New-York tribune. [volume], September 13, 1903, Image 17

About New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924

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PART 11.
TWELVE PAGES.
The House on Ihe Hudson.
sjssjajaaj of rftBCEDUia CHAPTERS.
_ fc^ r . nil ise. born Hi Athens of Antertc»B j«r»nt«.
*■=! ■ tin lent ren>*ln*d abroad, while a ct.tld in
f^, nc , t* rtterme a doll for iomt k'w \-y U-1
ESsi -• ■••• •»■■•■ •"•- on.- can >• ■ '«"• He
Athena.'* mother tuy. from hrr v iri.'.nt* <*
if^-vj. At^ntf MUpW WbV», irotal nrr ••»
. , hrt_ «j-, asUque emerald After •..,-• h<-r
£ther-e Tnrtun* »*i Her mother ■ tr»Klc <le«th th •
V£%Z Vhl.h l« leTt to her. *he oall. ••.Neme*./'
V^l. rm f»ther» ■..•• lr, ■■..,•... the
-J-r^LIA tr. Mr B»v«riry. bm ..' lUchard Thorpe, a
*rm:4« U«s»r v >.o cmn to ar.n.iun. c that hrr couxln.
?'. fipewn ■'•• oMUtiM • for her a I .■""*••■
iT nu»*«>eiK-rn u»*«>eiK-r acd companion «t Hlrb«rove llall. on tr.a
SZTtlw home of Mr* Krrar.ti. an r.ld and n>fi>
t."'Tunhaiani-»d ladr. and h« -r »~n lT.lltp »rt
ZaVtea coiraattß her v. »»arin« a tirme „:..•■■••.
»,c aa :--• Sh ' '•"'■ from Crowr.iiE y ' IU->dal
». r neDbmw of the imrihawr of ■•Neme»J«." *ho
i?v«". near by and hiniwlf t»i« wearer of :he rlr.t;
r«^r-n« a houae \*rt\ •!)<• la »>ab3e<-te<l m lr.»
■ friendm. named ptursm. whom the finds
StW& 1" ' h » «».rl»n eprins. where hf Kai
«ulc>d»- Philip *peniF \aru«U to have hud
r•. «o with '.he trar^Jv lie cUlmi to h.vj
i~lrr h. r farh.-r Richard Thorpe r»»r'i*>r« U
T^taca rnutM their Trtendmhir. lleanwhll*- I
,«ki Trier to mam- -'m At a pj.i in« wh.-i-e
vT-'-n a-J Athena <!l»mo«r,t r«n <^Tie o! thrlr rlden he
2ii'* her «r I ■«.-• her wildly. Two I '■'>*■ ■ - frjastai
ft
'/J-wr '»•■•' /■J.ena the adrrixture ol rerro M.x-^ in
zlZXmrr t ■ „.,-.■ ar.nnrjan ;•«-. Macs* «nj;ii»'-»
t» "^"rpe hut jrtrfern not f have. 1t an
rTrV^' tr-ej- ar. iii»<-u«*:n« I»hlltr. Athena
?-«-U-er« nre of the «ei-i-ant» eavpsdro^pin*: Pyiip'a
•■<. "r.h«nir«e m mllrn rtln>lea*un T!i..it* Hart*
■ -"i-unata on a c»»TTfi> hunineio Athetm mk»« Mr« ■
■?r<r" on a cruise Cm h«-r return tihe tind» that
;. ..' ... rtmcharcwJ ail the asrssam and encased a
*' '' Lfi Ph!!!? thn* entr»jn-ea of thr arounda
li-ke' axfi Ati.cn* •hartowed m- « aervant. Ath. i.a
L.-..lV* in rri.re le-.t«-r» from Thorpe, and flnaSly \r
■ T»>«it he ha» rtied ln an ar"-i<Vt!» I^rd r.l.hri leu i«
SLSirt »•>• rWItP a* "Mr IVttT "' fe*^» Hlnem.
g ; nter-it«» with Athetia lie warna
Si? nf Htilfr'a rhmiwu-r. her o»-n <iu*-»tln«isMe f't
l- an(ta*>k» »'«r »» mam- htm 1' "!r int.rv.n»».
2*«?ter a soetie orter. t.im fr.m tt.e hr-u*e I'hlllp
•*"_, . . • r Athen«-s hun-i n«MSaj and
«.T» » r'nt or Thoroe-* dr-^th. inniir offends
V.".na H h!l iTtii- rtunltlea ani rlans a rruiw «n the
:•> warn* Athena a*»lni.t Phlli»,
■«..... „ ..„ . „ not bar mob j • «'- •' ' , '
ZZ t iumnO. wn a re«rro ela.ve. Mr*, l^rrsntl h*a
A««a *'ec» •«I'»i her. anl memnt* how ■»» left her
El wm Philip '" protect Jilm from her husband ■
bnitai:t> •
XXXII — (Conducted).
ssjin s«nln in the gayly -Unted mom. where
% heart was bHaMBI IBM over a long past
t^f^'
"Dear Gofl." moaned the j«oor lady, "give me
crora*:^ I must MB all to this -white soul, this
HWt of Thy children! I feared not for ir.y
em I'.f*. Athma. t .ut for I hllii b. I thought to
t» h'.s father from the awful sin of killing his
atm What Mi n.y Ood. what came!
«W> flefl to th" sv\an:ps. Ah. I n^ust confess
aU« I frarefl th- Mfc ; ; lirjfrafi My husband
vnf a dc\-ll— what n.iplit he do to me when he
learnt I bad batjad Philip? I should bM
rtayed. I U:.ow-r.h btsßS 1 fled— with Philip—
to the Fwamps. fAan ■• muft hide till, in his
cJurnry t'oat— \:\s slK«.'.ln« boat— we might es
cat* BB dsl r:\<-r. It was As) lust of March,
but bfll to H&Katlon: like to-day here, a
strange hot sjfsil of ■■ tfaßßi In the swamp.
When day <;u:i<-. it was dr.adful— close, dt-adly.
All Guy tny h«:trt l^-nt so loudly I thought l'h.llp
must hear it and l«*e courage. Not that I had
tost mine I had Fworn I M DOi go bßCfe a!lve.
I hnd thai In my po< Uct which sliould save me.
•■I'!.i;:j>. hit< fn< c net. lor.^iriß ten years older
•toie the fhanie jmt upon him. ne%-rr forgot my
reel of care.
" 'If wm escape. Mamin,' h« sslC "you are rr.y
mother in fan.en "
"I pr< . mined. 1 have kept my word until now.
To wave one of my own clans from dishonor I
break It. though the breaking send me straight
to he.l Tho«* of rry b!;>f»d FTand by their own
class- always. You are a IV • >},jin. I— well, for
you J break my word.
'1 *«v«^ my name, mv husband's name, from
Itsjrrace T hurt* Philip ch(v»<»e en ->ther. M»«
flended what w<- could, to he'.p us hear th« long
waiting- Dal *!!! nlpht rucht we venture far
ther.
""It? knight -errn !• from this day. Ma.rr.an/
■sM Philip. 'I choose the name Errant i '
"Am Tie spoke the i.y darkened. A «how»r
nt HMssJ Ml :• ; rd thunder in the distance.
A stghtng wind waved the lone mow on the
bran' and brought a sound that chilled our
blood— the far-off lay'.-.g nf dogs. The blood
hounds v.ere out — their cry told us they had
fourS th*-
"A Aerperatf Ir^k was In Phi!lp'« eyes. 'We
knew we must take to the boat. Seizing my
arm. he drmrrefl ■■ toward th* narrow bayou
which put In from the river There the boat
lay concealed It v. :,<; too late. Close l>ehlnd,
their bea4s parting the tall grasses as if they
were «wirnming, came the dog%. Among them
rode a man— my hu*!>an<l' He had ridden hard.
Tor he was splastcc with mud from head to foot.
Me at shun . bat I knew his overseen*, with
adWR. »er« close behind. A devil, he had dis
tanced ■■■
"I crnurhefl at the foot of a great tree Philip
rtonij before husband, drawing 6# Ms
barrt . Sf 'v .■. ■ ; pray eye? upon us and
kuirbe'l eoj ;■ . ■; bSm power and our despair.
Tiwlaut-h Bf ■ '■■ nf. Ml of dreadful threats! I
tot te :-;.- ! f,, r the i;ttle vial that wa* to
■**»»• what n y husband's laugh' i>mm
1»»1. T"h*r»> ■■ f : ; t th.it mrimcnfa deafening
peal cf tba tar; sSk B a 1 lue glare of light
ning Eun • a g tVe horrors of the swamp
and th» wM-.p-i ♦:•< . ..< the rr.an o!>ov« us. Then,
throw 1 - ■ . stly light, shot a streak of red
t^mr 1 he:.' i tba -h.ir, r« ;»«rt Bf a revolver.
I taw r v hu^»».'ind fall from his fright. ne-I
tea*— ftaw Philij). f; rinpinc forward. »h""t
*CiiTi I lost consciousness, stunned by horror
of Phil r, my dear, he had
k
1 tfcBBJ • '•• :: I • ;a:i'>r that she bai faint
«fi. but !. ... ■*■« BSMOMsai the n rdlal I gave her
*r.fl n . k '■• m> i<la<^e. I marvelled
■t he* ion, at the \\!U-pou«T that bo
•omir EM th. v. r.'ikr.ess of illnrsF and eld age
"Thank Q ■ • ■ -i *»srai>ed'" I whispered.
fntslnc rr> ■• • the hand she had laid in
;. saved you! Pray God. the
■hot wen: ho: '
"A-.h' •
Ther, I NnßfßSßSsTflfl btf lust words, fuit- '
■■ B9 relief at her liur^uci's disablement. She
tad accus«d Phi..;. <>f wrongdoing. And I—lI — I
thought h» had but do-^e hi* duty. This I said
to her. S'!;e « yd me curiously, «ayins;. again
aud sn ■
tit k::. : !.s ::;:!■'..:. Bsl his father, his ma»-
Mksl an awful < ■: :
DktlSsTHi l y ' il.ii.klnr.
*r.> fiisajijiroval <■; fsjstjn MM Mst, 1 .-u'd
not hi ; s] -i ■•;■'•.• it unnatural I
C:s!!k*i I. • \»-a praise.
Cot blame, * BS. W beta he had
saved.
a \.\\ :<. , J wronj," she corc
pfclned • • name hiis ir.l\> led the**—
thcu hast become as the goddess Athena, as
'■■->•<••• as unforgiving. A slave i Hi
*K>t kill hi* master. A son must not shoot his
E*>— An awful <:.::<• 1 .-hared it, living
•'•th a murderer. keeping Ml *«cret. When first
fcloii* with Philip, out upon the river, I hated
*■*•** feared him a* wtll. So I held ir.y ,
*»•*■» 4 shared his crime. God pity me. *
"Later. la Franc*, when I a* the bread he
«*mefi. I sack deeper. It vu earned by hands
ft with a father's blood 1 Yet he prospered.
*•*». because of hi* fierce temper, he got Into
trouble He fought two dueis. In the last he
*";*■<! hi* mat. m mm had tr. ler.ve Paris-. We
<*n» horn*— no. not home' We had none. Philip •
•■• I— deserve none, for »•« are accursed. A J
■■*•■*«• always dies hard; must face a violent
••Mh. *t»s said Philip, too. lie* under a worn- !
•■■« curs*, but It should wel«tj for little. The '
"*"**• •* th « man be killed in Paris, aba cursed
| fce»lHa»*B»^^alßaWa^vj as**? \* -&^^ . ™
BT FRANCES POWELL
•ncrn^ht I*ol. by Otailea Scrlbaers ases.)
Philip waa hrouffct up a rentlenoan. There,
Philip did rirht, Athena, r.'est-ce pasT
I made no answer. Agsln we were not In
sympathy.
'The man had accused Philip of cheating at
play. His honor demanded. — Eh, Atfcena, you
hear me? Philip wss rlrnt, n'est-ce pas?"
"Pray rest, dear Madam." I begged. Why say
f Philip must ave&ce himself, where
*ere his fist?" W*hy not ha\-e broken a oar.c
across the lnsulter's shoulders? "Try to sleep
now Tou have wesrled yourself too long."
"I have confeseed. my heart Is less heavy
break one's word"
■he »v quiet for a time Then, beginning to
talk again. h*r mind, little by little, lost Its
m forgot where she was. who was
beside her. Now she gave orders to Julie, or
scolded Mathllde; again, chatted gayly with
Randal, or Fpoke soberly to Philip. Toward
morning she fell into a light slumber. I. too,
Flept
I wm routed by her voice calling- me loudly.
< ..fitlnnrrt nn fourth pa*T*.
GROUND PLAN OP "THE LUNG BLOCK."
The Phaflri action!" are courts and airshaft*. Ea-h letter represents on- case sj consumption reports to the Health Department since ISM a O »
case in ;BS4: h - on " case In 1595; c, one case In 189«. and ■• on to k. one case in Mat An it Is not possible from the records to tell whether a Riven case oc
curred In the front or the rear tenement, all have been assembled in the front building, except in No. 144 Cherry-st.. where there was not room
IN ONE BLOCK 265 CASES OF TUBERCULOSIS WERE
REPORTED IX KI KE YEARS.
Taat there are some horrible plague spots In
this city ha. been revealed in an Investigation
IWllflf carnd on by Ernest Poole for the
coram.ttee on the prevention of tuberculosis, of
the Charity < >rgsnizaticn Society, and reported
in a pamphlet enttled The Lung Block." The
"Lung HhMaf i* sjaaa to the East River In the
Seventh Ward, one nt the most congested of the
city, a ward that Is Hoadily. swiftly lacking
closer, Iv» boundaries are Cherry, Catharine,
Market and. Hamilton sts. "Between IH*O and
liKtO.* 1 Kays Mr. Poole, referring to the, Seventh
Ward, "the density of its already crowded popu
lation Increased no less than Go per cent. New
St holds 478 humans to an sere. The "Lung
Block' alone holds nearly four thousand, not to
mention dogs, cats, parrots and one weazened
old monkey. (if the humans, some four hundred
are Viable*.
"It is t Mock packed close with huge, grimy
tenenu-nts; these tenements Jire honeycombed
with rr.i •rr.!-. these rooms are homes for people.
To squeeze In more homes, light and sir are
slowly Fhut out. Halls, courts, airshafts, are all
1* ft cramped and deep and sunless.
'It is a block of a thousand homes. Through
halls. In rooms, on stairways, in courts, in shafts
jt on fire escapes are sprinkled the four
hundred bnhies. At the age of two they are
found alone in the street, already imbibing Its
muddy wisdom. So this muddy street
o\erflo«*s into the home. It is hard for the home
I> wholesome and pure. Things and peo
•<>d and bad — have only partitions between
•In a blod: so congested the plague spreads
(=»i!'!y. In the last nine years alone, this
Mot k has reported 2f<s cases. From doctors,
druggists, and all others who know, I gathered
that this 15 but half the true number. . . .
■Of the 2<ifi cases reported on the block, 104
came fron. six old tenement houses alone.
• There i!" one called 'The Ink Pot.' It has
front and rear tenements five floors high, with
a foul, naiTow court between. Here live 140
people. Tw?nt> -three are babies. Here I found
one man sick with the plague in the front bouse.
two morv in the rear— and one of these had a
young wife and four children. Here the plague
lives in darkr.«*s and filth— filth in halls, over
Bjafi| and floors. in sinks and clonets. Here
in nine years alone twenty-six cases have been
reported. How rrary besides these were kept
' And Iwhlnd these nine yiears—how
many cases more?
'Rooms ban have held denth ready and waiting
for years. •",, on the third floor, looking down
Into the court. Is a room with two little closets
I* hind it In one of these a Mind Scotchman
eicpt ar,d took the plague in MM His wife
;i:id his fifteen- year-old son both drank, and the
•MOM grew squalid as the tenement itself. He
died in the hcFpltal. Only a few months later
the r — fastened again. Flowly his little
daughter grew used to the fever, the coughing,
th* long, oleeplees nights. The foul court was
ber on!y outlook. At last eh*, too. died. The
mother and son then moved away. But in this
room the germs lived on. They might all have
been killed In a day by sunlight; they can live
two years In darkness. Here in darkness they
lived* on gTlr. nails. In dusty nooks, on dirty
floors Then one year later, in October, a Jew
rented this same room He was taken and died
in th- summer. Ths room was rented again in
•he autumn by a Carman and hi. wife. She
had the plague already, and died. Then an Irish
family came In. The father was a hard, steady
worker and loved h»* children. The home this
time was winning the fight But six months
£ he took the plague. He died In 1901.
This Is only the record of one room In seven
blithe rear house 1« another pU«uo room
on the ground floor, to the right of the low. nsr.
«w cnS^ce. Here, in 1898. Ur^ an old Irish
hatrnaker with his wife. hi. small daughter,
hi. two sons He was housekeeper. He took
the placue. worked a year or more there on his
hats then <Sl«d. The cough came on his wife
soon after. Phe suffered lon., weary months,
only to see at the end her young daughter begin
the sam« suffering. The mother died. The home
« U abatter *d. The girl was taken away by her
aunt, and soon followed her mother. The two
son. died of the earn. disease, spreading it out
into other tenement*. So by this rwo «•
T^ie4. r*ffatts*,BlPtt*«CUV^- r J ..
SOME PLAGUE SPOTS IN NEW-YORK.
IN ATRfmAFT IV TTTH: 'XT' r BLOCK."
Thf« narrow openin*; Is relied on to supply fresh air
to rooms five stories below.
"This If not all. When the next housekeeper
came to this same room with his wife, both
were strong and well. The man took the plague
In 1889. He still fought for life when all knew
he was hopeless; he .still lived on when he could
not rise, could barely speak, but only He alone
in one of these closet bedrooms. There are no
less than twenty Puch rooms in this rear house
windowless. six feet by eight. The winter of
1900 brought a memorable blizzard. While it
was raging:, a Settlement visitor came to this
room and found the water pipe burst, the room
flooded. The plucky little wife had carried her
husband upstairs on her bark. A few days later
his struggle was ended. The wife Is still here."
The need of the dweller in the tenement house
Mr. Pool* illustrated in the following story,
which he called "The Prayer of the Tenement":
" 'Breath— breath— give me breath." A Yiddish
whisper, on a night in April. 1903, from the
heart of the New- York ghetto.
"At No. IS Cllnton-st.. back In the rear tene
ment, a young Rumanian Jew lay dying of con
sumption. I had come in with a Jewish doctor.
■With every breath I felt the heavy, foul odor
from poverty, Ignorance, filth, disease. In this
room, ten feet square, six people lay on the
floor packed close, rubbing the heavy Fleep from
tired eyes, and staring at us dumbly. Two
email windows gave them air, from a noisome
court — pit twenty feet across and five floors
deep. The other room was only a closet six
feet by seven, with a grated window high up
opening on an airshaft eighteen inches wide.
And In that closet four more were sleeping,
three in a bed. one In a cradle.
" 'Breath— breath— give me breath.' The man's
disease was infectious, and yet for two long
weeks he had lain here dying. From his soiled
bed he could touch the one table, where the
two families ate; the cooking stove was but six
feet from him; the cupboard, over his pillow;
he could even reach one of the cradles, where
his baby girl lay staring frightened at his
strange position. For his wasted body was too
feeble to rise; too choked, too tortured, to He
down. His young wife held him up while the
sleepers stared silently on. and that Yiddish
whisper came over and over again, but now with
a new and more fearful meaning. 'Breath
breath—breath. Or kill me; oh. kill me!'
"Two years ago this man had come to America
—one of the 458.000 in 1001. He came young
and we.ll and hopeful, with his wife and their
baby son. Two more had been born since then.
It was to be a new country, a new home, a fresh
start, a land to breathe in. ' Breath—breath
give m* breath He had breathed no air here
but the close, heavy air of the sweatshop from
6in the morning until 10 at night. Sometimes
—he whispered— he worked on until 11.
"He was not alone. In New-York to-day and
to-night are over fifty thousand like him work-
Ing. And late in the night, when he left the
feverish labor, at the hour when other home*
are sleeping, he had come In through the foul
court and had sunk into restless sleep in the
dark closet 6 feet by 7. There are 361.000 such
closets in the city. And this was hi. home.
" ft-gieht mlr luft.' He spoke.only Yid
dish. The new country had given the plague
before the language. For the sweatshop and
the closet had made him weak: his weakened
body could make no fight; the plague came In
and fed swiftly. Still on through fhe winter he
had worked over the machine in the sv.-vatfhop.
infecting the garments he sewed-feverish.
tired fearful-to buy food and coal, to keep his
home' alive. And now. on this last day of life,
ten times he had whispered to his brother, beg
ging him to care for the wife and the three little
children,
"The struggle now is ended. Th» home it nat
tered. The .mothered whiter ••• forever hashed.
- Breath— breath— give me breath:'
"In the 'Lung Block' are four hundred Mark*
rooms.**
MOTOR FACE IN WOMAN.
Prom The. Tetler.
\J»r»r women «r« discovering that Ilviajona
r.acity 'or ieep, enhance, a woman's charm, but
hS^^reaThir fee uses Us soft, womanly -"w" w " r
Careers for the Coming Men.
PreLCticeJ a.nd Authorita.tive Discussions of the Professions and
Callings Open to Young Americans.
It U the custom, apparently, to consider one's
own particular business in life as the most diffi
cult and unsatisfactory of all the callings men
follow. But in writing of one's vocation. Just
«hy one should always lay prominence upon its
difficulties Instead of its opportunities and pl<-n«>
ures I fall to see. Notwithstanding Its draw
backs, I still believe thnt the publishing of books
and magazines offers a good chance for ■wnss
men of Imagination, .JaMtfrffa and cleverness.
and It Is even fair to presume that the diffi
culties and troubles >->f publishing are In many
respects more Interesting than an equal number
of trials in some other business.
Po far as our experiences go. the young gradu
ate who starts out to (ieciilf upon ;i < areer seems
to be fascinated with th» idea that in th^t it
touches the literary side tt must, therefore, be
de-lishtful— the litrrary ;tsr>^ot appealing to the
Imagination and the commercial to the practicnl.
In the successful working out of the problem
we find that the imagination is quite as neces
sary to the business side, and that the ability to
BM visions and to work to the actual realization
of thf-m is the only thing that really counts.
Books must not only be secured and printed,
but a market must be discovered for them, and
the ingenuity with which the readers are found
Is the final t< *t.
The dignified day when the publisher sat in
his office and decided from the manuscripts
submitted wrlch he should publish, and then
sent the Marly n ade boot to the booksellers
with the i.lea that they would do the rest,
pa.-sed away before this century 'vas begun. If
good hooka come to him an.) r.n eaijer public
d^Tiands them ani POTs "h^m through their
own gracious good will, so much the better, and
he may indeed be thankful; hut if he waits for
th^se conditions, he starv-s by the wayside.
Perhaps the publishing business is changing
(most things nre) and the young men who can
adapt themselves to the conditions that are
coming and fo be a little in advance of these
changes and in line with them will reap an
abundant success.
In a bnm4 wh>- It Is true that the market for
good books an.! magazines la larger than ever
and rapidly growing: for a good many years
traditions in publishing have counted perhaps
most of all, and the average youngster has a
hard time with traditions. But traditions go for
less nrwainys. and probably all publishers
realize that ihf-re remain to bo Invented a good
■May "ays '>f bringing the book and the reader
together. How to sell the book— th^- single vol
urr,.v novel, history. blof?raT>nv, r>r what not —
to any really large proportion of the people who
would !>uy if th.-y knew of its existence la what
the publisher wants to know. Hooks sold by
sul sc ription .'in. more fortunate In this respect,
since they do find a much larger proportion of
the readers who really want and need a set of
volun:es — and a good many who do not.
To come to the present day conditions, one
may consider that a publishing house, to exert
any lasting force, will have four well defined
fields Of activity:
First -The general or miscellaneous book pub
lishing.
Second — Books sold by subscription methods.
Third— Magazines.
Fourth— Educational or text book publishing.
Th<>re nre. it ■Msa. to me, more drawbacks to
the first daps than any of the other bran< hes.
One is that the publisher ».f miscellaneous »"'<>k9
must practti ally raeraate his business every
year. The profits (and fortunately, also, the
aft most var' I ;ular novel may
soli 100,000 copies this year, and hardly more
than a thousand or so n^xt year. This is a vital
trouble; the expenses are regular— each success
leaves a train af rew ones— an«l th>- sales or
profits irregular. Each book is a small or large
upeculati- n. as the cast- m*7 be. anil the resid
uum of books left at the end of the >>ar which
can be counted on for regular salt- year after
year is pitifully small. The merciful feature Is
that a Peril which once gets the public's good
QUAINT FRENCH VILLAGE.
It seems hardly credible that not more than
thirty minutes from all the noise and bustle of
Paris th.re lie. a village that is so quiet, so peace
ful and no old fashioned that one would Imagine
one's fit at least on* hundred miles away from
the gay capital. H»re at this village. Li Frette by
name, and about fifteen minutes' walk from Cor
meiiles. preparations for midday and evening re
pasts have to be. made very early in the morning,
for no such thing as a good shop Is anywhere near,
and the walk to Cormellles Is one which one con
siders twice before taking, for it Is up steep and
rough roads. So daily, butcher, baker and green
grocer pass this quaint little place, and the vil
lagers gather round the various tradesmen and
make their purchases for the day.
They also buy their clothes In this way, and may
often b* seen trying on bonnets. dresses and boots
in the middle of the ■treet From a scenic point ot
vitsr. all artists have agreed that there Is no place
to aqual La Frette between Paris and Havre. To
the left of the villa** Is tfie park of liaisons
! Laffitte. and facing the park Is Sartrouvilla. while
opposite Mm the forest of St. Germain, in all Its
gr£n .plendor. To the right is Herhjay. quit, an
important place, Khow church Is visible for miles
alone the Seine. Li Frette itself Ma* the quaintest
villager* possible. Many of them speak i -•■
r>*7rh than those of the Mi.ll. and It is .an event
; Indeed when one takes a Journey up to the capital
They are thriftiest of the thrifty Only a fhort
time ago one of the peasants gave his daughter no
less a sum than 280.C00 francs on her wedding day.
and another is to receive the same amount on her
approaching marriage And vet this man. who
roust be worth 4.00Oa»« «r 5 ••*... «o franc* it least,
lives in a patched up old hous*-. sod di*i In th«
neliSs from early morutng tin late at bight.— <loe
- - ..-1 ,:. W«x*«ilw ,
XTI.
TublUhing.
BY F. V HOI BI.EDAT.
will sells vastly more than In the old days, and
is therefore more profitable, even considering
the increased first expense of getting the public
to know that It exists.
The obvious need, one would say. then. is to
get those books of actual and acknowledged
merit which will last, but it is not only difficult
to get many such book?. M the expense of
making them and tellir.* the public of them
often takes a year, or several years, perhaps, to
recoup the first investment. Meantime, the ex
pense goes on at the rate fixed by the novel,
which sells by th- fifty thousands, we will say.
All this can ,be remedied by getting for more
serious work the sales secured for novels of tem
porary popularity No doubt it can be done.
but who will do It?
Another thing the coming publisher will do Is
to invent books which the public really wants,
or thinks it wants, and he will manage to cre
ate the book to fit a need which only this imag
ination can foresee or guess at.
It has often been said that authors are as
difficult to deal with as artists or musicians, but
experience loads me to believe that the writers
of books are no harder to do business with than
the people who set the type and print the book,
or the booksellers who sell them. An author's
book is his baby— 'the chile" of his brain." I be
lieve the correct phrase ts. Can it be considered
strange that he looks with dread upon the .ritic
who wishes to chop out sectl ms and pass |
his pages, or remake what he has worked out
with care and labor? One might as well expect
a mother to have her bHl>y Improved by reduc
ing the number of its fingers or reshaping its
ears. The surprising thing is that so often is
the publisher's opinion sought for and his advice
accepted so readily. It takes tact to deal with
writers, but no more than it does to de.l with
any other person of spirit— a lawyer or doctor,
let us say, or a trained nurse.
I fancy that it Is the notion of having rela
tions with distinguished authors which makes
publishing appear attractive to the youngster
choosing a career, but let him r.;>t forget that
the pleasure and satisfaction of the relationship
rest upon a quid pro quo — that the publisher
must do his part with skill and ability to keep
the connection profitable to both. Many times
his best' is not good enough: but. then, his con
science need not trouble him, and he can let it
go at that.
The subscription work has the ur»>at ad
vantage of dealing with the buyer direct. The
number of customers, and therefore the oppor
tunities. an> greatly Increased. It would I
page of this paper even to mention the schemes
which one must Invent and are still to b« In
vented to work this out to Its full field of use
fulness. Happily, as a branch of the business
which has always been more or less looked down
upon, it is making its way up raptdly.
In the old days a book which cost 50 cents.
and a worthless one at that, was forced upon
an unwilling buyer for ten times that sum by
the sheer force of the ferocious and urv
energy of a book agent. This old type of agent
was a terror to the customer and to the pub
lisher, and he robbed both the buyer and the
seller with a high hand. His modern prototype
scorns to sell by the aid of the hard lurk situry.
and he leaves his customer with «ome r«mnant
of self-respect, *o that he may again sell the
same man. Uncle Sam. also, has intervened,
and now probably half of the subscription books
distributed new are sold by m*U. and the very
best books are brought tnto homes on the so
called instalment plan. How great thi* business
Is In the aggregate It Is impossible to say, but
it is known that about half a million sets of the
Encyclopaedia Brltannica have been sold in this
country— a book made primarily for the purposes
of a people living three thousand miles away.
This gives some Indication of the possibilities.
They have only been touched. Surely the books
and the personnel will improve and buyers will
multiply manyfold.
Theji we come to magazine publish Ins;. A
great publishing house needs at least one maga
zine — a half-dozen would be better If they might
fill have separate tWds and the force could be
gathered to run them all at a high level of ef
ficiency. Mr. Harmsworth publishes forty or
more in England, and all with success. The
strong features of the magazine published In
association with the books Is too obvious to
talk about, but even ss a sepr.mte business it
has many advantage? over book publishing. For
one thing. It has a more continuous life: on«e
begun, with a fair share of success it Is built
up yenr after yenr on a solid foundation. The
publisher has hf-re also the pleasure of dealing
directly with his customers, whom, if he Is
clever, he will interest as his friends r"th among
his subscribers and his advertisers. Hta -nances,
too. are many sided and touch mary depart
ments: the suggestion of ideas in editorial con
tents, in illustrating, in plans for se
drawing into his net thf> elusive advertiser who
won't be coaxed until all the others hay ■
secured.
The sale of educational text and college books
Is a thing quite apart, and here the young grad
uate often finds his opportunity, his college
training and experience doing him an Imr. •
and assured service. As a book once Introduced
has the chance for a long snd steady sale. Th"
risks are less constant anl the effort les. spas
modic.
One would say that all the** branches should
be In a healthy^ state of vigor Sn this |
BRANDING SWANS
Rather a funny ceremony that Is gone thro-.igh
with every year ha* Just been accomplished, and
that Is the marking of th* young swans, er cyg
• nets, on the upper Thames. Its swans are of
course a feature of the river after Richmond Is
parsed Some of them are owned by the crown, and
th- rest by two of the ancient river "companies."
and It Is in order t> dialing'. i.«h them that the
cygnets are marked.
The swan markers are a picturesque company.
They wear white flar.neli. and can b« saM apart
by their different colored Jersey.. Those of the
King's men are scarlet. thos« of the Dyer.' Com
pany n»vy blue, and those of the Vintners' <*.>ci
par.y hlue. and white The markers embark ln half
a doz»n skiffs, at th* >tern at » htcb tiles either
the Kin. • fla*-- a white field, with a crown and
the royal elrner. "K. R."— one of ttie bsr.nrr
cites of the two companies.
The party sets out from Moleeey L<ock. and after
that thin*" arc pretty lively, for the operation of
marking iwui, even young .wan*. Is no holi
day pastime. The birds fl«ht like furies. m
are surprisingly strong, too. and every once in a
while one of the markers has an arm or leg
broken by a vicious blow from a cygnet's wins
The birds are caught by means of a hook on tne
end of a lon* ?«•'.*. and they are branded on M
beak— either with the royal monogram or that or
1 one of Ike companies. Usually th" man who d'ws
the bmrrtins deprive* the .win marked by him o
one of Its feathers, whloh he .ticks In nl» c«? a-«
a The number at cygnets is smaller than us u «'« h )''
year, on account of the bad weather _*»* o "''*
which have prevailed along the river »£«*•£■*;
the Thsmr. swans h-vv* a reputation for \«flou»
nejis, and folk who have seer what the> Mil
with their wtnga and b«akj make It a V^ax^*} «»**
them * W.d» b«rth.— O^o l4 * o corr««sond*&c« eK
SLNDAY.
SEPTE.MBFR 13. 190^.
"Buy China and C/ass Riytif
iWIGGBS«SEITOS
FINE CHINA. RICH CUT CLASS
Commencing- MONDAY. Septemb«»
J4th, and continuing the balance of th«
month, wf will mak* as a special induce
ment for early purchasing
A REDUCTION OF 25%
ON DINNER WARE,
as follows:
HAVILAND'S FINEST LIMOGES CHT3rA,aaas)
horde, decoration in pink and blue flowers, with
«.»pe leaver, fancy (fold work. fancy flower
rosette centre.
r m-.l»te ii'r.ieT SB) r»*nl*r prta* «l.*o. ape*, torn
Sept .40.09
Breakfast art. 53 pie<-e». regular irtc* 3LOO. apeo.
' : SJRJI IS.OO
Tea «•?. M piece*, regular cri -• 23.M1 apee. far
Sepf ■ . ■ If 00
• f-.. 7- -»»t. IS piece*, regular trice •.ST. spec. for
.-"•••Bt «.TO
Fatal >et. 11 rlecs. regular prtc» •()»>. spec, far „
Sept — %.T&
FINEST LIMOGES CHINA, rococo Sow bor
der, sajje preen and pink. also light bhio Jas)paV
mf-non with shaded buff background. Faaoy.
rococo flower centre. s^>i<l edge.
Complete dinner •" rruular prie« «2 T." 5. spec, foe
S*D' ••• 4T.00
Sour> set. 1.1 pl«''»'. r**u!.ir price 10 S3. spec tar
S«pt T9O
FINEST LIMOGES CHINA, rococo sage green
bonier with dark green eo^: cluster* of roses
and blue forjrpt-me-n<>t«. *jpe preen leaves, handles
clouded btirni.-'hefi jr"»ld.
Complete I!nn»r ♦•'. SsSJBSjg rrtrn 95 ft*. «pec ts#
fJerif 41.311
Tea ft. 3*l Stmsa r^eiilir prloe 3*20. ssea far
S»pt. 1 '. »•>
■. 1.1 nin-»n. r*«ulor prtrs .2 M (pea. f3r
S-rt »--*O
Ch"p ft, 13 pi«"<-»« r»«ii!nr -'•«.*>. apee. for
!!«M. B.l*
FINEST LIMOGES CHINA, border decoration
of hir^ Pass, in pink and yellow ami sagw green
leave*. Handle* of ii>vere(! dishes clouded gold;
bonier of sa^e j^rron on eilpe.
rorr.rlftc dinner set. r**iilar trie* *aSO. as**. tor
P#pt. »4.*<5
ENGLISH SEMI-PORCELAIN, border of green
lilacs illuminated with jjold: poM edge.
<Vmpl^'.- .!hr r wi. r«m>lar price 22. n«. wi- for
.~.-i.t xn.no
Rr»-»kfii!<r ft. piece*, r«u!»r price 10.3*), spec.
for S. it T. 03
T»» set. 6rt piprM. regular price SOO. »p»c. for
:• «•**>
Soup sat, 1.1 pieces. r»«utar price ft.35. •pee. for
Sept .......••. 4.00
ChSB set. 13 plecf«, regular price ZOO. apac. tor
S^rt — a.25
Be.la<i set. 13 places, regular prlcw « 10. ■*•«. for
Sept — **.SO
ENGLISH PORCELAIN, chrysanthemum dec
oration in pink, blue and green; gold edge.
Cwmetate dinner net. rosular price 10.83. *sea fa*
9*P« t-4.n0
Tea Mt. M rteeea. rcaular price a.84. apea {or
a»pt - »-21
5. up »>t. 13 p!»c«». regular price 4.96. apee. ft»
s* P r . S.Te>
Oi'n) set. 13 i4~-i-* r»«n!*r prtc« 2.70. apee. far
S*pt 2. D0
Salad net. 1.1 pi*v»B. regular prtc« a 13. apee. for
Slept *-3»
From all nf the above mentioned sets arp&rn**
piece-* can also be <>!>tain»- at a corresponding
reduction. Several hundred other dinner seta are
ready f«»r your inspection. Or:r Annual Rumamfe
Sale is al.*o on ; spatial bargains in odd piece* o i
china.
WEST 21ST & WEST 22D STS.,
NEAR SIXTH AVt.
publishing house we are talking of. In profits
probably the magazines would yield heat, then
the subscription department, then the text
books, and finally the miscellaneous book pub
lishing, which is so apt to be "Prince or Pau
per." with the accent on the Is-- -
If one looks over the field, on* sees opportu
nities In abundance. The men. young or old.
who can really do things are few and far be
tween, but the men who can. explain with treat
force and detail and with ability why they
haven't dene things are abundant. One corals
upon a great many men who have Ideas, and
good ones, an.l ran tell you how to work them
out. but the men who have the ideas and can
and do work them out are many days' Journey
apart. It Is only by developing the men one st
a time. letting the inexperienced newcomer try
again the old schemes which we have tried in
vain, and now and then he will make a success)
of some point which has been quite fruitless
heretrfore.
In the next decade the sale of book, win cer
tainly b«» vastly Increased. an?l these are th» men
who will do it. One hears It said that nowa
days it ' osts more than it did to launch a book.
If hy • urchins; we mean selling a large quan
tity at the start. fhi«» is unquestionably trw«,
but the cost of typesetting, paper, printing and
binding have r.r.t increased. The real meanlnjf
is that more is expected. in launching a hook
thiin i m cafMcaai a f^w years •«■>. and thtJ
do-s • ••t money. The capital Involved 1* per
haps <r«»at»r, but capital for people who can
makf» success is probaMy more easily secured
than it fwr was. Which, all being summed up.
means t*Ml 'hi? writer has wasted a good deal
of valuable «pa< - to -"II again what Is so well
known: that the opportunities are great for
rr.T. who .!-serve them and for th©«* who cannot
«»#■»• er 1 •tmO themselves of them the path 1»
long and hard.
SANDALWOOD OIL.
Oil Bf . - : ,;w.<.<l whirh !.-» one of th«» most valu
able ss •!..*tan cs known to the perfumer. <!T>r<tln«
an *•*.>•• !1. fdy delicate and delirious scent, ha* at
-'i made by syntnesr*.
It wa* PBJTCty in nf.-idenf. Dr. Dmvld T. Day.
•fllllßjl 9tuf* »;«f;!ogic!il Society, was taak-
Ir.R s..rre small .-^emlcnl experiments the — laT
day on the mantelshelf of Ms oflw In WMhtn<to«.
He hail «ome Otsti p« rroleum from « Texas w«C.
ar.i wa.« patttßSJ It through vartott* process**, "*»
for amaaetner.t than anything else, when he neSJasj
that the Brjuli resultfn* from a certain -reaction**
ha.! .» powerful odor. It was too stron* to be
agrc-ahle to th* nostrils; but he moistened a bit of
paper with the fluid, and. waving It m front of his
nose perceived Immediately that the smell was)
that of .andalwood oil. He had obtained, quit,
by chance, an artificial oil of sands I wood- - . ■£
it la true, but easily susceptible of purtScatioa ss>
refining.
The discovery Is belle»ed to be of great «Om
commercially, bat Dr. Day has) toe awehesJenttta
business on hand to bother with *xplott!ac a «»■»
thetlc D*rfume. and makes the world situ me to
bis lucky -nn<i." Inasmuch as the oil can be got
from petroleum In endless quantttl*-" at a very
chr.»p rate. It is likely to drive th« ordinary aaadM
wood oil. which U obtained by distillation from the.
word, out rf th» market.
The destructive white ant of Inrtla nn-3. ••»- i
which devour* nearly •v«frythin* save mutate. will
not touch saadalweed. *ru\ that Is on* reason why
so much of it t* mad« up Into caaketa. .earn and
slmllsr articles that com* from Asia. Mc*t beep »
are familiar with the asreeafc* p«rfutne •<_ V>xea
V " ot ■■■■■* mat«n«X— Jarmuo« *Mes>