{"numero_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_sha256": "564283e5e584a6741f32083ca25650f4bc3d4ba0682b6ecbd55cf457aaa0462a", "source_tei": "https://github.com/Princeton-CDH/bluemountain-transcriptions/blob/main/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1915/10/07_01/bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01.tei.xml", "source_mets": "https://github.com/pulibrary/BlueMountain/blob/main/metadata/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1915/10/07_01/bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01.mets.xml", "url_numero": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01", "articles": [{"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c002", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c002", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[95]", "page_fin": "[95]", "image_debut": 2, "image_fin": 2, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.2", "titre_corps": "Geranium", "titre_sommaire": "Geranium", "signature_source": "Wilfred Wilson Gibson", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[95]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.2", "debut_caractere": 137, "fin_caractere_exclue": 991, "texte": "Geranium\nWilfred Wilson Gibson\nStuck in a bottle on the window sill,\nIn the cold gas-light burning gaily red\nAgainst the luminous blue of London night,\nThese flowers are mine: while somewhere out of sight\nIn some black-throated alley's stench and heat,\nOblivious of the racket of the street,\nA poor old weary woman lies in bed.\nBroken with lust and drink, blear-eyed and ill,\nHer battered bonnet nodding on her head,\nFrom a dark arch she clutched my sleeve and said:\n\"I've sold no bunch today, not touched a bite . . .\nSon, buy six-penn'orth; and 't will mean a bed\"\nSo, blazing gaily red\nAgainst the luminous deeps\nOf starless London night,\nThey burn for my delight:\nWhile somewhere, sung in bed,\nA worn old woman sleeps.\nAnd yet tomorrow will these blooms be dead\nWith all their lively beauty; and tomorrow\nMay end the light lusts and the heavy sorrow."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c003", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c003", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[95]", "page_fin": "96", "image_debut": 2, "image_fin": 3, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.3", "titre_corps": "Greenwich Village Days of Tom Paine", "titre_sommaire": "Greenwich Village Days of Tom Paine", "signature_source": "Charles Hemstreet", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[95]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.2", "debut_caractere": 993, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1956, "texte": "Greenwich Village Days of Tom Paine\nBy Charles Hemstreet\nDEYOND the city, separated from it in summer by a mile of\nmarshy and untitled land, in winter by a dreary waste\nwith a single road leading across a snow-bound way, lay the\nvillage of Greenwich. A dreamy little country place that had\nbeen an Indian village before the settling of New Amsterdam;\nwith lines of peaked-roof houses on zig-zagged lanes, and now\nand again, in the midst of a farm-like garden, a rambling house\nof stone, with great square windows and gables enough for\nhalf a dozen houses. The village might have been thousands\nof miles away from New York for all the likeness it bore to it.\nOn a dusty and rarely traveled lane, that led from the vil-\nlage towards the city, lived a man who had won the hearts\nof Americans by writing Common Sense, but who lived to reap\ntheir hatred by writing The Age of' Reason, a deistic argument\nagainst Christianity. In the quiet village his house was pointed"}, {"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "96", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.3", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2881, "texte": "out as the abode of a friendless man and when they spoke of\nhim the villagers whispered the dread name—Tom Paine.\nThere he lived with Madame Bonville and her two sons, the\nonly companions he cared to have near him save his own\nthoughts. In that picturesque spot he was fully content to pass\nhis final days in solitude and marked contrast to a life of energy\nand excitement.\nIt is close upon a century since that time, and the pilgrim\nfeet that seek to follow Paine through Greenwich Village must\nwalk Bleecker Street (the dusty lane in much changed form),\nmust pass Grove Street, and the fourth house from the corner,\non the north side, walking towards the east, is Paine's. It was\nhumble enough in the days when he lived there. It is far\nhumbler now in contrast to the buildings that have grown up\nabout it. A two-story frame house, the ground floor is made\ninto a store, as though it made an effort to keep up with the\nbusiness character of the street. Two brick structures rise\nabove it on each side and seem to have forced the roof to a\nfrightful angle, so different is it from its new neighbors. Once\nJoel Barlow went to see Paine there, and the two spent almost\nan entire day beside a front window, talking of many things.\nPaine recalled troublous days of the French Revolution, when\nhe had written his Age of Reason in the prison of the Luxem-\nbourg, and had given it to Barlow to find a publisher. The\nauthor of the Columbiad often spoke of the visit later.\nThe dusty road where the house stood, even though it was\nlittle traveled, came to be too noisy a place for Paine, for in\nhis illness even the chance passer-by irritated him. So he\nmoved away to a house in a near-by field, so far from the road\nthat he found absolute quiet. In after days Grove Street\nswept this home away, and another building, numbered 59, is\npointed out as the place where Paine died shortly after his\nremoval.\nThe hatred of many people followed Tom Paine even after\ndeath, and there could be no rest for an advocate of infidel\nopinions in a town where dwelt descendants of stern Hugenots.\nHis body was taken to New Rochelle, and there, refused burial\nin hallowed ground, was finally laid to rest outside the town,\nin a corner of the farm given to him by the State in recognition\nof his services in the cause of the colonies against the mother\ncountry. Ten years later, William Cobbett, the English Radical,\nan ardent admirer of Paine, visited New Rochelle, and, seeing\nthe neglected grave by the wayside, had the bones dug up\none night and spirited away to England. In another twenty\nyears the followers of Tom Paine had grown in number, and\nthe Paine Historical Society erected a monument over the\nempty grave by the roadside. But on this spot, where no rest\nhad been permitted him in life or in death, it seems rather to\nmock than to bless his grave."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c004", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c004", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "97", "page_fin": "97", "image_debut": 4, "image_fin": 4, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.4", "titre_corps": "Thursday, Friday and Saturday in Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre", "titre_sommaire": "Thursday, Friday and Saturday in Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "97", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.4", "debut_caractere": 17, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2068, "texte": "Thursday, Friday and Saturday in Char-\nles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre\n\"GREENWICH VILLAGE,\" the comedy with music, in three\nacts, will not see its first appearance before October 28th.\nAn exceptional program was selected for this week's per-\nformance in Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre. True\nto its purpose to be a free forum for American composers\nand musicians, it will give two of the most promising composers\nand virtuosos, who ever came to the American shores with the\nintention to make it a permanent home, a chance to be heard\nbefore an audience. Gabriele Del Orbe and Xavier Dimarias de\nMendizabal, both Cubans, both musicians from their earliest\nyouth, who received their musical education under the most\nefficient teachers of France and of Germany, and who have\nboth devoted their lives to composing rather than to interpreting\nother masters' work.\nMr. Orbe has a wonderful violin, which he seems to charm\nto life. There is only one other violin player who made his\ninstrument impress me as deeply as did Mr. Orbe, and that was\nKubelik, and he did not play his own compositions. Cuban\nmelodies, a picture of the languid but picturesque, seemingly\nsleepy and quiet life of his Southern home, with its momentary\noutbursts of emotion are the wonderful pastels with which he\npainted one of his \"Honolulu Compositions\" which he will play\non Thursday, Friday and Saturday in Charles Edison's Little\nThimble Theatre.\nXavier Dimarias de Mendizabal is a pianist—notwithstanding\nhis extreme youth—a man who has fulfilled a good many of the\nexpectations of his teachers and those of the Government of\nSanto Domingo which granted him a stipendium in order to\nenable him to follow his musical inclination. Mr. Mendizabal\nwill play a few of his compositions on the piano.\nHe is a fervent admirer of Beethoven, and interpretations of\nBeethoven in addition to his own compositions and a \"Waltz\"\nby Ricardo Castro, will complete his program.\nMab Rea, a little slip of a girl, will open the program with a\nselection of Japanese songs and melodies."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c005", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c005", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "97", "page_fin": "97", "image_debut": 4, "image_fin": 4, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.5", "titre_corps": "Cat and Girl By Clara Tice", "titre_sommaire": "Cat and Girl By Clara Tice", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "97", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.4", "debut_caractere": 2070, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2096, "texte": "Cat and Girl\nBy Clara Tice"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c006", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c006", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "98", "page_fin": "98", "image_debut": 5, "image_fin": 5, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.6", "titre_corps": "Children's Hour on Washington Square", "titre_sommaire": "Children's Hour on Washington Square", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "98", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 17, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2739, "texte": "Children's Hour on Washington Square\nThe balance of the toys given to the children of Washington\nSquare by their \"Austrian friend\" were distributed on last Wed-\nnesday, and many of the participants of Charles Edison's Chil-\ndren's Hour attended for the last time in this season. They are the\nlarger children who attend school and participate in the manual\ntraining work of Greenwich Village organizations, which takes\nplace on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons.\nBut there are so many hundreds of small tots to be taken\ncare of who are looking forward to these two hours of music\nand dance and merriment, that the absence of the bigger ones\nwon't be felt. The number of social workers will have to be\nincreased on account of the steadily growing number of\nchildren who come.\nThat big Diamond Disc emanating its waltzes and marches\nand trots and two-steps ceased long ago to be a strange\n\"music box,\" to the horde of children on the Square. After all\nwas over on last Saturday, the last record played and the\nDiamond Disc securely wrapped up ready to be shipped back\nto the shop, a little girl came confidently up to it, petted the\ninstrument and repeated over and over again imploringly:\n\"Please, Mr. Diamond Disc, won't you sing again?\"\nAnd other children, bigger children, who thought they\nknew better, teased her and laughed at her. \"Foolish thing!\ndon't you know it can't sing, if it is closed and nobody makes\nit sing?\"\nAnd then followed a hot discussion and guesses and argu-\nments how a phonograph possibly can \"sing,\" and why it\n\"sings.\" And the little girl that had started the discussion\nfelt quite badly and started to cry as the older ones tried to\nexplain to her that the Diamond Disc has no voice like she\nherself or any other human being. Led by the hand of her\nmother, she left her playmates, but turned around several\ntimes, making a face, screaming at the top of her voice:\n\"Yes, he sings, he sings, he sings!\"\nCharles Edison's Children' Hour is a source of merriment\nfor all those who pass Washington Square on Wednesday\nand Saturday afternoons. A good many women of the near-\nby apartment houses, themselves not blessed with children,\nbut evidently lovers of little boys and little girls, are regular\nhabitues and they pick their favorites and they never come\nempty-handed. Once it is a little doll, or a book, or best of\nall: plain candy.\nJust a bit of music on a public Square, during four hours\nof the week—and think of the merriment and the values added\nto the lives of the few hundred little ones, and of a good\nmany adults who otherwise wouldn't have a chance to see\nchildren at close range and associate with them freely!\nCharles Edison's Children's Hour will continue during the\nnext two months."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c007", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c007", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "99", "page_fin": "100", "image_debut": 6, "image_fin": 7, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.7", "titre_corps": "Passing Paris", "titre_sommaire": "Passing Paris", "signature_source": "Muriel Ciolkowska", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "99", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 17, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3106, "texte": "Passing Paris\n\nParis, Sept. Ist, 1915.\nI ITTLE being published now, retrospective reading must be\nindulged in. And it yields fruits. In Servitude et Grand-\neur Militaires, wherein Alfred de Vigny pleads the cause of\nthe soldier—as he appealed for the protection of the poet in\nhis magnificently eloquent preface to Chatterton—he wrote and\nit was in 1835, the following lines which might have been written\nto-day, when they find their complete application:\n\" some foreigners have thought us fallen to a condition re-\nsembling that of the Ottoman Empire and serious men have asked\nthemselves whether the nation's character had not been lost for ever.\nBut those who have taken a more careful view of us have recognized\nthe male purpose surviving in us oyer and above what has been so\ndeplorably worn by sophism. Virile deeds have lost nothing in\nFrance of their ancient vigour. Resolution as prompt governs\nsacrifices as significant and' complete as ever. Though elaborated\nwith more coolness, battles are fought with scientific violence.\nsmallest mental activity will give rise to deeds as great as were in\nformer days incited by the most fervent faith. With us belief is wea\nbut man is strong. . . . Be it from duty or whim, our contemporary\nyouth is constantly defying death with a Spartan smile, which amue is\nthe more impressive since all do not believe in the gods.\nThe selfishness of old people in their attitude towards the\nwar is a noticeable fact. Many rub their hands, as it were,\nthankful that they have been spared to attend so interesting\nan event. They are, even, moved in their pride rather than\nin their sorrow when called upon to give their sons for the\ncountry—it is an ultimate sacrifice throwing lustre on their\nlast days. Those who have been through 1870 proclaim (or\nthink) that it is this generation's turn to do what they did\nbefore. They expect it to avenge them.\nFor the old have little to lose by it. The young, whose\naspirations are cut short, whose careers and very lives are m\nthe balance, whose patience is tried beyond the powers of their\nimpetuous years, bear the whole weight of the war alone. The\nold are but the onlookers; the young are the participators who\nhave to meet the cost as well as the labour of the spectacle.\nWhen we hear the young express their determination to keep\nthe match up to a conclusive end we must admire; from the\nold the same sentiment has its origin in grim blood-thirstiness.\nThe former want justice; the latter vengeance.\nWriting in the Mercure for August 1, \"Georges Pierredon\nsets right the gush the daily papers keep pouring forth with\nrespect to the French soldier. He refutes therein the absurdity\nof treating the French army of these days as though it were\na homogeneous entity, admitting, however, that, like a great\nmachine, \"it takes amorphous beings, kneads them, shapes them,\nand here they are, transformed into heroes, wild maniacs, bronze-\nstatues, navvies, carpenters, dray-horses. . . . But the material\nremains mere materials; the organizing capacities of the com-\nmanders give it its value and necessary form.\""}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "100", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 63, "fin_caractere_exclue": 861, "texte": "This transformation is particularly rapid with the Frenchman\nowing to his natural pliability. In an article in the same re-\nview entitled \"The Errors of Might\" Mme. Aurel endorses this\nassertion:\n\"Assuredly, all impeccable organization contains its folly since it\nforgets that it puts living beings into play, i.e. such whose spirit is\nnon-immobilizable. Is it not precisely from what needs mending,\nfrom our lack of foresight, that was born the stimulant, the craving\nfor glory and its possibility? The Frenchman finds his muscle only\nbefore the impossible.\n\"Had he been told, as it was told the German: 'We are the\nstrongest, for our system is invincible,' he would have been deprived\not those resources of defiance wherein he puts his whole soul; on\nl'aurait ennuye d'avance.\"\n\nMuriel Ciolkowska"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c008", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c008", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "100", "page_fin": "102", "image_debut": 7, "image_fin": 9, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.8", "titre_corps": "Books and Magazines of the Week", "titre_sommaire": "Books and Magazines of the Week", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "100", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 863, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2640, "texte": "Books and Magazines of the Week\nMonahan's Real Elbert Hubbard\nRoycroft Memories is the offering of the October issue of\nMichael Monahan's Phoenix. The real Elbert Hubbard, as\nknown to one of his intimate friends, is introduced to us in\nthat wonderful heart-winning way of Michael Monahan's.\n\"The career of Hubbard is one of the romances of our\ntime and the dazzlement of it is still in our eyes, so that\nwe cannot as yet justly measure Elbert Hubbard or his work.\nIt is a stern romance, too, and one after the American heart;\ninspiring with its lesson of handicaps overcome and difficulties\nsurmounted of heroic reliance upon self, of many a hard-\nfought battle and not a few superb victories. I am utterly\npersuaded that it owed little or nothing to accident.\"\nPoetry Prize Contest\nA friend of \"Poetry\" announces in THE TRIMMED LAMP,\none of Chicago's individualistic magazines—and a mighty inter-\nesting one, too—his intention to give two prizes of $50 each\nfor the two best lyrics by American authors to be submitted\nbefore December Ist, 1915.\nThis prize contest is open to every reader and contributor\nof THE TRIMMED LAMP. The winning poems will be pub-\nlished in the January issue of that periodical. Will it be a\nvers libre poet who wins the prize?\nBookplate Prize Contest\nThe Board of Governors of The American Bookplate Society\nannounces that there will be held in New at the Avery\nLibrary of Columbia University, from January third to January\nfifteen, 1916, inclusive, the first of a series of annual exhi-\nbitions of bookplates.\nThe object of the Exhibition will be primarily to advance\nthe art of the modern bookplate. It will also serve, by a\nsystem of awards, to provide new-comers in the field and pros-\npective owners with something tangible with which to supple-"}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "101", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 17, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2792, "texte": "ment their judgment in their choice of design, as well as to\nfurnish the means for a comprehensive study and review of this\nparticular artistic endeavor.\nAt the regular Annual Meeting of the Society, January eighth,\nthe meeting as a whole will act as a jury in choosing: first,\nthe most appropriate and artistic personal bookplate; second,\nthe most appropriate and artistic public or institutional library\nbookplate; and, third, the most appropriate and artistic portrait\nbookplate.\nArtists interested in this prize contest are invited to write\nfor further details to the editor of this paper, a member of the\nAmerican Book-plate Society.\nJohn Masefield, who has been for six months working in\nFrench hospitals, has gone to the Dardanelles, where he will\nhave charge of a picket boat to carry the Gallipoli wounded\nto hospitals.\nAsa Don Dickinson, of the editorial staff of Doubleday, Page\n& Co., has been granted a year's leave of absence, which lie will\ndevote to the organization of the of the University\nof the Punjab and of other libraries in India.\nOtto Lohr's Magazine\n\"IX7ALHALLA\" is a new weekly. Its initial number appeared\ntoday. It is a German Weekly, and if it follows out1 the\nintentions laid down by its editor, it will be German-Ameri-\ncan paper. Otto Lohr is its editor. He is chiefly a historian.\nHis special study is German-American immigration, German\ninfluence upon America in its early days, German family history\nin America. Several books published by him up to date lay\ndown a fundamental knowledge of certain periods, which has\nbeen missed so far in all histories of the United States. But he\nis not a dry professor, a master of theory. Everything he writes\nis pulsating with life, there is always that charm which con-\nnects in a mystic way the cow-webs of days gone by with the\nsunshine and the glory of today.\nHis weekly is his own expression. The men he has gathered\naround him to help him in his task are university professors,\nscientists, all men well-known for their original ways of fol-\nlowing the special lines of historical work they have devoted\nthemselves to. There are, for instance, Dr. Karl Oscar Bert-\nling, of the Berlin American Institute, Dr. Adolph Busse, pro-\nfessor at Hunter College, Dr. Julius Goebel, professor in the\nUniversity of Illinois, Dr. Karl Detlev Jessen, professor in\nBryn Mawr, Dr. Alfred Paul Schultz and Dr. Rudolph Tombo,\nof Adelphi College, N. Y.\nIt is not what we do but what we are that counts in this\nworld. \"Walhalla\" is Lohr's expression at the present time.\nBut he himself is one of those rare characters whose hearts\nbeat warm for their fellow-men, of those whose enthusiasm of\nearly years has crystalized to the clear realization of what\nthey want to do in this world and who are doing it in a quiet,"}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "102", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 17, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1072, "texte": "modest, unassuming way. He is one of those men who gather\nknowledge which will be universal after they have given it once\nto the world, and who don't desire more credit for their work\nthan just to have the pleasure of doing it. He writes equally\nas good English as German and the pages of his magazine\nexhale that atmosphere which makes us at home immediately,\nthe atmosphere oi the essayist of yore, of the man who knows\nhow to tell us things interestingly, even if we never would have\nthought that his subjects were interesting.\nSuch a man is a born editor. He knows how to select just\nthose writers who are working towards the same goal. His\nselection impresses upon them a part of his individuality. And\nno matter whose name is signed to the various articles in\nhis weekly, it is Otto Lohr who speaks to us out of every page.\nTo start his magazine just at this time, in our midst, shows\nthe courage of his personal conviction. And right in our times\nof excitement and of controversies we did need a sane and true\njournal of the kind of the \"Walhalla.\""}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c009", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c009", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "102", "page_fin": "104", "image_debut": 9, "image_fin": 11, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.9", "titre_corps": "In Our Village", "titre_sommaire": "In Our Village", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "102", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 1074, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2944, "texte": "In Our Village\nand yellow turned the leaves of our old wide-spreading\ntrees. Mild autumn winds with their sad melancholy\nmelody blew them from the branches, the brown clad guards\nof Washington Square swept them in nice heaps and the old\nwhite horse, known to every child of the neighborhood waits\npatiently in front of its cart on sidewalks and lawns until it\nhears the familiar \"go on.\" Slowly it moves on to the next\npile, as if it knew that it carries the once luscious green leaves\nto their last resting-place. The fountains are wrapped up with\nstraw, the benches deserted save in the afternoon sun—winter\nis coming. Like heroes stripped of their armor the trees lift\ntheir branches toward heaven. Little clouds passing quickly\nlike zealous couriers send their nicest winds with a message\nof love and of hope down to them. And like the knight of yore\nreclined graciously and bowed slightly when his lady nodded\ntheir twigs sway to the welcome melody, their branches whisper\nthe message and their trunk resounds. Have you ever put your\near close to a tree and listened to the surr-surr and huiii-huiii\nwhile it passes down to its roots deep under the ground? I\nhave. I wish I knew the language of trees. It sounded so\ncheery and confiding. \"It is winter,\" it meant to me, \"but not\nwinter in our hearts. What does it matter that we change our\nclothes, what does it matter that the leaves—that the nice shady\nleaves are gone? Beautiful white snow will cover us soon and\nits little crystals will glitter in the sun and spring will come . .\n. . . and they will bud again.\"\nAnd while nature retires to a quiet refreshing sleep, all\nthose who tried to rejuvenate themselves in the blooming strong\nnature during the summer months came back, back with new\nvigor, with new enthusiasm, with new plana. Like mushrooms,\nare new things coming up all around the Square, around that"}, {"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "103", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 71, "fin_caractere_exclue": 482, "texte": "old white house which shelters my garret. And happily only\na very few have other intentions and plans than to work and\ngive of their work to the world.\nThe \"Little Shop\" movement is quite in yogrue. As we learned\nfrom our distinguished contemporary, the Tribune, Mrs. Thompson\nopened last week a little shop of daintiness, just a few doors south\nof us in a quaint old shop on Thompson Street. There used to he a"}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "104", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.11", "debut_caractere": 17, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4206, "texte": "tailor in the same shop until recently, an old Italian of the old school\nof tailors. He used' to sit right before the door-window of his shop,\nthe only place he could get light. And he sewed and sewed from early\nin the morning until late in the night. He had no machine, it meant\nstitching and stitching, endless stitching with needle and thread. A\ngood many patches did he put in our worn clothes, and he made it\n\"look like new.\" In his bay window hung the rusty old cage of a\ncanary. The canary was too old to sing. But when the sun peeked\nin the unwashed windows and touched his cage he must have\nremembered the long-vanished glory of happy song. And he chiiped\nand peeped and we heard it in our garret through the open window\nand we knew it was time to stop reading or pounding the machine,\nit was breakfast time.\nMrs. Thompson hopes, as one can read in the Tribune of last Sunday*\nto make her shop the social centre of celebrities among writers ana\nartists. Everybody (the celebrities) are welcome to have teas served\ndaily in the twilight hours. She has nice things there in her shop and\namong them was described a little wonder of a bird-cage. Fainted\nby a celebrity. But nevertheless it is a cage. It will silence once an\nenthusiastic singer as well as the old1 rusty one did to the canary ot\nthat good old tailor.\nThe \"Wardrobe\" is a real work-shop. Mrs. Haynes is its sponsor,\nMrs. Heloise Haynes, who knows all about antique furniture, who loves\nJapanese prints and Chinese silks and prefers candles to the clearest\nelectric light, even be it in wonderful chandeliers or behind dreams\nof painted screens. She has remodeled the first floor of 24 East Tenth\nStreet, in a small auditorium with a stage. And here she will help\nvillagers and others that come along to chose their clothes.\nfor them colors they should wear and drape them to suit their individ-\nuality. No, it won't be an exclusive shop. Its prices will be within\nthe range of everybody. And everyone will receive the same attention*\nBut every transaction must be cash is the stern requirement of\nMrs. Haynes' business venture.\nAnd then we have a black and white and orange store on Ninth\nStreet where one can buy one's individual perfumes, toilet waters\nand soaps. Farther down is the individual cigarette of Mrs. Moloney\nand the toy shop where they manufacture little masterpieces* rare\nplaythings for children.\nThe Washington Square Gallery will soon reopen its doors and\nthere is the Washington Square Book Shop, where one can buy the\npublications of all publishers without having to go up town. Life of a\nlittle town is spreading through the Village. And what will it matter\nif many shall be disappointed when the first pleasure of new things\nwill be worn off. Spring will come again and summer, they will\nexchange city streets for country roads and then in the fall they\nwill come back, full of hope and expectation and! of vigor and of energy\nto do some other things, still bigger things again.\nDjuna Barnes, the American Beardsley, laid aside her pencil for a\nwhile and is doing some daily newspaper work on one of our city\npapers. She moved down to the Square and does her dreaming and\nplanning in a quaint garret in that memorable old house where\nJenny Lind used to stop during her visits to New York and where\nfor the first time in America, \"Home, Sweet Home\" was sung.\nD. Molby, the writer of miniature essays on things otherwise\nobserved only through a microscope, spent an eventful summer watch-\ning potato bugs, mosquitoes, grasshoppers, flies and other unspeakable#\nand spends his evenings carefully arranging his precious material.\nMr. Maurice Prendergast, the nestor of painters on the Square,\nreturned from his summer home in Massachusetts. He is as kind and\nenthusiastic as ever, and the readers of this journal will soon have a\nchance to see a little sketch of his on ome ot our pages.\nClara Tice's peacocks, butterflies and girls are on exhibition in\nBruno's Garret and will be tacked to the walls until next Monday,\nOctober 11th. She is picturesque as ever but Varna, her Russian wolf\nhound is not her steady company. His nerves broke down and the\nhad to send him to the country to a sanitarium."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c010", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c010", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "103", "page_fin": "103", "image_debut": 10, "image_fin": 10, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.10", "titre_corps": "Tow Paine in the Village (Valentine's Manual, 1869.)", "titre_sommaire": "Tow Paine in the Village (Valentine's Manual, 1869.)", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "103", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 17, "fin_caractere_exclue": 69, "texte": "Tow Paine in the Village (Valentine's Manual, 1869.)"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c011", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c011", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "105", "page_fin": "106", "image_debut": 12, "image_fin": 13, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.11", "titre_corps": "The Death of the Dauphin", "titre_sommaire": "The Death of the Dauphin", "signature_source": "Alphonse Daudet", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "105", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 17, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2674, "texte": "The Death of the Dauphin\nby Alphonse Daudet\nTHE little Dauphin is ill; the little Dauphin is dying. In\nall the churches of the kingdom the Holy Sacrament\nremains exposed night and day, and great tapers burn, for\nthe recovery of the royal child. The streets of the old capital\nare sad and silent, the bells ring no more,; the carnages\nslacken their pace. In the neighborhood of the palace the\ncurious townspeople gaze through the railings upon the beadles\nwith gilded pouches, who converse in the courts and put on\nimportant airs. ... , • «\nAll the cast is a flutter. Chamberlains and majordomos run\nup and down the marble stairways. The galleries are full ot\npages and of coutiers in silken apparel, who hurry from one\ngroup to another, begging in low tones for news. Upon the\nwide perrons the maids of honor, in tears, exchange low\ncourtesies and wipe their eyes with daintily-embroidered hand-\nkerchiefs. •\nA large assemblage of robed physicians has gathered in the\nOrangery. They can be seen through the panes waving their\nlong black sleeves and including their periwigs with prof Se-\nssional gestures. The governor and the equerry of the little\nDauphin walk up and down before the door awaiting fh® de-\ncision of the Faculty. Scullions pass by without saluting them.\nThe equerry swears like a pagan; the governor quotes verses\nfrom Horace. ~\nAnd meanwhile, over there, m the direction of the stable,\nis heard a long and plaintive neighing; it is the little Dau-\nphin's sorrel, forgotten by the hostlers, and calling sadiy be-\nfore his empty manger.\nAnd the King? Where is his Highness the King? The\nKing has locked himself up in a room at the other end of t e\ncastle. Majesties do not like to be seen weeping, for the\nQueen, it is different. Sitting by the bedside of the little\nDauphin, she bows her fair face, and sobs very loudly before\neverybody, like a mere draper's wife. , . , !jt\nOn the bed embroidered with lace the little Dauphin, whiter\nthan the pillows on which he is extended, lies with closed\neyes. They think that he is asleep; but no, the little Dauphin\nis not asleep. He turns towards his mother, and seeing her\ntheirs he asks •\n\"Madame la Reine, why do you weep? Do you really be-\nlieve that I am going to die?\"\nThe Queen tries to answer. Sobs prevent her from speaking.\n\"Do not weep, Madame la Reine. You forget that I am the\nDauphin, and that Dauphins cannot die thus.\" .\nThe Queen sobs more violently, and the little Dauphin begins\nto get frightened. _ , . t „\n\"Holloa!\" says he,\"I do not want Death to come and take\nme away, and I know how to prevent him from coming here.\nOrder up on the spot forty of the strongest lansquenets to"}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "106", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 17, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2095, "texte": "keep guard around our bed! Have a hundred big cannons watch\nday and night, with lights under our windows! And woe to\nDeath if he dares to come near us.\"\nIn order to humor the royal child, the Queen makes a sign.\nOn the spot the great cannons are heard rolling in the courts,\nand forty tall lansquenets, with halberds in their fists, draw\nup around the room. They are all veterans, with grizzly mus-\ntaches. The little Dauphin claps his hands on seeing them. He\nrecognizes one, and calls.\n\"Lorrain! Lorrainl\"\nThe veteran makes a step towards the bed.\n\"I love you well, my old Lorrain. Let me see your big sword.\nIf Death wants to fetch me, you will kill him, won't you?\"\nLorrain answers\":\n\"Yes, Monseigneur.\"\nAnd two great tears roll down his tanned cheeks.\nAt that moment the chaplain approaches the little Dauphin,\nand pointing to the crucifix, talks to him in low tones. _ The\nlittle Dauphin listens with astonished air; then, suddenly inter-\nrupting him:\n\"I understand well what you are saying, Monsieur l'Abbe;\nbut still, couldn't my little friend Beppo die in my place, if I\ngave him plenty of money?\"\nThe chaplain continues to talk to him in_ low tones, and\nthe little Dauphin looks more and more astonished.\nWhen the chaplain has finished, the little Dauphin resumes\nwith a heavy sigh:\n\"What you have said is all very sad, Monsieur l'Abbe; but\none thing consoles me, and that is that up there, in the Paradise\n•of the stars, I shall still be the Dauphin. I know the good\nGod is my cousin, and cannot fail to treat me according to\nmy rank.\"\nThen he adds, turning towards his mother:\n\"Bring me my fairest clothes, my doublet of white ermine,\nand my pumps of velvet! I wish to look brave to the angels,\nand to enter Paradise in the dress of a Dauphin.\"\nA third time the chaplain bends over the little Dauphin,\nand talks to him in low tones. In the midst of his discourse\nthe royal child interrupts him angrily.\n\"Why, then,\" he cries, \" to be Dauphin is nothing at all !\"^\nAnd refusing to listen to anything more, the little Dauphin\nturns towards the wall and weeps bitterly."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c012", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c012", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "106", "page_fin": "107", "image_debut": 13, "image_fin": 14, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.12", "titre_corps": "Music", "titre_sommaire": "Music", "signature_source": "Peter Altenberg (Vienna", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "106", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 2097, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2479, "texte": "Music\n\nTHE little girl was practising the piano.\nShe was twelve years old and had wonderful soft eyes.\nHe walked quietly up and down the room—up and down. He\nstood still—and listened and was strangely moved.\nThere were a couple of wonderful bars which kept on coming\nback.\nAnd the little girl brought out of them all that was in them.\nAs though a child had suddenly become grown-up!"}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "107", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 17, "fin_caractere_exclue": 471, "texte": "\"What is that you are playing?\" said the man . . . .!\n\"Why do you ask? That is my Albert study—Bertini No. 18;\nwhen I play it I can't help thinking of you.\"\n\"Why. . . .?\" \"I don't know, it just is so.\"\nAs though a child had suddenly become a woman!\nAgain he walked gently up and down. . . .\nThe little girl went on practising. Bertini No. 19, Bertini No.\n20. Bertini No. 21, 22, 23 ... . but the soul did not come back\nagain. ..\n\nPeter Altenberg (Vienna)"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c013", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c013", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "107", "page_fin": "107", "image_debut": 14, "image_fin": 14, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.13", "titre_corps": "Potato Bugs' Eyes", "titre_sommaire": "Potato Bugs' Eyes", "signature_source": "D. Molby", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "107", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 473, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1940, "texte": "Potato Bugs' Eyes\nBy D. Molby\n117 HERE there is a potato vine growing, the chances are there\n\" will be a potato bug come and get on it. What place\nhe comes from and how he finds out that a potato vine is there\nno one but the potato bug himself knows. If there are a lot\nmore of potato vines somewhere near, the explanation is easy\nfor it simply means that this bug didn't want to stay where\nthere were so many other bugs and started out to find a vine\nfor himself. . , ...\nBut take a potato vine that is growing alone somewhere, with\na high board-fence around it—a vine that has sprung np y\nchance late in the year, and if it is a normal vine, there will be a\npotato bug on it. It is easy enough for the bug to find it after\nhe gets to the fence, because he can walk along and peek through\nbetween the boards until he sees the vine. .\nHow he finds the fence is by He knows that he is\na potato bug and when he gets hungry, intuition tells him that\nthere is a potato vine somewhere around where he can get some-\nthing to eat. He starts out and looks for it until he finds it.\nThere are enough bugs in the world so that wherever there\nis a potato vine there can be a bug for it. And all the bugs\nwhich don't find any vine die. This is a good thing, for a bug\nwhich can't find a vine isn't as good a bug as the one which can.\nIn this way the best bugs each year are saved, and as they tur-\nnish all the stock for the next season, the bugs can get better\nyear by year. ..."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c014", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c014", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "107", "page_fin": "107", "image_debut": 14, "image_fin": 14, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.14", "titre_corps": "Clara Tice and Varna, by Herself", "titre_sommaire": "Clara Tice and Varna, by Herself", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "107", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 1942, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1974, "texte": "Clara Tice and Varna,\nby Herself"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c015", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c015", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "108", "page_fin": "108", "image_debut": 15, "image_fin": 15, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.15", "titre_corps": "Sleep", "titre_sommaire": "Sleep", "signature_source": "Michael Monahan", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "108", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.15", "debut_caractere": 46, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2810, "texte": "Sleep\nBy Michael Monahan\nHis great rival Thackeray was a few years younger when he\npassed away in his sleep. The doctors found that every vital\norgan was worn out, and that he had died as quietly and with as\nlittle warning as a clock gives in running down. \"I have taken\ntoo many crops out of the brain,\" he-had said, foreseeing his\nearly death. But the tale of lost or broken sleep was doubtless\nthe chief cause.\nGreat men of action are mostly good sleepers, and some very\ngreat ones have had the enviable capacity of sleeping at will,\nunder all circumstances. We read that when the executioners\nwent in for the brave Argyl, in order to fetch him away to his\ndeath, they found him sleeping as peacefully as a child. It is\neasy to believe that Raleigh slept well on the night before his\nunmerited death. If the gallant Essex waked often, be sure that\nit was not from fear, but only because his heart was torn by the\nblack treachery of Francis Bacon. \\\nNapoleon could sleep at will, but he began a long suicide when\nhe ordered his secretaries to waken him on the receipt of ill\nnews. But in no event would his devouring mental activity have\nlet him sleep long—the master was too conscious of his world!\nWhen, however, the need of rest became imperative, he yielded\nto it without ceremony. We read of his dismissing a# crowd of\npetitionary German princes before they could open their mouths,\nwith the cry, \"Berthier, send these people away—l must sleep\nfifteen minutes!\"\nFate lurks in little things! Had Napoleon given himself sleep\nenough, or had he never risen in the night to read his des-\npatches, there might never have been a Waterloo, and his\ndescendants might today be lodging at Versailles. _\nAnd a much better thing!—Ney would not have died the death\nof a traitor at the hands of his own countrymen. Has France\nlost the mould of such heroes ? In the Comte de Segur's account\nof the Retreat from Moscow—the most thrilling narrative of the\nkind since Caesar's Commentaries—we read how this great-\nhearted soldier defended the retreat of the starving, frozen frag-\nment of the finest army Europe ever saw. To me it seems\nthe noblest story in the world, and if there ever were to be an\nexcuse for war, such heroism would furnish it. In that most\nstriking act of a great drama, I like nothing better than the\npicture of the Marshall Ney—the bravest of the brave, as he\nwas justly called—guarding the huddled, perishing end of the\nGrande Armee from the constant attacks of the Russians;\nsharing all the privations and miseries of the common soldier;\nand between repulses of the enemy, wrapping himself in his\ncloak and taking his rest calmly in the snow—a more truly\nheroic figure than Napoleon at the head of the column. .\nGreat and small, let us get our sleep."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c016", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c016", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "109", "page_fin": "110", "image_debut": 16, "image_fin": 17, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.16", "titre_corps": "The Romance of One Night", "titre_sommaire": "The Romance of One Night", "signature_source": "Guido Bruno", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "109", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 46, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2791, "texte": "Greenwich Village\nThe Romance of One Night\nBy Guido Bruno\nLittle fool! I despised myself for having thought in this\nway of her. It was getting cold and I decided to walk for\na while. I thought of myself. I thought of all that had hap-\npened since I left the club. What did she say? We had a\nright to spend our money that we receive in fair exchange for\nour work?\nWhy had I refused that offer? Why had I refused to execute\nthe arch of the bridge? Because it was against my pride to\ncommercialize my art. Commercialize my art? I thought of\nthe millions that perhaps would delight to look at it, and I\nthought of the man whose name it would bear and to whose\nmemory it was to be erected: and they told me that there was\na lot of more work in the future to be done for the public and\nto be paid for by the public. Of course, I had other plans for\nthe future. But was I justified to live a life such as I had\ndone until now? Just working at what I pleased to and when-\never I pleased to. Finding a Macaenas once in awhile and\nliiring regularly on credit. Wasn't my life very similar to the\nlife this strange girl had thrown overboard disgustedly to-\nnight? After all, was it cowardice that prevented me from\nputting my talent and my ability of execution to the disposal\nof the public as a fair exchange for my living expenses?\nI must have walked miles. I found myself in the neighbor-\nhood of my club. I dropped in. Nobody was in the library.\nWalking had made me hungry and I ordered a big breakfast.\nI was sitting long in a comfortable chair, thinking and dozing.\nIt was almost seven o'clock as I left the building to go back\nto my apartment. I felt happy and gay as I hadn't felt for a\nlong while. I stopped in at a little lunch room on Sixth Avenue\nwhere I was known and had them put a twenty-five cent break-\nfast on a tray, cover it up with a napkin, and I carried it\nupstairs to my apartment. I rang my own bell and my guest\nopened. She wore one of my pa jama suits, my bathrobe and a\nblack veil over her face. She assured me she had slept as fine\nas never before in her life and was very, very hungry.\nI repaired to the bathroom and proposed to her to take break-\nfast while I was taking a morning plunge and changing my\nclothes.\nShe really had eaten all that was on the plates. I felt splendid.\nThe sun was shining through the high windows and the room\nwith its old-fashioned furniture and the fireplace in front of\nus looked real cozy to me.\n\"I was not as discreet,\" she said, \"as you might have ex-\npected me to be. I woke up early in the morning and naving\nnothing to dress in, I poked about your things. I know who\nyou are and you are not a stranger to me. I know you from\nthat marble statue you exhibited last year. A friend of my family"}, {"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "110", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.17", "debut_caractere": 251, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2978, "texte": "who knows you, told us about your eccentricities. Is it true\nthat you refused to execute work that would have brought you\nthousands of dollars because you wouldn't commercialize your\nart?\nI felt a bit uneasy and did not reply. The black veil on her\nface irritated me for the first time and I wondered what color\nher eyes might be.\n\"First of all,\" she started again, \"you must go out and buy\nme some clothes. I am a perfect thirty-eight, and it won't be\nhard to get just what I want. Buy me a tailormade suit, the\nplainest you can get. Buy me a few shirtwaists, and here is\na list of all the other things I need. I made that list out several\ndays ago. Now don't be afraid. Go in a big department store.\nGo at first to the transfer department and have them give you\na transfer slip. Then go to the trunk department and buy a\nbig, heavy trunk. Tell the manager you wish all purchases you\nare going to make placed in this trunk and sent to your address.\nDo this, please, in your name. Tell them it is for the maid of\nyour aunt, or something of that kind, and they will give you\nthe right kind of stuff.\"\nI realized for the first time that she really did know what\nshe was about to do. It struck me as wonderful. The girl\nbrought up in luxury, had actually the grit to start a new life,\nreally a new life. She wanted to improve the world and started\nout by improving herself. It was Hercules work, planned for\nweeks ahead perhaps, down to the most minute detail.\nShe handed me two hundred dollars and a long list of things\nI should purchase. Her hands seemed so strong and so sure\nI could not explain how it happened, what induced me to say\nit but I believed it was the best bit of inspiration I had ever had\nin my life.\n\"Look here,\" I said, \"I see you really mean what you say. I\nfeel you are going to do what you intend to do. I don't know\nwhat vocation you like to follow, but I know one thing! there\nis a lot of trouble and disappointment, humiliation and hard\nwork in store for you. I know you are prepared for the worst.\nWhy not do it immediately? I think I know a way where you\ncould carry out your plans. Instead of giving to the world\none useful member of society you could bestow upon it the\ngift of two.\n\"Marry me! You will have all the troubles you have eve?\nlooked for in your life. You will face economic problems you\nnever dreamed of and still there will be plenty of time left\nto be happy and to enjoy life—real life, far away from society\nand from teas, and that sort of thing. Will you marry me?\"\nand I could not restrain from grasping her hand.\n\"But you don't even know how I look,\" she said.\n\"I know you are beautiful,\" I said, \"if you'll take off that\nveil of yours, you'll prove it.\"\n(Concluded in next issue)."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-07-01-c017", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01#c017", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-07_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[111]", "page_fin": "[111]", "image_debut": 18, "image_fin": 18, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.2.17", "titre_corps": "[Publicité]", "titre_sommaire": "[Publicité]", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 18, "page_imprimee": "[111]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.18", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 975, "texte": "Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre, Situated\nat No. 10 Fifth Avenue, Greenwich Village,N.Y.C.\nGuido Bruno, Manager.\nThis Week's Performances and Concerts\nTHURSDAY, FRIDAY, SATURDAY\nEIGHT-FIFTEEN P. M.\nOVERTURE\nWilliam Tell\nRossini\nMAB REA\nAttitude\nGoing to the Fair\nJapanese Doll\nGABRIELE DEL ORBE—Violin Solo\nFaust Fantasie\nCaprice Viennoise\nLiebesfreud\nAt the Piano\nBurgmueller\nGurlitt\nMilton E. Swift\nPablo de Sarasate\nFritz Kreisler\nFritz Kreisler\nCharlotte James\nAMERICAN SINGERS ON THE DIAMOND DISC\nSELECTION lll—Miss Elizabeth Spencer\nBabes in Toyland\nCavatina, Oh Robert, Beloved\nRobert le Diable\nEver of Thee I'm Fondly Dreaming\nSilver Threads Among the Gold\nHerbert\nMeyerbeer\nHall\nDanks\nXAVIER DIMARIAS DE MENDIZABAL\nWaltz\nHabarera\nFantasia\nEXIT MARCH\nRichard Castro\nHis own compositions\nChildren's Hour on the Square Wednesday\nand Saturday at 2:30 P. M.\nAsk or write for ticket of admission to The\nLittle Thimble Theatre performances. They\nare free of charge."}]}], "pages_ocr_originales": [{"page_pdf": 1, "page_imprimee": "couv. 1", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.1", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nEDITED BY GUIDO BRUNO IN HIS GARRET\nON WASHINGTON SQUARE\nFive Cents October 7th, 1915"}, {"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[95]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.2", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nEdited by Guido Bruno in his Garret on Washington Square\nNo. 12\nOCTOBER 7th, MCMXV\nVol.l\nCopyright 1915 hy Guido ffiruno\n\nGeranium\nWilfred Wilson Gibson\nStuck in a bottle on the window sill,\nIn the cold gas-light burning gaily red\nAgainst the luminous blue of London night,\nThese flowers are mine: while somewhere out of sight\nIn some black-throated alley's stench and heat,\nOblivious of the racket of the street,\nA poor old weary woman lies in bed.\nBroken with lust and drink, blear-eyed and ill,\nHer battered bonnet nodding on her head,\nFrom a dark arch she clutched my sleeve and said:\n\"I've sold no bunch today, not touched a bite . . .\nSon, buy six-penn'orth; and 't will mean a bed\"\nSo, blazing gaily red\nAgainst the luminous deeps\nOf starless London night,\nThey burn for my delight:\nWhile somewhere, sung in bed,\nA worn old woman sleeps.\nAnd yet tomorrow will these blooms be dead\nWith all their lively beauty; and tomorrow\nMay end the light lusts and the heavy sorrow.\n\nGreenwich Village Days of Tom Paine\nBy Charles Hemstreet\nDEYOND the city, separated from it in summer by a mile of\nmarshy and untitled land, in winter by a dreary waste\nwith a single road leading across a snow-bound way, lay the\nvillage of Greenwich. A dreamy little country place that had\nbeen an Indian village before the settling of New Amsterdam;\nwith lines of peaked-roof houses on zig-zagged lanes, and now\nand again, in the midst of a farm-like garden, a rambling house\nof stone, with great square windows and gables enough for\nhalf a dozen houses. The village might have been thousands\nof miles away from New York for all the likeness it bore to it.\nOn a dusty and rarely traveled lane, that led from the vil-\nlage towards the city, lived a man who had won the hearts\nof Americans by writing Common Sense, but who lived to reap\ntheir hatred by writing The Age of' Reason, a deistic argument\nagainst Christianity. In the quiet village his house was pointed"}, {"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "96", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.3", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\nFiona BLitcrary New Yoikn)\n\nout as the abode of a friendless man and when they spoke of\nhim the villagers whispered the dread name—Tom Paine.\nThere he lived with Madame Bonville and her two sons, the\nonly companions he cared to have near him save his own\nthoughts. In that picturesque spot he was fully content to pass\nhis final days in solitude and marked contrast to a life of energy\nand excitement.\nIt is close upon a century since that time, and the pilgrim\nfeet that seek to follow Paine through Greenwich Village must\nwalk Bleecker Street (the dusty lane in much changed form),\nmust pass Grove Street, and the fourth house from the corner,\non the north side, walking towards the east, is Paine's. It was\nhumble enough in the days when he lived there. It is far\nhumbler now in contrast to the buildings that have grown up\nabout it. A two-story frame house, the ground floor is made\ninto a store, as though it made an effort to keep up with the\nbusiness character of the street. Two brick structures rise\nabove it on each side and seem to have forced the roof to a\nfrightful angle, so different is it from its new neighbors. Once\nJoel Barlow went to see Paine there, and the two spent almost\nan entire day beside a front window, talking of many things.\nPaine recalled troublous days of the French Revolution, when\nhe had written his Age of Reason in the prison of the Luxem-\nbourg, and had given it to Barlow to find a publisher. The\nauthor of the Columbiad often spoke of the visit later.\nThe dusty road where the house stood, even though it was\nlittle traveled, came to be too noisy a place for Paine, for in\nhis illness even the chance passer-by irritated him. So he\nmoved away to a house in a near-by field, so far from the road\nthat he found absolute quiet. In after days Grove Street\nswept this home away, and another building, numbered 59, is\npointed out as the place where Paine died shortly after his\nremoval.\nThe hatred of many people followed Tom Paine even after\ndeath, and there could be no rest for an advocate of infidel\nopinions in a town where dwelt descendants of stern Hugenots.\nHis body was taken to New Rochelle, and there, refused burial\nin hallowed ground, was finally laid to rest outside the town,\nin a corner of the farm given to him by the State in recognition\nof his services in the cause of the colonies against the mother\ncountry. Ten years later, William Cobbett, the English Radical,\nan ardent admirer of Paine, visited New Rochelle, and, seeing\nthe neglected grave by the wayside, had the bones dug up\none night and spirited away to England. In another twenty\nyears the followers of Tom Paine had grown in number, and\nthe Paine Historical Society erected a monument over the\nempty grave by the roadside. But on this spot, where no rest\nhad been permitted him in life or in death, it seems rather to\nmock than to bless his grave."}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "97", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.4", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\n\nThursday, Friday and Saturday in Char-\nles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre\n\"GREENWICH VILLAGE,\" the comedy with music, in three\nacts, will not see its first appearance before October 28th.\nAn exceptional program was selected for this week's per-\nformance in Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre. True\nto its purpose to be a free forum for American composers\nand musicians, it will give two of the most promising composers\nand virtuosos, who ever came to the American shores with the\nintention to make it a permanent home, a chance to be heard\nbefore an audience. Gabriele Del Orbe and Xavier Dimarias de\nMendizabal, both Cubans, both musicians from their earliest\nyouth, who received their musical education under the most\nefficient teachers of France and of Germany, and who have\nboth devoted their lives to composing rather than to interpreting\nother masters' work.\nMr. Orbe has a wonderful violin, which he seems to charm\nto life. There is only one other violin player who made his\ninstrument impress me as deeply as did Mr. Orbe, and that was\nKubelik, and he did not play his own compositions. Cuban\nmelodies, a picture of the languid but picturesque, seemingly\nsleepy and quiet life of his Southern home, with its momentary\noutbursts of emotion are the wonderful pastels with which he\npainted one of his \"Honolulu Compositions\" which he will play\non Thursday, Friday and Saturday in Charles Edison's Little\nThimble Theatre.\nXavier Dimarias de Mendizabal is a pianist—notwithstanding\nhis extreme youth—a man who has fulfilled a good many of the\nexpectations of his teachers and those of the Government of\nSanto Domingo which granted him a stipendium in order to\nenable him to follow his musical inclination. Mr. Mendizabal\nwill play a few of his compositions on the piano.\nHe is a fervent admirer of Beethoven, and interpretations of\nBeethoven in addition to his own compositions and a \"Waltz\"\nby Ricardo Castro, will complete his program.\nMab Rea, a little slip of a girl, will open the program with a\nselection of Japanese songs and melodies.\n\nCat and Girl\nBy Clara Tice"}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "98", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.5", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\n\nChildren's Hour on Washington Square\nThe balance of the toys given to the children of Washington\nSquare by their \"Austrian friend\" were distributed on last Wed-\nnesday, and many of the participants of Charles Edison's Chil-\ndren's Hour attended for the last time in this season. They are the\nlarger children who attend school and participate in the manual\ntraining work of Greenwich Village organizations, which takes\nplace on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons.\nBut there are so many hundreds of small tots to be taken\ncare of who are looking forward to these two hours of music\nand dance and merriment, that the absence of the bigger ones\nwon't be felt. The number of social workers will have to be\nincreased on account of the steadily growing number of\nchildren who come.\nThat big Diamond Disc emanating its waltzes and marches\nand trots and two-steps ceased long ago to be a strange\n\"music box,\" to the horde of children on the Square. After all\nwas over on last Saturday, the last record played and the\nDiamond Disc securely wrapped up ready to be shipped back\nto the shop, a little girl came confidently up to it, petted the\ninstrument and repeated over and over again imploringly:\n\"Please, Mr. Diamond Disc, won't you sing again?\"\nAnd other children, bigger children, who thought they\nknew better, teased her and laughed at her. \"Foolish thing!\ndon't you know it can't sing, if it is closed and nobody makes\nit sing?\"\nAnd then followed a hot discussion and guesses and argu-\nments how a phonograph possibly can \"sing,\" and why it\n\"sings.\" And the little girl that had started the discussion\nfelt quite badly and started to cry as the older ones tried to\nexplain to her that the Diamond Disc has no voice like she\nherself or any other human being. Led by the hand of her\nmother, she left her playmates, but turned around several\ntimes, making a face, screaming at the top of her voice:\n\"Yes, he sings, he sings, he sings!\"\nCharles Edison's Children' Hour is a source of merriment\nfor all those who pass Washington Square on Wednesday\nand Saturday afternoons. A good many women of the near-\nby apartment houses, themselves not blessed with children,\nbut evidently lovers of little boys and little girls, are regular\nhabitues and they pick their favorites and they never come\nempty-handed. Once it is a little doll, or a book, or best of\nall: plain candy.\nJust a bit of music on a public Square, during four hours\nof the week—and think of the merriment and the values added\nto the lives of the few hundred little ones, and of a good\nmany adults who otherwise wouldn't have a chance to see\nchildren at close range and associate with them freely!\nCharles Edison's Children's Hour will continue during the\nnext two months."}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "99", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.6", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\n\nPassing Paris\n\nParis, Sept. Ist, 1915.\nI ITTLE being published now, retrospective reading must be\nindulged in. And it yields fruits. In Servitude et Grand-\neur Militaires, wherein Alfred de Vigny pleads the cause of\nthe soldier—as he appealed for the protection of the poet in\nhis magnificently eloquent preface to Chatterton—he wrote and\nit was in 1835, the following lines which might have been written\nto-day, when they find their complete application:\n\" some foreigners have thought us fallen to a condition re-\nsembling that of the Ottoman Empire and serious men have asked\nthemselves whether the nation's character had not been lost for ever.\nBut those who have taken a more careful view of us have recognized\nthe male purpose surviving in us oyer and above what has been so\ndeplorably worn by sophism. Virile deeds have lost nothing in\nFrance of their ancient vigour. Resolution as prompt governs\nsacrifices as significant and' complete as ever. Though elaborated\nwith more coolness, battles are fought with scientific violence.\nsmallest mental activity will give rise to deeds as great as were in\nformer days incited by the most fervent faith. With us belief is wea\nbut man is strong. . . . Be it from duty or whim, our contemporary\nyouth is constantly defying death with a Spartan smile, which amue is\nthe more impressive since all do not believe in the gods.\nThe selfishness of old people in their attitude towards the\nwar is a noticeable fact. Many rub their hands, as it were,\nthankful that they have been spared to attend so interesting\nan event. They are, even, moved in their pride rather than\nin their sorrow when called upon to give their sons for the\ncountry—it is an ultimate sacrifice throwing lustre on their\nlast days. Those who have been through 1870 proclaim (or\nthink) that it is this generation's turn to do what they did\nbefore. They expect it to avenge them.\nFor the old have little to lose by it. The young, whose\naspirations are cut short, whose careers and very lives are m\nthe balance, whose patience is tried beyond the powers of their\nimpetuous years, bear the whole weight of the war alone. The\nold are but the onlookers; the young are the participators who\nhave to meet the cost as well as the labour of the spectacle.\nWhen we hear the young express their determination to keep\nthe match up to a conclusive end we must admire; from the\nold the same sentiment has its origin in grim blood-thirstiness.\nThe former want justice; the latter vengeance.\nWriting in the Mercure for August 1, \"Georges Pierredon\nsets right the gush the daily papers keep pouring forth with\nrespect to the French soldier. He refutes therein the absurdity\nof treating the French army of these days as though it were\na homogeneous entity, admitting, however, that, like a great\nmachine, \"it takes amorphous beings, kneads them, shapes them,\nand here they are, transformed into heroes, wild maniacs, bronze-\nstatues, navvies, carpenters, dray-horses. . . . But the material\nremains mere materials; the organizing capacities of the com-\nmanders give it its value and necessary form.\""}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "100", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.7", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\nExcerpt from a Letter to the \"Egoist,\" London\n\nThis transformation is particularly rapid with the Frenchman\nowing to his natural pliability. In an article in the same re-\nview entitled \"The Errors of Might\" Mme. Aurel endorses this\nassertion:\n\"Assuredly, all impeccable organization contains its folly since it\nforgets that it puts living beings into play, i.e. such whose spirit is\nnon-immobilizable. Is it not precisely from what needs mending,\nfrom our lack of foresight, that was born the stimulant, the craving\nfor glory and its possibility? The Frenchman finds his muscle only\nbefore the impossible.\n\"Had he been told, as it was told the German: 'We are the\nstrongest, for our system is invincible,' he would have been deprived\not those resources of defiance wherein he puts his whole soul; on\nl'aurait ennuye d'avance.\"\n\nMuriel Ciolkowska\n\nBooks and Magazines of the Week\nMonahan's Real Elbert Hubbard\nRoycroft Memories is the offering of the October issue of\nMichael Monahan's Phoenix. The real Elbert Hubbard, as\nknown to one of his intimate friends, is introduced to us in\nthat wonderful heart-winning way of Michael Monahan's.\n\"The career of Hubbard is one of the romances of our\ntime and the dazzlement of it is still in our eyes, so that\nwe cannot as yet justly measure Elbert Hubbard or his work.\nIt is a stern romance, too, and one after the American heart;\ninspiring with its lesson of handicaps overcome and difficulties\nsurmounted of heroic reliance upon self, of many a hard-\nfought battle and not a few superb victories. I am utterly\npersuaded that it owed little or nothing to accident.\"\nPoetry Prize Contest\nA friend of \"Poetry\" announces in THE TRIMMED LAMP,\none of Chicago's individualistic magazines—and a mighty inter-\nesting one, too—his intention to give two prizes of $50 each\nfor the two best lyrics by American authors to be submitted\nbefore December Ist, 1915.\nThis prize contest is open to every reader and contributor\nof THE TRIMMED LAMP. The winning poems will be pub-\nlished in the January issue of that periodical. Will it be a\nvers libre poet who wins the prize?\nBookplate Prize Contest\nThe Board of Governors of The American Bookplate Society\nannounces that there will be held in New at the Avery\nLibrary of Columbia University, from January third to January\nfifteen, 1916, inclusive, the first of a series of annual exhi-\nbitions of bookplates.\nThe object of the Exhibition will be primarily to advance\nthe art of the modern bookplate. It will also serve, by a\nsystem of awards, to provide new-comers in the field and pros-\npective owners with something tangible with which to supple-"}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "101", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.8", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\n\nment their judgment in their choice of design, as well as to\nfurnish the means for a comprehensive study and review of this\nparticular artistic endeavor.\nAt the regular Annual Meeting of the Society, January eighth,\nthe meeting as a whole will act as a jury in choosing: first,\nthe most appropriate and artistic personal bookplate; second,\nthe most appropriate and artistic public or institutional library\nbookplate; and, third, the most appropriate and artistic portrait\nbookplate.\nArtists interested in this prize contest are invited to write\nfor further details to the editor of this paper, a member of the\nAmerican Book-plate Society.\nJohn Masefield, who has been for six months working in\nFrench hospitals, has gone to the Dardanelles, where he will\nhave charge of a picket boat to carry the Gallipoli wounded\nto hospitals.\nAsa Don Dickinson, of the editorial staff of Doubleday, Page\n& Co., has been granted a year's leave of absence, which lie will\ndevote to the organization of the of the University\nof the Punjab and of other libraries in India.\nOtto Lohr's Magazine\n\"IX7ALHALLA\" is a new weekly. Its initial number appeared\ntoday. It is a German Weekly, and if it follows out1 the\nintentions laid down by its editor, it will be German-Ameri-\ncan paper. Otto Lohr is its editor. He is chiefly a historian.\nHis special study is German-American immigration, German\ninfluence upon America in its early days, German family history\nin America. Several books published by him up to date lay\ndown a fundamental knowledge of certain periods, which has\nbeen missed so far in all histories of the United States. But he\nis not a dry professor, a master of theory. Everything he writes\nis pulsating with life, there is always that charm which con-\nnects in a mystic way the cow-webs of days gone by with the\nsunshine and the glory of today.\nHis weekly is his own expression. The men he has gathered\naround him to help him in his task are university professors,\nscientists, all men well-known for their original ways of fol-\nlowing the special lines of historical work they have devoted\nthemselves to. There are, for instance, Dr. Karl Oscar Bert-\nling, of the Berlin American Institute, Dr. Adolph Busse, pro-\nfessor at Hunter College, Dr. Julius Goebel, professor in the\nUniversity of Illinois, Dr. Karl Detlev Jessen, professor in\nBryn Mawr, Dr. Alfred Paul Schultz and Dr. Rudolph Tombo,\nof Adelphi College, N. Y.\nIt is not what we do but what we are that counts in this\nworld. \"Walhalla\" is Lohr's expression at the present time.\nBut he himself is one of those rare characters whose hearts\nbeat warm for their fellow-men, of those whose enthusiasm of\nearly years has crystalized to the clear realization of what\nthey want to do in this world and who are doing it in a quiet,"}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "102", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.9", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\n\nmodest, unassuming way. He is one of those men who gather\nknowledge which will be universal after they have given it once\nto the world, and who don't desire more credit for their work\nthan just to have the pleasure of doing it. He writes equally\nas good English as German and the pages of his magazine\nexhale that atmosphere which makes us at home immediately,\nthe atmosphere oi the essayist of yore, of the man who knows\nhow to tell us things interestingly, even if we never would have\nthought that his subjects were interesting.\nSuch a man is a born editor. He knows how to select just\nthose writers who are working towards the same goal. His\nselection impresses upon them a part of his individuality. And\nno matter whose name is signed to the various articles in\nhis weekly, it is Otto Lohr who speaks to us out of every page.\nTo start his magazine just at this time, in our midst, shows\nthe courage of his personal conviction. And right in our times\nof excitement and of controversies we did need a sane and true\njournal of the kind of the \"Walhalla.\"\n\nIn Our Village\nand yellow turned the leaves of our old wide-spreading\ntrees. Mild autumn winds with their sad melancholy\nmelody blew them from the branches, the brown clad guards\nof Washington Square swept them in nice heaps and the old\nwhite horse, known to every child of the neighborhood waits\npatiently in front of its cart on sidewalks and lawns until it\nhears the familiar \"go on.\" Slowly it moves on to the next\npile, as if it knew that it carries the once luscious green leaves\nto their last resting-place. The fountains are wrapped up with\nstraw, the benches deserted save in the afternoon sun—winter\nis coming. Like heroes stripped of their armor the trees lift\ntheir branches toward heaven. Little clouds passing quickly\nlike zealous couriers send their nicest winds with a message\nof love and of hope down to them. And like the knight of yore\nreclined graciously and bowed slightly when his lady nodded\ntheir twigs sway to the welcome melody, their branches whisper\nthe message and their trunk resounds. Have you ever put your\near close to a tree and listened to the surr-surr and huiii-huiii\nwhile it passes down to its roots deep under the ground? I\nhave. I wish I knew the language of trees. It sounded so\ncheery and confiding. \"It is winter,\" it meant to me, \"but not\nwinter in our hearts. What does it matter that we change our\nclothes, what does it matter that the leaves—that the nice shady\nleaves are gone? Beautiful white snow will cover us soon and\nits little crystals will glitter in the sun and spring will come . .\n. . . and they will bud again.\"\nAnd while nature retires to a quiet refreshing sleep, all\nthose who tried to rejuvenate themselves in the blooming strong\nnature during the summer months came back, back with new\nvigor, with new enthusiasm, with new plana. Like mushrooms,\nare new things coming up all around the Square, around that"}, {"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "103", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.10", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\n\nTow Paine in the Village (Valentine's Manual, 1869.)\n\nold white house which shelters my garret. And happily only\na very few have other intentions and plans than to work and\ngive of their work to the world.\nThe \"Little Shop\" movement is quite in yogrue. As we learned\nfrom our distinguished contemporary, the Tribune, Mrs. Thompson\nopened last week a little shop of daintiness, just a few doors south\nof us in a quaint old shop on Thompson Street. There used to he a"}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "104", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.11", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY,\n\ntailor in the same shop until recently, an old Italian of the old school\nof tailors. He used' to sit right before the door-window of his shop,\nthe only place he could get light. And he sewed and sewed from early\nin the morning until late in the night. He had no machine, it meant\nstitching and stitching, endless stitching with needle and thread. A\ngood many patches did he put in our worn clothes, and he made it\n\"look like new.\" In his bay window hung the rusty old cage of a\ncanary. The canary was too old to sing. But when the sun peeked\nin the unwashed windows and touched his cage he must have\nremembered the long-vanished glory of happy song. And he chiiped\nand peeped and we heard it in our garret through the open window\nand we knew it was time to stop reading or pounding the machine,\nit was breakfast time.\nMrs. Thompson hopes, as one can read in the Tribune of last Sunday*\nto make her shop the social centre of celebrities among writers ana\nartists. Everybody (the celebrities) are welcome to have teas served\ndaily in the twilight hours. She has nice things there in her shop and\namong them was described a little wonder of a bird-cage. Fainted\nby a celebrity. But nevertheless it is a cage. It will silence once an\nenthusiastic singer as well as the old1 rusty one did to the canary ot\nthat good old tailor.\nThe \"Wardrobe\" is a real work-shop. Mrs. Haynes is its sponsor,\nMrs. Heloise Haynes, who knows all about antique furniture, who loves\nJapanese prints and Chinese silks and prefers candles to the clearest\nelectric light, even be it in wonderful chandeliers or behind dreams\nof painted screens. She has remodeled the first floor of 24 East Tenth\nStreet, in a small auditorium with a stage. And here she will help\nvillagers and others that come along to chose their clothes.\nfor them colors they should wear and drape them to suit their individ-\nuality. No, it won't be an exclusive shop. Its prices will be within\nthe range of everybody. And everyone will receive the same attention*\nBut every transaction must be cash is the stern requirement of\nMrs. Haynes' business venture.\nAnd then we have a black and white and orange store on Ninth\nStreet where one can buy one's individual perfumes, toilet waters\nand soaps. Farther down is the individual cigarette of Mrs. Moloney\nand the toy shop where they manufacture little masterpieces* rare\nplaythings for children.\nThe Washington Square Gallery will soon reopen its doors and\nthere is the Washington Square Book Shop, where one can buy the\npublications of all publishers without having to go up town. Life of a\nlittle town is spreading through the Village. And what will it matter\nif many shall be disappointed when the first pleasure of new things\nwill be worn off. Spring will come again and summer, they will\nexchange city streets for country roads and then in the fall they\nwill come back, full of hope and expectation and! of vigor and of energy\nto do some other things, still bigger things again.\nDjuna Barnes, the American Beardsley, laid aside her pencil for a\nwhile and is doing some daily newspaper work on one of our city\npapers. She moved down to the Square and does her dreaming and\nplanning in a quaint garret in that memorable old house where\nJenny Lind used to stop during her visits to New York and where\nfor the first time in America, \"Home, Sweet Home\" was sung.\nD. Molby, the writer of miniature essays on things otherwise\nobserved only through a microscope, spent an eventful summer watch-\ning potato bugs, mosquitoes, grasshoppers, flies and other unspeakable#\nand spends his evenings carefully arranging his precious material.\nMr. Maurice Prendergast, the nestor of painters on the Square,\nreturned from his summer home in Massachusetts. He is as kind and\nenthusiastic as ever, and the readers of this journal will soon have a\nchance to see a little sketch of his on ome ot our pages.\nClara Tice's peacocks, butterflies and girls are on exhibition in\nBruno's Garret and will be tacked to the walls until next Monday,\nOctober 11th. She is picturesque as ever but Varna, her Russian wolf\nhound is not her steady company. His nerves broke down and the\nhad to send him to the country to a sanitarium."}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "105", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.12", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\n\nThe Death of the Dauphin\nby Alphonse Daudet\nTHE little Dauphin is ill; the little Dauphin is dying. In\nall the churches of the kingdom the Holy Sacrament\nremains exposed night and day, and great tapers burn, for\nthe recovery of the royal child. The streets of the old capital\nare sad and silent, the bells ring no more,; the carnages\nslacken their pace. In the neighborhood of the palace the\ncurious townspeople gaze through the railings upon the beadles\nwith gilded pouches, who converse in the courts and put on\nimportant airs. ... , • «\nAll the cast is a flutter. Chamberlains and majordomos run\nup and down the marble stairways. The galleries are full ot\npages and of coutiers in silken apparel, who hurry from one\ngroup to another, begging in low tones for news. Upon the\nwide perrons the maids of honor, in tears, exchange low\ncourtesies and wipe their eyes with daintily-embroidered hand-\nkerchiefs. •\nA large assemblage of robed physicians has gathered in the\nOrangery. They can be seen through the panes waving their\nlong black sleeves and including their periwigs with prof Se-\nssional gestures. The governor and the equerry of the little\nDauphin walk up and down before the door awaiting fh® de-\ncision of the Faculty. Scullions pass by without saluting them.\nThe equerry swears like a pagan; the governor quotes verses\nfrom Horace. ~\nAnd meanwhile, over there, m the direction of the stable,\nis heard a long and plaintive neighing; it is the little Dau-\nphin's sorrel, forgotten by the hostlers, and calling sadiy be-\nfore his empty manger.\nAnd the King? Where is his Highness the King? The\nKing has locked himself up in a room at the other end of t e\ncastle. Majesties do not like to be seen weeping, for the\nQueen, it is different. Sitting by the bedside of the little\nDauphin, she bows her fair face, and sobs very loudly before\neverybody, like a mere draper's wife. , . , !jt\nOn the bed embroidered with lace the little Dauphin, whiter\nthan the pillows on which he is extended, lies with closed\neyes. They think that he is asleep; but no, the little Dauphin\nis not asleep. He turns towards his mother, and seeing her\ntheirs he asks •\n\"Madame la Reine, why do you weep? Do you really be-\nlieve that I am going to die?\"\nThe Queen tries to answer. Sobs prevent her from speaking.\n\"Do not weep, Madame la Reine. You forget that I am the\nDauphin, and that Dauphins cannot die thus.\" .\nThe Queen sobs more violently, and the little Dauphin begins\nto get frightened. _ , . t „\n\"Holloa!\" says he,\"I do not want Death to come and take\nme away, and I know how to prevent him from coming here.\nOrder up on the spot forty of the strongest lansquenets to"}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "106", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.13", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\n\nkeep guard around our bed! Have a hundred big cannons watch\nday and night, with lights under our windows! And woe to\nDeath if he dares to come near us.\"\nIn order to humor the royal child, the Queen makes a sign.\nOn the spot the great cannons are heard rolling in the courts,\nand forty tall lansquenets, with halberds in their fists, draw\nup around the room. They are all veterans, with grizzly mus-\ntaches. The little Dauphin claps his hands on seeing them. He\nrecognizes one, and calls.\n\"Lorrain! Lorrainl\"\nThe veteran makes a step towards the bed.\n\"I love you well, my old Lorrain. Let me see your big sword.\nIf Death wants to fetch me, you will kill him, won't you?\"\nLorrain answers\":\n\"Yes, Monseigneur.\"\nAnd two great tears roll down his tanned cheeks.\nAt that moment the chaplain approaches the little Dauphin,\nand pointing to the crucifix, talks to him in low tones. _ The\nlittle Dauphin listens with astonished air; then, suddenly inter-\nrupting him:\n\"I understand well what you are saying, Monsieur l'Abbe;\nbut still, couldn't my little friend Beppo die in my place, if I\ngave him plenty of money?\"\nThe chaplain continues to talk to him in_ low tones, and\nthe little Dauphin looks more and more astonished.\nWhen the chaplain has finished, the little Dauphin resumes\nwith a heavy sigh:\n\"What you have said is all very sad, Monsieur l'Abbe; but\none thing consoles me, and that is that up there, in the Paradise\n•of the stars, I shall still be the Dauphin. I know the good\nGod is my cousin, and cannot fail to treat me according to\nmy rank.\"\nThen he adds, turning towards his mother:\n\"Bring me my fairest clothes, my doublet of white ermine,\nand my pumps of velvet! I wish to look brave to the angels,\nand to enter Paradise in the dress of a Dauphin.\"\nA third time the chaplain bends over the little Dauphin,\nand talks to him in low tones. In the midst of his discourse\nthe royal child interrupts him angrily.\n\"Why, then,\" he cries, \" to be Dauphin is nothing at all !\"^\nAnd refusing to listen to anything more, the little Dauphin\nturns towards the wall and weeps bitterly.\n\nMusic\n\nTHE little girl was practising the piano.\nShe was twelve years old and had wonderful soft eyes.\nHe walked quietly up and down the room—up and down. He\nstood still—and listened and was strangely moved.\nThere were a couple of wonderful bars which kept on coming\nback.\nAnd the little girl brought out of them all that was in them.\nAs though a child had suddenly become grown-up!"}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "107", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.14", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\n\n\"What is that you are playing?\" said the man . . . .!\n\"Why do you ask? That is my Albert study—Bertini No. 18;\nwhen I play it I can't help thinking of you.\"\n\"Why. . . .?\" \"I don't know, it just is so.\"\nAs though a child had suddenly become a woman!\nAgain he walked gently up and down. . . .\nThe little girl went on practising. Bertini No. 19, Bertini No.\n20. Bertini No. 21, 22, 23 ... . but the soul did not come back\nagain. ..\n\nPeter Altenberg (Vienna)\n\nPotato Bugs' Eyes\nBy D. Molby\n117 HERE there is a potato vine growing, the chances are there\n\" will be a potato bug come and get on it. What place\nhe comes from and how he finds out that a potato vine is there\nno one but the potato bug himself knows. If there are a lot\nmore of potato vines somewhere near, the explanation is easy\nfor it simply means that this bug didn't want to stay where\nthere were so many other bugs and started out to find a vine\nfor himself. . , ...\nBut take a potato vine that is growing alone somewhere, with\na high board-fence around it—a vine that has sprung np y\nchance late in the year, and if it is a normal vine, there will be a\npotato bug on it. It is easy enough for the bug to find it after\nhe gets to the fence, because he can walk along and peek through\nbetween the boards until he sees the vine. .\nHow he finds the fence is by He knows that he is\na potato bug and when he gets hungry, intuition tells him that\nthere is a potato vine somewhere around where he can get some-\nthing to eat. He starts out and looks for it until he finds it.\nThere are enough bugs in the world so that wherever there\nis a potato vine there can be a bug for it. And all the bugs\nwhich don't find any vine die. This is a good thing, for a bug\nwhich can't find a vine isn't as good a bug as the one which can.\nIn this way the best bugs each year are saved, and as they tur-\nnish all the stock for the next season, the bugs can get better\nyear by year. ...\n\nClara Tice and Varna,\nby Herself"}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "108", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.15", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\n(Concluded from last issue.)\n\nSleep\nBy Michael Monahan\nHis great rival Thackeray was a few years younger when he\npassed away in his sleep. The doctors found that every vital\norgan was worn out, and that he had died as quietly and with as\nlittle warning as a clock gives in running down. \"I have taken\ntoo many crops out of the brain,\" he-had said, foreseeing his\nearly death. But the tale of lost or broken sleep was doubtless\nthe chief cause.\nGreat men of action are mostly good sleepers, and some very\ngreat ones have had the enviable capacity of sleeping at will,\nunder all circumstances. We read that when the executioners\nwent in for the brave Argyl, in order to fetch him away to his\ndeath, they found him sleeping as peacefully as a child. It is\neasy to believe that Raleigh slept well on the night before his\nunmerited death. If the gallant Essex waked often, be sure that\nit was not from fear, but only because his heart was torn by the\nblack treachery of Francis Bacon. \\\nNapoleon could sleep at will, but he began a long suicide when\nhe ordered his secretaries to waken him on the receipt of ill\nnews. But in no event would his devouring mental activity have\nlet him sleep long—the master was too conscious of his world!\nWhen, however, the need of rest became imperative, he yielded\nto it without ceremony. We read of his dismissing a# crowd of\npetitionary German princes before they could open their mouths,\nwith the cry, \"Berthier, send these people away—l must sleep\nfifteen minutes!\"\nFate lurks in little things! Had Napoleon given himself sleep\nenough, or had he never risen in the night to read his des-\npatches, there might never have been a Waterloo, and his\ndescendants might today be lodging at Versailles. _\nAnd a much better thing!—Ney would not have died the death\nof a traitor at the hands of his own countrymen. Has France\nlost the mould of such heroes ? In the Comte de Segur's account\nof the Retreat from Moscow—the most thrilling narrative of the\nkind since Caesar's Commentaries—we read how this great-\nhearted soldier defended the retreat of the starving, frozen frag-\nment of the finest army Europe ever saw. To me it seems\nthe noblest story in the world, and if there ever were to be an\nexcuse for war, such heroism would furnish it. In that most\nstriking act of a great drama, I like nothing better than the\npicture of the Marshall Ney—the bravest of the brave, as he\nwas justly called—guarding the huddled, perishing end of the\nGrande Armee from the constant attacks of the Russians;\nsharing all the privations and miseries of the common soldier;\nand between repulses of the enemy, wrapping himself in his\ncloak and taking his rest calmly in the snow—a more truly\nheroic figure than Napoleon at the head of the column. .\nGreat and small, let us get our sleep."}, {"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "109", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.16", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\n(Continued from last issue.)\n\nGreenwich Village\nThe Romance of One Night\nBy Guido Bruno\nLittle fool! I despised myself for having thought in this\nway of her. It was getting cold and I decided to walk for\na while. I thought of myself. I thought of all that had hap-\npened since I left the club. What did she say? We had a\nright to spend our money that we receive in fair exchange for\nour work?\nWhy had I refused that offer? Why had I refused to execute\nthe arch of the bridge? Because it was against my pride to\ncommercialize my art. Commercialize my art? I thought of\nthe millions that perhaps would delight to look at it, and I\nthought of the man whose name it would bear and to whose\nmemory it was to be erected: and they told me that there was\na lot of more work in the future to be done for the public and\nto be paid for by the public. Of course, I had other plans for\nthe future. But was I justified to live a life such as I had\ndone until now? Just working at what I pleased to and when-\never I pleased to. Finding a Macaenas once in awhile and\nliiring regularly on credit. Wasn't my life very similar to the\nlife this strange girl had thrown overboard disgustedly to-\nnight? After all, was it cowardice that prevented me from\nputting my talent and my ability of execution to the disposal\nof the public as a fair exchange for my living expenses?\nI must have walked miles. I found myself in the neighbor-\nhood of my club. I dropped in. Nobody was in the library.\nWalking had made me hungry and I ordered a big breakfast.\nI was sitting long in a comfortable chair, thinking and dozing.\nIt was almost seven o'clock as I left the building to go back\nto my apartment. I felt happy and gay as I hadn't felt for a\nlong while. I stopped in at a little lunch room on Sixth Avenue\nwhere I was known and had them put a twenty-five cent break-\nfast on a tray, cover it up with a napkin, and I carried it\nupstairs to my apartment. I rang my own bell and my guest\nopened. She wore one of my pa jama suits, my bathrobe and a\nblack veil over her face. She assured me she had slept as fine\nas never before in her life and was very, very hungry.\nI repaired to the bathroom and proposed to her to take break-\nfast while I was taking a morning plunge and changing my\nclothes.\nShe really had eaten all that was on the plates. I felt splendid.\nThe sun was shining through the high windows and the room\nwith its old-fashioned furniture and the fireplace in front of\nus looked real cozy to me.\n\"I was not as discreet,\" she said, \"as you might have ex-\npected me to be. I woke up early in the morning and naving\nnothing to dress in, I poked about your things. I know who\nyou are and you are not a stranger to me. I know you from\nthat marble statue you exhibited last year. A friend of my family"}, {"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "110", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.17", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY.\nBruno's Weekly, published weekly, by Charles Edison; Edited\nand written by Guido Bruno, 58 Washington Square, New York\nCity. Subscription $1 a year.\nApplication for entry as second-class matter at the Post Office of\nNew York pending.\n\nwho knows you, told us about your eccentricities. Is it true\nthat you refused to execute work that would have brought you\nthousands of dollars because you wouldn't commercialize your\nart?\nI felt a bit uneasy and did not reply. The black veil on her\nface irritated me for the first time and I wondered what color\nher eyes might be.\n\"First of all,\" she started again, \"you must go out and buy\nme some clothes. I am a perfect thirty-eight, and it won't be\nhard to get just what I want. Buy me a tailormade suit, the\nplainest you can get. Buy me a few shirtwaists, and here is\na list of all the other things I need. I made that list out several\ndays ago. Now don't be afraid. Go in a big department store.\nGo at first to the transfer department and have them give you\na transfer slip. Then go to the trunk department and buy a\nbig, heavy trunk. Tell the manager you wish all purchases you\nare going to make placed in this trunk and sent to your address.\nDo this, please, in your name. Tell them it is for the maid of\nyour aunt, or something of that kind, and they will give you\nthe right kind of stuff.\"\nI realized for the first time that she really did know what\nshe was about to do. It struck me as wonderful. The girl\nbrought up in luxury, had actually the grit to start a new life,\nreally a new life. She wanted to improve the world and started\nout by improving herself. It was Hercules work, planned for\nweeks ahead perhaps, down to the most minute detail.\nShe handed me two hundred dollars and a long list of things\nI should purchase. Her hands seemed so strong and so sure\nI could not explain how it happened, what induced me to say\nit but I believed it was the best bit of inspiration I had ever had\nin my life.\n\"Look here,\" I said, \"I see you really mean what you say. I\nfeel you are going to do what you intend to do. I don't know\nwhat vocation you like to follow, but I know one thing! there\nis a lot of trouble and disappointment, humiliation and hard\nwork in store for you. I know you are prepared for the worst.\nWhy not do it immediately? I think I know a way where you\ncould carry out your plans. Instead of giving to the world\none useful member of society you could bestow upon it the\ngift of two.\n\"Marry me! You will have all the troubles you have eve?\nlooked for in your life. You will face economic problems you\nnever dreamed of and still there will be plenty of time left\nto be happy and to enjoy life—real life, far away from society\nand from teas, and that sort of thing. Will you marry me?\"\nand I could not restrain from grasping her hand.\n\"But you don't even know how I look,\" she said.\n\"I know you are beautiful,\" I said, \"if you'll take off that\nveil of yours, you'll prove it.\"\n(Concluded in next issue)."}, {"page_pdf": 18, "page_imprimee": "[111]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151007-01.1.18", "texte": "Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre, Situated\nat No. 10 Fifth Avenue, Greenwich Village,N.Y.C.\nGuido Bruno, Manager.\nThis Week's Performances and Concerts\nTHURSDAY, FRIDAY, SATURDAY\nEIGHT-FIFTEEN P. M.\nOVERTURE\nWilliam Tell\nRossini\nMAB REA\nAttitude\nGoing to the Fair\nJapanese Doll\nGABRIELE DEL ORBE—Violin Solo\nFaust Fantasie\nCaprice Viennoise\nLiebesfreud\nAt the Piano\nBurgmueller\nGurlitt\nMilton E. Swift\nPablo de Sarasate\nFritz Kreisler\nFritz Kreisler\nCharlotte James\nAMERICAN SINGERS ON THE DIAMOND DISC\nSELECTION lll—Miss Elizabeth Spencer\nBabes in Toyland\nCavatina, Oh Robert, Beloved\nRobert le Diable\nEver of Thee I'm Fondly Dreaming\nSilver Threads Among the Gold\nHerbert\nMeyerbeer\nHall\nDanks\nXAVIER DIMARIAS DE MENDIZABAL\nWaltz\nHabarera\nFantasia\nEXIT MARCH\nRichard Castro\nHis own compositions\nChildren's Hour on the Square Wednesday\nand Saturday at 2:30 P. M.\nAsk or write for ticket of admission to The\nLittle Thimble Theatre performances. They\nare free of charge."}]}