Chapter IV: Part 4

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 can read. 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:

We hear from Amesbury, That the generous and charitable
Captain of that Place, Lately warned his Company to appear
at the Place of Parade, well armed with their Axes instead
of their Firelocks; after which he marched them into the
Woods, where (with invincible Courage) they slew as many
Trees as made 30 Cord of Wood, and carted it to the Water
side, in order to be brought hither, for the Relief of the
Poor of this Place.

The man who inserted the following notice was manifestly in earnest:

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:

Years.

Rural laborers 45.32
Carpenters 45.28
Domestics 42.03
Bakers 41.92
Weavers 41.92
Shoemakers 40.8
Tailors 39.40
Hatters 38.91
Stonemasons 38.19
Plumbers 38.18
Mill operatives 38.09
Blacksmiths 37.96
Bricklayers 37.70
Printers 36.66
Clerks 34.99
Av. population 39.88

The figures just given cover most classes of non-professional work. Musical composers, however, are said to live longer than persons engaged in other occupations, in proof of which this eminent list has been prepared:

Auber 89
Monsigny 87
Verdi 87
Cherubini 81
Rameau 81
Haydn 77
Spontini 76
Rossini 76
Gounod 75
Paisiello 75
Salieri 74
Handel 74
Lesueur 74
Gluck 73
Gade 73
Piccinni 72
Gretry 72
Meyerbeer 72
Saint-Saens (living) 71

RARE WORKMANSHIP IN OLD TIMEPIECES.

ILL-FATED MARY'S SKULL-WATCH.

Book-shaped Article Made for Duke of
Pomerania Is a Beautiful Triumph of
Metal Engraving and Design.

Two of the most elaborate watches that have ever been constructed belonged, the one to Queen Elizabeth, the other to Mary Queen of Scots. Queen Elizabeth's watch was in the form of a duck, with beautifully chased feathers. The lower part opened, showing a face of silver, with an elaborate gilt design, and the whole was kept in a case of brass, covered with black leather studded with knobs of silver.

The Scottish queen's watch was in the shape of a skull, the dial being introduced where the palate should have been, the works being in the mimic brain cavity. A little bell struck the hours.

One of the choicest rarities of the Bernal collection was a book-shaped watch. This curious time indicator was made by order of Bogislaus XIV, Duke of Pomerania, in the time of Gustavus Adolphus. On the face of the book, where the dial of the watch is set, there is an engraved inscription of the duke, and his titles and armorial bearings, together with the date, 1627.

On the back the engravings are also very finely and skilfully executed, among them being the portraits of two gentlemen of the seventeenth century. The dial-plate is of silver, chased in relief, while the insides are beautifully chased with figures of birds and foliage. The watch has two separate movements, and a large, sweet-toned bell. At the back, over the bell, the metal is ornamentally pierced in a circle, with a dragon and other devices, while the sides are pierced and engraved with a complicated design of beautiful scrollwork.

THE MONEY KINGS OF ANCIENT ROME.

THEIR RECORDS OF EXTRAVAGANCE.

Antony and Caligula Appear to Have Been
Leaders in the Wanton Expenditure
of Vast Fortunes.

That the accumulation of vast fortunes was as possible in ancient Rome, which knew neither the railroad nor Standard Oil, as it is in the United States to-day, is shown by the following table that has been compiled from authoritative historical records.

While it may be true that the wealth of the Czar of Russia and John D. Rockefeller may exceed nearly all of these old-time hoards, there can be no question of the fact that as spenders of enormous fortunes Antony and Caligula have never been surpassed.

Crassus's landed estate was valued at $8,333,330

His house was valued at 400,000

Caecilius Isidorus, after having lost much, left 5,235,800

Demetrius, a freedman of Pompey, was worth 3,875,000

Lentulus, the augur, no less than 16,666,666

Clodius, who was slain by Milo, paid for his house 700,000

He once swallowed a pearl worth 40,000

Apicius was worth more than 5,000,000

He poisoned himself after he had
spent in his kitchen and otherwise
squandered immense sums
to the amount of 4,160,000

The establishment belonging to
M. Scaurus, at Tusculum, was
valued at 4,150,000

Curio contracted debts to the amount of 2,500,000

Milo contracted one debt of 2,915,000

Antony owed at the Ides of
March, which he paid before
the Calends of April 1,666,666

Seneca had a fortune of 17,500,000

Tiberius left at his death, and
Caligula spent in less than
twelve months 118,120,000

Gifts and bribes may be considered
signs of great riches:

Caesar presented Servilia, the
mother of Brutus, with a pearl
worth 200,000

Paulus, the consul, was bribed by
Caesar with the sum of 292,000

MACHINES TAKE JOBS OF INSURANCE AGENTS.

THEY ISSUE POLICIES IN ENGLAND.

Applicant Drops Coin in Slot, Writes His
Name Through an Opening, and
Then Gets the Document.

Do nothing by human labor that can be done by machinery--that is the business maxim of the twentieth century.

No man is sure of his job once an inventor gets on his trail.

Twenty years ago it was said that nothing on earth, with less intelligence than a human being, could set type, play the piano, add figures, or tie a knot in a piece of binding-twine.

The inventors said, "We can make machines of wood and steel--machines that have no brains and no feeling, that can do these things, and do them better than a man."

The world haw-hawed at the silly inventors, but the inventors have made good. In England, to-day, there are showing us a machine that can hand out an insurance policy, properly stamped and signed.

The machine, which defies fraud, looks like a clock. When the applicant drops his coin into the slot he pulls forward a handle, when out drops a pencil, already sharpened, and an opening is disclosed through which the signature is made. Then the client pushes back the handle and simultaneously the space closes and an insurance policy is issued through another slot.

Against the signature inside the machine is printed the exact date and the time to the very minute when the policy was issued. If the insured meets with an accident within seven days he applies to the insurance company for his weekly allowance, and if his name is on the register retained by the machine the policy is paid.

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF ARITHMETICAL SIGNS.

HOW THEY FIRST CAME TO BE USED.

Prone to Short Cuts and Abbreviations,
Man Has Chopped Words Into
Lines and Crosses.

A little mark or sign, used in every-day life so frequently that its users concern themselves only with its necessary meaning, may have a very elaborate history--may embalm much tradition. Take the English sign for a pound--L. How many persons have stopped to inquire as to its meaning? L stands for the Latin _libra_, as "d," used to indicate the pence, stands for the Latin _denarius_, and as "s," used to indicate the shilling, stands for the Latin _solidus_.

The origin of arithmetical signs is explained as follows:

1. 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.

2. 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 -.

3. The multiplication sign (x) was obtained by changing the
plus sign into the letter X. This was done because
multiplication is a short method of addition.

4. 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.

5. The radical sign [TN Symbol] was derived from
the initial letter of the word radix.

6. 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.

FURTHERUPTOWN!

Tired to death, but walking fast,
Along Broadway, one night, there passed
A youth, who bore a pretty nice
Umbrella, with this strange device,
"Furtheruptown!"

His anxious eyes and weary feet
Hunted the houses in each street;
And like a New Year's fish-horn rung
The accents of that unknown tongue
"Furtheruptown!"

In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Beyond, the spectral street-lamp shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan,
"Furtheruptown!"

"Try not that street," the old man said;
"A tenement-house is just ahead--
A public school is by its side";
Then loud that clarion voice replied,
"Furtheruptown!"

"Oh, stay," the broker said, "and rest;
This brown-stone house will suit you best."
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,
Sadly he said, "The rent's too high";
"Furtheruptown!"

"Beware of the livery-stable's smell,
Beware the engine-house as well!"
This was the agent's last good night--
A voice replied, far out of sight,
"Furtheruptown!"

At break of day, as heavenward
The Central Park policeman stared,
Watching the gathering sunbeams there,
A voice rang through the startled air,
"Furtheruptown!"

By following up the unusual sound,
A dying traveler they found,
Still grasping his no longer nice
Umbrella, with the strange device,
"Furtheruptown!"

There, in the Reservoir, they say,
"_Drownded_" but beautiful he lay,
While somewhere over Bloomingdale
A voice fell like a rocket's tail,
"Furtheruptown!"

1877. _New York Evening Post._

A MOVING BALLAD.

You must wake and call me early, call me early, husband dear,
To-morrow'll be the maddest time of all the round New Year;
Of all the circle of the year the maddest, muddiest day,
For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May.

Be sure and take the hammer round--we shall have need of that;
Save all the paper you can find--and don't forget the cat.
Don't mix the pickles and preserves, nor throw th' old brooms away,
For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May.

And oh! tell Bridget, husband, to be careful how she moves
The earthenware and crockery and other things she loves;
And if upon the sidewalk you should hear a dreadful crash,
You'll know our china dinner-set has gone to eternal smash.

Of course, some common things will break, some costly ones perhaps;
But you can't expect to move, you know, without a few mishaps.
And when we've got the moving done, you'll have some bills to pay,
For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May.

The night winds come and go, my dear, along the vacant street,
And the happy stars above them do not seem to mean to cheat;
But to-morrow it will be sure to rain the whole of the livelong day,
For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early, husband dear,
To-morrow'll be the maddest time of all the round New Year;
To-morrow'll be of all the year the maddest, muddiest day,
For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May.

BROTHERS TO SISTERS.

THREE DEDICATIONS IN WHICH FAMOUS AUTHORS GIVE
ELOQUENT EXPRESSION TO AFFECTION
INSPIRED BY NOBLE WOMEN.

The men who wrote the three extracts which are given here represent three vividly contrasted types. Ernest Renan was a distinguished Frenchman, a profound Hebrew scholar, and yet witty, cynical, and eloquent. John Greenleaf Whittier was a Massachusetts Quaker of rustic manners and great simplicity of life, who viewed Nature with the sympathetic eyes of a born poet, but always serious, simple, and sincere. Eugene Field was a Chicago journalist, full of irreverent American humor, rollicking and sometimes boisterous, although he too had a vein of tenderness in his nature and a sympathy with the finer things of life. Yet these three men all agreed in their affection for their sisters. Renan wrote of his sister Henriette that "it was she who exerted the strongest influence on my life," and at his death he left a little volume containing his reminiscences of her.

It is evident from the dedications of Whittier and Field that each felt an almost equal debt of gratitude to the sisters with whom their early years were spent and whose affection they have so beautifully commemorated.

RENAN'S DEDICATION.

(From "The Life of Jesus," by Ernest Renan. Translated by C.E. Wilbour.
Copyright by George W. Carlton, 1863.)

TO THE PURE SPIRIT OF MY SISTER HENRIETTE, WHO
DIED AT BYBLUS, SEPT. 24, 1861.

Do you remember, from your rest in the bosom of God, those long days at Ghazir, where, alone with you, I wrote these pages, inspired by the scenes we had just traversed? Silent by my side you read every leaf, and copied it as soon as written, while the sea, the villages, the ravines, the mountains were spread out at our feet.

When the overwhelming light of the sun had given place to the innumerable army of stars, your fine and delicate questions, your discreet doubts, brought me back to the sublime object of our common thoughts.

One day you told me you should love this book, first, because it had been written with you, and also because it pleased you. If sometimes you feared for it the narrow judgments of frivolous man, you were always persuaded that spirits truly religious would be pleased with it.

In the midst of these sweet meditations Death struck us both with his wing; the sleep of fever seized us both at the same hour. I woke alone!... You sleep now in the land of Adonis, near the holy Byblus and the sacred waters where the women of the ancient mysteries came to mingle their tears.

Reveal to me, O my good genius, to me whom you loved, those truths which master Death, prevent us from fearing, and make us almost love it.

WHITTIER'S TRIBUTE.

(From the dedication page of his "Home Ballads.")

I call the old time back; I bring these lays
To thee in memory of the summer days,
When, by our native streams and forestways,

We dream them over; while the rivulets made
Songs of their own, and the great pine trees laid
On warm noon-lights the masses of their shade.

And she was with us, living o'er again
Her life in ours, despite of years and pain--
The Autumn's brightness after latter rain.

Beautiful in her holy peace, as one
Who stands at evening, when the work is done,
Glorified in the setting of the sun!

Her memory makes our common landscape seem
Fairer than any of which painters dream--
Lights the brown hills and sings in every stream.

For she whose speech was always truth's pure gold
Heard, not unpleased, its simple legends told,
And loved with us the beautiful and old.

FIELD'S APPRECIATION.

(Dedication to His Sister, Mary Field French, from His "Little Book of
Western Verse." Copyrighted, 1889, by Eugene Field, Published by
Charles Scribner's Sons.)

A dying mother gave to you
Her child a many years ago;
How in your gracious love he grew,
You know, dear, patient heart, you know.

The mother's child you fostered then
Salutes you now and bids you take
These little children of his pen
And love them for the author's sake.

To you I dedicate this book,
And, as you read it line by line,
Upon its faults as kindly look
As you have always looked on mine.

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.

Mr. 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. Mr. 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." he said. "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."

Dr. 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_:

His majesty, contrary to reports, was in perfect health, and
had not broken down at all under the strain of recent events
in Russia. There is not a gray hair in his head.

Asked by the reporter: "Did the Czar impress you as a man of great strength of character?" Mr. Nixon replied:

Well, a man of his rank and power naturally creates a great
impression on one. The Czar is a man of remarkable
intelligence.

Andrew D. 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. White says:

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.

Nor is Mr. 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.

That is to say that it is often difficult for one who has hitherto pursued the commonplace routine of life, on accomplishing the protracted and arduous negotiations essential to obtain access to a palace, then being introduced with pomp and ceremony into the royal precincts and attended through one stately apartment after another by court functionaries, themselves of high rank and distinguished name, to realize, on being reverently ushered into the kingly presence, that he is face to face with a mere human like himself--nay, that in nine cases out of ten he is the superior of the royal personage in all that constitutes real worth.

It may be remembered that the arrogant Samuel Johnson, in the presence of George III, his inferior in everything that was not superficial, was properly subdued; and that, according to Boswell, the incident of his visit to royalty was one that he "loved to relate with all its circumstances when requested by his friends."

Human vanity also may be considered as a factor in the value of the testimony of him who comes forth from the seats of the mighty to relate his experiences. Does he not speak ill of the great one who has given him an audience, the listener's inference is that the visitor has found something in the manner of his treatment to resent; whereas he who sounds the monarch's praises is put down as having met with a cordial reception. None of these generalizations necessarily apply to the gentlemen whose views concerning Nicholas II have been quoted, however.

William T. Stead's Opportunities.

At fifty-five years of age, and in spite of many bitter experiences, Mr. Stead is still a man of many enthusiasms. He has always had the courage of his convictions, and has known what it is to suffer for them. He has probably never, in the course of a long and honorable journalistic career, sought the popular side of a controversy; indeed, during the Boer war he was one of a mere handful of Englishmen to stand out against the entire nation.

As he himself shows, he has had abundant opportunity to form an opinion of Nicholas, and sufficient experience of men to make that opinion valuable. It may be recalled, however, that after spending an hour or two with Richard Croker during a voyage across the Atlantic, when that eminent politician was at the height of his power, Mr. Stead described the boss of Tammany Hall as a benefactor of his countrymen.

No one would think of accusing Mr. Stead of wilful misstatement, but it may be mentioned that, while Mr. Stead informs us that the interview quoted from is the fourth he has had with the Russian sovereign, it is probable that if he had ventured to publish anything detrimental about him in any one of them that one would have been the last. And access to a reigning monarch is a valuable asset to any journalist.

Mr. Hodgetts is a different type of journalist from Mr. Stead. He is of the school which, as a matter of public policy, invariably treats with outward reverence men in high station. More than that, an article like Mr. Hodgetts's appearing in a journal of the standing of the _Pall Mall Gazette_ might secure for its author any degree of consideration on the occasion of a visit to Russia.

Mr. Hodgetts, however, does not pretend to come by his ideas about Nicholas II at first hand, but gives an instructor of the young emperor as his authority; and who ever heard of an instructor having opinions other than complimentary of a royal pupil, even when we get down to the tutors of the princes of the cannibal islands?

Dr. Dillon's rather involved despatch to the _Daily Telegraph_, quoted above, bears internal evidence of having been produced under some sort of pressure. As a matter of fact, it was his first contribution to his paper after his release from arrest to which he had been subjected by reason of his association with Maxim Gorky and other liberals with whom the Russian officials knew him to be in sympathy. If, in the circumstances, Dr. Dillon allowed his name to be attached to a telegram dictated by Trepoff he is not to be severely blamed.

Both Mr. Flint and Mr. Nixon take an admiring view of the Czar, and agree that he is a man of unusual intelligence, the former crediting him with "imperial poise and kingly dignity." It may be noted, however, that both of these gentlemen come within the category of witnesses who, Dr. Johnson believes, may from gratitude exaggerate the praises of kings.

The unnecessary use of the word "imperial" by both Mr. Flint and Mr. Hodgetts, by the way, seems to be palpable flattery, though either gentleman may have employed it merely for rhetorical purposes.

Mr. White, in his estimate of the character of Nicholas, seems to have come very close to the facts. Mr. White is not only an unprejudiced witness, but a trained observer and thinker. He is an American who has spent a considerable portion of his life in European courts, and thus has come out of the ordeal a truer democrat than ever, and he is, above everything else, a truth-seeker and a truth-speaker.

His testimony is the more valuable in that he violates one of the unwritten laws that help to make diplomacy ridiculous in these times, in venturing to make public property of information obtained in a diplomatic capacity within the awesome precincts of a court.

That Mr. White's picture of Nicholas is true to life is evidenced by the present plight of Russia, as well as by the fact that the American diplomat's views are corroborated, not only by the three Russian witnesses who may be considered as testifying against him, but by Messrs. Flint, Nixon and Stead, who speak in his favor. Mr. Stead declares that during his recent interview with the Czar "his spirits were as high, his courage as calm, and his outlook as cheerful as ever." Only a weakling sovereign, careless and unfit to rule, could remain serene, indifferent, and passive--whether his demeanor be characterized as kingly dignity or the self-complacency of mental and moral impotence--under the conditions that exist in Russia to-day.

ANECDOTES OF AUTHORS.

A.T. Quiller-Couch told a good Cornish story the other day in presenting certificates to the members of an ambulance class in his own town of Troy.

"Years ago," he said, "an old Cornish fisherman at a similar class was asked how he would treat the apparently drowned.

"'Well,' he replied, 'the first thing we always did was to empty the man's pockets.'"--_Westminster Gazette._

When Archibald Clavering Gunter began the series of novels which was to make him famous, he tried in vain to find a publisher. As none of them would have anything to do with his books, he was obliged to bring them out himself.

Shortly after the appearance of "Mr. Barnes of New York," he met the head of one of the big publishing houses, who inquired how his last book was selling.

"Fine," responded the cheerful commercialist; "I've sold two tons of it already."

Thackeray chanced to be dining at his club when a pompous officer of the Guards stopped beside the table and said:

"Haw, Thackeray, old boy, I hear Lawrence has been painting yer portrait!"

"So he has," was the reply.

"Full length?"

"No; full-length portraits are for soldiers, that we may see their spurs. But the other end of the man is the principal thing with authors," said Thackeray.--_London Tit-Bits._

Mr. Gladstone was once guilty of deliberately evading an international regulation at the Franco-Italian frontier. He was carrying for his refreshment a basket of fine grapes, which stringent regulations at the time forbade being taken from one country to the other, on account of phylloxera, an insect that attacks the roots and leaves of the grapevines.

Mr. Gladstone's great brain reviewed the situation; he must obey the law, but he was determined to have the grapes, so he sat down then and there on the railway station bench and--ate them.

Irving Bacheller, the author of "Eben Holden," went a little farther north than usual last summer while on his vacation, and penetrated Newfoundland. He caught a good many fish, but this did not prevent his keeping an eye on the natives. He was particularly impressed by the men who spent the day lounging about the village stores.

"What do you fellows do when you sit around the store like this?" he asked of the crowd arranged in a circle of tilted chairs and empty boxes and maintaining a profound silence.

"Well," drawled one of the oldest, "sometimes we set and think, and then again other times we just set."--_Woman's Home Companion._

Marie Corelli's domestic quiet at Stratford-on-Avon seemed likely to be destroyed not long since by the opening of a girls' school in the house immediately adjoining her own. The famous novelist found that the recitations of the pupils greatly interrupted her literary work. She stood it, however, as long as she could, but finally wrote a letter of protest to the proprietor of the school. The reply she received from the elderly school-mistress was prompt, and ran as follows:

"Dear Miss Corelli: Judging from the literary work of yours which it has been my privilege to see, I should say that it would be just as well if you were interrupted even more frequently."--_New York Times._

* * * * *

Emerson Hough once wrote a story called "Hasenberg's Cross-Eyed Horse," which he sought diligently, but unsuccessfully, to market with the greater number of the known periodicals of the world. At last the story found a resting-place in Mr. Hough's desk. Three years ago, feeling a bit let down physically, he took the advice of a distinguished publisher of New York and put himself in the hands of an osteopathic physician.

Some doubts as to the beneficial results existed, but no doubt whatever as to the size of the bill. Mr. Hough pondered long and seriously on the question of getting even with his doctor. At length he happened to think of his old story of the cross-eyed horse.

"I'll have the osteopath treat the horse's cross-eyes," said the author to himself. Whereupon he rewrote the story, sold it promptly at a good figure, and made it a chapter of his last novel, "Heart's Desire," where it is known as "Science at Heart's Desire."--_Bookman._

WHEN THE MUSE CUTS BAIT.

Fish Don't Always Bite, but Everything Is Grist for the Poet's Mill, So
Here Are a Few Verses Anglers May Con When the Tide is Out and the Boat's
High and Dry on a Mud Flat.

THE COLD-WATER MAN.

By John G. Saxe.

It was an honest fisherman,
I knew him passing well;
And he lived by a little pond,
Within a little dell.

A grave and quiet man was he,
Who loved his hook and rod;
So even ran his line of life,
His neighbors thought it odd.

For science and for books he said
He never had a wish;
No school to him was worth a fig
Except a school of fish.

In short, this honest fisherman
All other toils forsook;
And, though no vagrant man was he,
He lived by hook and crook.

He ne'er aspired to rank or wealth,
Nor cared about a name;
For, though much famed for fish was he,
He never fished for fame.

To charm the fish he never spoke,
Although his voice was fine;
He found the most convenient way
Was just to drop a line!

And many a gudgeon of the pond,
If made to speak to-day,
Would own, with grief, the angler had
A mighty taking way!

One day, while fishing on a log,
He mourned his want of luck--
When, suddenly, he felt a bite,
And, jerking--caught a duck!

Alas! that day this fisherman
Had taken too much grog;
And, being but a landsman, too,
He couldn't keep the log!

'Twas all in vain, with might and main,
He strove to reach the shore;
Down, down he went to feed the fish
He'd baited oft before!

The jury gave their verdict that
'Twas nothing else but gin
That caused the fisherman to be
So sadly taken in.

Though one stood out upon a whim,
And said the angler's slaughter--
To be exact about the fact--
Was clearly gin-and-water!

The moral of this mournful tale
To all is plain and clear--
That drinking habits bring a man
Too often to his bier.

And he who scorns to "take the pledge,"
And keep the promise fast,
May be, in spite of fate, a stiff
Cold-water man at last!

THE ANGLER'S CHANT.

By Isaac M'Lellan.

Oh, the shriek of the reel, the trout-fisher's-reel!
No sound is so sweet to the ear;
The hum of the line, the buzz of the wheel!
Where the crystalline brook runs so clear.

Here's a shade on the stream, where the willows bend down,
Where the waters sleep drowsy and dim,
And there where the ripples whirl amber and brown,
The lords of the rivulet swim.

Then fling the light tackle with delicate cast,
Let your fly like a cobweb alight,
A dash and a splash and the victim's fast,
While your reel sings a song of delight.

See, yonder a green-moss'd boulder enchecks
The stress of the turbulent tides,
And there amid bubbles and foam-bell flecks
The gold-spotted brook-trout hides.

The sweet breezes blow, the morning sun shines,
The white clouds drift slow down the sky;
'Tis a day that is perfect for sport with the lines,
For artistic cast of the fly.

Ah, haste to the shore, brother angler, to-day,
On the weedy, gray rock take your place,
Where the surf, at its base, makes glorious race,
And, like rainbows, glitters the spray.

Cast your eye o'er the blue expanses of sea;
How lovely, how grand is the scene!
The great rolling waves, now dusky, now green,
Forever rejoicing and free.

See the flash of the bluefish over the main,
The gleam of the bright striped bass!
Then the braided line fling, let the reel hum its strain,
And so the gay moments shall pass.

FISH LINES.

By Jessica H. Lowell.

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!