{"numero_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_sha256": "2a6f75fafbc5479e901cad6c4a8491893d26501ff4a5de4d46c7c61bc63eb53e", "source_tei": "https://github.com/Princeton-CDH/bluemountain-transcriptions/blob/main/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1915/11/13_01/bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01.tei.xml", "source_mets": "https://github.com/pulibrary/BlueMountain/blob/main/metadata/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1915/11/13_01/bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01.mets.xml", "url_numero": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01", "articles": [{"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c001", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c001", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "couv. 1", "page_fin": "couv. 1", "image_debut": 1, "image_fin": 1, "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.1", "titre_corps": "F. Coulton Wanah", "titre_sommaire": "F. Coulton Wanah", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 1, "page_imprimee": "couv. 1", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.1", "debut_caractere": 105, "fin_caractere_exclue": 121, "texte": "F. Coulton Wanah"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c002", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c002", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[187]", "page_fin": "[187]", "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.2", "titre_corps": "Facsimile reproduced from\"The Autograph,\" Mr. Madigan's interesting magazine of a few years ago, which was devoted exclusively to autographs and their lore. Mr. Madigan owns the original of this best-known poem of the Hoosier Poet.", "titre_sommaire": "Facsimile reproduced from\"The Autograph,\" Mr. Madigan's interesting magazine of a few years ago, which was devoted exclusively to autographs and their lore. Mr. Madigan owns the original of this best-known poem of the Hoosier Poet.", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[187]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.2", "debut_caractere": 137, "fin_caractere_exclue": 368, "texte": "Facsimile reproduced from\"The Autograph,\" Mr. Madigan's\ninteresting magazine of a few years ago, which was devoted\nexclusively to autographs and their lore. Mr. Madigan owns\nthe original of this best-known poem of the Hoosier Poet."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c003", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c003", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[187]", "page_fin": "188", "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.3", "titre_corps": "The Splendor of Richmond Hill", "titre_sommaire": "The Splendor of Richmond Hill", "signature_source": "General Prosper M. Wetmore", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[187]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.2", "debut_caractere": 370, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1090, "texte": "The Splendor of Richmond Hill\nBy General Prosper M. Wetmore\nOnce Situated at Varick and Charlton Streets, Greenwich Village.\nj\">URING the first year of the Government,_under the newly-\nadopted constitution, while President Washington was living,\nwith some display of courtly splendor, at the Franklin mansion,\nat the corner of Pearl and Cherry streets, John Adams, of\nMassachusetts, the? first Vice-President, occupied the house and\ngrounds of Richmond Hill. How much the delightful surround-\nings of that beautiful residence were enjoyed by its inmates,\nat this pefriod, is pleasantly depicted in the letters of Mrs. Abigail\nAdams, the wife of the She writes to her\nrelative, Mrs. Shaw, in the following glowing tefrms:"}, {"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "188", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.3", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3002, "texte": "Richmond Hill, N. Y.,\n27th September, 1789.\n\"I write to you, my dear sister, not from the disputed banks\nof the Potomac, the? Susquehanna, or the Delaware, but from\nthe peaceful borders of the Hudson; a situation where the hand\nof Nature has so lavishly displayed her beauties, that she has\nleft scarcely anything for her handmaid, Art, to perform.\n\"The house in which we reside is situated on a hill, the avenue\nto which is interspersed with forest-trees, undejr which a\nshrubbery, rather too luxuriant and wild, has taken shelter,\nowing to its having been deprived, by death, some years since,\nof its original proprietor, who kept it in perfect order. In front\nof the house, the noble Hudson rolls its waves, bearing upon his\nbosom innumerable small vessels, which are constantly for-\nwarding the rich products of the neighboring hand of a more\nextensive commerce.\n\"If my days of fancy and romance we're not past, I could find\nhere an ample! field for indulgence; yet, amidst these delightful\nscenes of Nature, my heart pants for the society of my dear\nrelatives and friends who are! too far removed from me.\"\nIn the year 1797, this property was in the possession of an\neminent foreign gentleman by the name of Temple; and a good\ndeal of public excitement was awakened by an extensive? robbery\ncommitted on the premises, the perpetrators of which were never\ndiscovered. Just at this period the Richmond Hill estate came\ninto the possession of Aaron Burr, by whom it was retained,\nas a country residence, for about fifteen years.\nHis home life was passed in the society of his family, at\nRichmond Hill. While his business offices and lodging apart-\nments were in the crowded city, his hours of enjoyment and\nthe brilliant scenes of his social entertainments always found\nhim at this chosen spot. It was here that he received, with fitting\nhonors, the distinguished strangers from every land, who came\nto study the features of the country and to estimate the char-\nacters of the people, newly entering into the family of the\nnations. His daughter, Theodosia, after the death of her mother,\nthe delight of her father's heart, the chosen companion of his\nhours of ease and relaxation, conducted with rare tact and\ndiscretion, the generous hospitality of the Richmond Hill estab-\nlishment.\nAmong the frequent guests at Burr's house, during this\nperiod of his highest prosperity and popularity, were the ac-\ncomplished Volney, the courtly Talleyrand, and the princely-\nborn Louis-Philippe. Expatriated under the misrule of the\nFrench Revolution, these were all of a class of men whom Burr\ndelighted to entertain, and who could appreciate and enjoy the\nelegant hospitality which was extended to them. About this\ntime also, while the Vice-President was at his post of duty, in\nWashington, he requested his daughter, whom he had left in\ncharge of his country establishment, and who was then fourteen\nyears of age, to give a dinner-party at Richmond Hill, to the\ncelebrated Indian chief, Brant."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c004", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c004", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "189", "page_fin": "189", "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.4", "titre_corps": "American Music and the Thimble Theatre", "titre_sommaire": "American Music and the 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": "189", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.4", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2953, "texte": "American Music and the Thimble\nTheatre\nT° get a hearing is the hardest thing for the artist, musi-\ncian and literateur in America. Not that I want to say that\ngenius can be silenced by proprietors of art galleries, by\nmusical impresarios, concert managers, readers of publishing\nhouses, or purchasing editors of magazines and periodicals.\nA good word done in this world is never lost. It is bound to\nbe appreciated some day. But how fortunate? is it if this\n\"some day\" happens to be in the lifetime of the artist or the\nauthor or of the' musician!\nThe author and artist have it comparatively easy \"to\nget a show.\" To view a painting or a drawing does not take\nlong and it appeals (or not) to the eye of everybody. If _he\ndoes not succeed in interesting art galjeries or magazine\neditors, he might find keepers of stores and shops _ willing to\nput it on view. He' can wrap it up, take it under his arm and\nmake his endless rounds: they surely will.look at it, even if\nonly for the sake of courtesy, and a courteous glance may\noften be transformed into interest . . . into the success of\nthe artist.\nThe writer also will find it not so difficult to get his\nreader or a listener. He, too, has the advantage of being\nable to take the children of his muse to whomever he wishes\nto approach. The musician has the hardest stand. The? way\nfor him to the American public leads through narrow chan-\nnels. Narrow as the eye of a needle'. Our many music halls\nseem to exclude American music. There is not one concert\nhall that would give the American musician a chance to have?\nhis work accepted or rejected by an American public. The\nAmerican composer and musician has to bring a pocket full\nof clippings telling about the concert he gave in Berlin, in\nParis, or best of all, in Vienna, if he wants to have a slight\nchance with the American impresario. The arrangement of\nsuch concerts abroad are not only expensive and time-killing\nbut degrading for the American who has to solicit the ap-\nplause of a foreign auditorium in order to gain a hearing in\nlis own country before an American audience.\n\"Of course, I know,\" said Mr. Edison, \"that my work in\nGreenwich Village won't be of much influence on these pre-\nvailing conditions. But the American composers whom I\nI am giving a chance to play on the stage of my Thimble\nTheatre might find encouragement to _ continue their\nwork successfully, and we, the? audience, will _ perhaps hear\nsomething that is worth while. Every American composer\nwho has something to offer will be quite welcome? to do so\nbefore my guests. The complications in Europe caused at\ngood many changes in the literary and art life of America.\nMaybe the time has come that American music will make its\nappearance. Greenwich Village has been the birth-place of so\nmany good pictures and literary productions that it would\nbe only natural to see some good music, American music,\nemanate from out of one of its attics or garrets.\""}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c005", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c005", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "190", "page_fin": "191", "image_debut": 5, "image_fin": 6, "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.5", "titre_corps": "Diogenes In Our Village", "titre_sommaire": "Diogenes 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": 5, "page_imprimee": "190", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3035, "texte": "Diogenes In Our Village\nleast one real philosopher is among us. A man who has\nno other object in life but to live, and to live means to him\nto walk about whenever he pleases to do so, to read books and\nhis newspapers regularly, and above all, to let the sun shine upon\nhim every day—not as we do, just to know subconsciously\nthat the sun is shining because we don't light the gas or turn\non the electric light—but to sit in the golden warm rays and\nto feel that there is one glorious sun shining for one man,\nand that is for himself. In fact, his desire for his daily sun bath\nmade him a philosopher* of life, caused him to give up an\noccupation and to seek and finally find a way to keep supplied\nthe necessities of mind as well as of his body.\nFor some Jays I had heard early in the morning, in the little\nalley just below my window, someone chopping wood. At\nfirst I didn't know that the noise was caused by chopping wood.\nCuriosity made me look out of the window, and there was an\nold man chopping up old boxes and boards into small pieces,\nbundling the pieces and placing them into paper bags. I went\ndown one morning into the alley and here is the story he\ntold me?: \"People are glad if I remove this waste boxes and\nwood from their premises. I have my regular route on Bleecker\nstreet and every Saturday I make a trip down as far as Grand\nstreet. It takes me about an hour in the late afternoon to\nget my supply for the next morning. I fill my bags—at present\neight bags every day, but later on in the winter as many as\nfifteen and twenty. At six o'clock evefry morning, I take them\nto my regular customers right near by here in the tenement\nhouses. They pay me four cents and five cefnts for each. It's\neasier for them to buy their fuel from me to cook breakfast,\nfor a few pennies, than to pay half a dollar or a dollar to the\ncoal man for a bigger supply.\n\"I struck on this scheme a couple of years ago, and I never\nregretted giving up my trade. I was a carpenter and I must\nsay myself that I was pretty good at my trade. I used to earn\nas high as four and five dollars a day. In those days my wife\nwas living and later on she was sick and all my savings went\nto the druggist and still later I paid hospital bills. The under-\ntaker, after her death, put me into debt. I paid him off too.\nI had to give up my home. I had no children and it was like\nstarting a new life. I was out of work for a few weeks. I\nwalked around in the city. For twenty years I hadn't seen the\ncity on a week day during business hours. I saw all that life\non the streets. I saw so many things which were strange and\nnew to me, and I wandered about just seeing things and looking\nat people and looking at what they were doing. That was the\ntime I started to like the sun. All my life had I lived in a\ntenement house. When I left in the morning it was usually\ndark, and it was dark again when I returned in the evening.\nSundays I would fix things around the house or we would take\na walk. But everybody did that on Sunday and so I really"}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "191", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2363, "texte": "never got the right look at things. And then I started to\nthink how I could sit always in the sun and see people and\ngo about just as I pleased and still keefp a roof over my head\nand get my regular food. You know if one _ wishes to sit\nin the) sun, he must be master of his time. For instance, today\nI'll get the warmest sun rays at about eleven o'clock on my\nbench on the Square. And later on in the winter I'll have? to\ncatch it in the noon. I know it from day today just when I'll\nget my sun. And then I hit on this scheme. I geft the wood for\nnothing and the paper bags cost me about a cent for a day's\nsupply. And then the little work in the morning and my round\nto my customers and I have all the day to myself. lam living\nin a lodging-house right around the corner on Sixth avenue.\nI have been living there for a couple of years. I am paying\na dime? a night. It is pretty clean and they know me and I am\nsure they will trust me if I can't pay. I eat one meal in a little\nrestaurant nearby. They call it \"Dirty Dick's Place,\" but it\nisn't dirty, and you get a nice? plate of soup, a piece of meat,\nsome vegetables, coffee, and bread for fifteen cents. Breakfast\ncosts me! three cents, in Max's—a cup of coffee and three rolls.\nThey serve butter, too, but I prefer my rolls without it. The\nconductors of the buses give me the papers left by their pas-\nsengers and then I sit on the Square and I read. And I look at\nthe old women and at the babies and I talk to the down-and-outefrs\nand I am just happy and contented. I feel as if the city was\nmine.\" .\nIt is noon and the sun is shining. It is a crisp, cheery day.\nRight over there across from my garret he sits in the sun. He\nis reading a newspaper. Through the naked trees the sun rays\nflood him. He surely knows to find his warm shiny spot. We?ll\ncan I imagine? Rockefeller walking up to him without attracting\nhis attention, standing in front of him and still unobserved,\nand finally tapping him on the shoulder—why shouldn't Rocke-\nfeller play the Haroun-Al-Raschid on a sunny day on our\nSquare?—and speaking to him: \"My good man, if you will\ntell me the thing that you most desire in this world, and if\nmoney can buy it it shall be yours,\" and my old philosopher\nlike old Diogeftes, answers, \"Just step aside please, so the sun\ncan shine upon me.\" And he would resume reading his paper."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c006", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c006", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "191", "page_fin": "192", "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.6", "titre_corps": "This Week's Performance in Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre", "titre_sommaire": "This Week's Performance 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": 6, "page_imprimee": "191", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 2365, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2978, "texte": "This Week's Performance in Charles\nEdison's Little Thimble Theatre\n*THE little journeys to the homes of composers of American\nnational music; every Monday and Thursday aftefrnoon,\nare proving a great success and they will be continued during\nthe winter season. The illustrations of thel brief stories of the\nlives of these men and women who gave us so much and\nreceived nothing in return but the pleasure to give, on the piano,\non the Diamond Disc and by singers, brought their personality\nin close contact with their music and in still closer contact\nwith our hearts. Interesting short visits will be paid in ad-"}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "192", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1516, "texte": "dition to the great master composers of the world. The bi-\nographer usually starts with the birth year of his subject, works\nhimself through the evolution of the man about whom he\nis writing, and finishes his work with a reproduction of the\nepigram on the? tombstone. But we are not interested in dates\nand facts and in criticism. What we want to know is the\nman himself, that mysterious link between his love songs and\nhis own love life; we want to s£e him in his family or with his\nfriends. We want to set aside discretion and read his most\nintimate letters which w£re not destroyed for some reason or\nanother.\nRichard Wagner, Schumann, Beethoven, Mozart are on the\ncalling list for the next weteks.\nIf you are interested, write for a ticket of admission and Mr.\nEdison will be pleased to put you on his invitation list.\nAmong the American singers who will appear during the\nevening performances of this week and sing for the first time\nbefore a New York audiefnce, is Miss Lillian Cook. Miss Cook\nis a New York girl and has studied with the known American\ncomposer, Charles B. Havley. She? is a soprano soloist and aims\nto become a concert singer. She will sing in the Thimble\nTheatre a selection of songs by American composers as, \"An\nOpen Secret,\" by Huntington Woodman, and\"The Lanza,\" by\nG. W. Chadwick.\nAdcfie Galva sang last w£ek, Richard Wagner's j \"Elsie's\nDream,\" from Lohrengrin, and her interpretation of this big\naria was the best pledge for a promising future in her opefratic\ncareer."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c007", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c007", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "192", "page_fin": "194", "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.7", "titre_corps": "A Story in White", "titre_sommaire": "A Story in White", "signature_source": "Paul Leclercq", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "192", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 1518, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2501, "texte": "A Story in White\nBy Paul Leclercq\nPIERROT, in his white bed, dreams of sombre\nthings.\nHe dreams of Columbine, who is asleep near him; he dreams\nof her little slipper, no bigger than a rose-leaf, which seems,\nbefore the extinguished hearth, to be waiting sadly for Santa\nClaus*\nThe pink slipper seems to be waiting before the extinguished\nhearth, but poor Pierrot has no other money than the great\nwhite flakes gathering slowly on the roofs—money that does\nnot pass current, even with the good God.\nPierrot thinks, indeed, of borrowing a few golden rays from\nthe moon, who is looking at him through the casement, but\nshe dwells so far, that money-lender of lovers and of Pierrots!\nThe little pink slipper is still waiting; Columbine is asleep.\n\"Arise, friend Pierrot, take thy guitar, that old companion,\nand seek thy fortune on the roofs. The air and the snow\nwill refresh thy thoughts; they are now as crooked as a crescent\nmoon.\" '\nAnd off Pierrot goes, skipping from roof to roof."}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "193", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2684, "texte": "By the light of the moon Pierrot skips in the snow; the\nchimney-pots look like great ghosts, but Pierrot is not afraid,\nby the light of the moon.\n\"What are chimney-pots for, unless it be to give refuge to\nfrozen sparrows, and to offer peep-holes to curious Pierrots?\"\nthinks he, lifting himself up on tiptoe in order to see better.\nDo you know what Pierrot sees? He sees a little slipper\nalmost like Columbine's, filled with roses and lilacs.\nAh, if thy arm were longer, friend Pierrot!\nWeary, discouraged, Pierrot rests against a chimney-pot.\nWith his head on his hands, and with tears in his eyes, he\nthinks ... he thinks . . . But meditation brings nothing to\nthe unhappy. Who knows if music ....\nWhite Pierrot, on the white roof, by the light of the moon,\ntwangs sadly on the guitar.\nOf a sudden, he feels something warm and soft brushing\nagainst him. Fortune, perhaps.\nIt was not Fortune, but a big gutter-cat, all black.\n\"Oh, the pretty Christmas present for Columbine! • A cat—\nalmost a child!\"\nPierrot slings his guitar on his shoulder, and carrying the\ncat in his arms, betakes himself homeward.\nHe reaches the garret fagged out, chilled through, black with\nsoot; he runs to the hearth, but, alas! Columbine's slipper is no\nlonger there. The little slipper, no bigger than a rose-leaf,\nhas blown away—Columbine has gone!\nAnd, forgotten in a corner, where a few hours before hi*\nlove was sleeping, do you know what he found?\nA black hat, blacker than his cat, a hat such as is worn\nneither by Pierrots nor poets.\nPoor Pierrot, all that thou hast left is a cat, a guitar, and\na heart, and thou hast not paid thy rent to that terrible Dame\nPipelet.\nFly, Pierrot, fly far from that great Paris where thou hast\nso much loved, so much suffered; fly towards the silent forests,\nwhere thou canst wander like a butterfly.\nPierrot, followed by his cat, walks across the country. Where\nis he going to? He knows not; he goes straight before him;\nhis stomach is empty, and his white coat is whipped into\ntatters by the north wind. But Pierrot feels nothing; he\nmeditates.\nThe hours go by. Pierrot walks, walks on.\nThe sunset falls upon the plains of snow. Over there, far\naway, Paris scintillates like the firmament. Pierrot contem-\nplates, in the silence of solitudes, the city whose lamps are\nbeing lighted. It seems to him that the little lights studding\nits sombre mass reach to the stars to weave him a shroud.\nThe moon arises from behind the clouds; mistress of cere-\nmonies, she also looks at Paris, with her great red face, but\nshe does not weep.\nHe stands there, scrutinizing the darkened horizon; over\nthere lies all that he loves; behind that veil is Columbine."}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "194", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1963, "texte": "Pierrot, in tears, throws a last look at Paris which disappears\nwitli his memories, and with one hand he wafts it a kiss; then\nhe resumes his crazy wanderings, escorted by his cat.\nNo, thou shalt never be loved, Pierrot; love is not captured\nby dreams; thy poet's nature is of less use than the pocket-\nbook of the poorest bourgeois.\nPierrot walks, walks on.\n_ Towards morning he entered a wood where the songs of the\nbirds, his brothers, attracted him, and he lay down under a\nbush.\nWhile he was sleeping a tomtit perched on his mouth and\npecked at it\n\"Thou art loved at last, Pierrot!\" thought he, on awaking;\n\"the tomtit kisses thee; she loves thee!\"\n\"She took thy mouth for a cherry,\" murmured a sly wood-\npecker.\nYears have gone by; Pierrot is very ill; white Pierrot is on\nthe point of death.\nAt the foot of a willow-tree, among the grasses and the\ncorn-flowers, two little tombs lie side by side.\nOn one a few white roses are in flower; it is Columbine's.\nOn the other run wild weeds; it is the Muse's.\nPierrot gazes upon both tombs and remembers—remembers\nthat he has always been ungrateful. He has placed roses upon\nthe tomb of a faithless one who has broken his heart; he\nhas wept for a hypocrite who had always mocked him, while\nhe had allowed the weeds to mould upon the tomb of the\nMuse, who alone in the world had never abandoned him.\nAh, how he remembered all! He saw his past life in a\ndream, and regretted that he had lived.\nPierrot is very ill; white Pierrot is going to die.\nHe lies down among the high grasses on the neglected tomb\nof the Muse, and waits.\nHe waits, before dying, for the moon to light him a last\ntime with her rays; he waits for the pale twinkling of the\nfriendly stars to guide his soul to heaven.\nThe angelus tolls afar, the birds sing, the night falls. Lying\namong the high grasses on_ the tomb, white Pierrot\nblows a last kiss to Columbine, and falls into everlasting sleep,\nshrouded in a ray of the; moon."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c008", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c008", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "194", "page_fin": "194", "image_debut": 9, "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.8", "titre_corps": "A man cannot help that other people do not think htm", "titre_sommaire": "A man cannot help that other people do not think htm", "signature_source": "Sadakichi Hartmann", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "194", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 1965, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2133, "texte": "Sadakichi Hartmann\nA man cannot help that other people do not think htm\nas great as he considers himself to be.\nI do not care who admires me as long as 1 admire myself."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c009", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c009", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "195", "page_fin": "195", "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.9", "titre_corps": "General Washington, the Patron of Our Square. A Contemporary and Very Scarce Engraving.", "titre_sommaire": "General Washington, the Patron of Our Square. A Contemporary and Very Scarce Engraving.", "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": "195", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 103, "texte": "General Washington, the Patron of Our Square.\nA Contemporary and Very Scarce Engraving."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c010", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c010", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "195", "page_fin": "197", "image_debut": 10, "image_fin": 12, "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.10", "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": 10, "page_imprimee": "195", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 105, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1663, "texte": "In Our Village\nThe de Rham Bay Window\nA young man in a neat little uniform, who seemed to have\ntaken up the unusual vocation of professional guide to tourists\non foot to see the sights, the otheY day halted his little com-\npany of gaping Western people in front of the Northern ex-\ntremity of the de Rham mansion, at the northwest corner of\nFifth avenue and Ninth street. \"That is the house of the\nhaunted bay window,\" he pointed out to his credulous hearers,\nas they gazed at the weird and impenetrable mass of brick\nmasonry jutting out from the North efnd of the mansion. Just\nat that moment one of the ominous wooden shutters on the\nsecond iloor of the bay window, pierced by a solitary port-\nhole, swung he'avily open. \"You see that port hole. In the days\nwhen a tribe of Shashonee Indians was encamped over against\nGreenwich Village, an Indian chief who was out foraging\nalone?, was shot down by a gun through that porthole when the\nhouse was used as a fortress. The little garrison was so terror-\nstrickefn, as soon as they realized the vengeance that would be\nmeted out to them for slaying this chieftain, that they threw the\nbody down into that bay window and it has been walled up\non the inside ever since. On the anniversary of the Indian\nchief's death, which was on Hallowefen, host patrols that\ngloomy porch which is built around the? five sides of the bay\nwindow.\"\nThe little man in the uniform was considerably upset over his\nMunchausen business being put out of commission when a by-\nstander who had overheard the whole of this Seeing-New-York"}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "196", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.11", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3115, "texte": "twaddle, confronted him in the presence of his whole party\nof neophytes with the facts that the de Rham mansion was\nnot more than ninety years old and that the interior layout of\nthis blind bay window, which has been a subject of curious\nspeculation with persons in the neighborhood not acquainted\nwith the de? Rham family, is as follows—first floor, mostly book\nshelves of a rotunda for the library—second floor, a crudely ap-\nportioned space for foisting in a servants' staircase and on\nthe other side of the' board partition, letting light into the hall\nof this somewhat lugubrious dwelling. The nearest approach\nto an apparition which has beten seen on the \"haunted porch,\"\nwas on this Halloween when a New York University student\nwho had been celebrating in the role of an Indian chief at an\nAll Saints' vigil, attempted to patrol the porch of the fateful\nbay window, but was blocked in his progress by the sharp iron\nspikes of the de? Rham stone wall in front, and by the vista\ndown the avenue, of two patiolmen of much less joyful type, in\nblue? uniforms and glittering brass buttons!\nAmong Our Aristocrats\nThe defeat of John G. Milburn, Jr., who ran for Assemblyman\nfrom this district, was a source of regret to many people living\nin the Washington Square neighborhood, irrespective of political\nbias. The rise of the Milburn family fortunes points the moral\nof a success story such as is seldom recorded in Washington\nSquare annals, where? such a large proportion of foremost\nfamilies have had what they possess mainly through inheritance.\nThe Milburn family, two generations ago, emigrate?d from\nEngland to this country in humble circumstances, settling in\nWestern New York. John G. Milburn, Sr., who in later years\nhas be'come an eminent lawyer, fell in love with Patty Stocking,\na school teacher in Batavia, the daughter of of a farmer living\nnear a little hamlet called York, in the Western part of this stat£.\nHe married her and she proved a valuable? help-mate in en-\ncouraging him in pursuing a course of legal study and being\nadmitted to the bar. At the height of Mr. Milburn, Sr's., success\nas a practising lawyer in Buffalo, the Milburn family was shot\ninto national prominence by President McKinley's being take?n\nto their house in Buffalo and dying there. In about the year\n1904, the? Milburn family removed to this city, John G. Milburn,\nSr., living at No. 16 West Tenth street, and his son, John G.\nMilburn, Jr., the recent candidate for Assemblyman, who is\nalso a lawyer, lives at No. 35 of the same? street. In the recent\ncampaign it was remarked by various observers how much of his\nmother, the former Patty Stocking's teaching ability young\nMilburn was the fortunate possessor of, his explanations of the\npolitical situations to the less-instructe?d voters being especially\ndidactic and helpful. To emphasize the success which has\nhitherto crowned the well-directed ambitions of the Milburn\nfamily, DevCreaux Milburn, a noted polo player, the brother\nof John G. Milburn, Jr., married about a yea/ ago the rich and\nfashionable Miss Steele, one of the daughters of a partner"}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "197", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1747, "texte": "of J. Piefrpont Morgan Co. It is hoped that John G. Milburn,\nJr., will run for office again—he has the personality and the\nability.\nBruno's Garret\nDjuna Barnes' Exhibit of war pictures and grotesque drawings\nof every-day exaggerations of unique characters will continue till\nNovember 15th. On November 17th, sixty-four pen and ink\nsketches and forty color drawings of F. Carlton Waugh will\nbe tacked to the walls of Bruno's Garret until November 30th.\nThey are Mr. Waugh's conception of the insect life in the plains\nand forests of America and on Fifth avenue, New York. His\nwork is not only original in execution and in the use of black\nand white, but his groups of low insects and women are\nstartling and pleasing to the eye.\nMary Pyne Kemp is, after a long absence, a frequent visitor\nto the village. She wrote in the woods of Connecticut, a novel\nwhich will be published in the near future.\nRichard Berry devotes in last Sunday's New York Times\nMagazine a full page to Amos F. Enos, \"one of the last Wash-\nington Square millionaires, who died on October 22nd, in his\neighty-second year, leaving a fortune of many millions to public\ninstitutions. \"\nThe Greenwich House, at 26 Jones street, has founded a\nmusic school with an experienced director and Miss Marion\nCurtiss as executive secretary. The aim of this school is to pro-\nvide musical training at the nominal sum of fifty cents per hour.\nThe school is one month old and has registered a large number\nof pupils.\nFrances Gilford, who looks like a twin sister of Clara Tice,\nfinished an interesting series of clothed nudes.\nD. Molby is on the trail of something quite different from\npotato bugs' eyes and hippopotamus tails. It's a Paramecium.\nHe put it under his microscope."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c011", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c011", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "197", "page_fin": "201", "image_debut": 12, "image_fin": 16, "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.11", "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": 12, "page_imprimee": "197", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 1749, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2560, "texte": "Books and Magazines of the Week\nThe least about all the nations who make up the United States\ndo we know about the gypsies living their old adhered-to nomad\nlife in our midst. Romance and interest is always closely\nlinked with outcasts and adventurers. The visit to a gypsy\ncamp has attractions which will rarely be overshadowed by the\nthought that we look upon the'm as pariahs of humanity. Never\nwill I forget the late afternoon of a beautiful summer day,\nfar out somewhere near Fort George, when I happened to\nbump into a gypsy camp for the first time in America. They\nwore the same fantastic costumes like in southern Europe;\nthey had the same wagons painte'd with vivid colors, in which\nthey lived, the women with big old ear rings and the men,\nheavy watclr chains and leather belts with brass buttons. The"}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "198", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2903, "texte": "women smoked cherry wood pipes and the men rolled cigarettes\nand they didn't seem to be at all on the outskirts of America's big\nmetropolis. And these people have a language of their own. A\nvocabulary of the American gypsy language compiled by\nGeorge F. Blacke, appears in the October issue of the\nBulletin of the New York Public Library. It is compiled from\nmanuscripts of the late Albert Thomas Sinclair, of Allston,\nMassachusetts; the manuscripts are now in the possession of\nthe New York Public Library.\n\"The vocabulary is the result of inquiries made by Mr. Sinclair\namong hundreds of gypsies in the different parts of the\nUnited States, and is confined strictly to the English-speaking\nsypsies born in Great Britain or their American descendants.\nMr. Sinclair says in one of his manuscripts that no one gypsy\nwas familiar with all the words he had noted, but many of\nthem knew nearly all. Most of the younger generation born\nin the United States, however, knew very few of them.\n\"The only other vocabulary of American-Romani is that\npublished by Professor Prince in the Journal of the American\nOriental Society, to which the present list forms a valuable\nsupplement.\n\"The Romani, the language spoken by the American Gypsies of\nEnglish descent, is now little more than a broken jargon based\ngrammatically on English. The vocabulary, on the other hand,\nabundantly shows its Indian origin.\"\nPoetry, a Magazine of Verse\nChicago, the home city of pork and packer millionaires,\nseems to be the only city in the United States where poets\nget not only a dignified hearing but also substantial reward\nfor their works. It was in Chicago where the first magazine\nexclusively devoted to poetry saw the light of the world. Most\nfortunately, this magazine did not depend upon the financial\nsupport of its subscribers and readers, but was endowed by\nMaecenases so its existence was assured for years to come. The\ncurrent issue, just at hand, contains the announcement of the\nannual award of prizes, in addition to the Levenson Prize of\n$200, of two guarantors who wish to be nameless, to award poets\nthrough the jury of the Poetry magazine, two prizes of $100 and\n$150, respectively. While the Levenson Prize of $200 must go\nto a citizen of the United States, the two other prizes were\noffered without a restriction.\nThe jury takes exception to the offering »nd awarding of a\nprize for the \"best poem,\" \"since no jury can pass final judg-\nment.\" The prizes are awarded in the same spirit which art\njuries aim at in making the numerous and munificent awards at\nthe annual exhibition in our large cities: they express the\nadmiration of fellow-artists for work of superior quality, but\nthey do not express infallible or irrevocable judgment.\nOthers, A Magazine Of The New Verse\nA voice from the thicks of New Jersey is this magazine of\nour old friend, Alfred Kreymborg. Of course, they are interest-"}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "199", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2692, "texte": "ing—these new poets whom he gives a chance to appear in\nprint, who are voicing \"a new spirit in a new form.\" The\nspirit is not new and the form is just as old.\nBut their enthusiasm is new—always new. And Kreymborg's\noffering brings each month a breeze from strange banks. 11l\nwinds blow from the direction of Ezra Pound in the November\nissue. But there is Richard Aldington and Helen Hoyt. In\nvain do I search for Mushrooms of Mr. Kreymborg's own\ngrowth.\nPan\nA literary revolutionary magazine, whose editor must surely\nbe an exclusively self-possessed individualist, contains a good\ndeal of gossip about German men of letters at present in the\ntrenches and at the front. The following is the notice of\nAlfred Kerr, publisher, editor and owner, of Pan, which has\nentered upon the fifth year of its existence.\n\"Contributions are not wanted. You may send your manu-\nscripts after you have given up all your hope! to see them\nagain. In the most impossible and improbable case of acceptance,\nI shall notify you by telegraph. I never answer letters. Under\nthese circumstances, authors are advised to keep their return\nstamps. Stamps still forwarded to me, I shall turn over at the\nend of the year to an institution for the feeble-minded. I am\nnot an express company.\"\nMuch Ado\nHarry Turner, the editor of this new fortnightly in St. Louis,\nhas the exclusive distinction of owning the only magazine in the\nUnited States which carries a portrait of Shakespeare on its\nfront page and a champagne advertisement on its back cover.\nIt did my eyes good to see Veuve Cliquot, even if not on the\nlabel of the bottle, on the cover of so much esprit as is contained\nin this new St. Louis literary messenger.\nBulletin of the Authors' League of America\nWilliam Lee Howard, an author relates an interesting story\nfrom the? literary free market of New York in which he\nfigures as seller and two magazine editors as Tmyers.\n\"I received in one mail two orders for copy. One was from the editor\nof a popular fifteen-cent magazine, the other from a thirty-five or twenty-\nfive center.\nThe editor of the fifteen center wrote:\n\"I want about 5,000 words in your usual style. Don't forget that the\nmass of readers in the United States are motormen, shop girls—all that\nkind. You know what I mean.\nYours .\"\nThe editor of the high-priced monthly wrote:\n\"About 5,000 words, but use your own judgment. You know our class\nof readers. Avoid any mention of sex in any form no matter how vital\nit may be to health. Yours —\nPoor, dear, misunderstood public of America!\nBulletin of the Metropolitan Museum of Art\nThe greater part of the November issue is devoted to the\nwork of the Egyptian Expedition of 1914-1915."}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "200", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.15", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2819, "texte": "The illustrations are the four panels of an altar piece by\nBenozzo Gozzoli and which have been lately acquired by thtf\nmuseum They are being shown in the room of Recent Acces-\nsions.\n\"They were painted for the chapel of the Alessandri family in the\nchurch of San Pier Maggiore in Florence and remained in that place\nuntil a portion of the building collapsed in 1784 and the church was con-\nsequently abandoned, when they were removed to the place of the\nAlessandri in the neighboring Borgo degli Albizzi. Here they stayed\nuntil the time of their purchase by the Museum.\"\nEdna W. Underwood's \"White Peacocks\"\nAn excursion into the land of ancient fairies and beauty\nMrs. Underwood made, and brought back with her a slender\nvolume of sonnets which she calls \"White? Peacocks.\" They\nare printed privately and the peacock on the front cover is\nnot white, but black.\nThe Poetry Journal\nThe wonders of its own future birth are described in the\nOctober issue of this magazine by H. T. Pulsiver, in a poem\n\"To An Unborn Child.\"\nAnother poem is Edward Ramos', \"Touch Me Not Unclean.\"\nBlanche Shoemaker Wagstaff writes about the taste of true\npoetry.\nPoets' Translation Series\nFew in these days of war are the magazines devoted exclusively\nto poetry, art or literature coming from England to our shores.\nThere is solely the \"Egoist\" which brings the only good and im-\npartial, really critical review of things continental to America.\nThe third number of the Poets' Translation Series has just\ncome off the press: \"Choruses from Iphigeneia in Aulis,\" tran-\nslated by H .D. (Mrs. Richard Aldington).\n\"A literal word for word version of so well-known an author as\nEuripides would be useless and supererogatory; a rhymed, languidly-\nSwinburnian verse form is an insult and a barbarism. It seemed,\ntherefore, that the rhymeless hard rhythms used in the present version\nwould be most likely to keep the sharp edges and irregular cadence of\nthe original.\n\"The fable of the play is, of course, the story of the sacrifice\nof Iphigeneia, daughter of Agamemnon, to placate Artemis and to alow\nthe fleet of the Greeks to reach Troy.\"\nA New American Violin\nMr. Edison takes great interest in the invention of Mr.\nFrank M. Ashley—a violin which, as its inventor claims, is,\nafter having been played upon for a few days, as free and\nbeautiful in tone as those rare old instruments constructed by\nthe Italian masters. Mr. Ashley had a chance last week\nto play upon his violin before the audience of the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nThis new violin is made by bending the top and bottom\nplates to the required shape to form the arching, the sides and\nends of the instrument being curved so that the edge of the\nplates can be bent to conform to this curvature and held in\nposition to the side frame. By this construction, the long fiber"}, {"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "201", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 191, "texte": "of the wood is maintained unbroken, thus lending to the in-\nstrument when new a richness of tone and freedom not hereto-\nfore known in new violins."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c012", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c012", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "201", "page_fin": "201", "image_debut": 16, "image_fin": 16, "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.12", "titre_corps": "Cats' Face Baths", "titre_sommaire": "Cats' Face Baths", "signature_source": "D. Molby", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "201", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 193, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1522, "texte": "Cats' Face Baths\nBy D. Molby\nWHENEVER a cat is ready to sit down for a while he wants\nto make sure that his face is clean. The only way he\ncan tell is to work his tongue around until he has a little moisture\nin his mouth and moisten his paw and rub it around over his\nface. When he licks it again he can tell by the taste whether\nhe has got off any dirt. He keeps on putting moisture on his\npaw and rubbing it on his face until the taste is the same after\nevery rub and he knows that there isn't any more dirt coming\noff.\nAll of this dirt that he can get off he probably swallows,\nbecause he doesn't spit it out. He? doesn't mind getting the\ndirt in his mouth, because it is his own dirt. And he doesn't\nthink anything about his face being spit-washed, for it is with\nhis own spit. He will let another cat lick his back, but not\nhis face—unless he is a small cat and it is his mother that is\ndoing it.\nWhen he has washed as well as he can and has used up all his\nspit, he fe'els brighter and looks brighter, because he has the\nconsciousness that he is clean. He doesn't think about the\ndirt that is in his ears, and even if he should, he is out of\nspit. And so long as he isn't aware of the dirt there, his\nconsciousness is just as good as though he waited until he\ncould make more spit and made a lot more and washed them\nclean."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c013", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c013", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "201", "page_fin": "202", "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.13", "titre_corps": "Richard Wagner—Egoist", "titre_sommaire": "Richard Wagner—Egoist", "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": "201", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 1524, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2451, "texte": "Richard Wagner—Egoist\nBy Guido Bruno\nIt was a cold December afternoon. Wagner had received\na ticket admitting him to one of the famous Gewandhaus Con-\ncerts. The music between the acts in the! theatre was treated\nrather as \"dinner music\" and the concert gave Wagner for the\nfirst time in his life the chance to listen to music played by\nskillful musicians in a dignified way.\nThere he heard Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.\nIt was like a revelation.\nIt forced open in him the flood-gates of a torrent of emotion.\nA new world dawned upon him. Music that had hitherto lain\ndormant suddenly awakened into a vigorous existence.\n\"I will be a musician,\" was the decision of his future career.\nHe started the theoretical study of music with all the con-\nscientiousness and vigor so characteristic of him. Beethoven\nwas his daily companion. He was carefully storing up all the\ngrand thoughts of the great master but his fiery enthusiasm had"}, {"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "202", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.17", "debut_caractere": 272, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2563, "texte": "not come as yet to that burning point where it would enlighten\nhis own latent powers. His acquaintance with the scores of\nBeethoven has never been equaled. It was extraordinary. He\nknew them so well by heart that he could play all movements\non the piano with his awkward fingers.\nAnd so Beethoven gave the world one of its greatest com-\nposers.\nAnd Beethoven's Ninth Symphony created another important\nturning point in Wagner's life.\nThe master's master symphony was responsible for the crea-\ntion of the national German opera.\nParis in the middle of the last century was for Europe what\nNew York is today for the United States. Paris was the head-\nquarters of the celebrated theatrical producers. In the Grande\nOpera were created the spectacular plays and the ballet, which\nfound their way to the royal stages of the German states.\nParis was the Dorado of the ambitious poet and young musi-\ncian. To have been in Paris was necessary to gain recognition\nin Europe. To have had plays produced in Paris meant ready\nacceptance by the managers of German theatres.\nWagner had been fascinated by the successes of Meyerbeer\nwhose works he felt were inferior to the two acts of The Rienzi\nwhich he had composed. He went to Paris.\nHis young wife and his dog accompanied him. He earned his\nliving in re-writing orchestra scores for a publisher and writing\narticles and criticisms for newspapers and periodicals. But he\ndidn't earn enough to sustain himself in comfort. It was a\npitiful struggle and a miserable life—these! three years in Paris.\nThere came a day—the great turning point in Wagner's life.\nThe rent for his furnished room was due. Credit was exhausted\nand he and his wife had not had sufficient food for three days.\nHe went to the office of the publisher for whom he worked. He\nasked for a small loan. He not only got the money and more\nthan he asked but also an offer which dazed him at first. The\nmanager of a Paris theatre had purchased one, as he thought,\nvery promising libretto. He wanted some music written—some\npiquant, light, suggestive music,—just the kind Wagner despised.\nAnd the publisher offered Wagner a large amount for writing\nthis music. There was not only the chance of earning some\nmoney but to gain entrance to the circle of successful managers,\npoets and musicians."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-11-13-01-c014", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01#c014", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-11-13_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[203]", "page_fin": "[203]", "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=bmtnaaq19151113-01.2.14", "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": "[203]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.18", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1025, "texte": "Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre, Situated\nat No.lOFifth Avenue, Greenwich Village, N.Y.C.\nGuid* Bruno, Manager.\nThis Week's Performances and Concerts\nMonday,\n3 p. m.\nWednesday, 2:14 p. m.\nThursday,\nFriday,\n3 p. m.\n8:15 p. m.\n8:15 p. m.\nSaturday, 2:00 p. ra.\n8:15 p. m.\nA little Pilgrimage to the home\nand workshop of Stephen\nCollins Foster.\nChildren's Hour and Disc Concert\non the Square.\nA little Pilgrimage of the home\nand workshop of Stephen\nCollins Foster.\nPerformance at the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nPerformance at the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nChildren's Hour and Disc Concert\non the Square.\nPerformance at the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nAsk or write for ticket of admission to The\nLittle Thimble Theatre performances. They\nare free of charge.\nWho Wrote Our National Home Songs?\n\"Way Down upon the Swane«\nRiver,\" \"My Old Kentucky Home,\"\n\"Old Folks at Home.\" Do you\nknow that they were created and\nwritten by Stephen Collins Foster?\nIn a Dingy Bowery Grocery Store?\nCome to the Matinee on Monday or Thursday at 3 P. M."}]}], "pages_ocr_originales": [{"page_pdf": 1, "page_imprimee": "couv. 1", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.1", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nEDITED BY GUIDO BRUNO IN HIS GARRET\nON WASHINGTON SQUARE\nFive Cents November 13th, 1915.\n\nF. Coulton Wanah"}, {"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[187]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.2", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nEdited by Guido Bruno in His Garret on Washington Square\nNo. 17\nNOVEMBER 13th, MCMXV\nVol I\nCopyright 1915 by Guido Bruno\n\nFacsimile reproduced from\"The Autograph,\" Mr. Madigan's\ninteresting magazine of a few years ago, which was devoted\nexclusively to autographs and their lore. Mr. Madigan owns\nthe original of this best-known poem of the Hoosier Poet.\n\nThe Splendor of Richmond Hill\nBy General Prosper M. Wetmore\nOnce Situated at Varick and Charlton Streets, Greenwich Village.\nj\">URING the first year of the Government,_under the newly-\nadopted constitution, while President Washington was living,\nwith some display of courtly splendor, at the Franklin mansion,\nat the corner of Pearl and Cherry streets, John Adams, of\nMassachusetts, the? first Vice-President, occupied the house and\ngrounds of Richmond Hill. How much the delightful surround-\nings of that beautiful residence were enjoyed by its inmates,\nat this pefriod, is pleasantly depicted in the letters of Mrs. Abigail\nAdams, the wife of the She writes to her\nrelative, Mrs. Shaw, in the following glowing tefrms:"}, {"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "188", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.3", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nRichmond Hill, N. Y.,\n27th September, 1789.\n\"I write to you, my dear sister, not from the disputed banks\nof the Potomac, the? Susquehanna, or the Delaware, but from\nthe peaceful borders of the Hudson; a situation where the hand\nof Nature has so lavishly displayed her beauties, that she has\nleft scarcely anything for her handmaid, Art, to perform.\n\"The house in which we reside is situated on a hill, the avenue\nto which is interspersed with forest-trees, undejr which a\nshrubbery, rather too luxuriant and wild, has taken shelter,\nowing to its having been deprived, by death, some years since,\nof its original proprietor, who kept it in perfect order. In front\nof the house, the noble Hudson rolls its waves, bearing upon his\nbosom innumerable small vessels, which are constantly for-\nwarding the rich products of the neighboring hand of a more\nextensive commerce.\n\"If my days of fancy and romance we're not past, I could find\nhere an ample! field for indulgence; yet, amidst these delightful\nscenes of Nature, my heart pants for the society of my dear\nrelatives and friends who are! too far removed from me.\"\nIn the year 1797, this property was in the possession of an\neminent foreign gentleman by the name of Temple; and a good\ndeal of public excitement was awakened by an extensive? robbery\ncommitted on the premises, the perpetrators of which were never\ndiscovered. Just at this period the Richmond Hill estate came\ninto the possession of Aaron Burr, by whom it was retained,\nas a country residence, for about fifteen years.\nHis home life was passed in the society of his family, at\nRichmond Hill. While his business offices and lodging apart-\nments were in the crowded city, his hours of enjoyment and\nthe brilliant scenes of his social entertainments always found\nhim at this chosen spot. It was here that he received, with fitting\nhonors, the distinguished strangers from every land, who came\nto study the features of the country and to estimate the char-\nacters of the people, newly entering into the family of the\nnations. His daughter, Theodosia, after the death of her mother,\nthe delight of her father's heart, the chosen companion of his\nhours of ease and relaxation, conducted with rare tact and\ndiscretion, the generous hospitality of the Richmond Hill estab-\nlishment.\nAmong the frequent guests at Burr's house, during this\nperiod of his highest prosperity and popularity, were the ac-\ncomplished Volney, the courtly Talleyrand, and the princely-\nborn Louis-Philippe. Expatriated under the misrule of the\nFrench Revolution, these were all of a class of men whom Burr\ndelighted to entertain, and who could appreciate and enjoy the\nelegant hospitality which was extended to them. About this\ntime also, while the Vice-President was at his post of duty, in\nWashington, he requested his daughter, whom he had left in\ncharge of his country establishment, and who was then fourteen\nyears of age, to give a dinner-party at Richmond Hill, to the\ncelebrated Indian chief, Brant."}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "189", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.4", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nAmerican Music and the Thimble\nTheatre\nT° get a hearing is the hardest thing for the artist, musi-\ncian and literateur in America. Not that I want to say that\ngenius can be silenced by proprietors of art galleries, by\nmusical impresarios, concert managers, readers of publishing\nhouses, or purchasing editors of magazines and periodicals.\nA good word done in this world is never lost. It is bound to\nbe appreciated some day. But how fortunate? is it if this\n\"some day\" happens to be in the lifetime of the artist or the\nauthor or of the' musician!\nThe author and artist have it comparatively easy \"to\nget a show.\" To view a painting or a drawing does not take\nlong and it appeals (or not) to the eye of everybody. If _he\ndoes not succeed in interesting art galjeries or magazine\neditors, he might find keepers of stores and shops _ willing to\nput it on view. He' can wrap it up, take it under his arm and\nmake his endless rounds: they surely will.look at it, even if\nonly for the sake of courtesy, and a courteous glance may\noften be transformed into interest . . . into the success of\nthe artist.\nThe writer also will find it not so difficult to get his\nreader or a listener. He, too, has the advantage of being\nable to take the children of his muse to whomever he wishes\nto approach. The musician has the hardest stand. The? way\nfor him to the American public leads through narrow chan-\nnels. Narrow as the eye of a needle'. Our many music halls\nseem to exclude American music. There is not one concert\nhall that would give the American musician a chance to have?\nhis work accepted or rejected by an American public. The\nAmerican composer and musician has to bring a pocket full\nof clippings telling about the concert he gave in Berlin, in\nParis, or best of all, in Vienna, if he wants to have a slight\nchance with the American impresario. The arrangement of\nsuch concerts abroad are not only expensive and time-killing\nbut degrading for the American who has to solicit the ap-\nplause of a foreign auditorium in order to gain a hearing in\nlis own country before an American audience.\n\"Of course, I know,\" said Mr. Edison, \"that my work in\nGreenwich Village won't be of much influence on these pre-\nvailing conditions. But the American composers whom I\nI am giving a chance to play on the stage of my Thimble\nTheatre might find encouragement to _ continue their\nwork successfully, and we, the? audience, will _ perhaps hear\nsomething that is worth while. Every American composer\nwho has something to offer will be quite welcome? to do so\nbefore my guests. The complications in Europe caused at\ngood many changes in the literary and art life of America.\nMaybe the time has come that American music will make its\nappearance. Greenwich Village has been the birth-place of so\nmany good pictures and literary productions that it would\nbe only natural to see some good music, American music,\nemanate from out of one of its attics or garrets.\""}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "190", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.5", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nDiogenes In Our Village\nleast one real philosopher is among us. A man who has\nno other object in life but to live, and to live means to him\nto walk about whenever he pleases to do so, to read books and\nhis newspapers regularly, and above all, to let the sun shine upon\nhim every day—not as we do, just to know subconsciously\nthat the sun is shining because we don't light the gas or turn\non the electric light—but to sit in the golden warm rays and\nto feel that there is one glorious sun shining for one man,\nand that is for himself. In fact, his desire for his daily sun bath\nmade him a philosopher* of life, caused him to give up an\noccupation and to seek and finally find a way to keep supplied\nthe necessities of mind as well as of his body.\nFor some Jays I had heard early in the morning, in the little\nalley just below my window, someone chopping wood. At\nfirst I didn't know that the noise was caused by chopping wood.\nCuriosity made me look out of the window, and there was an\nold man chopping up old boxes and boards into small pieces,\nbundling the pieces and placing them into paper bags. I went\ndown one morning into the alley and here is the story he\ntold me?: \"People are glad if I remove this waste boxes and\nwood from their premises. I have my regular route on Bleecker\nstreet and every Saturday I make a trip down as far as Grand\nstreet. It takes me about an hour in the late afternoon to\nget my supply for the next morning. I fill my bags—at present\neight bags every day, but later on in the winter as many as\nfifteen and twenty. At six o'clock evefry morning, I take them\nto my regular customers right near by here in the tenement\nhouses. They pay me four cents and five cefnts for each. It's\neasier for them to buy their fuel from me to cook breakfast,\nfor a few pennies, than to pay half a dollar or a dollar to the\ncoal man for a bigger supply.\n\"I struck on this scheme a couple of years ago, and I never\nregretted giving up my trade. I was a carpenter and I must\nsay myself that I was pretty good at my trade. I used to earn\nas high as four and five dollars a day. In those days my wife\nwas living and later on she was sick and all my savings went\nto the druggist and still later I paid hospital bills. The under-\ntaker, after her death, put me into debt. I paid him off too.\nI had to give up my home. I had no children and it was like\nstarting a new life. I was out of work for a few weeks. I\nwalked around in the city. For twenty years I hadn't seen the\ncity on a week day during business hours. I saw all that life\non the streets. I saw so many things which were strange and\nnew to me, and I wandered about just seeing things and looking\nat people and looking at what they were doing. That was the\ntime I started to like the sun. All my life had I lived in a\ntenement house. When I left in the morning it was usually\ndark, and it was dark again when I returned in the evening.\nSundays I would fix things around the house or we would take\na walk. But everybody did that on Sunday and so I really"}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "191", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.6", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nnever got the right look at things. And then I started to\nthink how I could sit always in the sun and see people and\ngo about just as I pleased and still keefp a roof over my head\nand get my regular food. You know if one _ wishes to sit\nin the) sun, he must be master of his time. For instance, today\nI'll get the warmest sun rays at about eleven o'clock on my\nbench on the Square. And later on in the winter I'll have? to\ncatch it in the noon. I know it from day today just when I'll\nget my sun. And then I hit on this scheme. I geft the wood for\nnothing and the paper bags cost me about a cent for a day's\nsupply. And then the little work in the morning and my round\nto my customers and I have all the day to myself. lam living\nin a lodging-house right around the corner on Sixth avenue.\nI have been living there for a couple of years. I am paying\na dime? a night. It is pretty clean and they know me and I am\nsure they will trust me if I can't pay. I eat one meal in a little\nrestaurant nearby. They call it \"Dirty Dick's Place,\" but it\nisn't dirty, and you get a nice? plate of soup, a piece of meat,\nsome vegetables, coffee, and bread for fifteen cents. Breakfast\ncosts me! three cents, in Max's—a cup of coffee and three rolls.\nThey serve butter, too, but I prefer my rolls without it. The\nconductors of the buses give me the papers left by their pas-\nsengers and then I sit on the Square and I read. And I look at\nthe old women and at the babies and I talk to the down-and-outefrs\nand I am just happy and contented. I feel as if the city was\nmine.\" .\nIt is noon and the sun is shining. It is a crisp, cheery day.\nRight over there across from my garret he sits in the sun. He\nis reading a newspaper. Through the naked trees the sun rays\nflood him. He surely knows to find his warm shiny spot. We?ll\ncan I imagine? Rockefeller walking up to him without attracting\nhis attention, standing in front of him and still unobserved,\nand finally tapping him on the shoulder—why shouldn't Rocke-\nfeller play the Haroun-Al-Raschid on a sunny day on our\nSquare?—and speaking to him: \"My good man, if you will\ntell me the thing that you most desire in this world, and if\nmoney can buy it it shall be yours,\" and my old philosopher\nlike old Diogeftes, answers, \"Just step aside please, so the sun\ncan shine upon me.\" And he would resume reading his paper.\n\nThis Week's Performance in Charles\nEdison's Little Thimble Theatre\n*THE little journeys to the homes of composers of American\nnational music; every Monday and Thursday aftefrnoon,\nare proving a great success and they will be continued during\nthe winter season. The illustrations of thel brief stories of the\nlives of these men and women who gave us so much and\nreceived nothing in return but the pleasure to give, on the piano,\non the Diamond Disc and by singers, brought their personality\nin close contact with their music and in still closer contact\nwith our hearts. Interesting short visits will be paid in ad-"}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "192", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.7", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\ndition to the great master composers of the world. The bi-\nographer usually starts with the birth year of his subject, works\nhimself through the evolution of the man about whom he\nis writing, and finishes his work with a reproduction of the\nepigram on the? tombstone. But we are not interested in dates\nand facts and in criticism. What we want to know is the\nman himself, that mysterious link between his love songs and\nhis own love life; we want to s£e him in his family or with his\nfriends. We want to set aside discretion and read his most\nintimate letters which w£re not destroyed for some reason or\nanother.\nRichard Wagner, Schumann, Beethoven, Mozart are on the\ncalling list for the next weteks.\nIf you are interested, write for a ticket of admission and Mr.\nEdison will be pleased to put you on his invitation list.\nAmong the American singers who will appear during the\nevening performances of this week and sing for the first time\nbefore a New York audiefnce, is Miss Lillian Cook. Miss Cook\nis a New York girl and has studied with the known American\ncomposer, Charles B. Havley. She? is a soprano soloist and aims\nto become a concert singer. She will sing in the Thimble\nTheatre a selection of songs by American composers as, \"An\nOpen Secret,\" by Huntington Woodman, and\"The Lanza,\" by\nG. W. Chadwick.\nAdcfie Galva sang last w£ek, Richard Wagner's j \"Elsie's\nDream,\" from Lohrengrin, and her interpretation of this big\naria was the best pledge for a promising future in her opefratic\ncareer.\n\nA Story in White\nBy Paul Leclercq\nPIERROT, in his white bed, dreams of sombre\nthings.\nHe dreams of Columbine, who is asleep near him; he dreams\nof her little slipper, no bigger than a rose-leaf, which seems,\nbefore the extinguished hearth, to be waiting sadly for Santa\nClaus*\nThe pink slipper seems to be waiting before the extinguished\nhearth, but poor Pierrot has no other money than the great\nwhite flakes gathering slowly on the roofs—money that does\nnot pass current, even with the good God.\nPierrot thinks, indeed, of borrowing a few golden rays from\nthe moon, who is looking at him through the casement, but\nshe dwells so far, that money-lender of lovers and of Pierrots!\nThe little pink slipper is still waiting; Columbine is asleep.\n\"Arise, friend Pierrot, take thy guitar, that old companion,\nand seek thy fortune on the roofs. The air and the snow\nwill refresh thy thoughts; they are now as crooked as a crescent\nmoon.\" '\nAnd off Pierrot goes, skipping from roof to roof."}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "193", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.8", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nBy the light of the moon Pierrot skips in the snow; the\nchimney-pots look like great ghosts, but Pierrot is not afraid,\nby the light of the moon.\n\"What are chimney-pots for, unless it be to give refuge to\nfrozen sparrows, and to offer peep-holes to curious Pierrots?\"\nthinks he, lifting himself up on tiptoe in order to see better.\nDo you know what Pierrot sees? He sees a little slipper\nalmost like Columbine's, filled with roses and lilacs.\nAh, if thy arm were longer, friend Pierrot!\nWeary, discouraged, Pierrot rests against a chimney-pot.\nWith his head on his hands, and with tears in his eyes, he\nthinks ... he thinks . . . But meditation brings nothing to\nthe unhappy. Who knows if music ....\nWhite Pierrot, on the white roof, by the light of the moon,\ntwangs sadly on the guitar.\nOf a sudden, he feels something warm and soft brushing\nagainst him. Fortune, perhaps.\nIt was not Fortune, but a big gutter-cat, all black.\n\"Oh, the pretty Christmas present for Columbine! • A cat—\nalmost a child!\"\nPierrot slings his guitar on his shoulder, and carrying the\ncat in his arms, betakes himself homeward.\nHe reaches the garret fagged out, chilled through, black with\nsoot; he runs to the hearth, but, alas! Columbine's slipper is no\nlonger there. The little slipper, no bigger than a rose-leaf,\nhas blown away—Columbine has gone!\nAnd, forgotten in a corner, where a few hours before hi*\nlove was sleeping, do you know what he found?\nA black hat, blacker than his cat, a hat such as is worn\nneither by Pierrots nor poets.\nPoor Pierrot, all that thou hast left is a cat, a guitar, and\na heart, and thou hast not paid thy rent to that terrible Dame\nPipelet.\nFly, Pierrot, fly far from that great Paris where thou hast\nso much loved, so much suffered; fly towards the silent forests,\nwhere thou canst wander like a butterfly.\nPierrot, followed by his cat, walks across the country. Where\nis he going to? He knows not; he goes straight before him;\nhis stomach is empty, and his white coat is whipped into\ntatters by the north wind. But Pierrot feels nothing; he\nmeditates.\nThe hours go by. Pierrot walks, walks on.\nThe sunset falls upon the plains of snow. Over there, far\naway, Paris scintillates like the firmament. Pierrot contem-\nplates, in the silence of solitudes, the city whose lamps are\nbeing lighted. It seems to him that the little lights studding\nits sombre mass reach to the stars to weave him a shroud.\nThe moon arises from behind the clouds; mistress of cere-\nmonies, she also looks at Paris, with her great red face, but\nshe does not weep.\nHe stands there, scrutinizing the darkened horizon; over\nthere lies all that he loves; behind that veil is Columbine."}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "194", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.9", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nPierrot, in tears, throws a last look at Paris which disappears\nwitli his memories, and with one hand he wafts it a kiss; then\nhe resumes his crazy wanderings, escorted by his cat.\nNo, thou shalt never be loved, Pierrot; love is not captured\nby dreams; thy poet's nature is of less use than the pocket-\nbook of the poorest bourgeois.\nPierrot walks, walks on.\n_ Towards morning he entered a wood where the songs of the\nbirds, his brothers, attracted him, and he lay down under a\nbush.\nWhile he was sleeping a tomtit perched on his mouth and\npecked at it\n\"Thou art loved at last, Pierrot!\" thought he, on awaking;\n\"the tomtit kisses thee; she loves thee!\"\n\"She took thy mouth for a cherry,\" murmured a sly wood-\npecker.\nYears have gone by; Pierrot is very ill; white Pierrot is on\nthe point of death.\nAt the foot of a willow-tree, among the grasses and the\ncorn-flowers, two little tombs lie side by side.\nOn one a few white roses are in flower; it is Columbine's.\nOn the other run wild weeds; it is the Muse's.\nPierrot gazes upon both tombs and remembers—remembers\nthat he has always been ungrateful. He has placed roses upon\nthe tomb of a faithless one who has broken his heart; he\nhas wept for a hypocrite who had always mocked him, while\nhe had allowed the weeds to mould upon the tomb of the\nMuse, who alone in the world had never abandoned him.\nAh, how he remembered all! He saw his past life in a\ndream, and regretted that he had lived.\nPierrot is very ill; white Pierrot is going to die.\nHe lies down among the high grasses on the neglected tomb\nof the Muse, and waits.\nHe waits, before dying, for the moon to light him a last\ntime with her rays; he waits for the pale twinkling of the\nfriendly stars to guide his soul to heaven.\nThe angelus tolls afar, the birds sing, the night falls. Lying\namong the high grasses on_ the tomb, white Pierrot\nblows a last kiss to Columbine, and falls into everlasting sleep,\nshrouded in a ray of the; moon.\n\nSadakichi Hartmann\nA man cannot help that other people do not think htm\nas great as he considers himself to be.\nI do not care who admires me as long as 1 admire myself."}, {"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "195", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.10", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nGeneral Washington, the Patron of Our Square.\nA Contemporary and Very Scarce Engraving.\n\nIn Our Village\nThe de Rham Bay Window\nA young man in a neat little uniform, who seemed to have\ntaken up the unusual vocation of professional guide to tourists\non foot to see the sights, the otheY day halted his little com-\npany of gaping Western people in front of the Northern ex-\ntremity of the de Rham mansion, at the northwest corner of\nFifth avenue and Ninth street. \"That is the house of the\nhaunted bay window,\" he pointed out to his credulous hearers,\nas they gazed at the weird and impenetrable mass of brick\nmasonry jutting out from the North efnd of the mansion. Just\nat that moment one of the ominous wooden shutters on the\nsecond iloor of the bay window, pierced by a solitary port-\nhole, swung he'avily open. \"You see that port hole. In the days\nwhen a tribe of Shashonee Indians was encamped over against\nGreenwich Village, an Indian chief who was out foraging\nalone?, was shot down by a gun through that porthole when the\nhouse was used as a fortress. The little garrison was so terror-\nstrickefn, as soon as they realized the vengeance that would be\nmeted out to them for slaying this chieftain, that they threw the\nbody down into that bay window and it has been walled up\non the inside ever since. On the anniversary of the Indian\nchief's death, which was on Hallowefen, host patrols that\ngloomy porch which is built around the? five sides of the bay\nwindow.\"\nThe little man in the uniform was considerably upset over his\nMunchausen business being put out of commission when a by-\nstander who had overheard the whole of this Seeing-New-York"}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "196", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.11", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\ntwaddle, confronted him in the presence of his whole party\nof neophytes with the facts that the de Rham mansion was\nnot more than ninety years old and that the interior layout of\nthis blind bay window, which has been a subject of curious\nspeculation with persons in the neighborhood not acquainted\nwith the de? Rham family, is as follows—first floor, mostly book\nshelves of a rotunda for the library—second floor, a crudely ap-\nportioned space for foisting in a servants' staircase and on\nthe other side of the' board partition, letting light into the hall\nof this somewhat lugubrious dwelling. The nearest approach\nto an apparition which has beten seen on the \"haunted porch,\"\nwas on this Halloween when a New York University student\nwho had been celebrating in the role of an Indian chief at an\nAll Saints' vigil, attempted to patrol the porch of the fateful\nbay window, but was blocked in his progress by the sharp iron\nspikes of the de? Rham stone wall in front, and by the vista\ndown the avenue, of two patiolmen of much less joyful type, in\nblue? uniforms and glittering brass buttons!\nAmong Our Aristocrats\nThe defeat of John G. Milburn, Jr., who ran for Assemblyman\nfrom this district, was a source of regret to many people living\nin the Washington Square neighborhood, irrespective of political\nbias. The rise of the Milburn family fortunes points the moral\nof a success story such as is seldom recorded in Washington\nSquare annals, where? such a large proportion of foremost\nfamilies have had what they possess mainly through inheritance.\nThe Milburn family, two generations ago, emigrate?d from\nEngland to this country in humble circumstances, settling in\nWestern New York. John G. Milburn, Sr., who in later years\nhas be'come an eminent lawyer, fell in love with Patty Stocking,\na school teacher in Batavia, the daughter of of a farmer living\nnear a little hamlet called York, in the Western part of this stat£.\nHe married her and she proved a valuable? help-mate in en-\ncouraging him in pursuing a course of legal study and being\nadmitted to the bar. At the height of Mr. Milburn, Sr's., success\nas a practising lawyer in Buffalo, the Milburn family was shot\ninto national prominence by President McKinley's being take?n\nto their house in Buffalo and dying there. In about the year\n1904, the? Milburn family removed to this city, John G. Milburn,\nSr., living at No. 16 West Tenth street, and his son, John G.\nMilburn, Jr., the recent candidate for Assemblyman, who is\nalso a lawyer, lives at No. 35 of the same? street. In the recent\ncampaign it was remarked by various observers how much of his\nmother, the former Patty Stocking's teaching ability young\nMilburn was the fortunate possessor of, his explanations of the\npolitical situations to the less-instructe?d voters being especially\ndidactic and helpful. To emphasize the success which has\nhitherto crowned the well-directed ambitions of the Milburn\nfamily, DevCreaux Milburn, a noted polo player, the brother\nof John G. Milburn, Jr., married about a yea/ ago the rich and\nfashionable Miss Steele, one of the daughters of a partner"}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "197", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.12", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nof J. Piefrpont Morgan Co. It is hoped that John G. Milburn,\nJr., will run for office again—he has the personality and the\nability.\nBruno's Garret\nDjuna Barnes' Exhibit of war pictures and grotesque drawings\nof every-day exaggerations of unique characters will continue till\nNovember 15th. On November 17th, sixty-four pen and ink\nsketches and forty color drawings of F. Carlton Waugh will\nbe tacked to the walls of Bruno's Garret until November 30th.\nThey are Mr. Waugh's conception of the insect life in the plains\nand forests of America and on Fifth avenue, New York. His\nwork is not only original in execution and in the use of black\nand white, but his groups of low insects and women are\nstartling and pleasing to the eye.\nMary Pyne Kemp is, after a long absence, a frequent visitor\nto the village. She wrote in the woods of Connecticut, a novel\nwhich will be published in the near future.\nRichard Berry devotes in last Sunday's New York Times\nMagazine a full page to Amos F. Enos, \"one of the last Wash-\nington Square millionaires, who died on October 22nd, in his\neighty-second year, leaving a fortune of many millions to public\ninstitutions. \"\nThe Greenwich House, at 26 Jones street, has founded a\nmusic school with an experienced director and Miss Marion\nCurtiss as executive secretary. The aim of this school is to pro-\nvide musical training at the nominal sum of fifty cents per hour.\nThe school is one month old and has registered a large number\nof pupils.\nFrances Gilford, who looks like a twin sister of Clara Tice,\nfinished an interesting series of clothed nudes.\nD. Molby is on the trail of something quite different from\npotato bugs' eyes and hippopotamus tails. It's a Paramecium.\nHe put it under his microscope.\n\nBooks and Magazines of the Week\nThe least about all the nations who make up the United States\ndo we know about the gypsies living their old adhered-to nomad\nlife in our midst. Romance and interest is always closely\nlinked with outcasts and adventurers. The visit to a gypsy\ncamp has attractions which will rarely be overshadowed by the\nthought that we look upon the'm as pariahs of humanity. Never\nwill I forget the late afternoon of a beautiful summer day,\nfar out somewhere near Fort George, when I happened to\nbump into a gypsy camp for the first time in America. They\nwore the same fantastic costumes like in southern Europe;\nthey had the same wagons painte'd with vivid colors, in which\nthey lived, the women with big old ear rings and the men,\nheavy watclr chains and leather belts with brass buttons. The"}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "198", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.13", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nwomen smoked cherry wood pipes and the men rolled cigarettes\nand they didn't seem to be at all on the outskirts of America's big\nmetropolis. And these people have a language of their own. A\nvocabulary of the American gypsy language compiled by\nGeorge F. Blacke, appears in the October issue of the\nBulletin of the New York Public Library. It is compiled from\nmanuscripts of the late Albert Thomas Sinclair, of Allston,\nMassachusetts; the manuscripts are now in the possession of\nthe New York Public Library.\n\"The vocabulary is the result of inquiries made by Mr. Sinclair\namong hundreds of gypsies in the different parts of the\nUnited States, and is confined strictly to the English-speaking\nsypsies born in Great Britain or their American descendants.\nMr. Sinclair says in one of his manuscripts that no one gypsy\nwas familiar with all the words he had noted, but many of\nthem knew nearly all. Most of the younger generation born\nin the United States, however, knew very few of them.\n\"The only other vocabulary of American-Romani is that\npublished by Professor Prince in the Journal of the American\nOriental Society, to which the present list forms a valuable\nsupplement.\n\"The Romani, the language spoken by the American Gypsies of\nEnglish descent, is now little more than a broken jargon based\ngrammatically on English. The vocabulary, on the other hand,\nabundantly shows its Indian origin.\"\nPoetry, a Magazine of Verse\nChicago, the home city of pork and packer millionaires,\nseems to be the only city in the United States where poets\nget not only a dignified hearing but also substantial reward\nfor their works. It was in Chicago where the first magazine\nexclusively devoted to poetry saw the light of the world. Most\nfortunately, this magazine did not depend upon the financial\nsupport of its subscribers and readers, but was endowed by\nMaecenases so its existence was assured for years to come. The\ncurrent issue, just at hand, contains the announcement of the\nannual award of prizes, in addition to the Levenson Prize of\n$200, of two guarantors who wish to be nameless, to award poets\nthrough the jury of the Poetry magazine, two prizes of $100 and\n$150, respectively. While the Levenson Prize of $200 must go\nto a citizen of the United States, the two other prizes were\noffered without a restriction.\nThe jury takes exception to the offering »nd awarding of a\nprize for the \"best poem,\" \"since no jury can pass final judg-\nment.\" The prizes are awarded in the same spirit which art\njuries aim at in making the numerous and munificent awards at\nthe annual exhibition in our large cities: they express the\nadmiration of fellow-artists for work of superior quality, but\nthey do not express infallible or irrevocable judgment.\nOthers, A Magazine Of The New Verse\nA voice from the thicks of New Jersey is this magazine of\nour old friend, Alfred Kreymborg. Of course, they are interest-"}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "199", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.14", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\ning—these new poets whom he gives a chance to appear in\nprint, who are voicing \"a new spirit in a new form.\" The\nspirit is not new and the form is just as old.\nBut their enthusiasm is new—always new. And Kreymborg's\noffering brings each month a breeze from strange banks. 11l\nwinds blow from the direction of Ezra Pound in the November\nissue. But there is Richard Aldington and Helen Hoyt. In\nvain do I search for Mushrooms of Mr. Kreymborg's own\ngrowth.\nPan\nA literary revolutionary magazine, whose editor must surely\nbe an exclusively self-possessed individualist, contains a good\ndeal of gossip about German men of letters at present in the\ntrenches and at the front. The following is the notice of\nAlfred Kerr, publisher, editor and owner, of Pan, which has\nentered upon the fifth year of its existence.\n\"Contributions are not wanted. You may send your manu-\nscripts after you have given up all your hope! to see them\nagain. In the most impossible and improbable case of acceptance,\nI shall notify you by telegraph. I never answer letters. Under\nthese circumstances, authors are advised to keep their return\nstamps. Stamps still forwarded to me, I shall turn over at the\nend of the year to an institution for the feeble-minded. I am\nnot an express company.\"\nMuch Ado\nHarry Turner, the editor of this new fortnightly in St. Louis,\nhas the exclusive distinction of owning the only magazine in the\nUnited States which carries a portrait of Shakespeare on its\nfront page and a champagne advertisement on its back cover.\nIt did my eyes good to see Veuve Cliquot, even if not on the\nlabel of the bottle, on the cover of so much esprit as is contained\nin this new St. Louis literary messenger.\nBulletin of the Authors' League of America\nWilliam Lee Howard, an author relates an interesting story\nfrom the? literary free market of New York in which he\nfigures as seller and two magazine editors as Tmyers.\n\"I received in one mail two orders for copy. One was from the editor\nof a popular fifteen-cent magazine, the other from a thirty-five or twenty-\nfive center.\nThe editor of the fifteen center wrote:\n\"I want about 5,000 words in your usual style. Don't forget that the\nmass of readers in the United States are motormen, shop girls—all that\nkind. You know what I mean.\nYours .\"\nThe editor of the high-priced monthly wrote:\n\"About 5,000 words, but use your own judgment. You know our class\nof readers. Avoid any mention of sex in any form no matter how vital\nit may be to health. Yours —\nPoor, dear, misunderstood public of America!\nBulletin of the Metropolitan Museum of Art\nThe greater part of the November issue is devoted to the\nwork of the Egyptian Expedition of 1914-1915."}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "200", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.15", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nThe illustrations are the four panels of an altar piece by\nBenozzo Gozzoli and which have been lately acquired by thtf\nmuseum They are being shown in the room of Recent Acces-\nsions.\n\"They were painted for the chapel of the Alessandri family in the\nchurch of San Pier Maggiore in Florence and remained in that place\nuntil a portion of the building collapsed in 1784 and the church was con-\nsequently abandoned, when they were removed to the place of the\nAlessandri in the neighboring Borgo degli Albizzi. Here they stayed\nuntil the time of their purchase by the Museum.\"\nEdna W. Underwood's \"White Peacocks\"\nAn excursion into the land of ancient fairies and beauty\nMrs. Underwood made, and brought back with her a slender\nvolume of sonnets which she calls \"White? Peacocks.\" They\nare printed privately and the peacock on the front cover is\nnot white, but black.\nThe Poetry Journal\nThe wonders of its own future birth are described in the\nOctober issue of this magazine by H. T. Pulsiver, in a poem\n\"To An Unborn Child.\"\nAnother poem is Edward Ramos', \"Touch Me Not Unclean.\"\nBlanche Shoemaker Wagstaff writes about the taste of true\npoetry.\nPoets' Translation Series\nFew in these days of war are the magazines devoted exclusively\nto poetry, art or literature coming from England to our shores.\nThere is solely the \"Egoist\" which brings the only good and im-\npartial, really critical review of things continental to America.\nThe third number of the Poets' Translation Series has just\ncome off the press: \"Choruses from Iphigeneia in Aulis,\" tran-\nslated by H .D. (Mrs. Richard Aldington).\n\"A literal word for word version of so well-known an author as\nEuripides would be useless and supererogatory; a rhymed, languidly-\nSwinburnian verse form is an insult and a barbarism. It seemed,\ntherefore, that the rhymeless hard rhythms used in the present version\nwould be most likely to keep the sharp edges and irregular cadence of\nthe original.\n\"The fable of the play is, of course, the story of the sacrifice\nof Iphigeneia, daughter of Agamemnon, to placate Artemis and to alow\nthe fleet of the Greeks to reach Troy.\"\nA New American Violin\nMr. Edison takes great interest in the invention of Mr.\nFrank M. Ashley—a violin which, as its inventor claims, is,\nafter having been played upon for a few days, as free and\nbeautiful in tone as those rare old instruments constructed by\nthe Italian masters. Mr. Ashley had a chance last week\nto play upon his violin before the audience of the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nThis new violin is made by bending the top and bottom\nplates to the required shape to form the arching, the sides and\nends of the instrument being curved so that the edge of the\nplates can be bent to conform to this curvature and held in\nposition to the side frame. By this construction, the long fiber"}, {"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "201", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.16", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n(Continued from last issue)\n\nof the wood is maintained unbroken, thus lending to the in-\nstrument when new a richness of tone and freedom not hereto-\nfore known in new violins.\n\nCats' Face Baths\nBy D. Molby\nWHENEVER a cat is ready to sit down for a while he wants\nto make sure that his face is clean. The only way he\ncan tell is to work his tongue around until he has a little moisture\nin his mouth and moisten his paw and rub it around over his\nface. When he licks it again he can tell by the taste whether\nhe has got off any dirt. He keeps on putting moisture on his\npaw and rubbing it on his face until the taste is the same after\nevery rub and he knows that there isn't any more dirt coming\noff.\nAll of this dirt that he can get off he probably swallows,\nbecause he doesn't spit it out. He? doesn't mind getting the\ndirt in his mouth, because it is his own dirt. And he doesn't\nthink anything about his face being spit-washed, for it is with\nhis own spit. He will let another cat lick his back, but not\nhis face—unless he is a small cat and it is his mother that is\ndoing it.\nWhen he has washed as well as he can and has used up all his\nspit, he fe'els brighter and looks brighter, because he has the\nconsciousness that he is clean. He doesn't think about the\ndirt that is in his ears, and even if he should, he is out of\nspit. And so long as he isn't aware of the dirt there, his\nconsciousness is just as good as though he waited until he\ncould make more spit and made a lot more and washed them\nclean.\n\nRichard Wagner—Egoist\nBy Guido Bruno\nIt was a cold December afternoon. Wagner had received\na ticket admitting him to one of the famous Gewandhaus Con-\ncerts. The music between the acts in the! theatre was treated\nrather as \"dinner music\" and the concert gave Wagner for the\nfirst time in his life the chance to listen to music played by\nskillful musicians in a dignified way.\nThere he heard Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.\nIt was like a revelation.\nIt forced open in him the flood-gates of a torrent of emotion.\nA new world dawned upon him. Music that had hitherto lain\ndormant suddenly awakened into a vigorous existence.\n\"I will be a musician,\" was the decision of his future career.\nHe started the theoretical study of music with all the con-\nscientiousness and vigor so characteristic of him. Beethoven\nwas his daily companion. He was carefully storing up all the\ngrand thoughts of the great master but his fiery enthusiasm had"}, {"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "202", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.17", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n(To be Continued)\nBruno's Weekly, published weekly, by Charles Edison and\nEdited and written by Guido Bruno, 58 Washington Square,\nNew York City. Subscription $1 a year.\nApplications for entry as second-class matter at the Post Office of\nNew York pending.\n\nnot come as yet to that burning point where it would enlighten\nhis own latent powers. His acquaintance with the scores of\nBeethoven has never been equaled. It was extraordinary. He\nknew them so well by heart that he could play all movements\non the piano with his awkward fingers.\nAnd so Beethoven gave the world one of its greatest com-\nposers.\nAnd Beethoven's Ninth Symphony created another important\nturning point in Wagner's life.\nThe master's master symphony was responsible for the crea-\ntion of the national German opera.\nParis in the middle of the last century was for Europe what\nNew York is today for the United States. Paris was the head-\nquarters of the celebrated theatrical producers. In the Grande\nOpera were created the spectacular plays and the ballet, which\nfound their way to the royal stages of the German states.\nParis was the Dorado of the ambitious poet and young musi-\ncian. To have been in Paris was necessary to gain recognition\nin Europe. To have had plays produced in Paris meant ready\nacceptance by the managers of German theatres.\nWagner had been fascinated by the successes of Meyerbeer\nwhose works he felt were inferior to the two acts of The Rienzi\nwhich he had composed. He went to Paris.\nHis young wife and his dog accompanied him. He earned his\nliving in re-writing orchestra scores for a publisher and writing\narticles and criticisms for newspapers and periodicals. But he\ndidn't earn enough to sustain himself in comfort. It was a\npitiful struggle and a miserable life—these! three years in Paris.\nThere came a day—the great turning point in Wagner's life.\nThe rent for his furnished room was due. Credit was exhausted\nand he and his wife had not had sufficient food for three days.\nHe went to the office of the publisher for whom he worked. He\nasked for a small loan. He not only got the money and more\nthan he asked but also an offer which dazed him at first. The\nmanager of a Paris theatre had purchased one, as he thought,\nvery promising libretto. He wanted some music written—some\npiquant, light, suggestive music,—just the kind Wagner despised.\nAnd the publisher offered Wagner a large amount for writing\nthis music. There was not only the chance of earning some\nmoney but to gain entrance to the circle of successful managers,\npoets and musicians."}, {"page_pdf": 18, "page_imprimee": "[203]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151113-01.1.18", "texte": "Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre, Situated\nat No.lOFifth Avenue, Greenwich Village, N.Y.C.\nGuid* Bruno, Manager.\nThis Week's Performances and Concerts\nMonday,\n3 p. m.\nWednesday, 2:14 p. m.\nThursday,\nFriday,\n3 p. m.\n8:15 p. m.\n8:15 p. m.\nSaturday, 2:00 p. ra.\n8:15 p. m.\nA little Pilgrimage to the home\nand workshop of Stephen\nCollins Foster.\nChildren's Hour and Disc Concert\non the Square.\nA little Pilgrimage of the home\nand workshop of Stephen\nCollins Foster.\nPerformance at the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nPerformance at the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nChildren's Hour and Disc Concert\non the Square.\nPerformance at the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nAsk or write for ticket of admission to The\nLittle Thimble Theatre performances. They\nare free of charge.\nWho Wrote Our National Home Songs?\n\"Way Down upon the Swane«\nRiver,\" \"My Old Kentucky Home,\"\n\"Old Folks at Home.\" Do you\nknow that they were created and\nwritten by Stephen Collins Foster?\nIn a Dingy Bowery Grocery Store?\nCome to the Matinee on Monday or Thursday at 3 P. M."}]}