{"numero_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_sha256": "a63105a751f338ab9c5d3b5a7666a2b3a980120f7ae7ae3204209351460592cf", "source_tei": "https://github.com/Princeton-CDH/bluemountain-transcriptions/blob/main/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1916/09/16_01/bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01.tei.xml", "source_mets": "https://github.com/pulibrary/BlueMountain/blob/main/metadata/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1916/09/16_01/bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01.mets.xml", "url_numero": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01", "articles": [{"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c001", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c001", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.1", "titre_corps": "PThe contents include:", "titre_sommaire": "PThe contents 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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.1", "debut_caractere": 183, "fin_caractere_exclue": 355, "texte": "PThe contents include:\nRagtime An Appreciation\nThe Tragedy in the Birdhouse\nWhat is the Matter with Irvin S. Cobb\nTwo People — The Romance of One\nNight in Greenwich Village"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c004", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c004", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[985]", "page_fin": "986", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.3", "titre_corps": "Ragtime: An Appreciation", "titre_sommaire": "Ragtime: An Appreciation", "signature_source": "John Black", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "[985]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.3", "debut_caractere": 114, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3908, "texte": "Ragtime: An Appreciation\n\n44np HAT curious music,\" remarked a young English-\n-1 man to me, recently, as we sat together on the\ndeck of a coast steamer, \"is your American ragtime. It\nis as interesting, in its way, as the famous Hawaiian\nmelodies. It is essentially and fundamentally American.\nIt stimulates and exhilarates one like an old wine. It\nleaps and plunges, laughs and cries, commands and\npleads, soothes and inflames, in the most bewildering\nfashion/'\nPerhaps it was the warm interest my acquaintance\nevinced in the subject that caused me to give it, for the\nfirst time, some real consideration. Prior to this I had\ntaken our ragtime pretty much for granted. I have\nalways been in love with this sort of melody. In the\nearly years, when my juvenile ears were incapable of\ndiscriminating or analyzing, I knew the \"hits.\" They\nwere meat and drink to me, then. And they are meat\nand drink to me, now.\nBut maturity has helped me to see the deeper\nsignificance beneath this syncopated music that my land\nloves so passionately. And this article is an effort to\ncrystallize my conception of the purpose and aims of\nragtime.\nAmerica is vital. Her vitality is that of the prairie\nmare, only a few months in harness. Lover of primal\nthings that she is, the call of the wild is never without\nits appeal to her. The sky she loves, the sea she loves,\nthe mountains she loves, the valleys she loves. All that\nis big and strong is America. And America is all that\nis big and strong.\nEven in her most effete Eastern cities, the cowboy is\nher hero. The spirit of the Grand Canyon rules the\ncontinent. Big surroundings breed big thoughts.\nAmerica is the offspring of her prairies, her towering\nRockies, her vast lakes. Ever in the midst of such\nelemental splendor could she be other than inspired?\nAnd could her inspiration find expression in anything\nbut magnificent thought? Walt. Whitman's poetry is as\nmuch America as Yellowstone Park. It is but the cold\nmajesty of the mountain ridges, the terrible splendor of\nthe gulfs, the barren magnificence of the plains—melted\ninto words.\nIn the earlier years America found herself elementally\nprovided with the lovelier things. In the thunder of her\ngreat waterfalls was music that quickened and inspired.\nIn her California sunsets were color pictures of power\nand vitality. Mountains shaped like human heads were\nher sculpture. And through the pulsing, naturalness of\nit all, surged a poetry, more august, vivid and lyrical\nthan has ever welled up from the heart of earthly bard.\nWe still have all these treasures, today. The waterfalls\nretain their lovely cadence. The sunsets are as rich in\ntones, as delightfully variable, as ever. The phenomenal\nmountains can still startle and fascinate.\nBut other elements have entered into the life of\nAmerica. Commerce has ordained that we shall crowd\nmillions of our people into a hand-ful of little garden-\nplots and name these scenes of congested activity New\nYork, Chicago, San Francisco, etc. And with the\ndevelopment of the generations has come a development\nof the spirit.\nFrom coast to coast this change is perceptible.\nAmerica has not ceased to love poetry, music or art.\nBut America has ceased to sit by her Niagara and dream.\nShe has transferred her ideals from the mountain to the\nmarket. The passion that, years ago, was fanned into\nheat by the music of Colorado thunderrwinds, today\nspends itself in making of each, big, busy, trade-filled\nday, finished triumph. America loves her commerce.\nThe surge and rush of it, the tense uncertainty, the\nsplendid daring of it, thrill her bubbling, school-boy\nheart as nothing else could thrill it.\nAnd, consistent with the illimitable supply of vigor\nand electricity that is hers, she demands these virtues\nin all about her. No decadent music or poetry for this"}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "986", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.4", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2499, "texte": "brave young heart! Her songs must be fresh, strong,\nkindly and keen. Her painting must be virile, true and\npotent. Her stories must have the strength of the\nNiagara in them—the strength of the Niagara that she\nnow too seldom sees. Her stage people must have the\nwarmth, affection and impetuosity that is so big a part\nof America, herself. Her music, she divides into two\nclasses—the portentous, ornate melodies of the old\nworld, and the sparkling, saucy ragtime that is so ex-\npressive of her own individuality.\nTo the former America comes in her deeper, holier\nmoments. To the latter she comes for relaxation at the\nclose of day. And how splendidly faithful to her obliga-\ntion, is ragtime! The warmth, the glowing friendliness\nthat is hers, is ever refreshing, ever invigorating, ever\ncomforting. Surely it is the heart language that is most\nuniversally understood, after all?\nRagtime in the evening, when the sun has just set,\nand its scarlet draperies have not yet lost themselves in\nthe western dusk! When the beach is a dim gold and the\nocean is some strange lovely hue, half turquoise and\nhalf emerald! When the sky is—but we do not need\nnature's poetry to help us appreciate this wonderful\nmusic of ours.\nWe love it in the daytime. We love it at night. We\nlove it when flippant. We love it when grave. If we're\ncheerful, it rejoices with us in our gladness. If we're\nmorose, it sidles coyly into our hearts and offers us\nsympathy in wistful, tender cadences. If we're\nsentimental, it drifts into gentle, mediative rhythms.\nThere is no mood known to America that is foreign to\nragtime. And there is no mood in her ragtime that fails\nto find a responsive chord in the heart of its creator.\nAmerica—big-hearted, impulsive, lovable land that\nyou are—there is not among all your institutions any-\nthing so vitally a part of you as your ragtime. There is\nniot across your broad breast any feature of your in-\nnumerable activities, that so poignantly, so faithfully\nexpresses the best that is in you. There is not, in the\ndepths of your rich, glowing heart, any quality so kindly,\nso natural, so sincere, so human. And, if none of your\nother fine traits remained, if all else was vain, then,\nland that I love, the world would still know you and love\nyou, know your hopes, your fears, your joys, your sor-\nrows, your successes, your failures, your tears, your\nlaughter—know and love them, through this wonderful\nvehicle of expression that you have created—your rag-\ntime.\n\nJohn Black"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c005", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c005", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "986", "page_fin": "988", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.4", "titre_corps": "The Tragedy in the Birdhouse", "titre_sommaire": "The Tragedy in the Birdhouse", "signature_source": "Guido Bruno", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "986", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.4", "debut_caractere": 2501, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6300, "texte": "The Tragedy in the Birdhouse\nBy Guido Bruno\nHE was pearl-gray. He had white wing-feathers and\nhe carried his head like a king. His feet were\npurple and the cream-colored down on his legs\nresembled silk stockings of a page proud to bear the\ntrain of his mistress. His eyes were re'd-brown. They\ngazed disgustedly at a flock of sparrows that had forced\nthemselves into the birdhouse and had begun to pick up\nthe yellow corn that lay on the pale gold of the gravel.\n\"Enjoy yourselves, you vagabonds,\" he said. His\nvoice was scornful but sad. \"It must be dreadful to live\noutside where it is so dusty and where men with great\nbrooms are always sweeping you aside. But how greedy\nyou are. Always eating and eating and payining no at-\ntention to the beautiful scenery that they have built for\nme here and the little lake as real as life where I can\nbathe to my heart's content. Plebeians! First you stuff\nyourselves and then you creep away and sleep and sleep\nuntil you are hungry again.\"\nAnd the pearl-gray bird moved his wings up and down\nlike a dainty blonde coquette that smooths impossible\nwrinkles out of her gown, looks at her hands and thinks:\n\"What beautiful hands I have!\"\nMeanwhile the sparrows hopped about on the sand\nand helped themselves to the tidbits generously. A\nsmall dark rogue with a white fleck on his breast fixed\nhis eyes on a brown little lady that very boldly kept\nwithin speaking distance of him. He chirped to her\nright gayly and encouraged her to come nearer. If she\nappeared to be indifferent, he made signs that she would\nbe very welcome. At last she approached him, very\nshyly. But the nearer she came to him, the more\nanimated she grew and soon had progressed as far as\na great crust of bread that lay between them. The\nsparrow had been watching his sweetheart with pride\nand joy and now he was struck with a daring thought.\n\"Suppose we both took hold of this piece of bread,\"\nhe said, you on one side and I on the other and we\ncarried it over there—you know where—under the roof\nof the white house with many statues.\"\nShe appeared to take the matter under consideration.\nShe knew exactly what the bold fellow meant. They\nhad often sat on a perch there together and he had talked\nabout love and had stroked her wing feathers with his\nbill, very tenderly. And she had made no objections.\nShe knew they had fallen in love with each other and\nthat each was thinking of building a nest. Both wanted\nto set up house-keeping right there where they had\nacknowledged their love and had such happy times.\nThe ardent lover grew more and more determined.\nHe took hold of the crust and jerked it here and there\nso vigorously that he raised a little storm of crumbs and\ndust.\n\"How strong he is,\" thought the little lady. And she\nnoticed with satisfaction that the performance was being\nwatched by other feathered folk. What she really wanted\nto do was to hop up to him—quite close to him—and\nlay her head on the white spot on his breast. But that\nwas a thing that really ought not to be done where any-\none could see it. So she only looked at him meaningly\nand took hold of the crust in a very determined fashion.\nThen they flew with it a little way just to show that\nthey had not undertaken too much together. And they\ngot on very well with it. They stopped to take breath\nand the sparrow deeply impressed with a sense of\nresponsibility of which he had never dreamed, said,:\n\"Now we have enough provisions for the first\" few\ndays. And there is still plenty of water in the troughs\nunder the eaves left from the last rain so we need not\nworry about our living while we are building our nest,\nalso where there is a stable filled with sweet-scented\nhay and in the window of an old house there lies every\nmorning a beautifud elder bolster from which we can\ntake down to make a soft bed.\""}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "987", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5271, "texte": "\"Oh, look at the lovers! Just see the lovers!\" shrilled\nall the other sparrows in chorus. Then they hopped\nabout excitedly, jostling one another. For this was a\nreal event in such a quiet community.\nThe beautiful bird with the purple feet had left off\npolishing his toes to watch the carrying-on of the sweet-\nhearts. \"What a great fuss they are making over a piece\nof bread,\" he thought.\nAnd then with a bored expression he gazed at the\nother sparrows that were picking up from the ground\nthe scattered grains and crumbs. He began to think\nabout the nest of which the pair had spoken. What might\nit look'like? And then it occurred to him that he knew\nnothing about anything out there behind the iron netting\nof the birdhouse. Should he ask the chattering spar-\nrows? That would certainly be the simplest thing to do.\nBut - - - speak with them! No? Better perish with\ncuriosity! One ought not to ask questions of beggars\nthat eat the crumbs in the gravel.\n\"Out with you, you silly mob!\" he croaked in such a\ndisagreeable voice that it was hard to believe that it\ncould come from such a beautiful bird. Then he spread\nhis wonderful wings and swung them as if he would fan\naway the brown-feathered host. There was a loud chirp-\ning either in anger of fear and swish—swish—they flew\nstraight through the netting to the trees in the hedge,\nyonder in the mysterious land outside.\n\"They are growing quite impudent,\" observed the\nyellow pelican, passing by. And he sniffed with his long\nbill at the edge of the little pond built in the plot covered\nwith smooth pebble stones. It seemed to the gray bird\nwho was not really so bad at heart after all and who\nwas terribly lonely and sad, quite convenient that the\npelican who always appeared to be so stupid, was in a\ntalkative mood.\n\"Look here, Mr. Pelican,\" he said, \"you are wiser\nthan I and know a great deal more about things than I\nbecause you are very much older. What is there outside\nbehind the wire netting from which poor little birds come\nand where they are such strange things? And what is a\nnest? All the creatures kept teasing two little sparrows\nthat wanted to build a nest.\"\nThe pelican shook his head thoughtfully for a while\nand then whetted his bill on a stone. He drew one of his\nlegs out of sight and looked at his dainty gray com-\npanion, critically.\n\"You were born in this place and you are very young,\"\nhe began, \"and I suppose I ought not to destroy your\npeace of mind by enlightening you. But I feel so lone-\nsome today that it will do me good to talk to you.\n\"Far, far from here is a lake a million times bigger\nthan this wretched puddle that they have arranged here\nfor my bath. Over this lake arches a wide sky across\nwhich hurry white clouds from which fall the most re-\nfreshing drops, crystal-clear. All around this lake grow\ngreen trees and reeds. And about it are stretches of\nmeadow where the lushest of grasses are to be found.\nYou really ought to have lived there in order to be able\nto picture it.\n\"In the thicket of reeds down quite close to the water\nmy parents had a nest. Oh, you asked just now what a\nnest is! A nest is a comfortable little house that looks\nsomething like the house they build for us here. But\nthey are really very different. And one could not speak\nof them as if they had been ordered, paid for and\ndelivered. My father and mother were quite young\nwhen they first met each other. They were beautiful\nwhite birds with broad bands of yellow in their wings.\nThey dove deep into the water, chased each other across\nthe broad meadows and played games high in the air.\nThen they would go hunting and bring back fruit and\nlittle fishes and my father always carried the best of\nwhat he found to mother. And these were his happiest\nhours when he saw how good the thing that he had\nbrought tasted.\n\"And then one day, it occurred to them how pleasant\nit would be if they did not have to separate in the even-\ning and each go to a different home. So they decided\nto build themselves a nest.\n\"I remember how my mother was accustomed to speak\nof it. Each piece of reed that they fetched in their bills\nwas admired and then laid carefully in just the right\nplace. And when everything was ready father dove deep\nin the lake—and that was at the risk of his life for he\nhad to make the plunge headfirst—and tore away a whole\nbushel of seaweed and lined the nest with it to make a\nsoft bed for my mother. And then they moved in there\nand were happy! During the day they romped in the\nwater and scurried about for food, sharing the tidbit.\nSometimes father had bad luck and then mother was\nvery proud to be able to give him something from her\nstore or her catch.\n\"And then mother had to remain at home and father\nalways kept coming with something good in his bill.\nAnd then I was born. And how both of them caressed\nme and how proud mother and father were?\"\nTears stood in the eyes of the old pelican and ran in\ngreat drops down to the yellow sand. He could not speak\nfor a while, he was so deeply moved.\n\"And one day,\"he continued, a soft sob choking his\nvoice, \"I was separated from my parents and my home.\nThe sun was bright in the sky, the air was clear and\nfresh and the lake lay peaceful there as smooth as glass\nand glittering silver like a mirror. I thought I would"}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "988", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3512, "texte": "venture out to find something to eat for myself. I went\nto the green, lonely meadow. Then suddenly I saw some\ngreat thin thing coming toward me. I did not know at\nthat time that there were such things as men that were\nmightier than we and that could catch us. Father and\nmother had not explained that to me, doubtless out of a\ndesire to preserve my childish innocence. Suddenly\nhowever I felt myself violently seized from behindhand\nI lost consciousness.\n\"When I came to myself I was in a little cage and\nlater they brought me here. That was years ago and I\nhave continued to remain here and grown accustomed\nto everything and only on days like this when the sun is\nhidden by clouds and I know that it is shining away off\nthere on my meadows and on my lake I find myself very\nhomesick.\n\"It is true that I have everything that I need. I do\nnot have to think of food. I do not have to battle with\nthe wild elements and have nothing to fear from the\nraging storms. But my wings are lame and my eyes are\nweak and I would prefer to be one of the little sparrows\nthat come here to steal the crumbs.\"\nThe pelican stood there pensive. He slowly stretched\nout his leg that had been drawn up and pointed his \"bill\nin the opposite direction.\n\"But, Mr. Pelican,\" answered the little gray bird who\nhad listened eagerly to the recital, \"why couldn't we\nbuild up a nest even here? Haven't you Mrs. Pelican?\nAnd think of the beautiful little pelicans that you had\nlast summer and that were taken away!\"\n\"Yes, we can build nests. We have to build nests\"\nthe pelican said over his shoulder in a bitter tone. \"Even\nyou will build one. And they will bring you a mate and\nyou must suffer it—do you hear? you must suffer it! And\nwhen you have children they will let you keep them\nwhile they are little and helpless and then they will take\nthem from you and use them for other purposes.\"\nThe pelican walked solemnly over to the other side\nof the birdhouse where his wife was lying and fell\nasleep.\nThe gray bird had grown very serious. He looked up\nat the iron meshes of the cage. He thought of the little\nsparrow that was building a nest somewhere and he\nwondered what the little mate that they were going to\nbring to him would look like. Then he felt a sharp pain\n—the anguish of a longing that he had never before\nexperienced. He felt disgust and loathing for the puddle\nof water and yellow gravel and the pelican and the other\nbirds that lived in the house with him. And he wanted\nto go away. Far away where there were soft grasses\nand broad lakes and where the water was clear and\nwhere the sky was not parcelled off by iron netting. He\nwanted to fly and to bathe in a lake and to dive into\ndeep water, headfirst and to tear away seaweed and\nhe wanted to build a nest.\nSummoning all his strength, he lifted himself as high\nas possible. He was frightened when he felt himself\nhovering uncertainly in the air and striking against the\niron meshes of the birdhouse. \"Sometime I am going\nto beat against the iron barriers with such force,\" he\ndetermined, \"that they will break and I shall fly away.\"\nAnd he made this decision after he had flown to the top\nof the cage two or three times and collided with the\niron netting and suffered great pain.\nThe other birds however, who had cuddled up com-\nfortably in their favorite corners awaiting the oncoming\nof the night, whispered to each other: \"He must have\nbecome blind. Else he would have seen that netting.\"\nThe others shrugged their shoulders and said: \"He\nis crazy.\""}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c007", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c007", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "988", "page_fin": "988", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.5", "titre_corps": "New York", "titre_sommaire": "New York", "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": 6, "page_imprimee": "988", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 3514, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4678, "texte": "New York\nH. Thompson Rich\nI sing of You,\nMeanest and mightiest of cities,—\nTo some unborn civilization\nCountless centuries hence,\nI address my song.\nI sing of your ten million souls\nWho struggle and blend and fuse:\nCity of steel limbs\nThat stand against the stars,\nDefying time an instant in the eternal pulse,\nDefied at the end by time.\nI sing of your trains\nThat flash beneath the ground,\nRush under rivers,\nClimb over trestles spun to the clouds;\nOf roarings that dazzle the ear by day,\nAnd flashings that stagger the eye by night,—\nDin of factories where untold thousands toil;\nCough of river craft:\nTugs, ferries, barges, scows,\nSteamers a half mile long;\nBurst of great avenues ablaze with light:\nHuge signs of myriad electric bulbs,\nAgainst the sky.\nI sing of your luxuries,\nLuxuries never before enjoyed anywhere in the world,\nExtravagances never before equalled in the courts of kings.\nI sing of your pomp and show,\nYour sin and corruption,\nYour vice and degradation,—\nNever before known or dreamed in the hells of earth.\nI sing of your strength and glory and triumph,\nYour weakness and shame and defeat,—\nI sing of You,\nNew York,\nMaster and slave of men."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c008", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c008", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "988", "page_fin": "988", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.6", "titre_corps": "Vers Libre", "titre_sommaire": "Vers Libre", "signature_source": "Vincent Starrett", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "988", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 4680, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5110, "texte": "Vers Libre\nVincent Starrett\nTHE doctor would have been a great man\nIf he had not dabbled too deeply in the mysteries of sex;\nThe lawyer could have risen high\nHad he been content to take his divorce fees in cash;\nThe clergyman's eloquence might well have wafted him to\nheaven\nBut for his habit of practicing it upon the ladies' aid\nIn private.\nI might yet amount to something as a writer\nIf I could only let the damned women alone!"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c009", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c009", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "989", "page_fin": "989", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.7", "titre_corps": "Thomas A. Edison in his laboratory Etching from life by Bernhard Wall", "titre_sommaire": "Thomas A. Edison in his laboratory Etching from life by Bernhard Wall", "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": "989", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 85, "texte": "Thomas A. Edison in his laboratory Etching from life by Bernhard Wall"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c010", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c010", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "989", "page_fin": "990", "image_debut": 7, "image_fin": 8, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.8", "titre_corps": "Literary Jiu- Jitsu", "titre_sommaire": "Literary Jiu- Jitsu", "signature_source": "E. D", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "989", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 87, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2931, "texte": "Literary Jiu- Jitsu\n\nA FEW years ago our athletic young men were\npracticing a marvellous Japanese system of\nphysical culture based on a knowledge of the vulnerable\nstrategic points of the body, where major nerves run\nclose to the surface and can be put out of action by a\nsingle blow; a system that appealed to the lazy man by\nits marvelous economy of effort. Instead of the labori-\nous routine of punishing your adversary with your fists\nuntil he was unable to ward off a finishing blow (a\nprocess involving considerable incidental pains and\nperils) you cut short the preliminaries, went straight to\nthe point, and put him out of action by direct attack on\na vital spot.\nJiu-jitsu has passed out of vogue among physical\ninstructors, but writers seem to be taking up the fad.\nNotably Irvin S. Cobb. Cobb has been slipping of late,\ngoing backward; but like his illustrious contemporary,\nChristy Mathewson, he is going slowly, staving off with\ncunning the ineluctable day. For Matty remained the\nOld Master for years after his fast one ceased to sizzle\nand his curves ceased to break. He knew what they\ncouldn't hit—the one particular thing that bewildered\neach batter and left him swinging a ridiculous and futile\nbat at an elusive ball. And it is by just this sort of\nthing, by pitching with his head and remembering what\nthey can't hit, that Cobb has been getting by in the last\nyear or so.\nThere was a time, and lately, when Cobb had every-\nthing—painstaking and balanced plot, a finely accurate\nand amazingly inclusive sense of character, humor raw\nand primal, a style sufficiently facile—perhaps too facile,\nprofound and paternal sympathy; and with all of this,\nabove all and more than all, the master sense that taught\nhim how to direct the rest—the instinct for that which\nclutches the emotions where they lie raw and unguarded,\nand ties the heart strings up in a knot. This was his\ngreat gift, but it was the greatest of many; in those days\nCobb was near immortality. He was American as only\nMark Twain and O. Henry were American, but he fitted\ninto one of our schools—he had as little fellowship witii\nthe furtive passion of Chambers as with the pulpit-\npounding of David Graham Phillips and Owen Johnson,\nthe flippant crudeness of the imitators of Cohan, the\nrarefied elegance of our women realists. He was only-\nbegotten, without kin; a national institution. Most like\nto Porter, he fell short of Porter's flair for the perverse\nand ironic, but went far beyond him in understanding\nand pity. He was Cobb.\nBut now the munitions are running short; the speed\nis gone, the curves no longer break. Cobb of today is\nnot the Cobb of a few years ago. His plots grow fainter\nand fainter; his characters become perfunctory, sketchy,\nor repetitions of characters from his own Golden Age;\nthe humor halts and falters; and his stories are damnably"}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "990", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2015, "texte": "padded (though perhaps all magazine stories must be\npadded today). Yet he gets by through that one great\ngift, the instinct for the vulnerable centers of emotion.\nHe knows what they can't hit.\nHe 3s fudging on us; whether it is because he is writ-\ning too much, or is getting prosperous and slovenly, or\nsimply has gone stale, has been milked of ideas, the fact\nremains that iai his recent work there is only a shadow\nof fiie old Cobb. Not that he has lost his punch; he\nseems to have lost everything but his punch. For he\nstill gets by—bow? Why, by literary jiu-jitsu; by shadow-\nt>oxing for five or six thousand words, bewildering us\nwith feints and sparring until suddenly he leaps forward\nwith a fiendish chuckle and thrusts his fingers deep into\nthe penumogastric nerve; and we laugh, we cry, we\nshiver and fall prostrate—and when we have pulled our\nshaken selves together we agree that Cobb is still good,\nthough the story that has caught us be one which has\nneither beginning nor middle, nor much of an end, and\nWhich as to depiction of character and portrayal of life\ncompares with the best of the old Cobb about as favor-\nably as the two-per-cent. near-beer of the dry town\ncompares with the Bourbon of the Blue Grass.\nWhen Cobb writes about himself he is still interest-\ning; his trips to the war zone, his lecture tour, the re-\nmoval of his appendix, his struggle against the layers\n*>112 fat that encase his soul. But when he writes fiction\nihe can't, or at least doesn't, give us what we have\nlearned to expect. He knows our weaknesses; he can\nget by for a while longer. But not even Mathewson\n•could pitch forever without an arm. We do not know\nthe circumstances of Mr. Cobb's private life, but it looks\nas if he is in sore need of some cataclysmic new ex-\nperience to shake him up. If he were tried for murder,\nor took a job as section hand, or got religion, or ran a\ncountry store, or taught school for a year or so, it might\nyonce more make a writer out of a magazine writer.\n\nE. D."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c011", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c011", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "990", "page_fin": "990", "image_debut": 8, "image_fin": 8, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.9", "titre_corps": "Quandary", "titre_sommaire": "Quandary", "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": 8, "page_imprimee": "990", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 2017, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2357, "texte": "Quandary\nH. Thompson Rich\nWHAT would they say,\nI wonder,\nThe old mountebanks:\n» Balzac,\nCatullus,\nChaucer,\n.Boccaccio,—\nIf they knew\nThat these modern word-mongers\nWere chopping up indifferent prose\nInto odd lengths,\nAnd selling it to the newspapers and magazines\nAt twenty-five cents\nA line?\nI rather imagine\nThey would be green with envy!"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c012", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c012", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "990", "page_fin": "990", "image_debut": 8, "image_fin": 8, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.10", "titre_corps": "Washington Square", "titre_sommaire": "Washington Square", "signature_source": "Forrest B. Spaulding", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "990", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 3118, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3855, "texte": "Washington Square\nForrest B. Spaulding\nSTARS and a summer night\nThe crescent moon shining through the trees,\nCasting weird shadows on the unresting park\nOverlit by myriads of flickering lamps.\nAnd you sitting silently beside me listening\nAs I dream aloud of future hopes and fears,\nOf life's ambitions,\nPerhaps never to come.\nWith the strong clear vision of imaginative youth\nI build great castles in the air\nThat unrelenting time may level to the ground\nAs she soon or later brings to earth all man-made things.\nBut in our eyes they stand impregnable.\nMeanwhile the huge illuminated cross\nAlternately gleams, and vanishes from our fickle sight\nAs the mischievous summer wind caresses the leaves\nPlayfully plotting to obscure our vision."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c013", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c013", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "990", "page_fin": "990", "image_debut": 8, "image_fin": 8, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.11", "titre_corps": "The Fate of Genius", "titre_sommaire": "The Fate of Genius", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "990", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 2359, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2903, "texte": "The Fate of Genius\nI have heard men of the present day, distinguished in\npolitics, in literature, in science, complain of envy, of\nhatred, of calumny. They were wrong. It is law. It is\nglory. The high-renowned afford examples. Hatred follows\nthem everywhere. Nothing escapes it. The theatre openly\nyielded to it Shakespeare and Moliere; the prison could not\ntake away from it Christopher Columbus; the cloister did\nnot preserve St. Bernard; the throne did not save Napoleon.\nThere is only one asylum for genius in this world; it is ia\nthe tomb!"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c014", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c014", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "990", "page_fin": "990", "image_debut": 8, "image_fin": 8, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.12", "titre_corps": "CEZANNE, Courtesy Washington Square Gallery", "titre_sommaire": "CEZANNE, Courtesy Washington Square Gallery", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "990", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 2905, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2948, "texte": "CEZANNE,\nCourtesy Washington Square Gallery"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c015", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c015", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "990", "page_fin": "990", "image_debut": 8, "image_fin": 8, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.13", "titre_corps": "There is a world beyond things which grows out of things", "titre_sommaire": "There is a world beyond things which grows out of things", "signature_source": "R. I. Coady", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "990", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 2950, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3116, "texte": "R. I. Coady\nThere is a world beyond things which grows out of things\nand can exist only as a result of things but which is another\nworld other than a world of things."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c016", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c016", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "991", "page_fin": "991", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.14", "titre_corps": "Night in the Back Yard", "titre_sommaire": "Night in the Back Yard", "signature_source": "Alice Goebell", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "991", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1516, "texte": "Night in the Back Yard\nAlice Goebell\nNO, not silence. That golden treasure will never be\nfound in a city that knows no rest. But darkness\nand quiet have settled upon the back yard. The clothes-\nlines are no longer distinct, but a man's white shirt is\ngently flapping like the sail of a black ship on dark\nwaters at mid-night. The breath-'like breeze that blows\nthe shirt stirs the few blades of grass a little that grow\naround the edges of the yard. If there is a belated grass-\nhopper down there, he hears a queer little rattling, as\none stiffening blade bends upon another and he is re-\nminded that the frost will not be long in coming. A low\nrustle could be heard in the walnut-shrub, whose leaves\nare now brown and brittle and quite curled up, if this\nsame little breeze did not hear with it the heavy\nrumblings of the elevated only a block away. It is\nwonderful what a multiplicity of things a single little\nbreeze can do all at once!\nThe moon is high up in the sky. It shines down on\nthe shirt and makes it look whiter. It shines down on\nthe back-yard and makes dark places look darker. A\ncat comes from somewhere and sits down on the top of\nthe plank wall with her tail wound around her. She\nsits motionless with head tilted upward and glowing\neyes fixed on the moon. Another cat, thin and black,\ncomes from somewhere else and creeps carefully along\nthe wall. He sits down opposite his neighbor and gazes\nupward at the moon. And yet another cat comes ....\nbut the back-yard is no longer quiet!"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c017", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c017", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "991", "page_fin": "991", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.15", "titre_corps": "Coelum in Terra", "titre_sommaire": "Coelum in Terra", "signature_source": "Hal Cohn", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "991", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 1518, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2184, "texte": "Coelum in Terra\nHal Cohn\nA little cottage not far away—yet not too near;\nFurnished not lavishly, yet plentiful.\nEach room built so that it may have a share—\nOf God's sun-light sometime during the day.\nOutside a garden, not laid out in beds where none dare\ntread,\nBut trimmed carelessly, yet neatly, so all might pluck a\nflower. J\nThe entire atmosphere must breathe of love and good,\nSo that each passer-by may see on looking in,\nA hearty welcome and a quiet place\nTo rest his weary limbs and quench his thirst,\nAnd with all, some saintly soul of woman fair\nWith me shall mold a heaven of our own—\nOn earth. This is of what I dream,\nA little home—sometime, somewhere."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c018", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c018", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "991", "page_fin": "991", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.16", "titre_corps": "The Polygamist", "titre_sommaire": "The Polygamist", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "991", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 2186, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3067, "texte": "The Polygamist\nTHE story runs, that once, in the dark ages, a young man\nwas brought before the authorities, charged with having\nmarried several wives. When called upon for his defence,\n\"It is true,\" said he, \"most learned judges, that I have mar-\nried several women, but judge for yburselves whether my\nobject in so doing was not praiseworthy. A man has surely\na right, if he buys an article for good, and it turns out to be\nbad, to reject it. Now I found that the first wife I married\nwas ill-tempered, the second lazy, and the third false, and\nso forth. All I want is to get a good ~&ne, and I shall be\nsatisfied.\" The bench were puzzled at first at this novel\ndefence, but after a short consultation decreed, that as it\nwould be impossible for the defendant to find a perfect wife,\nexcept in the other world, he should be immediately put to\ndeath, to enable him to look for one."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c019", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c019", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "991", "page_fin": "991", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.17", "titre_corps": "He That Escapeth", "titre_sommaire": "He That Escapeth", "signature_source": "Henry Clayton Hopkins", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "991", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 3069, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4459, "texte": "He That Escapeth\nHenry Clayton Hopkins\nA SPIDER cast her silken thread to the breeze, and\nawaited results.\nThe viscous fabric floated to and fro, and finally caught\nsecurely to a neighboring branch.\nJust then a diminutive beetle rushed breathlessly\nalong the twig, his little body gleaming in the sun,\npursued by a monster with eight legs and three pairs of\nhorrid eyes. There were no means of escape, had not\na merciful breath of air stirred the spanning thread, and\nity iridescence caught the bulging eyes of the sorely\npressed fugitive.\n\"Ah, Providence affordeth always an escape for the\ninnocent,\" he cried, and began a perilous journey along\nthe swaying bridge.\nThe monster stopped short at the end of the twig,\ngnashing his jaws and reaching out his hooked claws\ntoward the escaping prey, well knowing that the slender\ncord would not support his black mass.\nThe fugitive stepped onto the leaf that held the farther\nend of the thread, with a deep inspiration of joy and\nthankfulness for his miraculous deliverance.\nHis tiny footfalls awoke the sleeping spider, who,\ntaking in the situation at a glance, remarked, as she\ngathered in her victim, \"It's an ill wind that blows no-\nbody good.\" And the monster, who was holding his ear\nto the thread, which served in lieu of a telephone-wire,\nhearing the remark, turned green with envy, and was\nlost in the general color of his surroundings."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c020", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c020", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "992", "page_fin": "993", "image_debut": 10, "image_fin": 11, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.18", "titre_corps": "Splitting the Ears of the Groundlings", "titre_sommaire": "Splitting the Ears of the Groundlings", "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": "992", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 53, "texte": "Splitting the Ears of the Groundlings"}, {"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "992", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 175, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4289, "texte": "Dramatic Criticism\nBOGUMIL Davidson, the great German tragedian has\ngone crazy in America after he had played King\nLear more masterfully than anybody else. He was\nseized by insanity in his dressing-room. The once poor\nJewish boy from Lemberg demanded from his manager\npayment, in gold, of his salary. They found him, after\na performance, playing with the gold pieces, stalk-\nmad.\nHe could have played the real Paganini, the man who\nwas consumed by those two strongest passions: hunger\nfor art and miserly desire of gold.\nEdward Knoblauch transformed Paganini—produced a\nfew days ago by Klaw and Erlanger and George L.\nTyler, in the Criterion Theatre—into a study inartistic\ntemperament. I mean it in the sense as it is under-\nstood by the average American: the grotesque makeup\nof the great artist which has nothing whatever to do with\nthe real man. As it is usually with the executors of\nhistoric novels and plays, who seem to have been born\nas strange old maids with pseudo-romantic inclination,\nhe couldn't do anything with the real Paganini, the\nPaganini haunted by demons, and he had to make\nchanges—such changes that he is beyond recognition.\nHe made him a sort of a hero of a family novel who\ncomposes continually, who eats very little, who per-\nspires \"soul\" out of all his pores, and who has the\nbehavior of an Italian punchinello. Temperamental\noutbursts in a cute brogue, a funny thin body with lively\nmovements, a quick-silvery countenance, long hair and\ngrotesque attire. Add to this seeming sexlessness in\nhis intercourse with femininity: this is Edward Knob-\nlauch's Paganini—Paganini after the heart of old maids\nof both sexes.\nFortunately, the part was entrusted to George Arliss,\nor better, it was written for his curiously-thin body which\ngave birth some time ago to Disraeli. He again trans-\nforms the false Paganini into a stage reality. Because\nhe knows more than to exhibit his very thin legs, to\nhump his bony back, or to tear his skeleton fingers\nthrough his bushy locks. Arliss is one of the few big\ncaricaturists of the American stage, one cut out to\ndemonstrate' to our tasteless newspaper cartoonists that\none must have learned first to draw a life-true character\nbefore one can distort him amusingly and humorously.\nHe pours whiskey into-the weak tea of the play. His\nis a fastidious refinement akin to genius. One realizes-\nthis especially when one has witnessed a short while\nago his American colleague, George F. Dixey, \"go\nthrough a similarly grateful part\" with that certain\nsanguinity caused by training and routine. \"Mr. Lazarus,\"\nby O'Higgins and Harriet Ford, is about the best these\ntwo equally-fruitful and successful authors have written\nso far for the American stage. It, too, is a novel-like\nplot adopted often before on the stage but cleverly and\noriginally twisted into an atmosphere of fine humor. A\nman accustomed to the life of a free, gold prospector\ngrows tired of his matrimonial bliss during his honey-\nmoon. A railroad accident affords him the chance to\ndisappear without leaving any traces. After a lapse of\ntwenty years he is seized with a desire to see his wife\nagain and he returns, a second Enoch Arden. His\n\"widow\" had married again. He sees her, who had\nintended to make him quickly into a henpecked hus-\nband, a hopeless slave of a brutal rascal with oily manners.\nHe feels compassion for her and still more for their\nbeautiful daughter—of whose existence he had never\nknown. He disdoses his identity and plays Providence\non Earth for both of them. But, as he realizes the\nintentions of his re-found wife to put him again under\nthe ban of her unattractive personality, he disappears\nfor a second time—and now for good.\nDixey plays the part of the husband who returned and\nhe has his name in equally-bold type as George Arliss\nhas his. George Arliss has decidedly-better physical\nendowments to play himself exclusively, than has Henry\nF. Dixey. But he plays—as far as the playwrights give\nhim the chance—today Disraeli and tomorrow Paganini.\nBoth bear George Arliss's own physiognomy and are\nstill fundamentally-different creations of a creative\nartist."}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "993", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.11", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1801, "texte": "Henry F. Dixey, for the last thirty years, has played\nHenry F. Dixey. But then, George Arliss is a great im-\npersonator because of his long years of artistic work.\nHenry F. Dixey was born—not made—Henry F. Dixey.\nHerein lies the difference between the careers of\nactors in Europe and in America.\nMOMUS\nFair and Warmer\nThere is an atmosphere of happy merriment through\nall the three acts on the stage. The complications that\nIpad to catastrophe—and finally to a pleasant solution—\ns>eem to come naturally. Innocent silliness and attempts\nto become drinkers are always pleasing to the audience.\nBecause they all know better. Hearty laughter on the\nstage and still heartier laughter in the audience make\nfor a pleasant evening. Here is a good show—the\npleasant passing of an evening without regrets.\nAnecdote of Washington\nW HEN the American troops were quartered at Newburg,\nat the close of the revolutionary war, and the soldiers\nwere stirred up to rebellion against the government by the\nfamous anonymous letters, whick, it has since been ascertain-\ned, were written by General Armstrong, then a major in the\narmy, General Washington convened the officers for the\npurpose of addre?ol'ng them on this subject, and calming the\ntumult which was beginning to rage in their bosoms. He held\na paper in his hand on which the remarks he intended to\nmake were written—and then it was, that finding himself\nunable to read without assistance—as he was drawing his\nspectacles from his pocket that unpremeditated expression\nbroke from him—one of the most pathetic that ever fell from\nhuman lips—\"Fellow-citizens\" said he, \"you perceive I have\nnot only grown gray—but blind in your service \" The effect\nof this remark was electrical. No bosom—no eye was proof\nagainst it."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c021", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c021", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "992", "page_fin": "992", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.18.1", "titre_corps": "Mr. Theodore Kozloff and Vlasta Maslowa in \"Extasy D'Amour\", by Eastman", "titre_sommaire": "Mr. Theodore Kozloff and Vlasta Maslowa in \"Extasy D'Amour\", by Eastman", "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": "992", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 55, "fin_caractere_exclue": 126, "texte": "Mr. Theodore Kozloff and Vlasta Maslowa in\n\"Extasy D'Amour\", by Eastman"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c022", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c022", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "992", "page_fin": "992", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.18.2", "titre_corps": "Miss Vera Fredowa in a \"War Dance\" by Eastman", "titre_sommaire": "Miss Vera Fredowa in a \"War Dance\" by Eastman", "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": "992", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 128, "fin_caractere_exclue": 173, "texte": "Miss Vera Fredowa in a \"War Dance\" by Eastman"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c023", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c023", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "993", "page_fin": "994", "image_debut": 11, "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.19", "titre_corps": "The Romance of One Night", "titre_sommaire": "The Romance of One Night", "signature_source": "Guido Bruno", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "993", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.11", "debut_caractere": 1803, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3530, "texte": "Two People.\nThe Romance of One Night\nBy Guido Bruno\n\n\"To your apartment?\" she seemed shocked. But I\ndidn't intend to spend any more time in a depot and so\nI thrust my arm under hers and led her out of the station\nto a 'bus that was waiting in front of the main entrance.\n\"You trusted me,\" I said, \"with your story, and I will\ntrust you, take you with me home, and give you a chance\nto do all those things you say you want to do. You\nmustn't raise the question of a woman going home with\na stranger if you don't want me to raise the question of\na man taking home a strange woman. You know me\njust as well as I know you. You told me that you have\nmoney and jewelry, that you belong to the same class\nas I and all that sort of thing because you wanted me to\nhelp you. It might be true and it might not. I don't care.\nThe fact is, you are homeless at present. I am willing\nto help you and so I place faith in you. But when I start\na thing I usually carry it through as I see fit. I was\n'game,' as yon mentioned in the start of our conversa-\ntion. Now isn't it up to you to be game? and you have\nto be game because there is no backing out for you. Its\nmighty dangerous to accost men in New York with pro-\npositions as you accosted me and I would not run the\nrisk to let you try it with another one.\"\nIt was then that she seemed to realize the severity of\nthe step she had taken. I felt the hesitation and a little\nbit of terror that went through her body, but she was\ngame. We boarded the top of the 'bus and we were the\nonly passengers. The night was cold but refreshing. We\nturned into Fifth Avenue and that wonderful boulevard\nlay dead before us. The two long rows of white lights\nseemed to meet somewhere far, far away. Very few"}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "994", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 34, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2795, "texte": "vehicles crossed over to some side-streets and the foot-\nsteps of solitary passersby resounded in the quietness of\nthe night. We passed the church near Twelfth Street as\nshe spoke to me again. She said, \"I do trust you.\"\nShe trembled just a little bit following me into the\nunlighted corridor of the old building that years ago had\nserved as a mansion of a respectable family, but was\nutilized now by the estate of this family as an apartment\nhouse. It sheltered many artists and writers and others\nwho preferred the charm of high ceilings and open fire-\nplaces to modern elevators and ice-chests. I lighted the\ngas in my sitting-room and the lamp in my coffee -per-\ncolator, asked her to take off her coat, but by all means\ntonight a lodging.\nShe did not look very comfortable in her evening\ngown, with hat and veil on her head. She looked\ngrotesque. She was sitting in an armchair, a hand on\neach arm. I loved her hands. The water in the per-\ncolator was boiling. I poked the fire in the fireplace.\n\"I am the daughter of one of the richest men in this\n-city,\" she*began, her hands now clasping her knees, and\nlooking into the glistering flames. \"I just came from\ncollege. I am expected to be a debutante this season. I\nrsaw a little of life, of course, not very much, but just a\nlittle more than the average well-chaperoned girl you\ngenerally see, and I cannot go back to the life I am\n• expected to lead. Silly society chatter, receptions, teas,\ncharity work, and perhaps marry some day a man, after,\nI get tired and bored. And then, to continue to live in\nthe same fashion until I die? I cannot do it!\n\"Look at my shoes. They cost eighteen dollars. Three\nsales girls in one of our department stores work for that\namount one week. A man slaves from morning until\nnight for that same money and supports a wife and\nchildren. I had lunch this noon in a tea room. I paid\nfor a cup of tea with some biscuits and jelly, enough to\nkeep a man from starving for a week, and I gave the\nwaitress a tip that would have brought a homeless man\ntonight a lodging.\" j\n\"I can't enjoy the food I eat, the clothes I wear be-\ncause of all the others who have to do without them.\nNow I am not silly, I know that if my father would give\naway all his money and distribute it among the people,\nthe world would not be much better off. There would\nstill be starvation and homeless men and women on the\nstreets. The only excuse for us to sit in restaurants and\neat when thousands are hungry, and to wear nice clothes\nwhile millions are shabby, is the consciousness that we\nwork for the money with which we pay and that the only\ndifference between us in a warm and cosy home and\nthose wretched figures on the park benches, Is merely\nthe fact that we have had a chance and they did not.\""}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c024", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c024", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "993", "page_fin": "993", "image_debut": 11, "image_fin": 11, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.19.1", "titre_corps": "Silhouette drawn in the German trenches", "titre_sommaire": "Silhouette drawn in the German trenches", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "993", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.11", "debut_caractere": 3532, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3571, "texte": "Silhouette drawn in the German trenches"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c025", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c025", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "994", "page_fin": "994", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.20", "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": 12, "page_imprimee": "994", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 2797, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3239, "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 foi- the perusal of our readers."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c026", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c026", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "994", "page_fin": "994", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.21", "titre_corps": "She fought for him", "titre_sommaire": "She fought for him", "signature_source": "Robber-wife.\" (N. Y", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "994", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 3241, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5402, "texte": "She fought for him\n\"Robber-wife.\" (N. Y.)\nI took my husband from another woman. And far from\nbeing an humble penitent, I glory in my base act! For\nthat other woman was a married vampire—not the kind we\nsee on the screen, wicked eyes, snaky fingers and designing\nways _but a spoiled, petted, irresponsible little woman who\ndelighted in chronic illnesses that begat sympathy, egotistical\nand selfish like so many American bred women. She was\nseven years older than this boy whom she had inveigled into\na liaison that, had it reached its climax, would have meant\ndisgrace for both families. She had a small child whom she\nactually neglected in order that her silly infatuation might\ngo on unchecked. She was the type of woman who imagines\nevery male in love with her, although she was not attractive\nin face or form. However, she was a vigorous - minded\ncreature who knew how to interest and hold young people.\nThis boy was little understood at home and very lonely,\nso he fell 'a ready victim to her wilee. She was a married\nwoman of several years standing, had experienced numerous\nlove affairs, and knew, or ought to have known, what she\nwas doing; while the boy was one of those callow, suscept-\nible youths too easily flattered by an older woman's attentions.\nYou know the type—nearly every boy has one of these at-\ntachments for a married woman in his past.\nSo I didn't take it seriously. But the boy was beginning\nto take it seriously when he found that the woman was be-\nginning to take it seriously! She was actually on the point\nof giving up a good husband and her child and face disgrace\nin order to hold the boy. He and I had known each other\nfrom childhood and there had been a sort of unspoken en-\ngagement between us, so we came to a definite understand-\ning one time when the woman was away from home and when\nshe returned she found us married.\nOf course there were scenes a - plenty, but her\nvindictiveness didn't last long and today she is our very good\nfriend, rather ashamed of her foolishness. But the boy\nlearned his lesson, too, and he declares he shall keep an\neagle eye upon his own son and save him, if possible, from\na like near-tragedy."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c027", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c027", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "994", "page_fin": "995", "image_debut": 12, "image_fin": 13, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.22", "titre_corps": "A War Bride", "titre_sommaire": "A War Bride", "signature_source": "Eleanor\" (Westmount, Canada", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "994", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 5404, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6105, "texte": "A War Bride\n\nI am a Canadian War Bride. It is now ten. months since\nmy warrior husband left for \"Somewhere in France.'l\nThe scene of his departure is still fresh in my mind's eyw\nI see once more the huge transport ship, crowded to its\ncapacity with cheering khaki clad figures, sailing slowly,\nmajestically up the St. Lawrence, while thousands of civ-\nilians waved a last good-bye from the docks.\nShortly before war was declared, George and I had be-\ncome engaged, but with the date of our marriage unsettled,\nas my fiance, although holding a good position with a huge\nbusiness concern, had a mother and sister to support. Con-\nsequently, we decided to wait until George secured an\nexpected promotion."}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "995", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 92, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1263, "texte": "Then came that awful day in August two years ago, when\nall Europe was plunged into conflict. George's firm, like\nmany others failed, and he was obliged to get another\nposition at a much lower salary. Our marriage seemed\nfurther off than ever.\nAll around us, the young men of Canada were flocking to\nthe colors. I beganNto ask myself if George was going to\nanswer his country's call. However, as he never broached\nthe; subject, I did not question or urge him in any way to\nenlist, although in my heart, I was longing for him to join\nfcthe army.\nOne night, he asked me whether I would object to his\ngoing overseas? My delighted look was answer enough.\nThen he explained that he had been under the impression\nthat his enlisting would cause his delicate mother to worry\nherself sick on account of him, but that he had accidently\nlearned that she was secretly ashamed that he did not so.\nWe were married a few days after this, in true military\nfashion, and a week later, my husband's battalion left for\nthe front.\nWill be come back? That is the question that torments my\nmind. Will he find a hero's grave in the bloodstained fields\nof Flanders?\n\n\"Eleanor\" (Westmount, Canada.)"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c028", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c028", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "995", "page_fin": "995", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.23", "titre_corps": "A Newspaper Romance", "titre_sommaire": "A Newspaper Romance", "signature_source": "R. H. H. (Cleveland", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "995", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 1265, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4065, "texte": "A Newspaper Romance\nR. H. H. (Cleveland)\nTHERE seems to be no more efficient matrimonial bureau\nin all the world than the office of a great newspaper.\nManaging editor, department editors, stenographers, telephone\ngirls, even the reporters, who as a class are popularly (and\nerroneously) believed to live wild, care-free bachelor lives,\nall sooner or later fall before the little winged god.\nI was about the greenest \"cub\" that ever was lost in an\neditorial room. I came in for all the long whiskered jokes\nand tricks that ever graced (I should say disgraced) the\nannals of initiation to newspaperdorn. There was only one\nperson who did not try to add to my discomfiture. When,\nafter three days of such grilling, I decided I was never cut\nout to be a newspaper man, it was the Women's Editor who\npersuaded me to stick. After the first week no offer, how-\never tempting, could have dragged me from that paper. Not\nwhile the Women's Editor stayed. From the start she helped\nme with my copy. Her years of experience in every branqh\nof the work were placed at my disposal to help me. over the\nrough spots the beginner strikes. The second week I was\nthere she secured passes to the summer's big grand opera\nfeature, Siegfried, She asked me if I would like to go with\nher. I jumped at the chance. The cost of these seats would\nhave amounted to more than my week's salary if I had them\nto pay for. That night we discovered a mutual love of music,\nbooks, boating, bathing and tennis. Before six weeks had\npassed we discovered a mutal love for each other and became\nengaged. That she was older than I by several years and\nthat her salary more than trippled mine, did not discourage\nus. We decided that marriage would be out of the question\nfor some time to come, so each promised to keep the en-\ngagement secret until my prospects should be better. A year\nof hard work followed. Her efforts to help me were untir-\ning, so that summer brought a gratifying increase in the size\nof my pay check. Even then it could not compare with the\nsalary she was earning, but we decided it was enough to\nlive on—if we were careful. She resigned her position and\nwe moved into a two by four furnished flat, one of those with\na patent collapsible kitchen. The next two years were hard*\nand often found us without even the necessities of life, but'\nif she regretted the step she had taken she never whispered\\\nit, just doubled her efforts to comfort and help.\nIn time, as the checks grew bigger and her stories,\nin the few odd moments not taken up with housework and\nthe care of our little one, were after another accepted;\nby the syndicates, we moved from the little flat into a house\nof our own. Wealth has missed us, but the money we havn't\ngot never worries us. We have each other, and the baby v.\nWhat more could money buy."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c029", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c029", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "995", "page_fin": "995", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.24", "titre_corps": "A care of Heredity", "titre_sommaire": "A care of Heredity", "signature_source": "Airs. C. (Akron, 0", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "995", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 4067, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5094, "texte": "A care of Heredity\nAirs. C. (Akron, 0.)\nELEVEN years ago in June I met \"The Man.\" Knowing-\nlittle of heredity and caring less I married him in just\na year. Within the next two years Son was born, and his\nfather thought he must make more money. A fellow work-\nman advised and persuaded him to drink to stimulate his\nnerves and turn out more work. Then is when John Barley-\ncorn and Heredity got the best of a good man. For about\nfive years I lived in the usual hell a drinking man can make\nfor his family. A little daughter had come to us also. He\nwas never abusive and the kindest of fathers. I always felt\nthat at some time he would realize that he was hurting himself\nmostly and that there was good underneath it all, so we all\njust loved him dearly. We have won him back to us these\nthree years now and were you to ask me if I had my life\nto live over with him, would I choose to do so. I should\nanswer yes, if at the end of the journey I could feel as I do.\nnow that he belongs to the babies and I and his soul to hia*\nGod."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c030", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c030", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "995", "page_fin": "995", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.25", "titre_corps": "\"A Fool There Was\"", "titre_sommaire": "\"A Fool There Was\"", "signature_source": "W. L. (Norristown, Pa", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "995", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 5096, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5894, "texte": "\"A Fool There Was\"\nW. L. (Norristown, Pa.)\nAN actor am I. Age twenty-five—six feet—and rather good\nlooking. The \"Woman\"—I married—was short and\ndumpy—fifteen years my senior. Not even neat. I was\nplaying the Juvenile Lead in a Road Company. During the\nmatinee I received a Mash Note—signed \"June.\"\nI bit—but the poke was on me. Fine feathers she had—\nand plenty. She got me—and a week after I left the\ncompany—we were married.\nThere is no doubt, but I was insane—but thank God—not\nincurable.\nI seem to have come to my senses after the deed was done.\nIt was too late. One whole month—l stood for the terrible\nagony—then fled.\nFor nearly a year—l have been working in various,\ncompanies in the West—even changing my- name.\nThis morning a telegram discovered me.\nI have a Son!\nOh, now what shall I do!"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c031", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c031", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "991", "page_fin": "991", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.26", "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": 9, "page_imprimee": "991", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 4461, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5111, "texte": "TO YOU, GENTLE READER\nKindly give your standing order for Bruno's\nWeekly to your newsdealer, if you do not\nwish to send us directly a subscription. The\npresent paper prices are such that it prove?\ndisastrous for a magazine to print more\ncopies than are needed for its regular sub-\nscription circulation and for a supply of\nunreturnable orders of news companies and\nmagazine agencies.\nAlso we cannot supply you with back num-\nbers which you have missed on the news-\nstands.\nTherefore, if you like the contents of\nBruno's Weekly, release your clutches front\na two-dollar bill and send in your check\nto-day or give a standing order to your news-\ndealer."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c032", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c032", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "996", "page_fin": "996", "image_debut": 14, "image_fin": 14, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.27", "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": 14, "page_imprimee": "996", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 495, "texte": "Kill or Cure\nA doctor was employed by a poor man to attend his wife,\nwho was dangerously ill. The doctor gave a hint that\nhe had fears of not being paid. \"I have five pounds,\" said\nthe man to the doctor, \"and if you kill or cure, you shall have\nthem.\" The woman died in the doctor's hand, and after a\nreasonable time he called for his five pounds. The man\nasked the doctor if he killed his wife? \"No.\" \"Did you\ncure?3' \"No.\" \"Then,\" said the poor man, \"you have no legal\ndemand,\""}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c033", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c033", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "996", "page_fin": "996", "image_debut": 14, "image_fin": 14, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.28", "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": 14, "page_imprimee": "996", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 497, "fin_caractere_exclue": 604, "texte": "The Mexican Border\nA POEM\nBy Charles Edison\n25 cents postpaid\nBruno's Weekly, 58 Washington Square\nNew York"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c034", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c034", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "996", "page_fin": "996", "image_debut": 14, "image_fin": 14, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.29", "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": 14, "page_imprimee": "996", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 606, "fin_caractere_exclue": 705, "texte": "THE GARRET SHOP\nODD BOOKS\nPAMPHLETS\n•N\nDRAWINGS, PAINTINGS\nFramed and Unframed\n58 Washington Square"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c035", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c035", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "996", "page_fin": "996", "image_debut": 14, "image_fin": 14, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.30", "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": 14, "page_imprimee": "996", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 707, "fin_caractere_exclue": 847, "texte": "Readers of Bruno s Weekly are asked to Become Subscribers\n52 Issues, Two Dollars\nSEND YOUR CHEQUE TO-DAY\n58 WASHINGTON SQUARE, NEW YORK CITY"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c036", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c036", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "996", "page_fin": "996", "image_debut": 14, "image_fin": 14, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.31", "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": 14, "page_imprimee": "996", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 849, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2190, "texte": "ROSSI BROTHERS\n58 Washington Square\nUnderneath the Garret\nICE CREAM AND TOBACCO\nThe Mad Hatter Has a Tea Party Every Afternoon\nRoom 3 to 6 at\n150 WEST FOURTH STREET\nJust Down the Rabbit Hole From Washington Square\n\"Take Some More Tea\"\n\"I've Had Nothing Yet So I Can't Take More\"\n\"You Mean You Can't Take Less, It's Very Easy to\nTake More Than Nothing.\"\n\"Nobody Asked Your Opinion\" Edith Unger.\nFLORENCE GOUGH\nShows Smart Millinery for Grown Ups—Mother\nGoose's Millinery for Children and other unique\nthings to wear.\nTHE PAINT BOX\n150 W. 4th St., Near 6th Ave.\nN. Y. C. Phone Spring 23\nI BUY BOOKS\nSingle volumes, small lots, and libraries; autograph letters of known literary men and\nartists, drawings, pictures and engravings. Address\n\"COLLECTOR,\" Care of Bruno's Weekly, 58 Washington Square.\nEdith Haynes Thompson\nHer Shop\n64 WASHINGTON SQUARE SOUTH\nContaining Many Quaint and Beautiful Things\nHours: 1 to 5.30 P. M.\nJ. 112. McCarthy\nPaintings and Antiques\n30 West 46th Street\nBruno's Weekly, published weekly by Bruno's Weekly, Inc. Charles Edison, Pres.; Guido Bruno, Vice-Pres.;\nWalter L. 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 of March\n3rd, 1897."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c037", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c037", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[997]", "page_fin": "[997]", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.32", "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": 15, "page_imprimee": "[997]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.15", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 4518, "texte": "Bruno Chap Books\nMo.\n1. The Harlot's House, by Oscar Wilde\nThe first American reprint of one of the\nmost wonderful poems of the author 25\n2. Setting Hens, Frogs' Legs, by D. Molby\nD. Molby, passes the white elephant un-\nremarked, but writes an essay on the mos-\nquito's neck and the rhythm of his little wings\nbefore he stings and annoys 25\n3. Mushrooms, by Alfred Kreymborg\nMr. Kreymborg's Mushrooms are recognized\npoetry. The Mushroom stands for a simple\nexpression of thought in simple musical\nrhythm. Mr. Kreymborg is one man who\nspeaks to his fellow-men—just to the one who\nmight find in four or six simple lines of\nrhythm the revelation of the rhythm and the\nharmony of his own simple life 50\n4. Tahiti, by Robert Carlton Brown .25\n5. Four Letters, by Oscar Wilde .25\n6. Anarchists, by Guido Bruno .25\n7. To My Mother, by Alfred Kreymborg .25\n8. Vignettes, by Hubert Crackanthorpe\nMr. Crackanthorpe had three chief gifts:\nskill in dramatic narration—a sense of sit-\nuation, a lively feeling for the value of inter-\npretation of gesture, posture, circumstance;\nsecondly, analytic skill in the conception and\npresentation of character; thirdly, descriptive\nand pictorial power, readiness of vision, with\na faculty of sifting and selecting its reports.\nLionel Johnson, in Acad., March 20, 1897 50\n9. Tanka and Haika, by Sadakichi Hartmann\nThe son of a German father and a Japa-\nnese mother, of a burgomaster's son from\nMecklenburg, the only European state with-\nout a Constitution, and the daughter of a\nronin, a robing soldier of Old Japan. Sada-\nkichi is much more Japanese than German.\nHis style is extravagant but suave. Some of\nhis short stories are as excessive and intense\nas Poe's on strictly realistic lines. The utmost\nbounds of expression are reached, even his\noriginality is aggressive 25\n10. Richard Wagner, the Egoist, by Guido Bruno .25\n11. Edna the Girl of the Street, by Alfred\nKreymborg 25\nCause: our social conditions.\nMotive: just to live.\nProblem: eternal.\nSolution: none .\\ 25\n12. Songs of the Cosmos, by Charles Keeler\nLike the weaver of wonderful brocades, he\nselected thread after thread and up loomed\nthose wonderful pictures before my eyes,\ncreations of simple words, dipped in red blood,\ntinted by the golden sun, formed and shaped\nby hands who know the labors and pains of\nmillions scented with good-will towards every-\nbody and emitted with pure love 25\nNo.\n13. Teaspoons and Violet Leaves, by Guido Bruno $1.00\n14. The Tragedy in the Birdhouse, by Guido Bruno .50\n15. Exotics, by John W. Draper\nIt lay a luscious yellow band\nCreaming upon umbrageous green\nThe spray was satin to the hand;\nAnd to the eye a topaz bright,\nAnd dazzling as the noonday sand.\nFrom\"The Yellow Orchid\" .25\n16. Imagists, by Richard Aldington\nOne of the original group of the English\nImagists tells about Imagism and its aims.\nThis paper deals a severe blow to all imita-\ntors and producers of vers libre who think\nthemselves poets of the \"new group\" because\nthey don't write-in rhyme .25\n17. Lord Alfred Douglas—Salome: A Critique,\nthe Beauty of Unpunctuality: an Essay and\nThree Poems\nThere was a time when Lord Alfred Douglas\nwould have laughed at the idea that he would\nwrite a book explaining away his friendship\nwith Oscar Wilde. As editor of \"The Spirit\nLamp,\" a magazine published by James\nThornton, High Street, Oxford, and edited by\nLord Alfred Douglas, he seemed to be a\ndiligent imitator of his friend Oscar. He\nimitated his style in prose and in poetry.\nWhenever he received a contribution from\nOscar Wilde it was the main and leading\nfeature of the issue *25\n18. Sadakichi Hartmann—Permanent Peace: Is it\na Dream?\n19. Charles Kains-Jackson—John Addington Sy-\nmonds A Portrait\nThe life-long friend of the English poet,\ngives a vivid picture of the personality and\nlife and life-work of Symonds. This essay\nwritten a few days after the death of Sy-\nmonds, on the 19th of April, 1893, and was\nfirst published in the Quarto, a since forgotten\nliterary periodical of England, in 1897 .25\n20. Djuna Barnes—The Book of Repulsive Wo-\nmen—Rhythms and 5 Drawings •<•*. *25\n21. Edna W. Underwood—The Book of the White\nPeacocks\n22. H. Thompson Rich—'Lumps of Clay—l 6\nRhythms 25\n23. D. Molby — Hippopotamus Tails —28 Every-\nday Musings 25\n24. H.Thompson Rich—The Red Shame—17 War\nPoems 25\n25. Theodor Schroeder, Erothogenesis of Reli-\ngion, a bibliography -50\n26. Sadakichi Hartmann, My Rubayat 50\nAccompany each order with Cheque, small amounts, one-cent stamps\nBRUNO'S WEEKLY\n58 WASHINGTON SQUARE, N. Y. C."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c038", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c038", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[998]", "page_fin": "[998]", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.33", "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": 16, "page_imprimee": "[998]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 361, "texte": "RARE BOOKS FIRST EDITION\nExtra Illustrated Books. Early Printed Books. Association Books. Books for Christmas Gifts.\nPurchased singly or in sets for people who have neither time nor opportunity to select for themselves,\ni '' ■\nor for those who have not access to the best book marts. Why not begin collecting now?\nAddress, E. V. Boston Transcript, Boston, Mass."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c039", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c039", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[998]", "page_fin": "[998]", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.34", "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": 16, "page_imprimee": "[998]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 363, "fin_caractere_exclue": 564, "texte": "Being a book\nIN WHICH\nwe say just what we think. Published every month! by Norman-Bel Gedd.es at 171 Wilson Avenue in\nDetroit, Michigan. It is a little book uniquely illustrated. Write for sample copy."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c040", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c040", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[998]", "page_fin": "[998]", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.35", "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": 16, "page_imprimee": "[998]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 566, "fin_caractere_exclue": 710, "texte": "# , a.\nHOTEL BREVOORT CAFE LAFAYETTE\n' X ■\nFifth Avenue University Place\nRAYMOND ORTEIG, INC.\nThe Two French Hotels and Restaurants of New York."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c041", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c041", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[998]", "page_fin": "[998]", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.36", "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": 16, "page_imprimee": "[998]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 712, "fin_caractere_exclue": 890, "texte": "GONFARONE'S\n40 West Bth Street , \"j\nTABLE D'HOTE\n\"Eating places are literary landmarks\" said 0. Henry, speaking of Gonfarone's in one of his\nunexcelled Greenwich Village Stories."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-09-16-01-c042", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01#c042", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-09-16_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[998]", "page_fin": "[998]", "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=bmtnaaq19160916-01.2.37", "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": 16, "page_imprimee": "[998]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 892, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1354, "texte": "There can be 110 pleasanter place to hear that remarkable\nEdison Record Number (82536) than\nTHE DIAMOND DISC SHOP\nAt Number 10 Fifth Avenue\nIn this store, at least, the delightful atmosphere of Old Greenwich Village has not been sacrificed\non the altar of commercialism\n/T). . ' ,-1 \\*r.- • . . ; $ . .. , ' .\n\" ' '' - ■ ' ' ■: 'J . . |\nPhone: Stuyvesant 4570 A postal will bring you, with our compliments,\nan interesting little biography of Mr. Thos. A.\nEdison."}]}], "pages_ocr_originales": [{"page_pdf": 1, "page_imprimee": "couv. 1", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.1", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n100 Dollars for the Story of Your Marriage—(A contest for married people)\nV\nEDITED BY GUIDO BRUNO IN HIS GARRET ON\nWASHINGTON SQUARE x\nFive Cents September 16th, 1916\n\nPThe contents include:\nRagtime An Appreciation\nThe Tragedy in the Birdhouse\nWhat is the Matter with Irvin S. Cobb\nTwo People — The Romance of One\nNight in Greenwich Village"}, {"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[984]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.2", "texte": "Copyright by Guido Bruno, September 9th, 1916. Original\nmatter, including all drawings, may not be reproduced with-\nout permission of Guido Bruno; but that permission may be\nassumed if credit is given to author and Bruno's Weekly.\n• • ' • \\ ' <s[, # 4\\' ■\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.\nThere is no better fiction than the one Fate writes upon the pages of\nour lives. We know your story will be enjoyed by lots of others. Write\nit down to-day and address it to the \"Contest Editor/' Bruno's Weekly,\n58 Washington Square, New York City.\nEvery week those stories which are printed will be paid for at space rates.\nThe contest will close on October 1st, 1916, and the stories should be lim-\nited to three hundred words.\nSEND YOUR STORY TO-DAY"}, {"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "[985]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.3", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nEdited by Guido Bruno in His Garret on Washington Stjtsaar®\nNo. 14\nSEPTEMBER 16th MCMXVI\nVol. 11l\n\nRagtime: An Appreciation\n\n44np HAT curious music,\" remarked a young English-\n-1 man to me, recently, as we sat together on the\ndeck of a coast steamer, \"is your American ragtime. It\nis as interesting, in its way, as the famous Hawaiian\nmelodies. It is essentially and fundamentally American.\nIt stimulates and exhilarates one like an old wine. It\nleaps and plunges, laughs and cries, commands and\npleads, soothes and inflames, in the most bewildering\nfashion/'\nPerhaps it was the warm interest my acquaintance\nevinced in the subject that caused me to give it, for the\nfirst time, some real consideration. Prior to this I had\ntaken our ragtime pretty much for granted. I have\nalways been in love with this sort of melody. In the\nearly years, when my juvenile ears were incapable of\ndiscriminating or analyzing, I knew the \"hits.\" They\nwere meat and drink to me, then. And they are meat\nand drink to me, now.\nBut maturity has helped me to see the deeper\nsignificance beneath this syncopated music that my land\nloves so passionately. And this article is an effort to\ncrystallize my conception of the purpose and aims of\nragtime.\nAmerica is vital. Her vitality is that of the prairie\nmare, only a few months in harness. Lover of primal\nthings that she is, the call of the wild is never without\nits appeal to her. The sky she loves, the sea she loves,\nthe mountains she loves, the valleys she loves. All that\nis big and strong is America. And America is all that\nis big and strong.\nEven in her most effete Eastern cities, the cowboy is\nher hero. The spirit of the Grand Canyon rules the\ncontinent. Big surroundings breed big thoughts.\nAmerica is the offspring of her prairies, her towering\nRockies, her vast lakes. Ever in the midst of such\nelemental splendor could she be other than inspired?\nAnd could her inspiration find expression in anything\nbut magnificent thought? Walt. Whitman's poetry is as\nmuch America as Yellowstone Park. It is but the cold\nmajesty of the mountain ridges, the terrible splendor of\nthe gulfs, the barren magnificence of the plains—melted\ninto words.\nIn the earlier years America found herself elementally\nprovided with the lovelier things. In the thunder of her\ngreat waterfalls was music that quickened and inspired.\nIn her California sunsets were color pictures of power\nand vitality. Mountains shaped like human heads were\nher sculpture. And through the pulsing, naturalness of\nit all, surged a poetry, more august, vivid and lyrical\nthan has ever welled up from the heart of earthly bard.\nWe still have all these treasures, today. The waterfalls\nretain their lovely cadence. The sunsets are as rich in\ntones, as delightfully variable, as ever. The phenomenal\nmountains can still startle and fascinate.\nBut other elements have entered into the life of\nAmerica. Commerce has ordained that we shall crowd\nmillions of our people into a hand-ful of little garden-\nplots and name these scenes of congested activity New\nYork, Chicago, San Francisco, etc. And with the\ndevelopment of the generations has come a development\nof the spirit.\nFrom coast to coast this change is perceptible.\nAmerica has not ceased to love poetry, music or art.\nBut America has ceased to sit by her Niagara and dream.\nShe has transferred her ideals from the mountain to the\nmarket. The passion that, years ago, was fanned into\nheat by the music of Colorado thunderrwinds, today\nspends itself in making of each, big, busy, trade-filled\nday, finished triumph. America loves her commerce.\nThe surge and rush of it, the tense uncertainty, the\nsplendid daring of it, thrill her bubbling, school-boy\nheart as nothing else could thrill it.\nAnd, consistent with the illimitable supply of vigor\nand electricity that is hers, she demands these virtues\nin all about her. No decadent music or poetry for this"}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "986", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.4", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nbrave young heart! Her songs must be fresh, strong,\nkindly and keen. Her painting must be virile, true and\npotent. Her stories must have the strength of the\nNiagara in them—the strength of the Niagara that she\nnow too seldom sees. Her stage people must have the\nwarmth, affection and impetuosity that is so big a part\nof America, herself. Her music, she divides into two\nclasses—the portentous, ornate melodies of the old\nworld, and the sparkling, saucy ragtime that is so ex-\npressive of her own individuality.\nTo the former America comes in her deeper, holier\nmoments. To the latter she comes for relaxation at the\nclose of day. And how splendidly faithful to her obliga-\ntion, is ragtime! The warmth, the glowing friendliness\nthat is hers, is ever refreshing, ever invigorating, ever\ncomforting. Surely it is the heart language that is most\nuniversally understood, after all?\nRagtime in the evening, when the sun has just set,\nand its scarlet draperies have not yet lost themselves in\nthe western dusk! When the beach is a dim gold and the\nocean is some strange lovely hue, half turquoise and\nhalf emerald! When the sky is—but we do not need\nnature's poetry to help us appreciate this wonderful\nmusic of ours.\nWe love it in the daytime. We love it at night. We\nlove it when flippant. We love it when grave. If we're\ncheerful, it rejoices with us in our gladness. If we're\nmorose, it sidles coyly into our hearts and offers us\nsympathy in wistful, tender cadences. If we're\nsentimental, it drifts into gentle, mediative rhythms.\nThere is no mood known to America that is foreign to\nragtime. And there is no mood in her ragtime that fails\nto find a responsive chord in the heart of its creator.\nAmerica—big-hearted, impulsive, lovable land that\nyou are—there is not among all your institutions any-\nthing so vitally a part of you as your ragtime. There is\nniot across your broad breast any feature of your in-\nnumerable activities, that so poignantly, so faithfully\nexpresses the best that is in you. There is not, in the\ndepths of your rich, glowing heart, any quality so kindly,\nso natural, so sincere, so human. And, if none of your\nother fine traits remained, if all else was vain, then,\nland that I love, the world would still know you and love\nyou, know your hopes, your fears, your joys, your sor-\nrows, your successes, your failures, your tears, your\nlaughter—know and love them, through this wonderful\nvehicle of expression that you have created—your rag-\ntime.\n\nJohn Black\n\nThe Tragedy in the Birdhouse\nBy Guido Bruno\nHE was pearl-gray. He had white wing-feathers and\nhe carried his head like a king. His feet were\npurple and the cream-colored down on his legs\nresembled silk stockings of a page proud to bear the\ntrain of his mistress. His eyes were re'd-brown. They\ngazed disgustedly at a flock of sparrows that had forced\nthemselves into the birdhouse and had begun to pick up\nthe yellow corn that lay on the pale gold of the gravel.\n\"Enjoy yourselves, you vagabonds,\" he said. His\nvoice was scornful but sad. \"It must be dreadful to live\noutside where it is so dusty and where men with great\nbrooms are always sweeping you aside. But how greedy\nyou are. Always eating and eating and payining no at-\ntention to the beautiful scenery that they have built for\nme here and the little lake as real as life where I can\nbathe to my heart's content. Plebeians! First you stuff\nyourselves and then you creep away and sleep and sleep\nuntil you are hungry again.\"\nAnd the pearl-gray bird moved his wings up and down\nlike a dainty blonde coquette that smooths impossible\nwrinkles out of her gown, looks at her hands and thinks:\n\"What beautiful hands I have!\"\nMeanwhile the sparrows hopped about on the sand\nand helped themselves to the tidbits generously. A\nsmall dark rogue with a white fleck on his breast fixed\nhis eyes on a brown little lady that very boldly kept\nwithin speaking distance of him. He chirped to her\nright gayly and encouraged her to come nearer. If she\nappeared to be indifferent, he made signs that she would\nbe very welcome. At last she approached him, very\nshyly. But the nearer she came to him, the more\nanimated she grew and soon had progressed as far as\na great crust of bread that lay between them. The\nsparrow had been watching his sweetheart with pride\nand joy and now he was struck with a daring thought.\n\"Suppose we both took hold of this piece of bread,\"\nhe said, you on one side and I on the other and we\ncarried it over there—you know where—under the roof\nof the white house with many statues.\"\nShe appeared to take the matter under consideration.\nShe knew exactly what the bold fellow meant. They\nhad often sat on a perch there together and he had talked\nabout love and had stroked her wing feathers with his\nbill, very tenderly. And she had made no objections.\nShe knew they had fallen in love with each other and\nthat each was thinking of building a nest. Both wanted\nto set up house-keeping right there where they had\nacknowledged their love and had such happy times.\nThe ardent lover grew more and more determined.\nHe took hold of the crust and jerked it here and there\nso vigorously that he raised a little storm of crumbs and\ndust.\n\"How strong he is,\" thought the little lady. And she\nnoticed with satisfaction that the performance was being\nwatched by other feathered folk. What she really wanted\nto do was to hop up to him—quite close to him—and\nlay her head on the white spot on his breast. But that\nwas a thing that really ought not to be done where any-\none could see it. So she only looked at him meaningly\nand took hold of the crust in a very determined fashion.\nThen they flew with it a little way just to show that\nthey had not undertaken too much together. And they\ngot on very well with it. They stopped to take breath\nand the sparrow deeply impressed with a sense of\nresponsibility of which he had never dreamed, said,:\n\"Now we have enough provisions for the first\" few\ndays. And there is still plenty of water in the troughs\nunder the eaves left from the last rain so we need not\nworry about our living while we are building our nest,\nalso where there is a stable filled with sweet-scented\nhay and in the window of an old house there lies every\nmorning a beautifud elder bolster from which we can\ntake down to make a soft bed.\""}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "987", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.5", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\n\"Oh, look at the lovers! Just see the lovers!\" shrilled\nall the other sparrows in chorus. Then they hopped\nabout excitedly, jostling one another. For this was a\nreal event in such a quiet community.\nThe beautiful bird with the purple feet had left off\npolishing his toes to watch the carrying-on of the sweet-\nhearts. \"What a great fuss they are making over a piece\nof bread,\" he thought.\nAnd then with a bored expression he gazed at the\nother sparrows that were picking up from the ground\nthe scattered grains and crumbs. He began to think\nabout the nest of which the pair had spoken. What might\nit look'like? And then it occurred to him that he knew\nnothing about anything out there behind the iron netting\nof the birdhouse. Should he ask the chattering spar-\nrows? That would certainly be the simplest thing to do.\nBut - - - speak with them! No? Better perish with\ncuriosity! One ought not to ask questions of beggars\nthat eat the crumbs in the gravel.\n\"Out with you, you silly mob!\" he croaked in such a\ndisagreeable voice that it was hard to believe that it\ncould come from such a beautiful bird. Then he spread\nhis wonderful wings and swung them as if he would fan\naway the brown-feathered host. There was a loud chirp-\ning either in anger of fear and swish—swish—they flew\nstraight through the netting to the trees in the hedge,\nyonder in the mysterious land outside.\n\"They are growing quite impudent,\" observed the\nyellow pelican, passing by. And he sniffed with his long\nbill at the edge of the little pond built in the plot covered\nwith smooth pebble stones. It seemed to the gray bird\nwho was not really so bad at heart after all and who\nwas terribly lonely and sad, quite convenient that the\npelican who always appeared to be so stupid, was in a\ntalkative mood.\n\"Look here, Mr. Pelican,\" he said, \"you are wiser\nthan I and know a great deal more about things than I\nbecause you are very much older. What is there outside\nbehind the wire netting from which poor little birds come\nand where they are such strange things? And what is a\nnest? All the creatures kept teasing two little sparrows\nthat wanted to build a nest.\"\nThe pelican shook his head thoughtfully for a while\nand then whetted his bill on a stone. He drew one of his\nlegs out of sight and looked at his dainty gray com-\npanion, critically.\n\"You were born in this place and you are very young,\"\nhe began, \"and I suppose I ought not to destroy your\npeace of mind by enlightening you. But I feel so lone-\nsome today that it will do me good to talk to you.\n\"Far, far from here is a lake a million times bigger\nthan this wretched puddle that they have arranged here\nfor my bath. Over this lake arches a wide sky across\nwhich hurry white clouds from which fall the most re-\nfreshing drops, crystal-clear. All around this lake grow\ngreen trees and reeds. And about it are stretches of\nmeadow where the lushest of grasses are to be found.\nYou really ought to have lived there in order to be able\nto picture it.\n\"In the thicket of reeds down quite close to the water\nmy parents had a nest. Oh, you asked just now what a\nnest is! A nest is a comfortable little house that looks\nsomething like the house they build for us here. But\nthey are really very different. And one could not speak\nof them as if they had been ordered, paid for and\ndelivered. My father and mother were quite young\nwhen they first met each other. They were beautiful\nwhite birds with broad bands of yellow in their wings.\nThey dove deep into the water, chased each other across\nthe broad meadows and played games high in the air.\nThen they would go hunting and bring back fruit and\nlittle fishes and my father always carried the best of\nwhat he found to mother. And these were his happiest\nhours when he saw how good the thing that he had\nbrought tasted.\n\"And then one day, it occurred to them how pleasant\nit would be if they did not have to separate in the even-\ning and each go to a different home. So they decided\nto build themselves a nest.\n\"I remember how my mother was accustomed to speak\nof it. Each piece of reed that they fetched in their bills\nwas admired and then laid carefully in just the right\nplace. And when everything was ready father dove deep\nin the lake—and that was at the risk of his life for he\nhad to make the plunge headfirst—and tore away a whole\nbushel of seaweed and lined the nest with it to make a\nsoft bed for my mother. And then they moved in there\nand were happy! During the day they romped in the\nwater and scurried about for food, sharing the tidbit.\nSometimes father had bad luck and then mother was\nvery proud to be able to give him something from her\nstore or her catch.\n\"And then mother had to remain at home and father\nalways kept coming with something good in his bill.\nAnd then I was born. And how both of them caressed\nme and how proud mother and father were?\"\nTears stood in the eyes of the old pelican and ran in\ngreat drops down to the yellow sand. He could not speak\nfor a while, he was so deeply moved.\n\"And one day,\"he continued, a soft sob choking his\nvoice, \"I was separated from my parents and my home.\nThe sun was bright in the sky, the air was clear and\nfresh and the lake lay peaceful there as smooth as glass\nand glittering silver like a mirror. I thought I would"}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "988", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.6", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nventure out to find something to eat for myself. I went\nto the green, lonely meadow. Then suddenly I saw some\ngreat thin thing coming toward me. I did not know at\nthat time that there were such things as men that were\nmightier than we and that could catch us. Father and\nmother had not explained that to me, doubtless out of a\ndesire to preserve my childish innocence. Suddenly\nhowever I felt myself violently seized from behindhand\nI lost consciousness.\n\"When I came to myself I was in a little cage and\nlater they brought me here. That was years ago and I\nhave continued to remain here and grown accustomed\nto everything and only on days like this when the sun is\nhidden by clouds and I know that it is shining away off\nthere on my meadows and on my lake I find myself very\nhomesick.\n\"It is true that I have everything that I need. I do\nnot have to think of food. I do not have to battle with\nthe wild elements and have nothing to fear from the\nraging storms. But my wings are lame and my eyes are\nweak and I would prefer to be one of the little sparrows\nthat come here to steal the crumbs.\"\nThe pelican stood there pensive. He slowly stretched\nout his leg that had been drawn up and pointed his \"bill\nin the opposite direction.\n\"But, Mr. Pelican,\" answered the little gray bird who\nhad listened eagerly to the recital, \"why couldn't we\nbuild up a nest even here? Haven't you Mrs. Pelican?\nAnd think of the beautiful little pelicans that you had\nlast summer and that were taken away!\"\n\"Yes, we can build nests. We have to build nests\"\nthe pelican said over his shoulder in a bitter tone. \"Even\nyou will build one. And they will bring you a mate and\nyou must suffer it—do you hear? you must suffer it! And\nwhen you have children they will let you keep them\nwhile they are little and helpless and then they will take\nthem from you and use them for other purposes.\"\nThe pelican walked solemnly over to the other side\nof the birdhouse where his wife was lying and fell\nasleep.\nThe gray bird had grown very serious. He looked up\nat the iron meshes of the cage. He thought of the little\nsparrow that was building a nest somewhere and he\nwondered what the little mate that they were going to\nbring to him would look like. Then he felt a sharp pain\n—the anguish of a longing that he had never before\nexperienced. He felt disgust and loathing for the puddle\nof water and yellow gravel and the pelican and the other\nbirds that lived in the house with him. And he wanted\nto go away. Far away where there were soft grasses\nand broad lakes and where the water was clear and\nwhere the sky was not parcelled off by iron netting. He\nwanted to fly and to bathe in a lake and to dive into\ndeep water, headfirst and to tear away seaweed and\nhe wanted to build a nest.\nSummoning all his strength, he lifted himself as high\nas possible. He was frightened when he felt himself\nhovering uncertainly in the air and striking against the\niron meshes of the birdhouse. \"Sometime I am going\nto beat against the iron barriers with such force,\" he\ndetermined, \"that they will break and I shall fly away.\"\nAnd he made this decision after he had flown to the top\nof the cage two or three times and collided with the\niron netting and suffered great pain.\nThe other birds however, who had cuddled up com-\nfortably in their favorite corners awaiting the oncoming\nof the night, whispered to each other: \"He must have\nbecome blind. Else he would have seen that netting.\"\nThe others shrugged their shoulders and said: \"He\nis crazy.\"\n\nNew York\nH. Thompson Rich\nI sing of You,\nMeanest and mightiest of cities,—\nTo some unborn civilization\nCountless centuries hence,\nI address my song.\nI sing of your ten million souls\nWho struggle and blend and fuse:\nCity of steel limbs\nThat stand against the stars,\nDefying time an instant in the eternal pulse,\nDefied at the end by time.\nI sing of your trains\nThat flash beneath the ground,\nRush under rivers,\nClimb over trestles spun to the clouds;\nOf roarings that dazzle the ear by day,\nAnd flashings that stagger the eye by night,—\nDin of factories where untold thousands toil;\nCough of river craft:\nTugs, ferries, barges, scows,\nSteamers a half mile long;\nBurst of great avenues ablaze with light:\nHuge signs of myriad electric bulbs,\nAgainst the sky.\nI sing of your luxuries,\nLuxuries never before enjoyed anywhere in the world,\nExtravagances never before equalled in the courts of kings.\nI sing of your pomp and show,\nYour sin and corruption,\nYour vice and degradation,—\nNever before known or dreamed in the hells of earth.\nI sing of your strength and glory and triumph,\nYour weakness and shame and defeat,—\nI sing of You,\nNew York,\nMaster and slave of men.\n\nVers Libre\nVincent Starrett\nTHE doctor would have been a great man\nIf he had not dabbled too deeply in the mysteries of sex;\nThe lawyer could have risen high\nHad he been content to take his divorce fees in cash;\nThe clergyman's eloquence might well have wafted him to\nheaven\nBut for his habit of practicing it upon the ladies' aid\nIn private.\nI might yet amount to something as a writer\nIf I could only let the damned women alone!"}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "989", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.7", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nThomas A. Edison in his laboratory Etching from life by Bernhard Wall\n\nLiterary Jiu- Jitsu\n\nA FEW years ago our athletic young men were\npracticing a marvellous Japanese system of\nphysical culture based on a knowledge of the vulnerable\nstrategic points of the body, where major nerves run\nclose to the surface and can be put out of action by a\nsingle blow; a system that appealed to the lazy man by\nits marvelous economy of effort. Instead of the labori-\nous routine of punishing your adversary with your fists\nuntil he was unable to ward off a finishing blow (a\nprocess involving considerable incidental pains and\nperils) you cut short the preliminaries, went straight to\nthe point, and put him out of action by direct attack on\na vital spot.\nJiu-jitsu has passed out of vogue among physical\ninstructors, but writers seem to be taking up the fad.\nNotably Irvin S. Cobb. Cobb has been slipping of late,\ngoing backward; but like his illustrious contemporary,\nChristy Mathewson, he is going slowly, staving off with\ncunning the ineluctable day. For Matty remained the\nOld Master for years after his fast one ceased to sizzle\nand his curves ceased to break. He knew what they\ncouldn't hit—the one particular thing that bewildered\neach batter and left him swinging a ridiculous and futile\nbat at an elusive ball. And it is by just this sort of\nthing, by pitching with his head and remembering what\nthey can't hit, that Cobb has been getting by in the last\nyear or so.\nThere was a time, and lately, when Cobb had every-\nthing—painstaking and balanced plot, a finely accurate\nand amazingly inclusive sense of character, humor raw\nand primal, a style sufficiently facile—perhaps too facile,\nprofound and paternal sympathy; and with all of this,\nabove all and more than all, the master sense that taught\nhim how to direct the rest—the instinct for that which\nclutches the emotions where they lie raw and unguarded,\nand ties the heart strings up in a knot. This was his\ngreat gift, but it was the greatest of many; in those days\nCobb was near immortality. He was American as only\nMark Twain and O. Henry were American, but he fitted\ninto one of our schools—he had as little fellowship witii\nthe furtive passion of Chambers as with the pulpit-\npounding of David Graham Phillips and Owen Johnson,\nthe flippant crudeness of the imitators of Cohan, the\nrarefied elegance of our women realists. He was only-\nbegotten, without kin; a national institution. Most like\nto Porter, he fell short of Porter's flair for the perverse\nand ironic, but went far beyond him in understanding\nand pity. He was Cobb.\nBut now the munitions are running short; the speed\nis gone, the curves no longer break. Cobb of today is\nnot the Cobb of a few years ago. His plots grow fainter\nand fainter; his characters become perfunctory, sketchy,\nor repetitions of characters from his own Golden Age;\nthe humor halts and falters; and his stories are damnably"}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "990", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.8", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\npadded (though perhaps all magazine stories must be\npadded today). Yet he gets by through that one great\ngift, the instinct for the vulnerable centers of emotion.\nHe knows what they can't hit.\nHe 3s fudging on us; whether it is because he is writ-\ning too much, or is getting prosperous and slovenly, or\nsimply has gone stale, has been milked of ideas, the fact\nremains that iai his recent work there is only a shadow\nof fiie old Cobb. Not that he has lost his punch; he\nseems to have lost everything but his punch. For he\nstill gets by—bow? Why, by literary jiu-jitsu; by shadow-\nt>oxing for five or six thousand words, bewildering us\nwith feints and sparring until suddenly he leaps forward\nwith a fiendish chuckle and thrusts his fingers deep into\nthe penumogastric nerve; and we laugh, we cry, we\nshiver and fall prostrate—and when we have pulled our\nshaken selves together we agree that Cobb is still good,\nthough the story that has caught us be one which has\nneither beginning nor middle, nor much of an end, and\nWhich as to depiction of character and portrayal of life\ncompares with the best of the old Cobb about as favor-\nably as the two-per-cent. near-beer of the dry town\ncompares with the Bourbon of the Blue Grass.\nWhen Cobb writes about himself he is still interest-\ning; his trips to the war zone, his lecture tour, the re-\nmoval of his appendix, his struggle against the layers\n*>112 fat that encase his soul. But when he writes fiction\nihe can't, or at least doesn't, give us what we have\nlearned to expect. He knows our weaknesses; he can\nget by for a while longer. But not even Mathewson\n•could pitch forever without an arm. We do not know\nthe circumstances of Mr. Cobb's private life, but it looks\nas if he is in sore need of some cataclysmic new ex-\nperience to shake him up. If he were tried for murder,\nor took a job as section hand, or got religion, or ran a\ncountry store, or taught school for a year or so, it might\nyonce more make a writer out of a magazine writer.\n\nE. D.\n\nQuandary\nH. Thompson Rich\nWHAT would they say,\nI wonder,\nThe old mountebanks:\n» Balzac,\nCatullus,\nChaucer,\n.Boccaccio,—\nIf they knew\nThat these modern word-mongers\nWere chopping up indifferent prose\nInto odd lengths,\nAnd selling it to the newspapers and magazines\nAt twenty-five cents\nA line?\nI rather imagine\nThey would be green with envy!\n\nThe Fate of Genius\nI have heard men of the present day, distinguished in\npolitics, in literature, in science, complain of envy, of\nhatred, of calumny. They were wrong. It is law. It is\nglory. The high-renowned afford examples. Hatred follows\nthem everywhere. Nothing escapes it. The theatre openly\nyielded to it Shakespeare and Moliere; the prison could not\ntake away from it Christopher Columbus; the cloister did\nnot preserve St. Bernard; the throne did not save Napoleon.\nThere is only one asylum for genius in this world; it is ia\nthe tomb!\n\nCEZANNE,\nCourtesy Washington Square Gallery\n\nR. I. Coady\nThere is a world beyond things which grows out of things\nand can exist only as a result of things but which is another\nworld other than a world of things.\n\nWashington Square\nForrest B. Spaulding\nSTARS and a summer night\nThe crescent moon shining through the trees,\nCasting weird shadows on the unresting park\nOverlit by myriads of flickering lamps.\nAnd you sitting silently beside me listening\nAs I dream aloud of future hopes and fears,\nOf life's ambitions,\nPerhaps never to come.\nWith the strong clear vision of imaginative youth\nI build great castles in the air\nThat unrelenting time may level to the ground\nAs she soon or later brings to earth all man-made things.\nBut in our eyes they stand impregnable.\nMeanwhile the huge illuminated cross\nAlternately gleams, and vanishes from our fickle sight\nAs the mischievous summer wind caresses the leaves\nPlayfully plotting to obscure our vision."}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "991", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.9", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nNight in the Back Yard\nAlice Goebell\nNO, not silence. That golden treasure will never be\nfound in a city that knows no rest. But darkness\nand quiet have settled upon the back yard. The clothes-\nlines are no longer distinct, but a man's white shirt is\ngently flapping like the sail of a black ship on dark\nwaters at mid-night. The breath-'like breeze that blows\nthe shirt stirs the few blades of grass a little that grow\naround the edges of the yard. If there is a belated grass-\nhopper down there, he hears a queer little rattling, as\none stiffening blade bends upon another and he is re-\nminded that the frost will not be long in coming. A low\nrustle could be heard in the walnut-shrub, whose leaves\nare now brown and brittle and quite curled up, if this\nsame little breeze did not hear with it the heavy\nrumblings of the elevated only a block away. It is\nwonderful what a multiplicity of things a single little\nbreeze can do all at once!\nThe moon is high up in the sky. It shines down on\nthe shirt and makes it look whiter. It shines down on\nthe back-yard and makes dark places look darker. A\ncat comes from somewhere and sits down on the top of\nthe plank wall with her tail wound around her. She\nsits motionless with head tilted upward and glowing\neyes fixed on the moon. Another cat, thin and black,\ncomes from somewhere else and creeps carefully along\nthe wall. He sits down opposite his neighbor and gazes\nupward at the moon. And yet another cat comes ....\nbut the back-yard is no longer quiet!\n\nCoelum in Terra\nHal Cohn\nA little cottage not far away—yet not too near;\nFurnished not lavishly, yet plentiful.\nEach room built so that it may have a share—\nOf God's sun-light sometime during the day.\nOutside a garden, not laid out in beds where none dare\ntread,\nBut trimmed carelessly, yet neatly, so all might pluck a\nflower. J\nThe entire atmosphere must breathe of love and good,\nSo that each passer-by may see on looking in,\nA hearty welcome and a quiet place\nTo rest his weary limbs and quench his thirst,\nAnd with all, some saintly soul of woman fair\nWith me shall mold a heaven of our own—\nOn earth. This is of what I dream,\nA little home—sometime, somewhere.\n\nThe Polygamist\nTHE story runs, that once, in the dark ages, a young man\nwas brought before the authorities, charged with having\nmarried several wives. When called upon for his defence,\n\"It is true,\" said he, \"most learned judges, that I have mar-\nried several women, but judge for yburselves whether my\nobject in so doing was not praiseworthy. A man has surely\na right, if he buys an article for good, and it turns out to be\nbad, to reject it. Now I found that the first wife I married\nwas ill-tempered, the second lazy, and the third false, and\nso forth. All I want is to get a good ~&ne, and I shall be\nsatisfied.\" The bench were puzzled at first at this novel\ndefence, but after a short consultation decreed, that as it\nwould be impossible for the defendant to find a perfect wife,\nexcept in the other world, he should be immediately put to\ndeath, to enable him to look for one.\n\nHe That Escapeth\nHenry Clayton Hopkins\nA SPIDER cast her silken thread to the breeze, and\nawaited results.\nThe viscous fabric floated to and fro, and finally caught\nsecurely to a neighboring branch.\nJust then a diminutive beetle rushed breathlessly\nalong the twig, his little body gleaming in the sun,\npursued by a monster with eight legs and three pairs of\nhorrid eyes. There were no means of escape, had not\na merciful breath of air stirred the spanning thread, and\nity iridescence caught the bulging eyes of the sorely\npressed fugitive.\n\"Ah, Providence affordeth always an escape for the\ninnocent,\" he cried, and began a perilous journey along\nthe swaying bridge.\nThe monster stopped short at the end of the twig,\ngnashing his jaws and reaching out his hooked claws\ntoward the escaping prey, well knowing that the slender\ncord would not support his black mass.\nThe fugitive stepped onto the leaf that held the farther\nend of the thread, with a deep inspiration of joy and\nthankfulness for his miraculous deliverance.\nHis tiny footfalls awoke the sleeping spider, who,\ntaking in the situation at a glance, remarked, as she\ngathered in her victim, \"It's an ill wind that blows no-\nbody good.\" And the monster, who was holding his ear\nto the thread, which served in lieu of a telephone-wire,\nhearing the remark, turned green with envy, and was\nlost in the general color of his surroundings.\n\nTO YOU, GENTLE READER\nKindly give your standing order for Bruno's\nWeekly to your newsdealer, if you do not\nwish to send us directly a subscription. The\npresent paper prices are such that it prove?\ndisastrous for a magazine to print more\ncopies than are needed for its regular sub-\nscription circulation and for a supply of\nunreturnable orders of news companies and\nmagazine agencies.\nAlso we cannot supply you with back num-\nbers which you have missed on the news-\nstands.\nTherefore, if you like the contents of\nBruno's Weekly, release your clutches front\na two-dollar bill and send in your check\nto-day or give a standing order to your news-\ndealer."}, {"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "992", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.10", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nSplitting the Ears of the Groundlings\n\nMr. Theodore Kozloff and Vlasta Maslowa in\n\"Extasy D'Amour\", by Eastman\n\nMiss Vera Fredowa in a \"War Dance\" by Eastman\n\nDramatic Criticism\nBOGUMIL Davidson, the great German tragedian has\ngone crazy in America after he had played King\nLear more masterfully than anybody else. He was\nseized by insanity in his dressing-room. The once poor\nJewish boy from Lemberg demanded from his manager\npayment, in gold, of his salary. They found him, after\na performance, playing with the gold pieces, stalk-\nmad.\nHe could have played the real Paganini, the man who\nwas consumed by those two strongest passions: hunger\nfor art and miserly desire of gold.\nEdward Knoblauch transformed Paganini—produced a\nfew days ago by Klaw and Erlanger and George L.\nTyler, in the Criterion Theatre—into a study inartistic\ntemperament. I mean it in the sense as it is under-\nstood by the average American: the grotesque makeup\nof the great artist which has nothing whatever to do with\nthe real man. As it is usually with the executors of\nhistoric novels and plays, who seem to have been born\nas strange old maids with pseudo-romantic inclination,\nhe couldn't do anything with the real Paganini, the\nPaganini haunted by demons, and he had to make\nchanges—such changes that he is beyond recognition.\nHe made him a sort of a hero of a family novel who\ncomposes continually, who eats very little, who per-\nspires \"soul\" out of all his pores, and who has the\nbehavior of an Italian punchinello. Temperamental\noutbursts in a cute brogue, a funny thin body with lively\nmovements, a quick-silvery countenance, long hair and\ngrotesque attire. Add to this seeming sexlessness in\nhis intercourse with femininity: this is Edward Knob-\nlauch's Paganini—Paganini after the heart of old maids\nof both sexes.\nFortunately, the part was entrusted to George Arliss,\nor better, it was written for his curiously-thin body which\ngave birth some time ago to Disraeli. He again trans-\nforms the false Paganini into a stage reality. Because\nhe knows more than to exhibit his very thin legs, to\nhump his bony back, or to tear his skeleton fingers\nthrough his bushy locks. Arliss is one of the few big\ncaricaturists of the American stage, one cut out to\ndemonstrate' to our tasteless newspaper cartoonists that\none must have learned first to draw a life-true character\nbefore one can distort him amusingly and humorously.\nHe pours whiskey into-the weak tea of the play. His\nis a fastidious refinement akin to genius. One realizes-\nthis especially when one has witnessed a short while\nago his American colleague, George F. Dixey, \"go\nthrough a similarly grateful part\" with that certain\nsanguinity caused by training and routine. \"Mr. Lazarus,\"\nby O'Higgins and Harriet Ford, is about the best these\ntwo equally-fruitful and successful authors have written\nso far for the American stage. It, too, is a novel-like\nplot adopted often before on the stage but cleverly and\noriginally twisted into an atmosphere of fine humor. A\nman accustomed to the life of a free, gold prospector\ngrows tired of his matrimonial bliss during his honey-\nmoon. A railroad accident affords him the chance to\ndisappear without leaving any traces. After a lapse of\ntwenty years he is seized with a desire to see his wife\nagain and he returns, a second Enoch Arden. His\n\"widow\" had married again. He sees her, who had\nintended to make him quickly into a henpecked hus-\nband, a hopeless slave of a brutal rascal with oily manners.\nHe feels compassion for her and still more for their\nbeautiful daughter—of whose existence he had never\nknown. He disdoses his identity and plays Providence\non Earth for both of them. But, as he realizes the\nintentions of his re-found wife to put him again under\nthe ban of her unattractive personality, he disappears\nfor a second time—and now for good.\nDixey plays the part of the husband who returned and\nhe has his name in equally-bold type as George Arliss\nhas his. George Arliss has decidedly-better physical\nendowments to play himself exclusively, than has Henry\nF. Dixey. But he plays—as far as the playwrights give\nhim the chance—today Disraeli and tomorrow Paganini.\nBoth bear George Arliss's own physiognomy and are\nstill fundamentally-different creations of a creative\nartist."}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "993", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.11", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n(Continued from last issue)\n\nHenry F. Dixey, for the last thirty years, has played\nHenry F. Dixey. But then, George Arliss is a great im-\npersonator because of his long years of artistic work.\nHenry F. Dixey was born—not made—Henry F. Dixey.\nHerein lies the difference between the careers of\nactors in Europe and in America.\nMOMUS\nFair and Warmer\nThere is an atmosphere of happy merriment through\nall the three acts on the stage. The complications that\nIpad to catastrophe—and finally to a pleasant solution—\ns>eem to come naturally. Innocent silliness and attempts\nto become drinkers are always pleasing to the audience.\nBecause they all know better. Hearty laughter on the\nstage and still heartier laughter in the audience make\nfor a pleasant evening. Here is a good show—the\npleasant passing of an evening without regrets.\nAnecdote of Washington\nW HEN the American troops were quartered at Newburg,\nat the close of the revolutionary war, and the soldiers\nwere stirred up to rebellion against the government by the\nfamous anonymous letters, whick, it has since been ascertain-\ned, were written by General Armstrong, then a major in the\narmy, General Washington convened the officers for the\npurpose of addre?ol'ng them on this subject, and calming the\ntumult which was beginning to rage in their bosoms. He held\na paper in his hand on which the remarks he intended to\nmake were written—and then it was, that finding himself\nunable to read without assistance—as he was drawing his\nspectacles from his pocket that unpremeditated expression\nbroke from him—one of the most pathetic that ever fell from\nhuman lips—\"Fellow-citizens\" said he, \"you perceive I have\nnot only grown gray—but blind in your service \" The effect\nof this remark was electrical. No bosom—no eye was proof\nagainst it.\n\nTwo People.\nThe Romance of One Night\nBy Guido Bruno\n\n\"To your apartment?\" she seemed shocked. But I\ndidn't intend to spend any more time in a depot and so\nI thrust my arm under hers and led her out of the station\nto a 'bus that was waiting in front of the main entrance.\n\"You trusted me,\" I said, \"with your story, and I will\ntrust you, take you with me home, and give you a chance\nto do all those things you say you want to do. You\nmustn't raise the question of a woman going home with\na stranger if you don't want me to raise the question of\na man taking home a strange woman. You know me\njust as well as I know you. You told me that you have\nmoney and jewelry, that you belong to the same class\nas I and all that sort of thing because you wanted me to\nhelp you. It might be true and it might not. I don't care.\nThe fact is, you are homeless at present. I am willing\nto help you and so I place faith in you. But when I start\na thing I usually carry it through as I see fit. I was\n'game,' as yon mentioned in the start of our conversa-\ntion. Now isn't it up to you to be game? and you have\nto be game because there is no backing out for you. Its\nmighty dangerous to accost men in New York with pro-\npositions as you accosted me and I would not run the\nrisk to let you try it with another one.\"\nIt was then that she seemed to realize the severity of\nthe step she had taken. I felt the hesitation and a little\nbit of terror that went through her body, but she was\ngame. We boarded the top of the 'bus and we were the\nonly passengers. The night was cold but refreshing. We\nturned into Fifth Avenue and that wonderful boulevard\nlay dead before us. The two long rows of white lights\nseemed to meet somewhere far, far away. Very few\n\nSilhouette drawn in the German trenches"}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "994", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.12", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n(To be continued)\n\nvehicles crossed over to some side-streets and the foot-\nsteps of solitary passersby resounded in the quietness of\nthe night. We passed the church near Twelfth Street as\nshe spoke to me again. She said, \"I do trust you.\"\nShe trembled just a little bit following me into the\nunlighted corridor of the old building that years ago had\nserved as a mansion of a respectable family, but was\nutilized now by the estate of this family as an apartment\nhouse. It sheltered many artists and writers and others\nwho preferred the charm of high ceilings and open fire-\nplaces to modern elevators and ice-chests. I lighted the\ngas in my sitting-room and the lamp in my coffee -per-\ncolator, asked her to take off her coat, but by all means\ntonight a lodging.\nShe did not look very comfortable in her evening\ngown, with hat and veil on her head. She looked\ngrotesque. She was sitting in an armchair, a hand on\neach arm. I loved her hands. The water in the per-\ncolator was boiling. I poked the fire in the fireplace.\n\"I am the daughter of one of the richest men in this\n-city,\" she*began, her hands now clasping her knees, and\nlooking into the glistering flames. \"I just came from\ncollege. I am expected to be a debutante this season. I\nrsaw a little of life, of course, not very much, but just a\nlittle more than the average well-chaperoned girl you\ngenerally see, and I cannot go back to the life I am\n• expected to lead. Silly society chatter, receptions, teas,\ncharity work, and perhaps marry some day a man, after,\nI get tired and bored. And then, to continue to live in\nthe same fashion until I die? I cannot do it!\n\"Look at my shoes. They cost eighteen dollars. Three\nsales girls in one of our department stores work for that\namount one week. A man slaves from morning until\nnight for that same money and supports a wife and\nchildren. I had lunch this noon in a tea room. I paid\nfor a cup of tea with some biscuits and jelly, enough to\nkeep a man from starving for a week, and I gave the\nwaitress a tip that would have brought a homeless man\ntonight a lodging.\" j\n\"I can't enjoy the food I eat, the clothes I wear be-\ncause of all the others who have to do without them.\nNow I am not silly, I know that if my father would give\naway all his money and distribute it among the people,\nthe world would not be much better off. There would\nstill be starvation and homeless men and women on the\nstreets. The only excuse for us to sit in restaurants and\neat when thousands are hungry, and to wear nice clothes\nwhile millions are shabby, is the consciousness that we\nwork for the money with which we pay and that the only\ndifference between us in a warm and cosy home and\nthose wretched figures on the park benches, Is merely\nthe fact that we have had a chance and they did not.\"\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 foi- the perusal of our readers.\n\nShe fought for him\n\"Robber-wife.\" (N. Y.)\nI took my husband from another woman. And far from\nbeing an humble penitent, I glory in my base act! For\nthat other woman was a married vampire—not the kind we\nsee on the screen, wicked eyes, snaky fingers and designing\nways _but a spoiled, petted, irresponsible little woman who\ndelighted in chronic illnesses that begat sympathy, egotistical\nand selfish like so many American bred women. She was\nseven years older than this boy whom she had inveigled into\na liaison that, had it reached its climax, would have meant\ndisgrace for both families. She had a small child whom she\nactually neglected in order that her silly infatuation might\ngo on unchecked. She was the type of woman who imagines\nevery male in love with her, although she was not attractive\nin face or form. However, she was a vigorous - minded\ncreature who knew how to interest and hold young people.\nThis boy was little understood at home and very lonely,\nso he fell 'a ready victim to her wilee. She was a married\nwoman of several years standing, had experienced numerous\nlove affairs, and knew, or ought to have known, what she\nwas doing; while the boy was one of those callow, suscept-\nible youths too easily flattered by an older woman's attentions.\nYou know the type—nearly every boy has one of these at-\ntachments for a married woman in his past.\nSo I didn't take it seriously. But the boy was beginning\nto take it seriously when he found that the woman was be-\nginning to take it seriously! She was actually on the point\nof giving up a good husband and her child and face disgrace\nin order to hold the boy. He and I had known each other\nfrom childhood and there had been a sort of unspoken en-\ngagement between us, so we came to a definite understand-\ning one time when the woman was away from home and when\nshe returned she found us married.\nOf course there were scenes a - plenty, but her\nvindictiveness didn't last long and today she is our very good\nfriend, rather ashamed of her foolishness. But the boy\nlearned his lesson, too, and he declares he shall keep an\neagle eye upon his own son and save him, if possible, from\na like near-tragedy.\n\nA War Bride\n\nI am a Canadian War Bride. It is now ten. months since\nmy warrior husband left for \"Somewhere in France.'l\nThe scene of his departure is still fresh in my mind's eyw\nI see once more the huge transport ship, crowded to its\ncapacity with cheering khaki clad figures, sailing slowly,\nmajestically up the St. Lawrence, while thousands of civ-\nilians waved a last good-bye from the docks.\nShortly before war was declared, George and I had be-\ncome engaged, but with the date of our marriage unsettled,\nas my fiance, although holding a good position with a huge\nbusiness concern, had a mother and sister to support. Con-\nsequently, we decided to wait until George secured an\nexpected promotion."}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "995", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.13", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nVOLUME II\nBRUNO'S WEEKLY\nBound in white linen cloth\nTWO DOLLARS, postpaid |\n\nThen came that awful day in August two years ago, when\nall Europe was plunged into conflict. George's firm, like\nmany others failed, and he was obliged to get another\nposition at a much lower salary. Our marriage seemed\nfurther off than ever.\nAll around us, the young men of Canada were flocking to\nthe colors. I beganNto ask myself if George was going to\nanswer his country's call. However, as he never broached\nthe; subject, I did not question or urge him in any way to\nenlist, although in my heart, I was longing for him to join\nfcthe army.\nOne night, he asked me whether I would object to his\ngoing overseas? My delighted look was answer enough.\nThen he explained that he had been under the impression\nthat his enlisting would cause his delicate mother to worry\nherself sick on account of him, but that he had accidently\nlearned that she was secretly ashamed that he did not so.\nWe were married a few days after this, in true military\nfashion, and a week later, my husband's battalion left for\nthe front.\nWill be come back? That is the question that torments my\nmind. Will he find a hero's grave in the bloodstained fields\nof Flanders?\n\n\"Eleanor\" (Westmount, Canada.)\n\nA Newspaper Romance\nR. H. H. (Cleveland)\nTHERE seems to be no more efficient matrimonial bureau\nin all the world than the office of a great newspaper.\nManaging editor, department editors, stenographers, telephone\ngirls, even the reporters, who as a class are popularly (and\nerroneously) believed to live wild, care-free bachelor lives,\nall sooner or later fall before the little winged god.\nI was about the greenest \"cub\" that ever was lost in an\neditorial room. I came in for all the long whiskered jokes\nand tricks that ever graced (I should say disgraced) the\nannals of initiation to newspaperdorn. There was only one\nperson who did not try to add to my discomfiture. When,\nafter three days of such grilling, I decided I was never cut\nout to be a newspaper man, it was the Women's Editor who\npersuaded me to stick. After the first week no offer, how-\never tempting, could have dragged me from that paper. Not\nwhile the Women's Editor stayed. From the start she helped\nme with my copy. Her years of experience in every branqh\nof the work were placed at my disposal to help me. over the\nrough spots the beginner strikes. The second week I was\nthere she secured passes to the summer's big grand opera\nfeature, Siegfried, She asked me if I would like to go with\nher. I jumped at the chance. The cost of these seats would\nhave amounted to more than my week's salary if I had them\nto pay for. That night we discovered a mutual love of music,\nbooks, boating, bathing and tennis. Before six weeks had\npassed we discovered a mutal love for each other and became\nengaged. That she was older than I by several years and\nthat her salary more than trippled mine, did not discourage\nus. We decided that marriage would be out of the question\nfor some time to come, so each promised to keep the en-\ngagement secret until my prospects should be better. A year\nof hard work followed. Her efforts to help me were untir-\ning, so that summer brought a gratifying increase in the size\nof my pay check. Even then it could not compare with the\nsalary she was earning, but we decided it was enough to\nlive on—if we were careful. She resigned her position and\nwe moved into a two by four furnished flat, one of those with\na patent collapsible kitchen. The next two years were hard*\nand often found us without even the necessities of life, but'\nif she regretted the step she had taken she never whispered\\\nit, just doubled her efforts to comfort and help.\nIn time, as the checks grew bigger and her stories,\nin the few odd moments not taken up with housework and\nthe care of our little one, were after another accepted;\nby the syndicates, we moved from the little flat into a house\nof our own. Wealth has missed us, but the money we havn't\ngot never worries us. We have each other, and the baby v.\nWhat more could money buy.\n\nA care of Heredity\nAirs. C. (Akron, 0.)\nELEVEN years ago in June I met \"The Man.\" Knowing-\nlittle of heredity and caring less I married him in just\na year. Within the next two years Son was born, and his\nfather thought he must make more money. A fellow work-\nman advised and persuaded him to drink to stimulate his\nnerves and turn out more work. Then is when John Barley-\ncorn and Heredity got the best of a good man. For about\nfive years I lived in the usual hell a drinking man can make\nfor his family. A little daughter had come to us also. He\nwas never abusive and the kindest of fathers. I always felt\nthat at some time he would realize that he was hurting himself\nmostly and that there was good underneath it all, so we all\njust loved him dearly. We have won him back to us these\nthree years now and were you to ask me if I had my life\nto live over with him, would I choose to do so. I should\nanswer yes, if at the end of the journey I could feel as I do.\nnow that he belongs to the babies and I and his soul to hia*\nGod.\n\n\"A Fool There Was\"\nW. L. (Norristown, Pa.)\nAN actor am I. Age twenty-five—six feet—and rather good\nlooking. The \"Woman\"—I married—was short and\ndumpy—fifteen years my senior. Not even neat. I was\nplaying the Juvenile Lead in a Road Company. During the\nmatinee I received a Mash Note—signed \"June.\"\nI bit—but the poke was on me. Fine feathers she had—\nand plenty. She got me—and a week after I left the\ncompany—we were married.\nThere is no doubt, but I was insane—but thank God—not\nincurable.\nI seem to have come to my senses after the deed was done.\nIt was too late. One whole month—l stood for the terrible\nagony—then fled.\nFor nearly a year—l have been working in various,\ncompanies in the West—even changing my- name.\nThis morning a telegram discovered me.\nI have a Son!\nOh, now what shall I do!"}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "996", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.14", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nKill or Cure\nA doctor was employed by a poor man to attend his wife,\nwho was dangerously ill. The doctor gave a hint that\nhe had fears of not being paid. \"I have five pounds,\" said\nthe man to the doctor, \"and if you kill or cure, you shall have\nthem.\" The woman died in the doctor's hand, and after a\nreasonable time he called for his five pounds. The man\nasked the doctor if he killed his wife? \"No.\" \"Did you\ncure?3' \"No.\" \"Then,\" said the poor man, \"you have no legal\ndemand,\"\n\nThe Mexican Border\nA POEM\nBy Charles Edison\n25 cents postpaid\nBruno's Weekly, 58 Washington Square\nNew York\n\nTHE GARRET SHOP\nODD BOOKS\nPAMPHLETS\n•N\nDRAWINGS, PAINTINGS\nFramed and Unframed\n58 Washington Square\n\nReaders of Bruno s Weekly are asked to Become Subscribers\n52 Issues, Two Dollars\nSEND YOUR CHEQUE TO-DAY\n58 WASHINGTON SQUARE, NEW YORK CITY\n\nROSSI BROTHERS\n58 Washington Square\nUnderneath the Garret\nICE CREAM AND TOBACCO\nThe Mad Hatter Has a Tea Party Every Afternoon\nRoom 3 to 6 at\n150 WEST FOURTH STREET\nJust Down the Rabbit Hole From Washington Square\n\"Take Some More Tea\"\n\"I've Had Nothing Yet So I Can't Take More\"\n\"You Mean You Can't Take Less, It's Very Easy to\nTake More Than Nothing.\"\n\"Nobody Asked Your Opinion\" Edith Unger.\nFLORENCE GOUGH\nShows Smart Millinery for Grown Ups—Mother\nGoose's Millinery for Children and other unique\nthings to wear.\nTHE PAINT BOX\n150 W. 4th St., Near 6th Ave.\nN. Y. C. Phone Spring 23\nI BUY BOOKS\nSingle volumes, small lots, and libraries; autograph letters of known literary men and\nartists, drawings, pictures and engravings. Address\n\"COLLECTOR,\" Care of Bruno's Weekly, 58 Washington Square.\nEdith Haynes Thompson\nHer Shop\n64 WASHINGTON SQUARE SOUTH\nContaining Many Quaint and Beautiful Things\nHours: 1 to 5.30 P. M.\nJ. 112. McCarthy\nPaintings and Antiques\n30 West 46th Street\nBruno's Weekly, published weekly by Bruno's Weekly, Inc. Charles Edison, Pres.; Guido Bruno, Vice-Pres.;\nWalter L. 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 of March\n3rd, 1897."}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "[997]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.15", "texte": "Bruno Chap Books\nMo.\n1. The Harlot's House, by Oscar Wilde\nThe first American reprint of one of the\nmost wonderful poems of the author 25\n2. Setting Hens, Frogs' Legs, by D. Molby\nD. Molby, passes the white elephant un-\nremarked, but writes an essay on the mos-\nquito's neck and the rhythm of his little wings\nbefore he stings and annoys 25\n3. Mushrooms, by Alfred Kreymborg\nMr. Kreymborg's Mushrooms are recognized\npoetry. The Mushroom stands for a simple\nexpression of thought in simple musical\nrhythm. Mr. Kreymborg is one man who\nspeaks to his fellow-men—just to the one who\nmight find in four or six simple lines of\nrhythm the revelation of the rhythm and the\nharmony of his own simple life 50\n4. Tahiti, by Robert Carlton Brown .25\n5. Four Letters, by Oscar Wilde .25\n6. Anarchists, by Guido Bruno .25\n7. To My Mother, by Alfred Kreymborg .25\n8. Vignettes, by Hubert Crackanthorpe\nMr. Crackanthorpe had three chief gifts:\nskill in dramatic narration—a sense of sit-\nuation, a lively feeling for the value of inter-\npretation of gesture, posture, circumstance;\nsecondly, analytic skill in the conception and\npresentation of character; thirdly, descriptive\nand pictorial power, readiness of vision, with\na faculty of sifting and selecting its reports.\nLionel Johnson, in Acad., March 20, 1897 50\n9. Tanka and Haika, by Sadakichi Hartmann\nThe son of a German father and a Japa-\nnese mother, of a burgomaster's son from\nMecklenburg, the only European state with-\nout a Constitution, and the daughter of a\nronin, a robing soldier of Old Japan. Sada-\nkichi is much more Japanese than German.\nHis style is extravagant but suave. Some of\nhis short stories are as excessive and intense\nas Poe's on strictly realistic lines. The utmost\nbounds of expression are reached, even his\noriginality is aggressive 25\n10. Richard Wagner, the Egoist, by Guido Bruno .25\n11. Edna the Girl of the Street, by Alfred\nKreymborg 25\nCause: our social conditions.\nMotive: just to live.\nProblem: eternal.\nSolution: none .\\ 25\n12. Songs of the Cosmos, by Charles Keeler\nLike the weaver of wonderful brocades, he\nselected thread after thread and up loomed\nthose wonderful pictures before my eyes,\ncreations of simple words, dipped in red blood,\ntinted by the golden sun, formed and shaped\nby hands who know the labors and pains of\nmillions scented with good-will towards every-\nbody and emitted with pure love 25\nNo.\n13. Teaspoons and Violet Leaves, by Guido Bruno $1.00\n14. The Tragedy in the Birdhouse, by Guido Bruno .50\n15. Exotics, by John W. Draper\nIt lay a luscious yellow band\nCreaming upon umbrageous green\nThe spray was satin to the hand;\nAnd to the eye a topaz bright,\nAnd dazzling as the noonday sand.\nFrom\"The Yellow Orchid\" .25\n16. Imagists, by Richard Aldington\nOne of the original group of the English\nImagists tells about Imagism and its aims.\nThis paper deals a severe blow to all imita-\ntors and producers of vers libre who think\nthemselves poets of the \"new group\" because\nthey don't write-in rhyme .25\n17. Lord Alfred Douglas—Salome: A Critique,\nthe Beauty of Unpunctuality: an Essay and\nThree Poems\nThere was a time when Lord Alfred Douglas\nwould have laughed at the idea that he would\nwrite a book explaining away his friendship\nwith Oscar Wilde. As editor of \"The Spirit\nLamp,\" a magazine published by James\nThornton, High Street, Oxford, and edited by\nLord Alfred Douglas, he seemed to be a\ndiligent imitator of his friend Oscar. He\nimitated his style in prose and in poetry.\nWhenever he received a contribution from\nOscar Wilde it was the main and leading\nfeature of the issue *25\n18. Sadakichi Hartmann—Permanent Peace: Is it\na Dream?\n19. Charles Kains-Jackson—John Addington Sy-\nmonds A Portrait\nThe life-long friend of the English poet,\ngives a vivid picture of the personality and\nlife and life-work of Symonds. This essay\nwritten a few days after the death of Sy-\nmonds, on the 19th of April, 1893, and was\nfirst published in the Quarto, a since forgotten\nliterary periodical of England, in 1897 .25\n20. Djuna Barnes—The Book of Repulsive Wo-\nmen—Rhythms and 5 Drawings •<•*. *25\n21. Edna W. Underwood—The Book of the White\nPeacocks\n22. H. Thompson Rich—'Lumps of Clay—l 6\nRhythms 25\n23. D. Molby — Hippopotamus Tails —28 Every-\nday Musings 25\n24. H.Thompson Rich—The Red Shame—17 War\nPoems 25\n25. Theodor Schroeder, Erothogenesis of Reli-\ngion, a bibliography -50\n26. Sadakichi Hartmann, My Rubayat 50\nAccompany each order with Cheque, small amounts, one-cent stamps\nBRUNO'S WEEKLY\n58 WASHINGTON SQUARE, N. Y. C."}, {"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "[998]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19160916-01.1.16", "texte": "RARE BOOKS FIRST EDITION\nExtra Illustrated Books. Early Printed Books. Association Books. Books for Christmas Gifts.\nPurchased singly or in sets for people who have neither time nor opportunity to select for themselves,\ni '' ■\nor for those who have not access to the best book marts. Why not begin collecting now?\nAddress, E. V. Boston Transcript, Boston, Mass.\n\nBeing a book\nIN WHICH\nwe say just what we think. Published every month! by Norman-Bel Gedd.es at 171 Wilson Avenue in\nDetroit, Michigan. It is a little book uniquely illustrated. Write for sample copy.\n\n# , a.\nHOTEL BREVOORT CAFE LAFAYETTE\n' X ■\nFifth Avenue University Place\nRAYMOND ORTEIG, INC.\nThe Two French Hotels and Restaurants of New York.\n\nGONFARONE'S\n40 West Bth Street , \"j\nTABLE D'HOTE\n\"Eating places are literary landmarks\" said 0. Henry, speaking of Gonfarone's in one of his\nunexcelled Greenwich Village Stories.\n\nThere can be 110 pleasanter place to hear that remarkable\nEdison Record Number (82536) than\nTHE DIAMOND DISC SHOP\nAt Number 10 Fifth Avenue\nIn this store, at least, the delightful atmosphere of Old Greenwich Village has not been sacrificed\non the altar of commercialism\n/T). . ' ,-1 \\*r.- • . . ; $ . .. , ' .\n\" ' '' - ■ ' ' ■: 'J . . |\nPhone: Stuyvesant 4570 A postal will bring you, with our compliments,\nan interesting little biography of Mr. Thos. A.\nEdison."}]}