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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>