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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
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+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #68383 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68383)
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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Philistine: a periodical of
-protest (Vol. I, No. 3, August 1895), by Various
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: The Philistine: a periodical of protest (Vol. I, No. 3, August
-       1895)
-
-Author: Various
-
-Release Date: June 23, 2022 [eBook #68383]
-
-Language: English
-
-Produced by: hekula03 and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
-             https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images
-             made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHILISTINE: A PERIODICAL
-OF PROTEST (VOL. I, NO. 3, AUGUST 1895) ***
-
-
-
-
-
-
-                             The Philistine:
-                         A Periodical of Protest.
-
-                 “_A harmless necessary cat._”—_Shylock._
-
-                              [Illustration]
-
-                Printed Every Little While for The Society
-                     of The Philistines and Published
-                    by Them Monthly. Subscription, One
-                 Dollar Yearly; Single Copies, 10 Cents.
-                         Number 3. August, 1895.
-
-
-
-
-The Philistine.
-
-Edited by H. P. Taber.
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS FOR AUGUST, 1895.
-
-
-                       JEREMIADS:
-
-    A Word About Art,                        Ouida
-
-    The Confessional in Letters,    Elbert Hubbard
-
-    The Social Spotter,           William McIntosh
-
-                     OTHER THINGS:
-
-    The Dream,                      William Morris
-
-    Verses,                          Stephen Crane
-
-    For Honor,                         Jean Wright
-
-    The Story of the Little Sister,       H. P. T.
-
-    Notes.
-
-THE PHILISTINE is published monthly at $1 a year, 10 cents a single
-copy. Subscriptions may be left with newsdealers or sent direct to the
-publishers.
-
-Business communications should be addressed to THE PHILISTINE. East
-Aurora, New York. Matter intended for publication may be sent to the same
-address or to Box 6, Cambridge, Massachusetts.
-
-_Entered at the Postoffice at East Aurora, New York, for transmission as
-mail matter of the second class._
-
-_COPYRIGHT, 1895._
-
-
-
-
-AND THIS, THEN, IS THE THIRD OF THE BOOK OF THE PHILISTINE AND FIRST HERE
-IS PRINTED THE LINES CALLED
-
-“THE DREAM”
-
-WRITTEN BY MR. WILLIAM MORRIS: TO WHOM BE PRAISE AND REVERENCE AND MUCH
-THANKFULNESS FOR MANY DEEDS.
-
-
-    I dreamed
-    A dream of you,
-    Not as you seemed
-    When you were late unkind,
-    And blind
-    To my eyes pleading for a debt long due;
-    But touched and true,
-    And all inclined
-    To tenderest fancies on love’s inmost theme.
-    How sweet you were to me, and ah, how kind
-    In that dear dream!
-    I felt
-    Your lips on mine
-    Mingle and melt,
-    And your cheek touch my cheek.
-    I, weak
-    With vain desires and asking for a sign
-    Of love divine,
-    Found my grief break,
-    And wept and wept in an unending stream
-    Of sudden joy set free, yet could not speak:
-    Dumb in my dream.
-
-    I knew
-    You loved me then,
-    And I knew, too,
-    The bliss of souls in Heaven,
-    New-shriven,
-    Who look with pity on still sinning men
-    And turn again
-    To be forgiven
-    In the dear arms of their God holding them,
-    And spend themselves in praise from morn
-    ’Till even,
-    Nor break their dream.
-    I woke
-    In my mid-bliss
-    At midnight’s stroke
-    And knew you lost and gone.
-    Forlorn
-    I called you back to my unfinished kiss,
-    But only this
-    One word of scorn
-    You answered me, “’Twas better loved to seem
-    Than loved to be, since all love is foresworn,
-    Always a dream.”
-
-
-
-
-A WORD ABOUT ART.
-
-
-[Sidenote: _Is there_]
-
-How can we have great art in our day? We have no faith. Belief of
-some sort is the life-blood of art. When Athene and Zeus ceased to
-excite veneration in the minds of men, sculpture and architecture both
-lost their greatness. When the Madonna and her Son lost that mystery
-and divinity, which for the simple minds of the early painters they
-possessed, the soul went out of canvas and of wood. When we carve a Venus
-now, she is but a frivolous woman; when we paint a Jesus now, it is but a
-little suckling, or a sorrowful prisoner.
-
-[Sidenote: _a woman, even in_]
-
-We want a great inspiration. We ought to find it in the things that are
-really beautiful, but we are not sure enough, perhaps, what is so. What
-does dominate us is a passion for nature: for the sea, for the sky,
-for the mountain, for the forest, for the evening storm, for the break
-of day. Perhaps when we are thoroughly steeped in this, we shall reach
-greatness once more. But the artificiality of all modern life is against
-it, so is its cynicism. Sadness and sarcasm make a great Lucretius and as
-a great Juvenal; and scorn makes a strong Aristophanes: but they do not
-make a Praxiteles and an Apelles; they do not even make a Raffaelle or a
-Flaxman.
-
-[Sidenote: _Boston,_]
-
-Art, if it be anything, is the perpetual uplifting of what is beautiful
-in the sight of the multitude—the perpetual adoration of that loveliness,
-material and moral, which men in the haste and greed of their lives are
-everlastingly forgetting: unless it be that, it is empty and useless as a
-child’s reed-pipe when the reed is snapt and the child’s breath spent.
-
-[Sidenote: _who can_]
-
-It must have been such a good life—a painter’s in those days: those early
-days of art. Fancy the gladness of it then—modern painters can know
-nothing of it.
-
-[Sidenote: _produce literature_]
-
-When all the delicate delights of distance were only half perceived; when
-the treatment of light and shadow was barely dreamed of; when aerial
-perspective was just breaking on the mind in all its wonder and power;
-when it was still regarded as a marvellous boldness to draw from the
-natural form in a natural fashion—in those early days only fancy the
-delights of a painter!
-
-[Sidenote: _equal_]
-
-Something fresh to be won at each step; something new to be penetrated
-at each moment; something beautiful and rash to be ventured on with each
-touch of colour—the painter in those days had all the breathless pleasure
-of an explorer; without leaving his birthplace he knew the joys of
-Columbus.
-
-[Sidenote: _to this?_]
-
-And one can fancy nothing better than a life such as Spinello led for
-nigh a century up on the hill here, painting because he loved it, till
-death took him. Of all lives, perhaps, that this world has ever seen, the
-lives of painters, I say, in those days were the most perfect.
-
-In quiet places such as Arezzo and Volterra, and Modena and Urbino, and
-Cortona and Perugia, there would grow up a gentle lad who from infancy
-most loved to stand and gaze at the missal paintings in his mother’s
-house, and the coena in the monk’s refectory, and when he had fulfilled
-some twelve or fifteen years, his people would give in to his wish and
-send him to some bottega to learn the management of colours.
-
-[Sidenote: _No, not even_]
-
-Then he would grow to be a man; and his town would be proud of him, and
-find him the choicest of all work in its churches and its convents, so
-that all his days were filled without his ever wandering out of reach of
-his native vesper bells.
-
-[Sidenote: _in Boston!_]
-
-He would make his dwelling in the heart of his birthplace, close under
-its cathedral, with the tender sadness of the olive hills stretching
-above and around in the basiliche or the monasteries his labor would
-daily lie; he would have a docile band of hopeful boyish pupils with
-innocent eyes of wonder for all he did or said; he would paint his wife’s
-face for the Madonna’s, and his little son’s for the child Angel’s; he
-would go out into the fields and gather the olive bow, and the feathery
-corn, and the golden fruits, and paint them tenderly on ground of gold or
-blue, in symbol of those heavenly things of which the bells were forever
-telling all those who chose to hear; he would sit in the lustrous nights
-in the shade of his own vines and pity those who were not as he was; now
-and then horsemen would come spurring in across the hills and bring news
-with them of battles fought, of cities lost and won; and he would listen
-with the rest in the market-place, and go home through the moonlight
-thinking that it was well to create the holy things before which the
-fiercest rider and the rudest free-lance would drop the point of the
-sword and make the sign of the cross.
-
-It must have been a good life—good to its close in the cathedral
-crypt—and so common too; there were scores of such lived out in these
-little towns of Italy, half monastery and half fortress, that were
-scattered over hill and plain, by sea and river, on marsh and mountain,
-from the daydawn of Cimabue to the after-glow of the Carracci.
-
-And their work lives after them; the little towns are all grey and still
-and half peopled now; the iris grows on the ramparts, the canes wave
-in the moats, the shadows sleep in the silent market-place, the great
-convents shelter half a dozen monks, the dim majestic churches are damp
-and desolate, and have the scent of the sepulchre.
-
-But there, above the altars, the wife lives in the Madonna and the child
-smiles in the Angel, and the olive and the wheat are fadeless on their
-ground of gold and blue; and by the tomb in the crypt the sacristan will
-shade his lantern and murmur with a sacred tenderness:
-
-“Here he sleeps.”
-
-                                                                    OUIDA.
-
-
-
-
-FOR HONOR.
-
-
-By a turn of chance a father and son were thrown together in one of the
-Western frontier posts, the father as colonel in command, the son as a
-second lieutenant in one of the four companies quartered there. When the
-order came which had brought them together after the three years which
-had gone by since the boy left West Point, it brought great, but silent,
-happiness to the stern and gloomy old soldier, and a light-hearted
-pleasure to the young man; once more he would be with “dear old dad,” and
-besides, life must be rather exciting out there, and altogether worth
-a man’s while. And so he packed his traps in double-quick time, as a
-soldier must, and was off in twenty-four hours. The meeting between the
-two was a strange one. Effusive and very gay on the part of the young
-man, who made no effort to conceal his delight; stiff, even cold, on the
-part of the old man, whose very heart quivered with joy; and on whose
-stern and bronzed face a light came which the boy did not even see.
-
-The colonel was not a popular man, hard and cold, rigid in the
-performance of his own duty, and with little sympathy for failure on the
-part of his men, he was respected, and, in a certain sense, admired,
-but not loved; sternly just according to his own light, but narrow and
-intolerant. With two passions—the exaggerated, hide-bound honor of a
-soldier who believes his profession to be the only one; the honor of a
-strictly honest and very proud man, jealous of the slightest stain upon
-his unimpeachable integrity. The other passion a carefully hidden but
-almost idolatrous love for his son. There had been one other passion, but
-she died.
-
-Within a month after his coming, the young lieutenant was the most
-popular man at the post. He sang, he danced, he rode, and he played
-cards; he also drank rather more than was necessary.
-
-Within two months it all palled upon him. Deadly ennui took possession
-of him. The great sunlit barren plains stretched out interminable.
-There were no Indians even to break the monotony. The iron routine of
-one day followed upon another with what seemed to him a stupid, trivial
-and meaningless regularity. So he stopped singing and dancing, and went
-on playing cards and drinking. Another thing that annoyed him was his
-father’s suppressed but uncompromising disapproval. Inward the colonel’s
-soul writhed that his boy should blemish his record as a soldier in this
-way; he did not doubt his courage should the time come for proving it,
-but in the meantime to show himself a weak and foolish man was almost
-unbearable. He could not understand the boy, and he said nothing, which
-was perhaps unfortunate.
-
-Three weeks went by and the young lieutenant was deep in debt to the
-captain of another company. A sneering, black faced fellow, who had
-risen from the ranks; gaining his promotions during the last fifteen
-years for acts of dare-devil bravery. He was not a pleasant man to owe
-to; particularly if one was not too sure of being able to pay up when
-the notes fell due. Another month, and things were no better. It was in
-the early part of September, and the flat plains stretched out parched
-and arid, the sun beat down pitilessly on the treeless little post, and
-the money to the captain had to be paid to-morrow. It was certainly a
-disagreeable situation. But they played hard and drank hard, and the
-young lieutenant almost forgot that to-morrow was coming.
-
-[Sidenote: _Is cheating at cards so rare as this?_]
-
-But about one o’clock in the morning there was a row, and before many
-hours the whole post knew what was the matter. It does not take long for
-news to travel among a few hundred people, particularly so interesting
-and exciting a bit as this. For this gay young fellow, this dashing young
-soldier, this son of the stern old martinet of a colonel, had been caught
-cheating at cards, and was disgraced forever.
-
-The news got round and finally reached the colonel. It was a brave man
-who told him. He waited an hour, and then putting a pistol in his
-holster, he went across to his son’s quarters. There was no answer to
-his knock, so he opened the door and went in. The boy was sitting by the
-table, with his head buried in his arms. He did not look up when his
-father spoke, “My son, there is but one thing for you to do. You know
-what it is,” and he laid the pistol on the table. There was no reply;
-and the colonel stood silent, straight and stern, but his face was gray,
-and his iron mouth was drawn. Presently the boy raised his head and
-looked straight into his father’s eyes. For the first time in his life he
-understood. “Yes, father,” he said. The colonel stood a moment, and then
-went out and shut the door. When he was half way across the parade ground
-he heard a pistol shot, but he did not go back.
-
-                                                              JEAN WRIGHT.
-
-
-
-
-THE CONFESSIONAL IN LETTERS.
-
-
-In the year 1848 Ralph Waldo Emerson of Concord, Mass., made a lecturing
-tour through England. Among the towns he visited was Coventry, where he
-was entertained at the residence of Mr. Charles Bray. In the family of
-Mr. Bray lived a young woman by the name of Mary Ann Evans, and although
-this Miss Evans was not handsome, either in face or figure, she made a
-decided impression on Mr. Emerson.
-
-A little excursion was arranged to Stratford, an antiquated town of
-some note in the same county. On this trip Mr. Emerson and Miss Evans
-paired off very naturally, and Miss Evans of Coventry was so bold as to
-set Mr. Emerson of Concord straight on several matters relating to Mr.
-Shakespeare, formerly of Stratford.
-
-“What is your favorite book?” said Mr. Emerson to Miss Evans, somewhat
-abruptly.
-
-“Rousseau’s _Confessions_,” said the young woman instantly.
-
-“And so it is mine,” answered Mr. Emerson.
-
-All of which is related by Moncure D. Conway in a volume entitled
-_Emerson at Home and Abroad_.
-
-A copy of Conway’s book was sent to Walt Whitman, and when he read the
-passage to which I have just referred he remarked, “And so it is mine.”
-
-Emerson and Whitman are probably the two strongest names in American
-letters, and George Eliot stands first among women writers of all time;
-and as they in common with many Lesser Wits stand side by side and salute
-Jean Jacques Rousseau, it may be worth our while to take just a glance at
-M. Rousseau’s book in order, if we can, to know why it appeals to people
-of worth.
-
-The first thing about the volume that attracts is the title. There is
-something charmingly alluring and sweetly seductive in a confession. Mr.
-Henry James has said: “The sweetest experience that can come to a man
-on his pilgrimage through this vale of tears is to have a lovely woman
-‘confess’ to him; and it is said that while neither argument, threat,
-plea of justification, nor gold can fully placate a woman who believes
-she has been wronged by a man, yet she speedily produces, not only a
-branch, but a whole olive tree when he comes humbly home and confesses.”
-
-Now here is a man about to ’fess to the world, and we take up the volume,
-glance around to see if any one is looking, and begin at the first
-paragraph to read:
-
-“I purpose an undertaking that never had an example and the execution of
-which will never have an imitation. I would exhibit myself to all men as
-I am—a man....
-
-“Let the last trumpet sound when it will, I will come, with this book in
-my hand, and present myself before the Sovereign Judge. I will boldly
-proclaim: Thus have I acted, thus have I thought, such was I. With equal
-frankness have I disclosed the good and the evil. I have omitted nothing
-bad, added nothing good. I have exhibited myself, despisable and vile
-when so; virtuous, generous, sublime when so. I have unveiled my interior
-being as Thou, Eternal One, hast seen it.” Now where is the man or woman
-who could stop there, even though the cows were in the corn?
-
-And as we read further we find things that are “unfit for publication”
-and confessions of sensations that are so universal to healthy men that
-they are irrelevant, and straightway we arise and lock the door so as to
-finish the chapter undisturbed. For as superfluous things are the things
-we cannot do without, so is the irrelevant in literature the necessary.
-
-Having finished this chapter, oblivious to calls that dinner is waiting,
-we begin the next; and finding items so interesting that they are
-disgusting, and others so indecent that they are entertaining, we forget
-the dinner that is getting cold and read on.
-
-And the reason we read on is not because we love the indecent, or because
-we crave the disgusting, although I believe Burke hints at the contrary,
-but simply because the writing down of these unbecoming things convinces
-us that the man is honest and that the confession is genuine. In short we
-come to the conclusion that any man who deliberately puts himself in such
-a bad light—caring not a fig either for our approbation or our censure—is
-no sham.
-
-And there you have it! _We want honesty in literature._
-
-The great orator always shows a dash of contempt for the opinions of his
-audience, and the great writer is he who loses self consciousness and
-writes himself down as he is, for at the last analysis all literature is
-a confession.
-
-The Ishmaelites who purvey culture by the ton, and issue magazines that
-burden the mails—study very carefully the public palate. They know full
-well that a “confession” is salacious: it is an exposure. A confession
-implies something that is peculiar, private and distinctly different from
-what we are used to. It is a removing the veil, a making plain things
-that are thought and performed in secret.
-
-And so we see articles on “The Women Who Have Influenced Me,” “The Books
-that Have Made Me,” “My Literary Passions,” etc. But like the circus
-bills, these titles call for animals that the big tent never shows; and
-this perhaps is well, for otherwise ’twould fright the ladies.
-
-Yes, I frankly admit that these “confessions” suit the constituency of
-_The Ladies’ Home Journal_ better than the truth; and although its editor
-be a Jew, the fact that the writers of his confessions practice careful
-concealment of the truth that they have hands, senses, eyes, ears,
-organs, dimensions, passions, is a wise commercial stroke. You can prick
-them and they do not bleed, tickle them and they do not laugh, poison
-them and they do not die; simply because they are only puppets parading
-as certain virtues, and these virtues the own particular brand in which
-the subscribers delight.
-
-That excellent publication, _The Forum_, increased its circulation by
-many thousand when it ran a series of confessions of great men wherein
-these great men made sham pretense of laying their lives bare before
-the public gaze. Nothing was told that did not redound to the credit of
-the confessor. The “Formative Influences” of sin, error and blunders
-were carefully concealed or calmly waived. The lack of good faith was as
-apparent in these articles as the rouge on the cheek of a courtesan: the
-color is genuine and the woman not dead, that’s all.
-
-And the loss lies in this: These writers—mostly able men—sell their souls
-for a price, and produce a literature that lives the length of life of a
-moth, whereas they might write for immortality. Instead of inspiring the
-great, they act as clowns to entertain the rabble.
-
-Of course I know that Rousseau’s _Confessions_, Amiel’s _Journal_ and
-Marie Bashkirtseff’s _Diary_ have all been declared carefully worked out
-artifices. And admitting all the wonderful things that scheming man
-can perform, I still maintain that there are a few things that life and
-nature will continue to work out in the old, old way. I appeal to those
-who have tried both plans, whether it is not easier to tell the truth
-than to concoct a lie. And I assiduously maintain that if the case is to
-be tried by a jury of great men, that the shocking facts will serve the
-end far better than sugared half-truth.
-
-When Richard Le Gallienne tells us of the birth of his baby and for weeks
-before how White Soul was sure she should die; and Marie Bashkirtseff
-makes painstaking note of the size of her hips and the development of her
-bust; and poor Amiel bewails the fate of eating breakfast facing an empty
-chair; and Rousseau explains the delicate sensations and smells that
-swept over him on opening his wardrobe and finding smocks and petticoats
-hanging in careless negligence amid his man’s clothes; and all those
-other pathetic, foolish, charming, irrelevant bits of prattle, one is
-convinced of the author’s honesty. No thorough-going literary man, hot
-for success, would leave such stuff in; he would as soon think of using a
-flesh brush on the public street; these are his own private affairs—his
-good sense would have forbade.
-
-A good lie for its own sake is ever pleasing to honest men, but a patched
-up record never. And when such small men as Samuel Pepys and James
-Boswell can write immortal books, the moral for the rest of us is that a
-little honesty is not a dangerous thing.
-
-And so I swing back to the place of beginning and say that while even
-a sham confession may be interesting to hoi polloi, yet to secure an
-endorsement from such minds as that of Emerson, George Eliot and Walt
-Whitman the confession must be genuine.
-
-                                                           ELBERT HUBBARD.
-
-
-
-
-THE SOCIAL SPOTTER.
-
-
-“Why don’t the young folks marry?” continues, in the intervals of
-other jeremiad problems, to puzzle the good people who call themselves
-publicists, having a brevet authority to set everything right in the
-world. It is assumed that if the young people would only marry up to
-the full proportion, most of the ills that afflict an over-civilized
-and over-sensitized society would cure themselves. The young people
-would have something else to do besides “dabbling in the fount of
-fictive tears” and inventing new wants. The old ones would suffice, when
-multiplied in kind after the usual fashion.
-
-It is an old story that young men are afraid of the cost of marriage. The
-girls are less simple than their mothers and complexity in matters of
-taste means expense. A clever verse writer has told of the hardships of
-a pair who wooed on a bicycle built for two and afterwards tried to live
-on a salary built for one. It is funny in the telling but tragic in the
-living. It is a trying business to keep up to concert pitch in these days.
-
-[Sidenote: _But is she warranted harmless?_]
-
-The complexity of social expression is not the only dragon in the way.
-We have adopted from abroad something French. It came via England, but
-France is its origin. It is the Chaperone. She is usually harmless
-personally, but she means a great deal. She stands for a state of society
-where marriage is always a failure. Ask Emile Zola if you don’t believe
-it. “Modern Marriage” has the specifications. We have good women and
-manly men in America. The grisette isn’t an institution with us. Neither
-is the man who supports her until he is rich enough to make a French
-marriage. We have him and we have her, but neither is universal. The
-_mariage de convenance_ and the institution which precedes it in France
-are not general with us. The chaperone is part of the system with them.
-The chaperone implies the others. She is a standing notice that young man
-and young woman are not to be trusted together. In some of our cities
-it is such very good “good form” to send a guardian with young people
-that a woman of over twenty-five has been known to cancel an engagement
-to attend a company which she had anxiously wanted to enjoy and for
-which she had made great preparation, because a married sister could not
-accompany her. She would not go without a chaperone. It was not “good
-form.”
-
-O ye gods, Good Form! What was good form, and who promulgated its laws,
-when the father and mother of us all, better than any of us, walked with
-the Creator of the universe in the garden in the cool of the day? But
-“evil came into the world” and changed it. Yes, the evil of “good form,”
-the embodied self-consciousness which chains all the virtues and makes
-the decencies compulsory and puts on them the brand of the police blotter.
-
-In the name of all that is good why should we watch the young people? The
-middle-aged need it more. Youth is chivalrous. Middle age is commonplace.
-It is not youth that
-
-    Eats for his stomach and drinks for his head,
-    And loves for his pleasure—and ’tis time he was dead.
-
-Chaperon the married victims of the French system. Put the spotter on the
-track of the woman who was taught she couldn’t trust herself when she
-was young and the man was complacently branded a roue when his heart was
-fresh and warm.
-
-It is time for a new declaration of independence, and the youth of our
-land should make it. Let Young America say this: “The woman I cannot
-honorably woo, whose care at a social gathering is denied me without a
-policeman and a spy, may find another knight.” Let the maidens of our
-day, better cultured than their mothers, broader in their training, surer
-of their social footing, stronger in their poise and presence of mind,
-bar out the man who comes into their presence under a ban.
-
-How long would the hollow mockery of “good form” endure such a strike?
-As many minutes as it should take to show its utter falsehood and the
-cruel slander it implies. Until the young people so assert themselves
-the imitated bars sinister of the most corrupt social heraldry of
-Europe will be ours—worn with an affectation of pride in the dishonor
-they blazon. Till then men will be equalized down, not up; and the talk
-of “emancipated woman” will be an insult. When it is done there will
-be more marriages of the kind to be desired—the union of true men and
-self-respecting women.
-
-                                                         WILLIAM MCINTOSH.
-
-
-
-
-THE CHATTER OF A DEATH-DEMON FROM A TREE-TOP.
-
-
-    BLOOD—BLOOD AND TORN GRASS—
-    HAD MARKED THE RISE OF HIS AGONY—
-    THIS LONE HUNTER.
-    THE GREY-GREEN WOODS IMPASSIVE
-    HAD WATCHED THE THRESHING OF HIS LIMBS.
-
-    A CANOE WITH FLASHING PADDLE,
-    A GIRL WITH SOFT, SEARCHING EYES,
-    A CALL: “JOHN!”
-
-    ...
-
-    COME, ARISE, HUNTER!
-    LIFT YOUR GREY FACE!
-    CAN YOU NOT HEAR?
-
-    THE CHATTER OF A DEATH-DEMON FROM A TREE-TOP.
-
-                                   STEPHEN CRANE.
-
-
-
-
-THE STORY OF THE LITTLE SISTER.
-
-
-When I first knew her she was a very little girl in a white
-dress—starched very stiff—and she might have reminded me of Molly in the
-diverting story of _Sir Charles Danvers_.
-
-I was devoted to her sister and I remember her galumphing into the room
-at a most inopportune time, and staring for a moment with eyes very wide
-open. Then she ran away and I heard her outside giggling quietly all by
-herself.
-
-When the big sister went away for the summer I went out to the house to
-tell her good-by. The great trunk stood in the hall waiting for Charlie
-Miller’s man. Seated on top of this was the little sister with two round
-bottles held close to her eyes. She said she was playing theater, and
-that the bottles made a lovely opera glass.
-
-I asked her what the play was and she said about a pretty lady who was
-pursued by lions and dragons and things. Then there was a man—a big, nice
-man—who came with guns and swords and spears and killed all the dragons
-and lions and then he married the pretty lady.
-
-This was her imagination.
-
-Then I went away—I forget where—and was gone many years. I came back to
-be best man at the wedding of my cousin Anthony. I found that the little
-sister was to be the maid of honor, and at the various functions before
-the wedding I saw much of her.
-
-After the ceremony we walked down the aisle together, and as she took my
-arm her hand trembled. When we reached the entrance I turned and looked
-square into her glorious eyes. They told me many things that I was glad
-to know.
-
-Now—after a year—I am trying to live up to the ideal man she imagined me
-to be.
-
-And that’s what makes it hard.
-
-                                                                  H. P. T.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Many of the newspapers which have noticed THE PHILISTINE have expressed
-their inability to find East Aurora on the map. All the map makers are
-hereby authorized to print a large red ring around the name of the home
-of THE PHILISTINE hereafter, but for the benefit of those who pine for
-immediate knowledge, I clip the following from _Bradstreet’s_:
-
-    EAST AURORA, Erie Co., pop. 2000, 1880. Bank 1, newspapers
-    2, Am. Ex., W. N. Y. & P. R. R., 17 miles fr. Buffalo.
-    Headquarters Cloverfield combination of cheese factories. Home
-    of Mambrino King.[1] Product: ginger.
-
-[1] _Mambrino King is a horse._
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: THE BLUFF.
-
-DRAWING BY PLUG HAZEN-PLUG.]
-
-
-
-
-SIDE TALKS WITH THE PHILISTINES: BEING SUNDRY BITS OF WISDOM WHICH HAVE
-BEEN HERETOFORE SECRETED, AND ARE NOW SET FORTH IN PRINT.
-
-
-If I had seen it announcing a special feature in the _World_ or _Herald_
-for a coming Sunday, I would not have been surprised, but to find the
-following paragraph in the editorial columns of _The Land of Sunshine_
-fills me with wonder:
-
-    Up to date _The Land of Sunshine_ is the only periodical in the
-    world whose cover is embellished with drawings by the Almighty.
-
-It would be interesting to know what the Recording Angel thinks of Mr.
-Lummis’s coupling of the High Court of Heaven and Aubrey Beardsley. Now
-if Mr. Lummis could only get his editorials from the same source——
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-When Shem Rock, Ham Garland and Japhet Bumball conspired to spring on
-an unsuspecting world that three-cornered story entitled _The Land of
-the Straddle Bug_, they bought two whole bushels of hyphens. In one
-chapter, by actual count, forty-seven compound words are used. They have
-even hyphenated such words as dod-rot, dodd-mead, slap-jack, goll-darn,
-do-tell and gee-whiz. Ham’s own pet “yeh” is used in the story
-sixty-four times, which does not include four plain “you’s” and three
-“ye’s,” where the Only Original Lynx-eyed Proof-reader nodded.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-It is published that the _Post_ contemplated a change in the appearance
-and make-up of the paper, but gave up the scheme lest it shock the
-readers of Mr. Godkin’s _Evening Grandmother_. What would shock the
-readers more would be the appearance of life somewhere about the sheet. I
-would respectfully call the attention of the editors of the _Post_ to the
-fate which befell the Assyrians. It is written in Isaiah XXXVII—36: Then
-the angel of the Lord went forth and smote in the camp of the Assyrians
-a hundred and four score and five thousand; and when they arose in the
-morning: behold, they were all dead corpses.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-THE PHILISTINE’S plea is for the widest liberty to individual genius.
-Perhaps no living man has presented this plea so strongly in his life and
-work as William Morris. The poem herein printed is a taste of this strong
-man’s quality. It is taken from that dainty bundle of beautiful things
-entitled, _Love Lyrics_.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-In that very charming article by Mr. Zangwill in the last _Chap Book_,
-mention is made of the utter impossibility of stating a truth so that
-the majority will remember or recognize it when they see it again—so
-shallow is human wit. In THE PHILISTINE for July I made bold to insert
-an extract from the Bible. No credit was given, however, and the matter
-was re-paragraphed. And now, behold, a Chicago paper arises and calls
-the quotation rot; several other publications refute the scriptural
-statements and a weekly that is very wise in its day and generation
-refers to my irreverence in writing in Bible style.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-In the _Popular Science Monthly_ for July a Dr. Oppenheimer announces the
-interesting discovery why children lie. It has been supposed that they
-lie, as a general thing, because they want something, but it appears that
-it is because they have something, in the French sense. It isn’t inherent
-viciousness but disease. The doctor says:
-
-    The children usually are suffering from disorders of mind or
-    body, or both, which radically interfere with the transmission
-    of conceptions and perceptions from the internal to the
-    external processes of expression, so that they really are
-    unable to be more exact than they seem.
-
-This seems to explain several things about our good friends Landon and
-Townsend—G. A.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-The London _Athenæum_ says “Stephen Crane is the coming Boozy Prophet of
-America; his lines send the cold chills streaking up one’s spine, and
-we are in error if his genius does not yet sweep all other literary fads
-from the board.”
-
-All of which strikes me as a boozier bit of cymbalism than any of Mr.
-Crane’s verses.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-On the authority of the New York _Sun_, afternoon teas are growing more
-and more realistic. That arbiter of etiquette says:
-
-    The formality of bidding adieu to the hostess at an afternoon
-    tea is now dispensed with; the omission is considered
-    with favor and in good taste. No after calls are made in
-    acknowledgement of a tea.
-
-The little trifle of ceremony that stood for courtesy is about all cast
-aside. The program now is—Greet, Eat and Git.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-I observe that Mr. Andrew Lang is to write some verses to be read at a
-dinner of the Omar Club in London “on some future occasion.” I shall
-watch for these with much interest, remembering, meanwhile, these verses
-recently read before that remarkable organization:
-
-    We envy not the saint what bliss he hath:
-    Still let him cheer his puritanic path
-      With what of joy his joyless rules permit:
-    The beer of ginger and the bun of Bath.
-
-    We plunder not the Pharasaic fold
-    Whose drinks are new, whose jests and maidens old;
-      Content to cherish what the Dervish hates,
-    The cup of ruby and the curls of gold.
-
-It is noted that Mr. W. Irving Way of Chicago was present at the last
-Omar club dinner. He should give us some notable reminiscences of the
-feast.
-
-Speaking of Way, I hear that he has gone into the publishing business
-in Chicago. As a critic of the mechanical construction of books he is
-supreme, but I wonder will his publishing be that of literature or wool
-from the wild west.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-“You have us down one dollar for dog tax. I’d have you know we keep no
-dog,” said the man to the tax gatherer.
-
-“I understand,” answered the publican, “but you subscribe to the Albany
-_Argus_!”
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Buffalo, N. Y., has a _Young Ladies’ Magazine_. It has a beautiful
-picture of a skirt dance on the cover of its prospectus, which is ever
-so much more interesting than Mr. Bok’s Bermuda lily gatherer seven feet
-tall.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Now that Robert Louis Stevenson’s will has been published in full text
-as a feature story, perhaps Mr. So So McClure may desist. The will is
-almost as thrilling as a market report. Its publication explains in part,
-however, how the cheap magazine movement is founded. Next we shall
-see the weather and a Congressional debate among the contents of the
-cheap-books.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Prizes are offered in Judge Tourgee’s _Basin_ to preachers, women and
-“colored writers,” for short stories. The Judge is bound to keep solid
-with the three sexes as he understands them.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-It is matter of record in _McClure’s_ that Edmund Goose’s poem on Samoa,
-which it prints, “reached Robert Louis Stevenson three days before his
-death.” There is a horrible suggestion in the little nonpareil footnote
-that the poem may have hastened that sad event. It’s bad enough.
-
-
-A LYRIC OF JOY.
-
-    Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune
-      I saw the white daisies go down to the sea.
-
-                 —Bliss Carman, in July _Century_.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-    Over the ballast, the ropes and the chairs,
-      I see the fat picnicers clamber galore,
-    And struggle for seats by the rail near the stairs,
-      To fry in the sun when they steam from the shore.
-    The barker has rallied them out of the town
-      To sands stretching white in the pitiless glare;
-    And all of their talk as the calm night comes down
-      Is the crush going back and the bargain day fare.
-
-                                         M’LISS COWBOY.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Ham Garland has gone up the coulee to his farm near La Crosse and is
-writing another novel. He is daily in receipt of letters and telegrams
-from people in all parts of the country asking him to pull the coulee up
-after him.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-In a recent number of the _Chip-Munk_ it is said the intelligent
-compositor set it Charles G——d— Roberts; and the Only Original Lynx-Eyed
-being on a journey the whole edition was printed. It was one of those
-very aggravating mistakes that will occasionally occur even in printerys
-which print things on the finest paper.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-I greet with exceeding joy the name of a new writer of stories which
-appeal to me as being above the plane of universal grayness which we have
-viewed for many months, and for this reason I am glad to see _A Very
-Remarkable Girl_ in the quarterly issued by _Town Topics_. The author
-of this story is Mr. L. H. Bickford of Denver, and the editor of _Town
-Topics_ says that he has heretofore been unacquainted with Mr. Bickford’s
-work. For many years I have watched the development of this young author,
-and if I am not much mistaken he will yet be heard from in no uncertain
-way. I do not believe that the public has any business with the private
-life of writers, but it may be said that Mr. Bickford is twenty-six,
-and was born in Leadville, Colorado. For a half hour’s entertainment,
-reading aloud in a hammock, I know of nothing better than _A Very
-Remarkable Girl_. It is suggestive of the signs of the times.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Good form has determined that special attentions at a time of bereavement
-are to be recognized by sending engraved cards. Some people used to send
-letters of thanks for sympathy, but of course cards are more impressive.
-A coupon scheme has been suggested, the thanks to be attached to a ticket
-to the funeral.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-And furthermore be it known that the marginal notes opposite articles in
-THE PHILISTINE are never supplied by the authors thereof.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-A man in Paris sends me the following delicious bit clipped from the
-Paris edition of the New York _Herald_ of April 1:
-
-    NEW YORK, March 31.—The _Herald’s_ leading editorial to-day
-    says that many surprises await us in heaven.
-
-I regret not seeing this editorial of March 31. I imagine, however, that
-it related to Reginald de Koven and his surprise—when he gets there—at
-finding he cannot write all the choir music.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-But then—is Egotism Art?
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_MEDITATIONS IN MOTLEY._
-
-By WALTER BLACKBURN HARTE
-
-“Meditations in Motley” reveals a new American essayist, honest and
-whimsical, with a good deal of decorative plain speaking. An occasional
-carelessness of style is redeemed by unfailing insight.—I. ZANGWILL in
-_The Pall Mall Magazine_ for April, 1895.
-
-A series of well written essays, remarkable on the whole for observation,
-refinement of feeling and literary sense. The book may be taken as a
-wholesome protest against the utilitarian efforts of the Time-Spirit,
-and as a plea for the rights and liberties of the imagination. We
-congratulate Mr. Harte on the success of his book.—_Public Opinion_,
-London, England.
-
-Mr. Harte is not always so good in the piece as in the pattern, but he
-is often a pleasant companion, and I have met with no volume of essays
-from America since Miss Agnes Repplier’s so good as his “Meditations in
-Motley.”—RICHARD LE GALLIENNE, in the London _Review_.
-
-PRICE, CLOTH $1.25.
-
-For sale by all Booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by THE
-PHILISTINE.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-_LITTLE JOURNEYS_
-
-To the Homes of Good Men and Great.
-
-_A series of literary studies published in monthly numbers, tastefully
-printed on hand-made paper, with attractive title-page._
-
-By ELBERT HUBBARD
-
-The publishers announce that Little Journeys will be issued monthly and
-that each number will treat of recent visits made by Mr. Elbert Hubbard
-to the homes and haunts of various eminent persons. The subjects for the
-first twelve numbers have been arranged as follows:
-
-     1. George Eliot
-     2. Thomas Carlyle
-     3. John Ruskin
-     4. W. E. Gladstone
-     5. J. M. W. Turner
-     6. Jonathan Swift
-     7. Victor Hugo
-     8. Wm. Wordsworth
-     9. W. M. Thackeray
-    10. Charles Dickens
-    11. Oliver Goldsmith
-    12. Shakespeare
-
-_LITTLE JOURNEYS: Published Monthly, 50 cents a year. Single copies, 5
-cents, postage paid._
-
-Published by G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS,
-
-                   27 and 39 West 23d Street, New York.
-                    24 Bedford Street, Strand, London.
-
-*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHILISTINE: A PERIODICAL OF
-PROTEST (VOL. I, NO. 3, AUGUST 1895) ***
-
-Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will
-be renamed.
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-<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Philistine: a periodical of protest (Vol. I, No. 3, August 1895), by Various</p>
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
-at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
-are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
-country where you are located before using this eBook.
-</div>
-
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Philistine: a periodical of protest (Vol. I, No. 3, August 1895)</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 23, 2022 [eBook #68383]</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
-  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: hekula03 and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)</p>
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHILISTINE: A PERIODICAL OF PROTEST (VOL. I, NO. 3, AUGUST 1895) ***</div>
-
-<div class="max30 boxdots">
-
-<p class="center larger"><span class="larger">The Philistine:</span><br />
-A Periodical of Protest.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco1.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="center">“<i>A harmless necessary cat.</i>”—<i>Shylock.</i></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco1.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/cover-deco.jpg" width="100" height="115" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">Printed Every Little While for The Society
-of The Philistines and Published
-by Them Monthly. Subscription, One
-Dollar Yearly; Single Copies, 10 Cents.</p>
-
-<p class="center">Number 3.
-<img class="inline" src="images/cover-deco2.jpg" alt="" />
-<img class="inline" src="images/cover-deco2.jpg" alt="" />
-<img class="inline" src="images/cover-deco2.jpg" alt="" />
-August, 1895.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h1>THE PHILISTINE.</h1>
-
-<p class="center">Edited by H. P. Taber.</p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS FOR AUGUST, 1895.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<table>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdc">JEREMIADS:</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#A_WORD_ABOUT_ART">A Word About Art</a>,</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdr">Ouida</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_CONFESSIONAL_IN_LETTERS">The Confessional in Letters</a>,</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdr">Elbert Hubbard</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_SOCIAL_SPOTTER">The Social Spotter</a>,</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdr">William McIntosh</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdc">OTHER THINGS:</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_DREAM">The Dream</a>,</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdr">William Morris</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#VERSES">Verses</a>,</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdr">Stephen Crane</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#FOR_HONOR">For Honor</a>,</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdr">Jean Wright</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_STORY_OF_THE_LITTLE_SISTER">The Story of the Little Sister</a>,</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdr">H. P. T.</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class="tdl"><a href="#SIDE_TALKS_WITH_THE_PHILISTINES">Notes</a>.</td>
-  </tr>
-</table>
-
-<div class="max30">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">The Philistine</span> is published monthly at $1 a
-year, 10 cents a single copy. Subscriptions may be
-left with newsdealers or sent direct to the publishers.</p>
-
-<p>Business communications should be addressed to
-<span class="smcap">The Philistine</span>. East Aurora, New York. Matter
-intended for publication may be sent to the same
-address or to Box 6, Cambridge, Massachusetts.</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Entered at the Postoffice at East Aurora, New York, for transmission
-as mail matter of the second class.</i></p>
-
-<p class="noindent"><i>COPYRIGHT, 1895.</i></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco1.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span></p>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-a.jpg" width="200" height="200" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak dropcap" id="THE_DREAM">AND THIS, THEN, IS
-THE THIRD OF
-THE BOOK OF
-THE PHILISTINE
-AND FIRST HERE
-IS PRINTED THE
-LINES CALLED
-“THE DREAM”
-WRITTEN BY MR.
-WILLIAM MORRIS: TO WHOM BE
-PRAISE AND REVERENCE AND MUCH
-THANKFULNESS FOR MANY DEEDS. <img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /></h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">I dreamed</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">A dream of you,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Not as you seemed</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">When you were late unkind,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And blind</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">To my eyes pleading for a debt long due;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">But touched and true,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And all inclined</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">To tenderest fancies on love’s inmost theme.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">How sweet you were to me, and ah, how kind</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">In that dear dream!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">I felt</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Your lips on mine</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Mingle and melt,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And your cheek touch my cheek.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">I, weak</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">With vain desires and asking for a sign</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Of love divine,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Found my grief break,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And wept and wept in an unending stream</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Of sudden joy set free, yet could not speak:</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Dumb in my dream.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">I knew</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">You loved me then,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And I knew, too,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">The bliss of souls in Heaven,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">New-shriven,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Who look with pity on still sinning men</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And turn again</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">To be forgiven</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">In the dear arms of their God holding them,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And spend themselves in praise from morn</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">’Till even,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Nor break their dream.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">I woke</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">In my mid-bliss</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">At midnight’s stroke</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And knew you lost and gone.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Forlorn</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">I called you back to my unfinished kiss,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">But only this</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">One word of scorn</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">You answered me, “’Twas better loved to seem</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Than loved to be, since all love is foresworn,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Always a dream.”</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco1.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_WORD_ABOUT_ART">A WORD ABOUT ART.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="sidenote"><i>Is there</i></div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-h.jpg" width="50" height="60" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">How can we have great art in our day? We
-have no faith. Belief of some sort is the life-blood
-of art. When Athene and Zeus ceased to excite<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span>
-veneration in the minds of men, sculpture and
-architecture both lost their greatness. When the
-Madonna and her Son lost that mystery and divinity,
-which for the simple minds of the early painters they
-possessed, the soul went out of canvas and of wood.
-When we carve a Venus now, she is but a frivolous
-woman; when we paint a Jesus now, it is but a little
-suckling, or a sorrowful prisoner.</p>
-
-<div class="sidenote"><i>a woman, even in</i></div>
-
-<p>We want a great inspiration. We ought to find it
-in the things that are really beautiful, but we are not
-sure enough, perhaps, what is so. What does dominate
-us is a passion for nature: for the sea, for the
-sky, for the mountain, for the forest, for the evening
-storm, for the break of day. Perhaps when we are
-thoroughly steeped in this, we shall reach greatness
-once more. But the artificiality of all modern life is
-against it, so is its cynicism. Sadness and sarcasm
-make a great Lucretius and as a great Juvenal; and
-scorn makes a strong Aristophanes: but they do not
-make a Praxiteles and an Apelles; they do not even
-make a Raffaelle or a Flaxman.</p>
-
-<div class="sidenote"><i>Boston,</i></div>
-
-<p>Art, if it be anything, is the perpetual uplifting of
-what is beautiful in the sight of the multitude—the
-perpetual adoration of that loveliness, material and
-moral, which men in the haste and greed of their
-lives are everlastingly forgetting: unless it be that,
-it is empty and useless as a child’s reed-pipe when<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span>
-the reed is snapt and the child’s breath spent.</p>
-
-<div class="sidenote"><i>who can</i></div>
-
-<p>It must have been such a good life—a painter’s in
-those days: those early days of art. Fancy the gladness
-of it then—modern painters can know nothing
-of it.</p>
-
-<div class="sidenote"><i>produce literature</i></div>
-
-<p>When all the delicate delights of distance were
-only half perceived; when the treatment of light and
-shadow was barely dreamed of; when aerial perspective
-was just breaking on the mind in all its wonder
-and power; when it was still regarded as a marvellous
-boldness to draw from the natural form in a natural
-fashion—in those early days only fancy the delights
-of a painter!</p>
-
-<div class="sidenote"><i>equal</i></div>
-
-<p>Something fresh to be won at each step; something
-new to be penetrated at each moment; something
-beautiful and rash to be ventured on with each
-touch of colour—the painter in those days had all the
-breathless pleasure of an explorer; without leaving
-his birthplace he knew the joys of Columbus.</p>
-
-<div class="sidenote"><i>to this?</i></div>
-
-<p>And one can fancy nothing better than a life such
-as Spinello led for nigh a century up on the hill here,
-painting because he loved it, till death took him. Of
-all lives, perhaps, that this world has ever seen, the
-lives of painters, I say, in those days were the most
-perfect.</p>
-
-<p>In quiet places such as Arezzo and Volterra, and
-Modena and Urbino, and Cortona and Perugia, there<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span>
-would grow up a gentle lad who from infancy most
-loved to stand and gaze at the missal paintings in his
-mother’s house, and the coena in the monk’s refectory,
-and when he had fulfilled some twelve or fifteen
-years, his people would give in to his wish and send
-him to some bottega to learn the management of
-colours.</p>
-
-<div class="sidenote"><i>No, not even</i></div>
-
-<p>Then he would grow to be a man; and his town
-would be proud of him, and find him the choicest of
-all work in its churches and its convents, so that all
-his days were filled without his ever wandering out
-of reach of his native vesper bells.</p>
-
-<div class="sidenote"><i>in Boston!</i></div>
-
-<p>He would make his dwelling in the heart of his
-birthplace, close under its cathedral, with the tender
-sadness of the olive hills stretching above and around
-in the basiliche or the monasteries his labor would
-daily lie; he would have a docile band of hopeful
-boyish pupils with innocent eyes of wonder for all he
-did or said; he would paint his wife’s face for the
-Madonna’s, and his little son’s for the child Angel’s;
-he would go out into the fields and gather the olive
-bow, and the feathery corn, and the golden fruits,
-and paint them tenderly on ground of gold or blue,
-in symbol of those heavenly things of which the bells
-were forever telling all those who chose to hear; he
-would sit in the lustrous nights in the shade of his
-own vines and pity those who were not as he was;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span>
-now and then horsemen would come spurring in
-across the hills and bring news with them of battles
-fought, of cities lost and won; and he would listen
-with the rest in the market-place, and go home
-through the moonlight thinking that it was well to
-create the holy things before which the fiercest rider
-and the rudest free-lance would drop the point of the
-sword and make the sign of the cross.</p>
-
-<p>It must have been a good life—good to its close in
-the cathedral crypt—and so common too; there were
-scores of such lived out in these little towns of Italy,
-half monastery and half fortress, that were scattered
-over hill and plain, by sea and river, on marsh and
-mountain, from the daydawn of Cimabue to the after-glow
-of the Carracci.</p>
-
-<p>And their work lives after them; the little towns
-are all grey and still and half peopled now; the iris
-grows on the ramparts, the canes wave in the moats,
-the shadows sleep in the silent market-place, the
-great convents shelter half a dozen monks, the dim
-majestic churches are damp and desolate, and have
-the scent of the sepulchre.</p>
-
-<p>But there, above the altars, the wife lives in the
-Madonna and the child smiles in the Angel, and the
-olive and the wheat are fadeless on their ground of
-gold and blue; and by the tomb in the crypt the
-sacristan will shade his lantern and murmur with a
-sacred tenderness:</p>
-
-<p>“Here he sleeps.”</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Ouida.</span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco1.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="FOR_HONOR">FOR HONOR.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-b.jpg" width="50" height="60" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">By a turn of chance a father and son were
-thrown together in one of the Western frontier
-posts, the father as colonel in command, the
-son as a second lieutenant in one of the four companies
-quartered there. When the order came
-which had brought them together after the three
-years which had gone by since the boy left West
-Point, it brought great, but silent, happiness to the
-stern and gloomy old soldier, and a light-hearted
-pleasure to the young man; once more he would be
-with “dear old dad,” and besides, life must be rather
-exciting out there, and altogether worth a man’s
-while. And so he packed his traps in double-quick
-time, as a soldier must, and was off in twenty-four
-hours. The meeting between the two was a strange
-one. Effusive and very gay on the part of the
-young man, who made no effort to conceal his
-delight; stiff, even cold, on the part of the old man,
-whose very heart quivered with joy; and on whose
-stern and bronzed face a light came which the boy
-did not even see.</p>
-
-<p>The colonel was not a popular man, hard and
-cold, rigid in the performance of his own duty, and
-with little sympathy for failure on the part of his
-men, he was respected, and, in a certain sense,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span>
-admired, but not loved; sternly just according to
-his own light, but narrow and intolerant. With two
-passions—the exaggerated, hide-bound honor of a
-soldier who believes his profession to be the only
-one; the honor of a strictly honest and very proud
-man, jealous of the slightest stain upon his unimpeachable
-integrity. The other passion a carefully
-hidden but almost idolatrous love for his son. There
-had been one other passion, but she died.</p>
-
-<p>Within a month after his coming, the young lieutenant
-was the most popular man at the post. He
-sang, he danced, he rode, and he played cards; he
-also drank rather more than was necessary.</p>
-
-<p>Within two months it all palled upon him. Deadly
-ennui took possession of him. The great sunlit
-barren plains stretched out interminable. There
-were no Indians even to break the monotony. The
-iron routine of one day followed upon another with
-what seemed to him a stupid, trivial and meaningless
-regularity. So he stopped singing and dancing, and
-went on playing cards and drinking. Another thing
-that annoyed him was his father’s suppressed but
-uncompromising disapproval. Inward the colonel’s
-soul writhed that his boy should blemish his record
-as a soldier in this way; he did not doubt his courage
-should the time come for proving it, but in the meantime
-to show himself a weak and foolish man was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span>
-almost unbearable. He could not understand the boy,
-and he said nothing, which was perhaps unfortunate.</p>
-
-<p>Three weeks went by and the young lieutenant
-was deep in debt to the captain of another company.
-A sneering, black faced fellow, who had risen from
-the ranks; gaining his promotions during the last
-fifteen years for acts of dare-devil bravery. He was
-not a pleasant man to owe to; particularly if one
-was not too sure of being able to pay up when the
-notes fell due. Another month, and things were no
-better. It was in the early part of September, and
-the flat plains stretched out parched and arid, the
-sun beat down pitilessly on the treeless little post,
-and the money to the captain had to be paid to-morrow.
-It was certainly a disagreeable situation.
-But they played hard and drank hard, and the young
-lieutenant almost forgot that to-morrow was coming.</p>
-
-<div class="sidenote"><i>Is cheating at cards so rare as this?</i></div>
-
-<p>But about one o’clock in the morning there was a
-row, and before many hours the whole post knew
-what was the matter. It does not take long for news
-to travel among a few hundred people, particularly
-so interesting and exciting a bit as this. For this gay
-young fellow, this dashing young soldier, this son of
-the stern old martinet of a colonel, had been caught
-cheating at cards, and was disgraced forever.</p>
-
-<p>The news got round and finally reached the
-colonel. It was a brave man who told him. He<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span>
-waited an hour, and then putting a pistol in his
-holster, he went across to his son’s quarters. There
-was no answer to his knock, so he opened the door
-and went in. The boy was sitting by the table,
-with his head buried in his arms. He did not look
-up when his father spoke, “My son, there is but one
-thing for you to do. You know what it is,” and he
-laid the pistol on the table. There was no reply;
-and the colonel stood silent, straight and stern, but
-his face was gray, and his iron mouth was drawn.
-Presently the boy raised his head and looked straight
-into his father’s eyes. For the first time in his life he
-understood. “Yes, father,” he said. The colonel
-stood a moment, and then went out and shut the
-door. When he was half way across the parade
-ground he heard a pistol shot, but he did not go back.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Jean Wright.</span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco1.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_CONFESSIONAL_IN_LETTERS">THE CONFESSIONAL IN LETTERS.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-i.jpg" width="50" height="60" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">In the year 1848 Ralph Waldo Emerson of Concord,
-Mass., made a lecturing tour through England.
-Among the towns he visited was Coventry,
-where he was entertained at the residence of Mr.
-Charles Bray. In the family of Mr. Bray lived a
-young woman by the name of Mary Ann Evans, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span>
-although this Miss Evans was not handsome, either
-in face or figure, she made a decided impression on
-Mr. Emerson.</p>
-
-<p>A little excursion was arranged to Stratford, an antiquated
-town of some note in the same county. On
-this trip Mr. Emerson and Miss Evans paired off very
-naturally, and Miss Evans of Coventry was so bold as
-to set Mr. Emerson of Concord straight on several
-matters relating to Mr. Shakespeare, formerly of
-Stratford.</p>
-
-<p>“What is your favorite book?” said Mr. Emerson
-to Miss Evans, somewhat abruptly.</p>
-
-<p>“Rousseau’s <i>Confessions</i>,” said the young woman
-instantly.</p>
-
-<p>“And so it is mine,” answered Mr. Emerson.</p>
-
-<p>All of which is related by Moncure D. Conway in
-a volume entitled <i>Emerson at Home and Abroad</i>.</p>
-
-<p>A copy of Conway’s book was sent to Walt Whitman,
-and when he read the passage to which I have
-just referred he remarked, “And so it is mine.”</p>
-
-<p>Emerson and Whitman are probably the two strongest
-names in American letters, and George Eliot
-stands first among women writers of all time; and as
-they in common with many Lesser Wits stand side by
-side and salute Jean Jacques Rousseau, it may be
-worth our while to take just a glance at M. Rousseau’s
-book in order, if we can, to know why it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span>
-appeals to people of worth.</p>
-
-<p>The first thing about the volume that attracts is the
-title. There is something charmingly alluring and
-sweetly seductive in a confession. Mr. Henry James
-has said: “The sweetest experience that can come
-to a man on his pilgrimage through this vale of tears
-is to have a lovely woman ‘confess’ to him; and it
-is said that while neither argument, threat, plea of
-justification, nor gold can fully placate a woman who
-believes she has been wronged by a man, yet she
-speedily produces, not only a branch, but a whole
-olive tree when he comes humbly home and confesses.”</p>
-
-<p>Now here is a man about to ’fess to the world, and
-we take up the volume, glance around to see if any
-one is looking, and begin at the first paragraph to
-read:</p>
-
-<p>“I purpose an undertaking that never had an example
-and the execution of which will never have an
-imitation. I would exhibit myself to all men as I am—a
-man....</p>
-
-<p>“Let the last trumpet sound when it will, I will
-come, with this book in my hand, and present myself
-before the Sovereign Judge. I will boldly proclaim:
-Thus have I acted, thus have I thought, such
-was I. With equal frankness have I disclosed the
-good and the evil. I have omitted nothing bad,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span>
-added nothing good. I have exhibited myself, despisable
-and vile when so; virtuous, generous, sublime
-when so. I have unveiled my interior being as
-Thou, Eternal One, hast seen it.” Now where is
-the man or woman who could stop there, even though
-the cows were in the corn?</p>
-
-<p>And as we read further we find things that are
-“unfit for publication” and confessions of sensations
-that are so universal to healthy men that they are irrelevant,
-and straightway we arise and lock the door
-so as to finish the chapter undisturbed. For as superfluous
-things are the things we cannot do without,
-so is the irrelevant in literature the necessary.</p>
-
-<p>Having finished this chapter, oblivious to calls
-that dinner is waiting, we begin the next; and finding
-items so interesting that they are disgusting, and
-others so indecent that they are entertaining, we forget
-the dinner that is getting cold and read on.</p>
-
-<p>And the reason we read on is not because we love
-the indecent, or because we crave the disgusting, although
-I believe Burke hints at the contrary, but simply
-because the writing down of these unbecoming
-things convinces us that the man is honest and that
-the confession is genuine. In short we come to the
-conclusion that any man who deliberately puts himself
-in such a bad light—caring not a fig either for
-our approbation or our censure—is no sham.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span></p>
-
-<p>And there you have it! <i>We want honesty in literature.</i></p>
-
-<p>The great orator always shows a dash of contempt
-for the opinions of his audience, and the great writer
-is he who loses self consciousness and writes himself
-down as he is, for at the last analysis all literature is
-a confession.</p>
-
-<p>The Ishmaelites who purvey culture by the ton, and
-issue magazines that burden the mails—study very carefully
-the public palate. They know full well that a
-“confession” is salacious: it is an exposure. A
-confession implies something that is peculiar, private
-and distinctly different from what we are used to. It
-is a removing the veil, a making plain things that are
-thought and performed in secret.</p>
-
-<p>And so we see articles on “The Women Who
-Have Influenced Me,” “The Books that Have
-Made Me,” “My Literary Passions,” etc. But like
-the circus bills, these titles call for animals that the
-big tent never shows; and this perhaps is well, for
-otherwise ’twould fright the ladies.</p>
-
-<p>Yes, I frankly admit that these “confessions” suit
-the constituency of <i>The Ladies’ Home Journal</i> better
-than the truth; and although its editor be a Jew, the
-fact that the writers of his confessions practice careful
-concealment of the truth that they have hands,
-senses, eyes, ears, organs, dimensions, passions, is a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span>
-wise commercial stroke. You can prick them and
-they do not bleed, tickle them and they do not laugh,
-poison them and they do not die; simply because
-they are only puppets parading as certain virtues,
-and these virtues the own particular brand in which
-the subscribers delight.</p>
-
-<p>That excellent publication, <i>The Forum</i>, increased
-its circulation by many thousand when it ran a series
-of confessions of great men wherein these great men
-made sham pretense of laying their lives bare before
-the public gaze. Nothing was told that did not redound
-to the credit of the confessor. The “Formative
-Influences” of sin, error and blunders were
-carefully concealed or calmly waived. The lack of
-good faith was as apparent in these articles as the
-rouge on the cheek of a courtesan: the color is genuine
-and the woman not dead, that’s all.</p>
-
-<p>And the loss lies in this: These writers—mostly
-able men—sell their souls for a price, and produce a
-literature that lives the length of life of a moth,
-whereas they might write for immortality. Instead
-of inspiring the great, they act as clowns to entertain
-the rabble.</p>
-
-<p>Of course I know that Rousseau’s <i>Confessions</i>,
-Amiel’s <i>Journal</i> and Marie Bashkirtseff’s <i>Diary</i> have
-all been declared carefully worked out artifices. And
-admitting all the wonderful things that scheming man<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span>
-can perform, I still maintain that there are a few
-things that life and nature will continue to work out
-in the old, old way. I appeal to those who have
-tried both plans, whether it is not easier to tell the
-truth than to concoct a lie. And I assiduously maintain
-that if the case is to be tried by a jury of great
-men, that the shocking facts will serve the end far
-better than sugared half-truth.</p>
-
-<p>When Richard Le Gallienne tells us of the birth of
-his baby and for weeks before how White Soul was
-sure she should die; and Marie Bashkirtseff makes
-painstaking note of the size of her hips and the development
-of her bust; and poor Amiel bewails the
-fate of eating breakfast facing an empty chair; and
-Rousseau explains the delicate sensations and smells
-that swept over him on opening his wardrobe and
-finding smocks and petticoats hanging in careless negligence
-amid his man’s clothes; and all those other
-pathetic, foolish, charming, irrelevant bits of prattle,
-one is convinced of the author’s honesty. No thorough-going
-literary man, hot for success, would leave
-such stuff in; he would as soon think of using a
-flesh brush on the public street; these are his own
-private affairs—his good sense would have forbade.</p>
-
-<p>A good lie for its own sake is ever pleasing to honest
-men, but a patched up record never. And when
-such small men as Samuel Pepys and James Boswell<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span>
-can write immortal books, the moral for the rest of
-us is that a little honesty is not a dangerous thing.</p>
-
-<p>And so I swing back to the place of beginning and
-say that while even a sham confession may be interesting
-to hoi polloi, yet to secure an endorsement
-from such minds as that of Emerson, George Eliot
-and Walt Whitman the confession must be genuine.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elbert Hubbard.</span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco1.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SOCIAL_SPOTTER">THE SOCIAL SPOTTER.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-w.jpg" width="50" height="60" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">“Why don’t the young folks marry?” continues,
-in the intervals of other jeremiad problems,
-to puzzle the good people who call themselves
-publicists, having a brevet authority to set everything
-right in the world. It is assumed that if the young
-people would only marry up to the full proportion,
-most of the ills that afflict an over-civilized and
-over-sensitized society would cure themselves. The
-young people would have something else to do besides
-“dabbling in the fount of fictive tears” and inventing
-new wants. The old ones would suffice, when
-multiplied in kind after the usual fashion.</p>
-
-<p>It is an old story that young men are afraid of
-the cost of marriage. The girls are less simple than
-their mothers and complexity in matters of taste<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span>
-means expense. A clever verse writer has told of
-the hardships of a pair who wooed on a bicycle built
-for two and afterwards tried to live on a salary built
-for one. It is funny in the telling but tragic in the
-living. It is a trying business to keep up to concert
-pitch in these days.</p>
-
-<div class="sidenote"><i>But is she warranted harmless?</i></div>
-
-<p>The complexity of social expression is not the only
-dragon in the way. We have adopted from abroad
-something French. It came via England, but France
-is its origin. It is the Chaperone. She is usually
-harmless personally, but she means a great deal.
-She stands for a state of society where marriage is
-always a failure. Ask Emile Zola if you don’t
-believe it. “Modern Marriage” has the specifications.
-We have good women and manly men in
-America. The grisette isn’t an institution with us.
-Neither is the man who supports her until he is rich
-enough to make a French marriage. We have him
-and we have her, but neither is universal. The
-<i>mariage de convenance</i> and the institution which
-precedes it in France are not general with us. The
-chaperone is part of the system with them. The
-chaperone implies the others. She is a standing notice
-that young man and young woman are not to be
-trusted together. In some of our cities it is such
-very good “good form” to send a guardian with
-young people that a woman of over twenty-five has<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span>
-been known to cancel an engagement to attend a
-company which she had anxiously wanted to enjoy
-and for which she had made great preparation,
-because a married sister could not accompany her.
-She would not go without a chaperone. It was not
-“good form.”</p>
-
-<p>O ye gods, Good Form! What was good form,
-and who promulgated its laws, when the father and
-mother of us all, better than any of us, walked with
-the Creator of the universe in the garden in the cool
-of the day? But “evil came into the world” and
-changed it. Yes, the evil of “good form,” the
-embodied self-consciousness which chains all the
-virtues and makes the decencies compulsory and
-puts on them the brand of the police blotter.</p>
-
-<p>In the name of all that is good why should we
-watch the young people? The middle-aged need it
-more. Youth is chivalrous. Middle age is commonplace.
-It is not youth that</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">Eats for his stomach and drinks for his head,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And loves for his pleasure—and ’tis time he was dead.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Chaperon the married victims of the French system.
-Put the spotter on the track of the woman
-who was taught she couldn’t trust herself when she
-was young and the man was complacently branded a
-roue when his heart was fresh and warm.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span></p>
-
-<p>It is time for a new declaration of independence, and
-the youth of our land should make it. Let Young
-America say this: “The woman I cannot honorably
-woo, whose care at a social gathering is denied me
-without a policeman and a spy, may find another
-knight.” Let the maidens of our day, better cultured
-than their mothers, broader in their training,
-surer of their social footing, stronger in their poise
-and presence of mind, bar out the man who comes
-into their presence under a ban.</p>
-
-<p>How long would the hollow mockery of “good
-form” endure such a strike? As many minutes as it
-should take to show its utter falsehood and the cruel
-slander it implies. Until the young people so assert
-themselves the imitated bars sinister of the most corrupt
-social heraldry of Europe will be ours—worn
-with an affectation of pride in the dishonor they
-blazon. Till then men will be equalized down, not
-up; and the talk of “emancipated woman” will be
-an insult. When it is done there will be more marriages
-of the kind to be desired—the union of true
-men and self-respecting women.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">William McIntosh.</span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco2.jpg" width="50" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="VERSES">THE CHATTER OF A DEATH-DEMON FROM A TREE-TOP.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">BLOOD—BLOOD AND TORN GRASS—</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">HAD MARKED THE RISE OF HIS AGONY—</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">THIS LONE HUNTER.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">THE GREY-GREEN WOODS IMPASSIVE</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">HAD WATCHED THE THRESHING OF HIS LIMBS.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">A CANOE WITH FLASHING PADDLE,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">A GIRL WITH SOFT, SEARCHING EYES,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">A CALL: “JOHN!”</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="center">...</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">COME, ARISE, HUNTER!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">LIFT YOUR GREY FACE!</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">CAN YOU NOT HEAR?</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">THE CHATTER OF A DEATH-DEMON FROM A TREE-TOP.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse right"><span class="smcap">Stephen Crane.</span></div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco1.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_STORY_OF_THE_LITTLE_SISTER">THE STORY OF THE LITTLE SISTER.</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-w.jpg" width="50" height="60" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">When I first knew her she was a very little girl
-in a white dress—starched very stiff—and she
-might have reminded me of Molly in the diverting
-story of <i>Sir Charles Danvers</i>.</p>
-
-<p>I was devoted to her sister and I remember her
-galumphing into the room at a most inopportune
-time, and staring for a moment with eyes very wide
-open. Then she ran away and I heard her outside
-giggling quietly all by herself.</p>
-
-<p>When the big sister went away for the summer I
-went out to the house to tell her good-by. The great
-trunk stood in the hall waiting for Charlie Miller’s
-man. Seated on top of this was the little sister with
-two round bottles held close to her eyes. She said
-she was playing theater, and that the bottles made a
-lovely opera glass.</p>
-
-<p>I asked her what the play was and she said about
-a pretty lady who was pursued by lions and dragons
-and things. Then there was a man—a big, nice man—who
-came with guns and swords and spears and
-killed all the dragons and lions and then he married
-the pretty lady.</p>
-
-<p>This was her imagination.</p>
-
-<p>Then I went away—I forget where—and was gone
-many years. I came back to be best man at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span>
-wedding of my cousin Anthony. I found that the
-little sister was to be the maid of honor, and at the
-various functions before the wedding I saw much of
-her.</p>
-
-<p>After the ceremony we walked down the aisle
-together, and as she took my arm her hand trembled.
-When we reached the entrance I turned and looked
-square into her glorious eyes. They told me many
-things that I was glad to know.</p>
-
-<p>Now—after a year—I am trying to live up to the
-ideal man she imagined me to be.</p>
-
-<p>And that’s what makes it hard.</p>
-
-<p class="right">H. P. T.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco1.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-m.jpg" width="50" height="60" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">Many of the newspapers which have noticed
-<span class="smcap">The Philistine</span> have expressed their inability
-to find East Aurora on the map. All the map
-makers are hereby authorized to print a large red
-ring around the name of the home of <span class="smcap">The Philistine</span>
-hereafter, but for the benefit of those who pine
-for immediate knowledge, I clip the following from
-<i>Bradstreet’s</i>:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p class="hanging"><span class="smcap">East Aurora</span>, Erie Co., pop. 2000, 1880. Bank 1,
-newspapers 2, Am. Ex., W. N. Y. &amp; P. R. R.,
-17 miles fr. Buffalo. Headquarters Cloverfield
-combination of cheese factories. Home of Mambrino
-King.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1">*</a> Product: ginger.</p>
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1">*</a> <i>Mambrino King is a horse.</i></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco1.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
-
-<img src="images/the-bluff.jpg" width="350" height="500" alt="" />
-
-<p class="center">THE BLUFF.</p>
-
-<p class="center">DRAWING BY PLUG HAZEN-PLUG.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco1.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span></p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/deco3.jpg" width="170" height="100" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="nobreak hanging allsmcap" id="SIDE_TALKS_WITH_THE_PHILISTINES">SIDE TALKS WITH THE PHILISTINES:
-BEING SUNDRY BITS OF
-WISDOM WHICH HAVE BEEN
-HERETOFORE SECRETED, AND ARE NOW
-SET FORTH IN PRINT. <img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /></h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> If I had seen it announcing a special feature in the
-<i>World</i> or <i>Herald</i> for a coming Sunday, I would not
-have been surprised, but to find the following paragraph
-in the editorial columns of <i>The Land of Sunshine</i>
-fills me with wonder:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>Up to date <i>The Land of Sunshine</i> is the only periodical
-in the world whose cover is embellished with
-drawings by the Almighty.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>It would be interesting to know what the Recording
-Angel thinks of Mr. Lummis’s coupling of the
-High Court of Heaven and Aubrey Beardsley. Now
-if Mr. Lummis could only get his editorials from the
-same source——</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> When Shem Rock, Ham Garland and Japhet Bumball
-conspired to spring on an unsuspecting world
-that three-cornered story entitled <i>The Land of the
-Straddle Bug</i>, they bought two whole bushels of
-hyphens. In one chapter, by actual count, forty-seven
-compound words are used. They have even
-hyphenated such words as dod-rot, dodd-mead, slap-jack,
-goll-darn, do-tell and gee-whiz. Ham’s own<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span>
-pet “yeh” is used in the story sixty-four times,
-which does not include four plain “you’s” and three
-“ye’s,” where the Only Original Lynx-eyed Proof-reader
-nodded.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> It is published that the <i>Post</i> contemplated a change
-in the appearance and make-up of the paper, but
-gave up the scheme lest it shock the readers of Mr.
-Godkin’s <i>Evening Grandmother</i>. What would shock
-the readers more would be the appearance of life
-somewhere about the sheet. I would respectfully
-call the attention of the editors of the <i>Post</i> to the fate
-which befell the Assyrians. It is written in Isaiah
-XXXVII—36: Then the angel of the Lord went
-forth and smote in the camp of the Assyrians a hundred
-and four score and five thousand; and when
-they arose in the morning: behold, they were all
-dead corpses.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> <span class="smcap">The Philistine’s</span> plea is for the widest liberty to
-individual genius. Perhaps no living man has presented
-this plea so strongly in his life and work as
-William Morris. The poem herein printed is a taste
-of this strong man’s quality. It is taken from that
-dainty bundle of beautiful things entitled, <i>Love
-Lyrics</i>.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> In that very charming article by Mr. Zangwill in
-the last <i>Chap Book</i>, mention is made of the utter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span>
-impossibility of stating a truth so that the majority
-will remember or recognize it when they see it again—so
-shallow is human wit. In <span class="smcap">The Philistine</span> for
-July I made bold to insert an extract from the Bible.
-No credit was given, however, and the matter was
-re-paragraphed. And now, behold, a Chicago paper
-arises and calls the quotation rot; several other publications
-refute the scriptural statements and a weekly
-that is very wise in its day and generation refers to
-my irreverence in writing in Bible style.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> In the <i>Popular Science Monthly</i> for July a Dr.
-Oppenheimer announces the interesting discovery
-why children lie. It has been supposed that they lie,
-as a general thing, because they want something, but
-it appears that it is because they have something, in
-the French sense. It isn’t inherent viciousness but
-disease. The doctor says:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>The children usually are suffering from disorders
-of mind or body, or both, which radically interfere
-with the transmission of conceptions and perceptions
-from the internal to the external processes of expression,
-so that they really are unable to be more exact
-than they seem.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>This seems to explain several things about our
-good friends Landon and Townsend—G. A.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> The London <i>Athenæum</i> says “Stephen Crane is the
-coming Boozy Prophet of America; his lines send<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span>
-the cold chills streaking up one’s spine, and we are
-in error if his genius does not yet sweep all other
-literary fads from the board.”</p>
-
-<p>All of which strikes me as a boozier bit of cymbalism
-than any of Mr. Crane’s verses.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> On the authority of the New York <i>Sun</i>, afternoon
-teas are growing more and more realistic. That
-arbiter of etiquette says:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p>The formality of bidding adieu to the hostess at an
-afternoon tea is now dispensed with; the omission is
-considered with favor and in good taste. No after
-calls are made in acknowledgement of a tea.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>The little trifle of ceremony that stood for courtesy
-is about all cast aside. The program now is—Greet,
-Eat and Git.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> I observe that Mr. Andrew Lang is to write some
-verses to be read at a dinner of the Omar Club in
-London “on some future occasion.” I shall watch
-for these with much interest, remembering, meanwhile,
-these verses recently read before that remarkable
-organization:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">We envy not the saint what bliss he hath:</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Still let him cheer his puritanic path</div>
-    <div class="verse indent2">With what of joy his joyless rules permit:</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">The beer of ginger and the bun of Bath.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">We plunder not the Pharasaic fold</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">Whose drinks are new, whose jests and maidens old;</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span>
-    <div class="verse indent2">Content to cherish what the Dervish hates,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">The cup of ruby and the curls of gold.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p>It is noted that Mr. W. Irving Way of Chicago
-was present at the last Omar club dinner. He
-should give us some notable reminiscences of the
-feast.</p>
-
-<p>Speaking of Way, I hear that he has gone into the
-publishing business in Chicago. As a critic of the
-mechanical construction of books he is supreme, but
-I wonder will his publishing be that of literature or
-wool from the wild west.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> “You have us down one dollar for dog tax. I’d
-have you know we keep no dog,” said the man to
-the tax gatherer.</p>
-
-<p>“I understand,” answered the publican, “but you
-subscribe to the Albany <i>Argus</i>!”</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> Buffalo, N. Y., has a <i>Young Ladies’ Magazine</i>. It
-has a beautiful picture of a skirt dance on the cover
-of its prospectus, which is ever so much more interesting
-than Mr. Bok’s Bermuda lily gatherer seven feet
-tall.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> Now that Robert Louis Stevenson’s will has been
-published in full text as a feature story, perhaps Mr.
-So So McClure may desist. The will is almost as
-thrilling as a market report. Its publication explains
-in part, however, how the cheap magazine movement<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span>
-is founded. Next we shall see the weather and a
-Congressional debate among the contents of the
-cheap-books.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> Prizes are offered in Judge Tourgee’s <i>Basin</i> to
-preachers, women and “colored writers,” for short
-stories. The Judge is bound to keep solid with the
-three sexes as he understands them.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> It is matter of record in <i>McClure’s</i> that Edmund
-Goose’s poem on Samoa, which it prints, “reached
-Robert Louis Stevenson three days before his death.”
-There is a horrible suggestion in the little nonpareil
-footnote that the poem may have hastened that sad
-event. It’s bad enough.</p>
-
-<h3>A LYRIC OF JOY.</h3>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune</div>
-    <div class="verse indent2">I saw the white daisies go down to the sea.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse right">—Bliss Carman, in July <i>Century</i>.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
-<div class="poetry">
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse indent0">Over the ballast, the ropes and the chairs,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent2">I see the fat picnicers clamber galore,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And struggle for seats by the rail near the stairs,</div>
-    <div class="verse indent2">To fry in the sun when they steam from the shore.</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">The barker has rallied them out of the town</div>
-    <div class="verse indent2">To sands stretching white in the pitiless glare;</div>
-    <div class="verse indent0">And all of their talk as the calm night comes down</div>
-    <div class="verse indent2">Is the crush going back and the bargain day fare.</div>
-  </div>
-  <div class="stanza">
-    <div class="verse right"><span class="smcap">M’Liss Cowboy.</span></div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span></p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> Ham Garland has gone up the coulee to his farm
-near La Crosse and is writing another novel. He is
-daily in receipt of letters and telegrams from people
-in all parts of the country asking him to pull the
-coulee up after him.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> In a recent number of the <i>Chip-Munk</i> it is said the
-intelligent compositor set it Charles G——d— Roberts;
-and the Only Original Lynx-Eyed being on a journey
-the whole edition was printed. It was one of those
-very aggravating mistakes that will occasionally occur
-even in printerys which print things on the finest
-paper.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> I greet with exceeding joy the name of a new
-writer of stories which appeal to me as being above
-the plane of universal grayness which we have viewed
-for many months, and for this reason I am glad to
-see <i>A Very Remarkable Girl</i> in the quarterly issued
-by <i>Town Topics</i>. The author of this story is Mr. L.
-H. Bickford of Denver, and the editor of <i>Town
-Topics</i> says that he has heretofore been unacquainted
-with Mr. Bickford’s work. For many years I have
-watched the development of this young author, and
-if I am not much mistaken he will yet be heard from
-in no uncertain way. I do not believe that the public
-has any business with the private life of writers,
-but it may be said that Mr. Bickford is twenty-six,
-and was born in Leadville, Colorado. For a half<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span>
-hour’s entertainment, reading aloud in a hammock,
-I know of nothing better than <i>A Very Remarkable
-Girl</i>. It is suggestive of the signs of the times.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> Good form has determined that special attentions
-at a time of bereavement are to be recognized by sending
-engraved cards. Some people used to send letters
-of thanks for sympathy, but of course cards are
-more impressive. A coupon scheme has been suggested,
-the thanks to be attached to a ticket to the
-funeral.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> And furthermore be it known that the marginal
-notes opposite articles in <span class="smcap">The Philistine</span> are never
-supplied by the authors thereof.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> A man in Paris sends me the following delicious
-bit clipped from the Paris edition of the New York
-<i>Herald</i> of April 1:</p>
-
-<div class="blockquote">
-
-<p><span class="smcap">New York</span>, March 31.—The <i>Herald’s</i> leading
-editorial to-day says that many surprises await us
-in heaven.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p>I regret not seeing this editorial of March 31. I
-imagine, however, that it related to Reginald de
-Koven and his surprise—when he gets there—at
-finding he cannot write all the choir music.</p>
-
-<p><img class="inline" src="images/deco1.jpg" alt="" /> But then—is Egotism Art?</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="box">
-
-<p class="center larger"><span class="u">MEDITATIONS IN MOTLEY.</span></p>
-
-<p class="center">By WALTER BLACKBURN HARTE</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco4.jpg" width="45" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>“Meditations in Motley” reveals a new
-American essayist, honest and whimsical, with a
-good deal of decorative plain speaking. An
-occasional carelessness of style is redeemed by
-unfailing insight.—<span class="smcap">I. Zangwill</span> in <i>The Pall Mall
-Magazine</i> for April, 1895.</p>
-
-<p>A series of well written essays, remarkable on
-the whole for observation, refinement of feeling
-and literary sense. The book may be taken as a
-wholesome protest against the utilitarian efforts
-of the Time-Spirit, and as a plea for the rights
-and liberties of the imagination. We congratulate
-Mr. Harte on the success of his book.—<i>Public
-Opinion</i>, London, England.</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Harte is not always so good in the piece as
-in the pattern, but he is often a pleasant companion,
-and I have met with no volume of essays
-from America since Miss Agnes Repplier’s so
-good as his “Meditations in Motley.”—<span class="smcap">Richard
-Le Gallienne</span>, in the London <i>Review</i>.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/deco4.jpg" width="45" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="center">PRICE, CLOTH $1.25.</p>
-
-<p>For sale by all Booksellers, or sent postpaid on
-receipt of price by <span class="smcap">The Philistine</span>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="boxdots">
-
-<p class="noindent larger"><span class="u">LITTLE JOURNEYS</span></p>
-
-<p class="center">To the
-Homes of Good Men and
-Great.</p>
-
-<p><i>A series of literary studies published in monthly
-numbers, tastefully printed on hand-made
-paper, with attractive title-page.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center">By ELBERT HUBBARD</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img src="images/deco6.jpg" width="30" height="30" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p>The publishers announce that Little Journeys will
-be issued monthly and that each number will treat of
-recent visits made by Mr. Elbert Hubbard to the homes
-and haunts of various eminent persons. The subjects for
-the first twelve numbers have been arranged as follows:</p>
-
-<ul>
-<li>&#160;1. George Eliot</li>
-<li>&#160;2. Thomas Carlyle</li>
-<li>&#160;3. John Ruskin</li>
-<li>&#160;4. W. E. Gladstone</li>
-<li>&#160;5. J. M. W. Turner</li>
-<li>&#160;6. Jonathan Swift</li>
-<li>&#160;7. Victor Hugo</li>
-<li>&#160;8. Wm. Wordsworth</li>
-<li>&#160;9. W. M. Thackeray</li>
-<li>10. Charles Dickens</li>
-<li>11. Oliver Goldsmith</li>
-<li>12. Shakespeare</li>
-</ul>
-
-<p class="hanging"><i>LITTLE JOURNEYS:<br />
-Published Monthly, 50 cents a year.
-Single copies, 5 cents, postage paid.</i></p>
-
-<p class="center">Published by G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS,</p>
-
-<p class="center">27 and 39 West 23d Street, New York.<br />
-24 Bedford Street, Strand, London.</p>
-
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