HERE AND THERE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIV, Issue 9, 4 March 1905, Page 13

HERE AND THERE.

Mother has a lace collection. Sister goes tor nigs; Others go for books and pictures, Butterflies and bugs.

One thing, though, they all omitted So, the whirl to join Father works with toil unceasing; He collects the coin.

Some light is thrown on Robert Browning’s method of composition in Miss Alice Corkran’s “Chapters from the Story of My Childhood,” now appearing in “The Girl’s Realm.” She tells how once he came down ready dressed to go out, and exclaimed, "1 am another tnan to-day—my poem is planned.” The poem was the ‘TnW Album.” Browning continued:—

“There will be five people alive at the beginning of the book, and but two alive at the end, and it will ail have happened within the course of two or three hours. I begin writing to-morrow, and it will be done, always-supposing that I am in good health, and nothing extraordinary happens on such a day.” He said that he wrote so many lines a day, and that it was exceptional when he ■was two or three days out of his reckoning in regard to a poem.

The king went pacing to anil fro. He kicked the queen’s small poodle pup; The clown shied off and murmured, “Oh! I prithee, sire, what is up?

“Dost feel thy conscience pricking, hey? Or does thy liver play thee tricks?” The monarch sadly answered, “Nay," And dealt the door a dozen kicks.

“Alas, uneasy rests the crown.” The jester said, whereat the king Let fly his mace and knocked him down, Andi smiled to see him quivering.

“It ain’t my crown, you caitiff lout!” The potentate in anger said, “Nor has my liver knocked me out: My conscience, you should know, is dead

“But nt the queen’s behest I swore ore smokin’ yesterday, and if— He bit iiis nails and frowned some more—• “Ain't time to light another yit!” The “Atlantic Monthly" publishes “A Letter from Japan,” by Lafcadio Hearn, in which he gives a very extraordinary and interesting’ picture of the way in which the whole population of Japan is absorbed in the war. Souvenirs, war toys, photographs, plays, songs, are all of the war, warlike. The following passage describing one form of the souvenirs of Hie war is surely the climax of war spirit:— “But the strangest things that I have Been in this line of production were silk dresses for baby girls—figured studs which, when looked at from a little distance, appeared incomparably prdtty, owing to the masterly juxtaposition of tints and colours. On closer inspection the charming design proved to be composed entirely of war pictures—or, rather, fragments of pictures, blended into one astonishing combination: naval battles; burning warships; submarine mines exploding; torpedo boats attacking; charges of Cossacks repulsed by Japanese infantry; artillery rushing into position; storming of forts; long lines of soldiery advancing through mist. Here were colours of blood and fire, tints of morning haze and evening glow, noonblue and starred night-purple, sea-gray and field-green—most wonderful things!"

•* In a recent- issue of “La Revue,” there is an interesting article on “Neglected Glories,” by Captain H. de Malleray. He tells how he has visited several battlefields on the Continent—Jemappes, Fontenoy, Waterloo, and others, alt battles iu which the French distinguished themselves, yet neither at Bergen-op-Zoom, San Sebastian, or Fontenoy does the glory of the French appear to be commemorated. At Fontenoy the writer was particularly mortified and humiliated when lie found the following inscription —“ln memory of the heroic Irish soldiers who changed defeat into victory at Fontenoy, May xi., 1745. God save Ireland!” This misleading plaque was erected about two years ago by Mr Frank Sullivan, an Irishman from San Francisco,

and is a modest eulogy compared with the one which had been originally prepared. Few people remember that this Irish Brigade fought in the French ranks and that it was a victory for the French, and a defeat for the English, Dutch, and Austrian allies. Naturally, the writer thinks it intolerable that such an inscription as this should be allowed to adorn the burial-ground at Fontenoy, while nowhere is there to be seen a single word commemorative of the French honours, and he pleads earnestly for the erection, at Fontenoy and other battlefields where the French have fought and died for their country, of suitable commemorative plaques.

Mr. H. G. Wells, that dreamer of fantastic dreams, has been imagining for us the bedroom of the future. It is to be a most wonderful and healthy affair, and will require no labour to keep it clean. “There is no fireplace,” says Mr. Wells, in the “Fortnightly Review,” “and I am perplexed by that until I find a thermometer beside six switches on the wall. One switch warms the floor, which is not carpeted, but covered by a substance like soft oilcloth; one warms the mattress; and the others warm the wall in various degrees. “There is a recess dressing-room, equipped with a bath and all that is necessary to one’s toilet and the water, one remarks, is warmed if one desires it warm, by passing it through an elec-trically-heated spiral of tubing. A cake of soap drops out of a store machine on the turn of a handle, and when you have done with it you drop that and your soiled towels and so forth, which also are given you by machines, into a little box, through the bottom of which they drop at once, and sail down a smooth shaft.

“The room has no corners to gather dirt., wall meets Uoor with a gentle curve, and the apartment could be swept out effectually by a few strokes of a mechanical sweeper. You are politely requested to turn a handle at. the foot of your bed before leaving the room, and forthwith the frame turns up into a vertical position, and the bedclothes hang airing. You stand at the doorway and realise that, there remains not a minute’s work for anyone to do.”

Presumably you press another button to havertlie bed remade.

Lieutenant-Colonel Bairnsfuther. in “Good Words,” recalls some impressions of Tibet, which are, however, of another time and place than those involved in the recent mission. He tells how, on entering Ladak. he came on a long, low wall, running in the same direction as the road, and apparently occupying or blocking the centre of it: No dividing barrier evidently, nor part of any fortification. Useless, seemingly, and of na meaning. On approaching we find that the path divides on either side of this wall, each section being equally trodden. But there is no choice. The left-hand path must lie taken, th* wall remaining on the right. This indeed, we afterwards learn, is one form of prayer. For every one of the countless small slabs of stone which cover the sloping roof of the wall are. inscribed with the one universal and all-sufficing prayer—the mysterious, and to us (even when translated) meaningless, Om mane padmo hauni: Oh! the jewel in the lotus. Amen. These walls vary .in length from about one hundred yards to a quarter of a mile, and one I saw could not have been less than eight hundred yards; from six to ton feet high, about twelve feet broad at base, and sloping to an apex at the top. Think of the labour expended, not so much in the construction of the wall, but in the carving of all the prayer stones. This last is the work of the monks, and it is not a dead idea, for I found a carver at work on a prayer of more ambitious size on a rock face. The writer reverently acknowledges the strong desire thus expressed to keep the reality of the other world daily and hourly in mind.

In the “American Review of Reviews’* Mr \V. C. Edgar writes a picturesque sketch of “Hiawatha” as the Ojibways interpret it. This tribe of Indians annually produce the play of “Hiawatha’* during the pleasant months of summer at Desbarats, Ontario- This is how a quaint Indian parallel to the Oberammergau Passion Play arose: "Mr L. Q. Armstrong, who has spent his summers for many years on an island close by. is responsible for the production of the play of “Hiawatha.” Ten years ago he was travelling in an open boat along the north shore of Lake Huron, nearly thirty mites from Sault Ste. Marie. As night fell he came upon a group of islands, and pitched his camp on one of them. When he awoke the next morning he found the lake covered with canoes, and, looking across to the mainland, discovered it to be the campingground of a tribe of Indians. He became acquainted with the natives, and found them kindly disposed. Later, he built himself a shelter on the island, and invited the Ojibways to visit him. He won their confidence and goodwill, and in the course of many long and friendly talks, learned that the legend of Hiawatha was not unfamiliar to them. He read parts of Longfellow’s poem to his red guests, and they verified and corrected it. He then undertook to obtain the Indian version of the story, and in this, after patient effort and much tact, he finally succeeded. He was surprised to find how close a similarity existed between Longfellow’s interpretation and the legendary lore of the Indians themselves. Out of this acquaintance grew the idea of playing “Hiawatha.” and its first presentation was given in 1899 before members of the Longfellow family, who have since testified to their enjoyment of the event.”

The Indians arc very unwilling to accept modern innovations. Au unfortunate exception to this praiseworthy rule is a modern laughing song, translated into Indian, which has been put in the mouth of Pau-I’uk Keewis. “There are several additional scenes in Hiawatha’s history which might perhaps be given with excellent dramatic musical effect, but the actors decline to present them. Particularly and emphatically, they refuse to portray the great famine and the death of Minnehaha, nor will they sing her death chant. They maintain that the costumes, dances, and songs of the play as it is now given are correct, and any suggestions to alter them in the slightest particular are disregarded.

In her ‘‘Colonial Memories” Lady Broome describes General (then Colonel) Charles George (Jordon, of Chinese and Khartoum fame. She says:—“lt is impossible to convey in words any idea of the singular charm of Gordon’s conversation. Not in the least egotistical, his vivid narratives were the most thriiliug)y interesting it has ever been my good fortune to listen to. Every word he Fa id, for all its pict uresquenesF, bore the etamp of reality, and the scenes he deFcribed at once stood out before your eyes. A question now and then was all that was needed io sustain the delightful How of talk, lie never uttered a word which could be called ‘runt ’ nor did he bring his religious opinions into prominence. One gathered from his utterances that he was more deeply imbued with the ‘enthusijMo of humanity’ than with any dogma. His eves were the most remarkable part of h& face, and J cannot imagine anyone who has <ver seen him forgetting their wonderful beauty. It was not merely that they were of a crystal (dearness, and as blue ax a summer sky, but the expression was different from that of any other human <ye I have ever seen. In the first place, instead of the trained, conventional glance with which we habitually regard each other, and which, certainly at first, tells you nothing whatever of your new acquaintance's character or inner nature, Gurdon’s beautiful. noble soul looked straight at you. directly from out of those clear eyes. They revealed him at once as he was. and 1 am sun- the secret of his extraordinary and almost instantaneous influence over his fellowcreatures lay in that glance. There was a sort of wistful tenderness in it for all its penet rat ion, an extraordinary magnetic sympathy, and yet yon felt its authority. The rest of his face was rugged, and. T suppose, what would be called plain, hut one never thought of anything beyond the soul shining out of those wonderful windows. To look at any other face after his was like looking at a lifeless mask.” '.rhe most embarrassing fact about our heroines is the necessity for describing them. While there are no limits to the number of novels, there are. unfortunately, to the human form divine. Let us first know, therefore, where we stand. With some difliciilty we have collected the following formulae: Exhibit A.— To say that Gertrude was lieautiful would give no indication of her extraordinary charm. There was an indefinable something about the expression of her soft eyes that was not of this world. Iler wonderful hair, that would have fallen several feet below lhe ground, if the ground were not in the way. was coiled in masses on her well-poised head. When she spoke, her voice— Exhibit B.—Beryl, it i« true, had a. rose perfect in its classical lines. Her delicate, shell-like cars were like finely moulded marble. Her eyes were deep and lustrous, revealing depths of unknown power. But it. was only when she smiled that we saw that about her we had never known Indore. Exhibit (’. —Janet's perfect figure wm Silhouetted against, the dark eastern sky. There was a slight flush on her checks that gave to her face an almost maddening touch of piquancy. She was of medium height, and yel. somehow , t his did not strike one at first. She might have been, fur aught we could say, either shorter or taller. Exhibit 1). - Ruth stood, her hands clasped, gazing downward with drooping eyelashes, fully three quarters of an inch long, to the marble terrace below. No one would have dreamed that this frail girl, so delicate, so ethereal, was capable of i»uch passion. And yet her young form shook, until the whole house responded to her convulsive sobs. Then, with a supreme effort, she conquered herself, and once again her face reigned passive. Exhibit. E.—Ethel leaped lightly on her bronco. Her face was tanned with long exposure to the winds of heaven. With a. merry peal of laughter she dug her spurs into his flank, and. her golden hair flowing like a yellow stream, was ofi again before Jack had time to catch bis breath. —Tom Masson in “Life.” The “American Review of Reviews” contains a. sketch of George R. Cor telyou. the < hairman of the National Cammittee which organised the campaign in Mr Roosevelt's intercut. Before his appointment he was regarded us inexperienced and an amateur, but he be camo master of the situation quietly but instantly. Uis moat marked character-

istie is eaid to be complete mastery of self. From the day of his appointment to the day of election he devoted every waking hour to the active work of the campaign. lie had no form of recreation, accepted no invitations, am! allowed nothing to divert him. Above all things, Chairman Cortelyou insisted that the campaign should be conducted on a high plane, and that nothing be done by anybody connected with the committee, which would not safely bear the light of day. lie accomplished, probably, what has never before been accomplished in American politics—conducted a campaign for the Presidency without making a single pledge or promise to anybody as to the course of the administration cither in regard to appointments to oftice or to carrying out a policy. No letter was written from headquarters by anybody connected with the committee which could not be published without embarrassment; no arrangement was entered into which would have brought discredit to the committee if it had been known. The campaign was so clean and straightforward that the opposition were befuddled by that very circumstance. It was a situation so entirely different from any with which they were familiar that they were constantly suspecting combinations which were never even suggested, and for which there could have been no need. It was Chairman Cortelyou’s determination that President Roosevelt’s election should come to him without the smirch of a questionable transaction at any stage of the campaign. He succeeded far beyond what he dared to hope, and in doing so he has set- a new mark for the conduct of national campaigns hereafter.

The menu of the last annual dinner of the Library Association of California is a curious, clever, and amusing document. Some of the books so cleverly brought, in are not very well known in the colonies, but that does not spoil the point of a very smart piece of work. It was as follows:— CATS LOGUE. Eastern oysters on the half-shell: “Children of the Sea.” Sauterne: "In the Chccring-up Business.” Mock turtle soup: "The Masquerader.” Crab salad: "To-morrow’s Tangle.” Olives farcie: "Without the Pit.” Salted almonds: "Salted with Fire.” Celery en branchc; “Stalky and Co.” Bataliere of fine sole, sauce Rentoulade: "Fisherman's Luck.” Claret: “Rulers of Kings.” Pommes Duchesse: “From the Man with the Hoe.” Filet Mignon aux Champignons: "Strength of the Weak.” Petit Pois: “Out of Due Season.” Punch a LTmperial: "Punch, Brothers! Punch with Care!” Roast spring chicken farcie au Cresson: "Foul Play.” Haricot Verts: "No New Thing.” Appollinaris: "Virginians Puerisque.” Romaine salad: "What will he do with it!” Neapolitaine ice-cream: "Daughter of the Snows.” Assorted eakes: “Many Inventions.” Cheese and crackers: “How the Other Half Lives.’ 1 Cafe Noir: “All's Well That Ends Well.” Perhaps General Stocssel is more actively inhospitable than 1 am, and possibly General Kuropatkin shrinks from the duties of host with greater skill,” said Pugsley with a self-congratulatory grin; “but I cm boast some victories in that line nnyself. “You see,” he continued, “my wife decided that it was up to us to have the family for Thanksgiving dinner this year. Did I oppose the appalling proposition? I did not. Did 1 comfort and encourage her in her nefarious scheme to introduce discord and strife into the bosom of my home. 1 did. What's the use of war when diplomacy will laud a •vlar plexus I

“I 'aided ami abetted her with the utmost enthusiasm and liberality. Did *he think a fifteen-pound turkey would do, I insisted upon a thirty-pounder; did she calculate that two chickens would make, enough salad, 1 decided that six were barely snlliei’ent; did she figure on a gallon of ice eream, 1 wouldn’t be content with less than double that quantity; tind so on all through the menu. W horever she projsoseil to spend a dollar, 1 immediately insisted upon spending at least two. “Of course she knows all about my affairs, and I could see that she was getting uneasy and frightened as she saw how lavish and exti'avagant I was determined to be. So 1 promptly boosted my reckless prodigality several notches higher. Still she didn’t back down. It was getting pretty near time to do the inviting, and I was desperate. If my strategy failed, all was lost. “So .1 told her to run into Hie citv and pick out fresh paper for the hail and dining-room. That pretty nearly brought her down, but still she wavered, probably on account of wanting them so badly. So J added that while she was at it she should get a new carpet for the parlour, and •new set of dishes, and see the florist about sending some men out to decorate. “That fetched her, though it. was pitiful to see that: heroic woman’s struggle "between what she knew was her duty and her desires. But she knew that our mortgage was getting elaaioroiis, and she told me so. I was film. I told her that if we were going to do it ataalL we couldn't let the family go away saying how shabby we were and what ,i failure I must be’. That settled it, and we ate. elsewhere. “No, maybe I couldn’t koep the .Taps from calling at the palace in Port Arthur, or spending the winter with me in Harbin, but I can keep the invader out of tny humble domicile all riMit.” “Chicago Record.” Mr. Rudyard Kipling has been reeonrneniing the following list of books for boys: Most of Parkman’s works, notably "Montcalm” and Wolfe,” “The Old Regime in Canada," and “The Oregon Trail.” ’llie whole of Marryat, including “Mons. Violet” and "The Settlers in Canada.” Herman Melville's “White Jacket” and “Moby Dick”—specially “Moby Dick.” Keene’s “Three Years of a Wanderer’s Life,” “Shipp’s Memories.” “Hakluyt’s Voyages,” “Nature and Sport in South Africa,” by Bryden. “Annals of Rural Bengal,” “Ross’ Voyages.” O. Trevelyan's "Competition Wallah,” “Reminiscences of an Irish R.M.,” Mitford’s “Tales of Old Japan,” E. J. Glave’s “Savage Africa,” "Livingstone's Travels,” “Mungo Park's Travels,” Hudson’s “Idle Days in Patagonia,” "Story of an African Farm,” Robinson's “British Fleet.” “A Gun-room Ditty-box.” by G. S. Bowles. “A Stretch Off the Land,” by G. S. Bowles. “Our Sea Marks,” by Edwards. Dana’s “Two Years Before the Mast,” “The Cruise of the Midge,” “Torn Cringle’s Log,” all the “Rulers of India” series, “European Military Adventures of Hindustan,” “Hakdyad Abdullah,” Arnold's “Light of Asia,”

"Hajji Baba,” Lady Baker’s “Christmas < "ake in Four Quarters” (for juniors). Wallace's “Malay Archipelago,” “Cook's Voyages,” “Forty-one Years in India.” Gallon’s “Art of Travel.” This list does not meet with the approval of Mr. Harold Begbie, who thinks Mr. Kipling's literary diet savours too much of "swashbuckling,” and he recommends the following list: “A Paradise of English Poetry” (Beeching), and “The Golden Treasury of Song.” After these: “The Pilgrim’s Progress,” “Ivanhoe,” “Kenilworth,” “Peveril of the Peak,” “Guy Mannering,” “Waverlcy,” “The Fortunes of Nigel,” "Tom Brown’s Schooldays,” “Westward Ho!” “Esmond,” “Lavengro,” “Romany Rye,” "The Open Road” (E. V. Lucas), “Robinson Crusoe,” "The Chronicles of Froissart,” “The Chronicles of Jocelin of Brackeland” (the King's Classics), Green's “History of the English' People,” "Cavendish’s “Life and Death of Thomas Wolsey,” “Trial and Death of Socrates” (Golden Treasury), Southey’s “Life of Nelson,” “A Book of Golden Deeds” (G.T.S.), Carlyle’s “Past and Present,” “Wesley’s Journal” (P. L. Parker’s abridged edition), Darwin’s "Voyage of the ‘Beagle,’ ” "The Life of Father Dolling,” “The Cloister and the Hearth,” Sabatier’s “St. Francis,” “J. G. Paton’s Life,” "Livingstone’s Journal,” Ruskin’s “Sesame and Lilies,” Morris’ “News From Nowhere,” Morley's “Cromwell,” and “John Inglesant.” In “T.P.’s Weekly” the question of the authorship of the verses “The Devil’s Thoughts” has been raised. The poem appeared in the “Morning Post” in 1799, and was claimed as a joint production by Coleridge and Southey. It is published in most editions of Coleridge, who wrote in a footnote: “The first three stanzas, which are worth all the rest, and the ninth were dictated by Mr. Southey.” The three stanzas arc as follows: From tils brimstone bed at break of day A walking the peril is gone, ’ . To visit his snug little farm the Earth. ; And see how his stock goes on. Over (be hill and over the dale, And he went over the plain. And backward and forward he switched his Jong tail As a gentleman switches his vain. And how then was the Devil drest? Oh! he was in Ills Shadsy best: His jacket was red and bis breeches were blue, And there was a hole where his tail came through. The sixth stanza contains an oft-quoted line: — He saw a cottage with a double eoaehJiouse, A cottage of gentility; And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin Is the pride that apes humility. The verses have been claimed on very slight evidence for Richard Person, the famous Green scholar, and the writer in “T. P.’s Weekly” says: “Several correspondents have sent me the following passage, without giving its source: ‘One evening at the house of the late

Dr. Vincent, Professor Person, being cut out at a whist table, was about to take his leave. Mrs. Vincent pressed him to stay, saying “I know you will not stay if you are doing nothing; but the rubber will soon be over when you may go in; and in the mean ne take a pen and ink at another tabk and write us some verses.” Dr. Vincent, in the midst of the game, seconded this request, and added, “I will give a subject. You shall suppose that the devil is coming up among us to see what we arc doing, and you shall tell us what observations he makes.’ ” Porson obeyed these injunctions, and this amusing jeu d’esprit was the result.’ That is definite enough, but is it true? Southey unquestionably added certain stanzas, referring sarcastically to the Porson claim, and Southey was a perfectly honest man. In the latter stanzas he makes the devil, “by oracular inspiration,” surmise who his commentators were:

Therewith in second sight he saw The place and the manner and time. To which this mortal story Would be put iu immortal rhyme.

“Could Southey and Coleridge have adapted the idea,” asks the writer, “possibly without knowing whence they derived it? Why should Person's name have been so persistently associated with the verses if he had nothing to do with them?”

A firSfdilass battleship, which costs about a million to build and fit out, takes upon an average three years to construct, and nearly as long' to pull to pieces after being thirteen years 8r more in active service. Shipbreakers are sold battleships on the strict understanding that the vessel is to be pulled to pieces in “homo waters,” and it is not generally known that in the great majority of instances the Admiral l.y buy back from the purchaser certain parts of the old ships for nearly the same amount of money paid for the warship at the auction sale. The most valuable part of a first-class battleship is the armour-plating, and it is in consequence of this, and the enormous amount of trouble entailed in stripping it off the hull that the authorities pay so heavily to regain its possession. Some shipbreakers estimate that the price of an old battleship—say £30,000 —-is about the amount obtained for the armour-plating when re-sold. The natural conclusion is that the remainder of the vessel is “a gift,” as it were, to tho shipbreaker, but such is not the case. Many thousands are spent every year that the vessel is in the hands of the breakers, and a large and expensive electrical plant has to be installed to unrivet the armour -plating and for other purposes.

Americans are enthusiastically adopting the doctrines of Charles Wagner, author of “The Simple life.” The author has received an extraordinary welcome in the States, and the witty Mr Dooley thus hits off i he situation: “Weil, Charles Wagner has been 'havin’ th’ fine old time over here," said Mr Dooley. “He’s th’ author iv th' two liundherd thousandth book that Prisidint. Rosenftit has read since th' first iv Novimbcr. ’Tis called ‘Th’ Simple Dife.’ He cuddent’s find it in France, so lie come lookin’ f’r it among th’ simple an’ pasthral people in this couuthry. He found it. lie come over in a large but simple ship iv twinty thousan’ simple horse power an’ landed in th’ simple village iv Now 'York, where he was met be a comity iv simple little village lads an’ lasses an’ escorted to th’ simple Waldorf an' installed in a room simply decorated in purple plush. That avenin’ he attinded a meetin’ iv th’ Fifth Av’noo Female Simplicity Club. A lady wearin’ a collar iv dimous whose value was simply fabulous recited passages fr’m ‘Th’ Simple Life.’ Aftiier this a simple supper iv terrapin’ an’ champagne, was sarved. He thin took a simple Pullman thrain to iWash’ntou, where he attinded a rayciption. Hater he was rayceived be th’ simple Prisidint, who said to him, ‘Chas,” he says, ‘l’ve been preachin' ye’er book to me counthrymon,’ he nays. ‘Simplicity an’ a sthrong navy is th’ watchword iv this administration,* he says.”

There is a Spinsters' League in Bristol. It owes its existence to a visit which the secretary paid to a midland town, where she found such a league flourishing. When she returned to Bristol a meeting was held, at which those present be-

came convinced that spinsterliood is the road to happiness, and the following rilles were adopted:

1. All members must have attained the age of seventeen, and not exceeded thirty, must wear long skirts, and dress their hair in a becoming manner. Members are invited to render their appearance as attractive as possible, but to be maidenly in their conduct.

2. Members are compelled by the law of the society (a) to be entirely proof against any charms [?] of man, (b) to have a wholesoem contempt of falling in love, and to abhor marriage for themselves.

3. Members are also compelled to introduce the society and the advantages thereof to all whom they suppose may fall victims to the delusions referred to in Clause 2.

4. Every member must be in a position to maintain the rights of the so- viz., healthy, strong-minded and abi o earn her own living, so that there will be no necessity for members to embrace marriage as a means of subsistence. The secretary mournfully admits that converts are not being made very rapidly.

Katsukama Higashi, the <Tapane.se master of jiu-pitsu, who has succeeded in throwing Tom Sharkey, “Ajax,” the big man of the New York police force, and other big wrestlers, was coaxed into the World Building recently, and be stayed long enough to show *a few of his jiu-jitsu tricks. He is a tiny man, and he has “the gentlest, most engaging smile you ever saw,” He is full of courtesy and sudden death. He was born in Japan twenty-two years ago, and is only five feet three inches tall, and his weight is one hundred and fifteen pounds. His muscles are soft as a woman’s. Many American jockeys are larger and more muscular than he. He has been practicing jiujitsu since he was nine years old. He was a pupil of the great Kano, and taught the art in Doshisha College in Kioto. The greatest weight he everlifted is two hundred and ninety pounds. “Ajax” Whitman, whom ho overthrew, has lifted twelve hundred pounds. Mr Higashi drinks hot waler every morning, cats fruit, rice, and fish, meat only once a day, and rarely drinks tea. “Tire fatal tricks?” he said. “I did not teach them. Even Kano will put a pupil through many tests before he will trust him with the 'fatal tricks. He would not teach them to a fighter. We never, never teach jiu-jitsu to a wrestler.”

A plague of fancy waist-coats is afflicting the States. "The lamentable extravagance and tastelessness of the young men of the present day are probably exemplified in no better way than in the wearing of fancy ‘vests,’ ” says Mr. Waldo G. C’heston in a letter to the New York “Sun.” “Some years ago,” he" continues, “there was in the “Sun” a philippic against the padded coat. The time is ripe for an attack upon the fancy, showy ‘vest.’ I will illustrate concretely. Yesterday while hurrying to my office down Nassaustreet my eyes were dazzled by a collection of striped, plaided, painted, gilded, and ornamented ‘vests’ glittering and sparkling from the show widow of a haberdasher’s shop. I withdrew my eyes from the window, supposing that such articles were only put there to attract the eye rather than to persuade the buyer, when T beheld coming toward mo a ‘vest’ which completely eclipsed all I had seen. The occupant of the ‘vest’ was a decent enough, fellow, albeit he had Hung wide his coat in order to reveal the full expanse of crimson, dotted with blue and orange spots; but that ‘vest’—words fail me! I trust that by calling attention to this tendency something may be done to prevent its spread. As a so-called ‘gentleman of the old scho school,” 1 must sincerely protest against this parody of the old-time waist-coat.”

Here is an odd story of a lost and a found watch. A man started out limiting one day with a timepiece, which lie particularly valued. Hounds found in duo course, the owner of the watch went well, and was greatly enjoying himself, when, carelessly glancing down as a check occurred, ho found his chain broken in tlia middle and dangling—the watch gone. That it was gone for good seemed well-nigh certain. The run had been about a five mile point, over a number of fences of nil sorts; our friend had not been down, but there had been a scramble or two, and the chain might have been broken, and the watch.

lost, almost anywhere and in lota of ways. It was, of course, just barely possible that a farm labourer might come across it and think it well to make inquiries as to its ownership, but the chances appeared to be .that it would be undiscovered till perhaps some ploughman turned it up with his share, a generation or so hence. The owner was much vexed and grieved as he returned home watchless, and was correspondingly elated when, to his huge surprise, his butler entered the drawing-room just before dinner, carrying on a salver the missing watch. It had been found under the saddle, that is to say, when the saddle had been taken off the watch had slipped down into the straw. Apparently—one could only guess—it must have been jerked out of the owner’s pocket at a fence, have flown forward and backward, getting fixed under the saddle; the chain had then snapped, and the watch had remained firmly emlsedded between the stuffing of the saddle and the horse’s body. All the time the owner was lamenting its loss he had been sitting on it!

Verily the Americans are a wonderful people. What do New Zealanders think of this? A pet-stock dealer in an American city has in his shop window a sign that reads: “Dogs to hire by day, week, or hour. Rates reasonable.” A colonial asked the dealer, the other day. the significance of the sign. “Oh. it means just what it says,” th? dealer said: “people like to hire dogs now and then, the same as they like to hire horses or pianos. I clear from this branch of my business quite ten dollars a week. Do you see that handsome Russian wolf hound over there in the corner? Well, I hire him out a good deal to young women who are going to be photographed. In England a lot of women of fashion, and in America a lot of millionairesses, have had their pictures taken of late with Russian wolf-hounds at their side. That has set a fashion. Young women all over nowadays desire to be photographed with wolf-hounds. But do you know what a wolf-hdtind like Pete there is worth ? Well, sir, he is worth 400dol. to 500dol. And do you know what ho can be hired for a couple of hours for? He can be hired for l.oOdol. Hence he is hired often. Ho is in great demand. On the mantel of many a, poor man’s house you can see to-day the wife’s or the daughter’s photograph, with a magnificent Russian wolf hound iu the foreground. Aside from hiring dogs for photographic purposes I hire them for promenades. Young ladies visiting the city like to rent a Bos ton bull or a wire-haired Irish terrier to walk down the street with. A good dog on a morning's walk gives a young woman distinction, and it is now possible, thanks to me, for the girl to achieve this distinction for l.OOdol. or 2.00d01.

Howard Paul, the London journalist, describes W. S. Gilbert, of comic opera, fame, as an unsocial, ungenial man, but witty. On one occasion a woman deficient in musical knowledge, but anxious to talk to the humorist, asked him: “Is Mozart still composing?” “No, madam,” replied Gilbert; “ho is decomposing.”

An American coloured gentleman, by •or»e Loeuspjcus had got into a poker g:nii” ’• •» London club. HU via-a-vis, un .... hnian, picked up three kings and a pair of deuces, and said: “I raise the |H»t one pound.” The coloured gentlemian picked up four ace* Hit eyes almost popped from his head, Ho said, stammeringly : “1 don* know much about do system of weights an* measures in dis heah country, but j’se agwine I » raise you a ton!”

A clever skit on the Sherlock Ilohnei sloryctte is here given: THE MISSING GOLF BALT,. Slitting open L ft forearm with 2 razor, Holmes w l>eut t<» inject a bicycle pumpful <d cocaine, ether, Willaniette water and local-option dope, when the light of battle gleamed in hia eyes and caused the cat to think dawn had come. “Someone is coming upstairs, Watson,’* ho Maid, “I heard footsteps on the stairs, but— You wonder how I know our visitor is coming up instead o’ going down,” interrupted Holmes, read ing my thoughts. “It’s childishly simple,” he continued. “I fixed the second stop from the top so that anyone treading on it is shot down the whole flight. The stranger hasn’t fallen yet, and mu«l therefore be coming up.” At that moment there was a crash Holmes opened the door and stepped out “Try again, my dear sir,” he called out to the man who I ly in a tumbled heap st the bottom of the stairs. This time out visitor was more -.uccesaful. He entered the room and took a seal opposite the window. “Did you have a good game?" aaked. I lolmcs. “How did you guess ” ‘’Nothing, my dear sir,” answered Holmes. “Your mouth has certain lines brought on by saying a vigorous word beginning with d, and the Sellwood transfer in your pocket tells me you are ? golfer.” “Yes, T play golf. Aly name is McSiingo,” said our visitor. ‘‘l have come to ask you to solve the mystery of th\ last golf ball.” Holmes brightened up. ’l'he old sleuth hound instincts awoke. In a few mo ments be had (he story from MeSlingik Four thousand golf balls had been lost if two weeks. “Are you prepared for a long trip. Wai son?” said Holmes, placing a revot ver in his pocket. “Better take a Seotrt glossary,” he added. 1 compromised on a flask of it. Reaching the ground Holmes drew out a. miscroscopc an.l examined each bladt of grass. cow has been here lately " he muttered. *’llow did you know.’’ He showed me a cowslip. Inquiries in the neighbourhood showed that there was indeed a cow. She wa.** the picture of health. “That cow’,” said Holmes, ‘‘has swallowed tho golf balls. You see that big ad over there, ’Pills for the Pah'.’ She has taken tho golf halls for pills, and the influence of mind over matter has causes her io grow well and give lots of milk.” On our return to tho house Helmet turned the case over to rX'loct.ivo Night with the adviec to get out a search war runt.—Wox Jones in “Oregonian.”