Here and There.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXII, Issue XXI, 21 May 1904, Page 13

Here and There.

How much can a man earn by songwriting’ There are, of course, song writers and song writers, and some rhymesters make luiudsome fortunes; but apparently the common saying that “poetry does not pay” applies as a general rule to songs. A composer of music for songs told a London magistrate the other day that his average return from songs was about thirty shillings a week, a quarter of that amount being the “guerdon” of a recent fortnight's work!

Herbert Spencer, in the attitude of superintending his household affairs, was practical and amusing. At one time the poulterer had not been giving satisfaction, so Mr. Speneer called his housekeeper, and gave her directions to transfer his custom to another tradesman, whose shop faced the delinquent’s. “And, Miss Smith,” said the author of “Synthetic Philosophy,” “be particular that the. first poulterer sees you giving your orders to the second poulterer!”

The modern peerage of Japan consists of 70 princes, 25 marquises, 80 counts. 352 viscounts, amt 93 barons. Thirty years ago the present marquises, viscounts, and barons still wore the ancient Dalmic costume afld lorded it as petty sovereigns, with capitals of their own, and retinues of doubly-sworded retainers. Nowadays they are dressed in immaculate Western costume, attend tea parties, read European papers in European club-houses, and follow European fashions in all things.

The other morning a navvy had just boarded a suburban tramcar, when he stooped down and picked up something from the floor. He looked round the compartment with a twinkle in his eye, and said, in a gruff voice:

“Anyone lost a two-bob bit?” There was silence for a moment; then an overdressed young man jumped up and exclaimed: “Yes, I have!” “Well.” replied the navvy, holding up his hand, “here’s a penny towards it.”

Thirteen years ago a lady in England left the residue of her estate (£400) to the Lifeboat Institution, payable on the death of her favourite cat. The. eat remained in good health for eleven years, but, after that time (the lady who had it. in her charge having changed her residence) it wandered away several times, and finally disappeared. It was therefore presumed to be dead, and the legacy has been paid to the institution, the committee having undertaken to provide for the cat should it at any time be recovered.

A little girl of seven one day went up to a gentleman after they had got home from church and asked: “Have I any children?” He dropped his book and regarded her with amazement. “What!” he said. “Have I any children?” she repeated. “Well, I should hope not,” he exclaimed, “Why on earth do you ask me such a question as that?” “Why, in church this morning,” said the little girl, “the clergyman preached about children’s children, and I wondered if I had any.”

A workman, on coming home in the evening, was asked by his wife to look at the clock. She complained that it had been silent all day, and she could not tell the reason. Her husband took it down, and examined it carefully. Then he took off the hands and face, and looked at the works with the aid of a magnifying-glass. Next he blew into it with the bellows, oiled the wheels, and then put it back on the wall. But still it would not strike. Tired and puzzled, he went off to bed. The next morning at breakfast his wife said to him, “George, I think I can tell you what is amiss with our clock.” “Well, what is it?” he asked sharply. “It wants winding UP! ” ||

Messrs. George Bell and Sons announce the publication, under the title “The York Library,” of a series of standard and classical works, by English apd American authors, and translations from foreign languages. They are printed in a convenient size for the pocket (6Jin. x. 4jin.), on thin but opaque paper, and are neatly bound in cloth. The first of the series is Coleridge’s “Aids to Reflection” and “Confessions of Au Inquiring Spirit,” to which are prefixed Dr. Janies Marsh’s preliminary essay to the “Aids” originally published in 1829. Works by Motley, Emerson, Hazlitt, Hawthorne, Draper, Fielding, ete., are to follow in the same series.

Commander Booth-Tucker, of the Salvation Army, used to like to describe how he avoided a duel in India during his residence in the Punjab. Mr. Booth-Tucker was in the British civil service at the time, but he already inclined towards the Salvation Army, and such an inclination made him naturally a foe to brawling. He was seated in a lonely railway station one afternoon, when a German soldier, a tourist, entered. This German had been drinking. He was in a bellicose humour, and he began at once to pick a quarrel with Mr. Booth-Tucker. The latter said nothing to help on the quarrel, but nevertheless the German worked himself into a frenzy. Finally he exclaimed: “One or the other of us two, sir, will not leave this room alive.” “Stay here and die, then,” said Mr. Booth-Tucker, and ho arose and Went out quickly, slamming the door behind him.

The artistic world is, says the Paris correspondent of the “Chronicle,” eagerly divcussing the remarkable works of a Polish boy named Thaddeus Styka, living in the Palace Pigalls. He is only thirteen years of age, but has already exhibited at the Salon, and is now engaged on his works, both in painting and sculpture, for this year’s exhibition. The lad has never had any lessons except from his father, who is also an artist; but at the very early age of four had already begun to make capital sketches. At seven, when he was being educated by the Jesuit Fathers at Vaugirard, some of his drawings were shown at the children’s exhibition at Paris, and he was awarded the gold medal. His style of painting reminds one forcibly of that of Henner.

A full biography of Tschaikowsky, written by the composer’s brother, is now appearing in the Russian and the German languages. The book makes much more lively reading than one would have expected. The musician’s opinion of the music of bis contemporaries seems to have been the reverse of flattering. Of Wagner's “Bing” he says that “there never was such endless and tedious twaddle.” He also had only the smallest opinion of Brahms, of whom he writes, in a letter to Frau Von Muck, “I will toll you, without false modesty, that I rank myself much higher than Brahms”; and he adds that if he visited Brahms he could ,as an honourable and faithful man, only say: “Herr Brahms, I consider you a composer ungifted, pretentious, and bereft of creative power. I by no means place you aloft, and I look down upon you with disdain.” If Brahms had been thus addressed, he would probably have knocked his brother composer on the head with a folio full score. Perhaps Brahms thought as meanly of Tschaikowsky!

An amusing incident is told by a Melbourne writer in connection with the first visit of John Roberts to Australia. Before John made his first public appearance in Sydney two friends took him to “Gus.” Wangenheim’s hotel, and introduced him to the proprietor as “Mr. Walker, a storekeeper from Gundagai.” Gus., who was intensely fond of billiards, and played a good game on his own table, induced “Mr. Walker,” after some persuasion, to accept 30 in 100, and play him for drinks. Gus. gave a miss in balk, and “Mr. Walker” walked out in nn unfinished break. Wnngenheim was a very clever caricaturist, and his two friends declared

that if he eotild have “caught” his own face as “Mr. Walker” piled up Ids score, it would have been a fortune to him. However, when subsequently let into the joke, “Gus" thoroughly entered into the spirit of it, and whenever anybody started to chaff him about “Mr. Walker from Gundagai,” “Gus.” always scored by retorting, “Py gracious! 1 svare I vas de only man in Australia vat ever gave John Roberts points, anyway!”

Mrs L. T. Meade’s new novel. “Resurgam,” lias for its plot a situation that has been used before in fiction, but she has made the most of it. A young English girl, Joan Galbraith, ascends an Alpine peak with Denis Waring, whom she has met only a few days before. A cloud comes down upon them, and they are obliged to remain all night together on the summit, as to move would mean almost certain destruction. As soon as the fact becomes known at the hotel the tongue of scandal is unloosed, and Joan’s character is seriously compromised. In order to save her reputation Waring offers her marriage, which she accepts, not knowing that he loves another woman, though he is not actually engaged to her. This is only the beginning of the story, which is decidedly interesting-, the scene ehanging from Switzerland to Crete, where Waring is engaged in exploration work, and then to the East End slums. The wickedness of Mrs Penrose, who does all she can to make mischief, both before Joan’s marriage and afterwards, in order to serve her own ends, almost goes beyond the limits of probability.

Mr D. Field writes to the London “Times” from 4, Royal Arcade, Old Bond-street AV.: “I have pleasure in sending herewith a photograph of an interesting Transvaal stamp—a 5/ one with the King’s head inverted. This is the first stamp on which the King’s portrait has appeared in this position, and it will probably be the last to be issued so. The greatest care is taken in producing British and colonial stamps, and they are examined as carefully as bank notes before being issued, so that it is all the more surprising that the error was not detected. Messrs De la Rue and Co. print the stamps, and this is the first time, as far as I can recollect, taat an error of this description has emulated from them. I have two specimens of this error, possibly the only ones in existence, and these were obtained by a Johannesburg solicitor in the ordinary way of business from the local postoffice. The error was detected before more were issued, and the rest of the sheet destroyed.”

A' man is measured by his power to grow—to become larger, broader, nobler. The intensity of his desire to reach out and up defines his capacity for development. Anyone, young or old, possessed by a passion for growth is constantly adding to his knowledge, always pushing his horizon a little further. Every day he gains additional wisdom; every night he is a little larger than he was in the morning. He keeps growing as long as he lives. We often find plants and trees that are not fully developed, but have reached the limit of their growth. They cannot be made to respond to the wooing of rich soil or copious watering. The power for the extension of cell life seems to have departed. There are many human plants of similar nature. Early in life they settle into grooves from which nothing can displace them. There is no further growth, no more progress for them. They have reached their goal. Employees often think that they are kept back designedly, and that others less deserving are pushed ahead of them, when the real trouble is with themselves. They have ceased to grow. They continue to move in a circle. They have not been wise enough to keep pace with the trend of the times. One keeps young as long as one keeps receptive.

The effect of a full, straightforward gaze on the person to whom one is speaking is not as a rule sufficiently considered. And yet there is nothing in personal intercourse that carries more weight than a direct gaze. It is the medium for sympathy, the mental telegraphy that brings speaker and hearer in touch with each other. Everyone has experienced the geno of talking to a person whose wondering glances betray their part of interest, but one often fails to analyse the subtle attraction of an attentive eye that stimu-

lutes and inspirits one nil unconsciously while one converses. Children should be taught early in life to look fearlessly and confidingly into the eyes of anyone who addresses them; the habit will be of good service to them in after years. The prevailing idea that shifty eyes betoken duplicity, however, while a steadfast regard shows an honest disposition, is not a correct one. Shyness is responsible in many cases for an averted glance, while the bold, bright eyes of many a young vagabond often serve only as an aid to deception and fraud, so that it is hardly fait to condemn a person who is unable, as the saying is, to "look one straight in the face,” and it should be considered more of a misfortune than an evidence of untrustworthiness. People who are called magnetic almost always, it may be noticed, have a pronounced visual power, The interest that they feel, or profess tC feel, in other- is intensified by a certain concentration in their regard, which seems to include alone the person addressed. It is flattering and attractive, and invariably affects the other person fayourably.

While on the way to their studies, three young women pupils of a New iVoi-k Art School came upon an especially picturesque old darky. One of the young women, who had immediately perceived the artistic value of the old coloured man, stopped him and asked, "Would you like to make a little money?” “Yes, indeedy, miss'” eagerly exclaimed the old fellow. “Whatcher want me to do?” “Just come with us. We’d like to paint you.” The aged negro hesitated a moment. “Oh,” said the young woman, “it’s ■very easy, and it Won't take long.” “I wasn’t thinkin’ ’bout dat, missy,” finally replied the old man, "I was jest Wonderin’ how I gunner git de paint Off!”

The Red Jacket shaft of the Calumet Ru f Hecla copper mine, in Northern Michigan, U.S.A., is the deepest shaft in the world. It has taken nine years of day and night work to sink, and has cost £500,000, says "Industries and Iron.” This shaft is vertical, but all of the other shafts of the Calumet and Hecla follow the dip of the lode. Work on it was started in 1889, immediately after the last of the three great underground fires in the older workings of the mine, which did damage of more than £200,000. Work has been . continued upon it since that time, and the shaft stands without a parallel in mining. It is 4920 ft. in depth, or 300 feet less than a mile? It contains six compartments, each equal in size to an ordinary mining shaft, four of which are used for hoisting rock and lowering timber. One shaft is used for the ladderways, and the sixth compartment carries the wires and pipes for telephones, light, power, water, and compressed air.

Mr J. Abercromby Alexander writes to the “London Times” from Johannesburg as follows: "1 consider the time lias arrived when the Young Women’s Immigration Society in London should be informed that no more servants are required in the Transvaal. It is the voice of many here that their importation should be stopped for some time. It is very evident those girls are brought out here without a full knowledge of the position they are to fulfil. They are sent to situations 50 per cent, of which are to employers who have never before had a white servant in their houses—hybrid European and hybrid colonial families—they take them because they are cheaper than native servants, and also for once add a certain air of dignity to their establishments. It is degrading to think that the white are asked to work for £4 per month when the coloured races are paid from £6 to £lO per month. Can it be expected that those girls will long remain in such situations? Many have been in three situations within 12 months. Their next move is to go round the labour offices, asking for places in hotels, boarding houses, or tea rooms. No more private service for us, is their cry. I have seen several batches arrive, and with confidence state that 50 per cent, of those girls should never have been •ent out. More care should be exercised in selecting suitable useful women.”

Some people like tall stories, and such should find this to their taste. The conversation in the smoke-room had turned upon fog, and the American commercial was naturally to the fore. “Our Government,” he said, "is very economical when we get a thick fog. They suck it into a big cistern, and turn it into paint for wai ships.” "Really?” said Jinison. “Well, that’s pretty near as economical as a brother of mine. He invented a machine for coinpressing fog into bricks, aud, ii you’ll believe me, out of the first two or three thick fogs we had he made enough bricks to build a house.” “Did he.—really?” gulped the Yankee. “He did. But, unfortunately’, one pitch-black morning he found himself and his family lying out on the damp, cold ground, with his furniture. Those bricks had somehow gone back into fog again.” "Had they— really?” said the American, fanning himself with his hat. "Waal, I reckon your relative ought to have glazed those brieks!”

A pretty story is told by one of Joaquin Miller’s friends of a meeting between the “Poet of the Sierras” and Mrs Langtry. She was stopping at the home of a mutual friend in San Francisco, who was anxious to bring the two celebrities together. Invitations were issued not only to Mr Miller, but to a number of other literary lights as well. The hour came, the guests assembled, all but fbe poet himself. At last he was discerned approaching, dressed as usual in overalls, the red flannel shirt which be affects, and the immense grey sombrero which he invariably wears, and which he has to have made io order. The servant opened the door. The poet entered, but without removing his hat. This he kept on until directly in front of Mrs Langtry, who stood at her hostess’ side. Then with a courtly gesture he doffed his hat, flinging a perfect shower of rose petals at the beauty’s feet, accompanying the action with the words, “California showers red roses on the Jersey Lily.”

The Stuart and Jacobite collection of anus, armour, and relies belonging to the lute Mr J. N. Durrant Stemart was recently sold in Edinburgh. The harp known as Queen Mary’s was sold for 850 guineas to the Antiquarian Museum of Edinburgh. Bidding for the Lamont, or Caledonian, harp started at 30 guineas, and rose to 500 guineas, at which price it became the property of Messrs. Mackay and Chisholm, Prinees-street, Edinburgh. Prince Charles Edward’s sword realised 75 guineas. Two fine old Highland targes fetched 56 guineas and 58 guineas respectively. A number of old Highland dirks were sold, the highest price being 16 guineas; two ancient Highland sporrans fetched the same price, and the best price got for a Ferrara blade was 24 guineas. Hight old Japanese plates brought 88 guineas. A lock of Prince Charles Edward’s hair, and another of his wife’s, Princess Louisa of Stohlberg were run up to 32 guineas. An old oek Scottish elbow ehair, with carved back, and the inscription “A.R. 1663,” was sold for 58 guineas.

Mr Seton, the well-known American author-naturalist, has very original ideas on the bringing up of children, and his small daughter, little Ann. is to be brought up as an “outdoor” child. Indian fashion. She will sleep out of doors, except when the weather is very severe. She will go barefooted and bareheaded—at all events, in the summer—and as far as possible live entirely in the open air. She is to learn woodcraft, and all the mysteries of handling an Indian canoe, to swim and to skate, and to follow’ a trail. She will be taught to love animals and birds and flowers, and to take an intelligent interest in them all. She will learn to tell when the rain is coming, and the direction of the wind, and how to build a fire with Nature’s appliances only. In short, she. will be brought up after an entirely original method so far ns the civilised world is concerned. Her father has spent the last twenty years of his life in studying animals in their native haunts, and knows them as well as most men know their intimate friends, and he is thoroughly convinced of the beneficial results of living in the open air. - ?

While so many stories of official forcuption in America are coming out, here is one from “Collier’s Weekly” worthy of attention. George Bishop, of Buffalo, was a sailor. In summer he made his living on the Great Lakes. In winter his occupation was that of a professional prisoner at county and village gaols. This was his method, as related by’ himself:—“l got into a town, and 1 goes for a cop, and says, ‘How are you fixed for a little time?’ And he says, ‘How much do you want?’ I say, ‘Oh, about five or ten days.’ Then him and me fixes it up. He takes me before the Justice and I pleads guilty, and down I goes. Time up, I get a tip, and skip over to other parts where the officers are all right, get a little time off them, and back I comes under a new name, then down again, and so on. ” In most of the rural parts of New York, as in other States, police officers are paid by fees for each arrest made, and sheriffs and gaolers are given an allowance for the board of each prisoner while in custody. This explanation is sufficient to show the full meaning of the sailortramp’s story.

“What is your idea of happiness?” was asked. Said the millionaire: I should be happy if I could spend my’ money where it would be of some real benefit. This, and a good digestion. Said the poor man: Happiness is having enough money’ to spend without anxiety’. Said the Society woman: Happiness is rest. Said the washerwoman: To be able to danee all night, and lie abed as long as I wanted to the next morning. Said the soldier: To live peaceably all the rest of my life. The sailor: To feel the solid earth under my feet for the rest of my days. The artist: To paint a picture to please myself and not the publie. The author: To have time enough to think. The diplomat: To be myself. The journalist: To tell the truth. The wise man: To be a fool. , The fool: To be a wise man. ,

“Health” says: The habits of people in general do not seem so bad when one considers the average individual’s limitations as to knowledge and thought. The fact is that most people don’t know, don’t think, and, hence, don’t care. Let them read more science, think more sensibly, and act more seriously’, and then their habits will be more satisfactory. The alimentary receptacle—the stomach, or vat, in which foods and liquids are received and mixed—is habitually converted by many persons into a chemical retort of all sorts of drugs and remedies, with a view of reaching and relieving the ills of the various organs of the body’, from dandruff to corns. The writer believes that he can give no more and better reasons for his confidence in the therapeutic value of remedies than most other physicians, but he wishes to emphasise here the transcendent element of common sense in their administration.

Before and above all things, however, what is wanted is a clean gastro-intestinal canal, and his claim is that water, projierly used, is the best agent to effect that cleansing. On a par with this canal in importance are eliminative tissues and organs of the system, the kidneys, the

mucous membrane, and Hie skin. What therapeutic agent, properly used, is better than water? After all the aseimiftative and eliminative organs and tissues* have been thoroughly rinsed with pure, soft water, then, if it be still necessary to administer a chemical agent, one may lie selected, that will, with these organs and tissues in better condition, work wonders. If you are so fooHsh as to allow yourself to become foul from head to foot, cleanse yourself with water before resorting to chemical aids. i

A practised Parliamentary speaker, was talking one day to some reporters about the efficacy of mildness in debate. !* "One can’t be too mild,” he said; “and one gets on especially well if, along with one’s mildness there goes some rare and unexpected quality. To be mild and at the same time unexpected is, usually, to succeed. Here is an instance of what I mean: At the end of a! theatrical performance one man turned to another and cried in a harsh, grating voice: Look here, you have sat on myj hat! It is ruined.’ "The other looked at the hat! It was indeed a wreck. He said: ‘“I am sorry-. This is too bad. Bi’.t„* he added, ‘it might have been worse.’ “ ‘How might it have been worse?? exclaimed the first man, with an oath. ’. “The answer then given was an excellent example of mildness 'coupled with unexpectedness. It was: “‘I might have sat on my own hat.’”

We regret to announce that the MS., of the first book of Milton’s "Paradise Lost” has been purchased by a well-known American collector, and is now on its way. to the United States, remarks the "London Times.” Neither the name of the purchaser nor the price of the-pur-chase has been divulged, although it is scarcely likely that either the one or the other will long remain a secret. We believe, however, that the “well-known American collector” is not Mr. J. P. Morgan. The MS. was bought in for the vendor on January 25 at £5OOO, and so it may, be reasonably assumed that it has changed hands at about that sum. It is true ther MS. is not in Milton’s autograph, but it is the next best possible thing—it is the “copy” from which the printer “set up” this portion of the great poem. Its literary interest and value, therefore, cannot be denied. It is one, and perhaps quite the most important, of the many, literary relies which have passed out of England into American collections. We believe that a feeble effort was made on the part of a syndicate to purchase the MS. for the British Museum, but the effort did not get much beyond the initial stage, although there was ample time in which to have secured it for one of our. public institutions. While we naturally deplore the almost entire want of publicspirited enterprise which has been exhibited in England in connexion with thia manuscript, we may not unreasonably, congratulate our American friends on 1 their success. The price paid is doubtless’ a big one for a thin quarto-sized volume of 34 leaves, but these things nowadays are not measured by bulk, but by intrinsic interest, and from this point of view, the “well-known American collector” has been fortunate in making an uncommonly good bargain. Sueh another opportunity is not likely to occur again, in his lifetime at all events.

■ Tlie lady was somewhat excited when •he entered the grocer's shop, and she placed the small tin she carried on the counter with a hang. .■ . “This,” ahe said, withering!/, “is the paint you .sold me for use on stoves. Xou said it would dry in five minutes, and make home look like a palace. I’ve had it on my stove for a week, and it isn’t dry yet. And, worst of all, it’s that sticky I’ve done nothing but wash my hands every time I’ve touched it. It’s disgraceful to deceive people so!” “I beg your pardon, madam,” said the grocer, “but you bought a pound tin of treacle and a pound tin of paint at the same time. and. that is the treacle.” “Treacle!” exclaimed the lady, in an astonished voice. “Treacle! Well, 1 suppose that accounts for the other thing!” “What other thing?” asked the grocer. ■ “Well, I made some treacle-collee with the other, and I suppose that is why the children have been ill ever since.”

The last ten years have witnessed quite an upheaval of old-established drinking customs of this country, and the beverages which gave our fathers gout are now out of fashion. A striking feature of the present fashion is the quantity of champagne. w This is consumed, not only at dinner, but at luncheon. and people, who. in old days, would have considered this an expense only to be incurred for a very grand gathering, now dispense this expensive wine on all occasions. Brandy and soda is coming into vogue again, and is now almost us often asked for as whisky ami soda, while the once tabooed sherry is growing in popularity- A few years ago creme de menthe was the fashionable, liqueur, and half the people dining at the Carlton and the Savoy might have been seen drinking through a straw' that brilliant green drink in wine glasses tilled with crushed iec. Then creme du the had its day, and the millionaires were inclined to favour a special drink which had tiny scraps of pure gold floating in an amber-coloured liqueur. But old liqueur brandies are now more popular than any of these fanciful concoctions, and cherry brandy is much in favour. Beer is very seldom seen in fashionable circles, being reserved entirely for family parties. . At. the same time, Rome of the heads of the great brewing houses—Lord Burton, for instance—■ make a point of always handing round at dinner tiny tumblers filled with strong ale of some special brew.—“ Express,” London.

Mr F. Klickmann tells .some interesting stories in the “Leisure Hour” of “Problems of Bible Translation.” In these days when the Yellow peril is so much in evidence, it is worth while recalling the precautions taken by the Chinese a century ago against the first encroachment of the White peril. The death penalty was over any native who assisted a foreigner in the study of the language. The writer says:—“Morrison entered Canton in a business capacity, and became translator to the East India Company, who provided him with a hiding-place where he could carry on the Bible translation. This was in a warehouse, used for the storage of merchandise, which was lighted by small windows in the roof. A low tunnel, through which a man could creep, was constructed of boxes and bales from the door, for about half the length of the building, then up to the roof and back to the gable, then down to the floor on the other side, and on to the end of the wall; in this way it wandered on and on, a perfect maze, til it ended in a corner where boxes were built up so as to form a shaft to the skylight. There Morrison worked, with two Chinese scholars whose confidence he had gained, until the colossal task he had undertaken was completed. He dared not ask the natives to his house, and so great was their dread of detention til t they never came to assist him without bringing arsenic in order to poison themselves should they be discovered by the Mandarins. The preparation of this Chinese Bible cost the Society about IJE 10,000.” Perils of another kind have beset the translator. In the Eskimo language “the missionary had to render ‘the Lamb of God’ as ‘the Little Seal of God,’ since sheep were unknown in Labrador.” In New Britain the translator was seeking some native idiom to convey (he idea of a binding oath, when a chief suggested that the desired phrase was, “I would rather speak to

my wife’s mother than do such amt such a thing.” In British Columbia a missionary wanted his catechist to translate “A crown of glory that fadeth not away.” This was done to the satisfaction of all concerned, but ultimately the missionary found to his horror that it bad been rendered “A hat that never wears out”! A Hindu Pandit was much exercised by the promise in Genesis, “Joseph shall put his hand upon thine eyes,” which is generally taken to refer to the closing of the eyes after death. The Pandit said, “I can’t understand this story of Joseph. He seemed such a good son, and his father so fond of him. How comes it, then, that they have a stand-up light, and Joseph, being the stronger, hits his father on the eye so hard as to close it?” There,, was no help for it but to render the passage: “Joseph shall conduct thy funeral ceremonies.” . j

Belgium is probably the most democratic of all the monarchical States. The King of the Belgians not only does not habitually wear a crown, but has not even got a crown to wear. No coronation ceremony is known to the Constitution, the Sovereign inaugurating his reign simply by taking an oath to govern according to the laws. Moreover, the. births of his children, if he has any. must be registered in exactly the same phraseology and in the same set of books as the births of the humblest of his subjects, and anyone who likes to pay a small fee is entitled to obtain a copy of tlie certificate. King Leopold himself is entered as “natural and legitimate son of Leopold George 'Christian Frederick, King of the Belgiums, and Louise Maria. Theresa Charlotte Isabella of Orleans, Queen of the Belgians,” his naitib immediately following that of the son of an artisan of the Rue Haute. The King, when his health permitted, used to be a great walker, his favourite companion on his walks being his English gardener, Mr. Knight, who has often expressed astonishment at his great pedestrian powers. His own subjects do not always recognise him on these occasions, and a story of a familiar kind is told of his visit to the cottage of an old Flemish woman who gave him a glass of milk. Presently he heard her muttering in Flemish, “Well, 1 wonder how much that long-nosed Englishman is going to pay me for the milk.” The King replied in the same language, presenting her with a five-franc piece, “Madam, do me the favour of accepting this portrait of the long-nosed Englishman.”

In “ La Revue ” M. Henri Coupin discusses the facetious spirit of animals, the extent to which they play practical jokes, whether simply for amusement, or, as much more often happens, to revenge themselves, or get something on which they have set their hearts. As might be expected, monkeys are fondest of playing practical jokes. Darwin long ago noticed in them an unbounded feeling for the comic, though it. must be admitted that in all jokes played by monkeys tlrnre seems more vengeance t han any other sentiment. Dogs, however, often show a genuine sense of fun, but what, is much less generally known, so occasionally do bulls. Some years ago, relates a Frenchman resident in India: — “I occupied a house surrounded by several acres of fine pasture land. The line grass of this enclosure tempted much cattle from the village, and, when the gates were open, they did not. scruple to come in. My servants did their best to drive away the invaders, but one day they came to me, considerably perturbed, saying that a Brahmin hull which they had beaten had fallen down dead. (These are, of course, sacred and privileged animals, inviolable.) Learning that the marauder was dead, I went at once to see it; there its body lay, seemingly' quite dead. A good deal annoyed by this circumstance. which might cause me trouble with the natives. I was not long in making a detailed examination, and I hastened io return to the house, meaning to go and inform the authorities at once of what had happened. I had been gone some time when a man arrived running delighted to tell me that the. bull had got on to its feet, and was quietly grazing. Suffice it to say that the animal bail a habit of pretending to be dead, thus rendering it impossible to turn him out, whenever he found himself in a place which pleased him and which he did not wish to leave. This ruse was repealed several times so

as to enjoy my excellent turf.” Elephants can also play practical jokes, as also can certain birds, notably patrols. But most of the cases cited certainly show little trace of pure fun or humour, and a great deal of malice or simple greediness.

Jerome K. Jerome is contributing weekly some “More Idle Thoughts of Au Idle Fellow” to “M.A.P.” Although these “after-thoughts” do not equal the first workings of his quaint brain, they are occasionally reminiscent of his earlier work. lie discussed the American girl:—“How does she do it?” That is what the European girl wants to know. The American girl! She comes over here, and, as a British matron, reduced to slang by force of indignation, once exclaimed to me: “You'd think the whole blessed show belonged to her." The European girl is hampered by her relatives; she has to account for her father; to explain away, if possible, her grandfather. The American girl sweeps them aside: “Don’t you worry about them,” she says to the Lord Chamberlin. “It’s awfully good of you, but don’t you fuss yourself. I’m looking after my old people. That’s my department. What I want you io do is just to listen to what I am saying, and then hustle around. I can fill up your time all right by myself.” Her father may be a soap-boiler, her grandmother may have gone out eharing. “That’s all right.” she says to her Ambassador; “they’re not coming. Yon just take my card and tell the King that when he’s got a few minutes to spare I’ll be pleased to see him.” And the extraordinary thing is that, a day or two afterwards the invitation arrives. A modern writer has said that “I’m Murriean” is the Civis Romanns sum of the present-day woman’s world. The late King of Saxony did, I believe, on one occasion make a feeble protest at. being asked to receive the daughter of a retail bootmaker. The young lady, nonplussed for the moment, telegraphed to her father in Detroit. The answer came back next, morning: “Can't call it selling—practically giving them away—sec advertisement.” The lady was presented as the daughter of an eminent philanthropist. It is due to her to admit that, taking her as a class, the American girl is a distinct gain to European Society. Her influence is against convention and in favour of simplicity. One of l\tr greatest charms, in the eyes of the European man, is that she listens to him. I cannot say whether it docs her any good. Maybe she docs not remember it all, but while yon are talking she does give yon her attention. The English woman does not always. She greets you pleasantly enough. “Ivc so often wanted to meet yon,” she says; “must you really go?” It strikes you as sudden as you had no intention of going for hours. But the hint is too plain to be ignored. You are preparing to agree that you really must when, looking round, you gather that the last remark was not. addressed to you, but to another gentleman who is shaking

hands with her. “Now, perhaps, w« shall be able to talk for live intitules," she says. “I’ve so often wanted to say that I shall never forgive you. You have been simply horrid." Again you are confused, until you jump to the eonelusion that the latter portion of the speech is probably intended for quite another party with whom, nt the moment, her back towards you. she is engaged in a whispered conversation. When he is gone she turns again towards you. But the varied expressions that pass across her face while you are discussing With her the morality of the fiscal policy bewilder you. When, explaining your own difficulty in arriving at a conclusion you remark that Great. Britain is an island, she roguishly shakes her head. It is not that she has forgotten Iter geography, it is that ahe is conducting a conversation by signs with ,< lady at the other end of the room. When you observe that the working classes must, be fed, she smiles archly while murmuring: “Oh, do you really think so?”

The story of “ Kathleen Mtivonrnecn,” the beautiful song composed by the late Professor Crouch, is recalled by a claim that has just been made by tlie dead musician’s daughter. Sixtyseven years ago Professor Crouch was a bankrupt. Now n dividend on the estate has been paid Io the creditors, and a daughter of the composer has appeared in London as claimant to the residue of her father’s estate. Professor Crouch was born in 1808 in Warrenstreet, St. Pancras, and died in the United States in 1890. His famous* song first appeared in the “Metropolitan Monthly Magazine,” ami he obtained £lOO for the performing rights. That was all the author ever obtained for his composition. It has, however, earned thousands of pounds for singers and publishers. In the early days of the nineteenth century there were two beautiful actresses named Lydia Pearson. They were aunt ami niece, the aunt being associated with Drury Lane, It was the niece whom Professor Crouch married, and it is her eldest daughter, Mrs. Cynthia Mawdsley, a resident of the United Stales of America, who has instituted the present claim. She is now seventy-one years old, hut many years ago she sang at Her Majesty’s Theatre. London, at the time when Mme. Alboni and Signor Lablache were in their zenith. A garden ut Bentonville that once belonged to the professor is said to be included in the estate. It has now been built upon, and lias become a valuable property.