diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/64210-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64210-0.txt | 22803 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 22803 deletions
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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |