16
SCOTTISH CROFTERS
IN THEIR HOMES.
They Earn but Lit lie More Than
Enough to. Meet the Land
lord's Demand.
. DBEARY, " LONESOME BUSINESS.
There is but Little Romance About
• .-• the Crofter's Every-Day and
Home Life— Girls Who Have
.to Join the Herring - Curer's
'■"■•: Crew During the Summer
" Months— What a Crofter's Home
Is Like.
Special to InE-'SraiiAT Call.
tT— J . BEWICK (Shetland), Oct. 2,
If ' ' 18E0!— Whatever may be the
' f \ ■ .average t' un.-t's impressions
S f. ft .from passing glimpses of croft*
."• •) [ ) ( .ers' communities, crofters'
_. — y— — i homes and the crofters them
selves, 1 believe one who passes some lime
among them cannot turn from them to his
own world of brightness ai.d t regress with
out a genuine sense of sadness- for their
permanent, hopeless condition.- It is un
questionably true that the "Crofters? Act"
of imij was a just and benefl ent measure.
"Fair rents" have been almost universally
fixed; arrears impossible of liquidatim
have been either holly canceled or largely
reduced; and personal freedom as a man,
subject ' and voter ' lias beeii- established.
The Crofters' Commission has' already
righted countless . wrongs to which 7 the
. crofter had been subjected for nearly a
century and a half; end it may be truthfully
said that all has been done for this High
,. land groundling that ever can be done
under the present .land system of Great
Britain. Individual owners are so few,
. such vast tracts, especially in the north and
west of of Scotland, have been permanently
transformed into game preserves, such
insignificant and inadequate holdings are in
the crofters' 1 ossession under the new* order
of things, and communities of these people
are So leW," and those so meaner in numbers,
that betterment to these Highlanders as a
class seems possible.
As stated iv a previous article, the process
of thinning them out of, or their actual ex
. tirpation iii-iii, tremendous areas had been
so thorough by the owners of Iffjiiland es
-.tales, that few crofters .were left to receive
■benefits, 'J lit- tenacity with which, despite
all sacrifice and terror, those few clung to
their mountain homes, is a wondeif'ul tribute
to
- ' : • LOVE OF IIOME-I.AXD,
which, in a hardy race' like the Highland
crolter.', could have been turned to infinitely
■ better account by Scotland, and even Scot
tish landlords, than' could the rentals from
.- sportsmen tenant". This sentiment is so
• strong and deep a ona to-day among Scottish
; people of ail sections that .here is a notice
.- able growing and stubborn demand for
' "land division," "land reform," and even in
- some - quarters..' for. nationalization of
the lanu." Many intelligent crofters seem
- confident . that some form of legislation
wills me time give them adequately large
• holdings.' : "An idea.. is certainly gaining
• ground that.at least sportsmen will go out
and -theep-i aiding return. Sentiment is not
.* wholly responsible for this. The first ex
periment by the great highland laud-hold
ers,., alter the barbarous clearances of the
highlanders, ■ was* in . sheep-raising. This
was successful," and, in consequence, the
'.clearances were largely condoned by a most
important class in Scotland; men who assist
iv making and unmaking Parliament. These'
were the Lowland farmers. Countless thou
sands of Highland sheep, reared in the north,
were. annually driven through the Gram
.. pian passes, aud . before reaching the
, shambles wintered by Lowland farmers,
who thus secured profitable disposal -of
. immense quantities of produce.' Since the
". British sportsmen got possession of the
northern and western glens, "Highland
; sheep have become practically, extinct.
Therefore what tbe Highland estate owners
have gained by game the Lowland farmers :
have immeasurably more than lost. The
hitter have no pity for the crofter on his
'• own account, but they know iD a direct.
■'. hard-headed nay that he and his coliie dog
■ are the best shepherds in the .world* So
these and some other Dressing economic
forces are gradually bl nd'.ng the "crofter
question " and the " land question" in Scot
. land, and providing an ec- comic question
•which may at least reach that form of legis
lation inch will break down the now in
• visible yet inflexible .walls" of tliese great
Highland estates, and cause the rcpeopling
of tin ir grand mountain sides and glens.
• But that can hardly come to the grave, sad
eyes of the crolter who now lives. And it is
this man Whose condition, environment and.
• home-life' I have set out to describe. • ••
• "• Whether be lives in the same cabin' where
his forefathers lived before him, or is one
.who has been "removed" from the old
.... home to some new and worthless patch of
•-. ground for the larger liberty of deer, lie is
. never the possessor, as tenant, of more than'
thirty acres, of ".land; while nine-tenths of
■ the en-tire class do not occupy . mo-re than
■•'five. In some instances he has an "outrun"
or "coin num grazing" with other?, where
from twenty to -thirty sheep and two or
three cows may be grazed, and 'when this is
j "so, .'he is considered very.well off. •"'• * .
. ' . IOFISD HIM IN THIS COXDiyiOIf .. •
• Is the rarest exception; and ordinarily his
miserable 1 atch of soil, of from say two to
.'six: acres,, scarcely affords the barest
mean? of* livelihood. For .this tiny croft he
pays average rental of. £6 under the new
"lair rent" system, and under the old "rack
• . rent" regime ' he tried to pay, but never
.paid, from £10 to £15 and £20. With the
. certain uncertainties of Highland climate in
. mind, no oue can for a moment believe it
possible for a ciofter to pay even. the re
. duced rcut and sustain himself atid family
from the 'results of* his labor upon the soil
.al ne. I- beli?ve : it would be a truthful asser
tion that the- "croft in no single instance ever
". sustained the crofter. .It will not sustain
him under the "fair rent "system of to-day.
The landlord now' gets nearly the utmost
: limit of", what the soil it-elf can produce.
The salvation of the crofter can only be at
tained by providing him with larger crofts,
.. so that the labor of himself aud family may
.-be concentrated -where most profitable re
; suits can obtain ;.or rentals for the beggarly
. patch he is fo:ced to exist upon must be re
. duced ti almost a nominal sum. A prosper
ous peasantry is impossible where the ener
gies of the family are dissipated in a half
-dozen different vocations to shindy pay rent
that a thatch may lie kept over tho heads of
• the. very.old and .very young of the family.
: ..Briefly, that is the.conditionof the crofter,
. and it is all that is. or ever has been, the
' matter with him.' To ; merely exist he has
- been forced iuto becoming fisher, kcip-gath
• erer, poacher; anything to live. His wife
becomes fisher, "gutter," or dresser of her
. ring- at the seaside, mussel-gatherer, does
any. tortuous labor possible to add pound or
shilling to. the store for meeting the inexora
■ ble demand of the rent. The daughters are
forced from home into service, and their al
tered condition and needs deprive them ot
both their love of the Highland home and the
power to bestow more. than a pittance upon
. its • keeping. - -The sons* become gillies ti
.Highland spi.rtsuiens with a few weeks of
'demoralizing luxury and ten months of
„ idleness ana unrest; or better, though still
bad, are crowded to the towns to further im
. poverish labor there; or perhaps in the end,
best, reach Canada or the States, where for
years the little saved beyond a bare living
. finds its way back to the crofter father and
. eventually to. the landlord for rent. As a
rule the oldest non marries and remains, at
borne. He seldom has the inclination or.the
■ means to "hive off" and set up housekeep
ing on 'another croft, and besides it Is the in
flexible policy of Highland landlords to re
strict, rather than increase croft holdings.
* This leads to a subdivision of the "already
inadequate home-croft and two families, in
. stead of one. repeat an intensified struggle
for existence, . ;
. • • . nOß__-_ra the EVII^ "■
And giving warrant for the ever-recurring
landlord cry of "congested crofter, dis
tricts," while millions of acres of land, idle
• save for its use to sportsmen, are sweeping
away Into almost impenetrable wildernesses
around them. - •. ■ .......
In all the crofter settlements, established
at the different occasions of "clearances."
there is little of interest save the unvarying
desolation of environment and every-day
life. ■ This class of • crofters are the most
. smlleless, voiceless people that I've. .Fring
ing the entire northeastern, northern, and
northwestern . coasts of Scotland, may be
found hamlets of this class. There is not
the sound of mirth, the '■ tone of content : or
tbe lock of hop« to . be I heard or seen in
one. .The land. is barren, the sea-coast is
grewsome and dreary, the habitations are
wretched, fishing is - precarious and the
entire life of these people is a ceaseless,
sunless effort to live. It is only in the
glens, on ' tbe mountain-sides, within the
straths, clustered in the upland cor
ries or hollows, or here and there nes
tled by the .side cf mountain lochs and
rivers, a here the "removals" and "clear
ances," like some wild mountain tempest,
swept over the old Highlanders without
annihilating all their homes, that the crofter
ot old. the crofter of song ami story and
tourists' tales, may yet he found. lie. is
grave and silent in his loneliuess; but about
this child of the mist lingers nearly all that
remains of Highland tradition, folk-lore and
picturesqueness of environment. Tlie sin
gle, lonely, isolated croft is too dreary for
winsonieucss. But you will now and then
come upon an old "clachan," where three or
foor, or perhaps half a dozen, crofts nestle
in a corrie together, arc huddled under the
friendly protection of some precipitous crag,
or are grouped like brown gypsy tents be
neath the strong arms of primeval trees;
and here lile and customs are ia many re
spects very primitive indeed.
The "aula" clachan," aside from so uni
versally being the hamlet-home of the
crofter, it is worthy of attention on Its own
account. The word is occasionally a mis
nomer among Scottish people themselves,
as applied to any ancient and picturesque
hamlet of a hall-score or so quaint old
houses. Clachan has a more ancient and
honorable signification, lt is a pure Gaelic
wotd meaning "a circle of stones." The
clachan was the fane or place of worship of
the pagan Caledonians. When Christianity
was introduced the missionaries from lona
very wisely planted the cross within the
sacred clachiiD. lv time littlo chapels, and
finally churches, followed. Houses grew up
around these, * aud then the tiny church
place or hamlet itself took the name
of the spot where the old pagan rites
were once celebrated. It is interesting, too,
to note I'oiv exactly identical is the Gaelic of
the crofter Highlander of to-day with that
of his heathen ancestors of 1800 cr 2000
years ago. Instead of asking his neighbor
in Gaelic, "Are you going to church to
day?" he will ask,
"ARE YOU GOIXO TO THB STONES?"
(Am bheil thu'dol don clachan)? The
quaintest bits cf primitive architecture in
all Scotland are to be found in these quaint
-old nests. The pagan clachan is gone ; the
chapels and churches— for they were of tho
sort iconoclast Cromwell did not like— -were
long ago razed to the ground. But if you
hive the an Ideological instinct you can find
bils of cicsses, cinerary urns and sacrificial
stones built into house-walls, just as you will
find at Bowness-on-Solway, Roman altars
and first-century Roman inscriptions iguo
biy set in pig-sties and byres. A vitrified
fort will often be discovered near at hand.
Huge cromlechs rind menhirs, marking
pagan burial-places, are never far away.
And there is always within, or just without,
that cleft of rock whence has trickled for
centuries the crystal stream' which in Co
lumb's days was over blessed and sacred.
Because the clachan and croft have almost
always been inseparably connected there is
little wonder that the crofter clings lovingly
to thos.' weird old places; that bis manner
has become subdued and grave from endless
feeding upon the Gaelic lyric of a mystic
past; or that the forgivable superstitions
and wraiths which cling about these eerie
spots have wrought very many fantastic
fancies within the warp and wool of his
spiritual nature.
There is little romance about the crofter's
every-day and home life. If he can make
his rent partially from his laud, he tills it in
the hard old primitive way, with the rudest
of tools: and in Skye, the Hebrides, in re
mote parts of the North ami here in Shet
land the crooked wooden spade, or earth
fork, is still to be seen. If he cannot he is
forced to leave the croft to the care ot his
wife and children and turn fisherman.
Often his wile and grown daughter leave
the croft and join the herring-curers' crews
on the coast lor several months of the sum
mer. His subsistence gained from the croft
is always precarious; and were it not that
his wants are few he could not live at all.
His principal crops are oats and potatoes; but
' often the variable nature of the climate ren
ders a steady return doubtful, Often the oats
fail to ripon. Again, when they mature, the
little crop is frequently destroyed by rain.
Potatoes of late years occasionally blight or
rot. When both* the oats and potatoes fail,
actual famine comes. By the greatest vigi
lance enough grass may be cured for the
long inter supply for the few* animal* ; but
there is always peat to le had for the one
bright spot in all the crofter's life, the great,
open fire-place of his cal in. Alter the cows
are milked in the morning, the younger
children, accompanied by the collie "dog, set
out to herd them, for the crofts are seldom
inclosed. Old coats or jackets are. thrown
over their shoulder.',' nnd they listlessly
move about like a bevy of automatic scare
crows, keeping the cattle or sheep within
bounds tho whole day long.
DREARY*, LONESOME BUSINESS THIS,
In the old days or iv these days, hut of late
some of the soddenness of this life is being
relieved by the books go. folk have put in
the youthful herders' hands, and the winter
tcliool is gradually opening a new world to
their eacer, childish eyes.
It is customary where there are only one
or two beasts to "tether" them with chain
or -rope. The* horse or "slieitio." if the
crofter has one. Is also "hobbled " Some
times half a dozen sheep will be tethered by
day and put into the sheep-cot at night.
Such croft sheep are universally called pets.
The world has heard ot the famous "pet
lamb case" between the great American
deer-stalker W. L. Winanp, who controls a
game preserve of over 850,000 acres, and the
shoemaker of Kintail. The sin emaker's
only lamb strayed from the highway, tres
passed on the great man's acres, was
■pounced upon anl slaughtered by a game
keeper; aid finally caused an action at law
• that agitated the whole of Great Britain and
became the subject of many an eloquent
outburst in and out of the House of Com
mons. The crofter's home is often a soil hut
•with a sod thatch. Hare frequently it con
sists of four low walis of apparently un
tenanted stones, with a thatch of straw or
fir-branches and straw, held In its place by
stories anchored from the eaves by straw
ropes. The structure usually incloses but
one room. There is a low, wido door, per
haps a window or two, but in some cases
only a "boa!," or square aperature for ad
mitting light and air, will be found. A bunk
answers for a bed for the oid folks. The
children are disposed of iv the loir. A few
rude benches or square blocks of stone uear
the fiie-pla- answer for seats. A spinning
wheel, here and there a baud-loom, more
or less fishing-gear, some iron pots, a
little earthenware, and often the square
wooden drinkinn-cups, or "metiiera of
tho ancient Gaels will be found. A few of
the more fortunate crofters may possess a
" but and ben " house, that is, a bouse with
two rooms, when "gansin' but" or "ben"
is the aristocratic possibility. The crofter's
food almost universally comprises porridge
and mile, and perhaps bread and tea, for
breakfast. At dinner he may have a ban
nock of rye with an egg. - The supper will
be the breakfast repeated without tea.
Sometimes the dinner _ varied by herrings
and potatoes. He is a total stranger to fruit,
as we know- it, though there are sometimes
a few wild mounta n berries to be got. He
is utterly devoid of amusements. The old
Highland games have entirely disappeared
in the Highlands. In the old days the
"ceilidh" (pronounced "kailcy ") or gossip
ing party, occupied the ling winter even
ings, lt lingers still where the clergy's sharp
eyes do not too often come; and in it are
wlusperingly preserved all the old tales of '
clan and tartan, witch and warlock, and the
sweeter folk-lore ot this tender-hearted,
long-suffering, hospitable, boneless people.
Copyright.* . - .'. Edgar L. Wakeman.
SAVED' 'I HH BOX'S LIFE.
Then, aa Flagman Alf-.Kletiey Leaped, He
Won Killed by the Locomotive. ~-
Edward McKigney, a flagman at the j
Grove-street crossing of the Pennsylvania
Railroad in Jersey City, was killed yester
day morning. bince the railroad company
began to elevate the tracks in tha city there
have been no gates at the crossings, but tho
number of guards has been quadrupled to
prevent accident. JleXigney was one of the
new men. He -had been employed in a
foundry for twenty-five years, and had ac
cumulated sufficient property to live on for
the remainder of his life. He had also
raised a family, and their earnings made it
possible lor him to give up his employment
in the foundry aDd take life easy. Thomas
Tennant, the trackniaster on the Jersey "
City division of the road, an old friend of
McKigney, suggested that he might take the
place of flagman lo occupy his lime and add
something to his income.
About 9:30 o'clock yesterday morning a
west-bound express train approached the
crossing at a moderate speed. McKigney
and his fellow flag-men stood on either side
of the crossing waving their flags. A boy
darted behind McKigney, and was on the
track before the latter saw him. A warn
ing shuutl from the other flagman attracted
the attention of both, and without a mo
ment's ■; hesitation McKigney jumped for
ward, seized the boy and hurled him out of
the way of the approaching train. As he
was in the act of leaping from the track
himself the locomotive caught him. Ile was
dashed to one side and killed almost in
stantly. - flfl-
The boy escaped, and was probably so
badly frightened that he did not return to
learn either the name or the fate of his
rescurer. * It was said that he wore a mes
senger's uniform, * but neither the Western
Union nor the American I), strict Company,
the only concerns in Jersey City which em
ploy uniformed messengers, has been ablo
to learn that it was any of Its employes. "Mc-
Kiguey's ' body was taken to his home, 130
Itailroad avenue.— Y. Sun.
The Richard Wagner Monument Commit
tee in Leipsic * has accepted tile design sub
mitted by l'rofessor Schuler of Berlin, and
has received '■ permission from the city au
thorities .to erect the • statue ou the Old
Theater, place, a fe* step from Wagner's
old home,- "on the Bruhl. 'lhe figure will
cost t l.i,' ■■
. . ...
THE MRNING CALL, SAN FRANCISCO, SUNDAY; NOVEMBER 30. 1890-SIXTEEN PAGES.
THE WORLD'S
EXPOSITION.
The Chicago Colnmbns Tower
to Be Finished in 1893.
Secretary Dickinson's Flan for a Military
- Display— The True Nature and Objsct
of Th* Great Exposition.
|"*yHICAGO, Nov. 27. Although
I y^'s the past week [has been a busy and
\~**y exciting one, progress has not been
rapid. The Directors are troubled at pres
ent with the apportionment of the buildings.
The Lake Front is again the bone of conten
tion. Why it is not once for all abandoned
is hard for outsiders to learn. Why it was
iiSSI
ever considered as part of the site is to many
a great puzzle. Several of the National
Commissioners areconcernedabouttho build
ings now mentioned for that place. -, How
ever, no trouble should be borrowed on that
account, as the fair proper will be placed at
Jackson and Washington parks, and the
agricultural and live-stock show will have
all the advantage of being placed alongside
of the greatest attractions.
Herewith is presented a picture of the
Chicago Columbus Tower, of which mention
was made In a recent letter. It will be com
pleted in 1893, and will be 1500 feet high by
480 feet at the base, joustructad of steel and
iron, and supported by sixteen great arched
legs. The architecture is of modern Renais
sance style, and it was designed by Messrs.
Kinkel & Polk of Chicago. It will require
over 7000 tons of steel and COOO tons of iron.
Its estimated cost is 52,000,000. In the cen
ter will be a large dome 200 feet wide and
200 feet high. This is calculated for con- '
cert and theatrical purposes, with a seating:
capacity of 25.000 people. Th« walls and
canopy will be richly decorated in Oriental
style.- Eighteen elevators, with a capacity of
fifty people ea' h, will make twelve trips an
hour. Only two elevators will run a dis
tance of 1250 feet. Many will take ad- !
vantage of the trip. Here money will se
cure passage for at least a short journey in
the direction which all would like to travel.;
At the landing will be a large restaurant,
where the travelers can rest and lunch be
fore returning to earth again. At the apex
will b; a great globe of 83 feet iv diameter, •
provided with 16 powerful electric lights,
which will be observable fifty miles dis
tant Admission fee will be 25 cents, 50
cents to 400 feet and 81 to top. When com
pleted it will lie 500 feet higher than the
Eiffel lower in Paris, and the greatest
architectural construction erected in the.
history of man. It will be the pi lde of the
American continent and one of the most at
tractive features of the great exposition.
Lieutenant H. A. Beed of Leavenworth,
Kans., Is strongly in- favor of Secretary
Dickinson's plan for a military display at
the opening, and would extend the time to
about twenty days. He allots the time as
follows:
Presuming that as much of the United
States army as the President may permit, of
foreigners who may come and all the Na
tional Guard who may desire are assembled,
I should assign tbem to three distinct camps
of cavalry, artillery and infantry, irrespect
ive of Stales or nationalities, and would ar
range days and exercises somewhat as fol
lows: Mtp^gngHn
. First and second— Devoted to encampment
Destroying tha Pyramids. j
The Bosphore Egyplien announces a new
act of astounding vandalism, which that
amiable journal does not hesitate to Insinu
ate is connived at by the Egyptian Govern
ment. Three gangs of workmen, under two
local sheiks, are daily extracting blocks
from the lower courses of the two largest
pyramids of Gizeh. These are broken up
on the spot and carried away on camel-hack
for building purposes. • The sheiks allege
that they are doing this work of destruction
by permission of the Government; whereas '
they have, it is said, obtained only a permit j
authorizing .; tliem to . remove scattered j
blocks. That these Arabs should exceed j
their license Is not surprising; but it is
surely, to say the least of It,' extraordinary
thata Government partly administered by \
Europeans should have granted such powers
to native - overseers, - unchecked by. the
presence of one of their own officials. . 'Ihe
pyramids do not belong to the Khedive nor
to his Government; they do not even belong
to the Egyptians. They are the inheritance
of the world. London Times. -
The Knights of Pythias are so well drilled
that they could put an army of 50,000 men
into the field at two weeks' notice.
CJi.nnHru>4 i^b...^.^^. i if I — ■ — J. . i__P_f_>^r
duties; all the duties incident to '- the estab
lishment of an army in bivouac in the field,
with guards, etc.
Third— Company drills, separate parades
and guard mountings for each arm on its
own ground. M<l*lj_ ™*W-MB*TOI!_^'A*!S' S <
Fourth— Battalion drills, grand parade and
guard mounting, all arms invited on the en
campment grounds; all will probably have
arrived by this time. * •"C".*- / y>
Fifth— parade. . -i- fl:. fl
Sixth— Sklimish drills. This will fit the
National Guard lor what is to follow.
Seventh— Battle formations for attack and
defense. ' ~. -
- Eighth— Attack and defense of a position
with infantry and artillery only. Not a sham
battle as ordinarily conducted, but one on
military principles.
Ninth— The same, of greater extent, and
with ail arms. The troops will be in good
condition by this time.
Tenth— review by the President or
his representative. **
Eleventh (Oct. 12th)— formal dedica
tion uf buildings and grand military ball. -
Twelfth, thirteenth and fourteenth —
Knights of Pythias and zouave drills, elec
tric light drills, etc.
• The forenoon, except on the first, second,
fifth, tenth and eleventh days, when all day
CHICAGO'S COLUMBUS TOWER.
is devoled to the special exercise, should be
occupied by competitive drills.
The committee appointed by the National
Congrats to investigate the condition of
World's fair matters are at present in the
city performing their task. As yet they re
fuse to express any opinion, but apparently
are very well satisfied.
At present the city is full of strangers
gaining information to enable them to at
once begin preparations for the fair. The
officials are constantly interviewed. The
decisions of the present week aru anxiously
awaited.
For the first time since the proposal of the
Columbian Exposition the true character
and object of the enterprise is beginning to
be fully understood. From its first concep
tion the promulgator of the scheme meant
it to be in the broadest sense of the term a
world's exposition, in which all nations of
the earth should equally participate, and as
far as possible become equally interested.
It is the celebration of the greatest discovery
in the history of the human family, and one
which has proven more or less beneficial to
all people. In view of that fact lt was pro
posed that the exposition should be com
mensurate with the occasion it commem
orates. Aside from that feature it affords
for the first time an opportunity for
the nations to amicably assemble, each
to bring forth and placo for compar
ison the productions of their skill and
handiwork, showing the point to which their
people have advanced, while tbe centuries
have come and gone, in a sense the Colum
bian Exposition will be a vast Cosmpolitan
University, where the nations will become
voluntary pupils and the work of their han
dicraft serve as object lessons for the study
and benefit ot all. It will form a universal
society and reception, to which all the hu
man fatuity are invited, regardless of caste,
creed or color. The children from the East
can meet those from the North, South and
West, and each can learn of the advancement
and progress which his fellow man has made
on his respective portion of the globe.
Here will be achieved a peace conquest,
more potent in its influence, more beneficial
and far-reaching in its results, than all the
victories gained in the history of wars. The
occasion is opportune and will be a mighty
factor in bringing about that feeling of uni
versal brotherhood, which in time will result
111 " the Parliament of man, the federation
of the world." It properly is an Interna
tional institution, in. which all should par
ticipate. Its coming will be an Intellectual
banquet, from which all will depart to their
distant homes leeling it was good for them
to have been there. All national stiile and
sectional lines should for the while at least
vanish, and that littleness of soul give place
to the more generous disposition of human
interest In humankind, j. b. Campbell.
Carolina Ucrachnl.
The life of Caroline Herschei, one would
imagine, was anything but favorable to long
lasting. Insufficient sleep, irregular ' and
hasty meals, long fasts, excessive toil, both
bodily and mental, were the conditions of
her life— at least during the fifteen years she
was her brother's housekeeper and astro
nomical assistant. A lady who devoted her
self to hard work*, one of the necessities of
which was that she had to spend the whole
of every stairy night, covered with dew or
hoar frost, on a grass plat In the garden,
would not, one would think, be likely: to
make old bones. Q At the age of 82, however,
according to her nephew's account, she
skipped up two flights of stairs and ran
about like a girl of _). V She died at the age
of 98.— A1l the Year Bound.
I Suffarlns From llrown Guitar*.
y In « the county of Surry, or at least in ft
ceitain part of it, we have two remarkable
diseases.^ to wit: * "St. Viper*, his dance,"
and the ."brown gaiters." fe The terms needs
no explanation, but I may casually observe
Hint the "brown gaiters" are known to or
dinary ; persona as •'bronchitis.— Notes and
Queries. ; ._.
THE DANCING
BEAUTY.
A Sage Disquisition on What lie-
comes of the Ballet-Girls.
They Have B6en Known to Ble— Vivacious Talk
of One Who Knows Lights and Ehrlows.
Glimpses Behisd Stage Tinsel.
T^iyHAT becomes of the ballet-girls?
S*j\|k£ There is a superstition prevalent
|_1;Mf..l am ong a certain class of old-timers
having a maximum of cheek and a minimum
of hair that the ballet-girl never dies, never
ceases to be a "girl," and never quits danc
ing. They are led to this conclusion from
the close observation of years in the front
rows at the physical drama. But then this
is a biased _ judgment. Certain it is that
nobody ever saw a dead ballet girl. But
who, except those who have been In the
army, where mules were sometimes killed,
ever saw a dead mule?' 'What becomes of
mules? Ho they gradually grow oid and
wither away at a breath?
It Is truo there is no parallel between a
ballet-dancer and a mule beyond the fact
that loth are well known as eccentric kick
ers and as tough as Joey li. If the induce
ment of assured perennial youth were not
sufficient this fact of never ceasing to exist
in the garish atmosphere of the footlights is
enough to attract the rising female genera
tion. It Is the fate of womanhood in the
ordinary walks of life to marry and become
old. If they do cot marry they art soon old
anyhow, and are a neglected, if not a de
spised, lot.
she's always admired.
Not so the ballot-girl. She may be mar
ried or not — and she. frequently is the mother
of a family of young kickers— may be 15
or 50, or anywhere along between those in
teresting extremes— always has her
share of admirers. If . fairly good looking
she has many of them. Why men will sac
rifice restful nights, money, sweethearts,
wives, at the shrine of the ballet-girls is one
of those mysterious things to be decided
after this life. But it is a fact that they
will, and do, and a fact quite well known to
the ballet-girl herself. Who has not, for
that matter, at some period of his life lin
gered wistfully in the shadow of the stage
door?
The ballet-girl may be said to remind us
of a mule in another respect — she is born
and not made. No woman born was ever
molded over into a ballet-girl. She may be
come a famous actress— she may be made
Into a lay figure for the spectacular, get a
job as a chorus-girl, or have a thinking
part In a modern farce comedy— become a
ballet-girl, never! You might as weli talk
of taking a brakesman off the railroad and
turning him into a contortionist.
ONE BEAUTY'S BTOBY,
" My mother was a dancer before me,"
said one charming young ballet-girl the
other evening. She referred to the fact
wiih a sigh. She had done a matinee and
evening turn at Palmer's In the "Ked Hus
sar" and was polishing off a lunch of broiled
chicken and beer. . Her appetite is enough
to throw a sickly shade of green over the
worn-out men-of-the -world who can scarce
ly eat a single square meal a day,
" 1 begun dancing when I was a mere
child. My mother was dancing with the
grown-up ballet as lam now. 1 danced In
children's parts. You mijiht say I was a
born dancer, fur my mother bad been tilling
an engagement, which she resumed as soon
as possible.
* " Yes, mother is living now, but not danc
ing," she laughingly retorted in answer to
the stereotyped joke, "so that disposes of
at least one branch of the popular supersti
tion. She is too stout One of the evils of
the many we have to contend with is the
early tendency to stoutness. When you firs'.
saw me I was a slender slip of 17; now look
at me 1"
She has undeniably broadened and thick
ened during these six years, though the
change improves her personal appearance.
STOPS AT TWKXTY-TIIP.ee.
"If I keep on growing stouter I shall have
to diet myself, and that will break my heart.
I'm now don't give it away. I Wish to
remain 23, see ?"
"What becomes of the girls? Oh, some
are with the Kiralfys. Emma's with some
show in the West; Kate is married, so is
Sophy, and— "
"No.no: what becomes of them finally?"
"Why, dear me! how do 1 kuow? Die and
fO to heaven? Not if there's dancing there,
hope. It is quite enough to be a ballet
glil here all your life! Nearly all of the girls
I knew when a child dancer are still alive
and kicking. In fact, I don't actually know
If any of them are dead. They are about all
in the business, too."
"Yes, they have a good many offers of
marriage. Some marry, but they nearly all
get back to the stage. The girls ( ant stand
the yoke very well, you sre. The quietude
of married life would so 11 kill most of them.
We get awful tired of this, but from the ex
periences of those who have quit stage
to marry, I should say there are worse things.
If marriage is tlio thing it's cracked; up to
be, why do they all come back ? A nswer me
that!"
MATRIMONIAL PHILOSOPHY.
Her black eyes fairly snapped. Sho had
evidently been considering the matrimonial
problem on her own Recount. The next ob
servation of this philosophical maiden made
that certain.
" The trouble is that the kind of a man I
would have is the kind who will probably
never ask me to marry him, and the kind
who does ask I wouldn't have. That's It—
tip to date! Having been born and bred to
this business, I scarcely know how- I would
manage to live any other way. But, dear
me I There are two sides to this matter.
Look at the kind of men we meet! What
sort of a husband is a man lik lv to make
who gets wild over the ballet? Why not
give us credit for some, womanhood; with
some tastes, good desires, feelings, ambition,
the same as is accorded other girls who must
work for a living? These same girls, who
are spoken of contemptuously asonly ballet
girls, are made of better stuff than most
women of good society. - Now, I do wish
yon would say a good word for us," plead
ingly. "There Is rarely anything printed
about ue except slurs, insinuations and con
temptuous sneers about our calling. Not
that it really makes any difference, because
it doesn't. Only it would be refreshing to
read something different."
THE SAI.AIiY TAUT OF IT.
The ballet business with tho ' Red Hus
sar' is easy for us," went on the ballet girl;
" I mean compared with our work with the
Kiralfys. Th- re is no danger of growing
over stout with the Kiralfys. When the
biothers were at outs and fighting each
other they used to bid for us to keep us
away from one another. Hut they made us
work hard, for the ballet was always the
principal feature. Good dancers in any con
siderable number are hard, to get in this
country, and two big spectacular shows like
the ballet at tho Madison-square Garden
and 'Nero' use up nearly all the material. .
That is the reason you see in the front near
ly all of the samegirls. - -
"We have only two short dances here, and
itis considered a good engagement. We
get $•-•() a week. The chorus-ulrls get '815.
Any kind of a pretty girl can be put in a
chorus. We never have anything to do with
them, on or off the stage! (This with some
snow of- pride.) They are probably very
nice girls, though.' The managers know all
of us, and they make engagements with us
the same as are made with actors and act
resses for the presentation of the regular
drama." ,
But what a life! To those who must live
it the thing is a matter of course. To nine
truths of the mothers and fathers of the
great world of quiet homes the spectacle of
these young ' girls amid such dully and
nightly associations would carry with it the
sentiments nf profound sorrow and com
miseration.—Charles T. Murray, in Pitts
burg Dispatch.
HENRY CLAY'S PICTURE.
A Painter Who Did Justice to
the Great Orator's Mouth.
On one occasion be 7 said to me: ; *"Mr.
Healy, you are a capital portrait painter and
you are ; the first who has ever done justice
to my mouth, and it is well pleased to ex
press j Its | gratitude." - Clay's mouth | was a
very peculiar thin-lipped and extend
ing from ear to ear. -"But,", he added, "you
are an Indifferent courtier; though you come
totisfiotn the French King's presence, you
have not once spoken to me of my live stock.
Don't you* know that 1 am prouder of mv
cows and sheep than ol my best speeches
V* l confessed my want of knowledge on the
subject, but I willingly accompanied* him
around the grounds and admired the superb
creatures, saying they .would do very well
In a picture. I fear that that was not the
sort of appreciation he expected, and that I
sank very low in his esteem from that mo-
m^nt.:^M_pHßSsß&sCVMiAMH9 a &Ksg(t^f
1 1 But on other occasion I , proved a worse
courtier i still. 'Ills jealousy, of Jackson is
still known, and tlie t»o men firmed a very
striking contrast. **, During a long sitting he
spoke of his old rival, and, knowing that .'I
had just painted the dying man's portrait,
he said: ;. " . . • -.:■'. :..
:■ "You, who have lived so long abroad, far
from our political contests and quarrels,
ought to Ire an impartial judge. Jackson,
during his lifetime, was held up as a sort of
hero; now that he is dead. his admirers
want to make him out a saint. Do you think
he was sincere?".
. "1 havo just come from his death-bed," I
answered, "and if General Jackson was not
sincere, then I do hot know the meaning of
the word."
1 shall never forget the keen look shot at
me from under Mr. Clay's eyebrows; but he
merely observed :■..;■
"I see that you, liko all who approach that
man, were fascinated by him." .
Another time a friend of Mr. Clay, Mr.
Davis, speaking of Jackson's provorbial ob
stinacy, said that one day, looking at a
horse, Jackson remarked: "That horse is
seventeen feet high." "Seventeen hands
you mean, General." "What did I say?"
"You said seventeen feet" "'I hen, by "the
eternal, he Is seventeen fact high."
Clay would never have sworn to the sev
enteen feet. He knew how to make himself
loved as well as admired. After his defeat
by Polk lie refused to see any one. It was
with great difficulty that his friends obtain,
his presence at a banquet given in his honor.
.When he entered the diniug-hall, where 200
guests were assembled, no one present was
able to restrain his tears, so popular was
Mr. Clay and so great was the disappoint
ment at not having , him for President.— G.
P. A. Healy, in the North American Re
view. -.
THE SOUTH
SEA BARBERS.
They Fill Their Customers' Hair
With Lime and Slack It.
Savage Heads Fairly Sizzle— Then the Locks
Are Bone Up to Besetnblc Ssiral Eteel
Shavings— Shaved in Spots.
■jfj^yyEARDS and mustaches arc rare iv
ISI*S the Pacific Islands. There is but a
Li 11* J scanty growth of hair upon the face,
and. though the straggling hairs are rarely
pulled out they grow so slowly that shaving
is not resorted to more than three or four
times a year. The barber's chief occupa
tion is in the dressing of the hair, and in
this branch of the business he finds enough
to do and ample scope for the exercise of
his ingenuity in ways that would never
occur to his civilized rival.
One custom holds good throughout the
island realm wherever hair is worn at all,
and that is the lime shampoo, based upon
motives of comfort and convenience gener
ally, the same as led to the whitewashing of
coops and roosts on a hen-ranch. These
things abound in the tropics, and must he
accepted as a distinctive feature of the life,
to be dealt with in the readiest fashion. A
long and irritated experience finds its best
solution in lime, and lime, therefore, is used
by all. BER
A HEAD SIZZLING HOT.
Having lime the savage combs all the kinks
out of the three, four or even six Inches to
which he allows his hair to grow, sifts the
fine lime in among the hair, selects a com
fortable place iv which to lie, gets the bar
ber to inkle water on the lime and shuts
his eyes, while admiring friends stand about
to watch him sizzle. The water slakes the
lime with much blowing of babbles and the
evolution of thick clouds of carbonic acid
gas, the sul'ject submits cheerfully to turn
his head into a mortar-bed until the heat
becomes too much for him to bear, when a
dash of water washes away the steaming
lime, and the first step has been taken toward
dressing his hair.
Many are content to simply comb the hair
after the lime application is over and so
leave It for a month to come, yet even this
simple operation is a work of time and pa
tience, for a man would be disgraced who
should appear with the hair lying fiat and
smooth upon the head. The comb consists
of ten or a dozen wooden skewers about
four inches long, run down fine and smooth
and secured by cords and gum side by side
at the. end of a long and light piece of
carved wood, which served as a head orna
ment. With this comb the hair is carefully
raked out, so that each hair will stand on
end, and together they will appear like a
light mop.
WOMEN'S HAIR THE SHORTER.
Between men and women the only distinc
tion observed is that the men often wear the
hair six inches long all about the head, the
women seldom more than two inches, stand
ing out even on all sides, while men train
the hair below the crown upward, so that it,
toe, will grow parallel with the hair on the
top of the head. This involves much comb
ing and much use of bandages beiore 11 will
answer all the requirement! of fashion and
satisfy the wearer that he will look stirfi
cientlv grim to his enemies when they meet
in battle.
Others prefer spiky ringlets which are
cither trained to stand erect or to fall away
from the crown in all directions. These
ringlets aro mane after the hair has been
limed and combed out stiff. Beginning with
the forehead, the barber grasps not more
than ten or a dozen hairs growing close to
gether, wraps them tightly around a single
spear of grass and covers the whole with a
layer of bread-fruit gum. In the end the
ornamented islander will present much the
appearance of a blushing porcupine. For
fully a week the hair must remain in its
curl gr.isses, which are carefully bundled in
a cloth saturated with oil.
I.IKE srilCAI 1 STEEL SHAVE COS.
At last the barber decides that his work
will do him credit, wipes off from each wisp
of hair its * abundance of gum, draws out
'the core of grass and leaves the ringlet
standing erect and about as graceful as the
fine spiral shavings wliich one finds in a ma
chine shop where they have . been planing
steel. The man who elects to wear his hair
in a mop or ringlets must conduct himself
with a single eye to preserving for fully a
month the simple beauty of his coiffure. He
may not swim without first lying his hair in
oiled cloth, and the patteiing of the rain
warns him lo bundle up his head. At night
he may not sleep with his head upon the
soft mats, but must rest bis cheek upon a
wooden pillow. The simplest form of these
pillows Is a joint of bamboo supported on
crutches at each end and three or four inches
long. .'■•*"
'1 he natural black color of the hair is sel
dom seen even in the children, and so al
most universal is the practice of liming the
head that the colors, ranging between straw
aud brick red, which result Irom the use of
the lime, may also be taken to stand in
place ol the natural color. Some leave tlmir
hair of the color to which it has been
burned, but many others elect to dye It
either of a single body color, uniformity
laid on or in bars or blocks of gaudy hues.
A favorite device is to color the hair in two
contrasting hues along the line of the mid
dle, blue on one side and red on the other,
red and green or yellow and black. fl-fl, ■
LIKE A PAINTED TARGET.
Others indulge in Irregular patches of
dye, giving a marbled effect, and on 0110 isl
and they have reached the artistic height
of concentric rings of bright colors, giving
to each head the appearance of an animated
target ; for the skill of opposing archers. :
Among such as shave the head of all but a
portiou of the hair there is a multitude of
fashions, and each consults bis own taste or
the riper judgment of his barber. The
varied results are striking in the extreme.
Some are seen whose hair is confined to the
front of the - head, ;■ leaving all behind the
crowns as smooth as a ball; and yet others
reverse the process, extend their foreheads
to the crown aud carry all their locks be
hind. - Heads bare on one side are as com
mon as in a Siberian convict train, and one
never gives such an oddity a second glance.
The warrior's delight abovo all others, the
regular fighting clip, is a cleanly shaven
head with a oiyt about two inches wide ex
tending from the forehe.id clear back to the
nape of the neck, and trimmed to sucb a
lenuth as will best insure its standing erect.
.The savage islander must know what be
comes of every particle ot hair which is
clipped from his head. He takes the bunch
home, burns it, mixes the ashes with water
and drinks it. , He believes that if any one
could get possession of a lock of his hair,
burn It nnd swallow the I ashes I (hat person
could draw all' his strength away, and be
: would weaken and die just in proportion as
the other waxed hearty. Therefore, he takes
the dose himself.— William Churchill Id
Pittsburg Dispatch.
'.''.- - : i-\ The Chi. d of un Kvll Parent. -t'. v
':. Malvollo says in Shakespeare's comedy of Twelfth
Night, '-Some are boru great, some achieve great-
ness, and some have greatness thrust upon them."
So It Is with nervousness. .. Some are born nervous,
some achieve - nervousness by their own Impru-
dence and neglect.' and some have nervousness
thrust upon them by disease. The basic starting
point of this aliment, which grows rapidly and as-
sumes alarming proportions when it reaches the
stage or hypochondria aud chronic sleeplessness, is j
'. weakness, the child of Indigestion, parent oF many
evils. I'or th* Incapacity' or the stomach to digest
food. and of the system to assimilate it alter dl-
gestion, Hostetter's Stomach Hitters has ever proved
a sovereign remedy. | Sleep becomes tranquil, appe-
tite Improves, abnormal scusitiventssot tue nerves
■ is succeeded by steadiness and v.gor lv those dell-
cate tissues, bodily substance Increases when tbat
, signal restorative of digestion iis - systematically I
used. -: Conquer also with it malaria, rbuumat su*,
kidney Inactivity,* liver complaint and constipa-
tion. __2_l,
DECORATIVE
FANCIES.
A Central-Arm Sofa That Will
Never Become Popular.
Portieres of Ling Eilken Cords— A Handsome
BaUroad Car— The Craze for the Antique
Is Diad — A Clever Scheme.
[From tLe Ut»bo'stcrer for November.]
A dear, sweet soul, whose folks ".. have
brought her up admirably, sends us a hump
backed sketch, showing a sofa which is
lated family of girls there is always a back
parlor lounge, which seems perpetually kept
affluent and well dressed ou one hair", and
badly abused on the other.
The central-arm sofa seems eloquent of a
refined and iceberg conversation, while our
B
if 1 1 1 1 1
If II ! I £ii
wassßs^— mm®&
back-parlor friend has a purring appear
ance, and seems everlastingly to threaten to
call ma. The propriety sketch is all right,
young lady; we are glad you sent it, for it is
very handsome, and this book wants to look
just as pretty as the "after" cut in a com
plexion ad., but it will never expedite a
match. . —AAA
We have had portieres of beads and bam
boo, and portieres of stringed rice. We now
liave portieres made by using plenty of long
silken cords, hanging over a back-ground of
any solid-colored fabric. The cord may be
knotted at different points or caught into
strands, or it may he In fish-net form, like
an over-dress. At the top of lhe fabric,
where it is attached, the cord is worked into
loops, fringe-like, so as to make a kind of
frieze. The color . harmonies are of course
left to one's own judgment, but the scheme
ls an admirable one, and open to many pleas
ing varieties. *,'•'-*'.'
The handsomest railroad car in this coun
try Is undoubtedly the one just finished by
Prettily Festooned.
the Pullman Car Company for Austin Cor
ban. All the fittings and furnishings are
gorgeous with brass— brass bedsteads, brass
chairs and brass tables. It Is quite proba
ble that in the future no private or excur
sion car will be completed without its brass
bedsteads. The rage Is started at ail events.
Said one of the best-known furniture
dealers the other day, a man who does only
the very highest class of trade: " The craze
for the. antique is dead. Of course there
are people who are judges and admire old
work for its intrinsic value, but the. average
woman who buys old stuff merely to give
her house an air of age and solidity is done
with it, simply because she has been sub
jected to many embarrassments and annoy
ances through the fad."
We heard a woman of social rank say to a
dealer recently : "Mr. X, 1 wish to get rid
of all my old furniture, if I can get any
where near what 1 paid for it. You see it
is so exasperating for me to answer ques
tions, and people will ask questions, if only
to show a polite interest iv my treasures.
They '. say: 'What a magnificent cabinet!
is It an heirloom ?' and . when I reply in the
negative they lift their eyebrows * and say
'Oh!'.* in -such a tantalizing .way.* Then,
again, some folks, with that breezy ingenu
ousness which denotes a candid disposition,
say: "What do you have this old piece for
if it's not a family-piece?' And I can't tell
the truth about it and say I bought it ■ be
cause it leut eminent respectability to my
establishment." . iVliii^fHDw'jfi^ntiiiHM*"^
; On other occasions the presence of an oid
piece :of * furniture in a house sometimes
starts a guest on reminiscences about chairs
that Mrs. Jones' great-grandfather left her
or Mrs. Smith's niece on her grandmother's
side possesses, and it is • calculated to make
one leel stupid to just simply sit and listen
to all this and have -to confess to oner-elf
that one has not ; a single genuine family
piece In the whole house.
* So the craze has died out.
One of tiie cleverest schemes for - a wide
window which we ■ have , seen for some timo
we herewith reproduce. *.'- We have shown as
a background an arch and fretwork arrange
ment, but it can: be done in stained glass if
desired. A ', sof t, ", opalesque ; tint of glass,**
with quiet, gray tones,* would look well 're
lievo:! by some contrasting colors in bric-a
-brac on the-.wiudow-iiiaiuel. The window
can, if i made up with can' and . good taste in -
the selection of colors, be one of th" most
elaborately ornamental as well as original.
:•:-' Some one is out with the ' argument that
pillows give one wrinkles on the face, ' and
that Japanese do not have wrinkles bvc&uM
they do not use pillows. "Cuddle down to
sleep upon a feather pillow." says this > au- ..
thority, "and - notice how. it : Incroases the \
furrows around the eyes. ':■•' On the other
hand, .: see how beautifully a block pillow
works. I Place it comfortably under the neck
and you will enjoy the position very, much,
and it is marvelous to note how little strain'
is * put upon the facial muscles and how
smoothly they lie in consequence." • ; . -
. - An interesting combination, and one more
over which is very noveh.shows an arrange- '
ment whereby the festoon is draped over a
deep fringe. This is an excellent treatment
for a. long window having a stained-glass
transom, as the light will show through the
fringe. ■■■■ ; ; .
Lace curtains are of the utmost signifi
cance In interior decoration. Should the cur
tains bo too long, as is usually the case, and
not too expensive, it is better to cut them
off, allowing about a quarter of a yard for
the hem and shrinking; but when too valu
able to cut, the surplus can bo left at the
bottom and the curtains caught up into fan
shaped plaits. To do this tako the lower
' back corner up to the tassel hook and gather
tho curtain into plaits.
s Time was, ouly a short while ago, when a
man in furnishing a room had the choice of
ebony, cherry, black walnut or brass cur- '
tain poles, and -one or the other had to do.
To-day, however, the wooden pole is stained
to match the wood-work or the furniture of
a room, and a brass pole is only used in
cases where the furniture is brass, or where
there is a general prevalence of brass fur
nishings. * . • "fl. i. ...
Lace curtains are seldom used now alone
as a window treatment, out aro combined
with some soft-toned light silk festooned at
the top and down the side a little to break—
the harshness of the plain white color.
The demand among the wealthier classes
for genuine tapestries for wall hangings has
encouraged the manufacture in this country
of hand-painted wall hangings and the work
is so cleverly done that the colors lojk ex
actly is if woven into the goods. ■
An old bedstead, very handsome, was
offered at auction last month in London.' .
Five shillings were bid for it, until someono
discovered that Gladstone had slept on it
every night for seven mouths and thereupon
the price ran into a fabulous sum. It illus
trates the fact that people who hunt antique
furniture uow-a-days place little value upon
it unless accompanied by history bran
ancestral padigree. *'•-.:
• Old Italian furniture of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries is now being shown
by the extremists of tiie furnishing trade.
The French schools are becoming passe and
Sheraton and Chippendale are the fashion
able periods iv vogue. = ;
divided by a*
* tall, central
arm. The
scheme will
never ho
popular. It
prevents a
sit-closer
tendency,
and lias a
prim and
proper look
about it, in
i deep and
j dismal con
trast with
J that old
! back-parlor
[lounge
i which most
of us helped
to wear out
on one end,
for in every
well - regu-
FOR A WIDE WINDOW.
FALSE COURBETS.
':■ . ■
The Counterfeits nf French' Fictkrae la
the City of P.»rle. ■
The counterfeiters of French pictures, it
appears from the Taris journals, having be
come aware that the market' is overstocked
with false Cords, Pousseatis and Dupres, •
have begun to turn their attention to Cour
bet. A cousin of the painter, M. Eugene
Courbet, has lately been busy tracking them
out and has discovered no less than six
clever painters ho are making a dishonest
living Iv wh'olo or in part by imitating the -
Communist painter. He was first attracted
to Geneva, where his .cousin had taken
refuge after the fall of the Commune. While
there Courbet was oppressed by the fact
that he could not return to France until he
had paid for the Vendome Column, whose'
overthrow he had decreed, He accordingly
set to work with great industry, making uso
of some four or five of his pupils to push tho
work faster. Two of the cleverest of thoso
caught so well his spirit. of tricks and color •*
ami handling as to readily palm off their
work for his. After his death they estab
lished themselves in Paris and forwarded"
their pictures to Brussels to. a dealer, who
charged himself with the task of adding
Courbet's signature and disposing of them.
Four other falsifiers, not so dangerous as
they and not so clever, have since turned up.
These all keep themselves on the safe side
of the law by not signing Courbet's name to
their works, and the dealers who do sign it
are out of France. The innocent amateur,
however, who buys of these dealers and ,
afterward brings his pictures into France is
liable to have them confiscated.
The story may serve as a warning to those
would-be connoisseurs of. ours who really
care more for the possession of the name of
an artist than his work. It Is safe to say
that more than half of Courbets to be found
in private picture collections la this country '
belong either to the class of pot-boilers which
were flatbed off by this conscienceless
painter during his sojourn in Switzerland,
or to that of thu more or less clever counter
feits by his put ils. Cuurbet is what Is
called "a painter's painter." * His rugged,
vigorous,' almost brutal style must, even
When he is at hi* best, .be. "caviare to- the
general, who richly deserve to be punished '
for pretending to like what they would not
think of buying but for the fascination of
the signature on the canvas or panel. That
even the connoisseur, may be deceived in '
judging of Courbet's work is proven by the
revelation that among the forgeries just de
tected was one of the paintings passed by
the jury of experts and con.plcnously hung
at the great Paris Exposition of last year.—
The Art Amateur, • .-
Mr. Stanley makes the length of the Nile
-4100 miles. : • . *. '
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