a long distance off through -the woods.</p> - -<p>The waistcoat, the knife, the pocket-book, and bullet -had been placed by himself where found, with the -view of avenging himself upon Mr. Pennifeather. He -had also contrived the discovery of the stained handkerchief -and shirt.</p> - -<p>Toward the end of the blood-chilling recital the words -of the guilty wretch faltered and grew hollow. When -the record was finally exhausted, he arose, staggered -backward from the table, and fell—<i>dead</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The means by which this happily-timed confession -was extorted, although efficient, were simple indeed. Mr. -Goodfellow's excess of frankness had disgusted me, and -excited my suspicions from the first. I was present when -Mr. Pennifeather had struck him, and the fiendish expression -which then arose upon his countenance, although -momentary, assured me that his threat of vengeance -would, if possible, be rigidly fulfilled. I was thus prepared -to view the <i>maneuvering</i> of "Old Charley" in a -very different light from that in which it was regarded -by the good citizens of Rattleborough. I saw at once -that all the criminating discoveries arose, either directly -or indirectly, from himself. But the fact which clearly -opened my eyes to the true state of the case, was the affair -of the bullet, found by Mr. G. in the carcass of the -horse. I had not forgotten, although the Rattleburghers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span> -had, that there was a hole where the ball had entered the -horse, and another where it went out. If it were found -in the animal then, after having made its exit, I saw -clearly that it must have been deposited by the person -who found it. The bloody shirt and handkerchief confirmed -the idea suggested by the bullet; for the blood -on examination proved to be capital claret, and no more. -When I came to think of these things, and also of the -late increase of liberality and expenditure an the part of -Mr. Goodfellow, I entertained a suspicion which was -none the less strong because I kept it altogether to myself.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, I instituted a rigorous private -search for the corpse of Mr. Shuttleworthy, and, for good -reasons, searched in quarters as divergent as possible -from those to which Mr. Goodfellow conducted his party. -The result was that, after some days, I came across an -old dry well, the mouth of which was nearly hidden by -brambles; and here, at the bottom, I discovered what I -sought.</p> - -<p>Now, it so happened that I had overheard the colloquy -between the two cronies, when Mr. Goodfellow had -contrived to cajole his host into the promise of a box of -Chateau-Margaux. Upon this hint I acted. I procured -a stiff piece of whalebone, thrust it down the throat of -the corpse; and deposited the latter in an old wine box—taking -care so to double the body up as to double the -whalebone with it. In this manner I had to press forcibly -upon the lid to keep it down while I secured it with -nails; and I anticipated, of course, that as soon as these -latter were removed, the top would fly off and the -body up.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span></p> - -<p>Having thus arranged the box, I marked, numbered -and addressed it as already told; and then writing a -letter in the name of the wine merchants with whom -Mr. Shuttleworthy dealt, I gave instructions to my servant -to wheel the box to Mr. Goodfellow's door, in a -barrow, at a given signal from myself. For the words -which I intended the corpse to speak I confidently depended -upon my ventriloquial abilities; for their effect, -I counted upon the conscience of the murderous -wretch.</p> - -<p>I believe there is nothing more to be explained. Mr. -Pennifeather was released upon the spot, inherited the -fortune of his uncle, profited by the lessons of experience, -turned over a new leaf, and led happily ever afterward -a new life.</p> - -<p class="right">—Edgar Allan Poe.</p> - -<h4>The Picture of Lhasa</h4> - -<p>"Jim, Jim, come here quick! She's in sight! Oh, -hustle!"</p> - -<p>"Well, she'll stay where she is until I get there, won't -she?" came a drawl from a little lower down on the -precipitous path, as the speaker, in spite of his indifferent -words, made strenuous efforts to join his companion -on the rocky ledge with as little delay as possible. Behind -him, scarcely visible, lay the trail winding about -along the sides of the lofty mountains which have for so -long been keeping this little corner of the earth from -the knowledge of Western nations, while, far beneath -him, rolled a little stream, the Kyi-chu, which dashed -against the rocks as though it were impatient to be out -in a broader world.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span></p> - -<p>"I'm glad she's in sight, Chad," Jim continued, when -he had gained the shelf of rock on which his companion -stood, "but what is she, anyhow? I don't believe you -said," and he laughed, with his eyes fastened upon the -flash of reflected sunlight, his first sight of Lhasa and -her wonderful Buddhist Cathedral.</p> - -<p>"Is the camera all right?" Chad's voice was anxious. -"It would be a pity to come so far and then have the -plates no good."</p> - -<p>"What's wrong with you, Chad? You don't intend -to take a picture of a place ten miles away, do -you?"</p> - -<p>"Of course not, you idiot, but I wish that you had -kept the camera yourself, instead of leaving it with -John's load. I don't like the look of his yellow cap just -now."</p> - -<p>"You're too suspicious, Chad. John's a good fellow; -aren't you Chinkey?" Jim called out as an evil-looking -Chinaman came around a bend in the trail.</p> - -<p>The Chinaman's only response was a look of utter -ignorance, at which Jim laughed again, and said, "Just -one look at the man ought to convince you that he is -too dull to frighten a Yankee. Besides, he doesn't understand -English, and can't possibly know that we are -here to get the picture of Lhasa, and that of the Grand -Lama, too, if we can." Had either of the men been -looking, he might have seen the cunning in the one -black eye of the servant; but the expression passed unnoticed.</p> - -<p>"Another day and we'll be near enough to begin -on the pictures. I'll be glad to start home, too. It has -been a hard trip. I don't see why Milligan couldn't<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span> -have taken the pictures for his book himself, instead -of sending us off here for them."</p> - -<p>"Jim, my boy, where's your regard for your daily -bread—and the butter therefor? Where should you be -if you hadn't had this chance?"</p> - -<p>"Well," Jim returned quickly, "I shouldn't have -been ruining my constitution in this infernal climate, -at any rate."</p> - -<p>Chad looked him over with profound gravity. -"Well, Jim, I'm glad you are telling me that you are -cut out for an early grave; I should never have believed -it if you hadn't said so yourself."</p> - -<p>"Wouldn't there be a rumpus if the Lamas knew -about this trip of ours?" Chad resumed as though fascinated -with the idea. "I can see ourselves calling -each other lucky because we only got kicked over this -precipice here."</p> - -<p>"You can occupy yourself with such thoughts if you -want to," exclaimed Jim; "but I'm going to hustle -up that John Chinaman. It seems to me he's pretty -slow this evening, and I'm hungry."</p> - -<p>"If your constitution is spoiled?" laughed Chad. -"Well, good luck; call me when you're ready," and -the young reporter threw himself down upon the rocks -and looked off toward Lhasa. In a few minutes he -heard Jim's voice raised in alarm. "John! John! -Oh, John-n!" As Chad sprang up and started along -the path, he met Jim coming back.</p> - -<p>"Say, Chad, that rascal of a chink has vanished -completely with a good half of the supplies, and if you -say, 'I told you so,' I'll light out too!"</p> - -<p>"Is the camera safe?" was Chad's instant response.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span></p> - -<p>"Why, I guess so; the box is anyhow—I didn't look -inside."</p> - -<p>"Well, I guess we'll get along then. I ought to -be able to cook well enough to suit a man of your -enfeebled condition," and Chad looked at Jim's broad -shoulders in some amusement in spite of the seriousness -of the situation.</p> - -<p>"Really, Chad, is it safe to go on? Do you think -we ought to risk it?"</p> - -<p>"Risk it! Are we going to take three months for -preparation, and then come four thousand miles on a -trip of this sort, only to give it up in sight of the -end, because a rogue runs off? Well, I guess not."</p> - -<p>"All right," Jim returned laconically, "I just wanted -to know how you felt about it."</p> - -<p>Some three hours later the two men were wrapped -up in their furs ready for the night. "Say, Chad," -said Jim, as he lay watching the stars in the clear sky, -"what makes a Chinaman so afraid of a camera? I -am quite certain that you never told me."</p> - -<p>"I believe that they think a man's soul is killed -when his picture is taken," said Chad sleepily. -"'Buddha doesn't like it' is quite reason enough for -most of 'em." The last sentence was half lost in a -snore, and the Grand Lama was photographed a dozen -times in Jim's dreams.</p> - -<p>The next morning the two men set out again with -the one donkey and its load which the Chinaman left -to them, and, after a few hours' hard travel, they came -to the mountain spur just above the capital of Tibet. -The city was well within range, and a few minutes after -they had arrived the camera was set up, and Chad was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span> -finding the focus. While they were both occupied busily, -a group of yellow-clad figures was approaching from a -lamasery that was half-hidden on the mountainside. The -leader of the band, a one-eyed Chinaman with an almost -idiotic expression, was evidently greatly respected -by his followers; for the party did not change its position -without his direction. Slowly and with the utmost -caution they approached the unconscious workers and -surrounded them; then with a yell the mob of Buddhist -priests was about the camera. In another instant it was -rattling down the mountainside, Chad and Jim were -firmly bound, and the march back had begun.</p> - -<p>The few rays of sunlight that found entrance into -the Buddhist lamasery served only to reveal the filthiness -of the place; but not even the disgusting sights -and odors could suppress the strangers' curiosity. In -the first room was an immense statue of Buddha with a -large cylinder in front of it. "A prayer wheel," whispered -Chad. Jim nodded.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Chad's eyes flashed with an inspiration. -Turning to the leader he exclaimed, "You speak English -<i>now</i>, don't you?"</p> - -<p>The man bowed gravely, courteously. The honorable -strangers' honorable conversation was greatly edifying, -he murmured.</p> - -<p>"Well, then," Chad continued, "Will you tell me -why we are detained here?"</p> - -<p>"The insignificant custom of the Tibetans is to resent -having their souls destroyed." The voice was calm -and matter-of-fact, but the words were terrible to the -two men looking into the circle of hostile faces which -showed so clearly their superstition and ignorance.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span></p> - -<p>"You know, John, or Your Highness, if that suits -your present position better," the Chinaman's face remained -impassive, "you know how carefully we guarded -the black box. Did you know that it was not an -ordinary instrument, but the home of a spirit more powerful -than even your Buddha there? The photographic -spirit is the child of the Fire God, and the Fire God -protects all who guard his children. See, here is a part -of the Spirit's house," and Chad pulled an extra lens -from his pocket. "With this I can attract the god's -attention, and he will do my bidding." He placed -the glass in the sunlight and the robe of the nearest -Lama began to smolder. The priests started back in -great alarm, but Chad continued with only a sufficient -number of pauses for the leading Lama to translate to -the others. "While you were masquerading as my servant, -you saw how careful I was of the camera; you -can judge for yourself whether or not the Fiery One -will protect me. What do you think will be the fate -of you who have destroyed this mighty spirit's home? -I will tell you. He will descend from the sky and will -burn you with a hotter fire than you have ever felt—a -fire so hot that the spirit of the camera cannot approach -it in intensity." And the Lama screamed as he -felt the heat of the powerful ray upon his arm. "What -do you think? Will you anger this mighty one by further -crimes against his favorites?"</p> - -<p>"Buddha will protect us," stolidly responded a -priest.</p> - -<p>"Ask your leader if Buddha could protect him -from the burning of the camera spirit, and then judge<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span> -whether Buddha can guard you against the power of -the Fire Dragon when he is roused to vengeance.</p> - -<p>Panic began to seize upon the priests. One by one -they disappeared until at length only the Chief Lama -was left. "If the honorable gentlemen will tarry for -a few moments I will bring them their beasts." When -the donkeys were brought in, Chad looked their packs -over and prepared them for the journey, while Jim -started back to the ledge, hoping that part of their -supplies might have been unmolested. When Chad came -around the rock ten minutes later, he stopped in amazement -and stared at the camera, which Jim had rescued -from the tree in which it had lodged uninjured save -for a broken plate.</p> - -<p>As Chad approached, Jim looked up and said, "I've -got one; I'll bet it's a dandy!"</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Hazel Orcutt. -</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV -<br /> - -THE ENTERTAINING GROUP</h2> - -<p>In the group "entertaining" we may class all those -narratives that are told simply for the purpose of -pleasing the reader and passing away his time for him—tales -of probable adventure, society stories, humorous -stories, and stories for special occasions, like Thanksgiving and -Christmas. The bulk of magazine fiction -is of this kind. The chief endeavor of the writer is to -create the illusions of probability for a series of events -that after all is imaginary. However numerous may -be the actual incidents embodied, the course of the -happening as a whole is nevertheless made-up. There -is always a heightening or lowering of natural color, a -modification of real occurrences, in order to produce -the desired effect; namely, acceptance by the reader of -the whole series, and especially the climax, which may -be, for instance, the capture of the wild animal, the -culmination of the love episode, the emphasis of the -funny point, or the accident at the special celebration.</p> - -<h3>I. The Tale of Probable Adventure</h3> - -<p>Adventure narratives are essentially boys' stories—the -grammar and high school boys who are past the -"foolishness" of fairy tales and even of Oriental -wonder stories, but are not yet appreciative of realism,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>[256]</span> -the quiet reflection of humdrum life. For many decades -<i>The Youth's Companion</i> has furnished among its other -good things excellent stories of adventure probable -and actual. Stevenson's masterpiece is, of course, one -of the two top-notches of excellence in the extended -form of this type of story. How the species may be -historically but a modification of the <i>voyages imaginaires</i> -is obviously suggested no less by "Treasure -Island" than by "Robinson Crusoe." It is the short -form of this type that we are dealing with at present.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Definition</div> - -<p>Stories of probable adventure are narratives of -exciting and extraordinary events that, though really -fictitious, might have happened. We can tell -many of them from true adventures only by -the testimony of the authors. "Captain Singleton's Tour -Across Africa," critics have said, seems to the general -reader quite as true an account as Stanley's; while the -"Memoirs of a Cavalier," which records the adventures -of a soldier in the army of Gustavus Adolphus, was -long mistaken for autobiography.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">The -writing -of a -probable -adventure</div> - -<p>To write a tale of this kind you must put yourself -into the mood of the bold hunter or traveller. You -must imagine exciting things. Many of your -own experiences have just missed being -astounding. Add what-might-have-been, -and you have a story of the type we are -discussing. You catch the bear or the bear catches -you. You swim across a turbulent river. You spend -the night on an iceberg. You coast down the frightful -curves of the twenty-five miles of the Benguet road -with the steering gear of your automobile entirely -useless. Remember, though, that the adventure must<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span> -seem real, however much you have drawn on your -reading and imagination. You must know enough of -animal, plant, and human life, and of geography, to be -particular here and there and thus give verisimilitude -to your pictures. In order to get a subject, suppose -you think of what you consider the bravest physical -act; then build up around it a swift, crisp narrative. -You may use technical terms once in a while, such as a -nervous story-teller would be likely to fling off and -then explain; only be sure they are intelligible very -soon.</p> - -<p>An ordinary imagination supplemented by a "Baedeker" -will enable any one to construct an acceptable -probable adventure. Superior excellence will lie in the -diction and style.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">A warning</div> - -<p>Because of the prevalence of this kind of narrative, -you will need to guard yourself with especial care -against the temptation to plagiarize. Be sure -that your certification of authorship really -tells the truth. It is easier to be original than you think; -as George Bernard Shaw says, any man with brains can -more easily compose a story or a play than steal one.</p> - -<h4>A Fight with a Bear</h4> - -<p>One day, being in a forest a few leagues from Dusseldorf, -as Gerard was walking like one in a dream, -thinking of Margaret and scarce seeing the road he trod, -his companion laid a hand on his shoulder, and strung -his cross-bow with glittering eye. "Hush!" said he, -in a low whisper that startled Gerard more than thunder. -Gerard grasped his axe tight, and shook a little; -he heard a rustling in the wood hard by, and at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>[258]</span> -same moment Denys sprang into the wood, and his crossbow -went to his shoulder, even as he jumped. <b>Twang!</b> -went the metal string; and after an instant's suspense -he roared, "Run forward, guard the road! he is hit! -he is hit!"</p> - -<p>Gerard darted forward, and, as he ran, a young bear -burst out of the wood right upon him; finding itself -intercepted, it went upon its hind legs with a snarl, -and, though not half-grown, opened formidable jaws -and long claws. Gerard, in a fury of excitement and -agitation, flung himself on it, and delivered a tremendous -blow on its nose with his axe, and the creature -staggered; another, and it lay groveling, with Gerard -hacking it.</p> - -<p>"Hallo, stop! You are mad to spoil the meat."</p> - -<p>"I took it for a robber," said Gerard, panting. -"I mean I had made ready for a robber, so I could -not hold my hand."</p> - -<p>"Ay, these chattering travelers have stuffed your -head full of thieves and assassins; they have not got -a real live robber in their whole nation. Nay, I'll carry -the beast; bear you, though, my cross-bow."</p> - -<p>"We will carry it by turns, then," said Gerard, -"for 'tis a heavy load; poor thing, how its blood drips. -Why did we slay it?"</p> - -<p>"For supper and the reward the baillie of the next -town shall give us."</p> - -<p>"And for that it must die, when it had but just -begun to live; and perchance it hath a mother that -will miss it sore this night, and loves it as ours love -us; more than mine does me."</p> - -<p>"What, know you not that his mother was caught<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span> -in a pitfall last month, and her skin is now at the -tanner's? and his father was stuck full of clothyard -shafts t'other day, and died like Julius Cæsar, with his -hands folded on his bosom, and a dead dog in each of -them?"</p> - -<p>But Gerard would not view it jestingly. "Why, -then," said he, "we have killed one of God's creatures -that was all alone in the world—as I am this day, in -this strange land."</p> - -<p>"You young milksop," roared Denys, "these things -must not be looked at so, or not another bow would be -drawn nor <span class="err" title="original: quarel">quarrel</span> fly in the forest nor battlefield. Why, -one of your kidney consorting with a troop of pike-men -should turn them to a row of milk pails; it is -ended; to Rome thou goest not alone; for never wouldst -thou reach the Alps in a whole skin. I take thee to -Remiremont, my native place, and there I marry thee -to my young sister. She is blooming as a peach. Thou -shakest thy head? Ah! I forgot; thou lovest elsewhere, -and art a one-woman man, a creature to me scarce -conceivable. Well, then, I shall find thee, not a wife, -nor a leman, but a friend; some honest Burgundian -who shall go with thee as far as Lyons; and much I -doubt that honest fellow will be myself, into whose -liquor thou hast dropped sundry powders to make me -love thee; for erst I endured not doves in doublet and -hose. From Lyons, I say, I can trust thee by ship to -Italy, which being by all accounts the very stronghold -of milksops, thou wilt there be safe; they will -hear thy words, and make thee their duke in a twinkling."</p> - -<p>Gerard sighed. "In sooth I love not to think of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span> -this Dusseldorf, where we are to part company, good -friend."</p> - -<p>They walked silently, each thinking of the separation -at hand; the thought checked trifling conversation, -and at these moments it is a relief to do something, -however insignificant. Gerard asked Denys to -lend him a bolt. "I have often shot with a long-bow, -but never with one of these."</p> - -<p>"Draw thy knife and cut this one out of the cub," -said Denys slyly.</p> - -<p>"Nay, nay, I want a clean one."</p> - -<p>Denys gave him three out of his quiver.</p> - -<p>Gerard strung the bow and leveled it at a bough -that had fallen into the road at some distance. The -power of the instrument surprised him; the short but -thick steel bow jarred him to the very heel as it went -off, and the swift steel shaft was invisible in its passage. -Only the dead leaves, with which November -had carpeted the narrow road, flew about on the other -side of the bough.</p> - -<p>"Ye aimed a thought too high," said Denys.</p> - -<p>"What a deadly thing! No wonder it is driving -out the long-bow—to Martin's much discontent."</p> - -<p>"Ay, lad," said Denys, triumphantly, "it gains -ground every day, in spite of their laws and their -proclamations to keep up the yewen bow, because, forsooth, -their grandsires shot with it, knowing no better. -You see, Gerard, war is not pastime. Men will -shoot at their enemies with the hittingest arm and the -killingest, not with the longest and missingest."</p> - -<p>"Then these new engines I hear of will put both -bows down; for these, with a pinch of black dust and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span> -a leaden ball, and a child's finger, shall slay you Mars -and Goliath and the Seven Champions."</p> - -<p>"Pooh! pooh!" said Denys, warmly; "petrone nor -harquebuss shall ever put down Sir Arbalest. Why, we -can shoot ten times while they are putting their charcoal -and their lead into their leathern smoke belchers, -and then kindling their matches. All that is too fumbling -for the field of battle; there a soldier's weapon -needs be aye ready, like his heart."</p> - -<p>Gerard did not answer, for his ear was attracted -by a sound behind them. It was a peculiar sound, too, -like something heavy, but not hard, rushing softly over -the dead leaves. He turned round with some little curiosity. -A colossal creature was coming down the road at -about sixty paces distance.</p> - -<p>He looked at it in a sort of calm stupor at first; -but the next moment he turned ashy pale.</p> - -<p>"Denys!" he cried. "O God! Denys!"</p> - -<p>Denys whirled round.</p> - -<p>It was a bear as big as a cart horse.</p> - -<p>It was tearing along with its huge head down, running -on a hot scent.</p> - -<p>The very moment he saw it, Denys said in a sickening -whisper:</p> - -<p>"The cub!"</p> - -<p>Oh! the concentrated horror of that one word, whispered -hoarsely, with dilating eyes! For in that syllable -it all flashed upon them both like a sudden stroke of -lightning in the dark—the bloody trail, the murdered -cub, the mother upon them, and it. DEATH.</p> - -<p>All this in a moment of time. The next she saw -them. Huge as she was, she seemed to double herself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>[262]</span> -(it was her long hair bristling with rage); she raised -her head big as a bull's, her swine-shaped jaws opened -wide at them, her eyes turned to blood and flame, and -she rushed upon them, scattering the leaves about her -like a whirlwind as she came.</p> - -<p>"Shoot!" screamed Denys, but Gerard stood shaking -from head to foot, useless.</p> - -<p>"Shoot, man! ten thousand devils, shoot! Too late! -Tree! tree!" and he dropped the cub, pushed Gerard -across the road, and flew to the first tree and climbed -it, Gerard the same on his side; and, as they fled, both -men uttered inhuman howls like savage creatures grazed -by death.</p> - -<p>With all their speed one or other would have been -torn to fragments at the foot of his tree; but the bear -stopped a moment at the cub.</p> - -<p>Without taking her bloodshot eyes off those she was -hunting, she smelt it all round, and found, how, her -Creator only knows, that it was dead, quite dead. She -gave a yell such as neither of the hunted ones had ever -heard, nor dreamed to be in nature, and flew after -Denys. She reared and struck at him as he climbed. He -was just out of reach.</p> - -<p>Instantly she seized the tree, and with her huge -teeth tore a great piece out of it with a crash. Then she -reared again, dug her claws deep into the bark and -began to mount it slowly, but as surely as a monkey.</p> - -<p>Denys's evil star had led him to a dead tree, a mere -shaft, and of no very great height. He climbed faster -than his pursuer, and was soon at the top. He looked -this way and that for some bough of another tree to -spring to. There was none; and if he jumped down<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span> -he knew the bear would be upon him ere he could -recover the fall, and make short work of him. Moreover, -Denys was little used to turning his back on danger, -and his blood was rising at being hunted. He -turned to bay.</p> - -<p>"My hour is come," thought he. "Let me meet -death like a man." He kneeled down and grasped a -small shoot to steady himself, drew his long knife, and -clenching his teeth, prepared to job the huge brute as -soon as it should mount within reach.</p> - -<p>Of this combat the result was not doubtful.</p> - -<p>The monster's head and neck were scarce vulnerable -for bone and masses of hair. The man was going to -sting the bear, and the bear to crack the man like a -nut.</p> - -<p>Gerard's heart was better than his nerves. He saw -his friend's mortal danger, and passed at once from -fear to blindish rage. He slipped down his tree in a -moment, caught up the cross-bow which he had dropped -in the road, and, running furiously up, sent a bolt into -the bear's body with a loud shout. The bear gave a -snarl of rage and pain and turned its head irresolutely.</p> - -<p>"Keep aloof," cried Denys, "or you are a dead -man."</p> - -<p>"I care not," and in a moment he had another bolt -ready and shot it fiercely into the bear, screaming "Take -that! that! that!"</p> - -<p>Denys poured a volley of oaths down at him. "Get -away, idiot!"</p> - -<p>He was right; the bear finding so formidable and -noisy a foe behind him, slipped growling down the tree, -rending deep furrows in it as she slipped. Gerard ran<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span> -back to his tree and climbed it swiftly. But while his -legs were dangling some eight feet from the ground the -bear came rearing and struck with her forepaw, and -out flew a piece of bloody cloth from Gerard's hose. He -climbed and climbed, and presently he heard as it were -in the air a voice say, "Go out on the bough!" He -looked, and there was a long massive branch before -him shooting upwards at a slight angle; he threw his -body across it, and by a series of convulsive efforts -worked up it to the end.</p> - -<p>Then he looked round panting.</p> - -<p>The bear was mounting the tree on the other side. -He heard her claws scrape; and saw her bulge on both -sides of the massive tree. Her eye not being very quick, -she reached the fork and passed it, mounting the main -stem. Gerard drew breath more freely. The bear -either heard him or found by scent she was wrong; -she paused; presently she caught sight of him. She -eyed him steadily, then quietly descended to the fork.</p> - -<p>Slowly and cautiously she stretched out a paw and -tried the bough. It was a stiff oak branch, sound as -iron. Instinct taught the creature this; it crawled carefully -out on the bough, growling savagely as it came.</p> - -<p>Gerard looked wildly down. He was forty feet from -the ground. Death below. Death moving slow but sure -on him in a still more horrible form. His hair bristled. -The sweat poured from him. He sat helpless, fascinated, -tongue-tied.</p> - -<p>As the fearful monster crawled growling towards -him, incongruous thoughts coursed through his mind. -Margaret, the Vulgate, where it speaks of the rage of a -she-bear robbed of her whelps—Rome—Eternity.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>[265]</span></p> - -<p>The bear crawled on. And now the stupor of death -fell on the doomed man; he saw the open jaws and -bloodshot eyes coming, but in a mist.</p> - -<p>As in a mist he heard a twang; he glanced down; -Denys, white and silent as death, was shooting up at -the bear. The bear snarled at the twang; but crawled -on. Again the cross-bow twanged; and the bear snarled -and came nearer. Again the cross-bow twanged, and -the next moment the bear was close upon Gerard, where -he sat, with hair standing stiff on end, and eyes starting -from their sockets, palsied. The bear opened her -jaws like a grave, and hot blood spouted from them upon -Gerard as from a pump. The bough rocked. The -wounded monster was reeling; it clung, it stuck its sickles -of claws deep into the wood; it toppled, its claws held -firm, but its body rolled off, and the sudden shock to -the branch shook Gerard forward on his stomach with -his face upon one of the bear's straining paws. At -this, by a convulsive effort, she raised her head up, up, -till he felt her hot fetid breath. Then huge teeth -snapped together loudly close below him in the air, -with a last effort of baffled hate. The ponderous carcass -rent the claws out of the boughs; then pounded -the earth with a tremendous thump. There was a shout -of triumph below, and the very next instant a cry of -dismay, for Gerard had swooned, and, without an attempt -to save himself, rolled headlong from the perilous -height.</p> - -<p>Denys caught at Gerard and somewhat checked his -fall; but it may be doubted whether this alone would have -saved him from breaking his neck or a limb. His best -friend now was the dying bear, on whose hairy carcass<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span> -his head and shoulders descended. Denys tore him -off her. It was needless. She panted still, and her limbs -quivered, but a hare was not so harmless; and soon she -breathed her last, and the judicious Denys propped -Gerard up against her, being soft, and fanned him. He -came to by degrees, but confused, and feeling the bear -all round him, rolled away, yelling.</p> - -<p>"Courage," cried Denys, "<i>le diable est mort</i>."</p> - -<p>"Is it dead, quite dead?" inquired Gerard from -behind a tree; for his courage was feverish, and the -cold fit was on him just now, and had been for some -time.</p> - -<p>"Behold," said Denys, and pulled the brute's ear -playfully, and opened her jaws and put in his head, -with other insulting antics; in the midst of which Gerard -was violently sick.</p> - -<p>Denys laughed at him.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter now?" said he; "also, why -tumble off your perch just when we had won the day?"</p> - -<p>"I swooned, I trow."</p> - -<p>"But why?"</p> - -<p>Not receiving an answer, he continued, "Green girls -faint as soon as look at you, but then they choose time -and place. What woman ever fainted up a tree?"</p> - -<p>"She sent her nasty blood all over me. I think the -smell must have overpowered me. Faugh! I hate -blood."</p> - -<p>"I do believe it potently."</p> - -<p>"See what a mess she has made me!"</p> - -<p>"But with her blood, not yours. I pity the enemy -that strives to satisfy you."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span></p> - -<p>"You need not to brag, Maitre Denys; I saw you -under the tree, the color of your shirt."</p> - -<p>"Let us distinguish," said Denys coloring; "it is -permitted to tremble for a friend."</p> - -<p>Gerard, for answer, flung his arm around Denys's -neck in silence.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Charles Reade. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>From "The Cloister and the Hearth."</p></div> - -<h4>The Secret of the Jade Tlaloc</h4> - -<p>"If only this paper on jade were finished!" sighed -tall, dignified, blond Dolores. "These notes sound so -interesting. 'Jade implements,'" she read, "'found in -Mexico—source of mineral not yet discovered—theory -that implements are relics of Eastern invasion disproved—jade -said to exist in America,' My! I do think -jade is the most delightful subject for investigation."</p> - -<p>"Um-m!" Elsa, who, like her Spanish mother, was -small, quick, dark, and adventure-loving, did not consider -jade a particularly fascinating topic for study. -"Now if—we—a—we—a——" she ruminated.</p> - -<p>"If we—a——?" Dolores's sentences were always -clearly thought out before she spoke them.</p> - -<p>"If we—a—now if we could finish that paper, we -might be able to sell it, you know," Elsa went on. "We -certainly haven't an enviably large fortune." She -reached into one of the dark pigeon-holes of her father's -ponderous desk. "Ook-ook!" she pursed up her full -red lips, as she held a yellow scroll from her and gingerly -flicked away the dust which had collected upon -it since her father's death. "Now here's what I call -interesting. An old letter or something, written on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>[268]</span> -agave-leaf paper." From their long association with -their father in his archeological researches, the girls had -gained a more than superficial knowledge of Aztec customs -and antiquities. "'We, the Aztecs, are a proud -race,'" she readily translated. "'It is not for the -Spaniards to glory in complete victory over us, for -though they have conquered our bodies, they have not -conquered our spirits. Well may they rejoice in the -ruining of our beautiful cities. But when they search, -and search in vain, for the wealth which they know -has been ours, how they will rage! But their anger -shall be as vain as their searching. Those of us who -are left will not see the invaders glorying in what was -once the splendor of the Aztecs. Rather will we bury, -and hide from all future generations, if need be, the secrets -of our riches. It is that my descendants may one -day scoff at the descendants of those who have made -me, who was a prince, a slave, that I am making this -record. Among the mountains which the Spaniards have -called the "Corderillas" is one in whose top is a hole -of great depth, from which it is said, there once flowed -streams of liquid fire, the vengeance of the gods upon -the people. This mountain stands between two sister -mountains of far greater height than itself, and is near -the middle of the range.' Why, that might be Ahualtaper, -right near here." Elsa had the topography of -the country around their home very clearly mapped -out in her mind.</p> - -<p>Dolores nodded. "Go on," she said.</p> - -<p>"'Half-way up the side which faces the rising -sun,'" Elsa continued, "'is a ledge, upon which is a -rock, apparently one with the mountainside, and in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>[269]</span> -which, when viewed from a distance, can be seen a resemblance -to the cross of Tlaloc. One day a descendant -of mine will find and displace this rock; whereupon, -the entrance to the tomb of my ancestors will be revealed. -There are many such tombs and many such -mountains as those which I have described, but which -I have not named. However, in the particular burial -place to which I refer is a jade image of the god Tlaloc. -It is studded with valuable turquoise. Where this image -is found will also be found what should be the source -of untold wealth to the discoverer.</p> - -<p>"'In warning, let me say that none but the eldest -son of a family must ever know of this document; and -should he be tempted, ever, to part with it, let him -remember that bodily want is preferable to the curses -of the dead!'"</p> - -<p>The two girls remained silent for a few moments. -"Well," asked Elsa, at last, "what do you think of -that?"</p> - -<p>Dolores turned again to the desk. "It is interesting," -she replied, "but of what use can it ever be to -us? We could never find the place. Why, we've been -in dozens of burial grottos already, and they are all -pretty much alike." She opened another drawer. "Here -is father's diary."</p> - -<p>The book fell open at the page upon which the -last entry had been made. "'May 15'—the day father -became ill—'poor wrinkled old Gomez died today,'" -she read. "'He wanted to give me information about -a jade Tlaloc, some famous image which has been lost. -He tried with his last breath to do me the service of -aiding me in my research. He gave me also a very ancient<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>[270]</span> -manuscript. I do not know where he got it. I -hardly feel equal, to-night, to the task of translating it. -Perhaps Elsa will do the translation tomorrow. If I -could find such an idol, it would be of great value to -me in my treatise on jade.'"</p> - -<p>Elsa waited long enough only for Dolores to stop -reading. "Dolores, we must find that idol."</p> - -<p>Dolores looked gravely at her sister. "This is really -a serious matter, Elsa. It would save us from the necessity -of working if we could find it. But how can -you and I alone accomplish anything? We should have -to go into the mountains, and have a donkey, and camp -in the open air, and——"</p> - -<p>"Well," Elsa impatiently interrupted the enumeration -of objections, "what of that? You and father -and I used often to go into the mountains, and have a -donkey, and camp in the open air; and father always -depended more upon us than we upon him. You think -it over while I get tea." Elsa left her sister sitting -alone and looking out of the study windows to the solemn -rugged Corderillas.</p> - -<p>Dolores did consider the matter, with the result that, -after a few weeks of study, of consulting maps and -plans, and of preparation for the journey, the sisters -were ready to begin the daring exploit whose aim was -to complete the investigations which their father had -begun.</p> - -<p>Clad in rough, unsightly denim, and leading a burro -which carried a very considerable store of provisions, -they clambered up the jagged sides of Ahualtapec; -they tore their way through thickets and fell upon -cacti.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>[271]</span></p> - -<p>"We're lost," panted Dolores, finally, as she pulled -the many thorns from her clothing. "Elsa, we're -lost."</p> - -<p>They had stopped, at about noon on the tenth day -of their trip, to rest, and again to consult their maps.</p> - -<p>Elsa stood upon a ledge and looked across to where, -between two lofty mountains, rising to the south of -Ahualtapec, a smaller rock mass showed itself, like a -much overgrown hill-the shell of a long extinct volcano, -and a very counterpart of Ahualtapec.</p> - -<p>"Dolores," she pointed straight before her, "do -you remember? A stone in which, when viewed from -a distance, can be seen a resemblance to the cross of -Tlaloc?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear," complained Dolores, dejectedly, "and -all this time wasted!"</p> - -<p>"Now, Dolores!" small Elsa turned about determinedly, -"you ought to shout for joy, for that certainly -must be it. The rocks are bare around that spot, -and you can see it plainly from here. It's on a ledge, -too, just like the one we're on. We will start this very -minute, Dolores."</p> - -<p>Delaying long enough only for Elsa, who had a fine -sense of location, to impress upon her mind the position -of the cross, they began once more the tedious -scrambling, tearing, tumbling down slopes and up slopes, -across streams and through, streams; but they did not -lose themselves again.</p> - -<p>"Do you suppose," Dolores anxiously asked, "that -we can ever move it?" as she saw how the ages had -packed, and hardened the damp soil about the base of -the boulder.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>[272]</span></p> - -<p>"We must." Elsa was resolved not to be defeated. -"We absolutely must," she reiterated.</p> - -<p>"How?" demanded Dolores.</p> - -<p>Elsa's reply was to unstrap a bag from the burro's -back, to take from it two trowels, and silently to offer -one to Dolores. No explanation was necessary. For -five days the girls scraped and dug away the hardened -soil from the lower part of the cross-shaped stone, until -at last the block began to tremble as though about to -fall.</p> - -<p>"Dolores! Dolores! It's top heavy, bless it!" Elsa -was enthusiastically, insanely happy.</p> - -<p>The fact that the stone was top-heavy made it possible -for the girls, by dint of much tugging, heaving, -and pushing, to roll it over the ledge, and to send it -bumping down the mountainside. A narrow passage, -wide enough to admit only one at a time, was thus -opened. Pine torches were lit. Even Dolores was excited. -They squeezed into the entrance, Elsa first. They -rushed through the short tunnel, until, at the end, Elsa -stumbled and sank to her knees.</p> - -<p>"Oh, my! Dolores, just look!" she was holding her -torch down to see what had caused her fall. "It's it," -she remarked, disregarding rhetoric, while she pointed -to a small turquoise-studded image of Tlaloc, the Neptune -of the Aztecs.</p> - -<p>The girls carried the idol into the little ante-room -which was always a part of the burial grotto of an -Aztec noble family. How pleasant, how cool, and damp -it seemed in here, after their hot toil outside. The sisters -had been in too many tombs to know any fear, to -have any feeling of the presence of the dead. Their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>[273]</span> -own breathing sounded loud and labored amid the silence -of the cave.</p> - -<p>Dolores sat down on the moist floor, and examined -the statues; she was thinking of the treasure; but Elsa, -now that she was sure of finding the gold, or the jewels, -or whatever the promise might have meant, desired to -explore the grotto.</p> - -<p>From the little ante-room she passed into the larger -chamber. Here, for the first time, she felt chilled; -she seemed so alone. She was sure she felt a ghost -whisper near her. Her feet slipped on the wet earth. -On the further side of the tomb she saw upon the ground -an urn, on which rested a skull. By the shape of the -urn and by the arrangement of the ornaments above it -Elsa knew that it contained the ashes of a warrior. A -drop of water splashed down from the ceiling and -aroused her. She held her torch aloft. She looked unbelievingly -at the roof. Then she walked slowly around -the room, wonderingly, feeling and scrutinizing the -walls.</p> - -<p>"Dolores!" she called, "come quick!"</p> - -<p>Dolores was not long in coming.</p> - -<p>"And here is also what should be the source of untold -wealth to the discoverer," Elsa was murmuring. -"Dolores, do you see that green, that dull gray? How -it shines? Don't you know, Dolores? It's jade, royal -jade, Dolores!"</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Dorothea Knoblock. -</p> - -<h3>II. The Society Story</h3> -<div class="sidenote">What the -society -story is</div> - -<p>Society stories are those non-consequential narratives -of modern fashionable life which have in their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>[274]</span> -very lightness their sole excuse for being. They are set -up as only partial reflections of the actual. Since their -chief purpose is to please, they have no studied realism -in them. All things intense and unattractive -are omitted. If trouble appears, it is but as -"sweet bells jangled out of tune and harsh," -as one of their authors might promptly quote, and everything -is brought to harmonize with everything else at -last. Richard Harding Davis for his "Van Bibber" -tales seems to have found a wide public.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">The -pastoral -romance</div> - -<p>An older representative of the society story is the -pastoral romance, once a very popular form of the love -tale. In it we have a picture of country life, -but it is not the hard, <span class="err" title="original: toil-beleagured">toil-beleaguered</span> life of -the real peasant. It is the imaginary out-of-doors -living-for-a-few-days of the courtier who masquerades -as a shepherd and sits cavalierly on a grassy -bank with a golden crook in his hand, sighing out his -heart in silvery madrigals. His lady-love is no ordinary -milk-maid, but a courtly princess on vacation. In -this romantic land of shepherd loves, nothing realistic -enters. The talk in even the first examples is philosophic -and in the later becomes euphuistic as well. -The critics maintain that the pastoral romance as a -type does not go more than ten years back of the -middle of the fourteenth century, although we have -"Aucassin and Nicolette" of the thirteenth and -"Daphnis and Chloe" of the fifth. The prime fact of -the history of the pastoral romance as a society story -is that it grew up as a revolt against the licentious -realism of the Italian novellieri. The "Arcadia" by -Sannazaro, written about 1500, is the book that made<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>[275]</span> -the epoch and established the rule for pastoral romance -in all languages. Sannazaro took what had been foreshadowed -by Boccaccio in the "Ameto" in 1340, and, -enriching it with elements derived from Theocritus and -Virgil, created the "perfect" example. From Sannazaro, -Sir Philip Sidney borrowed the spirit, many -episodes, and part of the name for his notable combination -of prose and verse—the "Countess of Pembroke's -Arcadia." Shakespeare, too, derived much -from this important Italian book. For one thing, he -took the name Ophelia; for another, his charming -society pastoral drama "As You Like It" goes historically -back to Sannazaro's "Arcadia" for its lyrics, -out-of-doors courting, its real shepherds, its obvious -love of nature, its touch of magic, and its wholesome -morality. The lack of allegorical significance is also -straight example from Sannazaro; but the love chain, -the disguised shepherd princesses, the humorous element -in connection with the coarse shepherds, a touch -of adventure, and the cavalier tone are of later Spanish -and English contamination, immediately through -Lodge's prose romance "Rosalynd," and more remotely -through Greene's three pastorals—"England's Mourning -Garment," "Menaphon," and "Pandosto,"—and -through Cervantes's "Galatea" and Montemayor's -"Diana," and Ribeyro's Portuguese "Fragments."</p> - -<p>Though the pastoral romance, as we notice, became -more and more artificial, it always remained pure in -tone. It centered itself in idealism and stood against -the low, utterly debased, more realistic novella, which -was its predecessor and continued rival for popularity. -The pastoral held the field as the chief and most<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>[276]</span> -influential prose form in Spain until the picaresque -romance came to be recognized as a distinct genre.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Suggestions -for writing</div> - -<p>To write a modern society story that will be worth -while is no easy task; for here an author readily -descends to banalities, and the class itself -is hardly acceptable to the serious critic. -Yet stories of this kind are so popular and form (I am -sorry to say) so large a part of the reading of our -young women—and our young men, too, for that matter—that -the type surely has come to stay for sometime -and must be taken account of. To make your story -commendable, then, you will need to be original and -striking in your choice of situation and to write with a -succinctness and verve that will animate even the commonplace. -Be careful not to be sentimental. If you -touch on love, do so with dignity—with either clean, -pure humor, or unaffected seriousness. Try hard to -save your hero from being a cad. The namby-pamby, -third-generation-millionaire protagonist, if not altogether -uninteresting, is surely exasperating to a sensible -reader. By playful imitation, you might write a -good satire on this class of story. If you do so, you -will need to be familiar with one or more of the -popular examples in order to use them specifically. Or -you might try your hand at a pastoral, just for the -history of the thing. If you care to adhere to certain -elements of the genre, you could put together under -this guise allegorical scenes in which the present lords -of the earth figure as weak or lusty shepherds piping a -tune to the watch-dogs of war, the sheep of commerce, -and the Goddess of Getting-On. If you wish to be -more than half serious, you can find countenance in a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>[277]</span> -number of our most recent light stories that undoubtedly -turn toward the pastoral. This type, too, will give -you a chance at a mixture of prose and verse. Here -you can put in some of those fetching sylvan lyrics -that you must have composed long before now and -have always been afraid to mention.</p> - -<h4>The Fur Coat</h4> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Translated by Mrs. J. M. Lancaster. Copyright, 1903, by -The Current Literature Publishing Company. Reprinted by -permission.</p></div> - -<p class="center"><i>Prof. Max Wiegand to Dr. Gustav Strauch</i></p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Berlin</span>, November 20. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Gustav</span>—I have some news to tell you to-day -which will certainly surprise you. I have separated from -my wife, or rather we have separated from each other. We -have come to an amicable agreement henceforth to live -entirely independent of each other. My wife has gone to -her family in Freiburg, where she will no doubt remain. -I am for the present in our old house; perhaps -in the spring I may look for a smaller house—perhaps -not, for I can hardly hope to find so quiet a -workroom as I now have, and the idea of moving appals -me, especially when I think of my large library. You will, -of course, want to know what has happened, though, to -tell the truth, nothing has happened. The world will seek -for all possible and impossible reasons why two people who -married for love and who have for eleven years lived what -is called happily together should now have decided to part. -Yes, this world which thinks itself so wise, but whose -judgments are nevertheless so petty, so superficial, will -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>[278]</span>doubtless be of the opinion that there is something hidden—will -include this case too in one of the two great categories -prepared for such affairs, because it can not conceive of the -fact that life in its inexhaustible variety never repeats -itself and that the same circumstances may assume different -aspects according to the character and disposition -of those interested. I need not tell you this, my dear -Gustav. You will understand how two finely organized -natures should rebel against a tie which binds them together -after they have once become fully convinced that -in all matters of real importance a mutual understanding -is possible.</p> - -<p>My wife and I are too unlike. Between her views of -life and mine there yawns an impassable gulf. The first -few years I hoped to influence her, to win her to my ways -of thinking—she seemed so docile, so yielding, took so -warm an interest in my work, so willingly allowed herself -to be taught by me. Not till after our children's death did -she begin to change. Her grief at this loss—a grief which -neither of us has ever been able to live down—matured -her, made her independent of me. A tendency to morbid -introspection took possession of her, and gave increased -tenacity to those ideas and convictions which my influence -had hitherto held in check, though not wholly eradicated. -She plunged deeper and deeper into those mists of sentimentally -fantastic imaginings, passionately demanding my -concurrence in her views. She lost all interest in my professional -work, evidently regarding the results of my researches -in natural science as troops from an enemy's camp. -At last there was hardly a subject in the wide realm of -nature and human existence on which we agreed. To be -sure we never came to an open quarrel, but the breach<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>[279]</span> -between us was constantly widening. Every day we saw -more and more plainly that though we lived side by side, -we no longer belonged to each other. This discovery irritated -and distressed us, and at last forced all other feelings -into the background. If we had not once loved each other -so dearly, or even if we had now ceased to feel a mutual -respect, this state of affairs might perhaps have lasted for -years, but our ideas of the true meaning of marriage were -too lofty, our sense of our own dignity as human beings -too profound to permit us to be content with so incomplete -a realization of our ideals. I hardly know who spoke first, -but our resolution was at once taken, and the decisive -words uttered as calmly and naturally as the overripe fruit -falls from the tree. For the first time in many years we -were able with perfect unanimity of sentiment to discuss -a subject of the greatest importance to us both, and this -fact alone soothed our overwrought nerves. We parted -yesterday with the utmost decorum, without a word of -reproach, a note of discord.</p> - -<p>The many beautiful memories of our early married -life, of the long years we had lived together, made it -difficult to refrain from some manifestation of tenderness, -and I assure you that I never felt greater respect for my -wife than at the moment when, all petty considerations -cast aside, the true magnanimity of her nature asserted -itself. Her manner, what she said, and also what she did -not say, robbed the situation of all trace of the commonplace, -and gave it dignity. Deeply moved, almost in tears, -we clasped hands in farewell, so we may look back upon -the closing scene of our wedded life with unalloyed satisfaction.</p> - -<p>I had already, with her consent, referred all business<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>[280]</span> -details to our lawyers, for we were not even to communicate -with each other by letter.</p> - -<p>Life must begin again for both of us, and already I -breathe more freely. The Rubicon is passed. I believe -that you will congratulate me.</p> - -<p class="center p2"><i>Prof. Max Wiegand to Dr. Gustav Strauch</i></p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Berlin</span>, December 12. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Gustav</span>—Pardon me that I have so long delayed -thanking you for your answer of friendly sympathy to my -last letter.</p> - -<p>I have been in no condition to write, and even now find it -difficult. You congratulate me without reserve on a step -which you regard as essential to my welfare and to my -intellectual development, but you do not take into consideration -what it means to separate from one who has -for eleven years been one's constant companion, day and -night. Indeed, it is only during these last dreary weeks -that I, myself, have realized what the change signifies to -me. Habit is all powerful, especially with men who, like -you and me, live in the intellectual world and so require a -solid sub-structure.</p> - -<p>How are we to take observations from the tower battlements -when its foundations are not firmly established? -Of course, I am as certain as ever I was that our decision -is for the best interests of us both, but in this queer world -of ours we can take no step without unlooked-for results.</p> - -<p>I am bothered from morn till night with trifles to which -I have never given a thought since my bachelor days—things -which I will not mention, so absurdly insignificant -are they—and yet they rob me of my time and destroy my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>[281]</span> -peace. I am at a loss what steps to take to rid myself of -the thousand petty cares and annoyances which my wife -has hitherto borne for me. These servants! Now that -the cat is away they think that they can do just as they -please, and you have no idea of the silly obstacles over -which I am continually stumbling, of the wretched pitfalls -which beset my path. Here is one instance out of many: -For several days it has been very cold, and I can not find -my fur coat. With the chambermaid's assistance I have -turned the whole house upside down, until she finally remembered -that my wife, last spring, sent it to a furrier's -to be kept from the moth. But to which furrier? I have -been to a dozen and can not find it.</p> - -<p>If I had only not agreed with my wife that we were, -under no circumstances, to write to each other, I should -simply ask her—but it is best so. No strain of the commonplace -must mingle with the sad echoes of our farewell. -No—a farce never follows a drama. Perhaps she might -even imagine that I seize the first pretext to renew relations -with her.</p> - -<p>Never!</p> - -<p>To-day it is six below zero.</p> - -<p class="center p2"><i>Prof. Max Wiegand to Frau Emma Wiegand</i></p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Berlin</span>, December 14. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Emma</span>—You will be greatly surprised at receiving -a letter from me in spite of our mutual agreement, but -do not fear that I have any intention of opening a correspondence -with you. Our relations terminated with all -possible dignity, and the sealed door shall never be re-opened. -I have but to ask a simple question which you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>[282]</span> -alone can answer. What is the name of the man to whom -you sent my fur coat last spring? Lina has forgotten the -address. Hoping soon to receive an answer, for which I -thank you in advance,</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Max</span>. -</p> - -<p class="center p2"><i>Frau Emma Wiegand to Prof. Max Wiegand</i></p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Freiburg</span>, December 15. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Max</span>—His name is Palaschke, and he is on Zimmer -Street. I can not understand Lina's forgetfulness, as -she took the coat there herself.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Emma.</span> -</p> - -<p class="center p2"><i>Prof. Max Wiegand to Frau Emma Wiegand</i></p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Berlin</span>, December 17. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Emma</span>—I must trouble you once more—for the -last time. Herr Palaschke refuses to let the coat go without -the ticket, as he has had several disagreeable experiences -which have made it necessary to be very strict. But -where is the ticket? I spent the whole morning looking -for it, and, of course, Lina has not the slightest idea where -it is. She flew into a rage when I found a little fault with -her, and she leaves the house to-morrow. I prefer paying -her till the end of her engagement, and in addition -shall give her a moderate Christmas gift, for I can -not stand for a great length of time such an impertinent -person about me.</p> - -<p>Well—be so kind as to write me a line telling me where -to find the ticket. I have already taken a severe cold for -want of the fur coat.</p> - -<p>Hoping that you are well and quite comfortable with -your family.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Max.</span> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span></p> - -<p class="center p2"><i>Frau Emma Wiegand to Prof. Max Wiegand</i></p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Freiburg</span>, December 19. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Max</span>—The ticket is either in the second or third -upper drawer of the little wardrobe in the dressing-room or -in my desk, in the right or left pigeon-hole. I could find it -in a minute if I were there. Lina has great faults, but -she is very respectable. I doubt whether you can do better, -and now, just before Christmas, you will not be able -to replace her. You should have put up with her at least -a fortnight longer, but it is none of my business. I hope -your cold is better. I am quite well.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Emma.</span> -</p> - -<p class="center p2"><i>Prof. Max Wiegand to Frau Emma Wiegand</i></p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Berlin</span>, December 21. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Emma</span>—The ticket is not to be found either in -the wardrobe or in the desk. Perhaps it slipped out when -you were packing, and was thrown away. I can think of -no other explanation.</p> - -<p>To-morrow or next day I will again go to Herr Palaschke, -and try to wheedle him out of my property by all possible -blandishments and assurances, but to-day I am confined to -my room, for my cold has resulted in a severe attack of -neuralgia.</p> - -<p>I had a dreadful scene with the cook yesterday. On the -day of your departure she gave me notice, and when I tried -to persuade her to remain she turned on me and told me in -a very insolent manner that I knew nothing about house-keeping, -and that it was only out of sympathy for you, -dear Emma, that she had so long remained with us at such -low wages, and that she should leave immediately. I -answered calmly, but firmly, that she must stay till the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>[284]</span> -end of her engagement. Then she began to cry and storm, -and at last was so outrageously impertinent as to declare -that even <i>you</i> could not manage to live with me. I lost -my temper and must, I suppose, have called her an "impudent -woman," though I can not remember saying it. Unfortunately -for me I have had no experience in dealing -with viragos.</p> - -<p>Two hours later, after supper, I rang and discovered -that she was already gone, bag and baggage, leaving in the -kitchen a badly spelled <i>billet doux</i>, in which she threatened -me with a lawsuit for calling her an "impudent woman," -in case I should refuse to give her a certificate of character.</p> - -<p>I am now entirely without servants. The porter's wife -blacks my shoes for a handsome consideration, and brings -me from the café meals which ought to be condemned by -the health inspector. As you have truly remarked, it will -be impossible to replace these women before the New Year, -but I have already written to a dozen employment bureaus, -and will go myself as soon as I am able to leave the house. -This has grown into a long letter, my dear Emma, but -when the heart is full the pen runs rapidly.</p> - -<p>I also suspect that abominable cook of taking my gold -sleeve <span class="err" title="original: bottons">buttons</span>—those left me by Uncle Friedrich—though -I have, of course, no proof. Have you any idea where they -are? If so please drop me a line. Good-by, my dear Emma, -and I trust you are more comfortable than I am.</p> - -<p class="right"> -Your <span class="smcap">Max</span>. -</p> - -<p class="center p2"><i>Frau Emma Wiegand to Prof. Max Wiegand</i></p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Freiburg</span>, December 23. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Max</span>—I have read with much sympathy your account -of your little mishaps and annoyances. The cook<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>[285]</span> -often spoke to me very much as she did to you, but I put -up with it because she is a good cook, and only cooks who -know nothing are polite. Now you see what I have had to -stand for years, and that there are problems in that department -also which can not be solved by natural science.</p> - -<p>I can not, at this instance, advise you what to do, and -should not consider myself justified in doing so now that -our intimate relations have been terminated in so dignified -a manner, as you so truly remark in your first letter. As -for the furrier's ticket and the sleeve buttons, I will wager -that I could find them both in five minutes. You <i>must</i> -remember how often you have hunted in vain for a thing -which I have found at the first attempt. Men occasionally -discover a new truth but never an old button.</p> - -<p>Since a correspondence has been begun by you, I have a -little request to make. I forgot before I left to ask you -for the letters which you wrote me during our engagement, -and which at my request you put in your safe. They are -my property, and I should like to have them as a reminder -of happier days. Will you be so kind as to send them -to me?</p> - -<p>Wishing you a Merry Christmas,</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Emma</span>. -</p> - -<p class="center p2"><i>Prof. Max Wiegand to Frau Emma Wiegand</i></p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Berlin</span>, December 25. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Emma</span>—Your kind wish that I might have -a Merry Christmas has not been fulfilled. I never spent -so melancholy a Christmas Eve. You will not wonder that -I could not bear to accept the invitations of friends—to -be a looker-on at family rejoicings—so I stayed at home, -entirely alone. I found it utterly impossible to get a servant<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>[286]</span> -before New Year's, and yesterday was even without a helper -from outside. The porter's wife put a cold supper on the -table for me early in the afternoon, for she was too busy -later with Christmas preparations for her children. A -smoky oil lamp took the place of the Christmas tree which -you always adorned so charmingly and with such exquisite -taste every year, and there were none of those pretty surprises -by which you supplied my wants and wishes almost -before I was conscious of them. There was nothing on -the Christmas table but my old fur coat, which Herr -Palaschke—softened by my entreaties and assurances and -perhaps also by the spirit of Christmastide—had allowed -me to take the preceding day. It was as cold as charity -in the room, for the fire had gone out and it was beyond -my skill to rekindle it, so I put on the fur coat, sat down -by the smoky lamp, and read over the letters which I wrote -you during the time of our engagement and which I had -taken from their eleven years' resting-place to send to you -to-day.</p> - -<p>Dear Emma, I can not tell you how they have moved me. -I cried like a child, not over the tragic ending of our marriage -alone, but at the change in myself which I recognize. -They are very immature and in many ways not in accordance -with my present way of thinking, but what a fresh, -frank, warm-blooded fellow I was then, and how I loved -you! How happy I was! How artlessly and unreservedly -did I give myself up to my happiness! Till now I have -thought that there has been a gradual, slow change in you -alone, but now I see that I also have altered, and God -knows, when I compare the Max of those days with the -Max of to-day, I do not know to which to give the preference. -In the sleepless nights which I have lately spent, I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>[287]</span> -have thought over the possibility of transforming myself -into the Max I then was, and grave doubts have suggested -themselves whether the differences in our views of matters -and things were really as great as they seemed to us, -whether there is not outside of them something eternally -human, some neutral ground where we might continue to -have interests in common.</p> - -<p>Try and see, dear Emma, whether such a voice does not -speak also to your soul. We can not undo the past, but -nothing could give me greater consolation in my present -unhappy condition than to know that you could say yes -to this question, for your departure has left a void in my -house and in my life that I can never, never fill.</p> - -<p class="right"> -Thy most unhappy <span class="smcap">Max</span>. -</p> - -<p class="center p2"><i>Frau Emma Wiegand to Prof. Max Wiegand</i></p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Freiburg</span>, December 27. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Max</span>—I very willingly gave you information as -long as it related only to tickets and sleeve buttons, but I -must decline answering the question contained in your last -letter. Did you really believe, you old Pedant, that I left -your home—which was also mine—because we disagreed in -our views of matters and things in general? Then you are -mightily mistaken. I left you because I saw more plainly -every day that you no longer loved me. Yes, I had become -a burden to you—you wanted to get rid of me. If in that -dignified parting scene you had said one single tender word -to me, I should probably have stayed, but, as usual, you -were on your high horse, from which you have now had -so lamentable a tumble just because your servants have left -you. <i>I</i> too have served you faithfully, though you do not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>[288]</span> -seem to have recognized that fact. <i>I</i> never let the fire go -out on your hearth. It was not <i>my</i> fault when it grew cold.</p> - -<p>Who knows whether you would have noticed the void -left by my going if your fur coat had not also been missing? -This gave you an opportunity of opening a correspondence -with me, and it seems to be only fitting that it should now -close, since you have once more regained possession of your -property. I, at least, have nothing more to say.</p> - -<p class="center"> -Good-by forever,</p> -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Emma</span>. -</p> - -<p class="center p2"><i>Prof. Max Wiegand to Dr. Gustav Strauch</i></p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Berlin</span>, January 8. -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Gustav</span>—I have a great piece of news to tell you. -My wife returned to me yesterday, and at my earnest -solicitation. I thought I could no longer live <i>with</i> her, but -I find it equally impossible to live <i>without</i> her. I have just -discovered that she too was very unhappy during the time -of our separation, but she would never have acknowledged -it, for hers is the stronger character of the two. I do not -know how to explain the miracle, but we love each other -more dearly than ever. We are celebrating a new honeymoon. -The great questions of life drove us apart, but is -it only the little ones which have reunited us? Would you -suppose that one could find a half-desiccated heart in the -pocket of an old fur coat? The stately edifice of my -worldly knowledge totters on its foundations, dear Gustav. -I have a great deal to unlearn.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Max.</span> -</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Ludwig Fulda. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>[289]</span></p> - -<h4>The Lady in Pink</h4> - -<p>If I hadn't had to stop in the middle of my painting -and run down to the house to get some more rose-madder -I never in the world should have seen her; I -had to leave all my things up on the hill with little -David, and on the way down to the village I passed the -place.</p> - -<p>The only thing I remember now is that I was hurrying -along by a stone wall which was higher than my -head and that above it dark pines clustered in pointed -masses against a blue and white sky—it was just the -kind of sky Bougereau would have loved, with soft, -opaque clouds—when I came past the gate, and one can -never go by a gate, you know, and not look in, and it -was there that I saw her. She was sitting on a bench -built under a tree—the trunk of which did for the -perpendicular in the composition and gave such a good -contrast in color, too, for she—well, there she was just -sitting there with her hands in her lap, her head against -the tree and her feet out in front of her, and oh, dreams -of loveliness—her dress was pink! Think of that! Rose -pink where it touched the grass, lavender pink where -it fell in shadows, shell pink where the sun flickered on -it—and in her hand she held a kind of golden straw -hat, and that was just dripping with roses, and they -were the pinkest of all. Oh! it was a picture for the -gods. I made quick work of my errand and hastened -back to tell David about it.</p> - -<p>"Well, I've seen it," I announced breathlessly, coming -up the slope.</p> - -<p>"Seen what?" asked David, not stopping from his -clover chain.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>[290]</span></p> - -<p>"My masterpiece," I answered, squirting out much -more of the rose-madder than I needed—this paltry little -sketch I was working on now would have to be finished -up and gotten out of the road for real work.</p> - -<p>"Where?" asked David, with the laconic briefness -of childhood.</p> - -<p>"Down inside the big gate—behind the stone wall."</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's where the Cory's live—there's a stream -there, with pollywogs in it." David's mind was beginning -to wander.</p> - -<p>"But you never saw such a study in pink in all -your life—think of it—pink dress—all different shades -of pink—pink roses for the high-note, and then pale -pink repeated in the cheeks and then way off in the -background there were some pink hollyhocks." "My, -oh, my," I added to myself, stubbing gamboge into the -canvass to get a sunshiny effect, "My, oh, my—she sat -there just like a Grenze—a Gainsborough lady, now, -never would have had the courage to have leaned against -the tree in that lackadaisical manner; the Lady in Pink—Whistler -painted a Lady in White—I shall paint the -Lady in Pink! Tomorrow I shall begin, David," I -said, "tomorrow I am going down to get my masterpiece."</p> - -<p>"Well, but you can't go in the Cory's to get it," -said David; "that's private grounds."</p> - -<p>Private grounds! The words stunned me. Couldn't -an artist usually go any place he liked?</p> - -<p>"Private grounds!" I echoed, "oh, yes; why that's -so. Why, what on earth will I do?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," said David, with a half-rising inflection -showing an abstract sympathy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>[291]</span></p> - -<p>"Think of that! And there it all is just waiting -to be painted. Why, look here, David, how on earth -did you ever get in to know there were pollywogs?"</p> - -<p>"Oh," said David, "the folks were away."</p> - -<p>"Well, I will wait then till they are all away! But, -good heavens, what am I thinking about! The garden -isn't what I want—it's the Lady in Pink." I began -packing up my paints—there was no use trying to do -anything more now.</p> - -<p>"Well, at any rate, we will go down tomorrow," -said I, wiping some brushes on my handkerchief, "and -maybe in the meanwhile we can think up a way to -get in."</p> - -<p>"Oh, let's go now," suggested David, seeing that -things were really moving.</p> - -<p>"You mean it?" I asked, rather astonished at his -sudden desire for action.</p> - -<p>"All right, then! You fold up the camp stool and -umbrella and I'll take the box and the pallet along -with me."</p> - -<p>"Dear me! What on earth now will we ever say -when we get there?" I began on the way down the -hill.</p> - -<p>"We might ask for a glass of milk."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, we can't do that—it isn't in the country."</p> - -<p>"Well, I might ask for some hollyhocks."</p> - -<p>"Well, I guess not! The hollyhocks can't be picked—they're -part of the masterpiece."</p> - -<p>"Then you think something yourself," and David -lapsed into a discouraged silence.</p> - -<p>But I couldn't think of anything save that I must -and would have the lady at any cost and though I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>[292]</span> -couldn't see how I was going to get it, I had a very -clear picture of myself in the garden, painting away.</p> - -<p>"You just wait till we get there," I said to David, -as we stumped down the walk together. David was used -to my enthusiasms over all sorts of things which he -usually only vaguely assented that he could see, and -though he never said much when I fell to talking about -principles of art, I liked to have him with me always -when I worked, because he had such a joyous, fresh -little face. I couldn't help but catch the sunshine of it -when I did an outdoor sketch; and if I had lived in the -days when no picture was complete without a Love in -it, David would always have been the one to have posed -for me.</p> - -<p>Presently we came near the gate and, to speak truly, -I was becoming a bit fearful as to just what was going -to happen, but David, eager and anticipatory, hopped -on ahead of me and peered in.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" he called back, "there isn't anything here at -all."</p> - -<p>"Oh, isn't there?" I said; "you don't mean to say -it's gone in."</p> - -<p>"If you mean the lady, she isn't here."</p> - -<p>And true enough, when I came up there wasn't a -soul in sight. How empty the place looked! It was -just like a disappointing exhibition—here were all the -people come to see the great works, and when the door -was reached, there hung a sign which said that the -management was sorry, but the best paintings had been -delayed on the way, and wouldn't be here till tomorrow -at two o'clock! I gazed at my ruined masterpiece—the -background was all there, but there was no picture,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>[293]</span> -for what moaning had broad green masses of -foliage and shaded distances apart from a contrasting -center of interest, of what meaning was there anyhow in -a landscape without a human touch?</p> - -<p>David pressed his hand on the latch of the gate -and it opened for him. I have always liked to think -since that he was the one that really opened the way -there.</p> - -<p>"Let's go in," he said in a half challenging whisper, -but with eyes pleading authority from me.</p> - -<p>I couldn't resist. "Well, all right—it will be like -Corot wandering around in the forest of Fontainbleau—and -if anybody comes——" I didn't know what I -would do, so I took my pallet in my hand fancying to -myself it would do very well for a shield against any -contingent. So we slowly walked up the winding path -together.</p> - -<p>"The pollywogs are over there," said David, pointing -a slender finger toward the house.</p> - -<p>"You never mind them," I answered, "what we are -here for is to get the setting of this picture. My! Almost -any view would do—I never saw so many colors -in all my life. Look, David, at that bust over there with -the gray-green leaves brushing up against the gray stone—oh, -there ought to be a peacock under there, to give -a strong iridescent blue note—do you suppose there is a -peacock around any place?" I said, laying down my -pallet and circling my eyes with my hands so as to -localize the color masses better.</p> - -<p>But David was sorting pebbles on the walk and so -I expected no answer from him, but was scarcely prepared -for the one I did receive.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>[294]</span></p> - -<p>"No, there is no peacock here, but—can I do anything -for you?"</p> - -<p>I swept around and there was that radiant figure in -pink, melting into the green behind her, the soft roundness -of her figure echoed in the larger circling outlines -of the trees, her brown hair the delicate counterpart in -color of the ground she stood on, and her eyes, deep -ultramarine, the concentrated blue of all the pale sky—what -a picture, what a picture! My imagination -flew to grasp it, and I forgot everything but that I -must have it, swept up clean from the pallet and made -living on the canvas.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said, "yes—there is something you can -do for me. You can stay right there—or you can go -over there and sit down, while I get you," and I dashed -back to the gate after my paints.</p> - -<p>When I returned she was still standing and the -corners of her lips were twitching. They were very red. -I began unpacking my tubes and unfolding my easel. -"Wouldn't you like to sit on the bench over there? -You have no idea how much the tree trunk will help -out the composition." And I begged her silently.</p> - -<p>But she stood there perfectly still and looked at me -with eyes full of question; they had a moving highlight -in them, like the sun on a wave—if I could only catch -that!</p> - -<p>"You want to get me!" she finally stammered.</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes!" I said, "don't you see? I was walking -by the gate and I saw you, and I want you to pose -for me," and then as I saw her hesitate, "oh, surely -you don't mind being gotten?" With what a terror -the thought filled me—but I had to do it somehow.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295"></a>[295]</span></p> - -<p>"Well—only—but why don't you paint the little -boy?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, David! Oh, I paint him in everything—he -comes in the sunshine and the blowing wind and all -the feeling of movement I ever get in a picture—and -then if people are happy when they look at the picture, -that is because David was with me when I painted it. -David is a little Love."</p> - -<p>Well, she never said a word, but I think she understood -what I meant, because she went over and sat -down and called David to her and began talking with -him. I am sure I had no idea what she was saying to -him, because I set to the work then with all my might. -I sketched in the figure, and set up my pallet with -plenty of color and then flew to the brushes; it seemed -as if I could work with the culminative inspiration of -all the painting I had ever done.</p> - -<p>While I was blocking in the hat with the roses, she -looked up.</p> - -<p>"Won't you tell me what it is going to be?" she -asked with the air of having thought of the question -some time before.</p> - -<p>"Well," I replied, knowing I would have to make a -step somehow, "Whistler painted a Lady in White, so -I thought I would call this the Lady in Pink; and if it -comes out and I really get you——"</p> - -<p>"If you really get me?"</p> - -<p>"Why, yes; if I can just catch you the way I want -you; that is one of the troubles of the artist, you know—he -never really is sure whether he is going to be able -to get what he wants or——"</p> - -<p>"Not even when he is so eager about it?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296"></a>[296]</span></p> - -<p>"No, not always then," I laughed, wondering though -if she didn't know that inspiration was in truth something -more than eagerness.</p> - -<p>"Not even—when he is painting in a garden—like -this?"</p> - -<p>Her eyes were brimming with a half-concealed mirth.</p> - -<p>"Oh, this garden is a lovely place," I answered, -"but it wouldn't make all the picture—there's got to -be some spirit in it beside—a kind of informing mood. -Now it is very quiet here and you are posing for -me——"</p> - -<p>"Oh! so I must be quiet, too?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I suppose so," I answered boldly enough; -"only, of course, a different kind of quiet, you know; -for if the garden is still, that's because—well, there -isn't anybody mowing the grass, or there isn't any wind -or—oh, the quietness of a person sitting in a garden is -quite a different thing."</p> - -<p>She kept looking at me all the time I was saying this, -and then replied slowly:</p> - -<p>"I see; you don't want me just to sit still."</p> - -<p>"Certainly not," I answered. "I want you to be—"</p> - -<p>Her eyes suddenly became dreamy, and I felt much -more at ease.</p> - -<p>"It's like David and the sunshine," she went on.</p> - -<p>"Yes, just exactly; you are to be the spirit of the -garden, the human symbol of its mood—its real meaning," -and happy that she understood the way I felt -about David, I fell to laying on the paint in broad, easy -strokes, wondering how I could ever imitate the emerald -transparency of the trees.</p> - -<p>She did not speak again and presently my glance<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297"></a>[297]</span> -returned to her. She was holding David's cap in her -hand and looking out—nowhere, I guess. I stopped -my work, stepping back to study it and survey the -scene.</p> - -<p>"I'm glad you like my garden," she finally said, -smiling; and such a smile as she gave me—it was like -a stream of golden haze on a white flower, a change -very subtle, and yet so striking.</p> - -<p>"Your garden is the very best place yet I've found -to work in," I said, well pleased. "It is just as fine a -place as the Forest of Fontainebleau, and Corot did some -great masterpieces there."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, this surely ought to be your masterpiece, -because, according to your own definition, you -have all the conditions just perfect; the garden, and -David——"</p> - -<p>"Besides you," I interrupted, looking at her through -the point of the easel, hoping to see the smile again; -but she had suddenly changed her position, quite unconscious -that in doing so she had spoiled the composition. -But it made no difference, for I already had the -posture, and the dress with its lavender and shell-pink -lights and all the green behind—it was all there on the -canvas, and the echo of it all on my pallet just like -the memory of an overture which has played with all -the various themes; and as to the rest—ah, she had indeed -given me a glimpse of the tender mood and the -stilling charm with which I wished to finish the picture. -I was quite content.</p> - -<p>Presently a tide of yellow evening light flooded into -the garden, making the ground luminous and throwing -deep shadows everywhere. I laid down my brushes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_298"></a>[298]</span></p> - -<p>"I shall have to stop now," I said, "evening is coming -on—I shall have to be going," and I whistled for -David.</p> - -<p>He came running across the grass, one hand full of -hollyhocks. "Oh, my stars, David!" I exclaimed, "what -have you been doing?"</p> - -<p>"Never mind," said the lady, "you know you have -been helping yourself to things, too," and she rose and -came over.</p> - -<p>"Oh, there I am," she said lightly, looking at what -I had done.</p> - -<p>"No, indeed," I hastened to assure her, "that isn't -you—yet; so far it is a composition in pink and green, -but you aren't in it. When I put in the sunlit background, -then David comes, you know, and then when I -put a gentle repose in every line of the figure, and a -dreamy, tender sweetness in the face, then I will be -painting the real spirit of the garden—don't you see?"</p> - -<p>And then, oh, my heart, she smiled again, but this -time such a smile as no man deserves twice—and stooped -and kissed David.</p> - -<p>"He says he wants to get me for his painting, David. -Shall I let him?"</p> - -<p>"Why, hasn't he gotten you already?" asked David, -tying the hollyhocks with grass.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I think he has," she answered slowly. "David, -you are a little Love," she added.</p> - -<p>"Yes, isn't he, though!" I said.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Wilma I. Ball. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_299"></a>[299]</span></p> - -<h3>III. The Humorous Story</h3> - -<p>The humorous story is but the other side of the -society story. It is not a thorough study in realism -either, for then it would be sad for a large part—as -George Meredith has shown us; but it is rather a course -of events more or less skilfully arranged to produce a -laugh. There is transposition here, suppression there, -exaggeration in many places. The reader joins the -author in the conspiracy to concoct fun, and as a result -both have a good time. The refinement and taste of -these narratives range all the long distance from the -vulgar horse-play and impossible dialect of the newspaper -"funny page" to the genuine humor of Mrs. -Stowe's "Sam Lawson" fireside stories and the quiet -pleasantness of Sarah Orne Jewett's character sketches -in "The Country of the Pointed Firs." Mark Twain -began the foundation of that distinction which he now -has as the greatest of modern humorists in his early -volume of sketches, entitled "The Celebrated Jumping -Frog."</p> - -<div class="sidenote">The fableau</div> - -<p>This type of story probably originated in the -medieval French <i>fableau</i>,<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> which was a short humorous -tale of the people—one recounting some -ludicrous situation. It was generally written -in octosyllabic couplets, a metrical form which was -admirably suited to sharp, spirited narrative by reason -of its skip, its carelessness, its sauciness. Boccaccio -and his long train of Italian and other followers retold -in prose many of these French stories; but it must be -admitted that the condensation and the rapidity of the -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_300"></a>[300]</span>older metrical tales become diffuseness and sometimes -tediousness in the prose version. The fableau was -sometimes satiric; usually baldly, even coarsely realistic. -Its purpose, however, was always to amuse. -Chaucer retold five or more fableaux. He is a jolly -narrator, and carries one along often in spite of one's -prejudice in favor of modesty and decency. He is -honest enough, however, to warn the reader of possible -unpalatableness and modern enough to attempt to -excuse himself on the basis of art.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Picaresque -romance</div> - -<p>That the picaresque romances embody such stories -as the fableau is perfectly evident. Dissect, for instance, -"Lazarillo de Tormes," or better, -"Guzman de Alfarache," and you will see -that the various adventures of the heroes would make -capital <i>fableaux</i> or humorous <i>contes</i>. The idea of combining -low adventures into a series connected with one -hero comes down from the days of Nero, when -Petronius Arbiter wrote his "Satyricon." But the -term picaresque romance refers to the Spanish popular -tales of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the -heroes of which are rascals, or picaros. As sharpers, -they are the prototypes of our more modern Yankee in -fiction who always "does" the other fellow before the -other fellow "does" him. Some of them, like the -"Yank," are not so much mean as just bold and -resourceful when at a disadvantage. They go to court -like the Connecticut Yankee and see their betters, -whom they criticise most straightforwardly. They are -older and naughtier Tom Sawyers and Huckleberry -Finns. In short, by their vernacular of the highway -and by their impudent deeds they stand in the historical<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_301"></a>[301]</span> -line of types which includes the heroes of the -fableau and the heroes of the modern burlesque or -comic tale. The difference between humorous and -comic and between comic and burlesque is a difference -of degree.</p> - -<p>Of the direct imitations of these Spanish rogues -there is the French Gil Blas; there are the English -Roderick Random, Jonathan Wild, and Miss Becky -Sharp; there is the Amateur Cracksman; and, come to -think about it, there is our own late American <i>Saturday -Evening Post's</i> ubiquitous Mr. Farthest North, -promoter, success attend him!</p> - -<p>To write a humorous story you will need to employ -epigram, point, climax, colloquialisms, and perhaps -dialect. If you touch dialect, however, take care to -know what you are about; for nothing is more repellent -to a reader familiar with a particular vernacular -than to be confronted with pitiful and incorrect -attempts at it. To write negro dialect you should be -as well versed as Joel Chandler Harris; to write Irish, -as apt as Samuel Lover or W. B. Yeats; to reveal children, -as sympathetic as Kate Douglas Wiggin; to give -us boy's fun, as charming and wholesome as Thomas -Bailey Aldrich; to combine humor and the ingenious tale, -you should be as inventive as Frank R. Stockton; and to -smile at Americans and their foibles you should be as -patriotic and kindly as Charles Battell Loomis.</p> - -<p>George Washington Cable, Ian Maclaren, Thomas -Nelson Page, J. M. Barrie, and Mary E. Wilkins Freeman -have written excellent dialect, but they are not -primarily humorists. They use the vernacular of the -people as aids to character revelation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_302"></a>[302]</span></p> - -<p>The difference between a humorous story and comic -anecdote is the difference of length and veracity. An -anecdote purports to be true. A humorous story, only -"drawn from life."</p> - -<h4>The Expatriation of Jonathan Taintor</h4> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Reprinted by permission from Loomis's "Cheerful Americans." -Copyright, Henry Holt and Company.</p></div> - -<p>While I was in London I met a New York friend who -was stopping in that America-in-London, Bloomsbury, and -during our conversation he told me that he had for a -fellow-boarder no less a person than Jonathan Taintor.</p> - -<p>I felt that I ought to know Jonathan Taintor, and I -have since found out that most people have heard something -concerning him; but although the name had a good -old Connecticut sound, I could not fit Mr. Taintor into any -nook, so I frankly said to my friend: "Jonathan Taintor -lies in the future for me."</p> - -<p>"Why, I'll have to introduce you. I believe he's been -written up before, but he's such a character that it will do -you good to meet him. Can't you come to dinner tonight?"</p> - -<p>Now, I had been reckoning on going that evening to the -opera at Covent Garden; but characters do not pop around -every corner, and, besides, I had not seen my New York -friend for a long time, so I accepted his cordial invitation.</p> - -<p>That evening at seven I went to the American boarding-house -in Bedford Place, just off High Holborn, and was -soon sitting at dinner with my friend.</p> - -<p>Directly opposite me sat a man who might have left -the valley of the Connecticut five minutes before. There -are Taintors all about the Haddams that look just like -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_303"></a>[303]</span>him. He was short, thick-set, with dreamy blue eyes, a -ruddy face that betokened a correct life, a curved nose, -broad, straight, shaven upper lip, and a straggling silver -chin-beard.</p> - -<p>There was more or less twang in the tones of every one -at the table, but his voice had a special nasal quality that -seemed to bespeak a lifetime of bucolic Yankee existence. -It was really so pronounced as to sound stagy.</p> - -<p>The talk at dinner was desultory, and Mr. Taintor said -little. I noticed that he had a dish of corned beef and -cabbage, although the pièce de résistance for the rest of us -was beef with a Yorkshire pudding. He left the table -before coffee was served, but not before my friend had -asked him to join us later on the balcony for a smoke and -chat.</p> - -<p>When we went up we found him already on the balcony, -smoking a corn-cob pipe of American manufacture. My -friend introduced us, and he shook my hand with one -downward jerk. How often have I felt that pressure in -the rural districts of Connecticut!</p> - -<p>When Mr. Taintor learned that I had been in London -only a week and had just come from Middletown, his face -lighted up with interest, and he said:</p> - -<p>"You have passed my wife in the street. She often -comes to town market days."</p> - -<p>"Oh, then she's not with you," was my somewhat idiotic -reply.</p> - -<p>"No, she ain't; an' unless the good Lord heaves enough -sand into the Atlantic to make the walkin' good, she won't -never be with me."</p> - -<p>"You must be anxious to get back? Been over here -some weeks?" said I.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_304"></a>[304]</span></p> - -<p>"A matter of thirty year," he replied, and sighed prodigiously.</p> - -<p>"Why, you must be quite an Englishman by this time."</p> - -<p>He looked troubled. "Dew I look English?" said he.</p> - -<p>"No, no," I replied, comfortingly; "you might pass for -Uncle Sam."</p> - -<p>"Well, I hope I'll never pass fer anythin' wuss," said -he. "It's jest thirty year in November sence I left -America, an' I've be'n in this dreary taown ever sence; but -I ain't never read an English noospaper nor ridden in an -English omnibus or horse-car or steam-car, neither, an' I -try to eat as much as possible what I would ef I was at -home with Cynthy. An' I'm a Republican clean through."</p> - -<p>"Well, what's keeping you here?" said I.</p> - -<p>Mr. Taintor pressed down the tobacco in his pipe to -make it burn better, and said: "I can't stan' the trip. Y'see, -when we was married we thought we'd cross the ocean -on aour weddin'-trip. Father hed lef' me comfor'ble, an' -Cynthy hed be'n dead-set on crossin' all through aour -courtship. Fact is, her sister Sairy said 'at 'at was all -she was marryin' fer; but of course Sairy was a great -joker, an' I knowed better. Well, we went daown to Noo -York the day before the steamer sailed, an' we put up at -a hotel there on Broadway, an' durin' the evenin' some -women got talkin' to Cynthy, an' told her haow awful sick -she was like to be ef she hedn't never be'n on the ocean -before. Well, it frightened her so that she backed plumb -aout er the harness—said she guessed we'd better go to -Saratogy instead; an' the upshot was we hed aour fust an' -last quar'l then. I told her I'd bought the tickets fer -Europe an' we'd hev to go, an' she said she would n' expose -herself to two or three weeks of sickness under the idee it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_305"></a>[305]</span> -was a picnic party, an' all I could say to her couldn't -shake her. Well, it was bad enough losin' the price of one -ticket, but I couldn't lose the price of two, an' so we -finally come to an agreement. She was to go up to Saratogy, -although the season up ther' was over, an' I was to -cross the ocean alone. It was too late to git my money -back, an', to tell the truth, I allers did hate to give a plan -up, 'thout I hed sufficient reason; so nex' mornin' we went -daown to the dock, fer we'd made up, an' she was comin' -ter see me off. She took on consid'able, an' I was cut up -myse'f, partic'larly when I thought of the ticket thet was -bein' thrown away. But she caught a glimpse of the waves -behind a ferry-boat, an' she turned white as a sheet an' -shook her head; so I kissed her good-by, an' the steamer -sailed away with me on it, an' her a-wavin' her arms an' -cryin' on the dock."</p> - -<p>"Poor fellow!" said I, sympathetically.</p> - -<p>"Well, the amount of seasickness she saved herself by -stayin' to hum couldn't be reckoned 'thougt I was a -scholar, which I ain't. I took to my berth before we was -aout of sight of land, an' ef the brimstun of the future is -any wuss 'an what I suffered, I don't want to die. But I -wished I could die all the way over. I come right here to -London, because there was a man I knew comin' here, too, -an' I wrote to Cynthy to come right over as soon as she -could, an' we'd live aour lives aout here; fer bad as it was -here, nothin' on top of creation could temp' me to go back, -not even her pretty face."</p> - -<p>He stopped a minute and half closed his eyes, and I -fancy he was calling her pretty face back through the -thirty years.</p> - -<p>"Well, well, that was hard lines," said I.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_306"></a>[306]</span></p> - -<p>"Yes, but it was wuss when I got her reply. She told -me she hed n't hed a happy minute sence I left, although -she hed gone up to Saratogy, but the water tasted like -something was into it, an' she'd come away after one day, -an' was now on the farm at Goodspeed's Landing. An' -she said thet ef <i>I'd</i> be'n so sick <i>she 'd</i> proba'ly die, an' she -could n't bear to think of bein' heaved into the Atlantic, -an' must stop where she was. Ah me! Sence then we 've -be'n as lovin' as we could be, writin' reg'lar an' rememberin' -each other's birthdays an' aour weddin' anniversaries; -but we hain't sot eyes on each other, an' won't until -we 're both safe on that other shore they tell us abaout. -An' I hope thet trip 'll be a smooth one."</p> - -<p>"And what does Mrs. Taintor do all alone?"</p> - -<p>He knocked the ashes out of his pipe and put it into -his pocket before he replied:</p> - -<p>"She runs the old farm as I never could have run it. -She's a born farmer, that wife of mine is. She has a -hired man to help, but she does a good share of the work -herself, an' every year she sen's me half the airnings; an' -I live on here, hatin' it all an' hopin' for the time to come -when the ocean'll either dry up or freeze over, or that -Cynthy will overcome her dislike to the trip. Married -life ain't e'zac'ly pleasant so fur apart, but I c'n truthfully -say we 've never quar'led sence I come here, an' I ain't -seen a woman sence I landed thet could hold a candle to -Cynthy. Cynthy is a pretty gal."</p> - -<p>Shortly afterward the old man retired to his own room, -and then my friend, who had not spoken once since we came -out, wickedly hinted that maybe Mr. Taintor only imagined -that he loved Cynthia, and that they were happier -separated; but I hate to spoil idyls in that way. To me it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_307"></a>[307]</span> -is very beautiful, the thought of that dear old lady in -Connecticut, who runs the farm and writes loving letters -to her expatriated spouse and sends him a share of the -profits, but who cannot overcome her antipathy to the -unstable sea. And when I think of Mr. Taintor as he -appeared that evening in Bloomsbury, with his honest -Yankee traditions, and his ardent love far his absent wife, -I say, "Hurrah for both of them!"</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Charles Battell Loomis. -</p> - -<h4>Kileto and the Physician</h4> - -<p>It was now about a month and a half since Kileto -felt something harsh in his throat. He took a mirror -and opened his mouth as wide as possible. On looking -at the mirror he saw some of his large papillae. He -was so greatly frightened to see such "red bodies," as -he called them, that he exclaimed, "Ah, dear Life, you -are going to depart soon! But, anyhow, I will at once -go to the doctors to have these things identified." Without -further delay, he went to a doctor, whose name -I must not mention, lest he be angry with me for publishing -this piece of news.</p> - -<p>The doctor, after examining Kileto's throat, opened -his book of medicine and searched in it for half an hour. -Then after he was tired of not finding the right place -to read, he said to Kileto, "Such sickness as you have -is rarely found in other men. Your disease is called -'Sampaga' in our dialect. However, I will give you a -prescription." "Doctor," said Kileto, "do you think I -shall ever be cured of my sickness?" "Why, yes," answered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_308"></a>[308]</span> -the doctor; "only it will take several months -before your disease can be cured. Perhaps, with the -help of God and me, you will recover sooner. I want -to ask you several questions. Will you answer me -patiently?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," answered Kileto.</p> - -<p>"Well, do you smoke cigarettes?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir; three packages a day would not be -sufficient."</p> - -<p>"Well, this is the first habit you must abstain from. -Do you chew betel-nut?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"That is the second habit you must abstain from. -Do you often go to church?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir; once in a year, if my wife happens to -remind me of it."</p> - -<p>"You!—a Catholic!—or a pagan?"</p> - -<p>"I am both Catholic and pagan."</p> - -<p>"Well, well, if ever you expect to recover, these -three things you must do—you must abstain from smoking, -chewing betel-nut, and you must go to church every -Sunday, for the purification of your soul."</p> - -<p>Kileto went home, somewhat relieved. He told his -wife what the doctor bade him do. He did all that -the doctor had ordered. He went to the church every -day—morning and afternoon—praying the whole "rosario." -Moreover, he confessed his sins to the priest. He -abstained from smoking and from chewing betel-nut.</p> - -<p>Every day, after he had gone to church, he went -to consult the doctor, who always gave him medicine. -Almost all sorts of poisons to kill bacteria were prescribed. -One day the doctor said to Kileto, "Do not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_309"></a>[309]</span> -come here for several days. I am going to study about -your sickness. I will tell you the truth—you will die -when your sampaga bursts." This statement of the -doctor made Kileto very sad.</p> - -<p>After a week, Kileto consulted the doctor again. "I -think," said the doctor, "I had better burn your 'sampaga.' -What do you say?"</p> - -<p>"Well, you may do whatever you think best."</p> - -<p>"But no," rejoined the doctor; "I'd better inject -medicine into your body."</p> - -<p>"All right, sir. I told you that you may do whatever -you think best." Then the doctor injected medicine -into Kileto's body. Kileto, because of the results -of this injection, was displeased with the doctor, for he -could hardly walk home.</p> - -<p>One day as Kileto's wife was looking in a mirror, -she found the image of her large papillae, which were -like her husband's. Of course, she was very much -frightened, lest she also had "Sampaga." She took her -small boy of ten years to the window and looking at his -tongue, found out that he also had papillae. "These -sampagas," she said, "must be common." So she examined -the tongues of everybody who came near her. -"Ah!" she exclaimed, "these things must be natural. -Oh, God, you save my husband! But I will fool my -husband. I will tell him I have the same disease that he -has."</p> - -<p>When her husband came, she immediately led him to -the window and showed her papillae. "You see," she -said, "I have the same disease as you have. How -now? Then we shall die together." To frighten her -husband more, she said, "Open your mouth, and let me<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_310"></a>[310]</span> -see how your 'sampagas' are getting along." Then -Kileto opened his mouth. His wife examined then, and -said to him, "Your sampagas are increasing." At this -statement Kileto jumped with great horror, and said, -"Oh, yes, my end is coming." "Now I see," replied the -wife, "how like a small boy you are. I have been told -by a student that with these 'red bodies' we taste our -food. So you need not be afraid. Just look at the -tongues of everybody, and you will see that they have -the 'papillae,' as the student calls them."</p> - -<p>Kileto was convinced, and regretted the great error -he had committed. He had spent on medicine all his -and his wife's earnings for two years.</p> - -<p>One day Kileto, when left alone in the house, said -to himself, "I know now the reason why the doctor -said that I would die when my 'sampagas' burst. Of -course, these are not 'sampagas'; and how could they -burst? These things grow with the man. I am uncertain, -however, whether the doctor had a private purpose -in not telling me at once that the things I have on my -tongue are 'papillae,' or whether he had not acquired -enough knowledge in his medical studies to be able to -distinguish the papillae from the disease called 'sampaga.'</p> - -<p>"But in spite of all the trouble he gave me—injecting -medicine into my limbs, which made me lame -for three days, wringing, as it were, all my money -from my hands—I am grateful to him. Why? Because -I was made religious, going to church once every two -days. I abstained from chewing betel-nut, and smoking -cigarettes, and now I care no more for them."</p> - -<p>Whenever the members of the family are in good<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_311"></a>[311]</span> -humor, they talk of this story and laugh until they are -out of breath.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Lorenzo Licup. -</p> - -<h4><i>A FILIPINO FABLEAU</i><a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> -<br /> -The Lame Man and the Deaf Family</h4> - -<p>One cloudy afternoon while I was wandering along -the road between Paco and Pandacan, I met a lame man -limping down the way. The man seemed very tired, and -he was carrying on his head a pot which I thought -contained water. The fellow was a mestizo and was -dressed in a white suit. Seeing me, he said, "Will you -please show me a house where I can ask for a drink -of water?" I could not answer him at once, because -I nearly laughed in his face when I saw it was only -his long <i>bigote</i> that made his split upper-lip unnoticed -at a distance. Wishing to have some fun out of him I -showed him the house that stood in an orchard on one -side of the road.</p> - -<p>The house that I pointed out belonged to a family all -the members of which were deaf; namely, the father, the -mother, and a daughter. Because of a kind of sickness -that occurred in the family some years before, they had -lost their sense of hearing. People had nicknamed them -the "Deaf Family."</p> - -<p>The man, or Mr. Bigote as I shall call him in honor -of his long mustache, went limping directly to the house; -and, without letting Mr. Bigote notice me, I followed -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_312"></a>[312]</span>him and hid behind the tall grasses that grew near the -orchard. From my place I had a good view of the orchard -and could hear the conversation between Mr. -Bigote and the members of the family.</p> - -<p>The orchard was a trapezium in shape. Except the -front, which was separated by a wire fence from the -road, all sides of it were surrounded by tall grasses. On -each vertex of the trapezium stood an ilang-ilang tree. -At the center stood a small nipa house facing the road. -Around the house were several banana trees and camote -plants. The house was old, and yet its stairs were made -of stone. Under the bamboo floor of the building I -could see a large blind dog. Near the foot of the stairs -the daughter of the Deaf Family was sitting on a stone, -giving food to her hog. It was a very fat hog, but -neither ear nor tail could be seen attached to its great -body.</p> - -<p>The dialogue was begun by Mr. Bigote. "Good morning, -madam," he said politely.</p> - -<p>"We do not want to sell our hog, sir," answered the -girl.</p> - -<p>"I do not mean to buy your hog, but I only ask for -a drink of water, for I am very thirsty," said the lame -man quietly.</p> - -<p>"Sir, it is very fat, because I always feed it well. -You will not see its ears and tail because that bad dog -ate them when their owner was yet small," answered -the girl, pointing to the blind dog that was barking at -Mr. Bigote.</p> - -<p>Noticing that she did not hear him very well, Mr. -Bigote shouted, "Let me have a drink of water!"</p> - -<p>"Mother, here is a man who wants to buy our hog,"<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_313"></a>[313]</span> -shouted the young person to her mother, who was then, -I supposed, cooking their lunch.</p> - -<p>The mother peeped through the window and when -she saw Mr. Bigote exclaimed angrily, "What! Are you -going to marry that <i>Bangus</i>? I will wake your father. -Tambucio, here is your daughter. She wants to marry a -<i>bangus</i>."</p> - -<p>"I am only asking for a drink of water, madam," -said Mr. Bigote.</p> - -<p>But when the father saw his wife very angry at the -man who was standing near their stairs, he asked Mr. -Bigote angrily, "Why did you hurt my dog?"</p> - -<p>"Do not be angry, sir. I come to ask for a drink of -water and not to harm your dog," answered Mr. Bigote.</p> - -<p>Thinking that the man had said something bad to -him, the father took a piece of wood and went down -stairs. Seeing the danger, Mr. Bigote ran limping to -the road, but the father followed him and struck the pot -he was carrying on his head. The pot, which I had -thought contained water, was broken, and I was very -much surprised to see Mr. Bigote covered with molasses.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Santiago Y. Rotea. -</p> - -<h3><b>IV. The Occasional Story</b></h3> - -<div class="sidenote">The spirit -of the -occasional -story</div> - -<p>A story for a special occasion may be of any narrative -type the author chooses: it may be a -legend, a tale of mere wonder, a humorous -story, a study in realism, a weird tale, or -a ghost story (if one should select All Saints' -Eve). Anything the author feels inclined to write<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_314"></a>[314]</span> -will fall within the class provided it have about it the -general atmosphere of a particular celebration. If -that be the Fourth of July, the reader expects patriotism -or its popular substitute, firecrackers; if Thanksgiving, -gladness and generosity; if Christmas, reverence -and good-will, and for the Northern people some -pagan jollity in addition, for it is well recognized that -we Anglo-Saxons have incorporated into the Christian -festival our Druidical Yule-tide; if New Year's, then -forgiveness and well-wishing to all and a sense of -everybody's putting his best foot foremost; if Easter, -hope and the joy of spring-time.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Its -masters</div> - -<p>It might be well to think and read a little about -Easter if you want to write a special story. Not much -has been done with that season, though it is -full of possibilities. It, too, is a combination -of old and new ideals. We have many beautiful -Christmas legends and tales, even by the great authors—Dickens, -Thackeray and many of the French and -Spanish short-story tellers; and by our later writers, -as well. Professor Van Dyke, Professor Mabie, Kate -Douglas Wiggin, William Canton, Bret Harte, almost -everyone who has written, in fact,—but Easter stories -are harder to find.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Suggestions</div> - -<p>The English-speaking peoples have not so many -special days as have the Latin. The adherents of the -Catholic church have all the Saints' days to -celebrate. These yield many pretty fancies. -Keats has made famous St. Agnes' Eve. The other -religions, too, are worth thinking about. The Mohammedans -and the Buddhists are devotees, and have -interesting customs. Besides the religious memorials<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_315"></a>[315]</span> -there are the nations' hero days. And then, too, the -special anniversaries of societies and associations. -One's own school commencement, the best event of -one's favorite college—there are surely many inspirations -for occasional stories.</p> - -<h4>The Lost Child</h4> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Translated by J. Matthewman. Copyright, 1894, by The -Current Literature Publishing Company. Reprinted by permission.</p></div> - -<p>On that morning, which was the morning before Christmas, -two important events happened simultaneously—the -sun rose, and so did M. Jean-Baptiste Godefroy.</p> - -<p>Unquestionably the sun, illuminating suddenly the whole -of Paris with its morning rays, is an old friend, regarded -with affection by everybody. It is particularly welcome -after a fortnight of misty atmosphere and gray skies, when -the wind has cleared the air and allowed the sun's rays -to reach the earth again. Besides all of which the sun -is a person of importance. Formerly, he was regarded -as a god, and was called Osiris, Apollyon, and I don't -know what else. But do not imagine that because the -sun is so important he is of greater influence than M. -Jean-Baptiste Godefroy, millionaire banker, director of the -<i>Comptoir Général de Crédit</i>, administrator of several big -companies, deputy and member of the General Counsel of -the Eure, officer of the Legion of Honor, etc., etc. And -whatever opinion the sun may have about himself, he certainly -has not a higher opinion than M. Jean-Baptiste -Godefroy has of <i>himself</i>. So we are authorized to state, -and we consider ourselves justified in stating, that on the -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_316"></a>[316]</span>morning in question, at about a quarter to eight, the sun -and M. Jean-Baptiste Godefroy rose.</p> - -<p>Certainly the manner of rising of these two great powers -mentioned was not the same. The good old sun began by -doing a great many pretty actions. As the sleet had, during -the night, covered the bare branches of the trees in the -boulevard Malesherbes, where the <i>hôtel</i> Godefroy is situated, -with a powdered coating, the great magician sun amused -himself by transforming the branches into great bouquets -of red coral. At the same time he scattered his rays -impartially on those poor passers-by whom necessity sent -out, so early in the morning, to gain their daily bread. -He even had a smile for the poor clerk, who, in a thin -overcoat, was hurrying to his office, as well as for the -<i>grisette</i>, shivering under her thin, insufficient clothing; for -the workman carrying half a loaf under his arm, for the -car-conductor as he punched the tickets, and for the dealer -in roast chestnuts, who was roasting his first panful. In -short, the sun gave pleasure to everybody in the world. -M. Jean-Baptiste Godefroy, on the contrary, rose in quite -a different frame of mind. On the previous evening he -had dined with the Minister for Agriculture. The dinner, -from the removal of the <i>potage</i> to the salad, bristled with -truffles, and the banker's stomach, aged forty-seven years, -experienced the burning and biting of pyrosis. So the -manner in which M. Jean-Baptiste Godefroy rang for his -valet-de-chambre was so expressive that, as he got some -warm water for his master's shaving, Charles said to the -kitchen-maid:</p> - -<p>"There he goes! The monkey is barbarously ill-tempered -again this morning. My poor Gertrude, we're going to -have a miserable day."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_317"></a>[317]</span></p> - -<p>Whereupon, walking on tiptoe, with eyes modestly cast -down, he entered the chamber of his master, opened the -curtains, lit the fire, and made all the necessary preparations -for the toilet with the discreet demeanor and respectful -gestures of a sacristan placing the sacred vessels on the -altar for the priest.</p> - -<p>"What sort of weather this morning?" demanded M. -Godefroy curtly, as he buttoned his undervest of gray -swansdown upon a stomach that was already a little too -prominent.</p> - -<p>"Very cold, sir," replied Charles meekly. "At six o'clock -the thermometer marked seven degrees above zero. But, -as you will see, sir, the sky is quite clear, and I think we -are going to have a fine morning."</p> - -<p>In stropping his razor, M. Godefroy approached the window, -drew aside one of the hangings, looked on the boulevard, -which was bathed in brightness, and made a slight -grimace which bore some resemblance to a smile.</p> - -<p>It is all very well to be perfectly stiff and correct, and -to know that it is bad taste to show feeling of any kind -in the presence of domestics, but the appearance of the -roguish sun in the middle of December sends such a glow -of warmth to the heart that it is impossible to disguise the -fact. So M. Godefroy deigned, as before observed, to smile. -If some one had whispered to the opulent banker that his -smile had anything in common with that of the printer's -boy, who was enjoying himself by making a slide on the -pavement, M. Godefroy would have been highly incensed. -But it really was so all the same; and during the space of -one minute this man, who was so occupied by business matters, -this leading light in the financial and political worlds, -indulged in the childish pastime of watching the passers-by,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_318"></a>[318]</span> -and following with his eyes the files of conveyances as -they gaily rolled in the sunshine.</p> - -<p>But pray do not be alarmed. Such a weakness could not -last long. People of no account, and those who have nothing -to do, may be able to let their time slip by in doing -nothing. It is very well for women, children, poets, and -riffraff. M. Godefroy had other fish to fry; and the work -of the day which was commencing promised to be exceptionally -heavy. From half-past eight to ten o'clock he had -a meeting at his office with a certain number of gentlemen, -all of whom bore a striking resemblance to M. Godefroy. -Like him, they were very nervous; they had risen with the -sun, they were all <i>blasés</i>, and they all had the same object -in view—to gain money. After breakfast (which he took -after the meeting), M. Godefroy had to leap into his -carriage and rush to the Bourse, to exchange a few words -with other gentlemen who had also risen at dawn, but who -had not the least spark of imagination among them. (The -conversations were always on the same subject—money.) -From there, without losing an instant, M. Godefroy went -to preside over another meeting of acquaintances entirely -void of compassion and tenderness. The meeting was held -round a baize-covered table, which was strewn with heaps -of papers and well provided with ink-wells. The conversation -again turned on money, and various methods of gaining -it.</p> - -<p>After the aforesaid meeting he, in his capacity of -deputy, had to appear before several commissions (always -held in rooms where there were baize-covered tables and -ink-wells and heaps of papers). There he found men as -devoid of sentiment as he was, all utterly incapable of -neglecting any occasion of gaining money, but who, nevertheless,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_319"></a>[319]</span> -had the extreme goodness to sacrifice several hours -of the afternoon to the glory of France.</p> - -<p>After having quickly shaved he donned a morning suit, -the elegant cut and finish of which showed that the old -beau of nearly fifty had not ceased trying to please. When -he shaved he spared the narrow strip of pepper-and-salt -beard round his chin, as it gave him the air of a trustworthy -family man in the eyes of the Arrogants and of -fools in general. Then he descended to his cabinet, where -he received the file of men who were entirely occupied by -one thought—that of augmenting their capital. These -gentlemen discussed several projected enterprises, all of -them of considerable importance, notably that of a new -railroad to be laid across a wild desert. Another scheme -was for the founding of monster works in the environs of -Paris, another of a mine to be worked in one of the South -American republics. It goes without saying that no one -asked if the railway would have passengers or goods to -carry, or if the proposed works should manufacture cotton -nightcaps or distil whisky; whether the mine was to be of -virgin gold or of second-rate copper: certainly not. The -conversation of M. Godefroy's morning callers turned exclusively -upon the profits which it would be possible to -realize during the week which should follow the issue of -the shares. They discussed particularly the values of the -shares, which they knew would be destined before long to -be worth less than the paper on which they were printed -in fine style.</p> - -<p>These conversations, bristling with figures, lasted till -ten o'clock precisely, and then the director of the <i>Comptoir -Général de Crédit</i>, who, by the way, was an honest man—at -least, as honest as is to be found in business—courteously<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_320"></a>[320]</span> -conducted his last visitor to the head of the stairway. -The visitor named was an old villain, as rich as Crœsus, -who, by a not uncommon chance, enjoyed the general esteem -of the public; whereas, had justice been done to him, he -would have been lodging at the expense of the State in -one of those large establishments provided by a thoughtful -government for smaller delinquents; and there he would -have pursued a useful and healthy calling for a lengthy -period, the exact length having been fixed by the judges of -the supreme court. But M. Godefroy showed him out -relentlessly, notwithstanding his importance—it was absolutely -necessary to be at the Bourse at 11 o'clock—and went -into the dining-room.</p> - -<p>It was a luxuriously furnished room. The furniture and -plate would have served to endow a cathedral. Nevertheless, -notwithstanding that M. Godefroy took a gulp of -bicarbonate of soda, his indigestion refused to subside, consequently -the banker could only take the scantiest breakfast—that -of a dyspeptic. In the midst of such luxury, -and under the eye of a well-paid butler, M. Godefroy could -only eat a couple of boiled eggs and nibble a little mutton -chop. The man of money trifled with dessert—took only -a crumb of Roquefort—not more than two cents' worth. -Then the door opened and an overdressed but charming -little child—young Raoul, four years old—the son of the -company director, entered the room, accompanied by his -German nursery governess.</p> - -<p>This event occurred every day at the same hour—a -quarter to eleven, precisely, while the carriage which was -to take the banker to the Bourse was awaiting the gentleman -who had only a quarter of an hour to give to paternal -sentiment. It was not that he did not love his son. He did<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_321"></a>[321]</span> -love him—nay, he adored him, in his own particular way. -But then, you know, business is business.</p> - -<p>At the age of forty-two, when already worldly-wise and -<i>blasé</i>, he had fancied himself in love with the daughter of -one of his club friends—Marquis de Neufontaine, an old -rascal—a nobleman, but one whose card-playing was more -than open to suspicion, and who would have been expelled -from the club more than once but for the influence of M. -Godefroy. The nobleman was only too happy to become -the father-in-law of a man who would pay his debts, and -without any scruples he handed over his daughter—a simple -and ingenuous child of seventeen, who was taken from a -convent to be married—to the worldly banker. The girl -was certainly sweet and pretty, but she had no dowry except -numerous aristocratic prejudices and romantic illusions, -and her father thought he was fortunate in getting rid of -her on such favorable terms. M. Godefroy, who was the -son of an avowed old miser of Andelys, had always remained -a man of the people, and intensely vulgar. In spite -of his improved circumstances, he had not improved. His -entire lack of tact and refinement was painful to his young -wife, whose tenderest feelings he ruthlessly and thoughtlessly -trampled upon. Things were looking unpromising, -when, happily for her, Madame Godefroy died in giving -birth to her firstborn. When he spoke of his deceased wife, -the banker waxed poetical, although had she lived they -would have been divorced in six months. His son he loved -dearly for several reasons—first, because the child was an -only son; secondly, because he was a scion of two such -houses as Godefroy and Neufontaine; finally, because the -man of money had naturally great respect for the heir to -many millions. So the youngster had golden rattles and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_322"></a>[322]</span> -other similar toys, and was brought up like a young -Dauphin. But his father, overwhelmed with business worries, -could never give the child more than fifteen minutes -per day of his precious time—and, as on the day mentioned, -it was always during "cheese"—and for the rest of the day -the father abandoned the child to the care of the servants.</p> - -<p>"Good morning, Raoul."</p> - -<p>"Good morning, papa."</p> - -<p>And the company director, having put his serviette -away, sat young Raoul on his left knee, took the child's -head between his big paws, and in stroking and kissing it -actually forgot all his money matters and even his note -of the afternoon, which was of great importance to him, -as by it he could gain quite an important amount of -patronage.</p> - -<p>"Papa," said little Raoul suddenly, "will Father Christmas -put anything in my shoe to-night?"</p> - -<p>The father answered with "Yes, if you are a good child." -This was very striking from a man who was a pronounced -freethinker, who always applauded every anti-clerical attack -in the Chamber with a vigorous "Hear, hear." He made -a mental note that he must buy some toys for his child that -very afternoon.</p> - -<p>Then he turned to the nursery governess with:</p> - -<p>"Are you quite satisfied with Raoul, Mademoiselle -Bertha?"</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Bertha became as red as a peony at being -addressed, as if the question were scarcely <i>comme il faut</i>, -and replied by a little imbecile snigger, which seemed -fully to satisfy M. Godefroy's curiosity about his son's -conduct.</p> - -<p>"It's fine to-day," said the financier, "but cold. If you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_323"></a>[323]</span> -take Raoul to Monceau Park, mademoiselle, please be careful -to wrap him up well."</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle, by a second fit of idiotic smiling, having -set at rest M. Godefroy's doubts and fears on that essential -point, he kissed his child, left the room hastily, and in the -hall was enveloped in his fur coat by Charles, who also -closed the carriage door. Then the faithful fellow went -off to the café which he <span class="err" title="original: frequentel">frequented</span>, Rue de Miromesnil, -where he had promised to meet the coachman of the baroness -who lived opposite, to play a game of billiards, thirty -up—and spot-barred, of course.</p> - -<p>Thanks to the brown bay—for which a thousand francs -over and above its value was paid by M. Godefroy as a result -of a sumptuous snail supper given to that gentleman's -coachman by the horse-dealer—thanks to the expensive -brown bay which certainly went well, the financier was -able to get through his many engagements satisfactorily. -He appeared punctually at the Bourse, sat at several committee -tables, and at a quarter to five, by voting with the -ministry, he helped to reassure France and Europe that the -rumors of a ministerial crisis had been totally unfounded. -He voted with the ministry because he had succeeded in -obtaining the favors which he demanded as the price of -his vote.</p> - -<p>After he had thus nobly fulfilled his duty to himself and -his country, M. Godefroy remembered what he had said to -his child on the subject of Father Christmas, and gave his -coachman the address of a dealer in toys. There he bought, -and had put in his carriage, a fantastic rocking-horse, -mounted on castors—a whip in each ear; a box of leaden -soldiers—all as exactly alike as those grenadiers of the -Russian regiment of the time of Paul I, who all had black<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_324"></a>[324]</span> -hair and snub noses; and a score of other toys, all equally -striking and costly. Then, as he returned home, softly -reposing in his well-swung carriage, the rich banker, who, -after all, was a father, began to think with pride of his -little boy and to form plans for his future.</p> - -<p>When the child grew up he should have an education -worthy of a prince, and he would be one, too, for there -was no longer any aristocracy except that of money, and -his boy would have a capital of about 30,000,000 francs.</p> - -<p>If his father, a pettifogging provincial lawyer, who had -formerly dined in the Latin Quarter when in Paris, who -had remarked every evening when putting on a white tie -that he looked as fine as if he were going to a wedding—if -he had been able to accumulate an enormous fortune, -and to become thereby a power in the republic; if he had -been able to obtain in marriage a young lady, one of whose -ancestors had fallen at Marignan, what an important personage -little Raoul might become. M. Godefroy built all -sorts of air-castles for his boy, forgetting that Christmas -is the birthday of a very poor little child, son of a couple -of vagrants, born in a stable, where the parents only found -lodging through charity.</p> - -<p>In the midst of the banker's dreams the coachman cried: -"Door, please," and drove into the yard. As he went up -the steps M. Godefroy was thinking that he had barely time -to dress for dinner; but on entering the vestibule he found -all the domestics crowded in front of him in a state of -alarm and confusion. In a corner, crouching on a seat, -was the German nursery-governess, crying. When she saw -the banker she buried her face in her hands and wept still -more copiously than before. M. Godefroy felt that some -misfortune had happened.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_325"></a>[325]</span></p> - -<p>"What's the meaning of all this? What's amiss? What -has happened?"</p> - -<p>Charles, the <i>valet de chambre</i>, a sneaking rascal of the -worst type, looked at his master with eyes full of pity and -stammered: "Mr. Raoul—"</p> - -<p>"My boy?"</p> - -<p>"Lost, sir. The stupid German did it. Since four -o'clock this afternoon he has not been seen."</p> - -<p>The father staggered back like one who had been hit by -a ball. The German threw herself at his feet, screaming: -"Mercy, mercy!" and the domestics all spoke at the same -time.</p> - -<p>"Bertha didn't go to <i>parc Monceau</i>. She lost the child -over there on the fortifications. We have sought him all -over, sir. We went to the office for you, sir, and then -to the Chamber, but you had just left. Just imagine, the -German had a rendezvous with her lover every day, beyond -the ramparts, near the gate of Asniéres. What a shame! -It is a place full of low gipsies and strolling players. Perhaps -the child has been stolen. Yes, sir, we informed the -police at once. How could we imagine such a thing? A -hypocrite, that German! She had a rendezvous, doubtless, -with a countryman—a Prussian spy, sure enough!"</p> - -<p>His son lost! M. Godefroy seemed to have a torrent -of blood rushing through his head. He sprang at -Mademoiselle, seized her by the arms and shook her furiously.</p> - -<p>"Where did you lose him, you miserable girl? Tell me -the truth before I shake you to pieces. Do you hear? Do -you hear?"</p> - -<p>But the unfortunate girl could only cry and beg for -mercy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_326"></a>[326]</span></p> - -<p>The banker tried to be calm. No, it was impossible. -Nobody would dare to steal <i>his</i> boy. Somebody would find -him and bring him back. Of that there could be no doubt. -He could scatter money about right and left, and could -have the entire police force at his orders. And he would -set to work at once, for not an instant should be lost.</p> - -<p>"Charles, don't let the horses be taken out. You others, -see that this girl doesn't escape. I'm going to the Prefecture."</p> - -<p>And M. Godefroy, with his heart thumping against his -sides as if it would break them, his hair wild with fright, -darted into his carriage, which at once rolled off as fast as -the horses could take it. What irony! The carriage was -full of glittering playthings, which sparkled every time a -gaslight shone on them. For the next day was the birthday -of the divine Infant at whose cradle wise men and simple -shepherds alike adored.</p> - -<p>"My poor little Raoul! Poor darling! Where is my -boy?" repeated the father as in his anguish he dug his -nails into the cushions of the carriage. At that moment -all his titles and decorations, his honors, his millions, were -valueless to him. He had one single idea burning in his -brain. "My poor child! Where is my child?"</p> - -<p>At last he reached the Prefecture of Police. But no one -was there—the office had been deserted for some time.</p> - -<p>"I am M. Godefroy, deputy from L'Eure—. My little -boy is lost in Paris; a child of four years. I must see the -Prefect."</p> - -<p>He slipped a louis into the hand of the <i>concièrge.</i></p> - -<p>The good old soul, a veteran with a gray mustache, less -for the sake of the money than out of compassion for the -poor father, led him to the Prefect's private apartments.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_327"></a>[327]</span> -M. Godefroy was finally ushered into the room of the man -in whom were centred all his hopes. He was in evening -dress, and wore a monocle; his manner was frigid and -rather pretentious. The distressed father, whose knees -trembled through emotion, sank into an armchair, and, -bursting into tears, told of the loss of his boy—told the -story stammeringly and with many breaks, for his voice -was choked by sobs.</p> - -<p>The Prefect, who was also father of a family, was inwardly -moved at the sight of his visitor's grief, but he -repressed his emotion and assumed a cold and self-important -air.</p> - -<p>"You say, sir, that your child has been missing since -four o'clock."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Just when night was falling, confound it. He isn't -at all precocious, speaks very little, doesn't know where he -lives, and can't even pronounce his own name?"</p> - -<p>"Unfortunately that is so."</p> - -<p>"Not far from Asnières gate? A suspected quarter. But -cheer up. We have a very intelligent <i>Commissaire de Police</i> -there. I'll telephone to him."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The distressed father was left alone for five minutes. -How his temples throbbed and his heart beat!</p> - -<p>Then, suddenly, the Prefect reappeared, smiling with -satisfaction. "Found!"</p> - -<p>Whereupon M. Godefroy rushed to the Prefect, whose -hand he pressed till that functionary winced with the pain.</p> - -<p>"I must acknowledge that we were exceedingly fortunate. -The little chap is blond, isn't he? Rather pale? In blue -velvet? Black felt hat, with a white feather in it?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_328"></a>[328]</span></p> - -<p>"Yes, yes; that's he. That's my little Raoul."</p> - -<p>"Well, he's at the house of a poor fellow down in that -quarter who had just been at the police office to make his -declaration to the Commissaire. Here's his address, which -I took down: '<i>Pierron, rue des Cailloux, Levallois-Perret.</i>' -With good horses you may reach your boy in less than an -hour. Certainly, you won't find him in an aristocratic -quarter; his surroundings won't be of the highest. The -man who found him is only a small dealer in vegetables."</p> - -<p>But that was of no importance to M. Godefroy, who, -having expressed his gratitude to the Prefect, leaped down -the stairs four at a time, and sprang into his carriage. At -that moment he realized how devotedly he loved his child. -As he drove away he no longer thought of little Raoul's -princely education and magnificent inheritance. He was -decided never again to hand over the child entirely to the -hands of servants, and he also made up his mind to devote -less time to monetary matters and the glory of France and -attend more to his own. The thought also occurred to him -that France wouldn't be likely to suffer from the neglect. -He had hitherto been ashamed to recognize the existence -of an old-maid sister of his father, but he decided to send -for her to his house. She would certainly shock his lackeys -by her primitive manners and ideas. But what of that? -She would take care of his boy, which to him was of much -more importance than the good opinion of his servants. -The financier, who was always in a hurry, never felt so -eager to arrive punctually at a committee meeting as he -was to reach the lost little one. For the first time in his -life he was longing through pure affection to take the child -in has arms.</p> - -<p>The carriage rolled rapidly along in the clear, crisp night<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_329"></a>[329]</span> -air down boulevard Malesherbes; and, having crossed the -ramparts and passed the large houses, plunged into the -quiet solitude of suburban streets. When the carriage stopped -M. Godefroy saw a wretched hovel, on which was the -number he was seeking; it was the house where Pierron -lived. The door of the house opened immediately, and a -big, rough-looking fellow with red mustache appeared. -One of his sleeves was empty. Seeing the gentleman in the -carriage, Pierron said cheerily: "So you are the little one's -father. Don't be afraid. The little darling is quite safe," -and, stepping aside in order to allow M. Godefroy to pass, -he placed his finger on his lips with: "Hush! The little -one is asleep!"</p> - -<p>Yes, it was a real hovel. By the dim light of a little oil -lamp M. Godefroy could just distinguish a dresser from -which a drawer was missing, some broken chairs, a round -table on which stood a beer-mug which was half empty, -three glasses, some cold meat on a plate, and on the bare -plaster of the wall two gaudy pictures—a bird's-eye view -of the Exposition of 1889, with the Eiffel Tower in bright -blue, and the portrait of General Boulanger when a handsome -young lieutenant. This last evidence of weakness of -the tenant of the house may well be excused, since it was -shared by nearly everybody in France. The man took the -lamp and went on tiptoe to the corner of the room where, -on a clean bed, two little fellows were fast asleep. In the -little one, around whom the other had thrown a protecting -arm, M. Godefroy recognized his son.</p> - -<p>"The youngsters were tired to death, and so sleepy," -said Pierron, trying to soften his rough voice. "I had no -idea when you would come, so gave them some supper and -put them to bed, and then I went to make a declaration<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_330"></a>[330]</span> -at the police office. Zidore generally sleeps up in the -garret, but I thought they would be better here, and that -I should be better able to watch them."</p> - -<p>M. Godefroy, however, scarcely heard the explanation. -Strangely moved, he looked at the two sleeping infants on -an iron bedstead and covered with an old blanket which -had once been used either in barracks or hospital. Little -Raoul, who was still in his velvet suit, looked so frail and -delicate compared with his companion that the banker -almost envied the latter his brown complexion.</p> - -<p>"Is he your boy?" he asked Pierron.</p> - -<p>"No," answered he. "I am a bachelor, and don't suppose -I shall ever marry, because of my accident. You see, a -dray passed over my arm—that was all. Two years ago a -neighbor of mine died, when that child was only five years -old. The poor mother really died of starvation. She wove -wreaths for the cemeteries, but could make nothing worth -mentioning at that trade—not enough to live. However, -she worked for the child for five years, and then the neighbors -had to buy wreaths for her. So I took care of the -youngster. Oh, it was nothing much, and I was soon -repaid. He is seven years old, and is a sharp little fellow, -so he helps me a great deal. On Sundays and Thursdays, -and the other days after school, he helps me push my handcart. -Zidore is a smart little chap. It was he who found -your boy."</p> - -<p>"What!" exclaimed M. Godefroy—"that child!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, he's quite a little man, I assure you. When he left -school he found your child, who was walking on ahead, -crying like a fountain. He spoke to him and comforted -him, like an old grandfather. The difficulty is, that one -can't easily understand what your little one says—English<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_331"></a>[331]</span> -words are mixed up with German and French. So we -couldn't get much out of him, nor could we learn his address. -Zidore brought him to me—I wasn't far away; and -then all the old women in the place came round chattering -and croaking like so many frogs, and all full of advice.</p> - -<p>"'Take him to the police,'" said some.</p> - -<p>But Zidore protested.</p> - -<p>"That would scare him," said he, for like all Parisians, -he has no particular liking for the police—"and besides, -your little one didn't wish to leave him. So I came back -here with the child as soon as I could. They had supper, -and then off to bed. Don't they look sweet?"</p> - -<p>When he was in his carriage, M. Godefroy had decided -to reward the finder of his child handsomely—to give him -a handful of that gold so easily gained. Since entering -the house he had seen a side of human nature with which -he was formerly unacquainted—the brave charity of the -poor in their misery. The courage of the poor girl who had -worked herself to death weaving wreaths to keep her child; -the generosity of the poor cripple in adopting the orphan, -and above all, the intelligent goodness of the little street -Arab in protecting the child who was still smaller than -himself—all this touched M. Godefroy deeply and set him -reflecting. For the thought had occurred to him that there -were other cripples who needed to be looked after as well -as Pierron, and other orphans as well as Zidore. He also -debated whether it would not be better to employ his time -looking after them, and whether money might not be put -to a better use than merely gaining money. Such -was his reverie as he stood looking at the two sleeping -children.</p> - -<p>Finally, he turned round to study the features of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_332"></a>[332]</span> -greengrocer, and was charmed by the loyal expression in -the face of the man, and his clear, truthful eyes.</p> - -<p>"My friend," said M. Godefroy, "you and your adopted -son have rendered me an immense service. I shall soon -prove to you that I am not ungrateful. But, for to-day—I -see that you are not in comfortable circumstances, and I -should like to leave a small proof of my thankfulness."</p> - -<p>But the hand of the cripple arrested that of the -banker, which was diving into his coat-pocket where he -kept bank-notes.</p> - -<p>"No, sir; no! Anybody else would have done just as -we have done. I will not accept any recompense; but -pray don't take offense. Certainly, I am not rolling in -wealth, but please excuse my pride—that of an old soldier; -I have the Tonquin medal—and I don't wish to -eat food which I haven't earned."</p> - -<p>"As you like," said the financier; "but an old soldier like -you is capable of something better. You are too good to -push a handcart. I will make some arrangement for you, -never fear."</p> - -<p>The cripple responded by a quiet smile, and said coldly: -"Well, sir, if you really wish to do something for me—"</p> - -<p>"You'll let me care for Zidore, won't you?" cried M. -Godefroy, eagerly.</p> - -<p>"That I will, with the greatest of pleasure," responded -Pierron, joyfully. "I have often thought about the child's -future. He is a sharp little fellow. His teachers are delighted -with him."</p> - -<p>Then Pierron suddenly stopped, and an expression came -over his face which M. Godefroy at once interpreted as one -of distrust. The thought evidently was: "Oh, when he -has once left us he'll forget us entirely."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_333"></a>[333]</span></p> - -<p>"You can safely pick the child up in your arms and take -him to the carriage. He'll be better at home than here, -of course. Oh, you needn't be afraid of disturbing him. -He is fast asleep, and you can just pick him up. He must -have his shoes on first, though."</p> - -<p>Following Pierron's glance M. Godefroy perceived on the -hearth, where a scanty coke fire was dying out, two pairs -of children's shoes—the elegant ones of Raoul, and the -rough ones of Zidore. Each pair contained a little toy and -a package of bonbons.</p> - -<p>"Don't think about that," said Pierron in an abashed -tone. "Zidore put the shoes there. You know children -still believe in Christmas and the child Jesus, whatever -scholars may say about fables; so, as I came back from the -<i>commissaire</i>, as I didn't know whether your boy would have -to stay here to-night, I got those things for them both."</p> - -<p>At which the eyes of M. Godefroy, the freethinker, the -hardened capitalist, and <i>blasé</i> man of the world, filled with -tears.</p> - -<p>He rushed out of the house, but returned in a minute -with his arms full of the superb mechanical horse, the box -of leaden soldiers, and the rest of the costly playthings -bought by him in the afternoon, and which had not even -been taken out of the carriage.</p> - -<p>"My friend, my dear friend," said he to the green grocer, -"see, these are the presents which Christmas has brought -to my little Raoul. I want him to find them here, when he -awakens, and to share them with Zidore, who will henceforth -be his playmate and friend. You'll trust me now, -won't you? I'll take care both of Zidore and of you, and -then I shall ever remain in your debt, for not only have -you found my boy, but you have also reminded me, who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_334"></a>[334]</span> -am rich and lived only for myself, that there are other poor -who need to be looked after. I swear by these two sleeping -children, I won't forget them any longer."</p> - -<p>Such is the miracle which happened on the 24th of -December of last year, ladies and gentlemen, at Paris, in -the full flow of modern egotism. It doesn't sound likely—that -I own; and I am compelled to attribute this miraculous -event to the influence of the Divine Child who came down -to earth nearly nineteen centuries ago to command men to -love one another.</p> - -<p class="right">—François Coppée.</p> - -<h4>The Peace of Yesterdays</h4> - -<p>It was a wet, unpleasant evening in February, and -little Miss Hicks, hurrying homeward with her chop for -to-morrow's dinner, felt wet and unpleasant, too. Her -jacket was too thin for such weather, and her worn shoes, -splashing over the muddy pavement, made her dread -the twinges of rheumatism which would surely follow. -She paused a moment for breath beneath the sheltering -awning of a book-store, and, as she shook her dripping -skirts, she glanced into the gaily lighted windows. It -happened to be the evening before Valentine's day, and -the windows of the shop were filled with the usual -"tokens of affection"; riotous cupids with garlands of -roses and forget-me-nots, reposing on beds of celluloid; -lovely scrolls in delicate pinks and blues with amorous, -gilded verses inscribed on them; wonderful creations in -silks of brilliant hue, at which all the small girls of the -neighborhood gazed covetously. On one side lay a heap -of comic valentines in ugly, staring reds and yellows, -but Miss Hicks never noticed them, for she had eyes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_335"></a>[335]</span> -only for the gorgeous visions on the other side. As she -looked at them, a flood of suddenly-released memories -came into her head which made her cheeks for a moment -grow youthfully pink and her faded eyes glow like stars.</p> - -<p>The door of the shop closed with a final bang, and the -lights went out suddenly. But Miss Hicks only smiled -happily to herself, as she hurried through the remaining -squares to her own dingy little house in dingy little -Lombard street. The dim street lamp showed a sign, -battered and discolored, of "Miss M. Hicks, Fashionable -Milliner," and as the owner of the shop opened the creaking -door, stepped inside, and lighted a lamp, a few old-fashioned -hats and bonnets could be faintly discerned on -the narrow counter, while in the one small showcase -were sundry faded ribbons and drooping birds.</p> - -<p>"It's a wonder to me," her nearest neighbors would -often say, "how that Miss Hicks manages to get along; -kith nor kin she don't seem to have none, and the customers -she's got ain't enough to keep body and soul together. -But I've heard as how she gets an annuity from -some dead relatives and that probably helps her out, if -she's real good at scrimping and saving."</p> - -<p>But in spite Of the solicitude of her neighbors, they -never found out any certain facts about the little woman -in rusty black, who was always either sitting at her window, -sewing on the hats of her few customers, or else -taking a solitary stroll through the dingy, narrow streets. -She went walking usually when the daylight was nearly -gone, for in a timid, childish way she shrank from observation, -and preferred to commune with herself rather -than join her neighbors in friendly gossip.</p> - -<p>Generally she liked to be slow about preparing and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_336"></a>[336]</span> -eating her meals, for in this way they took up quite a -part of the long, lonely day; but to-night she was in -such a hurry about her few preparations and did everything -with such an air of abstraction that she nearly amputated -a finger while cutting bread, and entirety forgot -to put anything in the tea-pot except hot water. When -at last the dishes had been washed and carefully put -away, each in its own proper place, when the sleek white -cat had been given a generous saucer of milk, then Miss -Hicks, with an air of trembling and hesitating eagerness, -placed a chair against the old-fashioned cupboard in -the living-room, and reaching up, to the peril of life and -limb, drew forth from its inmost recesses a square pasteboard -box. She carefully wiped off the dust on its surface—it -was probably the only dusty article in her whole -establishment—and, carrying the box to the kitchen -table, deposited it there with a loving little pat.</p> - -<p>But now, when her intentions seemed practically accomplished, -something held her back; it seemed an though -invisible fingers were closing over her own to keep her -from opening the box, from prying into the things which -she had not had the courage to look at for such long, -long years. She thought, with a shiver, of these years. -Fifteen of them! And so clear does memory sometimes -become that Miss Hicks could distinctly remember when -she had placed the last letter in the box—her "Treasure -Box" she had often called it lovingly—and as she -thought of all that had happened since she had put that -letter in, of all the loneliness and desolation of those fifteen -years, she bent her head on the little green box and -cried softly.</p> - -<p>After a while she raised her head, and with a quick<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_337"></a>[337]</span> -flash of determination in her grey eyes, took the lid from -the box and turned the contents out on the table. On -top of the heap lay several yellowed envelopes, quaintly -embossed, with "Miss Mary Ellen Hicks" written on -them in faded, boyish writing. With a caressing touch -Miss Hicks put these aside and picked up a bent tintype -of a boy with laughing eyes and a tender, pleasant -mouth. At this she looked a long time, at first with a -little answering smile for the smile in the picture, then -with misty reminiscent eyes. More modern valentines -came next in the pile; much more elaborate, too, these -were, and the verses seemed chosen by a more discriminating -eye. She put them all aside, with a sigh and a -loving look for each, and picked up the one at the very -bottom; the envelope bore a western postmark and was -not elaborate nor fanciful as the others had been, nor -were the contents anything more than a sheet of paper -folded around the picture of a man—a man who, in spite -of the lines of weariness in his face, had still the boyish -eyes and kind mouth of the other picture. On the paper -was written, in a strong, angular hand:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Dear heart, try to think of me and remember me -to-day, even though I am so far away from home and -you. I am sorry that I have no other valentine to send -you, but there is more love in this scrap of paper than in -all the valentines in creation. I am thinking just now -how, a year ago, you and I were sitting in the dear old -home parlor, making valentines for the neighbors' children, -and when I think of the difference between then -and now, I feel as sad and depressed as the wailing pines -around me. I have had such strange premonitions to-day,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_338"></a>[338]</span> -too; I seem to see such a long vista of years before -me and you do not seem to have a share in any of them. -Dear heart, I want you to promise me that you will -never forget me, no matter where I may be, whether I -am living or dead. If I know this it will take away, in -part at least, my loneliness and my feeling of desertion -on this desolate ranch. Good-bye, dear, and God bless -you.</p> - -<p class="right"> -Your Dan." -</p></div> - -<p>The paper dropped from Miss Hicks' nerveless fingers -as she remembered that first long year of separation—a -lonely year, even though it was she herself who had -urged Dan to be independent of his rich, crotchety old -uncle and to seek his own fortune away somewhere, so -that he might be the man she wanted him to be. She -remembered achingly how long she had waited for another -letter, at first with eager anticipation, later with -dread; how slowly time had passed after that tender little -valentine note, and how one day some of her own letters -came back to her, marked unclaimed. And then she -thought of the time, several years later, when her mother -had died and when she felt for the first time the old grief -of utter loneliness and misery, and the desolation of those -months came over her again, in one great sickening -wave that made her shake from head to foot; she recalled -the days that followed, full of visits from kind and -condoling neighbors, who gradually let her alone when -they saw how much she desired it; the nights, full of -grief and unsatisfied longing, when she gave way unrestrainedly -to the sorrow which was pent up during -the day.</p> - -<p>But—and Miss Hicks straightened up with a proud<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_339"></a>[339]</span> -little smile, though her lips still trembled—at all events -she had remained faithful to her promise; though doubts -had often assailed her, she had kept the tryst bravely, -and she comforted herself often by thinking, when she -felt especially tired and alone, that if Dan were living, -he would surely find his way back to her some day, and -if he were dead she had a childish little feeling of relief -that he was watching over her and protecting her -all the time.</p> - -<p>The clock struck eleven slow, even strokes, and Miss -Hicks, in amazement at the lateness of the hour, hastily -put the valentines in the box, and with one last look, set -it back on the shelf, and went to bed. She tossed restlessly -for a long time, for her thoughts and the recollections -they had awakened were sadder than usual. But -still she felt glad that at last she had had the courage -to call back openly the memories that she had striven -to put aside for so long. And when she did finally fall -asleep, her dreams made her thin lips part in happy -curves, and caused her to utter now and then deep, unconscious -sighs of content.</p> - -<p>The next morning was sunshiny, with no trace of -yesterday's gloom, and the little street seemed to have -become dry as if by magic, and to have lost for the time -being its dinginess in the sunshine poured out on it so -liberally. Miss Hicks sat at her window, busied with re-trimming -an old bonnet; but there was no reflection of -sunshine in her face. The reaction due to what she -had done last night had come over her, and the memories -which had seemed sweet then were unpleasant and bitter -this morning. All her life, she thought sadly, was -made up of unrealised hopes and ungranted desires;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_340"></a>[340]</span> -whatever had been dear to her had been taken away -when she most needed it; every disaster and trouble had -come upon her when she was least ready to meet it. And -now she thought with a sigh, she had become too old to -ever have it different; it seemed to her that never had -her eyes been so lifeless, her mouth so lined and careworn, -her hair so thin and grey as they had appeared -this morning in her little mirror. What an unfair thing -the world was anyway, she thought, as she bit off her -thread reflectively and watched the mail-carrier coming -briskly across the street. What a lot of mail those people -next door did get! Even that was not divided fairly.</p> - -<p>But—and she stared in astonishment—the mail-carrier -was actually coming to her house; at this very minute -he was climbing her rickety little steps and knocking -at her battered little door. She hastily dropped her -work and hurried to open the latch.</p> - -<p>"It must be the wrong place," she began deprecatingly, -but he shoved a bulky envelope through the crack -in the door and with a pleasant "Guess it's yours, all -right; good morning," was off again before she could -demonstrate further. It certainly must be hers, for it -said, "Miss Mary Ellen Hicks, Lombard Street, Midville," -in big, bold characters on the envelope; it was -an embossed one, too, with gay cupids and garlands of -roses on the border. Miss Hicks looked at it wonderingly -at first; then she smiled with the pleased anticipation -of a child, and she prepared to cut the envelope -carefully, carefully. She looked at the post-mark, but -it was too blurred to be plainly seen—and just then a -thought came to her that made her grow suddenly white -and tremble. No, no, it was impossible; but what if—?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_341"></a>[341]</span> -Such things had happened, many and many a time, and -just because such things never had happened to her was -no reason that they might not occur now. She was almost -afraid to see what the envelope held, and she turned -it over hesitatingly in her hand; but finally with shaking -fingers she cut the paper, blew it open, and drew out the -folded paper inside. Expectantly she unfolded it, her -heart beating high, her lips parted in anticipation. Then -suddenly daylight seemed to leave her, and when the -mistiness had cleared away, she found herself staring -at a hideous cartoon in flaring red and green, of an -old maid with cork-screw curls, a thin, angular figure, -and a long hooked nose, while underneath was boldly -printed:</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"You're the meanest old maid in the city—</div> - <div class="i2">With that we'll all surely agree;</div> - <div class="i0">We know you once thought you were pretty,</div> - <div class="i2">But no trace of it now can we see.</div> - <div class="i0">And, say, have you e'er learned the meaning</div> - <div class="i2">Of sweetheart, or lover, or beau?</div> - <div class="i0">One look at your face, and we needn't</div> - <div class="i2">Take the trouble to hear you say 'no'."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The cutting doggerel seemed imprinted in letters of -fire on Miss Hicks's brain; it burned through her and -made her heart beat nearly to suffocation. But the two -small boys who were waiting at the corner, were grievously -disappointed; they expected at least to see her -come out off her house in wrath, and demand justice -somewhere, as several others of their victims had done. -They waited for nearly an hour; then, when a mate called -them across the street, they ran off with him, forgetting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_342"></a>[342]</span> -their disappointment altogether after a few moments of -play.</p> - -<p>But the numb little figure in the milliner's shop had -not forgotten; at noon she was still sitting limply in -her chair, gazing out at nothing with burning, brilliant -eyes, that now had knowledge in their depths where before -there had been only wonder. Her mouth quivered -pitifully, though she tried bravely to make it firm and -resolute. She had had a glimpse into the Present, harsh -and unsympathetic, and she shrank back again into the -Past, where she had been much more happy and contented. -The To-days were not for her; from henceforth, -she knew, all her solace and companionship, all her brief -happiness and pleasures, all her longings and desires—the -rest of her life, in short—must be lived in the quiet, -peace-bringing Yesterdays.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Katherine Kurz. -</p> - -<h4>A Christmas Legend</h4> - -<p>There was great commotion in the forest, for the -south wind, heavy with cloying fragrance of the jasmine, -had been the bearer of wondrous tidings. The forest -sang with joy, for, after these many years, it was to -have a share in the great festival of the Master's birthday. -This, was the news that the south wind had -brought, and he had told, too, how an angel would come -to choose the tree whom the Master had most loved.</p> - -<p>"It is I whom the Master loves," spoke the oak, rearing -his great head in the still air. "I heard the angels -sing at his birth; and often has he rested in the shade -at my feet. It is fitting that I be chosen."</p> - -<p>"Nay, old oak," cried the palm, shaking her plumes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_343"></a>[343]</span> -in eager denial. "Whose branches did the multitude -wave at the Master's entry into Jerusalem? I have been -already chosen!" There were many in the forest who -nodded their approval to this speech of the palm's, but -the olive sighed, and whispered:</p> - -<p>"I have watched with him in Gethsemane, and he -has wet my feet with his tears."</p> - -<p>"But I," cried the cedar, stretching his tense arms to -the listening stars, "I heard his dying groans, and my -heart is stained with his blood; it was upon me that his -body was nailed—me, who watched over his boyhood on -the plains of Nazareth!" The forest was very still as -the cedar finished, and only the chestnut ventured to -speak—shaking out her broad leaves, and distilling everywhere -the heavy fragrance of her blossoms.</p> - -<p>"I am ready for the feast," she said complacently. -"Last night, while all of you were sleeping, an angel -came, and lit these candles of mine."</p> - -<p>Thus spoke among themselves the rulers of the forest, -while the south wind played among their branches; nor -did they notice the tiny tree that listened at their feet, -and crooned lullabies to the drowsy birds.</p> - -<p>The winged months flew by. In the forest, the days -passed as before; and, after the south wind had sung its -farewell to the tree-tops, the forest forgot the tidings -which the breeze had brought. Only one tree remembered; -the lullaby which it sang to the birds nestled -in its arms was of the wonderful birthday festival of the -Master.</p> - -<p>Finally came the North Wind, calling to the forest -to prepare for its long sleep. The trees, one by one, cast -off their brilliant raiment—the cedar, last of all—and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_344"></a>[344]</span> -stood gaunt and naked under the dark sky. Only the -tiny tree in the shadow of the oak did not heed, and -bravely defied the fierce jestings of the North Wind. -"Oho' little tree," he roared, whirling the snowflakes -through its tiny boughs, "doff your green garment and -go to sleep! Or, perhaps, you are waiting for the angel?" -Then the forest laughed long and loud. "Little -tree," it jeered, "cling to the oak; the angel will step -upon you!"</p> - -<p>But even as it jeered, a great light broke through the -forest; the trees were afraid and bowed themselves as -before a storm. And when they lifted up their heads, -behold! the little tree stood straight and tall in its robes -of green, and in its topmost branch there gleamed a -star.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Ida F. Treat. -</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_345"></a>[345]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V -<br /> - -THE INSTRUCTIVE GROUP</h2> - -<p>The Instructive Group is composed of those narratives -whose chief purpose is to inform the reader of -certain conditions and problems of which he ought to -take intelligent account. The writer may offer a solution, -as in the moral story; or a theory, as in the -pedagogical narrative; or he may simply present the -picture, as in a realistic sketch, and leave knowledge -to bring reform by the sheer natural law by which -daylight scatters the evils of darkness.</p> - -<h3>I. The Moral Story</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Distinguished -from symbolic-didactic -group</div> - -<p>The moral story must not be confused with the -fable, parable, or allegory. It is like them in that its -chief purpose is to teach, but it differs from -them in not being figurative or symbolic. It -is always particular and professedly literal. -Its boast is that it sticks close to facts—the -facts of "life," people's needs, if not their -history. In other words, though fictitious, it pretends -to be entirely worth while because of the concrete -lesson it teaches. It sets out to show you the evil -consequences of some vice or folly or the good result -of a pious act.</p> - -<p>The critics have never had a very cordial word for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_346"></a>[346]</span> -this type of narrative: the usual smugness of it is -offensive. Many old legends are moral tales. The -"Gesta Romanorum" was largely meant to instruct in -pious ways. Boccaccio, even, cares for ethical effect, -when he writes such stories as "Griselda." A modern -reader is entirely out of patience with the complacent -self-righteousness of Gualtieri. Chaucer's easy and -captivating style and his true pathos and appreciation -of dramatic moments can not altogether keep down our -irritation at an egregious monster parading under the -guise of a beneficent lord and a loving husband. Our -irritation, of course, is really directed not toward -Chaucer or Boccaccio, but toward the Middle Ages, -that could take such a character as this and feel no -umbrage—no shadowing of the brute over man.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Hawthorne</div> - -<p>There have been a number of examples of moral -tales in modern literature. Hawthorne's "Ambitious -Guest" is one. "Lady Eleanor's Mantle" is -another, though it is also a legend; for a moral -narrative, just as an occasional narrative, may be of any -type the author chooses. "Murad the Unlucky" by -Maria Edgeworth is the Oriental wonder tale turned -didactic. What makes this or that a story with a moral -is the author's obvious concern about the lesson he -means to teach. His narrative is nothing in itself: it -is what it is because of the author's purpose. <span class="sni">Stowe</span> Doubtless -the most widely influential moral story ever written -is "Uncle Tom's Cabin." It is a striking -example of how much more powerful is concrete -narrative than abstract argument. The Americans -were ready for the sermon, but they never would have -listened to it from the pages of a controversial tract. A<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_347"></a>[347]</span> -story, they took to their heads and their hearts. It is -the fate of moral narratives of this sort, however, to -be for the time only; and seldom do any rise to the -plane of real literature. "Rasselas" has endured -partly because of the fame of its great author, and -partly because of its high and true pessimism. Readers -naturally like pessimism, and when it is of this good, -philosophic sort, they feel justified in their taste. <span class="sni">Johnson -and -Voltaire</span> -The theme is Johnson's favorite topic—the vanity -of human wishes, the futility of the -quest for happiness. Voltaire's "Candide," -which came out in France two weeks before "Rasselas," -is on the same topic with practically the same -moral. But Voltaire was an agnostic and a cynic, -while Johnson was a most conventional pietist. Addison -and Steele as well as Johnson included didactic -stories in their periodicals. <span class="sni">Tolstoy, -Cervantes</span> Count Tolstoy, in his -desire to help his countrymen, has written -many parables, allegories, and moral tales. -They are read by foreigners because of the pictures of -Russian life. So are Cervantes's "Novelas Ejemplares" -read for their fresh and spritely character-pictures of -Andalusia. They are instructive moral tales, as their -name indicates and as their author very definitely -asserted. So idiomatic, spirited, and graceful are they -that, though the oldest stories of their class in Spanish -literature, they are without successful rivals.</p> - -<p>An exercise in this kind of narrative surely will not -hurt you, and you may get some benefit from it, even -if the chance reader should not like your preaching. -Try, however, to make the story interesting in itself -and to have the moral seem to grow naturally out of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_348"></a>[348]</span> -the action, rather than the action out of the moral. -Avoid platitudes, and reveal the customs and manners -of your people so faithfully that the student of social -science might use your narrative for data.</p> - -<h4>Jeannot and Colin</h4> - -<p>Many trustworthy persons can vouch for having seen -Jeannot and Colin when they went to school at Issoire -in Auvergne, a town famous all over the world for its -college and its kettles. Jeannot was the son of a dealer -in mules, a man of considerable reputation; Colin owed -his existence to a worthy husbandman who dwelt on the -outskirts of the town, and cultivated his farm with the -help of four mules, and who, after paying tolls and tallage, -scutage and salt duty, poundage, poll-tax, and -tithes, did not find himself particularly well off at the -end of the year.</p> - -<p>Jeannot and Colin were very handsome lads for natives -of Auvergne; they were much attached to each -other, and had little secrets together and private understandings, -such as old comrades always recall with pleasure -when they afterward meet in a wider world.</p> - -<p>Their school days were drawing near their end, when -a tailor one day brought Jeannot a velvet coat of three -colors, with a waistcoat of Lyons silk in excellent taste -to match. This suit of clothes was accompanied by a -letter addressed to Monsieur de La Jeannotiere. Colin -admired the coat, and was not at all jealous; but Jeannot -assumed an air of superiority which distressed Colin. -From that moment Jeannot paid no more heed to his lessons, -but was always looking at his reflection in the glass, -and despised everybody but himself. Some time afterward<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_349"></a>[349]</span> -a footman arrived post-haste bringing a second letter, -addressed this time to His Lordship the Marquis de -La Jeannotiere; it contained an order from his father -for the young nobleman, his son, to be sent to Paris. As -Jeannot mounted the chaise to drive off, he stretched out -his hand to Colin with a patronizing smile befitting his -rank. Colin felt his own insignificance, and wept. So -Jeannot departed in all his glory.</p> - -<p>Readers who like to know all about things may be informed -that Monsieur Jeannot, the father, had rapidly -gained immense wealth in business. You ask how those -great fortunes are made? It all depends upon luck. -Monsieur Jeannot had a comely person, and so had his -wife; moreover, her complexion was fresh and blooming. -They had gone to Paris to prosecute a lawsuit which was -ruining them, when Fortune, who lifts up and casts down -human beings at her pleasure, presented them with an -introduction to the wife of an army hospital contractor, -a man of great talent, who could boast of having killed -more soldiers in one year than the cannon had destroyed -in ten. Jeannot took the lady's fancy, and Jeannot's -wife captivated the gentleman. Jeannot soon became a -partner in business, and entered into other speculations. -When one is in the current of the stream, one need only -let one's self drift, and thus an immense fortune may -sometimes be made without any trouble. The beggars -watch you from the bank, as you glide along in full -sail, open their eyes in astonishment; they wonder how -you have managed to get on; they envy you, at all events, -and write pamphlets against you which you never read. -That was what happened to Jeannot senior, who was soon -styled Monsieur de La Jeannotiere, and, after buying a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_350"></a>[350]</span> -marquisate, at the end of six months he took the young -nobleman, his son, away from school, to launch him into -the fashionable world of Paris.</p> - -<p>Colin, always affectionately disposed, wrote a kind -letter to his old schoolfellow, offering his congratulations. -The little marquis sent him no answer, which grieved -Colin sorely.</p> - -<p>The first thing that his father and mother did for -the young gentleman was to get him a tutor. This tutor, -who was a man of distinguished manners and profound -ignorance, could teach his pupil nothing. The marquis -wished his son to learn Latin, but the marchioness would -not hear of it. They consulted the opinion of a certain -author who had obtained considerable celebrity at that -time from some popular works which he had written. -He was invited to dinner, and the master of the house -began by saying:</p> - -<p>"Sir, as you know Latin, and are conversant with the -manners of the court—"</p> - -<p>"I, sir! Latin! I don't know a word of it," answered -the man of learning; "and it is just as well for -me that I don't, for one can speak one's own language -better when the attention is not divided between it and -foreign tongues. Look at all our ladies; they are far -more charming in conversation than men; their letters -are written with a hundred times more grace of expression. -They owe that superiority over us to nothing -else but their ignorance of Latin."</p> - -<p>"There, now! Was I not right?" said the lady. "I -want my son to be a man of wit, and to make his way in -the world. You see that if he were to learn Latin it -would be his ruin. Tell me, if you please, are plays and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_351"></a>[351]</span> -operas performed in Latin? Are the proceedings in -court conducted in Latin, when one has a lawsuit on -hand? Do people make love in Latin?"</p> - -<p>The marquis, confounded by these arguments, passed -sentence, and it was decided that the young nobleman -should not waste his time in studying Cicero, Horace, -and Virgil.</p> - -<p>"But what is he to learn, then? For, I suppose, he -will have to know something. Might he not be taught a -little geography?"</p> - -<p>"What good will that do him?" answered the tutor. -"When my lord marquis goes to visit his country-seat, -will not his postillions know the roads? There will be -no fear of their going astray. One does not want a -sextant in order to travel, and it is quite possible to make -a journey between Paris and Auvergne without knowing -anything about the latitude and longitude of either."</p> - -<p>"Very true," replied the father; "but I have heard -people speak of a noble science, which is, I think, called -<i>astronomy</i>."</p> - -<p>"Bless my soul!" rejoined the tutor. "Do we regulate -our behavior in this world by the stars? Why should -my lord Marquis wear himself out in calculating an -eclipse, when he will find it predicted correctly to a -second in the almanac, which will moreover inform him -of all the movable feasts, the age of the moon, and that -of all the princesses in Europe?"</p> - -<p>The marchioness was quite of the tutor's opinion, the -little marquis was in a state of highest delight, and his -father was very undecided.</p> - -<p>"What is my son to be taught, then?" said he.</p> - -<p>"To make himself agreeable," answered the friend<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_352"></a>[352]</span> -whom they had consulted; "for, if he knows the way -to please, he will know everything worth knowing. It -is an art which he will learn from her Ladyship, his -mother, without the least trouble to either of them."</p> - -<p>The marchioness, at these words, smiled graciously -upon the courtly ignoramus, and said:</p> - -<p>"It is easy to see, sir, that you are a most accomplished -gentleman; my son will owe all his education to -you. I imagine, however, that it will not be a bad -thing for him to know a little history."</p> - -<p>"Nay, madam, what good would that do him?" he -answered. "Assuredly, the only entertaining and useful -history is that of the passing hour. All ancient history, -as one of our clever writers has observed, is admitted -to consist of nothing but fables, and for us moderns -it is an inextricable chaos. What does it matter to -the young gentleman, your son, if Charlemagne instituted -the twelve Paladins of France, or if his successor -had an impediment in his speech?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing was ever more wisely said!" exclaimed the -tutor. "The minds of children are smothered under a -mass of useless knowledge, but of all sciences, that which -seems to me the most absurd, and the one best adapted -to extinguish every spark of genius, is geometry. That -ridiculous science concerns itself with surfaces, lines, -and points which have no existence in nature. In -imagination a hundred thousand curved lines may be -made to pass between a circle and a straight line which -touches it, although in reality you could not insert as -much as a straw. Geometry, indeed, is nothing more -than a bad joke."</p> - -<p>The marquis and his lady did not understand much<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_353"></a>[353]</span> -of the meaning of what the tutor was saying, but they -quite agreed with him. "A nobleman like his Lordship," -he continued, "should not dry up his brain with such -unprofitable studies. If, some day, he should want one -of those sublime geometricians to draw a plan of his -estates, he can have them measured for money. If he -should wish to trace out the antiquity of his lineage, -which goes back to the most remote ages, all he will have -to do will be to send for some learned Benedictine. It is -the same with all the other arts. A young lord born under -a lucky star is neither a painter, nor a musician, nor -an architect, nor a sculptor, but he may make all these -arts flourish by encouraging them with his generous approval. -Doubtless it is much better to patronize than to -practice them. It will be quite enough if my lord the -young Marquis has taste; it is the part of artists to work -for him, and thus there is a great deal of truth in the -remark that people of quality (that is, if they are very -rich), know everything without learning anything, because, -in point of fact and in the long run, they are masters -of all the knowledge they can order and pay for."</p> - -<p>The agreeable ignoramus then resumed his part in -the conversation, and said:</p> - -<p>"You have well remarked, madam, that the great end -of man's existence is to succeed in society. Is it, forsooth, -any aid to the attainment of this success to have -devoted one's self to the sciences? Does any one ever -think in select company of talking about geometry? Is -a gentleman ever asked what star rises to-day with the -sun? Does any one at the supper-table ever want to -know if Clodion, the Long-Haired, crossed the Rhîne?"</p> - -<p>"No, indeed!" exclaimed the marchioness de la Jeannotiere,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_354"></a>[354]</span> -whose charms had been her passport into the -world of fashion, "and my son must not stifle his genius -by studying all that trash. But, after all, what is he to -be taught? For it is a good thing that a young lord -should be able to shine when occasion offers, as my noble -husband has said. I remember once hearing an abbé remark -that the most entertaining science was something -the name of which I have forgotten—it begins with a B."</p> - -<p>"With a B, madam? It was not botany, was it?"</p> - -<p>"No, it certainly was not botany that he mentioned; -it began, as I tell you, with a B, and ended in onry."</p> - -<p>"Ah, madam, I understand! It was blazonry, or -heraldry. That is indeed a most profound science. But -it has ceased to be fashionable since the custom has died -out of having one's coat of arms painted on one's carriage -doors; it was the most useful thing imaginable in -a well-ordered state. Besides, that line of study would -be endless, for at the present day there is not a barber -who is without his armorial bearings, and you know that -whatever becomes common loses its attraction."</p> - -<p>Finally, after all the pros and cons of the different -sciences had been examined and discussed, it was decided -that the young marquis should learn dancing.</p> - -<p>Dame Nature, who arranges everything according to -her own will and pleasure, had given him a talent which -soon developed, securing him prodigious success; it was -that of singing street ballads in a charming style. His -youthful grace accompanying this superlative gift caused -him to be regarded as a young man of the highest promise. -He was a favorite with the ladies, and, having his -head crammed with songs, he had no lack of mistresses -to whom to address his verses. He stole the line "Bacchus<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_355"></a>[355]</span> -with the Loves at play" from one ballad, and made -it rhyme with "night and day" taken from another, -while a third furnished him with "charms" and -"alarms." But inasmuch as there were always a few -feet more or less than were wanted in his verses, he had -them corrected at the rate of twenty sovereigns a song. -And "The Literary Year" placed him in the same rank -with such sonneteers as La Fare, Chaulieu, Hamilton, -Sarrasin, and Voiture.</p> - -<p>Her ladyship the marchioness then believed that she -was indeed the mother of a genius, and gave a supper -to all the wits of Paris. The young man's head was soon -turned; he acquired the art of talking without knowing -the meaning of what he said, and perfected himself in -the attainment of being fit for nothing. When his father -saw him so eloquent, he keenly regretted that he had not -had him taught Latin, or he would have purchased some -high legal appointment for him. His mother, who was -of more heroic sentiments took upon herself to solicit a -regiment for her son; in the meantime he made love—and -love is sometimes more expensive than a regiment. -He squandered his money freely, while his parents -drained their purses and credit to a lower and lower -ebb by living in the grandest style.</p> - -<p>A young widow of good position in their neighborhood, -who had only a moderate income, was kind enough -to make some effort to prevent the great wealth of the -Marquis and Marchioness de La Jeannotiere from going -altogether, by consenting to marry the young marquis -with a view to appropriating what remained. She enticed -him to her house, let him make love to her, allowed -him to see that she was not quite indifferent to him, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_356"></a>[356]</span> -made him her devoted slave without the least difficulty. -At one time she would give him commendation, and at -another time counsel; she became his father's and -mother's best friend. An old neighbor suggested marriage. -The parents, dazzled with the splendor of the alliance, -joyfully fell in with the scheme, and promised their only -son to their most intimate lady friend. The young marquis -was thus about to wed the woman he adored, and -by whom he was loved in return. The friends of the -family congratulated him; the marriage settlement was -ready to be signed; the bridal dress and the nuptial -hymn were both well under way.</p> - -<p>One morning our young gentleman was on his knees -before the charmer whom fond affection and esteem were -so soon to make his own. They were tasting in animated -and tender converse the first fruits of future happiness, -settling how they should lead a life of perfect bliss, when -one of his mother's footmen presented himself, scared -out of his wits.</p> - -<p>"Here's fine news which may surprise you!" said he; -"the bailiffs are in the house of my lord and lady, removing -the furniture. Everything has been seized by -the creditors. There is talk of arresting people, and I -am going to do what I can to get my wages paid."</p> - -<p>"Let us see what has happened," said the marquis, -"and discover the meaning of all this."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said the widow, "go and punish those rascals—go, -at once!"</p> - -<p>He hurried homeward. When he arrived at the -house his father was already in prison, and all the servants -had fled, each in a different direction, carrying off -whatever they had been able to lay their hands on. His<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_357"></a>[357]</span> -mother was alone, helpless, forlorn, and bathed in tears; -she had nothing left her but the remembrance of her -former prosperity, her beauty, her faults, and her foolish -extravagance.</p> - -<p>After the son had condoled with his mother for a long -time, he said at last:</p> - -<p>"Let us not despair. This young widow loves me to -distraction; she is even more generous than she is -wealthy, I can assure you. I will fly to her for help, -and bring her to you."</p> - -<p>So he returned to his mistress, and found her engaged -in private conversation with a fascinating young -officer.</p> - -<p>"What! Is that you, my Lord de La Jeannotiere? -What business have you with me? How can you leave -your mother by herself in this way? Go, and stay with -the poor woman, and tell her that she shall always have -my good wishes. I am in want of a waiting woman now, -and will gladly give her the preference."</p> - -<p>"My lad," said the officer, "you seem pretty tall and -straight; if you would like to enter my company, I will -make it worth your while to enlist."</p> - -<p>The marquis, utterly astounded and inwardly furious, -went off in search of his former tutor, confided all -his troubles to him, and asked his advice. He proposed -that he should become like himself, a tutor of the young.</p> - -<p>"Alas! I know nothing; you have taught me nothing -whatever, and you are the primary cause of all my -unhappiness!" And as he spoke he began to sob.</p> - -<p>"Write novels," said a wit who was present; "it is -an excellent resource to fall back upon in Paris."</p> - -<p>The young man, in more desperate straits than ever,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_358"></a>[358]</span> -hastened to the house of his mother's father-confessor. -He was a Theatine monk of the very highest reputation, -who had charge of the souls of none but ladies of the -first rank in society. As soon as he saw him, the reverend -gentleman rushed to meet him.</p> - -<p>"Good gracious! My lord Marquis, where is your carriage? -How is your honored mother, the Marchioness?"</p> - -<p>The unfortunate young fellow related the disaster -that had befallen his family. As he explained the matter -further the Theatine assumed a graver air, one of -less concern and more self-importance.</p> - -<p>"My son, herein you may see the hand of Providence; -riches serve only to corrupt the heart. The Almighty -has shown special favor to your mother in reducing her -to beggary. Yes, sir, so much the better! She is now -sure of her salvation."</p> - -<p>"But, father, in the meantime are there no means -of finding some help in this world?"</p> - -<p>"Farewell, my son! A lady of the court is waiting -for me."</p> - -<p>The marquis almost fainted. He was treated after -much the same manner by all his friends, and learned -to know the world better in half a day than he had in -all the rest of his life.</p> - -<p>While thus plunged in overwhelming despair, he saw -an old-fashioned traveling chaise, more like a covered -tumbril than anything else, and furnished with leather -curtains, followed by four enormous wagons, all heavily -laden. In the chaise was a young man in rustic attire; -his round and rubicund face had an air of kindness and -good temper. His little wife, whose sunburnt countenance -had a pleasing if not refined expression, was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_359"></a>[359]</span> -jolted about as she sat beside him; and since the vehicle -did not go quite so fast as a dandy's chariot, the traveler -had plenty of time to look at the marquis as he stood -motionless, absorbed in his grief.</p> - -<p>"Oh, good heavens!" he exclaimed, "I believe that is -Jeannot there!"</p> - -<p>Hearing that name, the marquis raised his eyes, and -the chaise stopped.</p> - -<p>"'Tis Jeannot himself! Yes, it is Jeannot!"</p> - -<p>The fat little man sprang to the ground with a single -leap, and ran to embrace his companion. Jeannot recognized -Colin, shame showing in his face.</p> - -<p>"You have forsaken your old friend," said Colin, -"but be you as grand a lord as you like, I shall never -cease to love you."</p> - -<p>Jeannot, confounded and cut to the heart, amid sobs, -told him something of his history.</p> - -<p>"Come into the inn where I am lodging, and tell me -the rest," said Colin; "kiss my little wife, and let us go -and dine together."</p> - -<p>They went, all three of them, on foot, and the baggage -followed.</p> - -<p>"What in the world is all this paraphernalia? Does -it belong to you!" inquired Jeannot.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is all mine and my wife's; we are just come -from the country. I am at the head of a large tin, iron, -and copper factory, and have married the daughter of a -rich tradesman and general provider of all useful commodities -for great folks and small. We work hard, and -God gives us His blessing. We are satisfied with our -condition in life, and are quite happy. We will help -our friend Jeannot. Give up being a marquis; all the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_360"></a>[360]</span> -splendor in the world is not worth a good friend. Return -with me into the country. I will teach you my -trade, which is not a difficult one to learn; I will give -you a share in the business, and we will live together -with light hearts in the little place where we were -born."</p> - -<p>Jeannot, overcome by this kindness, struggled between -sorrow and joy, tenderness and shame. He said -to himself:</p> - -<p>"All my fashionable friends have proved false to me, -and Colin, whom I despised, is the only one who comes -to my rescue. What a lesson!"</p> - -<p>Colin's example in generosity revived in Jeannot's -heart the germ of goodness that the world had never -quite choked. He felt that he could not desert his father -and mother.</p> - -<p>"We will take care of your mother," said Colin, "and -as for your good father, who is in prison—I know something -of business matters—his creditors, when they see -that he has nothing more, will agree to an easy settlement. -I will see to all that myself."</p> - -<p>Colin was as good as his word, and succeeded in effecting -the father's release from prison. Jeannot returned -to his old home with his parents, who resumed -their former occupation. He married Colin's sister, -who, being like her brother in disposition, rendered her -husband very happy. And so Jeannot the father, and -Jeannotte the mother, and Jeannot the son, came to see -that vanity is no true source of happiness.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Francois Marie Arouet de Voltaire. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>From "Little Masterpieces of Fiction," Vol. VII (Doubleday, -Page & Co).</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_361"></a>[361]</span></p> - -<h3>II. The Pedagogical Narrative</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Some -famous -pedagogical -books</div> - -<p>The pedagogical narrative can hardly be called -"story," not only because of the intent of the writer -to instruct, but also because of the specialness -of the subject-matter itself. "Leonard -and Gertrude," however, has continued to -be read as story in an interpreted form for -many years. "Interpreted" connotes what the modern -versions of "Leonard and Gertrude" really are, redactions. -When the cumbersome and somewhat eccentric -sentences of the original were made over, the plot was -found to be of a good deal of interest, the character-sketching -peculiarly fine, and the lessons taught high -and noble and practical as well. Pestalozzi himself had -gradually learned how to teach children, and he not -only told, but showed others. For that is what a pedagogical -story is—a working theory of instruction set -up in scenes and actions: it is exposition made narrative. -Do you want to know how to teach Jimmy and -Margaret? This good old Swiss pedagogue will show -you how Gertrude taught her children, mother and -school mistress, priest and village reformer as she was. -If you had lived in Queen Elizabeth's day and wanted -to know how and what to teach your boy or girl, you -could have asked the gentle Roger, the queen's own -schoolmaster. You can ask him now how he taught; -for he put his thoughts down in a volume which bears -the name of his professional office—quaintly spelled -"Scholemaster"—and shows you his methods of work -in forming the mind of the perfect gentleman. This -sober pedagogical treatise, which is not narrative, not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_362"></a>[362]</span> -story, was published only after Ascham's death; but -many years before, when he was a very young man and -much gayer but hardly less wise, he set forth in -"Toxophilus," the archer, a picture of how amusement -and learning can be combined. The exposition proceeds -in the form of a dialogue (the old fashioned literary -type called <i>débat</i>) between a lover of books and a lover -of exercise. "Toxophilus" is not exactly story either, -but it approaches story, and is important to our type -because of the intense and far-reaching influence it -has had on modern pedagogy in inspiring a looking-out -for the development of the body as well as the mind, -and in emphasizing the giving of instruction in an -interesting form.</p> - -<p>From Ascham's "Schoolmaster" John Lyly got the -suggestion for his two famous romances of Euphues, -the "well-formed" one. A young man should be -euphues in all things, said Ascham, and Lyly undertook -to show a Briton thus as he moved about in society, -at home, abroad, in friendship and love. So popular -did Euphues become that all the ladies and gentlemen -of Elizabeth's court modelled their speech on his.</p> - -<p>Charming old Sir Isaac Walton joined the pedagogues -and gave us a set of delightful walks and talks -on angling. He teaches one to be a "complete" angler—an -artist at his pastime.</p> - -<p>A sort of hand-book of etiquette for the golden -youths of the Renaissance was Castiglione's "Courtier," -"a sketch of a cultivated nobleman in those most -cultivated days." The author shows by what precepts -and practice a fine gentleman is made. So well did he -write that his own name ever since has been a synonym<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_363"></a>[363]</span> -for nobility and manliness. He gives us a picture of -the purest and most elevated court in Italy, that of -Guidobaldo da Montefeltra, duke of Urbino. A discussion -is held in the duchess's drawing-room to settle -the question, what constitutes a perfect courtier. The -type selected differs in no material way from the ideal -gentleman of the present day.</p> - -<p>All of these books are the work of persons who set -out seriously to teach—except perhaps the gentle Isaac, -who probably wrote what he wrote for sheer pleasure -and taught by the way. And they all include what the -modern pedagogical narrative includes—disguised -exposition. For the most part the modern species is -short. A publisher now-a-days, I suppose, could hardly -be induced to present an educational system thinly -disguised in a long romance. Consequently most of -such stories come out in our educational periodicals as -better or poorer literature, better or poorer teaching.</p> - -<p>Rousseau's "The New Héloise" and "Emile" might -be mentioned here were they not more nearly harangues -than stories. Their effect in renovating France -domestically, though, will forever connect them with -the word pedagogy. They are surely a pedagogue's -"fiction," since their author took no care of his real -children.</p> - -<p>These treatises were almost immediately influential -in England, but now the theories began to be set forth -in more truly narrative form. In "The Fool of Quality" -(by Henry Brooke), the hero goes about spreading -benevolence and cash and displaying his physical -strength and an educational theory as well, as to how -an English Christian young gentleman should be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_364"></a>[364]</span> -brought up. The later development of such teaching -was naturally books addressed directly to children. -Thomas Day's "Sandford and Merton" had in it stories -and dialogues for young people to read for themselves, -in which they were taught the value of the sciences -and the virtues. Maria Edgeworth's "Frank" and -"Rosamond" and Jacob Abbott's "Rollo Books" are -for still more juvenile audiences, and in Froebel's -"Mother Plays" the baby, even, comes into its own.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Froebel</div> - -<p>This work necessarily, however, was addressed to -the parent. A tiny cyclopedia of story, song, game, -and theory, it is great pedagogy, and in the -original, at least, acceptable literature. The -object of all teaching-narratives should be that which -Froebel expresses in his comment on one of his own little -games taught in a dialogue between a mother and her son. -You recall that his double purpose is to teach the -mother what and how to teach the child. He says, -"The deep import of The Light-Bird is hinted in the -song and motto. Beware, however, of the only one contained -in the play. Not only The Light-Bird but all the -plays which precede and follow it have many meanings. -Neither must it be supposed that the meaning -suggested by me is, if not the sole, at least the highest -one. My songs, mottoes, and commentaries are offered -simply with the hope that they may aid you to recognize -and hold fast some part of what you yourself feel -while playing these games and to suggest to you how -you may awaken corresponding feelings in your child."</p> - -<p>If you want to write a pedagogical narrative that -will startle the world, adopt the motto of Froebel, the -charm of Ascham and Walton, the graciousness of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_365"></a>[365]</span> -Castiglione, and the hard common sense of Pestalozzi, -and then proceed. But hold! You will need to have -something to teach. Perhaps you would better not try -romance as a vehicle, but would better stick to our -briefer types. Suppose you put into narrative form, -as others have done since the days of the great kindergartner, -a simple game for children, or your favorite -and most helpful method of study.</p> - -<h4>Gertrude's Method of Instruction</h4> - -<p>It was quite early in the morning when Arner (the -people's father), Glulhi (his lieutenant), and the pastor -went to the mason's cottage. The room was not in order -when they entered, for the family had just finished -breakfast, and the dirty plates and spoons still lay upon -the table. Gertrude was at first somewhat disconcerted, -but the visitors reassured her, saying kindly: "This is -as it should be; it is impossible to clear the table before -breakfast is eaten!"</p> - -<p>The children all helped wash the dishes, and then -seated themselves in their customary places before their -work. The gentlemen begged Gertrude to let everything -go on as usual, and after the first half hour, during which -she was a little embarrassed, all proceeded as if no -stranger were present. First the children sang their -morning hymns, and then Gertrude read a chapter of -the Bible aloud, which they repeated after her while -they were spinning, rehearsing the most instructive passages -until they knew them by heart. In the mean time, -the oldest girl had been making the children's beds in -the adjoining room, and the visitors noticed through the -open door that she silently repeated what the others were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_366"></a>[366]</span> -reciting. When this task was completed, she went into -the garden and returned with vegetables for dinner, -which she cleaned while repeating Bible-verses with the -rest.</p> - -<p>It was something new for the children to see three -gentlemen in the room, and they often looked up from -their spinning toward the corner where the strangers -sat. Gertrude noticed this, and said to them: "Seems -to me you look more at these gentlemen than at your -yarn." But Harry answered: "No, indeed! We are -working hard, and you'll have finer yarn to-day than -usual."</p> - -<p>Whenever Gertrude saw that anything was amiss -with the wheels or cotton, she rose from her work, and -put it in order. The smallest children, who were not old -enough to spin, picked over the cotton for carding, with -a skill which excited the admiration of the visitors.</p> - -<p>Although Gertrude thus exerted herself to develop -very early the manual dexterity of her children, she was -in no haste for them to learn to read and write. But she -took pains to teach them early how to speak; for, as she -said, "of what use is it for a person to be able to read -and write, if he cannot speak?—since reading and writing -are only an artificial sort of speech." To this end -she used to make the children pronounce syllables after -her in regular succession, taking them from an old A-B-C -book she had. This exercise in correct and distinct -articulation was, however, only a subordinate object in -her whole scheme of education, which embraced a true -comprehension of life itself. Yet she never adopted the -tone of instructor toward her children; she did not say -to them: "Child, this is your head, your nose, your<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_367"></a>[367]</span> -hand, your finger;" or: "Where is your eye, your -ear?"—but instead, she would say: "Come here, child, -I will wash your little hands," "I will comb your hair," -or: "I will cut your finger-nails." Her verbal instruction -seemed to vanish in the spirit of her real activity, -in which it always had its source. The result of her system -was that each child was skillful, intelligent and active -to the full extent that its age and development allowed.</p> - -<p>The instruction she gave them in the rudiments of -arithmetic was intimately connected with the realities of -life. She taught them to count the number of steps from -one end of the room to the other; and two of the rows -of five panes each, in one of the windows, gave her an -opportunity to unfold the decimal relations of numbers. -She also made them count their threads while spinning, -and the number of turns on the reel, when they wound -the yarn into skeins. Above all, in every occupation of -life she taught them an accurate and intelligent observation -of common objects and the forces of nature.</p> - -<p>All that Gertrude's children knew, they knew so thoroughly -that they were able to teach it to the younger -ones; and this they often begged permission to do. On -this day, while the visitors were present, Jones sat with -each arm around the neck of a smaller child, and made -the little ones pronounce the syllables of the A-B-C book -after him; while Lizzie placed herself with her wheel between -two of the others, and while all three spun, taught -them the words of a hymn with the utmost patience.</p> - -<p>When the guests took their departure, they told Gertrude -they would come again on the morrow. "Why?" -she returned. "You will only see the same thing over<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_368"></a>[368]</span> -again." But Glulphi said: "That is the best praise you -could possibly give yourself." Gertrude blushed at this -compliment, and stood confused when the gentlemen -kindly pressed her hand in taking leave.</p> - -<p>The three could not sufficiently admire what they had -seen at the mason's house, and Glulphi was so overcome -by the powerful impression made upon him, that he -longed to be alone and seek counsel of his own thoughts. -He hastened to his room, and as he crossed the threshold, -the words broke from his lips: "I must be schoolmaster -in Bonnal!" All night visions of Gertrude's schoolroom -floated through his mind, and he only fell asleep -toward morning. Before his eyes were fairly open, he -murmured: "I will be schoolmaster!"—and hastened -to Arner to acquaint him with his resolution.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Leonard and Gertrude" (D. C. Heath & Co.).</p></div> - -<h4>Lawin-Lawinan</h4> - -<p>In the beautiful town of Santa Maria, children were -very fond of playing many curious games. Not a single -day or moonlight evening could pass without one's seeing -some children playing along the wide streets.</p> - -<p>One bright evening in the month of July, after the -angelus bell rang, Mapacla, in company with some playmates, -went to Zandoval Street, where many children -were romping. When they reached the place, they -agreed to play <i>Lawin-lawinan</i>. Mapacla was chosen by -all to be the <i>sisiw</i> (chicken), and a playmate, Malacas -by name, to be the <i>lawin</i> (hawk). The chicken and the -hawk were the principal characters of the game. The -rest of the children formed a circle: each one with outstretched<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_369"></a>[369]</span> -arms held the hand of the one next him till the -circle was formed. The space between each two children -was called the door, the owners of which were the children -by whom it was formed. The chicken stood inside -the circle, and the hawk stood outside.</p> - -<p>The game was then begun. The hawk went to the -first door, asking, "What door is this?"</p> - -<p>"To your honorable stomach," answered the owner -of the door.</p> - -<p>"And this?" asked the hawk, after approaching -another door.</p> - -<p>"To your long throat," answered the owner.</p> - -<p>The hawk repeated the same question, as he went -around from door to door, till he reached the last one.</p> - -<p>"Have you anything to sell me?" asked the hawk -of the door owner.</p> - -<p>"A good fat red chicken!" answered the owner.</p> - -<p>"Let me see its scales," remarked the hawk, as he -grasped the feet of the chicken. "This is a fine quality -of wild bird," he added; "will you have him crow?"</p> - -<p>"Crow!" said the owner to the chicken.</p> - -<p>"Tic—to—la—la—oe," cried the chicken.</p> - -<p>"Fine!" said the hawk. "How much will you sell -him for?"</p> - -<p>"For one peso," answered the owner.</p> - -<p>After the bargain had been made and the hawk was -about to catch the chicken, the circle began to whirl -around, allowing no space for the hawk to enter. By -chance, however, the hawk, thrusting himself through a -space, reached the interior of the circle. Every owner -was then afraid that the chicken might be caught by -the hawk. The whirling of the circle was immediately<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_370"></a>[370]</span> -stopped, and every door was left wide open. The chicken -with all his might ran swiftly out of the circle. The -hawk was so slow in following that he was captured inside. -The circle began to whirl again, till, accidentally, -the hawk, struggling for his escape, made his way out. -Sometimes the chicken, pursued by the hawk, entered the -circle, but immediately ran out whenever there was -danger of being caught. At last when the chicken became -tired, the hawk caught him.</p> - -<p>The punishment was then inflicted. The hawk -ordered himself to be carried on the shoulders of the -chicken. The order was obeyed without delay. After -the chicken had walked a few paces with the heavy load -on him, he stopped and started another game, choosing -another chicken to be chased by the hawk.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Leopoldo Uichanco. -</p> - -<h3>III. The Story of Present Day Realism</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Realism</div> - -<p>"Realism," says Mr. Howells, "is nothing more and -nothing less than the truthful treatment of material." -The business of the narrator is to observe and -record, he says; all that enters into fiction -should be simple, natural and honest. The material must -be plain, average, everyday humanity. There is no need -of a hero or heroine. There is no need of a plot. The -love of the passionate and heroic is a crude and unwholesome -thing.</p> - -<p>Following these tenets there has grown up a school -of writers who undertake to present the world just as -it is with no heightening and no lowering of color. -They select bits of life and reproduce them exactly.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_371"></a>[371]</span> -The process is "not so much photographic as microscopic." -Nothing is too inane or commonplace. All -that a workman needs is a seeing eye, honesty, and a -vocabulary, say they. Many of the sketches, of course, -seem extremely flat, and the reader involuntarily asks, -Why and wherefore? The answer is laconic—life: -these are the actual problems of humanity rather than -abstract moral truths or highflown idealism; the Scab -and Trusty No. 49 are with us in the street; these are -the Children of the Public, the Children of the Ghetto; -this is the modern Jungle; these are Vignettes of Manhattan; -these are the feelings of a maiden lady in a -Massachusetts village; these are the happenings of a -real Wedding Journey; thus the new-rich build houses -in the Back Bay district and attempt to get into -society; this is a Modern Instance.</p> - -<p>For source of realistic method we shall need to -notice again the audacious intimacy of the picaresque -romance and the extraordinary minuteness of detail -that marked the illustrations and pretended anecdotes -of the controversial pamphleteers of the early eighteenth -century. Take for illustration the verisimilitude -of the repetitions and digressions in the "True Relation -of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal," by which Defoe hoodwinked -the public—so completely, in fact, that critics -are even now divided on the question as to whether he -was or was not reporting a real interview. Most of his -contemporaries took the matter as <i>bona fide</i> news; -their successors took it as invention; and now Mr. -George Aitken comes forward with proof of its occurrence; -that is, he maintains that Defoe got—in just the -way he says he got it—the written report of the actual<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_372"></a>[372]</span> -interview with the person who saw the ghost. The -contention only goes to demonstrate that Defoe was a -great captain of the pen who could sail extremely close -to life. That he could make romance truer than fact we -well know.</p> - -<p>Added to the patient minuteness of the controversialists -and the boldness of the rogue narrators who -dared to take us to the back-doors and bed-rooms of -the nobility and to the haunts of criminals, came later -as an element of realistic method, Jane Austen's home -subjects, non-partizanship, and gentle raillery.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Some -realistic -writers</div> - -<p>When "Daisy Miller" was written a few decades -ago, the Americans were incensed. Henry James did -not care, however. Just so we appear -abroad, he said, among the more restrained -and more cultivated peoples. Howells's -"Lady of the Aroostook" seemed a kinder if similar -and no less true picture. These brief narratives are -hardly novels; and though they are more than tales, -they yet are not what we technically call the artistic -short-story; they are surely, however, studies in -realism.</p> - -<p>It is upon this distinction,—namely, that absolute -realism would naturally preclude even the slight artificiality -that there must be about the truly technical -short-story—that we make two divisions in our study -of such work as that of Howells, James, and Mary E. -Wilkins Freeman. The point is, realism may be as -long-drawn out or as brief as life. The technical short-story, -however, has a limit on both sides. So has the -novel. Each of our great realists has attempted novels; -all have written exquisite short stories.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_373"></a>[373]</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote">Suggestions -on -characters -to treat</div> - -<p>To write a present-day realistic sketch you will not -need to look far for a subject. Just divest yourself of -preconceived ideas of the romantic in fiction, -and begin anywhere. Everything is of -interest to the realist. A butcher's boy; an -octogenarian millionaire; a petty thief; a -plodding, respectable, humdrum government clerk; an -ordinary mother with her ordinary baby on an ordinary -day; a flighty society belle, and a society belle -who is not flighty; a sensible matron; an idiot child,—all -are his. The interest of your sketch will be in the -particularity and niceness of details. You will need to -be more truthful than a camera, which always makes -people and surroundings look either better or worse -than they are. Color and sound and smell and atmosphere -and temperature, and temperament, gesture and -thought, passing impression and settled purpose, you -can record. If any of your characters succeeds, it must -be as in life—with half defeat; if any one is defeated, -it must be as in life—with half success and a conflicting -sense of shame and of relief. You must have something -happening, however slight, and thus avoid a mere -enumeration of characteristics. You are to show us -the person in action. A mere analysis of his vices and -virtues, his general mental attitude, would be pure exposition, -when you want narrative.</p> - -<p>Your diction should be as good as you can make it -by care and revision. Howells and James are both -stylists of the most polished kind; though Tolstoy, -whom Howells recognizes as master, thirty years ago -left off any concern for sentence effect. He repeats or -reiterates at will. You, however, cannot afford to disregard<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_374"></a>[374]</span> -the rules of the rhetoricians—not until you have -become as famous as the Russian count or have a -message as distinct as his.</p> - -<p>Remember, then, that a good realistic sketch demands -on your part an honest, and truthful purpose, a -mind freed from the glamor of romance or climax, a -sure eye, and exquisite workmanship, in the relation of -an ordinary, every-day event.</p> - -<h4>The Piece of String</h4> - -<p>On all the roads leading to Goderville the peasants -and their wives were coming to town for market day. -The men shambled along at an easy-going gait, with -bodies bent forward. Their long legs were deformed and -twisted through hard work—from the weight of the -plough, which at the same time throws the left shoulder -too high and ruins the figure; from mowing the grain, -which effort causes the knees to spread too far apart; -and from all the other slow and painful labours of -country life. Their blue blouses, starched to a sheenlike -varnish and finished at collar and waistbands with little -designs in white stitching, stood from their bony bodies -like balloons ready for flight, with a head, two arms and -two feet protruding.</p> - -<p>Some of the men had a cow or calf in tow at the -end of a rope, while their wives followed close behind -the animal, switching it over the haunches with a leafy -branch to hasten its pace.</p> - -<p>The women carried large baskets, out of which stuck -the heads of chickens and ducks. They took much -shorter and quicker steps than the man. Their lanky, -spare figures were decorated with mean little shawls<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_375"></a>[375]</span> -pinned across their flat breasts. Each head bore a white -linen cover, bound close to the hair and surmounted by -a cap.</p> - -<p>Now and then there went by a waggonette drawn by -a pony on a jerky trot, which jostled the two men on -the seat in a ludicrous manner and made the woman -at the end of the cart hold the sides firmly for ease from -the rough jolting.</p> - -<p>In the Goderville market-place was a great crowd of -men and animals. The horns of the cattle, the high, long-napped -hats of the well-to-do peasants, and the head-dresses -of women bobbed above the level of that crowd. -Noisy voices, sharp and shrill, kept up a wild and ceaseless -clamour, only outdone now and then by a great -guffaw of laughter from the strong lungs of a jolly -bumpkin, or a prolonged moo from a cow tied to the wall -of some house.</p> - -<p>Everywhere it smelled of stables, of milk and manure, -of hay and sweat. The air was redolent with that -sourish, disagreeable odour savouring of man and beast -which is peculiar to the labourers of the fields.</p> - -<p>Master Hauchecorne, of Bréauté, had just arrived -at Goderville and was directing his steps to the square -when he observed on the ground a little bit of string. -Economical like all true Normans, Master Hauchecorne -considered that anything useful was worth picking up, -and he bent down painfully, for he suffered from -rheumatism. He picked up the scrap of twine from the -ground, and was preparing to wind it up carefully when -he noticed Master Malandain, the harness-maker, looking -at him from his doorway. Once they had a quarrel -over a halter and had kept angry ever since, both of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_376"></a>[376]</span> -them holding spite. Master Hauchecorne was smitten -with a certain sense of shame at being seen thus by his -enemy searching in the dirt for a mere bit of string. He -hastily hid his find under his blouse, then in the pocket -of his breeches—after which he pretended to be still -looking at his feet for something which he had not yet -found. At length, he started toward the market-place, -his body almost bent double by his chronic pains.</p> - -<p>He lost himself at once in the slow, clamorous throng, -which was agitated by perpetual bickerings. The prospective -buyers, after looking the cows over, would go -away only to return perplexed; always fearing to be -taken in; never reaching a decision, but narrowly watching -the seller's eyes, seeking in the end to detect the -deceit of the man and the defect in his animal.</p> - -<p>The women, having put their big baskets at their -feet, had pulled out the poultry, which lay upon the -ground with legs tied, with frightened eyes and scarlet -combs.</p> - -<p>They listened to offers, maintaining their prices with -a sharp air and impressive face, or else at a sweep -accepting a reduced price, crying after the customer who -left reluctantly, "It's settled, Anthime; I'll let you have -them!"</p> - -<p>Then, by degrees, the square emptied, and, as the -Angelus struck noon, those living at a distance flocked -to the inns.</p> - -<p>At Jourdain's, the dining-room was filled with guests, -as full as the great courtyard was with vehicles of every -description—carts, gigs, waggonettes, tilburies, nondescript -jaunting cars, yellow with mud, misshapen, -patched up, lifting their shafts to heaven like two arms,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_377"></a>[377]</span> -or else in a sorry plight with nose in the mud and back -in the air.</p> - -<p>Right opposite to where the diners were at table, the -immense fireplace, all brightly aflame, imparted a genial -warmth to the backs of the people ranged on the right. -Three spits were turning, loaded with chickens, with -pigeons, and with legs of mutton; and a delicious odour -of roast meat and of gravy gushing over roast brown -skin took wing from the hearth, kindled good humour, -and made mouths water.</p> - -<p>All the aristocracy of the plough were eating there -at Jourdain's, the <span class="err" title="original: inkeeper">innkeeper</span> who dealt in horses—a -shrewd fellow, who had a goodish penny put by.</p> - -<p>The dishes were passed and emptied, as were likewise -huge jugs of yellow cider. Every one recounted -his dealings—his buying and selling. They gave news -of the crops. The weather was good for greens, but -somewhat wet for wheat.</p> - -<p>All at once a drum rolled in the court before the -house. Almost everybody save the too indifferent, immediately -sprang to their feet and ran to the door, or -to the windows, with mouth still full and napkin in -hand.</p> - -<p>After the public crier had stopped his racket, he -launched forth in a jerky voice, making his pauses at -the wrong time:</p> - -<p>"Be it known to the inhabitants of Goderville, and in -general to all persons present at the market, that there -was lost this morning on the Beauzeville road, between -nine and ten o'clock, a black leather pocketbook containing -five hundred francs and business papers. You are -requested to return it to the mayor's office at once, or<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_378"></a>[378]</span> -to Master Fortune Houlbreque, of Manneville. There -will be twenty francs reward."</p> - -<p>Then the man went away. They heard once more -from afar the dull drum-beats and the fading voice of -the crier.</p> - -<p>After that, they began to discuss this event, counting -the chances Master Houlbreque yet had of recovering -or not recovering his pocketbook.</p> - -<p>And the meal went on.</p> - -<p>They were finishing their coffee when the corporal -of police appeared on the threshold.</p> - -<p>He asked:</p> - -<p>"Master Hauchecorne, of Bréauté—is he here?"</p> - -<p>Hauchecorne, seated at the other end of the table, -answered:</p> - -<p>"Here I am."</p> - -<p>And the corporal resumed:</p> - -<p>"Master Hauchecorne, will you have the kindness -to come with me to the mayor's office? The mayor would -like to speak to you."</p> - -<p>The peasant, surprised and disturbed, tossed off his -drink and arose, worse bent than in the morning; because -the first steps after a rest were always especially -difficult. He started off, repeating:</p> - -<p>"Here I am; here I am."</p> - -<p>And he followed the corporal.</p> - -<p>The mayor was awaiting him, seated in his official -chair. He was the notary of the place, a large, grave -man of pompous speech.</p> - -<p>"Master Hauchecorne," he said, "you were seen -this morning, on the Beauzeville road, to pick up the -pocket-book lost by Master Houlbreque, of Manneville."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_379"></a>[379]</span></p> - -<p>The countryman, confused, stared at the mayor, already -frightened by this suspicion attaching to him—why -he could not understand.</p> - -<p>"I—I—I picked up that pocket-book?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, you."</p> - -<p>"On my word of honour, I didn't even know nothing -about it."</p> - -<p>"You were seen."</p> - -<p>"They saw me—me? Who's they what saw me?" -said Master Hauchecorne.</p> - -<p>"Master Malandain, the harness-maker."</p> - -<p>Then the old man remembered, understood, and reddened -with anger.</p> - -<p>"Ah! he saw me, did he, the rascal? He saw me -pick up this here string. Look, your worship."</p> - -<p>And, rummaging at the bottom of his pocket, he -pulled out the little piece of string.</p> - -<p>But the incredulous mayor shook his head.</p> - -<p>"You will not make me believe, Master Hauchecorne, -that Master Malandain, who is a man worthy of all -respect, has taken this bit of cord for a pocket-book."</p> - -<p>The peasant, furious, raised his hand, and spit at -his side to bear witness to his honour, repeating:</p> - -<p>"F'r all that, it's God's truth, holy truth, your -worship. There! My soul and my salvation knows it's -true!"</p> - -<p>The mayor resumed:</p> - -<p>"After having picked the article up, you even -searched also a long while in the mud to make sure if -money had fallen out of it."</p> - -<p>The good man choked with rage and terror.</p> - -<p>"If them can say—if them can say—such lies as that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_380"></a>[380]</span> -to take away an honest man's name! If them can -say—"</p> - -<p>However he might protest, he was not believed.</p> - -<p>He was confronted by Master Malandain, who repeated -and supported his statement. They railed at -each other for an hour. Master Hauchecorne demanded -that they search his pockets. Nothing was found upon -him.</p> - -<p>Finally, the mayor, very much perplexed, let him -go with the warning that he would inform the public -prosecutor, and ask for orders.</p> - -<p>The news had spread abroad. When he came out -of the mayor's office, the old man was the centre of -curiosity and questioning, both serious and jeering, but -into which not the least resentment entered. And he -began recounting the long rigmarole of the string. They -did not believe him. They grinned.</p> - -<p>He went along, stopped by every one, or accosting -his acquaintances, going over and over his story and -his protestations, pointing to his pockets turned inside -out to prove he had nothing.</p> - -<p>They said to him:</p> - -<p>"Come now, you old rascal!"</p> - -<p>And he became angry, exasperated, feverish, disconsolate -at being doubted, and forever telling his story.</p> - -<p>Night fell. It became time to go home. He started -out with three of his neighbours, to whom he pointed -out the spot where he had picked up the bit of string; -and, all along the road, he recited his adventure.</p> - -<p>That evening he made a round of the village of -Bréauté so as to tell everyone. He found only unbelievers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_381"></a>[381]</span></p> - -<p>He was ill of it all through the night.</p> - -<p>The next day about one in the afternoon, Marius -Paumelle, a farm helper of Master Breton, the market-gardener -at Ymauville, returned the pocket-book and its -contents to Master Houlbreque of Manneville.</p> - -<p>This man maintained he had found it on the road, -but, not knowing how to read, had carried it home and -turned it over to his master.</p> - -<p>The news spread to the suburbs. Master Hauchecorne -was informed. Immediately he set himself the -task of going about relating his story, capping it with -this climax. He was triumphant.</p> - -<p>"What hurt me the mostest," he said, "was not the -thing itself, don't you see, but the lies. Nothing hurts -so as when lies 's told about you."</p> - -<p>All day long he talked of his adventure. He told it -on the roads to the people passing, at the tavern to -people who were drinking, and then to the people coming -out of church the next Sunday. He even stopped -strangers to tell them the tale. He felt relieved by this -time, yet something troubled him without his knowing -just what it was. People had a mocking manner as they -listened.</p> - -<p>They did not appear convinced. He almost felt their -tattle behind his back.</p> - -<p>Tuesday of the next week, he went to the Goderville -market, solely impelled by the need of recounting his -affair.</p> - -<p>Malandain, standing in his doorway, began to laugh -as he saw him pass. For what?</p> - -<p>He accosted a farmer of Criquetot who did not permit -him to finish, but, landing him a thump in the pit<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_382"></a>[382]</span> -of the stomach, cried in his face, "Get out, you great -rogue!" Then he turned on his heel.</p> - -<p>Master Hauchecorne, altogether abashed, grew more -and more disturbed. Why had he been dubbed "a great -rogue?"</p> - -<p>When seated at table in Jourdain's tavern, he again -began to explain the particulars.</p> - -<p>A Montvilliers horse-dealer yelled at him:</p> - -<p>"Don't tell me, you old fox! I know your piece of -string yarn!"</p> - -<p>Hauchecorne stammered, "B—b—but it's found, the -pocket-book!"</p> - -<p>To which the other retorted:</p> - -<p>"That'll do, daddy! There's one who finds, and -another who gives up. Neither is no one the wiser."</p> - -<p>The peasant was choked off. At last he understood. -They accused him of having had the pocket-book returned -by a crony—by an accomplice.</p> - -<p>He tried to protest. The whole table started to -laugh.</p> - -<p>He could not finish his meal, and took his leave -amidst their mocking and derision.</p> - -<p>He returned to his home, ashamed and indignant, -stifled with rage, with confusion; all the more dejected -because, with his Norman cunning, he was capable of -having done what they accused him of, and even of -bragging of it as a good trick. His innocence vaguely -appeared to him as impossible to prove; his roguery was -too well known. And he felt struck to the heart by the -injustice of the suspicion.</p> - -<p>Again he commenced to tell of his adventure; every -day its recital lengthened, each time containing new<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_383"></a>[383]</span> -proofs, more energetic protestations, and more solemn -oaths which he prepared in his solitary hours. His mind -was altogether occupied by the story of the piece of -string. He was believed all the less as his defense grew -more complicated and his arguments more artful.</p> - -<p>"Now, those are the proofs of a liar," they said behind -his back.</p> - -<p>He felt this. It consumed his strength. He exhausted -himself in useless efforts.</p> - -<p>He went into a visible decline.</p> - -<p>The jokers now made him detail the story of "The -Piece of String" to amuse them, just as you persuade a -soldier who has come through a campaign to tell his -version of a battle. At last his mind began to give way.</p> - -<p>Near the end of December he took to his bed.</p> - -<p>He died the first week in January, and, in the delirium -of the throes of death he protested his innocence, -repeating, "A little piece of string—little piece of string—see, -here it is, your worship."</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Henri René Albert Guy de Maupassant. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Little Masterpieces of Fiction," Vol. VI (Doubleday, Page -& Co.).</p></div> - -<h4>A Social Error</h4> - -<p>The little kindergarten teacher turned hastily from -the office window.</p> - -<p>"Miss Adams," she said abruptly, "I'm worried."</p> - -<p>The "Lady Head" looked up from her ledger.</p> - -<p>"Worried," she repeated, with an odd little smile, -"are you ever anything so plebeian?"</p> - -<p>The other woman tossed her chin impatiently.</p> - -<p>"Really, Miss Adams," she said stiffly, "I wish you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_384"></a>[384]</span> -had given that class of Italians to—well, anyone but -Caroline."</p> - -<p>The lady at the desk stiffened perceptibly.</p> - -<p>"And why not?" she inquired tersely. "You certainly -must be aware that the reason I chose Caroline -to fill the vacancy was because I thought her fitted—particularly -fitted," she added, with deliberate emphasis.</p> - -<p>The little woman looked down at her excited chief -with a quietly speculative smile.</p> - -<p>"Do you think," she said slowly, "that Caroline has -the real social instinct?"</p> - -<p>The Lady Head was becoming annoyed.</p> - -<p>"One might think," she snapped, "that the training -Caroline has received in her own home would amply -fit her to meet—"</p> - -<p>"Any of the men of her own set," interrupted the -other woman. "But as for managing a club of hot-headed -Italians—"</p> - -<p>"Well, doesn't she manage them?" reiterated the -woman at the desk, half rising from her low chair. "I -should like to have you name a club that is more orderly—more—"</p> - -<p>"Indeed, it is orderly enough," admitted the little -kindergartner.</p> - -<p>"There!" sniffed the Lady Head triumphantly, then -with a sudden change of tone, "I really do not understand -your objection. As for the boys—they adore her!"</p> - -<p>"That is where the trouble lies." The little kindergartner -leaned forward over the desk and her voice was -very serious. "Miss Adams," she began slowly, "you -have been here five weeks—I have worked in this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_385"></a>[385]</span> -district for fifteen years. I know every boy and girl, -every man and woman, who comes to this house. And -I also know"—the speaker paused impressively—"that -when a girl who is as young and as good-looking as -Caroline treats the young men of her club with the same -informality that she would show to the callers in her -father's home—believe me, there will be disastrous consequences."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean—Do you dare—" the Lady Head's -lifted eyebrows completed her question.</p> - -<p>This little kindergartner stood firm. "I think -Caroline should be warned," she insisted quietly. "Her -Italians are so young—so hot-blooded, and I'm afraid -she has been encouraging them a little, too—"</p> - -<p>"Nonsense!" the other woman sprang quickly to her -feet. "I have never heard anything so ridiculous—so -utterly preposterous! Do my years of experience count -for nothing in comparison with yours? Am I entirely -lacking in good judgment—in common sense? My dear -woman, I have always made friends of my club boys, -invited them to my home—even young anarchists! Falling -in love with her! Preposterous!" She paused for -a moment breathless, and then began a fresh onslaught.</p> - -<p>"If Caroline has not sufficient tact—"</p> - -<p>A girl's blonde head appeared in the office doorway.</p> - -<p>"Did you call met?" she lisped sweetly. "I was passing -through the hall and I thought I heard my name -spoken." She paused, with a questioning glance at the -two women.</p> - -<p>The Lady Head was the first to recover her composure, -and she rustled across the room with outstretched -hands. "My dear Caroline," she said. "We were just<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_386"></a>[386]</span> -speaking of you—and your charming little club," she -added, with a side glance at her assistant.</p> - -<p>The girl threw back her dark furs with a smile. -"How good of you," she said gratefully. "I'm frightfully -late to-day, but to-night is our party, and I stopped -down town for the boys."</p> - -<p>The Lady Head patted the girl's plump fingers. -"Are you going to dance, too?" she inquired.</p> - -<p>The girl laughed. "Indeed I am. But I really don't -know how I'm going to manage it. The boys are all so -jealous, and Tony—oh, Tony is the grandest dancer!"</p> - -<p>She flitted out of the tiny office, and the two women -watched her as she climbed the broad stairs followed -closely by her chattering, gesticulating pupils.</p> - -<p>As the last peal of laughter floated down over the -balusters the little kindergartner turned to the Lady -Head.</p> - -<p>"You see?" she said simply.</p> - -<p>The Lady Head turned upon her a sweet, uncomprehending -smile. "I think it is lovely!" she breathed.</p> - -<p>The night lamp burned steadily in the office of the -settlement. The wind howled through the deserted -street, flinging the rain in noisy gusts against the window -panes and shrieking dismally down the empty corridors. -From somewhere on the floor above came the rhythmic -banging of a piano and the shuffle and stamp of dancing -feet.</p> - -<p>The Lady Head closed her book with a yawn.</p> - -<p>"What a stupid evening," she sighed. The kindergarten -teacher laid down her sewing and walked slowly -to the window.</p> - -<p>"The elements are attempting to enliven things,"<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_387"></a>[387]</span> -she remarked dryly as she lifted the heavy curtains. -Even as she spoke there was a blinding flash, a click and -the house was dark.</p> - -<p>Up stairs the music ceased, there was a confused murmur -of voices—a shout—a crash—and a woman's scream. -The lights come on again—the two women turned, their -faces ashen, and hastened up the long stairs.</p> - -<p>A pale-faced girl was crouched against the farther -wall of the big gymnasium. At her feet sprawled the -limp body of a man, and behind her a swarthy black-browed -girl was struggling in the grasp of two stalwart -Italians who were trying to wrest something from her -frantic fingers. Her hands relaxed as the two women -appeared in the door, and a shining bit of steel flew -across the room and tinkled on the floor at the feet of the -Lady Head. She picked it up grimly and pushed her -way to the center of the crowd. The girl by the wall -sprang to her feet with a wild shriek, but the woman -turned on her savagely.</p> - -<p>"Hush!" she hissed, "you little fool!" Then to the -crowd, "What does this mean?" she demanded sternly. -"What does this mean?"</p> - -<p>A young Italian, who stood at one side nursing his -slashed knuckles, was the spokesman.</p> - -<p>"Him—" with a wave towards the man on the floor—"he's -Tony De Sil', and her"—the gesture included the -hysterical girl—"She dance with Ton' all-a-time."</p> - -<p>"And she?" The Lady Head looked toward the -Italian girl whose stiletto she was holding gingerly between -her fingers.</p> - -<p>"Her?"—the narrator pointed a laconic forefinger. -"She's Tony's girl."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_388"></a>[388]</span></p> - -<p>When the weeping Caroline had been sent home in -her father's carriage, and when the ambulance had -creaked out through the gateway, the Lady Head turned -to her little assistant.</p> - -<p>"If there are any fatal results from this—this -criminal bit of negligence," she stated coldly, "I shall -hold you personally responsible. You should have informed -me of this long ago. Remember, you have been -here fifteen years!"</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Ida F. Treat. -</p> - -<h4>The Lot of the Poor</h4> - -<p>Two women were walking with rapid but tired steps -down one of the most disreputable streets in the city.</p> - -<p>"My," said the tallest one, turning up the collar of -her threadbare coat, "don't this wind make you feel like -you was dressed in your bones?"</p> - -<p>The other woman, who was, if possible, more shabby-looking, -pushed her red gloveless hands deeper into her -pockets.</p> - -<p>"Yes, and I forgot to wear my sables to-day, ain't -it too bad?" she returned in a dreary tone, whose irony -was somewhat modified by the chattering of her teeth.</p> - -<p>"Mary Jane, you just quit talkin' like that," burst -out the other, evidently the older of the two. "You -didn't never use to be that way before you commenc't -workin' out by the day. Why you was the jolliest girl -in the factory and allays made the best of everything; -but now nothin' is ever good enough for you. Of course -none of us would mind having things a little better, -but as far as I can see, things have allays been this way -with us and allays will be, wishin' or no wishin'."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_389"></a>[389]</span></p> - -<p>"I ain't sayin' they won't," Mary Jane said shortly.</p> - -<p>"Well, I know it, you ain't sayin' nothin'; that's just -the trouble. I wish you'd tell me what's the matter with -you, Mary Jane, 'Tain't natural for a girl like you to -be so dull and sulky."</p> - -<p>"'Tain't natural, did you say?" flared up the other. -"'Tain't natural to wonder why the lady you work for -wears silks and satins, while your own clothes are almost -too ragged to cover you? Ain't it natural," she asked -with blazing eyes, "to want to tear a few silks off of her -back to cover your own? You ain't never seen nice -things near you, Ann. You've allays worked in the -factory; so what do you know about such things? I tell -you, if you worked in one of those palaces on Fifth Avenue -all day and then come back to this at night, you'd -see the difference."</p> - -<p>"Don't you s'pose I've seen swell things and -people?" remonstrated the older woman. "I ain't no -fool; but I've reasoned out that there's a few people -meant to be rich, and the rest of us ain't, that's all!"</p> - -<p>"But it ain't a few people, Ann. It seems like most -everybody had plenty to eat and wear but us. Why ain't -we in it, too? Why don't I live in that fine house where -I work instead down in this hole? It seems like we'd -been cheated somewhere; but I s'pose there ain't no use -talkin' about it. Good-night."</p> - -<p>Ann watched the girl as she climbed the rickety steps -of the "palace" which fate had assigned to her.</p> - -<p>"They're all that way sometimes. I remember—well, -she'll get used to it like all the rest of us."</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Agnes Palmer. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_390"></a>[390]</span></p> - -<h4>Filipino Fear.</h4> - -<p>One cloudy afternoon when a heavy rain seemed -swaying back and forth in a thick mist which was then -lowering, and long red streaks of lightning followed by -loud rolling thunder seemed trying to break the mist to -let the rain fall, there were in a little nipa house in the -country below, among aged cocoanut palms, two lonely -persons suffering from superstition and fear of the extraordinary -phenomena that surrounded them.</p> - -<p>The house was just big enough for the two. Its roof, -windows and sides were made of <i>cogon</i>. The floor and -door were made of narrow bamboo strips nailed side by -side. In one corner of the room on a bed, made also of -bamboo, sat a boy of eight. There was in the expression -and look of the boy a feeling of unknown fear mingled -with surprise, because his father, a lusty old superstitious -man, who was then holding a blunt stick, had driven their -domestic creatures from the house to the open field where -there was no means of securing shelter from the heavy -rain, whose first large drops were now clattering on the -leaves. The boy had a kind disposition, especially toward -his pets—a sense that he had inherited from his father. -This was the first time that he had seen his father act -thus unkindly toward their animals. His surprise was -much increased when he saw his father dash at the -windows and doors and fling everyone of them open, then -retreat to the middle and look sideways. He saw him -draw a long agitated breath. Then, seeming to have recovered -his wits, he hastened toward one of the windows -and took from the outside a portion of a dried cocoanut -leaf. He cut two long narrow strips from it and made -them into loops. After placing one around his neck, he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_391"></a>[391]</span> -uttered a short prayer. He then handed the other loop -to his still amazed child and said, "Wear this, dear child, -around thy neck."</p> - -<p>"Why, father?" inquired the innocent boy, "can -this protect me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, child, prayer and that alone can save us."</p> - -<p>"What has this in it, father? It seems to me to be -nothing but a piece of cocoanut leaf. Isn't it?" said the -boy.</p> - -<p>"It is a strip from a cocoanut leaf, but—it has—"</p> - -<p>"If so, then," interrupted the acute boy, "why can't -these palms around us that bear these leaves protect -themselves against the elements. I have often seen, -father, palms burned to their very stalks, which older -people told me had been struck by lightning. Where did -you get this strip, father?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I got this from a bunch of leaves which is -tied just below our front window," pointing to the place, -"together with some live leaves. That bunch you yourself -carried to the church two years ago when your -mother was yet living. You have never peeped into -church since then. But once a year in town the mass of -the Sunday immediately before Fast Friday is dedicated -to palm and olive leaves. Hundreds of children like -you crowd the church on that day carrying with them -their bunch of leaves, and while the service is being celebrated -they will joyfully shake them. After holy water -has been sprinkled on the leaves, then they are holy, and -it is not pious to play with them. After the mass the -bunch of leaves is to be tied to the door or to the window -of the house as a protection from thunder and lightning. -On days of this kind every one wears a strip of these<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_392"></a>[392]</span> -leaves around his neck. When you go out again, you -may look at the windows of the houses to see if what I -say is true."</p> - -<p>Indeed; those bunches of palms and olive leaves are -marked characteristics of typical Filipino houses. The -leaves are usually tied or wound in artistic ways, with -beautiful hangings on them. All the decorations, however, -are composed of the same kind of leaves.</p> - -<p>The boy was quite satisfied at his father's story. -After a little reflection he remembered that he had truly -carried such leaves to church. The rain was then falling -fast, and the lightning and thunder still followed one -another in rapid succession. The cold winds from outside -and the fearful sight of the brilliant flashes made -the boy shrink.</p> - -<p>"I am cold, father, and I fear those long and fiery -zigzag paths which the whip of the driver of that rolling -thunder is making in heaven. I wonder why you don't -shut those windows," said the boy.</p> - -<p>"Never, my son, for there is danger in shutting them. -Remember that the thunder will pass thru anything and -burn that which dares obstruct its way. Besides, my -grandfather told me that days of this kind are rare, for -they are days for scourging foul things on earth. If we -shut ourselves up here, Bathala, the ruler of the earth, -who watches and sees all things done, may suspect that -we are hiding something foul and so send his scourger -here to punish us."</p> - -<p>The young listener who was attentive to the story of -his father started up at a sudden and astounding crash -of thunder. He curled himself up in the lap of his -father, folded his arms around his father's neck, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_393"></a>[393]</span> -shut his eyes. After a while he continued, "And, therefore, -every foul deed on earth will be punished?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, everything foul; so runs our proverb: 'Debt -must be paid.' If you commit a sin you must be punished -according to the nature of your sin."</p> - -<p>The fearful peal of thunder that had so frightened the -boy was the last. It silenced the fury of the weather. -The rain was falling lightly now and sheets of fire were -distinguished only from afar, but no more thunder -sounded. The boy was dropping off into a light slumber -when he heard his kitty mew. He opened his eyes and -saw his pet very wet and cold. He pitied the little -creature, so he said almost with tears, "I wish, father, -you had not been so unkind to our animals, our sole -friends in this solitary place. See what you have done. -You have driven them out in the rain where they could -get no shelter; and now every one of them is wet and -shivering."</p> - -<p>"Now, don't worry about them, my boy," said his -father rather moved by his filial appeal, "they are not -hurt at all. I drove them away, not because I was cross -or unkind, but because it is not safe to keep them inside -on such a stormy day as this. For thunder is likely to -strike them. Boys of your age are likely to be harmed -by such animals. For to some of them thunder imparts -its explosive power. And sometimes thunder takes the -form of animals. Here is a story that has been told to -me by many and which they believe true.</p> - -<p>"'Once there was a boy riding on a carabao on a -stormy day. He was hurrying home lest the rain should -catch him, but when he was near home he caught sight -of a small pig wandering aimlessly down the road. It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_394"></a>[394]</span> -was very fat and very tame. The boy dismounted from -the carabao and tried to catch the pig, but when he was -yet quite a long way off from it the animal ran against -a tree and there was a loud sound of thunder. The tree -ignited. The boy fell down unconscious and was slightly -hurt. He recovered only at home. His story has been -told and retold ever since. It was said that if that boy -had caught the animal and it had received a jar while -in the boy's arms it would have burst like thunder and -so burned the boy. But if the boy had safely carried it -home and treated it with a vinegar bath the explosive -power would have been gone and the animal would have -been the best kind of food on earth.' Old men say that -such animals are fruits of thunder."</p> - -<p>"Oh, then, it would not be so bad after all, father. I -might try to catch one some time," said the boy.</p> - -<p>"That you must not," said the father sternly.</p> - -<p>"But is that true, father, that the fungi which we -find abounding in bamboo groves are the flowers caused -by thunder?" said the boy inquisitively.</p> - -<p>"Yes, my son, truly, and that's why they are very -delicious. You can't find them growing except after -stormy days and after thunder and lightning. After -days of lightning and thunder like the present, groups of -women and boys may be seen roaming about the country -in search of these delicious flowers for their food."</p> - -<p>By this time the storm was over. The two prepared -their supper, since it was already evening. After eating -they went to bed feeling secure in the efficacy of the -palm leaves hung in the door.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Walfrido de Leon. -</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_395"></a>[395]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI - -<br /> -THE ARTISTIC GROUP: THE REAL SHORT-STORY</h2> - -<p>The short-story as a production of an artist conscious -of rules and striving for definite effects within -limitations is a thing of the nineteenth century. Only -gradually have writers come to the feeling for singleness -and unity. It would appear that before the days -of Poe and Maupassant brief narratives were brief because -of their source or their type, or because the -author did not happen to have a rich vein of digression -and incident. They were then rather what we think of -as tales than what we have come to regard as the real -short-story.</p> - -<p>We have hitherto in our study been making little or -no distinction in our use of the terms narrative, story, -and tale, nor have we understood the adjective short -with any but its usual significance. We shall from -now on, however, understand the term short-story -technically, and employ the hyphen, as Matthews has -employed it, to suggest the significance.</p> - -<p>A short-story is very perceptibly shorter than a -romance or a novel. It is indeed about like a chapter -of one of these. In no case must the reading require -more than one sitting, says Poe. On the other hand, -it may not be so short as an ordinary incident or anecdote,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_396"></a>[396]</span> -but far longer. It is more complex, more dignified, -and has distinguishing essential elements.</p> - -<p>It is not possible, of course, to make a hard and fast -definition, but there are certain qualities we pretty -generally expect to find. A short-story may be of any -type from a myth to a realistic sketch; it may emphasize -environment, plot, or character; but it must have -unity, it must have directness, it must have climax, -however slight. The effect should be single, not -multiple. Hence anything like digression or episode is -entirely out of place. The end should not be delayed, -nor yet should it be precipitated. It should come just -at the right time, and be as proper as the catastrophe -of a tragedy. It should be but the beginning made -special and concrete, the middle continued in harmony, -the conclusion come upon both inevitably. "Make -another end to it?" says Stevenson<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> in answering an -objection to one of his stories. "Ah, yes, but that's -not the way I write; the whole tale is implied; I never -use an effect when I can help it unless it prepares the -effects that are to follow; that's what a story consists -in. To make another end; that is to make the beginning -all wrong. The <i>dénouement</i> of a long story is -nothing, it is just 'a full close,' which you may approach -and accompany as you please—it is a coda, not -an essential number in the rhythm; but the body and -end of a short-story is bone-of-the-bone and blood-of-the-blood -of the beginning."</p> - -<p>Students of this type of narrative find Poe the first -man to reveal a consciousness of any strictly limiting -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_397"></a>[397]</span>tenets. Poe worked to definite rules which he himself -made. He saw intrinsic reasons why a short-story -should be short. His predecessors, Irving and others, -had not seen them. Even Hawthorne, who fulfilled -them many times, said nothing about them. But Poe -both formulated and preached them. He exemplified -them, too, and other men followed.</p> - -<p>The list of good short-story writers is so great that -particular mention of any seems invidious. Some of -our less known men have done as good work as our -best. For names by countries, you may notice the -bibliography at the end of this book. Kipling's stories -for a large part emphasize place; Poe's, very often -plot; and Hawthorne's and Stevenson's, mostly psychological -phenomena—character and whimsical expressions -of it; Miss Wilkins's altogether reveal temperament -and characteristics; while Maupassant's generally -record events which include a stab of fate.</p> - -<p>On the basis of artistic purpose, the short-story -divides itself into three types: the weird tale, stories -that emphasize environment and typical personality, -stories that emphasize events and character.</p> - -<p>Every narrator whenever he sets his pen to paper -must deal with place, plot, and people; but the artistic -short-story writer, because of the limitation of his form, -is forced to a selection of emphasis. He can not at will, -as the biographer can, dilate upon the ancestry of his -hero if he means to present the personage in action; -if he wants to indulge in an environment analysis, the -short-story writer has not time to wind up and unwind -a mystery; if he has decided to give us the crisis event -of a character, he must perforce touch but lightly on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_398"></a>[398]</span> -place. We shall find, then, that while each good short-story -has the three elements present and skilfully -managed, it has also one or the other more strongly -emphasized—or at most two, in practical neglect of -the third.</p> - -<h3>I. The Psychological Weird Tale</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Origin</div> - -<p>Our idea of the required form of the weird tale has -come to be that of the modern artistic short-story; but -all the elements of the type save form were -present in England in the middle of the -eighteenth century in the terror school started by Walpole's -"Castle of Otranto." The author declared his -work to be an attempt to blend the ancient romance and -the modern novel. By modern novel he meant the stories -of Richardson, Fielding, Smollet, and their less worthy -contemporaries; by ancient romance he must have -meant the Oriental wonder tale; for he has sliding -panels, trap doors, subterranean passages, and a general -extravagance in an attempt at magnificence. Indeed, -in regard to the multiplicity of detail, this school -is often called the Gothic. The difference between the -narratives of the school of terror and the Oriental wonder -tale is the difference of atmosphere. While the -ancient tale is mysterious, it is seldom if ever morbid. -Especially is the cheerfulness true of the stories of -mediæval chivalry that later embodied the wonder tale. -Enchantment there is, but it is airy; if there be any -vaults, they are not damp. <span class="sni">The school -of terror</span> But the "Castle of Otranto" -by Walpole, the "Old English Baron" by -Clara Reeve, the "Romance of the Forest," -the "Mysteries of Udolpho," and the "Italian" by Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_399"></a>[399]</span> -Radcliffe, and "The Monk" by Matthew Lewis,—the -six chief romances of the school of terror,—are all damp, -dark, ghostly, and morbid. Mrs. Radcliffe, however, -added an element of eighteenth-century rationalism in -her attempt at explanation; inasmuch as she always -refers her constant suggestions of the supernatural to -ordinary causes. Moreover, she interspersed her work -with excellent landscape description in harmony or -contrast with her theme. The contributions, then, of -the romances of the school of terror are (1) frightful -mechanism, (2) a general tone of Gothic fantasticalness, -(3) weird place-impressions that can be explained -by natural causes, and (4) terror of physical or supernatural -punishment and death.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Edgar -Allen Poe</div> - -<p>To point out how much Edgar Allan Poe on the -mere material side is indebted to this set of writers, -possibly through Charles Brockden Brown -and the American school of terror, we need -only to name over to ourselves two of his famous weird -tales together with their grosser elements. "The Fall -of the House of Usher" has general arabesqueness plus -hollow groans, echoing footsteps, high pointed windows -excluding light, a person imprisoned in a metal vault -(the hero in the "Castle of Otranto" is imprisoned in a -gigantic metal helmet), terror of death, consonant landscape -description, natural causes for weird sounds. The -"Pit and the Pendulum" has a dungeon of the Inquisition, -horrible instrument of torture, brink over which -to fall, bodily and mental fear of death (Lewis's monk -is snatched by demons from the Inquisition and carried -to a cliff of the Sierra Morena off which he is commanded -to fling himself).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_400"></a>[400]</span></p> - -<p>But Poe is as far away from the crude and bungling -methods of the earlier writers as he is near their materials. -How cracking doors and opening vaults, quaking -houses, and walking dead, outer terrific elements and -inner terrific sensation and morbid imaginative perception -reaching madness, can be fused into one harmonized, -unified, piercing, intense prose poem he has -shown us in this same "Fall of the House of Usher." -Nothing of the kind could be better. His own cruder -attempt is set forth in the fore-study, "Berenice," -which might be considered good if the other story were -not immeasurably better. A side sketch of quite a -different tone, yet almost as weird, is his beautiful -color symphony of the "Masque of the Red Death." -All are exquisite artistic creations.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Stevenson</div> - -<p>Poe's "William Wilson," an imaginative psychological -horror study of conscience, has been paralleled -if not surpassed by Stevenson's "Markheim." -"Markheim" is more concrete, especially at -the beginning; there is more of story and less of symbolism -about it; but the climax is the same, or rather -the reverse; for in Poe's story William Wilson's worse -self murders his better, while in Stevenson's story -Markheim's better self, the murderer, who really hates -his deed, triumphs over his worse self, the coward and -liar.</p> - -<p>In Poe's story the weirdness results from the fact -that Wilson's conscience, which he kills, is a concrete -double with the same name and appearance. Stevenson -has united this device of a double with weird place-description -and weird deed-narrative. He has kept the -thing more psychological and less symbolic by making<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_401"></a>[401]</span> -the second presence explainable as an hallucination, -more shadowy than Poe's.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Maupassant -and -others</div> - -<p>"What is It? a Mystery" by Fitz James O'Brien -shows how very, very material the horror story may be; -and yet O'Brien's is not an uninteresting -narrative; for it is full of vigor and truth-likeness -in the beginning; the end only is -bad art; where the frightened people take a plaster -cast of the mysterious being they have captured and -can not see. "The Hand" by Maupassant is another -such touch horror tale, but of course better told. His -"Apparition" is almost pure narrative and builds to a -fine realistic climax, despite the ghostliness of the visitant. -Matthew's "Venetian Glass" is also weird plot -rather than weird place, while "The Wind in the Rose -Bush" is emphatically character study, and the "Phantom -Rickshaw" is a good old-fashioned, if Oriental, -ghost story.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Suggestions -on -writing a -weird tale</div> - -<p>For your first attempt at this type of narrative, you -might try the modern ghost story, and later, when -more practised, the delicate psychological -analysis of states of conscience. The modern -ghost stories differ from folk-tales concerning -weird beings in this respect particularly: -the modern ghost is usually explainable, a fact you -would expect because of our inheritance from the -terror school. He is a logical ghost—a creature of -one's own making, an hallucination at best or a white -cow at worst. The author sets out to depict not so -much the ghost, as the ghost's effect upon the hero. In -a number of instances the modern narrative of this -kind rises to the plane of the true short-story, complying<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_402"></a>[402]</span> -with all the canons of art. Read for example one -of Mary E. Wilkins Freeman's six "Stories of the -Supernatural," of which the "Wind in the Rose Bush" -is one.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Material -and method</div> - -<p>The material is comparatively simple. Get eerie -circumstances, a credulous or boastfully incredulous -mind, a probable incident, an explainable apparition, -and any modern setting that will -hold the course of events together. See to it that the -construction is unified and coherent. Build to a climax, -and stop quickly afterwards. Make the apparition a -logical outgrowth of the environment and the state of -mind of the victim. The ghost of the folk-tale usually -appears to the half-witted, the foolish, the credulous; -but the ghost of the modern story, to prove his existence, -perhaps, is far bolder; he speaks out to the skeptic, -the person who calls a shadow a shadow. That the -unearthly spirit must catch the strong man at his weak -moment is obvious—otherwise there would be no story. -But when the events are given, stop. Do not explain -too much.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Form</div> - -<p>It is well to notice the different methods of getting -the facts before the reader. Sometimes everything is -set forth by the author, and the characters -speak but little or not at all. Sometimes one -character speaks in a continued monologue. Sometimes -the events come out in conversation or dialogue, the dramatic -method, and the author appears but little. When -he appears not at all we have true drama instead of -narrative. The larger number of stories, doubtless, -are a mixture of author and character talk.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_403"></a>[403]</span></p> - -<h4>The Signal-Man</h4> - -<p>"Halloa! Below there!"</p> - -<p>When he heard a voice thus calling to him he was -standing at the door of his box with a flag in his hand, -furled around its short pole. One would have thought, -considering the nature of the ground, that he could not -have doubted from what quarter the voice came; but, -instead of looking up to where I stood oh the top of the -steep cutting nearly over his head, he turned himself -about and looked down the line. There was something -remarkable in his manner of doing so, though I could not -have said for my life what. But I know it was remarkable -enough to attract my notice, even though his figure -was foreshortened and shadowed down in the deep -trench, and mine was high above him, so steeped in the -glow of an angry sunset that I had shadowed my eyes -with my hand before I saw him at all.</p> - -<p>"Halloa! Below!"</p> - -<p>From looking down the line he turned himself about -again and, raising his eyes, saw my figure high above -him.</p> - -<p>"Is there any path by which I can come down and -speak to you?"</p> - -<p>He looked up at me without replying, and I looked -down at him without pressing him too soon with a -repetition of my idle question. Just then there came a -vague vibration in the earth and air, quickly changing -into a violent pulsation, and an oncoming rush that -caused me to start back as though it had force to draw -me down. When such vapor as rose to my height from -this rapid train had passed me and was skimming away -over the landscape, I looked down again and saw him<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_404"></a>[404]</span> -refurling the flag he had shown while the train went by.</p> - -<p>I repeated my inquiry. After a pause, during which -he seemed to regard me with fixed attention, he motioned -with his rolled-up flag towards a point on my level, -some two or three hundred yards distant. I called down -to him, "All right!" and made for that point. There, -by dint of looking closely about me, I found a rough -zigzag descending path notched out, which I followed.</p> - -<p>The cutting was extremely deep and unusually precipitate. -It was made through a clammy stone that -became oozier and wetter as I went down. For these -reasons I found the way long enough to recall a singular -air of reluctance or compulsion with which he had -pointed out the path.</p> - -<p>When I came down low enough upon the zigzag -descent to see him again, I saw that he was standing -between the rails on the way by which the train had -lately passed, in an attitude as if he were waiting for -me to appear. He had his left hand at his chin, and -that left elbow rested on his right hand, crossed over -his breast. His attitude was one of such expectant -watchfulness that I stopped a moment, wondering at it.</p> - -<p>I resumed my downward way and, stepping out upon -the level of the railroad and drawing nearer to him, saw -that he was a dark, sallow man with a dark beard and -rather heavy eyebrows. His post was in as solitary and -dismal a place as ever I saw. On either side a dripping-wet -wall of jagged stone, excluding all view but a strip -of sky; the perspective one way only a crooked prolongation -of this great dungeon; the shorter perspective in -the other direction terminating in a gloomy red light, -and the gloomier entrance to a black tunnel, in whose<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_405"></a>[405]</span> -massive architecture there was a barbarous, depressing -and forbidding air. So little sunlight ever found its -way to this spot that it had an earthy, deadly smell; -and so much cold wind rushed through it that it struck -chill to me, as if I had left the natural world.</p> - -<p>Before he stirred I was near enough to him to have -touched him. Not even then removing his eyes from -mine, he stepped back one step and lifted his hand.</p> - -<p>This was a lonesome post to occupy (I said), and it -had riveted my attention when I looked down from up -yonder. A visitor was a rarity, I should suppose; not -an unwelcome rarity, I hoped! In me he merely saw -a man who had been shut up within narrow limits all his -life, and who, being at last set free, had a newly -awakened interest in these great works. To such purpose -I spoke to him; but I am far from sure of the -terms I used, for besides that I am not happy in opening -any conversation, there was something in the man -that daunted me.</p> - -<p>He directed a most curious look towards the red -light near the tunnel's mouth and looked all about it, -as if something were missing from it, and then looked -at me.</p> - -<p>That light was part of his charge—was it not?</p> - -<p>He answered in a low voice, "Don't you know it is?"</p> - -<p>The monstrous thought came into my mind as I -perused the fixed eyes and the saturnine face that this -was a spirit, not a man. I have speculated since whether -there may have been infection in his mind.</p> - -<p>In my turn I stepped back. But in making the -action I detected in his eyes some latent fear of me. -This put the monstrous thought to flight.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_406"></a>[406]</span></p> - -<p>"You look at me," I said, forcing a smile, "as if -you had a dread of me."</p> - -<p>"I was doubtful," he returned, "whether I had seen -you before."</p> - -<p>"Where?"</p> - -<p>He pointed to the red light he had looked at.</p> - -<p>"There?" I said.</p> - -<p>Intently watchful of me, he replied (but without -sound), "Yes."</p> - -<p>"My good fellow, what should I do there? However, -be that as it may, I never was there, you may -swear."</p> - -<p>"I think I may," he rejoined. "Yes. I am sure I -may."</p> - -<p>His manner cleared, like my own. He replied to my -remarks with readiness and in well-chosen words. Had -he much to do there? Yes, that was to say, he had -enough responsibility to bear; but exactness and watchfulness -were what was required of him, and of actual -work—manual labor—he had next to none. To change -that signal, to trim those lights and to turn this iron -handle now and then was all he had to do under that -head. Regarding those many long and lonely hours of -which I seemed to make so much he could only say that -the routine of his life had shaped itself into that form -and he had grown used to it. He had taught himself -a language down here—if only to know it by sight and -to have formed his own crude ideas of its pronunciation -could be called learning it. He had also worked at -fractions and decimals, and tried a little algebra; but -he was, and had been as a boy, a poor hand at figures. -Was it necessary for him when on duty always to remain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_407"></a>[407]</span> -in that channel of damp air, and could he never rise -into the sunshine from between those high stone walls? -Why, depended upon times and circumstances. Under -some conditions there would be less upon the line than -under others, and the same held good as to certain hours -of the day and night. In bright weather he did choose -occasions for getting a little above these lower shadows; -but, being at all times liable to be called by his electric -bell and at such times listening for it with redoubled -anxiety, the relief was less than I would suppose.</p> - -<p>He took me into his box, where there was a fire, a -desk for an official book in which he had to make certain -entries, a telegraphic instrument with its dial, face and -needle, and the little bell of which he had spoken. On -my trusting that he would excuse the remark that he -had been well educated and (I hoped I might say without -offence) perhaps educated above that station, he -observed that instances of slight incongruity in such -wise would rarely be found wanting among large bodies -of men; that he had heard it was so in work-houses, in -the police force, even in that last desperate resource, -the army; and that he knew it was so, more or less, in -any great railway staff. He had been, when young (if -I could believe it, sitting in that hut—he scarcely could), -a student of natural philosophy, and had attended -lectures; but he had run wild, misused his opportunities, -gone down, and never risen again. He had no complaint -to offer about that. He had made his bed and he -lay upon it. It was far too late to make another.</p> - -<p>All that I have here condensed he said in a quiet -manner, with his grave dark regards divided between me -and the fire. He threw in the word "Sir" from time to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_408"></a>[408]</span> -time, and especially when he referred, to his youth—as -though to request me to understand that he claimed to -be nothing but what I found him. He was several times -interrupted by the little bell, and had to read off messages, -and send replies. Once he had to stand without -the door and display a flag as a train passed and make -some verbal communication to the driver. In the discharge -of his duties I observed him to be remarkably -exact and vigilant, breaking off his discourse at a syllable -and remaining silent until what he had to do was -done.</p> - -<p>In a word, I should have set this man down as one -of the safest of men to be employed in that capacity, but -for the circumstance that while he was speaking to me -he twice broke off with a fallen color, turned his face -towards the little bell when it did not ring, opened the -door of the hut (which was kept shut to exclude the unhealthy -damp), and looked out towards the red light -near the mouth of the tunnel. On both of those occasions -he came back to the fire with the inexplicable air -upon him which I had remarked, without being able to -define when we were so far asunder.</p> - -<p>Said I, when I rose to leave him, "You almost make -me think that I have met with a contented man."</p> - -<p>(I am afraid I must acknowledge that I said it to -lead him on.)</p> - -<p>"I believe I used to be so," he rejoined in the low -voice in which he had first spoken; "but I am troubled, -sir, I am troubled."</p> - -<p>He would have recalled the words if he could. He -had said them, however, and I took them up quickly.</p> - -<p>"With what? What is your trouble?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_409"></a>[409]</span></p> - -<p>"It is very difficult to impart, sir. It is very, very -difficult to speak of. If ever you make me another visit -I will try to tell you."</p> - -<p>"But I expressly intend to make you another visit. -Say, when shall it be?"</p> - -<p>"I go off early in the morning, and I shall be on -again at ten to-morrow night, sir."</p> - -<p>"I will come at eleven."</p> - -<p>He thanked me and went to the door with me. "I'll -show my white light, sir," he said in his peculiar low -voice, "till you have found the way up. When you have -found it, don't call out! And when you are at the top, -don't call out!"</p> - -<p>His manner seemed to make the place strike colder -to me, but I said no more than "Very well."</p> - -<p>"And when you come down to-morrow night, don't -call out! Let me ask you a parting question. What -made you cry 'Halloa! Below there!' to-night?"</p> - -<p>"Heaven knows," said I. "I cried something to -that effect—"</p> - -<p>"Not to that effect, sir. Those were the very words. -I know them well."</p> - -<p>"Admit those were the very words. I said them, -no doubt because I saw you below."</p> - -<p>"For no other reason?"</p> - -<p>"What other reason could I possibly have?"</p> - -<p>"You had no feeling that they were conveyed to you -in any supernatural way?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>He wished me good-night and held up his light. I -walked by the side of the down line of rails (with a -very disagreeable sensation of a train coming behind<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_410"></a>[410]</span> -me) until I found the path. It was easier to mount -than to descend, and I got back to my inn without any -adventure.</p> - -<p>Punctual to my appointment, I placed my foot on -the first notch of the zigzag next night as the distant -clocks were striking eleven. He was waiting for me at -the bottom with his white light on. "I have not called -out," I said when we came close together; "may I speak -now?" "By all means, sir." "Good-night, then, and -here's my hand." "Good-night, sir, and here's mine." -With that we walked side by side to his box, entered it, -closed the door and sat down by the fire.</p> - -<p>"I have made up my mind, sir," he began, bending -forward as soon as we were seated, and speaking in a -tone but a little above a whisper, "that you shall not -have to ask me twice what troubles me. I took you for -some one else yesterday evening. That troubles me."</p> - -<p>"That mistake?"</p> - -<p>"No. That some one else."</p> - -<p>"Who is it?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"Like me?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I never saw the face. The left arm -is across the face and the right arm is waved—violently -waved. This way."</p> - -<p>I followed his action with my eyes and it was the -action of an arm gesticulating with the utmost passion -and vehemence, "For God's sake clear the way!"</p> - -<p>"One moonlight night," said the man, "I was sitting -here when I heard a voice cry 'Halloa! Below there!' -I started up, looked from that door, and saw this some -one else standing by the red light near the tunnel<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_411"></a>[411]</span> -waving as I just now showed you. The voice seemed -hoarse with shouting and it cried, 'Look out! Look -out!' And then again, 'Halloa! Below there! Look -out!' I caught up my lamp, turned it on red, and ran -towards the figure, calling, 'What's wrong? What has -happened? Where?' It stood just outside the blackness -of the tunnel. I advanced so close upon it that I -wondered at its keeping the sleeve across its eyes. I -ran right up at it, and had my hand stretched out to -pull the sleeve away, when it was gone."</p> - -<p>"Into the tunnel," said I.</p> - -<p>"No. I ran on into the tunnel five hundred yards. -I stopped and held up my lamp above my head and -saw the figures of the measured distance and saw the -wet stains stealing down the walls and trickling through -the arch. I ran out again faster than I had run in (for -I had a mortal abhorrence of the place upon me), and -I looked all round the red light, with my own red light, -and I went up the iron ladder to the gallery atop of it, -and I came down again and ran back here. I telegraphed -both ways, 'An alarm has been given. Is anything -wrong?' The answer came back, both ways, 'All -well.'"</p> - -<p>Resisting the slow touch of a frozen finger tracing -out my spine, I showed him how that this figure must -be a deception of his sense of sight, and how that figures, -originating in disease of the delicate nerves that minister -to the functions of the eye, were known to have often -troubled patients, some of whom had become conscious -of the nature of their affliction and had even proved -it by experiments upon themselves. "As to an imaginary -cry," said I, "do but listen for a moment to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_412"></a>[412]</span> -wind in this unnatural valley, while we speak so slow -and to the wild harp it makes of the telegraph wires!"</p> - -<p>That was all very well, he returned, after we had -sat listening for a while, and he ought to know something -of the wind and wires—he who so often passed -long winter nights there, alone and watching. But he -would beg to remark that he had not finished.</p> - -<p>I asked his pardon and he slowly added these words, -touching my arm:</p> - -<p>"Within six hours after the appearance the memorable -accident on this line happened, and within ten -hours the dead and the wounded were brought along -through the tunnel over the spot where the figure had -stood."</p> - -<p>A disagreeable shudder crept over me, but I did my -best against it. It was not to be denied, I rejoined, that -this was a remarkable coincidence, calculated deeply to -impress his mind. But it was unquestionable that remarkable -coincidences did continually occur and they -must be taken into account in dealing with such a subject. -Though to be sure I must admit, I added (for I -thought I saw that he was going to bring the objection -to bear upon me), men of common sense did not allow -much for coincidence making the ordinary calculations -of life.</p> - -<p>He again begged to remark that he had not finished.</p> - -<p>I again begged his pardon for being betrayed into -interruptions.</p> - -<p>"This," he said, again laying his hand upon my arm -and glancing over his shoulder with hollow eyes, "was -just a year ago. Six or seven months passed and I had -recovered from the surprise and shock, when one morning,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_413"></a>[413]</span> -as the day was breaking, I, standing at the door, -looked towards the red light and saw the spectre again." -He stopped with a fixed look at me.</p> - -<p>"Did it cry out?"</p> - -<p>"No. It was silent."</p> - -<p>"Did it wave its arm?"</p> - -<p>"No. It leaned against the shaft of the light with -both hands before the face. Like this."</p> - -<p>Once more I followed his action with my eyes. It -was an action of mourning. I have seen such an attitude -in stone figures on tombs.</p> - -<p>"Did you go up to it?"</p> - -<p>"I came in and sat down, partly to collect my -thoughts, partly because it had turned me faint. When -I went to the door again, daylight was above me and the -ghost was gone."</p> - -<p>"But nothing followed? Nothing came of this?"</p> - -<p>He touched me on the arm with his forefinger twice -or thrice, giving a ghastly nod each time.</p> - -<p>"That very day, as the train came out of the tunnel, -I noticed at a carriage window on my side what looked -like a confusion of hands and heads and something -waved. I saw it just in time to signal the driver, stop! -He shut off and put his brake on, but the train drifted -past here a hundred and fifty yards or more. I ran -after it and as I went along heard terrible screams and -cries. A beautiful young lady had died instantaneously -in one of the compartments and was brought in here and -laid down on this floor between us."</p> - -<p>Involuntarily I pushed my chair back suddenly, -as I looked from the boards, at which he pointed, to -himself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_414"></a>[414]</span></p> - -<p>"True, sir. True. Precisely as it happened, so I -tell it you."</p> - -<p>I could think of nothing to say, to any purpose, and -my mouth was very dry. The wind and the wires took -up the story with a long lamenting wail.</p> - -<p>He resumed. "Now, sir, mark this and judge how -my mind is troubled. The spectre came back a week -ago. Ever since it has been there, now and again, by -fits and starts."</p> - -<p>"At the light?"</p> - -<p>"At the danger-light."</p> - -<p>"What does it seem to do?"</p> - -<p>He repeated, if possible, with increased passion and -vehemence, that former gesticulation of, "For God's -sake, clear the way!"</p> - -<p>Then he went on. "I have no peace or rest for it. -It calls to me, for many minutes together, in an agonized -manner, 'Below there! Look out! Look out!' It stands -waving to me. It rings my little bell—"</p> - -<p>I caught at that. "Did it ring your bell yesterday -evening when I was here and you went to the door?"</p> - -<p>"Twice."</p> - -<p>"Why, see," said I, "how your imagination misleads -you. My eyes were on the bell and my ears were open -to the bell, and if I am a living man it did not ring at -those times. No, nor at any other time, except when it -was rung in the natural course of physical things by -the station communication with you."</p> - -<p>He shook his head. "I have never made a mistake -as to that yet, sir. I have never confused the spectre's -ring with the man's. The ghost's ring is a strange vibration -in the bell that it derives from nothing else, and I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_415"></a>[415]</span> -have not asserted that the bell stirs to the eye. I don't -wonder that you failed to hear it. But I heard it."</p> - -<p>"And did the spectre seem to be there when you -looked out?"</p> - -<p>"It was there."</p> - -<p>"Both times?"</p> - -<p>He repeated firmly: "Both times."</p> - -<p>"Will you come to the door with me and look for -it now?"</p> - -<p>He bit his under lip as though he were somewhat -unwilling, but arose. I opened the door and stood on -the step while he stood in the doorway. There was the -danger-light. There was the dismal mouth of the -tunnel. There were the high, wet stone wells of the -cutting. There were the stars above them.</p> - -<p>"Do you see it?" I asked him, taking particular note -of his face. His eyes were prominent and strained, but -not very much more so, perhaps, than my own had been -when I had directed them earnestly towards the same -spot.</p> - -<p>"No," he answered. "It is not there."</p> - -<p>"Agreed," said I.</p> - -<p>We went in again, shut the door, and resumed our -seats. I was thinking how best to improve this advantage, -if it might be called one, when he took up the -conversation in such a matter-of-course way, so assuming -that there could be no serious question of fact -between us, that I felt myself placed in the weakest of -positions.</p> - -<p>"By this time you will fully understand, sir," he -said, "that what troubles me so dreadfully is the question, -What does the spectre mean?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_416"></a>[416]</span></p> - -<p>I was not sure, I told him, that I did fully understand.</p> - -<p>"What is its warning against?" he said, ruminating, -with his eyes on the fire and only by times turning them -on me. "What is the danger? Where is the danger? -There is danger overhanging somewhere on the line. -Some dreadful calamity will happen. It is not to be -doubted this third time after what has gone before. But -surely this is a cruel haunting of me. What can I do?"</p> - -<p>He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the drops -from his heated forehead.</p> - -<p>"If I telegraph danger on either side of me, or on -both, I can give no reason for it," he went on, wiping -the palms of his hands. "I should get into trouble and -do no good. They would think I was mad. This is the -way it would work—Message: 'Danger! Take care!' -Answered: 'What danger? Where?' Message: 'Don't -know. But for God's sake, take care!' They would -discharge me. What else could they do?"</p> - -<p>His pain of mind was most pitiable to see. It was -the mental torture of a conscientious man oppressed beyond -endurance by an unintelligible responsibility involving life.</p> - -<p>"When it first stood under the danger-light," he -went on, putting his dark hair back from his head and -drawing his hands outward across and across his temples -in an extremity of feverish distress, "why not tell me -where that accident was to happen, if it must happen? -Why not tell me how it could be averted, if it could have -been averted? When on its second coming it hid its -face, why not tell me, instead, 'She is going to die. Let -them keep her at home?' If it came, on those two<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_417"></a>[417]</span> -occasions, only to show me that its warnings were true -and so to prepare me for the third, why not warn me -plainly now? And I, Lord help me! A mere poor -signal man in this solitary station! Why not go to -somebody with credit to be believed and power to act?"</p> - -<p>When I saw him in this state I saw that for the -poor man's sake, as well as for the public safety, what -I had to do for the time was to compose his mind. -Therefore, setting aside all question of reality or unreality -between us, I represented to him that whoever -thoroughly discharged his duty must do well, and that -at least it was his comfort that he understood his duty, -though he did not understand these confounding appearances. -In this effort I succeeded far better than in -the attempt to reason him out of his conviction. He -became calm; the occupations incidental to his post as -the night advanced began to make larger demands on -his attention; and I left him at two in the morning. I -had offered to stay through the night, but he would not -hear of it.</p> - -<p>That I more than once looked back at the red light -as I ascended the pathway, that I did not like the red -light, and that I should have slept but poorly if my bed -had been under it, I see no reason to conceal. Nor did -I like the two sequences of the accident and the dead -girl. I see no reason to conceal that, either.</p> - -<p>But what ran most in my thoughts was the consideration, -how ought I to act, having become the recipient -of this disclosure? I had proved the man to be -intelligent, vigilant, painstaking and exact; but how -long might he remain so, in his state of mind? Though -in a subordinate position, still he held a most important<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_418"></a>[418]</span> -trust, and would I (for instance) like to stake my own -life on the chances of his continuing to execute it with -precision?</p> - -<p>Unable to overcome a feeling that there would be -something treacherous in my communicating what he -had told me to his superiors in the company, without -first being plain with himself and proposing a middle -course to him, I ultimately resolved to offer to accompany -him (otherwise keeping his secret for the present) to -the wisest medical practitioner we could hear of in those -parts, and to take his opinion. A change in his time of -duty would come round next night, he had apprised me, -and he would be off an hour or two after sunrise, and on -again soon after sunset. I had appointed to return -accordingly.</p> - -<p>Next evening was a lovely evening, and I walked out -early to enjoy it. The sun was not yet quite down when -I traversed the field-path near the top of the deep cutting. -I would extend my walk for an hour, I said to -myself, half an hour on and half an hour back, and it -would then be time to go to my signal-man's box.</p> - -<p>Before pursuing my stroll I stepped to the brink and -mechanically looked down from the point from which I -had first seen him. I cannot describe the thrill that -seized upon me, when, close at the mouth of the tunnel -I saw the appearance of a man with his left sleeve across -his eyes, passionately waving his right arm.</p> - -<p>The nameless horror that oppressed me passed in a -moment, for in a moment I saw that this appearance of -a man was a man indeed, and that there was a little -group of other men standing at a short distance to whom -he seemed to be rehearsing the gesture he made. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_419"></a>[419]</span> -danger-light was not yet lighted. Against its shaft a -little low hut, entirely new to me, had been made of -some wooden supports and tarpaulin. It looked no -bigger than a bed.</p> - -<p>With an irresistible sense that something was wrong—with -a flashing self-reproachful fear that fatal mischief -had come of my leaving the man here and causing -no one to be sent to overlook or correct what he did—I -descended the notched path with all the speed I could -make.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter?" I asked the men.</p> - -<p>"Signal-man killed this morning, sir."</p> - -<p>"Not the man belonging to that box?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"Not the man I know?"</p> - -<p>"You will recognize him, sir, if you knew him," said -the man who spoke for the others, solemnly uncovering -his own head and raising an end of the tarpaulin, "for -his face is quite composed."</p> - -<p>"O, how did this happen, how did this happen?" I -asked, turning from one to another as the hut closed in -again.</p> - -<p>"He was cut down by an engine, sir. No man in -England knew his work better, but somehow he was not -clear of the outer rail. It was just at broad day. He -had struck the light and had the lamp in his hand. As -the engine came out of the tunnel his back was towards -her and she cut him down. That man drove her and was -showing how it happened. Show the gentleman, Tom."</p> - -<p>The man, who wore a rough dark dress, stepped back -to his former place at the mouth of the tunnel:</p> - -<p>"Coming round the curve in the tunnel, sir," he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_420"></a>[420]</span> -said, "I saw him at the end, like as if I saw him down a -perspective glass. There was no time to check speed, -and I knew him to be very careful. As he didn't seem -to take heed of the whistle, I shut it off when we were -running down upon him and called to him as loud as I -could call."</p> - -<p>"What did you say?"</p> - -<p>"I said, 'Below there! Look out! Look out! For -God's sake, clear the way!"</p> - -<p>I started.</p> - -<p>"Ah! it was a dreadful time, sir. I never left off -calling to him. I put this arm before my eyes not to -see, and I waved this arm to the last; but it was no use."</p> - -<p>Without prolonging the narrative to dwell on any -one of its curious circumstances more than any other, I -may, in closing it, point out the coincidence that the -warning of the engine driver included not only the -words which the unfortunate signal-man had repeated -to me as haunting him, but also the words which I myself—not -he—had attached, and that only in my own -mind, to the gesticulation he had imitated.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Charles Dickens. -</p> - -<h4>"Like a Thief in the Night"</h4> - -<p>"How many more days of this miserable tramping -have we before us, Ivan?" It was a rough voice that -spoke—a voice hardened with bitterness and hatred.</p> - -<p>"But four days more, Peter, and then the railroad. -There lies Mansk below us, and it is not far from Mansk -to Vilna, not even by such a detour as we must make."</p> - -<p>Peter paused again in his eating and looking out -from their woodland hiding-place toward the scraggly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_421"></a>[421]</span> -village, asked doubtingly, "You are sure they will not -fail us? For I swear, Ivan, I'll walk no further than -Vilna."</p> - -<p>Ivan twisted his scarred lips into a semblance of a -smile. "The brotherhood never fail," he said. "And -now that we have finished our supper, we may rest for -the night, eh, Lev?" The speaker, who showed evidences -of association with the upper classes, turned to -the young Jewish lad sprawled beside him on the mouldy -ground. The boy was laboriously spelling out words in -a greasy, dog-eared tract which he tried to conceal when -he saw Ivan's eyes upon him.</p> - -<p>"Hello," exclaimed the nihilist fanatic, "what have -we here?" He took the grimy pamphlet from the likewise -grimy hands of the youth. "Ho-ho," he laughed -boisterously, for once forgetting that sometimes even -trees have ears. "Ho-ho! a merry jest, indeed! Lev -reading up on transmigration! Did you think to become -learned, you pitiable young dog? Have you not -had meted out to you the full amount of education -allowed you miserable Jews? What can you understand -of such things as these? Ho-ho! yes, a joke -indeed!"</p> - -<p>The boy gulped. His narrow nostrils widened, and -the corners of his sensitive mouth twitched. "I know -I don't know much, Ivan. I found it on the way and -kept it, for it helps sometimes, wh-when I wish I hadn't -come."</p> - -<p>"Ho-ho," laughed Ivan again. "When he wishes he -hadn't come! As if he could have helped coming! -Where, indeed, could the brotherhood have found a -more innocent-looking hiding-place for their papers?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_422"></a>[422]</span> -But there, Lev, you shall have your thesis, since you feel -the need of amusement, you precious infant. And, -Peter, perhaps you will rest more peacefully when I tell -you that Loris Pleschivna, that government spy-cat—" -here Ivan paused to observe the interest which he knew -that this name would create, while Lev, frightened, -glanced backward—"was shot two weeks ago," finished -the narrator, impressively.</p> - -<p>Peter's yellow face showed great relief, but the boy -whitened. "Well, Lev, are you not glad! Or perhaps, -mighty philosopher, you think that his soul will come -and steal the papers while you keep watch to-night, eh?" -And Ivan grinned—a hideous, tooth-displaying grin. -But Lev only shivered and looked around at the darkness.</p> - -<p>The night, one of those dear nights whose very paleness -intensifies the shadows and pictures the ghosts of -the past to the guilty mind, had fallen. The two older -men rolled themselves in blankets and went to sleep -without delay.</p> - -<p>The young Jew sat alone, waiting for morning. For -hours he remained in the same position, his hands over -his eyes that he might not see; but his ears were alert -to the slightest suggestion of sound. In those weary -minutes he lived over the scanty pleasures and the great -tribulations of his life, the joyless life of the persecuted -Polish Jew. The crackling of a dry leaf nearby aroused -him. He looked up quickly, apprehensively. A long -wailing howl came from somewhere in the darkness. -Lev stiffened, staring into the shadows before him. -From a clump of bushes directly opposite peered two -weird green eyes. The lad's lower lip sagged loosely.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_423"></a>[423]</span> -As the strange eyes approached he unconsciously -moaned. Ivan and Peter stirred. Suddenly Ivan -jumped up. "Lev, Lev, what is it?" But the boy sat -rigid. Ivan also looked at the green eyes in the underbrush. -Then he laughed, laughed long and heartily. -"Did you think it was a soul, Lev? A dog, and you -afraid! Perhaps it is a soulful dog." Ivan had -sufficient culture not to laugh at his own joke, but he -waited for Peter's appreciation and Peter gave it. Lev's -only reply was to draw his hand across his brow. The -palm came down damp and clammy. "But it is just -as well," went on Ivan, "that we are awake, for it will -soon be daylight, and we had best be moving."</p> - -<p>In five minutes the trio were on their watchful way -to skirt the little village of Mansk. The trio, did I say? -No, the quartet, I meant, for two men, one with -misshapen lips, the other with decided Jewish features, -went ahead; and close behind them walked a leathery -visaged man, who had for a companion a scraggly half-starved -cur, with ghastly green eyes. Occasionally the -Jew turned, and, looking into those green eyes, shivered. -"Well," said Ivan, "perhaps it is the soul of Pleschivna, -eh?" In answer the dog whimpered. "It may be," said -the Jew, stupidly, "it may be," and he shivered again.</p> - -<p>The cold was of the damp clinging sort, against -which no amount of clothing can protect one. The -three men on the tree-covered hill overlooking the -thatched brown cottages of Mansk, drew up their coat -collars and shivered. They had turned back and were -seeking for something. The scrawny green-eyed dog -with them whined a low whine like a human moan.</p> - -<p>"Curse the dog!" exclaimed one vagabond in a rasping<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_424"></a>[424]</span> -voice. "I'll have him following us no longer with -his ghostly howls. And I tell you, Ivan, it is useless -to go back further, for Lev had the papers when we -were here before."</p> - -<p>"Yes, curse the dog," returned the man with the -ever-grinning mouth. "Curse him, of course; and since -you feel such deep affection for him, why not present -him with one of those tablets meant for Pleschivna's -palate? Perhaps they would even so fulfill their intended -purpose. What say you, Lev?"</p> - -<p>The dull-eyed Jewish lad stared at the dog as if -fascinated. "It may be," he said and shivered again. -It was, indeed, a very cold night.</p> - -<p>"Well, and the papers?" Peter impatiently queried.</p> - -<p>"I say, then, it is useless to go forward to Vilna -without them. We must search about here. Perhaps -Lev has an opinion." But Lev was thinking only of a -much-thumbed philosophical tract in his pocket. "Or, -perhaps, learned theosophist, you believe that the dog -has taken them. You could not tell us somewhat of them -yourself, could you, Lev?"</p> - -<p>"Lev! Why, he's afraid of his own shadow! He -would not dare to tell a lie, not even to himself," Peter -scoffed.</p> - -<p>Again the dog whimpered. He went up to Lev and -licked the boy's hand. Ivan watched the performance -interestedly. "None the less," he said, "the dog shall -have his dose; and that right now. He follows us about -like an evil spirit." The men disposed themselves as -on the evening before.</p> - -<p>How Lev had prayed for the night! And now that -his prayer was answered, how he stared into the thick,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_425"></a>[425]</span> -solid blackness and longed for the grey light of morning! -With straining ears he listened to the midnight -stillness. He had not even thought of sleep. If only he -could rid himself of that dullness or could concentrate -his thoughts!</p> - -<p>A figure broke through the bushes. "Ivan, Ivan!" -came Peter's voice. "Ivan, wake up!" Ivan roused -himself. "Well, Peter, why do you create such a disturbance?" -Ivan's speech was pettish, though still -husky from interrupted sleep. "Ivan, I got up and gave -the dog the dose, as you said. He slunk off into the -woods. I followed. I don't know why. It was almost -midnight when he gave a sharp cry and dropped. I -swear I had never lost sight of him for an instant. I -went up to look. He was dead. And, Ivan, from his -very mouth I took—the papers!" Peter waxed -triumphantly dramatic, his every low-spoken word -sounding in Lev's ears with the loudness of a tribal -war-whoop. After much fumbling in the darkness he -placed in <span class="err" title="original: Ivan't">Ivan's</span> hands a slightly torn packet.</p> - -<p>"A light!" Ivan spoke tersely.</p> - -<p>Peter struck a light. Trembling, Ivan spread out -the documents. A gruesome, unearthly howl, like the -triumphant screech of a resentful soul came to them -through the blackness. With an awful oath Ivan turned -to Peter. "The signatures, you ignoramus, you imbecile!" -he cried, pointing to the ragged holes in the -papers. "They are gone!"</p> - -<p>And Lev shivered, for the night was very cold.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Dorothea Knobloch. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_426"></a>[426]</span></p> - -<h3>II. The Story That Emphasizes Character and Environment.</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Rudyard -Kipling</div> - -<p>The large number of Kipling's stories could not -have been written outside India, or at least the Orient. -They are of the East eastern. "Without -Benefit of Clergy," "Muhammad Din," -"The Gate of the Hundred Sorrows," "The Man Who -Would Be King"—the very names conjure up the environment. -They do more than that; they almost tell -the story. Before he began to write, Kipling knew -thoroughly his adopted literary land; in the same way -all successful writers must know theirs if they mean to -reveal the influence of surroundings on character, if -they mean to give, as many writers do, a miniature of -the locality in each sketch. To read one of Mary E. -Wilkins's stories is to catch the flavor of all New England. -Her nun is indeed a New England nun. Nowhere -else do people keep house quite so; but in scores of -Massachusetts and Connecticut homes the women, married -and single, are 'that partic'lar'—or nearly as particular -as Louisa Ellis. But wait a minute!<span class="sni">Mary E. -Wilkins -Freeman</span> If there are -tens of women like Louisa Ellis, wherein comes the -story? Why, do you not see?—just in the -plus, the superfluity of New Englandishness -that there is in Louisa. It is the breadth of -that more-so that gave Miss Wilkins her twenty-four -stories in the same book, and others outside it. And -here is the point: in this kind of story, your writer must -know his locality so well that the sameness of the people -has a difference in each family and in each member -of that family. In other words, his characters must be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_427"></a>[427]</span> -persons, not figureheads; they may be types, it is true, -but they must have the soul of individuality breathed -into them. For instance, in this one collection of stories -Miss Wilkins has two Louisas, and they both are typically -of New England, they both have suitors, and -they both are averse to marriage; moreover, each slight -course of events is built on the impulse of the woman -to avoid matrimony. But here the likeness ends; for -the women are individuals, and the lovers are different -from each other. The character-drawing of these two -stories is a daring attempt on the part of the author, -but it is a remarkably successful one.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Hamlin -Garland</div> - -<p>Hamlin Garland has been almost as successful with -his middle Northwest as Miss Wilkins has with her -New England. His stories can not be called -quaint, as hers can, nor sweet exactly; but -they can be said to be as graphic, faithful, straightforward, -homely, and to have been compiled with as patient -and sympathetic an observation—not so minute, -but as unerring. They are freer, bolder, more like the -country he portrays. With Mr. Garland perhaps we -have more of the out-of-doors, literal country, the black -soil into which the people's lives are ploughed and from -which they come out again sometimes at the top of the -corn tassel. With Miss Wilkins the country is more -that country not built with hands, eternal in characteristics. -Of both writers the work is great work, and -you can not go astray in taking either for your model. -"Up the Coolly" is a remarkable tragedy—for tragedy -it is. "The Return of the Private" is all too pathetically -true. "Among the Corn Rows" is startlingly realistic, -and "A Branch Road"—well, doubtless people<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_428"></a>[428]</span> -have varying opinions about the usefulness of such -pictures, but nobody can gainsay the excellence of the -craftsmanship.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Bret Harte</div> - -<p>In a somewhat different way, with just as much -realism maybe, but surely with a large dash of romance, -Bret Harte pre-empted California as a literary -land two decades before these younger -writers staked out their claims. "Tennessee's Partner" -and "The Outcasts of Poker Flat" are perfect in their -way, and their way is this way: the place-character -narrative.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Suggestions -and -precautions</div> - -<p>To write such a narrative, you must have vividly -and accurately in mind your selected environment. It -is to form the color of your picture. If you -do not think you know thus intimately any -locality, open your eyes. The beautiful fact -about living is, that we all always live somewhere, -and that same somewhere is full of a number of -things, and of nothing more surely than of local color. -It is your business as a writer to add this color constantly -to your stories; but the best way to proceed is -not to attempt to spread it on from the outside, but -to let it shine through from within. To be sure, it -must be on the valleys and hills, the streets and the -houses and the window curtains; but it must also be in -the speech of your peoples, in their notions, their attitude -toward each other and toward the great and -little questions of human relationship. Besides knowing -the environment, you must know indisputably some -individuals of the place. You can not draw a life-like -sketch from an abstraction. The canvas painters have -taught us that truth, and so have the sculptors. For<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_429"></a>[429]</span> -every figure they have a living model. They must -know where the bones and sinews are, even if they -mean to etherealize. So must you, and you have a -harder problem; your figure must speak. One false -tone, and you mar the impression. Mary E. Wilkins, -excellent artist that she is, has impaired one of her -strongest stories, "The Revolt of Mother," by a lapse -of art in respect to two of her characters. The girl -and boy are not old enough for the age the author intimates; -or what she says that they are is too old for -what they prove that they are when they speak and -when they keep silent even,—especially the girl. Moreover, -we feel that the mother is ten or fifteen years -younger, than the age given her. These are minor -points, one admits, and, as we say, the story is excellent; -but in so far as it fails in little ways it is not -superfine, though one of the most lovable and dramatic, -of Miss Wilkins's productions. In art you must not -make this mistake; it is no answer to assert that in life -the woman was sixty and the boy and girl fourteen and -twenty. On the basis of the character-drawing the -woman is forty-five or fifty and the children are twins, -less than sixteen years old. In other words, a realist -that is an artist as well selects not only what is true -but also what will immediately without argument seem -true. Miss Wilkins usually is convincing.</p> - -<p>In addition to an unmistakably clear knowledge of -place and personality, you must know both local dialect -and family vernacular. The various individuals of your -sketch, if they happen to belong to the same household, -must speak as if they so belonged. In actual life when -you converse with a company of persons, you can pick<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_430"></a>[430]</span> -out two members of the same family as readily as you -can pick out two members of the same community. -Your character-narrative must reveal this likeness, not -by declaration especially, but by a subtle unity of vocabulary -that does not at the same time preclude -individuality.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">The -character -Overbury -and Hall</div> - -<p>The writers of this kind of short-story owe much to -the past. We are inclined to think of quiet and truthful -character sketchers, who reveal an appreciative -knowledge of the influence of environment, -as distinctly a late nineteenth -century brotherhood; but the fact is that -while moderate realism is undoubtedly the last artistic -word on the subject of effective character-revelation, -it is also the first. The modern novel of manners (and -the artistic short-story of the same class as an offshoot -of it) drew from a full stream of realism. As far back -as the age of Overbury and Bishop Hall the public was -interested in prose character-sketches. The fact that -essays could have such names as "The Tinker" and -"The Milkmaid" was a promise of the light of common -day. Then the gentle de Coverley papers came on with -their slight narrative and continued portrait, their delightful -skits on class environment and tradition;<span class="sni">The novel -of manners</span> then, -Tristram Shandy's frank shamelessness about familiar -things; then the Vicar of Wakefield's struggling poverty; -and finally the women entered—Evelina, -Belinda, Emma, Mary Barton, and the -gentle ladies of Cranford, bringing with -them the tea-table and the trials of the parlor and of -factory life. The only thing that was needed to make -the archetype complete by the middle of the nineteenth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_431"></a>[431]</span> -century was for some one to take persistently the same -large yet specific environment. <span class="sni">Trollope's -Cathedral -Town -Studies</span> Anthony Trollope did -so in his Cathedral Town Studies. What ran -parallel for a time with the novel of manners, -but had a later and fuller development, -is the psychological problem novel, -begun by Richardson and Fielding and handed over -to the late nineteenth century writers by Charlotte -Brontë. This psychological problem novel bears the -same relation to the novel of manners as the character-events -short-story bears to the character-environment -one.</p> - -<p>You doubtless realize, as every one realizes, that a -good short-story is hard to write, but in the hardness -comes the inspiration. If you succeed, you have scored -a triumph. But for your comfort, be assured that the -possibility is not beyond even a high-school student. -The attempt in very instructive at least.</p> - -<p>Remember that you are not writing a biography, -but a place-character narrative in the short-story form. -You are not called on to record every incident in the -life of your subject or even every important incident. -The happenings may all be minor, in fact. The only -essential thing is that you reveal the indissoluble connection -between environment and characteristics. The -person is what he is because he has lived at that place -with those habitual surroundings.</p> - -<p>There is this precaution, however, that you must -take; you must not let your narrative degenerate into -a mere analysis and enumeration of qualities. You are -to write a story. And to write a story you must have -a happening or a series of happenings, however mild.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_432"></a>[432]</span> -Usually one of these should be of more importance than -the others, and the others should be related to it as -subordinates, in order that the effect may be single. -Any part of the life of your people that lies behind the -day of your revelation, if mentioned at all, should be -told in retrospect; whatever lies ahead, if mentioned -at all, can be only prophecy. And, finally, here is a -little secret, an open one among artists, but one shut -away from the herd of common scribblers; what you -do not tell but only skilfully suggest is what makes -for excellence and immortality.</p> - -<h4>The Story of Muhammad Din</h4> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Who is the happy man? He that sees in his own house at -home, little children crowned with dust, leaping and falling and -crying."—<i>Munichandra</i>, translated by Professor Peterson.</p></div> - -<p>The polo ball was an old one, scarred, chipped and -dinted. It stood on the mantelpiece among the pipe-stems -which Iman Din, <i>khitmatgar</i>, was cleaning for me.</p> - -<p>"Does the heaven-born want this ball?" said Imam -Din, deferentially.</p> - -<p>The heaven-born set no particular store by it; but of -what use was a polo ball to a <i>khitmatgar</i>?</p> - -<p>"By your honour's favour, I have a little son. He -has seen this ball and desires it to play with. I do not -want it for myself."</p> - -<p>No one would for an instant accuse portly old Imam -Din of wanting to play with polo balls. He carried out -the battered thing into the veranda, and there followed -a hurricane of joyful squeaks, a patter of small feet, -and the <i>thud-thud-thud</i> of the ball rolling along the -ground. Evidently the little son had been waiting outside<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_433"></a>[433]</span> -the door to secure his treasure. But how had <span class="err" title="original: be">he</span> -managed to see that polo ball?</p> - -<p>Next day, coming back from office half an hour -earlier than usual, I was aware of a small figure in the -dining-room—a tiny, plump figure in a ridiculously inadequate -shirt, which came, perhaps, half way down the -tubby stomach. It wandered round the room, thumb -in mouth, crooning to itself as it took stock of the -pictures. Undoubtedly this was the "little son."</p> - -<p>He had-no business in my room, of course; but was -so deeply absorbed in his discoveries that he never -noticed me in the doorway. I stepped into the room -and startled him nearly into a fit. He sat down on the -ground with a gasp. His eyes opened and his mouth -followed suit. I knew what was coming and fled, followed -by a long, dry howl which reached the servants' -quarters far more quickly than any command of mine -had ever done. In ten seconds Imam Din was in the -dining-room. Then despairing sobs arose, and I returned -to find Imam Din admonishing the small sinner, -who was using most of his shirt as a handkerchief.</p> - -<p>"This boy," said Imam Din, judiciously, "is a -<i>budmash</i>—a big <i>budmash</i>. He will, without doubt, go -to the <i>jail-khana</i> for his behaviour." Renewed yells -from the penitent, and an elaborate apology to myself -from Imam Din.</p> - -<p>"Tell the baby," I said, "that the <i>Sahib</i> is not angry -and take him away." Imam Din conveyed my forgiveness -to the offender, who had now gathered all his shirt -round his neck, stringwise, and the yell subsided into a -sob. The two set off for the door. "His name," said -Imam Din, as though the name were part of the crime,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_434"></a>[434]</span> -"is Muhammad Din, and he is a <i>budmash</i>." Freed from -present danger, Muhammad Din turned round in his -father's arms and said gravely, "It is true that my name -is Muhammad Din, <i>Tahib</i>, but I am not a <i>budmash</i>. I -am a man!"</p> - -<p>From that day dated my acquaintance with Muhammad -Din. Never again did he come into my dining-room; -but on the neutral ground of the garden we -greeted each other with much state, though our conversation -was confined to "<i>Talaam, Tahib</i>" from his side, -and "<i>Salaam, Muhammad Din</i>" from mine. Daily on -my return from office the little white shirt and the fat -little body used to rise, from the shade of the creeper-covered -trellis where they had been hid, and daily I -checked my horse there that my salutation might not be -slurred over or given unseemly.</p> - -<p>Muhammad Din never had any companions. He -used to trot about the compound, in and out of the -castor-oil bushes, on mysterious errands of his own. -One day I stumbled upon some of his handiwork far -down the grounds. He had half buried the polo-ball in -dust, and stuck six shriveled old marigold flowers in a -circle round it. Outside that circle again was a rude -square, traced out in its bits of red brick alternating -with fragments of broken china; the whole bounded by -a little bank of dust. The water-man from the well-curb -put in a plea for the small architect, saying that it was -only the play of a baby and did not much disfigure my -garden.</p> - -<p>Heaven knows that I had no intention of touching the -child's work then or later; but that evening a stroll -through the garden brought me unawares full on it, so<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_435"></a>[435]</span> -that I trampled, before I knew, marigold heads, dust -bank and fragments of broken soap-dish into confusion -past all hope of mending. Next morning I came upon -Muhammad Din crying softly to himself over the ruin -I had wrought. Some one had cruelly told him that -the <i>Sahib</i> was very angry with him for spoiling the -garden, and he had scattered his rubbish, using bad -language the while. Muhammad Din laboured for an -hour at effacing every trace of the dust-bank and pottery -fragments, and it was with a tearful and apologetic -fact that he said, "<i>Talaam, Tahib</i>," when I came home -from office. A hasty inquiry resulted in Imam Din informing -Muhammad Din that, by my singular favour, -he was permitted to disport himself as he pleased. -Whereat the child took heart and fell to tracing the -ground-plan of an edifice which was to eclipse the marigold-polo-ball -creation.</p> - -<p>For some months the chubby little eccentricity revolved -in his humble orbit among the castor-oil bushes -and in the dust; always fashioning magnificent palaces -from stale flowers thrown away by the bearer, smooth -water-worn pebbles, bits of broken glass, and feathers -pulled, I fancy, from my fowls—always alone, and always -crooning to himself</p> - -<p>A gaily spotted sea-shell was dropped one day close -to the last of his little buildings, and I looked that -Muhammad Din should build something more than -ordinarily splendid on the strength of it. Nor was I -disappointed. He meditated for the better part of an -hour, and his crooning rose to a jubilant song. Then he -began tracing in the dust. It would certainly be a -wondrous palace, this one, for it was two yards long and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_436"></a>[436]</span> -a yard broad in ground-plan. But the palace was never -completed.</p> - -<p>Next day there was no Muhammad Din at the head -of the carriage-drive, and no "<i>Talaam, Tahib</i>" to welcome -my return. I had grown accustomed to the greeting, -and its omission troubled me. Next day Imam Din -told me that the child was suffering slightly from fever -and needed quinine. He got the medicine, and an English -doctor.</p> - -<p>"They have no stamina, these brats," said the -doctor, as he left Imam Din's quarters.</p> - -<p>A week later, though I would have given much to -have avoided it, I met on the road to the Mussulman -burying-ground Imam Din, accompanied by one other -friend, carrying in his arms, wrapped in a white cloth, -all that was left of little Muhammad Din.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Rudyard Kipling. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Plain Tales from the Hills." (Doubleday, Page & Co., 1907.)</p></div> - -<h4>The Fetters</h4> - -<p>The cool maples rustled temptingly before the open -kitchen window, and seemed to mock the busy worker -within. Flies buzzed at the screen, door, and at intervals -found entrance through sundry gaps in the rusty -screening. Inside there was the endless clatter of -dishes, the hissing sound of frying meat, and occasionally -a sharp exclamation in a nervous, high-pitched -voice. The owner of the voice, a woman of about thirty-five, -was walking busily around the kitchen. A soiled -gingham apron nearly covered a worn gray skirt, and -several large safety-pins held her waist together over -her flat chest. Premature wrinkles hardened her eyes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_437"></a>[437]</span> -and mouth. Her hair drawn back over a high, bony -forehead, was twisted into an untidy little knot at the -back of her head. On each of her cheeks, just below -the bone, came and went bright spots of color—the -only color about her, for her hair had no glints of -light and her apathetic blue eyes seemed absolutely devoid -of luster.</p> - -<p>As she hastened back and forth, opening the oven -door, setting the table, inspecting the contents of various -kettles steaming on the big stove, she still found -time to throw a glance, now and then, out to the rickety -porch, where a pale-faced little girl sat in an old red -porch-chair. The child's big eyes, startlingly prominent -in her wan face, followed the woman, and, when the -latter looked at her, a sudden smile would curve the -straight little lips. But at times she would look away -from the kitchen out beyond to the wheat-fields, gleaming -yellow in the August sun—and still farther to the cool -green woods, with the hard blue sky above them. Then -the child would sigh, and her face would grow wondering -and anxious, as she turned back again and smiled -at the woman in the kitchen—a curious, wistful, unchildlike -smile. On the step beside her lay a worn -little home-made crutch.</p> - -<p>"Here come the men-folks, mother," the child exclaimed -suddenly. Her mother came to the door, and -shading her eyes with her apron, peered up the dusty -lane. Then she went back to the house and hurriedly -finished setting the table. The heavy plates and cups -were hardly in place on the red-checked cloth before -the men came clattering up the walk and up the porch. -Most of them had a smile for the pale little girl in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_438"></a>[438]</span> -chair, and one had brought her a bunch of red field-poppies, -already half withered, in his big hand. The -child took them eagerly, laying their vivid petals lovingly -against her pale cheek. The rest of the men filed -past with a grin or a roughly tender, word—all but -the last. He came up the steps, his forehead wrinkled -in a scowl evidently habitual, his mouth hard, his eyes -deep-set and forbidding. He did not even notice the -child, and she shrank back in her chair, her lip trembling, -her eyes wide with fear.</p> - -<p>"Dinner near ready, Jane?" he demanded in a gruff -tone. Jane gave a brief little nod and hurried on with -the rest of the preparations. Rough laughter, scraping -of boots, loud clattering of knives on plates, and a -continual demand for replenishment, followed the -course of the dinner. Jane sat wearily, but her plateful -of cabbage and pork lay untasted before her. Out -on the porch the little girl sipped a glass of milk and -watched the cool dimness of the distant woods.</p> - -<p>The men pushed back their chairs, wiped their -mouths with the backs of their brown hands, and hurried -away to the fields. Jane's husband stopped for a -moment to mend a rip in his boot. It was a difficult -rip to mend and his temper was soon exhausted.</p> - -<p>"Why don't ye learn that white-faced brat out there -to work!" he stormed, "us short o' hands an' her less -good than none at all—an' a nuisance to boot." Jane -suddenly turned and let a saucer fall. Her lips were -compressed for a moment, then she went down on one -knee and carefully picked up the fragments of china.</p> - -<p>"What a snap ye've got, next to what brother Dan's -wife had," Jim went surlily on. "Dan made her go<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_439"></a>[439]</span> -out an' tend his grapes, while all ye've got to do is cook -a little and wash up—an' ye act as if ye was worked -hard. Dan's wife never kicked—she'd be'n sorry if -she had," and he gave a hard dry laugh in appreciation -of his own humor.</p> - -<p>But Jane did not hear this last remark; she was -thinking of her brother-in-law's wife, a frail little -woman whose life had been made up of pruning grapevines -or cutting grapes, working side by side with the -Italian women whom her husband hired, working harder -than any of them did, too, and for far less recompense. -She remembered how angry Dan had been because his -wife had appeared one afternoon in a shirt-waist, instead -of the usual wrapper. It was a clumsy, cheap, ill-made -thing, but Margaret's eyes had danced when Jane came -to see her that day. And she remembered how Dan -had come in and declared he wanted no high-falutin' -things around his house; that he had married to get -some one to work for him, not for a parlor ornament. -Poor little Margaret! How her thin cheeks had flushed -and her timid eyes filled with tears! But she died not -long after—Jane gave a half-envious sigh.</p> - -<p>"Goin' to stand there all day lookin' at nothin'?" -a gruff voice asked suddenly, and she started. The -knife with which she had been peeling potatoes to -fry for supper, slipped and cut her finger. She went -over to the sink and wiped away the red streak, while -her husband shufflingly made his exit, grumbling to -himself over the foolishness of ever bothering with -such a useless baggage as a woman. On the porch he -stumbled over the little crutch and kicked it aside with -an oath.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_440"></a>[440]</span></p> - -<p>The afternoon wore away slowly. Little Meg slept -on her cot upstairs, her cheeks hot and damp, her arms -flung wide in the weariness of childhood. Jane sewed -steadily at a heap of burlap grain bags, until the sun -went down in a riot of yellow and crimson behind the -trees. Jane put away her sewing, gently woke Meg, -and prepared to go downstairs to get supper ready. -She stopped to look at the sunset before she went down. -Along the road beyond came the rattle of wheels; a -buggy passed in which sat a woman in solitary state. -A striped silk dress enveloped her ample person, a hat -with nodding red roses and a broad white brim shaded -a pair of stupid, comfortable eyes, and cast its shadow -over a mouth that fairly sagged with good humor and -good living. Her fat hands, lying idly in her lap and -holding the reins loosely, were pulled back and forth -by the jogging brown horse. Jane recognized in the -woman Mrs. Petersen, her nearest neighbor, and half -hungrily surmised that she was returning home from a -meeting of the "Tuesday Social Club." The buggy -leisurely passed the house and disappeared along the -dusty lane.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, in one rush of emotion, the whole barrenness -of Jane's lot came over her. She thought of the -long days filled with unceasing labor—the dull, gray -days that stretched endlessly behind her and yet more -endlessly before her. Her life seemed one wearying -round of dish-washing and cooking, of going to bed utterly -worn out and of rising next morning just as tired -as she had been the night before. She felt a terrible -grudge rise in her against her husband—and she allowed -this grudge now to fill her soul completely, instead<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_441"></a>[441]</span> -of crushing out such feelings as she had hitherto -done. Why had he never helped her to have a good -time as other women had? Why had he forgotten that -she was a woman and fond of dainty things? She -thought of the stern young fellow who had courted her -when she was a girl—so very long ago that was. And -how she had married him, and how proud she had been -of him, and how she had boasted of his thrift to all her -neighbors. And then she remembered how sternness which -she admired in the youth had changed into surliness in -the man; how gradually—little by little—she had lost -hope—she who had hoped for so much and had -had to little given her. On her, and on her alone, -the brunt of all his displeasure and of all his wrath had -fallen.</p> - -<p>Then suddenly her face cleared; as she heard a -sleepy yawn from the bed; little Meg lay watching -her, her sleep-filled eyes smiling their same brave smile. -At least, Jane thought, she had Meg—and Dan's wife -had not even had a Meg. Dan's wife had never known -the sweetness of clinging hands and the comfort of -damp baby kisses. So even for her, life still held compensation. -She looked out at the west where the riotous -reds had now faded to soft rose and gray. The outlines -of the woods were softened and the nodding tree-tops -seemed beckoning her to come away with them. -Almost involuntarily the woman stretched out her hands -towards the trees, and her hungry eyes filled with tears. -Perhaps some day, when little Meg became stronger—perhaps -some day they two—just they—might go away -somewhere, together—somewhere where the world was all -soft rose and gray, where there were no endless days of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_442"></a>[442]</span> -toil, no angry voice, nothing but peace. Then perhaps -Meg would—</p> - -<p>"Jane," a rough voice broke in on her musings, "fer -God's sake, woman, what ails ye? Seven o'clock an' no -bite to eat ready!"</p> - -<p>Jane hurriedly rose from the window. For the first -time in her life she had let her day-dreams really make -her forget her dull, common-place world. She stopped -to smooth Meg's moist curls, and ran downstairs. There -at the foot stood her husband, a whole day's displeasure -frowning forth in his face, an angry light in his eyes.</p> - -<p>"I know it's late, Jim—it's too bad," Jane faltered, -"but you never had to wait before. I was busy—I was -thinking—I—"</p> - -<p>"Busy!" he sneered. "Busy! Settin' down doin' -nothin' but hushin' that blamed brat. Let her alone. -She ain't only a nuisance anyhow—spend yer time on -something worth while."</p> - -<p>Half unconsciously Jane looked at her hands; the -forefinger of the right was rough and needle-pricked, -and her hands were red and raw from much dish-washing -and cleaning. She thought to herself how often she -longed to caress little Meg, to hug her and rock her for -a whole afternoon, to love, love, love her to her heart's -content—but she had never found time. Then her husband's -last cutting words came back to her. She took -a step forward, the suffering of years in her face. The -red spots on her cheeks were very red now. "Can I -help it," she gasped, "that my baby is a puny little -thing? Is it my fault? What care has she ever had, -excepting what I have been able to steal for her? If -you were a man like other men—not a brute—then perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_443"></a>[443]</span> -you would understand!" She clinched her hand -and looked defiantly up into his face.</p> - -<p>Jim stood still for a moment, astonished at the outburst -from his meek wife. Then his quick anger blazed -up, and, lifting his big hand, he struck Jane full in the -face. She fell back against the stairway, her face white, -save for the red spots which were livid now. Her eyes, -were full of tears from the force of the blow. She heard -Jim's voice from a distance.</p> - -<p>"No use waitin' here forever," he grumbled. "I'll -go to Reynold's an' get a bite; his wife'll probably have -it waitin'." And she saw him turn to the door along -which Meg just came tapping. The child hurried to -get out of his way. Jim slouched heavily through the -room, and out of the house, his big boots creaking as he -went.</p> - -<p>Jane sat down on the step. Her head ached from -the force of the blow. She felt dazed with the suddenness -of everything. Little Meg came and sat down beside -her, patting Jane's rough hand with her soft palm -to attract her attention; then she settled down quietly -beside her, her bright head leaning on her mother's -apron. Darkness came, but Jane did not stir. Meg had -gone to sleep.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the crutch beside them slipped and rattled -against the wall. Meg woke and cried out with -fright. Jane absently took the child in her arms and -tried to soothe her, but Meg was thoroughly frightened -and refused to be comforted. At length she was quiet -and Jane carried her to bed. In a few moments, her -baby-fear forgotten, she was again fast asleep. Jane -went over to the window and crouched there, bitterness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_444"></a>[444]</span> -in her heart. Over in the west the shadowy outlines -of the trees looked mysterious, aloof, unsympathetic; -so did the cold white stars over them. Sympathy -seemed to have gone out of everything in the whole -world. And Jane leaned heavily on the sill and thought.</p> - -<p>For a long time she sat there, until she heard Meg -stir restlessly on the bed. Then she rose and looked -mechanically towards the Reynolds house. A bright -light burned in a lower room, so she knew that her husband -was still there, talking over the day's affairs with -Farmer Reynolds. Her husband! She felt a sudden -shrinking at the mere word. She decided that she hated -him, she knew that she hated him, with the pent-up -hatred of years. And she shuddered when she thought -of to-morrow and the next to-morrow, and all the dull -to-morrows that would have to come—and he must be in -them all; that was the thought which made her sick and -faint. She lay down on the bed beside Meg, merely -loosening her waist and uncoiling her hair. Physical -weariness brought a dreamless sleep. She woke with a -start, after a sleep that seemed to have lasted for centuries. -There was strange noises downstairs—gruff, muffled -voices, queer shuffling as of heavy boots, and then a -sudden scraping against the outer door. With a quick -unreasoning fear at her heart, Jane flew down the stairs -and out into the kitchen. Some one had lighted the oil -lamp there. Her eyes saw at first only a blurred group -before her. Her vision cleared gradually, until the blur -resolved itself into four men, with alarmed, puzzled -faces, who were carrying several boards on which lay -something covered with a big coat. Jane held her breath, -while the men looked sheepishly at one another. Then<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_445"></a>[445]</span> -she ran to the heap, lifted the coat, and looked down -at her husband. His face was hard and set, the jaw -projecting; but the usual sneer was gone from his mouth, -and his closed eyes gave him an expression of peace. -Jane dropped the coat as if dazed and turned helplessly -to the men. They, equally helpless, nudged Farmer -Reynolds forward to act as spokesman. His big, kindly -face was abashed and solemn, his fingers nervously -twirled his rough cap.</p> - -<p>"It was a stroke, mum," he managed to jerk out -at last, "some kind of a fit, Doc says. It carried him -right, off, too, quicker'n a wink, an' not a mite o' pain. -There he was a-sittin' an' scrappin' like a good feller -one minute—an' then his face kind o' went pale, an' -over he keeled. First we knew it was him on the floor, -clean knocked out." Reynolds was becoming garrulous -in his efforts to relieve the embarrassment of the situation, -but Jane had already forgotten him. They had -laid Jim on the floor and Jane sat down beside him, -carefully adjusting his tumbled coat and smoothing the -rough hair off his low forehead. She did it all in a calm -and matter-of-fact way. The men looked helplessly at -one another, while Jane, utterly unconscious of them, -continued her ministrations to the dead. Was it a few -hours ago or was it many years ago that she had vowed -never to call him husband again? She had forgotten—after -all, it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered -now.</p> - -<p>Suddenly there came a tapping down the steps. The -stair door was pushed open, and a towsled, barefooted, -night-gowned little figure appeared on the threshold. -"Mother," Meg quivered, "where are you?" When she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_446"></a>[446]</span> -saw her mother, she made straight for her, almost -tumbling over the crutch in her haste. She threw her -arms, lovingly around her mother's neck. Jane started—the -queer, dazed look left her eyes, though her cheeks -were still pale, save for one long red mark. With a little -sob she turned, crushed the child to her, and began -to cry.</p> - -<p>"Oh, but we did love him, Meg, didn't we?" she -sobbed. "And he was good to us, just as good as he -knew how to be. Oh, Meg, Meg, if I had only been a -better wife to him!"</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Katherine Kurz. -</p> - -<h4>When Terry "Quit"</h4> - -<p>"Gad! and to think, Jim, that I ever lived on Front -street!" The frock-coated, silk-hatted stage manager -removed the big black cigar from his mouth, and with a -pudgy little finger, on which sparkled a blue diamond -of unusual size, he flicked away the ashes. "Though it -really was a rather decent sort of a place then, you -know." He addressed his companion, a press-agent, -first, however, carefully readjusting the cigar so that it -should be at such an angle to his lips as to suggest -sportiness.</p> - -<p>Now, the south side of the thoroughfare just mentioned -consists chiefly of warehouses and saloons, the -north side chiefly of saloons and pawnshops. On summer -days the street squirms with chickens, bulldogs and -babies; but on the warm evenings, when the pawnshops -and the warehouses are closed, when the saloons are -doing a lucrative business, then the chickens roost on -the back fences, the bulldogs doze lazily on the stone<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_447"></a>[447]</span> -flaggings, and in the stuffy little sleeping apartments -above the saloons the children of the saloon-keepers -dream of the envy which, by means of delicious chili-sauce -sandwiches, they will create the next day among -the children of the pawnbrokers.</p> - -<p>The two men were now approaching the most prosperous -saloon in the street. Streams of light, coming -from both above and below the little green baize door, -shone on a swinging signboard. "Tim Dugan's Café," -the gilt letters informed any who were unacquainted -with the neighborhood. Boorish men could be heard -calling jocularly for more beer, and the constant slamming -of the cash drawer mingled with the clinking of -heavy glasses.</p> - -<p>"A song! It's time fer a chune!" called a raucous -voice.</p> - -<p>"Aha, yer right there, it's Terry fer us," acquiesced -one of the crowd.</p> - -<p>"Terry! Terry! it's oop on the table fer ye, Terry." -The cry was accompanied by much loud laughter and -the shuffling of heavy boots. Labor-hardened hands -clapped approval, and then for a moment there was -silence.</p> - -<p>"'A sailor's wife a sailor's star shall be.'"</p> - -<p>The sweet, though untrained tenor voice, rang high -and clear.</p> - -<p>"'Yo-ho-oh, boyoys, ho—'"</p> - -<p>The two fashionably dressed men stopped in front -of the short door.</p> - -<p>"Jove! what a voice!" the manager breathed.</p> - -<p>"'A long, long life to my sweet wife!'"</p> - -<p>No sound interrupted the ringing sailor ballad.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_448"></a>[448]</span></p> - -<p>"Let's go in and have a drink," suggested the press-agent, -when the song was finished.</p> - -<p>As unobtrusively as possible the two men entered.</p> - -<p>"More! more!" the appreciative, if unschooled, audience -was demanding, and in the clatter of applause the -strangers were unnoticed.</p> - -<p>"'I have come to say good-bye, Dolly Grey.'"</p> - -<p>The then new popular song thrilled the listeners -with its martial rhythm, as the plaintive cadences of -the beautiful voice rang in their ears.</p> - -<p>"'Good-bye, Dolly, I must leave you.'"</p> - -<p>The singer's glance fell on the new listeners. His -merry eyes wavered and his face flushed until it became -as red as his curly hair. He stopped short in the chorus.</p> - -<p>"I guess it's me that's been yowling anough fer tunight, -byes," he mumbled, as he climbed down from the -table and, sliding behind the counter, donned the white -apron which proclaimed him a bartender.</p> - -<p>"Wy, Terry, wat's the matter wit ye? We got a -have one more afore ye quit."</p> - -<p>But Terry shook his head vigorously in an emphatic -"no," as he rapidly cleaned the thick glasses.</p> - -<p>The two men from the world of dazzling footlights -ordered drinks, paid doubly for them, made a bluff at -enjoying the poor liquor, and then quietly left the <i>café</i>, -and continued their walk past the warehouses, pawnshops -and saloons of Front street.</p> - -<p>The next morning, when the heavy wagons were rattling -over the cobble-stones of the narrow, dirty thoroughfare, -and the children of the pawnbrokers were engaged -in throwing "spit-balls" at the children of the saloon-keepers, -"Tim Dugan's Café" was for the second time<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_449"></a>[449]</span> -honored with the entrance of the stage-manager of the -minstrel show which was to be in town the next week. -This potentate had come on ahead of his company to -adjust some little difficulty with the play-house owners, -and now that that business had been settled, another matter -of importance presented itself: the tenor soloist, no -longer in his prime, had left.</p> - -<p>The manager sauntered up to the bar, rested his -right elbow on the marble slab, settled his "silk" hat -more comfortably on his head, shoved his left hand deep -into his trousers' pocket—whereupon an attractive chinking -sound could be heard—and crossed his gaitered feet.</p> - -<p>"One," he announced, and the ruddy-haired Irish -lad, who had been busy washing glasses, quickly, deftly, -filled a mug with frothy beer.</p> - -<p>"Ahem!" The manager puffed up his heavy chest -and leaned both elbows on the bar.</p> - -<p>Then, ensued a whispered dialogue, during which -Terry Flynn's laughing eyes alternately grew round with -wonder and twinkled with pleasure.</p> - -<p>"Sorry!" gasped the bartender at last, "not a bit -of it. Ye cin bet yer shiny, boots, an' it's me as 'll -do it!"</p> - -<p>The manager, smiling with the satisfaction of having -clinched an excellent bargain, made his way among the -chickens, bulldogs and babies of Front street and soon -left the beery atmosphere far behind him.</p> - -<p>Terry, however, kept his own council. Not until the -following Monday did he give any information concerning -the identity of the "swell gent" who had so strangely -visited him.</p> - -<p>Then how the inhabitants of Front street rejoiced!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_450"></a>[450]</span> -Terry Flynn—often called "Irish" for short—redheaded -Terry Flynn, who had many a time caused a -quarrel to be forgotten by breaking into a song as he -rattled the mugs on the bar—Terry—their Terry—was -going on the stage! He would own a silk tile, and wear -diamond studs—but he would sing no more for Front -street.</p> - -<p>How the bony-fisted, generous men, in spite of their -keen regret at losing him, rejoiced in Terry's good -fortune!</p> - -<p>"Ha'n't I said, ag'in an' ag'in, as Terry could -sing twicet as fine as the feller 'at sang 'atween the acks -o' 'Uncle Tom's Cabin,' one time w'en I went an' seen -it? Ha'n't I now?" queried a delighted teamster.</p> - -<p>"Aye, that ye 'ave, Jawn, that ye 'ave," replied a -pensioned sailor, also jubilant over the fame in store for -Terry.</p> - -<p>As for Terry himself, he had not yet recovered from -his surprise, and so had little room for other emotions. -He was too ignorant, too fresh from his peat-carrying -labors in the shamrock country, to have any fear of stage -fright. Indeed, that word was not in his stunted vocabulary.</p> - -<p>He went that afternoon to rehearse "Nancy Lee," -with the rest of the company, newly arrived, who were -to join him in the "yo-ho's." How well the song -sounded when supplemented by such a chorus! Terry's -blood quickened! He did not observe the coldness of the -other singers towards him. He would have cared little -if he had felt the lack of friendliness, for so sunny was -his Irish temperament, so strong his Irish independence -and congeniality, that he would not easily have lost<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_451"></a>[451]</span> -hope of winning the good will of his associates. Moreover -Terry was so humble that he would rather have -expected them to stand a little aloof at first; but when, -black-faced and white-gloved, he stood upon the great -stage of the Opera House, and filled the domed auditorium -with his strong, beautiful tenor notes, he knew -nothing save that he was one of "them actor fellows" -now; that the men and women from the world of wealth -were listening to him. His eyes sparkled with excitement.</p> - -<p>"A long, long life to my sweet wife," he sang.</p> - -<p>In the silence of the people Terry instinctively recognized -their appreciation.</p> - -<p>"Nancy Lee—"</p> - -<p>The vaulted ceiling sent the round, high notes back -to the eager ears of the audience.</p> - -<p>"Yo-ho-boyoys, ho—"</p> - -<p>The "yo-ho" didn't sound with the proper vigor. -It was flat. A frown appeared between Terry's arched -eyebrows. He was singing his "Yo-ho's" alone! -Slowly he turned, still singing, to face the other minstrels. -Some one snickered, "Do you see us singing -with a bar-tender?"</p> - -<p>"Nance—"</p> - -<p>Terry stopped. A calloused fist, with strong muscle -and Irish temper to speed it, shot out.</p> - -<p>"Curtain!" called the manager, wildly. The audience, -though somewhat surprised, accepted this performance -as a ridiculous climatic ending to one of the -"stunts," and gave a vigorous applause. But Terry -heeded neither applause nor curtain. He was demonstrating -to these unmannerly show men, that though<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_452"></a>[452]</span> -they might refuse to sing with a bar-tender, they could -not refuse to accept from one a lesson in pugilism.</p> - -<p>Terry paused to take a long breath. He glared at -the men, one of whom was holding a handkerchief to a -rapidly swelling eye, another of whom was hugging an -aching side. Terry had done his work quickly. The -manager hastened up to interfere.</p> - -<p>"They might a' told me so afore. It isn't me as -they need be makin' a fool of. I'm made as good as -them, even if it do be a truth that I sell the beer they -drink," Terry said, dazed. He picked up the battered -opera hat which had been part of his costume and -started towards the door.</p> - -<p>"My dear Mr. Flynn, I will adjust this little misunderstanding. -I assure you, it shall not occur again."</p> - -<p>Terry turned. "Why," he laughed strangely, as -he picked a bit of lint from his sleeve. "Aren't ye -knowin'? I'd be ashamed t' sing, with such dum poor -excuses fer men," he replied, and made his way down -the rickety stairway, to the street, not stopping even -to remove the grease-paint.</p> - -<p>"It's them as might a been men, and told me," he -sobbed as he walked slowly back again to dirty, ill-lighted -Front street, to don again his white apron; to -pass the amber-colored foamy liquid over the bar; to -sing "Nancy Lee" in Tim Dugan's Café; to sing for -the rough men who would deem it a sacrilege to lift -their harsh voices with Terry's sweet plaintive tones.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Dorothea G. Knoblock. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_453"></a>[453]</span></p> - -<h4>Nora Titay and Chiquito</h4> - -<p>Nora Titay, a widow of fifty, came home from the -gambling house one afternoon in bad humor. Her hair -hung carelessly over her wrinkled face, which always -looked as if it had been dipped in a barrel of flour. As -she walked along the street, she spat and muttered, with -her mouth full of <i>buyo</i>, "Pshe, this cursed <i>panguingue</i> -will ruin me. I had bad luck this week. Yesterday I -lost ten pesos, and now twelve. I haven't a single penny -left. I wonder where Rosa and I will get the money to -buy our food. I have sold her ring to pay my debts. -To-morrow, there will be another game. I shall play -again to see if I can recover what I have lost. But -where shall I get money? Oh, I see! Chiquito is coming -to-night to court Rosa. He is very rich, and is willing -to give anything he has if he can only win my daughter's -love. But foolish girl! She does not like him, because -he is a Chinaman. She prefers to love that poor, -simple student, Pedro. I will force her to marry -Chiquito; then I can play panguingue at any time. I -shall soon be rich."</p> - -<p>"Rosa," said Titay as soon as she arrived at the -house, "you must look well to-night, for Chiquito is coming. -You must not show any sour face to him. I want -you to marry him whether you like to or no. Do you understand -me? Now, don't say anything or I will whip -you," said Titay, seriously. "Why don't you marry -him yourself, mamma? You will be a good partner for -him since you love him better than I do," said Rosa -laughing. "What, you foolish girl! Do you mean to -joke me, your mother? I am looking out for your good,"<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_454"></a>[454]</span> -said Titay angrily, then slapped and pinched her daughter. -They were still quarreling when Chiquito came.</p> - -<p>"Buena noche, Nola Tetay y Senolita Losa," said -Chiquito in his poor Spanish, when he came.</p> - -<p>"Buenas noches, Chiquito," replied Titay with a -smile. "Here is a basket of oranges and <i>tikoy</i> for you -and Senolita Losa," said Chiquito, while he was uncovering -the basket. "What a very good son-in-law, I have!" -murmured Titay. "Chiquito, to-morrow afternoon you -must come here ready to marry Rosa. Bring a priest -with you, and get a wedding dress for her. But, by the -way, lend me a sum of money, for I must buy something." -Chiquito was so glad that he immediately -handed to her his purse. "What kind of dress shall I -bring, mother?" asked Chiquito eagerly. "You must -ask Rosa about that," murmured Titay. Chiquito went -to Rosa, who was looking out of the window, absorbed -in thought. "Senolita Losa, what kind of dress should -you like for our wedding?" asked Chiquito politely. -"<i>Baboy!</i> (swine) what wedding do you mean? Do you -think I would marry you, <i>baboy</i>?" said Rosa, angrily. -"Your mother told me that I must come here to-morrow -afternoon, and you and I should be married," said -Chiquito. "You had better marry mother. She is more -fit for you. Now, go away." Nora Titay was so busily -counting her money and thinking how many times she -could play panguingue with it that she did not hear the -quarrel. "Nola Tetay, Losa is angry with me. She does -not want to marry me," said Chiquito.</p> - -<p>"Never mind, you can go home now, Chiquito, and be -ready for to-morrow. I will see that she accepts the -proposal," said Titay. Chiquito went home gladly, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_455"></a>[455]</span> -Titay got busy compelling Rosa to marry Chiquito, till -the daughter was forced to make a promise.</p> - -<p>The next day, at the appointed hour, Chiquito came -with a priest. But Rosa could not be found in the -house. A letter was found instead saying that Rosa had -eloped with Pedro. Chiquito, disliking to lose his money, -asked for Titay's hand. They were married that very -day.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Joaquina E. Tirona. -</p> - -<h3>III. The Story That Emphasizes Character and Events</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Difference -between -character-place -story -and character-events -story</div> - -<p>Obviously the character-events story is different -from the character-place story just in the emphasis and -because of it. The personality of the chief -actor of a story of events, does not necessarily -spring from the scene of action. In -fact, the personality very often is in strong -contrast with the place. A soldier for instance -by some chance may be left stranded -on an oasis in the desert; the purpose of the -writer in having him there may be to set -forth a number of strange occurrences that bring out -his character, or the author may wish to demonstrate -some truth about wild animals. A woman may be on a -Pullman car bringing her dying husband home with her -from Denver to New York. The author will then be concerned -with an analysis of the woman's mind as events -come to her. A person may be standing at the prisoner's -dock and may tell his life. Place will concern the -author a great deal in a certain sense, but it will be -not the character-making place, but the event-making<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_456"></a>[456]</span> -place,—the battle-ground, the cricket field. If a different -character met the same events in the same place, -he might act otherwise. It is the conjunction of character -and events that the author is revealing and the -reader watching. Let us name over a few of the great -stories and collections of this kind to see if the titles -suggest anything: "The Necklace" by Maupassant; -"The Father" by Björnson; "The Siege of Berlin" by -Daudet; "The Substitute" by Coppée; "The Insurgent" -by Halévy; "Mateo Falcone" by Mérimeé; "The -Shot" by Pushkin; "The Greater Inclination," "Crucial -Instances," "The Descent of Man, and Other -Stories," by Mrs. Wharton.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Component -elements -of this -type</div> - -<p>We might say that the representative short-story of -this type is a combination of romanticism, realism, -metaphysics, and modern journalism. A -concentrated extract of the work of Scott, -Jane Austen, Thackeray, George Eliot and -Reade. The list suggests the history of the -novel since Fielding's day and the elements it acquired -and transmitted to the short-story. You have probably -studied how Scott, when Lord Byron out-ran him, -turned from metrical to prose romance; how Scott -created with the "Waverley Novels" (which of course -are not novels in the usual sense) a new romance, the -historical, which immediately took its place as a permanent -type of literature. On the side of stirring -events our present short-story often epitomises Scott. -He said himself he wrote for soldiers, sailors, and young -people of bold and daring dispositions. There is no -limit, therefore, in choice of events. The record may -be the most startling. It usually, however, is not extravagant<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_457"></a>[457]</span> -beyond what a healthy and cheerful imagination -can enjoy. Our temperance is due no doubt to -the restraining influence of Jane Austen and her late -followers in realism. She tried to teach her own age -to laugh at itself good-naturedly and to bridle romance -with common sense. "Northanger Abbey," written in -1798, was a direct satire of the terror school, which was -popular before her day and Scott's. Moderns have enthroned -Jane Austen as a perfect artist, and all good -fiction writers have learned the lesson she taught. In -general, her work belongs with the story that emphasizes -manners and environment; but her most popular -novel, "Pride and Prejudice," has in addition to the -reflection of environment a sequence of interesting -events and a spiritedness that together make it an -extended prototype of the story that emphasizes both -character and happenings. To Scott's boldness and -Jane Austen's satiric restraint, time added George -Eliot's metaphysical curiosity. Since her day we are -all interested in duty, destiny, freedom of will, mind-habit. -She showed us how a neighborly man becomes a -miser, how a miser becomes once more a neighborly -man; how a lovable but morally and physically timid -man becomes a scoundrel. Most of our short stories -now-a-days display an element of such analysis; many -of them are wholly constituted upon an inquiry; some, -beginning just in front of the crisis, give us a feeling -of past complicating events, and with one flash show us -the present tangle; others with a swift relentlessness -pile happening upon happening until, panting for -breath, we stumble upon the momentous climax. Very -often, too, at the end, we are left in an atmosphere of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_458"></a>[458]</span> -pessimism—sometimes it is only a companionable little -chill like that Thackeray used to give us, wherein, -laughing and chattering, we shake hands with our -brothers to keep warm; sometimes, it is like Maupassant's, -a hard, dull bitterness of cold—</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i0">"A chill no coat however stout,</div> - <div class="i0">Of homespun stuff can quite shut out."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noin">Wherever the pessimism comes from, almost invariably -a little bit of it joins swiftness, realism, metaphysical -curiosity, and one other element probably inherited -from the novel; namely, a striking semblance -of actuality. No matter how thrilling the events may -be, they are usually convincing. Charles Reade had -the trick of taking his facts from newspaper reports. -Many of our present-day writers keep a scrap-book, -and they very often build their most successful stories -on actual events, making up the participants from -what they imagine they must have been.</p> - -<p>The characters, then, in this kind of narrative are -often more or less fictitious, being a combination of -traits well-known to the author—traits of different individuals -of the type displayed; while in the other kind -of artistic short-story, it is the slight course of events -that is made up, to fit the actual character and the -actual place.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">A scrap-book -suggestion</div> - -<p>Whatever else you do as a writer—even as an amateur -one in school—it will surely repay you -to keep a scrap-book. The very old adage -that facts are stranger than fiction is indisputably -true. When in your newspaper reading you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_459"></a>[459]</span> -run across a fine course of events that is character-revealing, -or ought to be, just cut out the report and -paste it in your book. Think upon the case leisurely -and let the personages develop; then write up the -events as simply and swiftly as you can consistent with -the effect you mean to produce. Hawthorne's "Ambitious -Guest" originated thus.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Other suggestions</div> - -<p>If at present you have in mind no series of happenings, -suppose you ask some acquaintance what is the -strangest course of actual events he ever personally -knew about. When he answers you, -then question him on the actors concerned, remembering -that this time you are going to write not a -pure plot story but one that will express the conjunction -of character and events. Keep in mind also your -present limitations. You do not need to tell everything -that might be told about your protagonists; you do not -have to follow them from the baptismal font to the -marriage altar and from the marriage altar to the -grave. You may not know the facts about them connected -therewith; you may know only a small portion -of their lives; but ten to one you will know more incidents -than it is necessary to mention. What you do -tell, however, must be absolutely clear. The actual -events may have been but a string of episodes in real -life, but when you relate them they must appear like a -full, round period. Look carefully after your connectives; -on them hangs largely the success of your story. -It goes without saying that you must have a climax, -or highest point. Every sentence that you write before -it, even the first, must lead toward it; every sentence -that you write after it, even the last, must lead from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_460"></a>[460]</span> -it. You must ruthlessly suppress any phrase that does -not add strength to your chosen scene. Be sure your -story has totality.</p> - -<h4>The Necklace</h4> - -<p>She was one of those pretty, charming girls who are -sometimes, as if through the irony of fate, born into a -family of clerks. She was without dowry or expectations, -and had no means of becoming known, appreciated, -loved, wedded, by any rich or influential man; so -she allowed herself to be married to a small clerk belonging -to the Ministry of Public Instruction. She -dressed plainly because she could not afford to dress well, -and was unhappy because she felt she had dropped from -her proper station, which for women is a matter of attractiveness, -beauty, and grace, rather than of family -descent. Good manners, an intuitive knowledge of what -is elegant, nimbleness of wit, are the only requirements -necessary to place a woman of the people on an equality -with one of the aristocracy.</p> - -<p>She fretted constantly, feeling all things delicate and -luxurious to be her birthright. She suffered on account -of the meagreness of her surroundings, the bareness of -the walls, the tarnished furniture, the ugly curtains; -<span class="err" title="original: deficienices">deficiencies</span> which would have left any other woman of -her class untouched, irritated and tormented her. The -sight of the little Breton peasant who did her humble -housework engendered hopeless regrets followed by fantastic -dreams. She thought of a noiseless, hallowed anteroom, -with Oriental carpets, lighted with tall branching -candlesticks of bronze and of two big, knee-breeched footmen, -drowsy from the stove-heated air, dozing in great<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_461"></a>[461]</span> -armchairs. She thought of a long drawing-room hung -with ancient brocade, of a beautiful cabinet holding -priceless curios, of an alluring, scented boudoir intended -for five o'clock chats with intimates, with men famous -and courted, and whose acquaintance is longed for by all -women.</p> - -<p>When she sat down to dinner, at the round table -spread with a cloth three days old, opposite her husband, -who uncovered the tureen, and exclaimed with ecstasy, -"Ah, I like a good stew! I know nothing to beat this!" -she thought of dainty dinners, of shining plate, of tapestry -which peopled the walls with human shapes, and -with strange birds flying among fairy trees. And then -she thought of delicious viands served in costly dishes, -and of murmured gallantries which you listen to with a -comfortable smile while you are eating the rose-tinted -flesh of a trout or the wing of a quail.</p> - -<p>She had no handsome gowns, no jewels—nothing, -though these were her whole life; it was these that meant -existence to her. She would so have liked to please, to -be thought fascinating, to be envied, to be sought out. -She had a friend, a former schoolmate at the convent, -who was very rich, but whom she did not like to go -to see any more because she would come home jealous, -covetous.</p> - -<p>But one evening her husband returned home jubilant, -holding a large envelope in his hand.</p> - -<p>"Here is something for you," he said.</p> - -<p>She tore open the cover sharply, and drew out a -printed card bearing these words: "The Minister of -Public Instruction and Mme. Georges Ramponneau request -the honor of M. and Mme. Loisel's company at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_462"></a>[462]</span> -palace of the Ministry on Monday evening, January -18th."</p> - -<p>Instead of being delighted as her husband expected, -she threw the invitation on the table with disgust, muttering, -"What do you think I can do with that?"</p> - -<p>"But, my dear, I thought you would be pleased. You -never go anywhere, and this is such a rare opportunity. -I had hard work to get it. Every one is wild to go; it -is very select, and invitations to clerks are scarce. The -whole official world will be there."</p> - -<p>She looked at him with a scornful eye, as she said -petulantly, "And what have I to put on my back?" -He had not thought of that. He stammered, "Why, the -dress you wear to the theatre; it certainly looks all right -to me."</p> - -<p>He stopped in despair, seeing his wife was crying. -Two big tears rolled down from the corners of her eyes -to the corners of her mouth.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter? What's the matter?" he faltered.</p> - -<p>With great effort she controlled herself, and replied -coldly, while she dried her wet cheeks:</p> - -<p>"Nothing, except that I have no dress, and for that -reason, cannot go to the ball. Give your invitation to -some fellow-clerk whose wife is better provided than -I am."</p> - -<p>He was dumfounded, but replied:</p> - -<p>"Come, Mathilde, let us see now—how much would a -suitable dress cost; one you could wear at other times—something -quite simple?"</p> - -<p>She pondered several moments, calculating, and -guessing too, how much she could safely ask for without<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_463"></a>[463]</span> -an instant refusal or bringing down upon her head a -volley of objections from her frugal husband.</p> - -<p>At length she said hesitatingly, "I can't say exactly, -but I think I could do with four hundred francs."</p> - -<p>He changed color because he was laying aside just -that sum to buy a gun and treat himself to a little shooting -next summer on the plain of Nanterre, with several -friends, who went down there on Sundays to shoot larks. -Nevertheless, he said: "Very well, I will give you four -hundred francs. Get a pretty dress."</p> - -<p>The day of the ball drew nearer, and Mme. Loisel -seemed despondent, nervous, upset, though her dress was -all ready. One evening her husband observed: "I say, -what is the matter, Mathilde? You have been very queer -lately." And she replied, "It exasperates me not to -have a single ornament of any kind to put on. I shall -look like a fright—I would almost rather stay at home." -He answered: "Why not wear flowers? They are very -fashionable at this time of the year. You can get a handful -of fine roses for ten francs."</p> - -<p>But she was not to be persuaded. "No, it's so mortifying -to look poverty-stricken among women who are -rich."</p> - -<p>Then her husband exclaimed: "How slow you are! -Go and see your friend, Mme. Forestier, and ask her to -lend you some jewels. You know her well enough to -do that."</p> - -<p>She gave an exclamation of delight: "True! I never -thought of that!"</p> - -<p>Next day she went to her friend and poured out her -woes. Mme. Forestier went to a closet with a glass door, -took out a large jewel box, brought it back, opened it,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_464"></a>[464]</span> -and said to Mme. Loisel, "Here, take your choice, my -dear."</p> - -<p>She looked at some bracelets, then at a pearl necklace, -and then at a Venetian cross curiously wrought of -gold and precious stones. She tried on the ornaments -before the mirror, hesitated, was loath to take them off -and return them. She kept inquiring, "Have you any -more?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly, look for yourself. I don't know what -you want."</p> - -<p>Suddenly Mathilde discovered, in a black satin box, -a magnificent necklace of diamonds, and her heart began -to beat with excitement. With trembling hands she took -the necklace and fastened it round her neck outside -her dress, becoming lost in admiration of herself as she -looked in the glass. Tremulous with fear lest she be -refused, she asked, "Will you lend me this—only this?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, of course I will."</p> - -<p>Mathilde fell upon her friend's neck, kissed her passionately, -and rushed off with her treasure.</p> - -<p>The day of the ball arrived.</p> - -<p>Mme. Loisel was a great success. She was prettier -than them all, lovely, gracious, smiling, and wild with -delight. All the men looked at her, inquired her name, -tried to be introduced; all the officials of the Ministry -wanted a waltz—even the minister himself noticed her. -She danced with abandon, with ecstacy, intoxicated with -joy, forgetting everything in the triumph of her beauty, -in the radiance of her success, in a kind of mirage of bliss -made up of all this worship, this adulation, of all these -stirring impulses, and of that realization of perfect surrender, -so sweet to the soul of woman.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_465"></a>[465]</span></p> - -<p>She left about four in the morning.</p> - -<p>Since midnight her husband had been sleeping in a -little deserted anteroom with three other men whose -wives were enjoying themselves. He threw over her -shoulders the wraps he had brought, ordinary, everyday -garments, contrasting sorrily with her elegant ball dress. -She felt this, and wanted to get away so as not to be -seen by the other women, who were putting on costly -furs.</p> - -<p>Loisel detained her: "Wait a little; you will catch -cold outside; I will go and call a cab."</p> - -<p>But she would not listen to him, and hurried downstairs. -When they reached the street they could not -find a carriage, and they began to look for one, shouting -to the cabmen who were passing by. They went down -toward the river in desperation, shivering with cold. At -last they found on the quays one of those antiquated, all-night -broughams, which, in Paris, wait till after dark -before venturing to display their dilapidation. It took -them to their door in the Rue des Martyrs, and once -more, wearily, they climbed the stairs.</p> - -<p>Now all was over for her; as for him, he remembered -that he must be at the office at ten o'clock. She threw off -her cloak before the glass, that she might behold herself -once more in all her magnificence. Suddenly she uttered -a cry of dismay—the necklace was gone!</p> - -<p>Her husband, already half-undressed, called out, -"Anything wrong?"</p> - -<p>She turned wildly toward him: "I have—I have—I've -lost Mme. Forestier's necklace!"</p> - -<p>He stood aghast: "Where? When? You haven't!"</p> - -<p>They looked in the folds of her dress, in the folds of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_466"></a>[466]</span> -her cloak, in her pocket, everywhere. They could not -find it.</p> - -<p>"Are you sure," he said, "that you had it on when -you left the ball?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I felt it in the corridor of the palace."</p> - -<p>"But if you had lost it in the street, we should have -heard it fall. It must be in the cab."</p> - -<p>"No doubt. Did you take his number?"</p> - -<p>"No. And didn't you notice it either?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>They looked at each other, terror-stricken. At last -Loisel put on his clothes.</p> - -<p>"I shall go back on foot," he said, "over the whole -route we came by, to see if I can't find it."</p> - -<p>He went out, and she sat waiting in her ball dress, -too dazed to go to bed, cold, crushed, lifeless, unable to -think.</p> - -<p>Her husband came back at seven o'clock. He had -found nothing. He went to Police Headquarters, to -the newspaper office—where he advertised a reward. He -went to the cab companies—to every place, in fact, that -seemed at all hopeful.</p> - -<p>She waited all day in the same awful state of mind -at this terrible misfortune.</p> - -<p>Loisel returned at night with a wan, white face. He -had found nothing.</p> - -<p>"Write immediately to your friend," said he, "that -you have broken the clasp of her necklace, and that you -have taken it to be mended. That will give us time to -turn about."</p> - -<p>She wrote as he told her.</p> - -<p>By the end of the week they had given up all hope.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_467"></a>[467]</span> -Loisel, who looked five years older, said, "We must plan -how we can replace the necklace."</p> - -<p>The next day they took the black satin box to the -jeweler whose name was found inside. He referred to -his books.</p> - -<p>"You did not buy that necklace of me, Madame. I -can only have supplied the case."</p> - -<p>They went from jeweler to jeweler, hunting for a -necklace like the lost one, trying to remember its appearance, -heartsick with shame and misery. Finally, -in a shop at the Palais Royal, they found a string of -diamonds which looked to them just like the other. The -price was forty thousand francs, but they could have it -for thirty-six thousand. They begged the jeweler to keep -it three days for them, and made an agreement with him -that he should buy it back for thirty-four thousand, -francs if they found the lost necklace before the last -of February.</p> - -<p>Loisel had inherited eighteen thousand francs from -his father. He could borrow the remainder. And he -did borrow right and left, asking a thousand francs -from one, five hundred of another, five louis here, three -louis there. He gave notes, assumed heavy obligations, -trafficked with money-lenders at usurious rates, and, -putting the rest of his life in pawn, pledged his signature -over and over again. Not knowing how he was to -make it all good, and terrified by the penalty yet to come, -by the dark destruction which hung over him, by the -certainty of incalculable deprivations of body and tortures -of soul, he went to get the new bauble, throwing -down upon the jeweler's counter the thirty-six thousand -francs.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_468"></a>[468]</span></p> - -<p>When Mme. Loisel returned the necklace, Mme. Forestier -said to her coldly: "Why did you not bring it -back sooner? I might have wanted it."</p> - -<p>She did not open the case—to the great relief of her -friend.</p> - -<p>Supposing she had! Would she have discovered the -substitution, and what would she have said? Would she -not have accused Mme. Loisel of theft?</p> - -<p>Mme. Loisel now knew what it was to be in want, but -she showed sudden and remarkable courage. That awful -debt must be paid, and she would pay it.</p> - -<p>They sent away their servant, and moved up into a -garret under the roof. She began to find out what heavy -housework and the fatiguing drudgery of the kitchen -meant. She washed the dishes, scraping the greasy pots -and pans with her rosy nails. She washed the dirty -linen, the shirts and dish-towels, which dried upon the -line. She lugged slops and refuse down to the street -every morning, bringing back fresh water, stopping on -every landing, panting for breath. With her basket on -her arm, and dressed like a woman of the people, she -haggled with the fruiterer, the grocer, and the butcher, -often insulted, but getting every sou's worth that belonged -to her. Each month notes had to be met, others -renewed, extensions of time procured. Her husband -worked in the evenings, straightening out tradesmen's -accounts; he sat up late at night, copying manuscripts -at five sous a page.</p> - -<p>And this they did for ten years.</p> - -<p>At the end of that time they had paid up everything, -everything—with all the principal and the accumulated -compound interest.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_469"></a>[469]</span></p> - -<p>Mme. Loisel looked old now. She had become a domestic -drudge, sinewy, rough-skinned, coarse. With -towsled hair, tucked-up skirts, and red hands, she would -talk loudly while mopping the floor with great splashes -of water. But sometimes, when alone, she sat near the -window, and she thought of that gay evening long ago, -of the ball where she had been so beautiful, so much admired. -Supposing she had not lost the necklace—what -then? Who knows? Who knows? Life is so strange and -shifting. How exceedingly easy it is to be ruined or -saved!</p> - -<p>But one Sunday, going for a walk in the Champs -Élysées to refresh herself after her hard week's work, -she accidentally came upon a familiar-looking woman -with a child. It was Mme. Forestier, still young, still -lovely, still charming.</p> - -<p>Mme. Loisel became agitated. Should she speak to -her? Of course. Now that she had paid, she would tell -her all about it. Why not? She went up to her.</p> - -<p>"How do you do, Jeanne?"</p> - -<p>The other, astonished at the easy manner toward her -assumed by a plain housewife whom she did not recognize, -said:</p> - -<p>"But, Madame, you have made a mistake; I do not -know you.</p> - -<p>"Why, I am Mathilde Loisel!"</p> - -<p>Her friend gave a start.</p> - -<p>"Oh, my poor Mathilde," she cried, "how you have -changed!"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I have seen hard days since last I saw you; -hard enough—and all because of you."</p> - -<p>"Of me? And why?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_470"></a>[470]</span></p> - -<p>"You remember the diamond necklace you loaned me -to wear at the Ministry ball?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do. What of it?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I lost it!"</p> - -<p>"But you brought it back—explain yourself."</p> - -<p>"I bought one just like it, and it took us ten years -to pay for it. It was not easy for us who had nothing, -but it is all over now, and I am glad."</p> - -<p>Mme. Forestier stared.</p> - -<p>"And you bought a necklace of diamonds to replace -mine?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; and you never knew the difference, they were -so alike." And she smiled with joyful pride at the -success of it all.</p> - -<p>Mme. Forestier, deeply moved, took both her hands.</p> - -<p>"Oh, my poor Mathilde! My necklace was paste. It -was worth only about five hundred francs!"</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Henri Rene Albert Guy de Maupassant. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Little Masterpieces of Fiction." Volume V. (Doubleday, -Page & Co.)</p></div> - -<h4>Andong</h4> - -<p>Andong was the only son of Isio, an <i>ex-gobernadorcillo</i> -(president) of Tuao, Cagayan. At an early age -Andong went to Manila to study; but, unfortunately, -his father died and the boy could not finish his career, -but returned to his native town to take care of his helpless -mother. Shortly after his arrival at Tuao, his -mother died, and Andong became a poor orphan. During -his orphanage he lived miserably, but worked hard in -order to release himself from poverty. He cultivated, -year after year, his small piece of land, which he inherited<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_471"></a>[471]</span> -from his father. After ten years he had earned -a considerable sum, and bought twenty-five carabaos and -one hundred hectares of land. He made a trip to Ilocos -Norte, and succeeded in getting several Ilocano families -to live and to work on his plantation.</p> - -<p>One day, while he was working in his field, he received -a message from the gobernadorcillo, notifying him -of his nomination as a <i>cabeza de barangay</i> (councilor), -and Andong, instead of insulting the police, as many -had done, said, "Well, leave with me the letter, and I -will call on the gobernadorcillo this afternoon." When -Andong had finished his work in the field, he called at -the gobernadorcillo's house, and talked with him about -his unexpected nomination. Andong said, "I have no -objection to serving my municipality, for it is the duty -of every citizen to serve his town government the best -he can, and I am thankful to the government for having -nominated me as one of the <i>principales</i>; but before I accept -the office, I wish to see the tax list of my district -to know whether any of the people are in arrears, for I -do not want to lose my property, which I have earned -by hard labor, to answer for the debts of the people of -my district, nor can I go to look for them in other -provinces, nor—"</p> - -<p>"Whether you are willing, or not, you are forced to -accept your nomination," interrupted the gobernadorcillo, -"and to-day your property is hypothecated to pay -the debts of your people to the government."</p> - -<p>"But, sir, who has hypothecated my property? Is -it possible that anybody has the right to confiscate my -property?"</p> - -<p>"Surely," said the gobernadorcillo. "Some of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_472"></a>[472]</span> -principales and I have been informed that you own -many hectares of land, and that you are immensely rich, -so the governor of our province has confirmed your nomination -as cabeza de barangay."</p> - -<p>"I accept my nomination, but I do not want to answer -for the debt of the people under my command," -said Andong.</p> - -<p>"Whether you like it or not, you will be cabeza de -barangay, and be compelled to pay all the debts of your -people," answered the gobernadorcillo.</p> - -<p>"Well, I will think about the matter first," replied -Andong, and he went to the house of Aning, an old ex-gobernadorcillo, -to consult him.</p> - -<p>The gobernadorcillo was not surprised at Andong's -nomination, for he was one of those principales who had -recommended Andong to the council. Aning advised -Andong to accept the office. "A cabeza de barangay is -always respected and honored by the people," said the -gobernadorcillo. "He receives no salary, to be sure, -but he gets gifts of eggs, chickens, pigs, fruits, which -when sold bring much money. Besides, when he wants -to build a house for himself, some of his people bring him -lumber, rattan, cogon, and other materials, while the -others erect the house without any pay." "But I do not -like to molest my people, and I hate to see them serve -me as a master, for they are my brothers," answered -Andong.</p> - -<p>"Do you prefer then to die from hunger rather -than to cheat your people as your predecessors -did?" asked Aning. "Yes, I prefer death, to seeing -my people oppressed," replied Andong. Disgusted at -the servile conversation of the ex-gobernadorcillo, Andong<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_473"></a>[473]</span> -left him in vegetating complacency, sitting on a -bamboo chair with a fan in his hand.</p> - -<p>Unwillingly Andong became a cabeza de barangay. -During the first year of his office he gave eighty pesos -to the government to pay the debts of his runaway -people.</p> - -<p>Now his wealth was decreasing, for his duties made -him neglect his work in the field. The fact that he was -becoming poorer each day, led him into despair. He -remembered the advice of Aning; but he had no courage -to abuse his poor people. He could not deceive them, -for to deceive such people would be the same as stealing. -But who would pay back the money lost? This was the -question which worried him many times.</p> - -<p>To forget his painful situation he took to drinking -<i>basi</i> (Ilocano wine which is extracted from the sugar -cane), and became a drunkard. He forgot entirely his -old business, and in his intoxicated moments he often -exclaimed: "While I live, let me enjoy the fruit of my -own toil instead of paying it all over to the government."</p> - -<p>On account of his drunkenness, he neglected to collect -the taxes from his people, and the deficit doubled -the following year. At first nobody wanted to lend him -money to pay his debt to the government; for his property -was already hypothecated; but, at last a kind and -rich officer lent him the money he needed, at twenty per -cent interest, and with the condition that if he could -not pay his debt within the period of two-years, his -property would be pledged for the second time in favor -of the creditor. Andong fell into a long meditation. He -remembered once more the advice of Aning, and he was -revolving in his mind plans which might release him<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_474"></a>[474]</span> -from bankruptcy. Meanwhile, he decided to go to Ittong, -an ex-cabeza de barangay, to ask for advice.</p> - -<p>Andong asked Ittong to work for his election to the -office of gobernadorcillo, in order that he might be saved -from his critical situation. But wise Ittong advised him -not to seek such an office; for it was worse than a -cabeza de barangay: "The best thing for you to do is -to let the government confiscate your property, go to -prison, and then when you are released from jail, you -can earn again your lost property," he said.</p> - -<p>"Your advice seems excellent to me," answered Andong, -"but can't they nominate me again as cabeza de -barangay when I accumulate more property?"</p> - -<p>"Since you have not held the office during a period -of ten years, they can oblige you to accept the office -again," said Ittong.</p> - -<p>Andong, after a long pause, said to Ittong: "I -want to be elected gobernadorcillo so that I can save my -property instead of going to jail."</p> - -<p>"If you desire it, I can recommend you to my friends -Islao, Ansong, Momong, Ipi, and Cadio, who will nominate -you as the candidate of our party for the coming -election," said Ittong. "I thank you for your kindness," -said Andong, and bade good-bye to his future advocate, -Ittong.</p> - -<p>Andong was nominated as the candidate of Ittong's -party for gobernadorcillo. Ambeng, the candidate of -the opposing party, was more popular than Ittong, consequently -he was more sure to succeed in the coming -election. The critical day was approaching. Many of -the cabezas de barangay went to pay their contributions -to the municipal treasurer, in order to be allowed to vote.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_475"></a>[475]</span> -On the eve of the election the drum of the tribunal -never stopped beating and the voters of the town kept -flocking to the polling-place. On the morning of the -election, all the principales in their holiday dresses -awaited the governor at the tribunal. When the governor -came, they took off their hats and followed him. -They entered the tribunal, and sat around a long table, -presided over by the governor. Before beginning the -election, the governor delivered a short <span class="err" title="original: spech">speech</span> of welcome -and he emphasized that they must elect that man -who was rich, honest, and capable. After a long discussion, -Ambeng was elected by a big majority.</p> - -<p>Andong was disappointed and disgusted over his -defeat. But while Ambeng's party was still celebrating -their triumph the governor of the province received a -telegram from the central government, announcing Andong's -nomination as gobernadorcillo of Tuao. Ambeng -was elected by the people, but Andong had been recommended -to the governor-general by the curate of the -town, the governor of the province, and the chief of the -<i>guardia civil</i>; so Andong was appointed to the office he -sought.</p> - -<p>On the day of Andong's possession, the people of Tuao -held a holiday in his honor. There was a land parade -in which all the princapales of the town took part. After -the parade, Andong went to the tribunal to take his -oath before the justice of the peace. After this ceremony -the chief of police read his administrative program, -in which he obliged every one of his people to go -to mass on Sundays and holidays, and prohibited gambling, -drunkenness, and stealing.</p> - -<p>Time flew. After three months' administration, Andong<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_476"></a>[476]</span> -became worried over his business; for he was compelled -to visit every day his superiors, and to go to mass -on Sundays and holidays. However, he was a zealous -ruler. He organized a militia. He succeeded in pacifying -the Igorrotes, who were fighting one another, and -he caught many of the bandits, who were ravaging the -neighboring towns.</p> - -<p>Everything was going all right, when, unexpectedly, -Andong received an order from the court of justice to -appear before the judge to answer all the complaints of -the people about his abuses in the government. Andong, -before going to court went to see Ittong, his old advocate. -Ittong advised him not to be afraid. "Call officially -your witnesses," he said, "and tell them that you -will put them into prison if they declare against you." -The wind was strong against Andong. Nobody could -save him from his trouble. The prison was awaiting -him. Andong was perplexed; he did not know what to -do. While he was looking at the neighboring mountains, -a wise thought came to his mind. "I will go -and live in those woods with the Igorrotes, rather than -to suffer the oppression of my superiors and the hatred -of my own people!" he exclaimed. Meanwhile, he received -an urgent despatch from a friend, announcing -that the government had discharged him from his office, -and had sentenced him to be put into prison. Immediately, -Andong and one of his servants fled from -Tuao and sought refuge in the neighboring forests, there -to live like wild men, with no ambition above that of -the brute, caring only for their next meal, but harboring -in their hearts a deadly hatred of Spanish rule.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Justo E. Avila. -</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_477"></a>[477]</span> - -<b>PART II</b> -</p> - -<p class="center"><b>NARRATIVES OF ACTUAL -EVENTS</b></p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_478"></a>[478]<a id="Page_479"></a>[479]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII -<br /> - -PARTICULAR ACCOUNTS</h2> - -<p>The second large division heading explains itself. -In an atmosphere of facts all the true narrative types -stand. Whether these types are used as retainers -of truth only is another question. Manifestly they are -not. Manifestly there is much fiction that succeeds -merely because it is cast in the true story mold. But the -concern of the writer who chooses any one of these forms -is to pour truth into it, whether the truth be historical -actualities or only artistic probabilities.</p> - -<p>It is more helpful to consider the types on their simplest -basis; hence in a study like this, one would assume -for content always real happenings. The necessity that -the story go unquestioned does not, however, excuse the -recorder of actual events from using his imagination. -Indeed, only by using it can he come to write true history -or true biography. Without "the inward eye" one cannot -see the past. Without sympathy—which is another -word for imagination—one cannot know his fellowman. -A biographer, an historian, above all else should be able -to see the unseen, not the unseen of the unreal, but the -unseen of the real, a vastly different thing! The two are -exact opposites, the what-is and the what-was set over -against the what-was-not and the what-could-not-be.</p> - -<p>In this chapter five types of narratives of actual -events are grouped as particular accounts, or adventitious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_480"></a>[480]</span> -history, in contrast with continuous personal history, and -continuous impersonal, or community history.</p> - -<p>Particular accounts have to do with those small happenings -that seem to come by chance, those events that -form, as it were, complete and detachable bits of life. -That is to say, each relation is of something that has -taken place or been witnessed in a comparatively short -time—an incident of a trip downtown, a characteristic -action of a great man, an important political event, an -adventure, a brief series of pleasures.</p> - -<h3>I. The Incident</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Definition</div> - -<p>The word "incident" comes from the Latin and -means "falling upon or into something, impinging from -without;" hence something depending upon -or contained in another thing, as its principal. -In narrative, then, it is the record of a subordinate act or -of an event happening at the same time as some other -event and of less importance. Any little occurrence -may be considered an incident. The report of it generally -has excuse for being in the fact that knowledge -of it throws light on the main event or intensifies interest -therein. Accordingly every good narrative of this -type possesses a horizon larger than itself. Somewhere -within the story there is a clause connecting the event -with other occurrences or with the prime occurrence.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">How to -tell an -incident</div> - -<p>An incident may or may not be an eye-witness account. -Indeed, an incident may be told by -a person removed the third, the hundredth -degree from the happening. The essential -thing is the evidence of reality. Of course there are<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_481"></a>[481]</span> -fictitious incidents—like those in "Robinson Crusoe"—but -the whole care of the writer in such cases is to -simulate truth. Very often a work of fiction is but a -skillful piecing together of actual small happenings. -An incident is valued in itself for one of two reasons—either -for the fact which it records or for the author's -humanity revealed in the narration. Though slight, an -incident should be well told. It need not be pointed, -but it should proceed in an orderly and interesting -fashion. The diction should be natural. As hinted -before, an incident should have a setting. The reader -ought to be able to feel something of where the characters -have come from and whither they are going. -The more nicely such a coherence is suggested, the -more pleasing the little story will be.</p> - -<p>One thinks of the quiet delightfulness of Wordsworth's -Incidents which he calls "Poems on the Naming -of Places." They are small stories out of his life -and the lives of his friends—natural records out of natural -living, but as charming and interesting as any -tale of</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i4">"Naiad by the side</div> - <div class="i0">Of Grecian brook, or Lady of the Mere,</div> - <div class="i0">Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance."</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Robert Browning's "Incident of the French Camp" -is an example of the more stirring small happening. -Books of travel are largely series of incidents, but because -of the continued presence of the same personality -fall into a class distinct from this. Good letter-writers -are usually fascinating relators of incidents. -Cowper, Jane Welsh Carlyle, Dorothy Osborne, Gray,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_482"></a>[482]</span> -Lowell, Edward Fitzgerald, charmed not only their -correspondents but all their later readers. The earlier -accounts of his life away from home that "R. L. S." -sent back to his mother contain exquisite small bits of -narration.</p> - -<h4>A Near Tragedy</h4> - -<p>A most tragical incident fell out this day at sea. -While the ship was under sail, but making, as will appear, -no great way, a kitten, one of four of the feline -inhabitants of the cabin, fell from the window into the -water: an alarm was immediately given to the captain, -who was then upon deck, and received it with the utmost -concern. He immediately gave orders to the steersman -in favor of the poor thing, as he called it; the sails -were instantly slackened, and all hands, as the phrase -is, employed to recover the poor animal. I was, I own, -extremely surprised at all this; less, indeed, at the captain's -extreme tenderness, than at his conceiving any possibility -of success; for, if puss had had nine thousand -instead of nine lives, I concluded they had been all lost. -The boatswain, however, had more sanguine hopes; for, -having stript himself of his jacket, breeches, and shirt, -he leapt boldly into the water, and, to my great astonishment, -in a few minutes, returned to the ship, bearing the -motionless animal in his mouth. Nor was this, I observed, -a matter of such great difficulty as it appeared -to my ignorance, and possibly may seem to that of my -fresh-water readers: the kitten was now exposed to air -and sun on the deck, where its life, of which it retained -no symptoms, was despaired of by all.</p> - -<p>The captain's humanity, if I may so call it, did not so<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_483"></a>[483]</span> -totally destroy his philosophy as to make him yield himself -up to affliction on this melancholy occasion. Having -felt his loss like a man, he resolved to show he could bear -it like one; and, having declared he had rather have lost -a cask of rum or brandy, betook himself to thrashing at -backgammon with the Portuguese friar, in which innocent -amusement they passed nearly all their leisure -hours.</p> - -<p>But as I have, perhaps, a little too wantonly endeavored -to raise the tender passions of my readers in -this narrative, I should think myself unpardonable if -I concluded it without giving them the satisfaction of -hearing that the kitten at last recovered, to the great -joy of the good captain; but to the great disappointment -of some of the sailors, who asserted that the drowning -a cat was the very surest way of raising a favorable -wind: a supposition of which, though we have heard several -plausible accounts, we will not presume to assign -the true original reason.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Henry Fielding. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon."</p></div> - -<h4>Birds Divulge Army Secrets</h4> - -<p>During the night, before the battle of Sadowa, an -Austrian division commanded by the archduke, retreating -before the Prussian army, had <span class="err" title="original: bivoucked">bivouacked</span> near a -town in Bohemia, facing north, says Sir Evelyn Wood, -in the <i>London Gazette</i>.</p> - -<p>At midnight the archduke, when resting in a peasant's -cottage, was awakened by the arrival of a gypsy, -having come to report the advance of the enemy.</p> - -<p>The archduke, who spoke Romany fluently, asked:<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_484"></a>[484]</span> -"How do you know? Our outposts have not reported -any movement."</p> - -<p>"That, your highness, is because the enemy is some -way off."</p> - -<p>"Then how do you know?"</p> - -<p>The gypsy, pointing to the dark sky, lighted by the -moon, observed: "You see those birds flying over the -woods from north to south?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; what of them?"</p> - -<p>"Those birds do not fly by night unless disturbed, -and the direction of their flight indicates that the enemy -is coming this way."</p> - -<p>The archduke put his division under arms and reinforced -the outposts, which in two hours' time were -heavily attacked.</p> - -<h4>An Incident Related In a Letter</h4> - -<p>7:20 P. M.—I must tell you a thing I saw to-day. I -was going down to Portobello in the train, when there -came into the next compartment (third-class) an artisan, -strongly marked with smallpox, and with sunken, heavy -eyes—a face hard and unkind, and without anything -lovely. There was a woman on the platform seeing him off. -At first sight, with her one eye blind and the whole cast -of her features strongly plebeian, and even vicious, she -seemed as unpleasant as the man; but there was something -beautifully soft, a sort of light of tenderness, as -on some Dutch Madonna, that came over her face when -she looked at the man. They talked for a while together -through the window; the man seemed to have been asking -for money. "Ye ken the last time," she said, "I -gave ye two shillings for your lodgin', and ye said—"it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_485"></a>[485]</span> -died off in a whisper. Plainly Falstaff and Dame -Quickly over again. The man laughed unpleasantly, -even cruelly, and said something; and the woman turned -her back on the carriage and stood a long while so, and, -do what I might, I could catch no glimpse of her expression, -although I thought I saw the heave of a sob in -her shoulders. At last, after the train was already in -motion, she turned and put two shillings into his hand. -I saw her stand and look after us with a perfect heaven -of love on her face—this poor one-eyed Madonna—until -the train was out of sight; but the man, sordidly happy -with his gains, did not put himself to the inconvenience -of one glance to thank her for her ill-deserved kindness.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Robert Louis Stevenson. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>In letter to Mrs. Stillwell, Sept. 16, 1873.</p></div> - -<h4>A Hero Dead</h4> - -<p>It was very dark in the east corridor of the Armory, -and, save for the quiet footfall of the ever-watchful orderly, -there was no sound in the silent room where the -nation's dead lay wrapped in the great silk flag. In the -shadow of the stairway, a group of secret-service men -were nervously whispering among themselves, with occasional -glances that strove to penetrate the black void -that lay beyond the crape-hung doorway.</p> - -<p>Their sergeant stood a little apart from the others, -an alert figure, with a hand that lingered suggestively -about his hip-pocket. For three days he had kept unwearied -watch while thousands had paid their last homage -to the dead servant of the people, and the strain -was telling upon him. The nation had lost a hero, but -John MacDonald had lost his idol—and his best friend.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_486"></a>[486]</span> -Through his mind was sweeping a strong revulsion at -conditions which could have fostered so wanton a murder; -and a sudden and passionate hatred of the dark -race to whose salvation this man had been a martyr -threatened almost to unman this stern son of the service. -That very day he had sent away with a curse a paralytic -old negro who had brought his handful of field-lilies to -the bier of the savior of his race. MacDonald had felt -no qualm at his action, and when, later, he had found -the poor flowers lying withered outside the closed door, -he kicked them aside with an oath. In a measure, the -stern old Scotchman had not been responsible for his actions -at that time, for it was just then that he had -heard the dread rumor which was spreading its dark -wake through the crapehung corridors. That very night -while the whole nation was yet bowed in its sorrow, an -attempt was to be made to steal the body of the dead -hero. The crime seemed scarcely to be believed, but the -men of the secret-service, scattered throughout the dark -corridor, were awake and ready.</p> - -<p>John MacDonald, striving vainly in his grief-saddened -heart to frame a reason for it all, wondered how -he had been able to resist the old negro with his tear-wet -face and pleading voice. That black creature was -a man like himself, and he, also, had loved the great -man who was lying so quietly in the folds of his country's -flag. "O Lincoln," he spoke, raising a clenched -hand toward the black doorway, "they have murdered -you, they have taken you from us, but still—" Suddenly -his muscles stiffened, and something very akin to -a chill crept about the roots of his hair. There had come -the quiet but unmistakable sound of a footfall from the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_487"></a>[487]</span> -room where the dead lay. The Scotchman stood a man -of stone, and while his very hair stiffened with horror, a -mighty wrath swept over his whole being. They were -at it, then, those fiends who dared to desecrate the body -of his lord with their filthy touch. With a movement -like a cat, MacDonald drew his ready weapon, and, with -a call to his startled subordinates, stepped boldly over -the threshold.</p> - -<p>In a moment, the room was filled with the glare of -torches, and the secret-service men, crowding in the -doorway, saw the leveled weapon of their chief sink inertly -to his side.</p> - -<p>On the black catafalque the hero lay, beneath the -outstretched wings of the eagle of the republic, and at -his feet, sobbing out his grief-stricken heart, knelt an old -negro.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Ida Treat. -</p> - -<h4>My First Day at School</h4> - -<p>The room was not large enough for a schoolroom. -The floor, the wall, and the roof were all made of bamboo. -In the center of the room was a long, narrow, -roughly-made table, at which sat closely twenty or thirty -pupils. There were also two or three benches here and -there, on which sat new boys and girls. At the end of -the long table sat a rather old but fierce-looking man, -the schoolmaster. In his left hand he held a book, and -in his right, a whip; for at that time the principle governing -schools was that knowledge could not be gained -without severe bodily punishment.</p> - -<p>When I entered the schoolroom, my "cartilla" in -hand, this was the first scene that met my eyes. It happened<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_488"></a>[488]</span> -that Titay, a cousin of mine, had been sent to -school on that day also; so we had the same lesson. In -harsh tones the teacher ordered us to study the vowels -of the Spanish alphabet. And with a loud voice we repeated -again and again, <i>a</i>, <i>e</i>, <i>i</i>, <i>o</i>, <i>u</i>, until we knew them—at -least we thought so—by heart.</p> - -<p>At last our turn came; and we were called to go to -our teacher. My cousin (a girl) was at his left side, -while I was at his right.</p> - -<p>"What is this?" the teacher asked my cousin.</p> - -<p>"A," she answered, correctly.</p> - -<p>However, at his second, third, and fourth questions, -she was confused and could not answer. But I really -knew "<i>a</i>, <i>e</i>, <i>i</i>, <i>o</i>, <i>u</i>," by heart, for my kind mother had -taught them to me; so I proudly corrected every mistake -she had made. After every correction, the teacher would -say to me, "Tira la oreja" (meaning, "Pull her ears"). -And with what boyish pleasure did I pull her ears! She -cried and resolved never to go to school again.</p> - -<p>When I returned home, I was very boastful, and told -everybody in the household of my triumph. Thus I received -encouragement in my first school day, and after -that I continued to study with interest till I myself received -some bodily punishment.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Máximo M. Kalaw. -</p> - -<h4>The Guinatan Prize</h4> - -<p>One day I came to the schoolhouse tardy. When I -entered the door, I saw the pupils standing side by side -in a row and facing the teacher. There was one column -of numbers on the blackboard, near which the teacher -stood with a long wooden pointer in his hand. As soon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_489"></a>[489]</span> -as I saw the numbers on the board, I knew at once -that there would be a contest. So I laid down my books -on the floor, took off my hat, and stood next to the last -boy.</p> - -<p>"Teacher, Leopoldo does not belong here. He is the -captain-general. Therefore, he should stand next to -Federico," said the last boy as soon as he saw me.</p> - -<p>"No," said the teacher, "he came in tardy. Boys, -you must learn to come to school on time," he continued.</p> - -<p>The teacher then gave us names: he named the first -boy general, the second major-general, the third captain-general, -and so on. I, being the last boy, was named -ranchero, or the cook of the army.</p> - -<p>"He who is the general at the end of the contest -will be given a cup of <i>guinatan</i> as a prize," said the -teacher.</p> - -<p>"Now begin, Martin," he continued. Martin began -to add the numbers on the board with accuracy, and -finished within forty seconds. The major-general did the -same, but he finished within forty-five seconds. The captain-general -added the numbers within forty-two seconds. -So he pulled the ear of the major-general, and -they exchanged places. Before, my turn came, there -had been many changes already, a soldier had beaten a -colonel, a sergeant had passed a lieutenant.</p> - -<p>"All right, Leopoldo," said the teacher.</p> - -<p>"One—six—fourteen—twenty-two—thirty—thirty-six—forty-five. -Carry four. Eight—ten—fifteen—twenty-one—twenty-nine—thirty-five—forty!" -I said without stopping to take a breath.</p> - -<p>"Forty seconds!" announced the teacher.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_490"></a>[490]</span></p> - -<p>The teacher wanted to try me again, but the boys -said they should like to hear the general first.</p> - -<p>"All right. Go on, Martin," said the teacher.</p> - -<p>This time Martin failed. He finished within thirty-seven -seconds, but he made a mistake. The boys shouted.</p> - -<p>Fortunately, the time was up. So I was pronounced -the victor. The teacher bought a cup of <i>guinatan</i>, the -sweet fruit mixture that Filipino children so much love, -and gave it to me. I was very proud then. When I -reached home, I told my mother all that had happened. -She was very happy.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Leopoldo Faustino. -</p> - -<h3>II. The Anecdote</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Meaning -of the -term</div> - -<p>In the sense in which a proverb is a condensed parable, -an anecdote is a condensed character-sketch or -biography. Like many of our other terms -the word "anecdote" itself reveals to an extent -its present meaning. It is derived from -the Greek and signifies "something not published." -This is the sense in which Cicero uses it when he speaks -of a book of anecdotes on which he was engaged, but -which he talks of confiding to a single friend only, as if -it were not intended ever to be published. In literature -the word has been used to denote either secret -histories or portions of ancient writers which have -remained long in manuscript and are edited for the -first time. The anecdotes of Procopius, which were -published in London in 1674 under the title "The Secret -History of the Court of Justinian," are evidence -of the first significance; and Dr. Johnson's reference -to the English-French fashion of using the word for a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_491"></a>[491]</span> -"biographical minute passage of private life" establishes -the second meaning.</p> - -<p>In our day, collections of anecdotes—criticisms and -observations, smart sayings and ludicrous tales, delivered -by eminent men in conversation and recorded by -their friends or discovered among their papers after -their death, and put together with historical incidents -concerning them—are published under the term -<i>ana</i>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Ana</div> - -<p>The ancients were in the habit of indulging in this -species of literature. From earliest periods Oriental -nations have preserved the intimate talk -of their wise men. From them the Greeks -and Romans took up the practice. Plato and Xenophon -recorded the colloquially expressed ideas of their master -Socrates. It appears that Julius Cæsar compiled a book -of apophthegms in which he related the <i>bon mots</i> of -Cicero; and a freedman of that orator, taken with his -master's liveliness and wit, composed three books of a -work entitled "De Jocis Ciceronis."</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Eighteenth -century -collections</div> - -<p>But the term ana seems to have been applied to -such collections only so far back as the fifteenth century. -The information and anecdotes picked -up by Poggio and his friend Barthelemi -Montepolitiano during a literary trip in -Germany "are to be called," says another friend in -a letter, "Poggiana and Montepolitiana." Perhaps the -most typical, and surely a very famous and interesting, -production of this species of narrative in English is -the "Walpoliana," a transcript of the literary conversation -of Horace Walpole, Earl of Oxford. Selden's -"Table Talk" was considered by Dr. Johnson good<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_492"></a>[492]</span> -ana, better than the French. But incomparably superior -to all, a collection the most remarkable in the -English language-and indeed, in any language (as a -writer in the "Britannica" asserts)—is James Boswell's -"Life of Samuel Johnson." Though not conforming -to the type of collection either in name or in form of -presentation, this, according to Carlyle, "the greatest -production of the eighteenth century," depends for its -value mainly upon its ana. "Its interest," the same -writer goes on to say, "arises, not from the details it -furnishes of the events of Dr Johnson's career, still -less from any attempt at a discriminating estimate of -his work and character, but the graphic representation -it gives of his habitual manner of life and speech. -The animate greatness of Johnson appears, more than -in all his writings, in his portrait delineated with the -exactness of sharply-defined photograph, as he appeared, -to the eyes of his admiring biographer, in his -daily deshabille."</p> - -<p>That is the secret of anecdote—it must get at the -real man in however small a part.</p> - -<p>While a book of ana is a collection of short, pointed, -true colloquial relations of more or less detached interesting -particulars concerning a person of consequence, -a single anecdote is one of those interesting particulars -entirely detached, short, pointed, true, and colloquial. -A book of anecdotes is a group of stories, miscellaneous -so far as subject matter is concerned. Spence's "Anecdotes" -is a very famous eighteenth century literary -set; and Percy's is an early nineteenth, with the stories -selected—as the preface ostensibly gives notice—for -their moral effect, and arranged according to the virtue<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_493"></a>[493]</span> -illustrated or the subject treated—humanity, generosity, -kindness; science, art, and so on.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">How to -write an -anecdote</div> - -<p>As we have seen, to be most interesting an anecdote -must be singularly expressive of the peculiarities of the -person represented; or if the event recorded -is not in the form of a character episode, but -rather in the form of an unusual happening, -it must be consonant with the accepted popular notion -of the man's personality. To write an original anecdote -you will need to pick out of your past experience -or the experience of some one of your acquaintances a -story of a more or less important personage in your -neighborhood, a happening that has never hitherto -been written down. If the person concerned is not -very well known or if the trait of character revealed -would not be immediately recognized by his friends, -you might prefix a slight statement that will help point -your narrative. Remember, however, that an anecdote -must be very brief; also that it must have a single and -complete climax; and that you must under no circumstance -be induced to add another word after the -climax is reached.</p> - -<h4>Coleridge's Retort</h4> - -<p>Samuel Taylor Coleridge was so bad a horseman -that when he mounted he generally attracted unfavorable -notice. On a certain occasion he was riding along -a turnpike road in the country of Durham, when he was -met by a wag, who, mistaking his man, thought the rider -a good subject for sport. "I say, young man," cried the -rustic, "did you see a <i>tailor</i> on the road?" "Yes, I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_494"></a>[494]</span> -did; and he told me that if I went a little farther, I -should meet a <i>goose</i>."</p> - -<h4>An Inevitable Misfortune</h4> - -<p>When Boswell was first introduced to Dr. Johnson, -he apologized to him for being a Scotchman. "I find," -said he, "that I am come to London at a bad time when -great popular prejudice has gone forth against us North -Britons; but when I am talking to you, I am talking to -a large and liberal mind, and you know that I cannot -help coming from Scotland." "Sir, replied the doctor, -archly, "no more can the rest of your countrymen."</p> - -<h4>A Point Needing to Be Settled -</h4> -<p>A Scottish clergyman, being one day engaged in -visiting some member of his flock, came to the door of a -house where his gentle tapping could not be heard for -the noise of contention inside. After waiting a little, he -opened the door and walked in, saying with an authoritative -voice, "I should like to know who is the head -of this house?"</p> - -<p>"Weel, sir," said the husband and father, "if ye sit -doon a wee, we'll may be able to tell ye, for we're just -trying to settle that point."</p> - -<h4>Patience</h4> - -<p>When Lord Chesterfield was one day at Newcastle -House, the Duke happened to be particularly busy, so -the Earl was requested to sit down in an anteroom. -"Garnet upon Job," a book dedicated to the Duke, happened -to lie in the window; and his Grace, upon entering<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_495"></a>[495]</span> -found the Earl so busily engaged in reading, that -he asked how he liked the commentary. "In any other -place," replied Chesterfield, "I should not think much -of it; but there is such great propriety in putting a -volume upon patience in the room where every visitor -has to wait for your Grace, that here it must be considered -as one of the best books in the world."</p> - -<h4>Preaching and Practice</h4> - -<p>Dr. Channing had a brother, a physician, and at one -time they both lived in Boston. One day, a countryman -in search of a <i>divine</i>, knocked at the <i>doctor's</i> door, when -the following dialogue ensued:</p> - -<p>"Does Mr. Channing live here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"Can I see him?"</p> - -<p>"I am he."</p> - -<p>"Who—you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"You must have altered considerably since I heard -you preach!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I see your mistake now. It's my brother who -<i>preaches</i>. I <i>practice</i>."</p> - -<h4>Johnson's Dictionary</h4> - -<p>When Dr. Johnson had completed his dictionary, -which had quite exhausted the patience of Mr. Andrew -Millar, his bookseller, the latter acknowledged the receipt -of the last sheet, in the following note:</p> - -<p>"Andrew Millar sends his compliments to Mr. Samuel -Johnson with the money for the last sheet of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_496"></a>[496]</span> -copy of the dictionary, and thanks God he has done with -him."</p> - -<p>To this rude note the doctor returned the following -smart answer:</p> - -<p>"Samuel Johnson returns his compliments to Mr. -Andrew Millar, and is very glad to find (as he does by -his note), that Andrew Millar has the grace to thank -God for anything."</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Percy's "Anecdotes." -</p> - -<h4>The Boy Kipling</h4> - -<p>Rudyard Kipling's keen and sympathetic understanding -of all the diversified and picturesque varieties -of human nature found in British India, is too well recognized -as part of his power to need assertion; but a -little anecdote which his mother remembers of his boyhood -is not without a pretty allegorical significance. It -was at Nasik, on the Dekhan plain, not far from Bombay, -when the little fellow, trudging over the ploughed -field, with his hand in that of the native husbandman, -called back to her in the Hindustani, which was -as familiar to him as English, "Good-by, this is my -brother!"</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Professor Norton, in a biographical sketch. -</p> - -<h4>Sir Godfrey Kneller</h4> - -<p>Pope tells the following story about the great portrait -painter:</p> - -<p>"As I was sitting by Sir Godfrey Kneller one day, -whilst he was drawing a picture, he stopped and said: -'I can't do so well as I should do, unless you flatter me -a little; pray flatter me, Mr. Pope! you know I love<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_497"></a>[497]</span> -to be flattered.' I was at once willing to try how far -his vanity would carry him, and, after considering a picture, -which he had just finished, for a good while very -attentively, I said to him in French (for he had been -talking for some time before in that language): "On lit -dans les Écritures Saintes, que le bon Dieu faisoit -l'homme aprés son image: mais, je crois, que s'il voudroit -faire un autre a présent, qu'il le feroit apres l'image que -voilá.' Sir Godfrey turned round and said very gravely, -'Vous avez raison, Mons Pope; par Dieu, je le crois -aussi.'"</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Pope. -</p> - -<p>Here is another: Mr. Pope was with Sir Godfrey -Kneller one day, when his nephew, a Guinea trader, -came in. "Nephew," said Sir Godfrey, "you have the -honor of seeing the two greatest men in the world." "I -don't know how great you may be," said the Guinea -man, "but I don't like your looks; I have often bought -a man much better than both of you together, all muscles -and bones, for ten guineas."</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Dr. Warburton. -</p> - -<h4>The Capitan Municipal and the Jokers</h4> - -<p>Once there lived in the town of Balanga an old Capitan -Municipal who was nicknamed carabao; for he was -a very big man and also a very great eater.</p> - -<p>One day as a land parade was going on in honor of -Dr. Rizal, three well-known jokers of the town were -following the procession, when they suddenly came to a -small pond in the street. And one of them said, "What -a nice time our public carabao had taking his mid-day -bath in here." "Oh! yes, he must have had a very good<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_498"></a>[498]</span> -time indeed," replied the two. But unexpectedly the -Capitan was at their back, hearing all they said about -him.</p> - -<p>Therefore as soon as the procession was over, they -were arrested in the Municipal building. And on the -next day they were tried and sentenced by the Capitan -to fill in all the ponds of the streets around the town, -and also to drain them properly.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—José Feliciano. -</p> - -<h4>An Instance of Bamboo Spanish</h4> - -<p>In the Ateneo de Manila all the pupils are forbidden -to speak any language except Spanish.</p> - -<p>One day the pupils of the college went out to the -yard to play baseball. It happened that one of the -boys who was watching the game was hurt at the kneejoint, -and fell down on the ground. The boy cried so -loud that the rector at once went hurriedly to see what -was happening in the yard. He saw the boy sitting -on the ground with one of his legs bent. He approached -him, and said, "What has happened to you, my boy?" -And the boy feeling yet the pain that the ball had -caused him, answered, "Father, while I was watching -my companions who were playing baseball my—, my—," -"What?" said the rector, impatiently. "Father, my—, -my—," answered the boy, showing his kneejoint as he -was pronouncing the word "my." "Do you mean your -leg?" said the rector. "No, father I mean my—," replied -the boy. "But your what" cried the rector, "say -what you mean to say." The boy, who was trying hard -to find the word in Spanish for kneejoint, answered at -last, "my <i>vino-vinohan</i>, father, was hurt." The rector,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_499"></a>[499]</span> -though very angry at the boy's dullness, laughed heartily -at his dictionary-making powers.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note</span>—The word in Tagalog for knee-joint is "alak-alakan," -which is similar to the Tagalog word "alak," -meaning wine in English and <i>vino</i> in Spanish. The boy, -not knowing the proper word in Spanish for knee-joint, -derived the word "vino-vinohan" from the Spanish -word <i>vino</i>, which means <i>alak</i> (wine) in Tagalog.</p> - -<h4>Mr. Taft's Mistake</h4> - -<p>It was a bright day when a crowd of people stood -before a platform decorated with palm leaves and roofed -with a banner of stars and stripes. The eyes of the -spectators, who were all eager to hear the speech of the -well-known eloquent orator and skillful politician, Mr. -William H. Taft, were fixed on the personages on the -platform.</p> - -<p>At last, after an ovation by the multitude, Mr. Taft -rose up and addressed the audience thus: "<i>Señoras y -caballos</i>."<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></p> - -<p class="right"> -—Amando Clemente. -</p> - -<h3>III. The Eye-Witness Account</h3> - -<p>Eye-witness account is to true story what realism -is to fiction. Exactness is the aim of the narrator. -He endeavors to tell precisely what he saw and heard. -A great deal of our newspaper "copy" is supposed to -be of this type, and likewise much court testimony. -The attorneys try to separate distinctly fact from -fancy. What a man really must have seen and what -he thought he saw are often very different. It appears -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_500"></a>[500]</span>at first that an unembellished account would be the -easiest thing in the world to give, but it takes only a -little observation to convince one that few persons can -tell what they see or hear; few indeed know what they -see or hear. With the bare actuality, they are constantly -confounding what they thought or inferred. -As a rule, only the man educated to the work can -report truthfully.</p> - -<p>A unique and curious ancient document of this type -is found in a little book that was published by the -Spanish Academy of History in 1783, called "El Passo -Honroso" or the Passage of Honor. It is a formal eyewitness -account prepared on the spot by Delena, one of -the authorized scribes of John II, and gives minutely -the events of a passage of arms held against all comers -in 1434 at the bridge of Orbigo, near the city of Leon, -during thirty days, at a moment when the road was -thronged with knights going over for a solemn festival -to the neighboring shrine of Santiago.<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> Suero de -Quiñones, the challenger, was a true gentleman of chivalry, -it seems, and had been wearing in sentimental -bondage to a noble lady a chain of iron around his -neck one day in each week. From his bondage he -could be freed only by bringing to her as ransom a -minimum number of real spears broken by him and his -friends in fair fight. So they stood—ten of them—for -thirty days challenging all comers. Delena records -sixty-eight opponents; six hundred and twenty-seven -encounters; sixty-six broken lances; one dead knight; -and many wounded, among whom were Quiñones himself -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_501"></a>[501]</span>and eight of his fellow-champions. Along with the -general narrative is a full account of the religious and -chivalric ceremonies as they were actually indulged in -from day to day. Such a minute and elaborate and -fully authenticated eye-witness record of not fictitious -but real "knightly guists and fierce encounters" is -manifestly invaluable to a student of chivalry.</p> - -<p>It is interesting to think of this dapper young scribe -sitting on the side-lines watching the combatants and -taking down his notes as the telling rushes were made -by either party; and then sending his copy hot from -the pen to his royal reader. I suppose we might well -call Señor Delena the historical prototype of our -modern athletics reporter.</p> - -<p>Many of our best literary men have had longer or -shorter apprenticeships at getting "copy." Dickens -served for a number of years. Facts for a reporter do -not come at call; he can not turn them on, so to speak, -nor is he permitted to make them up. He must find -them. Consequently to be successful he needs to have -an ear for news, and an eye for the graphic, a simple -but full vocabulary, and a pen made supple by much -practice. He must seem to be at home in any department -of human action. All his words must carry with -them a large tone of veracity. He can hardly afford to -make slips even on his minor details, since his brother -reporters visit the same scene at the same time.</p> - -<p>Literary eye-witness account, however, need not be -devoid of all expression of personal feeling. It is only -necessary that the writer make clear to his reader -which are thoughts and feelings and which are facts. -Indeed, the best effect of such a narration will often<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_502"></a>[502]</span> -come from the contrast. The artist lets us into his own -state of mind, describes perhaps more or less minutely -the stage-setting of his little occurrence—especially if -any part is necessary to complete understanding later—portrays -in general the types of people who were or -might have been concerned, and then drops from his -pen one by one the facts cold, clear-cut, unembellished, -orderly in sequence, with their participants graphically -and cleanly outlined, and thus gains his effect. He is as -precise as a lawyer, but he has been also as crafty, in -the good sense of the word. He has prepared us to -appreciate his facts. If he interprets to us afterwards, -he does so in a reflective and an apparently hesitating -way that seems to leave us in full possession of our own -opinions, which will prove to be in reality only corroborative -of his.</p> - -<p>It will be good practice for you to attempt to give -an eye-witness account of some occurrence. If two or -three of your friends were present at the same happening, -you may enjoy comparing reports. There will -probably be more than one incident to relate; if there -is, you must be careful to have sequence and coherence -in all that you say. You should anticipate and answer -any questions one would naturally ask of an oral -reporter. Stop when you have finished. Doubtless you -have noticed the unpleasant habit many narrators have -of starting over again and repeating all or part of the -tale. The temptation does not so readily come to a -writer, of course, as to a speaker—unless the writer is -paid by the word.</p> - -<p>Your readers will not resent interpretation even if -it be philosophical, if it be not mixed with the narration<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_503"></a>[503]</span> -and be only honest and of the pragmatic school—interrogative -and not dogmatic. Indeed, mankind likes -philosophy when it seems to come as an inevitable -though tentative summing-up of our almost bewilderingly -multiple phenomena.</p> - -<h4>Story of the Revolution in the Portuguese Capital</h4> - -<p>Cherbourg, October 8.—On board the Royal Mail -Steam Packet liner <i>Asturias</i>, which arrived from Lisbon -this morning, were a number of passengers who witnessed -the fighting in the Portuguese capital on Wednesday, -among them M. Octave Castaigne, a lawyer, of -Tournai, who was among the passengers by the <i>Asturias</i> -who ventured to land at Lisbon on Wednesday.</p> - -<p>"On Tuesday evening," said M. Castaigne, "we were -informed by a wireless message that the revolution had -broken out in Portugal. From far out at sea was heard -the thunder of the cannon and as we entered the Tagus -the crackle of rifle fire. On our arrival before Lisbon -we noticed that the cruisers <i>Sao Rafael</i> and <i>Adamastor</i>, -which were flying the Republican flag, were still firing -on the town.</p> - -<p>"About ten o'clock the fusillade ceased and a party -of five passengers, including two Americans and myself, -went ashore. The lower part of the town had the appearance -of a city of the dead. The houses were shut -and marks of rifle-shots and shells were to be seen everywhere. -The centre of the city, on the contrary, was -alive with people. The crowd was vociferously acclaiming -the Republican flag, which was flying, not only from -the public buildings, but from nearly every house. It -struck me very clearly that anyone who had had the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_504"></a>[504]</span> -courage to shout "Long live the King!" would have been -shot dead on the spot. The crowd was largely composed -of soldiers and sailors under arms, and patrols were also -moving about in automobiles to any part of the town -that appeared to be greatly menaced by the Royalist -troops.</p> - -<p>"We reached the City Hall, which was surrounded -by a huge crowd, just at the moment when the Republic -was being proclaimed. The Republican leaders from the -balcony of the building were haranguing the people, -whose enthusiasm was indescribable. From time to time -the cheers of the crowd were broken by rifle volleys and -the reports of cannon.</p> - -<p>"When the official ceremony was ended, we succeeded -in entering the City Hall. The new Ministers were receiving -visitors and were conversing with anyone who -presented himself. One of the passengers by the -<i>Asturias</i> approached President Braga, and in a short -speech congratulated him on the proclamation of the -Republic. Dr. Braga replied that he was happy to receive -our visit, and added that the Portuguese Republic -was definitely established.</p> - -<p>"After leaving the City Hall, we proceeded to the -most dangerous part of the city, that is to say, the -Avenida do Liberdade and the Dom Pedro square. The -houses showed signs off cannon shots and the roofs of the -majority of them had collapsed. The Avenida do Liberdade -was still occupied by the opposing forces. The -Republican troops occupied one end of the street, while -the Royalists were in possession of the other extremity, -being separated by a distance of about five hundred -yards. The battle was still in progress. I admit that I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_505"></a>[505]</span> -was somewhat afraid, and as the shots whistled by I hid -myself behind the shelter of a house.</p> - -<p>"At the risk of being killed any minute our party -succeeded in reaching the Avenida restaurant. That -part of the restaurant facing the Avenida do Liberdade -was in ruins, and the walls were full of bullet holes. (M. -Castaigne has saved some of the bullets as souvenirs.) -The Recio railway station had been destroyed by artillery -fire and the railway lines had been torn up. The Necessidades -Palace shows traces of numerous shells, but it is -stated that the interior of the royal residence has suffered -even more, shells having simply rained on the roof.</p> - -<p>"The Red Cross Society showed admirable devotion -during the fighting. I saw its members go into the -thick of the fight to pick up the wounded, who on -Wednesday were estimated to number over a thousand. -The number of killed is considerable, but at the time -it was impossible to obtain correct figures."</p> - -<p>London, October 9.—The Royal Mail Steam Packet -Company's steamer <i>Asturias</i>, which left Lisbon on Thursday, -arrived at Southampton yesterday morning, having -among her passengers several Englishmen and South -Americans who witnessed many of the episodes of the -revolution. Among these was General Garcia, who has -had experience enough of revolution in South America.</p> - -<p>The general told an "Evening News" correspondent -that he and six others went into Lisbon on Wednesday. -"We found the streets littered with wounded," he said. -"A body of troops was being moved from one side of -the city to the other, and in the districts through which -they passed people were flying panic-stricken, but otherwise -everybody was orderly and the city was quiet.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_506"></a>[506]</span></p> - -<p>"The Republican flags were on the buildings and all -trace of resistance was over. Soldiers were going into -shops and houses pulling down pictures of the king, tearing -them up and trampling them underfoot. As we -passed along, a picture of the King came flying out of -a doorway and dropped at our feet. My secretary picked -it up. He was immediately surrounded by soldiers, who -ordered him to destroy it at once.</p> - -<p>"I went to the municipal buildings and there saw -members of the provisional government, who allowed me -to cable to my own government in Cuba. I should say -the estimate of fifty killed and three hundred wounded -is not high enough, but the list is remarkably small, all -considered. I have seen many revolutions, but none so -beautifully carried out as this."</p> - -<p>Paris, October 9.—"The abounding joying joy of the -people—tempered by admirable self-control—and repeated -evidences of careful organization—these were the -things which impressed me most."</p> - -<p>In these words Mr. Charles H. Sherrill, American -Minister to Argentina, told a <i>Herald</i> correspondent at -the Hotel Majestic last night, of a visit he paid to Lisbon -on Wednesday, a few hours after the overthrow of the -Portuguese monarchy. With Mrs. Sherrill and their -young son he was a passenger on the <i>Asturia</i>, which -touched at Lisbon.</p> - -<p>"The shooting began about two o'clock on Tuesday -morning," he continued. "It was at six o'clock on -Wednesday morning that we came into the harbor. The -bombardment of the palace had ceased, but with our -glasses we could see the dents which the shells had made -in the walls.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_507"></a>[507]</span></p> - -<p>"I disembarked at about one o'clock in the afternoon -and went to the American Legation to see if it had -suffered damage. I found the streets swarming with -inhabitants, who were singing and shouting in their joy. -Save for this celebration there were few evidences of the -conflict in the lower part of the town.</p> - -<p>"But it was different in the Avenida, the broad -thoroughfare leading to the elevation back of the city. -The insurgents had permitted the Royalists to form in -Rocio square, in the down town district. The insurgents -then took their position on the hills above, holding the -Royalists in a trap, hedged in on the other side by the -attacking ships in the bay.</p> - -<p>"From the elevation at the upper end of the field, -guns had been aimed down the Avenida. The avenue -had been stripped of trees, windows had been shattered -and the fronts of buildings which projected farther than -others had been partly demolished. The American Legation -escaped even the slightest damage.</p> - -<p>"Occasionally I encountered a wall which bore -striking evidence of the battle. Blood was matted upon -it and blood had coagulated in the gutters, indicating -only too plainly that several lives had been lost there. -Whole groups in the sidewalk had been mowed down by -shell from the field-guns.</p> - -<p>"Nearly every man I saw and many boys carried -guns. They were not rifles of the 'homespun' variety—these -arms—but Mausers and equally effective weapons. -These were evidences of preparation. Fully a thousand -people were waving flags—the red and green flag of the -new Republic—a further proof that the revolution had -not come just when it did by accident.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_508"></a>[508]</span></p> - -<p>"For the new Portuguese flag is a rather complicated -affair. Across a blue circle in the centre is a curved line -in white bearing the inscription, 'Patria e Liberdade.' -Half the space of the background is red—revolution—and -green, symbolizing hope.</p> - -<p>"I followed a crowd and a band into the City Hall. -There in a large room I saw the President and his cabinet -in session, probably drawing up one of the new government's -addresses to the people. It was plain to me that -these were not men who had been 'pitchforked' into -office over night. Their appearance was that of sober, -responsible officials. I was simply a curiosity-seeker, of -course, and kept my identity concealed.</p> - -<p>"As I walked along I heard two shots fired in a side -street. A moment later a cart drove by in which lay -two bodies. A crowd formed at the scene of the shooting, -but there was no suspicion of a riot. Among the -thousands of people I saw that day there was not a single -person who appeared to be under the influence of liquor. -There seemed to be no looting; no outrages were committed. -It was a most impressive object-lesson of the -self-control which a Latin people is able to maintain -when it is imbued with a serious purpose.</p> - -<p>"Country folk were pouring into town by the thousands, -and these reflected the joy and satisfaction felt -by the residents of the city. They afforded a rebuke -to the suspicion that the revolutionary feeling was confined -to Lisbon itself. The spirit of the people was best -expressed by two words, composing a headline which -stretched across the front page of an afternoon newspaper. -Translated, it read simply: 'At Last!'</p> - -<p>"And it was apparent also that the revolution was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_509"></a>[509]</span> -accomplished with as little bloodshed as possible. The -insurgents were merciful—if that term is permissible in -this connection. Shells fired from the ships in the bay -were directed in such a way that they should explode -over the town, carrying the desired warning, but causing -the minimum amount of damage.</p> - -<p>"I was told that the dead and wounded numbered -three thousand. I am certain this was a great exaggeration. -My estimate is about 600 or 700, basing these -figures on information obtained at the headquarters of -the Red Cross Society.</p> - -<p>"Most of the residents of Lisbon give the greatest -share of credit for the result to the seamen. A hero was -made of every sailor who appeared in the streets. The -crowds cheered him heartily, but the army officers -aroused much less enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>"Save for these evidences of jubilation Lisbon was -quiet and orderly—think of it, only a few hours after -such an uprising as this! The bodies of the dead had -been removed, the wounded were being nursed and business -was proceeding almost normally. In front of every -bank was a guard of sailors to protect the financial interests -of the people. It seems strange that I, who have -lived in South America two years, was forced to come -to Europe in order to see a revolution."</p> - -<h4>A Contrast</h4> - -<p>On the night of February 4, 1910, the eve of the -carnival, I went to take a walk in the Luneta. Already -from the distance I could see the hippodrome in the -carnival grounds well illuminated. "What is going on -in there?" I asked myself, and not being able to explain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_510"></a>[510]</span> -the matter, and urged by my curiosity to know everything, -I walked in that direction.</p> - -<p>Many people, foreigners as well as natives, were -crowding up and down the sidewalk near the fence enclosing -the carnival grounds. There were also constabulary -guards at almost every thirty spaces to prevent -the people from peeping through the fence. But in spite -of the presence of these guards some people, nevertheless, -seized the opportunity that offered now and then -while the guard was not looking, and peeped through the -fence.</p> - -<p>I then saw that I was not the only one who was -anxious to know what was going on in the hippodrome, -and, what is more, my anxiety grew stronger. Then a -moment came when I lost a little self-control, and I, too, -shared some of those opportunities that offered. But -suddenly there came the guard who warned us to stop -the business. At that very moment, an American came -along and he, too, could not help wanting to see what -was going on inside. But the guard went to him at once -and said: "No se permite eso, si tu quieres ver lo que -hay adentro, puede Vd. pasar por la puerta central." -"Vd. sabi muy bein que eso no verdad, sabi," replied -the American angrily. Then the guard told him that he -had received orders to see that people did not peep -through the fence. "To h—— with your orders!" said -the American. "Well, este habla el commanding officer," -replied the guard. "Oh, nom porta!" At this moment -an American policeman came along and asked the American -what was the matter. "This fellow wants to prevent -me from peeping through this fence when I am on neutral -ground," "Well, that is just what I am going to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_511"></a>[511]</span> -do," replied the policeman, and he again explained him -the order. "I don't care for that order!" "Well, if -you don't shut up, I shall take you to the police station!" -"You may!" Then the policeman told him to walk on; -for he did not know what he was talking about. "All -right," said the gentleman, and he walked away; but he -came back and asked the policeman what his number -was. "It makes no difference what my number is," said -the officer of the law. "Well, I want to know it." "My -number is——, and my name is——; and what's your -name?" "My name is——, and I am the <i>secretary in -the public</i>——"(!). "All right," said the policeman, -and both men took opposite directions.</p> - -<p>Two bystanders who witnessed this incident began -to argue as to what would have happened had the American -gentleman been a Filipino. One of them said that -if the man were a Filipino and had argued with the -officer of the law in that way, he would have received a -good knock on his head. The other said that he was -satisfied with the way the American policeman behaved -himself.</p> - -<p>I then returned and walked toward the central gate -of the carnival grounds, and there, to my surprise, I saw -the very same American gentleman come and walk -straight inside without saying a word to the guard. -Then a Filipino came along and asked the guard to be -allowed to go in, but, unfortunately, according to the -guard, only the stockholders were allowed to enter.</p> - -<p>Was the American gentleman a stockholder? He -alone knows.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Adolfo Scheerer. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_512"></a>[512]</span></p> - -<h3>IV. The Tale of Actual Adventure</h3> - -<p>Tales of actual adventure differ from the other true -narratives in the fact of the necessary presence of an -exciting occurrence. Danger at hand and overcome is -the keynote of the action. The happening may be -slight or tremendous, or serious or humorous; but in -every case it acquires a certain amount of dignity from -the possible disaster.</p> - -<p>The narration is usually in the first person, though -not necessarily. In the "Library of Universal Adventure," -compiled by William Dean Howells and -Thomas Sergeant Perry eighteen years ago, the larger -number of the stories are autobiographic in form. -This book is a quaint comment on Howells's non-sensationalistic -attitude of today. Though purporting to be -true, these stories are almost lurid in their romanticism. -They present man in the familiar struggle with untimely -death, led thither by various motives and accidents. -We see Pliny the Elder with insatiable curiosity -sailing calmly toward the destructive volcano; we see -the lonely scientist Audubon on his Western trip in -early America weighing his chance of life against his -watch, that is coveted by a murderous hag and her -two drunken sons; we see the runaway slave Frederick -Douglass, attempting to slip along the very precarious -underground railroad to safety; of course, there is -mutiny at sea, and shipwreck on unknown shores. Indeed, -here we find all the despised paraphernalia of -blood-curdling romance, true, with Mr. Howells's name -signed on the package.<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_513"></a>[513]</span> -Obviously such stories are written to climaxes, -though any manifest straining for emphasis in a true -narrative is resented by the reader. All the skill you -have got from your former attempts to write realistically -ought to help you here. You should put in -enough minutiæ to convince, but omit enough to be -interesting. The general effect of your style should -be that of directness and swiftness. Whatever power -of psychological analysis you have, should come to your -aid, but it should appear only in keen and brief flashes -as you hurry along with the events. Descriptive touches -of objective nature may be used for emphasis in harmony -or contrast, especially at the end or the beginning -of the adventure, though these are a somewhat -trite device. Whatever else you do, try to write simply -and naturally. Do not exaggerate. You will be judged -chiefly on your tone of veracity.</p> - -<p>There is a large and interesting field here for the -amateur writer. This type of story allies itself with the -probable adventure, and in fact is generally lost therein. -The successful authors of boys' books for the most -part make use of the coalescence. Boys at a certain -age are extremely exacting, and when their entertainers -have to relate their stories orally as well as pen -them, they are often as solicitous to find authority for -their fictions as were Macpherson and Chatterton.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_514"></a>[514]</span></p> - -<h4>The Bear-Hunt</h4> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(The adventure here narrated is one that happened to Tolstoy -himself in 1858. More than twenty years later he gave -up hunting on humanitarian grounds.)</p></div> - -<p>We were out on a bear-hunting expedition. My -comrade had shot at a bear, but only gave him a flesh -wound. There were traces of blood on the snow, but -the bear had got away.</p> - -<p>We all collected in a group in the forest to decide -whether we ought to go after the bear at once or wait -two or three days till he should settle down again. We -asked the peasant bear-drivers whether it would be -possible to get round the bear that day.</p> - -<p>"No. It's impossible," said an old bear-driver. -"You must let the bear quiet down. In five days' time -it will be possible to surround him; but if you followed -him now, you would only frighten him away and he -would not settle down."</p> - -<p>But a young bear-driver began disputing with the -old man, saying that it was quite possible to get round -the bear now.</p> - -<p>"On such snow as this," said he, "he won't go far, -for he is a fat bear. He will settle down before evening; -or, if not, I can overtake him on snow-shoes."</p> - -<p>The comrade I was with was against following up -the bear, and advised waiting. But I said:</p> - -<p>"We need not argue. You do as you like, but I will -follow up the track with Damian. If we get round the -bear, all right. If not, we lose nothing. It is still early, -and there is nothing else for us to do to-day."</p> - -<p>The others went back to the sledges and returned to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_515"></a>[515]</span> -the village. Damian and I took some bread and remained -behind in the forest.</p> - -<p>When they had all left us, Damian and I examined -our guns, and after tucking the skirts of our warm coats -into our belts, we started off, following the bear's tracks.</p> - -<p>The weather was fine, frosty and calm; but it was -hard work snow-shoeing. The snow was deep and soft; -it had not caked together at all in the forest, and fresh -snow had fallen the day before, so that our snow-shoes -sank six inches deep in the snow, and sometimes more.</p> - -<p>The bear's tracks were visible from a distance, and -we could see how he had been going; sometimes sinking -in up to his belly and ploughing up the snow as he -went. At first, while under large trees, we kept in sight -of his track; but when it turned into a thicket of small -firs, Damian stopped.</p> - -<p>"We must leave the trail now," said he. "He has -probably settled somewhere here. You can see by the -snow that he has been squatting down. Let us leave the -track and go round; but we must go quietly. Don't -shout or cough, or we shall frighten him away."</p> - -<p>Leaving the track, therefore, we turned off to the -left. But when he had gone about five hundred yards, -there were the bear's traces again right before us. We -followed them and they brought us out onto the road. -There we stopped, examining the road to see which way -the bear had gone. Here and there in the snow were -prints of the bear's paw, claws and all, and here and -there the marks of a peasant's bark shoes. The bear -had evidently gone towards the village.</p> - -<p>As we followed the road, Damian said:</p> - -<p>"It's no use watching the road now. We shall see<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_516"></a>[516]</span> -where he has turned off, to right or left, by the marks -in the soft snow at the side. He must have turned off -somewhere, for he won't have gone on to the village."</p> - -<p>We went along the road for nearly a mile, and then -saw, ahead of us, the bear's track turning off the road. -We examined it. How strange! It was a bear's track -right enough, only not going from the road into the -forest, but from the forest onto the road! The toes were -pointing towards the road.</p> - -<p>"This must be another bear," I said.</p> - -<p>Damian looked at it and considered a while.</p> - -<p>"No," said he. "It's the same one. He's been playing -tricks, and walked backwards when he left the -road."</p> - -<p>We followed the track and found it really was so! -The bear had gone some ten steps backwards, and then, -behind a fir tree, had turned round and gone straight -ahead. Damian stopped and said:</p> - -<p>"Now, we are sure to get round him. There is a -marsh ahead of us and he must have settled down there. -Let us go round it."</p> - -<p>We began to make our way round through a fir -thicket. I was tired out by this time, and it had become -still more difficult to get along. Now I glided onto -juniper bushes and caught my snow-shoes in them, now -a tiny fir tree appeared between my feet, or, from want -of practice, my snow-shoes slipped off; and now I came -upon a stump or a log hidden by the snow. I was -getting very tired, and was drenched with perspiration, -and I took off my fur cloak. And there was Damian all -the time, gliding along as if in a boat, his snow-shoes -moving as if of their own accord, never catching against<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_517"></a>[517]</span> -anything, nor slipping off. He even took my fur and -slung it over his shoulders, and still kept urging me on.</p> - -<p>We went on for two more miles, and came out on the -other side of the marsh. I was lagging behind. My -snow-shoes kept slipping off, and my feet stumbled. -Suddenly Damian, who was ahead of me, stopped and -waved his arm. When I came up to him, he bent down, -pointing with his hand and whispered:</p> - -<p>"Do you see the magpie chattering above that undergrowth? -It scents the bear from afar. That is where he -must be."</p> - -<p>We turned off and went on for more than another -half-mile, and presently we came onto the old track -again. We had, therefore, been right round the bear, -who was now within the track we had left. We stopped, -and I took off my cap and loosened all my clothes. I -was as hot as in a steam bath, and as wet as a drowned -rat. Damian, too, was flushed, and wiped his face with -his sleeve.</p> - -<p>"Well, sir", he said, "we have done our job, and -now we must have a rest."</p> - -<p>The evening glow already showed red through the -forest. We took off our snow-shoes and sat down on -them, and get some bread and salt out of our bags. First -I ate some snow, and then some bread; and the bread -tasted so good that I thought I had never in my life -had any like it before. We sat there resting until it -began to grow dusk, and then I asked Damian if it was -far to the village.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he said, "it must be above eight miles. We -will go on there tonight, but now we must rest. Put on -your fur coat, sir, or you'll be catching cold."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_518"></a>[518]</span></p> - -<p>Damian flattened down the snow, and breaking off -some fir branches made a bed of them. We lay down -side by side, resting our heads on our arms. I do not -remember how I fell asleep. Two hours later I woke up, -hearing something crack.</p> - -<p>I had slept so soundly that I did not know where I -was. I looked around me. How wonderful! I was in -some sort of a hall, all glittering and white with gleaming -pillars, and when I looked up I saw, through delicate -white tracery, a vault, raven black and studded with -coloured lights. After a good look I remembered that -we were in the forest and that what I took for a hall and -pillars were trees covered with snow and hoar-frost, and -the coloured lights were stars twinkling between the -branches.</p> - -<p>Hoar-frost had settled in the night; all the twigs -were thick with it, Damian was covered with it, it was -on my fur coat, and it dropped down from the trees. -I woke Damian, and we put on our snow-shoes and -started. It was very quiet in the forest. No sound was -heard but that of our snow-shoes pushing through the -soft snow, except when now and then a tree, cracked by -the frost, made the forest resound. Only once we heard -the sound of a living creature. Something rustled close -to us and then rushed away. I felt sure it was the bear, -but when we went to the spot whence the sound had -come we found the footmarks of hares, and saw several -young aspen trees with their bark gnawed. We had -startled some hares while they were feeding.</p> - -<p>We came out on the road and followed it, dragging -our snow-shoes behind us. It was easy walking now. -Our snow-shoes clattered as they slid behind us from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_519"></a>[519]</span> -side to side of the hard-trodden road: The snow creaked -under our boots, and the cold hoar-frost settled on our -faces like down. Seen through the branches, the stars -seemed to be running to meet us, now twinkling, now -vanishing, as if the whole sky were on the move.</p> - -<p>I found my comrade sleeping, but woke him up and -related how we had got round the bear. After telling -our peasant host to collect beaters for the morning, we -had supper and lay down to sleep.</p> - -<p>I was so tired that I could have slept on till midday -if my comrade had not roused me. I jumped up and -saw that he was already dressed and busy doing something -to his gun.</p> - -<p>"Where is Damian?" said I.</p> - -<p>"In the forest long ago. He has already been over -the tracks you made, and been back here, and now he -has gone to look after the beaters."</p> - -<p>I washed and dressed and loaded my guns, and then -we got into a sledge and started.</p> - -<p>The sharp frost still continued. It was quiet and -the sun could not be seen. There was a thick mist above -us and hoar-frost still covered everything.</p> - -<p>After driving about two miles along the road, as we -came near the forest, we saw a cloud of smoke raising -from a hollow, and presently reached a group of peasants, -both men and women, armed with cudgels.</p> - -<p>We got out and went up to them. The men sat -roasting potatoes and laughing and talking with the -women.</p> - -<p>Damian was there, too, and when we arrived the -people got up and Damian led them to place them in the -circle we had made the day before. They went along<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_520"></a>[520]</span> -in single file, men and women, thirty in all. The snow -was so deep that we could only see them from their -waists upwards. They turned into the forest and my -friend and I followed in their track.</p> - -<p>Though they had trodden a path, walking was -difficult; but, on the other hand, it was impossible to -fall; it was like walking between two walls of snow.</p> - -<p>We went on in this way for nearly half a mile, when -all at once we saw Damian coming from another direction—running -towards us on his snow-shoes and beckoning -us to join him. We went towards him and he showed -us where to stand. I took my place and looked round -me.</p> - -<p>To my left were tall fir trees, between the trunks of -which I could see a good way, and, like a black patch -just visible behind the trees, I could see a beater. In -front of me was a thicket of young firs about as high -as a man, their branches weighed down and stuck together -with snow. Through this copse ran a path thickly -covered with snow, and leading straight up to where I -stood. The thicket stretched away to the right of me and -ended in a small glade where I could see Damian placing -my comrade.</p> - -<p>I examined both my guns and considered where I had -better stand. Three steps behind me was a tall fir.</p> - -<p>"That's where I'll stand," thought I, "and then I -can lean my second gun against the tree;" and I moved -towards the tree, sinking up to my knees in the snow at -each step. I trod the snow down, and made a clearance -about a yard square to stand on. One gun I kept in my -hand; the other, ready cocked, I placed leaning up -against the tree. Then I unsheathed and replaced my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_521"></a>[521]</span> -dagger, to make sure that I could draw it easily in case -of need.</p> - -<p>Just as I had finished these preparations, I heard -Damian shouting in the forest:</p> - -<p>"He's up! He's up!"</p> - -<p>And as soon as Damian shouted, the peasants round -the circle all replied in their different voices.</p> - -<p>"Up, up, up! Ou! Ou! Ou!" shouted the men.</p> - -<p>"Ay! Ay! Ay!" screamed the women in high pitched -tones.</p> - -<p>The bear was inside the circle, and as Damian drove -him on, the people all round kept shouting. Only my -friend and I stood silent and motionless, waiting for the -bear to come towards us. As I stood gazing and listening, -my heart beat violently. I trembled, holding my -gun fast.</p> - -<p>"Now, now," I thought. "He will come suddenly. -I shall aim, fire, and he will drop—"</p> - -<p>Suddenly, to my left, but at a distance, I heard something -falling on the snow. I looked between the tall fir -trees, and, some fifty paces off, behind the trunks, saw -something big and black. I took aim and waited, thinking:</p> - -<p>"Won't he come any nearer?"</p> - -<p>As I waited I saw him move his ears, turn and go -back, and then I caught a glimpse of the whole of him -in profile. He was an immense brute. In my excitement -I fired and heard my bullet go "flop" against a -tree. Peering through the smoke I saw my bear scampering -back into the circle and disappearing among the -trees.</p> - -<p>"Well," thought I, "My chance is lost. He won't<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_522"></a>[522]</span> -come back to me. Either my comrade will shoot him or -he will escape through the line of beaters. In any case -he won't give me another chance."</p> - -<p>I reloaded my gun, however, and again stood listening. -The peasants were shouting all round, but to the -right, not far from where my comrade stood, I heard a -woman screaming in a frenzied voice:</p> - -<p>"Here he is! Here he is! Come here, come here! -Oh! Oh! Ay! Ay!"</p> - -<p>Evidently she could see the bear. I had given up expecting -him and was looking to the right at my comrade. -All at once I saw Damian with a stick in his hand, and -without his snow-shoes, running along a footpath towards -my friend. He crouched down beside him, pointing his -stick as if aiming at something, and then I saw my friend -raise his gun and aim in the same direction. Crack! -He fired.</p> - -<p>"There," thought I, "he has killed him."</p> - -<p>But I saw that my comrade did not run towards the -bear. Evidently he had missed him, or the shot had not -taken full effect.</p> - -<p>"The bear will get away," I thought. "He will go -back, but he won't come a second time towards me. But -what is that?"</p> - -<p>Something was coming towards me like a whirlwind, -snorting as it came, and I saw the snow flying up quite -near me. I glanced straight before me, and there was -the bear, rushing along the path through the thicket -right at me, evidently beside himself with fear. He was -hardly half a dozen paces off; and I could see the whole -of him—his black chest and enormous head with a reddish -patch. There he was, blundering straight at me and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_523"></a>[523]</span> -scattering the snow about as he came. I could see by his -eyes that he did not see me, but, mad with fear, was -rushing blindly along, and his path led him straight at -the tree under which I was standing. I raised my gun -and fired. He was almost upon me now, and I saw that -I had missed. My bullet had gone past him, and he did -not even hear me fire, but still came headlong towards -me. I lowered my gun and fired again, almost touching -his head. Crack! I had hit but not killed him.</p> - -<p>He raised his head and, laying his ears back, came at -me, showing his teeth.</p> - -<p>I snatched at my other gun, but almost before I had -touched it he had flown at me and, knocking me over -into the snow, had passed right over me.</p> - -<p>"Thank goodness, he has left me," thought I.</p> - -<p>I tried to rise, but something pressed me down and -prevented my getting up. The bear's rush had carried -him past me, but he had turned back and had fallen on -me with the whole weight of his body. I felt something -heavy weighing me down and something warm above my -face, and I realized that he was drawing my whole face -into his mouth. My nose was already in it, and I felt -the heat of it and smelt his blood. He was pressing my -shoulders down with his paws so that I could not move; -all I could do was to draw my head down towards my -chest, away from his mouth, trying to free my nose and -eyes, while he tried to get his teeth into them. Then I -felt that he had seized my forehead just under the hair -with the teeth of his lower jaw and the flesh below my -eyes with his upper jaw, and was closing his teeth. It -was as if my face were being cut with knives. I struggled -to get away, while he made haste to close his jaws,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_524"></a>[524]</span> -like a dog gnawing. I managed to twist my face away, -but he began drawing it again into his mouth.</p> - -<p>"Now," thought I, "my end has come!"</p> - -<p>Then I felt the weight lifted and, looking up, I saw -that he was no longer there. He had jumped off me and -run away.</p> - -<p>When my comrade and Damian had seen the bear -knock me down and begin worrying me, they rushed to -the rescue. My comrade, in his haste, blundered and, -instead of following the trodden path, ran into the deep -snow and fell down. While he was struggling out of the -snow the bear was gnawing at me. But Damian, just -as he was, without a gun and with only a stick in his -hand, rushed along the path shouting:</p> - -<p>"He's eating the master! He's eating the master!"</p> - -<p>And, as he ran, he called to the bear:</p> - -<p>"Oh, you idiot! What are you doing? Leave off! -Leave off!"</p> - -<p>The bear obeyed him and, leaving me, ran away. -When I rose there was as much blood on the snow as if a -sheep had been killed, and the flesh hung in rags above -my eyes, though in my excitement I felt no pain.</p> - -<p>My comrade had come up by this time, and the other -people collected round; they looked at my wound and -put snow on it. But I, forgetting about my wounds, -only asked:</p> - -<p>"Where's the bear? Which way has he gone?"</p> - -<p>Suddenly I heard:</p> - -<p>"Here he is! Here he is!"</p> - -<p>And we saw the bear again running at us. We seized -our guns, but before any one had time to fire he had run -past He had grown ferocious and wanted to gnaw me<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_525"></a>[525]</span> -again, but, seeing so many people, he took fright. We -saw by his track that his head was bleeding, and we -wanted to follow him up, but, as my wounds had become -very painful, we went, instead, to the town to find a -doctor.</p> - -<p>The doctor stitched up my wounds with silk and they -soon began to heal.</p> - -<p>A month later we went to hunt that bear again, but -I did not get a chance of finishing him. He would not -come out of the circle, but went round and round, growling -in a terrible voice.</p> - -<p>Damian killed him. The bear's lower jaw had -been broken and one of his teeth knocked out by my -bullet. He was a huge creature and had splendid black -fur.</p> - -<p>I had him stuffed and he now lies in my room. The -wounds on my forehead healed up so that the scars can -scarcely be seen.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Leo M. Tolstoy. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Twenty-three Tales from Tolstoy." (Oxford.) Written about -1872.</p></div> - -<h4>Saladin and I Fight an Alupong</h4> - -<p>As I remember, it was a windy afternoon in April, -1906, that I was nearly bitten by an <i>alupong</i>, a very -poisonous snake, when I was out on our farm during -harvest. The day was beginning to cool. The men and -women were busy cleaning the rice that had been -threshed the night before.</p> - -<p>I went out with my dog, Saladin, to play with the -other boy on the farm. While we were running and -jumping on the great, long pile of hay I heard my dog -barking. I quickly ran to see what was the matter.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_526"></a>[526]</span> -Saladin was leaping and running as he barked. He was -after a big snake, which from time to time stopped and -raised its crested head to bite.</p> - -<p>I was very much excited. I shouted to encourage my -dog. I took a good-sized lump of dried earth and threw -it with all my might at the snake. Then I cried to the -boys, "A snake, a snake! Come, here is a big snake! -Look!"</p> - -<p>All the boys came, but when they reached the place -the poisonous animal was gone. Saladin was standing -on his hind legs and was barking as he scratched the side -of an ant hill. I went near the dog. I saw what was -the matter. Then I turned to the boys and said, "It is -gone into this hole. Let us make it come out."</p> - -<p>I pulled up one of the poles of the fence surrounding -the place where the rice was being cleaned, and with it I -hastened back to the ant hill. Then I pushed this -pointed pole, about one and one-half inches in diameter -and four feet in length, into the hole. The other boys -were far from me, but my dog was alert near the place. -I heard the snake spit and hiss inside. Then I suddenly -pulled away the pole. When I saw the animal coming -out quickly, I speedily turned to run, but I missed my -first step and fell to the ground.</p> - -<p>You may fancy how greatly I was frightened. During -that short, critical moment I expected the deadly -bite, but to my great relief I had time to stand up without -being bitten. I looked back and saw how my dog -had saved my life. He was fighting with the snake. In -that very place the two killed each other, after a short -time.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Cecilio R. Esquivel. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_527"></a>[527]</span></p> - -<h4>I Get Two Beatings</h4> - -<p>One afternoon my mother beat me for some cause -which I have forgotten. After I had wiped my tears I -went into our orchard just across the road. It was very -nice to stay under the orange and cocoa trees because of -the sweet breeze which was coming from the river at the -end of the orchard.</p> - -<p>As I was rambling about I came to the river bank, -which is about thirty feet high. When I looked down I -saw two wild tomato plants full of red fruit. "Ah!" I -exclaimed, "what good tomato plants. I will take the -fruit home to appease mother's anger." Accordingly I -began to look for a path down to the water. The path -which I found was very steep, and so it was hard for me -to go down. When I reached the edge of the water I -saw a man catching insects to use for bait.</p> - -<p>"Where are you going, my lad?" he said.</p> - -<p>"I am going to get the fruit of those two tomato -plants. Can't you see them?" I asked, pointing to the -plants.</p> - -<p>"I tried to get those this morning, but I could not."</p> - -<p>"Anyhow, I will try," I continued.</p> - -<p>So I began to climb the steep slope with both hands -and feet. While I was climbing the man said, "Look -out. If you fall, you will surely roll into the water." -My desire to appease my mother's anger was so great -that I paid no heed to what he said. After struggling -for a few minutes I caught hold of a long root of the -<i>madre cacao</i> tree, which was growing on the bank. With -the help of this and several others I reached the place -where the tomatoes were. When I had filled one of my -pockets with the red fruits the root to which I was holding<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_528"></a>[528]</span> -broke in two and down I rolled, with my head foremost, -into the water. I should have drowned had not -the man saved me. When I was carried on land I found -out that my back was badly hurt. I had received two -wounds, one over the left eyebrow and one in the forehead, -from some thorns. The scars can be seen to this -day. When I went home my mother asked me why I -had my clothes wet. I told her the whole story, but when -she saw my wounds she became so angry that she beat -me again.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Facundo Esquivel. -</p> - -<h4>The Fall of Juan</h4> - -<p>One day while Juan, Pedro and I were in the church -tower looking at a procession, we saw a nest hanging -from the <i>cogon</i> roof. For a while no one of us seemed -to want it, but soon Juan said, "That is mine." Then -Pedro approached him, saying, "I will have it," and he -pushed Juan away. As I was very much interested in -the beautiful nest, I went near them and said, "The first -one that can get it shall have it." So I jumped and -grabbed it. Then Pedro said, "Let us divide the eggs -so that each of us will have a share."</p> - -<p>"No, no," I cried, "I must have it all."</p> - -<p>For a long time the quarrel grew worse and worse -until it finally became a fight. Then a sad thing occurred. -Pedro rushed toward me and snatched at the -nest, but I pushed him away. Then Juan came with the -same intention. Seeing that I was in danger, I laid the -nest on the floor and grasped Juan by the neck. As he -tried to throw me, I pushed him out of the door. Down, -down he went as fast as an arrow. Now all of us thought -that he would be dashed to pieces, but when, by scrambling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_529"></a>[529]</span> -and sliding, we at last reached the bottom of the -long, dark, winding stairs, we found him swelling with -pride and boasting of himself as a brave boy.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Gregorio Farrales. -</p> - -<h4>A Narrow Escape from a Wild Carabao</h4> - -<p>In 1903 I narrowly escaped being killed by a wild -carabao. There were many of us pursuing this animal, -but, after seeing that the buffalo was very fierce, all of -my companions got so afraid that they withdrew. Since -I had the best horse, I continued following the wild -beast. My ambition to distinguish myself both in horseback -riding and in catching wild cattle was great. So, -at the time when we were pursuing the animal, I had in -mind that if I alone could succeed in catching the wild -carabao, it would surely be an honor to me. So I followed -the animal closely. When I was just a few feet -behind it it suddenly turned back and fell upon my -pony. I also tried to turn back, but in vain; the carabao -overcame us. At this time I was entirely hopeless of -my life. The sharp horn of the cruel beast stuck deeply -into the thighs of my poor pony. I did not know what -to do then, for the cruel beast would surely pursue me -if I should dismount. So I grasped my saddle with all -my might. But after a while my poor pet languished -and fell. Then I did my best to get away from danger. -The carabao would have pursued me at once, but its -horns stuck tight into the muscles of my horse, and consequently -it was delayed a little. Meanwhile I got into -a cell of a big rock, and exactly at the very moment I -squeezed in the mad buffalo struck the opening with its -horns. Fortunately, the aperture was too small for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_530"></a>[530]</span> -head of the animal to enter. But still the sharp points -of its horns could reach me and I received a wound at -the back of my neck. Luckily, I had a bolo with me, and -reaching out bravely, I stabbed the nose of the cruel -beast. It surely received a severe wound. But, instead -of running away, the animal became angrier than before -and butted again and again at the opening. My eyes -were nearly struck by the sharp pointed horns. In order -to save myself from further injury I stabbed this time -one of the glowing eyes of the buffalo. Blood gushed -out at me. When the wild beast felt the pains of the -wounds it began to move away with regret. After the -carabao had gone I bemoaned the death of my favorite -pony. I decided to take revenge upon the beast. In -order to accomplish this I first went home. When I told -my parents about the accident they at once consented to -my taking their gun. So the next morning I set out -with many companions. We easily found the same wild -carabao roaming in the broad forest. It was still very -mad, for it began to chase us immediately, coming -swiftly towards us, looking sidewise with its one eye. -Without hesitation I let my bullet go and the beast fell -dead.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—José M. Cariño. -</p> - -<h3>V. The Traveler's Sketch</h3> - -<p>A traveler's sketch is an orderly and extended account -of the incidents of a journey—the sights, sounds, -experiences, impressions and conclusions of the writer. -Incidents and anecdotes may be given by the narrator -in the first or third person; but a traveler's sketch is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_531"></a>[531]</span> -always first person. There may be the other forms included, -together with descriptions and historical references; -but what makes a traveler's sketch a traveler's -sketch is the personal flavor. The question the reader -always asks is, not what kind of city is Lisbon, but -what impression did it make on Fielding.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Great -travel -books</div> - -<p>There have been only a few great travel books -written. Perhaps, because the people that are worth -while are not gadabouts; perhaps, because -only a few men are generous enough or idle -enough to give themselves over completely -to impressions; surely, because not every one who -travels has the ability to see what ought to be seen or -to express himself entertainingly after he has seen it. -The narrator needs an eye made quiet, that looks into -the heart of things. He needs also wit and a wide -humanity. If he stalks his way through a place as an -Englishman only, or if he buys it through lavishly as -an American, he will have nothing to tell that we care -to listen to. The public is not won by a string of foreign -names merely. A little trip from New York to -Boston would furnish a Smollet or a Sterne with more -observations than a journey around the world would -a dull-minded pedant. George Borrow could tell of -distributing Bibles in Spain, and yet give us one of the -best travel books in any language. Henry Fielding -could be on his death journey, as he was on his voyage -to Lisbon, and well know it, as he did, and yet he -could write with such an 'indomitable gallantry of -spirit, such an irrepressible joy of life, such an insatiably -curious eye for humanity,' such a new relish for -every fresh face, that the reader could easily imagine<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_532"></a>[532]</span> -that the laughing, genial, ironic, but altogether compassionate -and broad-minded, manly fellow had not a -care in the world.</p> - -<p>The "Voyage and Travaille of Sir John Mandeville" -is a book very precious to the English language, -if not to the history of facts. It was intended as a -road-book to the Holy Land, and was produced as early -as 1356. It is precious not only because of the marvelous -tales skillfully woven in as reports of the belief -of various cities—stories which have been inspirations -to hundreds of romancers—but because of the fact that -it was, so far as we know, the first piece of English -prose of any considerable extent to depart from the -beaten track of medieval theology and philosophy, -and the first piece of original prose to reveal any personality, -to have any style, any flavor of the author. -Altho because of its stooping to the delight that men -of that day took in marvels it places itself really in the -class of imaginary voyages, it yet belongs with good -travel books in this one essential—vivacity and personal -charm.</p> - -<p>Marco Polo, the Venetian traveler of the thirteenth -and fourteenth centuries, because of his irresponsibility -in padding his account with marvelous tales, placed -himself with Mandeville and the wonder books; but -the result of his "Travels" was scientific in the effect -his evidence that he had really been to the far East -had upon Columbus and the earlier navigators.</p> - -<p>An interesting bit of Anglo-Saxon actual travel -account is the story of Ohthere and Wulfstan inserted -by King Alfred into his translation of the "History of -Orosius," and told as the king took it down from the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_533"></a>[533]</span> -lips of these sea-rovers themselves sometime during the -ninth century.</p> - -<p>Sturdy old Sam Johnson by his "Journey to the -Western Isles" added a substantial volume to the very -short eight-or-ten-inch shelf of great travel book.</p> - -<p>In many ways Bayard Taylor was the ideal traveler, -putting himself into sympathy with the people whom -he went among, wearing their dress, eating their food, -speaking their language. But he failed to produce -great literature, for some reason or other—perhaps because -he wrote for the newspapers. His "Views Afoot, -or Europe seen with Knapsack and Staff" and other -"copy" of the sort are interesting reading, however. -Darwin's record of the Voyage of the Beagle is invaluable -to science.</p> - -<p>Richard Henry Dana's "Two Years Before the -Mast" is an excellent boys' book, and has a fine feeling -of adventure about it. But we may not mention the -work of any more travel writers, Stevenson, James, -Curtis, Stanley, Roosevelt, or others in other languages.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Fielding's -gentle -warning</div> - -<p>Many of our travel books were written as letters -and journals; some, as notes or strict diaries. You -might put your sketch into the form of a -letter to a friend. The chief thing you need -to remember in relating any journey, however -long or short, is Fielding's gentle warning to -know what to omit: "To make a traveler an agreeable -companion to a man of sense, it is necessary, not only -that he should have seen much, but that he should -have overlooked much of what he hath seen.... -<span class="sni">A motto -for the -narrator</span>[Some voyage-writers] waste their time and paper with -recording things and facts of so common a kind that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_534"></a>[534]</span> -they challenge no other right of being remembered -than as they had the honor of having happened to the -author, to whom nothing seems trivial that in any -manner happens to himself. Of such consequence do -his own actions appear to one of his kind that he would -probably think himself guilty of infidelity should he -omit the minutest thing in the detail of his journal. -That the fact is true, is sufficient to give it a place there -without any consideration whether it is capable of -pleasing or surprising, of diverting or informing -the reader." By implication Fielding -gives the travel book its motto: to please -and surprise, divert and inform.</p> - -<h4>"On the Way to Talavera"</h4> - -<p>The next day's journey brought me to a considerable -town, the name of which I have forgotten. It is the -first in New Castile, in this direction. I passed the night -as usual in the manger of the stable, close beside the -Caballeria; for, as I traveled upon a donkey, I deemed it -incumbent upon me to be satisfied with a couch in keeping -with my manner of journeying, being averse, by any -squeamish and over delicate airs, to generate a suspicion -amongst the people with whom I mingled that I am aught -higher than what my equipage and outward appearance -might lead them to believe. Rising before daylight, I -again proceeded on my way, hoping ere night to be able -to reach Talavera, which I was informed was ten leagues -distant. The way lay entirely over an unbroken level, -for the most part covered with olive trees. On the left, -however, at the distance of a few leagues, rose the mighty -mountains which I have already mentioned. They run<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_535"></a>[535]</span> -eastward in a seemingly interminable range, parallel -with the route which I was pursuing; their tops and -sides were covered with dazzling snow, and the blasts -which came sweeping from them across the wide and -melancholy plains were of bitter keenness.</p> - -<p>"What mountains are those?" I inquired of a barber-surgeon, -who, mounted like myself on a grey burra, -joined me about noon, and proceeded in my company for -several leagues. "They have many names, Caballero," -replied the barber; "according to the names of the -neighbouring places so they are called. Yon portion of -them is styled the Serriania of Plasencia; and opposite -to Madrid they are termed the Mountains of Guadarama, -from a river of that name which descends from them; -they run a vast way, Caballero, and separate the two -kingdoms, for on the other side is Old Castile. They are -mighty mountains, and though they generate much cold, -I take pleasure in looking at them, which is not to be -wondered at, seeing that I was born among them, though -at present, for my sins, I live in a village of the plain. -Caballero, there is not another such range in Spain; they -have their secrets, too—their mysteries—strange tales -are told of those hills, and of what they contain in their -deep recesses, for they are a broad chain, and you may -wander days and days amongst them without coming to -any termino. Many have lost themselves on those hills, -and have never again been heard of. Strange things are -told of them; it is said that in a certain place there are -deep pools and lakes in which dwell monsters, huge -serpents as long as a pine tree, and horses of the flood, -which sometimes come out and commit mighty damage. -One thing is certain, that yonder, far away to the west,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_536"></a>[536]</span> -in the heart of those hills, there is a wonderful valley, so -narrow that only at midday is the face of the sun to be -descried from it. That valley lay undiscovered and unknown -for thousands of years; no person dreamed of -its existence, but at last, a long time ago, certain hunters -entered it by chance, and then what do you think they -found, Caballero? They found a small nation or tribe -of unknown people, speaking an unknown language, who -perhaps, had lived there since the creation of the world, -without intercourse with the rest of their fellow -creatures, and without knowing that other beings besides -themselves existed! Caballero, did you never hear -of the valley of the Batuecas? Many books have been -written about that valley and those people, Caballero, I -am proud of yonder hills; and were I independent, and -without wife or children, I would purchase a burra like -that of your own, which I see is an excellent one, and far -superior to mine, and travel amongst them till I knew -all their mysteries, and had seen all the wondrous things -they contain."</p> - -<p>Throughout the day I pressed the burra forward, only -stopping once in order to feed the animal; but, notwithstanding -that she played her part very well, night came -on, and I was still about two leagues from Talavera. As -the sun went down, the cold became intense; I drew the -old Gypsy cloak, which I still wore, closer around me, -but I found it quite inadequate to protect me from the -inclemency of the atmosphere. The road, which lay over -a plain, was not very distinctly traced, and became in -the dusk rather difficult to find, more especially as cross -roads leading to different places were of frequent occurrence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_537"></a>[537]</span></p> - -<p>I however, proceeded in the best manner I could, -and when I became dubious as to the course which -I should take, I invariably allowed the animal on which -I was mounted to decide. At length the moon shone out -faintly, when suddenly by its beams I beheld a figure -moving before me at a slight distance. I quickened the -pace of the burra, and was soon close at its side. It -went on, neither altering its pace nor looking round for -a moment. It was the figure of a man, the tallest and -bulkiest that I had hitherto seen in Spain, dressed in a -manner strange and singular for the country. On his -head was a hat with a low crown and broad brim, very -much resembling that of an English waggoner; about his -body was a long loose tunic or slop, seemingly of coarse -ticken, open in front, so as to allow the interior garments -to be occasionally seen; these appeared to consist -of a jerkin and short velveteen pantaloons. I have said -that the brim of the hat was broad, but broad as it was, -it was insufficient to cover an immense bush of coal-black -hair, which, thick and curly, projected, on either side; -over the left shoulder was flung a kind of satchel, and in -the right hand was held a long staff or pole.</p> - -<p>There was something peculiarly strange about the -figure, but what struck me the most was the tranquility -with which it moved along, taking no heed of me, though -of course aware of my proximity, but looking straight -forward along the road, save when it occasionally raised -a huge face and large eyes toward the moon, which was -now shining forth in the eastern quarter.</p> - -<p>"A cold night," said I at last. "Is this the way to -Talavera?"</p> - -<p>"It is the way to Talavera, and the night is cold."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_538"></a>[538]</span></p> - -<p>"I am going to Talavera," said I, "as I suppose you -are yourself."</p> - -<p>"I am going thither, so are you, <i>Bueno</i>."</p> - -<p>The tones of the voice which delivered these words -were in their way quite as strange and singular as the -figure to which the voice belonged; they were not exactly -the tones of a Spanish voice, and yet there was something -in them that could hardly be foreign; the pronunciation -also was correct, and the language, though singular, -faultless. But I was most struck with the manner -in which the last word, <i>bueno</i>, was spoken. I had heard -something like it before, but where or when I could by -no means remember. A pause now ensued; the figure -stalking on as before with the most perfect indifference, -and seemingly with no disposition either to seek or avoid -conversation.</p> - -<p>"Are you not afraid," said I at last, "to travel these -roads in the dark? It is said that there are robbers -abroad."</p> - -<p>"Are you not rather afraid," replied the figure, "to -travel these roads in the dark?—you who are ignorant of -the country, who are a foreigner, an Englishman?"</p> - -<p>"How is it that you know me to be an Englishman?" -demanded I, much surprised.</p> - -<p>"That is no difficult matter," replied the figure; -"the sound of your voice was enough to apprise me -of that."</p> - -<p>"You speak of voices," said I; "suppose the tone of -your own voice were to tell me who you are?"</p> - -<p>"That it will not do," replied my companion; "you -know nothing about me—you can know nothing about -me."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_539"></a>[539]</span></p> - -<p>"Be not sure of that, my friend; I am acquainted -with many things of which you have little idea."</p> - -<p>"For example," said the figure.</p> - -<p>"For example," said I, "you speak two languages."</p> - -<p>The figure moved on, seemed to consider a moment -and then said slowly, <i>bueno</i>.</p> - -<p>"You have two names," I continued; "one for the -house and the other for the street; both are good, but -the one by which you are called at home is the one which -you like best."</p> - -<p>The man walked on about ten paces, in the same manner -as he had previously done; all of a sudden he turned, -and taking the bridle of the burra gently in his hand, -stopped her. I had now a full view of his face and -figure, and those huge features and Herculean form still -occasionally revisit me in my dreams. I see him standing -in the moonshine, staring me in the face with his -deep calm eyes. At last he said:</p> - -<p>"Are you then one of us?"</p> - -<p class="right"> -—George Borrow. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"The Bible in Spain." The World's Classics (Oxford Press).</p></div> - -<h4>"Smyrna: First Glimpses of the East"</h4> - -<p>"I am glad that the Turkish part of Athens was -extinct, so that I should not be baulked of the pleasure -of entering an Eastern town by an introduction to any -garbled or incomplete specimen of one. Smyrna seems -to me the most Eastern of all have seen; as Calais will -probably remain to the Englishman, the most French -town in the world. The jack-boots of the postilions don't -seem so huge elsewhere, or the tight stockings of the -maid-servants so Gallic. The churches and the ramparts<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_540"></a>[540]</span> -and the little soldiers on them, remain forever impressed -upon your memory; from which larger temples and -buildings, and whole armies have subsequently disappeared; -and the first words of actual French heard -spoken, and the first dinner at 'Quillacq's' remain after -twenty years as clear as on the first day. Dear Jones, -can't you remember the exact smack of the white -hermitage, and the toothless old fellow singing 'Largo -al factotum?'"</p> - -<p>The first day in the East is like that. After that -there is nothing. The wonder is gone, and the thrill of -that delightful shock, which so seldom touches the nerves -of plain men of the world, though they seek for it everywhere. -One such looked out at Smyrna from our steamer -and yawned without the least excitement, and did not -betray the slightest emotion, as boats with real Turks -on board came up to the ship. There lay the town -with minarets and cypresses, domes and castles; great -guns were firing off, and the blood-red flag of the Sultan -flaring over the gulf's edge, and as you looked at them -with the telescope, there peered out of the general mass -a score of pleasant episodes of Eastern life—there were -cottages with quaint roofs; silent cool kioska, where the -chief of the eunuchs brings down the ladies of the harem. -I saw Hassan, the fisherman, getting his nets; and Ali -Baba going off with his donkey to the great forest for -wood. Smith looked at these wonders quite unmoved; -and I was surprised at his apathy; but he had been at -Smyrna before. A man only sees the miracle once: -though you yearn after it ever so, it won't come again. -I saw nothing of Ali Baba and Hassan the next time we -came to Smyrna, and had some doubts (recollecting the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_541"></a>[541]</span> -badness of the inn) about landing at all. A person who -wishes to understand France and the East should come -in a yacht to Calais or Smyrna, land for two hours, and -never afterward go back again.</p> - -<p>But those two hours are beyond measure delightful. -Some of us were querulous up to that time and doubted -of the wisdom of making the voyage. Lisbon, we owned, -was a failure. Athens a dead failure; Malta very well, -but not worth the trouble and seasickness; in fact, Baden-Baden -or Devonshire would be a better move than this; -when Smyrna came and rebuked all mutinous Cockneys -into silence. Some men may read this who are in want -of a sensation. If they love the odd and picturesque, if -they loved the "Arabian Nights" in their youth, let -them book themselves on board one of the Peninsular and -Oriental vessels and try one <i>dip</i> into Constantinople or -Smyrna. Walk into the bazaar and the East is unveiled -to you; how often and often have you tried to fancy -this, lying out on a summer holiday at school! It is -wonderful, too, how <i>like</i> it is; you may imagine that you -have been in the place before, you seem to know it so -well!</p> - -<p>"The beauty of that poetry is, to me, that it was -never too handsome; there is no fatigue of sublimity -about it. Schacabac and the little Barber play as great -a part in it as the heroes; there are no uncomfortable -sensations of terror; you may be familiar with the great -Afreet, who was going to execute the travelers for killing -his son with a date stone. Morgiana, when she kills -the Forty Robbers with boiling oil, does not seem to hurt -them in the least; and though King Schahrier makes a -practice of cutting off his wives' heads, yet you fancy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_542"></a>[542]</span> -they got them on again in some of the back rooms of the -palace, where they are dancing and playing on dulcimers. -How fresh, easy, good-natured is all this! How -delightful is that notion of the pleasant Eastern people -about knowledge, where the height of science is made to -consist in the answering of riddles and all the mathematicians -and magicians bring their great beards to bear -on a conundrum!</p> - -<p>"When I got into the bazaar among this race, somehow -I felt as if they were all friends. There sat the -merchants in their little shops, quiet and solemn, but -with friendly looks. There was no smoking, it was the -Ramazan; no eating—the fish and meats fizzing in the -enormous pots of the cook-shops are only for the -Christians. The children abounded; the law is not so -stringent upon them, and many wandering merchants -were there selling figs (in the name of the Prophet, -doubtless), for their benefit, and elbowing onward with -baskets of grapes and cucumbers. Countrymen passed -bristling over with arms, each with a huge bellyful of -pistols and daggers in his girdle; fierce, but not the -least dangerous. Wild swarthy Arabs, who had come -in with the caravans, walked solemnly about, very different -in look and demeanor from the sleek inhabitants -of the town. Greeks and Jews squatted and smoked, -their shops tended by sallow-faced boys, with large -eyes, who smiled and welcomed you in; negroes bustled -about in gaudy colors; and women, with black nose-bags -and shuffling yellow slippers chattered and bargained at -the doors of the little shops. There was the rope quarter -and the sweetmeat quarter, and the pipe bazaar and the -arm bazaar, and the little turned-up shoe quarter, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_543"></a>[543]</span> -the shops where ready-made jackets and pelisses were -swinging, and the region where, under the ragged awnings, -regiments of tailors were at work. The sun peeps -through these awnings of mat or canvas, which are -hung over the narrow lanes of the bazaar and ornaments -them with a thousand freaks of light and shadow. Cogia -Hassan Alhabbal's shop is in a blaze of light; while his -neighbor, the barber and coffee-house keeper, has his -premises, his low seats and narghilés, his queer pots -and basins, in the shade. The cobblers are always good-natured; -there was one who, I am sure, has been revealed -to me in my dreams, in a dirty old green turban, -with a pleasant wrinkled face like an apple; twinkling -his little gray eyes as he held them up to the gossips, -and smiling under a delightful old gray beard, which -did the heart good to see. You divine the conversation -between him and the cucumber man, as the Sultan used -to understand the language of birds. Are any of those -cucumbers stuffed with pearls, and is that Armenian -with the black square turban Haroun Alraschid in disguise, -standing yonder by the fountain where the children -are drinking—the gleaming marble fountain, -checked all over with light and shadow, and engraved -with delicate Arabesques and sentences from the -Koran?</p> - -<p>"But the greatest sensation of all is when the camels -come. Whole strings of real camels, better even than in -the procession of Blue Beard, with soft rolling eyes and -bended necks, swaying from one side of the bazaar to -the other to and fro, and treading gingerly with their -great feet. Oh, you fairy dreams of boyhood! Oh, you -sweet meditations of half-holidays, here you are realized<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_544"></a>[544]</span> -for half an hour! The genius which presides over youth -led up to do a good action that day. There was a man -sitting in an open room ornamented with fine long-tailed -sentences of the Koran; some in red, some in blue; -some written diagonally over the paper; some so shaped -as to represent ships, dragons, or mysterious animals. -The man squatted on a carpet in the middle of this room, -with folded arms, waggling his head to and fro, swaying -about, and singing through his nose choice phrases from -the sacred work. But from the room above came a clear -voice of many little shouting voices, much more musical -than that of Naso in the matted parlor, and the guide -told us it was a school, so we went upstairs to look.</p> - -<p>"I declare, an my conscience, the master was in the -act of bastinadoing a little mulatto boy; his feet were -in a bar, and the brute was laying on with a cane; so -we witnessed the howling of the poor boy, and the confusion -of the brute who was administering the correction. -The other children were made to shout, I believe, -to drown the noise of their little comrade's howling; but -the punishment was instantly discontinued as our hats -came up over the stair-trap, and the boy cast loose, and -the bamboo huddled into a corner, and the schoolmaster -stood before us abashed. All the small scholars in red -caps, and the little girls in gaudy handkerchiefs turned -their big wondering dark eyes toward us; and the caning -was over for <i>that</i> time, let us trust. I don't envy some -schoolmasters in a future state. I pity that poor little -blubbering Mahometan; he will never be able to relish -the 'Arabian Nights' in the original as long as he -lives.</p> - -<p>"From this scene we rushed off somewhat discomposed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_545"></a>[545]</span> -to make a breakfast off red mullets and grapes, -melons, pomegranates, and Smyrna wine, at a dirty little -comfortable inn to which we were recommended; and -from the windows of which we had a fine, cheerful view -of the gulf and its busy craft, and the loungers and -merchants along the shore. There were camels unloading -at one wharf, and piles of melons much bigger than -the Gibraltar cannon-balls at another. It was the fig -season, and we passed through several alleys encumbered -with long rows of fig-dressers, children and women for -the most part, who were packing the fruit diligently into -drums, dipping them in salt water first, and spreading -them neatly over with leaves; while the figs and leaves -are drying, large white worms crawl out of them and -swarm over the decks of the ships which carry them to -Europe and to England, where small children eat them -with pleasure—I mean the figs, not the worms—and -where they are still served at wine parties at the universities. -When fresh they are not better than elsewhere; -but the melons are of admirable flavor, and so -large that Cinderella might almost be accommodated -with a coach made of a big one, without any very great -distention of its original proportions.</p> - -<p>"Our guide, an accomplished swindler, demanded two -dollars as the fee for entering the mosque, which others -of our party subsequently saw for sixpence, so we did -not care to examine that place of worship. But there -were other cheaper sights, which were to the full as -picturesque, for which there was no call to pay money, -or indeed, for a day, scarcely to move at all. I doubt -whether a man who would smoke his pipe on a bazaar -counter all day, and let the city flow by him, would not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_546"></a>[546]</span> -be almost as well employed as the most active curiosity -hunter.</p> - -<p>"To be sure he would not see the women. Those in -the bazaar were shabby people for the most part, whose -black masks nobody would feel a curiosity to remove. -You could see no more of their figure than if they had -been stuffed in holsters; and even their feet were brought -to a general splay uniformity by the double yellow slippers -which the wives of true believers wear. But it is -in the Greek and Armenian quarters, and among those -poor Christians who were pulling figs, that you see the -beauties; and a man of a generous disposition may lose -his heart half a dozen times a day in Smyrna. There -was the pretty maid at work at a tambour frame in an -open porch, with an old duenna spinning by her side, -and a goat tied up to the railings of the little court -garden; there was the nymph who came down the stair -with the pitcher on her head, and gazed with great calm -eyes, as large and stately as Juno's; there was the gentle -mother, bending over a queer cradle, in which lay a -small crying bundle of infancy. All these three charmers -were seen in a single street in the Armenian quarter, -where the house doors are all open, and the women of -the families sit under the arches in the court. There -was the fig girl, beautiful beyond all others, with an -immense coil of deep black hair twisted round a head -of which Raphael was worthy to draw the outline, and -Titian to paint the color. I wonder the Sultan has not -swept her off, or that the Persian merchants, who come -with silks and sweetmeats have not kidnapped her for -the Shah of Tehean.</p> - -<p>"We went to see the Persian merchants at their khan,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_547"></a>[547]</span> -and purchased some silks there from a swarthy, black-bearded -man with a conical cap of lambswool. Is it -not hard to think that silks bought of a man in a lambswool -cap, in a caravanseria, brought hither on the backs -of camels, should have been manufactured after all at -Lyons? Others of our party bought carpets, for which -the town is famous; and there was one absolutely laid -in a stock of real Smyrna figs, and purchased three or -four real Smyrna sponges for his carriage; so strong -was his passion for the genuine article.</p> - -<p>"I wonder that no painter has given us familiar -views of the East; not processions, grand sultans, or -magnificent landscapes, but faithful transcripts of everyday -Oriental life, such as each street will supply to him. -The camels afford endless motives, couched in the market -places, lying by thousands in the camel square, snorting -and bubbling after their manner, the sun blazing down -on their backs, their slaves and keepers lying behind -them in the shade; and the Caravan Bridge, above all, -would afford a painter subjects for a dozen of pictures. -Over this Roman arch, which crosses the Meles river, all -the caravans pass on their entrance to the town. On one -side, as we sat and looked at it, was a great row of plane -trees; on the opposite bank a deep wood of tall cypresses, -in the midst of which rose up innumerable gray tombs, -surmounted with the turbans of the defunct believers. -Beside the stream the view was less gloomy. There was -under the plane trees a little coffee house, shaded by -a trellis-work, covered over with a vine and ornamented -with many rows of shining pots and water-pipes, for -which there was no use at noonday now, in the time of -Ramazan.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_548"></a>[548]</span></p> - -<p>"Hard by the coffee house was a garden and a bubbling -marble fountain, and over the stream was a broken -summerhouse, to which amateurs may ascend for the -purpose of examining the river, and all round the plane -trees plenty of stools for those who were inclined to sit -and drink sweet, thick coffee or cool lemonade made of -fresh green citrons. The master of the house, dressed -in a white turban and light blue pelisse, lolled under the -coffee-house awning; the slave in white with a crimson -striped jacket, his face as black as ebony, brought up -pipes and lemonade again, and returned to his station -at the coffee house, where he curled his black legs together -and began singing out of his flat nose to the -thrumming of a long guitar with wire string. The -instrument was not bigger than a soup ladle, with a -long straight handle, but its music pleased the performer, -for his eyes rolled shining about, and his head -wagged, and he grinned with an innocent intensity of -enjoyment that did one good to look at. And there was -a friend to share his pleasure; a Turk dressed in scarlet -and covered all over with dagger and pistols, sat leaning -forward on his little stool, rocking about and grinning -quite as eagerly as the black minstrels. As he sang -and we listened, figures of women bearing pitchers went -passing over the Roman bridge which we saw between -the large trunks of the planes; or gray forms of camels -were seen stalking across it, the string preceded by the -little donkey, who is always here their long-eared conductor.</p> - -<p>"These are very humble incidents of travel. Wherever -the steamboat touches the shore adventure retreats -into the interior, and what is called romance vanishes.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_549"></a>[549]</span> -It won't bear the vulgar gaze; or rather the light of -common day puts it out, and it is only in the dark that -it shines at all. There is no cursing and insulting of -Giaours now. If a cockney looks or behaves in a particularly -ridiculous way, the little Turks come out and -laugh <span class="err" title="original: it">at</span> him. A Londoner is no longer a spittoon for -true believers; and now that dark Hassan sits in his -divan and drinks champagne, and Selim has a French -watch, and Zuleika perhaps takes Morrison's pills, -Byronism becomes absurd instead of sublime, and is -only a foolish expression of cockney wonder. They still -occasionally beat a man for going into a mosque, but this -is almost the only sign of ferocious vitality left in the -Turk of the Mediterranean coast, and strangers may -enter scores of mosques without molestation. The -paddlewheel is the great conqueror. Wherever the captain -cries 'Stop her!' civilization stops, and lands in the -ship's boat, and makes a permanent acquaintance with -the savages on shore. Whole hosts of crusaders have -passed and died and butchered here in vain. But to -manufacture European iron into pikes and helmets was -a waste of metal; in the shape of piston rods and furnace -pokers it is irresistible; and I think an allegory might -be made showing how much stronger commerce is than -chivalry, and finishing with a grand image of Mahomet's -crescent being extinguished in Fulton's boiler.</p> - -<p>"This I thought was the moral of the day's sights -and adventures. We pulled off the steamer in the afternoon—the -Inbat blowing fresh and setting all the craft -in the gulf dancing over its blue waters. We were -presently under weigh again, the captain ordering his -engines to work only at half power, so that a French<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_550"></a>[550]</span> -steamer which was quitting Smyrna at the same time -might come up with us and fancy she could beat the -irresistible <i>Tagus</i>. Vain hope! Just as the Frenchman -neared us, the <i>Tagus</i> shot out like an arrow and the discomfited -Frenchman went behind. Though we all -relished the joke exceedingly, there was a French gentleman -on board who did not seem to be by any means -tickled with it; but he had received papers at Smyrna -containing news of Marshal Bugeaud's victory at Isley -and had this land victory to set against our harmless -little triumph at sea.</p> - -<p>"That night we rounded the Island of Mitylene, and -next day the coast of Troy was in sight, and the tomb -of Achilles—a dismal-looking mound that rises on a low, -dreary, barren shore—less lively and not more picturesque -than the Schelot or the mouth of the Thames. -Then we passed Tenedos and the forts and town at the -mouth of the Dardanelles. The weather was not too hot, -the water as smooth as at Putney, and everybody happy -and excited at the thought of seeing Constantinople tomorrow. -We had music on board all the way from -Smyrna. A German <i>commis voyageur</i>, with a guitar, -who had passed unnoticed until that time, produced his -instrument about midday and began to whistle waltzes. -He whistled so divinely that the ladies left their cabins -and men laid down their books. He whistled a polka so -bewitchingly that two young Oxford men began whirling -round the deck and performed that popular dance with -much agility until they sank down tired. He still continued -an unabated whistling, and as nobody would -dance, pulled off his coat, produced a pair of castanets -and whistling a mazurka, performed it with tremendous<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_551"></a>[551]</span> -agility. His whistling made everybody gay and happy—made -those acquainted who had not spoken before, and -inspired such a feeling of hilarity in the ship that that -night, as we floated over the Sea of Marmora, a general -vote was expressed for broiled bones and a regular supper -party. Punch was brewed and speeches were made, -and, after a lapse of fifteen years, I heard the 'Old English -Gentleman' and 'Bright Chanticleer Proclaims the -Morn,' sung in such style that you would almost fancy -the proctors must hear and send us all home."</p> - -<p class="right"> -—William Makepeace Thackeray. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"A Journey from Cornhill to Cairo."</p></div> - -<h4>A Trip from Currimao to Laoag</h4> - -<p>Late in the afternoon of last April third, Mr. C. -Guia and I left Currimao for San Nicolas and Laoag, -respectively. We traveled in a cart drawn by a fat -gray cow.</p> - -<p>At first it was not altogether pleasant to go now up -then down the irregular road, and besides, the cart—a -shoe-box-shaped sort of buggy with bamboo sides and -floor—was far from being comfortable. The driver was -a sturdy broad-shouldered country fellow, dressed in a -red home-spun shirt worn outside of his tight dark-green -trousers, rolled up above his knees. His big bolo, suspended -from his tough belt that he wore outside, was -at his left; while his callugung—a saucer-shaped hat -made from a dried wild squash—was dangling at his -right.</p> - -<p>Since we left Currimao he had not addressed us a -single word, but all of a sudden when the cart stopped -in front of a ragged cottage, he cried out loud as if we<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_552"></a>[552]</span> -were deaf, "Apu, arac quen maiz," which means, "Sirs, -wine and corn." Mr. Guia and I rose from our squatting -posture on the floor by the side of our steamer -trunks and suit cases and got down to buy for our driver -the things that he needed.</p> - -<p>When we entered, the inner appearance of the cottage -in the dim light of a small oil lamp hanging from -the middle of the ceiling aroused somewhat my pity for -the occupants. In one corner a rather old though fat -woman was cooking supper, while in another corner -were fishing nets, a new plow, a hunting spear and a -callugung. In the corner near the door were rough boxes -on which were ragged mats and red pillows. In the -middle of the room was a basket of corn which an old, -muscular man was husking when we entered and which -he left to attend to our needs. We were invited to sit -on a long bamboo bench which occupied one side of the -room and where we remained as mute as statues until -our driver, having filled his stomach with vino and -having given his animal enough corn, summoned us to -continue our journey.</p> - -<p>We went out, and as the moon was now shining -brightly, we had a front view of the cottage. The cogon -roof, on which were perched some chickens, was pyramid-like, -and the walls, broken at places but patched -with rice-sacks through which the dim light of the lamp -was visible, were made of bamboo. The porch, at the -middle of which was a wooden staircase shaded by broad -eaves, was piled full of corn.</p> - -<p>After we paid the old man for what he supplied our -now half-drunk driver, we again assumed our uncomfortable -position in the cart. The road was now smooth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_553"></a>[553]</span> -and I was surprised to find ourselves suffering still the -disagreeable upward and downward movement of the -cart. I examined the two solid wooden wheels, and I -found that they were not round, but oval. But the -beautiful panorama of the country soon made me forget -my discomfort in the cart. On our left and right were -square rice-fields—some yellow with ripe grain and -others green with young leaves—dotted here and there -with hamlets or solitary trees so that they resembled a -checker-board.</p> - -<p>All the while that I was admiring this view, Mr. -Guia seemed to be buried in deep thought. We were -cabin-mates in the steamship <i>Bustamante</i> that brought -us from Manila, and therefore I had known him for but -three days, during which he was always cheerful and -gay. But now what a sad and mournful countenance! -His youthful and oval face, hitherto jovial and beaming -with health, was pale. I was very sorry to see my companion -thus afflicted with grief, and I said in a sympathetic -voice, "Mr. Guia, are you sick?" He answered, -"No, I am not. But, my friend, my mo-mo-mother died -nine days ago, and that's why, as you see, I am mourning." -Indeed, he was mourning, for he wore a black cap, -suit, tie and shoes. I dared not continue our conversation -along that line, for I knew it would but grieve him the -more. So I expressed my condolence by silence. After a -moment of quietude he told the driver something in -Ilocano which I did not understand.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the driver began to sing with a tremulous -voice a common country ditty called "Dalla-dalluc." -As it was getting late, I was soon lulled into a sound -sleep. I think I had slept for about two hours when a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_554"></a>[554]</span> -loud barking of five dogs awoke me. When I looked -around, I found that we were in a town, for we were -passing by a church whose stone wall was black with -moss and at whose rear a river was flowing. I asked -Mr. Guia in what town we were and he answered, "Why, -we are in San Nicolas now." I replied, "Then here we -part." He exclaimed, "Oh, no! You are very tired, -and it would be better for you to spend the rest of the -night at my house. Besides you will not, I am sure, be -able to wake the <i>banquero</i> (boatman), for it is now past -midnight. To-night is also the celebration of what we -call <i>Umbras</i> in honor of my dead mother, and I should -like you to be my special guest." I thanked him very -much for his kind invitation, and, of course, in the face -of the obstacle he foretold, I was glad enough to accept.</p> - -<p>The cart turned a corner and stopped suddenly in -front of a somewhat large wooden corrugated iron roofed -house—a typical town residence in the Philippines. We -got down immediately from the cart, and we were met -at the gate by a boy of about fifteen years of age. After -Mr. Guia told the boy to look to our baggage, he conducted -me to the sala, where he met his relatives.</p> - -<p>While the affectionate greetings were going on between -Mr. Guia and his family, I had time to observe -all that was in the room. In one corner were young -women and young men playing cards around a circular -marble table, while in another corner were old women, -talking of the high merits of the departed one. In the -corner near the door where I was standing, a crowd of -old fellows were drinking <i>basi</i>—a wine made from sugar -cane—and I noticed our driver joining them. The walls -seemed to be very plain; indeed all the decorations were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_555"></a>[555]</span> -covered with black cloth. In the center of the <i>sala</i> was -a large rectangular table on which were different kinds -of food ready to be eaten. The viands, however, were -cold, so I judged that the table must have been set early -in the evening.</p> - -<p>As I was wondering why the table was placed there, -Mr. Guia came and took me into his room where my -baggage was put. My thought was still centered upon -the table, and my curiosity led me to ask my friend about -it. Before he answered me, he smiled, and then -said, "You must know that it is the custom of the -Ilocanos the ninth night after the death of any grown-up -person to celebrate a mourning festival called <i>Umbars</i>. -Each friend of the dead person brings during that day -food either cooked or uncooked. That on the table is -the cooked food, which is considered to be sacred and -which, as you have just seen, is being watched by the -people in the room. Nobody is supposed to touch the -food before the prayer, which will begin at three o'clock. -After the prayer is over, which will last for about two -hours, then all the guests will eat the food, but at the -head of the table a vacant seat is left for the spirit of -the dead to sit. After the feast the guests depart, and -the festival ends."</p> - -<p>During the time that Mr. Guia was explaining to -me the <i>Umbras</i>, I was able to wash myself and to change -my traveling suit. So after he finished, he conducted -me into the dining-room where we both ate a hearty -meal. Naturally, after we had finished eating, we joined -the company of young men and young women, to each -of whom I was introduced and with whom we played -cards until the time for prayers. In the midst of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_556"></a>[556]</span> -prayer I asked the permission of Mr. Guia to go to his -room to pack up my things so that I should be able to -leave after the prayer.</p> - -<p>When all the guests had departed, I bade good-bye -to my friend and his sorrow-stricken relatives. Within -fifteen minutes I reached Laoag, and was once more safe -in the hands of a brother with whom I spent a pleasant -three weeks' sojourn.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Fernando M. Maramág. -</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_557"></a>[557]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII -<br /> - -PERSONAL ACCOUNTS</h2> - -<p>Within the group of personal accounts come the more-or-less -extended records of the sayings and doings of -men and women in their most acute individuality. It is -intimate, detailed living that is expressed in a diary, in -memoirs, or a biography. These have a peculiar charm. -We expect endearing things in a diary, interesting ones -in an autobiography, and, if not surprisingly informing, -then surely upright and praiseworthy ones, often patriotic, -in a biography.</p> - -<h3>I. Journal and Diary</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Definition</div> - -<p>As words, journal and diary mean the same thing. -They both denote a daily record. Journal comes immediately -from the French <i>jour</i> meaning day, -and remotely from the same Latin word from which we -get diurnal. Diary comes directly from the Latin <i>dies</i>. -If there be any difference in the use of the titles, it lies -in the object the maker of the daily record has in -mind. A journal is written for a reader. A diary is -kept for the writer's own amusement or profit. Both -mix little and great affairs promiscuously.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">The range -of journals</div> - -<p>A journal, of course, is likely to treat of a fewer -number of trivial things than is a diary, and oftener<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_558"></a>[558]</span> -the less personal, though Swift's wonderful "Journal -to Stella," written in the little language and meant for -"no eye but hers and the faithful Dingley's" -is as personal as can be. James -Madison's stately record of the American Constitutional -Convention stands at the antipodes, we might -say; and Hesdin's "Journal of a Spy in Paris during -the Reign of Terror," far off to the right perhaps; and -the Swiss poet, Henri Fréderic Amiel's private philosophical -and moral reflections, his "Journal Intime," -far to the left. In the middle might come the travelers' -journals—like Fielding's "Voyage to Lisbon" and -Montaigne's "Voyage in Italy," or even John C. -Fremont's soldier explorations—as typical of the daily -record that is personal, yet not intensely so, and is -written to be read.</p> - -<p>A quaint and at once extremely romantic travel-journal -of this sort is the <i>Vida del Gran Tamurlan</i>, -perhaps the oldest piece of travel writing in Spanish -literature. It is the daily record of the voyages and -residences of the ambassadors of Henry the Third on a -diplomatic mission to Tamburlane the Great—that -same old Tartar potentate and conqueror whom Marlowe -made immortal by putting into his mouth those -high-astounding terms and that flowing blank verse, -which so exactly suited his character as well as Marlowe's -own. The adventures of this embassy were -minutely written down by Ruy Gonsalez de Clavijo -from May, 1403, when it started, to March, 1406, when -it returned. In the report he describes the city of -Constantinople which the ambassadors passed through -when it was at the height of its tottering greatness.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_559"></a>[559]</span> -An incident recorded is very quaint. These fifteenth -century public servants, extremely human and not at -all unlike our modern ones, were desirous when off on -special business not only to serve their government -well but also to do as much sight-seeing on their own -account as possible. Hence they haunted the churches -and other places of relics. But one day they failed to -see all they wished to in the church of San Juan de la -Piedra, and for the following reason, bless you! "The -Emperor went to hunt, and left the keys with the -Empress his wife, and when she gave them she forgot -to give those where the said relics were, etc., etc." -Delicious episode! Exactly the essence of this type of -narrative. It makes one suspect that despite all the -pompous history that has been got together about them -the kings and queens of old were really human beings. -But Clavijo was writing a journal as well as a diary, -for he tells us of bigger things. He and his two friends -go on to Samarcand and find the great Conqueror and -experience his lavish hospitality in a series of magnificent -festivals, but, strange to say, witness also his -death; at least he dies when they are at his court, and -Clavijo tells of the troubles the embassy had therefore -in getting ready to return. Argote de Molina, in 1582, -a hundred and seventy-six years later, wrote a <i>discourso</i> -upon Clavijo and got out the first public edition -of this journal, which, for the sake of sales probably, -he called "The Life of the Great Tamerlane," a thing -it was not, but only partly. Marlowe wrote his "Tamburlane" -in 1586 or 1587. He might well have seen -Clavijo's journal.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Great -diaries</div> - -<p>Diary is for the most part more intimate, more<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_560"></a>[560]</span> -private than journal, though a diary need not necessarily -be private. In fact a writer of such a record -sometimes hands it about among his friends—that -is, part of it. Other parts he invariably -keeps to himself, either never to be read by another or -to be read only after the writer has ceased to live or -has ceased to care about the effect of his words. The -astoundingly frank and intimate diary of the famous -Samuel Pepys, kept up by him through the first nine -years of the Restoration, has only just now reached its -complete publication. Details at first suppressed for -one reason or another have, as they have been made -public from time to time, gradually changed the -world's conception of the character of this bustling -servant of the crown. And not strange to say; for a -diary of all forms of writing is the most revealing. -John Evelyn, the friend and patron of Pepys, wrote -himself down no less surely a non-genius than Pepys -wrote himself a genius. They both, however, give us, -in addition to a knowledge of their personal affairs, -invaluable pictures of the men and doings of their day. -Fanny Burney's "Diary," egotistical and minute, but -one of the great books of literature, is a gallery of -portraits of the late eighteenth century celebrities—King -George and Queen Charlotte, Reynolds, Burke, -Dr. Johnson, Mrs. Thrale, Garrick, and many others—all -her friends. Gideon Welles's "Diary," which -appeared in the <i>Atlantic Monthly</i> during 1909-10, -though, like that of Pepys, an account of public matters, -was, like that of Pepys, a private account not -meant to be seen at the time. All these records have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_561"></a>[561]</span> -their value for late readers in their honesty and -minuteness. It is on such revelations that we depend -for our correct conception of by-gone affairs.</p> - -<p>A diary or a journal, then, is first of all a narrative -of real events. Fiction in this form, like Defoe's -"Journal of the Plague" or the diary parts of Charles -Reade's "Cloister and the Hearth," is so for the sake -of the verisimilitude.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Writing -the type</div> - -<p>If you wish to write a journal, you might imagine -yourself sending it across the ocean to some relative or -acquaintance who cares to know about the -doings of you yourself, your family, your -friends, your community. You may reflect your own -sentiments and those of others; you may give anecdotes, -eye-witness accounts, reports, hear-says, incidents, -opinions, explanations, and bare facts. You may -touch upon your pleasures, your joys, and even your -troubles; but your vexations and regrets you would -surely reserve for your diary.</p> - -<p>If you write a diary, you should be frank and absolutely -natural. Any playing to the gallery is a denial -of the whole tone of diary. You may be ever so selfish -and egotistical, or ever so trivial and vain, if you are -only honest. If we feel that you are recording exactly -what you think, revealing exactly what is, we shall -read you with delight, so seldom does one man get at -the real thought of another. You may even be pious—a -most severe trial on a reader's interest—and we will -follow you so long as you are sincere.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_562"></a>[562]</span></p> - -<h4>Extracts from Diary of Samuel Pepys</h4> - -<p class="right"> -November, 1661. -</p> - -<p>3d. (Lord's day.) At night my wife and I had a -good supper by ourselves of a pullet hashed, which -pleased me much to see my condition come to allow ourselves -a dish like that.</p> - -<p>4th. With my wife to the opera, where we saw "The -Bondman," which of old we both did so doate on, and do -still, though to both our thinking not so well acted here, -having too great expectations, as formerly at Salisbury -Court. But for Betterton, he is called by us both the -best actor in the world.</p> - -<p>5th. To the Dolphin, where Armiger and I and Captaine -Cocke sat late and drank much, seeing the boys in -the streets flying their crackers. This day being kept all -day very strictly in the city.</p> - -<p>7th. I met with letters at home from my Lord at -Lisbon, which speak of his being well, and he tells me he -had seen at the court there, the day before he wrote this -letter, the Juego de Toro (bullfight). Peg Kite now -hath declared she will have the beggarly rogue the -weaver, and so we are resolved neither to meddle nor -make with her.</p> - -<p>8th. This morning up early, and to my Lord Chancellor's, -with a letter to him from my Lord, and did -speak with him, and he did ask me whether I was son -to Mr. Talbot Pepys or no (with whom he was once -acquainted in the Court of Requests), and spoke to me -with great respect. To the Sunne in New Fish Street, -where Sir J. Minnes, Sir William Batten and we all -were to dine, and by discourse found Sir J. Minnes a -fine gentleman and a very good scholler.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_563"></a>[563]</span></p> - -<p>9th. With my Lady all the afternoon. My Lady did -mightily urge me to lay out money upon my wife, which -I perceived was a little more earnest than ordinary, and -so I seemed to be pleased with it, and do resolve to bestow -a lace on her.</p> - -<p>10th. (Lord's day.) At St. Gregory's, where I heard -our Queen Katherine the first time by name publicly -prayed for. And heard Dr. Buck upon "Woe unto thee, -Corazin," &c., where he started a difficulty, which he -left to another time to answer, about why God should -give means of grace to those people which he knew would -not receive them, and deny to others, which he himself -confesses, if they had had them, would have received -them and they would have been effectual, too. I would -I could hear him explain this when he do come to it.</p> - -<p>11th. Captain Ferrers carried me the first time that -ever I saw any gaming-house, to one, entering into Lincolne's -Inn Fields, at the end of Bell Yard, where -strange the folly of men to lay and lose much money, -and very glad I was to see the manner of a gamester's -life, which I see is very miserable and poor and unmanly. -And thence he took me to a dancing school in Fleet -Streete, where we saw a company of pretty girls dance, -but I do not in myself like to have young girls exposed -to so much vanity. So to the Wardrobe, where I found -my Lady had agreed upon a lace for my wife at £6, -which I seemed much glad of that it was no more, tho -in my mind I think it too much, and I pray God to keep -me so to order myself and my wife's expenses that no inconvenience -in purse or honour follow my prodigality.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Diary and Correspondence of Samuel Pepys," 4 volumes. -(David McKay. 1889. Philadelphia.)</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_564"></a>[564]</span></p> - -<h4>A Diary of Four Days</h4> - -<p class="right"> -Feb. 5, Saturday. -</p> - -<p>I awoke at 6 o'clock. It has become my habit not to -get up earlier than half past 6 on vacation days. After -breakfast I went to the physics laboratory to make up -my back work.</p> - -<p>The first experiment that I tried to perform was -about Atwood's Machine. I was not half thru when -the string broke. Not being able to find another, I went -to the office to see whether I had a letter or not. I was -very glad to receive one, for it was from home. I was -very much disappointed, however, to hear that my -mother was sick. My father asked me to go and see Dr. -Bautista, so after dinner I went to Santa Cruz. The -office was closed when I reached it. At last the doctor -came. I had a long talk with him about the sickness of -my mother. He gave me the formula of the medicine -which my mother should take and told me the dose. -After giving him five pesos I went away and bought the -medicine. I stayed in the Escolta till it was dark, looking -for some one who was going to our town. Not being -able to find anybody, I have come back to my boarding-house -with the determination to go home myself and take -mother's medicine. I must study my lesson in physics, -however, before I go to bed.</p> - -<p class="right p2"> -Feb. 6, Sunday. -</p> - -<p>At about 6 o'clock this morning I was in the railroad -station. At 6 sharp the train left for San Isidro. I was -very lonely in the car, for the passengers were few. -There were six Chinamen and a few Filipinos. While -the train was going on I kept myself busy reading my -textbook in chemistry. I reached the station of San<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_565"></a>[565]</span> -Isidro at 10 o'clock. It was about 11 when I reached -home. I was very glad to find my mother better then.</p> - -<p>I ate my dinner with all the members of our family. -After staying at home for about two hours I started for -San Isidro with my brother. I was delayed at the ferry, -for a company of American soldiers was using the <i>banca</i>. -I reached the station at about 2 o'clock, and as the train -would not leave for an hour, I went to the cock-pit nearby. -It so happened that they were having a <i>surtada</i>. -This is the first time I have entered a cock-pit since 1904.</p> - -<p>At 3 o'clock the train came. I reached Manila at 8 -o'clock. It is now 9:30. I am going to bed earlier than -usual, for I am very tired.</p> - -<p class="right p2"> -Feb. 7, Monday. -</p> - -<p>I went to school as usual this morning, though I did -not recite my lessons very well. This evening I attended -the Harty Club. We were few in number, so Father -Finnegan, our director, took us with him to the observatory. -All of us had a chance to look at the moon. Thru -the telescope the moon looked like the yolk of an egg -with black spots. The astronomer said that the black -spots are craters of volcanoes. The moon when seen -thru the telescope is not so beautiful as when you look -at it with the naked eye.</p> - -<p>The astronomer, who was a Spanish priest, explained -the way the moon gets its light. He could speak English -very well, but his pronunciation was bad. He pronounced -"sun," "soon," and "top," "tawp." There -were many other words which he did not pronounce very -well, but he used these two so often that they were impressed -on my mind. Another word he used very often -was "extremities."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_566"></a>[566]</span></p> - -<p>When you asked this fat man a question, he would -laugh at you if what you asked was not sensible. Lava -asked him what planets are inhabited. He laughed without -ceasing for about two minutes, and then said, "Why, -my boy, none except ours. If any planet is inhabited, -the people must be very different from us."</p> - -<p>It was 8 o'clock when we went home. Tomorrow is -a laboratory day, so I am going to bed, for I have no -lesson to prepare except in English.</p> - -<p class="right p2"> -Feb. 8, Tuesday. -</p> - -<p>I was awakened from a sound sleep by a dreadful -dream. When I opened my eyes it was daylight. My -dream was about Halley's comet. We talked so much -about this thing last night that it came into my dream. -I thought it was the 19th of May. My mother roused -me, for they could see something beautiful. When I -looked out I saw that it was Halley's comet. I tried to -explain to them what it was, but I was interrupted in -my explanation because I perceived that the comet was -coming nearer to us. We were obliged to leave the house, -for the comet was coming directly toward us. When -we were out of the house the comet struck it. It was set -on fire. We tried our best to quench the flames, but in -vain. While the house was burning I awoke. I was very -glad that I awoke, for my lesson in English was not yet -prepared.</p> - -<p>I recited my lessons as usual. This afternoon Mr. -Bulatao and I visited the observatory again. Our guide -showed all the pieces of apparatus to us. From the top -of the building I had a very fine general view of Manila. -After our visit I came home, and now I am going to -study my lessons.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Facundo Esquivel. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_567"></a>[567]</span></p> - -<h4>"Something Doing"</h4> - -<p class="center"><i>A JOURNAL: MOCK HEROIC</i></p> - -<p>Thursday, March 17, 1910.—My friend Protasio and -I went to one of the fairs in the Tondo church-yard to -buy an <i>awit</i> for the instructor in English. On our way -home we met a group of gentlemen, eight of them, among -whom I recognized one of my schoolmates, Pedro Pineda. -My companion looked Pedro squarely in the face, but -this one came up to us, with arms akimbo, and presently -addressed my companion in this manner: "What do you -want? Why do you look at me?" "Is there any cause -for which you speak to me thus?" answered my companion. -"Why? What do you want? Let us have a -boxing match!"</p> - -<p>I did my best to make my acquaintances desist from -their plan, but my efforts were in vain. Protasio took -off his diamond ring and handed it to me. I put it on -the upper part of my right thumb, suspecting nothing -from the companions of Pedro.</p> - -<p>In the dark this unworthy fellow thrust his hands -into his big pocket, and by the dim light of the evening -star I noticed him put on iron knuckles. Mad with rage, -I shouted, "Take off your—!" but hardly had I begun -when just above my left ear fell a terrible blow. I felt -no pain, but the stroke deafened me. Still I lost no time -mustering my courage, and no sooner had I summoned -my latent forces than I stood with my back against the -church-yard fence. Confronted by four young men, one -of whom was the sturdy machinist who delivered me the -first blow, I raised my right arm to ward off another -dreadful box in the face, when, to my surprise, I heard -the crash of an iron rod. The cane which I had with me<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_568"></a>[568]</span> -had done its duty; when I was about to receive a blow -more serious than the first, up rose my hand and with -an impulse it hit hard the right shoulder of my sturdy -opponent. Overjoyed at this incident I caused my bent -cane to swing back and forth until my four opponents, -realizing that I had an iron cane, ran away as fast as -their legs could carry them.</p> - -<p>Protasio received several wounds from the iron -knuckles—one on the right arm, two on the head and one -just above the left ear. Breathless and bloody, I heard -him utter the cry, "What! Four people to one?" The -people at the fair overheard the tumult; they rushed to -the scene and saw us two, one bloody, the other holding -a bent cane, safe and sound. But our good opponents -had run away, carrying with them my friend's new -<i>baliwag</i> hat.</p> - -<p>"Fie! Cowards!" roared my companion, as we -turned around the narrow street beside the church. -"Why did those folks fight with us four to one?"</p> - -<p>"Well, although they have made a serious mistake, -Tasio," I remarked, "you cannot blame them; you will -know the cause when you study the psychology of a -mob."</p> - -<p>He found no word with which to answer me; his -right arm he could hardly raise, and the blood streamed -in great quantities from the back of his head. I conducted -him to his house and told him not to go to school -for two days. For my part, I felt nothing particularly -painful except two things—a swelling on my forehead -and the bruised place on my face where I received that -blow without notice.</p> - -<p>Friday, March 18.—This morning I went to school,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_569"></a>[569]</span> -and, although I was tired from last night's pugilistic -contest, I worked at the office of the English department. -But in the midst of my meditations on a perplexing mistake -which a second-year student had made in his short-story -theme, upon my shoulders fell two hands. I looked -up, rather amazed at the sudden attack, but I saw Mr. -Fansler's familiar face. "Ready, Victor!" said he. -"Ready for the banquet, do you mean?" "No, to meet -Mr. Beattie."</p> - -<p>I remembered I had to go with several people on a -launch to meet Mr. Beattie, who had returned from a -visit to the States. I put on my <i>buntal</i> hat, with a -minute-man's start, and ran down the flight of steps of -the Normal School building.</p> - -<p>Gathered around the portico were the superintendent -of the Normal School, the representatives of the faculty -and the representatives of the various classes. Mr. -Fansler and I joined the cheerful group, three-fifths of -which consisted of blooming femininity. As we walked -along the acacia grove we felt no heat, but on the open -road, where fell the blistering sun's rays, the women -lagged. "They feel the heat, to be sure!" I said to -myself. "These women at the Normal, I suppose, are -not used to heat. Tender and fresh, they have little or -no exercise."</p> - -<p>But necessity was to compel them to run a short race -that day. The buzz of the street car wire along Calle -Real made them walk faster, and finally they really -began to run; as lightly as doves, however. The car -took us down to Plaza de Magallanes, back of the Treasury -building, but we did not find our launch there.</p> - -<p>As I walked along the edge of the Pasig River bank<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_570"></a>[570]</span> -I noticed a small, booth-like hut, in which I saw an old -woman seated on a stool. She held in her right hand a -bunch of perforated banana leaves, with which she drove -away the flies that tried to alight on the rice and fried -fish. Presently a man came, ate his ten-centavo meal of -rice and a half fish, and departed after the manner of a -Frenchman. But soon I saw my companions going on -board the launch and I followed them.</p> - -<p>The boat was not very big; it had just enough room -to accommodate the young women and to allow the fellows -to sit contiguously on the sides. All at once the -launch began sailing down the smooth river and within -ten minutes we had passed around Engineer Island.</p> - -<p>Out in the bay the billows rose. The foam began to -appear in greater quantities as we sailed farther and -farther into the sea. The boat swung to and fro as she -courtesied to the waves. But upon looking round, I discovered -that some of the young ladies were seasick. I -was trying to reason out the cause of this malady when -all of a sudden a spray of salt water threw itself directly -at my face and my tongue felt the liquid.</p> - -<p>"What a nasty taste salt water has!" I exclaimed, as -I tried to suppress with an effort the sudden change in -my stomach.</p> - -<p>"How do you like it, Yamzon?" asked fat Memije, -the spherical student of the Academy. Without waiting -for an answer, "That's good! The water will make you -fat. Should you like to know how I got fat?" continued -he, whom I always compare to a sponge because of his -capacity for imbibing water in great quantities. "Yes," -I muttered, ungraciously. "Well, I drink four glasses -of water before meals and after meals." "But not salt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_571"></a>[571]</span> -water," I rejoined. "No, no; fresh water is what you -need."</p> - -<p>Just then we spied the <i>Tean</i>, which was bringing -back Mr. Beattie. As we approached we saw a man who -was so much like him that the ample instructor of the -correspondence department exclaimed in her not too -melodious and high-pitched voice, "There's our dear old -superintendent!"</p> - -<p>"He's no longer <i>your</i> dear old superintendent," -thought I.</p> - -<p>Fifteen minutes passed, and Mr. Beattie showed no -signs of ever having come back. But when the ship-master -appeared on the upper deck he told us Mr. -Beattie would soon be ready to show his face to us. And -he was. We cheered him and hailed him; hats were -taken off; handkerchiefs waved in the air; and the former -superintendent of the Normal School responded to -us, while a twelve-inch smile beamed on his countenance.</p> - -<p>Saturday, March 19, 1910.—My short trip yesterday -reminded me of our voyage to Lucena last Thanksgiving. -The first thing I did immediately after breaking-my-fast -was to go to my desk and take out from the lowest -case the account of this trip which I wrote while we -were sailing. I have read the thing through and I will -gladly repeat it for you. It begins thus:</p> - -<p>"On Thanksgiving afternoon the Normal debating -team, on board of the steamer <i>Lal-Loc</i>, set out for -Lucena."—There! I can't write it for you now. My -brother is calling me. But I'll just say we won the debate -and had a glorious time.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Victoriano Yamzon. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_572"></a>[572]</span></p> - -<h3>II. Autobiography and Memoirs</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Distinction -between -autobiography -and -memoirs</div> - -<p>Although the words "autobiography" and "memoirs" -are often used interchangeably, the meanings -differ somewhat as journal and diary; that -is, an autobiography is always written to be -read by a public, large or small; memoirs -are sometimes secret, like those of Mirabeau -when on his mission to Prussia. The two -forms are both, however, personal accounts by the -writer of his own doings and sayings as well as of the -doings and sayings of others connected with him in the -same events.</p> - -<p>Gibbon has used the word memoirs as a title for -what we generally call his autobiography; but critics -consider the term "memoirs" strictly as signifying a -record of events put down within a limited time in the -author's life—or a record of important events that he -can "remember," selected out of a long life. Memoirs -in the first sense are usually written by persons of large -affairs, like Prince von Metternich in the French-Austrian -crisis, or Mme. de Staël-Holstein during her -ten years of exile, or the Italian poet Silvio Pellico -while serving his decade of imprisonment for taking -part in the Carbonari movements. Many of the writers -other than English seem to try to exclude the personal -element from memoirs; though Catherine II of Russia -in her account of her life as Grand Duchess is straightforward -and intimate enough. Frederick the Great, -too, in his memoirs of his military and political campaigns -has succeeded in delineating quite exactly his -own character as conceived of by others; while Charles<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_573"></a>[573]</span> -V in his "Autobiographical Leaves" (which are -memoirs) has revealed to the world an entirely new -side of himself.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Cellini, -Franklin -and others</div> - -<p>Autobiography is more extended than memoirs. -This "self-life-writing" runs from the birthday of the -author to the time of the composition of the -narrative. Details are sometimes many, -sometimes few, according to the taste and -leisure of the recorder, but the account is always complete -and unified. One of the greatest autobiographies -written is that of Benvenuto Cellini, a Florentine artist -of the sixteenth century. Men lived intense and violent -lives in those days, fervidly devoted to ideals and -grossly material at the same time. Cellini epitomizes -them all. His narrative is an Italian classic. A most -entertaining English autobiography is Colley Cibber's -"Apology for My Life." Actor and dramatist, he too -had much to tell. But the American philosopher and -statesman, Benjamin Franklin, has carried off the prize -for widespread popularity and readableness. The story -goes, whether true or not, that his "Autobiography" -has been translated into more languages than any other -book except the Bible. The narrative is full of shrewd -common-sense and practical example. Our fathers used -to say that no one is a true American who has not read -it. What is of value to us now in the consideration of -it is its simplicity both in diction and tone. Franklin -was truly a very great man, and nowhere greater than -in his unpretentious honesty.</p> - -<p>Like a diary, an autobiography should be most -genuine and original in content. Sometimes the -impulse to record one's life goes even so far as to take<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_574"></a>[574]</span> -the form of confessions, like those of the great Latin -father, St. Augustine. Our own English ecclesiastic, -Cardinal Newman, defended himself and his faith in -his "Apologia." But this that ought to be the truest -of the true forms very easily becomes forced and hectic, -like Rousseau's. Though a man must be honest, there -is no need for him to tell everyone of his inmost -thoughts, or mention all his meannesses. De Quincey's -"Confessions of an English Opium Eater" long ago -justified itself by its high tone, and by the fact that it -became the basis of his "Autobiography."</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Some -points to -be observed -in -writing</div> - -<p>It is easy to start an autobiography. Most writers -begin with their birth and parentage. To proceed after -the first few pages is not so easy perhaps, -because of the possibilities. What to choose -is the question; for everybody has had more -experiences than he could possibly record. -Apt selection is what makes a good life history—selection -under a governing sense of unity and -progression. Moreover, a writer of any chronical story -should carefully arrange the transitions. Good including -phrases both backward and forward-looking should -be used, as well as precise small conjunctions. Such -sets as Cellini has, "At this moment the whole world -was, etc.," "I am now making a great leap forward -when I tell," "Continuing as I did my artillery practice -for a whole month," "In the meantime I had," "I -must not forget to give some indication of how large -the figure was, a thing which I can best do by telling -you a very laughable occurrence," "The more I longed -for rest the more did troubles spring up," "Before this -I should have told of my friendship with, etc." The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_575"></a>[575]</span> -diction of memoirs is somewhat determined by circumstances -and subject; but if you write an autobiography, -you should see to it that your words and constructions -are unmistakably simple. Be as modest as is consistent -with your great deeds, and as cheerful as the fates will -allow. If you make yourself out a good fellow, do so -by the general impression of your narrative, not by -assertion. Set before the reader enough of your actions -and he will tabulate your character for you. Your -business is to relate; his, to judge. You may, however, -disclose some of your motives. The only difficulty here -is, that people may not believe you, or you may not -have understood yourself at the time. Whatever else -you do, be sure to let us see a human being like ourselves, -not some impossible creature made out of paper -and ink. If you care for an outline, it would not be -amiss to follow that prepared for biography.</p> - -<h4>The Life of David Hume, Esq., Written by Himself</h4> - -<p>It is difficult for a man to speak long of himself without -vanity; therefore, I shall be short. It may be -thought an instance of vanity that I pretend at all to -write my life; but this narrative shall contain little more -than the history of my writings; as indeed almost all my -life has been spent in literary pursuits and occupations. -The first success of most of my writings was not such as -to be an object of vanity.</p> - -<p>I was born the twenty-sixth of April, 1711, old style, -at Edinburgh. I was of a good family, both by father -and mother: my father's family is a branch of the Earl -of Home's, or Hume's; and my ancestors had been proprietors -of the estate which my brother possesses, for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_576"></a>[576]</span> -several generations. My mother was daughter of Sir -David Falconer, president of the college of justice; the -title of Lord Halkerton came by succession to her -brother.</p> - -<p>My family, however, was not rich, and being myself -a younger brother, my patrimony, according to the mode -of my country, was, of course, very slender. My father, -who passed for a man of parts, died when I was an infant, -leaving me, with an elder brother and a sister, -under the care of our mother, a woman of singular merit, -who, though young and handsome, devoted herself entirely -to the rearing and educating of her children. I -passed through the ordinary course of education with -success, and was seized very early with a passion for -literature, which has been the ruling passion of my life -and the great source of my enjoyments. My studious -disposition, my sobriety and my industry gave my family -a notion that the law was the proper profession for -me; but I found an insurmountable aversion to everything -but the pursuits of philosophy and general learning, -and while they fancied I was poring upon Voet and -Vinnius, Cicero and Virgil were the authors I was -secretly devouring.</p> - -<p>My very slender fortune, however, being unsuitable -to this plan of life, and my health being a little broken -by my ardent application, I was tempted, or rather -forced, to make a very feeble trial for entering into a -more active scene of life. In 1734 I went to Bristol with -some recommendations to several eminent merchants, but -in a few months found that scene totally unsuitable to -me. I went over to France with a view of prosecuting -my studies in a country retreat, and I there laid that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_577"></a>[577]</span> -plan of life which I have steadily and successfully pursued. -I resolved to make a very rigid frugality supply -my deficiency of fortune, to maintain unimpaired my -independency, and to regard every object as contemptible -except the improvement of my talents in -literature.</p> - -<p>During my retreat in France, first at Rheims, but -chiefly at La Fletche, in Anjou, I composed my Treatise -of Human Nature. After passing three years very -agreeably in that country, I came over to London in -1737. In the end of 1738 I published my treatise, and -immediately went down to my mother and my brother, -who lived at his country house and was employing himself -very judiciously and successfully in the improvement -of his fortune.</p> - -<p>Never literary attempt was more unfortunate than -my Treatise of Human Nature. It fell dead-born from -the press, without reaching such distinction as even to -excite a murmur among the zealots. But being naturally -of a cheerful and sanguine temper, I very soon recovered -the blow and prosecuted with great ardor my studies in -the country. In 1742 I printed at Edinburgh the first -part of my Essays. The work was favorably received -and soon made me entirely forget my former disappointment. -I continued with my mother and brother in the -country, and in that time recovered the knowledge of -the Greek language, which I had too much neglected in -my early life.</p> - -<p>In 1745 I received a letter from the Marquis of Annandale, -inviting me to come and live with him in England; -I found also that the friends and family of that -young nobleman were desirous of putting him under my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_578"></a>[578]</span> -care and direction, for the state of his mind and health -required it. I lived with him a twelve-month. My appointments -during that time made a considerable accession -to my small fortune. I then received an invitation -from General St. Clair to attend him as a secretary to -his expedition, which was at first meant against Canada, -but ended in an incursion on the coast of France. Next -year, to wit, 1747, I received an invitation from the -general to attend him in the same station in his military -embassy to the courts of Vienna and Turin. I then wore -the uniform of an officer and was introduced at these -courts as aide-de-camp to the general, along with Sir -Harry Erkine and Captain Grant, now General Grant. -These two years were almost the only interruptions -which my studies have received during the course of my -life: I passed them agreeably and in good company; and -my appointments, with my frugality, had made me reach -a fortune which I called independent, the most of my -friends were inclined to smile when I said so: in short, -I was now master of near a thousand pounds.</p> - -<p>I had always entertained a notion that my want of -success in publishing the Treatise of Human Nature had -proceeded more from the manner than the matter, and -that I had been guilty of a very usual indiscretion in -going to the press too early. I, therefore, cast the first -part of the work anew in the Inquiry concerning Human -Understanding while I was at Turin. But this piece was -at first little more successful than the Treatise of Human -Nature. On my return from Italy I had the mortification -to find all England in a ferment on account of Dr. -Middleton's Free Inquiry, while my performance was -entirely overlooked and neglected. A new edition, which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_579"></a>[579]</span> -had been published at London, of my Essays, moral and -political, met not with a much better reception.</p> - -<p>Such is the force of natural temper that these disappointments -made little or no impression on me. I -went down, in 1749, and lived two years with my brother -at his country house, for my mother was now dead. I -there composed the second part of my Essay, which I -called Political Discourses, and also my Inquiry concerning -the Principles of Morals, which is another part of -my Treatise that I cast anew. Meanwhile my bookseller, -A. Millar, informed me that my former publications (all -but the unfortunate Treatise) were beginning to be the -subject of conversation; that the sale of them was gradually -increasing and that new editions were demanded. -Answers by reverends and right reverends came out two -or three in a year, and I found by Dr. Warburton's railing -that the books were beginning to be esteemed in good -company. However, I had fixed a resolution, which I -inflexibly maintained, never to reply to anybody, and not -being very irascible in my temper, I have easily kept -myself dear of all literary squabbles. These symptoms -of a rising reputation gave me encouragement, as I was -ever more disposed to see the favorable than unfavorable -side of things, a turn of mind which it is more happy to -possess than to be born to an estate of ten thousand a -year.</p> - -<p>In 1751 I removed from the country to the town, the -true scene for a man of letters. In 1752 were published -at Edinburgh, where I then lived, my Political Discourses, -the only work of mine that was successful on its -first publication. It was well received at home and -abroad. In the same year was published at London my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_580"></a>[580]</span> -Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, which, in -my own opinion (who ought not to judge on that subject), -is, of all my writings, historical, philosophical or -literary, incomparably the best. It came unnoticed and -unobserved into the world.</p> - -<p>In 1752 the Faculty of Advocates chose me their -librarian, an office from which I received little or no -emolument, but which gave me the command of a large -library. I then formed the plan of writing the History -of England, but, being frightened with the notion of -continuing a narrative through a period of seventeen -hundred years, I commenced with the accession of the -house of Stuart, an epoch when, I thought, the misrepresentations -of faction began chiefly to take place. I was, -I own, sanguine in my expectations of the success of this -work. I thought that I was the only historian that had -at once neglected present power, interest and authority -and the cry of popular prejudices, and as the subject -was suited to every capacity, I expected proportional applauses. -But miserable was my disappointment; I was -asailed by one cry of reproach, disapprobation, and even -detestation; English, Scotch and Irish, Whig and Tory, -churchman and sectary, free thinker and religionist, -patriot and courtier, united in their rage against the -man who had presumed to shed a generous tear for the -fate of Charles I and the Earl of Strafford; and after -the first ebullitions of their fury were over, what was -still more mortifying, the book seemed to sink into oblivion. -Mr. Millar told me that in a twelve-month he had -sold only forty-five copies of it. I scarcely, indeed, heard -of one man in the three kingdoms, considerable for rank -or letters, that could endure the book. I must only<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_581"></a>[581]</span> -except the primate of England, Dr. Herring, and the -primate of Ireland, Dr. Stone, which seemed two odd -exceptions. These dignified prelates separately sent me -messages not to be discouraged.</p> - -<p>I was, however, I confess, discouraged; and had not -the war been at that time breaking out between France -and England, I had certainly retired to some provincial -town of the former kingdom, have changed my name and -never more have returned to my native country. But as -this scheme was not now practicable, and the subsequent -volume was considerably advanced, I resolved to pick up -courage and to persevere.</p> - -<p>In this interval I published at London my Natural -History, of Religion, along with some other small pieces. -Its public entry was rather obscure, except only that Dr. -Hurd wrote a pamphlet against it, with all the illiberal -petulance, arrogance and scurrility which distinguished -the Warburtonian school; This pamphlet gave me some -consolation for the otherwise indifferent reception of my -performance.</p> - -<p>In 1756, two years after the fall of the first volume, -was published the second volume of my history, containing -the period from the death of Charles I till the -revolution. This performance happened to give less -displeasure to the Whigs and was better received. It -not only rose, itself, but helped to buoy up its unfortunate -brother.</p> - -<p>But though I had been taught by experience that the -Whig party were in possession of bestowing all places, -both in the state and in literature, I was so little inclined -to yield to their senseless clamor that in above a hundred -alterations, which study, reading or reflection engaged<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_582"></a>[582]</span> -me to make in the reigns of the two first Stuarts, I have -made all of them invariably on the Tory side. It is -ridiculous to consider the English constitution before -that period as a regular plan of liberty.</p> - -<p>In 1759, I published my history of the house of -Tudor. The clamor against this performance was almost -equal to that against the history of the two first Stuarts. -The reign of Elizabeth was particularly obnoxious. But -I was now callous against the impressions of public folly -and continued very peaceably and contentedly, in my -retreat at Edinburgh, to finish in two volumes the more -early part of the English history, which I gave to the -public in 1761 with tolerable, and but tolerable, success.</p> - -<p>But, notwithstanding this variety of winds and seasons, -to which my writings had been exposed, they had -still been making such advances that the copy money -given me by the book-sellers much exceeded anything -formerly known in England; I was become not only independent -but opulent. I retired to my native country -of Scotland, determined never more to set my foot out -of it; and retaining the satisfaction of never having preferred -a request to one great man or ever making advances -of friendship to any of them. As I was now -turned of fifty, I thought of passing all the rest of my -life in this philosophical manner, when I received, in -1763, an invitation' from the earl of Hertford, with -whom I was not in the least acquainted, to attend him -on his embassy to Paris, with a near prospect of being -appointed secretary to the embassy, and in the meanwhile -of performing the functions of that office. This -offer, however inviting, I at first declined; both because -I was reluctant to begin connections with the great, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_583"></a>[583]</span> -because I was afraid that the civilities and gay company -of Paris would prove disagreeable to a person of my age -and humor; but on his lordship's repeating the invitation -I accepted of it. I have every reason, both of pleasure -and interest, to think myself happy in my connections -with that nobleman, as well as afterwards with his -brother, General Conway.</p> - -<p>Those who have not seen the strange effects of modes -will never imagine the reception I met with at Paris, -from men and women of all ranks and stations. The -more I recoiled from their excessive civilities, the more I -was loaded with them. There is, however, a real satisfaction -in living at Paris, from the great number of -sensible, knowing and polite company with which that -city abounds above all places in the universe. I thought -once of settling there for life.</p> - -<p>I was appointed secretary to the embassy; and in -summer, 1765, Lord Hertford left me, being appointed -lord lieutenant of Ireland. I was <i>chargé d'affaires</i> till -the arrival of the Duke of Richmond, towards, the end of -the year. In the beginning of 1766 I left Paris, and -next summer went to Edinburgh, with the same view as -formerly of burying myself in a philosophical retreat. -I returned to that place, not rich but with much more -money, and a much larger income by means of Lord -Hertford's friendship, than I left it; and I was desirous -of trying what superfluity could produce; as I had formerly -made an experiment of a competency. But in -1767 I received from Mr. Conway an invitation to be an -undersecretary, and this invitation both the character of -the person and my connections with Lord Hertford prevented -me from declining. I returned to Edinburgh in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_584"></a>[584]</span> -1768, very opulent (for I possessed a revenue of one -thousand pounds a year), healthy and, though somewhat -stricken in years, with the prospect of enjoying long my -ease and of seeing the increase of my reputation.</p> - -<p>In spring, 1775, I was struck with a disorder of the -bowels, which at first occasioned no alarm, but has since, -as I apprehended it, become mortal and incurable. I -now reckon upon a speedy dissolution. I have suffered -very little pain from my disorder, and, what is more -strange, have, notwithstanding the great decline of my -person, never suffered a moment's abatement of my -spirits; insomuch that were I to name a period of my -life which I should most choose to pass over again, I -might be tempted to point to this later period. I possess -the same ardor as ever in study and the same gayety in -company. I consider, besides, that a man of sixty-five, -by dying cuts off only a few years of infirmities; and -though I see many symptoms of my literary reputation's -breaking out at last with additional luster, I know that -I could have but few years to enjoy it. It is difficult to -be more detached from life than I am at the present -time.</p> - -<p>To conclude historically with my own character: I -am, or rather was (for that is the style I must now use -in speaking of myself, which emboldens me the more to -speak my sentiments); I was, I say, a man of mild disposition, -of command of temper, of an open, social and -cheerful humor, capable of attachment, but little susceptible -of enmity, and of great moderation in all my -passions. Even my love of literary fame, my ruling -passion, never soured my temper, notwithstanding my -frequent disappointments. My company was not unacceptable<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_585"></a>[585]</span> -to the young and careless, as well as to the -studious and literary; and as I took a particular pleasure -in the company of modest women, I had no reason -to be displeased with the reception I met with from them. -In a word, though most men anywise eminent have -found reason to complain of Calumny, I never was -touched or even attacked by her baleful tooth; and -though I wantonly exposed myself to the rage of both -civil and religious factions, they seemed to be disarmed -in my behalf of their wonted fury. My friends never -had occasion to vindicate any one circumstance of my -character and conduct; not but that the zealots, we may -well suppose, would have been glad to invent and propagate -any story to my disadvantage, but they could never -find any which they thought would wear the face of -probability. I cannot say that there is no vanity in -making this funeral oration of myself, but I hope it is -not a misplaced one, and this is a matter of fact which is -easily cleared and ascertained.</p> - -<p>April 18, 1776.</p> - -<h4>Autobiography</h4> - -<p>I was born on the twentieth of December in the year -1887, in Gapan, province of Nueva Ecija.</p> - -<p>My mother, Manuela Tinio, died when I was but two -years of age, and I was left to the care of my beloved -grandfather, Esteban Tinio, uncle Quintin Tinio and my -aunts Paula and Felipa Tinio. I had two brothers and -three sisters, but all of them died except one of my -brothers, Valentin, who is now attending the Philippine -Medical School. My uncle Valentin was one of the -active leaders of the revolutionary movement in Nueva<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_586"></a>[586]</span> -Ecija. He bore a deadly hatred against the Spaniards. -On several occasions secret meetings were held in our -house shortly before the uprising of the people. When -the revolution broke out unexpectedly in 1896 he was -forced to flee to the mountain, where he was captured -afterwards, and was finally shot. My grandfather died -in 1903 in his eighty-ninth year, and thus I was left to -the care of my father, Francisco Guanio, and my two -aunts, Paula and Felipa, who are still unmarried. Altho -my aunts are over sixty years of age, yet they are still -strong, active and diligent women. They have never -wasted their time in idleness, and are always at work -from morning till night. To them who are more than -mothers to me I owe my present education.</p> - -<p>I was born in the most extraordinary period of -Philippine history. I lived to see the days when our -fathers were struggling hard against Spain. During my -boyhood I saw men imprisoned, exiled and executed for -no offense whatever. I have heard the voice of the oppressed -people crying for justice. I have seen men, rich -and poor, wise and ignorant, fighting for the common -cause of the Filipino people. I witnessed one of the -fierce attacks of our patriots upon the Spanish regiment -at Gapan. When I was twelve years old many towns -were entirely depopulated; churches, and schoolhouses -converted into hospitals; men and women impelled by -fear to flee from their homes with their children. I once -enjoyed seeing the humiliating race-distinction effaced. -Early one morning I was awakened from my sleep by -the loud booming of cannon and by the shouting of the -once happy and satisfied people, inaugurating the short-lived -Philippine republic. These past events changed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_587"></a>[587]</span> -my gentle nature entirely. It has been my ambition -ever since to make the most of myself for my country's -sake.</p> - -<p>I attended the public school at Gapan in 1894. Here -I learned the alphabet and catechism. At that time -Spanish was taught in nearly all the schools of the -Islands. The sudden outbreak of the revolution of 1896 -brought about the closing of the schools for a short time. -And altho they were soon reopened, yet there was not -the same enthusiasm for learning among the great mass -of students as had been previously shown. They attended -schools simply because they were compelled to -do so by the government (for education was compulsory -under the Spanish administration in these islands). In -1898 I attended school very irregularly on account of the -revolution. Then in the beginning of the year 1899 -schools were closed on account of the troubles which the -Filipinos had had with the Americans, and consequently -I had to stay at home for two years. In October, 1901, -I entered the Gapan Intermediate School, which was -then under the supervision of an American teacher. On -January 1, 1904, I left the school of Gapan and attended -the S. Isidro High School. In June, 1905, I -was transferred to the Philippine Normal School, where -I have stayed since then.</p> - -<p>My uncle Quintin's plan was to make me a lawyer, -but his unexpected death prevented his desire. My -father and my two aunts, Paula and Felipa, allowed me -to pursue any course I liked. It is their wish to give -me a good and thorough education.</p> - -<p>My own plan is different from that of my uncle Quintin. -I desire to complete the high school course first,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_588"></a>[588]</span> -then the college course, and finish with the engineering -course.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Domingo T. Guanio. -</p> - -<h4>What I Remember of the Coming of the Americans</h4> - -<p>In the afternoon of November 15, 1900, while I was -at a small private school conducted by an educated -woman, the wife of the colonel in Ponciano's army, one -of my classmates called my attention to the running of -men and women up and down the street.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter? Why are those people running?" -asked our teacher of her husband, who was then -entering the gate.</p> - -<p>"They say there is a <i>casco</i> of rice in Laguna de Bay. -I do not know what kind of casco it is; it has a flag. -Send all the children home," said the colonel.</p> - -<p>"The class is dismissed," said our teacher to us.</p> - -<p>She had scarcely spoken these words when we -jumped to our feet and ran as fast as we could to our -homes.</p> - -<p>"Have you not seen your father? Where is he?" -said my mother as soon as she caught sight of me. I -looked back and saw my father coming.</p> - -<p>"Here he comes," I said to my mother.</p> - -<p>"Prepare yourself, Leopoldo. We will go to the -mountain," said my mother.</p> - -<p>"Why? There is a casco of rice coming," I answered.</p> - -<p>"No, that is not a casco of rice. If that is a casco -of rice, the people on the beach wouldn't run away to -the mountain. Get yourself ready, quick," replied my -mother.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_589"></a>[589]</span></p> - -<p>It was a cloudy afternoon. The wind blew hard. -Nothing could be heard but the moaning of the wind on -the trees and houses, the running of men and women -along the streets and the crying of babies. The streets -were full of people, all running in the same direction. -Some carried trunks on their heads, others had bundles -of clothes on their backs. Some carried infants in their -arms, others had them on their hips. The little boys and -girls ran beside their parents. It was indeed a piteous -sight!</p> - -<p>While my father and mother were busy putting our -things in a <i>carreton</i> I was going up and down the stairs -every ten minutes. I did not know what to do. When -I was upstairs I wanted to go downstairs. When I was -downstairs I wanted to go up. I wished to carry with -me my shoes because I knew I needed them on the mountain. -But I also wanted to carry my black coat. At last -I thought of the bread that my mother had bought that -morning. I took it all. Just then my father and mother -had put our trunks, in the carreton. We all got into the -carreton—my father, my mother, my little brother, my -sister, and myself. My father was the driver. We left -our home, our minds full of the gloomiest forebodings.</p> - -<p>We had not gone very far from the town when we -heard per-r-rrok-rok-pook-pook-pook-pok—bung.</p> - -<p>"Jesus, Maria, y Josep!" exclaimed my mother.</p> - -<p>We all looked at each other speechless. At a distance -we heard a cry, "<i>Nacu! nanay co</i>."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps a bullet struck that man," I said to myself.</p> - -<p>In a few minutes we arrived at the Lecheria hill. It -was already dark. There was a moon, but it was hidden<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_590"></a>[590]</span> -behind the clouds. At the bottom of the hill was a large -house made of nipa and bamboo. The house was very -dark. When we came to it a voice inside said, "Who is -that? Aniceto?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," answered my father.</p> - -<p>"Why are you late? Have you eaten your supper?" -asked the voice.</p> - -<p>"No, but we have to go now. The bullets will reach -us here. We can eat our supper in the carreton," replied -my father.</p> - -<p>All the people in the house silently went down to the -ground. They got into their carts and we began our -journey. There were four vehicles in all. One was -loaded with rice. Uncle Paulino and his family were in -one. The other one was occupied by Grandmother -Tereza and her four sons. We traveled over low hills -and valleys beneath the outspreading branches of the -wild trees and over thick <i>cogon</i> grasses. The moon -had gained full brightness, but the night was cold. -After I had eaten my supper I fell asleep. My mother -wrapped me in her blanket. When I awoke I found -that we were in Pasong Calabaw. It was four o'clock in -the morning. We had been traveling all night.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Leopoldo Faustino. -</p> - -<h3>III. Biography</h3> -<div class="sidenote">Beginning -in England -of -literary -biography</div> -<p>With Johnson's "Lives of the Poets" biography in -England took on a literary quality. Before that time -such work had been perfunctory and had been done -by hack writers; but with the appearance of the "Life -of Savage" (1744), says Macaulay, a new era began.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_591"></a>[591]</span> -"The little work with all its faults was a masterpiece. -No finer specimen of literary biography existed in any -language living or dead. The discerning -critic might confidently have predicted that -the author was destined to be the founder -of a new school of English eloquence." And -he was. Thirty-three years later, after he -had become famous, a company of booksellers called -on Dr. Johnson to add to the "Life of Savage" a -series of biographical prefaces for an edition of the -poets from Cowley downwards. Although intending at -first to write only a few short paragraphs, this great -and good talker let himself run on until he handed, over -to the publishers ten volumes—somewhat short volumes -to be sure, but a fine piece of work, and most of it very -precious. From that time on, no biographer who -expected to be read, dared be uninteresting. Prejudiced -in temperament he might be, mistaken sometimes, -but henceforth he must prove himself lively, -vigorous, faithful, penetrating, sagacious, warm yet -discriminating in praise, reasonable in censure, fearless -in judgments, and fresh and exact in expression. The -model had been set. The thing had been done not for -one poet, but for many. Biography was now a literary -type, to be written with care by a qualified person. It -is worthy of note that the original type was short.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Great biographies -in -English</div> - -<p>Since Johnson's day English literature has gained -through biography some of the best books in the world. -Boswell's "Life of Johnson" and Lockhart's -"Life of Scott" are to be so ranked. Lockhart -did also a superfine example of the -short form, a biographical sketch of Theodore Hook,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_592"></a>[592]</span> -a very strange "bohemian." Lockhart's "Life of -Napoleon" and "Life of Burns" are also standard. -Trevelyan's "Life of Macaulay," Forster's "Life of -Goldsmith" and "Life of Dickens" rank here, as possibly -likewise Southey's "Life of Nelson," Mrs. Gaskell's -"Life of Charlotte Bronté," and Thomas Moore's -brilliant "Life of Lord Byron." Macaulay's own short -"Life of Johnson," though displaying Macaulay's -faults of prejudice and exaggeration, is in itself a -classic.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Writer and -subject</div> - -<p>Very naturally a biography is a double revelation—one -of writer and subject. What you choose to praise -or blame, how you praise or blame, what -you notice, what you omit, how you emphasize, -how you show your erudition, where you give -your sympathy, the largeness or smallness of your view -of life—all these and more are tale-tellers of your own -personality. A luminous illustration of this fact is -Goldy's "Life of Beau Nash." Oliver and the great -beau had much in common, and when the biographer -is commenting on "the mixed silliness and shrewdness" -of his subject, "the taste and tawdriness, blossomed-colored -coats and gambling debts, vanity, carelessness, -and good-heart," he is writing a critique of -his own life, past and to come. When he mentions -Nash's "ill-controlled sensibility which was so strong -that, unable to witness the misfortunes of the miserable, -he was always borrowing money, to relieve them," -we see the unlucky and reckless poet himself.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Beginning</div> - -<p>Since it is the uncertain quantity of your own personality -that will make your narrative dry or entertaining, -we need hardly say more on the tone side of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_593"></a>[593]</span> -the work, unless it be to caution you about your diction, -to have it simple and fresh. On the other hand, you -might profitably notice at the end of this division -the outline of general facts that the -world expects in every biography. A certain number of -questions ought to be answered, not in any set order, -not with any set emphasis, but surely in sum finally. -See if you can not be original in your beginning and -ending. The amount of space that you will devote to -one topic or the other will be determined by your -purpose and your audience. If you are writing for -children, as Hawthorne was in his "Biographical -Sketches," you will emphasize those divisions of the -life that a child would most naturally be -interested in, or would be instructed by. <span class="sni">Emphasis</span> Be careful, however, not to make your poor hero or -heroine the opportunity for a sermon. Besides being -not quite fair, the device is trite and tiresome. Hawthorne -we may forgive for preaching when we remember -the taste of his day and the nearness of it to -Puritanical ideals; but you live in an age that likes to -take its own lessons from unvarnished facts and from -truths put forth concretely, not deduced. Avoid fulsomeness -and heroics. <span class="sni">Attitude</span> Set yourself to the task -of revealing the personality just as it was, and -it will teach its own lesson. Many people are more -inspired by an erring soul that yet achieved, than they -are by an icy paragon who knew no struggles. Be sure -that in this history of another person you give us a -human fellow.</p> - -<p>Now, do not fly to the encyclopedia and cull facts -about Napoleon or Cromwell. Take some one whom<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_594"></a>[594]</span> -you know—a man or woman of attainment in your own -neighborhood. Do the character-sketching with care. -Be crisp and original in attack. The outline given -below is a skeleton which you must hide with a pleasing -exterior. But do not forget to put the heart and -lungs in him. Exact and full information is the motor -power of a living biography.</p> - -<h4>Outline for a Life</h4> - -<ul> -<li>I. Birth: place and date—country, city, epoch.</li> -<li class="isub1">Nationality of parents and noteworthy facts -connected with the family.</li> - -<li>II. Boyhood and early education:</li> -<li class="isub1">Disposition and temperament displayed by the -youth.</li> -<li class="isub1">His chief interests; hobbies.</li> -<li class="isub1">Anecdotes about the boy: both true and only -typical.</li> -<li class="isub1">Primary and secondary schooling: at private -or public institutions.</li> - -<li>III. Later education and the choice of a career:</li> -<li class="isub1">College life.</li> -<li class="isub1">His family's plan for his profession or career.</li> -<li class="isub1">His own plan.</li> -<li class="isub1">Circumstances influencing the ultimate choice.</li> -<li class="isub1">Success resulting from the choice:</li> -<li class="isub2">Intellectual and personal.</li> -<li class="isub2">Financial and worldly.</li> -<li class="isub1">Final professional training.</li> -<li class="isub1">Travel.</li> - -<li>IV. Family and domestic life: marriage, children.</li> - -<li class="isub1">Influence of wife and children on his success.</li> -<li class="isub1"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_595"></a>[595]</span> -Anecdotes and particular instances to illustrate -personality and character.</li> - -<li>V. Friends and enemies: names, professions, and -influence.</li> - -<li>VI. Accomplishment and title to fame:</li> -<li class="isub1">His rank in his own nation and the world.</li> -<li class="isub1">His especial characteristics as displayed in -style and subject-matter.</li> -<li class="isub1">His masterpieces: something of their content.</li> -</ul> - -<h4><b>Queen Christina</b></h4> - -<p class="center">(Born 1626. Died 1689.)</p> - -<p>In the royal palace at Stockholm, the capital city of -Sweden, there was born, in 1626, a little princess. The -king, her father, gave her the name of Christina, in -memory of a Swedish girl with whom he had been in -love. His own name was Gustavus Adolphus, and he -was also called the Lion of the North, because he had -gained greater fame in war than any other prince or -general then alive. With this valiant king for their -commander, the Swedes had made themselves terrible to -the Emperor of Germany and to the King of France, -and were looked upon as the chief defense of the Protestant -religion.</p> - -<p>The little Christina was by no means a beautiful child. -To confess the truth, she was remarkably plain. The -queen, her mother, did not love her so much as she -ought; partly, perhaps, on account of Christina's want -of beauty, and also both the king and queen had wished -for a son, who might have gained as great renown in -battle as his father had.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_596"></a>[596]</span></p> - -<p>The king, however, soon became exceedingly fond of -the infant princess. When Christina was very young -she was taken violently sick. Gustavus Adolphus, who -was several hundred miles from Stockholm, traveled -night and day and never rested until he held the poor -child in his arms. On her recovery he made a solemn -festival in order to show his joy to the people of Sweden -and express his gratitude to Heaven. After this event -he took his daughter with him in all the journeys which -he made throughout his kingdom.</p> - -<p>Christina soon proved herself a bold and sturdy little -girl. When she was two years old the king and herself, -in the course of a journey, came to the strong fortress -of Colmar. On the battlements were soldiers clad in -steel armor, which glittered in the sunshine. There were -likewise great cannons, pointing their black mouths at -Gustavus and little Christina and ready to belch out -their smoke and thunder; for, whenever a king enters a -fortress, it is customary to receive him with a royal -salute of artillery.</p> - -<p>But the captain of the fortress met Gustavus and -his little daughter as they were about to enter the -gateway.</p> - -<p>"May it please your Majesty," said he, taking off -his steel cap and bowing profoundly, "I fear that, if we -receive you with a salute of cannon, the little princess -will be frightened almost to death."</p> - -<p>Gustavus looked earnestly at his daughter, and was -indeed apprehensive that the thunder of so many cannon -might perhaps throw her into convulsions. He had -almost a mind to tell the captain to let them enter the -fortress quietly, as common people might have done,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_597"></a>[597]</span> -without all this head-splitting racket. But, no; this -would not do.</p> - -<p>"Let them fire," said he, waving his hand. "Christina -is a soldier's daughter and must learn to bear the -noise of cannon."</p> - -<p>So the captain uttered the word of command and immediately -there was a terrible peal of thunder from the -cannon and such a gush of smoke that it enveloped the -whole fortress in its volumes. But amid all the din and -confusion Christina was seen clapping her little hands -and laughing in an ecstasy of delight. Probably nothing -ever pleased her father so much as to see that his daughter -promised to be fearless as himself. He determined to -educate her exactly as if she had been a boy and to teach -her all the knowledge needful to the ruler of a kingdom -and the commander of an army.</p> - -<p>But Gustavus should have remembered that Providence -had created her to be a woman, and that it was -not for him to make a man of her.</p> - -<p>However, the king derived great happiness from his -beloved Christina. It must have been a pleasant sight -to see the powerful monarch of Sweden playing in some -magnificent hall of the palace with his merry little girl. -Then he forgot that the weight of a kingdom rested upon -his shoulders. He forgot that the wise Chancellor Oxenstiern -was waiting to consult with him how to render -Sweden the greatest nation of Europe. He forgot that -the Emperor of Germany and the King of France were -plotting together how they might pull him down from -his throne.</p> - -<p>Yes, Gustavus forgot all the perils and cares and -pompous irksomeness of a royal life, and was as happy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_598"></a>[598]</span> -while playing with his child as the humblest peasant in -the realm of Sweden. How gayly did they dance along -the marble floor of the palace, this valiant king, with his -upright, martial figure, his war-worn visage and commanding -aspect, and the small, round form of Christina, -with her rosy face of childish merriment! Her little -fingers were clasped in her father's hand, which had -held the leading staff in many famous victories. His -crown and scepter were her playthings. She could disarm -Gustavus of his sword, which was so terrible to the -princes of Europe.</p> - -<p>But, alas! the king was not long permitted to enjoy -Christina's society. When she was four years old Gustavus -was summoned to take command of the allied -armies of Germany, which were fighting against the emperor. -His greatest affliction was the necessity of parting -with his child; but people in such high stations have -little opportunity for domestic happiness. He called an -assembly of the senators of Sweden and confided Christina -to their care, saying that each one of them must be -a father to her if he himself should fall in battle.</p> - -<p>At the moment of his departure Christina ran -towards him and began to address him with a speech -which somebody had taught her for the occasion. Gustavus -was busied with thoughts about the affairs of the -kingdom, so that he did not immediately attend to the -childish voice of his little girl. Christina, who did not -love to be unnoticed, immediately stopped short and -pulled him by the coat.</p> - -<p>"Father," said she, "why do not you listen to my -speech?"</p> - -<p>In a moment the king forgot everything except that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_599"></a>[599]</span> -he was parting with what he loved best in all the world. -He caught the child in his arms, pressed her to his -bosom and burst into tears. Yes; though he was a brave -man, and though he wore a steel corselet on his breast, -and though armies were waiting for him to lead them -to battle, still his heart melted within him and he wept. -Christina, too, was so afflicted that her attendants began -to fear that she would actually die of grief. But probably -she was soon comforted, for children seldom remember -their parents quite so faithfully as their parents -remember them.</p> - -<p>For two years more Christina remained in the palace -at Stockholm. The queen, her mother, had accompanied -Gustavus to the wars. The child, therefore, was left to -the guardianship of five of the wisest men in the kingdom. -But these wise men knew better how to manage -the weighty affairs of state than how to govern and educate -a little girl so as to render her a good and happy -woman.</p> - -<p>When two years had passed away tidings were -brought to Stockholm which filled everybody with triumph -and sorrow at the same time. The Swedes had -won a glorious victory at Lutzen. But, alas! the warlike -King of Sweden, the Lion of the North, the father of -our little Christina, had been slain at the foot of a great -stone, which still marks the spot of that hero's death.</p> - -<p>Soon after this sad event a general assembly of congress, -consisting of deputations from the nobles, the -clergy, the burghers, and the peasants of Sweden, was -summoned to meet at Stockholm. It was for the purpose -of declaring little Christina to be Queen of Sweden and -giving her the crown and scepter of her deceased father.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_600"></a>[600]</span> -Silence being proclaimed, the Chancellor Oxenstiern -arose.</p> - -<p>"We desire to know," said he, "whether the people -of Sweden will take the daughter of our dead King -Gustavus Adolphus to be their queen."</p> - -<p>When the chancellor had spoken an old man, with -white hair and coarse apparel, stood up in the midst of -the assembly. He was a peasant, Lars Larrson by name, -and had spent most of his life in laboring on a farm.</p> - -<p>"Who is this daughter of Gustavus?" asked the old -man. "We do not know her. Let her be shown to us."</p> - -<p>Then Christina was brought into the hall and placed -before the old peasant. It was strange, no doubt, to see -a child—a little girl of six years old—offered to the -Swedes as their ruler instead of the brave king, her -father, who had led them to victory so many times. -Could her baby fingers wield a sword in war? Could her -childish mind govern the nation wisely in peace?</p> - -<p>But the Swedes do not appear to have asked themselves -these questions. Old Lars Larrson took Christina -up in his arms and gazed earnestly into her face. He -had known the great Gustavus well, and his heart was -touched when he saw the likeness which the little girl -bore to that heroic monarch.</p> - -<p>"Yes," cried he, with the tears gushing down his -furrowed cheeks, "this is truly the daughter of our Gustavus! -Here is her father's brow!—here is his piercing -eye! She is his very picture! This child shall be our -queen!"</p> - -<p>Then all the proud nobles of Sweden and the reverend -clergy, and the burghers, and the peasants knelt -down at the child's feet and kissed her hand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_601"></a>[601]</span></p> - -<p>"Long live Christina, Queen of Sweden!" shouted -they.</p> - -<p>Even after she was a woman grown, Christina remembered -the pleasure which she felt in seeing all these -men at her feet and hearing them acknowledge her as -their supreme ruler. Poor child! she was yet to learn -that power does not insure happiness. As yet, however, -she had not any real power. All the public business, it -is true, was transacted in her name; but the kingdom -was governed by a number of the most experienced -statesmen, who were called a regency.</p> - -<p>But it was considered necessary that the little queen -should be present at the public ceremonies and should -behave just as if she were in reality the ruler of the -nation. When she was seven years of age, some ambassadors -from the Czar of Muscovy came to the Swedish -court. They wore long beards and were clad in a strange -fashion, with furs and other outlandish ornaments; and -as they were inhabitants of a half-civilized country, they -did not behave like other people. The Chancellor Oxenstiern -was afraid that the young queen would burst out -laughing at the first sight of these queer ambassadors, -or else that she would be frightened by their unusual -aspect.</p> - -<p>"Why should I be frightened?" said the little queen. -"And do you suppose that I have no better manners -than to laugh? Only tell me how I must behave and I -will do it."</p> - -<p>Accordingly, the Muscovite ambassadors were introduced, -and Christina received them and answered their -speeches with as much dignity and propriety as if she -had been a grown woman.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_602"></a>[602]</span></p> - -<p>All this time, though Christina was now a queen, you -must not suppose that she was left to act as she pleased. -She had a preceptor, named John Mathias, who was a -very learned man and capable of instructing her in all -the branches of science. But there was nobody to teach -her the delicate graces and gentle virtues of a woman. -She was surrounded almost entirely by men, and had -learned to despise the society of her own sex. At the -age of nine years she was separated from her mother, -whom the Swedes did not consider a proper person to be -intrusted with the charge of her. No little girl who sits -by a New England fireside has cause to envy Christina -in the royal palace at Stockholm.</p> - -<p>Yet she made great progress in her studies. She -learned to read the classical authors of Greece and Rome, -and became a great admirer of the heroes and poets of -old times. Then as for active exercises, she could ride -on horseback as well as any man in her kingdom. She -was fond of hunting and could shoot at a mark with -wonderful skill. But dancing was the only feminine accomplishment -with which she had any acquaintance.</p> - -<p>She was so restless in her disposition that none of her -attendants were sure of a moment's quiet either day or -night. She grew up, I am sorry to say, a very unamiable -person, ill-tempered, proud, stubborn, and, in short, -unfit to make those around her happy or to be happy -herself. Let every little girl who has been taught self-control -and a due regard for the rights of others thank -Heaven that she has had better instruction than this poor -little Queen of Sweden.</p> - -<p>At the age of eighteen Christina was declared free to -govern the kingdom by herself without the aid of a regency.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_603"></a>[603]</span> -At this period of her life she was a young -woman of striking aspect, a good figure and intelligent -face, but very strangely dressed. She wore a short habit -of gray cloth, with a man's vest over it; and a black scarf -around her neck; but no jewels nor ornaments of any -kind.</p> - -<p>Yet, though Christina was so negligent of her appearance, -there was something in her air and manner -that proclaimed her as the ruler of a kingdom. Her -eyes, it is said, had a very fierce and haughty look. Old -General Wrangel, who had often caused the enemies of -Sweden to tremble in battle, actually trembled himself -when he encountered the eyes of the queen. But it -would have been better for Christina if she could have -made people love her, by means of soft and gentle looks, -instead of affrighting them by such terrible glances.</p> - -<p>And now I have told you almost all that is amusing -or instructive in the childhood of Christina. Only a -few more words need be said about her; for it is neither -pleasant nor profitable to think of many things that -she did after she grew to be a woman.</p> - -<p>When she had worn the crown a few years, she began -to consider it beneath her dignity to be called a -queen, because the name implied that she belonged to -the weaker sex. She therefore caused herself to be -proclaimed King; thus declaring to the world that she -despised her own sex and was desirous of being ranked -among men. But in the twenty-eighth year of her age -Christina grew tired of royalty and resolved to be -neither a king nor a queen any longer. She took the -crown from her head with her own hands and ceased -to be the ruler of Sweden. The people did not greatly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_604"></a>[604]</span> -regret her abdication, for she had governed them ill, -and had taken much of their property to supply her -extravagance.</p> - -<p>Having thus given up her hereditary crown, Christina -left Sweden and traveled over many of the countries -of Europe. Everywhere she was received with great -ceremony, because she was the daughter of the renowned -Gustavus, and had herself been a powerful queen. Perhaps -you would like to know something about her personal -appearance in the latter part of her life. She is -described as wearing a man's vest, a short gray petticoat, -embroidered with gold and silver, and a black wig, which -was thrust awry upon her head. She wore no gloves, -and so seldom washed her hands that nobody could tell -what had been their original color. In this strange dress, -and, I suppose, without washing her hands or face, she -visited the magnificent court of Louis XIV.</p> - -<p>She died in 1689. None loved her while she lived, nor -regretted her death, nor planted a single flower upon -her grave. Happy are the little girls of America who -are brought up quietly and tenderly at the domestic -hearth, and thus become gentle and delicate women! -May none of them ever lose the loveliness of their sex -by receiving such an education as that of Queen Christina.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Nathaniel Hawthorne. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Biographical Stories. (Houghton Mifflin Company.)</p></div> - -<h4>Joan Luna's Life</h4> - -<p>The parents of Juan Luna, the greatest and most -eminent Filipino painter, were Ilocanos and of humble -birth. The young artist was born in Ilocos Norte in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_605"></a>[605]</span> -year 1857 and died in Hong Kong in 1899. From childhood -he was hot-tempered. His early education was at -home. At the age of twelve he was a good caricaturist. -His father then sent him to Manila to attend the "Ateneo -Municipal." At the age of twenty-one he was sent to -Madrid, where he studied art under several famous -Spanish and Italian painters. He was given prizes at -the expositions in Madrid and Paris. In Spain he met -Miss Paz Pardo de Tavera, whom he married three years -later. He became very popular. Some of his friends -were Dr. Jose Rizal, Dr. Roxas, the famous Italian tenor, -Payarre, and many of the French and Spanish nobility. -He was especially loved by women, of whose hearts and -inclinations he showed a knowledge very intimate. Juan -Luna had an art which is seldom found in man, an instinct -found only in real genius, a power to portray and -interpret life, tenderness and the emotions of wrath and -pity.</p> - -<p>He was tall and well built, with a high forehead, a -short flat nose and large black impressive eyes. In about -the year 1890, while he was at Paris, a terrible thing -occurred. His wife began to be untrue to him. It is -said that one day Paz asked Juan to let her go to a certain -shop to buy some thread. He allowed her to go, -but soon followed her because he suspected her. He -saw that Paz did not go to a shop but to a private house. -He walked in and found his wife with another man. -Then the crisis began. Luna was blind with anger. He -took Paz home and asked her to explain to him her late -behaviour. After many a tear, after many excuses and -explanations, after many promises to be good, Paz was -pardoned.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_606"></a>[606]</span></p> - -<p>Two months later Luna asked his wife to go with -him and their two children to live in a village near by. -Paz at first said she would not go; but through the request -of her mother and brothers, she assented to Luna's -plan. On the day of their departure, when the carriages -which were to take them to the neighboring village were -in front of the door, Paz went to the bath-room with her -mother. Juan knocked at the door and asked her to -come down for it was getting late. Paz then shouted -out of the window, saying that her husband was killing -her. All at once Luna rushed to his room, took his pistol, -opened the bath-room door with a sudden push, and fired -at every one who came in his way. His mother-in-law, -wife and elder son were killed, and his younger son was -wounded.</p> - -<p>In this deed we see the real character of Luna. He -was generous and cold-blooded; but when his pride, -name and honor were wounded, his blood boiled in his -head, he trembled, and saw nothing before him—neither -God nor man—but only the guilty.</p> - -<p>The police then arrested him. He was tried the following -day. The newspapers spread this piece of news -to the world under their title: "<i>La Tragedia en Paris.</i>" -Fortunately he was acquitted. The judges decided that -man's honor is his life, and that when it is once destroyed -it can never be supplied.</p> - -<p>Luna was the greatest artist and painter that the -Philippines has ever produced. He is great in his own -country and ranks among the world's good painters.</p> - -<p>In 1899 he came back to the Philippines; but on his -way home, while at Hong Kong, he died of apoplexy and -a broken heart. His son was brought to Manila by a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_607"></a>[607]</span> -friend. Andres, his son, is now twenty years of age and -is also a good painter, but not like his father.</p> - -<p>The Philippines produced one of the world painters, -showing the fact that a great worker and a great mind -can not be hidden, even by tyranny and oppression.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Dolores Asuncion. -</p> - -<h4>Elizabeth Glade</h4> - -<p>Elizabeth Glade was born in Baltimore, Maryland, -about the year 1816. Her mother was a poor widow, but -gave her as much money as the family purse could afford, -for education in those days was very expensive.</p> - -<p>Having finished with school, Elizabeth began to -occupy herself in making buttons and fringe, which at -that time were made by hand. At the age of twenty-three -she married John Arnold, a carpenter. They both -moved to the city of Washington to live. In 1849, when -gold was discovered in California, Mr. Arnold caught -the fever of the excitement and joined the forty-niners. -A few years afterwards his wife received news of his -death.</p> - -<p>Elizabeth was left with only two hundred dollars, -and with five children who looked to her for food and -care. So she began the trade she had learned in her -girlhood and struggled along in spite of hard times. -Her mother took care of the children while Elizabeth -gave her entire attention to her trade.</p> - -<p>Gradually her work increased. She bought land in -the business part of Washington and started a store. -Later she bought more property. As Washington grew, -land and houses became more valuable, and Elizabeth -became wealthy. She expended much money on her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_608"></a>[608]</span> -children's education. One son she sent to Yale college -and afterwards to Europe to continue his studies. This -son died before he had opportunity to make a name for -himself. Her other two sons also died young; but her -two daughters lived to survive her, and were a great -comfort to her.</p> - -<p>Elizabeth had a peculiar disposition; for, though she -was exceedingly charitable, in small things she sometimes -showed indifference to other people's feelings. In this -petty selfishness, however, she was always frank and -never attempted to hide her actions.</p> - -<p>When a young girl, before she married, Elizabeth -once went to town to buy two veils for herself and her -sister. She had received from her sister the money for -her veil. Before Elizabeth bought the veils she saw a -poor woman, who asked her for money. Elizabeth opened -her purse and gave the women the money for her sister's -veil. She then bought a veil for herself and returned -home. Her sister was surprised to see her with only one -veil and asked her where the other was. "I thought -that as you were younger you would not mind losing -your veil, and that you would like to give the money -to the poor woman," Elizabeth replied in her most -innocent manner.</p> - -<p>One time she had company to supper and, as was her -custom, took all the cream off the milk for her own -coffee before passing the pitcher to anyone else. The -guest, when asked if she would have milk in her coffee, -said: "No, I do not care for milk in my coffee when -the cream has been taken off." Elizabeth burst out -laughing and said, "Well, Jane, I did not think anybody -saw me do that."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_609"></a>[609]</span></p> - -<p>Elizabeth supported two of her brothers and their -families when they became ill and poor.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Nellie Barrington. -</p> - -<h4>Biography of a Traitor</h4> - -<p>Vicente was born in Santa Cruz, Laguna, in the year -1868. His parents were poor, so that he did not have a -high education. Very little is known about his childhood. -He seemed to have attended the primary school -of the town, where he learned a little Spanish. He was -not properly brought up by his parents. He was allowed -to indulge in bad society. Being thus left alone, exposed -to vice, he grew to be an unscrupulous and unruly young -man. He became an orphan at the age of eighteen. To -earn his living and to satisfy his craving for any easy, -idle and dependent life, he joined the <i>Guardia Civil</i>, a -body of soldiers employed by the Spaniards to maintain -peace in the islands. Unfortunately, instead of being -the guardians of peace, these men became the malefactors -of the country. As I have said, Vicente joined this most -dreaded army of oppressors and in a few days he became -one of the most cruel and abusive men in the corps. -He put many guiltless persons in prison, just because of -animosity or revenge. He sent many innocent persons to -the block simply because he wished to gain the favor of the -high officials. Such injustices were much admired and -were even encouraged by the Spaniards—for they also -practised such acts. Often such base conduct brought -promotion to a soldier of that behavior. So Vicente was -appointed a sergeant. Being thus gratuitously rewarded -he grew more atrocious than before. He was, then, a -terror, an awful monster to humble citizens, a murderer<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_610"></a>[610]</span> -and a robber in every sense. His tyrannical and arbitrary -character, however, often succumbed to the tinkling -of coins—a fact that was universally true of government -officials of that time, from the highest to the lowest. -Once or twice through perfidious ways, Vicente acquired -a few large tracts of land, but this unlawfully attained -property was soon lost in gambling.</p> - -<p>Spanish rule was ended by the revolution of 1898. -This body of <i>Guardia Civiles</i> was torn asunder. Many -of them were killed in the fight, but many were taken -prisoners and some were pardoned. Vicente, evidently, -was to live longer to play another plot against his -country.</p> - -<p>At the beginning of the Filipino-American war, while -all the people left the town, with a heartless friend -Vicente surrendered. They allied themselves with the -Americans to betray their countrymen in the battlefield. -During the year following 1898, these two men -were the sole guides of the Americans in their campaigns. -They caused many to be thrown in prison. They laid -heavy taxes upon the goods of the tradesmen for their -own use.</p> - -<p>Vicente's friend was elected president of the town -the first time that the civil government was established -here. He was unfortunate, however, in being stabbed to -death soon afterwards. Vicente succeeded his friend in -1900, and later married the wife of his predecessor. By -this time Vicente was very rich with the spoils of his -own countrymen. In fact, he was, then, living a glorious -life at the expense of his suffering country. He did not -wield his power long. Naturally, the Americans had no -confidence in him. When the war was over, his office<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_611"></a>[611]</span> -was taken from him and was given to a good and honest -citizen.</p> - -<p>From that time Vicente lived a retired life with his -family. Because of cock-fighting, gambling and card -playing, his seemingly abounding wealth was soon exhausted. -After all, he was a poor ordinary man, devoid -of influence, respect and rank in society. Even his house -was sold. He then rented his former house and set up -as a notary public in 1904; by which he could hardly -support his family. His repressed ambition for power -was, however, kindled again and in January, 1909, he -proclaimed himself candidate for the presidency in the -coming election. But fortune, health and success deserted -him. He grew consumptive and, after a few -weeks, he was confined to his bed.</p> - -<p>One night in June, 1909, Vicente suddenly rose from -his bed and before his companions could ask him what -he wished, he jumped out of the window, shouting that -he was chased by some devils who were compelling him -to go with them to hell. He did not live long after this -event. He died a few hours later. In the morning, the -incident of his tragical death reached the ears of almost -everybody, and all these people said, "He is just paying -for some of his injustices. God is punishing him. Who -knows what punishment he will receive in the other -world!"</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Walfrido de Leon. -</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_612"></a>[612]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX -<br /> - -IMPERSONAL ACCOUNTS</h2> - -<p>In its general sense narrative history includes all -true-story forms, even incidents and eye-witness -accounts. But annals and chronicles may be grouped -by themselves on the basis of the non-personal and -scientific attitude of the writer and the fact that the -story is usually of the doings of a set of people living as -a unit. Of course we find such type blendings as the -"Annals" of Goethe, which are true but autobiographical, -and the "Annals of the Parish" by John Galt, and -the "Chronicles of the Schönberg-Cotta Family," -which though collective are fictitious; yet for the most -part these forms are thought of as embodying community -and actual history, and we will take them up -as such, remembering that fiction has drawn on all true-narrative -forms for verisimilitude. History is often -classified into narrative, scenic, and philosophical. -Only with the first kind have we anything to do.</p> - -<p>There are a number of histories that have extraordinary -literary value, that are not mere recitals of past -events with tame descriptions of by-gone scenes and -more-or-less acute analysis of epochs and causes, but -are intense human documents with the life-blood of -nations throbbing and beating in their pages. Green -gave his health and the best days of his living to write<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_613"></a>[613]</span> -his "History of the English People," and we love it. -It has something more than a scholar's accuracy in it. -It has a broad and deep inspiration that brings a catch -in the throat and a gleam of pride in the eye of any -who are fortunate enough to belong to the magnificent -race whose deeds it records. Enthusiasts fought for -Macaulay's "History" at the door of the bindery, -fulfilling the author's hope that it might be considered -more interesting than a novel. Motley's "Rise of the -Dutch Republic" is one of the most creditable things -in American letters. Prescott's "Ferdinand and Isabella," -"Conquest of Mexico" and of "Peru," and -Parkman's "Montcalm and Wolfe" are along side for -literary qualities. Carlyle's "French Revolution" is a -unique and graphic set of pictures. Gibbon's "Decline -and Fall of the Roman Empire" has long stood as -a classic example of literary high-seriousness in an -allied department. Grote's "History of Greece," -Machiavel's "History of Florence," Sismondi's "Italian -Republics," Hallam's "Middle Ages," Symond's -"Italian Renaissance" and Schiller's "Thirty Years' -War" are all worthy the name of literature and have -excellent narrative in them. We can study at present, -however, only those forms of history that are shorter -and are merely narrative—annals, chronicles, and true -relations.</p> - -<h3>I. Annals</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">What annals -are</div> - -<p>Annals are a concise historical record in which -events are arranged chronologically, year by -year. The accounts of necessity are brief, -since they are made and kept for reference. They<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_614"></a>[614]</span> -contain any matter the recorders deemed worthy of -notice, especially, of course, whatever affected the -community as a whole. The report stands in relation -to the community much as a diary stands in relation to -a person. Intimate facts are to be expected. The -ambitions, hopes, defeats, expenditures, future plans, -of the city or state, are mentioned perhaps, as are also, -maybe, its success and honor—in the carrying out of a -town fiesta or county fair, or in being host to some -distinguished visitor or to a session of some large -political party. The essential element of this kind of -narrative history is the yearly periods, though the term -"annals" has been loosely used in modern literature to -signify almost any temporal order. Indeed, except in -studies like this such titles are never very strictly -applied. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, for instance, is -in large part annals. However, we have a few clear -cases, especially among the ancients.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Famous -old annals</div> - -<p>Tacitus wrote annals. Then later there are the -<i>Annales Ecclesiastici</i> of Baronius; the <i>Annales et -Historia de Rebus Belgicis</i> by Grotius, -published at Amsterdam in 1557; Hailes's -"Annals of Scotland from the Accession of Malcolm III -to the Accession of the House of Stuart;" Chamber's -"Domestic Annals of Scotland," and others. John -Stow bears a very high reputation as "an accurate and -impartial recorder of public events." He travelled on -foot through a considerable part of England examining -old manuscripts in cathedrals and other places of -preservation. He wrote down impartially what he -judged to be the truth, and, unswayed by "fear, favor, -or malice," as he himself declared, he established<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_615"></a>[615]</span> -trustworthy history in his native land. His "Survey -of London" (1598) is the best known of his writings. -A scholarly piece of work, it has served us the foundation -of all subsequent histories of the metropolis.</p> - -<p>American history, so badly treated in the past, is -being written accurately for the first time, think our -present day historians. They go about their work in -the good old Stow fashion: they use authenticated -local records. The friendly fable is current that the -way a noted professor composes his many histories is -this: he merely reaches about from left to right and -up and down of his mammoth desk and pulls from the -numerous cubby-holes bundles of closely written pages, -sorts them a little, ties a string around them, and says, -"Here's your book." But these closely written pages -are carefully prepared, minutely accurate material—monographs -on the local annals and traditions of -various places, done by the professor's own students -under the scrutinizing eye of their master. Whether -the fable is based on truth or not, it is illustrative of the -value of annals.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Suggestions -on -material</div> - -<p>If you live in a small town, you can easily get at its -records, and with the permission of a person in -authority copy a few items. If you yourself -very well know the events written of, you -might edit the report, adding details of your -own by way of notes. You should not change the -statements, however, in the original; but, where there -is evidence of error or omissions, you could supply a -corrective amendment with the real facts in support. -If you translate from one tongue into another be careful -to give the idiomatic equivalent. The annals of a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_616"></a>[616]</span> -society or club might be easily enough compiled. All -that you would need to do would be to arrange the -narrative by years, culling your facts from the secretaries' -reports.</p> - -<h4>The State of England in Stephen's Reign</h4> - -<p>1137. This year King Stephen went across the sea -to Normandy. There he was well received because the -people thought that he must be the same sort of man as -his uncle; for he still had his treasure and he distributed -it and squandered it foolishly. In large quantities had -King Henry gathered gold and silver together. No good -did any of it do his soul, however.</p> - -<p>When King Stephen came to England he made his -parliament at Oxenford. There he took Robert, bishop of -Salisbury; Alix, bishop of Lincoln; also Chancellor -Robert, his nephew; he put them all in prison until they -gave up their castles. When the traitors understood that -he was a mild man, soft and good, and did no justice, -they did every kind of wrong. They had sworn homage -to him, had made oaths, but they did not keep faith. -All were foresworn and their word of truth was gone. -For every rich man made him a castle, which they all -held against the king. They filled the land full of castles. -They oppressed very much the wretched men of the land -with castle-building. When the castles were finished, -they filled them with evil and devilish men. They captured -and imprisoned there by night and by day all -persons whom they thought had any possessions, both -men and women. They put them in prison for the sake -of gold and silver. They tortured them with indescribable -tortures; never were martyrs tormented as were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_617"></a>[617]</span> -these people. They hanged up men by the feet and -smoked them with foul smoke. Some were hanged up -by the thumbs, others by the head, and burning things -were hung on to their feet. They put knotted strings -around men's heads and writhed them until they went -into the brain. They put men into prison where adders -and snakes and toads were crawling, and so they tormented -them. Some they put into a chest short and -narrow and not deep, that had sharp stones within, and -forced men therein so that they broke all their limbs. -In many of the castles were hateful and grim things -called <i>tachenteges</i>, which two or three men had enough -to do to carry. It was thus made: it was fastened to a -beam and had a sharp iron to go around a man's neck -and throat, so that he might noways sit, or lie, or sleep, -but he bore all the iron. Many thousands they starved -with hunger.</p> - -<p>I cannot nor may I tell all the wickedness and all the -torture which they did the poor wretches of this land. -This condition lasted nineteen years while Stephen was -king, and it grew ever worse and worse. They laid -tribute on the enclosures (<i>tunes</i>) always, and called it -<i>censerie</i>. When the miserable inhabitants had no more -to give, then they were plundered. The nobles burned -all the enclosures. So that you might easily go a whole -day's journey and you would find no man sitting in his -enclosure. No land was tilled. Corn was dear; also -flesh, cheese, and butter, for there was none in the -country. The wretched peasants died of hunger. Some -who were once rich men went a begging; others fled the -country.</p> - -<p>Never was there before more destitution and suffering<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_618"></a>[618]</span> -in the land; never did heathen men act worse than they -did. For everywhere subsequently did they forbear -neither church or churchyard; but they took all the -property that was in them. And sometimes they burned -the church and all together. Nor did they spare bishops' -land, or abbots', or priests'. They spoiled monks and -clerks. And every man (plundered) the other wherever -he could. If two or three men came riding up to an enclosure, -all the people of the farmstead fled because of -them; for they thought that they were robbers. The -bishops and the clergy always cursed them, but that was -nothing to them; for they were all fore-cursed, fore-sworn, -and lost.</p> - -<p>Wheresoever the peasants cultivated, the earth produced -no grain; for the land was all destroyed with such -deeds. And they said openly that Christ and his saints -slept. Such things and more than we can mention we -suffered nineteen years because of our sins.</p> - -<p>During all this evil time Abbot Martin held his abbacy -twenty years, six months and eight days, with great -toil. He provided his monks and his guests all that they -needed; he practiced much charity in his house. Nevertheless -he worked on the church, and appointed for its -lands and rents. He endowed it richly, he caused it to -be roofed, he brought them (the monks) into the new -minister on St. Peter's day (June 29) with much honor. -And he went to Rome; there he was well received by -Pope Eugenius. He obtained privileges; one, of all the -lands of the abbacy and another, of the lands which belong -to the office of sacrist. And, if he might live longer, -he meant to do the same with respect to the office of -treasurer. And he gained property in lands that powerful<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_619"></a>[619]</span> -men held by force or violence; from William Maldint, -who held Rockingham, he obtained Cottingham and -Easton, and from Hugo of Walteville he secured Irlingborough -and Stanwick, and forty sols from Oldwinkle -each year. And he created many monks and planted -vineyards. And he performed many works. And he -changed the town to a better state than it ever was before. -He was a good monk and a good man; therefore God and -other men loved him.</p> - -<p>Now we will say a little about what befell in King -Stephen's time. During his reign the Jew of Norwich -bought a Christian boy before Easter and tortured him -with all the torture that our Lord suffered. And on -Good Friday they hanged him to a cross for the love of -our Lord. Then they buried him. They thought it would -be concealed, but our Lord showed that he was a holy -martyr. The monks took him and buried him splendidly -in the minster. And he performed through our Lord -many wonderful miracles. They called him Saint William.</p> - -<p>1138. This year King David of Scotland came to this -land with an immense army. He wanted to obtain possession -of the country by fighting. And there came -against him William, Earl of Albermar, to whom the -king had entrusted York and to other faithful men with -a few followers, and fought with him. He put the king -to flight at the battle of the Standard, and slew very -many of his army.</p> - -<p>1140. This year King Stephen wanted to take Robert, -Earl of Gloucester, King Henry's son; but he could not, -for he became aware of it.</p> - -<p>Thereafter in the Lenten season the sun and the day<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_620"></a>[620]</span> -grew dark, about the ninth hour of the day, while people -were eating; so that they had to light candles to eat by. -It was on the 20th of March that the inhabitants were -so greatly astonished.</p> - -<p>Later William, archbishop of Canterbury, died. And -the king made Theobald archbishop, who was abbot in -the abbey of Bec.</p> - -<p>Then there waxed a very great war between the king -and Randolf, earl of Chester, not for the reason that he -(the king) did not give him (evidently the earl) all that -he demanded of him, as he did to all the others. But -always the more he gave them, the worse they were to -him. The earl held Lincoln against the king and deprived -him of all that he ought to have. Thither went -the king and besieged the earl and his brother William -of Romare in the castle. But the earl stole out and went -after Robert, earl of Gloucester, and brought him thither -with a large army. They fought hard on Candlemas day -against their lord. They captured him because his men -betrayed him and fled. They led him to Bristol and put -him in prison. Then was all England stirred more than -it ever was before. And all kinds of evil were in the -land.</p> - -<p>Later came King Henry's daughter that had been -empress of Germany. Now she was the countess of -Anjou. She came to London and the London folk -wanted to seize her. And she fled and lost there very -much.</p> - -<p>Then Henry, bishop of Winchester, brother of King -Stephen, spoke with Earl Robert and with the empress -and swore them oaths that he would never again hold -with the king his brother, and he cursed all those that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_621"></a>[621]</span> -were allied to him. And he told them that he would give -up to them Winchester, and he caused them to come -thither. When they were within the castle, the king's -queen came with all her forces and besieged them. And -a great famine occurred in the castle. When they could -no longer endure it, they stole out and fled. But those -without were aware, and followed them. And they took -Robert, earl of Gloucester, and led him to the Rochester -and put him in prison. The empress escaped into a -minster. Then went wise men between the king's friends -and the earl's friends. And they negotiated that the -king should be let out of prison in exchange for the -earl, and so they exchanged captives.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Peterborough Chronicle. -</p> - -<h4>Annals of the Town of Mangaldan, 1879-1882</h4> - -<p>I. July 2, 1879. An army of locusts swept over the -town. Crops were destroyed; panic followed.</p> - -<p>II. August 8, 1879. The <i>cura</i> (priest) ordered the -improvement of streets.</p> - -<p>III. August 21, 1879. A cardinal from Rome visited -the town. The priests waited on his table. Several -persons arrested for violating a certain ordinance were -pardoned through the grace of the holy visitor.</p> - -<p>IV. February 29, 1880. The gold rosary of the -image of Virgin Mary was stolen; consequently, the <i>cura</i> -forbade the procession on the evening of that day.</p> - -<p>V. July 17. A terrible earthquake shook the town, -destroying some houses.</p> - -<p>VI. November 27. The Governor General visited -Mangaldan. There was great rejoicing; all the houses -around the <i>plaza</i> were hung with damasks.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_622"></a>[622]</span></p> - -<p>VII. December 1. A Moro was taken around the -town. He carried a flag with a pig painted on it.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Don Domingo Ydio,<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> 1879-1880. -</p> - -<p>I. January 1, 1881. Mariano Cendaña, after murdering -all the members of his family, went around the town, -killing all whom he met. He was at last captured.</p> - -<p>II. October. A big comet appeared in the east. It -was so low that the people said it was only as high up -as the tallest cocoanut. The rays, spreading far and -wide, struck superstitious persons with awe and admiration.</p> - -<p>III. November. General epidemic, caused by some -disease scattered by water (perhaps cholera), killed -many people.</p> - -<p>IV. June, 1882. Another murder, Adriano Torralba, -killed three men in the barrio of Maasin.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Kept by Don Mariano Cortes, 1881-1882. -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(Obtained and translated by Bernabe B. Aquino.)</p></div> - -<h4>Annals of Pagsanjan</h4> - -<p>It has been said that about the middle of the seventeenth -century some Chinese traders arrived at the -junction of the Bumbungan and the Balanac rivers. -They chose this place to establish a trading post, for the -boats and barges could anchor close to the land. At -that time the San Isidro Hill extended to the Balanac -river, and there were rice and corn fields on the site of -the present town. As time went on, the Chinese married -Filipino women, and quite a settlement grew up. The -Chinese built houses and stores, and formed a small village -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_623"></a>[623]</span> -with other Filipino families. This village was under -the control of Lumbang, its neighboring town. The inhabitants, -of the village went to hear mass at Lumbang. -The men, especially the Chinese and their sons, gradually -grew rich. One of these rich mestizos supported the -priest of Lumbang, who, accordingly, could not say the -mass before they were all in the church.</p> - -<p>One day, however, when the priest was hungry, he -said the mass before their arrival. Then, the man who -supported him became angry. He assembled all his -fellowmen to talk concerning the separation of the village -from Lumbang. They all agreed to build a church -of their own and call a priest. They contributed money, -and then asked some Chinese carpenters to build a church -for them. It was completed, in 1690. At the completion -of the church they agreed to build streets and enlarge -their village in order that it might accommodate the increasing -population. They dug up a part of the San -Isidro Hill, and on that cleared space laid out the streets -which are now called Maura, Rizal, and Moret. They -also covered the fields with sand, and built other streets. -They kept enlarging the village till it became a town. -The people named this town Pinagsangajan, which means -branching. They so called it Pinagsangajan, for it was -located at the junction of the Balanac and the Bumbungan -rivers. Now the people called it Pagsanjan, contraction -of Pinagsangajan.</p> - -<p>In 1763 the church was burned. It was rebuilt in -1764. It was not completed till 1882.</p> - -<p>In 1880 a great earthquake occurred, and many buildings -in Pagsanjan were destroyed. These ruined buildings -were not repaired for seven years.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_624"></a>[624]</span></p> - -<p>In 1890 a severe storm occurred, and the Balanac -and the Bumbungan rivers overflowed their banks. The -water flowed all over the town. Many buildings were -carried away by the flood, and many people were -drowned.</p> - -<p>In 1893 a great fire happened, and more than one -hundred and fifty buildings were burned. Before the -big fire there were some large houses. Very few houses -at that time were made of stone. So after the fire the -people used stone materials in rebuilding their ruined -houses.</p> - -<p>They made their new houses larger than the old ones. -It took them many years to finish beautifying the -town.</p> - -<p>On November 14, 1896, the <i>Katipunan</i> arrived at -Pagsanjan. The next day they went to Santa Cruz to -storm the town, but they could not carry out their plan, -for all the people who were faithful to their country -fought against them. Then they returned to Pagsanjan. -They went back again to Santa Cruz, but they accomplished -nothing. On Tuesday afternoon nearly all the -inhabitants of Pagsanjan fled from the town, because -many soldiers were come to storm the place. But the -shelling did not happen; instead they pardoned those who -did not run away when they saw that the people in the -town were few. The leader of these soldiers was General -Aguirre.</p> - -<p>In 1901 the Americans came to Pagsanjan. When -they came the church plaza served as barracks for the -soldiers. These soldiers erected their tents and staked -their horses there. This plaza has had a checkered history. -In 1892 when Don Pedro Paterno, a deputy of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_625"></a>[625]</span> -first district of the province of Laguna, was spending his -vacation in Pagsanjan, a meeting was held at his house, -and he urged upon the people the advantage of erecting -a monument in the center of the park, so as to commemorate -the concession of municipal government in the -Philippines. The people all agreed with him, so immediately -they contributed money and within a week the -proposed monument was completed. In the dedication -of this monument many people joined. As the monument -was erected to thank the government of Spain, the inscription -engraven on the tablets was about the Queen -of Spain, Don Angel Aviles, the director general of the -civil administration, and others. In 1898 just after the -insurrection of the Filipinos against the Spaniards, the -four marble tablets with their inscriptions were taken -from the faces of the monument and reversed; then on -the blank surface were painted inscriptions of the revolutionary -government in honor of Emilio Aguinaldo and -Apolinario Mabini. In 1902 after the Philippines became -subject to the American government, the councillors -agreed to remove the inscriptions, replacing them with -others—William McKinley, José Rizal, W. H. Taft and -the honorable Civil Commission of the United States in -the Philippines. But the people were not contented with -the inscriptions, so after a short time an agreement was -made that the tablets were to be turned as they were -originally mounted, presenting the old inscriptions, so -that the founders and the names of those in whose honor -the monument was first erected and who granted the -early liberties should not be forgotten.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Dolores Zafra. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_626"></a>[626]</span></p> - -<h3>II. Chronicles</h3> - -<div class="sidenote">Definition. -Froissart</div> - -<p>When the order of time is most conspicuous, history -is called chronicle. The work is usually divided into -sections, each section covering a separate -period. The periods may be long or short. -The account of occurrences may be somewhat elaborate, -but it is most often bare and simple. Froissart's -chronicles (1326-1400), however, are a rich pageantry -of feudal times. "The din of arms, the shouting -of knights, and marshalling of troops are there. -Visions Of fair women rise before us. Gorgeous -feasts and spectacles in which this knight of France -and England so much delighted are set forth in copious -details, and though he is no philosopher, his shrewd -observations, and richly minute descriptions have -helped others to philosophize."<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> Froissart's Chronicles -first appeared at Paris about the end of the -fifteenth century under the title of <i>Chroniques de -France, d'Angleterre, d'Escosse, d'Espagne, de -Bretagne, de Gascogne, de Flanders et lieux d'aleutour</i>. -In English there are two versions: one executed in -1523-25 by Lord Berners (reprinted in 1812); and the -other 1803-5 by Thomas Johnes. The later is more -correct. In the 13th and 14th centuries chroniclers -sprung up all over Europe, and created the non-church -history of the highways.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Ayala</div> - -<p>Contemporaneous with Froissart was Ayala, who is -first of the Spanish chroniclers to be entirely -safe as an historical source. Ayala wrote -calm, business-like prose, and was bent upon recording -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_627"></a>[627]</span>facts whether glorious or inglorious. In contrast with -Froissart's simple-hearted enthusiasm Ayala's attitude -is one of cool sagacity and experience. He looks quite -through the deeds of men. He as dispassionately -records the crimes of the lords of the earth as he does -their pretentions to greatness. He lived in "four wild -reigns"—those of Peter the Cruel, Henry the Second, -John the First, and Henry the Third—and, as a minister -of state in each, had every opportunity to become -disillusioned, about chivalry. An event that both -Ayala and Froissart record is the murder of Blanche -of Bourbon by her husband the king, Don Pedro the -Cruel.</p> - -<p>The circumstantial minuteness of an account by -a chronicler, who was an eight-years' eye-witness -of the king's inhumanity to his young and beautiful -queen, and who recorded step by step the series of -murders by which the king came up to the final crime, -seems more moving to a modern reader than would -seem the wildest and most impassioned ballad on the -subject. Indeed, Ayala's account has settled the character -of Don Pedro forever, despite the occasional -attempts by some personally interested countryman to -defend him, and despite the sentimental-tragedy of the -theater, and such metrical outbursts as that of -Chaucer's in the "Monk's Tale." But Chaucer, as -Ayala himself would have told us, was an "interested -party," since he was attached to the Duke of Lancaster -who was attached to Don Pedro.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">General -chronicle -of Spain</div> - -<p>Seventy-five or eighty years before Ayala, Alfonso -the Wise had begun the general chronicle of Spain by -collecting old ballads and redoing them into prose, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_628"></a>[628]</span> -by adding thereto the history of his own day. Sixty -years after him, Alfonso the Eleventh appointed a court -chronicler; and so the habit in Spain of recording the -chief events of the kingdom was kept up -from 1320 with more or less regularity down -to the establishment of the Academy of -History in the eighteenth century. It is interesting -to note that this chronicle, that first preserved the -popular metrical tales by putting them into prose, in -turn gave rise to popular metrical tales that have kept -the traditions—such as those of the Cid and Bernardo -del Carpio.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Saxo Grammaticus</div> - -<p>Like this earlier part of the Spanish Chronicle, the -still older legendary chronicles of the North promoted -literature. That of the Britons by Geoffrey -of Monmouth and that of the Danes by Saxo -Grammaticus have served, perhaps, a better purpose -than true accounts; for they have quickened the imagination -of subsequent times and given us themes for -many ballads and for some of the marvelous productions -of Shakespeare.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Holinshed</div> - -<p>Because of the industry of Shakespeare's commentators -in assigning so much of the great dramatist's -subject-matter to Holinshed, the Tudor -chronicler will always live. Regardless of -whatever he may be worth personally, the whole world -owes him a debt for doing the hack work and thus leaving -a great genius free to construct.</p> - -<p>A chronicle is not hard to write. The only requirements -are that you shall select a definite period of -time, and, proceeding in order, draw in it simple and -graphic pictures of the life lived and the deeds<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_629"></a>[629]</span> -wrought. You might put together the events of your -own neighborhood for the last three years.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">True -relation</div> - -<p>Or you might write up some important happening -as it reaches back into the past and culminates in the -present. You would then be writing a true -relation. A true relation does not differ -much from a chronicle except in the fact that the -author as one person takes full responsibility for all -the statements. He must record nothing, therefore, -that he does not himself actually know; of every thing, -else he must give warning as hearsay or as oral or -written tradition or as records of someone else. A true -relation may even be a travel sketch or a partial -biography. <span class="err" title="original: If">It</span> differs from journal and diary in being -a narrative of the doings of units of mankind or of -events that are of scientific or general importance and -that are not necessarily recorded daily and have no -essentially personal bearing upon the author beyond, -the relationship of vouched and voucher.</p> - -<p>In 1589 Richard Hakluyt published a folio of -various relations which he called "The Principal -Navigations, Voyages, and Discoveries Made by the -English Nation." The events recorded, however, are -not always authentic. Modern historians are impatient -with Hakluyt, because he did not select more carefully -and sacrifice bulk to trustworthiness. Well-known -Spanish relations found in Blair and Robertson's -"Philippine Islands" are those of Loarca, Chirino, -Morga, Plascencia. They are considered reliable.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_630"></a>[630]</span></p> - -<h4><i>CHRONICLE</i> -<br /> -Rivalry Between Two Towns</h4> - -<p>During the time that the Earl of Flanders was in his -greatest prosperity there was a citizen of Ghent, by name -John Lyon, subtle and enterprising, and very much in -favor of the earl. This man having been banished from -Ghent on account of some murder in which he had been -concerned, retired to Donay, where the earl, who is said -to have been the promotion of the murder, supported him -in the greatest affluence, after a while recovered for him -his freedom, and made him deacon of the pilots, which -office might be worth about 1,000 francs a year. At the -same time there was a family in Ghent called the -Matthews, consisting of seven brothers, who were the most -considerable of all the pilots. One of these, by name -Gilbert Matthew, from jealousy and other causes, bore -in secret great hatred toward this John Lyon, and determined, -without striking a blow, to do him the greatest -injury in his power. With this view he got acquainted -with one of the earl's chamberlains, and in the course -of conversation with him took an opportunity of saying -that if the Earl of Flanders pleased he might gain every -year a handsome revenue from the pilots; that it might -be collected on the foreign trade, provided John Lyon, -the deacon, would acquit himself honestly. The hint was -conveyed by the chamberlain to the earl, who (like other -great lords, naturally eager of gain) ordered Gilbert -Matthew to be sent for. Gilbert was introduced accordingly -and made his scheme appear so reasonable that the -earl agreed to adopt it. John Lyon was forthwith sent -for, and in Gilbert's presence the earl proposed the -scheme to him. Now John saw at once that this was not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_631"></a>[631]</span> -a reasonable demand, and consequently said, "What you -require, as it seems at Gilbert's proposing, I cannot execute -alone; it will be too heavy upon the mariners." -However, the earl persisted, and John Lyon replied that -he would do the best in his power.</p> - -<p>When this conference was over, Gilbert Matthew, -whose only object was to ruin John Lyon, went to his six -brothers and said to them, "You must now give me every -possible assistance, and we shall effect our purpose. A -meeting is to be held about this tax; now, notwithstanding -all I may say at the meeting, you must refuse to -comply. I will dissemble and argue that if John Lyon -did his duty, this ordinance would be obeyed. I know -the earl well, and sooner than lose his point, John Lyon -will be displaced; from his office, which will be given to -me, and then, of course, you can comply. With regard -to the other mariners, we are too powerful for them to -oppose us."</p> - -<p>The six brothers agreed to do exactly as Gilbert had -directed them, and at the meeting everything turned out -as he wished; for John was deposed and the office was -given to Gilbert. Not contented with having effected the -ruin of their unhappy victim, one of the brothers wanted -to contrive to have him put to death, but to this the others -would not agree, saying that he had done them no wrong -and that no man ought to lose his life but by sentence -of a judge. Things went quietly for some time, until the -people of Bruges began to make a canal from the River -Lys. The canal had often before been attempted; but -as the inhabitants of Ghent considered it to be injurious -to the interests of their town, it was always opposed by -them. On the present occasion the Earl of Flanders had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_632"></a>[632]</span> -sanctioned the plan, and even sent pioneers with a body -of men-at-arms to annoy them in the execution of their -work.</p> - -<p>As chance would have it, one day a woman on her return -from a pilgrimage to Our Lady of Boulogne, being -weary, sat down in the market-place of Ghent; when -many people collected around her, asking whence she -came. "From Boulogne," said the woman, "and I have -seen on my road the greatest curse that ever befell the -town of Ghent; for there are upward of five hundred men -laboring night and day to open a canal for the Lys, and -if they be not immediately prevented, the course of the -river will soon be turned." This speech of the woman -was echoed far and wide, and served to inflame men's -minds in all directions. Many said that if John Lyon -had been deacon no such attempt would ever have been -made; and to him they resorted for advice. John -thought this a favorable opportunity to redress the injury -he had received; however, he did not wish to seem -to thrust himself forward; but when prevailed upon to -speak, after much entreaty said: "Gentlemen, if you -wish to put an end to this business, you must renew an -ancient custom which formerly existed in this town of -Ghent. I mean you must first put on white hoods and -choose a leader."</p> - -<p>"We will have it so! We will have it so!" was heard -on all sides. "We will put on white hoods."</p> - -<p>White hoods were accordingly provided and given -out to those who preferred war to peace; and John Lyon -was elected chief. Most willingly did he accept the office, -for he rejoiced at the opportunity of embroiling the -towns of Ghent and Bruges with each other and with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_633"></a>[633]</span> -the earl, their lord. Gilbert Matthew, on the other hand, -was by no means well pleased when he saw in what numbers -the white hoods had collected. News was soon -carried to the pioneers that a large force from Ghent was -coming against them, upon which they immediately left -their work and returned to Bruges, so that John Lyon -and his party returned to the town without any encounter. -During the same week in which these white -hoods had placed themselves under the command of John -Lyon, another cause of distrust originated at Ghent by -some persons who were alarmed for its franchises; which -circumstances also favored greatly John's desire of -embroiling the town. The hope of success made him more -active than ever. He spread secret rumors in different -parts and took every opportunity of suggesting "That -never could the privileges of any town be properly maintained -when offices were put to sale," intending this in -allusion to the manner in which Gilbert Matthew had -become possessed of the deaconship. Moreover, he frequently -harangued his people in public; on which occasions -he spoke so well and with so much art that he -always left them highly impressed in his favor. At -length the men of Ghent determined to send to the Earl -of Flanders requesting a redress of their grievances, and -especially that he would put a stop to the canal. The -earl, thinking to abolish the white hoods, immediately -granted the request, but John Lyon, who was present -when the earl's answer was received, thus addressed the -meeting: "My good people, you see clearly at present -the value of these white hoods. Do they not guard your -privileges better than those of the red and black, or hoods -of any other color? Be assured, then, by me, that as soon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_634"></a>[634]</span> -as they shall be laid aside I will not give three farthings -for all your privileges."</p> - -<p>This speech had the desired effect upon the people, -and they determined to do as John Lyon had advised -them. But Gilbert Matthew, who was very ill at ease, -concerted a plan with the earl to arrest John and some -of the principals of the white hoods, hoping thereby to -disperse the rest. With this view the bailiff of Ghent -came to the town with about 200 horsemen; galloped up -the streets with the earl's banner in his hand, and posted -himself in the market-place, where he was joined by -Gilbert and several others. John Lyon, suspecting what -was intended, immediately got together a large body of -his men, for they were instructed to be always ready, and -ordered them to advance. The moment Gilbert Matthew -and his party saw the white hoods advancing they left the -bailiff and ran off as fast as they could. John Lyon on -entering the market-place, without saying a word, seized -the bailiff and slew him. He then ordered the earl's -banner to be dragged through the dirt and torn to pieces; -and, upon seeing this, the men at arms took to flight and -left the town, which the victorious party pillaged as they -pleased.</p> - -<p>After this event, several of the wisest and richest of -the citizens in Ghent, tired of these constant contentions, -called an assembly in which it was debated how they -could best make up matters with the earl and promote -the advantage of the town. John Lyon and other leaders -of the white hoods were invited to attend; indeed, without -them they would not have dared to assemble. Many -proposals were made, and long debates ensued; at last, -however, it was determined to elect twelve of the most<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_635"></a>[635]</span> -respectable inhabitants, who should entreat the earl's -pardon for the murder of the bailiff, and endeavor by -this means to obtain peace; but in this peace every -person was to be included, and nothing moved in the -business hereafter.</p> - -<p>The resolution was acted upon, and on an appointed -day twelve citizens waited upon the earl, who pleaded -their cause so well, and appeared so contrite that the -earl was on the point of pardoning all the outrages that -had been committed, when he received information that -the castle of Andreghien had been burned to the ground. -"Burned!" replied the earl to the messenger who -brought the intelligence. "And by what means?"</p> - -<p>"By an accidental fire, as they say," was the reply.</p> - -<p>"Ah! ah!" answered the earl. "Now it is all over; -there can never be peace in Flanders while John Lyon -lives."</p> - -<p>Then sending for the deputies from Ghent, he said to -them, "Wretches, you supplicate my pardon with sword -in hand. I had acceded to your wishes and your people -have been base enough to burn down my favorite castle. -Was it not sufficient to have murdered my bailiff and -trampled on my banner? Quit my presence directly; -and tell the men of Ghent they shall never have peace -until they shall have given up to me to be beheaded -those whom I shall point out."</p> - -<p>The earl was right in his conjecture. It was, indeed, -John Lyon and a refractory band of white hoods under -him who, discontented with the proposal of the assembly, -had actually destroyed the beautiful castle of Andreghien -while the deputies were at Male in conference with -the earl. Of course the poor deputies knew nothing of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_636"></a>[636]</span> -John Lyon's intention; and, like people perfectly innocent, -endeavored to excuse themselves, but in vain. The -earl was now so much enraged that he would not listen -to them, and as soon as they had left he summoned all -the knights of Flanders, and every gentleman dependent -on him, to be advised by them how he could best revenge -himself on the people of Ghent.</p> - -<p>This was the very thing that John Lyon wanted; for -the people of Ghent would now be obliged to make war, -whether they liked it or not. He therefore seized the -opportunity, and, having collected the white hoods, -publicly harangued the people, and advised them without -delay to get together all the support from neighboring -towns they could, and make an attack upon Bruges. -Such even now was his influence that in a short time he -mustered a very large army, and placing himself at their -head advanced to Bruges, which town was so taken by -surprise that after a short parley at the wicket, the -burgomaster and magistrates opened the gates and the -men of Ghent entered. A formal alliance was then -drawn up, which the men of Ghent and Bruges mutually -swore to keep, and to remain forever as good friends and -neighbors.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Froissart's Chronicles," in World's Great Classics Series.</p></div> - -<h4>A Short History of Ilagan</h4> - -<p>The town of Ilagan derived its name from the inverted -form of the Ibanag word <i>nagaly</i>, which means -"transfer." Why the town was named Ilagan was the -fact that in early times it was moved to its present location -from a plain a few miles away, which is always overflowed -by the annual inundation of the Cagayan river.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_637"></a>[637]</span></p> - -<p>The early inhabitants were well-trained warriors, for -they had to fight with the Igorrotes—a wild head-hunting -tribe in the mountains. Their religion was somewhat -similar to Brahmanism, for they worshiped the crocodile -and practiced <i>anito</i> widely. Even after the Spaniards -came to the town, the people were barbarous, and it was -only after the arrival of the Dominicans, about 1689, -that civilization began to spread itself among the people; -for these benevolent friars established schools, converted -the pagan inhabitants into Christians, and taught them -better modes of living.</p> - -<p>Although the people seemed to be contented, still it -was not very long until they began to feel the heavy -grasp of the iron hand of Spanish oppression. In 1776 -a revolt occurred, and the people in their frenzy burned -the church and nearly all the Spanish residences. The -causes of the revolt were the high rates of taxation and -the compulsory public labor. But the uprising, which -spread throughout central Luzon, was soon quelled, and -peace was restored.</p> - -<p>Then followed a period of advancement and progress. -The inhabitants were for about one hundred and thirty -years peaceful. During this long period a new church -was finished, in 1787; the town became the capital of the -province, and commerce progressed by leaps and bounds. -But in 1897 when the news of Rizal's execution, which -caused a tide of patriotism to sweep over the land, became -known to the people, they again revolted, but -without accomplishing much. In the Filipino-American -war the inhabitants took no active part, although, owing -to the presence of a handful of Tagalog soldiers from -Palanan, then a barrio of Ilagan, where Aguinaldo was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_638"></a>[638]</span> -captured, some skirmishing was done in the barrio of -San Antonio.</p> - -<p>Ilagan is situated on a three-cornered star-shaped -plateau at the junction of the Pinacanauan and Cagayan -rivers, about ninety miles from Aparri. It is divided -into four districts: Bagumbayan, which occupies the -northern corner of the star; Baculod, the eastern corner; -St. Vicente, the southwestern comer, and Central, the -center. The residences of the rich, the municipal and -provincial buildings, the church and the principal European -and Chinese business houses are in the central -district; while the farmers, artisans, shoemakers and -other classes of people inhabit the other districts. In -the district of St. Vicente are the ruins of the church -burned in 1776. The lot where it is situated is now -overgrown with large trees, and the crumbling brick wall -which formed the background of the church, and is now -covered with moss and vines, remains as a memento of -the uprising.</p> - -<p>The inhabitants, being near the Ilocanos, are industrious, -and being far from the Tagalogs are peaceful. -But what is to be admired more than any of their other -characteristics is their political belief. The majority is—I -hope it will be always—in favor of the indefinite retention -of the islands by America, the spread of democratic -education among the people, and the speedy development -of agriculture. If the people do not depart -from their present policies, the future history of the -town will be one of happiness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_639"></a>[639]</span></p> - -<h4><i>A TRUE RELATION</i> -<br /> -Some Incidents of the Rebellion of 1898 -</h4> -<p>The Filipino rebellion against Spanish rule really -began in the year 1896, in southern Luzon. The northwestern -provinces rebelled much later, owing perhaps to -the lack of communication or to some disagreement -among the leaders of certain districts. I was about eight -years old at the time the war broke out in western -Pangasinan and northern Zambales, and I write from -what I saw with my own eyes, and what was afterwards -told me by my parents and older friends.</p> - -<p>About the beginning of the year 1898 the northwestern -provinces of Luzon became restless, seeing that their -brothers in Cavite and other southern provinces were -already in the field. The Spaniards grew more and more -uneasy and so a detachment of from fifteen to twenty -Spanish soldiers was placed in each town, in addition to -the <i>guardia civil</i>, which was also stationed in the large -towns. It must be borne in mind that in that war no -quarter could be expected from either side and all the -prisoners were invariably put to death. So that unusual -cruelty should not be imputed to the common Filipino -fighter in the massacres which he committed.</p> - -<p>Just about the beginning of the year 1898, some time -in the month of January, the people of my town, as well -as the neighboring towns, agreed to massacre the detachment -of soldiers in their respective municipalities. -The agreement was kept a great secret, and in my town -at least the Spanish soldiers had not the slightest idea -of the fatal compact. The day decided upon was a certain -Monday in February, 1898, the exact date of which -I do not remember.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_640"></a>[640]</span></p> - -<p>Outside the town, in the dead of night, you would -find groups talking in whispers as to the final arrangements, -for the chief men would go to the <i>barrios</i> in the -night and hold secret meetings in hidden and solitary -places. In the afternoons you would find men grinding -their long bolos or <i>talibongs</i> in the solitude of their -houses. At the same time you would see the women -making trousers and hat-bands of red cloth for their -husbands or brothers. In the meantime the Spaniards -had a vague idea of how things were going on, and becoming -rather uneasy, they ordered a barricade of bamboo -to be built around their barracks. The guardia civil -did the same, except that instead of bamboo, they used -big logs, which they made each <i>principal</i> (councilor) -give. But unfortunately the very workmen themselves -were rebels, and were the first ones to strike the blow. -I also remember clearly how the lieutenant and the town -friar forbade people to talk in groups of three or more. -So men walked in the streets alone or with only one -companion, not even daring to engage in earnest conversation. -Men visited their friends, going to the back -doors at night.</p> - -<p>It must be stated here that in order to get all the -able-bodied men to join the rebellion a form of ceremony -was gone through in the case of every single convert. -Certain men who were influential and eloquent were appointed -to do the hard work of conversion. A leader of -this kind had to coax and persuade men singly, at the -same time taking care that the Spanish forces did not -hear of his proceedings. After a man had expressed -his willingness to join, he was made to take a solemn -oath, the non-fulfilment of which would bring upon him<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_641"></a>[641]</span> -temporal and spiritual condemnation. Besides, his arm -was pricked with a sharp knife, and with his own blood -he wrote, or else caused to be written, his name in a -large book. This made the ceremony to the new recruit -exceedingly impressive.</p> - -<p>One thing that made men so bold at that time was -the belief in the power of the <i>anting anting</i> (talisman). -There were two kinds of anting anting that were bullet -proof. They were made of flour like sacred bread, except -that they were as large in circumference only as a -<i>peseta</i>. Some Latin words were printed on them. One -kind was eaten, while the other was placed on the forehead. -So after the town was in the hands of the revolutionists, -everybody seemed to be having a headache, -for they all had their foreheads bound around with -handkerchiefs, or more often with red bands of cloth. -I must add that the color of the revolution was red, the -sign of blood. I remember that when we left the town to -hide in the country I left my expensive felt hat, and used -a cheap native sombrero with a red band around it. -When the town was again retaken by the Spaniards -we tore off all these red signs and buried them in the -ground.</p> - -<p>As I have said, the day agreed upon for the massacre -was Monday. My uncle told me the Spanish soldiers in -town heard of the people in the barrios assembling, but -they entirely ignored the danger, feeling sure that the -rebels with bolos would not by any means dare to cope -with their powerful Mausers. My uncle further added -that, had the Spanish been discreet, considering that they -were twenty-two in number, including a lieutenant, besides -the town friar, they would have fortified the convent<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_642"></a>[642]</span> -and would have been able to hold out till reinforcements -from eastern Pangasinan could come.</p> - -<p>On the morning of that fatal day I was in the house -of my grandmother, which was near the plaza where the -soldiers had their quarters. I could not see the whole -of the slaughter, for my grandmother when she saw us -looking at the fight, sent us to the cellar, and made us -lie there flat on our stomachs to protect us from spent -bullets.</p> - -<p>Early that morning about eight o'clock the guardia -civil, hearing that there was a great crowd of armed men -near the town cemetery about a mile away, went out -there. The guardia civil soldiers, who were all Filipinos, -were in league with the movement, but their sergeant was -a Spaniard. When they saw the men near the cemetery -and when the sergeant ordered them to fire, they did not -aim at the rebels. But the rebels instead, thinking that -the soldiers had changed their minds, fought in earnest -and killed the guardia civil to a man.</p> - -<p>In the meantime the Spanish soldiers in the town -were being massacred. At the appointed time a workman -who was working on the barricade, gave the guard -a blow with his axe, and the guard fell without a groan. -Then the rest of the workmen went up to the barracks -with the pretense of asking for their pay. When the -big drum began to beat they seized the guns and hacked -and struck the unarmed soldiers.</p> - -<p>The slaughter was indeed terrible to see. From all -the streets of the town leading to the public square issued -hundreds of men all at the same time. I think I still -see those men with red-banded hats shouting at the top -of their lungs, holding and wielding aloft their long<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_643"></a>[643]</span> -sharp bolos, which as they caught the rays of the morning -sun dazzled our eyes. These men advanced toward -the barracks and there finished the massacre. Some of -the Spaniards, deprived of their guns and hard pressed -by the workmen who had gone up to the barracks, -jumped down from the windows; but it was like jumping -from the frying pan to the fire, for they were met -by bristling swords and lances.</p> - -<p>Of the twenty-one soldiers, four chanced to be out, -two being in the market, and two being in my uncle's -house. On hearing the tumult and seeing men issue from -all the streets and alleys, they ran like mad to their -quarters; but they were all killed before reaching the -place. One of the soldiers had a bayonet slung to his -belt, and drawing it he tried to ward off the blows rained -upon him from all sides; but in a moment a shower of -clubs and stones laid him low. Some of the soldiers fell -on their knees and implored for mercy, but the blood of -those men, many of whom had already experienced -cruelty and torture under the Spanish servitude, was -boiling with vengeance toward the Spaniards as a whole -people.</p> - -<p>The lieutenant was just going from the convent, -where he had his quarters, to the barracks, and on seeing -the hordes of men, he turned back, ran up in the church -steeple, and from there with his revolver fired shot after -shot at the multitude below. Strange to say he hit not -even a man, probably through excitement. The men, -seeing him, climbed up the tower. He surrendered, knelt -down and threw away his revolver; but no quarter was -given. He was cut all through and his body was thrown -from the dizzy height of about a hundred and fifty feet<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_644"></a>[644]</span> -to the ground. His blood, which trickled from the tower -down the church wall may still be seen to this day.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon two native carts full of corpses, their -arms and legs dangling in the air, were all that was left -of those twenty-two <i>cazadores</i>. I liked the Spanish -soldiers, for they were such jolly, good fellows, fond of -dancing <i>fandango</i> and singing airs of old Spain. Many -of them were mere boys seized and shipped over here -from their unwilling parents. To them the only civilized -and good country was Spain; and they often excited my -boyish fancy with exaggerated descriptions of the wonders -of Spain and extravagant tales about its people. So -as the carts passed by our house and I saw the dead, -I felt quite sad, wondering within my childish heart -what fault they had committed to entitle them to such -a sad end.</p> - -<p>The town friar, the town tyrant and dictator, had -now also come to the end of his reign. Men who formerly -used to kneel to him denounced him and gave -vent to all their accumulated hatred. The friar was -sentenced to death and a few days afterwards was executed -outside the town. The infuriated ignorant people -sacked the convent, which at that time was like a palace. -They were so enraged that even the library of the convent -was burned and cut to pieces. A funny incident is -connected with the convent. It was circulated about -that on the outbreak of the disturbance the friar had -dropped a large box of silver into one of the convent -wells, of which there were several. A few years after the -war some people began to inquire as to which of the -wells the money had been dropped into; for the American -soldiers, on occupying the convent, filled up some of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_645"></a>[645]</span> -wells. Finally there was discovered on the trunk of a -santol tree growing near one of the wells a cross carved -in the wood. People said it was the sign made by the -friar to mark the spot, and henceforth began to dig up -the well. They worked for days and days expecting -every moment to find the box, but in vain. As a result -of their over-credulity they expended a good deal of -hard labor.</p> - -<p class="right"> -—Marcelino Montemayor. -</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_646"></a>[646]<a id="Page_647"></a>[647]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BIBLIOGRAPHY">BIBLIOGRAPHY</h2> - -<h3>LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS</h3> - -<p>A. B.—Ariel Booklets (G. P. Putnam's Sons).</p> - -<p>Bohn.—Bohn's Libraries (Geo. Bell, London).</p> - -<p>C. N. L.—Cassell's National Library (Cassell).</p> - -<p>E. L.—Everyman's Library (Dent and Dutton).</p> - -<p>N. U. L.—New Universal Library (E. P. Dutton).</p> - -<p>P. W. C.—Putnam's World's Classics (G. P. Putnam's Sons).</p> - -<p>T. C.—Temple Classics (J. M. Dent).</p> - -<p>W. C.—World's Classics (Oxford University Press).</p> - -<p>W. G. C.—World's Great Classics (Colonial Press).</p> - -<h3>GENERAL REFERENCE WORKS ON THE HISTORY OF -FICTION</h3> - -<p>Dunlop, <i>History of Prose Fiction</i>, 2 vols. (Bohn, 1896).</p> - -<p>Ticknor, <i>History of Spanish Fiction</i>, revised edition (Boston, -1866).</p> - -<p>Raleigh, <i>The English Novel from its Origin to Sir Walter -Scott</i> (Scribner).</p> - -<p>Cross, <i>The Development of the English Novel</i> (Macmillan).</p> - -<p>Simonds, <i>An Introduction to the Study of English Fiction</i> -(Heath).</p> - -<p>Warren, <i>History of the Novel Previous to the Seventeenth -Century</i> (Holt).</p> - -<p>Hamilton, Clayton, <i>The Materials and Methods of Fiction</i>, with -introd. by Brander Matthews (The Baker and Taylor Co.)</p> - -<p>Jusserand, <i>The English Novel in the Time of Shakespeare</i> -(Putnam).</p> - -<p>Forsyth, <i>Novels and Novelists of the Eighteenth Century</i> -(Appleton).</p> - -<p>Matthews, <i>The Short-Story</i> (American Book Co.)</p> - -<p>Jessup and Canby, <i>The Book of the Short-Story</i> (Appleton).</p> - -<p>Canby, H. S., <i>The Short-Story in English</i> (Holt).</p> - -<p>Stoddard, <i>Evolution of the English Novel</i> (Macmillan).</p> - -<p>Tuckerman, <i>History of English Prose Fiction</i> (Putnam).</p> - -<p>In Lanier's <i>The English Novel</i>, Whitcomb's <i>The Study of a -Novel</i>, and Barrett's <i>Short-Story Writing</i> the criticism is -analytical rather than historical.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_648"></a>[648]</span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER I. PRIMITIVE RELIGIOUS GROUP</h3> - -<h4>Myth</h4> - -<h5>CRITICAL BOOKS.</h5> - -<p>Andrew Lang, <i>Custom and Myth</i> (Longmans). Max Müller, -<i>Chips from a German Workshop</i>, vol. II and IV. Max Müller, -<i>Last Essays</i>, 2nd series. W. G. Wood Martin, <i>Traces of the Elder -Faiths in Ireland</i>, 2 vols. E. B. Tylor, <i>Primitive Culture</i>. Laura -E. Poor, <i>Sanscrit and Its Kindred Literatures</i>. Jacob Grimm, -<i>Teutonic Mythology</i>.</p> - -<h5>DICTIONARIES</h5> - -<p>Fernando Blumentritt, <i>Dictionario Mitológico de las Filipinas</i>. -Isabelo de los Reyes, <i>La Religion Antigua de los Filipinos</i>. E. C. -Brewer, <i>Dictionary of Phrase and Fable</i> (Altemus). A. S. Murray, -<i>Manual of Mythology</i>.</p> - -<h5>COLLECTIONS OF MYTHS</h5> - -<p>Hawthorne's <i>Wonder Book and Tanglewood Tales</i> (E. L.). -The works of Jeremiah Curtin: <i>Creation Myths of Primitive -America</i>; <i>Myths and Folk-lore of Ireland</i>; <i>Myths and Folk-tales -of the Russians, Western Slavs, and Magyars</i>; <i>A Journey in -Southern Siberia</i> [the religion and myths of the Mongols]. The -works of C. M. Skinner: <i>American Myths and Legends</i>, 2 vols; -<i>Myths and Legends of Our New Possessions and Protectorates</i>; -<i>Myths and Legends of Our Own Land</i>, 2 vols.; <i>Myths and Legends -Beyond Our Borders</i>. Florence J. Stoddard's <i>As Old as the Moon</i> -[Folk-lore of the Antillas] (Doubleday, Page); <i>Myths of the -Quichas</i>. Guerber's <i>Myths of Greece and Rome</i>; Bulfinch's <i>Age -of Fable</i>; Katherine B. Judson's <i>Myths and Legends of the -Pacific Northwest</i> (McClurg); T. G. Thrum's <i>Stories of the -Menehunes</i> (1910).</p> - -<h4>Legend and Saga</h4> - -<p><i>The Legends of St. Patrick</i>, by Aubrey de Vere (C. N. L.); -H. A. Guerber's <i>Legends of Switzerland</i>, and <i>Legends of the -Rhine</i>; Sidney Lanier's Boys' Library of Legend and Chivalry -contains <i>The Boy's King Arthur</i>, <i>The Boy's Percy</i>, and <i>The -Knightly Legends of Wales</i> (Scribners); Selma Lagerlöf's -<i>Invisible Links</i>; Ruskin's <i>King of the Golden River</i> (A. B.); -Canton's <i>W. V.'s Golden Legend</i> (Dodd, Mead); <i>Finnish Legends</i>, -stories from the Kalevala, told by Eivind (T. Fisher Unwin). -S. Baring Gould's <i>Curious Myths of the Middle Ages</i> (Longmans) -are really legends. Hawthorne's <i>Twice Told Tales</i> includes a -number of legends. <i>Mediaeval Tales</i> in Morley's Universal -Library contains stories from the <i>Gesta Romanorum</i> and the Faust -legend. Nutt's <i>Legends of the Holy Grail</i>. Dr. Whitley Stokes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_649"></a>[649]</span> -has translated many of the early Irish sagas (<i>Revue Celtique</i>, -1869-1902, and in <i>Irische Texte</i>, 1880-1902). Kipling's <i>Puck of -Pooh's Hill</i> [fairy tale and legend] (Doubleday); Eleanor H. -Broadus' <i>The Book of the Christ Child</i> (Appleton); Van Dyke's -<i>Other Wise Man</i> (Harpers) is purely literary. <i>The Story of -Grettir the Strong</i>, translated from the Icelandic by Magnusson -and Morris (Longmans); <i>The Volsunga Saga</i>, translated by -Magnusson and Morris (Scott); <i>Beowulf</i>, translated into modern -English prose, by J. Clark Hall (Sonnenschein); J. Baldwin's -<i>Story of Roland</i> (Scribners); C. D. Wilson's <i>Story of the Cid for -Young People</i>. <i>The Nibelungenlied</i> is well translated in the -World's Great Classics Series and contains a good introduction. -<i>Orlando Furioso</i>, translated by W. S. Rose (Bohn). <i>The Mabinogion</i>, -translated by Lady Charlotte Guest (Nutt); <i>The Stories -of the Ramayana and Mahabharata</i>, told by Oman (Bohn). An -English translation of the <i>Shah Nameh</i> may be found in Oriental -Literature (W. G. C.).</p> - -<h4>Fairy Tale and Nursery Saga</h4> - -<p>Collectors have not distinguished carefully between fairy tales -and nursery sagas. Many of the collections cited as fairy tales -contain nursery sagas. A general term often used to include both -is folk-tales; Tolstoy has re-done several of the Russian folk -stories, which may be found in <i>Twenty-three Tales from Tolstoy</i>, -translated by L. & F. Maude (W. C.). T. G. Thrum's <i>Hawaiian -Folk-Tales</i>; F. H. Cushing's <i>Zuñi Folk-Tales</i> (Putnam); Blue, Red, -Green, Gray, Yellow, Pink, Violet, Crimson, and Brown Fairy -Books, edited by A. Lang (Longmans). <i>The Fairy Library</i> -(Putnam), collected and edited by Joseph Jacobs, contains English, -Celtic, Indian, East Indian, Persian, Chinese, South Sea Island, -African, and Japanese fairy tales. W. R. S. Ralston's <i>Russian -Fairy and Folk Tales</i> (Hurst); <i>English Fairy and Folk Tales</i>, -edited by E. S. Hartland (Scott); <i>Scottish Fairy and Folk Tales</i>, -edited by Sir Geo. Douglas (Scott); <i>Irish Fairy and Folk Tales</i>, -edited by W. B. Yeats (Scott); Grimm's <i>Household Tales</i> in any -of the good editions (E. L., Lippincott, Bohn); Hans Christian -Andersen's <i>Fairy Tales</i> (E. L.). Burt's Fairy Library includes -among others <i>Cossack Fairy Tales</i>, <i>Russian Fairy Tales</i>, <i>Turkish -Fairy Tales</i>. <i>Fairy Gold</i>, stories chosen by E. Rhys (E. L.). -Thomas Keightley's <i>Fairy Mythology</i> (Bohn) is a standard reference -work. Alfred Nutt's <i>Fairy Mythology of Shakespeare</i> (1900).</p> - -<h3>CHAPTER II. SYMBOLIC-DIDACTIC GROUP</h3> - -<h4>Fable</h4> - -<p>Thomas Newbigging's <i>Fables and Fabulists</i> (New York), critical -and historical discussion of writers of the type.</p> - -<p>Fables in the Bible, Judges 9:8-15; II Kings 14:9. <i>Kalilah<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_650"></a>[650]</span> -and Dimnah</i>, or the <i>Fables of Bidpai</i>: an historical account with -a translation into English, by Keith Falconer (London, 1885); -<i>Hitopadesa</i> (The Book of Good Counsels), translated by Sir Edwin -Arnold: Oriental Literature, vol. III (W. G. C.), also in N. U. -L.; Aesop's <i>Fables</i> (Astor Library, Crowell; P. W. C.); <i>Fables</i> -of Phaedrus, translated into prose and verse (Bohn); La Fontaine's -<i>Fables</i> (T. C., Bohn); Iriarte's <i>Literary Fables</i> (first -publ. 1782), English version by Rockliffe, 3rd edition, 1866; Gay's -<i>Fables</i>, in Muses Library (Dutton); Richard Steele's <i>Mastiff and -His Puppy</i> (Tatler, No. 115); <i>Kriloff and His Fables</i>, translated -by J. R. S. Ralston (J. S. Ogilvie, N. Y.); <i>Turkish Fables</i> [46 in -number], translated by Epiphanius Wilson: Turkish Literature -(W. G. C.).</p> - -<h4>Parable</h4> - -<p>R. C. Trench, <i>Notes on the Parables of Our Lord</i>.</p> - -<p>Parables of the Bible: II Samuel 12:1-4; 14:5-7; I Kings -20:39-40; Isaiah 5:1-6; 28:23-28; Matthew 13:4-7, 24-33; 18:23-35; -20:1-16; 21:33-41; 22:1-14; 25:1-13; 26:14-30, 31-46.</p> - -<p>For a summary of <i>Barlaam and Josaphat</i>, see Dunlop's History -of Fiction, vol. I, pp. 64-77.</p> - -<p>Hamilton W. Mabie's <i>Parables of Life</i>. A number of the -stories in <i>Twenty-three Tales from Tolstoy</i> (W. C.).</p> - -<h4>Allegory</h4> - -<p>James Baldwin's <i>The Famous Allegories</i> (Silver, Burdett); -Olive Schreiner's <i>Dreams</i>; Oscar Wilde's <i>Poems in Prose</i>, (Fortnightly -Review, 1894), also in Ideal Series of Little Masterpieces; -<i>Everyman, and eight other Moralities</i> (E. L.); Henry Van Dyke's -<i>Blue Flower</i> (Scribners); Hawthorne's <i>Twice Told Tales</i> and -<i>Mosses from an Old Manse</i> (Houghton). Alfred de Musset's -<i>Story of a White Blackbird</i> (Brentano) is a unique and daring -autobiographical allegory.</p> - -<h3>CHAPTER III. INGENIOUS-ASTONISHING GROUP</h3> - -<h4>Tale of Mere Wonder</h4> - -<p>Meredith's <i>Shaving of Shagpat</i> (Bozhill edition); Stevenson's -<i>New Arabian Nights</i>, and <i>More New Arabian Nights</i> (Scribners); -H. W. Weber's <i>Tales of the East</i>, 3 vols. (Edinburgh, 1812); -Dandin's <i>Hindoo Tales</i> (London, 1873); S. Julien's <i>Nouvelles -Chinoises</i> (Paris, 1860). <i>History of the Forty Vezirs</i>, Turkish -tales translated by Epiphanius Wilson: Turkish Literature, pp. -361-460 (W. G. C.). <i>Egyptian Tales</i>, translated by W. F. Petrie: -Egyptian Literature, pp. 135-177 (W. G. C.). <i>Moorish Tales</i>, -translated by Rene Basset, Chauncey Starkweather, and others: -Moorish Literature (W. G. C.). <i>Tales of the Genii</i>, translated<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_651"></a>[651]</span> -from the Persian by Sir Charles Morell (Bohn); <i>Arabian, Nights' -Entertainments</i>, edited by Stanley Lane-Pool, in 6 vols. (A. B.), or -in 4 vols. (Bohn); <i>The Golden Ass</i>, by Apuleius (Bohn).</p> - -<h4>Imaginary Voyage With a Satiric or Instructive Purpose</h4> - -<p>Lucian 's <i>Trips to the Moon</i> (C. N. L. No. 71); More's <i>Utopia</i> -(T. C.); Bacon's <i>New Atlantis</i> (Bohn); Barclay's <i>Argenis</i>, English -translation by Sir R. Le Grys, 1629; Swift's <i>Gulliver's -Travels</i> (T. C.). For Swift's obligations to previous writers, see -article by Borkowsky in "Anglia," vol. 15. F. C. Sibbern (1785-1872), -a Scandinavian writer, wrote "Contents of a MS. of the -year 2,135." <i>The Adventures of Baron Munchausen</i>, by Rudolphe -Eric Raspe (P. W. C.); <i>Robinson Crusoe</i>, in Defoe's Works, vol. -7 (Bohn).</p> - -<p>For summaries of the imaginary voyages of Lucian, Holberg, -Cyrano de Bergerac, Berkeley, and others, see Dunlop <i>History of -Prose Fiction</i>, vol. II, pp. 518-538, 588-591, 619-622 (Bohn, revised -edition, 1896).</p> - -<h4>Tale of Scientific Discovery and of Mechanical Invention</h4> - -<p>H. G. Wells's stories and novels are good examples of the -pseudo-scientific tale. His imaginary voyages are not without -gentle satire on the learned theories of the day (Scribners, Harpers, -Century). "With the Night Mail; a Story of 2000 A. D.," -by Rudyard Kipling (Doubleday, 1909); <i>The Mystery</i>, by Stewart -Edward White and Samuel Hopkins Adams. Most of the short -stories of this type mentioned in the discussion can be found in -the collections of short stories (see below).</p> - -<h4>The Detective Story and Other Tales of Mere Plot</h4> - -<p>Among the earliest detective stories and stories of crime belong -Charles Brockden Brown's <i>Edgar Huntley</i> and <i>Arthur Mervyn</i> -(Works, Philadelphia, 1877); Edgar Allan Poe's famous detective -stories have been mentioned in the text. Emile Gaboriau (1835-1873) -popularized the story of crime in France. M. Lecoq is a -direct forerunner of Sherlock Holmes. His <i>Works</i> are published -(in English translation) in 6 vols. A. Conan Doyle's <i>Adventures -of Sherlock Holmes</i>, <i>Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes</i>, <i>The Return of -Sherlock Holmes</i>, <i>The Sign of the Four</i>, <i>A Study in Scarlet</i>, <i>The -Hound of the Baskervilles</i>, etc., are worth reading. Anna Katherine -Green surely does not lack popularity whatever else she may -lack. Her earlier stories are better than her later, with the -exception of <i>The Filigree Ball</i>, which is perhaps her best. Meredith -Nicholson's <i>House of a Thousand Candles</i> has a good mysterious -plot. The works of Rodriguez Ottolengui (Putnam). For -other stories of pure plot see writers mentioned in bibliography -to Chapter VI.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_652"></a>[652]</span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER IV. THE ENTERTAINING GROUP</h3> - -<h4>Tale of Probable Adventure</h4> - -<p><i>Tales of Daring and Danger</i>, by G. A. Henty; F. H. Spearman's -<i>Held for Orders</i>; <i>Tales of Railroad Life</i> (McClure), <i>Nerve -of Foley and other Railroad Stories</i> (Harpers); Cy Warman's -<i>The Last Spike and Other Railroad Stories</i> and <i>The Express Messenger</i> -(Scribners); Stewart Edward White's <i>Blazed Trail Stories -and Stories of the Wild Life</i> (Doubleday). Many of R. L. Stevenson's -tales.</p> - -<h4>The Society Story</h4> - -<p>This is the type of the larger number of love tales in current -periodicals. When well done under certain restrictions of length -and development a narrative of this kind rises to the class of the -artistic short-story.</p> - -<p>Pastoral Romance—<i>Aucassin and Nicolette</i>, translated by -Andrew Lang (Chiswick Series); <i>Greek Romances of Heliodorus, -Longus, and Achilles</i> Tatius (Bohn); Cervantes' <i>Galatea</i> is a typical -example. It is published in English translation in Bohn's -Libraries. Montemayor's <i>Diana</i> is summarized rather fully in -Dunlop II, pp. 365-376. For Sidney's pastoral see E. A. Baker's -edition of the <i>Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia</i>. Lodge's <i>Rosalind</i> -(C. N. L.). For historical criticism of the type, see E. K. Chambers' -<i>English Pastorals</i> (Warwick Library), W. W. Greg's <i>Pastoral -Poetry and Pastoral Drama</i>, 1906, and J. B. Fletcher's <i>The Pastoral</i> -(Types of English Literature, Houghton Mifflin & Co.).</p> - -<h4>The Humorous Story</h4> - -<p>As in the case of the society story, the best collections of humorous -stories are the cheaper current magazines.</p> - -<p>Fableaux—A. de Montaiglon et G. Raynaud, <i>Receuil général et -complet des fabliaux des XIIIe et XIVe siecles</i>, Paris, 1872-88, -6 vols. See Dunlop, <i>History of Fiction</i>, vol. II, p. 23 et seqq.</p> - -<p>Picaresque romances—<i>Romances of Roguery</i>, by F. W. Chandler, -2 vols., 1899, is the standard book of criticism of the type. -For the picaresque romances themselves, see Petronius Arbiter's -<i>Satyricon</i>, English translation (Bohn); Apuleius' <i>Golden Ass</i>, -English translation (Bohn). English translations of <i>Lazarillo de -Tormes</i>, by Roscoe, and <i>Guzman d'Alfarache</i>, by Brandy, can be -obtained from Lemcke and Buechner (N. Y.). <i>Gil Blas</i>, 2 vols. -(W. C.); Smollett's <i>Roderick Random</i>, <i>Peregrine Pickle</i>, <i>Ferdinand</i>, -<i>Count Fathom</i>, in works, edited by Saintsbury (London, -1895); Fielding's <i>Jonathan Wild</i>, in works, edited by Saintsbury -(London, 1893); Thackeray's <i>Barry Lyndon</i> (Macmillan); E. W. -Hornung's <i>Amateur Cracksman</i> (Tauchnitz) and <i>Further Adventures -of the Amateur Cracksman</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_653"></a>[653]</span></p> - -<h4>The Occasional Story</h4> - -<p><i>Christmas Stories from the French and Spanish</i>, translated by -Antoinette Ogden (McClurg, 1892). E. E. Hale's <i>In His Name</i>, -and <i>Christmas Stories</i> (Library edition); Stockton's <i>The Christmas -Wreck</i> (Scribners); Dickens' <i>Christmas Books and Stories</i>, 2 vols. -(Houghton); Thackeray's <i>Christmas Books</i> (Macmillan). The -source of the nineteenth century emphasis of Christmas festivities -in English was Irving's <i>Christmas Sketches</i>. <i>Unter dem Christbaum</i> -(Heath) contains five Christmas stories by Helene Stökl.</p> - -<h3>CHAPTER V. THE INSTRUCTIVE GROUP</h3> - -<h4>The Moral Story</h4> - -<p>Edgeworth's <i>Stories for Children</i> (Bohn), <i>Moral Stories</i> -(Tauchnitz), <i>Murad the Unlucky</i> (C. N. L.); <i>Gesta Romanorum</i> -(P. W. C., Bohn); <i>Forty Tales from the "Decameron"</i> (Morley's -Universal Library); <i>Rasselas</i>, by Samuel Johnson (P. W. C., A. B., -Burt); Voltaire's <i>Tales</i> (Bohn); Cervantes' <i>Novelas Ejemplares</i>, -translated into English by W. K. Kelly (Bohn); <i>Essays and Tales</i>, -from Addison (C. N. L.); <i>Essays and Tales</i>, from Steele (C. N. -L.); <i>Twenty-three Tales</i>, from Tolstoy (W. C.); Hawthorne's -<i>Twice Told Tales</i> (Houghton). Leopoldo Alas's <i>Cuentos Morales</i> -(in Spanish), and Emilia Pardo-Bazán's <i>Novelas Ejemplares</i> -(also in Spanish).</p> - -<h4>The Pedagogical Commentary and Story</h4> - -<p>Pestalozzi's <i>Leonard and Gertrude</i> (Heath); Ascham's <i>Scholemaster</i> -(Heath); Machiavelli's <i>Prince</i> (Oxford, W. C.); Thomas -Elyot's <i>The Boke Named the Governour</i>, edited by Croft, 2 vols. -(London, 1883); Ascham's <i>Toxophilus</i> (Arber's Reprints); Walton's -<i>Compleat Angler</i> (editions innumerable); Castiglione's -<i>Courtier</i>; Froebel: <i>The Mottoes and Commentaries of Froebel's -Mother Play</i> (Appleton).</p> - -<h4>The Story of Present Day Realism</h4> - -<p>Kipling's <i>Life's Handicap</i> and <i>Plain Tales from the Hills</i> -(Doubleday); William Carleton's <i>Traits and Stories of the Irish -Peasantry</i>, edited by D. J. O'Donoghue, 4 vols. (London and New -York, 1896); Edgeworth's <i>Castle Rackrent and Other Irish Tales</i> -(A. B.); O. Henry's <i>Trimmed Lamp and Other Stories of the Four -Million</i>; B. Matthew's <i>Vignettes of Manhattan</i> (Harper); W. D. -Howells' <i>A Modern Instance</i> (Houghton), <i>The Lady of the Aroostook</i>, -<i>The Rise of Silas Lapham</i>, etc.; Israel Zangwill's <i>Children -of the Ghetto</i> (Macmillan); Upton Sinclair's <i>The Jungle</i> (1906); -Jacob A. Riis's <i>Children of the Tenements</i>; Henry James' <i>Daisy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_654"></a>[654]</span> -Miller</i> (Harpers). Count Tolstoy's method is always realistic, -although his types are extremely varied; see <i>A Russian Proprietor -and Other Stories</i> (Crowell). In method at least, most of the -stories of Bret Harte, Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, and Hamlin Garland -are of this type. In his <i>Kriegsnovellen</i> (Berlin, 1899) Detlev -von Liliencron gives vigorous and sincere pictures of the Franco-German -war, though he sees with the eye of the poet and selects -his material.</p> - -<h3>CHAPTER VI. THE SHORT STORY</h3> - -<h4>Collections of Short Stories</h4> - -<p>Stories by American Authors, 10 vols. (Scribners).</p> - -<p>Stories by English Authors, 9 vols. (Scribners).</p> - -<p>Stories by Foreign Authors, containing works from the French, -German, Italian, Russian, Scandinavian, Spanish, Polish, Greek, -Belgian, Hungarian, 10 vols. (Scribners). <i>Tales from "Blackwood,"</i> -2 vols. (Tauchnitz). <i>Masterpieces of Fiction</i>, 8 vols. -(Doubleday, Page). <i>American Short Stories</i>, edited by Charles S. -Baldwin (Wampum Library of American Literature). A selection -of the <i>World's Greatest Short Stories</i>, edited by Sherwin Cody -(World's Best Series). <i>The Short Story</i>, by Brander Matthews -(American Book Co.), contains twenty-three short stories. <i>The -Book of the Short Story</i>, by Jessup and Canby (Appleton), contains -eighteen representative examples. For bibliography of other -collections of the short stories of the world, see lists at the ends -of the chapters in Jessup and Canby.</p> - -<h4>The Psychological Weird Tale</h4> - -<p>E. A. Poe's <i>Prose Tales</i>, 3 vols. (Illustrated Sterling edition). -The Odd Number Series contains Maupassant's <i>Odd Number</i>. -Mary E. Wilkins' <i>The Wind in the Rose-Bush</i>, and other <i>Stories of -the Supernatural</i> (1903); Irving's <i>Tales of a Traveller</i>, 2 vols. -(A. B.); <i>Modern Ghosts</i>, edited by G. W. Curtis (Harpers, 1890).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Gothic Romance as Source.</span> Horace Walpole's <i>Castle of -Otranto</i> (C. N. L. No. 10); Clara Reeve's <i>The Old English Baron</i> -(C. N. L., No. 127); Mrs. Radcliffe's <i>Italian, Romance of the -Forest</i>, and <i>Mysteries of Udolpho</i> (London, 1877); Lewis's <i>The -Monk</i> (Phila., 1884); Mrs. Shelley's <i>Frankenstein</i> (Routledge's -Pocket Library). Peacock satirized the school of terror and other -forms of romance in <i>Nightmare Abbey</i> (E. L.), and <i>Crotchet -Castle</i> (C. N. L. No. 56).</p> - -<h4>Miscellaneous Short-Story Writers of Europe and America</h4> - -<h5>SPAIN</h5> - -<ul> -<li>Pedro Antonio de Alarcon (1833-1891).</li> -<li>Leopoldo Alas (1852-1901).<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_655"></a>[655]</span></li> -<li>Emilia Pardo-Bazán (b. 1851).</li> -<li>Gustavo Adolfo Becquer (1836-1870).</li> -<li>Vicente Blasco Ibañez (b. 1867).</li> -<li>Fernán Caballero (1796-1877).</li> -<li>Benito Pérez Galdós (b. 1845).</li> -<li>Antonio de Trueba (1819-1889).</li> -<li>Juan Valera y Alcalá Galiano (b. 1824).</li> -<li>Armand Palacio Valdes (b. 1853).</li> -<li>Antonio Maré.</li> -</ul> - -<h5>FRANCE</h5> - -<ul> -<li>Edmond About (1828-1885).</li> -<li>Honoré de Balzac (1799-1850).</li> -<li>Paul Bourget (b. 1852).</li> -<li>François Coppee (b. 1842).</li> -<li>Alphonse Daudet (b. 1840).</li> -<li>Gustav Droz (b. 1832).</li> -<li>Alexandre Dumas the Elder (1806-1870).</li> -<li>Alexandre Dumas the Younger (1824-1895).</li> -<li>Emile Erckmann (1822-1899) and Alexandre Chatrian (1826-1890).</li> -<li>Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880).</li> -<li>Theophile Gautier (1811-1872).</li> -<li>Paul Margueritte (b. 1860).</li> -<li>Ludovic Halévy (b. 1834).</li> -<li>Guy de Maupassant (1850-1893).</li> -<li>Prosper Mérimée (1803-1870).</li> -<li>Alfred de Musset (1810-1851).</li> -<li>Eugene Marcel Prévost (b. 1862).</li> -<li>George Sand [pseud. of Mm. Dudevant] (1804-1876).</li> -<li>Julien Viaud ("Pierre Loti") (b. 1850).</li> -<li>Emile Zola (b. 1840).</li> -</ul> - -<h5>GERMANY</h5> - -<ul> -<li>Berthold Auerbach (1810-1882).</li> -<li>Rudolf Baumbach (b. 1840).</li> -<li>Adelbert von Chamisso (1781-1881).</li> -<li>Gustav Freytag (1816-1895).</li> -<li>Wilhelm Hauff (1802-1827).</li> -<li>Paul Heyse (b. 1830).</li> -<li>Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann (1776-1822).</li> -<li>Leopold Kompert [Austrian] (1822-1886).</li> -<li>Detlev von Liliencron (b. 1844).</li> -<li>Johann Karl August Musäus (1735-1787).</li> -<li>Joseph Victor von Scheffel (1826-1886).</li> -<li>Theodor Storm (1817-1888).</li> -<li>Hermann Sudermann (b. 1857).</li> -<li>J. Ludwig Tieck (1773-1853).</li> -<li>Johann Heinrich Daniel Zschokke (1771-1848).</li> -</ul> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_656"></a>[656]</span></p> - -<h5>RUSSIA</h5> - -<ul> -<li>Alex. Bestiezheff (1797-1837).</li> -<li>Nicolai V. Gogol (1809-1852).</li> -<li>Alex. Poushkin (1802-1837).</li> -<li>A. Pyeshkoff ["Gorky"] (b. 1868).</li> -<li>A. P. Tchéhoff (1860-1904).</li> -<li>Lyof N. Tolstoi (1828-1910).</li> -<li>Ivan Turgenev (1818-1883).</li> -</ul> - -<h5>SCANDINAVIA</h5> - -<ul> -<li>Björastjerne Björnson (b. 1832).</li> -<li>Juhani Aho.</li> -<li>Frederika Bremer (1801-1865).</li> -<li>Meyer Aaron Goldschmidt [Danish] (1819-1887).</li> -<li>Alex. Lange Kielland (b. 1849).</li> -<li>Selma Lagerlöf (b. 1858).</li> -<li>Hans Christian Andersen [Danish] (1805-1875).</li> -</ul> - -<h5>ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, IRELAND, UNITED STATES</h5> - -<ul> -<li>Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1907).</li> -<li>James Matthew Barrie (b. 1860).</li> -<li>H. C. Bunner (1855-1896).</li> -<li>George W. Cable (b. 1844).</li> -<li>William Canton (b. 1845).</li> -<li>William Carleton (1794-1869).</li> -<li><a id="Samuel_L_Clemens"></a>Samuel L. Clemens [Mark Twain] (1835-1910).</li> -<li>Wilkie Collins (1824-1889).</li> -<li>Richard Harding Davis (b. 1864).</li> -<li>Charles Dickens (1812-1870).</li> -<li>A. Conan Doyle (b. 1859).</li> -<li>Maria Edgeworth (1767-1849).</li> -<li>Edward Eggleston (1837-1902).</li> -<li>Mary Ann Evans [George Eliot] (1819-1880).</li> -<li>Hamlin Garland (b. 1860).</li> -<li>Edward Everett Hale (1822-1909).</li> -<li>Joel Chandler Harris (b. 1848).</li> -<li>Thomas Hardy (b. 1840).</li> -<li>Francis Bret Harte (1839-1902).</li> -<li>Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864).</li> -<li>Anthony Hope Hawkins (b. 1863).</li> -<li>William Dean Howells (b. 1837).</li> -<li>Washington Irving (1783-1859).</li> -<li>Henry James (b. 1843).</li> -<li>Sarah Orne Jewett (b. 1849).</li> -<li>Rudyard Kipling (b. 1865).</li> -<li>Charles J. Lever (1806-1872).</li> -<li>Jack London (b. 1876).</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_657"></a>[657]</span> -Samuel Lover (1791-1868).</li> -<li>James Brander Matthews (b. 1852).</li> -<li>George Meredith (1828-1909).</li> -<li>Mary N. Murfree [Charles Egbert Craddock] (b. 1850).</li> -<li>Fitz-James O'Brien (1828-1862).</li> -<li>Thomas Nelson Page (b. 1853).</li> -<li>Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849).</li> -<li>Charles Reade (1814-1884).</li> -<li>Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894).</li> -<li>F. Hopkinson Smith (b. 1838).</li> -<li>Frank B. Stockton (1834-1902).</li> -<li>Louise de la Ramée ["Ouida"] (d. 1909).</li> -<li>Harriet Beecher Stowe (1812-1896).</li> -<li>William Makepeace Thackeray (1811-1862).</li> -<li>Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward (b. 1844).</li> -<li>John Watson [Ian Maclaren] (1850-1907).</li> -<li>Edith Wharton (b. 1862).</li> -<li>Mary E. Wilkins Freeman (b. 1862).</li> -</ul> - -<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> - -<h4>Incident</h4> - -<p>Many well-told and interesting incidents are found in the correspondence -of the letter-writers whose works are indicated below.</p> - -<p><i>The Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson</i>, 2 vols. (Scribners); -<i>The Letters of Thomas Gray</i>, 2 vols. (Bohn); <i>Cowper's Letters</i>, -edited by E. V. Lucas (W. C.); <i>Lady Montagu's Letters</i> (E. L.); -<i>Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle</i>, by J. A. Froude, 2 -vols. (Scribners); <i>Letters of Charles Lamb</i>, 2 vols. (E. L.); <i>Letters -of Mme. de Sévigné</i> (In French—Paris, 1844); <i>Life and Letters -of George Eliot</i>, by J. W. Cross, 2 vols. (Crowell); <i>Matthew -Arnold's Letters</i>, collected by George W. E. Russell (Macmillan); -<i>Darwin's Life and Letters</i>, 2 vols. (Appleton); <i>Letters of Robert -Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Browning</i>, with notes by R. Barrett -Browning and F. G. Kenyon, 2 vols.</p> - -<h4>Anecdote</h4> - -<p>Spence's <i>Anecdotes</i>: a selection (Scott Library); <i>Johnsoniana</i>, -edited by J. Wilson Croker (Philadelphia, 1842); <i>The Percy -Anecdotes</i>, by Reuben and Sholte Percy (Warne: London); <i>The -Jest Book</i>, by Mark Lemon (Cambridge, 1865); <i>Anecdotes of -Samuel Johnson</i>, by Hester Lynch Poizzi (C. N. L. No. 106); -<i>Familiar Anecdotes of Sir Walter Scott</i>, by James Hogg (Harpers, -1834).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_658"></a>[658]</span></p> - -<h4>Eye-Witness Account</h4> - -<p>Eye-witness accounts may be found in autobiographies, memoirs, -letters, travel sketches, diaries and journals, and some true relations. -(See bibliography of these types.)</p> - -<h4>Tale of Actual Adventure</h4> - -<p>J. Burroughs's <i>Camping and Tramping with President Roosevelt</i> -(Houghton); H. W. G. Hyrst's <i>Adventures in the Great -Deserts</i>; Hakluyt's <i>Voyagers' Tales</i> (C. N. L., No. 23); <i>Library -of Universal Adventure by Sea and Land</i>, including the original -narratives and authentic stories of personal prowess and peril in -all waters and regions of the globe from the year 79 A. D. to the -year 1888 A. D., compiled and edited by William Dean Howells -and Thomas Sergeant Perry (Harper, 1893).</p> - -<h4>The Traveler's Sketch</h4> - -<p>Mandeville's <i>Voyages and Travels</i> (C. N. L.); Marco Polo's -<i>Voyages and Travels</i> (Bohn); Captain Cook's <i>Voyages of Discovery</i> -(E. L.); <i>Travels of Mungo Park</i> (E. L.); Hakluyt's -<i>Voyages</i>, 8 vols. (E. L.); Darwin's <i>Voyage of the Beagle</i> (E. L.); -Fielding's <i>Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon</i> (W. C.); Smollett's -<i>Travels through France and Italy</i> (W. C.); Borrow's <i>Bible in -Spain</i> (E. L.) and <i>Wild Wales</i> (E. L.); Bayard Taylor: <i>Library -of Travel</i>, 6 vols.; W. D. Howells's <i>Italian Journeys and London -Films</i>; Henry James's <i>Little Tour in France</i>; F. Hopkinson Smith's -<i>White Umbrella in Mexico</i>; H. M. Stanley's <i>In Darkest Africa</i> and -<i>How I Found Livingstone</i>; Lafcadio Hearn's <i>Gleanings in Buddha-fields</i> -and <i>Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan</i>; W. E. Curtis's <i>Between -the Andes and the Ocean</i> and <i>Egypt, Burma, and British Malaysia</i>. -For Western travel and adventure in America between 1748 and -1846, see <i>Early Western Travels</i>, 32 vols. (A. H. Clark & Co. -Cleveland, 1904). A tour through the island of Luzon in 1800 is -charmingly recorded by Joaquin Martinez y Zuñiga in his -<i>Estadismo de las Islas Filipinas</i>, ed. by W. E. Retana (Madrid). -An English translation under the title <i>An Historical View of the -Philippine Islands</i> was issued at London in 2 vols. 1814 (printed -for J. Asperne). A breezy artist-sketch, written with the purpose -only to please and to satirize, is Heine's <i>Die Harzreise</i> (American -Book Co.).</p> - -<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> - -<h4>Journal and Diary</h4> - -<p>John Evelyn's <i>Diary and Correspondence</i> (E. L., Bohn); -Amiel's <i>Journal Intime</i>, translated by Mrs. Humphrey Ward. 2 -vols. (Macmillan); Mme. D'Arblay's <i>Diary and Letters</i>, edited<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_659"></a>[659]</span> -by her niece, with preface and notes by Austin Dobson, 6 vols. -Samuel Pepys's <i>Diary and Correspondence</i> (Globe edition); Fielding's -<i>Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon</i> (W. C.); Hesdin's <i>Journal -of a Spy in Paris during January-July, 1794</i> (Harpers, 1896); -Swift's <i>Journal to Stella</i> (N. U. L., Bohn); <i>Journal of the -Reigns of George III and William IV</i>, by Charles C. F. Greville. -3 vols. (Longmans). Gideon Welles' <i>Diary</i> (<i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, -1909-1910); John W. Audubon's <i>Western Journals</i> 1849-1850 (A -H. Clark, Cleveland).</p> - -<h4>Autobiography and Memoirs</h4> - -<p>J. S. Mill's <i>Autobiography</i> (Holt); Benvenuto Cellini's <i>Autobiography</i> -(E. L.); <i>Autobiography</i> of Franklin (P. W. C., A. B.); -Helen Keller's <i>Story of My Life</i> (Doubleday); Gibbon's <i>Autobiography</i> -(W. C.); Herbert Spencer's <i>Autobiography</i>, 2 vols. -(Appleton). Joseph Jefferson's <i>Autobiography</i>. A good collection -of memoirs and autobiography is the Colonial Press's <i>Classic -Memoirs</i>, 3 vols. (W. G. C.). J. H. Newman's <i>Apologia pro Vita -Sua</i> (N. U. L.); De Quincey's <i>Confessions of an Opium-Eater</i> -(E. L.); St. Augustine's <i>Confessions</i> (E. L.).</p> - -<h4>Biography</h4> - -<p><i>Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay</i>, by G. O. Trevelyan (Longmans); -<i>History of Carlyle's Life</i>, by J. A. Froude (Longmans); -<i>Life of Shakespeare</i>, by Sidney Lee. <i>Life of Sir Walter Scott</i>, by -J. G. Lockhart, 5 vols. (Macmillan); <i>Life of Johnson</i>, by James -Boswell, edited by Geo. Birkbeck Hill, 6 vols. (Cambridge); -<i>Lives of the Poets</i>, by Samuel Johnson, edited by G. B. Hill (Cambridge); -J. Forster's <i>Life of Dickens</i>, 2 vols. (Scribners), <i>Life of -Goldsmith</i> (Stokes); Gaskell's <i>Life of Charlotte Bronte</i> (Crowell); -Goldsmith's <i>Biographies</i>, vol. IV of collected works (Bohn); Lockhart's -<i>Life of Burns</i> (E. L.); Southey's <i>Life of Nelson</i> (Bohn); -Hazlitt's <i>Life of Napoleon</i>, 6 vols. (Illust. Cabinet Ed.); Macaulay's -<i>Life of Johnson</i> (Heath); Carlyle's <i>Life of John Sterling</i> -(W. C.); Carlyle's <i>Life of Frederick the Great</i>, 8 vols. (Scribners).</p> - -<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> - -<h4>Notable Histories</h4> - -<p>Grote's <i>History of Greece</i>, 12 vols. (E. L.); Green's <i>Short -History of the English People</i> (American Book Co.). <i>History of -the English People</i>, 4 vols. (Burt); Macaulay's <i>History of England</i>, -3 vols. (E. L.); Hume's <i>History of England</i>, 6 vols. -(Harper); Machiavelli's <i>History of Florence</i> (W. G. C.); Gibbon's<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_660"></a>[660]</span> -<i>Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire</i>, 7 vols. (W. C.); -Motley's <i>Rise of the Dutch Republic</i>, 3 vols. (E. L., W. C.); -Sismondi's <i>Italian Republics</i> (E. L.); Hallam's <i>Middle Ages</i> -(W. G. C.); Prescott's <i>Works</i>, 14 vols. (Lippincott); Parkman's -<i>Works</i>, 12 vols. (Library edition); J. A. Symond's <i>Renaissance in -Italy</i>, 7 vols. (Holt); Carlyle's <i>French Revolution</i>, 2 vols. (E. L.).</p> - -<h4>Annals</h4> - -<p>Tacitus's <i>Annals</i> (E. L.); <i>Annals of English History</i>, by -Roger de Hoveden, 2 vols. (Bohn). <i>Anglo-Saxon Chronicle</i>, with -an English translation by Richard Price: in the "Monuments -Historica Britannica" (1848). Voltaire's <i>Annales de l'Empire</i> -was first published in 1753-4. It has been translated into English.</p> - -<h4>Chronicles and True Relations</h4> - -<p><i>Chronica Jocelini de Brakelonda, de rebus gestis Samsonis -Abbatis Monasterii Sancti Edmundi</i> (Camden Society, London, -1840). The second book of Carlyle's <i>Past and Present</i> is based on -this old chronicle. Froissart's <i>Chronicles</i> (E. L.); William of -Malmesbury's <i>Chronicles of the Kings of England</i> (Bohn); <i>Old -English Chronicles</i>, including Ethelwerd's Chronicle, Geoffrey of -Monmouth's History of the Britons, Gildas's Chronicle, Nennius's -Chronicle, and the spurious Chronicle of Richard of Cirencester, -(Bohn); <i>Chronicles of the Crusades</i>, by Lord John de Joinville -(Bohn).</p> - -<p>Ticknor discusses in detail the origin, subjects, and character -of the Spanish chronicles, in his <i>History of Spanish Literature</i>, -Vol. I. pp. 166-228 (fourth American edition, Houghton, Mifflin & -Co.). For account of early French chronicles see Saintsbury's -<i>Short History of French Literature</i>, Book I, chapter XI (Oxford, -1907).</p> - -<p>Blair and Robertson's <i>The Philippine Islands, 1493-1898</i>, in 55 -vols. (A. H. Clark Co., 1905) contains many early Spanish relations -translated into English. Among the notable ones are -Loarca's <i>Relacion</i> (vol. 5), Chirino's <i>Relacion</i> (vols. 12-13), -Morga's <i>Sucesos</i> (vols. 15-16), Medina's <i>Historia de la Orden de -S. Agustin</i> (vols. 23-24).</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_661"></a>[661]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="INDEX">INDEX</h2> - -<ul class="hang"> -<li>Abbott, Jacob (1803-1879), <a href="#Page_364">364</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Abou Ben Adhem</i>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> - -<li><a id="Actual_adventure"></a>Actual adventure, Tale of: <a href="#Page_512">512-513</a>; - characteristics, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>; - directions for writing, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>.</li> - -<li>Addison, Joseph (1672-1719), <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Address of the Soul to the Body</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li>Ade, George (b. 1866), <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Adventures of Sherlock Holmes</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>. -</li> -<li>Adventures; - see Probable adventure; - <a href="#Actual_adventure">Actual adventure</a>. -</li> -<li>Aesop (619?-564 B. C.), <a href="#Page_83">83-84</a>. -</li> -<li>Aikin, John, M. D. (1747-1822), <a href="#Page_116">116</a>. -</li> -<li>Aitken, George, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>. -</li> -<li>Alberich, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>. -</li> -<li>Aldrich, T. B. (1836-1907), <a href="#Page_301">301</a>. -</li> -<li>Alfred the Great, (848-901), <a href="#Page_532">532</a> -</li> -<li>Alfonso the Wise (1221-1284), <a href="#Page_627">627</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Alice in Wonderland</i>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>. -</li> -<li>Allegory: <a href="#Page_112">112-120</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>; - combined with myth, <a href="#Page_113">113-114</a>; - distinguished from myth, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>; - distinguished from parable, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>; - how to write, <a href="#Page_117">117-118</a>; - distinguished from fable, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Amateur Cracksman</i>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Ambitious Guest</i>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Ameto</i>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>. -</li> -<li>Amiel, Fréderic (1821-1881), <a href="#Page_558">558</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Among the Corn Rows</i>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>. -</li> -<li>Ana, <a href="#Page_491">491-492</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Andreas</i>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_662"></a>[662]</span> -<i>Andvari</i>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li> - -<li>Anecdote: <a href="#Page_490">490-496</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>; - compared with legend, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>; - how to write an, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Anecdotes</i> (Percy's), <a href="#Page_492">492</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Anecdotes</i> (Spence's), <a href="#Page_492">492</a>. -</li> -<li>Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>. -</li> -<li>Annals: <a href="#Page_613">613-616</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_613">613-614</a>; - suggestions on material, <a href="#Page_615">615</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Annales Ecclesiastici</i>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Annales et Historia de Rebus Legicis</i>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Annals</i> (Goethe's), <a href="#Page_612">612</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Annals of the Parish</i>, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Annals of Scotland</i>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Apologia pro Sua Vita</i> (Newman's), <a href="#Page_574">574</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Apology for My Life</i> (Cibber's), <a href="#Page_573">573</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Apparition, The</i>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Arabian Nights, The</i>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Arcadia</i> (Sannazaro), <a href="#Page_274">274</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Arcadia, Countess of Pembroke's</i>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>. -</li> -<li>Aristotle (383-320 B. C.), <a href="#Page_84">84</a>. -</li> -<li>Arthur, King (500?-537?), <a href="#Page_24">24-25</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Artist's Secret, The</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>. -</li> -<li>Ascham, Roger (1515-1568), <a href="#Page_361">361-362</a>. -</li> -<li><i>As You Like It</i>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Aucassin and Nicolette</i>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>. -</li> -<li>Austen, Jane (1775-1817), <a href="#Page_372">372</a>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>. -</li> -<li>Autobiography: <a href="#Page_572">572-575</a>; - distinguished from memoirs, <a href="#Page_572">572</a>; - suggestions for writing, <a href="#Page_574">574-575</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_663"></a>[663]</span> -<i>Autobiographical Leaves</i>, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>. -</li> -<li>Audubon, John James (1780-1851), <a href="#Page_512">512</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Autobiography of Cellini</i>, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Autobiography of De Quincey</i>, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Autobiography of Franklin</i>, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>. -</li> -<li>Ayala, Pedro Lopez de (1332-1407), <a href="#Page_626">626-627</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2"><i>Barlaam and Josaphat</i>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> - -<li>Barclay, Alexander (1475?-1552), <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Baron Munchausen</i>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>. -</li> -<li>Baronius, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>. -</li> -<li>Barrie, J. M. (b. 1860), <a href="#Page_301">301</a>. -</li> -<li>Beast epics, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Belinda</i>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Berenice</i>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>. -</li> -<li>Bergerac, Cyrano de (1619-1655), <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>. -</li> -<li>Berkeley, George (1685-1753), <a href="#Page_151">151</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Beowulf</i>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>. -</li> -<li>Berners, Lord (1467-1533), <a href="#Page_626">626</a>. -</li> -<li>Bestiaries, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Bible</i>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>. -</li> -<li>Bibliography, <a href="#Page_648">648-660</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Biographical Sketches</i>, <a href="#Page_593">593</a>. -</li> -<li>Biography: <a href="#Page_590">590-595</a>; - beginnings of English literary biography, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>; - great biographies in English, <a href="#Page_591">591-592</a>; - special characteristics, <a href="#Page_592">592-593</a>; - outline for, <a href="#Page_594">594-595</a>.</li> - -<li>Björnson, Björnsterne (b. 1832), <a href="#Page_456">456</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Black Pearl, The</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Blue Bird, The</i>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Blue Flower, The</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>. -</li> -<li>Boccaccio, Giovanni (1313-1375), <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, -<a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>. -</li> -<li>Boileau, Nicolas (1636-1711), <a href="#Page_131">131</a>. -</li> -<li>Borrow, George (1803-1881), <a href="#Page_531">531</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_664"></a>[664]</span> -Boswell, James (1740-1795), <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Branch Road, A</i>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>.</li> - -<li>Brentano, Clemens (1778-1842), <a href="#Page_48">48</a>. -</li> -<li>Bronté, Charlotte (1816-1855), <a href="#Page_431">431</a>. -</li> -<li>Brooke, Henry (1703-1783), <a href="#Page_363">363</a>. -</li> -<li>Brown, Charles Brockden (1771-1810), <a href="#Page_399">399</a>. -</li> -<li>Browning, Robert (1812-1889), <a href="#Page_481">481</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Brut, The</i>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>. -</li> -<li>Buddha (6th century B. C.), <a href="#Page_23">23</a>. -</li> -<li>Bunyan, John (1628-1688), <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li>Burney, Frances (1752-1840), <a href="#Page_560">560</a>. -</li> -<li>Burton, F. R. (b. 1861), <a href="#Page_225">225</a>. -</li> -<li>Byron, Lord (1788-1824), <a href="#Page_456">456</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2">Cable, G. W. (b. 1844), <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</li> - -<li>Caesar, Julius (100-44 B. C.), <a href="#Page_491">491</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Candide</i>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>.</li> - -<li>Canton, William (b. 1845), <a href="#Page_314">314</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Captain Singleton</i>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Career of Farthest North, The</i>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>. -</li> -<li>Carlyle, Jane Welsh (1801-1866), <a href="#Page_481">481</a>. -</li> -<li>Carlyle, Thomas (1795-1881), <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>. -</li> -<li>Castiglione, Baldasarre (1478-1529), <a href="#Page_362">362</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Castle of Indolence, The</i>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Castle of Otranto, The</i>, <a href="#Page_398">398-399</a>. -</li> -<li>Catherine II (1729-1796), <a href="#Page_572">572</a>. -</li> -<li>Caxton, William (1422-1491), <a href="#Page_24">24</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Celestial Railroad, The</i>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>. -</li> -<li>Cellini, Benvenuto (1500-1571), <a href="#Page_573">573</a>. -</li> -<li>Cervantes (1547-1616), <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>. -</li> -<li>Changelings, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_665"></a>[665]</span> -<i>Chanson de Roland, The</i>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> - -<li>"Character," The, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li> - -<li>Character-environment story: <a href="#Page_426">426-432</a>.</li> - -<li>Character-events story: <a href="#Page_455">455-460</a>. -</li> -<li>Charles V (1500-1558), <a href="#Page_570">570</a>. -</li> -<li>Chatterton, Thomas (1752-1770), <a href="#Page_513">513</a>. -</li> -<li>Chaucer, Geoffrey (1340-1400), <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, -<a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>, <a href="#Page_627">627</a>. -</li> -<li>Chesterton, G. K. (b. 1874), <a href="#Page_67">67</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Chinese Tales</i>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>. -</li> -<li>Chirino, Pedro, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>. -</li> -<li>Chivalry, Tales of, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>. -</li> -<li>Christmas, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>. -</li> -<li>Chronicles: <a href="#Page_626">626-629</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_626">626</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Chronicles of the Schönberg-Cotta Family</i>, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Chroniques de France, etc.</i>, <a href="#Page_626">626</a>. -</li> -<li>Cibber, Colley (1671-1757), <a href="#Page_573">573</a>. -</li> -<li>Cicero, Marcus Tullius (106-43 B. C.), <a href="#Page_490">490</a>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Cid, The</i>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>. -</li> -<li>Cinderella, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>. -</li> -<li>Clavijo, Ruy Gonzales de (15th century), <a href="#Page_558">558-559</a>. -</li> -<li>Clemens, Samuel Langhorne ['Mark Twain'] (1835-1910), <a href="#Page_299">299</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Cloister and the Hearth, The</i>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Cockowe and the Nightingale, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li>Collins, William (1721-1759), <a href="#Page_116">116</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Complaint of Papingo, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Comus</i>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Confessions of an English Opium-Eater</i>, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Conquest of Mexico</i>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>. -</li> -<li>Coppee, Francois (b. 1842), <a href="#Page_456">456</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Country of the Pointed Firs, The</i>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Court of Love, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Courtier, The</i>, <a href="#Page_362">362-363</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_666"></a>[666]</span> -Cowper, William (1731-1800), <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Coverley Papers, de</i>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>. -</li> -<li><a id="Craik_Dinah_Maria"></a>Craik, Dinah Maria (née Mulock) (1826-1887), <a href="#Page_48">48</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Cranford</i>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>. -</li> -<li>Croesus (fl. 560 B. C.), <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Crucial Instances</i>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Curse of Kehama, The</i>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>. -</li> -<li>Curtis, W. E. (b. 1850), <a href="#Page_533">533</a>. -</li> -<li>Cynewulf, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>. -</li> - -<li class="2"><i>Daisy Miller</i>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>. -</li> -<li>Dana, R. H., Jr. (1815-1882), <a href="#Page_533">533</a>. -</li> -<li>Dante (1265-1321), <a href="#Page_85">85</a>. -</li> -<li>Daudet, Alphonse (b. 1840), <a href="#Page_456">456</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Daphnis and Chloe</i>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>. -</li> -<li>Darwin, Charles Robert (1809-1882), <a href="#Page_533">533</a>. -</li> -<li>Davis, Richard Harding (b. 1864), <a href="#Page_274">274</a>. -</li> -<li>Day, Thomas (1748-1789), <a href="#Page_364">364</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire</i>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>. -</li> -<li>Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731), <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>. -</li> -<li>Deities— - Egyptian, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>; - Filipino, <a href="#Page_12">12-13</a>; - Finnish, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>; - Greek, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>; - Hindoo, <a href="#Page_9">9-10</a>; - Norse, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>; - Roman, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>; - Russian, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.</li> - -<li><i>De Jocis Ciceronis</i>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>. -</li> -<li>Delena (scribe to John II of Spain), <a href="#Page_500">500-501</a>. -</li> -<li>De Quincey, Thomas (1785-1859), <a href="#Page_574">574</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Descent of Man</i> (Wharton), <a href="#Page_456">456</a>. -</li> -<li>Detective story: <a href="#Page_225">225-228</a>; - relation to tales of ingenuity, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>; - suggestions for writing, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>. -</li> -<li>Dialect, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Diamond Lens, The</i>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Diana</i>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>. -</li> -<li>Diary: <a href="#Page_533">533</a>, <a href="#Page_557">557-561</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_557">557</a>; - distinguished from journal, <a href="#Page_557">557</a>; -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_667"></a>[667]</span> great diaries and their characteristics, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>; - suggestions on writing, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Diary of Mme. D'Arblay</i> [Fanny Burney], <a href="#Page_560">560</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Diary of Evelyn</i>, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Diary of Gideon Welles</i>, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Diary of Pepys</i>, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>. -</li> -<li>Dickens, Charles (1812-1870), <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Discourager of Hesitancy, The</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>. -</li> -<li>Dodsley, Robert (1703-1764), <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Domestic Annals Of Scotland</i>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>. -</li> -<li>Douglass, Frederick (1817-1895), <a href="#Page_512">512</a>. -</li> -<li>Douglas, Gawain (1474?-1522), <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li>Doyle, A. C. (b. 1859), <a href="#Page_225">225</a>. -</li> -<li>Drake, Alexander Wilson (b. 1843), <a href="#Page_199">199</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Dream</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Dream of the Rood, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li>Dunbar, William (1465-1530), <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2">Easter, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>.</li> - -<li>Edgeworth, Maria (1767-1849), <a href="#Page_346">346</a>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>.</li> - -<li>Elbegast, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Elder Edda</i>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> - -<li>Eliot, George (1820-1881), <a href="#Page_456">456</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>.</li> - -<li><i>El Passo Honroso</i>, <a href="#Page_500">500-501</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Emile</i>, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Emma</i>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li> - -<li><i>England's Mourning Garment</i>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Euphues</i>, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Evelina</i>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li> - -<li>Evelyn, John (1620-1706), <a href="#Page_560">560</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Everyman</i>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</li> - -<li>Eye-witness account: <a href="#Page_499">499-503</a>;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_668"></a>[668]</span> - defined, <a href="#Page_499">499</a>; - methods of writers of the, <a href="#Page_501">501-502</a>; - suggestions on writing, <a href="#Page_502">502-503</a>.</li> - -<li class="p2">Fable, <a href="#Page_83">83-89</a>, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>; - distinguishing characteristics, <a href="#Page_87">87-88</a>; - kinds of fables, <a href="#Page_87">87-88</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>; - origin, <a href="#Page_83">83-84</a>; - distinguished from allegory, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Fables in Slang</i>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li>Fableaux, <a href="#Page_299">299-300</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Faerie Queene</i>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</li> - -<li>Fairies: - characteristics of, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, -<a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>; - Northern, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>; - Irish, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>; - Scotch, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>; - Filipino, <a href="#Page_51">51-53</a>; - Russian, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>; - Arabian, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>; - Malayan, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>; - Miscellaneous, <a href="#Page_54">54-55</a>.</li> - -<li>Fairy tale: <a href="#Page_43">43-50</a>; - characteristics of, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>; - distinguished from nursery sagas, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>; - directions for writing, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Fall of the House of Usher, The</i>, <a href="#Page_399">399-400</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Father, The</i>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.</li> - -<li>Faust, legend of, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Ferdinand and Isabella</i>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.</li> - -<li>Fielding, Henry (1707-1754), <a href="#Page_398">398</a>, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>, <a href="#Page_534">534</a>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>.</li> - -<li>Firdousi [Abul Kasim Mansur] (c. 940-1020), <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> - -<li>FitzGerald, Edward (1809-1883), <a href="#Page_482">482</a>.</li> - -<li>Fletcher, Phineas (1582-1650?), <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Flower and the Leaf, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li>Fontaine, Jean de la (1631-1697), <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Fool of Quality, The</i>, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>.</li> - -<li>Forster, John (1812-1876), <a href="#Page_592">592</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Frank</i>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>.</li> - -<li>Franklin, Benjamin (1706-1790), <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>.</li> - -<li>Frederick the Great (1711-1786), <a href="#Page_572">572</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_669"></a>[669]</span> -<a id="Freeman_Mary_E_Wilkins"></a>Freeman, Mary E. Wilkins (b. 1862), <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>. -</li> -<li>Fremont, J. C. (1813-1890), <a href="#Page_558">558</a>.</li> - -<li><i>French Revolution</i>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.</li> - -<li>Froebel, Friedrich Wilhelm August (1782-1852), <a href="#Page_364">364</a>.</li> - -<li>Froissart, Jean (1337-1410), <a href="#Page_626">626</a>.</li> - -<li class="p2"><i>Galatea</i>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li> - -<li>Galt, John (1779-1839), <a href="#Page_612">612</a>.</li> - -<li>Garland, Hamlin (b. 1860), <a href="#Page_427">427-428</a>.</li> - -<li>Gaskell, Mrs. [Elizabeth Stevenson] (1810-1865), <a href="#Page_592">592</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Gate of the Hundred Sorrows, The</i>, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Gaudentio de Lucca</i>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li> - -<li>Gay, John (1685-1732), <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li><i>General Chronicle of Spain</i>, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>.</li> - -<li>Geoffrey of Monmouth (12th century), <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Gesta Romanorrum</i>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>.</li> - -<li>Gibbon, Edward (1737-1794), <a href="#Page_572">572</a>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Gil Blas</i>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</li> - -<li>Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von (1749-1832), <a href="#Page_612">612</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Gold Bug, The</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226-227</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Golden Legend, The</i>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Golden Targe, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li>Goldsmith, Oliver (1728-1774), <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>.</li> - -<li>Gondemar, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li> - -<li>Gothic romances, <a href="#Page_398">398-399</a>; - characteristics of, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>.</li> - -<li>Gray, Thomas (1716-1771), <a href="#Page_481">481</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Great Stone Face, The</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Greater Inclination, The</i>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.</li> - -<li>Green, J. R. (1837-1883), <a href="#Page_612">612</a>.</li> - -<li>Greene, Robert (1560?-1592), <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Grettir the Strong</i>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> - -<li>Grimm, Jacob (1785-1863), <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_670"></a>[670]</span> -Grimm, Wilhelm (1786-1859), <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Griselda</i>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>.</li> - -<li>Grote, George (1794-1871), <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.</li> - -<li>Grotius, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Gulliver's Travels</i>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Guzman de Alfarache</i>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li> - -<li class="p2">Hailes, Sir David Dalrymple, Lord (1726-92), <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.</li> - -<li>Hakluyt, Richard (1553-1616), <a href="#Page_629">629</a>.</li> - -<li>Halévy, L. (b. 1834), <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.</li> - -<li>Hall, Bishop Joseph (1574-1656), <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li> - -<li>Hallam, Henry (1777-1859), <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Hand, The</i>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>.</li> - -<li>Harris, J. C. (b. 1848), <a href="#Page_301">301</a>. -</li> -<li>Harte, Bret (1839-1902), <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>. -</li> -<li>Hawes, Stephen (?-1523?), <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li>Hawthorne, Nathaniel (1804-1864), <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_593">593</a>. -</li> -<li>Henryson, Robert (15th century), <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. -</li> -<li>Heroes of nursery sagas: <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67-68</a>; - of legends, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>. -</li> -<li>Heroic romances, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>. -</li> -<li>Hesdin, Raoul, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Hildebrand</i>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Hill of Science, The</i>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Historia Britonum</i>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>. -</li> -<li><i>History of England</i> (Macauley's), <a href="#Page_613">613</a>. -</li> -<li><i>History of Orosius</i>, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>. -</li> -<li><i>History of the English People</i>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>. -</li> -<li><i>History of the States and Empires of the Moon</i>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Hitopadesa</i>, <a href="#Page_84">84-85</a>. -</li> -<li>Holberg, Ludwig (1684-1754), <a href="#Page_151">151</a>. -</li> -<li>Holinshed, Ralph (died about 1580), <a href="#Page_628">628</a>. -</li> -<li>Holmes, C. W. (1809-1894), <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_671"></a>[671]</span> -Hook, Theodore (1788-1841), <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.</li> - -<li><i>House of Fame, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li>Howells, W. D. (b. 1837), <a href="#Page_370">370</a>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>.</li> - -<li>Humorous story: <a href="#Page_299">299-302</a>; - relation to <i>fableau</i> 299; - relation to picaresque romance, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>; - relation to comic anecdote, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li> - -<li>Hunt, Leigh (1784-1859), <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Hunter, The</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li> - -<li class="p2">Ibsen, Heinrich (1828-1906), <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> - -<li>Igorots, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> - -<li>Imaginary voyage: <a href="#Page_150">150-154</a>; - characteristics, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>; - suggestions on how to write, <a href="#Page_153">153-154</a>.</li> - -<li>Incident: <a href="#Page_480">480-482</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>; - distinguished from eye-witness account, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Incident of the French Camp, An</i>., <a href="#Page_481">481</a>. -</li> -<li>Ingelow, Jean (1830-1897), <a href="#Page_48">48</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Insurgent, The</i>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>. -</li> -<li>Irving, Washington (1783-1859), <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Italian Republics</i>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Italian, The</i>, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Italian Renaissance</i>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Ivan the Fool</i>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Ivanhoe</i>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2"><i>Jack and the Beanstalk</i>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Jack the Giant Killer</i>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>. -</li> -<li>Jacobus de Voragine (13th century), <a href="#Page_24">24</a>. -</li> -<li>James, Henry (b. 1843), <a href="#Page_371">371</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>. -</li> -<li>Jewett, Sarah Orne (b. 1849), <a href="#Page_299">299</a>. -</li> -<li>John of Damascus (b. at end of 7th century; died c. 760?), <a href="#Page_23">23</a>. -</li> -<li>Johnson, Samuel (1709-1784),<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_672"></a>[672]</span> -116, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>. -</li> -<li>Johnes, Thomas, <a href="#Page_626">626</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Jonathan Wild</i>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>. -</li> -<li>Journal: <a href="#Page_533">533</a>, <a href="#Page_557">557-561</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_557">557</a>; - distinguished from diary, <a href="#Page_557">557</a>; - great journals and their characteristics, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>; - suggestions on writing, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Journal Intime</i>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Journal of the Plague</i>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Journal of a Spy in Paris. A</i>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Journal to Stella</i>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, A</i>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Journey of a Day, The</i>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Journey to the Western Isles, A</i>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Jumping Frog, The</i>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Jungle Book, The</i>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2">Keats, John (1795-1821), <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>.</li> - -<li><i>King Hart</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li>Kingsley, Charles (1819-1875), <a href="#Page_48">48</a>. -</li> -<li>Kipling, Rudyard (b. 1865), <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>. -</li> -<li>Kriloff (1768-1844), <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2"><i>Lady Eleanor's Mantle</i>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Lady of the Aroostook, The</i>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Lady or the Tiger, The</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>. -</li> -<li>Lagerlöf, Selma (b. 1858), <a href="#Page_26">26</a>. -</li> -<li>Langland, W. (14th century), <a href="#Page_114">114</a>. -</li> -<li>Laurin, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>. -</li> -<li>Layamon (fl. 1200), <a href="#Page_24">24</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Lazarillo de Tormes</i>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>. -</li> -<li>Legend: <a href="#Page_22">22-28</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>; - compared with myth, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>; - myth-legend or saga, <a href="#Page_22">22-23</a>; - saint legends, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>; - legends of growth, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>; - legends of art, <a href="#Page_26">26-27</a>; - legend compared with anecdote, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>; - legends about<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_673"></a>[673]</span> -places, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>; - legends about persons, <a href="#Page_24">24-25</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>. -</li> -<li>Legendary Romance, <a href="#Page_24">24-25</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Le Grand Cyrus</i>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Leonard and Gertrude</i>, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>. -</li> -<li>Letters, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>. -</li> -<li>Lewis, Matthew (1775-1818), <a href="#Page_399">399</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Library of Universal Adventure</i>, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life of Beau Nash</i>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life of Burns</i>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life of Byron</i>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life of Charlotte Bronte</i>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life of Dickens</i>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life of Goldsmith</i>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life of Johnson</i> (Macaulay's), <a href="#Page_592">592</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life of Macaulay</i>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life Magnet, The</i>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life of Napoleon</i>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life of Nelson</i>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life of Samuel Johnson</i> (Boswell's), <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life of Savage</i>, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Life of Scott</i>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Lives of the Poets, The</i>, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>. -</li> -<li>Loarca, Miguel de, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>. -</li> -<li>Lockhart, J. G. (1794-1854), <a href="#Page_592">592</a>. -</li> -<li>Lodge, Thomas (1558?-1625), <a href="#Page_275">275</a>. -</li> -<li>Loomis, Charles Battell (1861-1911), <a href="#Page_301">301</a>. -</li> -<li>Lover, Samuel (1791-1868), <a href="#Page_301">301</a>. -</li> -<li>Lowell, James Russell (1819-1891), <a href="#Page_482">482</a>. -</li> -<li>Lucian (125?-210?), <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>. -</li> -<li>Lyly, John (1554?-1606), <a href="#Page_362">362</a>. -</li> -<li>Lyndesay, Sir David (1490-1555?), <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2">Mabie, Hamilton (b. 1846), <a href="#Page_314">314</a>.</li> - -<li>Macaulay, T. B. (1800-1859), <a href="#Page_590">590</a>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_674"></a>[674]</span> -Machiavelli (1469-1527), <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.</li> - -<li>Maclaren, Ian [Reverend John Watson] (b. 1850), <a href="#Page_301">301</a>. -</li> -<li>Macpherson, James (1738-1796), <a href="#Page_513">513</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Madam How and Lady Why</i>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>. -</li> -<li>Madison, James (1751-1836), <a href="#Page_558">558</a>. -</li> -<li>Maeterlink, Maurice (b. 1862), <a href="#Page_119">119</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Mahabharata, The</i>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>. -</li> -<li>Malory, Thomas (15th century), <a href="#Page_24">24-25</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Man Who Would be King, The</i>, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Man without a Country, The</i>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>. -</li> -<li>Mandeville, Sir John (14th century), <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>. -</li> -<li>Märchen, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65-69</a>. -</li> -<li>Marie de France (12th century), <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Markheim</i>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>. -</li> -<li>Marlowe, Christopher (1564-1593), <a href="#Page_558">558</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Mary Barton</i>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Masque of the Red Death, The</i>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Mateo Falcone</i>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>. -</li> -<li>Matthews, Brander (b. 1852), <a href="#Page_396">396</a>n, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>. -</li> -<li>Maupassant, Guy de (1850-1893), <a href="#Page_395">395</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>. -</li> -<li>Memoirs: <a href="#Page_572">572-575</a>; - distinguished from autobiography, <a href="#Page_572">572</a>; - suggestions for writing, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Memoirs of a Cavalier, The</i>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Memoirs of My Life and Writings</i> (Gibbon's), <a href="#Page_572">572</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Menaphon</i>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Merchant of Venice, The</i>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>. -</li> -<li>Meredith, George (1828-1909), <a href="#Page_129">129</a>. -</li> -<li>Merimée, Prosper (1803-1870), <a href="#Page_456">456</a>. -</li> -<li>Metternich, Prince von (1773-1859), <a href="#Page_572">572</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_675"></a>[675]</span> -<i>Middle Ages</i>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.</li> - -<li>Milton, John (1608-1674), <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> - -<li>Mirabeau, Comte de (1749-1791), <a href="#Page_572">572</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Mirror for Magistrates, A</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Mogol Tales</i>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>. -</li> -<li>"Molière" [pseud. of John Baptiste Poquelin] (1622-1673), <a href="#Page_131">131</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Monk, The</i>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Monk's Tale, The</i>, <a href="#Page_627">627</a>. -</li> -<li>Montaigne, Michel Eyquem (1533-1592), <a href="#Page_558">558</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Montcalm and Wolfe</i>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>. -</li> -<li>Montemayor, Jorge de (d. 1561), <a href="#Page_275">275</a>. -</li> -<li>Montepolitiano, Barthelemi (15th century), <a href="#Page_491">491</a>. -</li> -<li>Moore, Thomas (1779-1852), <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Mopsa the Fairy</i>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>. -</li> -<li>Moral story, <a href="#Page_345">345-348</a>; - distinguished from symbolic-didactic group, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>; - purpose defined, <a href="#Page_345">345-346</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Morall Fables of Æsop the Phrygian</i>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. -</li> -<li>Morga, Dr. Antonio de, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Morte d'Arthur</i>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Mother Plays</i>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>. -</li> -<li>Motley, John (1814-1877), <a href="#Page_613">613</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Muhammad Din</i>, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>. -</li> -<li>Mulock, Miss, <i>see</i> <a href="#Craik_Dinah_Maria">Craik</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Murad the Unlucky</i>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Murders in the Rue Morgue, The</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Mystery of Marie Rogêt, The</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225-226</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Mysteries of Udolpho, The</i>, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>. -</li> -<li>Myths: <a href="#Page_1">1-15</a>; - classes of, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>; - Igorot myths, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>; - how to collect, <a href="#Page_4">4-5</a>; - how to compose, <a href="#Page_5">5-6</a>; - distinguished from allegory, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>; - distinguished from legend, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2"><i>Necklace, The</i>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>. -</li> -<li>Nennius, (fl. 796?), <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_676"></a>[676]</span> -<i>New Atlantis</i>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> - -<li><i>New Arabian Nights</i>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>. -</li> -<li><i>New England Nun, A</i>, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>. -</li> -<li><i>New Heloise</i>, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>. -</li> -<li>Newman, J. H. (1801-90), <a href="#Page_573">573</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Nibelungenlied</i>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Niel Klim's Underground Journey</i>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Northanger Abbey</i>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>. -</li> -<li>Novel, <a href="#Page_430">430-431</a>; - manners, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>; - psychological problem novel, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Novelas Ejemplares</i>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Novelist's Allegory, The</i>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>. -</li> -<li>Nursery saga: <a href="#Page_65">65-69</a>; - origin, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>; - distinguishing elements, <a href="#Page_66">66-68</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2"><i>Oak and the Reed, The</i>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> - -<li>Oberon, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li> - -<li>O'Brien, Fitz-James (1828-1862), <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>.</li> - -<li>Occasional story, <a href="#Page_313">313-315</a>; - spirit of the, <a href="#Page_313">313</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>; - suggestions for writing, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>.</li> - -<li>Ohthere, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Old English Baron, The</i>, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>.</li> - -<li><i>One Hoss Shay, The</i>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Orlando Furioso</i>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> - -<li>Osborne, Dorothy (1627-1695), <a href="#Page_481">481</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Other Wise Man, The</i>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Outcasts of Poker Flat, The</i>, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>.</li> - -<li>Overbury, Thomas (1581-1613), <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li> - -<li class="p2">Page, Thomas Nelson (b. 1853), <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Palace of Honor, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li>Paltock, R. (1697-1767), <a href="#Page_152">152-153</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Panchatantra</i>, <a href="#Page_84">84-85</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Pandosto</i>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Panther, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Paradise Lost</i>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Paradise of Fooles</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li>Parable: <a href="#Page_101">101-103</a>; - contrasted<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_677"></a>[677]</span> -with fable, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>; - characteristics, <a href="#Page_101">101-102</a>; - suggestions on writing, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>; - distinguished from allegory, <a href="#Page_116">116-117</a>.</li> - -<li>Parkman, Francis (1823-1893), <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Parlament of Foules, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li>Parnell, Thomas (1679-1718), <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Passions, The</i>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Pastime of Pleasure, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li>Pastoral romance, <a href="#Page_274">274-276</a>.</li> - -<li>Pedagogical narrative: <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_361">361-365</a>; - characteristics, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Peer Gynt</i>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> - -<li>Pellico, Silvio (1788-1854), <a href="#Page_572">572</a>.</li> - -<li>Pepys, Samuel (1633-1703), <a href="#Page_560">560</a>.</li> - -<li>Percy (anecdote writers), <a href="#Page_492">492</a>.</li> - -<li>Peri, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li> - -<li>Perry, T. S., <a href="#Page_512">512</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Persian Tales</i>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> - -<li>Pessimism, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>.</li> - -<li>Pestalozzi, Johann Heinrich (1745-1827), <a href="#Page_361">361</a>, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Peter Schlemihl</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li> - -<li>Petrarch, Francesco (1304-1374), <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> - -<li>Petronius Arbiter (d. 62), <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li> - -<li>Phædrus (time of Nero), <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Phantom 'Rickshaw, The</i>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>.</li> - -<li>Philippines, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Phoenix, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li>Picaresque romance, <a href="#Page_300">300-301</a>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>.</li> - -<li><i><span class="err" title="original: Peirs">Piers</span> Plowman</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Pilgrim's Progress, The</i>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Pit and the Pendulum, The</i>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>.</li> - -<li>Planudes, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> - -<li>Plasencia, Juan de la, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>.</li> - -<li>Plato (427-347 B. C.), <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113-114</a>, -<a href="#Page_491">491</a>.</li> - -<li>Pliny the Elder (23-79), <a href="#Page_512">512</a>.</li> - -<li>Plot, Tales of Pure, <a href="#Page_225">225-8</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_678"></a>[678]</span> -Plutarch (46?-120?), <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> - -<li>Poe, E. A. (1809-1849), <a href="#Page_225">225-226</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Poems in Prose</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Poems on the Naming of Places</i>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>. -</li> -<li>Poggio, Gian Francesco (1380-1459), <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>. -</li> -<li>Polo, Marco (1254-1324), <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>. -</li> -<li>Pope, Alexander (1688-1744), <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. -</li> -<li>Prescott, W. H. (1796-1859), <a href="#Page_613">613</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Pride and Prejudice</i>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Principal Navigations, Voyages, and Discoveries</i>, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>. -</li> -<li>Prior, Matthew (1664-1721), <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Prisoner of Zenda, The</i>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>. -</li> -<li>Probable adventure: - tale of, <a href="#Page_255">255-257</a>; - definition, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>; - the writing of, <a href="#Page_256">256-257</a>.</li> - -<li>Procopius (6th century), <a href="#Page_490">490</a>. -</li> -<li>Proverbs: - Armenian to be used for fables, <a href="#Page_89">89-90</a>; - to be used for parables, <a href="#Page_103">103-104</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Puck of Pook's Hill</i>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Purloined Letter, The</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Purple Island, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li>Pushkin, A. (1802-1837), <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2">Quiñiones, Suero de, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2">Radcliffe, Anne (1764-1822), <a href="#Page_399">399</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Ramayana</i>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Rasselas</i>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>. -</li> -<li>Reade, Charles (1814-1884), <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>. -</li> -<li>Realism, <a href="#Page_370">370</a>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>. -</li> -<li>Realism, story of present day: <a href="#Page_370">370-374</a>; - elements of, <a href="#Page_370">370-371</a>; - suggestions on types to treat, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>. -</li> -<li>Reeve, Clara (1729-1807), <a href="#Page_398">398</a>. -</li> -<li>Religion, Primitive, <a href="#Page_1">1-2</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_679"></a>[679]</span> -Reporting, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Republic, The</i>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Return of the Private, The</i>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Revelation, The</i>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Revolt of Mother, The</i>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Reynard the Fox</i>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>. -</li> -<li>Rhyme in nursery sagas, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>. -</li> -<li>Ribeyro, Bernardino (fl. 1500), <a href="#Page_275">275</a>. -</li> -<li>Richardson, Samuel (1689-1761), <a href="#Page_398">398</a>, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Rise of the Dutch Republic</i>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Rip van Winkle</i>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Robin and Makyne</i>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Robinson Crusoe</i>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Roderick Random</i>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Rollo Books, The</i>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>. -</li> -<li>Romance, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130-131</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Romance of the Forest, The</i>, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Romaunt of the Rose, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li>Roosevelt, Theodore (b. 1858), <a href="#Page_533">533</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Rosalynd</i>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Rosamond</i>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>. -</li> -<li>Rostand, Edmond (b. 1862), <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. -</li> -<li>Rousseau, Jean Jacques (1712-1778), <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Rumpelstiltskin</i>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2">Sackville, Thomas (1536?-1608), <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li>Saga: - defined, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>; - compared with legend, <a href="#Page_22">22-23</a>; - compared with nursery tale, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> - -<li>St. Augustine (354-430), <a href="#Page_574">574</a>.</li> - -<li>Saints, legends of, <a href="#Page_23">23-24</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Sam Lawson's Fireside Stories</i>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Sandford and Merton</i>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>.</li> - -<li>Sannazaro, Jacopo (1458-1530), <a href="#Page_274">274-275</a>.</li> - -<li>Sardou, Victorien (b. 1831), <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_680"></a>[680]</span> -<i>Saturday Evening Post</i>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Satyricon</i>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li> - -<li>Saxo Grammaticus (fl. 12th century), <a href="#Page_628">628</a>.</li> - -<li>Schiller, Johann Friedrich (1759-1805), <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Scholemaster, The</i>, <a href="#Page_361">361-362</a>.</li> - -<li>School of Terror, <a href="#Page_398">398-399</a>.</li> - -<li>Scientific discovery, tale of: <a href="#Page_194">194-199</a>; - origin, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>; - differentiated from imaginary voyage, <a href="#Page_195">195-196</a>; - essential elements, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>; - suggestions for writing, <a href="#Page_197">197-199</a>; - humor in, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.</li> - -<li>Scott, Sir Walter (1771-1832), <a href="#Page_456">456</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>.</li> - -<li>Scrap-books, <a href="#Page_458">458-459</a>.</li> - -<li>Schreiner, Olive (b. 1862), <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li> - -<li>Scudéri, Mme. de (1607-1701), <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Secret History of the Court of Justinian</i>, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>. -</li> -<li>Selden, John (1584-1654), <a href="#Page_491">491</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Shah Nameh</i>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li> - -<li>Shakespeare, (1564-1616), <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Shaving of Shagpat, The</i>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> - -<li>Shaw, G. B. (b. 1856), <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Ship of Fooles, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li>Short-story, the artistic: <a href="#Page_395">395-398</a>; - elements analyzed, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>; - compared with romance and novel, <a href="#Page_395">395-396</a>; - kinds of, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Shot, The</i>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.</li> - -<li>Sidney, Sir Philip (1554-1586), <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Siege of Berlin, The</i>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.</li> - -<li>Sismondi (1773-1842), <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.</li> - -<li>Skeat, Walter William, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>n.</li> - -<li>Smollett, Tobias (1721-1771), <a href="#Page_398">398</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Snow Storm, The</i>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>.</li> - -<li>Society story: <a href="#Page_273">273-277</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>; - compared with pastoral romance, <a href="#Page_274">274-275</a>; - suggestions for writing, <a href="#Page_276">276-277</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_681"></a>[681]</span> -Socrates (469-399 B. C.), <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>.</li> - -<li>Southey, Robert (1774-1843), <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>.</li> - -<li>Spence, Joseph (1699-1768), <a href="#Page_492">492</a>.</li> - -<li>Spenser, Edmund (1552-1599), <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Spider's Eye, The</i>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Squire's Tale, The</i>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.</li> - -<li>Staël-Holstein, Mme. de (1776-1817), <a href="#Page_572">572</a>.</li> - -<li>Stanley, Sir Henry M. (1841-1904), <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>.</li> - -<li>Steele, Richard (1672-1729), <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>.</li> - -<li>Stevenson, R. L. (1850-1894), <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>.</li> - -<li>Stockton, F. R. (1834-1902), <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Stories of the Supernatural</i>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>.</li> - -<li>Stow, John (1525-1605), <a href="#Page_614">614-615</a>.</li> - -<li>Stowe, Harriet Beecher (1812-1896), <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Substitute, The</i>, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.</li> - -<li>Supernatural elements, <a href="#Page_67">67-68</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Survey of London</i>, <a href="#Page_615">615</a>.</li> - -<li>Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745), <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>.</li> - -<li>Symonds, J. A. (1840-1893), <a href="#Page_613">613</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2">Taal volcano, eruption of, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>n. -</li> -<li><i>Table Talk</i>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>. -</li> -<li>Tacitus, Caius Cornelius (fl. about 75-120), <a href="#Page_6">6</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Tamburlane</i>, <a href="#Page_558">558-559</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Tartar Tales</i>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> - -<li>Tarnkappe, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li> - -<li>Taylor, Bayard (1825-1878), <a href="#Page_533">533</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Temple of Glass, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Tennessee's Partner</i>, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>.</li> - -<li>Terror, School of, <a href="#Page_398">398-399</a>.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_682"></a>[682]</span> -Thackeray, W. M. (1811-1863), <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>. -</li> -<li>Theocritus (fl. 3rd century B. C.) 275.</li> - -<li><i>Thirty Years' War</i>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Thistle and the Rose, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li>Thomson, James (1700-1748), <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> - -<li>Tiberius (45 B. C.-37 A. D.), <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> - -<li>Ticknor, George (1791-1871), <a href="#Page_500">500</a>n.</li> - -<li>Tolstoy, Count Leo (1828-1910), <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Tom Tit Tot</i>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Toxophilus</i>, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>.</li> - -<li><i>Transferred Ghost, The</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> - -<li>Traveler's sketch, <a href="#Page_530">530-534</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Travels of Marco Polo</i>, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Treasure Island</i>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>. -</li> -<li>Trevelyan, Sir George Otto (b. 1838), <a href="#Page_592">592</a>. -</li> -<li> -<i>Tristram Shandy</i>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>. -</li> -<li>Trollope, Anthony (1815-1882), <a href="#Page_431">431</a>. -</li> -<li><i>True History</i>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>. -</li> -<li><i>True relation of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal</i>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>. -</li> -<li>True relations, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>; - distinguished from chronicle, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Turkish Tales</i>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>. -</li> -<li>Twain, Mark [pseud. of Samuel L. Clemens]. <i>See</i> <a href="#Samuel_L_Clemens">Clemens</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Two Years Before the Mast</i>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2"><i>"Uncle Remus" stories</i>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Uncle Tom's Cabin</i>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Uplondish Mous and the Berger Mous</i>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Up the Coolly</i>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Utopia</i>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2"><i>Van Bibber, and Others</i>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>. -</li> -<li>Van Dyke, Henry (b. 1852), <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_626">626</a>n. -</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_683"></a>[683]</span> -<i>Venetian Glass, The</i>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Vicar of Wakefield, The</i>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Vida del Gran Tamurlan</i>, <a href="#Page_558">558-559</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Views Afoot</i>, <a href="#Page_583">583</a>. -</li> -<li>Virgil (70-19 B. C.), <a href="#Page_275">275</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Vision of Er, The</i>, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113-114</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Vision of Mirza, The</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Volsunga Saga, The</i>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>. -</li> -<li>Voltaire, F. Arouet de (1694-1778), <a href="#Page_347">347</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Voyage and Travaille</i>, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Voyage in Italy, A</i>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Voyage of Peter Wilkins, The</i>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Voyage of the Beagle, The</i>, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Voyages Imaginaires</i>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2">Walpole, Horace (1717-1797), <a href="#Page_398">398</a>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Walpoliana</i>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Waltharilied</i>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>. -</li> -<li>Walton, Isaac (1593-1683), <a href="#Page_362">362-363</a>. -</li> -<li>Wandering Jew, legend of the, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>. -</li> -<li>Waverley Novels, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>. -</li> -<li>Weird tale: <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_398">398-402</a>; - origin, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>; - material and method, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>; - form, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>; - suggestions for writing, <a href="#Page_401">401-402</a>. -</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_684"></a>[684]</span> -Welles, Gideon (1802-1878), <a href="#Page_560">560</a>. -</li> -<li>Wharton, Edith (b. 1862), <a href="#Page_456">456</a>. -</li> -<li><i>What is It? a Mystery</i>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>. -</li> -<li><i>What Men Live By</i>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>. -</li> -<li>Wiggin, Kate Douglas (b. 1857), <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>. -</li> -<li>Wilde, Oscar (1856-1900), <a href="#Page_114">114</a>. -</li> -<li><i>William Wilson</i>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Wind in the Rose Bush, The</i>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Without Benefit of Clergy</i>, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>. -</li> -<li>Wilkins, M. E.; see <a href="#Freeman_Mary_E_Wilkins">Freeman</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Wonder Book</i>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>. -</li> -<li>Wonder, tales of mere: <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, -<a href="#Page_129">129-132</a>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>; - defined, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>; - suggestions for writing, <a href="#Page_129">129-131</a>; - contrasted with folk tales, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>. -</li> -<li>Wordsworth, William (1770-1850), <a href="#Page_481">481</a>. -</li> -<li>Wulfstan, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2">Xenophon (435 B. C.), <a href="#Page_491">491</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2">Yeats, William Butler (b. 1865), <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Youth's Companion</i>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>. -</li> -<li><i>Ysopet</i>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>. -</li> - -<li class="p2">Zeus, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.</li> -</ul> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> According to Skeat.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> Friend, don't poke your nose into another's business which -you don't understand.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> A Tagalog word meaning husk; but here it is used as an -adjective husky, and signifies a political party.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> The Magic Reciprocals, or Harmonic Responses, were discovered -by Gustavus Frankenstein, and are properly drawn in -color. The following are extracts from letters received from -Mr. Frankenstein, to whom the author is indebted for the drawing -which appears at the beginning of this story: "Tomorrow -morning I shall send them. They are most lovely. They -are halos, if ever there was a halo. So wonderfully magical are -they that I think thou wilt modify thy language, and perhaps -say that Frankenstein produces halos almost, if not quite, to -the very perfection. Why, they seem to dazzle and bewilder -like the very sun itself. They do not actually emit light, but -they look like the soul of light. More like beautiful thoughts -are they, spirits of loveliness, than like anything tangible." ... -"I was a long time working out the mathematical -problem of the perfectly balanced and completely symmetrical -circular harmonic responses; and then the drawings were executed -with the greatest care as to perfect precision and accuracy." ... -"The little round white spot in the center -imparts an animating expression to the whole Response; and -now, as I write, it occurs to me very forcibly that the whole -Response looks something like—and very much like—the iris -of the eye, and the little round spot in the center is the -pupil. If the iris were all iris, having no pupil in the center, -it would appear expressionless and not vividly suggestive -of the soul of life. The spot in the center may be looked upon -as the tangible existence or thing which is the source of the -surrounding halo. Again: The true and complete Response—the -mathematical assertion—has the animating spot in the -center."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> I follow M. Gaston Paris's spelling of the word.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> This is a translation of a Tagalog prose version. The episode of -the story appears in metrical form as a beggar's song among the -Pampangos.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> "Vailima Letters," I., p. 147, quoted by Matthews.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> <i>Caballos</i>, horses; <i>Caballeros</i>, gentlemen.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> See Ticknor's History of Spanish Literature—Volume 1, page -204.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> In the interest of the unusual I can not refrain here from -personal reference. As I sit writing this notice of Pliny and -old Vesuvius, my house continues being shaken every few -minutes by one of the most prolonged series of earthquakes -known to science, according to the report of our famous observatory -chief, the Jesuit, Father Jose Algue. Taal volcano, -fifty miles from Manila, is now in violent eruption, January 29. -The microseismographs by 9:15 last night had already recorded -one hundred and seventy-two shocks in five minutes less than -twenty-four hours, and the shaking still goes on, while a party -of scientists from the government bureau is preparing to visit -the spot. There should surely be material for a story in that trip.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> The reigning <i>Capitan</i> (town President).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> Van Dyke's Introduction to Froissart's Chronicles (Colonial -Press).</p></div></div> - -<div class="transnote"><h3><a id="Transcribers_Note"></a>Transcriber's Note</h3> - -<p>Variable spelling and hyphenation have been retained. Minor punctuation -inconsistencies have been silently repaired.</p> - -<h4>Corrections</h4> - -<p>p. <a href="#Page_xvii">xvii</a></p> - -<ul><li>The Expatriation of Jonathan Trantor</li> - -<li>The Expatriation of Jonathan <span class="u">Taintor</span></li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_9">9</a></p> - -<ul><li>They overturn trees, destoy whole forests</li> - -<li>They overturn trees, <span class="u">destroy</span> whole forests</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_49">49</a></p> - -<ul><li>From these lists pick our the being</li> - -<li>From these lists pick <span class="u">out</span> the being</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_81">81</a></p> - -<ul><li>When she was a hundred yards from the shehperd's cottage,</li> - -<li>When she was a hundred yards from the <span class="u">shepherd's</span> cottage,</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_90">90</a></p> - -<ul><li>9. Before Susan had done princking, church was over.</li> - -<li>9. Before Susan had done <span class="u">prinking</span>, church was over.</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_101">101</a></p> - -<ul><li>we have such statements are these:</li> - -<li>we have such statements <span class="u">as</span> these:</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_130">130</a></p> - -<ul><li>or at the murmuring of a secret phase.</li> - -<li>or at the murmuring of a secret <span class="u">phrase</span>.</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_149">149</a></p> - -<ul><li>Juan asked him magical ring to give him</li> - -<li>Juan asked <span class="u">his</span> magical ring to give him</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_177">177</a></p> - -<ul><li>for his wife kept on retching so constanty that</li> - -<li>for his wife kept on retching so <span class="u">constantly</span> that</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_184">184</a></p> - -<ul><li>by the appearance of a scawny young man</li> - -<li>by the appearance of a <span class="u">scrawny</span> young man</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_213">213</a></p> - -<ul><li>through the frosted window and the feathery snow, such a vision of -lovliness</li> - -<li>through the frosted window and the feathery snow, such a vision of -<span class="u">loveliness</span></li></ul> - -<p>p. <a href="#Page_259">259</a></p> - -<ul><li>bow would be drawn nor quarel</li> - -<li>bow would be drawn nor <span class="u">quarrel</span></li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_274">274</a></p> - -<ul><li>but it is not the hard, toil-beleagured life of</li> - -<li>but it is not the hard, <span class="u">toil-beleaguered</span> life of</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_284">284</a></p> - -<ul><li>of taking my gold sleeve bottons</li> - -<li>of taking my gold sleeve <span class="u">buttons</span></li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_323">323</a></p> - -<ul><li>the faithful fellow went off to the café which he frequentel</li> - -<li>the faithful fellow went off to the café which he <span class="u">frequented</span></li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_377">377</a></p> - -<ul><li>at Jourdain's, the inkeeper who dealt in horses</li> - -<li>at Jourdain's, the <span class="u">innkeeper</span> who dealt in horses</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_425">425</a></p> - -<ul><li>After much fumbling in the darkness he placed in Ivan't hands</li> - -<li>After much fumbling in the darkness he placed in <span class="u">Ivan's</span> hands</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_433">433</a></p> - -<ul><li>But how had be managed to see that polo ball?</li> - -<li>But how had <span class="u">he</span> managed to see that polo ball?</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_460">460</a></p> - -<ul><li>the tarnished furniture, the ugly curtains; deficienices which would -</li> - -<li>the tarnished furniture, the ugly curtains; <span class="u">deficiencies</span> which would -</li></ul> - -<p>p. <a href="#Page_475">475</a></p> - -<ul><li>the governor delivered a short spech of welcome</li> - -<li>the governor delivered a short <span class="u">speech</span> of welcome</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_483">483</a></p> - -<ul><li>retreating before the Prussian army, had bivoucked near a town</li> - -<li>retreating before the Prussian army, had <span class="u">bivouacked</span> near a town</li> -</ul> -<p>p. <a href="#Page_549">549</a></p> - -<ul><li>the little Turks come out and -laugh it him.</li> - -<li>the little Turks come out and -laugh <span class="u">at</span> him.</li></ul> - -<p>p. <a href="#Page_629">629</a></p> - -<ul><li>If differs from journal and diary</li> - -<li><span class="u">It</span> differs from journal and diary</li></ul> - -<p>p. <a href="#Page_677">677</a></p> - -<ul><li><i>Peirs Plowman</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li> - -<li><i><span class="u">Piers</span> Plowman</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li></ul> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TYPES OF PROSE NARRATIVES ***</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>This file should be named 64210-h.htm or 64210-h.zip</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/2/1/64210/</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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. 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