{"numero_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_sha256": "e076717c52391c3d4e18c4b97cc108870c205c1617b66a0b286801c30fc2f3fd", "source_tei": "https://github.com/Princeton-CDH/bluemountain-transcriptions/blob/main/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1916/08/05_01/bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01.tei.xml", "source_mets": "https://github.com/pulibrary/BlueMountain/blob/main/metadata/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1916/08/05_01/bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01.mets.xml", "url_numero": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01", "articles": [{"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c002", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c002", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "couv. 1", "page_fin": "couv. 1", "image_debut": 1, "image_fin": 1, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.2", "titre_corps": "The include:", "titre_sommaire": "The include:", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 1, "page_imprimee": "couv. 1", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.1", "debut_caractere": 174, "fin_caractere_exclue": 335, "texte": "The include:\nPermanent Peace\nla it a Dream?\nHelenf Dry den—A Witch of Color\nGeorge Bernard, Shaw—A Personal\nImpression\nGirls Left Behind by Austrian# and\nGermans"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c003", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c003", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[887]", "page_fin": "[887]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.3", "titre_corps": "After Verlaine", "titre_sommaire": "After Verlaine", "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": "[887]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.3", "debut_caractere": 138, "fin_caractere_exclue": 583, "texte": "After Verlaine\nErnest Dowson\nTTHE sky is up above the roof\n* So blue, so soft!\nA tree there, up above the roof,\nSwayeth aloft.\nA bell within that sky we see,\nChimes low and faint:\nA bird upon that tree we see,\nMaketh complaint.\nDear God! is not the life up there,\nSimple and sweet?\nHow peacefully are borne up there\nSounds of the street!\nWhat hast thou done, who comest here,\nTo weep alway?\nWhere hast thou laid, who comest here,\nThy youth away?"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c004", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c004", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[887]", "page_fin": "888", "image_debut": 3, "image_fin": 4, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.4", "titre_corps": "Girls Left Behind by Austrian and Germans", "titre_sommaire": "Girls Left Behind by Austrian and Germans", "signature_source": "G. B", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "[887]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.3", "debut_caractere": 585, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5382, "texte": "Girls Left Behind by Austrian\nand Germans\n\nIJAVE you ever stood near a stock exchange ticker\n* * watching eagerly the miniature machinery, printing\nwords and figures on the tape? Did you ever look\nanxiously on the white strip of paper passing over the palm\nof your hand, for the few letters that spelt all your\nworldly possessions and for the figures that meant sal-\nvation or destruction to you? If you did not have the\nexperience yourself you perhaps remember similar scenes\nin motion picture plays, especially such where the victim\nhas his entire fortune at stake. Going about his daily\nroutine he receives the disturbing message. He hastens to\nhis broker's office. He reads the bulletins of battles fought\non the floor of the stock exchange. He fears and hopes\nand awaits helplessly the decision of Fate.\nLook at the daily lives of the millions of women in\nEurope! No matter whether they live in France or in\nGermany, in England or in Austria, in Belgium or in\nRussia, in cities, in villages or on farms. No matter\nwhether they dwell in palaces of in poor-houses, they all\nhave their dearest at stake. Husbands, brothers, sweet-\nhearts and fathers are far out there, what they call \"at\nthe front-\" They might be invading as proud victors\nthe enemy's country. They might lie severely wounded,\nunattended by caring hands, on the frozen grounds of a\ndesolate field. They might be dead and buried with\nmany others in hostile soil. Every morning these women\npilgrimage to the official war news bureaus and receive\nwith trembling hands the lists of those who are dead or\nwounded.\nWhat is the agony of the man who reads on the tape\nof the loss of his fortune, compared with the fear those\nwomen suffer while their eyes glide along thousands of\nnames, anxious not to discover the name of the beloved\none among them. Wives return home as widows,\ndaughters as fatherless orphans and sweethearts mourn\nthe men they had thought the most of in the world. And\nthe ticker ticks on; the machine prints constantly new\nnames and endless seems the tape. Those that are saved\nto-day will live through the same agony to-morrow. They\nwill fear and hope as long as lists are published, as long\nas the nations are at war; until the echo of the last cannon\nshot has resounded on the far horizon and peace and\nharmony dwell again in the world.\nThe compulsory military service transforms every able-\nbodied citizen into a soldier- Military service leads in\na good many cases, later in his life, to his appointment to\na position in the various branches of the government. His\nmilitary obligations do not cease till he reaches his forty-\nfifth year and memories of his active service and later on\nof his participation in the yearly manoeuvres are sub-\nstantial parts of every-day conversations in the family and\namong friends. At the time our girls clip pictures of\nfootball stars and of matinee actors from magazines, the\nEuropean girl worships as her idol the lieutenant with his\nbewitching manners and in his glittering uniform.\nThe lonesomest of ail European cities is without doubt,\nVienna. Imagine the coffee houses without chattering\nor billiard-playing officers! Think of the \"Kaerntner-\nstrasse\" or the \"Opernring,\" without uniforms, and think\nof the poor girls, without their friends, the soldiers! In\na polyglot country like Austria where patriotism does not\nmean a strong national feeling but simply love for the good\nold Emperor, Francis Joseph, women have not awakened\nto take particular interest in politics at home or in the for-\neign affairs of their country. They expect with a child-\nlike confidence, the man to settle all those important ques-\ntions—before he reaches home. They do not like political\nconversations at the family table.\nThe soldiers who bear on their headgear the initials of\nthe Emperor, are the impersonation of the country's pa-\ntriotism. Mothers give up their sons for three long years\nto do military service. Folk-songs in all languages of\nAustria's nations emphasize it\"the mother's tribute to\nEmperor Francis Joseph\" and now while nations are\nstruggling on battlefields, the Austrian woman at home\nhas no other interest than to know what becomes of her\nfather, brother or sweetheart, fighting for his emperor.\nSince her earliest youth, the Viennese girl admired every-\nthing pertaining to militarism, especially if it walked on\ntwo legs and wore a uniform. As a little tot she would\ndisregard the orders of mother or governess, jump up from\nthe table during meal hours and run to the window to\nwatch enthusiastically a military troop marching to the\ninspiring tunes of its bands. As a \"backfisch\" and long\nafter she started to wear long dresses, some irresistible\nlieutenant would spook in her little heart and even after\nher marriage she does not lose her love for uniforms. The"}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "888", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.4", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4259, "texte": "happiest dream of her life is to picture her new born baby\nas officer with sabre and spur, marching in front of his\nsoldiers, saluting to her while he passes her windows, or\ntaking a prominent part in social life. There is not much\ndifference in the Vinnese woman before and after marriage.\nShe is always a girl. She has the proverbial golden heart.\nShe might pour the contents of her purse into the hat of\na beggar for money and she might not give even the\nslightest smile to the beggar for her heart. She loves to\ndance and a waltz with a charming lieutenant means more\nto her than three lectures on woman's suffrage. She has\nfrom her earliest youth a strongly-expressed motherly in-\nstinct that makes her the best of all wives. Her never\ndying love for beauty and real enjoyment of life makes her\na real companion and mate. After the first excitement of\nthe mobilization Viennese girls forgot their sorrows in\npreparing for brothers and husbands and sweethearts going\nto the front, all those little things that mean so much to\npersonal comfort. While tears stood in their eyes after\nthe last embrace and the parting that might be for life,\na sunny smile passed over their faces while they could\nnot help exclaiming with pride: \"Doesn't he look splendid\nin his uniform-\"\nAnd now they study carefully the official lists, burn\ncandles for the Holy George and Holy Joseph, and open\ntheir hearts before the statue of the Blessed Virgin be-\ncause they are very religious and pious at the bottom of\ntheir hearts. From the Archduchess down to the servant\ngirl they cherish the same love for everybody who wears\nan Austrian uniform and do all they can to make the\nwounded brought to Vienna comfortable and happy—\n\"Because someone might do the same for my poor dear\nboy . . .\" They are active in collecting money to\nsend on to the front all kinds of little comforts for officers\nand soldiers. Underwear, stockings, mittens for the com-\ning cold weather, and cigarettes and cigars. They are\nsuch little optimists, those Viennese girls between fourteen\nand sixty. If no fatalities are reported they sit around\ntheir beloved coffee, eat those delicious Vienna cakes and\nmake plans; plans for the time when this man-murdering\nwar will be over and the dear ones home again. Oh, how\ncomfortable and cozy will they make it for them!\nThe German woman participates in the national pride\nof her husband to be a German. She is interested in\npolitics. She does not read only the novels and short\nstories in her newspaper but is acquainted with the inter-\nnational political situation. Especially the woman of the\nmiddle classes has a strongly expressed national feeling.\nShe is proud of Germany as a leading power of the world.\nShe is proud of her. husband because he is a part of\nGermany and she is proud of his uniform because he will\nhelp to defend German soil and because the same uniform\nis worn by the Kaiser himself and the princes of the royal\nHouse, the highest commanders of the army. She sup-\npressed bravely the tears during those exciting days while\nthe country was mobilizing its armies. She seemed to\ndemand from him courageous behavior in the ranks and\neven death if needed to conquer or to defend. \"Don't\nthink of me,\" she would say, \"don't worry about the\nchildren. Do your duty and take good care of yourself\nso that you come back to me if you are saved from\nthe enemy's bullets.\" With smiling and encouraging faces\nthey cheered the troops marching out of their towns and .\ncities. But after the backs of the beloved ones in uniform\nwere turned all the sentimentality of their race, artificially\nchecked through bravery of the spirit, gave way, and with\nthe tears came out the truth.\"I might have seen them for\nthe last time on this earth.\"\nIn the coffee houses of Berlin, of Dresden and of\nMunich, women are taking the places of the men who\nused to indulge here in hot political discussions. The\nGerman woman is not satisfied with the knowledge that\nthe name of her husband, brother or father is or is not\ncontained in the official lists of dead, but she wants to\nknow all about the operations of Germany's armies, about\nGermany's chances in the field. She feels that her beloved\none takes part in all this and in this way herself too.\n\nG. B."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c005", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c005", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "888", "page_fin": "890", "image_debut": 4, "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.5", "titre_corps": "Helen Dryden: Witch of Color", "titre_sommaire": "Helen Dryden: Witch of Color", "signature_source": "G. B", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "888", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.4", "debut_caractere": 4261, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6578, "texte": "Helen Dryden: Witch of Color\n\npvO you want to know what it really was that be-\nwitched you in the New Amsterdam Theatre during\nthat performance of \"Watch Your Step?\" Of course it\nwas the music flattering your ears, those silly, enchanting\nairs that made you feel the rhythm in your toes, and the\ndancing of the Castles and the gorgeous scenery and the\nsparkling, dazzling lights, and then there were bouquets of\npretty chorus girls, garlands of beautiful, happy and\nmerry girls. But doesn't all that go with every declared\nBroadway success? Yes. But there was something else\nthat kept you spellbound, a something that occupied your\neyes as grippingly and constantly as did the soft, prickling\ntunes your ears, a something that made you follow ab-\nsorbingly the movements of chorus and of players, a some-\nthing that acted upon your senses like the scent of a\nwonderful perfume whose origin you cannot locate, whose\nodor you cannot define, but whose existence you feel un-\nmistakably.\nDo you remember the costumes? Not only those worn\nby the leading members of the cast, but also the costumes\nof the chorus, in all their changes? Yes, that's it. Those\nfascinated you. Their color schemes reminded you of\nsomething you have admired in the past, those forms and\nlines brought back to you some memory. Of what? Oh,\nyes, you remember those lovely French fashionplates by\nBakst or Bruneleschi in the show windows of art shops\nand of Fifth avenue dressmaking establishments! And\nwhat else? Oh, those dainty figures on the cover of a\nfashion magazine placarded in all the elevated and subway\nand street cars!\nMasterpieces in Harmony\nYou are on the right trail. All the costumes worn by\nmale and female performers of \"Watch Your Step,\" from\nMrs. Vernon Castle's gowns down to the gauzy sugges-\ntion of frocks of the chorus, were at first fashion plates,\nlittle masterpieces in harmony of colors and grace of lines.\nThey were especially drawn for the members of the cast\nafter a careful study of the manuscript of the play. And\nno one less than Miss Helen Dryden, the well-known\nartist, the first to make us acquainted with the charming\nnew ideas of the French artists, but minus their eccen-\ntricities and extravaganzas in colors and outlines, is re-\nsponsible for the fairyland of costumes that you saw up\nthere on the stage."}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "889", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3679, "texte": "\"How was it I designed the costumes for 'Watch Your\nStep' and what my experiences were?\" Miss Dryden\nrepeated my question.\nShe was kneeling on the floor of her spacious studio,\na big brush in her tiny hand, her face flushed from exer-\ntion. In front of her on the floor *was a big placard—\nfive by six feet—and she had been busy painting with\nbroad strokes a bluish green background for a coal-hole\ninto which that careless youth, looking after a pretty\ngirl, was walking, not watching his step.\n\"A Bushel of Fun\"\n\"First and last of all, I had a bushel of fun and I\nenjoyed every bit of work I did for the 4Watch Your Step'\npeople. There I had the chance to clothe a bunch of\npretty people just as harmoniously as a dress ever was\ndesigned by the imaginative mind of an artist. Colors\nand lines were my real material—well, and you saw, your-\nself, what wonderful results one can get!\"\nMiss Dryden got up, wiped her hands on a soft pink\nsilk rag, seated herself comfortably on an enormous couch\nwith pillows and, cover of an eye arresting peacock design.\nShe is petite, every one of her movements is an expression\nof grace, she has wonderful eyes and beautiful hands.\nShe is just the one that you would imagine could draw\nthose charming little pictures that have made her known\nover the United States. And her workshop is in harmony\nwith her art and with her person. A lot of light, the\nspacious walls covered with light tapestry, the woodwork\nshining white, the window boxes filled with boxwood\nhedges trimmed as in a garden of Louis XVI., nowhere\nthe proverbial disorder of a studio—not a color stain or\na spot. One feels as if in the boudoir of one of the rose\nand gold gowned creations.\n\"You see,\" she continued, after she had decided that\nthe last faint scent of paint was banished from the little\nhands that reposed with inimitable grace in her lap, \"It\nseems rather natural that the costumes for a musical\ncomedy should be designed by somebody who has not only\ntaste, but knows how to select colors to a happy, pleasing\ncombination. How frightful are often the expensive cos-\ntumes in musical comedies! It often spoiled, for me at\nleast, the enjoyment of the evening and the merriment\nof music and comedy, to see other girls on the stage, mis-\ndressed. And so you can imagine with what enthusiasm\nI grasped the chance of experiment for once with beauti-\nful materials instead of paints, and to see the creations\nof my brush living and dancing, a joy for thousands of\nbeauty-loving eyes.\n\"There were obstacles to overcome, too, just as in\nevery other thing. At first I dressed the chorus. I felt\nlike a little girl that has got hold of some wonderful rags,\nmoved her doll house into her favorite corner and started\nto dress and undress her dolls. Later on, designing the\ncostumes of the leading actors, I had to take their wishev\ninto consideration. The one wanted this color to prevail\nin her robe, the other wanted a certain outline that she\nhad always adhered to in her previous Broadway suc-\ncess. But a little reasoning, a little insisting and a little\nyielding to their wishes gave almost in every case my\noriginal idea the final victory.\n\"If you compare these drawings I made with the char-\nacters on the stage you will see that they are really their\nimages. I loved this work and I wish that I could do it\nall over again—this planning and comparing and selecting\nand being a little discouraged and finally succeeding. It\nis a real joy!\n\"I have not been long in New York and there really\nisn't much of a story to my life. I was born and raised\nin Baltimore. I always used to draw, even as a kid,\nbefore I could write and read. I studied at the Academy"}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "890", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2679, "texte": "in Philadelphia and then I came to New York. I did not\nhave an easy start, and it took me quite a while before\nI sold my first picture to a magazine. Bakst, Bruneleschi,\nand, above all, Busseou, were always my favorites. At\nfirst I imitated them, I mean their color schemes, and\nsoon I found my own way.\nFrench Masters' Style\n\"I don't deny that my drawings might faintly remind\nyou of those of the French masters. But it is just the\nunusual vivid colors all of us are using. Otherwise, my\ncreations are all my ownk independently conceived and\noriginal in execution and forms. I met them all on my\nlast trip to Paris just before the war broke out. Their\ncolors can never be reproduced to do justice to the\noriginals. They speak to more than the eyes. They com-\nmunicate themselves to all our senses, and for this reason\nit is a great satisfaction to an artist to be able to give real\nlife to his drawing without the mechanical process of re-\nproduction on plates and on paper.\"\nMiss Dryden lives on Washington Square. The old\ntrees with their wide-spread branches in front of the\nwindows above the boxwood hedges seem like trees of an\nold park in some French castle. Everything in her apart-\nment is beautiful. Her favorite books are bound in vivid\ncolors after her own design. Pillows, table covers, car-\npets and picture frames are in wonderful harmony with the\ntapestry and the stucco work on the ceiling. Her paints\nand brushes are lined up on a big white table as if conscious\nof the harmony they will be called upon to produce.\nLoves Vivid Colors\nShe loves vivid colors around her and vivid colors on\nher palette and on her canvas. But she prefers quiet, un-\nassuming attire for herself. Dark blue and brownish gray\nare her favorite colors for herself and soft velvet she pre-\nfers to any other material for her own gowning. A blue\nvelvet suit is at present her special delight. It is a girl's\ndress, a Norfolk coat with a narrow trimming of silvery\nbeaver edging the tunic and the bottom of the skirt, a\nbroad stripe of soft beaver around the neck and high about\nthe ears. A dark velvet Tamo' Shanter such as Richard\nWagner used to wear is set a little on the side as headgear.\nA picture of health and joy of living, a tiny package of\ndrawings under her arm, is Miss Dryden, a familiar figure\non \"the Square.\"\nThe Italian kids of nearby Little Italy know her well\nas a spender of glittering pennies and occasional nickels\nand they are her numerous escort to the bus station oppo-\nsite the Judson Church.\nI wonder if she ever could draw a picture more har-\nmonious, daintier and more picturesque than the one that\nlooks at her from her looking glass ?\n\nG. B."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c006", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c006", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "889", "page_fin": "889", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.5.1", "titre_corps": "Helen Dryden", "titre_sommaire": "Helen Dryden", "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": "889", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 3681, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3693, "texte": "Helen Dryden"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c008", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c008", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "890", "page_fin": "890", "image_debut": 6, "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.6", "titre_corps": "A Moral Little Tale", "titre_sommaire": "A Moral Little Tale", "signature_source": "Lord Dunsany", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "890", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 2681, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5354, "texte": "A Moral Little Tale\nBy Lord Dunsany\nTHERE was once an earnest puritan who held it wrong\nto dance. And for his principles he labored hard,\nhis was a zealous life. And there loved him all of those\nthat hated the dance, and those that loved the dance re-\nspected him, too; they said, \"He is a pure, good man, and\nacts according to his lights/'\nHe did much to discourage dancing and helped to close\nseveral Sunday entertainments. Some kinds of poetry he\nsaid he liked, but not the fanciful kind, as that might cor-a\nrupt the thoughts of the very young. He always dressed\nin black.\nHe was interested in morality and was quite sincere, and\nthere grew to be much respect on Earth for his honest\nface and his flowing pure-white beard.\nOne night the Devil appeared unto him in a dream and\nsaid, \"Well done.\"\n\"Avaunt,\" said that earnest man.\n\"No, no, friend,\" said the Devil.\n\"Dare not call me 'friend,' \" he answered bravely.\n\"Come, come, friend,\" said the Devil. \"Have you not\ndone my work? Have you not put apart the couples that\nwould dance?* Have you not checked their laughter and\ntheir accursed mirth? Have you not worn my livery of]\nblack? Oh, friend, friend, you do not know what a de-\ntestable thing it is to sit in Hell and hear people being\nhappy, and singing in theatres, and singing in the fields,\nand whispering after dances under the moon,\" and he fell\nto cursing frightfully.\n\"It is you,\" said the puritan, \"that put into their hearts\nthe evil desire to dance; and black is God's own livery, not\nyours.\"\nAnd the Devil laughed contemptuously and spoke.\n\"He only made the silly colors,\" he said, \"and useless\ndawns on hillslopes facing South, and butterflies flapping\nalong them as soon as the sun rose high, and foolish maid-\nens coming out to dance, and the warm mad West wind,\nand worst of all that pernicious influence Love.\"\nAnd when the Devil said that God made Love, that\nearnest man sat up in bed and shouted, \"Blasphemy! \\\\\nBlasphemy!\" g\n\"It's true,\" said the Devil. \"It isn't I that send the 1\nvillage fools muttering and whispering two by two in the I\nwoods when the harvest moon is high, it's as much as I J\ncan bear even to see them dancing.\" |\nThen said the man, \"I have mistaken right for wrong;\nbut as soon as I wake up I will fight you yet.\"\n\"Oh, no you don't,\" said the Devil, \"You don't wake\nup out of this sleep.\"\nAnd somewhere far away Hell's black steel doors were\nopened and arm in arm those two were drawn within,\nand the doors shut Behind them and still they went arm\nin arm, trudging further and further into the deeps of\nHell, and it was that puritan's punishment to know that i\nthose that he cared for on Earth would do evil as he had\ndone."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c009", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c009", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "890", "page_fin": "890", "image_debut": 6, "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.7", "titre_corps": "The Great Green Frog", "titre_sommaire": "The Great Green Frog", "signature_source": "Saidee Gerard Ruthrauff", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "890", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 5356, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5585, "texte": "The Great Green Frog\nSaidee Gerard Ruthrauff\nI know where there's a great, green frog,\nHe lives down in the big brown bog,\nAnd he sings cr-r-r-r-dunk,\nAnd he splashes cr-r-r-r-rplunk,\nWhen he sees me coming with my dark drab dog!"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c010", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c010", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "890", "page_fin": "890", "image_debut": 6, "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.8", "titre_corps": "Drawing by Clara Tice", "titre_sommaire": "Drawing by Clara Tice", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "890", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 5587, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5608, "texte": "Drawing by Clara Tice"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c011", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c011", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "891", "page_fin": "893", "image_debut": 7, "image_fin": 9, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.9", "titre_corps": "George Bernard Shaw—A Personal Impression", "titre_sommaire": "George Bernard Shaw—A Personal Impression", "signature_source": "Dennis Denmore", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "891", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4925, "texte": "George Bernard Shaw—A Personal Impression\n\n» A FEW years ago there was no man so often talked\nabout outside of England and so reviled in it as\nGeorge Bernard Shaw. He was the man who had set\nhimself out to ridicule the safe prejudices of that large\nsection of the population of the British Isles, known as\nthe Upper Middle Class.\nFor many years young Shaw struggled for recognition,\nbut he was always looked upon as the brilliant gutter\norator, of whom no serious account need be taken. Any-\nbody taking Bernard Shaw seriously in England ten years\nago would have been laughed out of court. His declara-\ntion that he was greater than Shakespeare became a huge\njoke with the British people, and for many seasons he was\na pantomine butt at whose personality a joke was keenly\nenjoyed. To-day the British people realize in Shaw one\n*of the finest minds of the nineteenth and twentieth cen-\nturies. Whereas years ago no speech of his, no complaint\nof his, was ever recognized by the press, to-day, in the\npublic curiosity aroused in this man the press of the\ncountry fully report every public move of his. In fact\nshe has become one of the great public characters in the\nlife of England. His opinion on every conceivable subject\nis sought for and widely published, reaching these shores\noften the same day by cable transmission. Only recently\nhe was assiduously engaged in fighting a number of clergy-\nmen who had shown concern for the state of public\ndecency by the dancing of Gaby Deslys at the Palace\nTheatre in London.\nShaw defended the dancer at the expense of the morality\nsought for by the churchmen. There is no man who\nloves a fight better than he, and it might be said of him\nthat if he is not engaged in some big public controversy\nhe is an unhappy Shaw-\nIt may be interesting to know that Shaw enjoys ad-\ndressing a public meeting. When in London recently I\nfound an opportunity during a hurried visit to the Empire\ncapital to listen to Shaw. In appearance he is a somewhat\nthin man, with bushy hair and thick eye-brows. His hair\nis red, on the verge of turning white. He is no orator,\nbut he speaks in a clear decisive tone, heard through a\nlarge space. He is thoroughly at home on the platform\nand keenly enjoys the privilege of speaking. His brilliant\nwit is plentifully exercised in his speeches, and I suppose,\nthis accounts for the huge audiences he is able to gather\nin any part of England. When speaking to these, even\non the most serious subjects, he is able generally to con-\nvulse them with laughter with a sudden quick turn of wit.\nHere is an example of a Shavian speech delivered three\nyears ago, in London, before a crowded gathering at the\nRoyal Albert Hall, which comfortably seats ten thousand\npersons, at a meeting that was held to protest against the\nimprisonment of the Irish labor leader, James Larkin\n(who was later quickly released by the Liberal Govern-\nment) .\n\"I am an old Dublin Home Ruler,\" began. Mr. Shaw,\n'like Sir Edward Carson (laughter). Being an in-,\ntelligent Irishman, I left Dublin at the age of twenty,\n(laughter). I have not lived there since and do not\nintend to live there again.\"\nMr. Shaw v/ent on to say that he was glad to hear that\nin Dublin there were 20,000 people who had a room\napiece to live in. uln my time,\" said Shaw, \" there was\nno such luxury. We very often had two families in one\nroom and both of the families took in lodgers.\"\nAt the end of his speech he made a seditious statement,\nand turning to the reporters, expressed his hope that they\nwould report him well and then challenged arrest by the\nGovernment.\nThere is nothing, I suppose, which would have pleased\nShaw better than that the challenge had been taken up.\nThe Serious Shaw\nBut beneath all this public tom-foolery of Shaw there\nis a deep serious side to his life work, which is gradually\nbeing realized in England to-day. Instead of small coteries\nof Shavian worshippers (whom Shaw, by the way, hates)\nthere is a growing understanding of the mind of this\nunique personality.\nIt is being realized that this man who has claimed he is\ngreater than Shakespeare is in reality one of the finest\ncritics and lovers of the real Shakespeare. It is also being\nrealized that this waiter who at every opportunity has dug\nhis shaft of merciless wit at all the dear characteristics\nof Englishmen is really the keenest admirer of their in-\nherent qualities.\nA Society Hero\nIt is probably one of the severest punishments ever\nallotted to Shaw when some years ago his books became a\nso.ciety fad. For some seasons Shavian ideas or what were\nunderstood as Shavian ideas reigned supreme in London\ndrawing rooms. His arrow lost a good deal of its poison.\nIt might be said that Shaw has made most of his money\nfrom the people whom he caricatured, but who came to\nsee his plays.\nIt is being realized to-day that this castigator of modern\nrespectability is a very careful and chaste liver. That this\n\\ •-"}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "892", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6699, "texte": "apologist for the art of Gaby Deslys is a staunch moralist.\nIt is also realized that this brilliant scoffer of religion is\na truly religious man; that this unforgiving critic of the\nchurch merely requires a higher ideal for it. In fact,\nShaw, whether he knows it or not, is in love with every-\nthing he sees in life. There are many things he sees which\nmay be wrong, but he realizes that at the bottom of it all\nthere is the fallible human being. And with this human\nbeing, types of which he portrays in his plays, Shaw is\nreally happy, for he likes to punch and pounce upon him,\nand does this in so brilliant and humorous a manner that\nthe type criticized is forced to laugh at the rich humor of\nit all. Shaw's bitterest complaint against his now widen-\ning public (for many years he denounced the play-going\npublic for not appreciating his work) is that they laugh\nat his plays. He has written a brilliant essay on the\nSubject in which he worked up his anger to fever pitch,\nwell knowing that if people did not laugh at his plays\nhe would, from his pedestal, call up the vengeance of\nHades upon them for a lot of dull knaves.\nJust before the war, he left England to supervise the\nfirst production of a new play to take place in Vienna,\nclaiming that the lack of understanding of his plays on the\npart of English critics spoils their property value for pro-\nduction abroad. He therefore,, as an English dramatist,\nfirst produced his new play in a foreign country, where\nit could have a fair and unprejudiced hearing.\nThe Courage of His Humor\nShaw has the courage of his jokes and sees them\nthrough. At a Socialist meeting in England at one time,\ncalled to protest against the conditions imposed upon\ntenants by English landlords, he said: \"I can speak with\nauthority on these conditions. I am a landlord myself.\"\nA Modest Man\nYet this man of whom I have thus spoken, of whom\nthe newspapers of Europe and America so often write,\nis privately one of the most modest and sensitive of men.\nIt was my privilege to meet Shaw and have a few\nmoments' chat with him. This man who can address an\naudience of ten thousand fearlessly and engage in tre-\nmendous public controversies, was actually sensitive at the\nmeeting in private of a new friend. He appealed to me\nas one of the mildest, most unassuming and courteous of\nmen. What impressed me in knowing him even but for a\nfew minutes, was his apparent interest in life.\nHe even takes a keen delight in the many strange\nletters which a man of his reputation naturally receives.\nSometime ago a young man wrote to Shaw for a loan of 20\npounds sterling. Shaw replied with a lengthy letter, going\ninto the minutest details of the young man's position as\ndefined in his letter, and made some excellent suggestions\nas to the course he would pursue. Shaw wrote all this\nbecause he said: \"I like the tone of your appeal, but I am\nafraid you are not clever enough to get twenty pounds\nout of me.\"\nOn another occasion an amateur dramatic society asked\nShaw to reduce the usual fee of five guineas for a presen-\ntation of \"You Never Can Tell.\" Shaw flatly refused to\nmake any concession, although repeated efforts were made\nin that direction. The young players were about to\npresent their performance, when Shaw was finally asked\nto climb down. Shaw refused. Then it occurred to the\nSecretary of the Club to ask Shaw to allow the per-\nformance to go on \"without any charge whatsoever\" and\nShaw immediately consented.\nMrs. Shaw\nIt needed but a glance at and a handshake with Mrs.\nShaw to convince me that in her Shaw was possessed (al-\nthough I am afraid this expression is strictly un-Fabian)\nof a charming life companion. \"I married for money,\"\nShaw usually declares in public and his wife affectionately\nsmiles upon him as he says it.\nMrs. Shaw is, incidentally, a woman of wealth in her\nown right. She is an authoress and is a translator of\nBrieux plays into English. Shaw declares himself to be\nhis wife's slave. \"I have to be,\" he adds, amid the\nlaughter, in which his wife joins.\nAs a dramatist, Shaw has practically created a new\nform of playwriting. Whilst he has ignored every canon\nof the laws of dramatic technique, he has produced the\nmost complete and entertaining of plays. His \"Man and\nSuperman\" will long live as the comic masterpiece of the\nage. Shaw has actually been able to destroy many a\nprejudice in good old England. After all there is a good\ndeal in the strength of powerful ridicule and when it is\ndelivered with brilliancy and across the open forum of\nthe stage, it can produce vital effects.\nAs a Socialist, Bernard Shaw has shown the really\nserious side of himself and his contributions to the Fabian\nliterature are fraught with able and constructive ideas for\na future ideal state. I remember an evening in London\nwhen two of Shaw's plays were running in the capital\nand a third was being given its premier performance, yet\nShaw was to be found in his place on the platform at the\nfortnightly meeting of the Fabian Society, at which some\nintricate idea of Sidney Webb's on Poor Law Reform was\nbeing discussed. Shaw's attitude on Socialism has often\nbeen misunderstood. He is no sentimentalist and feels\nthat the English working class element are to be scoffed\nat for the smallness of their demands, and for their lack\nof solidarity. When speaking of the splendid solidarity\nexisting amongst capitalists, Shaw adds, \"I ought to know.\nI am a capitalist myself.\" These jokes make a good deal\nof enemies for Shaw. But really, his idea is to put up the\nbacks of the working classes and get them to realize\nwhat a deadly enemy this system is in which they live\nand to which they would dare to become reconciled.\nIt will be to the credit of Shaw, that he above all other\nwriters in England to-day. has not lost his head through\nthe war. His \"Common Sense and the War\" created a\nsensation throughout the world and showed clearly how\n\"junkerism\" of the English and German varieties were\nreally responsible for this horrible and totally unnecessary\nslaughter of the innocents. Whilst Galsworthy, Wells,\nMaterlinck, Hauptmann, Anatol France and all the other\ngreat European writers immediately enrolled themselves 1\non the side of patriotism, Shaw's unsentimentality served\nto his advantage and his common sense was able to see\nabove this seething mass of combatants and realize that\nthe whole thing had to be because there naturally must be\nan explosion at some time, when there is a lot of loose\ngunpowder about.\nShaw's deadly criticism of the danger of German mili-\ntarism was hailed with delight by Englishmen but his\nequal denunciation of English navalism as a danger to\nthe peace of the world, left them strongly resentful. Thus"}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "893", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 528, "texte": "Shaw in these latter days is disliked by many an English-\nman who admires him and his utterances, wherevei\npossible, are officially censored. The day will come, how-\never, when it will be realized and appreciated that this\n\"clown\" of English public life, art and literature, was\nfilled with a love, not especially designed for Englishmen,\nScotchmen and Irishmen but for all humanity, whose\nfoibles and weaknesses he understood, and whilst he\ndamned them he had not lost hope for their redemption.\n\nDennis Denmore"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c012", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c012", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "891", "page_fin": "891", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.9.1", "titre_corps": "G. Bernard Shaw. Drawing by S. Raieter", "titre_sommaire": "G. Bernard Shaw. Drawing by S. Raieter", "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": "891", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 4927, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4965, "texte": "G. Bernard Shaw. Drawing by S. Raieter"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c013", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c013", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "893", "page_fin": "893", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.10", "titre_corps": "The Raiment of the Lily and the Clothing of the Cabbage", "titre_sommaire": "The Raiment of the Lily and the Clothing of the Cabbage", "signature_source": "A Fairy Tale by Feodor Sologub", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "893", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 530, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1728, "texte": "The Raiment of the Lily and the\nClothing of the Cabbage\nA Fairy Tale by Feodor Sologub\nUPON a bed in a garden grew a lily. She was all\nwhite and she had purple wings; she was proud\nand beautiful to look upon.\nQuietly she whispered to the wind who had caressed her\ngently as he passed her on his journey:\n\"Slow—slow! I am a royal lily and even the wise\nSolomon never clothed himself with such costly and\nbeautiful vestments as I wear every day.\"\nNot very far from the flower garden, a cabbage dwelt\namong the vegetables.\nHe heard what the lily had said and thought:\n\"This old Solomon, I think, was a sansculotte. What\ndid those people wear in the Biblical age? If they\ncovered their nudeness barely with some old wrappings,\nthey thought they were dressed after the latest fashion.\nIt was I who showed people how one should dress and I\nam mightily proud of it: close to the body an undershirt,\nupon it a shirt, upon this a corset, upon this a chemise,\nupon this a brassiere, upon this a waist, and mariy skirts,\nunder skirts and upper skirts, and a coat, and then an\novercoat: a covering foliage on all sides—and nothing\ncan be seen of the stalk. That is warm and decent.\"\n(Translated by Guido Bruno)"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c014", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c014", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "893", "page_fin": "893", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.11", "titre_corps": "Three Tales by N. Shebonev", "titre_sommaire": "Three Tales by N. Shebonev", "signature_source": "H. Thompson Rich", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "893", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 1730, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3986, "texte": "Three Tales by N. Shebonev\nH. Thompson Rich\nAge\n1 ASKED a pretty looking girl of fourteen:\n\"How old are you?\"\nWithout thinking she answered:\n\"Sixteen, soon!\"\nI asked a pretty looking girl of eighteen:\n\"How old are you?\"\nShe replied promptly:\n\"Seventeen, soon!\"\nI asked a pretty looking girl of sixteen:\n\"How old are you?\"\nShe thought long, kept silence long and answered\nresolutely:\n\"Sixteen!\"\nA woman at the age of sixteen does not know yet\nwhether she should add to her age or reduce.\nThe First One\n'\"PHEY occupied their seats in the first row of the or-\nA ches^ra.\nHe noticed, when they passed through the aisle, that\nseveral men, who were strangers to him, half-respectfully,\nhalf freely, bowed to her.\n\"And yet I am the first one to whom she yielded. And\nno one of these men knows what treasures she hides under\nthat costly dress which I ordered from Paris/'\nHe did not know that each of the five men that greeted\nher and with whom she lived thought:\n\"And yet I was the first to whom she yielded.\"\nEvery respectable man, who becomes intimately con-\nnected with every so-called, respectable woman, thinks:\n\"I am the first man whom she really loved.\"\nAnd evtry so-called respectable woman thinks:\n\"He is the last man whom I really love.\"\nBy this the so-called respectable women are being dis-\ncriminated from the so-called not respectable ones.\nWomen and Business\nt t NFORTUNATELY I must leave you. I have to\ngo about my business.\"\nI took my hat.\nShe glanced at me with her little gray eyes and said:\n\"I ask you to remain!\"\nThe business was a very serious one.\nThe woman was a very unserious one.\nBut I remained.\n• • • • •\n\"Unfortunately I must leave you. I have to go about\nmy business.\"\nShe raised her brown eyes and said:\n\"I ask you to remain.\"\nThe woman was a very serious one.\nThe business was a very unserious one.\nBut I did not remain.\n(Translated from the Russian by Mark Weinbaum)\nOn a Fifth Avenue Bus\nIf E sat meekly,\n* A small stature of a man,\nBald-headed in the hot sun—\nToo cowed to be uncomfortable.\nAnd beside him\nHulked a huge woman,\nManifestly his wife,\nWith a fairly well-conditioned moustache\nOver her thick lip,\nAnd several dozen sturdy hairs towards a beard\nOn her rubbery chin.\n... !\nAnd I smiled\nTo think of the next generation!"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c016", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c016", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "894", "page_fin": "896", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.13", "titre_corps": "John Duncan Fergusson", "titre_sommaire": "John Duncan Fergusson", "signature_source": "With 6 Drawings by Fergusson ; W. G. Blaikie Murdoch", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "894", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3291, "texte": "John Duncan Fergusson\nWith 6 Drawings by Fergusson\n\nIN the course of those sparkling pages which set him in\nthe foremost of all letter-writers, Byron observes that\na great artist's work has literally no kinship with his or-\ndinary, daily life. And, if these words appear somewhat\nfoolhardy at first sight—for is not a true master's art es-\nsentially the reflection of his personal contact with the\nworld ?—a very little thought serves to reveal the shrewd-\nness and soundness of the poet's comment. It is those ad-\njectives, \"ordinary\" and\"daily,\" which form the key to\nthe significance of the passage, what Byron desired to em-\nphasize being that fine literature and music, painting and\nsculpture, do not originate in the mere tedium of diurnal\nexistence, but in those occasional hours, or moments, per-\nhaps, wherein there is experienced ecstasy or deep sorrow,\ntwo elements which are curiously akin. Wandering as a\nyoung man in the Pyrenees, and thrilled ever and again by\nthe superb effects presented by the skies there, Gavarni\nwas forced to admit, in his journal, that he failed to per-\npetuate what he felt thus deeply, his hand lacking the re-\nquisite dexterity to capture the evanescent. But, then, to\naccentuate Byron's point, dexterity in this way is among\nthe prime things the artist must strive to attain. And it is\nhis pronounced gift in this relation, his frequent success\njust where Gavarni confessed himself a failure, which\nchiefly constitute Fergusson something of a master, fleet-\ning phases of beautiful color being what he records with\nmost skill.\nThe Scottish Impressionists\nJohn Duncan Fergusson is a Scotsman, and it is one of\nthe laurels of Scotland that painting was carried on there,\nactively and well, considerably before it was practised to\nmuch purpose in England. There the Renaissance had\nsignally little immediate influence, but in mediaeval Scot-\nland a genuine love of art distinguished king after king,\nparticularly James 111, who welcomed artists to his court,\nwhile in those days taste in Scotland was further nurtured\nby her close intimacy with France. The league between\nthe two countries, mentioned early in the fifteenth cen-\ntury by the French poet, Alain Chartier, as being even\nthen of great antiquity, had indeed a very marked effect\non Scottish art throughout the middle ages. And al-\nthough, with the advent of the modern world, it seemed\nthat this league was destined to fade away presently, events\nin Scotland the day before yesterday showed her still ready\nto learn from her ancient ally. The year 1862 is a mem-\norable date in the history of French art, inasmuch as it\nwitnessed the founding of the Salon des Refuses, those\nwho mainly brought this about being the group subse-\nquently styled Impressionists, whose creed was at this date\nkeenly opposed to their own country. Nor did the Im-\npressionists find much favor at first in England, but in\nScotland the remote Northern town of Aberdeen early\nevinced interest in their work, while shortly this became\nfamiliar too in the vast commercial city of Glasgow.\nMoreover, apart from being admired there, the French\nImpressionists soon -began to elicit a certain emulation\namong a band of young Glasgow painters, or at least,\npainters who mainly exhibited their works in that"}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "895", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.11", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3353, "texte": "town. And before long this emulation began to develop\nquickly, these Scotsmen accepting, far more implicitly\nthan any other men in all Europe, the attitude of the\nFrenchmen at issue. The movement brought forth a deal\nof really great work, for instance the pictures of George\nHenry and Hornel, Lavery, McTaggart and Arthur Mel-\nville, a yet rarer master than these being Sir James Guth-\nrie. Accordingly, in the closing decades of the nineteenth\ncentury, the \"Glasgow School of Art\" became a familiar\nterm everywhere, being frequently used in an honorable\nsense by many of the more discerning French critics, not-\nably Camille Mauclair; while in 1890 the vast Interna-\ntional Exposition, at Munich, wisely assigned a fair quota\nof space to these Scottish artists. At this time Fergusson\nwas just beginning to paint, and, finding the Impressionist\ncreed so very prominent among his compatriots, he inevi-\ntably came under its spell, his early works signifying es-\npecially an admiration on his part for Arthur Melville.\nFriends and Influences\nThere were numerous other young Scotsmen of this\nperiod, who, sharing enthusiastically Fergusson's predilec-\ntion for the French Impressionist school, naturally became\nhis close friends. Ablest among these were Porter, Joseph\nSimpson and S. J. Peploe, the first-named a gifted painter\nv of flowers, while the latter pair are both nowadays widely\nto known outside their native Scotland. And Peploe, un-\n[ questionably, exercised a strong influence on Fergusson,\n| stimulating his native powers as a colorist, there being\nr something else which simultaneously came to mould the\nbudding artist's outlook and tastes. For if Scotland was\nquicker than England to recognize the founders of the\nSalon des Refuses, she was quicker likewise in according\nhomage to Whistler; and, in days when he was still a\nlaughing-stock at Burlington House, his portrait of Car-\nlyle was bought by the Municipal Gallery, Glasgow.\nFurthermore, he was elected an honorary associate of the\nScottish Academy, which, on his death, was the sole ar-\ntistic body, in Great Britain, officially sending representa-\ntives to his funeral. And a little afterwards the Academy\norganized a splendid loan collection of his works in Edin-\nburgh, while next the Society of Scottish Artists, also an\nEdinburgh institution, contrived to borrow, for one of\ntheir exhibitions, Whistler's Princesse du Pays de la Por-\ncelaine. These different things by the master awakened in-\ntense fervor among young Scottish painters, none of them,\npossibly, manifesting more ardour in this relation than Fer-\ngusson, who used to go every day to see the Princesse dur-\ning its stay in the Scottish capital. But whilst studving\nWhistler with so much closeness and love, whilst imbibing\nhis aifection for the subtle coloring of night, Fergusson\ndid not fail to give plenteous attention meanwhile to more\nvirile artists than the \"Butterfly,\" two such with whom\nhe was long greatly preoccupied being Sargent and Goya.\nSince then he has left Scotland, making his home in Paris,\nwhere of late years he would seem to have learnt a good\ndea± from IVlatisse and his school, who have given him a\nlove for the most glowing tones. With all this assimila-\ntion, however, he remains a very individual worker: an\nartist expressing in his own fashion his actual experiences."}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "896", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2268, "texte": "His Art\nAnd to repeat, Fergusson is before all else a colorist,\nperhaps almost as exclusively devoted to color as Monti-\ncelli before him. Simpson's chief gift -is for the happy\nplacing of masses of black, while it is evident that Porter\nis keenly susceptible to the inner significance of his sub-\njects; and it is obvious that Peploe is passionately alive to\ngrace, to the rhythm presented by draperies, or by the\nhuman form, his brilliant draughtsmanship, enabling him\nto utter perfectly his fondness herein. But, though Fer-\ngusson's drawing is in no way inefficient, it is seldom or\nnever intrinsically lovely; and it is axiomatic that the\ncolor of things, not their .shape, is what quickens his\npulses, inspiring him to create. Wisely holding that an\nemotion should if-possible be registered instanter, he was\nlong wont to carry in his pocket a tiny box of water-col-\nors, the sketches he made with it to be afterward ampli-\nfied in oils; and, from this excellent practice, he evolved\nsome of the most charming things Scotland has ever pro-\nduced. One was a scene on the Firth of Forth, near\nEdinburgh, wherein the drowsiness of afternoon, the soft-\nness then of the tints in sea and sky, were reincarnated\nwith an apparently complete adequacy. Another showed\nfireworks flashing across the blackness of night, while yet\nanother figured a square in Cadiz, au clair de la lune;\nand there come to mind numerous further nocturnes, in\neach of which the most tender nuances are exquisitely\nperpetuated. It is pleasant to reflect that one of these\npictures belongs to no less eminent a critic than Mr. Hal-\ndane Macfall, again pleasant to reflect that a portrait, by\nFergusson, has lately been acquired by Mr. Frank Rutter,\none of the best of contemporary English writers on art.\nAnd this portrait is indeed symbolical, or nearly symboli-\ncal, of the Scottish artist's skill; for there is here but little\nillusion of life, little real adumbration of the setter's char-\nacter, the picture owing its charm simply to its beautiful,\ntasteful coloring. It is a minor song, then, which this\nyoung Scotsman sings; but, if by no means worthy to be\nhailed as an artist of lofty order, does he not often sing\nthis minor song of his divinely?\n\nW. G. Blaikie Murdoch"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c017", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c017", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "894", "page_fin": "894", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.13.1", "titre_corps": "Portrait of Frank Harris", "titre_sommaire": "Portrait of Frank Harris", "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": "894", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 3293, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3317, "texte": "Portrait of Frank Harris"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c023", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c023", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "896", "page_fin": "896", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.14", "titre_corps": "The Attic", "titre_sommaire": "The Attic", "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": "896", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 2270, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4165, "texte": "The Attic\nA NNIE doesn't want to.it\nit was all in vain, what Father said, and what\nMother said, and what the Governess said. Perhaps she\ncannot do it. But it is the crude necessity of life that\none must do things and therefore I have to go to extremes.\nI impart to her that she will have to remain the whole\nafternoon in the attic. Of course she starts to cry im-\nmediately . . . she cries heart-breakingly.\nBut I know how to quiet her.\n\"There is nothing to be ashamed of when one has to\nstay in the attic all afternoon,\" I said to her. \"A little\ngirl is sent to the attic usually if she needs to meditate\nvery seriously. She can't meditate in Father's study be-\ncause there is the Father, and not in the living room be-\ncause there is the Mother. In the nursery brothers and\nsisters are playing and the bedrooms are being aired for the\nnight. The attic is the only place where a little girl can\nbe all alone and reason with herself.\"\nAnd so we ascend to the attic.\nFor awhile the air is filled with sobbing. Now all is\nquiet.\n\"Are you thinking nicely?\" I call up to her.\n\"Father . . . can I come down . . .?\"\n\"Not before this evening. You must think hard up j\nthere so it will last for a long while; I know it isn't very\namusing up there in the attic and it wouldn't be nice if\nyou have to be sent there soon again.\"\nA little while later I throw her an orange through the\nwindow.\nAnd after another little while she received a little note\nwritten in big letters:\n\"How are you, comrade?\"\n\"Father . . . were you ever sent to the attic?\"\n\"Surely,\" I answer. \"Three times they sent me up\nto think while I was small.\"\n\"Father ... I think I'll never need to go up here\nagain.\"\nIn the evening after it had grown dark, I call for\nher in the attic and take her down with me. She has big\neyes, her lips are tightly closed and solemnly she presses\nmy hand.\n(After the Swedish of Carl Ewald by Guido Bruno.)"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c024", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c024", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "896", "page_fin": "896", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.15", "titre_corps": "A Poor Man's Partner", "titre_sommaire": "A Poor Man's Partner", "signature_source": "Samson V. Becker", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "896", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 4167, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5687, "texte": "A Poor Man's Partner\nSamson V. Becker.\nV/ OU have ridden in the street cars and met her—or\n* was it the subway? It matters not where—you\nmust have seen her. I mean the woman of the tired eyes\nShe always has a child with her; wouldn't seem natural\nwithout a child holding tightly to her hand; a painfully\nclean, frowsy hatred youngster, all eyes. Oh, you know\nher—the woman across the aisle; she with the cheap, oh,\nso evidently home made dress; with the carefully polished\nshoes, run down at the heels; with the old, old hat with\nsombre trimming, time stained and ancient; she of the\nwork marked hands, and the wan, sorrow-lined face, thin\nand almost emaciated. Not quite the society woman, you\nsay? You are right, my friend. The hands have slaved\nat household tasks too long to look the society woman's.\nThe clothes she wears are hers, not from choice, but from\nnecessity. The eyes have lost their brightness, gazing at\nthe future, hopeless and devoid of promise. She really\nisn't old enough to be entitled to the wrinkles in her face;\nbut they are wrought of sorrow, not time. There was a\ntime—long ago—in her girlhood—but that is long ago.\nYes, my friend, she is a poor man's wife; a poor man's\nhelpmate; a poor man's partner. Look well at her, that\nyou may know her—and wonder at the lump in your\nthroat, at the pain in your heart. Gaze i*pon her with\nlowered eyes, for she represents in its purest form a trait\nthat poets have eulogized, nations have rewarded, and\nhumanity has worshipped ever since the world began"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c025", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c025", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "896", "page_fin": "896", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.16", "titre_corps": "\"Are people any good to us at all?\" asked the", "titre_sommaire": "\"Are people any good to us at all?\" asked the", "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": "896", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 5689, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5879, "texte": "\"Are people any good to us at all?\" asked the inexper-\nienced calf of its mother.\n\"Surely, dear child,\" answered the cow. \"They are\nour cemeteries and in one of them your papa is laid away,\""}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c026", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c026", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "897", "page_fin": "898", "image_debut": 13, "image_fin": 14, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.17", "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": 13, "page_imprimee": "897", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3597, "texte": "Commercialism?—Of Course Not\nIn Our Village\n\nI OVERHEARD an interesting conversation a few days\n* ago, in a Fifth Avenue bus. Two elderly ladies, evi-\ndently sight-seers who had come d®wn to the Village to\nexplore its mysteries, seemed dissatisfied with the results\nof their search for that Boheme they had come all the\nway from Peoria, Illinois, to find in our midst. They\nwere loaded with packages, and it was evident that the\nGift shops of Greenwich Village had gotten the money\nthat was intended to grant them a peep behind the scenes\nof another kind of life, that kind which cannot be found\nin Peoria, Illinois. These two matrons came to the con-\nclusion that after all there is not very much difference\nbetween the shops up town and those in Greenwich\nVillage. The difference which they pointed out were\nthe weird color schemes of sales rooms and sales-ladies\nand the much higher purchase prices as compared with\nthose in Chinatown and the ten cent stores in the shopping\ndistrict.\nIs it really commercialism that induces our shop-keepers\nto open their shops? Was it here, too, the eternal strife\nfor money that converted souls once consecrated, to become\nmoney changers in the Temple of Art?\nAnd so I walked up and down the line: to our oddity\ncellars and village stores and treasury boxes and paint\nboxes and mad hatter's shops—.\nWhat delightful, innocent children these girls and boys\nare, who sit behind the counter and make themselves be-\nlieve that they are business people! Surely enough they\nhave shelves, they have wares on their shelves, and they\nhave hung out their shingles inviting passersby to become\ncustomers. But selling is the means to the end; to make\nmoney, is foreign to their innocent souls. Dressed fan-\ntastically like the early arrivals at a fancy costume ball,\nthey are just hungry to show people how nicely they know\nto combine colors, to show them what excellent taste they\nhave in choosing their surroundings. They are proud of\ntheir eccentricities, and they wouldn't change with the\nVanderbilts when they strike an impossible, never heard-of\ncombination. People come and look at them and do not\nknow whether to turn to the right or to the left, astonished\nby so much imagination surrounded by tenement houses,\nthundering elevators, screeching cars and hundreds of\nragged children.\nAsk these merchants of our community for the balance\nsheets of their last month's sales and you will find that\nthey are paid only by their own pleasure and satisfaction\nin being permitted to do exactly the things they wish to do.\nDo you remember the delightful hours you spent in your\nnursery playing store-keeper? Especially if your mother\nwas of a sunny disposition and came herself once in a\nwhile to buy and to chat. You liked the chatting far\nbetter than the selling. So do the shop-keepers in Green-\nwich Village. They want you to come and ask for things,\nthey want you to look at their things, they want you to\ntake a seat and talk, but they are not particularly anxious\nto sell you anything. In many cases they are even sorry\nif they see your willingness to part with your money and\nthey have to lose that particular article which lent so\nmuch color and atmosphere to their little shop. They\nare such lovable children,—our shop keepers.\nThat distinguished duet of old villagers, the sisters\nWoodin, are back again to their hunting grounds, living\nthis time on the Square. However, not on aristocratic\nNorth Side. They are specializing at present in grinding\nout Village stories as copy for such noble publications\nas are ready to purchase at a cent a word."}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "898", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2170, "texte": "Sumner Williams, of moving picture fame, and Tom\nSleeper, the New Jersey hermit and weaver of verse, had\nin the moonlight of a romantically vicious night, a mem\norable discourse upon poetry in general and in especial.\nTom stuck up for the poets of his youth and Edgar Allen\nPoe was the apple of discord between these two masters\nof life and of other things. Sumner Williams was in his\nrecitative mood; yards and yards of poetry he unspun\nfrom the spool of his memory. Not even the lightning\nand the thunder that the angry heavens sent from un-\nclouded skies could silence the cyclone of his enthusiasm.\nAnd while Tom tried to prove conclusively that Edgar\nAllen Poe was the only American poet, as he reminded\nWilliams that he himself had been the inspiration to\nardent Poe worship, thousands of verses lost their ad-\nherence to stanzas and came forth from the overflowing\nsoul of Sumner like strong odors which, in mingling with\nother strong odors, have lost their fragrance.\n\"Lee Masters is a poet, too,\" said Tom in the course\nof his unlistened-to discussion of poetry.\nLike a cataract of ice-cold water acted the name of Lee\nMasters upon Williams. Abruptly he came to a finish.\nNot one more word would he utter after the ghosts of\nthe \"Spoon River Anthology\" had crept into the room.\n- Such is the contempt Sumner Williams fosters against\nthe nomination of the \"Spoon River Anthologist\" for a\nP Doris Carlyle returned from her summer home in New\nJersey with a new and extreme love for extreme and new\ncolors. I challenge anyone to produce a green similar\nto that of her brilliant new gown.\nThe only letter box that adorns usefully the bouth\nSide of the Square, wras stolen Tuesday night by unknown\nthieves. It is a most extraordinary mystery which should\nbe exploited fittingly by that distinguished singer of\nGreenwich Village who is composing his rhapsodies for\nthe Cosmopolitan in one of the tower rooms of the Judson\nHotel. Why shouldn't Mr. Munsey assign the venerable\nConan Doyle to this \"Mystery of the Stolen Letter Box\nand amuse the million readers of his elevating fiction with\na delicious bit of Greenwich Village news?\nI'l J'UftMl III! ■■■"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c029", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c029", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "897", "page_fin": "897", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.17.3", "titre_corps": "Figures from the Square", "titre_sommaire": "Figures from the Square", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "897", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 3599, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3622, "texte": "Figures from the Square"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c030", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c030", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "898", "page_fin": "899", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.18", "titre_corps": "Books and Magazines of the Week", "titre_sommaire": "Books and Magazines of the Week", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "898", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 2172, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6473, "texte": "Books and Magazines of the Week\nA Revival of Russian Literature\nQ URELY it is better to get things late than not to get\nthem at all. But I cannot help but object most\nstrenuously when a certain class of literary explorers,\nAmerican and English, are constantly trying to s.erve us\nforeign authors, whom they have discovered recently,\nEnglish-ed and published, as brand-new people never heard\nof before. Always during the past 150 years, whenever\nEngland and Russia became Allies for some reason or\nother, Russian authors were in vogue in London and in\nthe course of a year or so, in America. And after the\nalliance was broken off, and Russia ana England assumed\ntheir old attitude of indifference of hostility, the Russian\nbooks were put on the high shelves, the authors forgotten\nand Russian literature, contemporary and past, remained\nas before, a terra incognita, and a resourceful field for\ndiscoverers and explorers.\nFleet St.was ransacked immediately after the outbreak\nof the present war for Russian novels, translated duung\nn■■ ■ i ■■\nthe late Crimean campaign. And lo! Gogol was dis-\ncovered. Artzibasheff was found, and all the others who\nhave since come to this country and played their important\npart in the literary events of 1915 and 1916.\nThanks to Mr. Alfred A. Knopf, the young publisher\nwho gave us so many good books during the first year of\nhis activities in New York, we can shake hands with\nFeodor Sologub. Germany had him as far back as 12\nyears ago. Translations of his fairy tales, of his parables\nand of his novels appeared during that memorable period\nof the last decade of the nineteenth century and the first\nfive years of the twentieth century, in German magazines\ngalore. Collections of these translations were issued in\npamphlet form and in a few slim volumes by reputable\npublishers.\nIt is interesting to note how Russia has communicated\nits literature for the past 50 years to the world. Russian\nrevolutionists always have lived in France and Germany at\nclose quarters with Slavic revolutionists of Austria. The\nfacilities for printing and distributing radical literature\nwere excellent in England, especially in London, that open\nport of dissatisfied citizens of all countries. The refugees\ntranslated authors whom they liked into French but much\nmore into German, the universal language in that hotbed\nof Slavic aspirations, Austria-Hungary. Via the German\nlanguage they reached England. Not from the original\nRussian were most of those translations made which gave\nus Russian authors for the first time, but from the French\nand in many more cases, from the German.\nIt would take generally twenty years for the Russian\nauthor, translated for the first time into German, to reach\nthe friendly shores of America. As an example Sologub\nmay serve.\nSologub's Little Demon\nJohn Cournos, one of the compares the art\nof Sologub with Gogol's masterful sketches of everyday\nRussian life, with his \"Dead Souls.\" The tertium com-\nparationis in this case as in many others where the works\nof great men are compared each with the other, cannot be\nanything but the genius displayed by both.\nGogol is the great satirist, but the idealist and Russian\npatriot, who has turned to the fantastic and to the mystic}\nbecause he lacked the strength to be a reformer and to\nfight for better conditions. A man who was born a hundred\nyears ahead of his time, who analyzed the Russian condi-\ntions by putting the Russian character under a microscope.\nHe knew his compatriots, and he brutally tore away the\nfuneral regalia which covered the putrid corpse of a cor-\nrupt and rotten administartion, which made slaves out of\nninety-five £er cent of the population of his country. But\nhe not only pictured things as they were. He pointed out\nwith the exactness of the expert in social economics the\ncauses of the prevailing conditions in private life as\nas in official life. He created new figures, ideals of men\nand women such as must bring about conditions that made\nliving worth while in the country he loved better than his\nown life. He has the foresight of a great statesman and\nmost of his prophecies have either come true a hundred\nyears after his death, or they could come true if to-day\nthe idealistic figures in his \"Dead Souls\" would find\nfollowers among the leaders of Russian destinies."}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "899", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.15", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3624, "texte": "Gogel loved Russia. He loved the Russians with all\ntheir faults and all their weaknesses. He was too much\nof a poet and of a dreamer to become a realist and so his\n\"Dead Souls\" was the last word he said to Russia before\nhe went into exile. There he became a mystic and a\nphantast. Some of his stories—they are not translated\nas yet into English—remind one of Poe and of that other\nunfortunate poet, A. T. Hoffmann. Read the last\nsentence in the second volume of his \"Dead Souls.\" In\nthese eight lines he tells you what he wanted, how he loved\nRussia and how he firmly believes in the progress and the\nultimate good fortunes of all its citizens.\nSologub is not a satirist. He is not a glowing patriot,\nwho wishes to hold a mirror before the eyes of all the\nRussians. Sologub lives in a little circle, whose center he\nis himself. He is a master painter, who loves the detail of\nthe miniature. No matter if he creates a fairy tale of\nabout twenty lines, or a novel of 350 pages: it is a\nmasterpiece as a whole and you can cut out an inch here\nor a fraction of an inch there and it will remain a master-\npiece in itself. It is just this art, to evolve the picture\nof a being as it is in life the picture one of us who make\nthe four hundred millions and paint it with the exactness\nas others do the episode of a millionaire who loses his\nmillions, or of a duke who marries the soap manufacturer's\ndaughter, which brings the Russian authors of to-day so\nnear to the heart of the American reader. It is you and\nI whom you see on the pages of Sologub, with all our\nmeanness, with our petty shrewdness, but also with all\nthe heroism which we must have if we don't want to come\nto grief on our journey to the unknown infinite.\nI see in\"The Little Demon\" something different than\ndo its translators. This book is one of the truest charac-\nterizations of Russia's educational systems, responsible\nfor its corrupt officials in all branches of the governmental\nadministration, responsible for the hypocrisy imbibed with\nthe spy system of Church and State, exercised in its coun-\ntry schools as well as later on in its colleges and universi-\nties. I see in \"Peredonov\" one of the many thousand\nschool-teachers who knout, with their stinking piety, their\nignorance that excludes knowledge from the schoolrooms\nand with their crouching submissiveness, millions into the\ndumbness of a stupid miserable existence. These \"Pere-\ndonovs\" are responsible for the millions of \"dead souls\"\nwhich are in times of peace the fodder of licensed whiskey\nmanufacturers, corrupted land owners, and thieving con-\ntractors commissioned by the Russian government; those\nmillions who are in times of war the prey of criminally\nbad conditions in their own army, of the cruelty of their\nsuperior officers and of the legitimate bullets of the enemy.\nI see in the headmaster \"Khripatch\" the ideal of a school\nman as he should be, as every teacher should be.\nSologub dispenses justice on earth to the creatures of\nhis phantasy. The teacher who tortures children entrusted\nto his care, who is a deceiver all his life, meets with the\nmost terrible destruction Nemesis can inflict upon a human\nbeing: insanity takes possession of him.\nThe two charming scenes in the book between \"Sasha\"\nand the \"Routinov\" girl remind one that Sologub must\nhave read Oscar Wilde. It is the very first time, at least\nto my knowledge, that the extravaganzas of an exquisite\nsoul mate-ship are introduced on Russian soil, in the midst\nof the humble life of peasants, surrounded with the\nluxuries of more refined and civilized classes than the\nremaining milieu of the book."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c031", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c031", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "899", "page_fin": "899", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.19", "titre_corps": "Morality", "titre_sommaire": "Morality", "signature_source": "Peter John James", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "899", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.15", "debut_caractere": 3626, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6343, "texte": "Morality\nPeter John James\nthere was a young and handsome humming\nbird. He had just come to that age where all\nnormal humming \"birds desire to leave the parental nest\nand fly forth to see the world. For days he had frolicked\nand flitted about the open field; sped up and down the\nsun-beams; tossed about on the warm summer breezes\nand finally he saw a flower.\nShe was a remarkably pretty flower. It must have\nbeen a very irresponsible wind which had blown her seed\nupon that rough hard ground, for she stood quite alone in\nthe big uncultivated field. She had in fact the most\nuncongenial position in the world.\nUncouth grasses lay about her little stem and scratched\nit. Big fat bees bothered her with their attentions.\nPrickly vines and briars were a continual menace to her\ncomfort. Briefly, she was a most unhappy flower.\nThen she looked up and saw the humming bird- * He\nhad already decided that she was a charming creature,\nbut first he wished to note her surroundings. Apparently,\nthere was nothing to stop him so he circled about her\nseveral times. He saw the delicate poise of her head, and\nher brilliant coloring. Suddenly desire swelled the hum-\nming bird's breast. He asked her:\n\"Will you be my mistress?\"\nAnd because the flower wanted to bring forth others\nof her kind, she said that she would.\nSo they mated and all the world turned away—laughed\nat her or shunned her, because she was bad.\nBut the sun pondered deeply over her in the heavens.\n*\nThe humming bird was older and the field held no\nmore adventures.\nSo he wandered about greatly bored. Finally he came\nupon a lovely little garden.\nIt was fenced and latticed all around and exhaled a\ncultivated perfume of great richness.\nIt needed only a glance to tell anyone that every flower\nin that garden could not help but be a very exclusive and\nwell brought-up flower.\nThere was one especially which caught the humming\nbird's eye and like the other, she was remarkably pretty.\nAgain the humming bird stopped and circled around,\ncarefully noting her environment.\nThis time there were all kinds of gruff, elderly flowers\nwho asked him questions:\n\"What was his occupation?\" \"How far back could\nhis ancestry be traced?\" \"Did he know Mrs. Buzz Wuzz,\nsocial leader of the humming birds?\" \"What were his\nintentions towards the pretty young flower?\" and finally\n\"what his income was?\"\nWhen he had answered all these questions to their\nsatisfaction he looked again at the flower and felt desire\nswell his breast. He said to her:\n\"Will you be my wife?\"\nAnd because she wanted to bring forth others of her\nkind, she said that she would.\nSo they were married and all the world nodded and\nsmiled, saying she was good.\nBut the sun still pondered in golden meditation-"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c032", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c032", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "900", "page_fin": "900", "image_debut": 16, "image_fin": 16, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.20", "titre_corps": "Why and How I Got Married", "titre_sommaire": "Why and How I Got Married", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "900", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 457, "texte": "Why and How I Got Married\nMany hundred stories, brief and lengthy accounts, arrive every week at the desk of our Contest Editor. Most\nof them testify that marriage, even in our commonplace age, preserves its old romance and that to relate a story of\nhow Grandfather took Grandmother urges the pen into hands not otherwise ambitious of literary achievement. A\nhandful of these stories will be chosen every week for the perusal of our readers."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c033", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c033", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "900", "page_fin": "900", "image_debut": 16, "image_fin": 16, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.21", "titre_corps": "Playmates, College Sweethearts, and Married", "titre_sommaire": "Playmates, College Sweethearts, and Married", "signature_source": "J. G. V. (Los Angeles", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "900", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 459, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2377, "texte": "Playmates, College Sweethearts, and Married\nJ. G. V. (Los Angeles)\nAV7E became acquainted the third year of high school. It was\nnot \"love at first sight.\" We were too young and too\nbusy for such ideas. It was however, decided mutual liking.\nWe had dandy times at class affairs which we always attended\n• together, except once. That dance was dismal fun for us both.\nAfter graduation, camping out with friends, we tramped\ntogether constantly. Among rugged mountains, romantic and\npicturesque, he proposed. Rather young, yet he sincerely felt\nhe loved me. I liked him enough to want to love him. There-\nafter, we had hearts only for each other. Doubt never entered.\nWe both worked a year downtown, enjoying all social life\nand recreations together. Then we went away to college, every\nhope and ambition in common, though our courses were totally\ndifferent.. Our college life was brim full of work and happi-\nness. We were devoted lovers, though few realized it until\nthe engagement announcement, the Senior year.\nAfter college, he went mining. We thought we should perish,\nthose few months, the longest period we were ever apart. Daily\nbudgets consoled us. By special deliveries and telegrams, we\narranged our marriage in October. To avoid expense and dis-\nplay, the best man, our two sisters and mothers accompanied\nme to a country town where he met us. Other numerous rela-\ntives we escaped entirely. A simple church ceremony and\nwedding luncheon at Glenwood Tavern completed the formali-\nties. The wedding party played pranks on us until they\nreturned to the city at evening, but we were too happy to care.\nNext day we started for the mines. Three years alone in\nisolated desert places, gave us intimate mutual understanding.\nWe are now in town, with our two small boys. Five years\nengagement and nine years married life, find us more in love\nand harmony than ever—a true romance which we pray may\nnever be shattered."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c034", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c034", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "900", "page_fin": "900", "image_debut": 16, "image_fin": 16, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.22", "titre_corps": "Reminds Us of O. Henry's \"Service of Love\"", "titre_sommaire": "Reminds Us of O. Henry's \"Service of Love\"", "signature_source": "F. W. W", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "900", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 2379, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3681, "texte": "Reminds Us of O. Henry's \"Service of Love\"\nF. W. W.\n¥ WAS nineteen and ambitious, ambitious to paint and become\nfamous. I had always been sketching and painting, ever\nsince I was old enough to hold a pencil. New York, to which\nI had been brought ten years previously, was seemingly in one\nmind with my folks to discourage me in my ambition. To me—\nthere was nothing else. The whole world was an inviting\ncanvas.\nResolved, to save enough money to take me back to Vienna.\nSomehow or other I would get along and study, learn to paint.\nEighteen months elapse. With two dollars and my ticket\non board the Kaiserin Auguste Victoria. Back to Vienna.\nWith a few disappointments I found serene Vienna as I faintly\nrecalled it and as I fondly it. I was learning t© paint,\nand very shortly afterwards, learning to love.\nWe met in Heinrich's studio. She was such a beautiful\ninspiration and so different from anything I had ever known\nin a girl before. An artistic soul in a beautiful person.\nAnd then, she cooked and occasionally baked for the both\nof us, and cared for my littered room. My ambitions were\nnow equally divided, between my art and to earn money enough\nto be married.\nWe're in America now. Yes, my wife and I, and yes, we're\nhappy.\nAn artist? No, I am building machinery. And Marie does\nthe cooking."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c035", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c035", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "900", "page_fin": "900", "image_debut": 16, "image_fin": 16, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.23", "titre_corps": "Bitter After Eighteen Years", "titre_sommaire": "Bitter After Eighteen Years", "signature_source": "L. F", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "900", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 3683, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5991, "texte": "Bitter After Eighteen Years\nL. F.\nIAM thirty-seven years of age, the mother of two children,\nand the wife of a kind and loving husband; yet I am the\nmost miserable creature on the face of the earths If one won-\nders at this confession, one's wonder will cease upon reading\nthe following:\nI was born in Austria, and until I was sixteen, lived there\nand was happy. Then my parents died, and with their death\ncame misery.\nMy elder sister, who was married and lived in America,\nwas named as my guardian in my parents' will; so I sold\neverything and came to the \"Land of Promise.\"\nI turned the cash over to my sister, and she repaid me by\nsending me to work in a steam laundry owned by a relative.\nMy task there was both difficult and dangerous. I fed collars\nand cuffs to a machine which stiffened and rounded them into\nshape after they had been washed. So dangerous is this work\nthat the least slip on the part of the feeder may mean the\nloss of a finger or a hand.\nI liked the work, however, and would have been very happy\nhad not my sister told me one night that, my employer having\nfallen in love with me, had come to her and asked for my hand\nin marriage. She had consented, and I was to become his wife\nthe very next week.\nI almost collapsed. The man was fifteen years my senior and\nwas blind in an eye. \"Surely she was joking,\" thought I.\nWhen, however, she refused to deny the story, I rebuked her\nand questioned her right to sell me without my consent.\nShe replied by putting my trunk and myself out of her home.\nThat night I slept on my trunk in the hall, and the next morn-\ning went to work with a heart full of tears.\nMy head was in a turmoil all that morning, and ere noon the\nforefinger of my right hand was caught in the machine and torn\nfrom its socket.\nI was carried home in an unconscious condition, and it wasn't\nbefore a week that I knew where I was. I then learned that\nI had been married to my employer while in a semi-conscious\nstate, by an unscrupulous reverend, who was well paid for\nhis trouble.\nEighteen years have passed since, and although my husband\nadores and idolizes me, I hate and detest him.\nDivorce? I've tried that, but without funds one hasn't the\nslightest chance in New York State.\nSo I must live on with a man I loathe because of a rapacious\nsister and an unmerciful God."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c037", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c037", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "902", "page_fin": "902", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.25", "titre_corps": "Jean", "titre_sommaire": "Jean", "signature_source": "Orrick Johns", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 18, "page_imprimee": "902", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.18", "debut_caractere": 431, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5281, "texte": "Jean\nBy Orrick Johns\nOne night Jean stayed to supper and Mrs. Hupp took\nthe chair by Martin's elbow and watched her so hard she\ncould not have looked once at her plate. Martin thought\nhe would never have been able to stand her looking at him\nthat way; it would have given him the jim-jams. But\nJean just talked and talked. All during the meal his\nmother kept hitting him on the arm and kicking his foot\nwhen he and Jean were talking to each other. She was\nso clumsy the girl saw it all. Once Mrs. Hupp kicked\nJean's foot by mistake. Jean said, \"Ouch, somebody\nkicked me!\" The old lady just took off her glasses and\nlooked at Martin hard and said, \"Bassoon!\" Then Jean\nbegan to cry and Martin thought she was putting on. But\nthat was all that was said.\nThe old lady got helpless and Martin had to help her in\nand out of bed. Jean told him a man could never nurse a\nsick person and came over to do it herself. The old wo-\nman had to submit, but she talked against it all the time\nas though it were something that still had to be decided.\nIf Jean made a change in the way of taking something oif\nher, or did anything unusual, she would push her away\nwith her feeble hands and sometimes slap her. But Mar-\ntin thought Jean always looked pretty after she quarreled\nwith his mother. One day Jean told him he ought to\nthink himself lucky because he had a mother who \"was so\ncrazy about him she couldn't look at anybody else.\" There\nare some people,\" she said, \"that just sit around all day\nloving a person and the only time they ever let up loving\n'em is when they say anything to them.\" She said his\nmother was like that. At first he did not believe her, but\nafterwards he felt like he knew his mother all of a sudden\nfor the first time.\nThe night his mother died, Jean was the first one he\nwrent to, but he made her bring some of the neighbors in\nwith her. She said she hated them, they were such old\nfools and acted around a dead person like a lot of chickens\nover an ear of corn. The first thing she asked him was:\n\"Have you got enough money to bury her nice?\" Martin\nheld out his hand with such a lot of bills in it as she had\nnever seen, and she counted two hundred dollars right\naway. \"She took my head in her hands and said I must\nlearn to tell the truth and not go through life acting like\na liar, and then she gave it to me,\" he said. Jean told\nhim Mrs. Hupp had always \"had it on her,\" because she\nfound it one night when she was undressing her, but the\nold womap did not know she knew anything about it. She\nsaid she hoped he would not take on, because it was only\na blessing when people were so old. Martin said: \"You\nwon't come over any more now; nobody will let you.\" She\njust shrugged her shoulders and told him he did not know\nmuch, and if you waited for people to let you do things\nyou would hold your hands. And she said, \"Anyway, it's\nno use coming where you're not wanted.\" Martin told\nher to \"shut her face.\"\nThe funeral was in June. Martin thanked the Lord\nwhen the neighbors stopped visiting. It was queer to be\nin the house alone; he thought it must be like that on ship-\nboard. When he was a boy he would have given his right\nhand to go to sea. He sat down in his mother's old chair\nand tried to cry. He found by feeling sorry foY himself\nand praying he could cry some, but not much. He thought\nhis sorrow hurt him so much he could not act like the\nothers. He had not seen Jean for two days. He would\nhave to make up his own bed now and cook his meals.\nHe was only going to keep the house until the lease ran\nout, because it was so cheap. The neighbors thought he\nought to get just a lodging, there were so many nice people\nnear, and it was indecent for a man to live in a house\nalone; though that was according to the man. Martin\ncould hardly believe that Jean would not come any more.\nThe next day he would have to go back to work and he\nwas tired and started to bed about nine o'clock. Jean\ncame in and saw him undressing. She screamed a little\nand sat down in a chair and said: \"You ought to be\nashamed of yourself—so early—and I had such a time\ncoming.\" Then she turned her back and said: \"I won't\nlook; but put on shirt and you can take me out for a\nwalk.\" Martin said it was not so early, it was nine any-\nway, and laughed and showed her the clock. She just\nlooked at it and said: \"When I look at a clock I always\nthink it would be better to be dead.\" Martin was so glad\nto see her he did not think about having his shirt off. She\nstood up and stamped her foot and said: \"This is awful!\nI'll go into the next room.\" He brushed his hair and they\nwent down the street together, after she went through the\nalley by the back way, and met him. \"They were all sit-\nting out at first and I had to wait,\" she said, \"but there\nare still some lights lit and the moon is so bright, and\npeople know more about you than you do yourself.\""}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c038", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c038", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "902", "page_fin": "902", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.26", "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": "902", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.18", "debut_caractere": 5283, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5407, "texte": "Edith Haynes Thompson\nHER SHOP\nContaining Many Quaint and Beautiful Things\n58 WASHINGTON SQUARE SOUTH\nHours: 1 to 5.30 P. M."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c039", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c039", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "902", "page_fin": "902", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.27", "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": "902", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.18", "debut_caractere": 5409, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5468, "texte": "j. 112. McCarthy\nPAINTINGS AND\nANTIQUES\n30 WEST 46th STREET"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c040", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c040", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[903]", "page_fin": "[903]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.28", "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": "[903]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.19", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 130, "texte": "HOTEL BREVOORT CAFE LAFAYETTE\nFifth Avmue University Plate*\nRAYMOND ORTEIG, INC.\nThe Two French Hotels and Restaurants of New York"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c041", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c041", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[903]", "page_fin": "[903]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.29", "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": "[903]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.19", "debut_caractere": 132, "fin_caractere_exclue": 331, "texte": "GONFARONE'S\n40 West 8th Street\n' i '4 % • , ; . • s fc \"\nTABLE D'HOTE\n\"Eating places are literary landmarks\" said O. Henry, speaking of Gonfarone's in one of his\nunexcelled Greenwich Village Stories."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c042", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c042", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[903]", "page_fin": "[903]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.30", "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": 19, "page_imprimee": "[903]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.19", "debut_caractere": 333, "fin_caractere_exclue": 437, "texte": "Greenwich Village Inn\n(Polly*.)\nBetween Washington Sq« & 6th Ave.\nService a la Carte\nOutdoor Dining Room"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c043", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c043", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[903]", "page_fin": "[903]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.31", "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": "[903]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.19", "debut_caractere": 439, "fin_caractere_exclue": 648, "texte": "From 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\n9 ,\n80 West Washington Square\nSpring 6340"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c044", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c044", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[903]", "page_fin": "[903]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.32", "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": 19, "page_imprimee": "[903]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.19", "debut_caractere": 650, "fin_caractere_exclue": 801, "texte": "Florence 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"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c045", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c045", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[903]", "page_fin": "[903]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.33", "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": 19, "page_imprimee": "[903]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.19", "debut_caractere": 803, "fin_caractere_exclue": 983, "texte": "Artistic Cushions\nhdadxng wool embroidery* Unique and original\ndesigns in patchwork. Cushions made to order.\nCall or write Sessers Studio Co*9 82 Washington\nP1.9 N. Y. Spring 1076."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c046", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c046", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[903]", "page_fin": "[903]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.34", "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": "[903]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.19", "debut_caractere": 985, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1202, "texte": "WANTED 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 6 p. m. Saturdays 10 p. m."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c047", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c047", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[903]", "page_fin": "[903]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.35", "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": "[903]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.19", "debut_caractere": 1204, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1285, "texte": "T. D. Cox\nStationery and News Shop\nCirculating library\n68 Washington Place, N. Y."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c048", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c048", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[903]", "page_fin": "[903]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.36", "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": "[903]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.19", "debut_caractere": 1287, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1447, "texte": "JUDSON 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"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c049", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c049", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[903]", "page_fin": "[903]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.37", "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": "[903]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.19", "debut_caractere": 1449, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1577, "texte": "'Phone Spring 3922\nTHE DUTCH OVEN\n135 MacDoogal Street\nnear Washington Sq.\nOpen Air Dining Room\nHome Cooking\nLuncheon Tea Dinner"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c050", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c050", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[904]", "page_fin": "[904]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.38", "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": "[904]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.20", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 283, "texte": "Rare Books First Edition\nISsEira |*JpMll Awsob&ii for CPrfirtMß# GM&\nVmtkmmi mmh «*\" *■ ®«*s fm fpm&pfo who ImM&it SJsbm# aor ®pgwrtass% to wsleet lor tiMMabwt\n«* iw §§»§» wife© few® not ace®» to tb» hmk Smik marli. Why not Hwfpfa coDectiac new?\nAJdrass, E. V. iMsa TwwiH Beaton* Man"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c051", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c051", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[904]", "page_fin": "[904]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.39", "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": "[904]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.20", "debut_caractere": 285, "fin_caractere_exclue": 395, "texte": "HMMO9 Afpwfe»f®t§ or $N\nPEPE &\nREAL ESTATE AND\n4110 Spring\nBRO.\nINSURANCE\n40 Sb. ill ■ S«w\ntjGßm ftiUHflflli—l"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c052", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c052", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[904]", "page_fin": "[904]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.40", "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": "[904]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.20", "debut_caractere": 397, "fin_caractere_exclue": 563, "texte": "IN WHICH\nw« mj Just wlat mm tllalk. PhMdbsi ®t«sgy m! by Wnw— Bil GaddM at 171 Wilson Avenu*\nfas MidUpis. It it a tittle bmk «fepßg? ffiwfcwtadL Write for «mpie copy."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c053", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c053", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[904]", "page_fin": "[904]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.41", "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": "[904]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.20", "debut_caractere": 565, "fin_caractere_exclue": 753, "texte": "I BUY BOOKS\nSiafk Tolnw, assail late, ad! Kfewisss; 8«S©($rapk letters @1 btowa Mterary wmm ami\nartirts, dranvtegs, pidsnt and mimhn Address\n\"COLLECTOR,\" Cera of IrWs Weekly, 8® Waring Sq."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c054", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c054", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[904]", "page_fin": "[904]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.42", "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": "[904]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.20", "debut_caractere": 755, "fin_caractere_exclue": 811, "texte": "ROSSI BROTHERS\n<-f$ Waslnfiest Spm\nICE CREAM AND TOBACCO"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c055", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c055", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[904]", "page_fin": "[904]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.43", "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": "[904]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.20", "debut_caractere": 813, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1126, "texte": "The 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, Xt'a Very Easy to\nTake More Than Nothing.\"\n\"Nobody Asked Your Opinion\" Edith Uager."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-08-05-01-c056", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01#c056", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-08-05_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[904]", "page_fin": "[904]", "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=bmtnaaq19160805-01.2.44", "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": "[904]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.20", "debut_caractere": 1128, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1474, "texte": "Tbsr® on be ao pleasanter plb©® to bear tiaat raasarksiUs\nUrns; Recent fWw (IJSSSi) ifcs«t\nTHE DIAMOND DISC SHOP\nat Number 10 Fifth Avenue\nI\nlb tint store, at least, the defigbtfal staMfJhare »l Qfc§ Greenwfeb Village bas w»I\non the altar of\nA postal will bring yen, with oar\nen interesting little biography of Mr.\nPhone: Stayvesant 4570\nThos. A."}]}], "pages_ocr_originales": [{"page_pdf": 1, "page_imprimee": "couv. 1", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.1", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n100J Dollars for the Story of\nYour Marriage\nA Contest for Married People\nEDITED BY GUIDO BRUNO IN HIS GARRET ON\nWASHINGTON SQUARE\nFive Cents August sth, 1916\n\nThe include:\nPermanent Peace\nla it a Dream?\nHelenf Dry den—A Witch of Color\nGeorge Bernard, Shaw—A Personal\nImpression\nGirls Left Behind by Austrian# and\nGermans"}, {"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[886]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.2", "texte": "i * ,\nCopyright by Guide Brunt, Aug. sth, 1916. Origin*! matter,\nittciuditrg all drawing*, may not be reproduced without permianon\nof Guide Bruno; but that permtMtoa may be ate timed tf credit\n»imn le outlier and Bruno'* Weekly.\nOne Hundred Dollars for the\nStory 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 not!\nuse your name if you do not wish us to do so.\n- . ■ . '~ ■* -\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\n, it down to-day and address it to the \"Contest Editor,\" Bruno's Weekly,\n58 Washington Square, New York City.\n', ■ y\nEvery Jwaek 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": "[887]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.3", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nEdited by Guido Bruno in His Garret on Washington Square\nNo. 8\nAUGUST sth, MCMXVI\nVol. 11l\nCopyright 1916, by Guido Bruno\n\nAfter Verlaine\nErnest Dowson\nTTHE sky is up above the roof\n* So blue, so soft!\nA tree there, up above the roof,\nSwayeth aloft.\nA bell within that sky we see,\nChimes low and faint:\nA bird upon that tree we see,\nMaketh complaint.\nDear God! is not the life up there,\nSimple and sweet?\nHow peacefully are borne up there\nSounds of the street!\nWhat hast thou done, who comest here,\nTo weep alway?\nWhere hast thou laid, who comest here,\nThy youth away?\n\nGirls Left Behind by Austrian\nand Germans\n\nIJAVE you ever stood near a stock exchange ticker\n* * watching eagerly the miniature machinery, printing\nwords and figures on the tape? Did you ever look\nanxiously on the white strip of paper passing over the palm\nof your hand, for the few letters that spelt all your\nworldly possessions and for the figures that meant sal-\nvation or destruction to you? If you did not have the\nexperience yourself you perhaps remember similar scenes\nin motion picture plays, especially such where the victim\nhas his entire fortune at stake. Going about his daily\nroutine he receives the disturbing message. He hastens to\nhis broker's office. He reads the bulletins of battles fought\non the floor of the stock exchange. He fears and hopes\nand awaits helplessly the decision of Fate.\nLook at the daily lives of the millions of women in\nEurope! No matter whether they live in France or in\nGermany, in England or in Austria, in Belgium or in\nRussia, in cities, in villages or on farms. No matter\nwhether they dwell in palaces of in poor-houses, they all\nhave their dearest at stake. Husbands, brothers, sweet-\nhearts and fathers are far out there, what they call \"at\nthe front-\" They might be invading as proud victors\nthe enemy's country. They might lie severely wounded,\nunattended by caring hands, on the frozen grounds of a\ndesolate field. They might be dead and buried with\nmany others in hostile soil. Every morning these women\npilgrimage to the official war news bureaus and receive\nwith trembling hands the lists of those who are dead or\nwounded.\nWhat is the agony of the man who reads on the tape\nof the loss of his fortune, compared with the fear those\nwomen suffer while their eyes glide along thousands of\nnames, anxious not to discover the name of the beloved\none among them. Wives return home as widows,\ndaughters as fatherless orphans and sweethearts mourn\nthe men they had thought the most of in the world. And\nthe ticker ticks on; the machine prints constantly new\nnames and endless seems the tape. Those that are saved\nto-day will live through the same agony to-morrow. They\nwill fear and hope as long as lists are published, as long\nas the nations are at war; until the echo of the last cannon\nshot has resounded on the far horizon and peace and\nharmony dwell again in the world.\nThe compulsory military service transforms every able-\nbodied citizen into a soldier- Military service leads in\na good many cases, later in his life, to his appointment to\na position in the various branches of the government. His\nmilitary obligations do not cease till he reaches his forty-\nfifth year and memories of his active service and later on\nof his participation in the yearly manoeuvres are sub-\nstantial parts of every-day conversations in the family and\namong friends. At the time our girls clip pictures of\nfootball stars and of matinee actors from magazines, the\nEuropean girl worships as her idol the lieutenant with his\nbewitching manners and in his glittering uniform.\nThe lonesomest of ail European cities is without doubt,\nVienna. Imagine the coffee houses without chattering\nor billiard-playing officers! Think of the \"Kaerntner-\nstrasse\" or the \"Opernring,\" without uniforms, and think\nof the poor girls, without their friends, the soldiers! In\na polyglot country like Austria where patriotism does not\nmean a strong national feeling but simply love for the good\nold Emperor, Francis Joseph, women have not awakened\nto take particular interest in politics at home or in the for-\neign affairs of their country. They expect with a child-\nlike confidence, the man to settle all those important ques-\ntions—before he reaches home. They do not like political\nconversations at the family table.\nThe soldiers who bear on their headgear the initials of\nthe Emperor, are the impersonation of the country's pa-\ntriotism. Mothers give up their sons for three long years\nto do military service. Folk-songs in all languages of\nAustria's nations emphasize it\"the mother's tribute to\nEmperor Francis Joseph\" and now while nations are\nstruggling on battlefields, the Austrian woman at home\nhas no other interest than to know what becomes of her\nfather, brother or sweetheart, fighting for his emperor.\nSince her earliest youth, the Viennese girl admired every-\nthing pertaining to militarism, especially if it walked on\ntwo legs and wore a uniform. As a little tot she would\ndisregard the orders of mother or governess, jump up from\nthe table during meal hours and run to the window to\nwatch enthusiastically a military troop marching to the\ninspiring tunes of its bands. As a \"backfisch\" and long\nafter she started to wear long dresses, some irresistible\nlieutenant would spook in her little heart and even after\nher marriage she does not lose her love for uniforms. The"}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "888", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.4", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nhappiest dream of her life is to picture her new born baby\nas officer with sabre and spur, marching in front of his\nsoldiers, saluting to her while he passes her windows, or\ntaking a prominent part in social life. There is not much\ndifference in the Vinnese woman before and after marriage.\nShe is always a girl. She has the proverbial golden heart.\nShe might pour the contents of her purse into the hat of\na beggar for money and she might not give even the\nslightest smile to the beggar for her heart. She loves to\ndance and a waltz with a charming lieutenant means more\nto her than three lectures on woman's suffrage. She has\nfrom her earliest youth a strongly-expressed motherly in-\nstinct that makes her the best of all wives. Her never\ndying love for beauty and real enjoyment of life makes her\na real companion and mate. After the first excitement of\nthe mobilization Viennese girls forgot their sorrows in\npreparing for brothers and husbands and sweethearts going\nto the front, all those little things that mean so much to\npersonal comfort. While tears stood in their eyes after\nthe last embrace and the parting that might be for life,\na sunny smile passed over their faces while they could\nnot help exclaiming with pride: \"Doesn't he look splendid\nin his uniform-\"\nAnd now they study carefully the official lists, burn\ncandles for the Holy George and Holy Joseph, and open\ntheir hearts before the statue of the Blessed Virgin be-\ncause they are very religious and pious at the bottom of\ntheir hearts. From the Archduchess down to the servant\ngirl they cherish the same love for everybody who wears\nan Austrian uniform and do all they can to make the\nwounded brought to Vienna comfortable and happy—\n\"Because someone might do the same for my poor dear\nboy . . .\" They are active in collecting money to\nsend on to the front all kinds of little comforts for officers\nand soldiers. Underwear, stockings, mittens for the com-\ning cold weather, and cigarettes and cigars. They are\nsuch little optimists, those Viennese girls between fourteen\nand sixty. If no fatalities are reported they sit around\ntheir beloved coffee, eat those delicious Vienna cakes and\nmake plans; plans for the time when this man-murdering\nwar will be over and the dear ones home again. Oh, how\ncomfortable and cozy will they make it for them!\nThe German woman participates in the national pride\nof her husband to be a German. She is interested in\npolitics. She does not read only the novels and short\nstories in her newspaper but is acquainted with the inter-\nnational political situation. Especially the woman of the\nmiddle classes has a strongly expressed national feeling.\nShe is proud of Germany as a leading power of the world.\nShe is proud of her. husband because he is a part of\nGermany and she is proud of his uniform because he will\nhelp to defend German soil and because the same uniform\nis worn by the Kaiser himself and the princes of the royal\nHouse, the highest commanders of the army. She sup-\npressed bravely the tears during those exciting days while\nthe country was mobilizing its armies. She seemed to\ndemand from him courageous behavior in the ranks and\neven death if needed to conquer or to defend. \"Don't\nthink of me,\" she would say, \"don't worry about the\nchildren. Do your duty and take good care of yourself\nso that you come back to me if you are saved from\nthe enemy's bullets.\" With smiling and encouraging faces\nthey cheered the troops marching out of their towns and .\ncities. But after the backs of the beloved ones in uniform\nwere turned all the sentimentality of their race, artificially\nchecked through bravery of the spirit, gave way, and with\nthe tears came out the truth.\"I might have seen them for\nthe last time on this earth.\"\nIn the coffee houses of Berlin, of Dresden and of\nMunich, women are taking the places of the men who\nused to indulge here in hot political discussions. The\nGerman woman is not satisfied with the knowledge that\nthe name of her husband, brother or father is or is not\ncontained in the official lists of dead, but she wants to\nknow all about the operations of Germany's armies, about\nGermany's chances in the field. She feels that her beloved\none takes part in all this and in this way herself too.\n\nG. B.\n\nHelen Dryden: Witch of Color\n\npvO you want to know what it really was that be-\nwitched you in the New Amsterdam Theatre during\nthat performance of \"Watch Your Step?\" Of course it\nwas the music flattering your ears, those silly, enchanting\nairs that made you feel the rhythm in your toes, and the\ndancing of the Castles and the gorgeous scenery and the\nsparkling, dazzling lights, and then there were bouquets of\npretty chorus girls, garlands of beautiful, happy and\nmerry girls. But doesn't all that go with every declared\nBroadway success? Yes. But there was something else\nthat kept you spellbound, a something that occupied your\neyes as grippingly and constantly as did the soft, prickling\ntunes your ears, a something that made you follow ab-\nsorbingly the movements of chorus and of players, a some-\nthing that acted upon your senses like the scent of a\nwonderful perfume whose origin you cannot locate, whose\nodor you cannot define, but whose existence you feel un-\nmistakably.\nDo you remember the costumes? Not only those worn\nby the leading members of the cast, but also the costumes\nof the chorus, in all their changes? Yes, that's it. Those\nfascinated you. Their color schemes reminded you of\nsomething you have admired in the past, those forms and\nlines brought back to you some memory. Of what? Oh,\nyes, you remember those lovely French fashionplates by\nBakst or Bruneleschi in the show windows of art shops\nand of Fifth avenue dressmaking establishments! And\nwhat else? Oh, those dainty figures on the cover of a\nfashion magazine placarded in all the elevated and subway\nand street cars!\nMasterpieces in Harmony\nYou are on the right trail. All the costumes worn by\nmale and female performers of \"Watch Your Step,\" from\nMrs. Vernon Castle's gowns down to the gauzy sugges-\ntion of frocks of the chorus, were at first fashion plates,\nlittle masterpieces in harmony of colors and grace of lines.\nThey were especially drawn for the members of the cast\nafter a careful study of the manuscript of the play. And\nno one less than Miss Helen Dryden, the well-known\nartist, the first to make us acquainted with the charming\nnew ideas of the French artists, but minus their eccen-\ntricities and extravaganzas in colors and outlines, is re-\nsponsible for the fairyland of costumes that you saw up\nthere on the stage."}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "889", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.5", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\n\"How was it I designed the costumes for 'Watch Your\nStep' and what my experiences were?\" Miss Dryden\nrepeated my question.\nShe was kneeling on the floor of her spacious studio,\na big brush in her tiny hand, her face flushed from exer-\ntion. In front of her on the floor *was a big placard—\nfive by six feet—and she had been busy painting with\nbroad strokes a bluish green background for a coal-hole\ninto which that careless youth, looking after a pretty\ngirl, was walking, not watching his step.\n\"A Bushel of Fun\"\n\"First and last of all, I had a bushel of fun and I\nenjoyed every bit of work I did for the 4Watch Your Step'\npeople. There I had the chance to clothe a bunch of\npretty people just as harmoniously as a dress ever was\ndesigned by the imaginative mind of an artist. Colors\nand lines were my real material—well, and you saw, your-\nself, what wonderful results one can get!\"\nMiss Dryden got up, wiped her hands on a soft pink\nsilk rag, seated herself comfortably on an enormous couch\nwith pillows and, cover of an eye arresting peacock design.\nShe is petite, every one of her movements is an expression\nof grace, she has wonderful eyes and beautiful hands.\nShe is just the one that you would imagine could draw\nthose charming little pictures that have made her known\nover the United States. And her workshop is in harmony\nwith her art and with her person. A lot of light, the\nspacious walls covered with light tapestry, the woodwork\nshining white, the window boxes filled with boxwood\nhedges trimmed as in a garden of Louis XVI., nowhere\nthe proverbial disorder of a studio—not a color stain or\na spot. One feels as if in the boudoir of one of the rose\nand gold gowned creations.\n\"You see,\" she continued, after she had decided that\nthe last faint scent of paint was banished from the little\nhands that reposed with inimitable grace in her lap, \"It\nseems rather natural that the costumes for a musical\ncomedy should be designed by somebody who has not only\ntaste, but knows how to select colors to a happy, pleasing\ncombination. How frightful are often the expensive cos-\ntumes in musical comedies! It often spoiled, for me at\nleast, the enjoyment of the evening and the merriment\nof music and comedy, to see other girls on the stage, mis-\ndressed. And so you can imagine with what enthusiasm\nI grasped the chance of experiment for once with beauti-\nful materials instead of paints, and to see the creations\nof my brush living and dancing, a joy for thousands of\nbeauty-loving eyes.\n\"There were obstacles to overcome, too, just as in\nevery other thing. At first I dressed the chorus. I felt\nlike a little girl that has got hold of some wonderful rags,\nmoved her doll house into her favorite corner and started\nto dress and undress her dolls. Later on, designing the\ncostumes of the leading actors, I had to take their wishev\ninto consideration. The one wanted this color to prevail\nin her robe, the other wanted a certain outline that she\nhad always adhered to in her previous Broadway suc-\ncess. But a little reasoning, a little insisting and a little\nyielding to their wishes gave almost in every case my\noriginal idea the final victory.\n\"If you compare these drawings I made with the char-\nacters on the stage you will see that they are really their\nimages. I loved this work and I wish that I could do it\nall over again—this planning and comparing and selecting\nand being a little discouraged and finally succeeding. It\nis a real joy!\n\"I have not been long in New York and there really\nisn't much of a story to my life. I was born and raised\nin Baltimore. I always used to draw, even as a kid,\nbefore I could write and read. I studied at the Academy\n\nHelen Dryden"}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "890", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.6", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nin Philadelphia and then I came to New York. I did not\nhave an easy start, and it took me quite a while before\nI sold my first picture to a magazine. Bakst, Bruneleschi,\nand, above all, Busseou, were always my favorites. At\nfirst I imitated them, I mean their color schemes, and\nsoon I found my own way.\nFrench Masters' Style\n\"I don't deny that my drawings might faintly remind\nyou of those of the French masters. But it is just the\nunusual vivid colors all of us are using. Otherwise, my\ncreations are all my ownk independently conceived and\noriginal in execution and forms. I met them all on my\nlast trip to Paris just before the war broke out. Their\ncolors can never be reproduced to do justice to the\noriginals. They speak to more than the eyes. They com-\nmunicate themselves to all our senses, and for this reason\nit is a great satisfaction to an artist to be able to give real\nlife to his drawing without the mechanical process of re-\nproduction on plates and on paper.\"\nMiss Dryden lives on Washington Square. The old\ntrees with their wide-spread branches in front of the\nwindows above the boxwood hedges seem like trees of an\nold park in some French castle. Everything in her apart-\nment is beautiful. Her favorite books are bound in vivid\ncolors after her own design. Pillows, table covers, car-\npets and picture frames are in wonderful harmony with the\ntapestry and the stucco work on the ceiling. Her paints\nand brushes are lined up on a big white table as if conscious\nof the harmony they will be called upon to produce.\nLoves Vivid Colors\nShe loves vivid colors around her and vivid colors on\nher palette and on her canvas. But she prefers quiet, un-\nassuming attire for herself. Dark blue and brownish gray\nare her favorite colors for herself and soft velvet she pre-\nfers to any other material for her own gowning. A blue\nvelvet suit is at present her special delight. It is a girl's\ndress, a Norfolk coat with a narrow trimming of silvery\nbeaver edging the tunic and the bottom of the skirt, a\nbroad stripe of soft beaver around the neck and high about\nthe ears. A dark velvet Tamo' Shanter such as Richard\nWagner used to wear is set a little on the side as headgear.\nA picture of health and joy of living, a tiny package of\ndrawings under her arm, is Miss Dryden, a familiar figure\non \"the Square.\"\nThe Italian kids of nearby Little Italy know her well\nas a spender of glittering pennies and occasional nickels\nand they are her numerous escort to the bus station oppo-\nsite the Judson Church.\nI wonder if she ever could draw a picture more har-\nmonious, daintier and more picturesque than the one that\nlooks at her from her looking glass ?\n\nG. B.\n\nA Moral Little Tale\nBy Lord Dunsany\nTHERE was once an earnest puritan who held it wrong\nto dance. And for his principles he labored hard,\nhis was a zealous life. And there loved him all of those\nthat hated the dance, and those that loved the dance re-\nspected him, too; they said, \"He is a pure, good man, and\nacts according to his lights/'\nHe did much to discourage dancing and helped to close\nseveral Sunday entertainments. Some kinds of poetry he\nsaid he liked, but not the fanciful kind, as that might cor-a\nrupt the thoughts of the very young. He always dressed\nin black.\nHe was interested in morality and was quite sincere, and\nthere grew to be much respect on Earth for his honest\nface and his flowing pure-white beard.\nOne night the Devil appeared unto him in a dream and\nsaid, \"Well done.\"\n\"Avaunt,\" said that earnest man.\n\"No, no, friend,\" said the Devil.\n\"Dare not call me 'friend,' \" he answered bravely.\n\"Come, come, friend,\" said the Devil. \"Have you not\ndone my work? Have you not put apart the couples that\nwould dance?* Have you not checked their laughter and\ntheir accursed mirth? Have you not worn my livery of]\nblack? Oh, friend, friend, you do not know what a de-\ntestable thing it is to sit in Hell and hear people being\nhappy, and singing in theatres, and singing in the fields,\nand whispering after dances under the moon,\" and he fell\nto cursing frightfully.\n\"It is you,\" said the puritan, \"that put into their hearts\nthe evil desire to dance; and black is God's own livery, not\nyours.\"\nAnd the Devil laughed contemptuously and spoke.\n\"He only made the silly colors,\" he said, \"and useless\ndawns on hillslopes facing South, and butterflies flapping\nalong them as soon as the sun rose high, and foolish maid-\nens coming out to dance, and the warm mad West wind,\nand worst of all that pernicious influence Love.\"\nAnd when the Devil said that God made Love, that\nearnest man sat up in bed and shouted, \"Blasphemy! \\\\\nBlasphemy!\" g\n\"It's true,\" said the Devil. \"It isn't I that send the 1\nvillage fools muttering and whispering two by two in the I\nwoods when the harvest moon is high, it's as much as I J\ncan bear even to see them dancing.\" |\nThen said the man, \"I have mistaken right for wrong;\nbut as soon as I wake up I will fight you yet.\"\n\"Oh, no you don't,\" said the Devil, \"You don't wake\nup out of this sleep.\"\nAnd somewhere far away Hell's black steel doors were\nopened and arm in arm those two were drawn within,\nand the doors shut Behind them and still they went arm\nin arm, trudging further and further into the deeps of\nHell, and it was that puritan's punishment to know that i\nthose that he cared for on Earth would do evil as he had\ndone.\n\nThe Great Green Frog\nSaidee Gerard Ruthrauff\nI know where there's a great, green frog,\nHe lives down in the big brown bog,\nAnd he sings cr-r-r-r-dunk,\nAnd he splashes cr-r-r-r-rplunk,\nWhen he sees me coming with my dark drab dog!\n\nDrawing by Clara Tice"}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "891", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.7", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nGeorge Bernard Shaw—A Personal Impression\n\n» A FEW years ago there was no man so often talked\nabout outside of England and so reviled in it as\nGeorge Bernard Shaw. He was the man who had set\nhimself out to ridicule the safe prejudices of that large\nsection of the population of the British Isles, known as\nthe Upper Middle Class.\nFor many years young Shaw struggled for recognition,\nbut he was always looked upon as the brilliant gutter\norator, of whom no serious account need be taken. Any-\nbody taking Bernard Shaw seriously in England ten years\nago would have been laughed out of court. His declara-\ntion that he was greater than Shakespeare became a huge\njoke with the British people, and for many seasons he was\na pantomine butt at whose personality a joke was keenly\nenjoyed. To-day the British people realize in Shaw one\n*of the finest minds of the nineteenth and twentieth cen-\nturies. Whereas years ago no speech of his, no complaint\nof his, was ever recognized by the press, to-day, in the\npublic curiosity aroused in this man the press of the\ncountry fully report every public move of his. In fact\nshe has become one of the great public characters in the\nlife of England. His opinion on every conceivable subject\nis sought for and widely published, reaching these shores\noften the same day by cable transmission. Only recently\nhe was assiduously engaged in fighting a number of clergy-\nmen who had shown concern for the state of public\ndecency by the dancing of Gaby Deslys at the Palace\nTheatre in London.\nShaw defended the dancer at the expense of the morality\nsought for by the churchmen. There is no man who\nloves a fight better than he, and it might be said of him\nthat if he is not engaged in some big public controversy\nhe is an unhappy Shaw-\nIt may be interesting to know that Shaw enjoys ad-\ndressing a public meeting. When in London recently I\nfound an opportunity during a hurried visit to the Empire\ncapital to listen to Shaw. In appearance he is a somewhat\nthin man, with bushy hair and thick eye-brows. His hair\nis red, on the verge of turning white. He is no orator,\nbut he speaks in a clear decisive tone, heard through a\nlarge space. He is thoroughly at home on the platform\nand keenly enjoys the privilege of speaking. His brilliant\nwit is plentifully exercised in his speeches, and I suppose,\nthis accounts for the huge audiences he is able to gather\nin any part of England. When speaking to these, even\non the most serious subjects, he is able generally to con-\nvulse them with laughter with a sudden quick turn of wit.\nHere is an example of a Shavian speech delivered three\nyears ago, in London, before a crowded gathering at the\nRoyal Albert Hall, which comfortably seats ten thousand\npersons, at a meeting that was held to protest against the\nimprisonment of the Irish labor leader, James Larkin\n(who was later quickly released by the Liberal Govern-\nment) .\n\"I am an old Dublin Home Ruler,\" began. Mr. Shaw,\n'like Sir Edward Carson (laughter). Being an in-,\ntelligent Irishman, I left Dublin at the age of twenty,\n(laughter). I have not lived there since and do not\nintend to live there again.\"\nMr. Shaw v/ent on to say that he was glad to hear that\nin Dublin there were 20,000 people who had a room\napiece to live in. uln my time,\" said Shaw, \" there was\nno such luxury. We very often had two families in one\nroom and both of the families took in lodgers.\"\nAt the end of his speech he made a seditious statement,\nand turning to the reporters, expressed his hope that they\nwould report him well and then challenged arrest by the\nGovernment.\nThere is nothing, I suppose, which would have pleased\nShaw better than that the challenge had been taken up.\nThe Serious Shaw\nBut beneath all this public tom-foolery of Shaw there\nis a deep serious side to his life work, which is gradually\nbeing realized in England to-day. Instead of small coteries\nof Shavian worshippers (whom Shaw, by the way, hates)\nthere is a growing understanding of the mind of this\nunique personality.\nIt is being realized that this man who has claimed he is\ngreater than Shakespeare is in reality one of the finest\ncritics and lovers of the real Shakespeare. It is also being\nrealized that this waiter who at every opportunity has dug\nhis shaft of merciless wit at all the dear characteristics\nof Englishmen is really the keenest admirer of their in-\nherent qualities.\nA Society Hero\nIt is probably one of the severest punishments ever\nallotted to Shaw when some years ago his books became a\nso.ciety fad. For some seasons Shavian ideas or what were\nunderstood as Shavian ideas reigned supreme in London\ndrawing rooms. His arrow lost a good deal of its poison.\nIt might be said that Shaw has made most of his money\nfrom the people whom he caricatured, but who came to\nsee his plays.\nIt is being realized to-day that this castigator of modern\nrespectability is a very careful and chaste liver. That this\n\\ •-\n\nG. Bernard Shaw. Drawing by S. Raieter"}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "892", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.8", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\napologist for the art of Gaby Deslys is a staunch moralist.\nIt is also realized that this brilliant scoffer of religion is\na truly religious man; that this unforgiving critic of the\nchurch merely requires a higher ideal for it. In fact,\nShaw, whether he knows it or not, is in love with every-\nthing he sees in life. There are many things he sees which\nmay be wrong, but he realizes that at the bottom of it all\nthere is the fallible human being. And with this human\nbeing, types of which he portrays in his plays, Shaw is\nreally happy, for he likes to punch and pounce upon him,\nand does this in so brilliant and humorous a manner that\nthe type criticized is forced to laugh at the rich humor of\nit all. Shaw's bitterest complaint against his now widen-\ning public (for many years he denounced the play-going\npublic for not appreciating his work) is that they laugh\nat his plays. He has written a brilliant essay on the\nSubject in which he worked up his anger to fever pitch,\nwell knowing that if people did not laugh at his plays\nhe would, from his pedestal, call up the vengeance of\nHades upon them for a lot of dull knaves.\nJust before the war, he left England to supervise the\nfirst production of a new play to take place in Vienna,\nclaiming that the lack of understanding of his plays on the\npart of English critics spoils their property value for pro-\nduction abroad. He therefore,, as an English dramatist,\nfirst produced his new play in a foreign country, where\nit could have a fair and unprejudiced hearing.\nThe Courage of His Humor\nShaw has the courage of his jokes and sees them\nthrough. At a Socialist meeting in England at one time,\ncalled to protest against the conditions imposed upon\ntenants by English landlords, he said: \"I can speak with\nauthority on these conditions. I am a landlord myself.\"\nA Modest Man\nYet this man of whom I have thus spoken, of whom\nthe newspapers of Europe and America so often write,\nis privately one of the most modest and sensitive of men.\nIt was my privilege to meet Shaw and have a few\nmoments' chat with him. This man who can address an\naudience of ten thousand fearlessly and engage in tre-\nmendous public controversies, was actually sensitive at the\nmeeting in private of a new friend. He appealed to me\nas one of the mildest, most unassuming and courteous of\nmen. What impressed me in knowing him even but for a\nfew minutes, was his apparent interest in life.\nHe even takes a keen delight in the many strange\nletters which a man of his reputation naturally receives.\nSometime ago a young man wrote to Shaw for a loan of 20\npounds sterling. Shaw replied with a lengthy letter, going\ninto the minutest details of the young man's position as\ndefined in his letter, and made some excellent suggestions\nas to the course he would pursue. Shaw wrote all this\nbecause he said: \"I like the tone of your appeal, but I am\nafraid you are not clever enough to get twenty pounds\nout of me.\"\nOn another occasion an amateur dramatic society asked\nShaw to reduce the usual fee of five guineas for a presen-\ntation of \"You Never Can Tell.\" Shaw flatly refused to\nmake any concession, although repeated efforts were made\nin that direction. The young players were about to\npresent their performance, when Shaw was finally asked\nto climb down. Shaw refused. Then it occurred to the\nSecretary of the Club to ask Shaw to allow the per-\nformance to go on \"without any charge whatsoever\" and\nShaw immediately consented.\nMrs. Shaw\nIt needed but a glance at and a handshake with Mrs.\nShaw to convince me that in her Shaw was possessed (al-\nthough I am afraid this expression is strictly un-Fabian)\nof a charming life companion. \"I married for money,\"\nShaw usually declares in public and his wife affectionately\nsmiles upon him as he says it.\nMrs. Shaw is, incidentally, a woman of wealth in her\nown right. She is an authoress and is a translator of\nBrieux plays into English. Shaw declares himself to be\nhis wife's slave. \"I have to be,\" he adds, amid the\nlaughter, in which his wife joins.\nAs a dramatist, Shaw has practically created a new\nform of playwriting. Whilst he has ignored every canon\nof the laws of dramatic technique, he has produced the\nmost complete and entertaining of plays. His \"Man and\nSuperman\" will long live as the comic masterpiece of the\nage. Shaw has actually been able to destroy many a\nprejudice in good old England. After all there is a good\ndeal in the strength of powerful ridicule and when it is\ndelivered with brilliancy and across the open forum of\nthe stage, it can produce vital effects.\nAs a Socialist, Bernard Shaw has shown the really\nserious side of himself and his contributions to the Fabian\nliterature are fraught with able and constructive ideas for\na future ideal state. I remember an evening in London\nwhen two of Shaw's plays were running in the capital\nand a third was being given its premier performance, yet\nShaw was to be found in his place on the platform at the\nfortnightly meeting of the Fabian Society, at which some\nintricate idea of Sidney Webb's on Poor Law Reform was\nbeing discussed. Shaw's attitude on Socialism has often\nbeen misunderstood. He is no sentimentalist and feels\nthat the English working class element are to be scoffed\nat for the smallness of their demands, and for their lack\nof solidarity. When speaking of the splendid solidarity\nexisting amongst capitalists, Shaw adds, \"I ought to know.\nI am a capitalist myself.\" These jokes make a good deal\nof enemies for Shaw. But really, his idea is to put up the\nbacks of the working classes and get them to realize\nwhat a deadly enemy this system is in which they live\nand to which they would dare to become reconciled.\nIt will be to the credit of Shaw, that he above all other\nwriters in England to-day. has not lost his head through\nthe war. His \"Common Sense and the War\" created a\nsensation throughout the world and showed clearly how\n\"junkerism\" of the English and German varieties were\nreally responsible for this horrible and totally unnecessary\nslaughter of the innocents. Whilst Galsworthy, Wells,\nMaterlinck, Hauptmann, Anatol France and all the other\ngreat European writers immediately enrolled themselves 1\non the side of patriotism, Shaw's unsentimentality served\nto his advantage and his common sense was able to see\nabove this seething mass of combatants and realize that\nthe whole thing had to be because there naturally must be\nan explosion at some time, when there is a lot of loose\ngunpowder about.\nShaw's deadly criticism of the danger of German mili-\ntarism was hailed with delight by Englishmen but his\nequal denunciation of English navalism as a danger to\nthe peace of the world, left them strongly resentful. Thus"}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "893", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.9", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nShaw in these latter days is disliked by many an English-\nman who admires him and his utterances, wherevei\npossible, are officially censored. The day will come, how-\never, when it will be realized and appreciated that this\n\"clown\" of English public life, art and literature, was\nfilled with a love, not especially designed for Englishmen,\nScotchmen and Irishmen but for all humanity, whose\nfoibles and weaknesses he understood, and whilst he\ndamned them he had not lost hope for their redemption.\n\nDennis Denmore\n\nThe Raiment of the Lily and the\nClothing of the Cabbage\nA Fairy Tale by Feodor Sologub\nUPON a bed in a garden grew a lily. She was all\nwhite and she had purple wings; she was proud\nand beautiful to look upon.\nQuietly she whispered to the wind who had caressed her\ngently as he passed her on his journey:\n\"Slow—slow! I am a royal lily and even the wise\nSolomon never clothed himself with such costly and\nbeautiful vestments as I wear every day.\"\nNot very far from the flower garden, a cabbage dwelt\namong the vegetables.\nHe heard what the lily had said and thought:\n\"This old Solomon, I think, was a sansculotte. What\ndid those people wear in the Biblical age? If they\ncovered their nudeness barely with some old wrappings,\nthey thought they were dressed after the latest fashion.\nIt was I who showed people how one should dress and I\nam mightily proud of it: close to the body an undershirt,\nupon it a shirt, upon this a corset, upon this a chemise,\nupon this a brassiere, upon this a waist, and mariy skirts,\nunder skirts and upper skirts, and a coat, and then an\novercoat: a covering foliage on all sides—and nothing\ncan be seen of the stalk. That is warm and decent.\"\n(Translated by Guido Bruno)\n\nThree Tales by N. Shebonev\nH. Thompson Rich\nAge\n1 ASKED a pretty looking girl of fourteen:\n\"How old are you?\"\nWithout thinking she answered:\n\"Sixteen, soon!\"\nI asked a pretty looking girl of eighteen:\n\"How old are you?\"\nShe replied promptly:\n\"Seventeen, soon!\"\nI asked a pretty looking girl of sixteen:\n\"How old are you?\"\nShe thought long, kept silence long and answered\nresolutely:\n\"Sixteen!\"\nA woman at the age of sixteen does not know yet\nwhether she should add to her age or reduce.\nThe First One\n'\"PHEY occupied their seats in the first row of the or-\nA ches^ra.\nHe noticed, when they passed through the aisle, that\nseveral men, who were strangers to him, half-respectfully,\nhalf freely, bowed to her.\n\"And yet I am the first one to whom she yielded. And\nno one of these men knows what treasures she hides under\nthat costly dress which I ordered from Paris/'\nHe did not know that each of the five men that greeted\nher and with whom she lived thought:\n\"And yet I was the first to whom she yielded.\"\nEvery respectable man, who becomes intimately con-\nnected with every so-called, respectable woman, thinks:\n\"I am the first man whom she really loved.\"\nAnd evtry so-called respectable woman thinks:\n\"He is the last man whom I really love.\"\nBy this the so-called respectable women are being dis-\ncriminated from the so-called not respectable ones.\nWomen and Business\nt t NFORTUNATELY I must leave you. I have to\ngo about my business.\"\nI took my hat.\nShe glanced at me with her little gray eyes and said:\n\"I ask you to remain!\"\nThe business was a very serious one.\nThe woman was a very unserious one.\nBut I remained.\n• • • • •\n\"Unfortunately I must leave you. I have to go about\nmy business.\"\nShe raised her brown eyes and said:\n\"I ask you to remain.\"\nThe woman was a very serious one.\nThe business was a very unserious one.\nBut I did not remain.\n(Translated from the Russian by Mark Weinbaum)\nOn a Fifth Avenue Bus\nIf E sat meekly,\n* A small stature of a man,\nBald-headed in the hot sun—\nToo cowed to be uncomfortable.\nAnd beside him\nHulked a huge woman,\nManifestly his wife,\nWith a fairly well-conditioned moustache\nOver her thick lip,\nAnd several dozen sturdy hairs towards a beard\nOn her rubbery chin.\n... !\nAnd I smiled\nTo think of the next generation!"}, {"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "894", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.10", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nJohn Duncan Fergusson\nWith 6 Drawings by Fergusson\n\nIN the course of those sparkling pages which set him in\nthe foremost of all letter-writers, Byron observes that\na great artist's work has literally no kinship with his or-\ndinary, daily life. And, if these words appear somewhat\nfoolhardy at first sight—for is not a true master's art es-\nsentially the reflection of his personal contact with the\nworld ?—a very little thought serves to reveal the shrewd-\nness and soundness of the poet's comment. It is those ad-\njectives, \"ordinary\" and\"daily,\" which form the key to\nthe significance of the passage, what Byron desired to em-\nphasize being that fine literature and music, painting and\nsculpture, do not originate in the mere tedium of diurnal\nexistence, but in those occasional hours, or moments, per-\nhaps, wherein there is experienced ecstasy or deep sorrow,\ntwo elements which are curiously akin. Wandering as a\nyoung man in the Pyrenees, and thrilled ever and again by\nthe superb effects presented by the skies there, Gavarni\nwas forced to admit, in his journal, that he failed to per-\npetuate what he felt thus deeply, his hand lacking the re-\nquisite dexterity to capture the evanescent. But, then, to\naccentuate Byron's point, dexterity in this way is among\nthe prime things the artist must strive to attain. And it is\nhis pronounced gift in this relation, his frequent success\njust where Gavarni confessed himself a failure, which\nchiefly constitute Fergusson something of a master, fleet-\ning phases of beautiful color being what he records with\nmost skill.\nThe Scottish Impressionists\nJohn Duncan Fergusson is a Scotsman, and it is one of\nthe laurels of Scotland that painting was carried on there,\nactively and well, considerably before it was practised to\nmuch purpose in England. There the Renaissance had\nsignally little immediate influence, but in mediaeval Scot-\nland a genuine love of art distinguished king after king,\nparticularly James 111, who welcomed artists to his court,\nwhile in those days taste in Scotland was further nurtured\nby her close intimacy with France. The league between\nthe two countries, mentioned early in the fifteenth cen-\ntury by the French poet, Alain Chartier, as being even\nthen of great antiquity, had indeed a very marked effect\non Scottish art throughout the middle ages. And al-\nthough, with the advent of the modern world, it seemed\nthat this league was destined to fade away presently, events\nin Scotland the day before yesterday showed her still ready\nto learn from her ancient ally. The year 1862 is a mem-\norable date in the history of French art, inasmuch as it\nwitnessed the founding of the Salon des Refuses, those\nwho mainly brought this about being the group subse-\nquently styled Impressionists, whose creed was at this date\nkeenly opposed to their own country. Nor did the Im-\npressionists find much favor at first in England, but in\nScotland the remote Northern town of Aberdeen early\nevinced interest in their work, while shortly this became\nfamiliar too in the vast commercial city of Glasgow.\nMoreover, apart from being admired there, the French\nImpressionists soon -began to elicit a certain emulation\namong a band of young Glasgow painters, or at least,\npainters who mainly exhibited their works in that\n\nPortrait of Frank Harris"}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "895", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.11", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\ntown. And before long this emulation began to develop\nquickly, these Scotsmen accepting, far more implicitly\nthan any other men in all Europe, the attitude of the\nFrenchmen at issue. The movement brought forth a deal\nof really great work, for instance the pictures of George\nHenry and Hornel, Lavery, McTaggart and Arthur Mel-\nville, a yet rarer master than these being Sir James Guth-\nrie. Accordingly, in the closing decades of the nineteenth\ncentury, the \"Glasgow School of Art\" became a familiar\nterm everywhere, being frequently used in an honorable\nsense by many of the more discerning French critics, not-\nably Camille Mauclair; while in 1890 the vast Interna-\ntional Exposition, at Munich, wisely assigned a fair quota\nof space to these Scottish artists. At this time Fergusson\nwas just beginning to paint, and, finding the Impressionist\ncreed so very prominent among his compatriots, he inevi-\ntably came under its spell, his early works signifying es-\npecially an admiration on his part for Arthur Melville.\nFriends and Influences\nThere were numerous other young Scotsmen of this\nperiod, who, sharing enthusiastically Fergusson's predilec-\ntion for the French Impressionist school, naturally became\nhis close friends. Ablest among these were Porter, Joseph\nSimpson and S. J. Peploe, the first-named a gifted painter\nv of flowers, while the latter pair are both nowadays widely\nto known outside their native Scotland. And Peploe, un-\n[ questionably, exercised a strong influence on Fergusson,\n| stimulating his native powers as a colorist, there being\nr something else which simultaneously came to mould the\nbudding artist's outlook and tastes. For if Scotland was\nquicker than England to recognize the founders of the\nSalon des Refuses, she was quicker likewise in according\nhomage to Whistler; and, in days when he was still a\nlaughing-stock at Burlington House, his portrait of Car-\nlyle was bought by the Municipal Gallery, Glasgow.\nFurthermore, he was elected an honorary associate of the\nScottish Academy, which, on his death, was the sole ar-\ntistic body, in Great Britain, officially sending representa-\ntives to his funeral. And a little afterwards the Academy\norganized a splendid loan collection of his works in Edin-\nburgh, while next the Society of Scottish Artists, also an\nEdinburgh institution, contrived to borrow, for one of\ntheir exhibitions, Whistler's Princesse du Pays de la Por-\ncelaine. These different things by the master awakened in-\ntense fervor among young Scottish painters, none of them,\npossibly, manifesting more ardour in this relation than Fer-\ngusson, who used to go every day to see the Princesse dur-\ning its stay in the Scottish capital. But whilst studving\nWhistler with so much closeness and love, whilst imbibing\nhis aifection for the subtle coloring of night, Fergusson\ndid not fail to give plenteous attention meanwhile to more\nvirile artists than the \"Butterfly,\" two such with whom\nhe was long greatly preoccupied being Sargent and Goya.\nSince then he has left Scotland, making his home in Paris,\nwhere of late years he would seem to have learnt a good\ndea± from IVlatisse and his school, who have given him a\nlove for the most glowing tones. With all this assimila-\ntion, however, he remains a very individual worker: an\nartist expressing in his own fashion his actual experiences."}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "896", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.12", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nHis Art\nAnd to repeat, Fergusson is before all else a colorist,\nperhaps almost as exclusively devoted to color as Monti-\ncelli before him. Simpson's chief gift -is for the happy\nplacing of masses of black, while it is evident that Porter\nis keenly susceptible to the inner significance of his sub-\njects; and it is obvious that Peploe is passionately alive to\ngrace, to the rhythm presented by draperies, or by the\nhuman form, his brilliant draughtsmanship, enabling him\nto utter perfectly his fondness herein. But, though Fer-\ngusson's drawing is in no way inefficient, it is seldom or\nnever intrinsically lovely; and it is axiomatic that the\ncolor of things, not their .shape, is what quickens his\npulses, inspiring him to create. Wisely holding that an\nemotion should if-possible be registered instanter, he was\nlong wont to carry in his pocket a tiny box of water-col-\nors, the sketches he made with it to be afterward ampli-\nfied in oils; and, from this excellent practice, he evolved\nsome of the most charming things Scotland has ever pro-\nduced. One was a scene on the Firth of Forth, near\nEdinburgh, wherein the drowsiness of afternoon, the soft-\nness then of the tints in sea and sky, were reincarnated\nwith an apparently complete adequacy. Another showed\nfireworks flashing across the blackness of night, while yet\nanother figured a square in Cadiz, au clair de la lune;\nand there come to mind numerous further nocturnes, in\neach of which the most tender nuances are exquisitely\nperpetuated. It is pleasant to reflect that one of these\npictures belongs to no less eminent a critic than Mr. Hal-\ndane Macfall, again pleasant to reflect that a portrait, by\nFergusson, has lately been acquired by Mr. Frank Rutter,\none of the best of contemporary English writers on art.\nAnd this portrait is indeed symbolical, or nearly symboli-\ncal, of the Scottish artist's skill; for there is here but little\nillusion of life, little real adumbration of the setter's char-\nacter, the picture owing its charm simply to its beautiful,\ntasteful coloring. It is a minor song, then, which this\nyoung Scotsman sings; but, if by no means worthy to be\nhailed as an artist of lofty order, does he not often sing\nthis minor song of his divinely?\n\nW. G. Blaikie Murdoch\n\nThe Attic\nA NNIE doesn't want to.it\nit was all in vain, what Father said, and what\nMother said, and what the Governess said. Perhaps she\ncannot do it. But it is the crude necessity of life that\none must do things and therefore I have to go to extremes.\nI impart to her that she will have to remain the whole\nafternoon in the attic. Of course she starts to cry im-\nmediately . . . she cries heart-breakingly.\nBut I know how to quiet her.\n\"There is nothing to be ashamed of when one has to\nstay in the attic all afternoon,\" I said to her. \"A little\ngirl is sent to the attic usually if she needs to meditate\nvery seriously. She can't meditate in Father's study be-\ncause there is the Father, and not in the living room be-\ncause there is the Mother. In the nursery brothers and\nsisters are playing and the bedrooms are being aired for the\nnight. The attic is the only place where a little girl can\nbe all alone and reason with herself.\"\nAnd so we ascend to the attic.\nFor awhile the air is filled with sobbing. Now all is\nquiet.\n\"Are you thinking nicely?\" I call up to her.\n\"Father . . . can I come down . . .?\"\n\"Not before this evening. You must think hard up j\nthere so it will last for a long while; I know it isn't very\namusing up there in the attic and it wouldn't be nice if\nyou have to be sent there soon again.\"\nA little while later I throw her an orange through the\nwindow.\nAnd after another little while she received a little note\nwritten in big letters:\n\"How are you, comrade?\"\n\"Father . . . were you ever sent to the attic?\"\n\"Surely,\" I answer. \"Three times they sent me up\nto think while I was small.\"\n\"Father ... I think I'll never need to go up here\nagain.\"\nIn the evening after it had grown dark, I call for\nher in the attic and take her down with me. She has big\neyes, her lips are tightly closed and solemnly she presses\nmy hand.\n(After the Swedish of Carl Ewald by Guido Bruno.)\n\nA Poor Man's Partner\nSamson V. Becker.\nV/ OU have ridden in the street cars and met her—or\n* was it the subway? It matters not where—you\nmust have seen her. I mean the woman of the tired eyes\nShe always has a child with her; wouldn't seem natural\nwithout a child holding tightly to her hand; a painfully\nclean, frowsy hatred youngster, all eyes. Oh, you know\nher—the woman across the aisle; she with the cheap, oh,\nso evidently home made dress; with the carefully polished\nshoes, run down at the heels; with the old, old hat with\nsombre trimming, time stained and ancient; she of the\nwork marked hands, and the wan, sorrow-lined face, thin\nand almost emaciated. Not quite the society woman, you\nsay? You are right, my friend. The hands have slaved\nat household tasks too long to look the society woman's.\nThe clothes she wears are hers, not from choice, but from\nnecessity. The eyes have lost their brightness, gazing at\nthe future, hopeless and devoid of promise. She really\nisn't old enough to be entitled to the wrinkles in her face;\nbut they are wrought of sorrow, not time. There was a\ntime—long ago—in her girlhood—but that is long ago.\nYes, my friend, she is a poor man's wife; a poor man's\nhelpmate; a poor man's partner. Look well at her, that\nyou may know her—and wonder at the lump in your\nthroat, at the pain in your heart. Gaze i*pon her with\nlowered eyes, for she represents in its purest form a trait\nthat poets have eulogized, nations have rewarded, and\nhumanity has worshipped ever since the world began\n\n\"Are people any good to us at all?\" asked the inexper-\nienced calf of its mother.\n\"Surely, dear child,\" answered the cow. \"They are\nour cemeteries and in one of them your papa is laid away,\""}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "897", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.13", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nCommercialism?—Of Course Not\nIn Our Village\n\nI OVERHEARD an interesting conversation a few days\n* ago, in a Fifth Avenue bus. Two elderly ladies, evi-\ndently sight-seers who had come d®wn to the Village to\nexplore its mysteries, seemed dissatisfied with the results\nof their search for that Boheme they had come all the\nway from Peoria, Illinois, to find in our midst. They\nwere loaded with packages, and it was evident that the\nGift shops of Greenwich Village had gotten the money\nthat was intended to grant them a peep behind the scenes\nof another kind of life, that kind which cannot be found\nin Peoria, Illinois. These two matrons came to the con-\nclusion that after all there is not very much difference\nbetween the shops up town and those in Greenwich\nVillage. The difference which they pointed out were\nthe weird color schemes of sales rooms and sales-ladies\nand the much higher purchase prices as compared with\nthose in Chinatown and the ten cent stores in the shopping\ndistrict.\nIs it really commercialism that induces our shop-keepers\nto open their shops? Was it here, too, the eternal strife\nfor money that converted souls once consecrated, to become\nmoney changers in the Temple of Art?\nAnd so I walked up and down the line: to our oddity\ncellars and village stores and treasury boxes and paint\nboxes and mad hatter's shops—.\nWhat delightful, innocent children these girls and boys\nare, who sit behind the counter and make themselves be-\nlieve that they are business people! Surely enough they\nhave shelves, they have wares on their shelves, and they\nhave hung out their shingles inviting passersby to become\ncustomers. But selling is the means to the end; to make\nmoney, is foreign to their innocent souls. Dressed fan-\ntastically like the early arrivals at a fancy costume ball,\nthey are just hungry to show people how nicely they know\nto combine colors, to show them what excellent taste they\nhave in choosing their surroundings. They are proud of\ntheir eccentricities, and they wouldn't change with the\nVanderbilts when they strike an impossible, never heard-of\ncombination. People come and look at them and do not\nknow whether to turn to the right or to the left, astonished\nby so much imagination surrounded by tenement houses,\nthundering elevators, screeching cars and hundreds of\nragged children.\nAsk these merchants of our community for the balance\nsheets of their last month's sales and you will find that\nthey are paid only by their own pleasure and satisfaction\nin being permitted to do exactly the things they wish to do.\nDo you remember the delightful hours you spent in your\nnursery playing store-keeper? Especially if your mother\nwas of a sunny disposition and came herself once in a\nwhile to buy and to chat. You liked the chatting far\nbetter than the selling. So do the shop-keepers in Green-\nwich Village. They want you to come and ask for things,\nthey want you to look at their things, they want you to\ntake a seat and talk, but they are not particularly anxious\nto sell you anything. In many cases they are even sorry\nif they see your willingness to part with your money and\nthey have to lose that particular article which lent so\nmuch color and atmosphere to their little shop. They\nare such lovable children,—our shop keepers.\nThat distinguished duet of old villagers, the sisters\nWoodin, are back again to their hunting grounds, living\nthis time on the Square. However, not on aristocratic\nNorth Side. They are specializing at present in grinding\nout Village stories as copy for such noble publications\nas are ready to purchase at a cent a word.\n\nFigures from the Square"}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "898", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.14", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nSumner Williams, of moving picture fame, and Tom\nSleeper, the New Jersey hermit and weaver of verse, had\nin the moonlight of a romantically vicious night, a mem\norable discourse upon poetry in general and in especial.\nTom stuck up for the poets of his youth and Edgar Allen\nPoe was the apple of discord between these two masters\nof life and of other things. Sumner Williams was in his\nrecitative mood; yards and yards of poetry he unspun\nfrom the spool of his memory. Not even the lightning\nand the thunder that the angry heavens sent from un-\nclouded skies could silence the cyclone of his enthusiasm.\nAnd while Tom tried to prove conclusively that Edgar\nAllen Poe was the only American poet, as he reminded\nWilliams that he himself had been the inspiration to\nardent Poe worship, thousands of verses lost their ad-\nherence to stanzas and came forth from the overflowing\nsoul of Sumner like strong odors which, in mingling with\nother strong odors, have lost their fragrance.\n\"Lee Masters is a poet, too,\" said Tom in the course\nof his unlistened-to discussion of poetry.\nLike a cataract of ice-cold water acted the name of Lee\nMasters upon Williams. Abruptly he came to a finish.\nNot one more word would he utter after the ghosts of\nthe \"Spoon River Anthology\" had crept into the room.\n- Such is the contempt Sumner Williams fosters against\nthe nomination of the \"Spoon River Anthologist\" for a\nP Doris Carlyle returned from her summer home in New\nJersey with a new and extreme love for extreme and new\ncolors. I challenge anyone to produce a green similar\nto that of her brilliant new gown.\nThe only letter box that adorns usefully the bouth\nSide of the Square, wras stolen Tuesday night by unknown\nthieves. It is a most extraordinary mystery which should\nbe exploited fittingly by that distinguished singer of\nGreenwich Village who is composing his rhapsodies for\nthe Cosmopolitan in one of the tower rooms of the Judson\nHotel. Why shouldn't Mr. Munsey assign the venerable\nConan Doyle to this \"Mystery of the Stolen Letter Box\nand amuse the million readers of his elevating fiction with\na delicious bit of Greenwich Village news?\nI'l J'UftMl III! ■■■\n\nBooks and Magazines of the Week\nA Revival of Russian Literature\nQ URELY it is better to get things late than not to get\nthem at all. But I cannot help but object most\nstrenuously when a certain class of literary explorers,\nAmerican and English, are constantly trying to s.erve us\nforeign authors, whom they have discovered recently,\nEnglish-ed and published, as brand-new people never heard\nof before. Always during the past 150 years, whenever\nEngland and Russia became Allies for some reason or\nother, Russian authors were in vogue in London and in\nthe course of a year or so, in America. And after the\nalliance was broken off, and Russia ana England assumed\ntheir old attitude of indifference of hostility, the Russian\nbooks were put on the high shelves, the authors forgotten\nand Russian literature, contemporary and past, remained\nas before, a terra incognita, and a resourceful field for\ndiscoverers and explorers.\nFleet St.was ransacked immediately after the outbreak\nof the present war for Russian novels, translated duung\nn■■ ■ i ■■\nthe late Crimean campaign. And lo! Gogol was dis-\ncovered. Artzibasheff was found, and all the others who\nhave since come to this country and played their important\npart in the literary events of 1915 and 1916.\nThanks to Mr. Alfred A. Knopf, the young publisher\nwho gave us so many good books during the first year of\nhis activities in New York, we can shake hands with\nFeodor Sologub. Germany had him as far back as 12\nyears ago. Translations of his fairy tales, of his parables\nand of his novels appeared during that memorable period\nof the last decade of the nineteenth century and the first\nfive years of the twentieth century, in German magazines\ngalore. Collections of these translations were issued in\npamphlet form and in a few slim volumes by reputable\npublishers.\nIt is interesting to note how Russia has communicated\nits literature for the past 50 years to the world. Russian\nrevolutionists always have lived in France and Germany at\nclose quarters with Slavic revolutionists of Austria. The\nfacilities for printing and distributing radical literature\nwere excellent in England, especially in London, that open\nport of dissatisfied citizens of all countries. The refugees\ntranslated authors whom they liked into French but much\nmore into German, the universal language in that hotbed\nof Slavic aspirations, Austria-Hungary. Via the German\nlanguage they reached England. Not from the original\nRussian were most of those translations made which gave\nus Russian authors for the first time, but from the French\nand in many more cases, from the German.\nIt would take generally twenty years for the Russian\nauthor, translated for the first time into German, to reach\nthe friendly shores of America. As an example Sologub\nmay serve.\nSologub's Little Demon\nJohn Cournos, one of the compares the art\nof Sologub with Gogol's masterful sketches of everyday\nRussian life, with his \"Dead Souls.\" The tertium com-\nparationis in this case as in many others where the works\nof great men are compared each with the other, cannot be\nanything but the genius displayed by both.\nGogol is the great satirist, but the idealist and Russian\npatriot, who has turned to the fantastic and to the mystic}\nbecause he lacked the strength to be a reformer and to\nfight for better conditions. A man who was born a hundred\nyears ahead of his time, who analyzed the Russian condi-\ntions by putting the Russian character under a microscope.\nHe knew his compatriots, and he brutally tore away the\nfuneral regalia which covered the putrid corpse of a cor-\nrupt and rotten administartion, which made slaves out of\nninety-five £er cent of the population of his country. But\nhe not only pictured things as they were. He pointed out\nwith the exactness of the expert in social economics the\ncauses of the prevailing conditions in private life as\nas in official life. He created new figures, ideals of men\nand women such as must bring about conditions that made\nliving worth while in the country he loved better than his\nown life. He has the foresight of a great statesman and\nmost of his prophecies have either come true a hundred\nyears after his death, or they could come true if to-day\nthe idealistic figures in his \"Dead Souls\" would find\nfollowers among the leaders of Russian destinies."}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "899", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.15", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nGogel loved Russia. He loved the Russians with all\ntheir faults and all their weaknesses. He was too much\nof a poet and of a dreamer to become a realist and so his\n\"Dead Souls\" was the last word he said to Russia before\nhe went into exile. There he became a mystic and a\nphantast. Some of his stories—they are not translated\nas yet into English—remind one of Poe and of that other\nunfortunate poet, A. T. Hoffmann. Read the last\nsentence in the second volume of his \"Dead Souls.\" In\nthese eight lines he tells you what he wanted, how he loved\nRussia and how he firmly believes in the progress and the\nultimate good fortunes of all its citizens.\nSologub is not a satirist. He is not a glowing patriot,\nwho wishes to hold a mirror before the eyes of all the\nRussians. Sologub lives in a little circle, whose center he\nis himself. He is a master painter, who loves the detail of\nthe miniature. No matter if he creates a fairy tale of\nabout twenty lines, or a novel of 350 pages: it is a\nmasterpiece as a whole and you can cut out an inch here\nor a fraction of an inch there and it will remain a master-\npiece in itself. It is just this art, to evolve the picture\nof a being as it is in life the picture one of us who make\nthe four hundred millions and paint it with the exactness\nas others do the episode of a millionaire who loses his\nmillions, or of a duke who marries the soap manufacturer's\ndaughter, which brings the Russian authors of to-day so\nnear to the heart of the American reader. It is you and\nI whom you see on the pages of Sologub, with all our\nmeanness, with our petty shrewdness, but also with all\nthe heroism which we must have if we don't want to come\nto grief on our journey to the unknown infinite.\nI see in\"The Little Demon\" something different than\ndo its translators. This book is one of the truest charac-\nterizations of Russia's educational systems, responsible\nfor its corrupt officials in all branches of the governmental\nadministration, responsible for the hypocrisy imbibed with\nthe spy system of Church and State, exercised in its coun-\ntry schools as well as later on in its colleges and universi-\nties. I see in \"Peredonov\" one of the many thousand\nschool-teachers who knout, with their stinking piety, their\nignorance that excludes knowledge from the schoolrooms\nand with their crouching submissiveness, millions into the\ndumbness of a stupid miserable existence. These \"Pere-\ndonovs\" are responsible for the millions of \"dead souls\"\nwhich are in times of peace the fodder of licensed whiskey\nmanufacturers, corrupted land owners, and thieving con-\ntractors commissioned by the Russian government; those\nmillions who are in times of war the prey of criminally\nbad conditions in their own army, of the cruelty of their\nsuperior officers and of the legitimate bullets of the enemy.\nI see in the headmaster \"Khripatch\" the ideal of a school\nman as he should be, as every teacher should be.\nSologub dispenses justice on earth to the creatures of\nhis phantasy. The teacher who tortures children entrusted\nto his care, who is a deceiver all his life, meets with the\nmost terrible destruction Nemesis can inflict upon a human\nbeing: insanity takes possession of him.\nThe two charming scenes in the book between \"Sasha\"\nand the \"Routinov\" girl remind one that Sologub must\nhave read Oscar Wilde. It is the very first time, at least\nto my knowledge, that the extravaganzas of an exquisite\nsoul mate-ship are introduced on Russian soil, in the midst\nof the humble life of peasants, surrounded with the\nluxuries of more refined and civilized classes than the\nremaining milieu of the book.\n\nMorality\nPeter John James\nthere was a young and handsome humming\nbird. He had just come to that age where all\nnormal humming \"birds desire to leave the parental nest\nand fly forth to see the world. For days he had frolicked\nand flitted about the open field; sped up and down the\nsun-beams; tossed about on the warm summer breezes\nand finally he saw a flower.\nShe was a remarkably pretty flower. It must have\nbeen a very irresponsible wind which had blown her seed\nupon that rough hard ground, for she stood quite alone in\nthe big uncultivated field. She had in fact the most\nuncongenial position in the world.\nUncouth grasses lay about her little stem and scratched\nit. Big fat bees bothered her with their attentions.\nPrickly vines and briars were a continual menace to her\ncomfort. Briefly, she was a most unhappy flower.\nThen she looked up and saw the humming bird- * He\nhad already decided that she was a charming creature,\nbut first he wished to note her surroundings. Apparently,\nthere was nothing to stop him so he circled about her\nseveral times. He saw the delicate poise of her head, and\nher brilliant coloring. Suddenly desire swelled the hum-\nming bird's breast. He asked her:\n\"Will you be my mistress?\"\nAnd because the flower wanted to bring forth others\nof her kind, she said that she would.\nSo they mated and all the world turned away—laughed\nat her or shunned her, because she was bad.\nBut the sun pondered deeply over her in the heavens.\n*\nThe humming bird was older and the field held no\nmore adventures.\nSo he wandered about greatly bored. Finally he came\nupon a lovely little garden.\nIt was fenced and latticed all around and exhaled a\ncultivated perfume of great richness.\nIt needed only a glance to tell anyone that every flower\nin that garden could not help but be a very exclusive and\nwell brought-up flower.\nThere was one especially which caught the humming\nbird's eye and like the other, she was remarkably pretty.\nAgain the humming bird stopped and circled around,\ncarefully noting her environment.\nThis time there were all kinds of gruff, elderly flowers\nwho asked him questions:\n\"What was his occupation?\" \"How far back could\nhis ancestry be traced?\" \"Did he know Mrs. Buzz Wuzz,\nsocial leader of the humming birds?\" \"What were his\nintentions towards the pretty young flower?\" and finally\n\"what his income was?\"\nWhen he had answered all these questions to their\nsatisfaction he looked again at the flower and felt desire\nswell his breast. He said to her:\n\"Will you be my wife?\"\nAnd because she wanted to bring forth others of her\nkind, she said that she would.\nSo they were married and all the world nodded and\nsmiled, saying she was good.\nBut the sun still pondered in golden meditation-"}, {"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "900", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.16", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nWhy and How I Got Married\nMany hundred stories, brief and lengthy accounts, arrive every week at the desk of our Contest Editor. Most\nof them testify that marriage, even in our commonplace age, preserves its old romance and that to relate a story of\nhow Grandfather took Grandmother urges the pen into hands not otherwise ambitious of literary achievement. A\nhandful of these stories will be chosen every week for the perusal of our readers.\n\nPlaymates, College Sweethearts, and Married\nJ. G. V. (Los Angeles)\nAV7E became acquainted the third year of high school. It was\nnot \"love at first sight.\" We were too young and too\nbusy for such ideas. It was however, decided mutual liking.\nWe had dandy times at class affairs which we always attended\n• together, except once. That dance was dismal fun for us both.\nAfter graduation, camping out with friends, we tramped\ntogether constantly. Among rugged mountains, romantic and\npicturesque, he proposed. Rather young, yet he sincerely felt\nhe loved me. I liked him enough to want to love him. There-\nafter, we had hearts only for each other. Doubt never entered.\nWe both worked a year downtown, enjoying all social life\nand recreations together. Then we went away to college, every\nhope and ambition in common, though our courses were totally\ndifferent.. Our college life was brim full of work and happi-\nness. We were devoted lovers, though few realized it until\nthe engagement announcement, the Senior year.\nAfter college, he went mining. We thought we should perish,\nthose few months, the longest period we were ever apart. Daily\nbudgets consoled us. By special deliveries and telegrams, we\narranged our marriage in October. To avoid expense and dis-\nplay, the best man, our two sisters and mothers accompanied\nme to a country town where he met us. Other numerous rela-\ntives we escaped entirely. A simple church ceremony and\nwedding luncheon at Glenwood Tavern completed the formali-\nties. The wedding party played pranks on us until they\nreturned to the city at evening, but we were too happy to care.\nNext day we started for the mines. Three years alone in\nisolated desert places, gave us intimate mutual understanding.\nWe are now in town, with our two small boys. Five years\nengagement and nine years married life, find us more in love\nand harmony than ever—a true romance which we pray may\nnever be shattered.\n\nReminds Us of O. Henry's \"Service of Love\"\nF. W. W.\n¥ WAS nineteen and ambitious, ambitious to paint and become\nfamous. I had always been sketching and painting, ever\nsince I was old enough to hold a pencil. New York, to which\nI had been brought ten years previously, was seemingly in one\nmind with my folks to discourage me in my ambition. To me—\nthere was nothing else. The whole world was an inviting\ncanvas.\nResolved, to save enough money to take me back to Vienna.\nSomehow or other I would get along and study, learn to paint.\nEighteen months elapse. With two dollars and my ticket\non board the Kaiserin Auguste Victoria. Back to Vienna.\nWith a few disappointments I found serene Vienna as I faintly\nrecalled it and as I fondly it. I was learning t© paint,\nand very shortly afterwards, learning to love.\nWe met in Heinrich's studio. She was such a beautiful\ninspiration and so different from anything I had ever known\nin a girl before. An artistic soul in a beautiful person.\nAnd then, she cooked and occasionally baked for the both\nof us, and cared for my littered room. My ambitions were\nnow equally divided, between my art and to earn money enough\nto be married.\nWe're in America now. Yes, my wife and I, and yes, we're\nhappy.\nAn artist? No, I am building machinery. And Marie does\nthe cooking.\n\nBitter After Eighteen Years\nL. F.\nIAM thirty-seven years of age, the mother of two children,\nand the wife of a kind and loving husband; yet I am the\nmost miserable creature on the face of the earths If one won-\nders at this confession, one's wonder will cease upon reading\nthe following:\nI was born in Austria, and until I was sixteen, lived there\nand was happy. Then my parents died, and with their death\ncame misery.\nMy elder sister, who was married and lived in America,\nwas named as my guardian in my parents' will; so I sold\neverything and came to the \"Land of Promise.\"\nI turned the cash over to my sister, and she repaid me by\nsending me to work in a steam laundry owned by a relative.\nMy task there was both difficult and dangerous. I fed collars\nand cuffs to a machine which stiffened and rounded them into\nshape after they had been washed. So dangerous is this work\nthat the least slip on the part of the feeder may mean the\nloss of a finger or a hand.\nI liked the work, however, and would have been very happy\nhad not my sister told me one night that, my employer having\nfallen in love with me, had come to her and asked for my hand\nin marriage. She had consented, and I was to become his wife\nthe very next week.\nI almost collapsed. The man was fifteen years my senior and\nwas blind in an eye. \"Surely she was joking,\" thought I.\nWhen, however, she refused to deny the story, I rebuked her\nand questioned her right to sell me without my consent.\nShe replied by putting my trunk and myself out of her home.\nThat night I slept on my trunk in the hall, and the next morn-\ning went to work with a heart full of tears.\nMy head was in a turmoil all that morning, and ere noon the\nforefinger of my right hand was caught in the machine and torn\nfrom its socket.\nI was carried home in an unconscious condition, and it wasn't\nbefore a week that I knew where I was. I then learned that\nI had been married to my employer while in a semi-conscious\nstate, by an unscrupulous reverend, who was well paid for\nhis trouble.\nEighteen years have passed since, and although my husband\nadores and idolizes me, I hate and detest him.\nDivorce? I've tried that, but without funds one hasn't the\nslightest chance in New York State.\nSo I must live on with a man I loathe because of a rapacious\nsister and an unmerciful God."}, {"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "901", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.17", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY"}, {"page_pdf": 18, "page_imprimee": "902", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.18", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n( Continued from last issue)\n(To be continued)\nBruno's Weekly, published weekly by Bruno's Weekly, Inc. Charles Edison, Pres.; Guido Bruno, Vice-Pres.;\nWalter Jj. Eckert, Sec. and Treas., at 58 Washington Square, New York City. Edited and written by Guido\nBruno. Subscription $2 a year.\nEntered as second class matter at the Post Office of New York, N. Y., October 14th, 1915, under the Act\nof March 3d, 1897.\n1 .r\n\nJean\nBy Orrick Johns\nOne night Jean stayed to supper and Mrs. Hupp took\nthe chair by Martin's elbow and watched her so hard she\ncould not have looked once at her plate. Martin thought\nhe would never have been able to stand her looking at him\nthat way; it would have given him the jim-jams. But\nJean just talked and talked. All during the meal his\nmother kept hitting him on the arm and kicking his foot\nwhen he and Jean were talking to each other. She was\nso clumsy the girl saw it all. Once Mrs. Hupp kicked\nJean's foot by mistake. Jean said, \"Ouch, somebody\nkicked me!\" The old lady just took off her glasses and\nlooked at Martin hard and said, \"Bassoon!\" Then Jean\nbegan to cry and Martin thought she was putting on. But\nthat was all that was said.\nThe old lady got helpless and Martin had to help her in\nand out of bed. Jean told him a man could never nurse a\nsick person and came over to do it herself. The old wo-\nman had to submit, but she talked against it all the time\nas though it were something that still had to be decided.\nIf Jean made a change in the way of taking something oif\nher, or did anything unusual, she would push her away\nwith her feeble hands and sometimes slap her. But Mar-\ntin thought Jean always looked pretty after she quarreled\nwith his mother. One day Jean told him he ought to\nthink himself lucky because he had a mother who \"was so\ncrazy about him she couldn't look at anybody else.\" There\nare some people,\" she said, \"that just sit around all day\nloving a person and the only time they ever let up loving\n'em is when they say anything to them.\" She said his\nmother was like that. At first he did not believe her, but\nafterwards he felt like he knew his mother all of a sudden\nfor the first time.\nThe night his mother died, Jean was the first one he\nwrent to, but he made her bring some of the neighbors in\nwith her. She said she hated them, they were such old\nfools and acted around a dead person like a lot of chickens\nover an ear of corn. The first thing she asked him was:\n\"Have you got enough money to bury her nice?\" Martin\nheld out his hand with such a lot of bills in it as she had\nnever seen, and she counted two hundred dollars right\naway. \"She took my head in her hands and said I must\nlearn to tell the truth and not go through life acting like\na liar, and then she gave it to me,\" he said. Jean told\nhim Mrs. Hupp had always \"had it on her,\" because she\nfound it one night when she was undressing her, but the\nold womap did not know she knew anything about it. She\nsaid she hoped he would not take on, because it was only\na blessing when people were so old. Martin said: \"You\nwon't come over any more now; nobody will let you.\" She\njust shrugged her shoulders and told him he did not know\nmuch, and if you waited for people to let you do things\nyou would hold your hands. And she said, \"Anyway, it's\nno use coming where you're not wanted.\" Martin told\nher to \"shut her face.\"\nThe funeral was in June. Martin thanked the Lord\nwhen the neighbors stopped visiting. It was queer to be\nin the house alone; he thought it must be like that on ship-\nboard. When he was a boy he would have given his right\nhand to go to sea. He sat down in his mother's old chair\nand tried to cry. He found by feeling sorry foY himself\nand praying he could cry some, but not much. He thought\nhis sorrow hurt him so much he could not act like the\nothers. He had not seen Jean for two days. He would\nhave to make up his own bed now and cook his meals.\nHe was only going to keep the house until the lease ran\nout, because it was so cheap. The neighbors thought he\nought to get just a lodging, there were so many nice people\nnear, and it was indecent for a man to live in a house\nalone; though that was according to the man. Martin\ncould hardly believe that Jean would not come any more.\nThe next day he would have to go back to work and he\nwas tired and started to bed about nine o'clock. Jean\ncame in and saw him undressing. She screamed a little\nand sat down in a chair and said: \"You ought to be\nashamed of yourself—so early—and I had such a time\ncoming.\" Then she turned her back and said: \"I won't\nlook; but put on shirt and you can take me out for a\nwalk.\" Martin said it was not so early, it was nine any-\nway, and laughed and showed her the clock. She just\nlooked at it and said: \"When I look at a clock I always\nthink it would be better to be dead.\" Martin was so glad\nto see her he did not think about having his shirt off. She\nstood up and stamped her foot and said: \"This is awful!\nI'll go into the next room.\" He brushed his hair and they\nwent down the street together, after she went through the\nalley by the back way, and met him. \"They were all sit-\nting out at first and I had to wait,\" she said, \"but there\nare still some lights lit and the moon is so bright, and\npeople know more about you than you do yourself.\"\n\nEdith Haynes Thompson\nHER SHOP\nContaining Many Quaint and Beautiful Things\n58 WASHINGTON SQUARE SOUTH\nHours: 1 to 5.30 P. M.\n\nj. 112. McCarthy\nPAINTINGS AND\nANTIQUES\n30 WEST 46th STREET"}, {"page_pdf": 19, "page_imprimee": "[903]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.19", "texte": "HOTEL BREVOORT CAFE LAFAYETTE\nFifth Avmue University Plate*\nRAYMOND ORTEIG, INC.\nThe Two French Hotels and Restaurants of New York\n\nGONFARONE'S\n40 West 8th Street\n' i '4 % • , ; . • s fc \"\nTABLE D'HOTE\n\"Eating places are literary landmarks\" said O. Henry, speaking of Gonfarone's in one of his\nunexcelled Greenwich Village Stories.\n\nGreenwich Village Inn\n(Polly*.)\nBetween Washington Sq« & 6th Ave.\nService a la Carte\nOutdoor Dining Room\n\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\n9 ,\n80 West Washington Square\nSpring 6340\n\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\n\nArtistic Cushions\nhdadxng wool embroidery* Unique and original\ndesigns in patchwork. Cushions made to order.\nCall or write Sessers Studio Co*9 82 Washington\nP1.9 N. Y. Spring 1076.\n\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 6 p. m. Saturdays 10 p. m.\n\nT. D. Cox\nStationery and News Shop\nCirculating library\n68 Washington Place, N. Y.\n\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\n'Phone Spring 3922\nTHE DUTCH OVEN\n135 MacDoogal Street\nnear Washington Sq.\nOpen Air Dining Room\nHome Cooking\nLuncheon Tea Dinner"}, {"page_pdf": 20, "page_imprimee": "[904]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160805-01.1.20", "texte": "Rare Books First Edition\nISsEira |*JpMll Awsob&ii for CPrfirtMß# GM&\nVmtkmmi mmh «*\" *■ ®«*s fm fpm&pfo who ImM&it SJsbm# aor ®pgwrtass% to wsleet lor tiMMabwt\n«* iw §§»§» wife© few® not ace®» to tb» hmk Smik marli. Why not Hwfpfa coDectiac new?\nAJdrass, E. V. iMsa TwwiH Beaton* Man\n\nHMMO9 Afpwfe»f®t§ or $N\nPEPE &\nREAL ESTATE AND\n4110 Spring\nBRO.\nINSURANCE\n40 Sb. ill ■ S«w\ntjGßm ftiUHflflli—l\n\nIN WHICH\nw« mj Just wlat mm tllalk. PhMdbsi ®t«sgy m! by Wnw— Bil GaddM at 171 Wilson Avenu*\nfas MidUpis. It it a tittle bmk «fepßg? ffiwfcwtadL Write for «mpie copy.\n\nI BUY BOOKS\nSiafk Tolnw, assail late, ad! Kfewisss; 8«S©($rapk letters @1 btowa Mterary wmm ami\nartirts, dranvtegs, pidsnt and mimhn Address\n\"COLLECTOR,\" Cera of IrWs Weekly, 8® Waring Sq.\n\nROSSI BROTHERS\n<-f$ Waslnfiest Spm\nICE CREAM AND TOBACCO\n\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, Xt'a Very Easy to\nTake More Than Nothing.\"\n\"Nobody Asked Your Opinion\" Edith Uager.\n\nTbsr® on be ao pleasanter plb©® to bear tiaat raasarksiUs\nUrns; Recent fWw (IJSSSi) ifcs«t\nTHE DIAMOND DISC SHOP\nat Number 10 Fifth Avenue\nI\nlb tint store, at least, the defigbtfal staMfJhare »l Qfc§ Greenwfeb Village bas w»I\non the altar of\nA postal will bring yen, with oar\nen interesting little biography of Mr.\nPhone: Stayvesant 4570\nThos. A."}]}