Evening Star Newspaper, March 17, 1894, Page 15

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 17, 1894-TWENTY PAGES SCHOOLS OF PARIS| The Baby Frenchman is Cared for by the State At Noon Their Little Stomachs Are Filled Full. A ROUND OF DULL ROUTINE figecial Cerrenpondence of The Evening Siar. PARIS, February 23, 1894. NB OF THE SIGHTS which a foreigner is almost bound to iiss im Paris, and yet one which is among the most interesting, is the life in the city ago these schools were of the old-fash- foned kind, net worse and not better ‘han anywhere else. There was @ religious side to them, and they were mostly under the tharge of teaching brothers and sisters. It # supposed that the present heroic efforts of city councillors to give everything in These primary schools, from reading and writing to square meals and new shoes, have their mainspring in a desire to draw away the children from the religious estab- lishments, which are still in favor among & great part of the population. Complaint is sometimes made in America that too much is done when scholars are provided with books and stationery. What would be said of the doings in all the Paris primary schools? It is best to begin with the first and most primary school of all. It is called “the maternal school” and corresponds to what was known formerly as a “refuge” or creche. It ts Ike the private charities of our own cities, where little ones are kept while their mothers are at work. The city of Paris, being ruled mainly by socialists, fs not Inclined to entrust any work to private charity, and, being French, it is Inclined to system and @rill and bookkeep- ing. It has set about the work in order. It was in 1881 that the general law was made for these schools. There are three sections in each—one ts for those who are and a half old; a second takes infants from that age to five, and the third receives up to six, when the child is ready for the first grade of the serious schools. The children are received at the materaal school from 7 to $ o'clock in the morning and are kept until 6 or 7 at night. This practically includes all the working hours of poor parents. But attention 1s also given to making the children free and easy and happy while away from home. It may be well thousht that sometimes, when at home, they sigh for the school. They Are Taught hivalry. In the first place, no lesson lasts more than half an hour—and such lessons! In the | school rooms there is a separate bench for | every two s the bench is care- fully chosen ac to the children’s size. Moreover, in accordance with the philan- thropic sentiments of the Paris municipal sit ng together are al as far as pos aw boy and a girl. is no more of all the boys on one side of the room, pelting the girls on the other side with wa t paper and other attentions. Each child has also a little shelf before it ate that is a prime ntary education. | Until this improvement xpect- of ihe sche . For ange of the wt the farmers are explains how breac flour from wheat, and wn on the land ‘with § and harvesting. Then . together with t! her gestures, a slow, i chant. y how the farmer, nd sowin, Mren beg! Farmer, farmer, Would you lixe to know how the farmer ws—his—grain? Then each on up the skirt of the lit 4 all these children ery grain to seatter | who cares to make use of There | serves as a back to the} merican eyes, all the | H, sat n backless tully over books and schoolmistress, with | . they march about: | armer, the farmer, Sows—his—grain. for aught I know and, omime, for the eating ny the b lt the Maternal School. The lessons are varted with manual ex- The cutting and folding of paper hings, fans, windmills, occupy ttion for a time; and the teachers ve to know a hundred contrivances for the purpose. With the older children this Paper cutting {s utilized in making paper lace of regular design for bouquet holders, for the alettes which Parisian » curiously put on the legs of displayed in their shops. each of these schools a garden or play- und is attache ere the children are mt recreation. This -en free running about (there of this to suit even the s of personal in- nd-dried exercises, in marching, drilling, sing- ulation calisthenics. The city able in its crowded quarters the great open spaces which bute! er desirable for children’s games. But everywhere there is at least an open- air court, and another covered in from the weal er. In the Jardins d° Enfants, which cam in its completeness, 1 something which reminds you of dens for the idiot and weak-ininded the Bicetre and Salpetriere. walks amid fower-beds, nts are arranged in classes, book; and there are pl evergreen trees cut and clip- igures, cones and dia- Mwads, aad cylinders and trapezoids. It is armer, farmer, | ration Zoes on for the reap- | ' FROM EARLY MORNING ONTIL LATE | supposed to orderly thinking; but it would weaken the minds of most grown men. This is the de- fect of all French training, from the army down; it is too rigid and systematic, ard it makes too little account of the individ. ual’s own whims and humors. The Virtue of Silence. The children march out to the play- ground, each little boy with his little maid —singing together: Have you seen the peaked cap, peaked cap, Have you seen the peaked cap of Pere Bugeaud? If you have not seen it, there it is— t's on his head; If you have not seen it, there it is; There's not another 1-1-k-e it. Have you seen, etc., ete. When all the children are out and stand- ing tn Indian file, at the sound of a-whistle the line breaks and play begins. Soon the whistle sounds again—play-time comes fre- quently, but never lasts long—and the children form in line again and march back, singing some one of the moralities dear to this people of generalities. To come into the class-room, We must stop our play; And each one in his own place Must silent work away. For never where there’ Can good work be; The child that’s brave and sage, Should listen silently. This reverence for absolute silence, un- relieved by scratching or wheezing, or the slightest whisper, is made the chief virtue of these children. To make a noise is worse than to give a blow. To an American aso it is curious that such little children should noise, be called upon to admire their own “bra- very” and sagesse. Playing at Recess. All the day long lessons follow lessons, with playtime and manual exercises or drilling between. Not only reading and writing are taught to these tiny children, but stories are told them, in order, trom their country’s history. It has been the complaint of religious people that all Bible history and sacred stories are forbidden. What are called lessons in useful things are aiso kept up constantly. At last, toward noun, the most interest- ing hour of the day arrives. It is the time of lunch, or breakfast, as the French ray, with their habit of taking little besiue a bit of bread and coffee in the eurty murn- ing. Some of these children are glad to 0 to school with nothing at all their Stomachs if at noon they can stay their hunger at the city’s expense. And it must be remembered that these schools are not @ private charity, or an experiment in some cornér. They are the public schovis furnished by the city of Paris in every ward and district, to every one of the population hem. LEvery- exhibition $ of these 5 is arranged to avoid of charity and to spare the feel give the children a habit ot | WOMAN’S WRITING It is Bad, but They Compose the Best “hetters, THE LOST ART OF CORRESPONDENCE People Get Their News From the Newspapers Nowadays. FORMS TO BE OBSERVED Written for The Evening Star. BE RECEIVED THE letter from the post- man and looked at it with the air of one who was almost hap- py. It was addressed to “Mr. John Elank, Dash Club, Town"— that is to say, he knew that was what the lines of ink upon the envelope meant, and it was evideat the postman under- stood them also, but to any one who was not an expert or who was not familiar with that particu- lar penmanship the address would have been a Chinese puzzle. The “Mr.” was @ confused conglomeration of pot hooks, the J beginning the word “John” was a curved, meandering line run riot, the rest of the word was composed of a waving line, but no letters were formed. The bal- ance of the address wus no better. It was altogether such an address as fashionable young ladies are fond of using. He opened the letter and read an invitation to dine at 4 o’clock the next afternoon. But how could that be? Who ever heard of dinner at 4 o'clock in the afternoon? Still, there it was, so he answered, accepting, and while he was puzzling over the question of what suit he should wear he received another note from the lady explaining that she had asked him to drive and not to dine. This same young lady, too, once gave a dinner party on the 7th of a certain month and half of the guests turned up on the evening of the Ist of the month. She couldn't even make her figures legible. Where did she learn to write? Why, she was taught cor- rectly enough, but she adopted the fashion- able penmanship and has simply carried it @ little further than most women do. It is probable that most of the readers of The Star have read some of the old let- ters, yellow with age and the ink faded to a blackish brown, which their great grand- mothers wrote a century ago. There is nothing in the world that brings people and times of the past so forcibly before us as old letters. Here is the paper that was used, here is the very penmanship of the person who speaks. Our Grandmothers Wrote Better. The whole thing is very real, but notice how good the chirography is. In those days the ladies cultivated a clear, though small, Italian penmanship, which is sightly and easy to read. It was considered an accomplishment for a woman to write well. Her letters were often written in pencil first and then carefully copied. If they were a little stiff and unnatural they were at any rate well expressed and they were worthy of careful preservation. There is among the musty doucuments of the House of Representatives a long letter from Mrs. George Washington, relative to the removal of her husband's remains, written at th time it was thought they would find final resting place under the Washing- ton monument or the crypt of the Capitol, ‘and the penmanship is so beautiful that the litue hearts. A few of the vhildren, whose | Parents wish it and who live to the schools, ear enough will always 3) home at letter looks like a piece of fine engrossing, yet she wrote it herself and was an old woman when she did so. But what will future generations think of the penmanship of the present day? Will our great grand- children, supposing our letters are pre- this time. But the great number remains | S¢TVed, be able to read them? What will be and they are fed on a footing of pertece | t2@ Value of such a note as the one taen- equality. All Attention. Each child brings in his basket, if tioned at the beginning of this article a hundred years hence? It may be interesting as a curiosity, that ts all. “What are you doing, my boy?” a man his parents can give it to aim, a piece of | sald to a little fellow who had a slate and bread and often a little bottle of wine (the universal beverage in the poorest families), and some fruit and a bit of cheese by wa: of dessert. The city is supposed to furnisn none of these portions of the meal. But in the great eating room attached to each e pencil in his hands. earning to write,” said the boy. The man went his way, but he could not , help asking himself whether he, himself, school there is given out to every scholar a | plate of soup, a piece of good meat and a} tin For all this each chiid is supposed to pay daily ten centimes (two cents). But the same is given to all, whether they are able to pay or not, and nothing is said table—all steaming hot from the can-| really knew how to write. What writing does he ever do? All his business letters he dictates to a stenographer, who presently brings them to him typewritten, and he scrawls a line at the end, which does serv- ice as his signature. That he expects no one to be able to read the signature is evident, for the paper on which his letters are written bears his name printed at the top, so that his correspondents may know who is writing to them. This man very rarely writes personal notes, but when he does he is surprised to see how unsightly they are. When he and his wife are sepa- rated he writes her a few lines every day, but she is accustomed to his style and _knows tolerably well what fs in every let- about it. By arrangement with the ps the children of the very poor cven receive | the piece of bread to bring with them their ets, so that no self-respect is lost or any division of riches made in this litue world. The system, which certsinly has the merits of tender pity and practical benevolence, is followed out consisieatly mn all the Paris schools up to the highest. tampering is allowed with a systera whi is intended to insure the absolute equality of all the students. Only a week ago a professor was severely blamed for disclos- ing the fa in a higher school was a bours city. Does It Lead to Anarchy? There are people who shake their heads at all this and say that by suppressiag all Inequalities of fortune inside the schools the scholars find the inevitable inequstity of the world outside all the narder to bear. This may easily be imagined in the case cf a youth like Emile Henry, the bomb throw- | er, who grew up to m: state with a higher education and wearing ttting cletnes at the city’s expense. Hence, 2dd the wise- acres, when the city’s protection 1s with- drawn in the face of fellow-studenis who have fortunes of their own the protected child is filled with envy and discontent and hatred of society—and practical ynarchy. Meanwhtle the principle is carried out to the extreme. In these maternal sche ls the city furnishes, in case of need, hat and blouse, breeches and shoes, so that ao crild need blush before its mates in tais crench revolutionary land of liberty, equality and fraternity. Home From School. After the lunch, without which many ‘t that an idle pupil of his class | ter without reading it. If he were called upon to write a long letter in his own hand he would struggle painfully with the task and turn ont what in the world of news- papers would be termed very bad copy. Wrining Detertorating. Just as mych with men as with women ‘ier of the| there has been a deterioration in their pen- manship. The writings of George Wash- ington could be reproduced in fac-simile and would be as easy to read as print. So would those of Franklin and Jefferson. Lafayette wrote not quite so well, but still | he wrote much better than most men write now. The only one of the big men of the olden times who wrote a hand in any way as bad as most modern hands was Monroe, and his was neither neat nor legible. The truth is that letters at the present day are not of as much consequence as they used to be. Excepting those that relate to bus!- ness matters there are few long ones writ- ten from one man to another. What have they to write about? There is no news be- yond a little family gossip to tell. Fancy a member of Congress writing to a friend at home and telling him at length of every- thing that has happened in Congress. He never does this, but simply sends him a newspaper, and his constituent has doubt- |less had a chance to read it all in his own newspaper almost while it was happening. But {t used to be different. James Madi- \son_in Philadelphia, writing to his friends child would go hungry, there is a longer in Virginia, had to tell them everything play time. Then all this little world marched together to the lavatory to wash | lutel is|that was going on or they would be abso- iy ignorant. His letter, addressed to one man, was really intended for a circle faces and hands in order. This may be the | Of men, and it was passed about from hand chief lesson of the day for some of :hem. | to hand. The newspapers had very little For the bath is not esteemed among the|news in them, being taken up with long French. Then they iile into in, to their eternal singing, witn | more moralities and encouragement to self- admiration—a trait of personal character which so distinguishes the French. The hour has come for class, Little friends, let's take our way. Each to his place must p2ss, And each one should obey. Every one will love us If we are very wise; They will know how good we are, And see it in our eyes. This everlasting singing of dozserel Js a great inconvenience to the neizhbors, and at least one American boardiag house owes its fatlure In Paris to its neighborhood vith such a school. The afternoon follows like the moraing, and there is nothing new until scheol is dismissed in the evening. But this is otigt- nal enough. In this wicked city even the little children of the poor are not ‘rusted any great distance alone on the ¢: . Ae cordingly, things are so arran that the children can be taken as ‘he parents 1e- turn from their work. The difficulty was how to prevent these little devils from rushing out altogether, with the true Pari- sian child's taste for running off adventar- ously. To solve this they are tot let out by the great gate of the school which tt, ey enter in the morning; but a jittle postern through which only one can pasa ot a tine, under the guardian’s watchful eyes, So the day of the least Parisian chiid is over. In these maternal school: girls are kept together, with only romen to teach them. Put when the child i: years old all these pleasant Jays & He becomes a bona fide school boy 27 a school girl—each limited to his or her »wn kind—in the other schools of the city. There is no more make believe of learning, thouch this too may have heen not the least useful in preparing for the battle of life. STERLING HFI1G. arguments for and against the stage, or about the ancient Greeks and Romans, or about problems of government. The only way that news could be conveyed was by letter or by word of mouth. It ts easy to see, then,how important a part letters play- ed, and perhaps that is the reason why the letters of the public men of those days are so valuable, and why they are generally so carefully written. It is fair to doubt whether the letters of the public men of the present day would, if they were print- ed, be very interesting. They would, for cone thing, be shorter, and would be found to contain few facts and many opinions. Women Write the Best Letters. Leaving out the question of penmanship, women write better letters than men do, and they write more of them in a personal way. When a man goes to his office he finds a package of letters on his desk. Some are bills, a few are receipted bills, the uthers all relate to business. There will, in ull likelihood, not be a single one that is pure- ly a personal letter. Yet, while he was at the breakfast table, his wife and daughters received a number of letters and every one of them was a personal letter, a visit and chat on paper. If, by chance, the man has to write a polite note at home, the chances are that he has to borrow a piece of note paper from his wife. So seldom does he write notes at home that he keeps none of the necessaries for doing so about him. “Here,” said a gentleman to the writer a few days ago, “here, just look at this note Jones has sent me. Hang him! I'll never ask him to dine with me again as long as he lives.” The note was bad, to put it mildly, for it had not only been written by Jones on his office paper, but was actually trpewrit- ten. One can feel sorry for Jones, but he really does not deserve to be given any con- sideration, for his ignorance of the proprie- ties of life is lamentable. It would be a good thing in the interest of a clearer understand- ing tf many young ladies used the typewriter in writing their invitations, but, as matters now stand, all of these things are required to be done by hand. At any rate, if a gentleman takes the trouble to write an invitation to you, you must take the trouble to write your reply. If you have no note Paper you may, if a reply is necessary at once, apologize for using business paper, but you ought to have some note paper by you, for you may be called upon at any moment to drop the business side of your life and take up the social side. As to the Social Note, And when you write the social note be careful, whatever you do, to exclude from it any of the expressions of the shop. The tendency in social notes has been for some time to be informal. It used to be proper to address everybody as dear sir, but now the social note usually begins “My dear Mr. Blank.” Similarly, our grandfathers signed themseives “Your obedieut servant, or “Your most obedient, humble servant, but we of the present generativa sig! “Very sincerely,” or “Very truly yours, or something of that sort. In oilicial cor- respondence, of course, people “have the honor,” but here it is strange how often a man makes the mistake of saying, “I have the honor to be, John Smith.” Is it an honor to him to be himself? ‘Then he, at any rate, ts not the man who ought to say so. What he really means is that he has the honor to be your obedient servant, John Smith. The general rule about answer- ing a note is to follow the form your corres- pondent used. If he wants to keep you at a distance by beginning ‘‘My dear sir,” you had better reply in the same way, and con- versely if he addresses you familiarly with- out any prefix to your name, as “My dear Blank,” don't reply by calling him ‘Mr. Dash,” unless he is a man much older than yourself, in which case you would not show him proper respect if you omitted the Mr. About this beginning and ending of let- ters one is reminded of the rather peculiar customs used in quarreling notes. Mere every conceivable formality is necessary. | It is proper before the matter bas reached a very serious stage to put in a “Dear sir.” This means a good deal when it ts address- ed to one whom you have been accustomed to address without any prefix to his name. The next stage of the quarrel you say simply, “Sir,” and sign yourself curtly, “Very respectfully,” and if you are thor- oughly wrought up, the ext letter may come in the form of a signed statement ad- dressed to your adversary, but without be- ginning or ending. After that written com- munications cease, but you may go gun- ning for one another, or agree that you have such an unmitigated contempt for nee other that you will not condescend to it. ———— 8 @ Hats and Bonnets. The spring hats remind one irresistibly of an old-fashioned flower bed, where the rose and lily grew side by side, surrounded by bachelors’ buttons, ladies’ slippers and the modest heart’s ease, with here and there an ox-heart daisy showing its bright face. All these, with perhaps a few sprays of Ilac added, make up the posies that adorn many of the newest speciments of the French modiste’s art. The plateau is still to be used, although most of the straw hats are shaped. The favorite shapes run to extremes, and seem to be either very large or most diminutive. A very pretty hat seen at one of the lead- ing milliners yesterday was a large black straw, with crown of gold tinsel. At the back a large Alsatian bow of black satin spread its loops, pierced by a fancy pin, above which waved a little bunch of black tips. The front was ornamented by a bunch of many flowers, placed low and fall- ing over the brim. Turquoise-biue is the popular shade for Uttle bonnets, and is still often combined with jet. The trimming on these is much lower than it has been, inclining rather to breadth of effect than height. One of the prettiest and most novel of the imported hats was most airy, being simply a closely plaited crepe-lisse ruching in black with a spangled edge. This was gathered around a small round crown and caught up | coquettishly on one side. In the front, and close up against the little crown, a group of violets nestled, another appearing at the back and one at each side, the stem cross- ing to form the top of the crown. ——_ Silks and Dress Goo Taffeta silks, with their luster and rustle, have quite taken the place of the long-pop- ular Indias in the shops. A year or two ago | they were only considered good enough for | Lnings or petticoats, but now they are quite the rage. Among the novelties brought over by a house well known for the com- pleteness and variety always found in its silk department were a number of narrow striped taffetas, blue and white, pink and white, green and white, red and white and brown and white, the stripes going across the goods, instead of up and down. Indeed, all the new stripes are bayadere, a fashion to make even those inclined to embonpoint shudder. Green is still the favorite color, and a large proportion of the new changeable silks and satins show a green as vivid as that of the startled chameleon. The figures are not distinctly outlined, but shade into | one another in a most artistic fashion. | They—the figures—are of all sizes, from | tiniest acyrn to quite eight inches in diam- eter, the latter being, perhaps, the greater novelty. A new silk is called the ‘“jeun- nesse.” It is of the order of lberty silk, but is closely plaited or tucked lengthwise, the plaits standing out as in accordion plaiting. ‘New sateens come with a border for ruf- fles or double skirts. Imported dimities show much more color than last year, the designs being stripes or stripes and figures, and covering the ground pretty thoroughly. A novelty in linen sheets has been intro- duced. They have eighteen inches or more of heavy close embroidery above a scalloped edge, instead of the broad hemstitched fold which has been popular for some years past. Sham sheet ends, embroidered to match pillow shams, have long been in use, gome of them being of finest Mexican drawn work, but now it must be the upper sheet itself that is worked. A very pretty sheet, though of course not a very elab- orate one, can be bought for $25, —— The Japanese Currency. From the London Times. An interesting report from the British le- gation in Japan, just issued, deals with Jap- anese currency, past and present. The gold coins new in circulation range from $1 to $20, while the silver coinage includes $1,and the subsidiary coins down to 5 cents. Dur- ing the last fiscal year, which ended on | March 31, 1893, the importation of silver bullion was unusually large, and the coin- age of $1 pieces was exceptionally heav In August last 100 silver dollars purchased sixty-one and one-quarter gold dollars. ‘The sketch of the history of the paper currency of Japan given in the report is of especial interest, for it explains the measures by which the depreciated paper of 1880 was brought up to par value without resort to a foreign loan. Between and 1878 the gold dollar was the unit and was legal ten- der to any amount. In 1878 this simple gold standard was abolished and the silv doliar of 416 grains and 0 fineness was made universally current in all public and private transactions without Mmit. Over two-thirds of the gold_coins struck in the Japanese mint since 1871 have been export- ed, and “it is plain that if the present rate of depletion continues, there wiil be soon very little gold left in the country,” while the value of silver coin and bullion has largely increased. The amount of each in circulation in August last was officially es- timated as follows: Gold, $5,837,892; silver, $20,481,307, These amounts, of course, do not include the treasury reserve, of which there is about $22,000,000 in gold and $64,- 900,000 in silver. oo As She ix Spoke. ‘Harry took us into 4 ‘cvif’ for Gwendolen—“Allow me to correct your French, dear. It’s ‘cafe.’ There's an ac- cent on the ‘e+ Gladys (frigidly)—“I learned the purest Parisian French. Ma was very particular that we should not pick up any accent.” Miss Duffy Grogan (a late arrival) was told by her doctor to go home and make some gruel, get into bed, and put a plaster on her chest, and having done so, she sits wondering “how the plaster on that chest over there is goin’ to relave her of her cowld.”"—Providence and Stonington 8. 8. Co.'s Bulletin. THE AMERICAN BRAIN Talk With Librarian Spofford as to How It is Working. WASHINGTON AS A LITERARY CENTER How MarkTwainWrote ‘Innocents Abroad,” and a Chat About It. FAMOUS WOMEN WRITERS. Written for The Evening Star. DROPPED INTO the National Library last week and asked Mr. Spofford, the Ubrarian, to tell me something as to the condition of the great American brain. He informed me that it was bolling as it has never boiled before. We are turning out books by the hun- dreds and newspaper and magazine articles by the thousands every year, and the copy- rights asked for continually increase. Said Mr. Spofford: “There are more than twice as many copyrights asked for every year now as there were ten years ago, and the United States has never been more intellec- tually alive than it is today. In 1802 there copyrighted now, and we have copyrighted lectures and newspaper articles as well as books. The number of magazines is in- creasing, and there are now more than a periodicals in the United States. The in- been almost as great, and there are now We are making many new books, and the National Library increases in size day.” are there many great works produced by new writers today?” any age,” replied Mr. Spofford. ation is happy which sees more than one or two of them. I think this is an age of com- be born. We have had some writers of the past, but the greatest of them James Russell Lowell have passed away, great among those left is Oliver Wendell Holmes.” , there is a great deal,” was the re- ply. of the United States, ber of authors who live here. Thomas Nel- son Page has lately purchased a residence on Massachusetts avenue. Frances Hodg- way, and this is the home of Henry Adams, the historian; Col. John Hay, Mr. Nicolay and a score of other well-known literary workers. We have a great number of scien- tific scholars living here, and some of t best travel works are written in Washing- ton. The National Museum has connected with it many able writers of travel. Num- bers of Senators and Representatives do literary work, and the library of Congress is used greatly by al classes of scholars have enough seats for the readers, and the library is always full of specialists who are working up some subject.” Speaking of Washington as a literary cen- ter, it is not generally known that it was here that Mark Twain wrote his “Inno- cents Abroad.” He was at the time in the employ of Senator Stewart of Nevada, and was doing clerical work for him. He had made the trip to Europe and the Holy Lan 8s a correspondent of the “Alta Californi getting for it $1,200 in gold, and he pounded the stuff out here in an old room heated by a sheet-iron stove. After he got back he got an idea that the letters would sell if they were put into book shape, and he showed Senator Stewart his notes, and Stewart gave him a job at the Capitol which id him $6 a day. After several weeks of ard work he completed his book and then went to a publisher. One of his friends here at Washington was Albert D. Richard- son, who had been connected with several subscription books, and who had written some very good things. Richardson intro- duced him to his publishers, and Mark Twain finally made a deal with them by which he was to have 5 per cent of the retail price of all the books sold. Not long ago I had some thoughts of publishing a book myself, and I called upon Mr. Clemens at his home in Hartford and asked his ad- vice. During this call he referred to “In- nocents Abroad,” and said that it had net- ted him only a few thousand dollars, but that it had made the fortune of the pub- lishers. Said he: ‘I was surprised when I was told that a good sum for the work would be 5 per cent of the retail price of the | books sold. I laughed at it, but Richardson, who introduced me, told me that he was giad when he got 4 per cent, and I accepted their offer. Including the editions there Were something like 200,000 copies disposed of, and the publishing company made in the neighborhood of 000 out of it. I asked him what he thought of books of travel as sellers? He looked at me with a twinkle of the eye and said: “There is only ene kind of a book that will sell by subscription better than a book of travel, and that is a plous book.” He then referred to his own pub- Ushing ventures in a few words, and told me that the best possible method of ar- ranging for the publication of a good sub- the plates were paid for and then to take a low percentage on the first 5,000, increasing it on each 5,000, until it got as high as 8 or 10 per cent, which would be a big re- muneration and would make one a fortune if the book had a large sale. Blaine wrote a great part of his book here. He began it when he was living just above the old Sickles house, on Lafayette square, and he wrote a great part of it in his mansion on Dupont circle. The second volume was written here and at Bar Har- bor, and he completed it here in Senator Windom's big brick, just below where Bourke Cockran now lives, and facing Scott Circle. He was a very rapid writer, and he considered 1,500 words a good morn- ing’s work. His book brought in, I under- stand, something like $200,000, and it has paid the best of any book of its class ever published, Cox wrote his “Political Reminiscences” here, and before he died he told me he was to receive $12,500 on each volume sold. tp It was here that Tom Benton wrote his “Thirty Years in the United States Senate,” and I have visited the old brown house on P street where he put the matter into shape and in which he died. He was work- ing on his “Abridgment of the Debates of Congress” at the time he died, and he pray- ed during his last hours to be allowed to live unul he had it complete. Gen Logan wrote his volume of “War Stories” in the house in which his widow now lives, and was issued under an assu:ned name, but which had only a meager sale. Logan left a fairly good library, and it will be a sur- prise to many that he was fond of religious studies, He Was a great Methodlst, and he had many rare editions of the Bivle and famous theological works. He wrote rap- {dly and revised carefully, but his book, like that of Gen. Sheridan, did not have ‘any- thing like the sale of the works of Grant and Blaine. I wonder when John J. Ingalls will pub- lish his novel. I visited him here a few days after his library was burned in Atch- ison, Kan. He had in this library a num- ber of manuscripts, which were destroyed, and among them were some | for this story. It was to have been a po- litical society novel, laid in Washington, in which the true inwardness, hypocrisy jand hollowness of Ife here would be treated of under assumed names. There is no doubt but that Ingalls could carry out this idea as well or better than any caustic pen and a vitriolic tongue, and though his words shine with the brightness of electricity, they burn into the souls of were more than 54,000 copyrights issued, | He has done considerable magazine work and the publications of 1893 exceeded those | since he left Congress, and his lectures of 1892. Nearly everything of importance is| have taken up & great part of his time. thousand Mterary reviews, magazines and | Were sold to some New Yorkers, who ga “There are few great books produced in | the pilation rather than of creation. The great|from the Bancroft collection. Shortly b American prose or poetic genius is yet to | fore Bancroft's death I had an offer from creative | 0M¢ of his private secretaries, who treach- are now dead. Longfellow, Emerson and | session if I would pay for “How about Washington as a literary | to center? Is there much literary work done| them again and again as they w: and students. On Saturday we do not| We all know of the great fort scription book was to accept nothing until | f the notes | other man in the United States. He has aj In the meanwhile he may have had sume time for fiction, and if so I predict his book will be a bright one. I knew Bancroft quite well. His books them to the Lenox Library. Congress bid within $5,000 of the amount for which they crease in other classes of literature has went, but a friend of the Lenox Library got them. Among them are valuable man- more than 600 scientific periodicals and a | uscripts, which I am surprised have not large number of professional magazines, | Yet Come to the public. There ts @ man- uscript diary of James K. Polk, which he copied at Nashvilie just before his death, every | and which, I am told, is full of interest. There are lots of original letters of Alex- “Sy i if . Spoffor arder Hamilton, Aaron Burr and others peers ot et Neen = that ought to have been included in the! collection, and I doubt not that some good newspaper articles could be gotten out of books as to get into the closely guarded archives of that New York library, and so far 1 have not seen anything published erously said that he could get me copies of some rare letters in Mr. Bancroft’s pos- them. I wanted the letters, but I told him I could not think and the only one who can really be called | Of Stealing them, and nothing came of the | matter. Bancroft was one of the slowest writers we have ever had here. He wrote and rewrote, first dictating his thoughts @ shorthand man and then revising sented to him in typewritten form. He thought 250 words was a good day’s work, but he kept grinding away until he was tells ters ras his is one of the A cal centers | Sinsty, aed be lone Mis aueteed ta me accomplish much. I saw Parson Brownlow’s son here the son Burnett lives a little further down the | Cther day. He was a colonel in the Union army and his father’s private secretary while he was in the United States Senate. asked him somethirg about Parson Brownlow’s book and, he told e thet about 50,000 copies of it were sold and that his father made in the neighborhood | of $20,000 out of it. I doubt whether Ran- croft made as much in his long life of work out of his histories. Henry Ward Beecher got $30,000 from Robert Bonner for writing the novel “Norwood,” and e that came to the Grant estate from his book. I don’t know just exactly what John Hay received for his life of Lincoln. One story is that the Century Company made out a contract and left the price blank and that it was finally filled in by them for $50,000. Col. Hay talked to me about the book at the time he was writing it and he showed me his workshop. He has a magnificent house here at Washington, which is fur- nished with all the luxuries of a million- aire. The library in it is ig as a barn and it has a great table like desk as large as the bed of a bridal chamber. The work on the book was not done here, but in a Uttle cuddy hole of a room in the attic, hich. had a pine table and a half dozen kitchen chairs and the floor of which was bare. I asked Col. Huy at this time as to is dialect poems. You know he wrote ‘Little Breeches,” which closes, I think, somewhat as follows, referring to the angels: “I think that taking a little boy And saving him for his own a darn sight better business Than loafing around the throne.” I found him not at all inclined to talk about it. He gave me to understand that he was sorry he had written it and thet he hoped to do more elegant and better work. He has done since then a grent deal more elegant work, but I doub: whether he has written anything which has come closer to the hearts of the American people than that poem. Grace Greenwood js living here at the capital now. Emma D. FE. Southworth,at eighty years of age, 1s ac her eishtie novel. She has been recefvinx, it is said, $10,000 a year from the New York Ledger for everything she writes, and the way rhe grinds out books makes me think of a tolk I had the other day with Bob Bur: 28 as to his lecture on “The Rise and Mustache.” I asked Burdette how many times he had delivered it. He said, “I don’t know. Hundreds of times, and I think thousands of times. Why, I know that lec- ture so well that if I would start it and leave the stage, I believe the old thing would go on and finish up on its own hook without me.” This is the way with Mrs. Southworth. Her gold pen keeps gliding on year after year, day after day, until one its speed even after she has passed away. She lives at Georgetown, and she writes the same character of stories today as she did when her first story was published in the National Era here nearly two genera- tions ago. Mary Halleck Foote Ives here part of the time, Anna Vernon Dorsey has her home here, Mrs. Logan is keeping up her literary work in connection with her magazine, and Kate Field spends a great part of her winters at the capital. RANK G. CARPENTER. —__—$_»»—___. Ancient Roman Frontier Marks. From the London Builder. An Interesting discovery has recently been made in the Taunus mountains (a few miles north of Frankfort-on-Main) by the Ger- man tmperial commission for the investiga- tion of antiquities. It had been noticed, some years ago, that in those places where the Limes Trans-Rhenanus (a wali of earth bordering on @ moat) was changed in char- acter so as to become similar to the Limes Rhaeticus (@ stone wall without a moat), there was a ll trench running alongside at a distan: This was also found to be the case at Hunheim, in Bavaria, and in other plac where, at Mommsen’s instigation, a thor- ough examination had also been made of the Limes Rhaeticus. As a resuit of exca- vations in this trench, undertaken at the instance of Herr Jacobi, one of the govern- ment surveyors, what was evidently the | original Roman frontier mark was met with at about two feet below the surface. it was here that he penned a novel which | The frontier was delineated by a series of | blocks of stone some distance apart from | one another. Underneath these stones were | Veyors. Elsewhere excavations showed that the frontier was marked by other means, such as black earth or wooden pegs, ——__+ e+ — ____ How Fast the Earth Tarns. From Exchange. Everybody knows that the earth makes one complete revolution on its axis once every twenty-four hours. But few, how- ever, have any idea of the high rate of speed necessary to accomplish The highest velocity ever attained b: cannon ball has been estimated at 1. feet per second, which is equal to a mile | in 8.2 seconds. The earth, in making one | revolution in twenty-four hours, must wurn with a velocity nearly equal to that of a | cannon ball. In short, the rate of spced = the equator has beeen estimated at near- ly 1,500 feet per second, or a mile every 3.6 seconds, seventeen miles a minute. For sale—a bargain—residence of Mr. H. L. Page, 1727 19th st. mw. Apply J. S. Larcombe, 805 17th the people he attacks like red-hot tron. | st. library by those who have access to it. | “Great |It is generally supposed here that it is geniuses are born, not made, and the gener- | #bout as hard to go to Peking after rare ere pre-| ‘all of the | is forced to imagine that it will keep up } of about six yards from the | | found the various marks of the Roman sur- | . Be sure to obtain the cre £8 ; Bate ee gee York,” on the ‘A TALE OF THE SEA WHEN A NAVAL OPFIOER WAS THOROUGHEX FRIGHTENED, BUT DIDWT SHOW TR a Written for The Evening Stan “I was nearly scared out of my once,” remarked an officer of the States navy whose name is @ synonym all that is courageous on land and sea. | “The very idea,” protested a young | pretty Ustener, who knew his record am@ loved him for the dangers he had passed. “It is true, just the same,” he went om, “I was scared, badly scared, and I dent hesitate to acknowledge it” ‘There was an immediate demand from the company for, the story, and the accomme- dating officer proceeded with it. “It happened on the old ship Powhatan,” he said, “several years ago, and we were anchored off a West India port. It was in the sumer time and hot, and yellow jack Was getting in his work wherever he could, We had a case on the ship, and were net allowed to go ashore, except under survell- lance of the land authorities. One day a young sailor, a general favorite with off- cers and crew, fell from a mast and broke his neck. He was dead when we picked | him up, and we at once prepared the body for burial, the ship's carpenter making @ wooden coffin, which he nailed together, as there were no screws suitable in hus kit We had expected to take the body ashore, but the authorities refused permission, an@ | We were forced to a sea burial, and bad placed a couple of shot inside the coffin at the foot to sink it. The body lay in state on deck that night, and the next day ail hands were called to attend the fi The officers and crew were standing about the coffin and the captain began reading the Uurial service, very solemnly and with mach feeling, for all of us felt the loxs of the young fellow keenly. He read along quiet ly until it was about half through, when all at once there came a rial rasping, sereeching sound from the coffin, ai lid began to rise. Weil, it is beyond the ca- pacity of language to express just what we all thought at that moment. The superstt tious sailors fled in dismay, the captam face blanched, the other officers steod irres- | olute, and 1 grabbed the wheel and held on | to it with all my strength to keep from rum- |ning clean away. Scared? Why, my dear and the officer smiled at the young ede was so scared I didn't know where I as. But tt wasn't for long. for our senses came back in a minute, and we began to realize that the swelling of the de- composing body had forced the nafis out and it was their giving away that had made | the fearful noise. In a few minutes the sailors were recalled, the coffin was nailed | up again and lashed with ropes and the best sad rites were finished without further ia- cident.” roung woman shivered at the uncan- That is to say, “there was no further incident on deck. was my duty to go with a boat's crew distance from the ship and sink the in the sea, and I can tell you now I not relish the job at all. I had had enough to last me to the end of my service, but aay wishes were not consulted in the matter. It was duty, and that must be done wheth- er one likes it or not. By this time the sun had set, the sea was quite rough and@ the men to go with me were badly rattled, all | of which didn’t make any difference as far | as the work to be done was concemel, an@ I started away with my disagreeable bur- |den. At a suitable distance I stopped the | boat, committed the body to the deep and | with a feeling of the most intense relief or- dered the crew to ‘give way’ to return the ship. I sat in the stern of the beat facing the crew, and they had not taken @ dozen strokes until I noticed something was wrong. Their faces began to tale on the color of ashes, and in a minute the bow carsman stopped. ‘It's after us, sir’ he sald in a tone that made all my bico’ ge clean down to the soles of my fest, and I hardly dared look over my shoulder to see nat ‘It’ was; but that was no time to show . and I cast a quick glance backward. t was enough. Right on our heels, ap- parentiy, and end on, jumping out of the water in weird, fantastic leaps, came the coffin in our wake. Then it was, in my nervousness, T wanted to scream, or faint, or do something; and for an instant it would have been a positive relief to me to have done ali three in rapid succession, an@ wound it up by plunging into the sea, but the eyes of the men were on me, and were worse scared than I was, end couldn’t do that. To put back was all there Was to do, at the command the boat went back, but I can assure you none of wanted to go back with it. However, me- cessity compelled it, and in a few strokes we were alongside that coffin and had made {t fast with a rope. Then we Aiscovered that the air in it supported it, the shot ef | the foot keeping it almost perpendicular im the sea, and the @ancing waves aia the rest. In a minute we had knocked one of it in; a minute later it had sunk out sig with a smothered gurgie, and my | scare was over, but the effects of it remain- ed for weeks, and even yet I can make my- self uncomfortable thinking about it.” The officer ceased speaking and the com- pany gave a long Sreath Simultaneousty elt uncomfortable themselves. cee W. J. LAMPTON, From Trath. Mr. Rusher— Office Boy. see you. There w a children’ and he told me to say tha! he has his hands full and will see no one.” Against the Reales. Providence and Stonington 8. 8. Co.'s Bulletin Proprietor (as Dunphy looks see whether the balls are frozen) shots barred, gents!”