{"numero_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_sha256": "8cce23da4ead016ccb465c41ba7883490331f6682af25974757af475b97cf4e9", "source_tei": "https://github.com/Princeton-CDH/bluemountain-transcriptions/blob/main/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1916/07/15_01/bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01.tei.xml", "source_mets": "https://github.com/pulibrary/BlueMountain/blob/main/metadata/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1916/07/15_01/bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01.mets.xml", "url_numero": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01", "articles": [{"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c002", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c002", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[839]", "page_fin": "[839]", "image_debut": 3, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.2", "titre_corps": "Sapientia Lunae", "titre_sommaire": "Sapientia Lunae", "signature_source": "Ernest Dowson", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "[839]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.3", "debut_caractere": 137, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1208, "texte": "Sapientia Lunae\nErnest Dowson\nr~Y%HE wisdom of the world said unto me:\n* \"Go forth and run, the race is to the brave;\nPerchance some honour tarrieth for thee!\"\n\"As tarrieth ,\" I said, \"for sure, the grave \"\nFor I had pondered on a rune of roses,\nWhich to her votaries the moon discloses.\nThe wisdom of the world said: \"There are bays:\nGo forth and run, for victory is good,\nAfter the stress of the laborious days\"\n\"Yet ,\" said I, \"shall Ibe the worms' sweet food,\"\nAs I went musing on a rune of roses,\nWhich in her hour, the pale, soft moon discloses.\nThen said my voices: \"Wherefore strive or run,\nOn dusty highways ever, a vain race?\nThe long night cometh, starless, void of sun,\nWhat light shall serve thee like her golden face?\"\nFor I had pondered on a rune of roses,\nAnd knew some secrets which the moon discloses.\n\"Yea,\" said I, \"for her eyes are pure and sweet\nAs lilies, and the fragrance of her hair\nIs many laurels; and it is not meet\nTo run for shadows when the prize is here;\"\nAnd I went reading in that rune of roses\nWhich to her votaries the moon discloses."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c003", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c003", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[839]", "page_fin": "842", "image_debut": 3, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.3", "titre_corps": "Will Poland and Bohemia Regain Their National Independence?", "titre_sommaire": "Will Poland and Bohemia Regain Their National Independence?", "signature_source": "Guido Bruno", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "[839]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.3", "debut_caractere": 1210, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5401, "texte": "Will Poland and Bohemia Regain\nTheir National Independence?\n\n\\Y7 ILL there be again an independent kingdom of Po-\nland? Will the ancient bulwark of Occidental\nChristendom against the barbaric and heathenish Orient\narise to new splendor under a king of its own choice?\nShall the King of Bohemia, now one of the many appel-\nlations which the Emperor of Austria suffixes to his name,\nhave again its old meaning: Crowned ruler of the Bo-\nhemians ? Will the ancient sovereign kingdom of Bohemia\ncease to be a province of Cis-Lithanic Austria and regain\nits national independence and its freedom?\nThe Bohemian and Polish regiments fighting in the\ntrenches of the Austrian, the German and the Russian\narmies believe so. The men that are at home directing\nthe administrations of their countries are confident that a\nfinal decision of the present struggle will mean a new\nlong-hoped-for political birth of Poland and Bohemia;\npolitical exiles of both countries, men who had not sub-\nmitted to the prevailing conditions, but had preferred to\nlive the life of foreigners in a foreign country, are full of\nenthusiasm, full of hope that the time has come when\nthey shall return to their beloved fatherland, to their\nancient homes, to be the first among the subjects of a\nnewly liberated country, swearing allegiance to their in-\ndependent ruler.\nNo matter whether the allies are victorious, dictating\npeace conditions to Germany and Austria, or whether the\nAustro-German forces gain the upper hand, Poland and\nBohemia will and must be the winners. The knowledge\nof this fact, impressed upon the minds of the Slavic sol-\ndiers by the national propaganda leagues, made them good\nand willing soldiers, prevented the so-much-talked-of mu-\ntinies in German and Russian Poland and made them\nenthusiastic fighters under the standard of Austria-Ger-\nmany, as well as of Russia and France.\nNot little was the astonishment throughout the world\nduring those weeks in which the operations took place\non the Polish border between Russia and Germany that\nPoles in German uniforms fought Poles carrying Russian\narms, and evidently without much resistance on their part.\nMutinies en masse had been prophesied—nothing hap-\npened. The Poles kept their oath of allegiance to their\nrespective governments, and submerged their personal\nfeelings in the one great idea: To gain political and\nnational liberty as a natural consequence of the great\nevents in progress, and foretold long ago by their political\nleaders.\nVery often the Poles and Bohemians have tried to re-\ngain their national liberty. Revolutions against the gov-\nernments of Austria and Germany and Russia were sup-\npressed innumerable times. There was not a year in\nwhich revolutionary movements were not detected and the\nleaders imprisoned or exiled. But never before was per-\nsonal ambition and a desire to elevate this or that per-\nsonality to the highest human honors less the motive\nthan at the present time.\nOf course, there are claimants to the crown of Poland.\nThe name of the man who is a descendant of the Jagel-\nlones, whose name is inscribed in golden letters on the\nhistory of Poland, who is related to all the crowned heads\nof Europe, is in the mouth of all. But national independ-\nence and a democratic spirit never known before in the\nrevolutionary movements of the country are prevailing\namong the masses of the population, as well as among the\nold nobility.\nEver since the institution of the electoral kingdom, dur-\ning the entire eighteenth century, up until the death of\nthe last elected King of Poland and the division and dis-\ntribution of his country in the year 1830, two chief influ-\nences have tried to gain predominance in political and\nadministrative matters in the kingdom. France and Aus-\ntria have played their diplomatic cards to gain as much\nfoothold as ever they could in the rich and highly culti-\nvated country.\nIt was the father of the present claimant to the crown\nof Poland, Adam, eleventh Prince Czartoryski, Duke of\nKlewan, who, dissatisfied with Austrian diplomacy, emi-\ngrated in about the year 1800 to Russia.\nAfter the fall of the kingdom the Polish nobles emi-\ngrated partly to France and Austria, partly to Russia."}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "840", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.4", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6751, "texte": "All the Poles aimed at the restoration of their indepen-\ndent kingdom. Those in Russia, known as Russophiles,\nplaced their faith in promises given them by Russia, while\nthe Austrophiles placed the same confidence in the Aus-\ntrian politics. Russia disappointed them on all occasions.\nThey dread Russian despotism, while Austria, not trying\nto submerge their Polish national feeling, granted them ex-\ntensive rights and privileges.\nBut the Polish language was officially abolished in the\nAustrian provinces that had been incorporated into the\nGerman Empire. The aim of the German Government\nwas to kill in the children a national spirit that might\nlead a new generation to rise up against the German op-\npressor. Austria, with its many other Slavic nations, left\nthem their language, and, at times, to a certain extent,\ntheir national liberty. A prince royal was sent to Cracow,\nbeing educated as a Pole among Poles, and his eventual\nelection in case the Polish empire could be ressurected\nwas an open secret.\nBut above all, Russians and Germans proved them-\nselves entirely intolerant in religious matters. The Poles\nhave defended Christianity against Oriental invasions\nsince time immemorial. Polish missionaries Christianized\nPrussia, and so Prussia was drawn naturally to Catholic\nAustria and its Emperor, who proudly calls himself\n\"Apostolic Majesty and Defender of the Faith.\"\nThat national independence could and would be estab-\nlished by Austria was the belief of all, as is shown clearly\nby the friendly relations of the Polish Legion and the\nAustrian Government. This Polish Legion was a na-\ntional body organized by all classes of the Polish popula-\ntion to defend their national spirit and religious freedom\nagainst Russia, but which was just as willing to turn\nagainst Germany. The promises o,f Germany, especially\nduring the present war, did not make any impression upon\nthe minds of Polish patriots. They had not forgotten\nwhat Bismarck had said on the occasion of discussing the\nrestoration of Poland with the Russian Czar: \"A free\nPoland would be a strong French army at the Weichsel.,,\nThe rise of Germany as a world power dates back to the\nlast day of Poland's independence. The loss of the Polish\nprovinces at the present time would be more disastrous to\nGermany's position on the European continent than the\nloss of Alsace-Lorraine.\nGreat were the hopes of Polish patriots during the\nfirst struggles in the Balkans, as Austrian troops occupied\nBelgrade and were victorious all along the lines. Austria\nseems to have come to a standstill in the war. The death\nof the aged Emperor, which may occur any day, will turn\nhis monarchy into a boiling pot of dissatisfied nations, and\na war of rebellion, suppressed artificially for almost sixty\nyears, might necessitate a quick peace treaty with the bel-\nligerent nations.\nThe Poles are aware of all this, and the 25,000,000\ninhabitants of the ancient Polish kingdom feel that Rus-\nsia, Germany and England will have to grant them na-\ntional independence in order to establish a buffer state.\nThey will hail enthusiastically Adam Louis, the twelfth\nPrince Czartoriski, as their king. His family relations\nwill grant them the good will of all the other empires of\nEurope. His mother was a princess of Bourbon Orleans;\nhe is a close relative of the King of Spain, and he is re-\nlated by marriage to the reigning houses of the chief mon-\narchies of Europe. He has large estates in Russia, in\nFrance, in Germany and in Austria* He is a soldier and(\na true Pole, who wears the picturesque national costume\nat the courts of other nations. His home in Paris, flie\nPalais Lambert, was for 150 years the Polish political\ncentre.\nWhile 2,000,000 Poles are fighting as German, Russian\nand Austrian soldiers and French volunteers; while their\ncountry is worse devastated than so-much-pitied Belgium;\nwhile all other Poles look eagerly to a happy future in\ntheir re-united, newly-restored \"Holy Kingdom,\" those\nmen who constitute the National Committee, those who\nplotted and worked for national independence, are re-<\nsigned to the inevitable new fate of Poland, to be a Slavic\nIreland on the continent of Europe.\nHigh up on the mountains upon whose side is situated\nthe \"Old City\" Prague, with its many castles and palaces\nbelonging to the oldest families of Europe, who have given\nkings to countries and furnished wives to emperors and\nmonarchs, stands an old building of great length, with\nGothic windows and many oddly shaped towers. From\nhere one can overlook that beautiful and rich country,\nBohemia, whose soil is blest with all the natural resources\nneeded by its population.\nOnly once a year are the shutters before the windows\nthrown open and the great, heavy doors unbarred. On\nthe first of March of each year the Bohemian nobles and\nrepresentatives of the population at large that constitute\nthe so-called \"Repeal Party\" assemble in their national\ncostumes to demand solemnly from Emperor Francis\nJoseph that he submit to his coronation as a King of\nBohemia, and to protest against the constant violation of\ntheir national constitution, re-granted them through an\nimperial edict in the year 1871. Just as solemnly as they\nenter the building they leave it, and go out to different\nparts of the country and tell their constituents and fol-\nlowers that the spirit of unbroken national independence\nstill is alive, and to declare anew that the time will come\nwhen they will assemble in the venerable Cathedral of\nVysehehrad to crown their King with the paraphernalia\nof the holy Vaclav, their King and patron saint. It is\nthis political party which worked for almost seventy years\nin the most ardent and unselfish way for the national\nindependence of the Bohemian people, which won one\nvictory after the other, which restored language and na-\ntional rights to the greater part of Bohemia, and which\nsees in the present war the long-hoped-for chance and\nmeans to establish unquestionably and irrevocably the na-\ntional kingdom.\nAs in Poland, personal claimants for the kingdom stand\nin the background. It might be a prince of the House of\nHapsburg, chosen to be the successor of Francis Joseph, or\nthe scion of one of Bohemia's noble families; it might be\na Prince Lobkowitz or a Czermin.\nSince the death of Louis Jagellon during the battle of\nMohacz, 1526, the Bohemians have accepted a prince of\nthe House of Hapsburg as king. The Thirty Years' War\nbrought devastation to the country and with it German\naristocrats, German influence. German settlers took pos-\nsession of the land, used the pauperized Bohemians as\nworkers of the soil, and succeeded during a period of 200\nyears in making them forget their own nationality.\nThe people whose princes had been leaders in the men-"}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "842", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 74, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4168, "texte": "tal uplift of Europe's highest cultivated nations; the peo-\nple which had the Bible in its own language long before\nLuther gave Germany and before King James gave Eng-\nland the Scriptures; the race which had followed Huss in\nhis endeavors for religious freedom, believed what their\nGerman oppressors told them. They were ashamed to be\nBohemians; they neglected their own language, and until\nthe first decades of the nineteenth century it looked very\nmuch as if the Bohemian tongue would die.\nUnique in the history of nations is the restoration of\nnational ideals in Bohemia. It was the work of a his-\ntorian, the honored Palacky, a statesman and leader of his\nnation, to bring back to memory the national importance\nof Bohemia. It was shortly after the year 1848 that he\nproved not only to his own people but to the entire world\nthat Bohemia had a language, a highly cultivated lan-\nguage ; that Bohemia had a literature, and a right to na-\ntional liberty and independence.\nIn those days it was considered a political crime to con-\nfess to Bohemian nationality, to speak Bohemian in public\nplaces or on the street. A system of police surveillance\nwas strictly kept up by the imperial Government in\nVienna, and to be known as a Bohemian sympathizer\nmeant social and often financial ruin.\nAnd even to-day are the electoral laws such that 3,000,-\n000 Germans are enabled to elect fifty-three Deputies to\nParliament, while 5,000,000 Bohemians can elect only\nfifty. It was a clever idea to have the voting population\nstate their language and not their nationality. Many thou-\nsands of voters who are in the employ of the Government\nor of German interests and have to use the German\nlanguage, in spite of their Bohemian nationality, in this\nway are counted officially as Germans.\nRevolutions and uprisings occurred every year. The\nBohemians had clever leaders. They insisted upon the\nacceptance of the Bohemian language as a national\nlanguage, and they succeeded in the course of sixty years.\nIn the year 1868, Bohemia's sovereignty under the Haps-\nburg rule was officially declared. The sad experiences\nof Austria during the Prussian campaigns in 1868 showed\nclearly that the police ministry had been a failure. The\nBohemians had refused for a score of years to attend the\nDiet in Prague, and seldom sent Deputies to the\nParliament in Vienna. Shortly after the outbreak of the\nFranco-Prussian war Count Hohenwart, one of the ablest\nPrime Ministers the Hapsburg Empire ever had, took up\nnew negotiations with the Bohemians. He followed a\npolicy friendly to their national endeavors, and September\n14 of the same year succeeded in inducing the Bohemians\nto take their seats in the Diet in Prague.\nAnd great was the joy of the Bohemian nation as a\nmessage of the sovereign was read in which there was\npromised a special representative, a Prince of the House\nof Hapsburg, to rule Bohemia, responsible to the Parlia-\nment at Prague; that Bohemian would be the national\nlanguage and the old constitution regranted.\nTo show his good faith, Emperor Francis Joseph, \"in\nconsideration of the former constitutional position of Bo-\nhemia, and remembering the power and glory which its\ncrown had given to his ancestors and the constant fidelity\nof the population, gladly recognized the rights of the\nKingdom of Bohemia and was willing to confirm this\nassurance by taking the coronation oath.\"\nNearly forty-five years elapsed. Francis Joseph never\nmade his promise good. But the \"Repeal Party\" reminded\nhim faithfully every year of his promise. Too much did\nthe population of Bohemia love their uncrowned King,\nwho spoke the Bohemian language fluently and had shown\nthem innumerable proofs of his good-will and his kindness,\nto rebel against his person.\nBohemia to-day really is Bohemia. A distinctive litera-\nture has developed, a university has been erected, and high\nnational spirit has been created among the population.\nThe days of the old Emperor are numbered. His\ndeath will necessitate the crowning of a new King. The\ntime seems to be near when Bohemia's national ambitions\nwill be realized.\n\nGuido Bruno."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c004", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c004", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "841", "page_fin": "841", "image_debut": 5, "image_fin": 5, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.4", "titre_corps": "THE MONSTER OF THE VILLAGE", "titre_sommaire": "THE MONSTER OF THE 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": "841", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 42, "texte": "THE MONSTER OF THE VILLAGE"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c005", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c005", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "842", "page_fin": "844", "image_debut": 6, "image_fin": 8, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.5", "titre_corps": "My Favorite Murder", "titre_sommaire": "My Favorite Murder", "signature_source": "Ambrose Bierce", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "842", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 4170, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6582, "texte": "My Favorite Murder\nBy Ambrose Bierce\n*\n\"I told him I thought that a pretty reasonable request,\nand I would do so if he would let me put him in a wheat\nsack; he would be easier to carry that way, and if we were\nseen by the neighbors en route it would cause less remark.\nHe agreed to that, and, going to the bar, I got a sack.\nThis, however, did not fit him; it was too short and much\nwider than he was; so I bent his legs, forced his knees\nup against his breast, and got him into it that way, tying\nthe sack above his head. He was a heavy man, and I had\nall I could do to get him on my back, but I staggered\nalong for some distance until I came to a swing which\nsome of the children had suspended to the branch of an\noak. Here I laid him down and sat upon him to rest,\nand the sight of the rope gave me a happy inspiration.\nIn twenty minutes my uncle, still in the sack, swung\nfree to the sport of the wind. I ha:d taken down the\nrope, tied one end tightly about the mouth of the bag,\nthrown the other across the limb, and hauled him up\nabout five feet from the ground. Fastening the other\nend of the rope also to the mouth of the sack, I had the\nsatisfaction to see my uncle converted into a huge pendu-\nlum. I must add that he was not himself entirely aware\nof the nature of the change which he had undergone in\nhis relation to the exterior world, though in justice to\na brave man's memory I ought to say that I do not think\nhe would in any case have wasted much of my time in\nvain remonstrance. -\n\"Uncle William had a ram which was'famous in all\nthat region as a fighter. It was in a state of chronic\nconstitutional indignation. Some deep disappointment\nin early life had soured its disposition, and it had de-\nclared 'war upon the whole world. To say that it would\nbutt anything accessible is but faintly to express the nature\nand scope of its military activity; the universe was its an-\ntagonist; its method was that of a projectile. It fought,\nlike the angels and devils, in mid-air, cleaving the atmo-\nsphere like a bird, describing a parabolic curve and descend-\ning upon its victim at just the exact angle of incidence to\nmake the most of its velocity and weight. Its momentum,\ncalculated in foot-tons, was something incredible. It had\nbeen seen to destroy a four-year-old bull by a single im-\npact upon that animal's gnarly forehead. No stone wall\nhad ever been known to resist its downward swoop; there"}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "843", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6055, "texte": "were no trees tough enough to stay it; it would splinter\nthem into matchwood and defile their leafy honors in the\ndust. This irascible and implacable brute—this incarnate\nthunderbolt—this monster of the upper deep, I had seen\nreposing in the shade of an adjacent tree, dreaming dreams\nof conquest and glory. It was with a view to summoning\nit forth to the field of honor that I suspended its master\nin the manner described.\n\"Having completed my preparations, I imparted to the\navuncular pendulum a gentle oscillation, and retiring to\ncover behind a contiguous rock, lifted up my voice in a\nlong, rasping cry, whose diminishing final note was\ndrowned in a noise like that of a swearing cat, which\nemanated from the sack. Instantly that formidable sheep\nwas upon its feet and had taken in the military situation\nat a glance. In a few moments it had approached, stamp-\ning, to within fifty yards of the swinging foeman who,\nnow retreating and anon advancing, seemed to invite the\nfray. Suddenly I saw the beast's head drop earthward\nas rf depressed by the weight of its enormous horns; then\na dim, white, wavy streak of sheep prolonged itself from\nthat spot in a generally horizontal direction to within\nabout four yards of a point immediately beneath the enemy.\nThere it struck sharply upward, and before it had faded\nfrom my gaze at the place where it had set out I heard\na horrible thump and a piercing scream, and my poor\nuncle shot forward with a slack rope, higher than the\nlimb to which he was attached. Here the rope tautened\nwith a jerk, arresting his flight, and back he swung in a\nbreathless curve to the other end of his arc. The ram\nhad fallen, a heap of indistinguishable legs, wool, and\nhorns, but, pulling itself together and dodging as its\nantagonist swept downward, it retired at random, al-\nternately shaking its head and stamping its fore feet.\nWhen it had backed about the same distance as that from\nwhich it had delivered the assault, it paused again, bowed\nits head as if in prayer for victory, and again shot forward,\ndimly visible as before—a prolonging white streak with\nmonstrous undulations, ending with a sharp ascension.\nIts course this time was at a right angle to its former\none, and its impatience so great that it struck the enemy\nbefore he had nearly reached the lowest point of his arc.\nIn consequence he went flying around and around in a\nhorizontal circle, whose radius was about equal to half\nthe length of the rope, which I forgot to say was nearly\ntwenty feet long. His shrieks, crescendo in approach and\ndiminuendo in recession, made the rapidity of his revolu-\ntion more obvious to the ear than to the eye. He had\nevidently not yet been struck in a vital spot. His posture\nin the sack and the distance from the ground at which\nhe hung compelled the ram to operate upon his lower\nextremities and the end of his back. Like a plant that\nhas struck its root into some poisonous mineral, my poor\nuncle was dying slowly upward.\n\"After delivering its second blow the ram had not\nagain retired. The fever of battle burned hot in its heart;\nits brain was intoxicated with the wine of strife. Like\na pugilist who in his rage forgets his skill and fights in-\neffectively at half-arm's length, the angry beast endeavored\nto reach its fleeting foe by awkward vertical leaps as he\npassed overhead, sometimes, indeed, succeeding in striking\nhim feebly, but more frequently overthrown by its own\nmisguided eagerness. But as the impetus was exhausted\nand the man's circles narrowed in scope and diminished\nin speed, bringing him nearer to the ground, these tactics\nproduced better results and elicited a superior quality of\nscreams, which I greatly enjoyed.\n\"Suddenly, as if the bugles had sung truce, the ram\nsuspended hostilities and walked away, thoughtfully\nwrinkling and smoothing its great aquiline nose, and oc-\ncasionally cropping a bunch of grass and slowly munch-\ning it. It seemed to have tired of war's alarms and re-\nsolved to beat the sword into a plowshare and cultivate\nthe arts of peace. Steadily it held its course away from\nthe field of fame until it had gained a distance of nearly\na quarter of a mile. There it stopped and stood with its\nrear to the foe, chewing its cud and apparently half asleep,\nI observed, however, an occasional slight turn of its head*\nas if its apathy were more affected than real.\n\"Meanwhile Uncle William's shrieks had abated with\nhis motion, and nothing was heard from him but long,\nlow moans, and at long intervals my name, uttered in\npleading tones exceedingly grateful to my ear. Evidently\nthe man had not the faintest notion of what was being\ndone to him, and was inexpressibly terrified. When Death\ncomes cloaked in mystery he is terrible indeed. Little by\nlittle my uncle's oscillations diminished, and finally he\nhung motionless. I went to him and was about to give\nthe coup de grace, when I heard and felt a succession of\nsmart shocks which shook the ground like a series of light\nearthquakes, and turning in the direction of the ram, saw\na cloud of dust approaching me with inconceivable rapidity\nand alarming effect. At a distance of some thirty yards\naway it stopped short, and from the near end of it rose\ninto the air what I at first thought a great white bird.\nIts ascent was so smooth and easy and regular that I could\nnot realize its extraordinary celerity, and was lost in\nadmiration of its grace. To this day the impression re-\nmains that it was a slow, deliberate movement, the ram—\nfor it was that animal—being upborne by some power\nother than its own impetus, and supported through the\nsuccessive stages of its flight with infinite tenderness and\ncare. My eyes followed its progress through the air with\nunspeakable pleasure, all the greater by contrast with my\nformer terror of its approach by land. Onward and up-\nward the noble animal sailed, its head bent down almost\nbetween its knees, its forefeet thrown back, its hinder\nlegs trailing to rear like the legs of a soaring heron. At\na height of forty or fifty feet, as nearly as I could judge,"}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "844", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 904, "texte": "it attained its zenith and appeared to remain an instant\nstationary; then, tilting suddenly forward without alter-\ning the relative position of its parts, it shot downward on\na steeper and steeper course with augmenting velocity,\npassed immediately above me with a noise like the rush\nof a cannon shot, and struck my poor uncle almost squarely\non the top of the head! So frightful was the impact that\nnot only the neck was broken, but the rope, too; and the\nbody of the deceased, forced against the earth, was crushed\nto pulp beneath the awful front of that meteroic sheep!\nThe concussion stopped all the clocks between Lone Hand\nand Dutch Dan's, and Professor Davidson, who happened\nto be in the vicinity, promptly explained that the vibra-\ntions were from north to south.\"\nAltogether, I cannot help thinking that in point of\natrocity my murder of Uncle William has seldom been\nexcelled."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c006", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c006", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "843", "page_fin": "843", "image_debut": 7, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.6", "titre_corps": "Drawing by Aubrey Beardsley", "titre_sommaire": "Drawing by Aubrey Beardsley", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "843", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 6057, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6084, "texte": "Drawing by Aubrey Beardsley"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c007", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c007", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "844", "page_fin": "844", "image_debut": 8, "image_fin": 8, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.7", "titre_corps": "Technically Speaking", "titre_sommaire": "Technically Speaking", "signature_source": "Joan Eliot", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "844", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 906, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2083, "texte": "Technically Speaking\nJoan Eliot\nHP HE doctor sat by her bed filling out a birth certificate.\n\"Occupation of father?\"\n\"Occupation of mother? . . .\"\nShe turned her head away from him on the pillow,\nsmiling faintly, thinking of the first time she had been\nasked that question. \"Home-maker\" had been her proud\nreply. She remembered an interne had laughed very\nheartily, Of course she knew the right answer now.\nA vision of her days flashed before her—days spent in\nperforming unnumbered tasks, accomplished only to be\nperformed again. She seemed to see rows and rows of un-\nmade beds; pyramids of dishes; grimy things to be made\nclean, shred and patches which once were little garments\nand must, by some miraculous process, become little gar-\nments again. She thought of miles of weary tramping\nthrough the shops in search of best values for least money,\nof racking hours, of nursing in the sick room; of all the\nendless round of replenishing, restoring, re-producing, so\nlately interrupted by her illness, so soon to begin again.\nHer smile held something of weariness as she turned back\nto answer the doctor.\n\"Occupation of mother?—None!\" . . . But he\nhad already written it down."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c008", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c008", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "844", "page_fin": "844", "image_debut": 8, "image_fin": 8, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.8", "titre_corps": "Forgotten lines by Tom Sleeper written in a Birthday Book, 1890", "titre_sommaire": "Forgotten lines by Tom Sleeper written in a Birthday Book, 1890", "signature_source": "Joan Eliot", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "844", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 2085, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2269, "texte": "Forgotten lines by Tom Sleeper written in a Birthday Book,\n1890\nJoan Eliot\nCOME years ago on August third\nI first began to snore\nBut when I think it over now\nI can't make out what for."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c009", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c009", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "844", "page_fin": "844", "image_debut": 8, "image_fin": 8, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.9", "titre_corps": "Two Oriental Stories", "titre_sommaire": "Two Oriental Stories", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "844", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 2271, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3868, "texte": "Two Oriental Stories\nThe Hungry Man and the Arab\nA PERSON was walking along hungry, and saw an\nArab who was eating victuals by the side of a pond.\nHe went up to him, and said, \"I am just come from the\nneighborhood of your dwelling.\" The Arab asked him,\n\"Are my wife, my child, and my camel, all in good\nhealth?\" The man said, \"Yes.\" The Arab became quite\ncontented, and paid no regard to that person farther. The\nman then began to say, \"O Arab! this dog which is now\nsitting before you, if your own dog were still alive, it\nwould be just such another.\" The Arab raised up his\nhead, and said to him, \"My dog! how did it die?\" The\nman replied, \"It ate too much of the flesh of your camel.\"\nHe inquired, \"How did my camel die?\" The man an-\nswered, \"Your wife died—and then there was no one to\ngive it grain or water.\" The Arab asked, \"How did my\nwife die?\" The man replied, \"In lamentation for your\nson, she wept excessively, and beat her head and breast\nwith stones.\" He asked, \"How did my son die?\" The\nman said, \"The house fell upon him.\" On hearing this\naccount of the ruin of his house, the Arab threw dust upon\nhis head, and leaving his victuals as they were, went off\nin the direction of his dwelling. The man, by this device,\ngot the victuals.\nThe Emperor and the Jester\nA N emperor one day went out a-hunting along with the\nprince. When the weather became hot, the em-\nperor and the prince put their cloaks upon the back of a\njester. The emperor fell a-laughing, and said to him—\n\"O, jester! you have there the load of an ass.\" The jester\nreplied—\"Nay, I have in fact the load of two asses.\""}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c010", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c010", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "844", "page_fin": "844", "image_debut": 8, "image_fin": 8, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.10", "titre_corps": "Charles Beaudelaire", "titre_sommaire": "Charles Beaudelaire", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "844", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 3870, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3889, "texte": "Charles Beaudelaire"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c011", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c011", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "844", "page_fin": "845", "image_debut": 8, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.11", "titre_corps": "Advice For Young Authors", "titre_sommaire": "Advice For Young Authors", "signature_source": "Charles Beaudelaire Translated by Guido Bruno", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "844", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 3891, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4166, "texte": "Advice For Young Authors\nBy Charles Beaudelaire\nTranslated by Guido Bruno\nHow One Should Work\n\"TO-DAY one has to produce a good deal and mighty\nquick and handy at that. Every strike must hit\nthe mark and none must be in vain.\nIn order to write quickly one must have thought a"}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "845", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2670, "texte": "lot. At the daily walk, in the bathroom, while eating\nin the restaurant, even on your way to see your girl and\nwhile with her, one must think of his work. An artist\nonce said to me: \"Art is a thing so incomprehensible and\nso fleeting that instruments are never handy and one's\nmeans never quick enough!\"\nThe same is true of literature; therefore I shall never\nbe a friend of revision. It scratches the mirror of the\nthought.\nSome of our best and most conscientious authors start\nout in filling a lot of paper. They call it covering the\ncanvas. The purpose of this rather erroneous under-\ntaking is to preserve everything and not to lose anything.\nAnd then they start to revamp it and to rehash it and to\nrevise it. If the work was good at first, they are losing a\nlot of time, a lot of energy and a lot of originality. To\ncover a canvas doesn't mean to fill it with color, but to\napply color here and there to get shades and new color\nschemes.\nA canvas has to be covered—mentally, in the same\nsecond that the writer reaches for his pen to write the\nname of his story.\nIt is said that Balzac was in the custom of rewriting\nhis drafts in an irregular and fantastic way. His novels\nare supposed to go through the ordeal of re-generation in\nthe course of which the unity of sentences and of the work\nitself is lost. Without doubt this bad methpd gave his\nstyle an almost unbelievable distraction, topsy-turvyness\nand the appearance of sketchiness. It is the only fault I\ncan find with this great narrator.\nAbout Remuneration\nNT O matter how nice a house is at first even before\n* drawing attention to its beauty one mentions that\nit is so many and so many feet high and of such and such\na width. It is almost similar with literature, whose\nvalue surely is immeasurable in human figures. At first\nit means to fill columns and the literary architect whose\nname in itself does not command money has to sell for\nthe best price offered to him.\nThere are some young men who say \"Why should we\nbe painstaking with work that brings us little money ?\"\nThey could have delivered very good literature and in\nthat case they would have been deprived of what was\ncoming to them for the moment urged by necessity. But\nthey robbed themselves of their best chances. On account\nof bad pay they still would have found the highest honor\nbut on account of bad pay they themselves gave up the\nhighest honors.\nEverything I have to say about this vital question in the\n>life of a young author I will gather into one sentence\nwhich I submit for consideration to all philosophers, his-\ntorians, and business men:\nA beautiful conception is utterly unprofitable. Hard\nwork makes it pay."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c012", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c012", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "845", "page_fin": "845", "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.12", "titre_corps": "Fragment", "titre_sommaire": "Fragment", "signature_source": "James Waldo Fawcett", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "845", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 2672, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2795, "texte": "Fragment\nJames Waldo Fawcett\nEvery happy man\nIs like\nEvery other happy man.\nBut an unhappy man\nHas no comrade\nLike himself."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c013", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c013", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "845", "page_fin": "845", "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.13", "titre_corps": "American Army Creed of 1782", "titre_sommaire": "American Army Creed of 1782", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "845", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 2797, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3780, "texte": "American Army Creed of 1782\n•\"P HE following creed was adopted by the officers of the\nAmerican army at Verplanck's Point, in 1782:\n\"We believe that there is a great First Cause, by whose\nalmighty fiat we were formed; and that our business here\nis to obey the orders of our superiors. We believe that\nevery soldier who does his duty will be happy here, and\nthat every such one who dies in battle, will be happy here-*\nafter. We believe that General Washington is the only\nfit man in the world to head the American army. We\nbelieve that Nathaniel Green was born a general. We\nbelieve that the evacuation of Ticonderoga was one of\nthose strokes which stamp the man who dares to strike\nthem, with everlasting fame. We believe that Baron Steu-\nben has made us soldiers, and that he is capable of forming\nthe whole world into a solid column, and displaying it from\nthe centre. We believe in his blue book. We believe in\nGenral Knox and his artillery. And we believe in our\nbayonets. Amen.\""}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c014", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c014", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "845", "page_fin": "845", "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.14", "titre_corps": "Nietsche. By F. Vollan", "titre_sommaire": "Nietsche. By F. Vollan", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "845", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 3782, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3804, "texte": "Nietsche. By F. Vollan"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c015", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c015", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "845", "page_fin": "845", "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.15", "titre_corps": "Replated Platitudes", "titre_sommaire": "Replated Platitudes", "signature_source": "Julius Doerner", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "845", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 3806, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4410, "texte": "Replated Platitudes\nJulius Doerner\nPeace at any price is merely the paling sentimentalist's\ncowardly equivalent for the braggart's brutal: war for\nany cause at any cost.\nCountless explosions of patriotism are but amplified\nglorifications of magnified egotism.\nThe lives of oil-steel men so oft remind us how much\neasier it is to be ostentatiously generous than decently just.\nIn everything a man does, he shows all that he is to\nhim who knows how to read the secrets of the heart in\nthe light of the deed.\nThose who have wealth, with nothing to do, make\nwork for those who have nothing to do with wealth."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c016", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c016", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "845", "page_fin": "845", "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.16", "titre_corps": "La Vie", "titre_sommaire": "La Vie", "signature_source": "Alfred Du Bedat Smythe", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "845", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 4412, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4586, "texte": "La Vie\nAlfred Du Bedat Smythe\nLA vie nouvelle—\nLa vie pour vous;\nL'aurore tranquille,\nEt sans adieu.\nLa vie heureuse—\nC'est Veternelle\\\nUne vie joyeuse . . .\nEt puis—Le Ciel!"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c017", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c017", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "846", "page_fin": "848", "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.17", "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": "846", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3232, "texte": "Madonna\nYOU perhaps never took a walk down Thompson\nStreet right around the corner of my Garret and\ntherefore you are not familiar with the row of a dozen\nor more small wooden houses which the irony of fate\nleft here among brick mansions and tenement buildings,\na stone's throw away from the thundering elevated: a\nsad memento of that Greenwich Village of yore, a thriv-\ning hamlet near old New York. But if you ever strolled\npast these houses you must have noticed the one whose\ndoor was painted white; which looked so clean amidst\nthe ugliness of a neglected side-street. Its windows were\nshining in the sun: a couple of geraniums were on the\nwindow sill and white muslin curtains swinging rythmi-\ncally to the blowing wind permitted every once in a while\na peep into the rooms. The side-walk was always well-\nswept and most likely a baby carriage would be standing\nin front of the open house door. A white baby carriage\nwith netting spread all over it; a fat little baby slumber-\ning peacefully in it or playing with its tiny feet, searching\nwith its big black eyes for the mother. Often when I\npassed the little house I felt happy because there was such\nan idyll in this noisy side-street. And we all are glad to\nsee love in a little white cottage with a baby carriage in\nfront of its door.\nIt is one of# the tragedies of a big city that we live\nnxet door to people who could be our friends and whose\nfriends we could be, but whom we never meet. We pass\nby almost daily; a \"change in the familiar surroundings\nwould cause us to wonder and to be curious but we very\nrarely take the initiative or trouble to enquire. We know\nwe would lend our help if needed, but we don't want to\nand therefore we walk on and don't turn to the right or\nto the left: ships that pass in the night.\n% * *\nA time came when I had to go out every morning quite\nearly. Then I saw the mother of the baby. She was a\nyoung girlish thing, very slender, very pale with dark\nglowing eyes, her black hair combed in madonna fashion\nto both sides covering the ears. She stood in front of\nher little house, evidently waiting for someone and then\nshe crossed over to the other side of the street and ap-\nproached the letter carrier. She was all expectation.\nThere was a faint smile on her lips. She was very pretty.\nThe letter-carrier had nothing for her. And slowly she\nreturned to the house and disappeared through the white\ndoor. The next day, I witnessed the same scene. One\nevening I came home quite late and the Square was de-\nserted with only the cross glowing on top of the Judson\nHotel; the buses had ceased buzzing and the light wind\nrustled in the trees. Her house was dark; she was seated\nat a window with both arms on the window sill, resting\nher face in her hands: like one of the angels of the Sistine\nMadonna. She looked sad. Her eyes had a far-away\nlook. I remember that I wanted to call to her \"Hallo,\nneighbor!\" and later on in my rooms I felt that she per-\nhaps would have liked me to say a word to her; she seemed\nso alone in that little house in the quiet deserted street.\nAn hour later I went out to mail a letter I had written.\nShe was busy preparing Some food for the baby.\nDays passed and I saw her only silhouetted against"}, {"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "846", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 3304, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3318, "texte": "In Our Village"}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "847", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.11", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4292, "texte": "her curtain, hugging the baby in her arms, walking up and\ndown in the small room. In the morning she would\nwatch the letter-carrier from her windowshe would\nwatch him until he had passed her door.\nI went out to the country for a few days and by habit\nI looked up at her windows on my return. They were\nshut, the curtains drawn tightly. The letter-carrier just\nthen came around the corner and gave me my bunch of\nbills. \"How about our neighbor?\" I asked. \"She doesn't\nseem to be anxious to get a letter from you to-day.\" \"She\ngot one )/resterday,\" he replied. \"It was the first one in\nfour weeks, the first one since she had come down to\nlive in the village.\"\nMy bills kept me busy all day, and worrying all night\nand I didn't even notice that there was no light in my\nneighbor's windows until I recollected it on the next\nmorning.\nAn unusual crowd of people had assembled in our street.\nTom, the cop of the beat, was posted in front of the white\ndoor of my neighbour's little house. He looked like a\ngiant leaning against the narrow and low door. \"What's\nthe matter, Tom?\" I called out of the window. \"Come\nsee yourself\" was his answer. And I hurried out,\nas I was in shirt sleeves and without collar, in time to\nenter with the coroner who had just arrived.\nBoth were dead, the baby in its white painted little\ncarriage and the mother on her cot. They looked peace-\nfully asleep. A happy smile seemed to be on both faces.\nThere wasn't a drop of milk in the house and not a crumb\nof bread and not a penny of money. On the table lay\nabout a dozen ;pawn tickets, the last one dated four days\nago. She had pawned some sheets and table clothes for\nfifty cents. And a letter was on the table. Some man\nup the State told her that he was married now and that\nshe must \"hustle for herself and the kid as good as she\ncould. And not to trouble him anymore as everything\nwas now over between them for ever.\"\nTom, big husky Tom, who had got honorable mention\nonly recently from his department for running in that\nHester Street gang of gunmen, sounded quite hoarse:\nIf I had known this . I saw her almost every even-\ning.\" I do think there were tears in his eyes. You know\nTom got married only fourteen years ago to a fine healthy\ngril, just such a girl as this had been perhaps, a year ago.\nBut I might be mistaken. The coroner named some poison\nused for disinfecting purposes which she had given to the\nbaby and had taken herself. Starvation or a broken heart\nmight have been the cause.\nI remembered the night that I saw her at her window\nstaring up at the glowing cross over the Judson. But\nhadn't I been nearer than that cross?\nI been nearer than that cross?\nThat's the tragedy in the big city. We see and we\nobserve. Conventions kill our spontaneous impulses and\nwe continue selfishly on our own road.\nThe Buses Again\nThe strike is over and the franchised disturbance on\nWashington Square- continues. The hot weather is the\nfinest advertising agent for the buses. Thousands wish\nto get a ride on the top. Only twenty-four can be seated\non each one. A lot of confusion was caused last week\nby the enforcement of a new ordinance, the buses stopping\noh the far side of the street.\nA few new buses were put into service with so extra-\nordinarily small a space between the seating capacities\nthat they seemed to be lpuilt for midgets. Perhaps the\nFifth Avenue Coach Company will ask all its prospective\npassengers to be physically examined and permit only\nthose under four high to go on the top of their buses.\nThe average man and woman will be forced to hang their\nlegs over the railing if they do not prefer to place them\nover their own shoulders. It would be very advisable\nfor the Fifth Avenue Coach Company to open a corre-\nspondence school for training prospective joy-riders to\nbecome acrobats.\nTourists are taking possession of our village.\nThey arrive on the buses and make the rounds of our\nshops and then they take a taste of Bohemia in\"The\nGreenwich Village Inn\" or in another one of our home\neating-places. The native population of the Village takes\npossession of every inch of Washington Squrae, anxious\nto get some of the cool wind which blows once in a while,\nbut studios and work shops are deserted. Their inhabi-\ntants fled and are fleeing the sweltering heat of the city."}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "848", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2060, "texte": "The Girl in Yellow\nOT less than eight letters did we receive signed \"The\ngirl in yellow,\" all relating to that little whimsical\nstory in our last issue. We are reprinting one which has\nthe distinction of being short. In the meantime we had\nthe good fortune to meet \"the girl in yellow\" and we are\nsorry to state that we were mistaken in the color of her\nsweater. It wasn't yellow at all, but orange, a very glar-\ning orange:\n\"Dear Bruno's Weekly:\n\"I did not imagine I was being observed in particular\nalthough I knew my yellow sweater was. No, I was not\nthinking of philosophy nor was my mind very far away.\nI wanted to see some of the interesting people of the Vil-\nlage of whom one reads in the newspapers: the artists and\nthe geniuses. But I could see only the natives. And I\nwas not quite sure whether they would prove to be as nice\nas they looked. I had been a bit disappointed earlier in\nthe evening but finally I met him. And now I wish I\nhadn't.\"\n\"The Girl in Yellow.\"\nEmily Stevens returned from her tour through the West\nand the Brevoort seems ever so much more familiar since\nshe again took possession of her favorite corner.\nJimmy Montgomery Flagg found an ardent defender of\nhis art in Miss Arthur whose pretty face attracted many\nthousands of admirers last week on the cover of \"Judge.\"\nBilly Hamilton is crazy to play the stock market. She\nhas a sure tip and is confident of being able to make five\nthousand dollars in twenty-four hours. At present she is\nbusy looking for someone to finance her scheme. Why\nnot ask the Lambs' magazine? They feature fun and\nthe stock market.\nRenee La Coste returned from her summer home in\nMaine to stay a few days in the Village. There was a\ntime when one wouldn't think of the Village without\nRenee, but how times do change.\nJack MacGrath, the man who can introduce you to\neverybody of importance in New York, and the living\nBaedecker of the Village last Friday celebrated his birth-\nday. He very graciously accepted the homage which was\npaid to him throughout the boundaries of the community."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c018", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c018", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "846", "page_fin": "846", "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.17.1", "titre_corps": "They do not sow neither do they reap", "titre_sommaire": "They do not sow neither do they reap", "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": "846", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 3234, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3270, "texte": "They do not sow neither do they reap"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c019", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c019", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "846", "page_fin": "846", "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.17.2", "titre_corps": "They all know him. By Flanagan", "titre_sommaire": "They all know him. By Flanagan", "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": "846", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 3272, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3302, "texte": "They all know him. By Flanagan"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c020", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c020", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "847", "page_fin": "847", "image_debut": 11, "image_fin": 11, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.17.3", "titre_corps": "Where the horses on Washington Square go for their drink", "titre_sommaire": "Where the horses on Washington Square go for their drink", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "847", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.11", "debut_caractere": 4294, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4350, "texte": "Where the horses on Washington Square go for their drink"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c021", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c021", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "848", "page_fin": "849", "image_debut": 12, "image_fin": 13, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.18", "titre_corps": "The Carpet of Omar Nizam", "titre_sommaire": "The Carpet of Omar Nizam", "signature_source": "Katherine Keith", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "848", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 2062, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4476, "texte": "The Carpet of Omar Nizam\nBy Katherine Keith\n\nHTHE fierce glare of the eastern sun at mid-day beat\n* pitilessly down on the narrow, squalid streets of\nKermanshah. Even the shrill voices of the ragged chil-\ndren were hushed. Save for the piercing trill of the\nlocust, breathless, panting silence reigned; and not a leaf*\nstirred, nothing save the unending shimmer of the\natmosphere.\nUpstairs in the leafy coolness of his roof-garden, lulled\nby the soft splashing of the fountain, which rose and fell\nin liquid monotony, Omar Nizam sat with his head on\nhis hands, gazing dreamily through the clouds of smoke\nthat curled from his nargihle, at the carpet before him.\nHe wondered why he had bought it. Why that blue,\nweirdly strange as a sapphrie held before a flame, had\nstirred at the strings of his memory until he knew that\nhe had to give the Jew his price for it, no matter what\nthat price might be.\nThere was something strange in that rug, something\nthat made it different from any he had ever seen. Was\nit the wild, riotous brightness of the colors in one part\nwhich gradually, very gradually melted togehter as his\neyes traveled toward the low edge into one beautiful,\nharmonious whole? Or was it the cross which gleamed\nso white against its background of blue? No, it wasn't\nthe riot of color, nor the gleam of the white cross, nor\neven the burnished glitter of the golden thread, which\ncommenced so abruptly part way down the rug and then\ntraced in and out of the pattern all the way down to the\nbottom.\nIt was that blue, intensely brilliant at first, but gradu-\nally growing more and more rich in its luster, until near\nthe bottom it seemed as if the very souls of the sky and\nof the ocean and of the sapphire were gathered in the\nsilken folds.\nSuddenly Omar Nizam paused in his smoking and\nlifted his head from his hands. Like a flash it all came\nback to him. The mists of thirty years rolled away and\nthe long ago was as clear as yesterday.\nTfr\nNo longer did the sun sift through the foliage of the\nroof-garden, to laugh and play with the twinkling foun-\ntain, but it was night—a deep, starry night, far out on\nthe plains of Mogan.\nA slender, bare-footed girl was dancing before the rough\nsoldiers of the Imperial Guard. The warm glow of the\ncamp fire lit up the bronze of her hair, which streamed\nover her bare shoulders and cast strange lights on the\nsapphire blue of her soft robe. A strange blue it was,"}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "849", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3025, "texte": "different from any other in the world, except that of her\neyes. Somehow it seemed a part of her; were the blue to\nchange, she would be changed also. No one knew how\nshe had come there, among those rude men, bearing with\nler a loom, on which were the flaring colors of a newly\ncommenced rug.\nThere was one face in all that rough crowd that did\nnot light up with coarse pleasure at the beauty of the\ndance. A young man stood apart £rom the rest, a look\nof pain and pity in his deep set eyes.\nI \"How could that girl degrade herself to come into\nthat camp alone to dance before a lot of brutal soldiers?\"\nHe asked the man nearest him who she was.\n\"Only a Kashan dancing girl,\" was the reply. \"One\n)f the lowest of her kind.\"\nAfter she finished and sank down beside her loom the\nyoung man went over and touched the brown shoulder.\n44You shouldn't be here,\" he said gently. \"Get your\noom and let me take you home. It isn't right for you to\nSdance before these men.\"\nI The wild, blue eyes looked fiercely up into his and he\nsaw the scornful curve of her red lips.\n\"Why shouldn't I be here?\" she said. \"Why should\nI do what is right, I, who am only a Kashan dancing\nnrl?\"\nHe looked at her in surprise, and then a gleam of\nwonderful, comprehending sympathy lighted his face.\n\"No,\" he said gently, \"you are not only a Kashan\nlancing girl; you are a woman—a woman,\" he repeated\npftly, \"the purest, holiest gift that Allah ever gave\nIpo man.\"\nThe wild light died slowly out of the blue eyes and\nagain gave place to one of awe-struck wonder; and then\na wave of scarlet leaped from her throat to the roots\nJ>f her hair. As if in a dream, she took the veil, which\nhe had waved so defiantly through the dance, and putting\nt over her head, she picked up the loom and passed slowly\n)iit of the camp and out of his life forever.\nThe long afternoon wore away. Cool breezes stirred\n:he palms of the roof-garden, and indistinct murmurs\nvere wafted up from the street—of donkey boys urging\nm their patient animals, the bleating of home-coming\n*oats and, far away, from the garden's of the governor's\npalace, the soft cadence of a woman's voice mingled with\n:he notes of a zither. But Omar Nizam heard them not\n\\$ his eyes traveled slowly through the depth of the rug.\nFirst those fierce, wild colors, then the golden thread\ntwining in and out of the pattern, sometimes almost gone,\nbut always reappearing, brighter than before.\nSofter grew the colors, blending more and more com-\npletely. Very slowly the blue added to the wonderful\ndepths of the sapphire sheen. But the more blue it be-\ncame the less it predominated over the other shades. And\nthen, half way down, the cross in all its gleaming purity.\nStill softer became the harmony of the different shades,\nsimpler but more perfect became the pattern with its\nthread of gold.\nSlowly Omar Nizam's eyes reached the bottom, and\nhe fell on his knees and bowed his head, for the greatest\nof all mysteries was in the carpet before him,—the mystery\nof a woman's soul—and he was afraid."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c022", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c022", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "848", "page_fin": "848", "image_debut": 12, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.18.1", "titre_corps": "Drawing by Flanagan", "titre_sommaire": "Drawing by Flanagan", "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": "848", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 4478, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4497, "texte": "Drawing by Flanagan"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c023", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c023", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "849", "page_fin": "849", "image_debut": 13, "image_fin": 13, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.19", "titre_corps": "Books and Magazines of the Week", "titre_sommaire": "Books and Magazines of the Week", "signature_source": "E. M", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "849", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 3027, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6081, "texte": "Books and Magazines of the Week\nE. M.\nDefenceless America\nMilitarism and industrial development in our social\nsystem are so closely interwoven that it is impossible to*\nseparate the one from the other. Actually, the first is,\nan effect of the second. If we would destroy militarism)\nwe should first have to scrap our industrial system—a\nproposition which is, of course, absurd.\nIn \"Defenceless America\" (Hearst's International Li-\nbrary, New York), Hudson Maxim shatters the conten-\ntions of the so-called pacifists; the limitation and abolition\n—of—armament mongers and of those who, ostrich-like,\nrefuse to admit that the fierce and inevitable competition\nfor markets which occupies great industrial nations is\nthe primal cause of war. Mr. Maxim proves conclusively\nthat a nation which seeks industrial development and\ncunty must either prepare to defend its integrity and its\nmarkets or be reduced to a state of vassalage.\n\"There is no lesson which history teaches us more\nplainly than that the possession of wealth by a defence-\nless nation is a standing casus belli to other nations, and\nthat always there has been the nation standing ready to,\nattack and plunder any other nation when there was.\nlikely to be sufficient profit in the enterprise to pay for\nthe trouble. Never have we seen any treaty stand for\nlong in the way of such practices between nations. Treaties\nhave always been mere scraps of paper, which, like the\ncobweb, ensnare the weak, while they let the strong break\nthrough.\"\nThe author deals simply and bluntly with facts, and\nfrom many angles. Biology, statistics, the technology and\nstrategy of war, relative strength of the armaments of\ngreat nations, aerial warfare, all are lucidly dealt with to\nfurnish the wide-awake reader with a mass of invaluable\nand sometimes startling reading.\nThe last chapter on Gooxl and Evil\" is perhaps the\nmost interesting of all. Comparing the average casualties\nof killed on the industrial field for a year in the United\nStates with the average in killed on one side in six wars\n(including the Civil War and the Russo-Japanese war)\nthe ratio is given as 79 to 75!\nHudson Maxim rendered a national service in this\nbook. America as a living nation with principles and\nideals and a standard of living far above other nations\nmust take her place in the ranks of the world's great\nfighters if she would not perish. Such is the contention\nof this thinker, scientist and expert.\nMother Earth\nBen J. Reitman, of Birth Control fame, serving at\npresent his sentence of two months, wrote in the current\nissue of Emma Goldman's magazine, \"Mother Earth,\" a\nseries of letters Through the Bars.\" Documents from\nprison are supposed to be interesting. They usually con-\ntain confessions or express an emotion unknown to men\nin the free, hustling, bustling everyday life. Ben Reit-\nman evidently read Oscar Wilde, the Bible and other\nbooks, as he himself admits. His letters are a badlv con-\nceived imitation of both and the few original Reitmanns\nthey contain spoil even the flavor of this far-awav imita-\ntion."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c024", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c024", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "850", "page_fin": "851", "image_debut": 14, "image_fin": 15, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.20", "titre_corps": "Bernhardt Wall, the Etcher", "titre_sommaire": "Bernhardt Wall, the Etcher", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "850", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1727, "texte": "NEW YORK has its new romancier. Another O.\nHenry is among us. A man who conveys to us the\nlife of the four million, who shows us the New Yorker\n,as he is, as he lives and loves: at his work. O. Henry,\nthe unsurpassed master of observation, of observation from\namong those that he observes, creates pictures in vivid\ncolors with his words. Bernhardt Wall tells us stories,\nstories that never could be told in words, in his ecthings.\nHe is the true romancier of our times. Of our own\ntimes of electricity, of rapid transportation, of living a life\nin one day. In his automobile—he calls it his buggy—\nhe travels through our cfty. He. has his plates with him\nand whenever he sees a subject of interest, he stops arid\nmakes an etching right there and then. The studying\nof character, the detection of the real, of the essential\namong the hustle, bustle of the busiest street as well as\nin het lone, most forlorn neighborhood is his art.\nHe sketched from life some of the biggest men of our\ncountry. He never asked them to sit for him. He wants\nthem in action. He got Mark Twain during a lecture\nthe great humorist gave at the West Side branch of the\nYoung Men's Christian Association of New York, shortly\nbefore his death.\nIt is one of the most characteristic sketches of Mark\nTwain. Of Mark Twain in action. Recently Mr. Wall\ncame down to Greenwich Village,—not the aristocratic\nparts adjoining Fifth avenue, interested him, but the\nzig-zag of streets back of the Judson Memorial, with\ntheir densely populated tenement houses, and their Italian\nstreet life.\nA woman crossed the street, a big, strong, peasant\nwoman whom one might meet somewhere in Naples. On\nher head she carried an enormous bundle of laundiy. She"}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "850", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 1735, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1761, "texte": "Bernhardt Wall, the Etcher"}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "851", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.15", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1953, "texte": "was a wash-woman, a \"lavandera.\" Of course, there was\nno beauty in her features. Her movements did not sug-\ngest grace, but there was about her a robust health, a\ncertain air of \"I know how to help myself/' Or in China-\ntown, the cook somewhere in an obscure Chinese kitchen\nof a Chop Suey joint. This is not a parlor Chinaman for\nexhibition purposes, in a richly embroidered Mandarin\ncoat.\nBernhardt Wall lived for a considerable time in O.\nHenry's home state, Texas. He knows America from\nnorth to south, and from east to west. He was a news-\npaper man, soldier, cartoonist, and the most successful\ndesigner of picture cards in this country.\nMr. Wall devotes his time exclusively to his etchings\nat present. Types of the street,—the impersonations of\nwonderful stories written by life itself on the faces of men\nand women are his subjects.\n\"If you want to know a man, look into his home. See\nthe surroundings he is living in, examine his books and\nyou will know him.\" In one of those studio apartments,\nwest of Central Park, he created for himself, a hermitage,\njust the ideal place to do his work in. During his ex-\ntensive travels through Europe, he not only filled his\nsketch book with the most interesting character:—sketches\nof peoples and countries, but he gathered together things\nthat make his studio as cosmopolitan as he is himself.\nEverything is heavy, massive, made to be used, and to\nfulfill a purpose.\nThere is, for instance, the table in his dining-room, an\nancient refectory table, from some old monastery. The\nchairs in the studio, how comfortable they are,—the paint-\nings, how well selected. Originals and reproductions of\nmasterpieces. And then, the etcher's press and all the\nother requirements of an etcher's worshop, and books,\nbooks, everywhere.\nMr. Wall is a veteran of the Spanish-American war.\nHe is a man in the real sense of the word. His etchings\nof New York types are. wonderful studies of New York\nlife."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c025", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c025", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "850", "page_fin": "850", "image_debut": 14, "image_fin": 14, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.20.1", "titre_corps": "Jane", "titre_sommaire": "Jane", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "850", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 1729, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1733, "texte": "Jane"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c027", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c027", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "850", "page_fin": "850", "image_debut": 14, "image_fin": 14, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.20.3", "titre_corps": "Mark Twain sketched from life by Bernhardt Wall", "titre_sommaire": "Mark Twain sketched from life by Bernhardt Wall", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "850", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 1763, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1810, "texte": "Mark Twain sketched from life by Bernhardt Wall"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c028", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c028", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "851", "page_fin": "851", "image_debut": 15, "image_fin": 15, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.20.4", "titre_corps": "Bernhardt Wall", "titre_sommaire": "Bernhardt Wall", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "851", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.15", "debut_caractere": 1955, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1969, "texte": "Bernhardt Wall"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c029", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c029", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "851", "page_fin": "851", "image_debut": 15, "image_fin": 15, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.20.5", "titre_corps": "Bliss Carman", "titre_sommaire": "Bliss Carman", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "851", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.15", "debut_caractere": 1971, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1983, "texte": "Bliss Carman"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c031", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c031", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "852", "page_fin": "853", "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.21", "titre_corps": "A Reply to Certain Critics", "titre_sommaire": "A Reply to Certain Critics", "signature_source": "W. G. Blaikie Murdoch", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "852", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6638, "texte": "What is AEstheticism?\nA Reply to Certain Critics\n\nQUITE a harvest of letters has been elicited by the\nrecent article in these columns, The Genius of\nChina. The contention made there that artists should be\npreoccupied, rather with beauty than with the expression\neof individuality, has roused the anger of numerous readers;\nand many of these, in the course of expostulating with the\nwriter's attitude in this respect, have spoken reproachfully\nof him as being what they call an aesthete. Now this word,\nfolonjg with the others affiliated with it, is employed very\nfrequently in an approbrious sense, notably by Mr. Fred-\neric Harrison in The Choice of Books, by Mr. Joseph\nPennell in his Life of Whistler, together with a much\nstronger author than either of these two, Major Haldane\nMacfall in his monumental History of Painting. And\nconsidering their free use in this way, is it not well to\nponder as to what these terms really signify? Is it not\nwell to enquire whether aestheticism indeed implies some-\nthing despicable?\nRuskin, Morris and Wilde\nNo age brings forth anything wholly new. It merely\ncoins new names for old things, the need for these new\nmames arising from various old things being developed,\nand assuming a new conspicuousness. For example, the\nsteam-engine and the aeroplane are driven by forces which\nare eternal; but the modern prominence of these forces,\nthe momentous use to which they have been put, have\ninevitably resulted in an elaborate nomenclature growing\ndp around them, and the like happens constantly where\nart is concerned. Thus the school of Claude Monet, who\nstyled themselves Impressionists, and were regarded by\nmost of their contemporaries as a complete novelty, were\nsimply concerned with exploiting certain perennial laws\nin colour-harmony; and analogous exploiting had been\n\"essayed long before it had received the definite name of\nImpressionism, an outstanding anticipator of this method\nof painting being Delacroix. In the same way, in the\nmiddle of the last century, Britain was signally wanting\nin any taste for the applied arts; and presently Ruskin and\nWilliam Morris began striving eloquently to inculcate\n■that taste, which thereupon acquired the name of\n: a word previously little in vogue, this thing\nto which it referred being very old withal. For, of course,\nduring hundreds of years prior to the advent of machinery,\na love of the applied arts was widely in evidence, the\nGeorgian era being one wherein it was specially salient,\nnor does it appear ever to have been thought silly in those\n•days. But now it was sneered at far and near, in particu-\nlar by George du in Punch, ridicule quickly\ngrowing more savage when the efforts of the two masters\naforesaid came to be seconded enthusiastically by Wilde,\nan avowed votary of Ruskin, to whose glowing writing\nhis own, beautiful style was probably much indebted.\nRuskin and Morris had been content to ask for greater\nbeauty in architecture, in book-production, in furniture,\nwhereas Wilde went further, asking for greater beauty\nin dress; and this request brought the scorn of the British\nand American races to a climax, their mirth at the whole\nidea being crystalized shortly in the opera of Patience.\nIt is strange that the part of the vulgar herd should have\nbeen taken by such gifted men as Gilbert and Sullivan.\nAnd, assuming for a moment that aestheticism means no\nmore than this time-honored taste which Ruskin, Morris\nand Wilde tried to bring back, it is impossible to see\nwhy the word should be considered an infamous one.\nThe Philosophy of the Fine Arts\nBut the dictionary informs confidently that, far from\nholding any exclusive reference to a love for having the\nthings of daily use beautiful, aesthetics really indicates\n\"the philosophy of the fine arts.\" And what endless people\nthere are who, accepting this last as the world's true signK\nficance, nevertheless seldom mention it save scornfully.\nMany will even refer contemptuously to all active pre-\noccupation with this same philosophy, meanwhile appar-\nently forgetting that, the genesis and constituents of beauty\nbeing so very mysterious, speculation with regard to these\nquestions has perforce enlisted the pens of a galaxy of\nmen of the grandest intellect. Aristotle and Nietsche,\nColeridge, Walter Pater and Swinburne—did not each\nof these do much of his noblest work in this despised field ?\nAnd waiving these writers of actual treatises on aesthetics,\na constellation of masters in painting or sculpture, archi-\ntecture, music or poetry, have left behind them volumin-\nous pages of deep musing concerning the bases of art\nin general. The delightful journal of Delacroix is rich\nin matter of this sort, as also is the autobiography of\nGoethe; while others like Dominique Ingres, Leonardo da\nVinci and G. F. Watts have written in note-books their\nconvictions on the subject, which figures largely again in\nthe letters of Keats, of Blake, of Rossetti. It must bfi\nacknowledged, then, that \"the philosophy of the fine arts'!\nis not a thing to be derided. Sa now, passing gladly from\nthis truism, it behoves to examine that meaning which the\nword aesthetic seemingly holds for a number of those\nwho attacked the writer's Chinese article: in fine, an\nartist who endeavors consciously and ardently towards\nthe making of beauty, rather than towards the expression\nof individuality.\nThe Necessity of Form\nIt is an outstanding tendency, with the younger artists\nof the present time, to deify loudly whatsoever things\nembody a strong, personal accent, and whatsoever things\nare manifestly the sincere and adequate utterance of an\nemotion. However, the man who writes an angry letter\nmay give sincere and adequate expression to an emotion,\nquite possibly doing this in a very individual fashion. And\nthat does not necessarily imply that he has made a work\nof art, for without form there can be no art, nor does\nany work live which is not beautiful in some way, beauty\nbeing an infinitely diverse quantity. On the one hand\nit may be said, with tolerable assurance, that any one who\ntries to write a poem, or paint a picture, and is impelled\nby nothing beyond the deliberate desire to make artistic\nbeauty, will not attain anything great or vital. But, on\nthe other hand, those deep emotions, which are essential\nto fine artistic creation, spring from a hidden source over\nwhich the artist himself has no suzerainty; or as Stevenson\nputs it happily: \"the most beautiful adventures are not\nthose we go to seek.\" And again, that equally precious\nthing, called individuality, must be inborn, to try and be\noriginal being accordingly of no ayaiL It is merely over"}, {"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "853", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.17", "debut_caractere": 91, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2075, "texte": "form that the artist really has any control personally, so\nthat he can hardly think too much about this element,\nhardly offer it too constant and fervent a loyalty.\nThe Creed of the Masters\nAnd turning back to some of those letters and diaries\nin which various masters, besides theorising about art in\ngeneral, have laid bare their creeds concerning their work,\nit is striking how very little these men talk about express-\ning individuality, their writings being concerned rather\nwith worship of the great works of art antedating their\nown, together with unfolding plans for the achievement\nof a dazzling technical excellence. The tense personal\naccent pervading all immortal painting and sculpture,\nliterature and music, entered there without the conscious\nbidding of the artists, these labouring eternally towards\nbeauty, in many cases immolating themselves in the quest,\nfor rare craftsmanship and vast toil are two things which\ncan scarcely be divorced from one another. \"The thousand\npainful steps we climb,\" exclaims Mr. William Watson,\nreferring to the strenuous apprenticeship which must be\nserved by a poet; while Coleridge speaks, in Biographia\nLiteraria, of the huge difficulty attending the writing of a\nmere fragment of fine song; and Hokusai declared that,\nonly should he live to be a bi-centenarian, was he likely\nto attain the skill in draughtsmanship which he desired.\nThink, moreover, of all that Whistler exacted from him-\nself, ere any one of his pictures even approximated the\nliveliness he set up as his criterion; and recollect how end-\nlessly Beethoven refined his scores, remembering also that\nPater gave five years to the writing of Marius the Epi-\ncurean. All these men had to run a race before winning\nthe laurel wreath, and never will fine art be wrought\notherwise, never just by the easy task of expressing emo-\ntion in an individual fashion, never without the aid\nof that passion for beauty which is sometimes called\naestheticism.\n\nW. G. Blaikie Murdoch"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c032", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c032", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "853", "page_fin": "853", "image_debut": 17, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.22", "titre_corps": "Two illustrations by Clara Tice for last years Thimble Theatre programmes", "titre_sommaire": "Two illustrations by Clara Tice for last years Thimble Theatre programmes", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "853", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.17", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 89, "texte": "Two illustrations by Clara Tice for last years Thimble Theatre programmes"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c034", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c034", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "853", "page_fin": "853", "image_debut": 17, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.24", "titre_corps": "The boarding school girls had to write about episodes", "titre_sommaire": "The boarding school girls had to write about episodes", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "853", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.17", "debut_caractere": 2077, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2401, "texte": "The boarding school girls had to write about episodes\nin the life of a mouse in their English class. One of the\ngirls wrote:\n\"And the little mouse continued her story: One day\nI was seated in front of my hole when I heard a dear little\nsqueak. I looked inside and then I found that there had\nbeen born to me a little child.\""}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c035", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c035", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "853", "page_fin": "853", "image_debut": 17, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.25", "titre_corps": "The Unbeliever", "titre_sommaire": "The Unbeliever", "signature_source": "H. Farkasch", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "853", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.17", "debut_caractere": 2403, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2727, "texte": "The Unbeliever\nH. Farkasch\nDEHIND\nlurked Memory,\nunforgettable.\nA head\nloomed the gray shadow of Death,\ngrim, relentless.\nPast and Future linked together—\nan unbreakable chain.\nThe Present—a void.\nAnd the Prisoner of Life,\nstrangled by Fear,\ndropped on his knees before the Almighty\nand sobbed,\n\"Oh Lord, how can I believe?\""}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c036", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c036", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "853", "page_fin": "853", "image_debut": 17, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.26", "titre_corps": "FRIENDSHIP is never established as an understood", "titre_sommaire": "FRIENDSHIP is never established as an understood", "signature_source": "Henry D. Thoreau", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "853", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.17", "debut_caractere": 2729, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3064, "texte": "Henry D. Thoreau.\nFRIENDSHIP is never established as an understood\nrelation. Do you demand that Ibe less your friend that\nyou may know it? Yet what right have Ito think that\nanother cherishes so rare a sentiment for me? It is a mir-\nacle which requires constant proofs. It is an exercise of\nthe purest imagination and the rarest faith."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c037", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c037", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "853", "page_fin": "853", "image_debut": 17, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.27", "titre_corps": "Summer Home", "titre_sommaire": "Summer Home", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "853", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.17", "debut_caractere": 3066, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3422, "texte": "Summer Home\nEverything made me mad in that darned hotel. I\nturned on the water tap. The water was ice-cold. I\nturned on the water tap marked \"hot.\" The water was\nice-cold.\n\"The dickens,\" I shouted to the porter. \"What's the\ndifference between the one water and the other?\"\n\"Just the signs on the taps, sir,\" replied the well-trained\nand ever polite porter."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c038", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c038", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "853", "page_fin": "853", "image_debut": 17, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.28", "titre_corps": "For three years I didn't cut my hair. I Have been living", "titre_sommaire": "For three years I didn't cut my hair. I Have been living", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "853", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.17", "debut_caractere": 3424, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3680, "texte": "For three years I didn't cut my hair. I Have been living\nin Greenwich Village for two years. lam painting with\na coal shovel instead of brushes and am the master and\nfollower of my own school. I eat in the Greenwich Vil-\nlage Inn and still I am not famous!"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c039", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c039", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "854", "page_fin": "854", "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.29", "titre_corps": "Henrv David Thoreau", "titre_sommaire": "Henrv David Thoreau", "signature_source": "James Waldo Fawcett", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 18, "page_imprimee": "854", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.18", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3517, "texte": "Henrv David Thoreau\nJames Waldo Fawcett\nMINETY-NINE years ago, July 12th was born, at\nConcord, Massachusetts, one of the gentlest souls\nthat ever wore the title man, and one of the noblest\nfigures in American letters: Henry David Thoreau, best\nknown as the author of \"Walden.\"\nThoreau V life was that of a consistent lover of all\nthe glorious and beautiful things of life,—high ideals, love\nof man, and appreciation of nature.\n» •\nHe was educated in the conventional fashion, was a\ngraduate of Harvard at 20, and for a time, a teacher; but\nthe wisdom born of nearness to the simple forms of nature\nand the seclusion of solitude were his truest mentors.\nFrom them he drew a philosophy of life which won the\nrespect of even so profound a sage as Emerson, and filled\nthe whole brief 45 years of his life with the joy of true\nliving.\nThere was nothing of the theorist in Thoreau. He\npracticed what he believed. He recognized that all fine\nrelations are based on mutual ability to pro-\nduce, and he bowed to the ruling and wrought according-\nly. To qualify as a craftsman he manufactured lead\npencils and became a surveyor. To these he added his\ntalent for writing, and \"Walden\" and a number of other\nbooks, a quantity of good journalism, and some excellent\npoetry was the result.\nIn \"Walden\" we are told how Thoreau went into the\nwoods near Concord; and, on the shores of Walden Pond,\nbuilt a hut where he lived several years in a delightful\ncommunion with the natural beauties he so loved.\nHere he found most of the simple gifts he asked of cir-\ncumstance. He wandered about, studying with kindly\neye and a profound and retentive mind ; and all the best\nthoughts went into his journals and thence into \"Walden,\"\nin which American men and women still find delight and\nsound philosophy.\nThoreau was a superb idealist. Turning away in un-\ndenied disgust from the weak pretenses of hypocritical so-\nciety, he built a new philosophy so iconoclastic as to\nbring him, in true dissenter fashion, into conflict with the\nfragile law. It is good to think of Thoreau as a rebel.\nHe belongs in company with John Brown and William\nLloyd Garrison in that he shared with them a daring to\nstrike that weaker men find favor in reviling.\nThoreau detested slavery,—of all kinds. In keeping\nwith this opinion he refused to pay taxes on the ground\nthat he would not support a government that permitted\ntrade in human flesh. He was hurried to jail, and when\nhis friend Emerson called there to see him and asked,\n\"Henry, why are you here?\" the reply was, \"Why are\nyou not here?\"\nThoreau loathed cities and was happy only when away\nfrom them. Much of what we call Civilization seemed\nonly cumbersome and distracting to him. His was a\ndoctrine of simple life; and he practiced it to the letter.\nIt does not appear, however, that he disliked his fellow-\nman. On the contrary, and despite persons who would\nshow otherwise, he was a true friend and comrade to\nmany men, among them, Bronson Alcott, William Ellery\nChanning, and James Russell Lowell, as well as Long-\nfellow and Emerson.\nThoreau has been called \"the poet-naturalist\" in justice ;\nfor few men have ever known nature's attributes so well\nor written of them with such exquisite beauty.\nHe was still young when he died in 1862. What things\nhe would have done we cannot say. That he has a per-\nmanent place in our literature all will agree. It is good\nthat he once lived.\nNext year on the hundredth anniversary of his death,\nlet us unite in a fitting tribute to his memory."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c040", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c040", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "854", "page_fin": "854", "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.30", "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": "854", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.18", "debut_caractere": 3519, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4136, "texte": "Read FRANK HARRIS' \"LIFE OF OSCAR\nWILDE AND HIS CONFESSIONS\"\nWrite for the prospectus which will be mailed to you free of charge by Frank Harris, 3 Washington Square, New York City\nEdith Haynes Thompson\nHER SHOP\nContaining Many Quaint and Beautiful Things\n58 WASHINGTON SQUARE SOUTH\nHours: 1 to 5.30 P. M.\nJoseph McCarthy\nPAINTINGS AND\nANTIQUES\n30 WEST 46th STREET\nB rim°- s weekly by Charles Edison, and edited and written by Guido Bruno, both at 58 Wash-\nington Square, New York City. Subscription $2 a year.\n* n^nttreA afonSCond class matt«r at the Post Office of New York, N. Y., October 14th, 1915, under the Act"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c041", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c041", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[855]", "page_fin": "[855]", "image_debut": 19, "image_fin": 19, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.31", "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": 19, "page_imprimee": "[855]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.19", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1541, "texte": "HOTEL BREVOORT CAFE LAFAYETTE\nFifth Avenue University Place\nRAYMOND ORTEIG, INC.\nThe Two French Hotels and Restaurants of New York\nGONFARONE'S\n40 West Bth Street\nTABLE D'HOTE\n<0\nEating places are literary landmarks\" said O. Henry, speaking of Gonfarone's in one of his\nunexcelled Greenwich Village Stories.\nGreenwich Village Inn\n(Polly's)\nBetween Washington Sq. & 6th Ave.\nService a la Carte\nOutdoor Dining Room\nFrom the making of a lamp to the creation of a\nperiod room there is a right and a wrong\nway. The problems of your own house may be\nanswered by consulting\nANTON HELLMAN\n80 West Washington Square\nSpring 6340\nFlorence Gough has designed children's play\nfrocks and kiddies rompers for vacation wear.\nPAINT BOX\n150 W. 4th St., nr. 6th Ave., N. Y.\nPhone Spring 23\nArtistic Cushions\nIncluding wool embroidery. Unique and original\ndesigns in patchwork. Cushions made to order.\nCall or write Sessers Studio Co., 82 Washington\nPI., N. Y. Spring 1076.\nWANTED you to know that at 60 Washington\nSquare South is located\nTHE VILLAGE STORE\nWhere one may see on display many odd pieces\nof Brasses, Pottery, Furniture and Souvenirs.\nHours 10.30 till 6p. m. Saturdays 10 p. m.\nT. D. Cox\nStationery and News Shop\nCirculating Library\n68 Washington Place, N. Y.\nJUDSON TAILOR SHOP\n51 Washington Sq.\nAll kinds of tailoring work neatly done. Dry\ncleaning of Ladies' Suits, Gowns, Wraps, etc.,\na specialty.\n'Phone 5360 Spring\n'Phone Spring 3922\nTOE DUTCH OVEN\n135 MacDougal Street\nnear Washington Sq.\nOpen Air Dining Room\nHome Cooking\nTea\nLuncheon\nDinner"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c042", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c042", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[856]", "page_fin": "[856]", "image_debut": 20, "image_fin": 20, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.32", "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": 20, "page_imprimee": "[856]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.20", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1301, "texte": "Rare Books First Editions\nExtra Muttratfd Books. Early Printed Books. Association Books. Books for Christmas Gifts.\nPurchased singly or in sets for people who have neither time nor opportunity to select for themselves,\nor for those who have not access to the best book marts. Why not begin collecting now?\nAddress, E. V. Boston Transcript, Boston, Mass.\nFor Houses, Apartments or Rooms, See\nPEPE & BRO.\nREAL ESTATE AND INSURANCE\nTelephone 4119 Spring\n40 So. Washington Sfnimre\nCor. of MacDougal Street\nBeing a book\nIN WHICH\nwe say just what we think. Published every month by Norman-Bel Geddes at 171 Wilson Avenue\nin Detroit, Michigan. It is a little book uniquely illustrated. Write for sample copy.\nI BUY BOOKS\nSingle volumes, small lots, and libraries; autograph letters of known literary men and\nartists, drawings, pictures and engravings. Address\n\"COLLECTOR,\" Care of Bruno's Weekly, 58 Washington Sq,\nROSSI BROTHERS\n58 Washington Square\nUnderneath the Garret\nICE CREAM AND TOBACCO\nThe Mad Hatter Has a Tea Party Every Afternoon\nFrom 3 to 6 at\n150 WEST FOURTH STREET\nJust Down the Rabbit Hole From Washington Square\n\"Take Some More Tea\"\n\"I've Had Nothing Yet So I Can't Take More\"\n\"You Mean You Can't Take Less, It's Very Easy to\nTake More Than Nothing.\"\n\"Nobody Asked Your Opinion\" Edith Unger."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-07-15-01-c043", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01#c043", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-07-15_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[856]", "page_fin": "[856]", "image_debut": 20, "image_fin": 20, "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=bmtnaaq19160715-01.2.33", "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": 20, "page_imprimee": "[856]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.20", "debut_caractere": 1303, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1700, "texte": "There can be no pleasanter place to hear that remarkable\nEdison Record Number (82536) than\nTHE DIAMOND DISC SHOP\nat Number 10 Fifth Avenue\ni\ni\nIn this store, at least, the delightful atmosphere of Old Greenwich Village has not been sacrificed\non the altar of commercialism\nPhone: Stuyvesant 4570\nA postal will bring you, with our compliments,\nan interesting little biography of Mr. Thos. A.\nEdison"}]}], "pages_ocr_originales": [{"page_pdf": 1, "page_imprimee": "couv. 1", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.1", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nEDITED BY GUIDO BRUNO IN HIS GARRET ON\nWASHINGTON SQUARE\nFive Cents July 15th, 1916\nW. & G."}, {"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[838]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.2", "texte": "Copyright by Guido Bruno, July 15th, 1916. Original matter,\nincluding drawings, may not be reproduced without permission\nof Guido Bruno; but that permission may be assumed if credit\nis given to author and Bruno's Weekly.\nOne Hundred Dollars for the\nStorv of Your Marriage\nBruno's Weekly will pay one hundred dollars for the best story setting\nforth why and how you were married.\nWe don't want literary masterpieces or extraordinary stories of adven-\nture. But there is a lot of romance and fragrance about those days\nwhen you two met. You know you like to recall those times even if\neverything has changed since.\nWrite down your story just as simply as it happened. We shall noli\nuse your name if you do not wish us to do so.\nThere is no better fiction than the one Fate writes upon the pages of\nour lives. We know your story will be enjoyed by lots of others. Write\nit down to-day and address it to the \"Contest Editor,\" Bruno's Weekly,\n58 Washington Square, New York City.\nEvery week those stories which are printed will be paid for at space\nrates. The contest will close on October Ist, 1916, and the stories\nshould be limited to three hundred words. Detailed conditions of the\nmarriage story contest will be mailed to you upon request"}, {"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "[839]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.3", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nEdited by Guido Bruno in His Garret on Washington Square\nNo. 5\nJULY 15th, MCMXVI\nVol. 11l\nCopyright 1916 by Guido Bruno.\n\nSapientia Lunae\nErnest Dowson\nr~Y%HE wisdom of the world said unto me:\n* \"Go forth and run, the race is to the brave;\nPerchance some honour tarrieth for thee!\"\n\"As tarrieth ,\" I said, \"for sure, the grave \"\nFor I had pondered on a rune of roses,\nWhich to her votaries the moon discloses.\nThe wisdom of the world said: \"There are bays:\nGo forth and run, for victory is good,\nAfter the stress of the laborious days\"\n\"Yet ,\" said I, \"shall Ibe the worms' sweet food,\"\nAs I went musing on a rune of roses,\nWhich in her hour, the pale, soft moon discloses.\nThen said my voices: \"Wherefore strive or run,\nOn dusty highways ever, a vain race?\nThe long night cometh, starless, void of sun,\nWhat light shall serve thee like her golden face?\"\nFor I had pondered on a rune of roses,\nAnd knew some secrets which the moon discloses.\n\"Yea,\" said I, \"for her eyes are pure and sweet\nAs lilies, and the fragrance of her hair\nIs many laurels; and it is not meet\nTo run for shadows when the prize is here;\"\nAnd I went reading in that rune of roses\nWhich to her votaries the moon discloses.\n\nWill Poland and Bohemia Regain\nTheir National Independence?\n\n\\Y7 ILL there be again an independent kingdom of Po-\nland? Will the ancient bulwark of Occidental\nChristendom against the barbaric and heathenish Orient\narise to new splendor under a king of its own choice?\nShall the King of Bohemia, now one of the many appel-\nlations which the Emperor of Austria suffixes to his name,\nhave again its old meaning: Crowned ruler of the Bo-\nhemians ? Will the ancient sovereign kingdom of Bohemia\ncease to be a province of Cis-Lithanic Austria and regain\nits national independence and its freedom?\nThe Bohemian and Polish regiments fighting in the\ntrenches of the Austrian, the German and the Russian\narmies believe so. The men that are at home directing\nthe administrations of their countries are confident that a\nfinal decision of the present struggle will mean a new\nlong-hoped-for political birth of Poland and Bohemia;\npolitical exiles of both countries, men who had not sub-\nmitted to the prevailing conditions, but had preferred to\nlive the life of foreigners in a foreign country, are full of\nenthusiasm, full of hope that the time has come when\nthey shall return to their beloved fatherland, to their\nancient homes, to be the first among the subjects of a\nnewly liberated country, swearing allegiance to their in-\ndependent ruler.\nNo matter whether the allies are victorious, dictating\npeace conditions to Germany and Austria, or whether the\nAustro-German forces gain the upper hand, Poland and\nBohemia will and must be the winners. The knowledge\nof this fact, impressed upon the minds of the Slavic sol-\ndiers by the national propaganda leagues, made them good\nand willing soldiers, prevented the so-much-talked-of mu-\ntinies in German and Russian Poland and made them\nenthusiastic fighters under the standard of Austria-Ger-\nmany, as well as of Russia and France.\nNot little was the astonishment throughout the world\nduring those weeks in which the operations took place\non the Polish border between Russia and Germany that\nPoles in German uniforms fought Poles carrying Russian\narms, and evidently without much resistance on their part.\nMutinies en masse had been prophesied—nothing hap-\npened. The Poles kept their oath of allegiance to their\nrespective governments, and submerged their personal\nfeelings in the one great idea: To gain political and\nnational liberty as a natural consequence of the great\nevents in progress, and foretold long ago by their political\nleaders.\nVery often the Poles and Bohemians have tried to re-\ngain their national liberty. Revolutions against the gov-\nernments of Austria and Germany and Russia were sup-\npressed innumerable times. There was not a year in\nwhich revolutionary movements were not detected and the\nleaders imprisoned or exiled. But never before was per-\nsonal ambition and a desire to elevate this or that per-\nsonality to the highest human honors less the motive\nthan at the present time.\nOf course, there are claimants to the crown of Poland.\nThe name of the man who is a descendant of the Jagel-\nlones, whose name is inscribed in golden letters on the\nhistory of Poland, who is related to all the crowned heads\nof Europe, is in the mouth of all. But national independ-\nence and a democratic spirit never known before in the\nrevolutionary movements of the country are prevailing\namong the masses of the population, as well as among the\nold nobility.\nEver since the institution of the electoral kingdom, dur-\ning the entire eighteenth century, up until the death of\nthe last elected King of Poland and the division and dis-\ntribution of his country in the year 1830, two chief influ-\nences have tried to gain predominance in political and\nadministrative matters in the kingdom. France and Aus-\ntria have played their diplomatic cards to gain as much\nfoothold as ever they could in the rich and highly culti-\nvated country.\nIt was the father of the present claimant to the crown\nof Poland, Adam, eleventh Prince Czartoryski, Duke of\nKlewan, who, dissatisfied with Austrian diplomacy, emi-\ngrated in about the year 1800 to Russia.\nAfter the fall of the kingdom the Polish nobles emi-\ngrated partly to France and Austria, partly to Russia."}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "840", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.4", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nAll the Poles aimed at the restoration of their indepen-\ndent kingdom. Those in Russia, known as Russophiles,\nplaced their faith in promises given them by Russia, while\nthe Austrophiles placed the same confidence in the Aus-\ntrian politics. Russia disappointed them on all occasions.\nThey dread Russian despotism, while Austria, not trying\nto submerge their Polish national feeling, granted them ex-\ntensive rights and privileges.\nBut the Polish language was officially abolished in the\nAustrian provinces that had been incorporated into the\nGerman Empire. The aim of the German Government\nwas to kill in the children a national spirit that might\nlead a new generation to rise up against the German op-\npressor. Austria, with its many other Slavic nations, left\nthem their language, and, at times, to a certain extent,\ntheir national liberty. A prince royal was sent to Cracow,\nbeing educated as a Pole among Poles, and his eventual\nelection in case the Polish empire could be ressurected\nwas an open secret.\nBut above all, Russians and Germans proved them-\nselves entirely intolerant in religious matters. The Poles\nhave defended Christianity against Oriental invasions\nsince time immemorial. Polish missionaries Christianized\nPrussia, and so Prussia was drawn naturally to Catholic\nAustria and its Emperor, who proudly calls himself\n\"Apostolic Majesty and Defender of the Faith.\"\nThat national independence could and would be estab-\nlished by Austria was the belief of all, as is shown clearly\nby the friendly relations of the Polish Legion and the\nAustrian Government. This Polish Legion was a na-\ntional body organized by all classes of the Polish popula-\ntion to defend their national spirit and religious freedom\nagainst Russia, but which was just as willing to turn\nagainst Germany. The promises o,f Germany, especially\nduring the present war, did not make any impression upon\nthe minds of Polish patriots. They had not forgotten\nwhat Bismarck had said on the occasion of discussing the\nrestoration of Poland with the Russian Czar: \"A free\nPoland would be a strong French army at the Weichsel.,,\nThe rise of Germany as a world power dates back to the\nlast day of Poland's independence. The loss of the Polish\nprovinces at the present time would be more disastrous to\nGermany's position on the European continent than the\nloss of Alsace-Lorraine.\nGreat were the hopes of Polish patriots during the\nfirst struggles in the Balkans, as Austrian troops occupied\nBelgrade and were victorious all along the lines. Austria\nseems to have come to a standstill in the war. The death\nof the aged Emperor, which may occur any day, will turn\nhis monarchy into a boiling pot of dissatisfied nations, and\na war of rebellion, suppressed artificially for almost sixty\nyears, might necessitate a quick peace treaty with the bel-\nligerent nations.\nThe Poles are aware of all this, and the 25,000,000\ninhabitants of the ancient Polish kingdom feel that Rus-\nsia, Germany and England will have to grant them na-\ntional independence in order to establish a buffer state.\nThey will hail enthusiastically Adam Louis, the twelfth\nPrince Czartoriski, as their king. His family relations\nwill grant them the good will of all the other empires of\nEurope. His mother was a princess of Bourbon Orleans;\nhe is a close relative of the King of Spain, and he is re-\nlated by marriage to the reigning houses of the chief mon-\narchies of Europe. He has large estates in Russia, in\nFrance, in Germany and in Austria* He is a soldier and(\na true Pole, who wears the picturesque national costume\nat the courts of other nations. His home in Paris, flie\nPalais Lambert, was for 150 years the Polish political\ncentre.\nWhile 2,000,000 Poles are fighting as German, Russian\nand Austrian soldiers and French volunteers; while their\ncountry is worse devastated than so-much-pitied Belgium;\nwhile all other Poles look eagerly to a happy future in\ntheir re-united, newly-restored \"Holy Kingdom,\" those\nmen who constitute the National Committee, those who\nplotted and worked for national independence, are re-<\nsigned to the inevitable new fate of Poland, to be a Slavic\nIreland on the continent of Europe.\nHigh up on the mountains upon whose side is situated\nthe \"Old City\" Prague, with its many castles and palaces\nbelonging to the oldest families of Europe, who have given\nkings to countries and furnished wives to emperors and\nmonarchs, stands an old building of great length, with\nGothic windows and many oddly shaped towers. From\nhere one can overlook that beautiful and rich country,\nBohemia, whose soil is blest with all the natural resources\nneeded by its population.\nOnly once a year are the shutters before the windows\nthrown open and the great, heavy doors unbarred. On\nthe first of March of each year the Bohemian nobles and\nrepresentatives of the population at large that constitute\nthe so-called \"Repeal Party\" assemble in their national\ncostumes to demand solemnly from Emperor Francis\nJoseph that he submit to his coronation as a King of\nBohemia, and to protest against the constant violation of\ntheir national constitution, re-granted them through an\nimperial edict in the year 1871. Just as solemnly as they\nenter the building they leave it, and go out to different\nparts of the country and tell their constituents and fol-\nlowers that the spirit of unbroken national independence\nstill is alive, and to declare anew that the time will come\nwhen they will assemble in the venerable Cathedral of\nVysehehrad to crown their King with the paraphernalia\nof the holy Vaclav, their King and patron saint. It is\nthis political party which worked for almost seventy years\nin the most ardent and unselfish way for the national\nindependence of the Bohemian people, which won one\nvictory after the other, which restored language and na-\ntional rights to the greater part of Bohemia, and which\nsees in the present war the long-hoped-for chance and\nmeans to establish unquestionably and irrevocably the na-\ntional kingdom.\nAs in Poland, personal claimants for the kingdom stand\nin the background. It might be a prince of the House of\nHapsburg, chosen to be the successor of Francis Joseph, or\nthe scion of one of Bohemia's noble families; it might be\na Prince Lobkowitz or a Czermin.\nSince the death of Louis Jagellon during the battle of\nMohacz, 1526, the Bohemians have accepted a prince of\nthe House of Hapsburg as king. The Thirty Years' War\nbrought devastation to the country and with it German\naristocrats, German influence. German settlers took pos-\nsession of the land, used the pauperized Bohemians as\nworkers of the soil, and succeeded during a period of 200\nyears in making them forget their own nationality.\nThe people whose princes had been leaders in the men-"}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "841", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.5", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nTHE MONSTER OF THE VILLAGE"}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "842", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.6", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n(Concluded from last issue)\n* Copyright by Ambrose Bierce\n\ntal uplift of Europe's highest cultivated nations; the peo-\nple which had the Bible in its own language long before\nLuther gave Germany and before King James gave Eng-\nland the Scriptures; the race which had followed Huss in\nhis endeavors for religious freedom, believed what their\nGerman oppressors told them. They were ashamed to be\nBohemians; they neglected their own language, and until\nthe first decades of the nineteenth century it looked very\nmuch as if the Bohemian tongue would die.\nUnique in the history of nations is the restoration of\nnational ideals in Bohemia. It was the work of a his-\ntorian, the honored Palacky, a statesman and leader of his\nnation, to bring back to memory the national importance\nof Bohemia. It was shortly after the year 1848 that he\nproved not only to his own people but to the entire world\nthat Bohemia had a language, a highly cultivated lan-\nguage ; that Bohemia had a literature, and a right to na-\ntional liberty and independence.\nIn those days it was considered a political crime to con-\nfess to Bohemian nationality, to speak Bohemian in public\nplaces or on the street. A system of police surveillance\nwas strictly kept up by the imperial Government in\nVienna, and to be known as a Bohemian sympathizer\nmeant social and often financial ruin.\nAnd even to-day are the electoral laws such that 3,000,-\n000 Germans are enabled to elect fifty-three Deputies to\nParliament, while 5,000,000 Bohemians can elect only\nfifty. It was a clever idea to have the voting population\nstate their language and not their nationality. Many thou-\nsands of voters who are in the employ of the Government\nor of German interests and have to use the German\nlanguage, in spite of their Bohemian nationality, in this\nway are counted officially as Germans.\nRevolutions and uprisings occurred every year. The\nBohemians had clever leaders. They insisted upon the\nacceptance of the Bohemian language as a national\nlanguage, and they succeeded in the course of sixty years.\nIn the year 1868, Bohemia's sovereignty under the Haps-\nburg rule was officially declared. The sad experiences\nof Austria during the Prussian campaigns in 1868 showed\nclearly that the police ministry had been a failure. The\nBohemians had refused for a score of years to attend the\nDiet in Prague, and seldom sent Deputies to the\nParliament in Vienna. Shortly after the outbreak of the\nFranco-Prussian war Count Hohenwart, one of the ablest\nPrime Ministers the Hapsburg Empire ever had, took up\nnew negotiations with the Bohemians. He followed a\npolicy friendly to their national endeavors, and September\n14 of the same year succeeded in inducing the Bohemians\nto take their seats in the Diet in Prague.\nAnd great was the joy of the Bohemian nation as a\nmessage of the sovereign was read in which there was\npromised a special representative, a Prince of the House\nof Hapsburg, to rule Bohemia, responsible to the Parlia-\nment at Prague; that Bohemian would be the national\nlanguage and the old constitution regranted.\nTo show his good faith, Emperor Francis Joseph, \"in\nconsideration of the former constitutional position of Bo-\nhemia, and remembering the power and glory which its\ncrown had given to his ancestors and the constant fidelity\nof the population, gladly recognized the rights of the\nKingdom of Bohemia and was willing to confirm this\nassurance by taking the coronation oath.\"\nNearly forty-five years elapsed. Francis Joseph never\nmade his promise good. But the \"Repeal Party\" reminded\nhim faithfully every year of his promise. Too much did\nthe population of Bohemia love their uncrowned King,\nwho spoke the Bohemian language fluently and had shown\nthem innumerable proofs of his good-will and his kindness,\nto rebel against his person.\nBohemia to-day really is Bohemia. A distinctive litera-\nture has developed, a university has been erected, and high\nnational spirit has been created among the population.\nThe days of the old Emperor are numbered. His\ndeath will necessitate the crowning of a new King. The\ntime seems to be near when Bohemia's national ambitions\nwill be realized.\n\nGuido Bruno.\n\nMy Favorite Murder\nBy Ambrose Bierce\n*\n\"I told him I thought that a pretty reasonable request,\nand I would do so if he would let me put him in a wheat\nsack; he would be easier to carry that way, and if we were\nseen by the neighbors en route it would cause less remark.\nHe agreed to that, and, going to the bar, I got a sack.\nThis, however, did not fit him; it was too short and much\nwider than he was; so I bent his legs, forced his knees\nup against his breast, and got him into it that way, tying\nthe sack above his head. He was a heavy man, and I had\nall I could do to get him on my back, but I staggered\nalong for some distance until I came to a swing which\nsome of the children had suspended to the branch of an\noak. Here I laid him down and sat upon him to rest,\nand the sight of the rope gave me a happy inspiration.\nIn twenty minutes my uncle, still in the sack, swung\nfree to the sport of the wind. I ha:d taken down the\nrope, tied one end tightly about the mouth of the bag,\nthrown the other across the limb, and hauled him up\nabout five feet from the ground. Fastening the other\nend of the rope also to the mouth of the sack, I had the\nsatisfaction to see my uncle converted into a huge pendu-\nlum. I must add that he was not himself entirely aware\nof the nature of the change which he had undergone in\nhis relation to the exterior world, though in justice to\na brave man's memory I ought to say that I do not think\nhe would in any case have wasted much of my time in\nvain remonstrance. -\n\"Uncle William had a ram which was'famous in all\nthat region as a fighter. It was in a state of chronic\nconstitutional indignation. Some deep disappointment\nin early life had soured its disposition, and it had de-\nclared 'war upon the whole world. To say that it would\nbutt anything accessible is but faintly to express the nature\nand scope of its military activity; the universe was its an-\ntagonist; its method was that of a projectile. It fought,\nlike the angels and devils, in mid-air, cleaving the atmo-\nsphere like a bird, describing a parabolic curve and descend-\ning upon its victim at just the exact angle of incidence to\nmake the most of its velocity and weight. Its momentum,\ncalculated in foot-tons, was something incredible. It had\nbeen seen to destroy a four-year-old bull by a single im-\npact upon that animal's gnarly forehead. No stone wall\nhad ever been known to resist its downward swoop; there"}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "843", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.7", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nwere no trees tough enough to stay it; it would splinter\nthem into matchwood and defile their leafy honors in the\ndust. This irascible and implacable brute—this incarnate\nthunderbolt—this monster of the upper deep, I had seen\nreposing in the shade of an adjacent tree, dreaming dreams\nof conquest and glory. It was with a view to summoning\nit forth to the field of honor that I suspended its master\nin the manner described.\n\"Having completed my preparations, I imparted to the\navuncular pendulum a gentle oscillation, and retiring to\ncover behind a contiguous rock, lifted up my voice in a\nlong, rasping cry, whose diminishing final note was\ndrowned in a noise like that of a swearing cat, which\nemanated from the sack. Instantly that formidable sheep\nwas upon its feet and had taken in the military situation\nat a glance. In a few moments it had approached, stamp-\ning, to within fifty yards of the swinging foeman who,\nnow retreating and anon advancing, seemed to invite the\nfray. Suddenly I saw the beast's head drop earthward\nas rf depressed by the weight of its enormous horns; then\na dim, white, wavy streak of sheep prolonged itself from\nthat spot in a generally horizontal direction to within\nabout four yards of a point immediately beneath the enemy.\nThere it struck sharply upward, and before it had faded\nfrom my gaze at the place where it had set out I heard\na horrible thump and a piercing scream, and my poor\nuncle shot forward with a slack rope, higher than the\nlimb to which he was attached. Here the rope tautened\nwith a jerk, arresting his flight, and back he swung in a\nbreathless curve to the other end of his arc. The ram\nhad fallen, a heap of indistinguishable legs, wool, and\nhorns, but, pulling itself together and dodging as its\nantagonist swept downward, it retired at random, al-\nternately shaking its head and stamping its fore feet.\nWhen it had backed about the same distance as that from\nwhich it had delivered the assault, it paused again, bowed\nits head as if in prayer for victory, and again shot forward,\ndimly visible as before—a prolonging white streak with\nmonstrous undulations, ending with a sharp ascension.\nIts course this time was at a right angle to its former\none, and its impatience so great that it struck the enemy\nbefore he had nearly reached the lowest point of his arc.\nIn consequence he went flying around and around in a\nhorizontal circle, whose radius was about equal to half\nthe length of the rope, which I forgot to say was nearly\ntwenty feet long. His shrieks, crescendo in approach and\ndiminuendo in recession, made the rapidity of his revolu-\ntion more obvious to the ear than to the eye. He had\nevidently not yet been struck in a vital spot. His posture\nin the sack and the distance from the ground at which\nhe hung compelled the ram to operate upon his lower\nextremities and the end of his back. Like a plant that\nhas struck its root into some poisonous mineral, my poor\nuncle was dying slowly upward.\n\"After delivering its second blow the ram had not\nagain retired. The fever of battle burned hot in its heart;\nits brain was intoxicated with the wine of strife. Like\na pugilist who in his rage forgets his skill and fights in-\neffectively at half-arm's length, the angry beast endeavored\nto reach its fleeting foe by awkward vertical leaps as he\npassed overhead, sometimes, indeed, succeeding in striking\nhim feebly, but more frequently overthrown by its own\nmisguided eagerness. But as the impetus was exhausted\nand the man's circles narrowed in scope and diminished\nin speed, bringing him nearer to the ground, these tactics\nproduced better results and elicited a superior quality of\nscreams, which I greatly enjoyed.\n\"Suddenly, as if the bugles had sung truce, the ram\nsuspended hostilities and walked away, thoughtfully\nwrinkling and smoothing its great aquiline nose, and oc-\ncasionally cropping a bunch of grass and slowly munch-\ning it. It seemed to have tired of war's alarms and re-\nsolved to beat the sword into a plowshare and cultivate\nthe arts of peace. Steadily it held its course away from\nthe field of fame until it had gained a distance of nearly\na quarter of a mile. There it stopped and stood with its\nrear to the foe, chewing its cud and apparently half asleep,\nI observed, however, an occasional slight turn of its head*\nas if its apathy were more affected than real.\n\"Meanwhile Uncle William's shrieks had abated with\nhis motion, and nothing was heard from him but long,\nlow moans, and at long intervals my name, uttered in\npleading tones exceedingly grateful to my ear. Evidently\nthe man had not the faintest notion of what was being\ndone to him, and was inexpressibly terrified. When Death\ncomes cloaked in mystery he is terrible indeed. Little by\nlittle my uncle's oscillations diminished, and finally he\nhung motionless. I went to him and was about to give\nthe coup de grace, when I heard and felt a succession of\nsmart shocks which shook the ground like a series of light\nearthquakes, and turning in the direction of the ram, saw\na cloud of dust approaching me with inconceivable rapidity\nand alarming effect. At a distance of some thirty yards\naway it stopped short, and from the near end of it rose\ninto the air what I at first thought a great white bird.\nIts ascent was so smooth and easy and regular that I could\nnot realize its extraordinary celerity, and was lost in\nadmiration of its grace. To this day the impression re-\nmains that it was a slow, deliberate movement, the ram—\nfor it was that animal—being upborne by some power\nother than its own impetus, and supported through the\nsuccessive stages of its flight with infinite tenderness and\ncare. My eyes followed its progress through the air with\nunspeakable pleasure, all the greater by contrast with my\nformer terror of its approach by land. Onward and up-\nward the noble animal sailed, its head bent down almost\nbetween its knees, its forefeet thrown back, its hinder\nlegs trailing to rear like the legs of a soaring heron. At\na height of forty or fifty feet, as nearly as I could judge,\n\nDrawing by Aubrey Beardsley"}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "844", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.8", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nit attained its zenith and appeared to remain an instant\nstationary; then, tilting suddenly forward without alter-\ning the relative position of its parts, it shot downward on\na steeper and steeper course with augmenting velocity,\npassed immediately above me with a noise like the rush\nof a cannon shot, and struck my poor uncle almost squarely\non the top of the head! So frightful was the impact that\nnot only the neck was broken, but the rope, too; and the\nbody of the deceased, forced against the earth, was crushed\nto pulp beneath the awful front of that meteroic sheep!\nThe concussion stopped all the clocks between Lone Hand\nand Dutch Dan's, and Professor Davidson, who happened\nto be in the vicinity, promptly explained that the vibra-\ntions were from north to south.\"\nAltogether, I cannot help thinking that in point of\natrocity my murder of Uncle William has seldom been\nexcelled.\n\nTechnically Speaking\nJoan Eliot\nHP HE doctor sat by her bed filling out a birth certificate.\n\"Occupation of father?\"\n\"Occupation of mother? . . .\"\nShe turned her head away from him on the pillow,\nsmiling faintly, thinking of the first time she had been\nasked that question. \"Home-maker\" had been her proud\nreply. She remembered an interne had laughed very\nheartily, Of course she knew the right answer now.\nA vision of her days flashed before her—days spent in\nperforming unnumbered tasks, accomplished only to be\nperformed again. She seemed to see rows and rows of un-\nmade beds; pyramids of dishes; grimy things to be made\nclean, shred and patches which once were little garments\nand must, by some miraculous process, become little gar-\nments again. She thought of miles of weary tramping\nthrough the shops in search of best values for least money,\nof racking hours, of nursing in the sick room; of all the\nendless round of replenishing, restoring, re-producing, so\nlately interrupted by her illness, so soon to begin again.\nHer smile held something of weariness as she turned back\nto answer the doctor.\n\"Occupation of mother?—None!\" . . . But he\nhad already written it down.\n\nForgotten lines by Tom Sleeper written in a Birthday Book,\n1890\nJoan Eliot\nCOME years ago on August third\nI first began to snore\nBut when I think it over now\nI can't make out what for.\n\nTwo Oriental Stories\nThe Hungry Man and the Arab\nA PERSON was walking along hungry, and saw an\nArab who was eating victuals by the side of a pond.\nHe went up to him, and said, \"I am just come from the\nneighborhood of your dwelling.\" The Arab asked him,\n\"Are my wife, my child, and my camel, all in good\nhealth?\" The man said, \"Yes.\" The Arab became quite\ncontented, and paid no regard to that person farther. The\nman then began to say, \"O Arab! this dog which is now\nsitting before you, if your own dog were still alive, it\nwould be just such another.\" The Arab raised up his\nhead, and said to him, \"My dog! how did it die?\" The\nman replied, \"It ate too much of the flesh of your camel.\"\nHe inquired, \"How did my camel die?\" The man an-\nswered, \"Your wife died—and then there was no one to\ngive it grain or water.\" The Arab asked, \"How did my\nwife die?\" The man replied, \"In lamentation for your\nson, she wept excessively, and beat her head and breast\nwith stones.\" He asked, \"How did my son die?\" The\nman said, \"The house fell upon him.\" On hearing this\naccount of the ruin of his house, the Arab threw dust upon\nhis head, and leaving his victuals as they were, went off\nin the direction of his dwelling. The man, by this device,\ngot the victuals.\nThe Emperor and the Jester\nA N emperor one day went out a-hunting along with the\nprince. When the weather became hot, the em-\nperor and the prince put their cloaks upon the back of a\njester. The emperor fell a-laughing, and said to him—\n\"O, jester! you have there the load of an ass.\" The jester\nreplied—\"Nay, I have in fact the load of two asses.\"\n\nCharles Beaudelaire\n\nAdvice For Young Authors\nBy Charles Beaudelaire\nTranslated by Guido Bruno\nHow One Should Work\n\"TO-DAY one has to produce a good deal and mighty\nquick and handy at that. Every strike must hit\nthe mark and none must be in vain.\nIn order to write quickly one must have thought a"}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "845", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.9", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nlot. At the daily walk, in the bathroom, while eating\nin the restaurant, even on your way to see your girl and\nwhile with her, one must think of his work. An artist\nonce said to me: \"Art is a thing so incomprehensible and\nso fleeting that instruments are never handy and one's\nmeans never quick enough!\"\nThe same is true of literature; therefore I shall never\nbe a friend of revision. It scratches the mirror of the\nthought.\nSome of our best and most conscientious authors start\nout in filling a lot of paper. They call it covering the\ncanvas. The purpose of this rather erroneous under-\ntaking is to preserve everything and not to lose anything.\nAnd then they start to revamp it and to rehash it and to\nrevise it. If the work was good at first, they are losing a\nlot of time, a lot of energy and a lot of originality. To\ncover a canvas doesn't mean to fill it with color, but to\napply color here and there to get shades and new color\nschemes.\nA canvas has to be covered—mentally, in the same\nsecond that the writer reaches for his pen to write the\nname of his story.\nIt is said that Balzac was in the custom of rewriting\nhis drafts in an irregular and fantastic way. His novels\nare supposed to go through the ordeal of re-generation in\nthe course of which the unity of sentences and of the work\nitself is lost. Without doubt this bad methpd gave his\nstyle an almost unbelievable distraction, topsy-turvyness\nand the appearance of sketchiness. It is the only fault I\ncan find with this great narrator.\nAbout Remuneration\nNT O matter how nice a house is at first even before\n* drawing attention to its beauty one mentions that\nit is so many and so many feet high and of such and such\na width. It is almost similar with literature, whose\nvalue surely is immeasurable in human figures. At first\nit means to fill columns and the literary architect whose\nname in itself does not command money has to sell for\nthe best price offered to him.\nThere are some young men who say \"Why should we\nbe painstaking with work that brings us little money ?\"\nThey could have delivered very good literature and in\nthat case they would have been deprived of what was\ncoming to them for the moment urged by necessity. But\nthey robbed themselves of their best chances. On account\nof bad pay they still would have found the highest honor\nbut on account of bad pay they themselves gave up the\nhighest honors.\nEverything I have to say about this vital question in the\n>life of a young author I will gather into one sentence\nwhich I submit for consideration to all philosophers, his-\ntorians, and business men:\nA beautiful conception is utterly unprofitable. Hard\nwork makes it pay.\n\nFragment\nJames Waldo Fawcett\nEvery happy man\nIs like\nEvery other happy man.\nBut an unhappy man\nHas no comrade\nLike himself.\n\nAmerican Army Creed of 1782\n•\"P HE following creed was adopted by the officers of the\nAmerican army at Verplanck's Point, in 1782:\n\"We believe that there is a great First Cause, by whose\nalmighty fiat we were formed; and that our business here\nis to obey the orders of our superiors. We believe that\nevery soldier who does his duty will be happy here, and\nthat every such one who dies in battle, will be happy here-*\nafter. We believe that General Washington is the only\nfit man in the world to head the American army. We\nbelieve that Nathaniel Green was born a general. We\nbelieve that the evacuation of Ticonderoga was one of\nthose strokes which stamp the man who dares to strike\nthem, with everlasting fame. We believe that Baron Steu-\nben has made us soldiers, and that he is capable of forming\nthe whole world into a solid column, and displaying it from\nthe centre. We believe in his blue book. We believe in\nGenral Knox and his artillery. And we believe in our\nbayonets. Amen.\"\n\nNietsche. By F. Vollan\n\nReplated Platitudes\nJulius Doerner\nPeace at any price is merely the paling sentimentalist's\ncowardly equivalent for the braggart's brutal: war for\nany cause at any cost.\nCountless explosions of patriotism are but amplified\nglorifications of magnified egotism.\nThe lives of oil-steel men so oft remind us how much\neasier it is to be ostentatiously generous than decently just.\nIn everything a man does, he shows all that he is to\nhim who knows how to read the secrets of the heart in\nthe light of the deed.\nThose who have wealth, with nothing to do, make\nwork for those who have nothing to do with wealth.\n\nLa Vie\nAlfred Du Bedat Smythe\nLA vie nouvelle—\nLa vie pour vous;\nL'aurore tranquille,\nEt sans adieu.\nLa vie heureuse—\nC'est Veternelle\\\nUne vie joyeuse . . .\nEt puis—Le Ciel!"}, {"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "846", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.10", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nMadonna\nYOU perhaps never took a walk down Thompson\nStreet right around the corner of my Garret and\ntherefore you are not familiar with the row of a dozen\nor more small wooden houses which the irony of fate\nleft here among brick mansions and tenement buildings,\na stone's throw away from the thundering elevated: a\nsad memento of that Greenwich Village of yore, a thriv-\ning hamlet near old New York. But if you ever strolled\npast these houses you must have noticed the one whose\ndoor was painted white; which looked so clean amidst\nthe ugliness of a neglected side-street. Its windows were\nshining in the sun: a couple of geraniums were on the\nwindow sill and white muslin curtains swinging rythmi-\ncally to the blowing wind permitted every once in a while\na peep into the rooms. The side-walk was always well-\nswept and most likely a baby carriage would be standing\nin front of the open house door. A white baby carriage\nwith netting spread all over it; a fat little baby slumber-\ning peacefully in it or playing with its tiny feet, searching\nwith its big black eyes for the mother. Often when I\npassed the little house I felt happy because there was such\nan idyll in this noisy side-street. And we all are glad to\nsee love in a little white cottage with a baby carriage in\nfront of its door.\nIt is one of# the tragedies of a big city that we live\nnxet door to people who could be our friends and whose\nfriends we could be, but whom we never meet. We pass\nby almost daily; a \"change in the familiar surroundings\nwould cause us to wonder and to be curious but we very\nrarely take the initiative or trouble to enquire. We know\nwe would lend our help if needed, but we don't want to\nand therefore we walk on and don't turn to the right or\nto the left: ships that pass in the night.\n% * *\nA time came when I had to go out every morning quite\nearly. Then I saw the mother of the baby. She was a\nyoung girlish thing, very slender, very pale with dark\nglowing eyes, her black hair combed in madonna fashion\nto both sides covering the ears. She stood in front of\nher little house, evidently waiting for someone and then\nshe crossed over to the other side of the street and ap-\nproached the letter carrier. She was all expectation.\nThere was a faint smile on her lips. She was very pretty.\nThe letter-carrier had nothing for her. And slowly she\nreturned to the house and disappeared through the white\ndoor. The next day, I witnessed the same scene. One\nevening I came home quite late and the Square was de-\nserted with only the cross glowing on top of the Judson\nHotel; the buses had ceased buzzing and the light wind\nrustled in the trees. Her house was dark; she was seated\nat a window with both arms on the window sill, resting\nher face in her hands: like one of the angels of the Sistine\nMadonna. She looked sad. Her eyes had a far-away\nlook. I remember that I wanted to call to her \"Hallo,\nneighbor!\" and later on in my rooms I felt that she per-\nhaps would have liked me to say a word to her; she seemed\nso alone in that little house in the quiet deserted street.\nAn hour later I went out to mail a letter I had written.\nShe was busy preparing Some food for the baby.\nDays passed and I saw her only silhouetted against\n\nThey do not sow neither do they reap\n\nThey all know him. By Flanagan\n\nIn Our Village"}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "847", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.11", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nher curtain, hugging the baby in her arms, walking up and\ndown in the small room. In the morning she would\nwatch the letter-carrier from her windowshe would\nwatch him until he had passed her door.\nI went out to the country for a few days and by habit\nI looked up at her windows on my return. They were\nshut, the curtains drawn tightly. The letter-carrier just\nthen came around the corner and gave me my bunch of\nbills. \"How about our neighbor?\" I asked. \"She doesn't\nseem to be anxious to get a letter from you to-day.\" \"She\ngot one )/resterday,\" he replied. \"It was the first one in\nfour weeks, the first one since she had come down to\nlive in the village.\"\nMy bills kept me busy all day, and worrying all night\nand I didn't even notice that there was no light in my\nneighbor's windows until I recollected it on the next\nmorning.\nAn unusual crowd of people had assembled in our street.\nTom, the cop of the beat, was posted in front of the white\ndoor of my neighbour's little house. He looked like a\ngiant leaning against the narrow and low door. \"What's\nthe matter, Tom?\" I called out of the window. \"Come\nsee yourself\" was his answer. And I hurried out,\nas I was in shirt sleeves and without collar, in time to\nenter with the coroner who had just arrived.\nBoth were dead, the baby in its white painted little\ncarriage and the mother on her cot. They looked peace-\nfully asleep. A happy smile seemed to be on both faces.\nThere wasn't a drop of milk in the house and not a crumb\nof bread and not a penny of money. On the table lay\nabout a dozen ;pawn tickets, the last one dated four days\nago. She had pawned some sheets and table clothes for\nfifty cents. And a letter was on the table. Some man\nup the State told her that he was married now and that\nshe must \"hustle for herself and the kid as good as she\ncould. And not to trouble him anymore as everything\nwas now over between them for ever.\"\nTom, big husky Tom, who had got honorable mention\nonly recently from his department for running in that\nHester Street gang of gunmen, sounded quite hoarse:\nIf I had known this . I saw her almost every even-\ning.\" I do think there were tears in his eyes. You know\nTom got married only fourteen years ago to a fine healthy\ngril, just such a girl as this had been perhaps, a year ago.\nBut I might be mistaken. The coroner named some poison\nused for disinfecting purposes which she had given to the\nbaby and had taken herself. Starvation or a broken heart\nmight have been the cause.\nI remembered the night that I saw her at her window\nstaring up at the glowing cross over the Judson. But\nhadn't I been nearer than that cross?\nI been nearer than that cross?\nThat's the tragedy in the big city. We see and we\nobserve. Conventions kill our spontaneous impulses and\nwe continue selfishly on our own road.\nThe Buses Again\nThe strike is over and the franchised disturbance on\nWashington Square- continues. The hot weather is the\nfinest advertising agent for the buses. Thousands wish\nto get a ride on the top. Only twenty-four can be seated\non each one. A lot of confusion was caused last week\nby the enforcement of a new ordinance, the buses stopping\noh the far side of the street.\nA few new buses were put into service with so extra-\nordinarily small a space between the seating capacities\nthat they seemed to be lpuilt for midgets. Perhaps the\nFifth Avenue Coach Company will ask all its prospective\npassengers to be physically examined and permit only\nthose under four high to go on the top of their buses.\nThe average man and woman will be forced to hang their\nlegs over the railing if they do not prefer to place them\nover their own shoulders. It would be very advisable\nfor the Fifth Avenue Coach Company to open a corre-\nspondence school for training prospective joy-riders to\nbecome acrobats.\nTourists are taking possession of our village.\nThey arrive on the buses and make the rounds of our\nshops and then they take a taste of Bohemia in\"The\nGreenwich Village Inn\" or in another one of our home\neating-places. The native population of the Village takes\npossession of every inch of Washington Squrae, anxious\nto get some of the cool wind which blows once in a while,\nbut studios and work shops are deserted. Their inhabi-\ntants fled and are fleeing the sweltering heat of the city.\n\nWhere the horses on Washington Square go for their drink"}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "848", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.12", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nThe Girl in Yellow\nOT less than eight letters did we receive signed \"The\ngirl in yellow,\" all relating to that little whimsical\nstory in our last issue. We are reprinting one which has\nthe distinction of being short. In the meantime we had\nthe good fortune to meet \"the girl in yellow\" and we are\nsorry to state that we were mistaken in the color of her\nsweater. It wasn't yellow at all, but orange, a very glar-\ning orange:\n\"Dear Bruno's Weekly:\n\"I did not imagine I was being observed in particular\nalthough I knew my yellow sweater was. No, I was not\nthinking of philosophy nor was my mind very far away.\nI wanted to see some of the interesting people of the Vil-\nlage of whom one reads in the newspapers: the artists and\nthe geniuses. But I could see only the natives. And I\nwas not quite sure whether they would prove to be as nice\nas they looked. I had been a bit disappointed earlier in\nthe evening but finally I met him. And now I wish I\nhadn't.\"\n\"The Girl in Yellow.\"\nEmily Stevens returned from her tour through the West\nand the Brevoort seems ever so much more familiar since\nshe again took possession of her favorite corner.\nJimmy Montgomery Flagg found an ardent defender of\nhis art in Miss Arthur whose pretty face attracted many\nthousands of admirers last week on the cover of \"Judge.\"\nBilly Hamilton is crazy to play the stock market. She\nhas a sure tip and is confident of being able to make five\nthousand dollars in twenty-four hours. At present she is\nbusy looking for someone to finance her scheme. Why\nnot ask the Lambs' magazine? They feature fun and\nthe stock market.\nRenee La Coste returned from her summer home in\nMaine to stay a few days in the Village. There was a\ntime when one wouldn't think of the Village without\nRenee, but how times do change.\nJack MacGrath, the man who can introduce you to\neverybody of importance in New York, and the living\nBaedecker of the Village last Friday celebrated his birth-\nday. He very graciously accepted the homage which was\npaid to him throughout the boundaries of the community.\n\nThe Carpet of Omar Nizam\nBy Katherine Keith\n\nHTHE fierce glare of the eastern sun at mid-day beat\n* pitilessly down on the narrow, squalid streets of\nKermanshah. Even the shrill voices of the ragged chil-\ndren were hushed. Save for the piercing trill of the\nlocust, breathless, panting silence reigned; and not a leaf*\nstirred, nothing save the unending shimmer of the\natmosphere.\nUpstairs in the leafy coolness of his roof-garden, lulled\nby the soft splashing of the fountain, which rose and fell\nin liquid monotony, Omar Nizam sat with his head on\nhis hands, gazing dreamily through the clouds of smoke\nthat curled from his nargihle, at the carpet before him.\nHe wondered why he had bought it. Why that blue,\nweirdly strange as a sapphrie held before a flame, had\nstirred at the strings of his memory until he knew that\nhe had to give the Jew his price for it, no matter what\nthat price might be.\nThere was something strange in that rug, something\nthat made it different from any he had ever seen. Was\nit the wild, riotous brightness of the colors in one part\nwhich gradually, very gradually melted togehter as his\neyes traveled toward the low edge into one beautiful,\nharmonious whole? Or was it the cross which gleamed\nso white against its background of blue? No, it wasn't\nthe riot of color, nor the gleam of the white cross, nor\neven the burnished glitter of the golden thread, which\ncommenced so abruptly part way down the rug and then\ntraced in and out of the pattern all the way down to the\nbottom.\nIt was that blue, intensely brilliant at first, but gradu-\nally growing more and more rich in its luster, until near\nthe bottom it seemed as if the very souls of the sky and\nof the ocean and of the sapphire were gathered in the\nsilken folds.\nSuddenly Omar Nizam paused in his smoking and\nlifted his head from his hands. Like a flash it all came\nback to him. The mists of thirty years rolled away and\nthe long ago was as clear as yesterday.\nTfr\nNo longer did the sun sift through the foliage of the\nroof-garden, to laugh and play with the twinkling foun-\ntain, but it was night—a deep, starry night, far out on\nthe plains of Mogan.\nA slender, bare-footed girl was dancing before the rough\nsoldiers of the Imperial Guard. The warm glow of the\ncamp fire lit up the bronze of her hair, which streamed\nover her bare shoulders and cast strange lights on the\nsapphire blue of her soft robe. A strange blue it was,\n\nDrawing by Flanagan"}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "849", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.13", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\ndifferent from any other in the world, except that of her\neyes. Somehow it seemed a part of her; were the blue to\nchange, she would be changed also. No one knew how\nshe had come there, among those rude men, bearing with\nler a loom, on which were the flaring colors of a newly\ncommenced rug.\nThere was one face in all that rough crowd that did\nnot light up with coarse pleasure at the beauty of the\ndance. A young man stood apart £rom the rest, a look\nof pain and pity in his deep set eyes.\nI \"How could that girl degrade herself to come into\nthat camp alone to dance before a lot of brutal soldiers?\"\nHe asked the man nearest him who she was.\n\"Only a Kashan dancing girl,\" was the reply. \"One\n)f the lowest of her kind.\"\nAfter she finished and sank down beside her loom the\nyoung man went over and touched the brown shoulder.\n44You shouldn't be here,\" he said gently. \"Get your\noom and let me take you home. It isn't right for you to\nSdance before these men.\"\nI The wild, blue eyes looked fiercely up into his and he\nsaw the scornful curve of her red lips.\n\"Why shouldn't I be here?\" she said. \"Why should\nI do what is right, I, who am only a Kashan dancing\nnrl?\"\nHe looked at her in surprise, and then a gleam of\nwonderful, comprehending sympathy lighted his face.\n\"No,\" he said gently, \"you are not only a Kashan\nlancing girl; you are a woman—a woman,\" he repeated\npftly, \"the purest, holiest gift that Allah ever gave\nIpo man.\"\nThe wild light died slowly out of the blue eyes and\nagain gave place to one of awe-struck wonder; and then\na wave of scarlet leaped from her throat to the roots\nJ>f her hair. As if in a dream, she took the veil, which\nhe had waved so defiantly through the dance, and putting\nt over her head, she picked up the loom and passed slowly\n)iit of the camp and out of his life forever.\nThe long afternoon wore away. Cool breezes stirred\n:he palms of the roof-garden, and indistinct murmurs\nvere wafted up from the street—of donkey boys urging\nm their patient animals, the bleating of home-coming\n*oats and, far away, from the garden's of the governor's\npalace, the soft cadence of a woman's voice mingled with\n:he notes of a zither. But Omar Nizam heard them not\n\\$ his eyes traveled slowly through the depth of the rug.\nFirst those fierce, wild colors, then the golden thread\ntwining in and out of the pattern, sometimes almost gone,\nbut always reappearing, brighter than before.\nSofter grew the colors, blending more and more com-\npletely. Very slowly the blue added to the wonderful\ndepths of the sapphire sheen. But the more blue it be-\ncame the less it predominated over the other shades. And\nthen, half way down, the cross in all its gleaming purity.\nStill softer became the harmony of the different shades,\nsimpler but more perfect became the pattern with its\nthread of gold.\nSlowly Omar Nizam's eyes reached the bottom, and\nhe fell on his knees and bowed his head, for the greatest\nof all mysteries was in the carpet before him,—the mystery\nof a woman's soul—and he was afraid.\n\nBooks and Magazines of the Week\nE. M.\nDefenceless America\nMilitarism and industrial development in our social\nsystem are so closely interwoven that it is impossible to*\nseparate the one from the other. Actually, the first is,\nan effect of the second. If we would destroy militarism)\nwe should first have to scrap our industrial system—a\nproposition which is, of course, absurd.\nIn \"Defenceless America\" (Hearst's International Li-\nbrary, New York), Hudson Maxim shatters the conten-\ntions of the so-called pacifists; the limitation and abolition\n—of—armament mongers and of those who, ostrich-like,\nrefuse to admit that the fierce and inevitable competition\nfor markets which occupies great industrial nations is\nthe primal cause of war. Mr. Maxim proves conclusively\nthat a nation which seeks industrial development and\ncunty must either prepare to defend its integrity and its\nmarkets or be reduced to a state of vassalage.\n\"There is no lesson which history teaches us more\nplainly than that the possession of wealth by a defence-\nless nation is a standing casus belli to other nations, and\nthat always there has been the nation standing ready to,\nattack and plunder any other nation when there was.\nlikely to be sufficient profit in the enterprise to pay for\nthe trouble. Never have we seen any treaty stand for\nlong in the way of such practices between nations. Treaties\nhave always been mere scraps of paper, which, like the\ncobweb, ensnare the weak, while they let the strong break\nthrough.\"\nThe author deals simply and bluntly with facts, and\nfrom many angles. Biology, statistics, the technology and\nstrategy of war, relative strength of the armaments of\ngreat nations, aerial warfare, all are lucidly dealt with to\nfurnish the wide-awake reader with a mass of invaluable\nand sometimes startling reading.\nThe last chapter on Gooxl and Evil\" is perhaps the\nmost interesting of all. Comparing the average casualties\nof killed on the industrial field for a year in the United\nStates with the average in killed on one side in six wars\n(including the Civil War and the Russo-Japanese war)\nthe ratio is given as 79 to 75!\nHudson Maxim rendered a national service in this\nbook. America as a living nation with principles and\nideals and a standard of living far above other nations\nmust take her place in the ranks of the world's great\nfighters if she would not perish. Such is the contention\nof this thinker, scientist and expert.\nMother Earth\nBen J. Reitman, of Birth Control fame, serving at\npresent his sentence of two months, wrote in the current\nissue of Emma Goldman's magazine, \"Mother Earth,\" a\nseries of letters Through the Bars.\" Documents from\nprison are supposed to be interesting. They usually con-\ntain confessions or express an emotion unknown to men\nin the free, hustling, bustling everyday life. Ben Reit-\nman evidently read Oscar Wilde, the Bible and other\nbooks, as he himself admits. His letters are a badlv con-\nceived imitation of both and the few original Reitmanns\nthey contain spoil even the flavor of this far-awav imita-\ntion."}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "850", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.14", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nNEW YORK has its new romancier. Another O.\nHenry is among us. A man who conveys to us the\nlife of the four million, who shows us the New Yorker\n,as he is, as he lives and loves: at his work. O. Henry,\nthe unsurpassed master of observation, of observation from\namong those that he observes, creates pictures in vivid\ncolors with his words. Bernhardt Wall tells us stories,\nstories that never could be told in words, in his ecthings.\nHe is the true romancier of our times. Of our own\ntimes of electricity, of rapid transportation, of living a life\nin one day. In his automobile—he calls it his buggy—\nhe travels through our cfty. He. has his plates with him\nand whenever he sees a subject of interest, he stops arid\nmakes an etching right there and then. The studying\nof character, the detection of the real, of the essential\namong the hustle, bustle of the busiest street as well as\nin het lone, most forlorn neighborhood is his art.\nHe sketched from life some of the biggest men of our\ncountry. He never asked them to sit for him. He wants\nthem in action. He got Mark Twain during a lecture\nthe great humorist gave at the West Side branch of the\nYoung Men's Christian Association of New York, shortly\nbefore his death.\nIt is one of the most characteristic sketches of Mark\nTwain. Of Mark Twain in action. Recently Mr. Wall\ncame down to Greenwich Village,—not the aristocratic\nparts adjoining Fifth avenue, interested him, but the\nzig-zag of streets back of the Judson Memorial, with\ntheir densely populated tenement houses, and their Italian\nstreet life.\nA woman crossed the street, a big, strong, peasant\nwoman whom one might meet somewhere in Naples. On\nher head she carried an enormous bundle of laundiy. She\n\nJane\n\nBernhardt Wall, the Etcher\n\nMark Twain sketched from life by Bernhardt Wall"}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "851", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.15", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nwas a wash-woman, a \"lavandera.\" Of course, there was\nno beauty in her features. Her movements did not sug-\ngest grace, but there was about her a robust health, a\ncertain air of \"I know how to help myself/' Or in China-\ntown, the cook somewhere in an obscure Chinese kitchen\nof a Chop Suey joint. This is not a parlor Chinaman for\nexhibition purposes, in a richly embroidered Mandarin\ncoat.\nBernhardt Wall lived for a considerable time in O.\nHenry's home state, Texas. He knows America from\nnorth to south, and from east to west. He was a news-\npaper man, soldier, cartoonist, and the most successful\ndesigner of picture cards in this country.\nMr. Wall devotes his time exclusively to his etchings\nat present. Types of the street,—the impersonations of\nwonderful stories written by life itself on the faces of men\nand women are his subjects.\n\"If you want to know a man, look into his home. See\nthe surroundings he is living in, examine his books and\nyou will know him.\" In one of those studio apartments,\nwest of Central Park, he created for himself, a hermitage,\njust the ideal place to do his work in. During his ex-\ntensive travels through Europe, he not only filled his\nsketch book with the most interesting character:—sketches\nof peoples and countries, but he gathered together things\nthat make his studio as cosmopolitan as he is himself.\nEverything is heavy, massive, made to be used, and to\nfulfill a purpose.\nThere is, for instance, the table in his dining-room, an\nancient refectory table, from some old monastery. The\nchairs in the studio, how comfortable they are,—the paint-\nings, how well selected. Originals and reproductions of\nmasterpieces. And then, the etcher's press and all the\nother requirements of an etcher's worshop, and books,\nbooks, everywhere.\nMr. Wall is a veteran of the Spanish-American war.\nHe is a man in the real sense of the word. His etchings\nof New York types are. wonderful studies of New York\nlife.\n\nBernhardt Wall\n\nBliss Carman"}, {"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "852", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.16", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nWhat is AEstheticism?\nA Reply to Certain Critics\n\nQUITE a harvest of letters has been elicited by the\nrecent article in these columns, The Genius of\nChina. The contention made there that artists should be\npreoccupied, rather with beauty than with the expression\neof individuality, has roused the anger of numerous readers;\nand many of these, in the course of expostulating with the\nwriter's attitude in this respect, have spoken reproachfully\nof him as being what they call an aesthete. Now this word,\nfolonjg with the others affiliated with it, is employed very\nfrequently in an approbrious sense, notably by Mr. Fred-\neric Harrison in The Choice of Books, by Mr. Joseph\nPennell in his Life of Whistler, together with a much\nstronger author than either of these two, Major Haldane\nMacfall in his monumental History of Painting. And\nconsidering their free use in this way, is it not well to\nponder as to what these terms really signify? Is it not\nwell to enquire whether aestheticism indeed implies some-\nthing despicable?\nRuskin, Morris and Wilde\nNo age brings forth anything wholly new. It merely\ncoins new names for old things, the need for these new\nmames arising from various old things being developed,\nand assuming a new conspicuousness. For example, the\nsteam-engine and the aeroplane are driven by forces which\nare eternal; but the modern prominence of these forces,\nthe momentous use to which they have been put, have\ninevitably resulted in an elaborate nomenclature growing\ndp around them, and the like happens constantly where\nart is concerned. Thus the school of Claude Monet, who\nstyled themselves Impressionists, and were regarded by\nmost of their contemporaries as a complete novelty, were\nsimply concerned with exploiting certain perennial laws\nin colour-harmony; and analogous exploiting had been\n\"essayed long before it had received the definite name of\nImpressionism, an outstanding anticipator of this method\nof painting being Delacroix. In the same way, in the\nmiddle of the last century, Britain was signally wanting\nin any taste for the applied arts; and presently Ruskin and\nWilliam Morris began striving eloquently to inculcate\n■that taste, which thereupon acquired the name of\n: a word previously little in vogue, this thing\nto which it referred being very old withal. For, of course,\nduring hundreds of years prior to the advent of machinery,\na love of the applied arts was widely in evidence, the\nGeorgian era being one wherein it was specially salient,\nnor does it appear ever to have been thought silly in those\n•days. But now it was sneered at far and near, in particu-\nlar by George du in Punch, ridicule quickly\ngrowing more savage when the efforts of the two masters\naforesaid came to be seconded enthusiastically by Wilde,\nan avowed votary of Ruskin, to whose glowing writing\nhis own, beautiful style was probably much indebted.\nRuskin and Morris had been content to ask for greater\nbeauty in architecture, in book-production, in furniture,\nwhereas Wilde went further, asking for greater beauty\nin dress; and this request brought the scorn of the British\nand American races to a climax, their mirth at the whole\nidea being crystalized shortly in the opera of Patience.\nIt is strange that the part of the vulgar herd should have\nbeen taken by such gifted men as Gilbert and Sullivan.\nAnd, assuming for a moment that aestheticism means no\nmore than this time-honored taste which Ruskin, Morris\nand Wilde tried to bring back, it is impossible to see\nwhy the word should be considered an infamous one.\nThe Philosophy of the Fine Arts\nBut the dictionary informs confidently that, far from\nholding any exclusive reference to a love for having the\nthings of daily use beautiful, aesthetics really indicates\n\"the philosophy of the fine arts.\" And what endless people\nthere are who, accepting this last as the world's true signK\nficance, nevertheless seldom mention it save scornfully.\nMany will even refer contemptuously to all active pre-\noccupation with this same philosophy, meanwhile appar-\nently forgetting that, the genesis and constituents of beauty\nbeing so very mysterious, speculation with regard to these\nquestions has perforce enlisted the pens of a galaxy of\nmen of the grandest intellect. Aristotle and Nietsche,\nColeridge, Walter Pater and Swinburne—did not each\nof these do much of his noblest work in this despised field ?\nAnd waiving these writers of actual treatises on aesthetics,\na constellation of masters in painting or sculpture, archi-\ntecture, music or poetry, have left behind them volumin-\nous pages of deep musing concerning the bases of art\nin general. The delightful journal of Delacroix is rich\nin matter of this sort, as also is the autobiography of\nGoethe; while others like Dominique Ingres, Leonardo da\nVinci and G. F. Watts have written in note-books their\nconvictions on the subject, which figures largely again in\nthe letters of Keats, of Blake, of Rossetti. It must bfi\nacknowledged, then, that \"the philosophy of the fine arts'!\nis not a thing to be derided. Sa now, passing gladly from\nthis truism, it behoves to examine that meaning which the\nword aesthetic seemingly holds for a number of those\nwho attacked the writer's Chinese article: in fine, an\nartist who endeavors consciously and ardently towards\nthe making of beauty, rather than towards the expression\nof individuality.\nThe Necessity of Form\nIt is an outstanding tendency, with the younger artists\nof the present time, to deify loudly whatsoever things\nembody a strong, personal accent, and whatsoever things\nare manifestly the sincere and adequate utterance of an\nemotion. However, the man who writes an angry letter\nmay give sincere and adequate expression to an emotion,\nquite possibly doing this in a very individual fashion. And\nthat does not necessarily imply that he has made a work\nof art, for without form there can be no art, nor does\nany work live which is not beautiful in some way, beauty\nbeing an infinitely diverse quantity. On the one hand\nit may be said, with tolerable assurance, that any one who\ntries to write a poem, or paint a picture, and is impelled\nby nothing beyond the deliberate desire to make artistic\nbeauty, will not attain anything great or vital. But, on\nthe other hand, those deep emotions, which are essential\nto fine artistic creation, spring from a hidden source over\nwhich the artist himself has no suzerainty; or as Stevenson\nputs it happily: \"the most beautiful adventures are not\nthose we go to seek.\" And again, that equally precious\nthing, called individuality, must be inborn, to try and be\noriginal being accordingly of no ayaiL It is merely over"}, {"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "853", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.17", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nTwo illustrations by Clara Tice for last years Thimble Theatre programmes\n\nform that the artist really has any control personally, so\nthat he can hardly think too much about this element,\nhardly offer it too constant and fervent a loyalty.\nThe Creed of the Masters\nAnd turning back to some of those letters and diaries\nin which various masters, besides theorising about art in\ngeneral, have laid bare their creeds concerning their work,\nit is striking how very little these men talk about express-\ning individuality, their writings being concerned rather\nwith worship of the great works of art antedating their\nown, together with unfolding plans for the achievement\nof a dazzling technical excellence. The tense personal\naccent pervading all immortal painting and sculpture,\nliterature and music, entered there without the conscious\nbidding of the artists, these labouring eternally towards\nbeauty, in many cases immolating themselves in the quest,\nfor rare craftsmanship and vast toil are two things which\ncan scarcely be divorced from one another. \"The thousand\npainful steps we climb,\" exclaims Mr. William Watson,\nreferring to the strenuous apprenticeship which must be\nserved by a poet; while Coleridge speaks, in Biographia\nLiteraria, of the huge difficulty attending the writing of a\nmere fragment of fine song; and Hokusai declared that,\nonly should he live to be a bi-centenarian, was he likely\nto attain the skill in draughtsmanship which he desired.\nThink, moreover, of all that Whistler exacted from him-\nself, ere any one of his pictures even approximated the\nliveliness he set up as his criterion; and recollect how end-\nlessly Beethoven refined his scores, remembering also that\nPater gave five years to the writing of Marius the Epi-\ncurean. All these men had to run a race before winning\nthe laurel wreath, and never will fine art be wrought\notherwise, never just by the easy task of expressing emo-\ntion in an individual fashion, never without the aid\nof that passion for beauty which is sometimes called\naestheticism.\n\nW. G. Blaikie Murdoch\n\nThe boarding school girls had to write about episodes\nin the life of a mouse in their English class. One of the\ngirls wrote:\n\"And the little mouse continued her story: One day\nI was seated in front of my hole when I heard a dear little\nsqueak. I looked inside and then I found that there had\nbeen born to me a little child.\"\n\nThe Unbeliever\nH. Farkasch\nDEHIND\nlurked Memory,\nunforgettable.\nA head\nloomed the gray shadow of Death,\ngrim, relentless.\nPast and Future linked together—\nan unbreakable chain.\nThe Present—a void.\nAnd the Prisoner of Life,\nstrangled by Fear,\ndropped on his knees before the Almighty\nand sobbed,\n\"Oh Lord, how can I believe?\"\n\nHenry D. Thoreau.\nFRIENDSHIP is never established as an understood\nrelation. Do you demand that Ibe less your friend that\nyou may know it? Yet what right have Ito think that\nanother cherishes so rare a sentiment for me? It is a mir-\nacle which requires constant proofs. It is an exercise of\nthe purest imagination and the rarest faith.\n\nSummer Home\nEverything made me mad in that darned hotel. I\nturned on the water tap. The water was ice-cold. I\nturned on the water tap marked \"hot.\" The water was\nice-cold.\n\"The dickens,\" I shouted to the porter. \"What's the\ndifference between the one water and the other?\"\n\"Just the signs on the taps, sir,\" replied the well-trained\nand ever polite porter.\n\nFor three years I didn't cut my hair. I Have been living\nin Greenwich Village for two years. lam painting with\na coal shovel instead of brushes and am the master and\nfollower of my own school. I eat in the Greenwich Vil-\nlage Inn and still I am not famous!"}, {"page_pdf": 18, "page_imprimee": "854", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.18", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nHenrv David Thoreau\nJames Waldo Fawcett\nMINETY-NINE years ago, July 12th was born, at\nConcord, Massachusetts, one of the gentlest souls\nthat ever wore the title man, and one of the noblest\nfigures in American letters: Henry David Thoreau, best\nknown as the author of \"Walden.\"\nThoreau V life was that of a consistent lover of all\nthe glorious and beautiful things of life,—high ideals, love\nof man, and appreciation of nature.\n» •\nHe was educated in the conventional fashion, was a\ngraduate of Harvard at 20, and for a time, a teacher; but\nthe wisdom born of nearness to the simple forms of nature\nand the seclusion of solitude were his truest mentors.\nFrom them he drew a philosophy of life which won the\nrespect of even so profound a sage as Emerson, and filled\nthe whole brief 45 years of his life with the joy of true\nliving.\nThere was nothing of the theorist in Thoreau. He\npracticed what he believed. He recognized that all fine\nrelations are based on mutual ability to pro-\nduce, and he bowed to the ruling and wrought according-\nly. To qualify as a craftsman he manufactured lead\npencils and became a surveyor. To these he added his\ntalent for writing, and \"Walden\" and a number of other\nbooks, a quantity of good journalism, and some excellent\npoetry was the result.\nIn \"Walden\" we are told how Thoreau went into the\nwoods near Concord; and, on the shores of Walden Pond,\nbuilt a hut where he lived several years in a delightful\ncommunion with the natural beauties he so loved.\nHere he found most of the simple gifts he asked of cir-\ncumstance. He wandered about, studying with kindly\neye and a profound and retentive mind ; and all the best\nthoughts went into his journals and thence into \"Walden,\"\nin which American men and women still find delight and\nsound philosophy.\nThoreau was a superb idealist. Turning away in un-\ndenied disgust from the weak pretenses of hypocritical so-\nciety, he built a new philosophy so iconoclastic as to\nbring him, in true dissenter fashion, into conflict with the\nfragile law. It is good to think of Thoreau as a rebel.\nHe belongs in company with John Brown and William\nLloyd Garrison in that he shared with them a daring to\nstrike that weaker men find favor in reviling.\nThoreau detested slavery,—of all kinds. In keeping\nwith this opinion he refused to pay taxes on the ground\nthat he would not support a government that permitted\ntrade in human flesh. He was hurried to jail, and when\nhis friend Emerson called there to see him and asked,\n\"Henry, why are you here?\" the reply was, \"Why are\nyou not here?\"\nThoreau loathed cities and was happy only when away\nfrom them. Much of what we call Civilization seemed\nonly cumbersome and distracting to him. His was a\ndoctrine of simple life; and he practiced it to the letter.\nIt does not appear, however, that he disliked his fellow-\nman. On the contrary, and despite persons who would\nshow otherwise, he was a true friend and comrade to\nmany men, among them, Bronson Alcott, William Ellery\nChanning, and James Russell Lowell, as well as Long-\nfellow and Emerson.\nThoreau has been called \"the poet-naturalist\" in justice ;\nfor few men have ever known nature's attributes so well\nor written of them with such exquisite beauty.\nHe was still young when he died in 1862. What things\nhe would have done we cannot say. That he has a per-\nmanent place in our literature all will agree. It is good\nthat he once lived.\nNext year on the hundredth anniversary of his death,\nlet us unite in a fitting tribute to his memory.\n\nRead FRANK HARRIS' \"LIFE OF OSCAR\nWILDE AND HIS CONFESSIONS\"\nWrite for the prospectus which will be mailed to you free of charge by Frank Harris, 3 Washington Square, New York City\nEdith Haynes Thompson\nHER SHOP\nContaining Many Quaint and Beautiful Things\n58 WASHINGTON SQUARE SOUTH\nHours: 1 to 5.30 P. M.\nJoseph McCarthy\nPAINTINGS AND\nANTIQUES\n30 WEST 46th STREET\nB rim°- s weekly by Charles Edison, and edited and written by Guido Bruno, both at 58 Wash-\nington Square, New York City. Subscription $2 a year.\n* n^nttreA afonSCond class matt«r at the Post Office of New York, N. Y., October 14th, 1915, under the Act"}, {"page_pdf": 19, "page_imprimee": "[855]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.19", "texte": "HOTEL BREVOORT CAFE LAFAYETTE\nFifth Avenue University Place\nRAYMOND ORTEIG, INC.\nThe Two French Hotels and Restaurants of New York\nGONFARONE'S\n40 West Bth Street\nTABLE D'HOTE\n<0\nEating places are literary landmarks\" said O. Henry, speaking of Gonfarone's in one of his\nunexcelled Greenwich Village Stories.\nGreenwich Village Inn\n(Polly's)\nBetween Washington Sq. & 6th Ave.\nService a la Carte\nOutdoor Dining Room\nFrom the making of a lamp to the creation of a\nperiod room there is a right and a wrong\nway. The problems of your own house may be\nanswered by consulting\nANTON HELLMAN\n80 West Washington Square\nSpring 6340\nFlorence Gough has designed children's play\nfrocks and kiddies rompers for vacation wear.\nPAINT BOX\n150 W. 4th St., nr. 6th Ave., N. Y.\nPhone Spring 23\nArtistic Cushions\nIncluding wool embroidery. Unique and original\ndesigns in patchwork. Cushions made to order.\nCall or write Sessers Studio Co., 82 Washington\nPI., N. Y. Spring 1076.\nWANTED you to know that at 60 Washington\nSquare South is located\nTHE VILLAGE STORE\nWhere one may see on display many odd pieces\nof Brasses, Pottery, Furniture and Souvenirs.\nHours 10.30 till 6p. m. Saturdays 10 p. m.\nT. D. Cox\nStationery and News Shop\nCirculating Library\n68 Washington Place, N. Y.\nJUDSON TAILOR SHOP\n51 Washington Sq.\nAll kinds of tailoring work neatly done. Dry\ncleaning of Ladies' Suits, Gowns, Wraps, etc.,\na specialty.\n'Phone 5360 Spring\n'Phone Spring 3922\nTOE DUTCH OVEN\n135 MacDougal Street\nnear Washington Sq.\nOpen Air Dining Room\nHome Cooking\nTea\nLuncheon\nDinner"}, {"page_pdf": 20, "page_imprimee": "[856]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160715-01.1.20", "texte": "Rare Books First Editions\nExtra Muttratfd Books. Early Printed Books. Association Books. Books for Christmas Gifts.\nPurchased singly or in sets for people who have neither time nor opportunity to select for themselves,\nor for those who have not access to the best book marts. Why not begin collecting now?\nAddress, E. V. Boston Transcript, Boston, Mass.\nFor Houses, Apartments or Rooms, See\nPEPE & BRO.\nREAL ESTATE AND INSURANCE\nTelephone 4119 Spring\n40 So. Washington Sfnimre\nCor. of MacDougal Street\nBeing a book\nIN WHICH\nwe say just what we think. Published every month by Norman-Bel Geddes at 171 Wilson Avenue\nin Detroit, Michigan. It is a little book uniquely illustrated. Write for sample copy.\nI BUY BOOKS\nSingle volumes, small lots, and libraries; autograph letters of known literary men and\nartists, drawings, pictures and engravings. Address\n\"COLLECTOR,\" Care of Bruno's Weekly, 58 Washington Sq,\nROSSI BROTHERS\n58 Washington Square\nUnderneath the Garret\nICE CREAM AND TOBACCO\nThe Mad Hatter Has a Tea Party Every Afternoon\nFrom 3 to 6 at\n150 WEST FOURTH STREET\nJust Down the Rabbit Hole From Washington Square\n\"Take Some More Tea\"\n\"I've Had Nothing Yet So I Can't Take More\"\n\"You Mean You Can't Take Less, It's Very Easy to\nTake More Than Nothing.\"\n\"Nobody Asked Your Opinion\" Edith Unger.\n\nThere can be no pleasanter place to hear that remarkable\nEdison Record Number (82536) than\nTHE DIAMOND DISC SHOP\nat Number 10 Fifth Avenue\ni\ni\nIn this store, at least, the delightful atmosphere of Old Greenwich Village has not been sacrificed\non the altar of commercialism\nPhone: Stuyvesant 4570\nA postal will bring you, with our compliments,\nan interesting little biography of Mr. Thos. A.\nEdison"}]}