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VOLUME JI.
VENTRILOQUISM.
VOCAL DELUSIONS AND HOW EXPERTS
PRODUCE THEM.
Kennedy Gives Away .Some Secrets at the
Business—The A>t Not Easy to Ac
quire-Muat be a Good Mimic.
"Ventriloquism is the art of so modu
lating the human voice that it seems to
come from some other direction than the
right one."
That is what Harry Kennedy, the
famous ventriloquist and song writer, said
to me the other day. It was not the first
thing he said, although we hail met solely
for the discussion of ventriloquism. While
we were talking he excused himself and
went to the door, and immediately darted
back, apparently frightened by the hoarse
barking of a fero;ious dog.
"Why don't you have him taken away?"
I suggested, nervously.
"I will." Thereupon he went again to
the door, and calling a man, told him to
chain the doe up. In a annate the dog's
barks changed to howls and ended in a
pitiful whine down in the pit of the thea
ter near the si age.
"I guess it's all right now," continued
Mr. Kennedy. "Ventriloquism is simply
a vocal delusion." Then followed the
more complete definition, which introduces
this article—au article, by the way, in
•which Mr. Kennedy tells in his own lan
guage a story of ventriloqnism, with
scenes laid in many countries, and ends
with giving the secret of his {interesting |
art, with instructions and suggestions to
those who desire to master it.
''Sometimes," went on Mr. Kennedy, j
"adventitious circumstances make this de-1
lusion seem almost a realty, and the listen
era would take oath that their senses had ;
not deceived them. For instance, with a !
party of tourists I once visited a famous i
cave in Derbyshire. While we were at j
the mouth of the cavern a mournful wail
seemed to come frcm the darkness and was
echoed a score of times, to the intense hor
ror and fright of my companions. The
cave was haunted. It is hardly necessary
to say that I was the uneasy ghost, but tlie
circumstances that surrounded the trick
made it startliugly realistic.
"In telling you how I became a ventrilo
quist you will see how difficult it is to ac
quire the art, and some of your readers
may experiment and make more rapid i
progress than I did. One of the first works
of fiction that I ever read was 'Valentine
Vox.' That bonk made me a ventriloquist,
as it has undoubtedly started many an- :
other boy on the same course. For at least j
a month or more I used to wake my j
brother up at night trying to throw my
voice into the further side of the room or
out of the window. I have no doubt that j
during that time I was the most disagree- j
able boy to sleep with in all England. I
was a large boy for my age. Although I
was only 13, I looked fully 15, and was far
enough advanced in my studies for a boy
of that age. I had graduated at the pub
lic schools, and was iv the lowest class Bt
•Owears College, in Manchester, my native
town.
"In those days we had penny readings in
a public hall, and among the entertainers
who were engaged for a season was a Pro- j
fessor of ventriloquism. You can hardly
imagine how fascinated I was by his per
formance. He chalked his hand and
knuckles, and. bending his fingers toward
the palm, he made a very good imitation
of an old man's profile. Then by opening
and closing the first and second finger
joints, he gave a representation of the
'talking hand' trick. I was delighted. I
was mystified. 1 had a thirst for knowl
edge. But how should I quench it ?
Finally, after a sleepless night, I decided
on a plan. I offered my services to the
reading committee as elocutionist, and at
the next entertainment I recited 'The
Death of Marmion.' After the reading I
sidled up to the Professor and begged him
to give me a private exhibition of bis art.
After Rfnie coaxing he consented. Then I
discovered that Valentine Vox was a fraud.
Ye ltriloquistn was no longer an occult art.
It was simply a vocal delusion. 1 plied
him with questions, which he was not dis
posed to answer to my satisfaction. Finally
he said: "Now. young man, I have told you
all I intend to. If you can learn the trick
• come to me in six months and tell me so.'
Six months later I called on him and re
peated his trick, not so well as he did it,
but well enough to merit his praise.
"Before 1 was It 1 left home with a lit
tle money in my pocket to go to sea. I
wanted to see the world, and I didn't want
to see it as most persons do. I presume if
I had been an American boy, I would
have gone out West to fight Indiana 1
was full of romantic ideas—ideas which
have been knocked out of me so long sgo
that I can hardly realize that I ever had
them. I Started to walk to Birmingham.
On my way I met a professional tramp.
A courteous educated. Iri.-h gentleman,
whose fondness for whisky had sent him
adrift in live world. We became com
panions. As we were passing a bit of
woods I so modulated my voice that a man
.seemed to be calling to as from the copse.
A short search failed to find him. 1 re
peated the trick again farther on with the
same success, and then emboldened by
success I reseated it over too often and
was detected.
"When the tramp discovered the fraud,
his f.K-e wjc< a study. The beatific ex
pn "J m thai spretd over his phiz was as
though it beheld a vision. He looked as
Mulberry Sellers looked when he discov
ered ■ plan 'with millions in it.' Our for
tune was made, SB l.c said, sad a few min
utes later he proved it, to his satisfaction
at least We came to a roadside inn, and,
as it was early evening, we went in. The
tap-room was filled, and the guests were
enjov'i g tl • with ale and gossip,
pipes I It wa-- the very nick of
time. The tramp introduced me with
melting eloquence, nnd I gave my per
formane. After it was over he passed
around the hat and collected four shillings
and sixpence, which he handed to me to
keep. He w.'> my f.r>t partner.
"l'ii.ji.W we reached Liverpool and
pried around the city into public and pri
vate places, for the world was new to mc
then, giving here and there a performance,
until one clay I shipped as office-boy on
the Mediterranean ireigbt steamer," the
Magdella. I thought my partner's heart
would break as ivc parted. To make a
lon* story short, 1 (bund myself on my
third voyage chief steward of the
through the death of the steward. When
we were wrecked at Bonlmer Point, on the
northeast cra*t of England, the executive
officers were suspended by order of the
company, and 1 was put iv charge until
the cargo eon!,! be saved. We were five
weeks, and during that time a fleet of fish
ing ve*iels was wrecked at Claster, a near
by town, and I gave a performance for
their l>enefit at Boulmer. It was -
fui, aud I wjis invited by the relief com
mittee of Aioswick to help their enter
tainment. It was given under the pat
ronage of several ladie*, and 1 was titled
■*Mr. Henry Kennedy, of the steamship
Magdella, now wrecked at Boulmer Point."
That was my first play bill.
"I followed the sea for several years
more before the mast and on the quarter
deck, and during those years I saw almost
all ot the world worth seeing. Mean
while, however, 1 kept up my ventrilo
quism as a pastime, add many a trick I
played on the mates. Once when we were
twenty-seven days going from Boston to
Montreal with a freight of railroad iron, I
made the crew believe there was a ghost
in the hold, and we ha;! to hire other help
to unload the cargo.
SACRAMENTO SUNDAY UNION.
"It was this prank which led me to
adopt the stage as a profession. It finally
leaked out that I was the ghost, and the
story came to the ears of Signor Bosco, a
magician and mesmerist. He persuaded
me to leave the sea and travel with him.
In three months' time I could do all of
his allusions, and then started out in busi
ness for myself. In 1874 I joined the
Rosario combination, with J. R. Brown,
the famous miud-reader, who was just be
ginning his career, and came to New
York. Since then my professional life is
well known to the theater going public."
Ths entire setting on the stage is where
a parlor scene is given by three life-sized
dummy figures—au old Ir -hman, an old j
woman aud an exaggera I dude—seated ;
around a table and at an organ. A trunk j
is in one corner of the room containing j
two puppets, Pete, a darky, and Joe, an !
Irishman. A smiled dog sits on a chair j
near the footlights. |
"Let me tell you before I go through :
with this private performance," explained •
Mr. Kennedy, "that these accessories are !
necessary. "When the mouth of one of
these figures opeus and the audience hear
a voice appropriate to the dummy, they j
canrot tell by their owu senses whether |
the sound comes from me or from it. If;
you were to blindfold a man aud seat him j
in the center of a ring around which a '
dozen persons were stationed, each with a I
bell in his hand, he could not locate the J
ring of any particular bell by his sense of j
hearing. Formerly I carried around with j
me an expensive apparatus by which the
dude was actually made to play an organ, i
Now I utilize the lack of location in the ;
sense of hearing by placing an organette
behind the scenes, which is played at a
proper time iv my act.
"Still another trick that illustrates fur
ther than any how easily the ears may be
deceived is the singing of a song by the
dude, whose back is turned to the audi
ence. The sjng is to an orchestral accom- •
paniment, aud the voice seems to come i
from the puppet in the corner."
The difficult feat that Mr. Kennejy does j
is to recite a poem entitled "Listen to the .
Water Mill," owing to the many repeti
tions of the letter "M," which is the hard- |
est of all letters to pronounce without Clos- j
ing the lips. The verse is regarded as the j
supreme feat of ventriloquism. The verse j
is as follows:
Listen to the water mill a.l the live lODg day;
How the plashing of the wheels wear the hours
away! j
Languidly the water glides, flowing on and still,
Never coming back again to tne water mill, 1
And the proverb haunts my mind and live a
spell is cast,
The mill will never grind with tha water tnat
has passed.
Mr. Kennedy makes the sound "m" by '
what might be likened to a grunt which is !
made from the abdomen. If you think
this is easily done, practice it once or J
twice.
"Now," said Mr. Kennedy, when the
performance had ended, "I will give you
all I can that will help any one who wants j
to become a ventriloquist. In the first '
place, the old idea that the voice can be
thrown to a certain point is by no means '
exploded. Every week or so some one
whispers to me, 'Throw your voice into
that man's ear and frighten him.' As I
said before, ventriloquism is simply a vocal !
delusion. l
"The first thing necessa.y to learn the [
trick is to become a good mimic. In ;
learning this I would first advise a boy to ■
go as far away from other people as pos- |
sible, otherwise he runs great chances of.
making himself very unpopular.
"After he has learned to do this he can
begin with real ventriloquism. Try to J
sound all the letters without moving his |
lips. This requires much practice and i
patience.
"Here is the one secret in learning the i
art. Always imitate sounds as they fall •
iipocMTour ears. If you near a man halloo j
in tflaWistance reproduce that sound so j
that when it comes from your lips it is ex- i
actly like the distant sound that struck j
your ears.
"Follow these rules, and if you have the
natural gifts you can become a ventrilo- t
quist.
"I have been in the busiuess so many !
years that my throat has changed its orig- j
"inal form. My 'Adam's apple' is round, j
instead of pointed, and my vocal cords are j
greatly enlarged. Dr. Titus, the noted
throat physician, wanted to make a photo
graph of the interior of my throat for sci- j
entitic purposes. He says there is only j
one throat of that sort in the country, and j
that 1 have got it."
As I was leaving the stage the chained -
bulldog barked at my heels just around
one ofthe wings.
'Cine back here and see him. He j
won't hurt you," said the ventriloquist.
"' if course he won't," interrupted the
stage hand. "Don't you know that Mr.
Kennedy is the dog ?"
And it was eveu so.
Two Sweet Girl Graduates.
Two sweet girl graduates went forth to !
walk iv the woods. In their holiday mood
all roads were one to them, and when they
came to a cross-road they turned into it.
A hunter who happened to be standing
near spoke to them.
"Don't take that road, young women,"'
he said ; " it isn"t safe."
" Why isn't it safe?" asked the sweetest
of the girl graduates, increduously.
" Because a bear has lately gone up that
way."
■• How do you know that? Did you
see the bear '!''
" No, I didn't see him ; but there is his
trail;" and the hunter pointed to some
footprints on the ground.
Tiie girl graduates carefully examined
the tracks, and said one to the other:
'• They don't look like the prints of a l>ear's
paw^. Do you think they are?"'
" Don't believe him, 1' said the other.
" I don't think they look a bit like bear
track-.."
"Do you know a bear trail when you
see it f queried the hunter.
" If you mean the print of a bear's paws
on tlie ground," said one of the girl gradu
ates, with a lofty air, "I am sure any one
. •: 1 tell what they look like."
" Did you ever see the tracks of a bear '.'"
repeated the hunter.
" No," replied the girl graduate," but
natural history gives us the information of j
a bear's paws, p.ml the commonest mental
operation would teach us from that what
their tracks would look like. 1 don't think
these look the least like the footprints of a
bear. Bears have claws, and there are no
marks of claws here."
" Who ever heard of a bear without
claw-?" saw! the other girl graduate, with
a withering glance at the hunter.
"What kind of tracks be they, then,
miss .'" asked the hunter.
" Indeed I don't know." returned one of
the sweet girl graduates, superciliously.
" They certainly are not the tracks of a
bear."'
" Besides," added the other sweet girl
graduate,'' who ever heard of bears walk
ing along road: ?"
The hunter's stock of arguments as well
as words was limited, and he said nothing.
The sweet girl graduates went on their
way.
Ihey had not gone far when a bear sprang
upon tbem and ate them up. The only
parts of their anatomy not masticated be
yond identity were their tongues, which,
finding tough, the bear had swallowed
whoie Before the process of digestion
fairly began, these found time for a few j
words: j
" They were bear tracks after all," said
one. j
"And suppose they were," replied the:
other, " how were we to know?"— Harper's
Bazar. j
~-
Candid Courtesy.—"ioung lady (very
proud of her artistic abilities) —"I dare
say you have h?ard th3t I paint?" Mr. [
Silly i, who thinks she is referring to her [
brilliant complexion)—"Ya-as, but I don't '
believe it."— Pick Me Up. I
SACRAMENTO, CAX., SUNDAY MORNING,* OCTOJ&KB J9, 1890.
DRAMATIC EVOLUTION.
CAUSES FOR THE POPULARITY OF
LIGHT ENTERTAINMENTS.
How Opera Boufle and Negro Minstrelsy
Affected the Stage—Suggestions for
the Futare.
Dramatic evolution is a term new to
those who find their bread and butter as
players, but it is a fact, as much us scien
tific evolution is, and far similar reasons.
Eut dramatic evolution is a strange thing,
and not often comprehended or even ob
served by the members of the profession or
by the public. Nevertheless, it is full of
interest and has as many positive and
startling phases as scientific or even eso
teric evolution.
Few people have stopped to ask them
selves how opera bouffe, opera comique,
farce-comedy aud scenic melodrama have
come about within the past few years, and
how they have assumed their present
mammoth proportions.
They have been the natural conse
quences of a very natural evolution, which
can be logically explained and justified.
Everybody has been writing more or
less about Dion Boucicault, and praising
or belittling him, as was thought best; but
I venture to say that very few of these
writers have considered him as the pro
duct, or one of the products, of dramatic
evolution, whicli he undoubtedly was.
Mr. Boucicault was born to tbe profes
sion as Lee Morton at a time when the
English stage was suffering from a diet of
dramatic chestnuts and a dearth of fresh
food for a starving public. It had passed,
so to speak, through a tunnel, and was just
emerging into daylight without an engi
neer, or even firemen competent to keep it
going, when Boucicault came upon the
scene and took in the situation. Mr.
Boucicault always was masterful in situa
tions and equal to any emergency; so he
turned at once into practical industry and
j wrote "London Assurance" —a comedy of
| the hour, men, women and modes—and ob
. tamed instant recognition.
You see, at that time the theater-going
j public loved and relis'ied comedy, especi
, ally of the school of Sheridan, Congreve,
j Goldsmith and kindred geniuses., and were
i ready to accept something new in that
: vein'froin anybody. "London Assurance"
! was therefore received by those epicures
with as much favor as a new vintage of
[ wine with a pleasant bouquet, yet entitled
to classification with olaer brands or la
. bels.
j Later on and all through life, I might
say, Dion Boucicau't was selected by fate
and circumstances to be the creature of
dramatic evolution, and his own account
of the birth of his principal successes justi
fies my claim. The "Colleen Bawn" was
written because there was nothing else to
be had ; "Led Astray," "Arrah Na Pogue,"
"The Shaughraun," and other great works
were brought into being to save theatiical
managers from disaster, at times when
there was no other dramatist to write for
them and nothing but old plays to draw
upon. Yes, Mr. Boucicault was evolved
by the processes that evolve all things in
nature, beginning at the decay of what
was the germination of the new life in the
sty of decadence; the budding and as
sumption of integrity, and the final frui
tion and appearance of the newly evolved
product under the incubation and revul
sion of necessity.
And so it has ever been. All things
that are became entities by reason of
| natural evolution, let the causes be what
i they might. It is with the causes, so far
as they apply to the present condition of
the local stage, that I have to do in this
j article.
I was standing in front of the Broadway
; Theater speaking to a well-known man
i ager, who is connected with another house.
j He said that the success of "The Merry
; Monarch" was phenomenal because ot" the
I character of the entertainment. "Do you
j know," he said, "that there is nothing
; absolutely new in the production, except
! perhaps the mise en scene and some of the
j dresses. You don't agree with me? Of
j course not. But let me say to you that at
| every step of the entertainment I recog
; nize old friends, or, perhaps I had better
i say, I am reminded of old friends—pieces
j which used to make the public laugh years
ago, and that were written for the down
! town theaters by that oddly versatile
genius, John F. Poole. You smile again.
But lam speaking correctly. I see bits of
business and suggestions which recall
■Who Owns the Line?' 'The Slippery Day'
and half a dozen other pieces which made
me and thousands laugh heartily when I
was a boy."
This seemed plausible enough, and set
me to thinking on the subject of dramatic
evolution and filled me with astonishment,
too, at the logical sequence of theatrical
entertainments. Looking backward with
my friend, not with Mr. Bellamy, I dis
covered that the shows the critics con
demn and the public patronize to-day are
the natural results of the past twenty
years of the dramatic work in New York.
Take "Tlie Merry Monarch" first, as I
Jiave mentioned it first, and follow it back
in a direct line to its source, and you will
find that it is only the New York extract
of the opera boufle of Paris, the burlesque
of Lydia Thompson's and Elsie Holt's
British blondes and the farcial extrava
ganza of Gotham itself. "The Merry
Monarch" has for its foundation the fun,
frolicsome measures and grotesqtierie of its
first two bases allied with the humor of
the American charcoal sketches of things
local and journalistically current.
It became a fact through dramatic evo
lution here, and has succeeded because of
its legitimacy. Only the illegitimate off
spring of the dramatic period are short
lived, and are dethroned by the public if
they are allowed to reign even for a week.
"The Merry Monarch" is a sovereign in
its own right, hence its presence on the
\ stage.
Opera boufle at the Casino has been re
vived in a measure, but not in toto, to
please those who may be termed old fogies
or Francomaniacs, and the younger gener
ation, who have heard the tunes ou the
barrel organs, but have never seen the
great original performances by (frau's,
Bateman's and other managers' troupes.
When opera, boufle was popular in New
York seventeen years ago it seemed to
have taken hold of the senses as well as of
the fancies of the public. At that time I,
as well as others, believed that opera
boufle had come to stay, and so it had, for
notwithstanding its disappearance as an
integer from the stage for a few years, it
was found in fragments and in color dis
tributed throughout the profession. Every
Anerican burlesque, every English ex
tiavaganza was the child or wore some
part of the garb of the opera boufle until
at this very hour the latter disports itself
as "Mme. Angot" at the Casino and as
"The Merry Monarch" in part at the
Broadway Theater. Dramatic evolution
has given us both and leaves no doubt as to
the truth of its existence.
The farce-comedy has been evolved from
negro minstrelsy, and the variety business
itself is only the product of the old Eng
lish forms of entertainment by individuals,
which, in turn, had been imported from
the Continent and the Orient.
Our people have always been lovers of
fun ana have patronized with astonishing
liberality anything that would make them
laugh; no wonder, therefore, that they took
kindly to farce-comedy, which, judging by
the phenomenal business being done by
the "Parlor Match" and Russell's comedi
ans in the "City Directory," has as strong
a place as ever in the aS'fciions of the peo-
pie. But farce-comedy will shortly suffer,
or, more properly speaking, benefit, by the
process of dramatic evolution which never
stands still. And it will yield to the in
evitable. You will see the farce-comedy
in its present shape fade gradually from
the stage and be succeeded by the broad_
but more refined comedy of the style of
the "Midnight Bell."
Already Mr. Hoyt, who is keenly alive
to the manifestations of iramatic evolu
tion, has gone still further with it, and
given to his/patrons "A Texas Steer" and
another piece of the same class, <vhich are
quite as funny as "The Parlor Match,*' he
claims, and which have mollified the crit
ics of Chicago so much that they have
been praising,as a writer, Mr. Hoyt,whom
they had been wont to decry as a base
pander to the tastes of the "vulgar theater
goers." Here is an undeniable symptom
of dramatic evolution at once encouraging
and pleasant —to Mr. Hovt, at least.
I have heard it said that Mr. Hoyt was
the direct evolution of Mr. Ilarrigau, and
that the farce-comedies of the former had
come upon the scene as the*atural succes
sors- of Mr. Harrigan's local sketches. I
do cot see theslightest family resemblance
between the productions of these gentle
men. Mr. Harrigan was the dramatic
evolution of Johu F. Poole and Thomp
son. Mr. Hoyt is the Yankee child of the
French farceur in a smail degree, and of
the American humorist in a large degree.
I think it will be admitted ere long that
Mr. Hoyt is applying French methods to
American work, or, more properly speak
ing, French work to American material.
We shall see. This, however, is incon
testable, that Mr. Hoyt is the dramatic
evolution of American comic papers and
Ameiican comic sketches in minstrelsy
and variety, so far as he has gone up to
the [.resent time in material.
The American comic opera is coming
along, many people to the contrary not
withstanding, and it is the dramatic evolu
tion of Eoglish and Oerman comic opera,
as the same are represented by Sullivan,
Suppe and Strauss. In other words, the
seeds were planted on this soil by the com
posers above named and will bring forth
fruit. Indeed, they have begun to fructify
already.
With regard to melodrama, it must be
admitted that American melodrama is the
consequence of French and English melo
drama. Boucicault transplanted both years
ago, and was first husbandman in this field
of American dramatic literature. We
have had dozens of toilers since, all im
ported ; but Americans haven taken up the
implements and are cultivating melodrama
now. It will thus be seen that there has
been and still is a decided and dramatic
evolution at work in this country.
Harrigan, Hoyt, Cheever, Goodwin,
Archie <'unter, Mac—aye, Rosenfeld and
many clever writers and composers in dif
ferent parts ofthe country, notably in Chi
cago, Boston and San Francisco, are busy,
profitably to themselves and the public.
And thus the evolution progresses.
In acting, the effects of this evolution
are felt unpleasantly, I fear; for while we
are getting any quantity of fun and lots of
taking music, we are not educating artists
for every wa'.k of the drama.
Our people are so fond of fun that they
want a little—I had almost said a great
deal of it—in every play presented. The
question rarely is : What kind of a story
are we going to hear tonight? It gen
erally is : Who is the comedian or the sou
brette ?
Now and then we find a play with such
a breadth of human interest and wealth of
dramatic situation that the public must be
pleased and must go to see it. But such
plays are so few and far apart that we cease
to think of them, except as ships or inter
esting strangers we have met casually
from time to time at sea or on the high
ways of life.
I wish it were not so ! I wish that col
laboration were more frequent aud common
in this country. Then might we see a
completely successful all-round melodrama
from the pens of two such collaborateurs
as Mackaye and Hoyt, Young and Harri
gan and Howard and Bret Harte.
These would be combinations of talent
which might compel results in dramatic
evolution which would affect American
players quite as much as the American
drama and vastly improve both.
Will it ever be? ROBERT Mourns.
ART AND THINGS ARTISTIC.
The Sacramento School of Design now
has the largest winter classes since its
founding.
It is proposed to erect a monument to
Miss Emma Willard in Troy. Her hobby
was the higher education of women.
Mrs. Perngini, Charles Dickens' second
daughter, sketches for the English maga
zines. She is also a successful painter of
children's portraits.
New York's famous institution, Cooper
Union, for the advancement of science and
art, has opened with an enrollment of
2,500 young men and women. (Jn the
waiting lists are more than 1,000 names.
Lady Randolph Churchill, generally
well known as a woman of good, strong
sense and a beauty, is such a clever mu
sician and artist that she declares her abil
ity to earn a handsome living for herself,
if there were need of it, by teaching either
of these accomplishments.
Art is given to shifting her ground from
time to time in the matter of the aspects
of nature that she studies. In the paint
ers an,d modelers of the fifteenth century
we discern an enthusiastic delight in the
physical forms of infancy that has not been
approached by any other age. The inter
est in babyhood has in the nineteenth cen
tury fouud its strangest expression in lit
erature. It seems to find the subject
hardly of sufficient interest for representa
tion on its own merits. Sir Everett Mil
lais has painted a splendid cradled baby,
but it is being floated away in an inunda
tion ; as if the subject wanted that element
of terror to hold the spectator. In the
average picture of our exhibitions, where
a baby is introduced, it is usually to
heighten our interest in the mother,
whose husband is away on the sea ; in the
betrayed or widowed mother—but seldom
on its own merits.
A French painter, M. Deschamps, is
perhaps the only man at the present time
who expresses in painting a frank delight
in the subject of infancy without any
added sentimental interest. If we exam
ine tho colums of art criticism of to-day
we shall make the curious discovery that
to say a man paintßhabies is a form of re
proach. VerrochioTTiae painter of a Ma
donna in the National Gallery, that is
there attributed to his school, has left be
hind him two typical figures that show a
width of range as surprising as his skill.
His bronze statue of Bartolomeo Colleone
at Venice is widely known as one of the
best equestrian figures that the world has
ever seen, and no less admirable than the
force and artistic beauty cf its workman
ship is the wonderful grasp of character
shown in its conception. The- horseman
is incumbered with a heavy panoply and
his face is partly shadowed by his helmet,
but the individuality of the man is given
to us through all obstructions. He is per
haps the most forcible embodiment in art
of human strength as he sits throned on
his saddle. A chain on which the gaunt
leted fingers can not slip is in his left
hand ; it connects the broad reins which
control the cruel curb. In his right hand
he grasps the leader's truncheon ; with
that he launches and directs his human
subordinates : with the bridle he manipu
lates the sinewy-mettled beast astride of
which he sits. Dominant humanity in its
strongest manifestation; such is the one of
Verrocchio's types. The other type,
equally clear cut, is of the weakest and
most dependent morsel of humanity—a
baby. For its truth to nature it stands
out even among the splendid work of the
time.
-m---t-.
Oysters live to tbe age of from twelve to
fifteen years. (
MUSIC AND THE DRAMA.
MATTERS THEATRICAL IN THE GREAT I
AMERICAN METROPOLIS.
Attractions Now Belore the Gothaiuites
—Henry E. Dixey's Visit to Sacra
mento——Stage Notes.
Rosalind May, the regular New York
correspondent of the Sunday I'nioji,
writes as follows about theatrical matters
in that city:
" 'The Old Homestead' is at home again,
and the welcome given it on last Monday,
the opening night, was the warm greeting
of genuine atlection. Every seat "was
taken and advance sales show that a pre
vious run of three seasons, in place of
weariness, has but laid stronger the founda
tions of a phenomenal popularity. The
principal actors are the same as formerly,
but the scenery is embellished by changes.
A strong addition in a musical way is a
boy choir of twenty-four voices, and there
is an introduction during the last scene of
a typical New England snow-storm, *which
oocaptea half the stage, and is in fine con
trast with the warm and hospitable
kiti-.i^n drama that completes the double
picture.
"This during the week, while for Sunday
evenings the management advertise Tal
mage. Just here a word is timely as to
the class whom he attracts, the more so as
tbe impression going abroad that New
Yorkers or Brooklynites follow him, is a
chief source of revenue and serves to fill
gaping pockets on lecture tours. Outsiders
do not always remember that the term
'New Yorker' is comprehensive and
embraces people of many kinds. No better
evidence can be given of the kind who
compose the Talmage followers than the
fact that the property holders in the neigh
borhood of his new church met to discuss
the feasibility of preventing au anticipated
onrush of 'rabble.' Intelligent listeners,
such as were wont to frequent Plymouth
Church in Beecher's time, are conspicuous
by their absence and in their place collect
an assemblage intent on a cheap show.
Lung power furnishes an entertainment
which ignorance construes as the outcome
of brains, and on goes the profitable work.
But that Talmage, in the usually accepted
sense of the term, is a 'New York success'
is the reverse of true. The return of
mr. daly's company,
On Tuesday, is a second notable event and
the announcement was, of course, sufficient
to crowd the always popular house. The
new play is called 'New Lamps for Old.'
"Helen Dauvray, at the Standard Thea
ter, has found that a temporary absence
from the stage has but enhanced her pop
ularity, and in her character of a strung
minded, but handsome and elegantly
attired heroine, she appears to much ad
vantage in a good deal of piquant dia
logue and situations calculated to call out
her special talents. The support is very
good and 'Whirlwind,' however inappro
priately named, affords an agreeable enter
tainment.
"'The Ked Hussar,' at Palmer's, in
which charming little Marie Tempest has
scored such a success, both among the
dudes and New Yorkers in general, gives
way next week to the Jefferson-Florence
company and such a combination will, of
course, serve to bring out the best class of
city play-goers and strangers as well, who
will be anxious to embrace the rare oppor
tunity. The initial performance will be
'The Heir at Law,' and subsequently 'The
Rivals' will be produced, when Mrs. John
Drew will again present her matchless im
personation of Mrs. Malaprop.
IHrTHBRW,
In 'the Maister of Woodbarrow,' is having
an extremely successful engagement at the
Lyceum. Like all Mr. Frohman's pre
sentations, it is well put on the stage and
will occupy the time until the return of
the regular company. ,
"At tbe Casino, preparations are being
made for a production next week of 'Poor
Jonathan,' which will replace 'Mme. An
got,' and, like all performances at that place
of amusement, it is anticipated with inter
est.
"The Eden Musee is thronged by sight
seers, who watch delightedly the dancing
of Otero, the Spanish beauty, between
whom and Carmancita there is a most
spirited rivalry, and one which is beginning
to influence dancing in fashionable society
and costumes of society dancers as well."
"adonis" dixey's visit.
Henry E. Dixey and his company were
in Sacramento during the week. This is
not his first visit here. He was the Robin
son Crusoe in Rice's "Surprise Party" when
that famous organization played here in
1879. Mr. Dixey and his company have
spent the past six weeks on the coast, and
that this well-known comedian is pleased
with his experiences goes without saying.
"With each succeeding visit," said he,
"I am the most pleased with my recep
tions. I find that the people heie are very
broad-guage in their ideas, very intelli
gent, and splendid patrons of good shows.
Fortunately the expenses to cover the Pa
cific coast circuit are sufficiently large to
keep poor attraclionsoff the road. With the
growth of communities come modern thea
ters, and there are few places that i have
visited in the extreme West that are not
admirably supplied in this direction."
"What*about the growth of the dramatic
art, Mr. Dixey ?"
"If you mean in the manner of stage ap
pliances, I can say they have l>een marvel
ous. They have been wonderful even during
the past decade. Everything which goes
to complete perfect stage situations is now
at hand, and I can hardly suggest where
further improvements could be made. The
electric light has been an important factor
in all this, and it is through its aid that
many great stage effects are produced. If
Shakespeare himself could see my produc
tion in two hours and a half of the famous
soliloquy he put in the mouth of Jaques
in 'As" You Like It,' he would stand
aghast in silent admiration of the wonder
ful progress made iv scenic and stage
mechanism. Yet, with all this, it is a
question whether the stage has increased
in power. The wonderful plays of Addi
son, Goldsmith and Shakespeare probably
go no closer to the hearts of the people in
their interpretations at present than they
did when mechauical effects were crude.
The music of Beethoven and Mozart pos
sibly sounds no sweeter now when rendered
by the splendid bands of the world in halls
with perfect accoustic properties, than it
did when it was played on the harpsi
chord of our grandmother. The soul of
the music was present then as it is now,
and so it is with the grand plays written
by those whose names I have mentioned.
jj"On the other hand, the plays of the
modern class have made improvements
such as would be impossible to make with
the standard plays. No one could im
prove Hamlet's soliloquy nor Jaques'
soliloquy on the seven ages of man. To
do so would be to gild refined gold or paint
the beams of a California sun. Where
marked improvements are noticeable is in
burlesque, and concerning this branch of
the dramatic art I think I am capable of
speaking, having been connected with it
for the past twenty-two years. Even the
best burlesques presented during the past
twenty-five years would hardly stand
muster with 'Adonis' or 'The Seven Ages.'
The central ideas in the burlesques prior
to 'Adonis' were lines strung together
without regard to reason and less regard to
rhyme. These lines were usually built
around wretchedly bad puns and they had
no special reference to the play itself.
Scenic and musical effects were secondary
considerations, and the lines and puns
would to-day make an evening decidedly
depressing to an amusement lover.
"When I collaborated with Mr. Gill in
the play of 'Adonis' I decided to construct
a play which would apjieal to the artistic
tastes of every man. woman and child. I
took it that a woman and her child had as
much right to be amused and pleased as
had the men. Consequently the eye, ear
and the finer sense of humor must be
gratified. No slang or vulgarisms, even
direct cr by innuendo, would be permitted.
The result was that 'Adonis' has been one
of the most successful plays ever written,
and to prove this I can point with'pride
to the o 000 performances I have given of
this play. It has been my ambition to
have a reportorie of plays, aI) J to do this
I have several [''ays ready to be produced
within the coming year or two."
THOMAS KEEXE.
On next Monday evening will be in
augurated at the Metropolitan Theater a
three-night season of tragedy by the emi
nent tragedian, Tin.mas W. Keene. Eleven
years' service, constantly engaged in por
traying the leading characters in the
Shakespearean drama, certainly gives Mr.
Keeue a strong claim to popularity and
consideration, and wide recognition by the
most eminent American critics secures for
him a place in the dramatic history of this
country among the most illustrious of our
tragic actors. It is years since he made
his debut as a tragic actor, in "Richard
HI." He, from the night of his debut,
has verified the mo»t sanguine prophesies
made by his admirers. He secured
public favor at once. He has retained
it. He has done so by hard work and
patient stud v. He has overcome the
natural opposition to ail new exponents of
classic roles, and the admirers of
his originality and vigor have
swelled from hundreds into the thou
sands in every city in this country.
Mr. Keene will need no introduction to
the amusement-loving public of Sacra
mento. His merit as a great tragic actor
is well known here, and it is with fond re
membrance old theater-goers look back to
the excellent work he did while a leading
man in the stock of the old California
Theater. His opening performance on
Monday evening will be Bulwer's great
play of "Richelieu;" Tuesday. "Merchant of
Venice;" Wednesday, "Richard III.," a
character in which is conceded to be one
of the greatest of his time.
STAGE NOTES. .
"Old Jed Proutv" is booming in the
West.
The " Henrietta" is again coining money
for Stuart Robson this sea.-on.
Frederic Bryton is in New York busily
rehearsing his uew play, "Jim."
It is said that Joseph Jefferson proposes
building a theater in New York.
McKee Rankin's five-act play, the 'Run
away Wife," has made a big hit on the
road.
Nat Goodwin will do Leander Richard
son's "The Nominee," at Chicago the 20th
of October.
Margaret Mather's husband, Emil Ha
berkorn, is musical director of Hubert
Wilke's company.
" A Trip toChinatown" made an unques
tionable hit at the San Francisco Bush
Street Theater on Monday.
The Directors of the Philadelphia Acad
emy of Music have refused to rent the
house to Col. Ingersoll for a lecture.
J. Barton Key has joined the Charles E.
Locke forces, and people about town say
that J. Charles Davis is under Locke and
Key.
"Castles in the Air," with De Wolf
Hopper, opened to a big house and great
enthusiasm at the Chestnut Street Opera
House, Philadelphia.
Rosina Yokes presented her new play,
the " Silver Shield," by Sydney Grundy,
at the Cleveland Opera House, October
4th. The piece made a hit.
Hoyt cy. Thomas are having great luck
with their plays this season. The new
ones have all " caught on" and the old ones
are doing better than they ever did.
Mrs. Georgie Drew Barrymore is ad
vised by her physician not to return to her
place in the east of the " Senator" for some
time, as she has not yet recovered from her
illness.
Miss Isabel Morris (sister of Felix Mor
ris, Rosin 3 Yokes' comedian) will star
later in the season in a comedy called "In
a Whirl," under the management of J. F.
Burril.
The mana7ement of the " Out of Sight"
company will make a feature of the statue
scene from the " Clemenceau Case." There
is something inconsistent between " Out of
Sight" and a statue scene.
Minnie Seligman is said by the Boston
newspapers to be " the coming emotional
actress for whom the American stage has
long waited." The article ends with:
"Remember her name —it will be famous."
Edith Kenward has written a part for
herself in the second and third acts of
" Dr. Bill," which will be interpolated in
the performance. Miss Kenward is the
young woman who dances the Kangaroo
dance that all New York is speaking about.
Miss Helen Russell, who will be a mem
ber of Mrs. Leslie Carter's company, which
opens at the Broadway Theater November
10th, was for some time a member of Les
ter Wallack's famous stock company. She
is a very beautiful woman, one of the most
tasteful dressers on the stage, and above all
an exceedingly clever artiste.
The two Spanish dancers, Carmencita
and Otera, are running each a close race
for the greatest popularity. Carmencita
gives the untutored dance of the country
folk, and Otera the well-studied move
ment of the regular school. Carmencita
is of the people, Otera of the aristocracy:
both are fetching, but our own little
Amelia Glover is as clever as either
of them. As dancing seems to be
the newest fad, managers are on the look
out for novelties in that line, one having
been sent to Venezuela and another to
Mexico, for anything in the shape of a
pretty woman that is guaranteed by sug
gestive dances to knock out Carmencita or
Otera.
The Pin and the Needle.
A pin and needle being neighbors in a
work-basket, and both being idle, began to
quariel, as idle people are likely to do.
"I should like to know," said the pin,
"what you are fit for, and how you ex
pect to get through the world without a
head?"
"What is the use of your head," re
plied the needle, sharply, "if you have no
eye?"
"What is the use of your eye if there is
always something in it?" retorted the pin,
bluntly.
•' I am more active and can get through
more work than you can," said the needle.
"Yes; but you will not live long, for
you have always a stitch in your side,"
said the pin.
" You are a poor, crooked thing !" said
the needle.
"And you are so proud that you can't
bend without breaking your back," re
torted the pin.
"I will pull your head off if you insult
me again," quoth the needle.
"I will pull your eye out if you touch
me,"' snarled the pin, '" for remember, your
life hangs upon a thread."
While they were thus bickering a little
girl entered, and, trying to sew something
hard, soon broke the needle at the eye and
threw it under the grate. She then tied
the thread round the neck of the pin, and,
trying to pull it through her work the
head came off when she threw it into the
ashes, where the needle was already.
" Well, here we ate together again,"
said the needle.
"We have nothing to quarrel about
now," said the pin. "It seems misfortune
has brought us to our senses."
a a i
Russian calculations of the population
of China place it at 382,000,000 and the
annual increase at 4,000,000.
IN RELIGION'S REALM.
MATTERS OP INTEREST TO MINIS
TERS AND LAYMEN.
Expressions of Upiuion by Newspapers
KepreaontUig the Various Denom
inations, on Many Subject*.
On the matter of the introduction of
women into the Methodist Gemral Coa
foreoce the ('•,'■•'■■■ i Adrocab (Methodist)
says: "If the Methodist Episcopal church
in tlie first quarter of its second oentnry
desires to become j! 'Woman's Temperance
Union' Church, or a mere adjunct to thai
organisation, it needs only to proceed in
the direction to which it is OT]
The ' I gives this ran at
"Higher Criticism:" "A pastor in west
ern New York has started a class in
'higher criticism," explaining to them how
to distinguish between the diflerent writers
of the Pentateuch,the .lehovistic and Elo
histic parts, and so forth. A member of
the class, in giving au account of it. Baid
he conld now clearly understand the
/ c movements in the Old Testa
ment."
The Watehma* Bapt.)says: "It is often
said, in defense of this or that 'strike.' that
the workmen must assfcj* and defend their
right 'o be organised and to belong to ■
'union.' The fact is, however, that prac
tically the Strike' is carried on, not so
much for that purpose as for the purpose
of preventing people from getting work
who do not belong to the'union.' This is
th. liberty th.it needs at the present time
to be upheld by American law —the right
belonging to a trade-union. Chris
tian teachers should seek to shew tbe peo
ple that the principle of 'boycotting,' SO
often acted upon by trades-unions, is no
otber than the very mark of the Anti
christ, as shown in the Revelation of
Jesus Christ to John, 'That no man might
buy nor sell, saving him that bad tbe
mark.' The complaint is made that
preachers and churches do not sympathise
with the cause of the trade-unionist. Woe
be to the churches and ministers that
would sympathize with a cause fouud fight
ing with such weapons!''
"Farmton" says, in the _di •■■-- "Four
men, each at least five feet ten inches in
bight, tipping the scales at least at one
hundred and sixty pounds, were shown into
one of our 'body pews.' They came in two
parties. Following the long prayer, a
prayer that is altogether too long in mine,
as in most churches, the usher escorted up
the central aisle a woman not over live feet
four, and tipping the scales at little more
than half one hundred and sixty pounds,
and brought her to the pew occupied by
the four men. And what did the four men
da? They did what you, my masculine
reader, would have done, if you had been
one of this quartet; they each rose, walked
out ofthe pew, ranged themselves in a cir
cle about the usher, and allowed the little
lady to get around them and to take the
seat at the further end of the pew; each
presently marched back to the seat he had
formerly occupied, and sat down. And
why did these four men do this rattier con
spicuous thing? Because, I trow, they
tbought it was a mark of honor to give the
lady the farther end of the pew. Their
motive was excellent. But now let me ask,
further, why is it more fitting for the lady to
have the farther end of the pew than the
end nearer the aisle? Let me further ask,
why is it more fitting for four men to rise,
anc! attract the attention of the whole con
gregation, than fjr four men to gently slide
along one seat ? When we come to think
of it, it is without reason, this custom of
turning out a whole-new full of men folks
to let a single woman into a pew. Sit over,
brother, sit over; dou't get up."
The Andover Beeiew says: "We are quite
at ona. with Professor Huxley in our ab
horrence of at lean one very common kind
of compromise, which harmonizes the
Bible and science or criticism by misinter
preting the Bible: which gives up the
universal Deluge of Genesis, but maintains
the historical 'toeeuracy of the account
when understood of a limited catastrophe ;
which substitutes six crej-tive periods for
the six days of creation, and declares that)
in the new version, Genesis and geology
are in perfect accord ; which interprets
away the use of the Old Testament iv the
New, as accommodation, type, or allegory ;
or tries to weaken to tiie utmost the force
of the evidence it gives to the belief of the
Apostles and of Christ himself. This ra
tionalistic position is, in Mr. Huxley's
words, 'hopelessly untenable.' We do not
understand that this is the position of the
authors of 'Lux Mundt.' But something
like it is undoubtedly the position into
which no inconsiderable part of the
Church has drifted. In fact, so far as
scientific difficulties are concerned, it is
now considered, curiously enough, to be
highly orthodox ; while the difficulties of
criticism having not yet made such an im
pression, the same kind of compromise
with them is not thought quite sound. In
our view the m st dangerous symptom of
the present theological situation is the
readiness with which conservative men of
all schools and parties yield one point
after another at the summons of science or
criticism. If that is to go on there will soon
be nothing left. Men cannot always go on
holding a principle and giving up its
logical consequences; and the devices by
which they convince themselves that this
is all right will not hold out for ever.
Teuiporizinsr compromises, whatever they
may seem to ofler, are the most costly
sacrifices."
Of the case of the Rev. Mr. MacQueary
the Churchman says: ''Notwithstanding all
that has been said, despotism is the heav
iest penalty that can be laid upon a min
ister of the church. It is the church's
capital punishment for irrevocably erring
members of the priesthood of whatever
grade. We sincerely trust that in the
case of a conviction of heresy, not compli
cated by allegations of immorality, no
Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church
will ever pronounce a sentence of uncondi
tional deposition on the erring brother.
If a priest or deacon lose; faith in an arti
cle of the Apostles' Creed it may become
imperatively necessary to suspend him
from his functions as a pastor of the
church's flock until his Bishop and other
chief ministers shall be satisfied that he
has regained his faith in the elements of
the Gospel, but harshly to cut him off
from the roll of his brethren and dismiss
him from their company as a heathen man
and a publican would be a wild policy for
these times of intellectual perplexity.
Few things are more foolish, and yet very
few are more common than to mis
take temporary doubts for mature con
victions; and in these present times, and
to not a few of the strongest and most
spiritual men, the entertainment of doubt
on any and all subjects seem to have be
come an almost necessary process of
thought. No position on earth is more
pitiably painful than that of a minister
whose mind is clouded by doubts from
which he sees no present way of honest
escape. Diflerent men act very differ
ently in that position, but there are not
many who do not at one time or another
fall into it. Mr. MacQueary, in oar opin
ion, has acted much more foolishly, yet,
even after the formal verdict of a Court,
we do not believe that his Bishop would
depose him. and therefore we can
not believe that he has requested Mr.
MacQueary to 'leave the Episcopal min
istry,' which would mean that he has
requested Mr. MacQueary to ask to be de
posed."
Writing on the American Board contro
versy, in the Bibliotheca Sacra, Dr. A. H.
Ross shows there is nothing in experience,
in logic, in congregational principle!, nor
in the Scriptures to justify the practice of
handing over the benevolences of the
NUMBER 26*
churches to agents, who have no direct re
sponsibility to tbe church,*, for distribu
tion. Oa the contrary there is (very rea
son both in the nature ot" things and in
the practice ■■: other o
why the churches should a [minister their
own benevolences, He closes his paper
with these wards: "We affirm our belief
that the change indicated in the ua
mous vote of 'lie National Council is in
evitable. Benevolent ami mission work
tea as s']c!,. h v a com
ma work, to ;, manage ,1
tives. Volnntarj and .'.■ .. , , r poi
make individuals, and not ehurchs . tha
units end orgai - .rf ; ower, nnd are i
n*nttherefore ioth.. re prima.
pie of out- policy. Other abnor
have been or are being put away :.
principle asserts :■
Onr societies will be put away, or reinod
cled after ti.
Tbis i
sioned by "i p sition, but [■•■. Vc .
and quickly tbe \:v.c ■ i mate.
the better. Tlie Cen.: \- , iation of
Connecticut, in 1759, declared 'tha; what
i :•. is all ought to be managed bj all.'
Oar churches are independent, liny
have power to ■
a;!airs w-t!,out dictation or hindrance from
auy. They have powei unagw
all their common affairs through repre
sentation. It is their business to cv
im the world. Ihey ulii d :; through
agents .■! n;i by themsi Ives, I'.jc:
Prgebyteriaaism in ', • lib
erty, for it has been tested itnrr.
A -j eedy and c ■ ■ • ow
societies to our principli
without loss to chart* !., ■ sot
the agitation, then, be pro! aged."
The Ckurek Eclectic says: "In ar
of the New Y'.t-s. ■ ..me
weeks since, aa old and largely circulated
comnierci.il daily, J!',';, it : an ed
entitled 'Prayers for the Departed.' The
editor at the- commencement •
a reason for introducu that
the subscriber bad attended a ceremony in
a Roman Catholic Church where 'I'
for the Id, were offered, was greatly
excited and wrote t" den ..nice ii in un
measured terms, Had this subscriber
known the result, doubtless be would hava
felt it less sinful to bave withheld bis com
munication. 'The fierce mdi
the practice,' the editor says,'awoke no
ri-; onse in it-.' and he then devotes a col
umn to a most logical argument in its
favor. In a later issue the subjeit i
intruxluced, in which the edit ot
saying that 'we hail no idea that it would
excite such general interest among all
■ of readers. 1 These respon*
are told, were most hearty and both grati
fying and encouraging, lie says 'someof
the strongest men in the country w
thank us for our argument in .let.
the practice, ami to say what an unspeak
able comfort it had been to tbem to feel
that they were at bill liberty to give
utterance to their strong desires in lie
half of the dear ones who had gone before
them to the un-een world.' We arc told
that there was cre:it uniformity of tone in
these communications. Nearly all alluded
to the painful character of the restraint
which had hindered them hitherto from
indulging in such petitions. Tliis editor
ial is much longer than the first and goes
into many arguments of a Scriptual char
acter. Again later the subject is tieated
at even greater length. It appear* to
have created an immense interest all over
the country, which then remained 'un
abated' and the subject is again further
and most ably treated. Indeed, it seems
to have done a far-reaching amount of
good in clearing the atmosphere as to this
ancient practice with very many Christian
people. The entire group of these eulitor
ials is a remarkable contribution in sup
port of this great Catholic usage by a
member of the Congregation Communion.
It is a strange commentary upon our
clergy, when a layman of one of the de
nominations is able by a few pages of MSS.
to influence and convince a considerable
number of people all over the land of »
doctrine which some of our clergy even re
fuse to accept, and a vast number who be
lieve it had nut the courage to teach as has
this venerable and greatly-respected editor
—David M. Stone —been able to do,'"
CURRENT NEWSPAER WIT.
The pawnbroker may not be a military
man, but he knows how to keep time.—
Yonkers Statesman.
McFingle —"Well, how's the varnishing
bnsine-s. ' Spiegenefill—"No goot. It's
peen for a long vile quite sbelac !"—Law
rence Ani'.rican.
Put away the little bath robe
That the dirlings u=ecl to wear,
For they're home now fur the season.
And the men no loiter s are
Maud —'What do they meu by reci
procity?'' Clau.de —''Now, ifl was to kiss
you, and yon should kiss me in return,
that would be reciprocity."' Maud—"Why,
it's nice, isn't it ? I thought it was some
thing bad."
Mr Isaacs—"l sells you dot coat at a
gread sacrifice." Customer—"But yon say
that of all yonr goods. How do you make
a living?'' Mr. Isaacs—"Mem frient, I
makes a schtnall profit on de paper and
string."— 2fea York Weekly.
Clerk—"Does it take you an hour to go
around the corner?" Boy—"A man
dropped a quarter down a hole in the side
walk." Clerk—"And it took you all this
time to get it out?" Boy—"Yes, sir. I
had io wait till the man went away."
Said Adam to I've as the pair sat alo-ie.
And nis:ht over Klen her mintle had thrown :
"Come, let us go oat, love, and view the night
skies,
And watch the horizon until the moon rise."
Said Eve, "I'd be g.ad, as the night is so
But I really can't go, for I've nothing to wear."
Lawyer—"Madame, I'm sorry to say
that 1 don't see the ghost of a chance for
you to break your uncle's wili." Woman
—"Well, to be frank with you, I don't see
a ghost of a chance to pay you for what
you have already done if the will isn't
broken." Lawyer—"On second thought,
madanip. 1 think the wiil can be broken."
— Mun.--.ys Weekly.
"I walked the floor for an hour with
the toothache last night," said one Wash
ington man to another. "That's nothing,"
was the repiy. "I walked the floor for two
hours .last night; with the stomachache."
"Why, really, that's very extraordinary,
isntit?" "Not at all; the baby had the
stomachache."— Washington Pout.
Just she and I al .ne were there beneath the
stars so calm aud bright.
I told her that to mc her cheeks were liiie twin
Miles, pure aud white:
But in the morning, as I brushed my powdered
vest for half au hour.
I realized the lilies must have been some other
kind of flour.
—Chicago Evening Post.
Rev. Mr. Jones -" Sister White, it
grieved me las' Sunday ter see you at
church in deep mourning, an' at de same
time er wearin' yaller strings on yer bon
net. Dat ain't zactly de way ter mourn,
sister." Sister White—"Brudder Jones, I
wears dem yaller ribbin in memory ob
my los lubbed one—who wuz er bright
mulatto befo' he up an' died."— Texas
Si/tings.
Harry—"What's the matter?" Baldy—
"I'm greatly perplexed as to whether I'm
a saint or a demon." "What do you
mean?" "Why, a scientist has recently
declared that the soul lies in the hair of
the head, and, as I am bald, that makes
me out a demon. But a new sect has lieen
started on the basis that bald-headed men
are the type of sanctity. So which am
I?"— bamtutt Am ai
A widow of one of the victims of a re
cent railway disaster called at the studio
of a Chicago sculptor the other day to see
the clay model of the bust she had ordered
of her husband. "1 can change it in any
particular you may desire," said the artist.
The widow" looked' at it with tearful eyes.
"The nose is larg?." "A large nose Ls the
sign of goodness," said the artist. The
widow wiped away her tears and sobbed,
"Well. then.make it a little larger." — Gen
eral Manager.
