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New York Evening Post, as affording a grave illus- of seventeen, by himself. Mr. Ruskin's sleepingtration of the laxity of some modern minds on the room, upstairs, is simple, in light chintz, with subject of marriage and as presenting a problem bureau, washstand and bedstead of mahogany; but the actual solution of which it is hard to reconcile the pictures are worth a fortune. The walls are with Ruskin's known austerity in faith and morals; closely covered with Turners, incased in blue cam. while at the same time it supplies a new illustration bric lest the light fade the exquisite colors. Here of the old experience that all one's abstract views is a 'Carnarvon Castle' and others about which of right and wrong in conduct scatter to the winds Ruskin has written in 'Modern Painters. The when the testing moment comes of one's own per- adjoining room, where he used to work, but which sonal relation. At least the tale attests the depths he left from a prolonged illness, has a tower with and reality of Ruskin's spirit of self-renunciation. glass on each side, so that no sunrise or sunset may
be lost to view. Most attractive of all is the masThe privilege of burial in Westminster Abbey ter's study, furnished in green. Books fill cases on was promptly offered by Dean Bradley, and the every side-one case for classics, one for botany, acceptance of the offer would have added to the another for geology, while still another is filled distinctions of the great English mausoleum, as it with old books and manuscripts. I look out of the would have gratified England generally, and visitors window across the lake, upon an ivy-covered house to that august shrine in years to come ; but there is with tower, once the home of Sir Philip Sidney, somethiug peculiarly fitting in Ruskin's own wish and then, taking from the case a French book that that his body should rest amidst the quiet scenes in once belonged to the famous man, I read his name. which his last days were spent; and at Coniston he Here is a work on Dante, with Michael Angelo's was buried on a Thursday, in a grave lined with autograph written in a fine hand. Here is a large white tiles and beneath a mass of flowers which Chaucer of 1694, with some verses in Addison's included a "floral tribute” from the Queen. All handwriting. Here also is a manuscript Greek England was represented at the grave, and a testament of the tenth century; an illuminated memorial service was held at the disappointed book of music of an early date ; the prayer-book Abbey early in the day.
of St. Louis on vellum, illuminated with work so
fine that a microscope is required to see its beauty. Mrs. Sarah K. Bolton writes for the Cleveland Here are some of the 'Waverly' novels in the (Ohio) World an interesting account of a visit she original manuscript, and a bound volume of some paid to Ruskin at his home, “Brantwood," on Lake of Sir Walter Scott's letters in his own writing. Coniston, which we condense as follows. She Linnæus' Botany' is here, with notes by Thomas describes the ex:erior of the house as a rough mor Gray. A desk is opened, and it is full of Turners. tared, blue slated, low and rambling structure, Another desk has a most beautiful collection of festooned with Powered and berried vines, framed gold, diamonds and other precious stones, laid on with beds of poppies, and backgrounded with moun crimson or purple velvet; also the finest assortment tains. Foliage of the ash, spruce, holly, chestnut of agates, probably, in the world. In one part of and oak embower and shade the building. Within the room is a bundle of walking-sticks, hammers one finds a "treasure-house of art, science and and big pieces of basalt which Ruskin has brought literature."
down from the mountain. His seal is the word “As you enter, the square hall, green in color, is 'to-day,' graven on the end of a piece of chalbrightened by three drawings of Burne-Jones, with cedony, five or six inches long, like a stalactite. some sketches by Prout and from Ruskin's own Here are vases from Rome aud Greece, and this pencil. The drawing-room is furnished in delicate three-cornered inkstand once belonged to Galileo. blue, rich golden satin, handsome figured paper in Here is a piece of a font from Florence, executed subdued tints. Rugs are on the floor. A plant, by Niccolo Pisano. In the center of the room is a with exquisitely shaded leaves, stands on the table circular table, covered with green cloth, where the in the center of the room. The dining-hall is fur scholar does his work. And what a student ! He nished in pea-green. Here are the family portraits. may work for a month on geology ; then, if he The picture of the mother represents a woman of tires, he turns to botany and writes a book ; then uncommon sweetness and strength; the father to art; then, dearest of all, to his work for the shows a fine, manly face. Most winsome of all is a poor.-Literary World. 3-year-old boy, with flaxen hair, bright blue eyes, dressed in white, with blue shoes and a sash of the
A CRITICISM MADE POINTLESS. same color. Here also is a famous portrait of “How did you come to put this poem on the back Andrea Gritti, by Titian ; au 'Annunciation' by of a government bond ?" inquired the editor. Tintoretto; sweet Angelica Kauffman, painted by “I was tired of hearing you say my poetry wasn't Sir Joshua Reynolds; Raphael, from life ; young worth the paper it was written on,” the author Reynolds, by his own hand; and Turner, at the age serenely answered.
and office buildings, recently received from a milA CHANGE OF BASE.
lionaire in Europe who had given him an order
for house plans before sailing, this note: 'Dear Mr. Scene—The shop of a dealer in rare editions.
H-: I neglected to tell you about my library. Characters—The Dealer and a Bibliophile.
Have the shelves broad and low, with plate-glass Bib.—How much is that edition of —?
doors. Dea. (impressively)--Ah, that is very rare; it is
Get up anything you like in the way of
books. worth $100.
Have a variety. You might get “LubBib.-Pretty good price?
bock’s Hundred Best,” and “Stone's Hundred
Best,” and if there are any new selections out put Dea.- Pretty rare book.
them in. Get a lot of histories and biographies. I Bib. (nonchalantly)—How would $50 hit ?
don't care much about light novels. Have the (Dealer laughs.)
binding uniform, as I want the books to make a Bib.—Well, I wouldn't pay over $25 for it. It
splendid showing. Get hold of every edition de is not as well preserved as it might be.
luxe in the market, regardless of expense. Have Dea. (with reverence)-But, dear man, thivk of
my monogram stamped on every cover. the scarceness of the book ! If it were nothing
can't decide what I want, you might hire some but the binding and the atmosphere of the story
poor literary devil to help you pick 'em out. Be that were left it would be cheap at $100. But to a bibliophile like yourself I'll let it go for $90 spot
sure to have Congressman M. send you all the war
records of the Rebellion. He will do it for me. cash.
Have the Government binding taken off and my Bib.—No, to tell the truth I didn't want to buy
uniform binding put on.'' at all. In fact, I have a copy of the work at home, same edition and in much better preservation, and
DIFFERENCE IN LITERARY TASTES. since it's so valuable I believe I'll let mine go. “Why did Dr. Hansen's wife get a divorce ?” What will you give me?
"On account of the difference in their literary Dea. (losing interest)-Well, really there is very tastes." little call for it now; rare book and all that, but few “How was that?") care for it. Style of binding appeals to few, and, "He fell in love with a young poetess, and she of course, the contents are merely literature, and with a lyric poet.” have no charm for bibliophiles.
A GOOD REASON. Bib. (persisting)—But what will you give? Name
Not all the reasons given for the delayed publiyour own price. Everything has some value.
cation of a book are as neat and conclusive as those Dea.--To tell the truth, I know a dealer in Boston who is selling them for $5 apiece, or $50 in
advanced in the case of a recently announced book,
"Ease in Cycling." The publisher had to beg for dozen lots. I'll give you $3 for it because you're a
indulgence, because its author had just been pitched customer of mine.
off his wheel, broken his collar-bone, and lain inBib. (leaving)—It's mine. Good day. CHARLES BATTELL LOOMIS.
sensible for sixty hours.
A Massachusetts firm of silversmiths and engravOVERHEARD AT A BOOKSTORE.
ers that has manufactured a number of "literary" New Clerk-Mrs. Jones has sent her maid for a
souvenir spoons, recently wrote to “Frances Burney, copy of "Prisoners of Hope," but I
care J. B. Lippincott Co., Philadelphia, Pa.," "for Proprietor-Oh, that's all right, Zenda a copy. a picture of [her] home or birthplace, something COLLEGE TEXT-BOOKS.
suitable to design and make a souvenir spoon from." Cynthia-Here's another letter from Hiram at col
THE AUTHOR WHO ARRIVED. lege. He wants $20 more fur school-books.
In The Independent W. G. Bowdoin gives a very Reuben-Great dumplings ! That boy'll put a
happy picture of the emotions of an author who had mortgage on the farm yit. What books does he
achieved such success that publishers and editors want now?
were at his beck and call, which incidentally gave Cynthia—Here's the list: “Gilligan on Tack
him the opportunity to pay off a lot of old scores. ling," "Short Rules for Bucking the Center,"
“A small colored boy guarded the outer door, and "The History of the Game," "Lessons in Punt
took the cards of editors who crowded his anteing," "The Signal System," and "First Aid to the
room, jostling one another, and who wanted special Injured."
Sunday and other features.
He had, ORDER FOR A LIBRARY.
however, a very retentive memory, and for the The following from the New York Press is evi- ordinary editors who had returned his manuscripts dently an elaboration of an old story. Yet, possi unconsidered and unread when he was unknown he bly, it is a true one: “An architect, well known had a printed form that read: in New York for some of his work on residences “Washington Irving Browne has received your
request for a manuscript. He regrets to say that
The Rubaiyat. it will not now be possible for him to consider your
Omar Khayyam, you're a jolly old Aryan, present wishes in this regard. His time is so en
Half sybaritic, and semi-barbarian, grossed in his regular channels that he is unable to
Not a bit mystic, but utilitarian, consider anything outside of his present clientele.
Fond of a posy and fond of a drum. This does not imply any lack of appreciation on
Symbolist, poet, and clear-eyed philosopher, his part of your suggested patronage or signify in
Had you a wife I am sure you were boss of her, any way that the standard of your magazine is
Yet you'd be ruled by the coquettish toss of her not acceptable to him. It has been a pleasure for
Garland crowned head at you, Omar Khayyam. him to have received the courtesy of your submitted For their vanity, request. Respectfully,"
In your humanity, Here was revenge sweet to be sure.
Else your urbanity Robert Louis Stevenson partook of it in his own
Were but a flam. genial, gentle way. When he visited New York
And the severity for the first time he called upon the well-known
Of your austerity editor of a well-known magazine, presented a let
Proves your sincerity, ter of introduction, and asked the privilege of
Omar Khayyam. writing something. The editor eyed him dispas- Well I remember when first you were heralded, sionately, and told him that his siuff would hardly
Persian-born poesy ably Fitzgeralded ; do. Nine years passed. In the meantime the
Impulse said buy you—and I to my peril did : "stuff" had been disposed of elsewhere, and the
Now a meek slave to your genius I am. literary journals were filled with notes about
Some of your doctrines to us may seem hatable, the new author. In the full blaze of his fame he
Though we admit that the themes are debatable; paid another visit to America. Among the first to
But your ideas, are they really translatable leave cards at Mr. Stevenson's hotel was the afore
Into our languages, Omar Khayyam ? said editor of the aforesaid magazine. Mr. Steven
In your society son, like Washington Irving Browne, had a “very All inebriety retentive memory." He rolled a cigarette and re Seems but propriety peated the incident. “How provoking," said the Truth but a sham ; editor. “I wonder which of my clerks could have
And the reality been so discourteous to yon.” Stevenson lighted
Stevenson lighted of your carnality his cigarette and replied mildly, and with his usual
Court immortality, beautiful smile_-"Why, now I recall his face. You
Omar Khayyam. are his very image.”
From the grave depths of your massive tranquility
Thoughts you produce, knowing well their futility, A Little Lay.
Thoughts that you phrase with a fatal facility, “ Three poets came to London town,
Hurl with the force of a battering ram! (Sing O for a crust and a stoup of ale !)
But we care not though your message be cynical, All proper men and all unknown,
Not very creedal and scarcely rabbinical; (Sing O for patient merit !)
We, your adorers, put you on a pinnacle,
For that we love you, old Omar Khayyam. " And one was a lovers' verse-maker,
Though you're erroneous, (Sing Ring-a-ding-ding and Ring-a-ding-dee !)
Still you're harmonious, And honey-sweet his verses were
And you're euphonious (Sing O for the pretty ladies !)
In epigram. “And one dreamed old-world dreams, God wot, O'er the censorious
(Sing O for the quaint pre-Raphaelite touch !) You are victorious ; And many a flashing ballad he wrote,
We hold you glorious, (Sing O for fit and finish !)
CAROLYN WELLS. " And the third one was a man of might,
(Sing O for the flushed, fair, scholarly page !) Mother Goose According to Whitman. And words of gold he did indite,
Here is the poem of me, the entertainer of (Sing O for the quotable passage !)
children. “Now, these three go like fashion plates,
See! a cat is passing through my poem : (Sing O for the pink, beneficent cheque!) See-it plays the fiddle rapturously ; And they lack neither wine nor delicates,
It plays sonatas, fugues, rag-times, gavottes, gigues, (Sing O for English Poesy !)".
minuets, romances, impromptus-it plays the T. W. H. CROSLAND.
tune that led to the defunction of the aged cow;
But most of all it plays nocturnes, and plays them
pyrotechnically, as befits the night-time. See the moon shining in the pellucid sky; See ! the cow, inspired by the intoxicating strains
of the Stradivarius, throws off her habitual
languor and leaps over the moon.
and absconds with the silver spoon.
While “ Madcap Violet'' was running as a serial, some one wrote:
“Oh, Mr. Black, oh, Mr Black,
What makes you write so blue ?" The answer is, of course, found in the statement recently published, that one of his strongest convictions on the subject of fiction was that“
a novel with a sad ending is remembered longer than one with a happy ending.” It was, however, a strong conviction based upon observation merely, and not reinforced by any morbid tendencies in his own nature. Happiness came to him through the longsustained and successful practice of his art, in the companionship of many friends, in the opportunities to gratify his taste for out-door lise, and, more than all else, in his home.
It is said that Sir Walter Scott used to pay $750 Authors Itemized.
a year on letters and parcels received by post. Maurus Jokai has already received high honor Once a bulky package came to Sir Walter all the from his countrymen, but another one, almost way from the United States, for which the famous unique, is in store for him. At the Paris Exhibi
At the Paris Exhibi- Scotch author paid postage. He tore off the wraption the Hungarian section will include "a Jokai per, when out fell a MS., called “The Cherokee exhibition," containing a copy of every edition of Lovers," sent by a lady of New York, who requested each of the several-score works which Jokai has Scott to read and correct it, write a prologue, have written. It is estimated that this collection will it produced on the stage of Drury Lave, and nego· consist of some thousands of volumes, for Jokai's tiate for a copyright. In about a fortnight another books have been translated into most of the Euro- large, bulky letter arrived, C. 0. D., calling for pean languages.
five pounds sterling, postage, and this the author
thoughtlessly received and tore open. Out jumped I wonder to what extent Cooper is still read.
a duplicate copy of “The Cherokee Lovers," with He ought to rank as the first of American novelists,
a letter from the same lady, saying that, as the but he certainly does not. Indeed it is rather
weather had been stormy, and the mails so uncertaken for granted that Cooper's novels are fit only tain, she thought it prudent to send a duplicate, as for very young people, and that they are immeas
the first copy might have been lost. This little affair urably inferior to the work of half a dozen of cost the gifted gentleman fifty dollars. American writers of to-day. Certainly Cooper's Indians and sailors never existed in real life, but M. Jules Claretie is responsible for this story of that is no reason why they should not exist in Erckmann and Chatrian. Those who have studied fiction. A more preposterous plot than that of the works of these men in the original can appre"The Pilot,"' in which an American frigate makes ciate how conscientious they were. In the height her way into a difficult harbor merely in order to of their popularity they agreed to supply the Journal find a pilot to take her out again, could not be
des Debats with a romance. It is said that the skelimagined, but how glorious is the description of eton of the story always came from one and the the frigate beating out to sea in a gale, with the giving of flesh to it from the other. When the work enemy close at hand. Chingachgook is as impos was concluded, the joint authors sat in judgment sible as Mr. Bret Harte's delightful gamblers, but over it, and read it all over. “What do you think how admirable is the scene in which he captures a
of it ?" asked one of them. "C'est bien mauvais," canoe for the Pathfinder and his party from the said the other. “Then let us make a good fire with swimming Hurons. I can smile at Cooper's hero it,” and so page by page the manuscript was burned ines, or "young females," as he prefers to call in a stove. The Debats had to wait. In time, howthem, and I can recognize the fact that his Indians ever, a fine novel was sent to the paper, and the and sailors never had their prototypes on sea or
fame of Erckmann and Chatrian increased. land, but for all that Cooper as a storyteller is far and away the best that America has produced. He At length de Maupassant stands near his teacher may not have fallen into neglect, so far as the and his master, Gustave Flaubert-that is, their number of his readers is concerned, but he cer busts now stand in close proximity in the old town tainly does not hold the position to which he is of Rouen, which witnessed the youthful trials of entitled in American literature. W. L. ALDEN. each. The Flaubert memorial had been there alone
for several years ; it was only recently that de Mau
Balzac used to hunt names for the characters in passant was set up to keep it company.
his romances. He would not be satisfied with one
of his own invention. It had to have actual exist. The centenary of the birth of Pushkin, the popular
ence. So perambulating Paris or Tours, he would poet of Russia, will be celebrated this year. Like study the signs, and was delighted when he found a Dumas, he was of African descent, his grandfather
name which suited his personages. Dickens, we
It is said, being a full-blooded negro. Pushkin began writing fancy, rather invented his funny names. early, and by his twentieth year his works were
however, that he took Oliver Twist from an omnibus known throughout Europe.
conductor. There was a 'bus driver, and as the conductor shut the door of the vehicle he cried out
to the jehu, "Go on, Oliver Twist," and Dickens, The story is told that a friend, invited to dine with
who was a passenger, at once adopted the name for Schopenhauer at his favorite restaurant, where a the boy who asked "for more.'' number of officers were in the habit of meeting, noticed that Schopenhauer took a gold coin from his pocket before eating and laid it on the table beside
A Very Curious Letter. him. When the meal was over the philosopher re Cowper, you know, was the man who wrote placed the coin in his purse. Upon a question from about John Gilpin, and the letter by him is about his friend, Schopenhauer explained : "I have been another poem of his called 'Charity.' Here it is : dining with these officers for some time,” he said, “My dear friend, I am going to send what, when "and about two months ago I registered a silent you have read, you may scratch your head, and vow to give this gold coin, of considerable value, to say, I suppose, there's nobody knows, whether some worthy charity, on the very first occasion upon what I have got be verse or not; by the tune and which I should hear these gentlemen talk of any. the time, it ought to be rhyme; but if it be, did ever thing but women, horses and the chances of promo you see, of late or of yore, such a ditty before? I tion. You see I still have my money."
have writ Charity' not for popularity, but as well as I could, in hopes to do good ; and if the reviewer
should say, to be sure, the gentleman's Muse wears Kipling writes all his verses while humming tunes,
Methodist shoes, you may know by her pace, and which are generally Irish, if William Strong, the
talk about grace, that she and her bard have little artist, who visited Kipling before his illness, is cor
regard for the tastes and fashions, and ruling pasrect. The interesting confession is given in the
sions, and hoydening play of the modern day; and poet's words : "I take up, for example,'' he said,
though she assume a borrowed plume, and now and "the ‘Wearing of the Green,' and I hum it over and
then wear a tittering air, 'tis only her plan, to catch over, and the spirit moves me to write words to fit
if she can, the giddy and gay, as they go that way, it." It is queer to note, now that the thing is
by the production of a new construction. She has mentioned, that "Mandalay" goes to the tune of
baited her trap in the hope to snap all that may “Wearing of the Green." Try it :
come, with a sugar-plum. His opinion in this will "Take ine somewheres east of Suez, where the best
not be amiss ; 'tis what I intend my principal end ; is like the worst,
and if I succeed, and folks should read till a few Where there aren't no ten commandments and a
are brought to a serious thought, I shall think I am man can raise a thirst." The story is told of George Moore, the author of paid for all I have said, and all I have done,
although I have run, many a time, after a rhyme, "Evelyn Innes," that when he was talking with the
as far from hence to the end of my sense, and by artist Manet concerning London customs he said :
hook or by crook, write another book, if I live and "You will see an extraordinary city. Until seven
am here another year. I have heard before of a rooni o'clock in the evening every one is in tweeds and
with a floor laid upon springs and such like thiugs, has a pipe in his mouth, even in the street, but after
with so much art in every part that when you went seven o'clock-evening dress and a gardenia in the
in you were forced to begin a minuet pace, with an buttonhole.”
air and grace, swimming about, now in and now Manet left for London without warning Moore.
out, with a deal of state, in a figure of eight, He reached Charing Cross at seven o'clock, drove
without pipe or string, or any such thing; and now to his hotel, put on his dress coat, and took a han
I have writ, in a rhyming fit, what will make you som to Moore's chainbers. He found Moore in dance, and as you advance will keep you still, slippers and a jersey, eating sandwiches in company though against your will, dancing away, alert and with three unshaven friends.
gay, till you come to an end of what I have penned;
which that you may do ere madam and you are "Those who believe Gascony is in the south of
quite worn out with jigging about, I take my leave, France are mistaken,” Manet used to say.
“It is on
and here you receive a bow profound, down to the the banks of the Thames."
ground, from your humble me.-W. C.”