Evening Star Newspaper, June 18, 1898, Page 16

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 18, 1898-24 PAGES. a OR EE ee ee ee - : THE HERMIT PRIEST OF THE OLD SANTE FE -TRAIL m from its source ward, how lonely ly sover its course, - land is gindden’d. No star ever rose withont Inflnence somewhere. Who knows (earth needs from earth's lowltest creatures No life can be pure in its purpose, and strong in its strife, = And ail life not be purer and strenger thers ITH. coast MERE The teurist en route to the Pacitic and Santa Fe via the Atchison, Tcreka raiiway caanot fail observing a huge, rela- tively os 1 peak, cutting the incompar- ably cleae mid-centinent sky on his right al immediately after the train emerges from th> picturesque canon of El Mero and commences to descend the long, gradual slcpe to the quaint old Mexican village of Las Vegas Its arred and verdurele front loors up grandly In the beautifully sierrated landscape, of which it is the most con- ous object. More prominently define: y other individual elevation of thi visible from the point of ob- the shadow of its irregular con- aches far out over the lesser moun- ath, the moment sun Tas eridian of its cr little grassy valleys stretch cultivated by thi involv limit engine Foaming little plash and sparkle in the s ourse through fertile ir sources are cool moun ten in the dark recesses of the age, which were, until the rest- ingo invaded the solitude ef che % region at the advent of iron- t saw milis, filled with that curean and mey of ali the firny brook Now the red Walton vain elegant moder cir Olympus, . for net many miles re- classic Fee: once fort aphically in of Coren of the Se birth uma (not to be uynasty of sovereigns thi the histor: Cibola r culture i wit s the hero, Monte 1 the with th ng of every ur summit of this grand the Rincon do To- old sentinel of the as cated by the Mexicans, an area ng several acres, there is a re- markable cave. Around this natural grot- to at such a great elevation are clustered by the simple natives the most cherished memories of the humble and beloved curi ous individuals who once occupied the questered spot. It is sacred ground with them, upon which nothing sacrilegious would for 2 moment be brooked. Near its narrow entrance a spring of clear cold water gushes out of the indurat- kK, ed re which, after flowing for a short r the rounded pebbles in its n bed, tumbles down the pi + of the moun in a diminu- } ade, joining the streams in the val- restless the sea. A few scattere nd cast a grateful shade over a portion of the generally bald, biear | level of ited pi and ular distances in the form of a circle, crosses, typical of the ost humt elow, in m n Who m: were erected i only a de- slary saint o jalupe. particulaily in mid- | kept burning at che memory cf rz S since to tne | under at h a ze velievers in that A faith—the Cathoiic Of th who by impression markaple man, made such an d minds of a Vigently ler must let drift backward fur more than a Generation to the plains of central Kansas, of his advent into the state as I spring of S61, our eivil th the great of whi public. Kan agricuitur. was not n; posstbilit mater it it ‘ yond whic to the for bh frontier Man person: . oF th appeara ed the good quiet town, of centuries. > car in th and hoary He acted lik. e alert for an < rolled by befo: a siartled ¢ r, pected enemy, two cr three ever on t and weeks Of the town’s most reput citizens covld his ce suiliciently to learn n him something of his varied and ro- ic history. In a simpi= sketch, as this ntended to 2 only, no" ng but a mere ine of his chequered lif. advent in America can ix Was gathered, very reluci his in detached fragments at his erratic moods of ec t cert contains enous: fering and tragedy to iorm the Urilling novel Mattoo Boecalini, at the peara: n Couneil Grov five years old. He po artist, a head that was bea metrical, with a classical and notwithstanding his which he had a and lustrous as da was of his ap- bout ifty- “ssel the eye of an sym- ifally molded pericr deliol cour Ked nes. He was a descendant of ‘Trajane Bo: lini, the witty Italian satiris uthor the celet d Ragguagli di Par: » who died in Venice in 161: Mattoo was born about the beginning of the present cet in Capri, that charming and t roman- tie island of Italy, situated in the Mediter- ranean, at the entrance to che Bay of Naples, twenty miles south of the beautiful city whose name the bright wavers bear. His youth was passed on the island, in the city of Capri, the seat of a bishopric. ‘There he received his early education, de- Voting himself to the church, and com- mencing those theological studies which Were soon to be the cause of his sufferings, | poted Wor his wanderings and eventually his tragic death. The island of his birth, which has so often been sung by the muse, is historic as well as picturesquely beautiful. It was there that the Roman Emperor Tiberius passed the closing decade of his tife, and the ruins of the twelve gorgeous palaces he erected during that period are still vis- ible. Capri, too, as tourists well remem- her, is famous for a cavern called the Grotto of the Nymphs, or the Blue Grotto. Matteo declared it was there, that during his youth, in the calm recesses and se- questered nooks of that delightful under- ground retreat, he first 1earnel to love the companionship of his own thoughts; a de- sire for solitude, and that, to him, inde- seribable peace which a life apart from the A face of the earth, supping with sorrow and | rich tones had been preserved in their orig- despair for companions throughout the re- mainder of his mundane pilgrimage. For a short time after his unwarranted and sinful escapade he campaigned with the heroic Garabaldi; then he turned with appealing looks toward America, the haven. for all who are oppressed: crossed the ocean, and in a few weeks began his event- ful journey on this continent. Never again was he to behold the place of his birth; the chalky outlines of fair, beautiful Capri which so gloriously begems the blue Medi- terranean. The Phosphorescent Bay of Naples, the sky, sunshine and vine-clad hills of dear old Italy, were never more to stir his once impulsive nature, or quicken into life nis now deadened heart. Years rolled on; youth passed by and middle age was upon the homeless man, when, after having roamed wearily from place to place: visiting one Indian tribe here, and snother there, in the vain hope of discovering some clan or people near unto nature’s heart, whose souls were at- tuned to his own, who would receive him in the simplicity of his severe and pious penance, he arrived among the Kaws, or Kansas, whose reservation was in the lovely valley of the Neosho, a few miles below Council Grove. But that tribe, a dirty, despicable race, very suspicious, and withal not remarkable for their reverence of any religion, did not take kindly to the weary old man, who had entered their midst with the purest intentions; his pious zeal, his abstinence and self-denial made them fear to approach him, They did not understand that: “When holy and devout religious men Are at their beads ‘tis hard to draw them thence. So aweet is zealous contemplation. The miserable savages looked upon him. the meek and humble pilgrim, as an intrud- “HIS VESPER HYMN.” “madding crowd” assures. It was this strange characteristic, absent of that loye of gregariousness common to men, which earned for him in Council Grove, half a century later, the sobriquet of ‘“‘The Her- mit Priest of the Santa Fe Trail,” and a year after his departure from that plac among nis devoted adherents in the mou tains of New Mexico, the more applicable ene “El Solitario” (The Sclitary Man) in contradistinction to “El Hermito” (The Hermit) which he never was in the strict interpretation of the term. When but eighteen the youthful Matteo left his native island, under the patronage «f the good bishop, who loved him, to r fect his education in Rome, beneath t , shadow of St. Peter's, ere he tock orders at the early age of twenty-one » according to his sad 'y, began that life of stormy orrowful pilgrimages, culmin assina- tien forty years afterward in the far off cecident He was called by the church “Father Francesco.” and although so young, w: for his eloquence, subtile philesopk and the boldness of his .political utte a but notwithstanding his pronounced the pope named him as one of his er; said he was “bad medicine,” so Father Francesco was no more at ease with them in their skin lodges than he would have been in the gilded halls of the Vatican. Hie then came to Council Grove, as-stat- ed—came as the tramp has sin come— unheralded and uninvited, but not to beg bread at the doors of its residents, as the latter now does. Nor did he come to teil off his beads in the presence of the vulgar curious, but went upon the hillside beyond the town to seek the solitude and retire- ment of a natural cave in the limestone rock of the region, troubling no one—an enigma to the world and a subject for the idle gossip. There for five months he lived, accessible to but few, with whom, when he felt and recognized in them the quickened glow of 2 Soul that believed in the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man, he would talk in tenderest strains of everything that Was good, true and beatiful. The hermit priest, as he was now called, had of earthly possessions so little that he could have vied with the lowly Nazarene in the splendor of his poverty. Of crucifix- es, devotional mement and other relig- ious trinkets sweetly suggestive of better and happier days he had preserved a few. secretaries. he College of the Propa- | His greatest solace was in half a dozen gandists, however, refused to confirm him, | well-thumbed small volumes, between and placed him under interrogation and | whose covers none peered but himself. He puree NEMPOTE “A POISONED DAGGER IN HIS HEART.” eiscipline. He eloquently defended him- self and the charges were not sustained. ‘The severe discipline ended to which he had been subjected, and he was assigned to duty in the purlieus of the eternal city. In a shert time Matteo Boccalini’s sunny nature and warm passions caused his dis- grace. He became enamored of a fair de- votee, one of his charge, a dark-haired, lustrous-eyed, bewitching creature of the “land of the vine.” Alas! the too sus- ceptible young priest succumbed to the wiles of the “Radiant Maiden,” and he fell in a most earthly and fleshly way. Poor Boccalini was immediately and openly charged with the enormity of his crime, prosecuted and denounced. He was de- spoiled of his sacerdotal functions and com- pelled to flee; became a wanderer upon the Was ever regular at his devotions, for not- withstanding he had grievously sinned, ae he declared, he was constantly striving to outlive its horrid memory and. to repair the injury he had done his Master’s cause. He possessed one article of property that tinges his sojourn at Council Grove with a delightfully romantic remembrance among the very limited number now living there who knew of the vagaries of the ably strange man. These were sometimes his confidants and friends within a limited degree. It was a rudely constructed man- dolin, which during all the years of his er- ratic pil e he had tenaciously clung to’ until its exterior presented a confused mass of scratches and dents indicative of hard usage. Despite all that, curious as it may seem, by some mysterious means its inal purity and depth. On the evenings of Kansas’ incomparable Indian summer, during the early part of which season; he was living in his cave near Council Grove, the hermit priest, seated on a projecting ledge at the mouth of “his rocky and isolated retreat, would sweep the strings of his treasured instru- ment with a tquch as light, deft and sor- rowfully tendeg§ aga maiden whose pure young heart Just -been thrilled by its first breath of love. To those wha: were fortunate, and they were very fewg:to be invited to spend an hour with himfhis' ¥geper hymns, rendered in his exquisite tend} voice, were as soul- inspiring as the gentle earnestness. of a young girl’s praSer. His sometime Neapol- itan songs and) soft airs of his native isle were as Sweet-as tH@ chant of the angels he invoked whgp int gyieeply religious mood, and his heart “feeli tones mingled sadly with the gentle soghing of the evening breeze in the densé Yeliage on the margin of the plactd Neosho that flowed near by. ‘Thus, in the calm enjoyment of his self- imposed solitude, he lived with “The moss his bed, the is humble cell, His food the fruits, his driuk the erpetal weil, Among the various languages necessary for the communication of. ideas between the motley crowd comprising the civiliza- tion of the then remote region, there was none that Matteo Boecalini did not under- stand and speak fluently, so liberal had been his education in that particular. Once, when a stabbed and dying Mexican, the victim of some gambling quarrel among the drivers of the bull train to which he was attached, asked,a service for the re- pose of his soul, Father Francesco hastened to the anxious man’s side. There he ad- ministered the last sacrament of the church to the expiring creature in his own lan- guage, who died with a resigned look upon his face, as he listened to the absolving words he could perfectly understand, which was a thing of joy to the holy man who had performed the sacred office. One day late in the month of October, now nearly thirty-four years ago, the hermit priest saw walking through the streets of the little village a dark-visaged person, clad in clerical garb, and whom Boccalini believed to, be the lover of the woman he had wronged in his youth, and that the stranger, if it were he whom he suspected, could never be persuaded to think that Matteo was not wholly to be blamed for the life he had blasted. He told his friends he could no longer tarry with them; he would go away to the mountains of New Mexico, seek another cave, rear again the blessed cross, emblem of his Master's suffering, and once more live in solitude, from which here he had somewhat strayed. He frequently, when in a communicative mood, had talked much to them of the delights of absclute solitude. It was, he argued, the nurse of enthusiasm; that en- thusiasm was the parent of genius; that solitude had always been, eagerly sougnt for ia every age.‘ I€ was the inspiration of the dominant religion of every nation; that their founders were men who, seeking the quiet and seclusion of the desert, and by subordinating the flesh to the spirit, had visions of the beyond. The veil hiding the better world had been lifted for them, and that their teachings had come down to us through the aeons, elevating man above the brute. The next morning after the sudden ap- pearance of the stranger, whose presen had so discomposed the usually calm pries a delicious morning in the montn of “autumn’s holocaust,” when the breeze was billowing the’ russet-colored grass up- on the vifgin prairies, Father Francesco gathered up his few precious re and, accepting the escort of a carayan just ready to start for New Mextco, left Council Grove, his cave, and the\warm friends he had made the forever..; The caravan undg the protection of which the freightened prelate went west- ward was owhed ‘Ny a Mexican don, brother-in-law to KitCarson. He still re- sides near the spot where the ill-fated a year or two after his weary- italian wa: some journey across the Great Plains, hur- ried to eternity. — This venerabRe M¥xican and old-time voyageur of the: almast obliterated Santa Fe trail, when J;Jast. visited him at his hos- pitable ‘home iy the mountains, fourteen years ago, enter{ained me by relating some of the more pfbmin¥nt characteristics of his strange companion du voyage during that memorable trip with the hermit priest trom Council Grove, more than twenty years previously, He ‘said that the strange man would nevét ‘ridé either on horseback or in one of the Wagotis; despite the earnest invitations extended to him each recurri morning by thgamasier of the caravan preferring to trudge alone uncompiaining] Gey after day’ during he stinny hour: side the plodding oxen, through the alkali of the desert) and faltered not. Neither at night would he partake of the helter of the tent constantly offered, but as constantly and persistently refused, pre- ferring to roll himself up‘in a single coarse wrap, seeking some quiet spot removed frcm the corral of wagons, where for an hour or two, under the scintillating stars, he would tell off his beads, or, accompanied by his mandolin, chant some sad refrain to the Virgin, until long after the camp had gone to sleep. Fer his subsistence he himself caught and cooked the prairié dog, ground squir- rel, rattlesnake and gopher. Only occasion- when hard pressed would he accept a meal, which was constantly proffered by the Mexican teamsters, begging the hermit priest to share with them, for in their love for the church, to which they were so de- voied, he seemed to their simple minds a most zealous but hpmble exponent of their religious tenets and visible form of their sacred faith. 4 Thus reticent, thoughtfpl and devout, he marched with the caravan for many weeks, until at last the city of Holy Faith, the quaint old Spanish town of Santa’Fe, was reached. Ther& he parted company with his escort, and for nearly a year afterward wardered all over that portion of the ter- ritcry of New Mexico, and into Arizona, still seeking the Almaschar of his dreams, a suitable abiding place in the recesses of the hills, and a people whose souls might be made to attune with his. But he miser- ably failed in all that he desired during his sad pilgrimage throughout the south- west. Then, turning northward again, he slowly and almost despairingly retraced his steps until he arrived in the sequestered Valley of the SappilJo, where he at. last fo.nd an humble class and his coveted cave on the summit of the mighty moun- tain described at the opening of this chap- ter. There, content, after so many years of unsatisfied wandering, he commenced that life of religious ministrations and exer- cised those unselfish acts of kindness and love whose remembrance {is imprinted so indelibly on the hearts of his devoted fol- lowers, for: “Through suffering he thrcugh sickness he nursed.” ‘There, again, under the constellations, which nowhere else shine more brilliantly, where the strains of his mandolin and the rich notes of that magnificent voice, heard by the enchanted people who listened each evening at the doors of their rude adobe huts in the valley below the huge hill that cast its shadow over them. Notwithstanding the hermit priest had found a class congenial to his soul’s de- mands, his eccentricities still clung to him. His persistency in living apart from his chosen people enforced'them to always speak of him as El Solitario (The Solitary Man.) ‘a He would visit amoté them to solace and nurse the sick, apd give absolution to the dying, which his, . their religion so beautifully promfies, ut he would never break bread within tftir hospitable doors; preferring, and 4nsis@fhg always, upon a crust and a cuptof colt. water outside. Nor would he gjeep mpon the soft woolen colchons which Sven gine est of New Mexican homes” afford, “but absorbed by devout thcughts, ‘wrapped himself in his coarse blank@t an@ laid himself on the bare ground; ort if it Was stormy, in some outhouse with dheep™hnd’ goats.’ This, of course, was part! of ‘his self-imposed pen- ance, from whic¥t he never deviated, rigor- ous as it was. 3) «8 One day, aftef. his face had ‘been ’ {nisi week by his dévotec went out to . They found him dead on the rugged. trail to his lonely home, his beads enfolded in his delicately shaped fingers and bis countenance wear- ing a saint-like expression.. A poisoned dagger in his heart, by the hand of an as- rassin, had accomplished the foul deed, which fcr a whole lifetime, during every moment of the unhappy man’s active and dreaming hours, was a continually dis- turbing fear. Thus passed away, as he had predicted in kis youth, the eccentric but holy Matteo Boccalini, hermit priest, and the El Soll- tario of the New Mexico. mountains, For years after his departure from Coun- cil Grove the hermit ts cave was an ebject of much inte: . Until within a very short period, when the quarrymen tore down its last vestige, upon its time-worn walls could be trac ckudely carved, his name, Matteo Boccalini.a cross, “Jesu Maria” and “Capri,” all so dear to the lonely and sad man's heart, —~ soothed and liar and beloved for more than a ».& sorrowful party IN A SPIRIT OF FUN| Caricaturing the Famous Pictures in the Paris Salon. AT BEST SOME OF THEM ARE QUEER So It is Not Difficult to Cover Them With Ridicule. SEVEN SCHOOLS OF COLOR Spectal Correspondence of The Evening Star. PARIS, June 8, 1898. HERE IS A SALON this year, in spite of th destruction of the Palais I'Industrie, the great works of the exposition and the international war scare. The paintings are as incomprehen- sible and fantastic as ever, and it looks as if the sculpture aiso were beginning. Strolling past th> un- settling contrasts of the violet school, the indigo schooi, the blue school, the green school, the yellow school, the orange school and the terrible red school, the mind of one who is not color- mad seks almost hopelessly to find a thing that he can understand. “Well, there’s a fine leg of mutton!” At last! It is the honest father of a family who bas stumbled on this gem of cftarness of intention, through the miles of allegories he cannot unrayel, landscapes that seem only pinky-green, nude nymphs which make his wife cry out, “Girls, do not look!” and all the train of mysticism, historical per- versions, high-gear realism and fin de siec aesthetics of the hour. It is a fine leg of mutton; almost the only still life of the show, and after studying it carefully the plain man will turn to the portraits, which are also easy on the understanding. Proper Sunday On Sunday it is the proper thing for the Amusement. Parisian husband to go out walking with his family; and when the Salon is open he goes with them once to see it. It is a trial whea two ribit Lo- to many, alons—the old new—« gether in the immense machi built for the exhibition of 1SSv, ing, still to stand in 1:40, The! dust, the heat, the crowd—and here are about 3,000 statu busts, graveston strewn down the center. understand what the painters me painters paint above the people ard this is the excuse and exp the caricaturing which the Pa papers are beginning to make more more of yearly. When, for example, Cabanes hangs up the sweetly thoughtful picture of a dreamy brunette gentleman in a white shirt and espec year, one could on n! 1 nation s comic and of Cleo de Merode Boring Herself, AN Alone (Violet). velveteen trousers, asleep in his chair fore a writing table, while a haif-draped gcddess hovers over him emitting glorious coior-cloud: initiated know it is a poet, ning back for inspiration. But the car- leaturist interprets it differently. “The Mu s setting off fireworks for the poor young man, to distract his overworked mind;” while from a v se on the mantel- piece and a bottle on the table the rockets re seen shooting up, to form the color- cloud. The caricaturist always follows the outlines of the original paintings faithfully on the whole, and gains hi riling effects from few but bold distortions. Spanish jects Attractive. Everything relating to Spain is sure to at- tract attention. The French feel so sure that Spain to be gobbied up by the United States that they do not hesitate to give to their sleepy, backward neighbor the sentimental sympathy accorded to the under dog in the fight. One painter has given a scene where Don Quixgte is cherg- ing on the windmill. The shock has dis- mounted him, and he lies in a pitiable posi tien on the ground, while neho Panza comes into sight. In the caricacure it is Jonathan, instead of Sancho Panza, who looms up, as if to say, “And now will you be good?’ Another has a portrait of “the beautiful Otero,” the Spanish “dancer,” Known some- thing less than a generation ago to Ameri- cans for_her lack of prejudice and ove: plus of diamonds. The caricaturist sin.ply puts a wickeder look in her eye and am- plifies her ripe proportions, sayiag: “Po! trait of the belle Otero, charged with the secret mission of ruining the celedrated American battalion of millionaires. If Dans le service de I’Autriche, Le militaire n’est pas riche. . . . it is different in America. The task of the beautiful Otero is an immense on Chartran, who has painted so mz of rich Americans, exhibits a Wounded Bull Fighter.” The caricature 8 ambiguously that the painting pre- vents Frenchmen from regretting that America has taken the painter for nerself. Portraits Attract In general, the portraits being strong this year and dealing with well-known Parisian personalities, they are receiving a deal of attention in the comic catalogues and the caricatures of the illustrated weeklies, Benjamin Constant, who has done a great deal of high-priced. work in New York, ex- hibits a full-length of M. Paul Schege. This is the gentleman who married the widow of Isaac Singer, of sewing machine fame. He is something of a sport, and is repre- sented in riding costume, tightly breeched and standing in a rather defiant attitude. ‘fhe caricaturist has caught him as the “boxing kKangaroo”—not without a strong touch of the original picture, and not with- out secret allusion to a sparring encounter in which the gentleman recently engaged, to the scandal of Parisian society. Roybet paints the secretary o f the Salon with a huge Medici Jace collar, like those of the Florentine cavaliers; the comic art- ist turned it into the head of Johr the Baptist on Salome’s platter. The actress Rejane has been done in his most impres- sionist manner by Besnard—a “Lictle Kum. pled,” says the joker. And he represents her—rumpied. Bonnat’s portrait of Gen. Davoust, who is chancellor of tne Legion of Honor, is turned into a meerschaum pipe bowl, under process of coloring, be- cause of the good man’s yellow-brown com- plexion. Bonnat’s other portrait, of Rosa Caron, the prima donna of the Paris opera, who long since lost her voice, but still re- tains her self-esteem and high salary, is turned into a cross-eyed woman, from look- ing continually at the pearl which she wears as Salambo, hanging down between her eyes. The caricatures of the portraits are all ill-natured, and many are likely to provoke quarrels. Paris must have her little wars. ‘ Sensation of the Saion. The great sensation of the Salon--one might say, the scandal—has been the statue of Balzac, by Rodin. The sculptor has been nearly ten years at work uffon it, and won- ders were expected from the impressionist- sculptor, who is “of tomorrow” rather than today. At first sight it looks ike a cross between a giant frog ani a man runn: @ race in a sack. Afterward you see that ny por- Notice. there is a beginning of features at the | upper end, and then all the people go round to one side, where they are told they should Stand to receive “the full impression.” Sun- day I heard a woman say, as she turned away after long contemplation: “Well, he has some physiognomy The sculptor defends himself against the critics and caricaturists by saying that he has portrayed the great novelist exactly as he wrote, getting out of bed at 4 a.m. and wrapping a blanket around him, as the Yale students used to go to early chapel in the old times. Here the comic man has really caught the spirit of the statue. The society which had ordered it refuses to rec- ognize in it a statue at all, and there is a fine dispute going on about what art is, after all. “Is it a practical joke?” people inquir “I never did more serious work in my life, replies Rodin. And so the matter rests. Seven Schools of Color. Without attempting to answer the ques- tion, “What is art?” it has become plain to me that the paintings of the present day belong to seven schools of color, and are summed up in the rainbow. It is color, color everywhere, and everything is color. The paintings of the violet school are soft and sweet and modest, often in the nature of allegocies, with faraway vistas, appari- tions and moonlight effects. Those of the indigo school have to do with the somber night, with the stars and with the Mediter- ravean by day or night. The blue school is essentially decorative, showing nymphs with harps and youths with flutes, with feecy clouds in pale blue skies. The green school, on the other hand, is earthy and material; it is the “good-child” schoot, close to the everyday realities, plain to the understanding, showing little trees and li Ue hills and grazing meadows and tr patches, where grow cucumbers and bean: The yellow school is opulent with gold and golden stuffs, the orlent and oriental wo- men, with effects of decorative brass silks and satins. The orange school is of the south, delighting"in the Spanish dancer. in the beauties of Morceco and Aigiers, and is given to depicting Venice in the noonday sunlight. While the red school is all red and red again, with fire and blood and ma: sacres and tragic dawns and agonizing sun- ricaturist has been busy with then orting them and giving them faise interpretations. Two of the foremost pic tures of the violet school are Pierray’s thoughtful muse, who sits by moonlight with her elbow on her knee and her chin on her wrist in the attitude of meditation, and Chalon’s “Orpheus,” charming the animals with his divine harp playing. “Orpheus De- fending Himself From a Wolf; or, the Harp e Weapon,” says the carica- 8 he represents the hero raising his The Ten-Legged Horse (Green). termination on his face. “Mlle. Cleo de Merode Ennuying Herself All Alone by { Moonlight, he of the other, taking advantage of the mu: attitude to make her yawn despairingly, and of pr hair, which happens to fall over her ears, to say that it Is Cleo. There are two night scenes of the indigo school misrepresented in the comic catalogue. De Champeaux's dark, rich sea piece on the coast of Hol- land’ shows the sea rise up and beat upon the bases of some windmills. Utilizing Wave Power. “This,” says the funny man, “evidently represents a new method of utilizing the motor forces of the waves.” Foreau's right picture is by starlight, in a rheadow sloping to a bay, where shepherd, sheep and dog all sleep. A wolf is seen ap- ching. In_the caricature the wolf is ‘The Socialist,” the dog is mark- Minister,” the shepherd is mark- ed “The President” and the sheep are marked “The Voters.” It has been remarked that ool is essentially decorative, nymphs with harps by ought to be added that these nymphs usually float through the air, without vings or other ostensible means of loco- motion. The best example is, perhaps, Puvis de Chavanne’s decorative canvas in the Bostcn Public Libra This there is a floatin ,the act of making an air: -the Roman Colc er at the Summer Circus, caturist. with a few deft char Henri Martin's apparition of Dante is entitled “Dante Re to Be Careful Not to Fall.” man, pretending that the lad tendant angela must have some support, has put them on tremendously high stilts. On Earth Again, With the green school we emerge from allegory, symbolism and airy aestheticism and teuch earth again. Busson has a mid- day waterside piece, where cows are wad- ing in a stream beneath some trees. One of the trees slopes over toward the stream and hangs its branches in the water. The funny than has uprooted the tree to make it appear to fall on one of the animals. “Curious Death of a Cow, Crushed by a the blue showing preference. It ‘form- Beatrice to ing Beatr The funn nd her Chartrans Bull Fighter. Falling Tree,” it is-entitled. Then some catule grazing in a group upon a_hill—a painting in the Rosa Bonheur style, by Bonnefoy—open themselves to distortion because they are so huddled together. A s00d, old, white horse in the foreground hides some of his Companions whose legs only are visible. “The Ten Legged Horse” is the interpretation of the caricaturist. Effects From Distortion. These distorted sketches of the comic pa- pers, being only in sketchy pen and ink, can take no account of color and must gain all their 2ffect from exaggerating promi- nent features in the drawing, mishandling the composition and pretending to misun- derstand the intention. The oriental riches of the yellow and ivory school of Gerome and Monginot'can no more be desecrated than can be the Spanish and North African color glories of the orange school of Bom- pard and Worms. All that the caricaturist can do with Monginot’s “Shylock,” rich in a gold-brocaded robe and with a flashing yellow turban round his head, is to exag- gerate the volume of the stuffs and say that “He Is Selling Carp2ts.” All that can be done with Gerome's regulation oriental ladies, ivory skinned and squatting in the subdued yellow light of a luxurious harem, is to label it “The Harem of the Culs-de- Jatte”—th2 cul-de-jatte being a cripple who has lost both legs or part of them. The squatting damsels only show themselves down to the knees, being seated Turk or tailor fashion. Dancing to Keep Warm. Bompard’s dancing Moors, swathed in cool white cotton against the background of an orange stretch of desert, are only sald to be “North Africans Dancing to Keep Warm.” While Worms’ Spanish girl, playing the guitar to some contemplative bull fighters in a restaurant, has only her sweeping, bell-shaped skirt exaggerat=d. “For is she not g belle?” “He who listens to a bell heard only a sound,” says the whatever it means, It is to make up pages on pages of rs these caricatures. All cannot be equally funny. What shall be done with Pierré Laurens’ terrible “Hercules” —of red school—who marches somber and blood splashed against a sunset of fire, covered with a lion's skin, his club over his left shoulder? The lion’s head hides the head of Hercules and the hero's club ceases to b@ Rejane Rumpled. seen in the perspectivs, just where thé Hon’s mouth cuts it off. “Hercules Swale lowing His Club,” explains the caricaturistyy with a last effort. Yes, it is the last effort of the cari ist, and the caricaturist has worke this year upon the paintings of th Salon. But the Parisians ar> ea please, so long as you confine yours things beneath their eyes. They go Salon with their comic catalogues they find them comic! STERLING HEILIG CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR NOTES is the Endeavorers’ topie for tomorrow's meetings, and on it the F James Atkins, D. D., editor Sun- day school department of the M. E. Church South, sa “The root of all true friends ship is unselfish love; and its fruits, a will ing service for all the higner ends of life Endeavorers of the Church of the Refor- mation gave a lawn party at Mrs. Briges’, on South Carolina avenue southeast, last evening. “True Friendship” The Junior Christian Endeavor Society conducted the evening servi at Fits egational Church last Sunday. The > of Sharon,” and the deco- lilies, ferns and other Protestant Yr « officers on t Methodist Willia vive president, Miss Flerenc ling secret , Miss Katie C. sponding secretary, Miss Hutchins; treasurer, Mr. H. C. G ganist, Miss Amelia A. Hutchins; Miss Nellie Edmonston; delegate to C. is pianist, KE Union executive committee, W. C. Poston$ junior superintendent, Miss Hattie Proct Mr. E. Q. Knight, an energetic member of the ¥. P. 8. C. E. of First Presbyterian Church, and who has just comp! a course of study in the Bible Normal lege of Massachusetts, has accepted a call to the Sixty-first Street M. E. Church, New York, as pastor’s assistant, and enters on the work tomorrow. The Y. P. 8. C. E. of Mount Vernon Place M. E. Church South last Tuesday evening elected the following corps of offi- cers and committee chairmen, who will serve for six months from July 1: Pre dent, Mr. W. W. Millan; vice president, Henry Knowles; recording secretary, Edna Riddleberger; corresponding secretary, A. L. Dietrich: treasurer, Charles Finley; or- ganist, Sallie Mason; assistant, Sue P. Duffey. Chairman of committees—Look: cut, Florence Ball; prayer meeting, R. E L. Smith; missionary, Mrs, A. L. Dietrich Sunday school, Grace Montgomery; social, Julia Smith; calling, Mrs. W. J. H. Re son; music, Rosa Bus: flower, Lane: reception, 8. T. Murray; denomina- tional, W. W. Millan; Christian citizenship, Sadie Harbaugh: good literature, D. Hugit a; whatsoever, A. L. Dietrich - Church of the Covenant Y.P-3.C.E ntly gave a very enjoyable and suc- cessful musicale to raise money toward Kquidating the church debt. The juniors have been meeting once a week for the past month to sew for the soldiers. The King’s Daughters and Sons of the ian Church are ar- crap books for the Dis- Tr re made of heavy large enovgh to contain @ ph of some familier ington scene, and are filled with bright items of wholesome wit and ful neartlifts, end tied with red, white blue ribb Memorial Lutheran Y.P.S.C.F. elected the following officers to verve for cne year from September Ist: President, Mrs. W. H. Mickle; first vice president, Irma J. Calla second vice president, Ella Clarkson; recording secretary, Amy Cromwell; treasurer, Frank Burger; or- ganist, Rose Sefffert; assistant, Elizabeth Lerch: delegates to union executive com- mittee, A. D. Spangler and Saide Kniple; junior’ superintendents, Adelia Randolpa and Clara Stowell, The Christian Endeavor Society of the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church has elected the following officers for a term of one year: President, Edward Tar- vice president, Theodore T. Snell eretary, Grace Finney; treasurer, 1 rd F. ‘Calladay. The soctccy suifers a great loss in the departure of che pastor's assistant, Rev. E. Lawrence Hunt, for work in the interest of the Junior republic. Comrades of the Quiet Hour now number 5,539, and Tenth Legionarie: 86. the convention in Nashville rext i- nging pocket trict army be manila paper, small photo has just “At month the meeting place for 18%) will selected. Detroit Phils e it in 190%. Chicago, Cincinnati and asking for tt, and Toledo all tasks. understood this and even in their leisure moments were never found with- out some little task in their hands, if it were only knitting, tat- ting or crochet- ing. There was a Teason for this that does not ap- pear upon the surface. Our grandmothers were healthy wo- men, imbued with @ spirit of ambi- tion and activity that would not nit them to idle. If many modern ‘women are much less active and more given to idleness than the stately dames of yore, it is because they enjoy a smaller measure of good health. A woman who suffers from weakness and disease of the distinctly feminine organs, who is racked with pain, and tortured with headaches and nervousness, cannot be ac- tive and helpful. Idlieness and invalidism are the natural results of suffering of this description. The poor invalid woman is not at fault, save in her ice of her own physical make-up or neglect of her womanly health. Thousands of women are neglectful in this way becanse they shrink from the em- barrassing examinations and local treat- ment upon by the majority of obscure —— 5 as Ld V. Pierce, for thirty years chief consulting physician to the Invalids’ Hotel and Surgical Institute, at Buffalo, N. Y., has discovered a wonder- ful medicine that cures all diseases peculiar to women, in the privacy of the home, with- out the of these embarrassing ordeals. This great medicine is known as Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Our grandniothers