The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Scrap Book, May, 1906. The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Scrap Book, Volume 1, No. 3, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 Title: The Scrap Book, Volume 1, No. (96) high priest of Jupiter, the religious solemnity of the Lupercalia, with. He never supped but he had them sitting at the foot of his couch. 3 May 1906 Author: Various Release Date: April 24, 2010 [EBook #32120] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCRAP BOOK, VOLUME 1, NO. 3 *** Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Christine D. And the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at THE SCRAP BOOK. MARK TWAIN'S IDEAL GENTLEMAN. On the arms of the Prince of Wales are the words Ich dien—'I serve.' Thus he who stands next to the English king expresses in terms of service that gentle and knightly rank which is typified by his high position. Speaking to a New York audience a few weeks ago, Mark Twain made passing reference to the communications which he receives from strangers who ask for his counsel or advice. 'Here is such a request,' he said. 'It is a telegram from Joplin, Missouri, and it reads: 'In what one of your books can we find the definition of a gentleman?' I have not answered that telegram,' he continued. It seems to me that if any man has just, merciful, and kindly instincts, he will be a gentleman, for he will need nothing else in this world.' Taking from his pocket a letter from William Dean Howells, the speaker went on. 'I received the other day a letter from my old friend, William Dean Howells—Howells, the head of American literature. No one is able to stand with him. He is an old, old friend of mine, and he writes me: 'To-morrow I shall be sixty-nine years old.' Why, I am surprised at Howells writing that. I have known him longer than that. I'm sorry to see a man trying to appear so young. Let's see, Howells says now, 'I see you have been burying Patrick. I suppose he was old, too.' ' There was silence. For a short time the great humorist and humanitarian stood there apparently oblivious to his audience, reminiscence working in his heart. Then, with spontaneous eloquence, he delivered the following noble tribute, which must rank among the loftier expressions of democracy—Mark Twain's conception of an ideal gentleman: 'No, he was never old—Patrick. He came to us thirty-six years ago. He was my coachman on the morning that I drove my young bride to our new home. He was a young Irishman, slender, tall, lithe, honest, truthful, and he never changed in all his life. As the children grew up he was their guide. He was all honor, honesty, and affection. He was with us last summer, and his hair was just as black, his eyes were just as blue, his form just as straight, and his heart just as good as on the day we first met. In all the long years Patrick never made a mistake. He never needed an order; he never received a command. I have been asked for my idea of an ideal gentleman, and I give it to you—Patrick McAleer.' The Latest Viewpoints of Men Worth While. Stuyvesant Fish Says That Americans Are Wasteful, While Pastor Wagner Praises Our National Character—John D. Rockefeller, Jr., and Professor Fagnani Discuss Joseph's Corner in Corn—Thomas F. Ryan Holds That Opportunity to Win Wealth is Necessary to Industrial Progress—Andrew Carnegie as the Financier of Spelling Reform—With Other Opinions of Representative Men on Questions of the Time. Compiled and edited for The Scrap Book. A PLEA FOR THE HIGHER ECONOMY. Unnecessary Waste is the Crying Evil in All Our Business Administration, Says Stuyvesant Fish. 'The Higher Economy' is the theme upon which Stuyvesant Fish, the well-known president of the Illinois Central Railroad, discourses in the Arena for March. Fish is a solid figure in finance. His idea of economy is not parsimony, but thrift—the prevention of waste. The higher economy, he points out, is needed in the household, in the state, and in the management of corporations. First, he speaks of waste in the household. There is not only waste and extravagance in administration, and what is now commonly called graft, which is a combination of bribery and larceny, but, what is economically worse, the laws are so framed as not to get the best use out of the taxes paid by the people. What we have to fear is not so much the magnitude of the appropriation as that our laws require that an uneconomical and therefore bad use be made of them. In the Post-Office Department, for example, there was, in 1905, a deficit of fourteen million dollars, which the writer thinks was due to laws and not to administration. Government free matter cost twenty million dollars. Rural free delivery cost nearly twenty-one millions, the receipts covering only about one-quarter of this sum. Fish does not think it surprising that under laws which not only permit, but require, such a waste of public revenues there is a deficit, and that the deficit should be growing rapidly. The Surgeon's Knife Needed. Under the head of corporate management, Mr. A man in sympathy with the humble; equal to all emergencies; as great as the greatest; truly a man, one of those who do most honor to the human family. One feels that he is ready for any struggle; willing to step behind the gun himself, if need be. Thus in regard to subjects relating to public spirit, nothing which might contribute to promoting a mutual understanding among American citizens leaves him indifferent. He often says that that which is important for the welfare and the power of the people is not so much the existence of a few isolated characters of extraordinary powers as a good general level of public spirit. Effort, individual energy, the sentiment of responsibility, a primordial decision to go straight ahead and not be diverted—all this, combined with a sociable disposition and a willingness not to go to the end of one's right out of regard for one's neighbor, is what he most appreciates. As a pastor, M. Wagner was struck by the depth of religious feeling in the United States. The great diversity of creeds signified to him vitality and liberty, not the loss of a central belief. He was surprised, too, to find such cordial relations existing among different sects. In our schools, he says, it is possible to trace the universality of the ideals of democratic government. The public schools are the mills to which comes the grist of immigration, to be ground into American citizens. To the American character he admits the advantages of youth—sincerity, frankness, prompt initiative; and with these, the maturer qualities of endurance and patient wisdom. The strength of the country, concludes this most kindly of observers, is in four strongholds. The first is religious faith. The Americans, he says, are a religious nation by heredity as well as by conviction. The second stronghold is the belief in liberty: Our old Europe shows us states whose entire politics consist in hindering the development of men and institutions. There law takes the form of a systematic prohibition, initiative is regarded as lack of discipline, independence of mind as an act or a beginning of treason. America believes in liberty as she believes in God; and, as she believes in the God of others, she also believes in the liberty of others. To individuality there is left an unlimited field. From childhood, strength of character is encouraged. Each one is expected to show himself in the fulness of his originality; all he is asked in return is to respect the right of his neighbor. Though Pastor Wagner recognizes our country's originality in questionable financial schemes, he thinks that on the whole our relations are marked by sincerity and conscientiousness. Therefore, he names honesty as our third stronghold. The fourth is respect for women. Cus tom makes slaves of women in France, while in America our national respect for them gives them freedom and the opportunity to develop. JOSEPH'S CORNER IS NOW DEFENDED. Pros and Cons of an Old Question Discussed by J.D. Rockefeller, Jr., and Professor C.P. Joseph's policy in cornering the visible supply of corn in Egypt has found its defense. Rockefeller, Jr., raised the question a short time ago in his New York Bible class, and after discussing the transaction in its different phases, said that he could not see how Joseph had done anything unjust. The foresight and ability of Joseph, said Mr. Rockefeller, saved the people of Egypt from starvation. Rockefeller's talk, in substance at least, appears to have been as follows. One commentator says that Joseph bought the fifth part of the corn crop of the years of plenty. If that was true, we can find nothing to criticize in him, because he gave them a market for their product. If, as another commentator says, he levied this fifth as taxes, we can have no criticism, for he created a reserve supply against the time of want. In the distribution of the corn during the famine, did Joseph act rightly? Should he have given away the corn instead of selling it? They brought money to purchase it, and when they had no money they offered their cattle, and finally their land and themselves, for they did not want to die. Joseph let them have corn at their own terms. They did not then become slaves as we think of slaves. The situation then was that they were tenants of the land. The only difference was that the people not only paid the tax as they had paid it before the famine, but paid a rental of exactly the same amount, the lands being held by Pharaoh. They had sold their land to Pharaoh for the food. A few days after this pronouncement Professor Charles P. Fagnani, of the Union Theological Seminary, was addressing the New York Baptist Social Union on 'Christianity and Democracy,' and among other things he said. The corn corner of Joseph has been in the public eye recently. That young man had a good private character, but Joseph, the king's jackal, who took every advantage to take away all the property of others, can be held up only to obloquy. Compare Joseph, the enslaver of the people, with Moses, the liberator! What was the matter with Joseph? He was, like most men, only fractionally converted. We think the conversion of a man in his private character is enough; but he was not converted as a citizen and as a man. In conclusion we may note the Richmond Times-Dispatch's remark that 'compared with Mr. Rockefeller's, Joseph's was a mere cozy corner.' SOCIALISM'S LATEST MILLIONAIRE CONVERT. Views Expressed by J.M. Patterson, of Chicago, Who Has Resigned Office Because of His Convictions. One of the most recent converts to Socialism is Joseph Medill Patterson, of Chicago. Though he is now only twenty-seven years of age, Mr. Patterson has had a strong taste of public life as commissioner of public works in Chicago. In the local campaign of 1905 he supported Judge (now Mayor) Dunne, who, after election, gave him his important appointment. He has now resigned the commissionership. In his letter of resignation he says. It was through a common belief in the cause of municipal ownership of municipal utilities that I first became acquainted with you, and in this letter of resignation I desire to express publicly just how my views on this subject have changed. They have not diminished. They have enlarged. I used to believe that many of the ills under which the nation suffers, and by which it is threatened, would be prevented or avoided by the general inauguration of public ownership of public utilities. But my experience in the Department of Public Works has convinced me that this policy would not be even one-fourth of the way sufficient. He then goes on to say that in Great Britain—where municipal trading has been highly developed—the problem of the unemployed is becoming very intense; while in Germany—where municipal and government ownership of public utilities has become almost the rule—the gap between the possessions of the rich and the poor grows wider every day. The letter concludes. The universal ballot gives every male citizen an equal political opportunity. The common ownership of all the means of production and distribution would give everybody an equal chance at music, art, sport, study, recreation, travel, self-respect, and the respect of others. I, for one, cannot see why those things should be concentrated more and more in the hands of a few. Two hundred years ago a proposition for equal political opportunity would have seemed more absurd than to-day seems the proposition for equal opportunity in all things on this earth for which men strive. I have hardly read a book on socialism, but that which I have just enunciated I believe in general to be its theory. If it be its theory, I am a socialist. You will find, and other advanced liberals and radicals who believe as I do will also find, that you are merely paltering with skin-deep measures when you stop short of socialism. Interviewed regarding his conversion to socialism, Mr. Patterson adds. When we say that things should be divided equally we mean that every man should have a chance. Men like Schwab and Carnegie have risen from poor young men to wealth; but they are the extraordinary young men. The ordinary young man is not able to rise above his birth, and the extraordinary young man is one in a million. I don't mean that all the money in the country should be cut up into equal parts. What I mean is that the people should own in common all the means of production, the sources of wealth, and divide the results. The talk of economical equality is no more ridiculous now than was the talk of social equality years ago. Suppose Alfred G. Vanderbilt has five million dollars invested in his railroads. Say there are twenty-five thousand employees. Out of his investment he receives, say, five per cent, which is two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year. He doesn't turn a wheel, he doesn't move a locomotive, he doesn't do a thing for the railroad. He simply owns it. He doesn't contribute toward making the road safe. Those men earn so much money for him. Suppose he should give them what they earn, instead of taking it himself? My idea is to have things equally divided so that when a man dies his children shall not inherit wealth. Patterson is a son of a wealthy family. His father, Robert W. Patterson, proprietor of the Chicago Tribune, is a conservative, opposed to his son's beliefs. But he adds: 'I am a firm believer in letting everybody think as he pleases, including my son.' He says, however, that if the young man runs for office on the socialistic ticket, the Tribune certainly will not support him. THE RICH MAN IS NOW THE UNDER DOG. If the Millionaire Does Not Give, He is 'Stingy;' if He Does Give, He is Called a 'Briber.' Hirsch, the distinguished Chicago rabbi, says that 'charity, as the word is known to-day, is only a bribe of moneyed men to make a community forget the wrongs heaped upon it.' The New York Globe catches at the text, and brings out the fact that present-day critics are leaving the rich no refuge at all. The rich man is the common target. Heretofore the poor man has had the world's sympathy as the under dog. Now he is becoming supercanine and the rich man subcanine. Does the rich man not give? He is stingy. Does he give? He is a briber—passes from negative to positive crime. If he would get rid of superfluous wealth his only chance is to buy edifices and burn them down uninsured. Even then he might be arrested for arson and accused of maliciously overworking the poor firemen; or hygienists would say he was dirtying the air with smoke, and thus murdering those compelled to breathe it. Instead of settlements for the neglected poor—such institutions as grew up in East London after Sir Walter Besant wrote 'All Sorts and Conditions of Men'—there should be settlements for the neglected rich. As things are now they have no chance—their best is necessarily a worst. Victims of society, equally condemned whether they do or don't do, no option seems open but to journey to the extreme edge of space and jump off into nothingness. A favorite doctrine of Calvinistic New England was that a man was not saved unless entirely and absolutely willing to be damned for the glory of God; with a similar inexorable logic our new moralists have established the doctrine of unescapable taint—that if a man have and keep he is stewed in iniquity; that if he does not keep, adding would-be bribery to his other sins, he scatters his own corruption among the innocent. Ground between upper and nether stones, fenced in all directions, the life of the rich is necessarily an ethical tragedy. Whatever he does or doesn't do, the rich man is a traitor to the kingdom, a puller down of the temple. It is obvious that the only thing feasible is to abolish wealth and go back to the tree-climbing days, to that period of primitive apehood when each plucked his own cocoanut and had no thought of ownership, tainted or untainted. GREAT SERVICES AND GREAT FORTUNES. Ryan Contends that Opportunity to Win Wealth is Necessary to Stimulate Initiative. Are the fortunes of to-day too vast? Does the getting of great wealth by individuals necessarily involve injustice to others? If it does, is it possible to prevent men from making much money without at the same time destroying the energy and initiative which spring up in the presence of opportunity? These are familiar questions. Ryan has tried to answer them from the viewpoint of a successful financier, saying, in an article contributed to the Independent. Fortunes which sometimes look excessive may be the result of rendering great services to the community. If a man by intense mental application or natural aptitude can introduce important economies into railroad management, he is worthy of a large salary. The salary would not in any case absorb the entire saving made to the stockholders of the railroad and to the public by the reforms introduced. In some cases this claim of the inventor is compensated by the royalties paid under the patent law; and there are many services rendered in the matter of organization which are not patentable, but afford as striking benefits as patents. Among these, for instance, may be suggested the reduction in the cost of the manufacture of steel by Mr. Carnegie and those associated with him in the upbuilding of the industries now combined in the Steel Corporation. From such services have come many of our great fortunes. If their possessors receive what amounts to a commission on the services they rendered, it is only a small part of the benefit they have conferred on the community. Take away the opportunity for winning either money or distinction by rendering such services, and few men, as human nature is constituted, would render them. It is right that competition between men should be brought within constantly narrower and narrower rules of justice. This is possible without taking away the initiative which makes men do things, and seems to me the direction in which, in spite of obstacles, humanity is tending. Closely related to these arguments is the opinion of the New York Evening Post. We do not believe that there is so formidable a jealousy and hatred of wealth, in itself, as is frequently alleged to exist, and to be growing. The sting lies in wealth unjustly acquired. It is ill-gotten gain, flaunting itself, that is the great breeder of socialism. FOR THE REFORM OF ENGLISH SPELLING. Many Representative Men Associated With the New Movement to Simplify Orthography. Andrew Carnegie's latest activity is to champion a movement for the reform of English spelling. He has promised to finance a campaign by the Simplified Spelling Board. The greater part of the actual campaign work will be done by the following executive committee of the board: Professor Brander Matthews, chairman; Dr. Scott, secretary; Dr. William Hayes Ward, Henry Holt, Dr. Funk, and Colonel H.B. Carnegie's backing, far-reaching results are likely to be gained. Movements for reformed spelling are no new thing, but this is the first one that has been adequately financed. Word comes from England that the poet Swinburne denounces the Carnegie plan as 'a monstrous, barbarous absurdity.' But the American press, on the whole, seems favorable. For example, the New York Times says. The number of people who are vehemently in love with the difficulties, absurdities, inconsistencies—and crystallized ignorances—of our present spelling is very small, and neither their denunciation nor their ridicule will weigh at all heavily upon the great majority, who look upon spelling as a means to an end, and to an end quite different from the preservation of etymological history in the most clumsy, expensive, and deceptive of forms. One might imagine, from the way in which the enemies of this reform run on, that any changes made now would be the first to which English spelling had ever been subjected—would be the establishment of an evil precedent instead of merely a slight hastening, in the interest of convenience and economy, of a process that has been going on steadily ever since the day when English became a written language. One of our correspondents said yesterday that, in his opinion, 'before we try to monkey further with so good an instrument as the English language we ought to try to use it properly.' Well, not necessarily. With a little, or even with a lot, of 'monkeying' an amount of time almost incalculably large, now devoted to the learning of such utterly useless and imbecile things as the arrangement of the vowels in 'siege' and 'seize,' could be used on the task which our correspondent wisely intimated is so important. The personality of the Simplified Spelling Board is guarantee that the demand for an improved orthography is not an outgrowth of ignorance or irreverence. These men have more than a little affection for the history of words, and they are not at all likely to do anything that will hide or distort it. They will, however, put and keep that history in its proper place. Johnson Takes It. It would seem, however, that the shades of former lexicographers are incensed by the threat of 'fonetic speling.' The New York Globe describes the reception of the news in the land across the Styx. It has been the practise at the Cheshire Cheese Inn in the trans-Styx London, where post-mortem encyclopedists have their 'clubs,' to make light of the modern verbal reformers and 'simplifiers.' It was immediately seen, however, that Andrew's addition to the reformer's fold put a very different complexion on the case. 'Sir,' said the doctor to Boswell, in his best 'bow-wow' manner, 'I have never slept an hour less nor eat an ounce less meat on account of these caitiffs, but now that the Scotch barbarian, that futile Highland Cherokee, has supplied them with money, they may ruin the language in a twelvemonth.' 'I don't see, sir,' replied Boswell, 'why my countryman did not confine his charities to libraries and hero funds.' 'Because, sir,' thundered the doctor, 'he is insane on the subject of charity; he could not make a worse use of his money than thus to threaten the integrity and purity of the great vehicle of expression.' 'There is, however, sir,' replied Boswell, 'something to be said in their favor; thru saves three letters over through, catalog saves two, becaws one; they take less ink, and less room on a page; think of——' 'Well, sir,' said the doctor, 'suppose they do; what of that? A man with his arms and legs off would take up less room. You take up less room than I. Does that make you any more valuable to the world?' 'I can see no logical objection, sir,' replied Boswell, 'to the omission of silent letters. They do no good——' 'No good, sir!' Snarled the doctor. 'There are some letters, sir, as there are some men, who do themselves more credit, sir, when they are silent.' THE PUNISHMENT TO FIT THE OFFENDER. Barrows Gives Reasons For Favoring the Indeterminate Sentence For Convicted Criminals. Times and conditions have changed since Dickens and Charles Reade aroused the English-speaking world by revealing the inhuman abuses of the English prison system. To-day humane treatment is taken as a matter of course. The chief aim of the modern criminologist is not to punish the criminal but to cure him; and in curing him the first agency is fair treatment. Therefore is urged the necessity of making the penalty more nearly fit the crime. According to Samuel J. Barrows, president of the International Prison Congress, 'it is still more difficult to make the penalty fit the offender.' In a recent article in the Outlook, he enters a plea for safeguarding the 'indeterminate sentence' for convicted criminals. The best criminal code, he says, is an arbitrary instrument, and it is impossible, on any principle, so to construct one that the penalty and crime are commensurate. After making this assertion, he continues. No legislator can show why the theft of twenty-five dollars should be punishable with one year's imprisonment, and the theft of twenty-six dollars with five years' imprisonment. Nor is the difficulty removed by empowering the judge to use his discretion in imposing sentence within certain limits of minimum and maximum. A judge would find it hard to tell why he sentenced one boy five years for stealing a dollar and another boy one year for stealing two hundred dollars, or another judge why he sent one boy to prison for a year, and another, a first offender, to sixteen years for the same offense. A study of codes on one hand and of sentences on another reveals an amazing amount of contradiction and confusion, not to say rank injustice, in the application of penalties. For this inequality and injustice the indeterminate sentence furnishes the necessary relief. Instead of making the code-maker or the judge decide when a man shall come out of prison, it puts the main responsibility of deciding that question upon the prisoner himself. DOES COEDUCATION FEMINIZE COLLEGE? Thorough Training, Rather than Separate Training, is the Need of the Times, Says President Jordan. President David Starr Jordan, of Leland Stanford Junior University, has ever been a strong advocate of coeducation. At the present time, when the system is being so severely criticized in so many quarters, his defense of it, which appears in Munsey's Magazine for March, sounds a note of reassurance. The article is an answer to an attack on coeducation—in the February issue of the same magazine—by President G. Stanley Hall, of Clark University. To the charges that the character of college work has been lowered by coeducation, and that it offers difficulties or embarrassments in the class-room, Dr. Jordan replies with categorical denials. The argument that the presence of women tends to 'feminize' the universities is, he grants, more serious. But he then enters into the following distinctions. The personal interest of the students, next to their studies, is concentrated on sport. Football before all is loved uncommonly, and it is practised in such a fashion that academic and State authorities are near to forbidding it altogether. In the course of a single semester nineteen students fell victims to brutal handling. At every American university is a sort of open amphitheater, in which many thousands of spectators view the periodic football battles. The trouble is not, of course, that the great secondary interest of student life is sport, but that the American idea of college sport has come to be the training of a few champion athletes for the purpose of winning, not the training of all young men and women for the purpose of recreation. Upton Harvey dwells on this point in an article published in the Review of Reviews. It really is not fair or profitable to judge athletics in general, or any particular sport or game, by the benefits secured by the few. The test should be the good accruing to the nation at large. Athletics should build us up as a people, raise the standard of average manhood, and thus benefit us as a nation, rather than develop a selected few who use their strength and skill chiefly as a means of earning money. In America, we love our players rather than our games. The result is that only one man in a thousand acquires the strength and proficiency which make him an acceptable player. Our athletics develop the few, and benefit us but little, if at all, as a people. Of course, we turn out teams and individual athletes unequaled anywhere else in the world. But what good does that do you and me, who are shut out from participation in the games because we are not giants in point of strength or wizards in point of skill? We are compelled to be mere onlookers at the present-day baseball or football game, or track meet, to watch the players with mingled feelings of awe and admiration, much as the Romans of old sat about the amphitheater and marveled at the exploits of the gladiators. The 'sport' of the Romans—desperate encounters between man and man, or between man and wild beast—undoubtedly developed men of unsurpassed courage, skill, and strength. But did it benefit Rome? Our athletes lead the world. That is a matter of record. But how has this superiority been achieved? By making athletics a business or a profession for selected individuals, instead of a sport, a pastime, and a recreation for all. Athletics as we know them may be sport or pastime for us as spectators, but our games are no recreation for those who participate in them. The desire to excel, to win at any cost, is the root of the evil. If we can't win, we drop out of the game and join the ranks of spectators. The benefits of participating in an afternoon's sport, even as a loser, are lost sight of. We do not play for the sake of playing, or for the betterment of our physical condition—we play to win, to come out first, to excel our neighbors. What we need to learn is to be cheerful losers. Any one can be a gracious winner, but few of us are good losers. Until we do learn that there is something in the game besides the winning of it, we cannot hope that our athletics will be of general benefit to the nation. SHAW RAGES AGAINST THE AMATEUR STAGE. The Author of 'Candida' Declares With Emphasis That Charity Actors Make Themselves Ridiculous. Bernard Shaw recently contributed to the London Tribune a characteristic bit of criticism. It seems that he has been much annoyed by requests for permission to give amateur performances of his plays in behalf of charity. Shaw has a small opinion of amateur actors, as may be gathered from the following. Almost all amateurs desire to imitate the theater rather than to act a play. Reach-me-down dresses, reach-me-down scenery, reach-me-down equipments are considered good enough for dramatic masterpieces—are positively preferred to decent and beautiful things because they are so much more theatrical. As to plays, they, too, must be second-hand reach-me-downs. Your amateurs don't want to bring plays to a correct and moving representation for the sake of the life they represent; they want to do Hawtrey's part in this or Ellen Terry's part in that, or Cyril Maude's part in the other. The enormous and overwhelming advantage possessed by amateurs—the advantage of being free from commercial pressure and having unlimited time for rehearsal—is the last one they think of using. The commercial plays, which are the despair of actors, but which they must produce or starve, are the favorites of our amateurs. They do out of sheer folly and vulgarity what our real dramatic artists do of necessity and give some saving grace and charm to in the doing. KAISER MAKES NEW TEN COMMANDMENTS. The Most Versatile of Monarchs Draws Up a List of Rules to be Followed by Horse-Owners. Varied and numerous as are his regular activities, the German Emperor frequently adds new ones to the list. One of the latest manifestations of his ubiquitous interest is the following productions, which he has sent to his friends under the title, 'The Ten Commandments for Horse-Owners.' It is worth preserving for two reasons—first, because of the soundness of the advice it offers; second, because it indicates that the most important figure among continental monarchs is not above considering the welfare of his dumb servants. First—Do not expose your horses to draft, in or out of the stable. Second—Do not allow any broken windows in your stable. At the same time see that it is properly ventilated. Third—Do not keep your horses too warm. Never cover them with blankets in the stable. Fourth—Exercise your horses daily as the best preventive against disease. Fifth—Don't feed wet fodder, but give dry fodder and fresh water. In winter let the water stand a while after taking it from the well or faucet. Sixth—Prevent ammonia gases, which are bad for the eyes and the ligaments. Seventh—Every fourth or sixth week remove the shoes and have the hoofs attended to. After that the shoes may be nailed on again. Eighth—When the roads are covered with ice, use spiked shoes. Ninth—Do not put an ice cold bit into a horse's mouth in winter unless you want him to have toothache and become ill. Tenth—Be as careful of your horse's skin as of your own. PARADOX PROVERBS. These Pampered Children of Wisdom and Experience Find It So Difficult to Agree That if They Had Teeth and Claws They Might Fight It Out in the Manner of the Kilkenny Cats. A proverb is defined in one of the more popular dictionaries of our language as 'a brief, pithy saying, condensing in witty or striking form the wisdom of experience.' But experiences vary and often lead to different results, so that of proverbs it may be said that 'what is one man's meat is another man's poison.' It is as futile for a man to live his life in accordance with proverbs as it is for twenty cooks to collaborate in the making of a broth that will please the palates of all. The truth is, proverbs are just as likely to disagree as are physicians. Here are a few that have agreed to disagree. A proverb is one man's wit and all men's wisdom. A formal fool speaks naught but proverbs. Education forms the man. By education most have been misled. Everything comes to him who waits. He who would find must seek. Better a patch than a hole. A true gentleman would rather have his clothes torn than mended. Patience surpasses learning. Patience is the virtue of asses. No wickedness has any ground of reason. Success makes some crimes honorable. He who hunts two hares at once will catch neither. It is always good to have two irons in the fire. Never spur a willing horse. A good horse and a bad horse both need the spur. The middle path is the safe path. The neutral is soused from above, and singed from below. Many hands make light work. Too many cooks spoil the broth. As ye sow, so shall ye reap. The seed you sow, another reaps. Be sure you are right, then go ahead. Nothing venture, nothing have. It is fortune, not wisdom, that rules man's life. Wisdom is the conqueror of fortune. The wise man has a short tongue. Silence is the virtue of those who are not wise. The face is the index of the mind. A fair skin often covers a crooked mind. Trust not to appearances. A fair exterior is a silent recommendation. Good fortune ever fights on the side of the prudent. Fortune helps the bold. A rolling stone gathers no moss. Push on, keep moving. Out of sight, out of mind. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. A bad beginning makes a good ending. A good beginning makes a good ending. Birds of a feather flock together. Two birds of prey do not keep each other company. All truths are not to be told. Tell the truth and shame the devil. No jealousy, no love. In jealousy there is more self-love than love. The end justifies the means. Never do evil that good may come of it. A sin confessed is half-forgiven. A sin concealed is half-pardoned. WHEN THE LAST CURTAIN FELL. Some Striking Instances of How Death Has Stepped Behind the Footlights and Claimed His Victims in Full View of Audiences Who Have Mistaken Real Tragedy for Play. 'Into Thy hands, O Lord! Into Thy hands!' These words, inscribed on a card that was fastened to the cross of lilies sent by Queen Alexandra of England to be laid on the casket containing the body of Sir Henry Irving, were the last uttered on the stage by that famous actor. They are the last words of Becket, in Tennyson's drama of that name. Though Irving did not die on the stage, the hand of death was upon him at the close of that last performance. He was scarcely more than outside the theater in Bradford, England, when he was stricken with syncope, and he died a few minutes after reaching his hotel. There are a score of other cases on record in which death has appeared on the stage of a theater for the purpose of marking its victims. It was a fateful irony that Signor Castelmary should be fatally stricken on the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, in the midst of the bright and romantic scenes of 'Martha.' A tragi-comedy if ever there were one! Yet this overpowering mingling of the real and the unreal is by no means an unusual element of stage life. History records many instances of deaths on the stage; some of them the result of accidental violence, but by far the greater number caused by the sudden effect of overwrought emotions. Sometimes death comes instantaneously; sometimes the blow is received from which recovery is impossible, and the actor lingers on with nothing but suffering and death before him. Both tragedy and comedy have been the scenes of actual death on the stage. Peg Woffington, it will be remembered, was stricken with paralysis while playing Rosalind. She had gone through the entire play with a life and spirit which gave no sign of the weakening powers plainly evident to her companions on the stage, and had nearly concluded the epilogue: 'If I were among you, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me——' Her last words on the stage had been spoken. Staggering off the scene, she fell apparently lifeless, and recovered only to live three long years of loneliness and retirement away from the work she loved. But most wonderful of all was Edmund Kean's last night on the stage. He was playing Othello to his son's Iago at Covent Garden, and, worn out with physical and mental excess, barely managed to conceal his incapacity and weakness from the audience. Reaching the great scenes of the third act, they proved too much for his waning powers, and uttering the words, 'Othello's occupation's gone,' he began the next line, but was unable to complete it, and fell into his son's arms, with the faint cry: 'God, I am dying! Speak to them, Charles.' He was carried to his home, where he died seven weeks later. The story of the death of John Palmer, while acting in 'The Stranger' at Liverpool, in 1798, offers an instance almost analogous to the death of Castelmary. He had gone on with his part into the fourth act, when, faltering in his lines, he fell prostrate before his companion actor and died while being carried off the stage. The story that he died while uttering the lines in an earlier act, 'There is another and a better world,' is a fiction which requires denial almost as often as the story of his death is repeated. Others have met with accidental death in melodramatic scenes at the hands of their overzealous brother actors. Sometimes the actor does himself actual violence, and there are a few instances on record of the murder of actor by actor during the performance of a play. Crozier, for example, was accidentally stabbed by a brother actor in 'Sins of the Night,' at the Novelty, in London, on August 10, 1896. Linsky was fatally shot in a melodrama by a soldier super; and in 1891, at a school representation of 'Romeo and Juliet,' in Manchester, England, the youngster playing Tybalt killed Romeo in the quarrel scene. In 1898 Miss Ethel Marlowe died from heart disease at the Knickerbocker, New York, during a performance of 'The Christian.' Her sister, Virginia Marlowe, in 1896, and her father, Owen Marlowe, in 1876, also died on the stage in view of the audience. Creating Wealth From Waste. By EUGENE WOOD. The Number of Scrap-Heaps Is Diminishing as Manufacturers Learn that By-Products Often Are More Valuable than the Things from Which They Are Taken. An original article written for The Scrap Book. The true test of the industrial civilization of a people is the extent to which every scrap and grain of its resources are utilized. The motto of a prosperous nation is: 'Gather up the fragments that nothing be lost.' That the last few years have seen such an increase in the production of wealth as has never been known before in the history of the world is not to be wondered at when it is realized that in every department of industry those things that had been previously thrown away have become a source of revenue, and, in some cases, the by-product has become of more value than the original product itself. The recovery of wealth from waste is the distinguishing mark of the age, because this is the age of industrial civilization. If the increase in the production of wealth is greater and more rapid than it has ever been since man first landed on this earth, without either a penny or a pocket to put the penny in, it is due to the general extension of methods that have been in use ever since he began to try to pick a living out of the clinched fist of dour old Mother Nature. The delicate perfumes of flowers that otherwise would vanish in a day are trapped in lard, and then snared again from the lard by alcohol. The crusted argols that gather on the inside of the vats where wine ferments are utilized to make the cream of tartar for our biscuits. Tin Pans for Complexions. The bloom of health that glows upon the cheeks of the ladies of the chorus may be traced to the tin pans and cups that jingle on the rag-collector's wagon. These homely and prosaic vessels are made of plates of iron, coated, all too thinly in these degenerate days, with tin. These iron plates have to be 'pickled,' as the trade phrase goes. All the rust and other substances than the clean iron have to be washed off with acids and water. The pickling liquor is not emptied out as slops by any means. There is a finely divided iron rust floating in it, and when the water is removed by evaporating it, the residue is Venetian red and iron pigment that, made up as rouge, can counterfeit the ruddy blood that courses so near the surface of the satin skin of youth. It is almost a personal triumph to us to know that the broken bits of rock from the quarry, unfit to use as building material, are turned into crushed stone, for which there is so large a demand, thanks to the increasing popularity of concrete, and that its revenues pay the operating expenses of the quarry, and make the price got from building stone so much clear money. Illuminating-gas has to be washed and scrubbed anyhow before it can be introduced into our houses. The household ammonia with which the kitchen sink is kept so sweet is taken by the thousand tons from the scrub-water of the gas-house and the furnace-gas of iron-works. Only the Pig's Squeal Gets Away. Meat packers will tell you that nowadays they save everything but the pig's last dying squeal. Naturally, the hides and skins of the animals slaughtered are worth saving. The tips of cows' horns are used for the mouthpieces of pipes; the horns themselves are split and pressed flat, and combs, the backs of brushes, and large buttons are made of them. What bits and splinters are too small to be worked up go for fertilizer. Hoofs are sorted by colors. The white ones go to Japan, there to be made up into ornaments of artistic merit. We haven't got that far along ourselves. The striped ones stay here to be made up into buttons. The black ones are utilized in the manufacture of cyanide of potash, by which gold is extracted from low-grade ores it formerly did not pay to work. The bones in the feet of cattle bear up a great weight, so they are hard and take a high polish. They can be used instead of ivory, which is getting scarce. Tooth-brush handles and cutlery handles are made of these bones. The others in the skeleton are built of lime stuck together with glue and molded into shape by the push and pull of muscles. The soft bones of the head, shoulders, ribs, and breast do not need to be so stiff as the bones of the legs; they have more glue in proportion to lime than the leg-bones. The animal needs a kind of flexible, weather-proof varnish flowed over it, so to speak, to protect the tissues. Glue is what makes this coat or hide. So from bones and scraps and trimmings of hide this glue or gelatin is soaked out. Even the bones on which meat has been cooked have some little dribs of gelatin and fat in them, and these are stewed under pressure until there is nothing left in them of the gelatin, of which they now make the little capsules in which the druggist puts the medicine whose taste we don't just fancy, and fats which go to the soap-maker for the want of a better destination. Drugs from Dead Cattle. From the bodies of cows is obtained the tallow which is made into oleomargarin. The prevailing ailment of the American people is dyspepsia, which is due to a natural lack of pepsin. But it has been found out that the pig's pepsin will do as well as our own, so it is prepared for the drug-trade and sold at considerably above the price per pound of the hog on the hoof. There are all sorts of obscure nervous troubles which can be very materially helped by a substance extracted from the gray matter of calves' brains. A growing child should make red corpuscles in his blood at a great rate. All the processes which construct his bones and his flesh and his various organs should be working full-powered. The red rib-marrow of freshly killed young animals contains a substance which is soluble in chemically pure glycerin and can be digested out of that red rib-marrow, and which, if given to the child, greatly increases the proportion of red corpuscles in the blood and stimulates all the constructive processes of the body. This will sell for a much larger sum a pound than veal. And so there are various other substances taken from the sweetbreads proper, the neck-and-throat sweetbreads, the thyroid gland, the parotids, and the suprarenal capsules which can be used in medicine and can be sold at a large profit to people brought up to believe that 'eating the part strengthens the part.' Glycerin a By-Product. And when all has been extracted that you would think could be extracted, all the bits and scraps and scrapings and what not are put into a tank and cooked and cooked until all is dissolved that can be dissolved. The residual fat is skimmed off, and the last bit of glue, and the insoluble matter at the bottom of the tank, go for fertilizer, and then, in the packing-houses that don't know their business, the tank water is let run away. But there is much valuable nitrogenous matter in those waters which the first-rate packers utilize. And there is glycerin there. In the old days the candle-makers who used palm-oil had their own troubles with glycerin. If a candle was blown out, the smoldering wick used to leave an offensive odor. It was the glycerin that caused this. Naturally, the only thing to do was to take it out of the candle, and the next thing was to get rid of it down the gulley into the creek. People complained, as people will; but what else was an honest chandler to do? Latterly they have been figuring on the matter, and some of them have come to the conclusion that they used to let as much as two thousand dollars' worth of glycerin get away from them every week. In the last five years the soap-makers have learned that they can realize more money out of the glycerin than they can out of the soap they make. Some of this glycerin is refined, but the great part of the crude goes to the manufacturers of dynamite, which is nitroglycerin mixed with infusorial earth, so as to weaken it. There is just as much acid after the glycerin is turned into nitroglycerin as there was before. After it is washed out the nitro is left apparently unchanged. It is not broken up, but it is on the edge of it. Give it a knock and it all flies to pieces at once so suddenly that it will loosen more dirt in a second than a hundred pick-and-shovel men could scoop out in a week. Wealth in Refuse Heaps. Back of the tin shop there used to be a heap of shining clippings. The heap of clippings isn't there now. If there are any bits of tin too small to make the backs of buttons, they are pressed together to make window-sash weights. Nor is that pile of sawdust back of the sawmill any more. The butchers want it for their floors, but that isn't the most economical use for it. There are acetic acid, wood alcohol, naphtha, wood-tar (and all that that implies) to be had from the distillation of sawdust—to say nothing of sugar from birch sawdust. The reason there isn't more money in the sawdust than in sashes, doors, and blinds which the factory turns out is because we have more faith in cog-wheels than we have in test tubes. In machinery, big or little, Americans stand at the head of the class; in industrial chemistry they are at the foot of the class. We pay the Germans about ten times what we ought to for phenacetin, because we can't get it into our heads that there is any money in applied organic chemistry. Coal-tar was once a nuisance, but the Germans make indigo so much better and cheaper from it now that they have put the indigo-plant out of business. The red trousers of the French soldiers are dyed with German alizarin, also a coal-tar product, because it doesn't pay to raise madder any longer. In coal-tar are all sorts of valuable drugs, dyes, and perfumes. But we don't know it—industrially. I do my country an injustice. We can make moth-balls and carbolic acid. But that is as much as ever we can do. And this is why we do not utilize the saw-dust and make a better business out of it than the sawmill can. I wonder how much orange-peel and lemon-peel is thrown away in New York City every day, and how much the neroli or essential oil that could be got from it would be worth. I wonder if the stalks and fag-ends of vegetables could not be distilled and something made from them. But the limit of our wisdom in regard to garbage is: burn it and get power from it. Somebody is going to get rich from this garbage problem one of these days. But it will be the test-tube and not the cogwheel that will make the money. It will be the industrial chemist, not the mechanic. Fortunes Lurk in Old Wool. See what a difference such knowledge has made in the wool industry. Sheep's wool is dirty and greasy when it comes to the mills. Wash it with strong alkali in running water. That is what has always been done. But a man in Massachusetts thought it would be a good idea to dissolve the grease with some such solvent as naphtha. He saved the naphtha to use over again; he recovered the grease, which is the most softening and penetrating of all fats and is most valuable for ointments, and he recovered carbonate of potash. Sheep wearing heavy wool in the hot weather perspire freely, and this perspiration contains carbonate of potash. After the wool is once woven into cloth, we may dismiss from our minds all thought of effecting any more economies. When the suit of clothes is worn to rags, the rags are still as good as new, for the wool is picked out into strands of fiber again and woven anew. It isn't ground into shoddy as it was in the days of the Civil War. The wool is picked apart as long as it has any staple to it at all, and forms part of the most expensive and enduring of fabrics. It may be mixed with cotton, but when it comes to be a rag again, the cotton is burned out either with acid or with heat, the dust is taken out, and once more behold absolutely pure wool, much safer to wear than the new wool of the tropics and semi-tropics. When there is not enough wool to hold together it goes into our clothing. With wood ashes and scrap iron it ceases to be a fabric and becomes a dye, Prussian blue. The cotton rag has no such long life. All it is good for is paper stock. The paper business is essentially a wealth from waste industry. For a long time, linen rags, cotton rags, and old rope were the only materials of which paper was made. Cheap books and magazines and newspapers had to wait until it was discovered that the resins and gums in which the fibers of wood are imbedded could be dissolved away, leaving the pulp of the wood in just the same condition that the pulp of rags was. Where Old Magazines Go. If the resins are not thoroughly dissolved away the paper turns brown in the course of time. Naturally enough, the wood-pulp makers let the solution of resins run off and become a nuisance, but they, too, are learning that there are glucoses and pyroligneous acids and all manner of riches to be obtained from the solution of the vegetable matter, to say nothing of the possibilities of a sort of gum or glue which is softened both by heat and by moisture. And just a word about an economy found necessary by the magazines and newspapers which take back the copies the newsdealer does not sell. These 'returns' were hard to get rid of. Paper is mean stuff to burn in quantities. So far as the texture of the wood-pulp paper is concerned, it might be used to print on again, but how are you going to remove the ink? Let the ink stay on and use the pulp over again for pasteboard boxes. And that's what becomes of the newspapers and magazines that nobody buys. If you will look over journals devoted to concrete and its wonders, you will see a good deal about the concrete made out of slag. And there was a neat little point made when it was discovered that about two cents a pound could be saved in the manufacture of iron by freezing all the moisture out of the atmospheric air before it was heated for the blast. But the best is yet to come. Quite a little bit of money has been made in this country from the manufacture of iron. What do you say to the proposition to make the iron itself a mere by-product to something even more valuable? Valuable Gas Ran to Waste. From the top of the furnace in which iron ore is liquefying in the fervent heat there rushes out a gas, largely carbon monoxide, whose hunger for oxygen has been only half satisfied. If it could get that other atom of oxygen it would be a gas that would only smother us when it didn't make the soda-fountain fizz. As it is, carbon monoxide is deadly poison. It has to be put to some use. It doesn't burn under a boiler very well. It is necessary to keep a bed of coals going so that the furnace-gas may stay lighted. But it has been found that even when it is too poor to keep alight it will explode in the combustion chamber of a gas-engine. It has also been found that a furnace smelting seven tons of pig-iron an hour will make enough furnace-gas to supply nine thousand horse-power per hour. Deducting gas and power that can be economically used on the premises, it is estimated that there will be a surplus of power to sell of five thousand horse-power per hour. Now that we are able to transmit power cheaply by high-tension currents, it is easy to see what this means. In New York they sell electromotive force for from four cents per horse-power per hour up to twelve cents. Call it two cents, and five thousand horse-power per hour means a hundred dollars, which is more money than seven tons of pig-iron will bring. A lot has been done with cog-wheels; a lot is being done with wires; but when it comes to recovering wealth from waste, it is the test-tube that will do it. And so, study chemistry, young man. OLD MAY-DAY CUSTOMS. The Ancient Romans and the Druids Are Partly Responsible for Some of the Modern Methods of Celebrating the Festival of the Spring Deities Which Are Now Represented by Youthful Queens and Kings. Customs do not become established without reason. If no meaning is seen in a popular superstition or an annual festival, the significance or the apparent lack of significance, is simply that the ritual, as so often happens, has long outlived the belief. In many of our hereditary customs we bow down, unaware, before the gods of our pagan ancestors. Thus May-Day rites, which have come to us through Roman and Druidical channels, are remains of a very early worship. The Druids, on May 1, lighted great fires in honor of Bel or Belen—the Apollo, or Orus, of other nations. In Celtic centers of Great Britain the day is still called la Bealtine, Bealtine, or Beltine, which means 'day of Belen's fire,' since, in the Celtic language of Cornwall, tan means 'fire,' and the verb tine means to 'light a fire.' In the Highlands of Scotland, as late as 1790, the Beltein, or rural sacrifice on May 1, was fully observed. The herdsmen of every village lighted a fire within a square outlined by cutting a trench in the turf. Over the fire was dressed a caudle of eggs, milk, oatmeal, and butter. Part was poured on the ground as a libation. Then every one took a cake of oatmeal, upon which were nine knobs, each dedicated to some divinity. Facing the fire, they broke off the knobs, one at a time, throwing them over their shoulders and saying: 'This I give to thee. Preserve thou my horses.' 'This to thee; preserve thou my sheep,' and so on. The caudle was then eaten. Traces of fire sacrifice are found in Ireland, particularly in the custom of lighting fires at short intervals and driving cattle between them, and the custom of fathers jumping over or running through fires with their children in their arms. Undoubtedly these singular forms of sport are modifications of what was once real sacrifice. Our commonest May-Day games, however, probably come from the Floralia, or rather from the Maiuma, of the Romans, who, it is said, were but repeating the festal customs of ancient Egypt and India. The Maiuma were established under the Emperor Claudius, to take the place of the Floralia, from which they seem to have differed little, except, perhaps, that they were not made an occasion for so great license. The May-festival, in its deepest meaning, is a recognition of the renewed fertility of the earth with the returning spring. It is one of the oldest of all festivals. The children who now go a Maying, or dance around the Maypole, or choose a May Queen, are unconsciously imitating the joyous ceremonies with which the ancients welcomed the new birth of Nature. Fertility was among the earliest of religious ideas. 'Going a Maying' is a very ancient custom in England. Bourne, in his 'Antiquitates Vulgares,' said. On the calends, or first, of May, commonly called May Day, the juvenile part of both sexes are wont to rise a little after midnight and walk to some neighboring wood, accompanied with music and blowing of horns, where they break down branches from the trees, and adorn themselves with nosegays and crowns of flowers. When this is done, they return with their booty homeward, about the rising of the sun, and make their doors and windows to triumph with their flowery spoils. In the 'Morte d'Arthur' we find this passage. Now it befell in the moneth of lusty May, that Queene Guenever called unto her the Knyghtes of the Round Table, and gave them warning that early in the morning she should ride on Maying into the woods and fields beside Westminster. Shakespeare, in 'A Midsummer Night's Dream,' alludes to the custom: No doubt they rise up early to observe The rite of May. The Maypole is still common in many countries. It used to be general throughout England, and the cutting and decorating of the pole was one of the many reasons for going a Maying. Often the pole was left standing until near the end of the year, and sometimes especially durable poles remained erect in their places for many seasons and were used in successive festivals. The last Maypole erected in London was a hundred feet high and stood in the Strand. Taken down in 1717, it was removed to Wanstead Park, in Essex, where it was made part of the support for a large telescope which was set up by Sir Isaac Newton. The May Queen traditionally represents the Roman goddess Flora. SOME DEEP-SEA HUMOR. The first day out: Steward—Did you ring, sir? Traveler—Yes, steward, I—I rang. Steward—Anything I can bring you, sir? Traveler—Y-yes, st-steward. Bub-bring me a continent, if you have one, or an island—anything, steward, so l-lul-long as it's solid. If you can't, sus-sink the ship.— Harper's Bazar. Van Dyke—As the boat left the dock I waved my handkerchief, and then a most curious thing happened. Forney—What was it? Van Dyke—The ocean waved back.— Truth. Uneasy Passenger (on an ocean steamship)—Doesn't the vessel tip frightfully? Dignified Steward—The wessel, mum, is trying to set hexample to the passengers.— Chicago Tribune. Jinks—I can't understand how shipwrecked sailors ever starve to death. Filkins—Why not? Jinks—Because I just came over from Liverpool and I never felt any desire to eat.— Puck. Lady (to sea captain)—How do you manage to find your way across the ocean? Captain—By the compass. The needle always points to north. Lady—But suppose you wish to go south?— London Tit-Bits. Nervous Passenger—Why are you steaming along at such a fearful rate through this fog? Ocean Captain (reassuringly)—Fogs are dangerous, madam, and I'm always in a hurry to get out of them.— New York Weekly. 'This is your sixth trip across the ocean in winter, is it?' Said the timid passenger. 'Are you never oppressed by a fear that the ship will run into an iceberg and sink?' 'Never, madam,' replied the business-like passenger briskly; 'I never invest a cent in ships.' — Chicago Tribune. Two ministers were crossing a lake in a storm. When matters became most critical some one cried out: 'The two ministers must pray!' 'Na, na,' said the boatman; 'the little ane can pray if he likes, but the big ane maun tak' an oar.' A judge, in crossing the Irish Channel one stormy night, knocked against a well-known witty lawyer who was suffering terribly from seasickness. 'Can I do anything for you?' Said the judge. 'Yes,' gasped the seasick lawyer; 'I wish your lordship would overrule this motion!' — White Mountain Echo. 'My dear, look down below,' said Mr. Grandiose, as he stood on deck with his wife and gazed at a tug hauling a long line of barges. 'Such is life; the tug is like the man, working and toiling, while the barges, like women, are——' 'I know,' interrupted Mrs. Acridly, 'the tug does all the blowing, and the barges bear all the burden.' — Charleston News. The bishop thought the capful of wind was an Atlantic storm, and worried the captain by asking constantly if there was danger. The captain led his lordship to the hatch over the fo'cs'le. 'You hear the crew swearing,' he said. 'Do you think those men would use such oaths if there was danger of their meeting death?' The sun set in an angry storm-torn sky, the wind rose higher yet, and the good steamer pitched and rolled and groaned and creaked. It was midnight, and a portly figure crept forward to the fo'cs'le hatch. 'Thank heaven,' murmured the bishop, 'those men are swearing yet.' — New York Mercury. How They Got On In The World. Brief Biographies of Successful Men Who Have Passed Through the Crucible of Small Beginnings and Won Out. Compiled and edited for The Scrap Book. A TITLED INVENTOR. Englishman Spent Fortune After Fortune Experimenting With New Ideas, but Died a Millionaire. Samuel Cunliffe-Lister, Lord Masham, whose air-brake is used on many British railroads and who invented the first successful wool-combing machine, started, in 1837, at Manningham, Yorkshire, England, in company with his elder brother, a small worsted-spinning establishment. Both brothers had worked at the trade since childhood, and both were capable men. For a time the business prospered. Then it began to drop off and the elder partner accused Samuel of wasting his time and energy in experimenting with toys when he should devote his efforts exclusively to building up the enterprise they had started. The discussion almost terminated in a rupture between the two, but a couple of the toys were patented and as machines in the worsted-spinning business they brought in a fair profit. But another cause for dissension arose. As fast as money came in for early inventions it was spent in experimenting on other things. Several times Cunliffe-Lister spent what would then be looked upon as a fairly comfortable fortune in trying to perfect his ideas, and, despite his income, he continually hovered on the verge of bankruptcy. Perfects His Wool-Comber. At last, in 1865, he perfected the wool-comber, a machine that takes the raw material, thoroughly cleanses it, and straightens the fiber, leaving it ready for the carder to take in hand. Its enormous utility was instantly recognized, and the wool-working towns and cities of England and the United States were supplied with the new machines. During the subsequent years the inventor received every year, from this machine alone, an income that seldom fell below two hundred thousand pounds. The first form of the wool-comber was far more perfect than the first form of most machines. Nevertheless, Cunliffe-Lister spent enormous sums of money in making improvements on it, and on one occasion, when several hundred of the machines were ready for shipment, he held them up in order that there might be incorporated in them certain improvements he had just made. His partners protested that the machines embodied all the features the purchasers had paid for. The inventor was obdurate, and every one of the machines had added to it the improvements, and all the alterations were made solely at his expense. Head Not Turned by Fortune. The immense fortune he had made from this and other inventions never for an instant turned him from his work and experiments. Like Edison, he had the ability to concentrate his mind for long periods, to work for long stretches with little rest, and to apportion to his assistants the experiments that he could not personally perform. He could have retired thirty-five years ago and been assured of a large income for the remainder of his life, but he preferred to stick to his work to the last. 'You've got your fortune now,' said one of his friends; 'why don't you stop working?' 'I didn't work simply to acquire wealth,' he replied. 'I value the money chiefly for what it will enable me to do.' His second great invention was the air-brake, introduced by him at about the same time Westinghouse introduced his air-brake in America. The English inventor, however, experienced little difficulty in having his device adopted, for he had already made a name for himself, and the English railroad officials were willing to give the benefit of thorough, practical tests to what he brought them. The tests proved the efficiency of the brake, and its general adoption added greatly to the inventor's already large income. He worked incessantly, experimenting in all branches of science, and his improvements in mill machinery, in railroad devices and steel working are of immense value. For weeks at a time, the expense of his experiments averaged a thousand pounds a day. In spite of this, the enormous income he received from his patents more than kept pace with his expenses, and when he died, early last February, he was one of the richest men in the United Kingdom. HARD-FIGHTING EDITOR. Founder of Modern Journalism Was Called Everything That Had an Unpleasant Name, but He Prospered. James Gordon Bennett, who founded the New York Herald, was well over thirty-five years of age when he left the office of the old New York Courier and Enquirer. He had learned what a newspaper should be, he believed, and he was going to put that knowledge into operation. He had toiled early and late all his life, and when he was ready to start for himself he had a nominal capital of five hundred dollars, and a big idea. He was the only newspaper man in New York who thought that a newspaper didn't have to be dull to be good. In fact, he found that if he wished to be an editor at all it would have to be on his own paper. So on May 6, 1835, in a cellar on Wall Street, he issued the first number of the Herald. Many things which we take for granted in the newspapers of to-day were originated by Bennett and his lively little cellar-born sheet. In the second month of its existence, the Herald printed the first Wall Street reports that had ever appeared in an American daily. Later, in the same year, Bennett introduced modern reportorial methods by his graphic 'story' of the great fire that devastated down-town New York in December, 1835; and his introduction of a picture of the Stock Exchange on fire, and a map of the burned district, was another epoch-making innovation. It was he, too, who ordered for the Herald a telegraphic report of the first speech ever sent in full over the wires to a newspaper—that of Calhoun on the Mexican War. There were no theories concerning the news in the Herald, no stately, long-winded, word-spinning explanations of what the news meant; just the news itself, given tersely and in as simple and bright language as possible. The readers were left to draw their own inferences and make their own comments. Competitors Tried to Crush Him. Bennett was right in trusting to the readers' intelligence, for his following increased. But though the public came to him in goodly numbers, the battle was a desperate, up-hill one. Five years after he started, all the papers in the city banded together to crush him. The records of the fight are curious now, chiefly for the profusion of the epithets that were hurled at him. One paper, in one short broadside, managed to call him an 'obscene rogue,' 'profligate adventurer,' 'venomous reptile,' 'pestilential scoundrel,' 'polluted wretch,' 'habitual liar,' and 'veteran blackguard.' Bennett weathered the storm, seldom bothering about hitting back, but all the time striving to make his paper brighter and more readable. His adversaries soon realized that they were losing ground, and they gradually relinquished the struggle. Twelve years after he had started the Herald, Bennett got into a dispute with Horace Greeley concerning the relative circulation of the Herald and Tribune. The dispute was settled by an impartial committee, and this committee found that the Herald had a daily circulation of 16,711 to the Tribune's 11,455, while the Weekly Herald had a circulation of 11,455 to a circulation of 15,780 for the Weekly Tribune. On the whole, the result was a decided victory for Bennett. His Announcement of His Marriage. Here is the announcement of his marriage, written by himself and published in the Herald on June 1, 1840. At fifteen years, anxious for coming out. Sixteen, began to have some idea of the tender passion. Seventeen, talked of love in a cottage, and disinterested affection. Eighteen, fancied myself in love with some handsome man who flattered me. Nineteen, was a little more difficult, in consequence of being noticed. Twenty, commenced to be fashionable and dashing. Twenty-one, still more confidence in my own attractions, and expected a brilliant establishment. Twenty-two, refused a good offer because he was not a man of fashion. Twenty-three, flirted with every young man I met. Twenty-four, wondered why not married. Twenty-five, rather more circumspect in conduct. Twenty-six, began to think a large fortune not quite so indispensable. Twenty-seven, preferred the company of rational men. Twenty-eight, wished to be married in a quiet way, with a comfortable home and children. Twenty-nine, almost despaired of entering the marriage state. Thirty, was rather fearful of being called an old maid. Thirty-one, an additional love of self-adornment. Thirty-two, professed to dislike balls, finding it quite difficult to secure good partners. Thirty-three, wondered how men could leave the society of sensible women to flirt with chits. Thirty-four, affected good humor in conversation with men. Thirty-five, jealous of the praises of women. Thirty-six, quarreled with friend who had been lately married. Thirty-seven, thought myself slighted in company. Thirty-eight, liked talking of my acquaintances who are married unfortunately, and found endless consolation in their misfortunes. Thirty-nine, ill-nature increased. Forty, became a confirmed scold. And so on up to fifty, when the lady seized upon lap-dogs, and talked largely of philanthropy. After that age, gray hairs start out upon the temple, and 'old lady' becomes the tune—no longer old maid. GRAVE, GAY, AND EPIGRAMMATIC. Washington Star. FAR FROM MARKET. Soon after the Civil War, General Ingalls, U.S.A., visited a friend in the South. Taking a walk one morning he met a boy coming up from the river with a fine string of fish. 'What will you take for your fish?' Asked the general. 'Thirty cents,' was the reply. 'Thirty cents!' Repeated the general in astonishment. 'Why, if you were in New York you could get three dollars for them.' The boy looked critically at the officer for a moment and then said, scornfully: 'Yes, suh; en' I reckon if I had a bucket of water in hell I could get a million dollars for it.' — Saturday Evening Post. MOZART'S MILITARY MARCH. Cardinal Gibbons was facetious when the Irish ladies' choir of Dublin called on him. Turning suddenly, he asked: 'Which one of you is the oldest?' None claimed the honor and all blushed. The talk drifted around to Gilmore and his band, and Cardinal Gibbons told of how Gilmore, at Coney Island, hearing that the cardinal was in the audience, played 'Maryland, My Maryland,' and how it pleased him. 'Gilmore,' said the cardinal, 'was famous for his playing of Mozart's 'Twelfth Mass.' Once he played it in a North Carolina town and next day the local paper announced that he rendered with great effect Mozart's 'Twelfth Massachusetts.' ' Pittsburgh Dispatch. Indianapolis Sun. THE SULTAN'S THREAT. The Sultan of Sulu is the man who is not afraid. He imported an eighteen-thousand-dollar uniform from Paris for the occasion of the Taft reception not long ago and when the costume came he refused to pay duty on it. The custom authorities made a fuss and threatened to keep the uniform. 'Very well,' said Mr. Sultan, 'keep your old uniform, but understand that I shall wear that at the reception or nothing.' The horrified officers perceived that he meant what he said and the suit was handed over in silence.— Minneapolis Tribune. And yet it makes me swear At our confounded slavy; For I'll be hanged if I can bear Such relics in the gravy! REED'S WAY OUT OF IT. A story is told of Thomas B. Reed by neighbors who knew him in his childhood to the effect that once, when sent to the grocery store with a jug for vinegar, he forgot what he was told to get, and, when asked by the grocer what he wanted, replied. 'Smell of the jug, and give me a quart.' Boston Herald. CAUSE FOR ALARM. Boardman of Philadelphia used to relate this on himself: 'I preached a funeral sermon at one time, and spoke on the resurrection. I am sure I spoke longer than was my custom. 'The undertaker was a man of nervous temperament, and as the afternoon was going he began to be anxious to be on the way to the cemetery. He finally whispered to one of my members: 'Does your minister always preach as long as that at a funeral?' 'Well,' said the brother, 'that is a good sermon.' 'Yes,' said the undertaker, 'the sermon is all right, and I believe in the resurrection, but I am afraid if he does not stop pretty soon I will not get this man buried in time.' '— Philadelphia Ledger. A CORRECTION. New York World. WHEN THE BIG STICK WOULDN'T DO. The following anecdote of President Roosevelt's youth is being told in England: When Roosevelt was a student at Harvard he was required to recite a poem in public declamation. He got as far as a line which read: 'When Greece her knees in suppliance bent,' when he stuck there. Again he repeated, 'When Greece her knees.,' but could get no farther. The teacher waited patiently, finally remarking: 'Grease her knees again, Roosevelt, then perhaps she'll go.' Woman's Home Companion. DESERVED TO LIVE. In a rural justice court in Georgia recently an old negro, whose testimony had been questioned, said in his own defense: 'Jedge, I'm a good man. I been a-livin' roun' heah ten years. I ain't never been lynched; en de only horse I ever stoled throwed me en broke my two legs!' — Chicago Daily News. SENATORIAL COURTESY. 'I suppose you will bow to the will of the people,' said the friend. 'Of course I will,' answered Senator Sorghum; 'I'll bow and take off my hat all they want me to. As long as there's no chance of their having their own way it's as little as I can do to be polite.' — Washington Evening Star. The Nation's Conscience Fund. For Ninety-five Years Persons Who Have Succeeded in Defrauding the Government Have Coined Remorse into Gold and Sent It to Uncle Sam, Who Has Received $400,000 in This Manner. An original article written for The Scrap Book. For ninety-five years contributions from penitent people throughout America have been flowing into the government's Conscience Fund at Washington. The first contribution of this nature was received in 1811, during the administration of Madison. At the first of this year the sums received from thousands of men and women who confessed that they had defrauded the government amounted to four hundred thousand dollars. There is a great deal of variety in the character of transgressions, and also in the sums of money turned in to the Conscience Fund. One woman, a few years ago, sent a single one-cent stamp to the Secretary of the Treasury, explaining that she had defrauded the government of that amount of postage. In marked contrast to this contribution was a draft for fourteen thousand dollars, sent to the Conscience Fund by an American living in England. One peculiarity that is revealed by the letters of repentant citizens is the effort to disguise the identity of the writers. They frequently write in a cramped, unnatural style, or they 'print' the letters as children do, or purposely mis-spell words, as is evident when wretched orthography is done in handwriting that is itself indicative of culture. All these efforts are unnecessary, for the United States government does not divulge the names even when, occasionally, they are frankly signed by the conscience-stricken. To enable the sender to know that his contribution has reached the Conscience Fund, announcement of the amount sent and the nature of the confession is made in the newspapers of the city or town whence the letter was mailed. But no effort is made to discover the identity of the contributor. Many of the writers are women, but they do not send so much money to the Conscience Fund as the men. Their transgressions, as a rule, involve small transactions. The largest contributions come from smugglers. The remainder is received from persons who have used canceled stamps, or who have sent first-class mail under third-class rates, or persons who have actually stolen articles from Government buildings, forts, or reservations. Faith in Fellowmen Awakened. A curious fact in regard to the action of many of these penitents is that, having become awakened to a sense of high ethics, their distrust of others vanishes. This is not a universal trait among the contributors to the Conscience Fund, but there have been many conspicuous examples of it. The Treasury Department receives daily about ten thousand letters. One morning, in 1905, there was received in the mail at this department a package in manila paper, folded to resemble an ordinary official-size envelope. It bore several two-cent stamps, but no more than was necessary to carry it, and nothing whatever to indicate its contents. It was the sort of package which might be expected to contain the vouchers of some claimant or subordinate official. When the contents were shaken out, twelve thousand dollars in paper money lay on the desk of the astonished clerk. The letter accompanying this contribu tion to the Conscience Fund read as follows. Shaw, Secretary of the Treasury, Dear Sir: I am sending you herewith twelve thousand dollars, which is to go to the use of the United States government. Years ago I defrauded the government of money, but have returned it all, and now am paying fourfold, in accordance with the teachings of the Scriptures. The way of the transgressor is hard, but no one but God knows how I have suffered the consequences, and I would seek to do a bountiful restoration. May God pardon while the United States government is benefited. That letter was simply signed 'A Sinner,' which is a common signature to these interesting confessions. Of an entirely different turn of mind was a penitent a few years ago, who sent in eight thousand dollars to the Conscience Fund. He tore the bills making up this sum exactly in half, and sent the first instalment to the keeper of the Conscience Fund, saying that if the government would acknowledge its receipt, he would forward the other half. True to his word, upon receipt of the Federal acknowledgment, he mailed the necessary fragments of the bills. Pieced together, these were, of course, as good as gold, and the Conscience Fund was materially increased. To His Majesty, the President. While the contributions and the interesting letters connected with them are the source of some merriment, the whole custom and institution is a very serious one to a majority, if not to all, the penitents. Many of the letters reveal a condition of poignant remorse. Some of them are pathetic in the genuineness and simplicity of the suffering revealed. One letter that deeply impressed the officials of the Treasury Department was from a little girl fifteen years of age. It was during the administration of President Cleveland. The child's letter disclosed intelligence and keen regret for using two canceled postage stamps. The missive read. To His Majesty, President Cleveland, Dear President: I am in a dreadful state of mind, and I thought I would write and tell you all. About two years ago—as near as I can remember, it was two years—I used two postage stamps that had been used before on letters, perhaps more than two stamps, but I can only remember of doing it twice. I did not realize what I had done until lately. My mind is constantly turned on that subject, and I think of it night and day. Now, dear President, will you please forgive me, and I promise you I will never do it again? Enclosed find cost of three stamps. Please forgive me, for I was then but thirteen years old, for I am heartily sorry for what I have done. From One of Your Subjects. That was from a child. Here is a letter from a woman of evident cultivation. It was dated at Roanoke, October 12, 1905, and was sent to the President of the United States. Dear Sir: Though I disapprove as heartily as you of the recent tariff laws, I think it the duty of every honest man to declare fully the value of articles subject to the same, as he can only avoid doing so by perjuring himself. I did so when I returned from Europe, with the exception of a few trifles, which, if examined, would have involved the putting about the contents of my trunk to the injury of my property. I hope that you will use your influence to have the present tariff laws changed. I hope this less on account of economic ignorance which they display than because of the terrible demoralizations which they have powerfully aided to bring about. The Shadow of the Great Hereafter. From Pleasant Lake, North Dakota, came a registered letter which contained ten dollars. An accompanying note was evidently in the handwriting of a very old man. He added the pathetic postscript: 'There is a lot more due in the near future. All of us become honest as we near the Great Hereafter. I need only sign my name as 'Conscience.' ' Collectors of customs throughout the United States, and particularly along the Canadian border, frequently receive sums of money sent to them anonymously, with the request that they be forwarded to the Conscience Fund at Washington. Some of these officials state that passengers, including fashionably dressed women, come hurriedly into the office of the collector, nervously hand in sums of money to relieve their conscience, and depart without any explanation other than at some previous time they have smuggled goods into the country. The largest sum, briefly referred to above, was for fourteen thousand two hundred and twenty-five dollars and fifteen cents. It was sent to the Conscience Fund by the Rev. Prebendary Bariff, Vicar of St. Giles' Church, Cripplegate, London, who explained that the sum was entrusted to him by a person who declined to disclose his identity, but who said that he had come into the possession of that amount by defrauding the United States government. Some of the penitents confess to odd offenses. A Chicago man sent one dollar to the Conscience Fund with the statement that years before he had taken a small apple-tree from the government orchard at Fort Sheridan, and that he now wished to make compensation for it. A few weeks ago Secretary Shaw received a letter from the West, stating that many years before the writer had stolen two sheets and a pillow-case from an Indian school. This penitent also sent one dollar to cover the value of the stolen goods. Five Cents From Kansas. During the administration of the late President McKinley, a Kansas man sent five cents to the United States Treasury to be added to the Conscience Fund. His note said. Enclosed please find three dollars, the amount of which I did not defraud the government of, but only a few small coins, but I will send more to give peace to my tortured conscience. The act was committed in childhood. Remorse has taken hold of me, and I cannot rest. Who but God, my Heavenly Father, has made me do this? Oh, that I may feel that I am forgiven, for God, my Heavenly Father, knows I would not do such a thing now. Forgive me for withholding my name. If I were face to face with you, I would not hesitate to tell you, but I have other reasons. Pray for me, too. May God bless you and yours. Please do not publish this. But, still, how am I ever to find out that you received it? I trust the Lord will take care of it. Unhappy Penitent. P.S.—Ezekiel 23d chap., 15th verse. The Conscience Fund is presided over by E.B. Daskam, chief of the Division of Public Moneys. All these quaint and tragic records of the quickening of conscience in America are carefully filed away. While a separate record is kept of the Conscience Fund, the money constituting it is placed in the Government's big vaults and becomes a part of the nation's finances. It has been suggested that an act of Congress be passed setting aside this particular fund for some national benevolence. HOCH, DER GOVERNOR OF KANSAS. Taken to Task by a Recalcitrant Legislature Because He Said 'Set 'Em Up,' He Talks of Things That May Happen on Resurrection Morn. Governor Edward Wallis Hoch, of Kansas, is a big man, with a slow manner and a keen sense of humor. Born fifty-seven years ago in Kentucky, as soon as he had graduated from a freshwater college he moved westward. At twenty-five he found himself editor and proprietor of a country weekly in Kansas; and the step from journalism to politics proved an easy one. When Hoch talks about 'trust-busting' legislation he speaks quietly and seriously, with shrewdness and intelligence. At other times he is capable of enlivening the dull routine of official work with a touch of unconventional pleasantry. During the recent legislative eruption at Topeka one of the more impetuous representatives introduced a bill which had already been passed. The Governor vetoed it, remarking that it was up to the representative to 'set 'em up.' A member of the opposition, thinking that this was a dangerous expression for the Governor of a prohibition State to use, had a resolution adopted calling on the Governor to explain. Governor Hoch was extremely busy, but he disentangled his signing hand from the pile of bills before him long enough to dash off the following reply. To the Senate—I am in receipt of Senate Resolution No. 40, introduced by the Senator from Atchison County, requesting me to explain what was meant by the term 'set 'em up,' as used in my veto message of Senate Bill No. This expression, used playfully, and without having any particular meaning, and possibly hardly comporting with the dignity of your body, seems to have had, if not a good, at least an unexpected effect, in that it has caused the emaciated corpse of the Kansas Democracy to take on the semblance of life and sit up and take notice. The belief in miracles is here strengthened by absolute proof, showing that the proper call will restore animation to the dead. If the Angel Gabriel, standing with one foot on land and one on sea, were to blow such a blast from his trumpet that the mountains should rock to their bases, the Democratic party of Kansas would probably sleep on undisturbed, but if he were even to whisper the magic words 'set 'em up,' the grave of this moribund organization would give up its dead, and from the entire aggregation, headed by the talented and handsome Senator from Atchison, would come the answer in swelling chorus, 'We will take the same.' Hoch, Governor. ALL KINDS OF THINGS. Curious Letters That Enliven the Prosaic Records of the United States Post-Office Department—The Human Nose as a Sign-Board of Character—The Origin of Lynch Law—Amusing Extracts From Old-Time Newspapers—The First Self-Made American—The Comparative Longevity of Various Callings—With Other Interesting Items From Many Sources. HUMOROUS SIDE OF THE POSTAL SERVICE. ILLITERACY OF RURAL OFFICIALS. Fourth-Class Postmasters Sometimes Write Queer Letters, Telling Their Troubles to the Department. The eagerness with which fourth-class postmasterships are sought seems strange when one remembers that the salaries are small and the duties often exacting. No fourth-class postmaster receives more than a thousand dollars a year. More than half of them receive less than a hundred dollars a year; fourteen thousand receive less than fifty dollars a year; and hundreds of them receive ten or twelve dollars a year. Castle, former auditor for the Post-Office Department, recently contributed to the Sunday Magazine an article filled with curious information concerning the fourth-class postmaster and his idiosyncrasies. Here, for example, is a facetious letter from an Illinois postmaster who for some time had been vainly trying to resign. But anyhow, this time I am unanimously through fiddling about it, and this here 'leventh and last resignation of mine has got to be accepted, let the chips fall where they may. Along about four o'clock this afternoon a passel of our best citizens informed me in no uncertain tones that if I wasn't up and gone by midnight they 'lowed to tar and feather and rail-ride me out of our law-abidin' little city, for a small matter that it ain't necessary for me to go into details at present; and a spell ago a friend let me know that they had reconsidered to the extent of decidin' to make it nine o'clock instead of midnight, and were already a-bilin' of the tar. So you can see for yourself that it is high time for me to step down and out. No more at present from Yours truly, T.J. P.S.—It's eight-forty-two right now, and I'm gone. An Arkansas postmaster expressed as follows his delight in his appointment. Generall Sir, I have a complaint against the citty of gilead the police crippled me. In 1901 committ no offense and the city fathers there humbugged me, and drove me out of town contrary to the laws of christ, moses, and the profets, and all nations, tribes, and clans. So i pray you to lift your finger and do something about it, i want to get paid for my property. I was up in tenicee to beg the price of a suit of clows but i am back now and want them to settle that claim with me. P.S.—i tried to get before the last Congris and i got in the workhouse. And again, here is a letter from a local official who dreads the invasion of rural free delivery. Poastmaster General, Sir as this Tock of Rheual free Delivery has Got up heare and so many is Dissathisfide is the cause of the Patrishon Being sent you and if you will Nodes, you will See that Several Names Appear on Boath Patrishons and About Nine out of Every Ten that Assign for Rheual Free Delivery Mail Surves is Dissathisfide and doant want hit and Ses they wars Fool and Lyde in to sign the Patrishon for Rheual Free Delivery. The ignorance and illiteracy of these postmasters is not typical. The cases are really exceptional. Yet there are many official eccentricities. There is, for example, the old story of postmasters who persistently peruse private postal cards—and this propensity is so common, or is supposed to be so common, that it has even been celebrated in verse. In a village post-office Miss Peek Had a job at six dollars a week; But she near had a fit And threatened to quit When a postal came written in Greek. A MAN'S CHARACTER IS AS HIS NOSE IS. SIZE AND SHAPE ARE SIGNIFICANT. He Who Knows His Nose May Quickly Determine Whether His Traits Are Those of Greatness or Mediocrity. The nose, according to physiognomists, is one of the most important features. It tells its story of character like the eye and the mouth. Its size and its shape have their significance. Studying the faces of men and women prominent in past history the following interpretation of the language of noses has been made. Lynch law takes its name from the stern and summary act of one James Lynch Fitz-Stephen, a merchant of the Irish town of Galway, and, in 1526, its mayor or warden. The son of this Lynch Fitz-Stephen, having committed a foul murder, his father, exercising his authority as warden, had him arrested and brought for trial before himself. The father, on conviction, Brutus-like, sentenced the son to death, and fearing a rescue from the prison, caused him to be brought home and to be hanged before his own door. More or less apocryphal is this story from Ireland. The explanation most generally accepted refers the term back to a planter who lived in what is now known as the Piedmont country of Virginia. At the time his district was the western frontier, and having no law of its own, and being seven miles from the nearest court of criminal jurisdiction, controversies were constantly referred to men of sound judgment and impartiality, whose decisions were regarded as final. Prominent among these was Charles Lynch. His awards exhibited so much justice, judgment, and impartiality, that he was known throughout the country as Judge Lynch. In the course of time criminals were brought before him, and he awarded such punishment as he considered just and proper. There were other persons, in different districts, who acted as arbitrators, and who awarded punishments; but Judge Lynch was the most conspicuous, and consequently the system took his name, and was called Lynch law. This was a compliment to his integrity and high character. In England Lynch law was formerly called Lydford law. In Scotland it was known as Cowper law. THE SORT OF NEWS OUR ANCESTORS READ. GLEANINGS FROM OLD JOURNALS. Runaway Slaves Delighted Hearts of Advertising Managers, and Antics of Militia Excited Applause. Old newspapers make good reading—if they are old enough. Like the deciphering of moss-covered epitaphs, the reading of journals of other days gives rise to reflections that mingle the sweet with the sad. It shows plainly that time does not alter human nature, much as customs may change. The American Weekly Mercury was formerly published in Philadelphia. An examination of the issue for November 29, 1722, brings to light this interesting advertisement. Run away from Ezekiel Balding of Hempstead on Long-Island, one Indian Man Slave, named Dick, of Middle Stature and of a smiling Countenance. He speaks English pretty well, and no other Language. He has a big nose, and has white scratches on his Arm, and a blue spot on the Inside of one of his Wrists, and a little above his Shirt wrist-bands. He run away about the Beginning of September, and had a homespun Shirt and a dark coloured Drugget Coat. We have been informed, that he intended to get into Indian-habit. Others tell, that he has said he would go towards New London and Rhode-Island, and so to Sea. Whoever can take up the said Indian Man, and secure him, and give Notice to his Master so that he can be had again shall have Three Pounds Reward, besides reasonable Charges. Whether Dick was ever caught may never be known, for he seems to have made no deep impression on history, though his 'smiling Countenance' is here immortalized. Another Indian receives mention for another reason in the issue for September 2, 1723, the item coming from Boston. On Monday Night last at Judge Sewall's, and the Night following at Judge Dudley's, was entertained one of the oldest Indians in New-England; John Quittamog, living in the Nipmug Countrey, near Woodstock. He is reckoned to be above One Hundred and Twelve Years old. The English Inhabitants of Woodstock remember him as a very old Man for near Forty Years past, and that he has all along affirmed and which he still affirms, that he was at Boston when the English first arrived; and when there was but One Cellar in the Place, and that near the Common, and then brought down a Bushel and a half of Corn upon his Back. He says that the Massachusetts Indians sent up word to the Nipmugs, that if they had any Corn to spare the English wanted it, and it would be worth their while to bring some of it down. He is now in good Health, and has his Understanding and Memory very entire, considering his great Age, and is capable of Traveling on Foot Ten Miles in a Day. The year 1723 seems nearly as far back to us as the year in which the English first settled on Boston Harbor. But Judge Sewall and Judge Dudley and their friends considered John Quittamog as interesting as we should consider a man, still living, who had witnessed the duel between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr. The genial 'neighborhood note' style of journalism is in evidence in this item from Boston in the issue for November 20, 1721. Whereas Mathew Burne of Chester County served John Camm two Years (that is ten or twelve months) at Stocking weaving and other work, during which time John Camms Stockings bore many Reflections and now the said Mathew Burne goes about Selling Stockings in John Camms name as though they were his make, which is false and not True. For incoherence Mr. Camm's English is a match for the printed request which, within a few years, was attached to the doors of a hotel at Lexington, Ky.: 'Guests are respectfully requested, if either leaves the room before the other is up, to lock and bolt the door again immediately upon his departure.' FIRST SELF-MADE MAN IN THIS COUNTRY. WAS INVENTOR OF THE SEXTANT. Thomas Godfrey Got a Valuable Idea by Noting the Reflection of the Sun from a Pail of Water. Thomas Godfrey was probably the first self-made man in America. Born in 1704, he died in 1749. He was a glazier by trade, but he had naturally an interest in mathematics, and he learned Latin in order that he might read certain scientific treatises. His reputation rests on an improvement which he made in the quadrant of John Davies. What Godfrey really did was to invent the sextant. John Hadley also invented a sextant, evidently carrying out a suggestion of Newton's which was found in Sir Isaac's original draft among Hadley's papers after his death. Godfrey antedated Hadley by about one year, but for a long time his claims were not recognized, and Hadley received all the credit. How the humble glazier received his first inspiration to design the instrument of so great use to mariners is an interesting story. One day, while replacing a pane of glass in a window of a house on the north side of Arch Street, in Philadelphia, opposite a pump, a girl, after filling her pail, placed it upon the sidewalk. Godfrey, on turning toward it, saw the sun reflected from the window on which he had been at work, into the bucket of water, and his philosophic mind seizing upon the incident, was thus led to combine the plan of an instrument by which he could draw the sun down to the horizon, by a contrivance incomparably superior to any that had ever before been used for the purpose of ascertaining angular measurements. EUROPEAN MONARCHS WHO SMOKE TOBACCO. KING EDWARD'S BRIER-ROOT PIPE. Almost All the European Monarchs Indulge in Cigars, Pipes, or Cigarettes, Except King Oscar of Sweden. King James I of England, that 'wisest fool in Christendom,' was a monarch who inveighed against the 'Virginia weed' in vain. His 'Counter-blast Against Tobacco' was a famous book in its day. Yet to-day there is scarcely a king in Europe who does not smoke. The Paris Figaro has collected statistics as to smoking by royalty, and the Literary Digest translates the item. The King of England almost always has a cigar in his mouth, but when with his intimate friends he puffs a short brier-root pipe. The Emperor of Germany is forbidden by his physicians to touch tobacco, but sometimes he lights a cigarette and throws it away when half smoked. King Carlos smokes superb cigars, golden-brown and fragrant, and of Portuguese make. Alphonso XIII prefers cigarettes to cigars, and Nicholas II consumes daily about thirty cigarettes of the Russian variety. Emperor Francis Joseph, in spite of his advanced age, smokes a pipe from morning to night, and King Leopold smokes about twelve cigars a day. Victor Emanuel III smokes very little, and is satisfied with a few cigarettes daily, but King Oscar of Sweden does not use tobacco at all. MAN'S LIFE AS AFFECTED BY HIS VOCATION. SOME LONG-LIVED PROFESSIONS. Musical Composers and Men of Letters Are Shown to Be the Most Likely to Reach a Sound Old Age. The Psalmist's 'threescore years and ten' are not the average man's life, but are named as the average limit of those who arrived at a normal old age. The average life of men in various occupations appears in the appended table. The sign of addition (+) is derived from the initial letter of the word plus. In making the capital letter, it was made more and more carelessly, until the top part of the P was placed near the center; and hence the plus sign was finally reached. The sign of subtraction (-) was derived from the word minus. The word was first contracted into m n s, with a horizontal line above to indicate the contraction; then the letters were omitted, which left the short line. The multiplication sign (×) was obtained by changing the plus sign into the letter X. This was done because multiplication is a short method of addition. Division (÷) was formerly indicated by placing the dividend above a horizontal and the divisor below. In order to save space in printing, the dividend was placed to the left and the divisor to the right, and a dot was written in the place of each. The radical sign (√) was derived from the initial letter of the word radix. The sign of equality (=) was first used to avoid repeating the words 'equal to' or 'equals.' HOUSEHOLD GODS IN TRANSIT. Two Lyrics Which Describe Some of the Vicissitudes of Those Who Seek New Dwellings and Give Employment to Furniture Vans. Tardy the offering is and weak; Yet were I happy if I knew These children had the power to speak My love and gratitude to you. The Personal Character of the Czar. By FRANK MARSHALL WHITE. Trained Observers of Men Describe the Impressions Made Upon Them by the Ruler of the Russian People, But No Two Agree in Their Estimates of the Man Behind the Mask. Compiled and edited for The Scrap Book. In the present crisis in Russia the actual character of the Czar is a matter of unusual interest to the world at large, since he is one of the factors to be considered in predicting the outcome of the most tremendous social and political upheaval of the time. It is difficult enough for the person whose acquaintance with the rulers of the earth is through the public prints to obtain an idea of the individuality of any one of the reigning monarchs, though we appraise many of them with confidence—if not with accuracy. For instance, the popular conception of Edward of England is that of an affable gentleman, with a fondness for pageantry and show, and tastes that lead him to the race-track rather than to the library. Most of us believe William of Germany to be a cocky little chap, of tireless energy, who makes all knowledge his province in the intervals of being photographed and changing his uniforms, and who pays personal attention to the fireworks that invariably illumine his progress. We consider Oscar of Sweden to be a man of scholarly tastes, who would rather write books than rule, and too modern in his ideas to make a regal figure on the throne. We think of the aged Emperor of Austria as a pathetic figure, a man of naturally kindly disposition, after a long life into which has entered almost every element of tragedy and unhappiness, ending his career an object of obloquy to many of his subjects. A pathetic figure also, to our minds, is young Alfonso of Spain, upon whom are visited the sins of his fathers, who was born literally in a cabinet meeting, and in all the twenty years of his life has scarcely been out of sight of his mother or one of his guardians, and who begged in vain for only one day to himself, incognito, during his recent visit to Paris, as the greatest possible boon. We know of the personal attributes of several other monarchs—that Carlos of Portugal is as likely as any of his contemporaries to meet the fate of Henry I of England; that Leopold of the Belgians is not to be mentioned in polite society; that Victor Emmanuel of Italy is a serious young man who believes that his first duty is to his country instead of to himself. Mystery Enshrouds Czar and Sultan. With the foregoing sovereigns we find evidence as to their habits and disposition in the same direction. Of the Czar, however, as of Abdul Hamid of Turkey—who is described by one set of biographers as a high-minded and scholarly recluse, and by others as a sodden and fear-shaken sensualist—we have two pictures at variance with each other in almost every particular. It may prove interesting, therefore, under existing conditions, to compare some recorded impressions of Nicholas II, as made by him upon various persons who have been brought into contact with him. In the World of To-Day, for January, William T. Stead, editor of the Review of Reviews, of London, one of the ablest and best-known journalists of his time, and who recently had a personal interview with the Czar, writes of him thus. The question as to his intelligent grasp of the facts of the situation with which he has to deal is one upon which those who are admitted to the intimacy of his councils can speak with authority. It is one, however, upon which those who have never heard him speak are often the most confident. I can speak with some assurance on this matter, although it is one on which it ought not to be necessary to speak at all. But I have seen many men, crowned and uncrowned, in the course of a tolerably long and varied journalistic career. I have had four opportunities of talking with Nicholas II. Altogether I have spent many hours alone with him. Our conversation never flagged. It did not turn upon the weather, but upon serious topics both at home and abroad, in which I was intimately concerned and intensely interested. Hence I have at least had ample materials for forming judgment, and few people have had more of the experience of contemporaries necessary to compare my impressions. I have no hesitation in saying that I have seldom in the course of thirty years met any man so quick in the uptake, so bright in his mental perception, so sympathetic in his understanding, or one possessing a wider range of intellectual interest. Neither have I ever met any one man or woman who impressed me more with the crystalline sincerity of his soul. Of his personal charm, of his quick sense of humor, of the genial sense of good-fellowship by which he puts you at once at your ease, I do not need to speak. A Former Instructor's Impression. Stead's view partly corroborates that of a fellow-journalist, Brayley Hodgetts, who, in England, is considered an authority on Russian affairs, having received his earlier education in that country and lived there many years. Hodgetts wrote of the Czar in the Pall Mall Gazette, just before the war with Japan, as follows. A very great friend of mine was one of his instructors, and when discussing in moments of confidence the character of his imperial pupil I never once heard him speak of him otherwise than in the language of sincere affection. He always used in referring to him the Russian expression oomnitza, meaning that he was wise and diligent. It seems that he always showed great application, and also an imperial aptitude for acquiring knowledge; but, above all things, what struck my friend most was his high and noble sense of duty. 'I have seen this young man, with his pathetically earnest face, grow up.' 'When the time was ripe he was made a member of the Imperial Council, a sort of bureaucratic parliament in which the ministers of the empire and the various higher officials and privy councilors debate the measures which it is proposed to introduce. In this assembly the young heir apparent early manifested a quiet tact and wisdom which showed him to be a born ruler of men.' 'Nothing Disconcerts Him.' Dillon, the St. Petersburg correspondent of the London Daily Telegraph, who visited the United States last summer to report the proceedings of the Portsmouth peace conference, telegraphed to his paper immediately after 'Bloody Sunday' in January of last year. If the emperor has changed his place of residence several times of late, he acted solely out of consideration for others, not from any sense of personal insecurity. It is only fair to him to say that he is absolutely calm and unmoved as he was after the intelligence had arrived that ninety thousand men had been wounded or killed on the Sha River. Nothing disconcerts his majesty. A person who has spoken with him several times during the eventful days of this week assures me that he was less concerned, less preoccupied, on Sunday and Monday than was General Grant or Von Moltke before one of their critical engagements. Just before signing to-day's ukase abolishing civil powers and administration and appointing Trepoff governor-general, his majesty was whistling a lively air in his apartments in the palace. As Seen by Two American Business Men. One of New York's foremost men of affairs, Charles R. Flint, who visited Russia last spring with a view to making an inquiry into the industrial possibilities of the country, was thus quoted in the Herald on his return in June last. The emperor impressed me as a man of extraordinarily quick perception and of broad intelligence. His memory also is marvelous, which I believe is a characteristic of the Romanoffs. It was just after it had become generally known in St. Petersburg that the Czar had taken an unalterable stand on the question of indemnity, and while the issue of peace or the continuation of the war was hanging in the balance, that I was accorded an interview with him. I may say that his imperial poise, his kinglike dignity, in this tremendous crisis in the affairs of his empire, was what impressed me most. Lewis Nixon, who has recently been in Russia constructing torpedo-boats, and who talked with the Czar at Tsar-koye-Selo so short a time ago as last December, says of him, according to the Sun. Well, a man of his rank and power naturally creates a great impression on one. The Czar is a man of remarkable intelligence. White's Somber Picture. Not every one who has been brought into personal contact with the Czar names him but to praise, however. In an article that appeared in the Century Magazine just after the beginning of the war with Japan, Andrew D. White, who as minister to Russia during Harrison's administration saw something of the Czar before he succeeded to the throne; says of him. I was told by a person who had known him intimately from his childhood that, though courteous, his main characteristic was an absolute indifference to all persons and things about him, and that he never showed any application to business or a spark of ambition of any sort. This was confirmed by what I afterward saw of him at court. He seemed to stand about listlessly, speaking in a good-natured way to this or that person when it was easier than not to do so, but, on the whole, indifferent to all that went on about him. After his ascension to the throne, one of the ablest judges in Europe, who had every opportunity to observe him closely, said to me: 'He knows nothing of his empire or of his people; he never goes out of his house if he can help it.' Referring to the denationalization of Finland, in the same article Mr. It is the saddest spectacle of our time. Former emperors, however much they have wished to do so, have not dared break their oaths to Finland, but the present weakling sovereign, in his indifference, carelessness, and absolute unfitness to rule, has allowed the dominant reactionary clique about him to accomplish its own good pleasure. Scathing Censure From Tolstoy. White alone in expressing an uncomplimentary opinion of the Czar. In an article published in the Free Age Press, of England, last August, Count Tolstoy, in acquitting his emperor of the charge of bringing about the war, declares. About Nicholas II, I do know that he is a most commonplace man, standing lower than the average level, coarsely superstitious and unenlightened, and therefore who could not in himself possibly be the cause of those events, enormous in their scope and consequence, which are now taking place in the Far East. Can it be possible that the activity of millions of men should be directed against their will and interest merely because this is desired by a man in every respect standing lower than the intellectual and moral level of all those who are perishing as it seems by his will? Two other Russians, both anonymous—Tolstoy being the only man in Russia who dares openly speak his mind about the throne and its occupant—but whose standing is guaranteed by the publications in which their articles appear, have written of their hereditary ruler in much the same strain. The first of these articles was published in the London Quarterly Review after the beginning of the war, the author, according to the editor of the review, being 'a Russian official of high rank.' This writer devotes several pages to a bitter denunciation of the Czar and his entourage. Of Nicholas he says. Unsteady and Self-Complacent. Unsteady, half-hearted, self-complacent and fickle, he changes his favorites with his fitful moods, allowing a band of casual, obscure, and dangerous men to usurp the functions of his responsible ministers, whose recommendations are ignored, whose warnings are disregarded, and whose measures for the defense of the state are not only baffled but resented as symptoms of disobedience. The other anonymous article appeared in the National Review, of London, last May. The author of it says. The leader of the nation during this terrible crisis is a sickly youth of arrested development and morbid will, whose inability to govern might pass unnoticed if he would but allow any man of intellect or will-power to grapple with the warring elements. This, however, he refuses to permit, while allotting to obscure soldiers and seaman, tricksters and money-grabbers, a share of the supreme power, to the detriment of the nation. The mental and moral impotency of this well-intentioned marplot, who cannot be said to have had even experience, unless ten years of uniform failure could impart it, is one of the commonplaces of conversation in town and country. Even the rough and ready drosky drivers say of him that he has been thrust among rulers like a pestle among spoons. Yet apprised of his impotence by the 'boudoir council,' he wishes to will, and he takes the volition for the deed. No occurrence, no event makes a lasting impression on his mind. Abroad, our armies may be scattered, our ships sunk, our credit ruined; he is serene in spite of all. At home the whole framework of society may be going to pieces; Nicholas sits still and fondly annotates state papers, a very Narcissus of the inkpot. Only a short time before this article appeared the Times had published an interview, obtained by its Paris correspondent with 'a prominent European diplomat just arrived from St. Petersburg,' who described the Czar as 'a little, commonplace, family man, never happier than when playing with his children in their nursery, and quite unequal to the task of government.' The diplomat added that the autocrat of all the Russias was so afraid of the present Count Witte (who was then plain monsieur) that he trembled when the minister came into his presence. In endeavoring to arrive at a conclusion as to the real character of the Czar from the mass of conflicting evidence cited, it is essential to consider the relation of the witnesses to the subject of our inquiry, in order to ascertain if their testimony is likely to be prejudiced, consciously or otherwise, for or against him. It should be borne in mind, in the first place, that so effective are the artificial adjuncts that lend grandeur to the occupant of a throne it sometimes occurs that a visitor unaccustomed to such environments is unable to retain the complete use of his ordinary faculties. The Majesty That Hedges a King. A fish sat him down with a blink to think, And dipped his fin thoughtfully into the ink; Then finned this short note: 'Dear Tommy,' he wrote, 'In response to your line of the other day I hasten to thank you without delay. But had not that squirming, delicious young worm Shown a set in his curves too suspiciously firm, I might not be here To write you, my dear (What you may not believe, 'tis so monstrously queer), That the wriggler you sent With most kindly intent Had swallowed a pin that was frightfully bent! Three fishers strolled into the beer saloon, Where the crowd sat round and the gas was bright, And each gaily whistled a merry tune, And showed his fish with assumed delight, For men will fish, yea, and men will lie, And boast of catching the fish they buy, While inwardly they're groaning. BULLS IN PARLIAMENT. Some of the Mixed Metaphors Perpetrated in the English House of Commons Have Afforded Amusement for the Entire World. For many years there has been an impression that the linguistic bull is a distinctively Irish animal. The fame of Paddy Bull is world-wide, but the fact is he often is compelled to answer for the sins of his neighbor, Johnnie Bull, who, as a perpetrator of mixed metaphors, is without a peer. In no deliberative body in the world is the mixed metaphor so much in its element as in the British House of Commons. As examples of its activity in that institution, London Tit-Bits submits the following list. 'Sir, we are told that by this legislation the heart of the country has been shaken to its very foundations.' 'Among the many jarring notes heard in this House on military affairs, this subject at least must be regarded as an oasis.' 'The interests of the employers and employed are the same nine times out of ten—I will even say ninety-nine times out of ten.' 'Our tongues are tied, our hands are fettered, and we are really beating the air to no purpose.' 'I will now repeat what I was about to say when the honorable member interrupted me.' 'The West Indies will now have a future which they never had in the past.' 'A thorny subject which has long been a bone of contention among us.' 'A slumbering volcano which at any moment a spark might set aflame.' 'The honorable member would denude us of every rag of the principles which we have proclaimed from the housetops.' The honorable member opposite shakes his head at that. But he can't shake mine!' A well-known member of Parliament informed the House that an 'oral agreement is not worth the paper it is written on.' Barristers are usually credited with possessing accuracy of speech, but some expressions recently reported indicate that they are capable of a blundering use of words. A member of the bar, in his opening speech for the defense, said: 'Gentlemen of the jury, the case for the crown is a mere skeleton, for, as I shall presently show you, it has neither flesh, blood, nor bones in it.' But a Leeds barrister outdid his competitors when he said fervidly: 'Gentlemen of the jury, it will be for you to say whether this defendant shall be allowed to come into court with unblushing footsteps, with the cloak of hypocrisy in his mouth, and take three bullocks out of my client's pocket with impunity.' In his 'One Thousand and One Anecdotes' Alfred H. Miles records some exceptionally amusing bulls. Among these are the following. Sir Boyle Roche described himself on one occasion as 'standing prostrate at the feet of royalty'; and, in the days of threatened rebellion, wrote to a friend: 'You may judge of our state when I tell you that I write this with a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other.' Even worse than the foregoing was the climax of an honorable member's speech in the House of Commons: 'I smell a rat; I see it floating in the air; and, by heaven, I'll nip it in the bud!' A Scotchwoman said that the butcher of her town only killed half a beast at a time. A British magistrate, on being told by a vagabond that he was not married, responded: 'That's a good thing for your wife.' A Portuguese mayor enumerated, among the marks by which the body of a drowned man might be identified when found, 'a marked impediment in his speech.' A Frenchman, contentedly laying his head upon a large stone jar for a pillow, said it was not hard because he had previously stuffed it with hay. An American lecturer solemnly said one evening: 'Parents, you may have children; or, if not, your daughters may have.' Two Scotchmen were discussing the relative merits of churchyards and cemeteries when one of them boldly expressed his aversion to the latter in the remark, 'I'd raither no dee ava than be buried in sic a place'; to which his companion retorted, 'Weel, if I'm spared in life an' health, I'll gang naewhere else.' The Part of Chance in Progress. Fortunate Accidents Frequently Have Opened the Way to the Discovery of Important Truths Before the Searchlights of Science and Invention Were Brought Into Play. Nature has her own ways of telling her secrets to man, and the commonest of those ways is what man chooses to call chance or accident. The words are convenient names and that is about all we know of the phenomena which they are used to describe. Below are given the stories of a number of important discoveries made by accident. Perhaps it will occur to the reader that none of the discoveries was really accidental, since in each case it was the witnessing of the accident by an intelligent human being which aroused in the mind of that human being the train of thought leading to the discovery. An Australian black might watch a swaying chandelier for ten years, and he would never discover the pendulum. As a rule, special knowledge is required to make 'discoveries by accident.' But the apparent working of chance in the incidents told here is obvious. The Anthropophagus has quitted his den.—March 10. The Corsican Ogre has landed at Cape Juan.—March 11. The Tiger has arrived at Gap.—March 12. The Monster slept at Grenoble.—March 13. The Tyrant has passed through Lyons.—March 14. The Usurper is directing his steps toward Dijon, but the brave and loyal Burgundians have risen en masse, and surrounded him on all sides.—March 18. Bonaparte is only sixty leagues from the capital; he has been fortunate enough to escape the hands of his pursuers.—March 19. Bonaparte is advancing with rapid steps, but he will never enter Paris.—March 20. Napoleon will, to-morrow, be under our ramparts.—March 21. The Emperor is at Fontainebleau.—March 22. His Imperial and Royal Majesty yesterday evening arrived at the Tuileries, amid the joyful acclamations of his devoted and faithful subjects. The Story of the Snow Elinora. A True Tale of the South Seas That Tells of the Remarkable Experience of an American Trading-Vessel and Its Skipper's Terrible Revenge, More Than a Century Ago. At the time that Commodore Dewey's squadron hurled its showers of lead and steel upon the doomed ships of the Spanish admiral in Manila Bay, scores of mushroom bards uncovered their lyres and described the sensations of the echoes that had the honor of bearing, 'for the first time in the history of the world,' the sounds of Yankee guns among the startled islands of the Pacific. But the bards were wrong. The echoes performed that office during the first administration of George Washington as President of the United States. The incident is one which apparently has escaped the notice of historians, else it would have been recalled shortly before the close of last year when political circles in France were somewhat fluttered by a rumor that as a result of a series of secret negotiations the French government had expressed its willingness to sell to the United States the island of Tahiti. The rumor was soon denied officially, but in the meantime thousands of Americans had taken down their atlases, looked up the situation of the island, and asked themselves what the United States wanted with it anyway. But there was a little story concerning the island of Tahiti, formerly known as Otaheite, that the atlases and gazetteers did not give them—the story of a Yankee skipper's revenge. It tells how American guns commanded respect for the flag in the South Seas in the year 1790. The Yankee skipper was Captain Metcalfe, who then was in command of an armed trading vessel named the Elinora. The Elinora was a snow—which, it may be worth while to explain, was an old-fashioned variety of brig. Her crew consisted of Americans, Portuguese, and some natives picked up at Manila. The account of the remarkable adventure is printed in The Gentleman's Magazine, published in London, April, 1791. The writer, who was one of the officers of the Elinora at the time, relates his story with brutal frankness, and his narration resulted in a vast deal of comment abroad that was somewhat galling to the citizens of the new-born republic of the United States. The account, as published in The Gentleman's Magazine, is as follows. Story Told by an Officer. On or about the 30th of January, 1790, we anchored under Ladrone Mount, and commenced a trade with the natives for hogs, fruit, limes, fish, etc.; but not liking the situation, we weighed anchor and went two miles farther up into a bay, and came to anchor about 4 p.m. At eleven or twelve o'clock, midnight, some of the natives swam off and cut away the cutter from astern. We discovered that she was missing, and immediately called all hands aft on the quarter-deck and found none missing except the man who was in her as boat-keeper. We then hoisted the small boat out to go in search of her, but found, on lowering her into the water, she leaked in such a manner as obliged us to hoist her in again, which rendered it impossible to search that night. On the preceding evening an old man requested permission to sleep on board, which was granted; but after missing the boat we put him in irons. When daylight approached, no canoes came off as usual, which confirmed our suspicions that they had cut the boat adrift. The women on board wished to go on shore. Captain Metcalfe told them they might go when they thought proper. They all immediately leaped into the water and swam to the shore, at least three miles' distance. The old man also requested leave to go, but leave was not granted him. In the afternoon two or three canoes came alongside, with presents from the chief, consisting of hogs and fruit; but they were not accepted. The last that came we ordered immediately away; but they paid little attention to it, until we fired musket-shots at them, which killed and wounded three or four. Tried to Sink Ship with Knife. Toward night a man swam from the shore to the cable, with a knife in his hand, and afterward swam under the ship's counter, where we saw him with the knife; he had once or twice dived under water and started a piece of copper off the ship's bottom, imagining, could he get the copper off, the ship would sink. Captain Metcalfe fired a pistol at him from the cabin window, but missed him. Three or four of the people jumped into the boat and caught him. After bringing him on board, Captain Metcalfe fully determined to hang him, ordering a rope to be rove at the fore-yardarm and the rope greased. But, by the persuasion of Mr. Chambers and myself, he concluded to save his life and keep him prisoner. The next day we observed four or five thousand people to come down opposite the ship, all armed with slings, spears, and arrows. At ten o'clock we hauled the ship within a quarter of a mile of the shore, and fired round and grape shot at them, and dislodged them from the village. At twelve o'clock I went on shore with the boat and six men, set fire to the village and morai (a place of worship). Some of them were seen very near, but, by constant firing from the ship, they did not attempt to attack us. I came on board and took some small water-casks to fill with water. But after landing (that attention not being paid to firing as before) the natives came down—great numbers, throwing their spears and stones, which obliged us to go on board again, our object unaccomplished. They then all went to the summit of a hill, thinking the shot from the ship could not reach them there. But we fired two guns with such good aim that they were soon convinced of their error, and immediately fled to the mountains and low ditches, where it was impossible for our shot to touch them. We then desisted from firing, hove up the anchors, and went farther up the bay in hope of completing our water. The Chief Accepted Ransom. Toward evening we again came to an anchor, and on the next morning two or three canoes came off, who were well treated, so that more came off and engaged to bring us water, and the captain purchased a small boy and girl for two axes and a few beads. After continuing here three or four days we weighed anchor and stood from the island. We had been under way about an hour and a half, with a light breeze, when the natives came in a canoe alongside and informed us that the chief of the people who had stolen the boat lived behind a point to the northward. We then hauled our wind, went around the point, and came to anchor. The next day a canoe came alongside with one of their chiefs. When he came on board we began to expostulate with him in order to recover our boat and the man. He told us that for a reward he would bring both of them. Captain Metcalfe offered him a musket, eight cartridges, one bar of iron, and a piece of Bengal cloth for the man, and the same for the boat, which he agreed to. The next morning he again came on board and said if we would send a boat on shore, or near the shore, he would bring the man. Immediately, by order of Captain Metcalfe, I armed the boat and went near the shore; but after waiting an hour, paying attention to their proceedings, and their not bringing the man, I returned on board. The chief then came off a second time and said if the boat went again we might depend upon getting the man. I armed the boat, and again went toward shore, where, after waiting half an hour, they sent a man, who swam to the boat, with the thigh bones of the man who was boat-keeper when they stole the boat. I received them and came on board, showed them to Captain Metcalfe, and threw them into the sea. A few minutes afterward the same chief came on board for the reward. It was given, and he was also told that if he brought the boat the reward should be given for that also, for he insisted that it was not hurt. Sacrificed Seaman to Gods. He then told us the manner in which they had killed the boat-keeper, as follows: That after cutting away the post, and she had drifted a distance from the ship, they got into her and found the man asleep; but he immediately awoke, and, seeing them, drew his knife upon them. They, however, overpowered him and took the knife from him, cut his head off, and took him on shore, and the next night burned him for a sacrifice to their gods. We judged the night they stole the boat they killed the man, and the next day burnt him (as the mountains seemed to be one continuous blaze), which is their custom on such occasions, but were not then positive of the above. After relating the story, he desired of the captain that the natives might come and trade as usual. Leave being granted, he went on shore, and just at sunset he came off again in a large double canoe with twenty-five women. But the captain, suspecting they had some design in the night to take the vessel, would not permit them to come on board. The day following, the canoes, as usual at the other islands, came alongside with hogs, fruit, limes, etc. The chief had told them they might come and trade without molestation. The chief came alongside, with two others, and had in their canoe the keel of the boat which they had stolen. After he came, he called and wanted the reward which was promised. Captain Metcalfe was informed of his being alongside, and of his having the boat's keel. He then came on deck and saw it, and, being then perfectly convinced of the man's being killed and the boat broken, made this expression—that, 'I will now give the reward they little expect.' The Captain Was Merciless. Chambers and myself endeavored to persuade the captain to entice the three chiefs on board, and afterward to hang them on the foreyard in view of the whole island; which might, perhaps, be sufficient warning for them in future never to attempt distressing any ships which might touch at their islands. But our persuasions were of no effect. He was fully determined to take the following means of punishing them: First, to decoy those canoes which were on the larboard to come to the starboard side, then to station one man to each post lanyard, and others down to the guns, between decks, while others on the quarter-deck were stationed at the swivels and four brass guns, and, when everything was in readiness, to fire immediately into the canoes all at one command. The guns that were below had on each of them a hundred musket-balls and fifty langrage nails. There were seven of the above guns, each containing the like quantity. The four guns on the quarter-deck had in them fifty balls each; some of the swivels had ten balls. Chambers and myself strongly insisted that this punishment was too severe, and only butchering a number of innocent women and children. But he replied, we were going to attempt taking the command of the ship from him, and that the orders should be obeyed, and immediately ordered every man to his station. The men wished to fire into the canoes, as the man whom they had killed was a Manila man and the crew were all Portuguese or Manila men. After the people were all stationed he gave orders to fire—and the whole broadside was aimed direct at the canoes. To attempt to describe the horrible scene that ensued is too much for my pen. The water alongside continued of a crimson color for at least ten minutes; some were sinking, others lying half out of their canoes, without arms or legs; while others lay in their canoes weltering in their blood. Although the appearance was so horrid, our people wished to get into the boats and use boarding-pikes to kill those in the water; but by severely punishing two or three they desisted from their dreadful purpose. The Harvest of Death. Some persons on board said they had counted the canoes before we fired, the number of which was two hundred and twelve; but I did not think they were above one hundred and seventy or eighty. The number killed, we then imagined, exceeded one hundred, and as many more wounded; but, some weeks after, they told us the number missing on the island was eighty and one hundred and fifteen were wounded, the greater part dead and dying fast. This information they gave us at the island of Owyhee, about fifteen leagues to windward; and we judged it to be true, as canoes are daily passing from island to island. After our firing ceased we weighed anchor and stood for the island of Owyhee. I have sent this account, as those who are acquainted with the circumstance think Captain Metcalfe much to blame; and that should any vessels go to these islands from America they might be particularly cautious, and not pay too much attention to the friendship professed for them by these islanders. P.S.—They cut off a schooner about six weeks after, which belonged to Captain Metcalfe, and murdered all the people. 1868—DECORATION DAY—1906. Among the holidays which are generally observed in the United States, none excites more reverence in the breast of an American, or more respect in the mind of a foreigner, than Decoration (or Memorial) Day. Decoration Day was first celebrated in 1866, by Union soldiers and sailors in Washington. In the spring of 1868 General John A. Logan, commander-in-chief of the Grand Army of the Republic, issued an order in which he named May 30 as a day on which all members of the G.A.R. Should repair to the cemeteries in the towns in which they lived and there spread flowers on the graves of their dead comrades. Among the many tributes paid to our dead soldiers none has made a more profound impression on two generations of American people than the speech delivered by Abraham Lincoln at Gettysburg, on November 19, 1863, on the occasion of the dedication of a part of the famous battle-field as a soldiers' cemetery. It is here given in full, from a manuscript in Lincoln's own handwriting. LINCOLN'S SPEECH AT GETTYSBURG. Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow, this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. Blue Laws in Old New England. How the Puritans, Seeking and Finding Toleration for Themselves, Become Themselves Intolerant—Sunday Observance With a Vengeance—Death Penalty for Disobedient Children. Compiled and edited for The Scrap Book. People who object to modern laws for the regulation of conduct may, after all, consider themselves fortunate. Sometimes anti-cigarette laws are resented as infringements on personal liberty. But what shall we say of a law under which, in a certain colony, the mere possession of dice or playing-cards was punishable by a fine? The old 'Blue Laws' of Connecticut, or, strictly, of New Haven Colony, are not, in their frequently quoted form, true Blue Laws. Attention was first attracted to the collection by the publication of a 'General History of Connecticut' in England in 1781. The author was a Tory minister, the Rev. Peters, who had been forced to flee from the colony. In the circumstances, it is not remarkable that his volume should bear many signs of spiteful exaggeration. Peters, however, did not invent the Blue Laws, though he has often been charged with so doing. All but two or three of the forty-five are to be found in the works of earlier writers, or, slightly modified, in the statute books of the various New England colonies. Many of them are not in the New Haven statute books. Those which we quote have been carefully selected from the best obtainable authorities. The Puritans came to America to find a place where they could practise their religion without interference. Here are some of the Blue Laws which indicate the Puritan intolerance of the religion of others. If any man, after due conviction, shall have, or worship any other God but the Lord God, he shall be put to death.—Lev. If any person turns Quaker, he shall be banished and not suffered to return upon the pain of death. No priest shall abide in this Dominion; he shall be banished, and suffer death on his return. Priests may be seized by any one without a warrant. (In force before 1656.) No man shall hold any office who is not sound in the faith, and faithful to his Dominion; and whoever gives a vote to such person shall pay a fine of one pound; for a second offense he shall be disfranchised. No Quaker or dissenter from the established worship of this Dominion shall be allowed to give a vote for the election of magistrates or any officer. No food or lodging shall be afforded to a Quaker, Adamite, or other heretic. How strictly the conduct of the individual was made to conform with religious rules may be gathered from the following laws as to Sunday observance, the name of authorities being given in parentheses, in some instances. Every person in this jurisdiction, according to the mind of God, shall duly resort and attend worship upon the Lord's days at least, and upon public fasting, or thanksgiving days, and if any person, without just cause, absent, or withdraw from the same, he shall for every such sinful miscarriage forfeit five shillings. (1656.) No one shall run on the Sabbath day, or walk in his garden, or elsewhere, except reverently to and from meeting. (Barber.) No one shall travel, cook victuals, make beds, sweep house, cut hair or shave, on the Sabbath or fasting day. (Barber.) No woman shall kiss her child on the Sabbath or fasting day. (Barber.) Whosoever shall profane the Lord's day, or any part of it, by work or sport, shall be punished by fine, or corporally. But if the court, by clear evidence, find that the sin was proudly, presumptuously, and with a high hand committed against the command and authority of the blessed God, such person therein despising and reproaching the Lord shall he put to death. (1656.) If any man shall kiss his wife or wife kiss her husband on the Lord's day, the party in fault shall be punished at the discretion of the Court of Magistrates. Tradition says that a man of New Haven reached home on Sunday, after an absence of several months, and, meeting his wife at the door, kissed her. For thus violating the law he was arraigned before the court and fined. Children were given excellent reason to mind their parents, as witness the following laws. If any child above sixteen years old shall curse, or smite his, her or their parents, such child or children shall be put to death (Exod. Xxi:15), unless it be proved that the parents have been very unchristianly negligent in the education of such child, etc. (Eaton.) If any man have a stubborn, rebellious son of sixteen years old, who will not obey the voice of his father or mother, and being chastened will not hearken unto them, then shall his father and his mother lay hold on him and bring him to the magistrates assembled in court, and testify unto them that their son is stubborn and rebellious, and will not obey their voice, but lives in sundry crimes: such a son shall be put to death. (Enacted 1656.) Puritan notions of propriety, as enforced by the laws, seem odd to modern minds. Thus we learn on authority of Barber, as well as from Peters, that 'every male shall have his hair cut round according to a cap.' Sometimes half a pumpkin was used instead of a cap, to guide the hair-cutting of these 'Round-heads.' Other unique laws follow. No minister shall keep a school. (Barber.) A debtor in prison, swearing he has no estate, shall be led out and sold to make satisfaction. (Altered in 1656.) Whoever brings cards or dice into this Dominion shall pay a fine of five pounds. (Barber.) No one shall read common prayer, keep Christmas or Saints' days, make minced pies, dance, play cards, or play on any instrument of music except the drum, trumpet, and jew's-harp. (Barber.) Whoever wears clothes trimmed with gold, silver, or bone lace, above two shillings by the yard, shall be presented by the grand jurors, and the selectmen shall tax the offender at three hundred pounds estate. (Several acts governing the attire of the subjects.) There was an ancient law in Massachusetts that ladies' dresses should be made long enough to hide their shoe-buckles. In 1660 an act of the General Court prohibited short sleeves, and required garments to be lengthened so as to cover the arms to the wrists and gowns to the shoe-buckles; 'immoderate great breeches, knots of ribbon, broad shoulder bands, and they be, silk roses, double ruffs and cuffs' were forbidden. In the same colony, in 1653, I. Fairbanks was tried for wearing great boots, but was acquitted. Laws governing marriage and the marriage relation were rigorous. When parents refuse their children convenient marriages, the magistrate shall determine the point. (Reenacted with alterations.) The selectmen finding children ignorant may take them from their parents and place them in better hands at the expense of their parents. (Record.) A wife shall be deemed good evidence against her husband. Married persons must live together, or be imprisoned. No man shall court a maid in person or by letter without first obtaining consent of her parents; five pounds penalty for the first offense; ten pounds for the second; and for the third, imprisonment during the pleasure of the court. A man that strikes his wife shall be fined ten pounds. A woman that strikes her husband shall be punished at the court's discretion. Puritan New England was not alone among the colonies in adopting harsh laws. Virginia went to extremes, as appears in the following extract from 'Laws of Virginia, at a Grand Assembly held at James City, 23d March, 1662'. In every county the court shall cause to be set up a pillory, a pair of stocks, and a whipping-post near the courthouse, and a ducking stool; and the court not causing the said pillory, whipping-post, stocks, and ducking-stool to be erected, shall be fined five thousand pounds of tobacco to the use of the public. Among commercial restrictions we find an enactment prohibiting the planting of tobacco after July 10, which was done for 'the improvement of our only commodity, tobacco, which can no ways be effected but by lessening the quantity and amending the quality.' Another object that the government had in view was to compel the people to become silk-growers against their will. 'Be it therefore enacted,' says the Legislature, 'that every proprietor of land within the colony of Virginia shall, for every hundred acres of land holden in fee, plant upon the said land ten mulberry-trees at twelve feet distance from each other, and secure them by weeding and a sufficient fence from cattle and horses.' Tobacco fines, as usual, were enacted in case the planting and weeding were not duly performed according to the statute; and further. There shall be allowed in the public levy to any one for every pound of wound silk he shall make, fifty pounds of tobacco, to be raised in the public levy, and paid in the county or counties where they dwell that make it. This act was passed in 1662, and probably continued in force for a long time; but Virginia did not therefore become a silk-growing country, nor has it yet, though many parts are well adapted to raise this commodity. People, we presume, have hitherto found other things more profitable. The following enactment is a mixture of the barbarous and the ludicrous. Whereas many babbling women slander and scandalize their neighbors, for which their poor husbands are often involved in chargeable and vexatious suits, and cast in great damages; be it therefore enacted, That in actions of slander, occasioned by the wife, after judgment passed for the damages, the woman shall be punished by ducking; and if the slander be so enormous as to be adjudged at greater damages than five hundred pounds of tobacco, then the woman to suffer ducking for each five hundred pounds of tobacco adjudged against the husband, if he refuses to pay the tobacco. THE PHILOSOPHY OF TROUBLE-SEEKING. Adversity Has So Many Pleasant Uses That Most of the World's Inhabitants Appear to be Unable to Wait Until It Comes to Them. A very large proportion of the inhabitants of earth appear to take no stock in that cheerful assurance, given in the Book of Job, that 'Man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward.' They believe that man cannot have trouble unless he looks for it. 'Seek and ye shall find' is their motto, and they seek trouble because they are philosophers. Apparently Shakespeare was of their ilk, for he said. You wear out your clothes. You are not troubled with visitors. You are exonerated from making calls. Bores do not bore you. Tax-gatherers hurry past your door. Itinerant bands do not play opposite your windows. You avoid the nuisance of serving on juries. No one thinks of presenting you with a testimonial. No tradesman irritates by asking, 'Is there any other article you wish to-day, sir?' Impostors know it is no use to bleed you. You practise temperance. You swallow infinitely less poison than others. Flatterers do not shoot their rubbish into your ears. You are saved many a debt, many a deception, many a headache. And lastly, if you have a true friend in the world, you are sure, in a very short space of time, to know it. THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD. By THEODORE O'HARA. Theodore O'Hara (1820-1867) has been said to have produced the one perfect and universal martial elegy that the world has known. 'The Bivouac of the Dead' has been translated into almost every European language, and since it was written, more than half a century ago, it has been almost as popular in England as in the United States. On the field on which was fought one of the most stubbornly contested battles of the Crimean War is a large monument which bears the last four lines of the first verse of O'Hara's poem, and over the gateway of the National Cemetery at Arlington the whole first stanza is inscribed, while there, as at Antietam and other national cemeteries, the entire poem is produced, stanza by stanza, on slabs along the driveways. O'Hara was a native of Kentucky, and served in the army during the war with Mexico. He wrote 'The Bivouac of the Dead' on the occasion of the removal of the bodies of Kentucky soldiers from the field of the battle of Buena Vista to their native State. At the outbreak of the Civil War O'Hara entered the Confederate army as a colonel. He died in Alabama in 1867, and his body was removed to Kentucky and laid beside those of the soldiers he had commemorated. Full text of ' Project Gutenberg's Camps, Quarters, and Casual Places, by Archibald Forbes Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the header without written permission. Please read the 'legal small print,' and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. 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