Evening star. [volume], August 21, 1909, Page 3, Image 19

About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

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TT
ON the Boulevard Where
the Confidence Game
Succeeds With Wary Ameri
cans?At the Tables on the
Sidewalk?In the Palpitating
Heart of the Gay French
Capital?The First Two Vic
tims of the Present Season?
Why and How?
iri'ltTH'f of Tlir Star.
PARIS. August 1.".. U?r>.
HIS ywir loo,000
Americans will do
the boulevard.
They will sit in
the exact center of
the world. It is
the open sidewalk
round the Place <1?
I'Opera?and in the
offing', under the*
awning. There are
l.V**? little tables
and 40.7"i0 little
K< i.'i'.i the awnings blow breezes
P'-rfunv-d with absinthe, violets, coffee,
? ? rdiaIs a <1 t' ? ,-acliets of pretty women
<>f a!! lauds. \ mighty human river flows
past iill'Ts jii!
!n this charming razzle the most eool
oea<l? d Americans have l>st their caution
ami their money. The other day. the
representative of a New York bank, sat
intler t! . letter "I" in tlie word "Paix"
" hall
impromptu conversations as a steamer
deck. The New Yorker was soon dls
cussinsr pauperism in the east side: and
his new friends, moved by his earnest
ness. actually offered him ii.OCO francs
for distribution to the poor of Nen
York.
The New York man?enthused, said he
would add .1,000 francs of his own. An
other American, worked up by over
bearing the philanthropic conversation,
came to them.- Another pale mauve drink
came to them. The various sums of
money in clean French bills were on the
table. Mutual receipts were exchanged
and documents and money were put into
n big yellow envelope fyr the New York
er. The new American desired to add
l,5<>o francs, and he hesitated to quit
the sidewalk; he was on the lookout for
a frifud to pass. Would some one take
this hig French note and get it changed
inside?
"Yon take it?"
"No you."
Rach ono hesitated out of super-deli
cacv: till the man with the big not*- raid:
"Oh. I'll go myself and get my money
changed. Come with me, you. and talk
Fr< nch for me. Our friend from New
York, will keep a lookout for
friend, lie is a tall, spare,
smooth-faced man. in a light
They went.
The New York bank man, with the
yellow envelope full of big notes in his
pocket, scanned the human river tran
quilly. He thought no harm: yet harm
there w-as. No one came back: the yellow
ciivcl pe proved to contain no money; and
his own ::.000 francs had naturally disap
peared with the rest.
*
* ? .
It was a simple variation of the green
goods substitution of valtBM.
The Paris boulevard Is the
in the world wl ere such tilings still h:
my passing
red-headed,
gray suit!"
WITH ARMS FOLDED FOR A BEATIFIC TRANCE.
of t ? Happing awning siun of that world
famous cafe. He bought a delicate
mau\e-eolored uiynk'ir,,
u seemed as weak as circus lemonade,
but tasted delicious.
These sidewalk tables, tilled with agree
iihlc American tourists, are as good for
pen to men of intelligence. Some pre
tend thai the insidious novel dVinks are
to blame.
There is a drink called "For the
princes." bearing no bint on its label
of the cocaine, poppy and hyssop it con
tains. Absinthe is green with opalescent
fires; the "Prince" drink is violet paling
into lilac, striking diamond scintillations
when tiie ice swirls in it. A staid Ameri
can real estate agent liked its looks he
cause it matched his tie.
"Is it temperance?" he asked.
"Very," said t!:e waiter. "And the
more you put in water it is more so."
"I have not drunk strong drink for
eleven years," the real estate man told
the waiter at 4 p.m.. At 5 he was ex
plaining it to a stranger; by 5::?? he had
invited four people to dinner; at 5:45 lie
was persuading the policeman to help
him count a wad of big notes on the side
walk table.
At U p.m. he sat with folded arms and
closed eyes in a beatific trar.ce. All lift"
was brilliant: the t'nts of women's hats
and gowns were dazzling: every one was
young and gay: he heard happy laughter.
Horses pranced, autos wizzed past; pretty
shop girls danced on to their homes,
and a glorious red sunset promised a new
dawn to humanity. He heard music In
his heartbeats. He felt his powers grow
within him. He was young, brilliant, dar-.
ing, and he said:
"As soon as I have done a little more
reflecting. I will buy the boulevard and
give it to these charming people!"
*
* *
There is no such free amusement in the
world There are Americans in Paris
who spend half their time on the boule
vard. They drink coffee or vichy. They
seek no gallant adventures. They d? ?ot
read the cafes' gratuitous papers. They
do not play the cafes' dominoes, back
gammon or cards. They sit out upon the
terrace dreaming gently, stimulated with
kaleidoscopic movement, lights and color,
leisure, pleasure-seeking, gayety. pell inell
the throbbing mix-up oi" all peoples come
to Paris, not to earn but to spend money.
The sidewalk seats beneath the awnings
give a sensation of superiority over the
vast pedestrian throng. 1 know a New
York physician who comes every summer
to Faris.
"My vacation is the Paris boulevard."
he says. "I spend it in the open air shade
of these awnings. I want no better com
bination of rest and amusement than to
leisure'y watch the human river flowing
by. There is no crowd like this on earth:
great nobles, renowned financiers, engi
neers. kings of industry, rub shoulder in
cognito. Famous-beauties of foreign cap
itals, great acresses and singers, flit past
unknown, in their tourist tailor gowns.
"Swindlers, who have got away with
millions, criminals who have made rich
hauls, are drawn to the Paris boulevard
irresistibly. In the throng passing us are
men who have built great railways, fac
tories, ur made inventions?for the p'eas
ure of seeing Paris! Here are brigands
and robbers'from every land. In the rub
ber swamps of South America, on the
blistered sheep ranges of Australia, men
make dates to meet upon the boulevard.
Dusky African kings, watching the south
ern cross at night, are wondering of it "
The American playwright, whose piece
was the greatest success of the last New
York season, wrote it at these sidewalk
tabls. When he was merely a journalist,
I thought it pretext for lotus-eating. He
would take a front seat, a raspberry syrup
and ice water. Before him rolled the hu
man river. Fakirs offered him gold
watches and opera glasses at a bargain:
they whispered in h's ear: "Transparent
cards! No two alike!"
?
* *
All around him sat the chattering,
laughing idlers. He had some white pa
per and a pencil. Sometimes he would
write; but "we thought that he did it to
tell his wife he had been working. We
were mistaken.
"The boluevurd gives the stimulus and
repose that he'p me do my best." he told
me later. "At home in my luxurious
workroom, the while paper stares me in
the fare, ami the clock ticks accusingly.'
One of the most popular English musi
cal composers gets his Inspirations from
the Paris boulevard.
"The rumble of the omnibuses and the
sweep of the great throng, suggest a
hundred schemes for orchestration," he
says. "In the inter-shock.ng steps of a
thousand promenaders. I catch the ca
dence of a new air. The soft yet mighty
roll of traffic, forms a neutral back
ground for the musical imagination."
Certainly, I know of two physicians who
send half their patients to the "boule
vard cure," for nervousness, indigestion,
s'eeplessness and melancholy# The New
York physician considers it a medical dis
covery.
"You cannot sit at one of these s de
walk tables without taking the air. nor
watch the human river, however list
lessly. without catching interest." he
says. "The cadence of the multitude s
calming to the nerves. The gayety of
pleasureseekers is contagious, and in
somnia seems to be peculiarly benefited
by an agreeable, rhythmic tiring of the
nerve centers."
T
* *
The boulevard soothes everything?even
suspicion. This is as good an explana
tion as the pale mauve drinks. There
seems to have been nothing pale mauve
in the confidence of Mr. Cook. when,
guidebook in hand, before the architecture
of the Madeline Church, he got into con
versation with a well dressed man, who
said he was Mr. Douglas, editor of a New
Zealand paper.
On their way to the spot where Marie
Antoinette was guillotined, they met a
friend of Mr. Douglas, presented as Mr.
Spencer of Philadelphia. The three took
a drive in the Hois.
1*P to this moment all was usual tour
ist amenities. Next day, young Mr. Cook
met Spencer by appointment on the ter
race of a boulevard cafe. In peaceful
ease they watched the eharming spectacle
of the great, easy-going throng.
"Why could we not do this at home?"
they asked "It is delightful to sit on
the sidewalk."
"Look: Thai man has dropped his
pocketbook!" exclaimed Mr. Spencer.
Young Mr. Cook hastily picked it up.
He was about to give it to the stranger
when Spencer, to make sure that it be
longed to him. required him to tell its
contents:
"Two diamond rings, two diamond
drops, other jewels and several European
bank notes." was the correct answer.,
The grateiul stranger, John Corcoran,
sat with the Americans upon the boule
vard and took a pale rose drink. But
young Mr. Cook insists tlint he had only
vichy water with a pale blue syrup in it.
"Flavor of sweet plums!" he says.
. He was the sweet plum.
Mr. Corcoran was on his way to Rome
to administer one of the last requests of
an uncle. Complimenting young Mr.
Cook on his honesty, Mr. Corcoran asked
him to act as his agent in America on a
guaranteed commission of x See
ing that young Mr. Cook hesitated, Cor
coran. to prove his confidence, handed him
the pocketbook while he left a moment
on business. On his return. Spencer joked
him. saying that he thought Mr. Cook
i\ould not return such confidence.
"Mr. Cook will trusu me with his pocket
book." said Spencer, "bin he wouldn't
tru!?t you with it. while we so across t'/.e
street to buy cigars."
Mr. Cook still had Corcoran's pocket
book with the jewels in it. So to relieve
Mr. Corcoran"* embarrassment, Mr. Cook
offered him his pocket book containing
1,2.*' francs good cash, and Corcoran and
Spencer wont to buy cigars. That is all.
Vou know the rest. The jewels that Mr.
Cook held turned out to be worthless.
*
* *
What is th.s magic place'.'
Is the boulevard the brain of Paris'." No,
the intellectual city is the Latin quarter,
whose Inhabitants are strangers to the
boulevard.
Is the boulevard the ?-enter of Parisian
traffic? No. the Places of the Chatelet and
Republic must always remain this, by
reason of the markets and the railway
stations. t
Is the boulevard the center ot fashion?
No. wealth and f;u-hion are far west.
Is the boulevard the money center? No,
the bourse quarter is hidden beyond its
eastern limit, and t.ie bourse o: commerce
district escapes it entirely, as do thos<?
of the Bank of France, city hall and min
istry of finance.
Is the boulevard the center of pleas
ure? No. Mont mart re. with the Champs
Klysees and Mois. make the boulevard
seem old-fasliioned. The pleasures ot
Paijis do not help or hurt the boulevard.
Its animation is highest twice a day at
the very hours when all places ot
amusement are filled?at T> o'clock in
the afternoon and at 1" at night.
Thus, a not very broad avenue, rather
u^ly. badly built, with dusty trees. far
from parks or gardens, without a sin
gle square, is nevertheless the palpi
tating heart of Paris.
It is the press that does it. Along
boulevard and on side streets the meat
dailies have their offices. What Paris
will know tonn now the boulevard
knows today. What papers may not
print th ? boulevard discusses. The boule
vard is the public opinion of France?
and often of the world.
Fvery tourist feels it. Toned down to
?whatever note of receptivity that may
be his. the tourist feels the shadow of
that mighty thrill. It is this participa
tion in a vast collective consciousness;
that throws the cautious American off
liis guard. The promenade deck of an
Atlantic liner gives the thrill in a sm.ill
way. The commotion, the movement,
the gossip. the common high spirits, the
common leisure, common throwing off
serious purpose, melt even the fastidi
ous into chance acquaintances they
would not make at home.
?
* *
The Paris boulevard is like a thou
sand steamer deck? in one.
It is charming to sit in the center of
the world: but you must take care
what you say. Two friends were talk
ing over a game of poker. ' He cheated
like a Greek!" one said. A man shot up
from the next table. "Sir. I am a
Greek !"
My friend spoke French. He rose,
folded his arms and replied, hotly: ? You
wish, monsieur, to put a German quar
rel on me. perhaps?"
i "Mein Gott!" cried a Teutonic voice,
"I belief I am insulted!"
i My friend grew hot at being dr.nvn
into quart els by tJie nso <>f ?ommnn
proverbs.
"You are drunk. sir." ho said: "a.<
drunk as r Pole!"
"Stop, there!" ciime a warning voi<_.>
from a long-haired man. "I will no.
hear the Polish race maligned "
My friend looked darkly at the thr?-e.
"Since you all take me for a Turk.*
head." he began; but when a yell >w
sieur Chnuchurd! Two rents"'
The takers run up the boulevard. ;t
string of ten. in exaggerated business
hurry. en h behind the other crying the
same novelty.
"The Americans at Panama, the little
ditchers" It is an ati lent wooden to>
In which two figures chop alternately.
Years ago it figured as the Madagascar
colonists. Yesterday it was "Charcot at
TABLES ON T
young man In h red fez rose deter
minedly my friend took a walk.
You ran s?*e how it is yourself by the
way they arc talking Knglish all around
you.
"1 ?issipat,?d!" .remarks the Charlie'
aunt, seeing the absinthe.
"Ripping!" murmurs Charlie's school
boy brother, seeing the ladies' hats.
There are tive Britons in the party.
I'nobserved. the schoolboy slips a dol
lar into the hand of a passing fakor
who has said "Transparent cards." in a
significant wrisper.
'Drop them!" whispers ("luirlie. as li<?
grabs the dollar, Charlie knows his
way about the boulevard. He himself
bought "transparent cards" last sum
mer; they are frauds.
*
;t; *
"Spik Kngleesh! VIII you zee burd?"
No answer.
"I sjiik Kngleesh, z*e hurd also!"
"Oh, Charlie, is it true? Such a little
bird! How mu h?"
The splendid b!ond has spoken. tlie
girl of milk and roses: eyes like blue lakes
under a cascade of gold: the troubling
goddes< toward whom fifteen Frenchmen
shoot burning glances. The cheap love
bird is so full of laudanum-soaked seed
that it still clings weakly to the stick
when the girl takes it.
? "Get out! That bird is sick!" Like a
true Briton, Charles spoke with author
ity. "I will have you arrested for cru
elty to animals. Beastly French: they
will do anything for money."
"The voice of .Sarah Bernhardt! Buy
the golden voice!"
"The last will and testament of Mori
IE SIDEWALK.
i
tlie south pole!" Your children will twiy
it as; "The Tunuel Diggers of Bering
St rail."
The fakers of the boulevard can sell
anything. Once they disposed of a .ioh
lot of 100,000 copies of "Landlord and
Tenant Law." in three days,
"Mine. Notnand's Authentic Fortune
telling." has ten pages of te\i, and a
many wood-cuts. They have sold loo edi
tions of it.
*
* *
Among these boulevard fakers there are
broken-down nobles, ruined speculators,
unfrocked priests, dishonored soldiers,
wayward son?, the debris of the past.
Oifce 1 heard two old ragged fellows talk
ing:
"It was the year we made the copper
pool. I gave Amelia her house In the
Champs Klysees," said he of the drooping
mustache.
"I remember," answered the gray beard.
"It was the year you got me voted in at
the Rue Royale."
Now the "Rue Royale" is one of th#
three ultra-aristo-raUc clubs of Paris.
Dishonored old age and gutter bred youth
sell the same novelties. Here are boys
who will end in jail for garroting. They
are witty, saucy, worldly wise and as
cynical and good-natured a? clubmen.
They say:
"Buy. monsieur the baron?"
If it fails, they promote >ou: "Ruy,
monsieur the marquis?"
Gaze 011 them coldly and they go one
better: "Buy. my prince?"
And you say. condescending, as you
purchase a trick past card: "Good!! At
last" You took your time about it!"
ST fc.it LING HLILIG.
THE HOTEL CLERK ON SUMMER QUESTING.
By Irvin S. Cobb.
ARRY." said t!<e
Hotel Clt^k to the
House Detective of
the St. Reckless,
?"did you ever sta/
at an abandoned
farm H"
"Did I ever
which?"" said the
House Detective,
puzzled.
I'.vir stay at an abandoned farm"1"'
K'piat'd the Hotel I'lerk.
*1 did not." said the House Detective.
?
with firmness, "nor in a haunted house,
nor in a graveyard after 12 o'clock at
.night. nor a city morjrue. And wots
more. I never will."
"Well." said the Hotel Clerk, "every
man to his own taste. I have. But I'm
l ot saying that 1 expect to make a reg:i
!.tr habit of it. 1 <;m take an abandoned
farm ?>r I can leave it alone."
"1 didn't know you'd gone into the busi
ness nf eollei'tin' farms." said the House
Detective. " 'Specially abandoned farms."
"Your ignorance surprises me." said the
Hotel <*lerk "Don't you know it's the
proper tiling for everybody of class t<?
buy an abandoned farm somewhere- up
in the abandoned farm belt of New Eng
land and convert it into a little paradise
on ??arth.' Well, it is. It's the proper
Thing for every city-raised man with as
much its eleven dollars in the bank to go
to South Buryport, or somewhere, and 1-e
art abandoned farmer.
*
?
"Hut. really. I don't think I'm inLended
!?> nature for th? rol< of a New England
losiic. I've noticed that on the stage al.
? ?j th**iu go around with straws in the.r
nioiitli' and say 'By Heck" and 'I Viim.'
I'ertjonaUj i have a line of euss word.
that appeal :o me more than thos ? de
odorized brand.1 and I wouldn't give a
i ent to hold a straw m my mouth unless
it connected witii a miirt julep or a hm.
rickey j>o I never thought I'd care fn
be a New England farmer, abandoned
or otherwise It was my friend Watkins
that led me into it
"Watkins is just a plain, ordinary man
stock i-nttern. size sixti-eri. with a veg< -
lar.aii s iitidei jaw and the eye of a
breakfast food eatei. By the time 1 e
makt s i p his mind to the necessity of d >
ing a thing the necessity of doing it
I i- passed, which is one of the advan
tages Kletehcrizing your thoughts.
"Hut t us wife. Mrs. Watkins. is diff?>
e<!t S"." s.'ys it's temperament that
makes her act tiiat way, but if a dog
!>". i.vetl in tl.e snme manner you'd have
1 Imi stone over for fi--as. And optimistic?
I .airy, if thai woman found a chance
i- it turkey raiHe on the street she'd have
t! e whole turkey dinner planned out. in
cluding the kind of stuffing s!ie was going
to tili tin- bird i*:th, before she got home.
*
* *
"It seems Airs. Watkins got to reading
about what delightful bargains you could
llnd up among abandoned farms and how
any one by the expenditure of about four
dollars and thirty-live cents could turn
one of these quaint old homesteads into
a. doiigntiui summer cottage with a well
and a well bucket and an orchard and a
ham yard full of lowing fowl and cack
ling kine and ail the rest of good old Pi
VVhitcomb's favorite family prescription.
The picture only needed a mortgage on
the place and a grasping squire and tne
visiting scoundrel with his siick city vest
and his striped ways to be the first act
of 'Shore Acres.' That description won
Mrs. Watkins. Always having lived 'n
a cltv. she felt that she was born for a
life on the farm, jus? as all parties raised
on a farm think they ought to be in the
city. So she announced to Watkins that
instead of wasting ail their money and
?
being bored to death spending the month
of August at a summer hotel they'd just
go up into New Hampshire or Vermont
and pick out a highly desirable aban
doned farm that had all the modern
conveniences and was marked down from
eight dollurs to seven dollars and seven
ty-five cents. So Watkins asked me to
go with hirn. and I being one of those
weak persons that t an always think 'No'
at the right time, but never say !t?why.
1 went along to give them the benefit of
my advice. I ought to know a lot about
farms, anyhow?I have an 'incle in Mis
souri who lives on one. Or. at any rate,
he thinks lie does. Once a year he goes
to the St. Joe fair and on Sundays he
wears a celluloid collar and drive? nine
miles to church in an Old Hickory
wagon. I guess he doesn't live?lie only
thinks so.
*
* *
"Anyway. I went along with them.
Mrs. Watkins ran the expedition, follow
ing her pleasing custom. She had the
route all mapped and the ideal aban
doned farm located and properly staked
out. so all we had to do was to take
the trail and go there.
"We took the Flyer. The other trains
stop at all the stations, but the Flyer
doesn't stop at one very small one. so
that makes it a Flyer. As it happened,
the only station where the Flyer doesn't
stop is the orte where we wanted to get
off. so we went on to the next station
and rode back in a farm wagon. The
gent who'd interested Mrs. Watkins in
the abandoned farms told her this one
was within easy walking distance of the
station, and so it was?for Old Man Wes
ton. or that other pedestrian friend ??f
ours, the Wandering Jew. We tried walk
ing it. but after we'd walked about as
far a.rf from here to Dayton. Ohio, ov r
a road that had been laid out originally
by a cow. but not used much since by
her or any one else, we hired one of
those rigs called a democrat, so callei.
i .suppose, because it's a tiling that's get
ting rarer all the time, and we drove up
to Mrs. Watkins' little paradise on earth
in due state.
*
* 4
?"As soon as 1 took one look at the wag
way the gables sagged down I knew why
the former proprietor had abandoned >t
?the thought that some night a storm
might come up and he'd wake up to find
he was holding a shingle roof in his hip
with a lot of rafters pressing down on his
forehead had borne upon his mind so that
he'd moved off the place. But Mrs. Wat
kins was all raptures over it. and Wat
kins. poor creature that lie is, caught
the fever from her. She said she'd belg
anything there was ^ grandfather's clociv
behind the hall door, all ready to start
ticking. But the only thing we found
belonging to grandfather was a pair of
veteran overalls, and they weren't tick
ing. either, being corduroy, and having
evidently been retired from duty many
years before on account of serious dis
abilities sustained in active service. The
parlor looked like a place where you
could never feel at home unless you were
sitting up witli a corpse there, and the
bedrooms had an aroma about them that
suggested a woodpecker's nest. But Wat
kins was going around, busy as a clown
.log and bubbling with happy anticipa
tions. He sat down on the wreckage of
a chair and it crumbled under him. and
he picked himself up with joy written all
over his infatuated map. and he to
me:
" 'This will be a dandy place for week
end parties.' he says.
" 'Yes.' I says, 'hut a poor one for
week-end baths. The only thing in the
shape <if a bathtub around this estab
lishment.' 1 says, 'is a <-ra -ked soap di-li.
and what it makes up in shape.' I says,
'it lacks in size.' I says. 'Any time.' I
says 'that I should undertake to crow I
my person nto a china soap dish and
take a bath.' I says, "I have a feeling
that 1 would lop over the edges.' 1 says,
'in u way to remind me of a large batch
of yeast in a small crock.'
" 'And I'm quite sure that that ol 1
sideboard is genuine Chippendale.' puts in
Mrs..Watkins. twittering with joy like a
canary.
"I'll take oath that the plumbing !s
genuine Mohawk Indian.' I says. 'i
guess I must be lacking in romance and
poetry,' I says, 'but I wouldn't give one
set of hot and cold water fixtures f>i*
all the old oaken buckets that ever hung
in a well,' I says. 'Hanging's none *oo
good for them." 1 says.
"W ell. we stood ii a week.
"Some weeks are longer than others.
Larry. There are some weeks that are
only a week long, while others last
several years arid your hair turns white
before Sunday comes. This week that we
spent at the abandoned . farmhouse w is
one of those Ions weeks. At the end
of an eternity?eternity began on a Mon
day morning and lasted until Saturday
night, as I recall?the Watkinses decided
that they wouldn't care t<> put in their
declining days on an abandoned farm,
spending The summer evenings listening
to the remarks of the katydids, which
remarks, while entertaining the first few*
million times you hear them, lack va
riety and grow monotonous in time, and
spending the fall evenings feeding fire
wood into a drunt stove that would 1?*
roaring like a lion and trying to climb up
the chimney one minute and the next
minute would be settled back on its
haunches as cold as a wedge, and spend
ing the winter evenings freezing to
death, and spending the spring evenings
praying for a thaw. Anyway, 1 found
out some things about the climate and
the agricultural conditions -of that part
of New England that were not exactly
enthusing. From what I could gather the
principal products of the soil were hay
in the summer, nasal catarrh in the win
ter. summer boarders six weeks a year
A Municipal Department for Telling Fairy Tales.
THE Value of the Fairy
Story in Developing the
Youthful Mind Has Long
Been Recognized by the Ex
pert on Juvenile Develop
ment?The Fairy Lore Trains
the Imagination, Strengthens
the Love of Beauty, Aids the
Memory and Teaches the
Triumph of Virtue Over
Vice?The Librarians of the
Country Have Always De
plored That C'-ildren in Their
Partiality for Certain Classi
cal Stories Overlooked Some
Famous Fairy Lore?System
Was Introduced of Telling
Stories to Little Ones an
Afternoon Each Week.
HILADEIjPHIA i*
the first city ro
have a depart
ment for telling
fairy stories to
children.
It is as much a
part of the muni
cipal activities
the city as the
department of
police or public
works. It is at
tached" to the great free library system
which has done so much in the last ten
years to forward the cause of educa
tion, and last year more than sixty
thousand children assembled to have
told to them the ftfmous classics of
fairy lore.
A new season will start in a month.
Preparations are being: made to carry
011 the work on a .far larger scale, and
it is confidently expected that not less
than 100.000 children will gather to
hear the tales in the next eight months.
One day a week is set apart for tell
ing fairy stories to the youngsters. On
these days in every public library of
the city instructors welcome tlie little
ones and spend an afteiyioon retailing
to them the tales that have for centu
ries held children breathless.
* *
Experts agree that the fairy story is
of vital importance to the juvenile
mind. It stimulates the imagination,
strengthens the love of beauty, trains
tlie memory, teaches lessons of right
and wrong and shows virtue triumph
ant and wickedness punished.
The telling of stories is only a prepa
ration to reading on part of the little
ones. It was discovered by the library
experience of many years that tha
children had certain favorites and that
they read these again and again to the
neglect of books that also merited con
sideration.
The children did not know what was
in them.
But as soon as they gained a certain
knowledge of their contents by hear
ing some of the stories there was an
instant demand for the books. So it
has been with the other classes of lit
erature. Tell the children a few sto
ries from a book and they go and read
the rest for themselves.
Miss Engle, who has the direction
of the work in Philadelphia, has built
up an excellent system, the practical
application of which forms a splendid
course in English literature for chil
dren. The stories have been divided in
to series, each aimed to stimulate a de
sire in the children for a certain book
or class of literature dealing with cer
tain subjects which appeal to the chil
dren. but in a manner that shall help
and strengthen while keeping them en
tertained.
*
* ?
One series comprises so/ne of the ad
ventures of Ulysses. His escape from the
Cyclops: his visit to Circe: his shipwreck:
Telemachus' search for his father, and
Ulysses' victorious return to home and
family.
This series was found to be the most
popular of all. Translations adapted for
children's use have been read and re-read
for three years: whereas before that time
these books were hardly ever looked into
by the children. Tliey share all the dan
gers and disasters of I'lysses, and rejoice
in his ingenuity in getting out of such
terrible fixes: but they take a special de
light in his triumph over his enemies
when he finally reaches home.
Another series deals, with Spenser's
Falrle Queen: I'na and the Lion: St.
George and the Dragon: Britomart and
the Magic Mirror: Florimell and the Sea
Nymph's Son.
The books containing these stories were
never read, owing to tiie quaint language,
and the lack of certainty as to their
containing real stories. But the story
telling has stimulated such a literary ap
preciation in the school children of the
grammar grade that a large number o
them now read a*id enjoy Spenser, and
the names of his characters have become
familiar in hundreds of Philadelphia
homes.
?
* *
The Merry Adventures of Robin Mood
form another series. This is very popu
lar with the older children, and the in
terest thus directed to medieval English,
through the thrilling adventures of this
famous legendary band of outlaws, has
resulted In their reading many old English
romances and some history.
The story of the Rhinegold is dealt with
in another series. How the' gold was
stolen: Brunnhilde the war maiden; Sieg
fried the fearless; the Magic Ring. Sieg
fried and Brunnhilde have become as pop
ular as Jack the Giant Killer and Cinder
ella. The children will not need a libretto
if they ever go to the opera, for the
librarians state that all the books on this
subject have been read to pieces.
Then there is a. series of historic legends
?King Arthur and His Sword; Roland
and Oliver; Adventures of the Cid; Wil
liam Tell, the Boy and the Apple. It has
been found that after hearing one tale,
the awakened interest leads the children
to ask for just those books to which it
was designed to draw their attention.
*
* *
Another series deals with historic boys
and girls. Olaf the Brave. Alexander the
Great, Joan <>f Arc, the Princess in the
Tower, Pocalionta Through this series
Olaf anil Joan have become great favor
ites, and old Viking tales and French his
tory have been made popular.
There is a series of American pioneers.
Pontiac, the Great < hief: Elizabeth Zane,
the Girl Who- Saved the For;: Daniel
Boone, the Indian Fighter: Kit Carson
the Scout. This series has ;i great draw
ing ppwer among the br:ys. It satisriei
their love for Indian tales, and ie.i
them from dime novels and hair-raising
stories of the plains to standard Ameri
can history. As a result the Indian took
his place as a great ligure in our history,
and not as an outlaw, while the interest
of the boys in their school work received
a splendid impetus.
Robert Bruce and the Black Douglas
form another series. How Bruce Killed
Red Com; How the Three Castles Were
Taken by the Scot,s; How Bruce Won h
Great Battle. The stirring events and
battle scenes made this series, also, a
great .drawing power among the boys. In
the mill districts of Philadelphia, where
there are many people of Scottish and
English descent, this series reacted on
the parents. They heard the stories
through their children, and a decided
revival in Scottish history reading was
the result.
*
? *
A series of tales from Shakespeare
proved very interesting to the children.
The story of King Lear was readily un
derstood. even by young children, and
each story carried a lesson of respect for
the aged and duty to parents.
A series of Norse stories comprises the
Magic Apples, Loki's Gifts,' Thor's Won
derful Hammer Balder and the Mistletoe.
This series was found to be better
adapted to children's understanding than
tales from Greek mythology. The wicked,
mischievous Loki is always hailed with
delight, but his punishment in each story
is always voted a just one.
Heroes of the Sea is another series.
This is full of romantic adventure and
sterling instruction in standard history.
It was made doubly interesting to the
children by having an elocutionist read
some of the famous poems of the sea at
the close of each story.
The popularity of the story hour among
the children has become so great thai it
has been found necessary to distribute
cards of admittance. This -is done
through the teachers of the various
schools.
The constant aim is to arouse the chil
dren's interest in the proper books, and
the story is made a means of opening the
pages of books wiiich the children would
not read otherwise.
Miss Kngle, who is in charge of the
work, says: "Books are bought and placed
in the library before the demand for them
is created by the story. Now, when the
story is told, the book in which it is
found is personally introduced by the
story teller. As a direct result of the
work, a wonderful change has been no
ticed in t lie character of book* sought
and read by the children of the city."
Nothing Like It Here.
JOSEPH I.EITFB. at :i dinner in Wash
ington. said earnestly of his approach
ing European lour:
"Where I am going I'll lind something
that we haven't here, that we'll never
have here?namely, hopeless poverty."
Mr. Leiter's seriousness gave place to;a
lighter mood. ;
"Why." said he, "the poverty of Europe
is so acute that i am credibly informed
it is quite a common tiling over there 1'or
little children, knocking at neighbors'
doors, to whine: *
" "Please, ma'am, mother says will ye
lend us somethin' to pawn till pay "day
evenin'?' "
The Vegetarian.
J-'roni i he New York Sue.
Nebuchadnezzar was eating grass.
"Yes," he remarked. "I have come down
to being a consumer."
Herewith he regretted his lost estate.
Firyt student?Harold studied too hard.
He was in a fever last night and imagined
he was conversing with old Euclid.
Second student?If he was where Euclid
has been consigned to. no wonder he was
hot.?Boston Transcript.
and s'.eigh riding all tlie res-t of th?
time.
? ?
"So we <lid a little abandoning our
selves and moved on to a ?iuaint. old
fashioned fishing village tiiat Airs. Wat
kins had been reading up on in a truth
ful little booklet put out by the travel
ing passenger agent of a Vermont rail
road. The original Vermonters certainly
were a frugal people. They were even
saving with the names of their towns.
They figured it out. [ suppose, that there
wasn't any telling when all the names
would give out. and they'd have to begin
using numbers. So they called one town
Rubenham and another Rubenham Cetiter,
and another South Rubenham and an
other North Rubenham. and another
Sou'-hy-Sou'east Rubenham, and to on
until tiie landscape was dotted with Ru
btnhams so they ran together on the
map and gave it a coagulated appear
ance. We drew South Rubenham fir
ours. It was a lovely little hamlet, pop
ulated by a sturdy race who derived their
livelihood from fish and boarders, and fed
the boarders anything that the fish couldn t
accept as bait. If the fish hadn't been
more exclusive in their diet than the
boarders were the boarders would starve
to death. But the sunsets were grand.
Honest. Larry, 1 don't believe even Da
vid Belasco would have tried to im
prove on one of those sunsets. Rut while
you were giving your eyes a treat at sun
set a dead fish or a dying boarder would
float up near you and make it an even
break. And you couldn't get a daily
paper until it had become a weekly, and
the only leading matter I could find ai
the house where we stopped was a lar-ie
brown book on the diseases of the home
and a copy of the 'Confessions of Weslev
K. Bass, the Boy Drunkard of Rutland.*
And there were some lovely walks In the
woods, only the woods were thickly set
tled bv skeeters and rattlesnakes that
probably got along well together because
they had the same mutual dislike for city
strangers.
*
* *
"We stood that three days and then we
moved across the lake to a summer hotel
that was just the same as every other
summer hotel in the known world. <1
had a lovers' leap, where an Indian
maiden mourned tlflrty years fur her lov
er. who came not, lie being deceased,
and then cast herself nearly eleven feet
down the precipice, and a Saddle Rock
Mountain, and a Devil's Punchbowl anJ
a Pulpit Rock that looked just as much
like a pulpit as it didn't look like one,
and a livery stable with a schedule of
prices that would have made Capt. Kid 1
sorry he ever went to sea when he
might have stayed at home and driven
the hack to tlie depot.
"And so, because 1 never could stai d
the sight of suffering, I left the Wat
kinses there in the company of two hun
dred other victims and stole back to th?
false and feverish city.
"Larry, let us now promenade to the
bar and drink one toast to the false and
feverish city?long may it wave!"