The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, July 7, 1895, Page 21

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, JULY 17, 1895. 21 ODERN HOLIDAY ON MOUNT OLYMPUS. BOOKMAKERS TALKING ABOUT THE THOUGHTS AND FIGMENTS . & oF THE LITERARY WORLD. XSOOSO Tre CALL to-day introduces a novel feat- | tions, the agonies of contraction and un- ure. It is a glimpse into the’ liter- | of the Western Coast. Without t it will prove interesting to writers and readers of Californi; seen at play such notab! dovu \ neth Malcolm (Markham), Adeline Knapp, | he Chiel,” and others. HOLIDAYS ON OLYMPUS. | rese holiday-makers? | id to learn for itself. given up to its mad ymething that it can 1at least give a guess | 1ests who assem- Who were they That is for the This world, s chase in pur: get for not for the iden! They were ola iriends, however, well known to readers of THE CALL. There was y earnest and serious, with for art and life. There was The Artist, with his Spanish face glowing with inspiration and the delicious Scotch co-ordinated movement that convulsed her face in the effort to laugh. Ithrew herthe | shilling and fled. There was a pause for a minute. Each Here may be | gne was contemplating his own mental asInaDonatella | picture of the old woman. The Dilettante Coolbrith, William Greer Harrison, Ken- | broke the silence, The Dilettante—I have long been puz- {zled for a standard of art. We have a | standard of truth—but what is truth’s re- lation to art? 'What part does realism bear in art? The Artist—Why, realism, my boy, is the interpretation of art to the people. See here—I paint a picture of a cow. It looks like a cow. The people recognize itand the rt'gogmhcn flatters their intelligence. “‘See,” they say, ‘‘it is a cow. We see its horns, its tail, its legs—how naturall” What matchless art! The fact is, 'tis not art at all, but merely the painter’s power of imitating nature. Art is something more than an imitation of nature. _ Kenneth Malcolm—I should say that art is the interpretation of nature. “Nature has the will but not the power to realize ¥ ion,” says Aristotle. So it is the h privilege of the artist to suggest to us “THAT FACE SO OLD-S0 OLD IT SEEMED THE MASK OF CENTURIES!” burr at ilie end of his tongie. Donatella, beloved of all for her generous heart and speech, and for the tender poet nature that | idealizes and transforms the world for her friends. Hygiea, the health of the assem- ly, tempering the extravagance of the | hers with sweet reasonableness. There | was Kenneth Malcolm, with his grand gray head and his scholarly bearing, and The Dilettante, full of quaint learning and quaint conceit, venturing with tentative toe into every pool of speculation and dis- cussion, wary of getting beyond his depth. A holiday on Olympus would be incom- plete without The Dilettante, offering the p of inquiry at the same moment that he handed about the cups of ambrosia, amber_clear, turning to golden brown as the rich cream poured in. Truly we were lost without The Dilettante! Then there was The Chiel amang us, takin’ notes, and The Scribe, reducing the brightest scintillations of our composite | genius to the queerest little nen-committal | crow-tracks on paper. All honor to The Scribe! 0]’1 hey were all holiday-making upon ympt The Chiel came upon the scene waving a manuscript. She had been raiding Ken- neth Malcolm’s poetic storehouse. e fol- lowed, protesting, and would have rescued his treasure, but Runnymede interfered. “A poem by Kenneth! ’'Twas his—'tis ours! Read it, Chiel!” The plea became general, and with Ken- neth Malcolm’s perm: n The Chiel read : THE OLD WOMAN. 1 passed an old weman on the windy street, Crouched in a heap beside a sack of matches. The litter and dust were he held her old cap down looked up, ing in the gray air; ith a frail hand, he was Crouched silent on the ever- o old, se old, I could not bear io I flung Ler something as I hur: = My poor heart crazing with the grief of earth. She was 50 0ld—so old.) dust were blowing She was 80 0ld—s0 ol ‘The litter an: When darkness sweeps awey the Objects tn my room 1 still can see that face! ‘\ It is looking at me when I wake up In the vast silence of the mght: 1t follews me in the noise and hurry of the day, That tace 50 0ld—so old It seemed the mask of centuries. O lawyers, making lavis—always making laws! O judges, asking for precedents—always asking for precedents ' © publicists. talking of the fights of nations—al. ways talking of the rights of nations! O dying rich men, building churches—iways buila- ing caurches! © churchmen, seeking to be saved—always seeking to be gaved! O governors, appointing thanksgivings—always ap- poiting thanksgivings! Lo! Yeur laws are a farce, your precedents blind | guides— Your talk the chatter of apes, your churches the evasions of His law— ‘Your salvation & pit, your thanksgiving & devil's eat— So 1ong as that 0ld woman is in the street! (She was 50 old—so old!) The Chiel—That seems to me a wonder- ful examplg of true realism—the realism hat 18 art. Artist—Realism, Chiel? 'Tis not m at all. Or, rather, it was realism highest idealism. That is why it appealsto us so strongly. l’.\_mnymet!e—You are right. It is not m. other treatment. The poet might have told us that the woman’s face was wrin- kled; that she was blear-eyed; that she was palsied; that she was squalid and iful t6 ook upon. The follower of the realistio school would have done all this=— would have given us a2 photograph, so_to speak, of the old woman. But Malcolm has net donme this, and vet he has painted for us the whole picture merely by the artistic itera- tion of that single phrase—‘‘She was so old—so old!” Why, look you! We can every one of us see thatold woman! I have seen her! It was one night, when I was walking in a street in London, with Henry Irving and a brother of my own. We passed an old woman sitting beside a great pile of matches that she had for sale. My companions did not notice her, but the eight had a terrible fascination for me. I stopped and took a shilling from m; pocket, “I do not want any matches,” said to her, “but I will give you this if you will laugh, just once.” She looked up at il it was so transmuted by soul and | and feeling that it has become the | It might have been made so by | | never elaborates. iy | of those who I6ve it the story it has to tell. | Denatella, what do you think is the place | the aspiration of nature. When realism Was a protest against the false and unnat- ural idealism that crept into our literature and our art aiter the death of Michael An- gelo, it was a good thing. Men began to | say, ‘‘Let us return to reality and to hu- manitv—let us get back to earth.”” Then we_got the romantic movement in France and Germany; and- the pre-Raphaelite brotherhood in England, out of which grew the realism of to-day. But it seems to me that realism itself has gone into ex- tremes. It has seized on the ugly, the deformed, the vicious, as the chief mate- rials of art, and at the same time has set its face against selection, against interpre- tation. Some of its devotees seem almost ready to tell us that obscenity, vulgarity, maliormation are the only realities. Runnymede—Art, for me, is the ex- gress;o_n of the imagination—that is, its efinition. Realism in art is a misnomer. Where realism appears art disappears. The real relation which realism bears to art is identical with that which exists be- tween the modeler’s clay and the finished sculpture. The province of art is to con- ceal and not to exhibit realism. For in- stance, thereis that beautiful willow at the foot of the hill. To the realist there is a tree—beautiful in itself, but a tree only. For me, Itake the fireen drapery of the tree and I see in it the weeds of broken- hearted women. Isee in the leaves that have fallen and in the broken twigs the shattered hopes and dreams of the soldier, the statesman, the dreamer. Then I seein the new growth of the tree the value and importance of suffering; that without the tears that flowed from the willow the new growth would not be ours. That is some- thing of what the tree means tome. I have idealized it, I know, but no art which does net idealize has any value in the affairs of men and women. The relation of a story, which is one of the highest forms of art, may suggest sorrow, suggest all the emo- tions and passions that influence human- ity, but it does not exhibit the mere physi- cal processes which produce those emo- tions. It is the province of art totella complete story with a single touch of the brush or a féw strokes of the pen. Art It creates in the minds of realism, in poetry, for instance? Donatella—Realism in poetry! Idonot think it can exist and the work be poetical| The highest poetry, while based upon real- ism—while giving the acts and expres- sions of real {ile, epends uPon ideality to make it poetry. True art is imaginative. Dialect verse is not poetry. Runuymede—It is perfumed prose. The Dilettante—Prose without the per- fume, rather. Runnymede—No. There are perfumes and perfumes, All are not sweet. Kenneth Malcolm—Dofiatella is right. | Great art is imaginative. It is a revela- tion, but if the senses are allowed to tell the whole story there is nothing for the imagination to reveal. Our diseased real- ism ‘lfgex»s too close to the facts. It saysto us, bopy:ynaturm Put down what you really see.”” But if to copy nature is our mission, then & photegraph would surpass any canvas and no artist weuld be so great &s & camera, ¢ The Artist—That is the talk of the whole realistic school. My good friend and fellow-countryman the scientist is always sending me t0 nature to paint her. After all, nature is only a dictionary. The {mnter goes to her as the writer opens his Lesaurus, for words. She gives him the words freely, but he must take them and tell his story with them, whether he work with brush or pen. “Go to nature,” my scientific SBcotchman said to me the other Pay. “The n::s of shutting yourself n & room paint a landscape!” “Why,” said I to him, “look hpere! The other evening I was painting a sun- rise. Next morning I went out in the early dawning and there was nature imi- tating my picture. But she was not pui- ting into her sunrise half that I had put into mine. There is more in every picture than is shown on the surface. “Say you | God creates; bave a landscape—they tell us now that we are beginning to photograph in colors there will be no need for the painter’s art. Why, look at the colored photograph, and once your curiosity is satisfied you will not need to look again. But the painted landscape will show you something more me, and I shall never forget the contor- than the trees, the sky, the fields and mountains. It shows you, if the art is true, the artist’s reading of nature’s mes- sage. Ana there is still something back of that, and that is the artist himself, played upon like an instrument when life itself is expressed through him, almost without his knowledge. Imitate nature? Why there are pictures of mine that have painted themselves throush me. There was mx acquired skill, to be sure, my knowledge of principles and of paints, but are these myself? hen such amood is on me I could almost paint with my eyes shut and interpret nature’s message more perfectly than any realistic imitation could ever do.” Donatella—Even photography does some- thing more than merelg to imitate. A photograph of the landscape before us would be wonderfully toned and softened from the original; or even a reflection of it in a mirror more or less idealized. I re- member a ‘‘snap picture’” taken of my own humble little porch at home. It had the dif"“y and majesty, really, of a col- umned Greek portico. So imposing was it that it inspired quite a feeling of “dignity in possession’’ when I looked upon the picture! You see, the sun himself gives us a hint, when he turns artist, not to be too realistic in our werk. It seems to me the true province of art, whether of brush, chisel or pen, should be to lift the mind and sonl out of the petty and trying details and cares of everyday life and en- vironment into a higher and purer atmos- phere; that it should be an ‘incentive, an inspiration. Ido not believe a kitchen interior, a workshop, or a table or cart- load of beets, cabbages and potatoes can have this tendency, however skillfully Fortrayed, or whatever our opinions may e as to the beauty and dignity of labor. ‘We have quite enough of the real all about us; like the poor, it is always with us; let us have it, where and as we must, trans- fused with as much of the 1deal as may be possible and consistent. Without it art is hklv a beautiful body without life—a mask only. Runnymede—Realism is valuable as a treatment, but it is not art. That is the expression of the struggle of the divine in man against the material, It is the creative genius working in the artist, prompting his expression of what will be, what should be, rather than what is. He sees in the com- mon the uncommon, wHere the common mind sees only the common. But while valuable as a treatment realism should be subordinated. Take a stage setting, for instance, where a magnificent picture is presented. The imagination isstimulated; the eye is gratified; the expression ot the vurpose of the picture fills the mind. But present the same picture with the dividing scene removed, exposing the workshop, and all its beauty disappears. It ceases to Qe art. Itis mere mechanism. Hygiea—It seems to me that the defini- tion of art cannot be made too comprehen- sive. It should include everything that we know or can ever know of truth. Truth fills all the universe. We only see a frac- ticnal part of it. I would broaden out the definition of art and make it embrace everything real, everything ideal. Real- ism is but the physical expression, the set- ting of articular truth. It has its legit- imate ce. Itis essential to the expres- sion of the ideal. My effort is to see unity in everything, In artthe schools present us only fractional aspects of truth. I do not like this. Truth as we know it under these finite conditions is truth only as we hold it in proper harmonious balance. The true poet, the true artist in any direction, is he who in “actual life apprehends the greatest amount of truth and never disas- sociates it from its surroundings. Runnymede—Hyeieia’s definition of art makes me want to add to mine this, that art is an expression of the creative instinct which we hold from God himself. Kenneth Malcolm—That is well said. the partist recreates. He revesls to us the mystery and wonder of existence. Hygiea—True art doesnot walk around conditions, nor avoid them. It simply accepts them, walks through and among them, transfusing the material with the spiritual, the real with the ideal, but never exalting one at the expense of the other. The Chiel—I think that the art of a peo- ple should be a running commentary, so to sgenk. upon the life of a people. Knowing the art of a period we should be able to bring before our minds the people of that period; to construct the time as the naturalist constructs an unknown animal on the outline of a single bone. For in- stance, we know that Greek men were dis- sipated, luxurious and weak; that Greek women were silly and loved gossip; that they painted their faces and pinched their waists and toes quite after the modern method; but we do not gather this from Greek art, which has given us only idea! ty{;cs. : {enneth Malcolm—Ah, now we are get- ting our swords out of their scabbards. Is The Chiel going to ride a tilt for realism? The Chiel—Not at all. At any rate not for the modern realistic school. But do we not get pictures of Greek life, say in the comedies of Aristophanes, and in, for in- stance, that fifteenth Idyl of Theocritus, that are wholly different from yet quite as true to nature as are the Dianas, the Antinousés and Venuses of ancient sculp- ture? Would you dispense with them, as too realistic? Kenneth Malcolm—These things doubt- less have a place in literature and art—but only subjectively, The mean, the weak, the frivolous should be exhibited only for the purpose of holding it up to scern, never for the purpose of the mere exhibi- tion. Runnymede—The statemrent made by the Chiel isthat art, for each age, should be an expression of the life of that age. That seems to me sound. Kenneth Maicolm—Bat art must select. A mere photographic statement won't do. The true doctrine would seem to be that the artist should study life carefully with his senses and interpret it with his soul. Runnymede—The illustration of the manners and customs of a people belongs to the literary and artistic artisan, and not to the artist. The continual representa- tion of men as they are would be an em- bargo upon all intellectual and moral progress. The Chiel—I think we are agreed there. I only meant to say that in presenting life care must be taken that we do not exclude all but one view. The picture must be composite. Exaggerated idealism, for in- stance, would present as false a picture as does pnotographic realism, and is as in- artistic. I spoke of the flfteenth Idyl. In 1t Theocritus Eives_ us a picture of feminine frivolity, in Praxinoe worrying over her clothes, But he shows us, too, the same ‘woman forgetting her crushed and spoiled garments when moved upon by the power of the hymn to Apollo. This while she is the same woman who mourned her crushed shawl. She is the same, yet something more than we see in our first glimpse of her mere frivolity. The poet makes us feel the all-around humanity of her natute, just as our literature and our art should reveal the all-around humanity of life. Nothing that helps make up the picture should be despised. Our idealism should portray and our realism should proghesy. P The Dilettante—T am still seeking to know just what part truth plays in art. By truth I mean the exact correspondence between the objective order among things and the subjective order of thought. A man is a realist as he leans to the side of literal imitation, and he is an idealist as heleans to the side of imaginative selection. Very well, as to which is better it is not for me to say, but the photographer, if ewe consider him the realist, gets an exact representation of the object, while the idealist gives us only his impression_of what he sees or has presented to him., For instance the man who paints an angel takes the wings of a bird and puts them on a human beinfi. That is idealism, pure and simple. He istrue to his imagination, On the other hand, take Beardsley. He draws a human being, taking away from it all expression of sentiment in the face— all character, in & word, eliminates every- thing in the way of form that is true, and makes something entirely fanciful end imaginative, without the spiritual ele- ment in it of the other man’s angel. Yet Beardsley’s work is also idealism, and who shall say which is nearer truta? Donatella— Beardsley is notan artist. He is a caricaturist. The Dilettante—He paints pictures, and the world calls him an_artist. Runnymede—The Dilettante expects too much. He asks the question that puzzled | Manly, who is now a resident of the Pontius Pilate, and wants to know what truthis. The Artist—We have scarcely made a beginning on this subject and look where thesum 1s. 2 In truth, art is long and time is fleeting. The sun’s slant beams were already crim- soning_over Tamalpais, warning us that even Olympian holidays come to an end. This one was over; but, as the Dilettante justly and poetically remarked as we broke up, “There are others.” DEATH VALLEY IN '49, “Death Valley in 49" is the title given by William Lewis Manly, one of the pio- neers of the coast, to an interesting auto- biography. Manly was one of those in- trepid adventurers who, starting out from a New England home to seek fortune in the West, did not stop until they reached the Pacific Ocean. His career has been full of vicissitudes and he has known how to describe them so graphically that his autobiography constitutes a genuine ro- mance of pioneer days. Mr. Manly’s first westward movement began when, as a boy 10 years of age. he started with an uncle to go from Vermont to Ohio. Not finding land in that State to suit him the uncle pushed on to Michigan, where Manly’s parents with the rest of the family joined them later on. Farming in Michigan in those days was hard work with little profit for the farmers and poor PAR LES DIEVX® JVMEAVX TOVS LES MONSTRES NE SONT PASEN IlAFRIQVE couniy, it is illustrated by Mrs. Eugene Sawyer of San Jose, edited and published by H. A. Brainard of the Pacific Tree and Vine of San Jose. The excellence of the book-making is a credit to the publishers, and the volume will be found attractive in appearance as well as interesting in its contents. PUNISEMENT AND BEFORMATION. Dr. F. H. Wines, who is widely known as one of the most careful investigatorsand most reliable authorities on all subjects relating to penology, has written for Crowell’s Library of Economics and Poli- tics an elaborate study entitled ‘Punish- ment and Reformation,” in which he gives an historical account of the growth of modern ideas on this question. According to Mr. Wines, humanity has passed through two stages of ideas con- cerning crime and punishment, and in all civilized countries has now reached a third stage. In the first stage punishment was based upon retaliation, in the second upon the idea of prevention, and in the third on reformation. In the days when the object of punishment was to revenge society upon the criminal, terrible penalties were in- flicted upon the victims of the law. These punishments were carried from bad to worse during the middle ages, and the ignorance, cruelty and superstition of that dark psriod led to the infliction of fearful tortures, not only upon the guilty but upon many innocent persons. One of the most cruel barbarities of the A PORTRAIT OF AUBREY BEARDSLEY AS DRAWN BY HIMSELF, [From the *‘Yellow Beok.”] pay for the farmhand. When Manly had grown up strong enough to be counted as an able workman he found employment scoring timber for the Michigan Central Railroad, which was then in course of con- struction, but not liking the work he started off with a companion and began the roving career which he was to continue for many a year before he found rest and & comfortable home in Santa Clara Valley. The most extraordinary venture that befell Mr. Manly was brought about by the attempt of a party with which he was making an overland eoums to California to avoid the long defour of the southern route by making a short cut across the mountains with the idea of reaching this State through what one of their guides called Tulare Valley. This attempt led the party into Death Valley, and it is from the bard experience there that the title of the autobiography has been chosen. This rt, like :lfthe rest of the narrative, is old with no attempt at fine writing and without even a suggestion of exaggeration and yel it forms a story of adventure and of fortitude and courage under trying cir- cumstances that enables the least imagin- W. Lewis Manly. ative reader to understand something of the hardshirs that tested the manhood and ‘womanh of our pioneers. Arrived in California Mr. Manly fol- lowed the usual course of adventurous men,in those days and drifted about the State frora the bay _to the gold minesin search of fortune. He says, howevers ‘“‘As long as I have lived in California I have never carried a weapon of defense, and never could see much danger. I tried to follow the right trail so as to shun bad men, and never found much difficulty in doing so.” Speaking further of the pioneers as a class and of his relations to them, he says: “Many of these worthy men broke the trail on the rough way that led to the Pa- cific Coast, drove away all dangers and made it safer for those who dared not at first to risk life and fortune in the journey; but encouraged by the success’ of tge earliest pioneers ventured later on the eventful trip to the new gold fields. I can- not praise these noeble men too much; they deserve all I can say and much more, too, and if a word Ican say-shall teach our new citizens to regard with reverent re- spect the early pioneers who laid the foun- dations of the glory, prosperity and beauty of the Catifornia of w-dnii .shall have done all T hope to, and the historian of an- other half century may do them justice and give to them their full meed of praise.” 1n these days, when so much interest is felt in home industries, it is worth noting that the volume of Mr. Manly’s autobiog raphy is a strictly Santa Clara County m— duction in every respect. Written by Mr. law of those ages was the infliction of tor- ture to force accused persons to confess. This practice prevailed all over Europe down to a time comparatively recent. Twqmen are conspicuous as leaders in the reform movement that put an end to these offenses against humanity. One of them. Beccaria, an Italian lawyer, at- tacked the system as the outcome of a false philosophy. The other, John How- ard, dealt with it from a practical point of view and assailed it because of its terrible cruelty. Through the efforts ot these men the enlightened intellect of Europe was instructed to condemn the former practice, and as a result all idea of revenge was ban- ished from criminal codes and punishment was directed to the end of deterring men by fear from committing crime. In many of the civilized countriesit is still held asa dogma by the masses that the rightful object of punishment is to prevent crime, but the leaders of thought on the subject are now fairly unanimous in declaring the uu]{ just aim of punishment should be the reformation of the criminal if possible, and where that is impossible the removal of the criminal from society. According to this philosophy every crim- inal should be sentenced to remain in con- finement until_he has attained a certain number of credit marks given for his con- duct, work and study. The number of marks required are, of course, to be pro- portioned to the character of the criminal and of the crime committed. Such a sen- tence would leave it dependent upon the prizoner himself how lon;behe had to stay in confinement, and it is believed the de- sire for liberty would impel even the most herdened natures to make such efforts in study, work and conduct as would go far to redeem them. 2 i The general tenor of Mr. Wines’ history is decifidly encouraging to those who take hopeful yiews of humanity. Itisconvinc- ing, judicial and eminently practical. There is probably no book in . existence which so completely covers this special field. The volume will be indispensable to all who are in any way interested in a subject which is of such vital importance to the welfare of our nation. [*‘Punishment and Reformation,” by Dr. F. Wines. T. Y. Crowell & Co., Boston and New York: 12mo., $1 75, with illustrations and index.] AN ERRANT WOOING. Novels dealing with the contrasts and the sympathies between American and English society have become common, but in “An Errant Wooing” Mrs. Burton Har- rison has presented the old theme in a new way, and given it interest by the grace and vivacity of her treatment of its prob- lems. The story is not an ambitious one. It is a society novel pure and simple, hav- ing no other aim thsn that of depicting the society people of both countries under the aspects in which they are seen in the drawing-rooms of New York and London. In addition to being an international love story. it is also a romance of travel, inasmuch as the wooing which begins in England drifts away to Tangier and the South of BSpain, where it finds a happy close amid the romantic gardens of the Alhambra. The heroine is an American irl who when first presented to the reader isas antagonistic to the pretensions and assumptions of British aristocracy ascould be desired. A visit to an English country house, however, shows her the pleasanter aspects of English society, and as the ac- customed novel reader readily foresees, she ends by falling in love with a lord of Lixh degree, and coming to the conclusion that international marriages do not always im- ply, nnh-rpinsu. Bide by side with the ‘main wooing there runs another by which an_Americsn lover wins an English girl, and thos redresses the matrimonial balance between the two countries. Mrs. Harrison has told her story well, and wnether describing the foibles of soci- ety or depicting the picturesque scenery and the bull fights of old Spain, she keega her reader ireghl]y entertained from the page to_the last. The attractiveness of the book is enbanced by illustrations of English and Spanish scenery by Pennell, Blum and others. (‘‘An Errant Wooing,” by Mrs. Burton Harrison Century Com- vany, New York. Price, cloth covers, $1 50.) - ABRAHAM LINCOLN. In April of this year the New York Independent published a special *‘Linceln number,” in which were brought together & great many tributes to the martyr Presi- dent, from his associates. The result is a series of pictures, a multiple presentation of Lincoln’s character by two score or more men and women who knew him well and loved and admired him. These pen- pictures have been gathered. into a single volume and will form a genuine addition to the growing literature of the period covered. Among the writers are Henry C. Bowen, Daniel D. Bidwell and Dr. Henry M. Field, the Hon. Henry L. Dawes, Major-General Howard, Murat Halstead, Grace Greenwood, and a long list of others whose names are well known. There are many personal reminiscences of Lincoln, and some new and thoroughly character- istic anecdotes. [New York: T. Y. Crowell & Co. For sale by William Doxey, San Francisco.] SOUND MONEY. Another answer to “Coin” and the teach- ings of his financial school. The authors, John A. Fraser Jr. and Charles H. Seigel, have cast their arguments in the form of fiction, and after a series of imaginary bouts with “Coin’ succeed, gmirely to their own satisfaction, in demolishing his “school”” and “theories” and setting up a single-standard of sound money for the people. They proceed upon the hypoth- esis that “Coin” and all who do not fall in with the views of monometallists are either fools or in the employ of the friends of silver, and the arguments advanced are worthy of the intelligence that works upon such an assnmption. None of the litera- ture that has sprung up about “Coin’s” book can be regarded as throwing any light abont upon the questions of finance. Controversy is rarely of real value, and the sort of controversy that, under the thin guise of fiction, and a specious handling of the phraseology of political economy, con- tents itself with vituperation and contra- n, in lieu of argument, is worse than The student who desires to in- form himseif upon the financial questions of the day will do well to eschew both “Qoin” and_his detractors, whose views are necessarily partisan and fragmentary, and study the subject from the standpoint of scientific economics, a task at once more laborions and more satisfactory as to re- sults. [Chicago: Charles H. Seigel & Co., publishers.] ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON'S LAST NOVEL. Robert Louis Stevenson’s last story, “St. Ives,” was left at his death practically completed. Many chapters had even re- ceived the author’s final revision. Steven- son had been at work upon this novel for more than a year, and the first half of it had been entirely rewritten several times. The novel deals with the adventures of a Frenchman captured in the Peninsular War and shut up in Edinburgh Castle. A love_affair between him and a Scottish maiden, a duel on the maiden’s account between him and a fellow-prisoner and his escape from the prison are a few of the episodes that promise a romance of as ab:orbir:ig interest as any Stevenson has produced. B “St. Ives” will be published in McClure’s Magazine. BRAND NEW C0OK BOOKS. Two of the most popular cookery books are included in a volume published by C. W. Dillingham, New York, entitled “On the Chafing-Dish” and ‘‘New Things to Eat and How to Ceok Them.” Harriet P. Bailey, the authoress of the Chafing- Dish series of articles, in her introductory, remarks that she has been successful in making the informal Sunday night tea a meal much to be desired, and the recipes by her are primarily designed for such or any meals prepared in a rush, Mrs. de Salis is the compiler of the ‘“New Things to Eat” formulse, which consist largely of dainty dishes suitable for en- trees, and novel methods of preparing vegetables and eggs. For the benefit of those who prefer to employ fancy menus, the French name of each dish is added. g\'ew York: C. W. Dillingham, publisher. or sale at the Popular Bookstore.] Recent Fiction. RoxBaR—A novel by R. S. Dement, who calls hisnarrative A Counterfeit Presenti- ment.” Itisa story of a mint in a silver mine, whose owners are coining their own Eroduct and flooding the country with ogus, although genuine silyer, dollars. He pictures this as a possibility in_every silver mine in the country, and hints at the dire disasters that awaits the United States under a dual standard. The book is_ entirely without literary merit. [New York: G. W. Dillingham, publisher.] A Trrur, Resectep—By Octavia Clous- ton. A sensational tale of the adventures of an American family abroad. There are abductions, murders and sensations galore and the characters dance to the liveliest sort of a tune from the first chapter to the last. [New York: G. W. Dillingham publisher.] The Magazines. The Cosmopolitan has made another cut in price and now appears at 10 cents, or $120 a year. The best thing inthe current issue is a story by Rudyard Kipling, illus- trated by Frederic Remington, a conjunc- tion of forces amply fulfilling the promise 1mplied. In Tae CextURrY for July Edmund Gosse gives us some personal reminiscences of Robert Louis Stevenson. Sloan’s Life of Napoleon continues to shape itself about the series of wonderful and admirable pic- tures that are the chief charm of the pres- ent Napoleon craze, and Mrs. Burton Harrison has an_interesting article on “American Rural Festivities. Harrer's—The best thing in the July Harper's is a paper by Richard Harding Davis on ‘“Americans in Paris”—the most wholesome reading for Americans, that is. Poultney Biéelow has an interest- ing study of ‘The German Strngfil- for Liierty, ’ and most of us out here will take delight in Frederic Remington’s account of “Bear Chasing in the Rocky Moun- tains.” The bear seems coming to the front just now in our periodical literature. McCLURE'S MAGAZINE, too, has reduced its price to 10 cents. It announces the ublication, in the near future, of Robert Ymuis Stevenson’s last romance, the story of a French prisoner taken in the Spanish ‘wars. Something new in words and music is «“How Love Came,” a brilliant composition for the piano by Ruth Ward Kahn of Lead- ville, Colo. The music is by Warner Crosby. Scribner's Magazine for July sees the conclusion of Mrs. Humphry Ward’s “Story of Bessie Costrell.” Just why Mrs. Ward should have seen fit to take a drunken village wife and call upon the world to witness her purposeless career of chronic inebriation on stolen fundsonly the devotees of realistic fiction will be able to determine. Certainly if there is either art or ethics in the “Story of Bessie Cos- trell” the author has managed so effec- tually to conceal both that the charze usually lajd against her work cannot be brought against this. It has no purpose whatever. The French are experimenting with a single-track temporary railroad that can be laid on a country road or across the fields. They expect to use itin military operations and harvesting crops. The bar- rows and cars used are on the bicycle rinciple, and they can be operated eitner gy band or horse power. The gain in the use of the rail is the great diminution of friction. NEW TO-DAY. PROCRASTINATION. The Danger in Catarrhal Affections if Not Taken in Time. It Is Better to Economize in Some Other Direction Than in the Matter of Health—Heed the Warning and Consult Drs. Copeland, Neal and ‘Winn Before It Is Too Late. Drs. Copeland, Neal and Winn have but ope thought which they desire to impress upon the people of San Francisco and vicinity this week, and that is the danger from procrastination. They hear of many patients who intend taking treatment, but are putting it off until ““times get better.” Procrastination is not only the thief of time, but it is the thief thatsteals away one’s health. To procrastinate, to put off taking treatment when you have & cough that weakens and re- duces you, cutting pains through the chest and back, lungs sore and threatened with cavities, loss of appetite, flesh and strength, the appear- ance of night sweats, with difliculty in breath- ing, is only to iumvite the thief, consumption, will surely steal away your life. These symptoms are sure forernuners of consump- tion, and as surely advance from thecurable to the incurable stage as night follows day if not properly treated. Therefore take timely warn- ing; economize in some other direction than that of your health, for what Is life without this inestimable boon—health? The low fee charged by Drs. Copeland, Neal ank Winn—§5 a month and all medicine fur- nished free—makes it g ssible for every one to take at least one month’s course of treatment, and this Is the only way chronic catarrhal and other diseases can be cured. They have demon« strated auring the past three years that first- class treatment can be furnished for §5 a month, medicine included, in ell chronie dis- eases, and any patient who'is paying more than this is simply paying too ruch, They refer to over a thousand cured cases in San Francisco and vicinity, and to the testimony of well- known people published every week in the columns of this paper. THOSE ANNOYING SYMPTOMS. A CaseShowingthe Extension of Catarrh to All Parts of the System. The case of Mr. E. Nelson, who lives at 128 Ettie street, Oakland, aptly illustrhtes how neglected catarrh will invade the whole system, also the resultof treatment at the Cope- land Medical Institute. Mr. Nelson says: “1 suffered from chronic catarrh for more than fifteen years. From & ue&lected cold my whole system became involved, and I suffered all the symptoms. My ears, eyes, nose, toroat and stomach were all affected, and at one time 1 was so bad that I went toa doctor for an operation on my throat. The symptoms wers very annoying, particularly the hawking and spitting, and it was impossible for me to re- main with any company for any length of time. I was troubled with torturing head- aches; my stomach was always out of order, and anything I ate caused me great distress. “Ihad read and hieard so much about the Copeland Medical Institute thatl determined to make a trial there. [ did. and now feel like another man. I can testify that the immediate relief after the first treatment was fully worth the small fee charged for the fuli month, and aiter a short course I was entirely cured. An one desiring any further information regard- ing my case will be cheerfully recerved if they will call on me.” ALL‘DISEASES. The Treatment for All Chronie Di 1s Only 85 a Month, Medicines L Included. Are you afflicted with DEAFNESS ? Do you suffer from DYSPEPSIA ? Have you severe BRONCHIAL trouble ? Are you a sufferer from ASTHMA ? Do you suffer from RHEUMATISM ? Do you suffer from HEART troubles ? Do you suffer from LIVER complaint ? Do you suffer from NERVOUS troubles ? Do you suffer from any CHRONIC DISEASE ? It you do, the only cost for all treatment and medicine is $5 a month, and no betier treat- ment is known than that of the Copeland system. p HOME TREATMENT. Every mail brings additiowal proof of the success of the home or'mail tres iment. E. C. Peart, Colusa, Cal, writes: “T am pleased to say your treatment for throat and catarrhal troubles proved beneficial to me. You can refer any one to me.” If you cannot come to this office write for a symptom blank. $5 A MIONTH. No fee larger than s month asked for ai disease. Orgr mono&;: “A Low Fee. Qnsul Cure. Mild and Painless Treatment.” The Copeland Medical Tnstituts, PERMANENTLY LOCATED IN THE COLUMBIAN BUILDING, BECOND FLOOR, 916 Market St, Next to Baldwin Hotel, Over Beamish’s, ., COPELAND, M.D. .'G. NEAL, M.D. A, C. WINN, M.D. SPECIALTIES—Catarrh_and all_diseases of the Eye, Ear, Throat and Lu: Nervous Dise eases, Skin Diseases, Chronio Diseases. Office hours—9 A. M. to 1 P. M, 2to5 P x,, 7 108:30 P. . Sunday—10 A. M. t0 2 P. M. Catdrrh troubles and kindred diseases treated successfully by mail Send 4 cents in stamps for question circulars. FURNITURE 4 ROOI1S $90 x Parlor—Silk Brocatelle, 5-plece sult, plush trimmed. plece Solid Oak Suit, French Bevel , burean, washstand. two chairs. and top plate Giass, Tocker and table; pillows, woven-wire matiress. s Dhlln:—naom—‘{oflfi Extension Tabls, four Solid Oak Chairs. Kitchen—No. 7 Range, Patent Kitchen Table and two chalrs. EASY PAYMENTS. Flouses furnished complete, clty or country, any- where on the coast. Open evenings. M. FRIEDMAN & CO., 224 to 230 and 306 Stockton and 237 Post Street. Free packing and delivery across the bay. A LADIES' GRILL ROOM Has been established in the Palace Hotel N ACCOUNT OF REPEATED DEMANDS ‘made on the management. It takes the piace of the city restaurant, with direct entrance from Market st. Ladies shopping will find this a most desirable piace to lunch. Prompt service and mod- erate charges, such as have given the gentlemen’s Griliroom an international reputation, will preval %, LB, 0B ‘The most_certain and safe Pain Remedy. water cures Summer Complaints, Biarrhoa, Hearte burn, Sour Stomach, Flatulence, Colic, Nauses.