The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 1, 1895, Page 24

24 THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1895. GRANDPAPA'S GLASSES. My grandpapa has to wear glasses, "Cause h! esight Is not very strong, And he calls them his “specs,” and he's worn them For ever and ever so long. And when he gets throngh with his reading He carefully puts them away, And that's why I have to help find them "Bout twenty-five times in a day. But at night when we sit *round the table, And paps and mamma are th He reads just as long as he's able And then fails asleep in his chal And he sits there and sleeps in his glashes, And you don’t know how 1t seems’; But he says he just has 10 wear them To see things Wwell iu his dreams. ZDecember Ladies' Home Journal. nieces as that? Well, he has done all sorts of things. | Some of them were wise and some were ifm)liih, and altogether those naughty | and a great many dollars. Besides the dear little ““Yankees” who live way down in Maine and the rest of New England, the honey-tongued children who live “way down in Dixie,” just think how many hundred thousands of coming Presidents and Presidentesses who are just now snowed under in the Middle and Western States! There are the Wolverines who live in Wisconsin, the Buckeyes who are born in Ohio juston purpose to run thingsin Wash- ington when they get big, and the dear little Hoosiers who begin to talk the best kind of common-sense right through their noses long before they are able to walk a step. There are plenty of native-born Ameri- UNCLE SAM'S CHILDREN. | Did you ever stop to think, you young folks who read THE CaLL and are proud of the gey flag that waves over you—or is by | poetic license supposed to—aGid you ever | #op to think whata curious lot of nephews and nieces your beloved Uncle Sam is blessed with? | The children of Germany are Germans, | and that's just all there isabout it. French- | men are Frenchmen, and Chinamen slways happen to be Chinese. But the chiidren of these United States! | They are of all kinds and colors, and | some of them really seem to belong, by | zo0d rights, to ages that are gone and half | forgotten. Why, right here in our own California there are people—but that is an- | other part of the story. To begin in the right place, there are nephews and nieces away up in They happen to be free-born American | citizens just as much as you and I'are—or perhaps more, because their ancestors must im\'e come over frcm somewhere ever so long before the Mayflower se: sail, or even the excellent Mr. thought of coming over here to bring the news from Europe. | We call those people up there in Alaska | “natives,” and it 1s customary to say it | with a scornful sort of accent, if you can. Nevertheless, they are very amiable and very hospitable people, as all their visitors who have not been cruel or selfish will tell vou. One gentleman, who went as a mis- | sionary to some parts of that cold north- | ern country that he had to reach by a journey on foot that was so difficult and so dangerous that _he was barely alive when | he had finished it, told me beautiful sto- | ries of the gentle treatment he received at | the hands of Esquimausx, who had hardly | seen a white man before in their lives. | The homes of these people were holes in | the ground, but hollowed out till they were quite spacious and with little open- ings for the smoke from their fires escape. To enter them one had to g down into a hole and then along an under- | ground pa e to the house proper. To have an opening large enough to admita | man into the house proper would have been to invite in more fresh, cold air than the poor natives could conquer with their wretched little fires. WLen my friend, the missionary, ar- rived at the first of these underground homes his shoes were worn out, and he was tired and discourag The natives fed him with the best they had and put him to bed, comforted with the best of their store of the skins of seals and_bears. They wished him to remain, but he was able to make them understand that he must press on at once to another village, which in reality he wished to reach in time to atone for a mistake which he had made in carrying out the orders of his Bishop. While the missionary lay and slept through the long hours of the night, the natives sat up and worked for him as Ifear we Christian people would not be very apt to work for any strangers who came to our shores without money. They made him new boots, high and strong, and lined them well with straw, to keep the cold out and the warmth within. They. made him, too—these nativ whom :you would very likely have called savages—a long shirt-like coat of s very light and very warm. No rain could | Columbus had | cans 1n almost every State in_the Union who can’t speak a word of Enghsh, but after all I believe California has the most astonishing conglomeration of races of any spot on earth—unless it1s that cate little something to discipline such nephews and | ple murmured that she was not his equal Apaches have cost usa great many lives | | because her ancestors were perhapsno- | body in particular. And then the girl’s father, a fire, proud | Californian, who didn’t think titles were worth the trouble of wearing, sent those people over some information regarding his “family” which made them feel that their English titles were very new and very tawdry indeed when they had to be com- pared with the fine old Spanish ones our Californian wouldn’t bother with—except to please his pretty daughter. Of course we, the children of the Grin- goes, are the most important young folke in California—everybody knows that. But, after all, Uncle Sam does as much for other kinds of infants, trying, of course, to make them grow like us. There is a public school with a flag over itup in Chinatown where white school- ma’ams spend their time trying to teach little Chinese in gorgeous pink and impos- sible green silk trousers to read and figure in true public school fashion. Very good pupils too do these picturesque little Ori- entals make; and—would you believe it ?— when their school closes in the afternoon they go right along to a Chinese school entleman into the dining-room, but ovped like a froggy all the way down the dimlv lighted hlfi. ‘When papa threw open the great doors, oh, what a benuti!uf sight met his eyes and what delicious smells greeted his nose. From one end of the room to the other streiched the long, snowy-draped table, heaped with all the goodies which this happy time of the year brings, while oyer all was shed a blaze of light from the many jets of the great chandelier. Mr. Turkey, with his beautiful brown coat, who occupied the place of honor, was all decorated with dainty white and laven- der ruffles and ribbons, and was truly a sight to behold. The delicate salads and cranberry jelly in their pretty dishes, the mine and pump- kin pies, and all the other good things just made Donald’s mouth water. ‘When asged by his papa what part of the turkey he liked best, he answered, “The drumstick, of course, papa; didn’t you know that the drumstick was the best part of the turkey?” After he had eaten—I was going to say ‘“enough,” but it was more than “enough’’; it was as much ‘*‘as he possibly could,” which was “enough’ for two such boys as he, and all the rest were through, he slipped round to grandma’s chair and asked her to please keep his drumstick for him until the next day. She smilingly promised and then they all went to the drawing-room, where Don- ald had a happy time lying on a furry rug before a blazing fire, eating raisins an nuts and listening to a beautiful story which mamma read aloud, while the gentle raindrops pattered against the window panes. Then bedtime came and the tired, sleepy boy was soon safely tucked in his mofe white crib. Just as mamma was about to leave him on the verge of slumber-land the little fellow surprised her by sitting up in bed and begging for Mr. Turkey’s drumstick. So she went down to the pantry, found the treasure and took it to him. Oh, how pleased he was, and mamma left him snawinz it just the way a little doggie oes. After a while, when she went back to the nursery to wive his tiny bands and to pni one more good-night, what do you thin. she saw? Well, it was such a funny sight that THE BUSIEST DAY IN THE WEEK. [From a photograph by Marta H. Philip.] land of Hawaii, that is half the time crying | where they work away until 9 o’clock at 1o come into our family and the rest of the time declaring that it won’t—so there now. 1f we should get those little Hawaiians for real own cousins! They don’t wear a stitch of clothes when they are little—that is, they don't if they are lucky enough to live in the native villages where the foreigners don’t set quite all the fashions yet. And the fathers and mothers of those little islanders just love them almost to | death. They love each other’s children, too— those happy people of Hawaii. And a funny thing about those loving mothers night. Among the foreigners who have got to be taught to be good Californians there are the children who belong among the 10,000 people of Switzerland who are living in our State. The Swiss Minister Pleni- potentiary and Envoy Extraordinary (that 1s his reaily truly title, and he has it en- graved on his visiting-card), has just been out here to visit these people. 1 hope that when he gets back to Wash- ington he will tell Uncle Sam to please make those Swiss children go to our | schools and. iearn English, so that you ! can’t, as now, drive your horse a day’s is that they don’t think it isanything | strange at all to trade babies! Well, of course they all live pretty close together, an about it. And it must be very convenient ur family has too many boys in it to de some of them off for girls, or vice versa. To come back from those nephews and nieces that old Uncle Sam really hasn’t adopted yet, there are enough children in | our own California to write a book about. “THE DREAM TURKEY.” penetrate this coat of skins, which was not, if you please, a coat of fur. It was a light coat, fine like silk, and shedding the rain as it turned away the wind. I meant to tell you all about a wonder- ful Christmas dinner that my missionary friend was able to set forth for thosce natives some time after that—a dinner where they had everything that comes in tin cans, and were going to have the finest oyster stew in the world till they remem- bered tnat you can’t stew oystersin con- densed milk—but it is ume that my story came down from Alaska. Some of the young Americans who live right out here in Arizona are just about as barbaric as any people in the world. It is not any time at all sincethe Apache Indians used to kill people in such incon- ceivably horrible ways that even the books ebout cannibals and pirates do not tell anything like it. Itused to be said that these dreadful people would tie their pris- oners to a stake and build a little fire about their feet. Then the big “braves”— only you will not think, surely, that they were really brave at all—the big braves would sit around laughing and enjoying themselves, while their children were taking the prisoners to pieces, just one little jointat a time. Don’t you think Uncle Sam ought to do The race that has a right to be remem- | bered first is surely the Indian. There are | not many Indian children — fewer and | fewer each year. Mrs. Hudson, who surely | has a right to paint Indian babies, since | she herself was born right up there among them—one of the first pair of white twins | born in Mendocino County—Mrs. Grace | Hudson has given everybody who looks at | Tre CaLL a chance to see exactly what | Indian babies are like. There are just a | few thousand of them scattered about the State, and except when they grow up and find whisky to drink our California In- dians make very little trouble for Uncle Sam or anybody else. Our Indians live in houses that are more like big baskets than anything else, and most of them are very poor. They have been driven from pleasant woods and springs they loved to dreary, desert places, and the game and crops of acorns tnat used to be their food grow less and less plentiful as the years*go by. The race is dying, but let us gape itis to make place for a better and happier one. The Spaniards and Mexicanos were the first white people to overrun California. Many of them are here still, and some are rich and proud. It issaid that when an Englishman, who had a title, wished to ay, S0 nobody need ery | journey in some parts of the State without finding a single glish-speaking family. e THAT GEOGRAPHY LESSON. Just a few little nephews and nieces— good little Gringoes all this time—have sentin their geography letters. Perhaps there’ll be ever so many more next week, and perhaps—who knows?—there may be | some from foreign parts. Here are the letters, and surely no one could read them without learning some- thing new about the great and glorious State we live in. Los ANGELES, Nov. 26. Dear Geography Editor: There are so many interesting things to tell about Los Angeles | that I herdly know where to begin. Best of all there is the river; in summer the lowlands about it are covered with flowers, and great fields of sunflowers are blooming there still. Down from the hills little clear brooks come running to the river and you can see the pretty pebbles shining under the water. There are beautiful orange groves all about the country here and the trées mever drop their leaves, but are always shining green. The oranges ripen and hang, and almost any day in the year you ean go to an orange tree and gather fruit and sweet-scented flowers. English walnuts grow here, too, and the trees are pretty for shade. There are reservoirs all among the hills that supply the water for our city. Around these little lakes are f{)!unled grass and palms and other trees and flowers. Then you see there is a nice little park, and people can take boat rides on the lakes and be happy. Christmas berries grow among the hills, and we are going to_decorate the house. You can look through the white roses that cover our porch to the white snow on the hills beyond and it looks pretty. I will write more next time. RuUTHIE C. M. ALAMEDA. Dear Call : T am just going to write a compo- sition about Alameda, and & big boy told me some of the things to say. Alameda is situated about ten miles from San Francisco. Itis mostly up of houses for Eeu)nlq to live in who have to work in San ranciseo. Alameda 1s situated upon a peninsula which isgoing to become an island when the new Government canal is finished. There isa new steel drawbridge across the canal, and_when some more dredging is done there will bea very fine place for steamers and sailing vessels to land their cargoes. We have a very fine electric car system run- ning down Sants Clara avenue and across to Oakland. The cars run Tight around a circle, 50 when you want to go any place you {nst get on & car going either way and it will be all right. Yours truly, J. C. KENNY. TEHACHAPI, November 25. To the Geography Editor : Nobody else will write you a letter from Tehachapi, so I must do it. Tehachapi Pass is a low place in the Sierra Nevada Mountains where the railroad goes that connects Northern and Southern Califor- nia. If the State should ever break in two Teh-ch-‘rl is the place where it would break. The wind blows hard all the time here, so you have to keep your hat tied on. Sometimes cloudbursts come down the canyons here and some time I will tell you about that. ‘WALTER RODGERS. THE DONALD SERIES—NO. V. FOR TINY BOYS. At last the time to eat the grand Thanks- giving dinner had come, for the bell was ringing, and its silvery peals filled all the house with welcome music and impatient little Donald’s heart with joy. marry a Spanish giri of our State, his peo- | The happy boy could not walk like a mamma wished she were an artist so she might make a sketch of what she saw. Why, the dear little fellow had fallen fast asieep with the great drumstick stick- ing half in and half out of his mouth! Mamma called papa to come and see, too, and when he did he thought it was such a good joke that he could not stay in the room for lauzhing. Gently pulling the turkey-bone away, mamma left the dear little boy to live over again the merry hours of Thnnksgiving day in the happy realms of *‘Dreamliand. PIERCED. Yet the Enveloping Tissue Was Not Broken. A curious experiment has been made at Briancon, in the presence of the city offi- cials and the officers of the artillery. A quartermaster named Armand had re- ceived in his breast two shots from a revol- ver in the hands of a revolutionist, but, strangely enough, his military coat wasnot perforated, while, in the papers and a book in the pocket of the gnrmentAwer‘e fqund two circular holes, corresponding in diam- eter with two balls found the day after the attack on the floor of the arsenal. A figure was dressed in a soldier’s coat and papers and a bock similar to those carriea by Armand were placed in the pocket. Several balls were fired at the figure, but, although the coat was not injured, circular holes were found in the book corresponding with the balls of the revolver used in the ex- veriment. \ Mr. Paul Issartier writes the following comment: ““The fact does not seem very extraor- dinary. I have myself seen a similar cir- culastance, or rather one that presents some analogy to this story of the Quarter- master Armand. A workman received a cut with a hatchet on his shoulder; the flesh was found to be very deeply cut, al- though his clothing was not damaged in anX way.” 5 simple experiment will enable any one to believe in the possibility of this: Puta Eotnw, an apple or any soft fruit which as no ker:.er inside in a handkerchief, suspending it by the four corners tied to- gether, so that nothing touches it. By striking from below with a_Kkitchen knife at the suspended fruit it will be gashed or cut through. But however sharp the knife or fine the handkerchief the cloth will not be injured. Is there not some_relation between the effect of the knife in this experiment and that of the ball as described ?—Popular Science News. ——e—————— Eaten by an Alligator. A young Jamaican met a horrible death in Port Limon, Costa Rica, on Sunday, October 6, in the river Banana, having been caught and eaten by an alligator. Sinclair, with several other companions, had gone to bathe in the river, and while in the water the alligator appeared, when they all made for land. 3 After getting out it was discovered that Sinclair was missing. His friends, how- ever, hopeful of recovering the whole or part of his body, went away, but returned tothe river an” hour later with dvnamite and rifles just in time to see the alligator on the surface of the water with Sinclair in his mouth, whom he held by his left side, but as soon as the alligator spied them he went below with his victim and never came to the surface again, despite all the dynamite and shots which were dgs«ilhtnrged in the river all that day until night. n the 10th inst. J. Kaempffer shot an ART TALKS FROM PARIS, There Are Many Pacific Coast Art Pilgrims in the Gay City. EDUCATION VERSUS TALENT. Parents’ Opinion of the Length of Time It Takes to Become Famous. The number of American art students in Parisis, of all foreign nationalities, the greatest. The Pacific Coast, and especially San Francisco, has sent a small army of students here. Among those whose names you hear oftenest, whatever rounds of art’s ladder they have climbed, are Aaron Altmann, Edouard Cucuel, Maurice Dal- mue, William Dunbar Jewett, Harry Fonda, Gottardo Piazzoni, Granville Red- mond, C. R. Peters, Harry W. Seawell, Miss Claire Curtis-Huxley, Miss Rita Po- tron, Miss Blanche Roullier, Miss Anna E. Klumpke, Jules Pages, Frederic L. M. Pape, Ernest Peixotto, Florian Peixotto, John Bakewell Jr., Edward H. Bennett, H. C. Corbett, all of 8an Francisco; George H. Piper of Virginia City, Willis H. Thorn- dike of Stockton and Harry Lewis of Los Angeles. Of this number ten of the San Franciscaus exhibited in the salon—the old and better last salon of the Champs Elysees. These students are all hard workers and very much in earnest in attempting to do something more than simply to ‘rub their elbows in art.” Like the majority of Americans, most of them study at Julien’s. Whatever may be the aim of each when he arrives in Paris, sooner or later, nearly all turn to painting, if painting will follow them, but the muse will not always be wooed. A few turn to sculpture. They live just off the Boulevard Montparnasse, which is thick with academies and studios, and they eat, generally, at the Art Club. * k k k Kk Aaron Altmann has been two yearsin Paris and is studying in the Gerome Ate- lier at the Beaux Arts. He has turned his attention to painting and shows the great progress he has been making in two pict- ures recently painted. ‘La Matelassierd,”” the figure subject, shows an old woman carding a mattress; ‘‘Clamartat Harvest Time” is a landscape. Both pictures are very promising and show a decided talent. His coloring is beautiful, and strongly re- sembles that of Millet. Mr. Altmann has spent his summer in the country of Bas- tien Lepage. Edouard Cucuel studies at the three principal studios—Julien’s, Gerome’s and Collarossi’s—thereby broadening his man- ner of work and emphasizing his indi- viduality. He hasgrown notably stronger in his drawing in the past few months, being more simple and massing. Maurice Dalmue was born in Paris, but went to America when a lad, beginning s studies in drawing in San Francisco. William Dunbar Jewett, a graduate of Berkeley, has spent six months at Julien’s studying sculpture. He is now at work in a private atelier of his own. Harry Fonda has been one and a half years in Paris, and does very good work. He exhibited in the last salon an o1l paint- mg of “Concarneaun,” a seaport town of France. Mr. Fonda is the musician of the club. Gottardo Piazzoni is a Swiss by birth, a Californian by adoption. He has been in Paris a year and a half, and is a very prom- ising young painter. Granville 8. Redmond, the deaf-mute sent by the State institution at Berkeley, has been here a year and a half. He ex- hibited in the last salon an oil painting called “Matin d’Hiver.” He is also study- ing scalpture, ilnrr_v S-awell has just returned home to San Francisco after a stay of three years in Paris. He exhibited in the salon this year an oil painting showing the interior of an old kitchen and its occupant, an old peasant woman. It is very dark in tone, indeed quite Rembrandt in style, and gives promise of great things. 1t is called “‘I’Interieur d’une Vieille Chaumiere.” * k *x k Kk George H. Piper is studying drawing for illustration particularly. At present, however, he is much interested in model- alligator, and, on opening it, found in the stomach of the rapacious reptile different parts of a human being—a hand minus the arm and another hand with the arm, the flesh being still on it. A lot of bones were also found. It is believed that these were llpgm,a of the unfortunate Sinclair. The alligator was ten feet long.—Panama Star and Herald. ing and architecture. He has been over here two years. ‘Willis H. Thorndike is also studying to illustrate. He makes very chic girls. He hasbeen at Etaples this summer, on the coast of Belgium, and while there he has made a vast improvement in his painting. Harry Lewis_was born in_Ohio. Efis home now is in Los Angeles. He is stuay- ing water colors. Miss Claire Curtis-Huxley, who exhib- ited in sculpture at the last salon, is worthy of mention. The work was a bust head entitled “La Priere de Grandmere,” and speaks well for the talent of the young sculptress, who has studied but six months at Julien’s, on the Rue de Beni. She is a_pupil of Puech and Bouguereau, The model for her work was the old Italian woman who sat for Rodin for his famous bronze study in_the Luxembourg. As a rule, women sculptors are apt to be petty in tkeir work, giving more attention to details than to the strength and com- position of their subject. Miss Huxley shows none of that weakness so far. Her work for the next salon will be a figure. Her model for thisis a favorite of Roll’s and sat for him in the composition of his “Joys of Life,” designed for the staircase of the Paris Hotel de Ville. It was exhib- ited in the Champs de Mars Salon. Another noteworthy exhibit was a kitchen interior—*‘Coin de Cuisine’’—by Jules Pages, who has already secured an honorable mention from the society. The kitchen represented is that of a famous restaurant at Montmartre, much fre- quented by American art students. The cook, in white cap, jacket and apron, is standing at his blazing furnace, sur- rounded by copper pots and kettles. The strong light is in the background, givin, contre-jour effect. The harmony of color is beautiful. That Mr. Pages has great talent no one can deny. He reminds one of the work of the old Dutch masters. Miss Anna E. Klumpke, who has al- ready secured notewortay fame as a painter, exhibited a portrait in oils. Miss Rita Potron showed a pretty por- trait of a lady, on porcelain, but her prin- cipal work was a composition representing Judith holding the head of Holofernes. The picture is painted on Limoges (email) enamel. Miss Blanche Roullier exhibited work in pastels—“Plumeur de Volaille” and the portrait of a young lady. * k k k K Ernest Peixotto has been in Paris twice for study, and has secured an honorable mention. He has attended no school, but studied by himself. He exhibited this flenr “‘La Saiute Famille” and “Femme de ijsoord.” His cousin, Florian Peixotto, exposed a portrait in oil, ““Vieillard Hol- landais.”” The drawings of Frederic L. M. Pape (Eric Pag: is bis pen name) in the Century have been well known for the past two years. Constanc tells him that he is another Da Vinci, he is so very correct in his drawing. To my mind, however, his work is cold. The architectural students from Califor- nia are John Bakewell Jr. and Edward H. Burnett, who were received at the last session of the Ecole des Beaux Art, and H. C. Corbett, who has taken the examin- ations of this session. 'hese young men have chosen & vast work and a paying one, inasmuch as art has to-day turned quite commercial. Here- in architecture is benefited, for there isa general tendency everywhere to make good painting a decorative adjunct of spa- cious and lofty architecture. * Kk k Kk Kk Education Versus Talent, I suspect that almost every American boy who has ever broached the subject of | following art as a vrofession to his parents has had held up to him as illustrative of i{enpiue talent the case of Benjamin West. e is told that when West was 8 years old he made a brush out of a cat’s fail, bor- rowed some yvellow ocher and painted his | small sister's portrait in a remarkable | manner. | Now, John has never painted his sister’s })ortrmt even when 18 years old, so John’s ather asn{y “You? You'll never be an artist. u’ve never shown any talent.” So John is either refused aid outright, or along with material help come all the fond and heartless, discouraging words which one’s family so well know how to give. _But the historical account of West and | bis portrait happens to run a wee bit | into the uently expect that he will get Ealon z’l’xe fiprgt year he is in Paris. Tr]ue, they don’t know much about the sn'gn (I bave known of some good people who thought it an open bar), but at the same time they know it is considered necessary in the advancement of art. If he does 'ET hibit the first year of his study here, it Wi be because he has wonderful genius or @ wonderful cultivation of great talent. It does not often happen. TR Parents and friends have an ill-disxuised contempt for any work which does not come up to their ideals—ideals, perhaps which prefer a daub of potato-patches and broken crockery to a grand origimal con- ception impartially revealed. They krow nothing about the schemes of color to be worked out. To them red is red, yellow is vellow and red and yellow make orange. Vhat more would you have? They can’t see the wings of their chily dren, so they refuse to believe in the power of their children to soar. One gives his son three months in which to conquer fame; another two vears. The latter is only a beginning. Men and women are not racehorses.” It takes time to prove that one has genius or talent. otherwise. Some friendly Indians were his first teachers. They imparted to the boy West the secrets of the mixture of their war paints, and to their red and yel- low his mother added indigo. His brush was made from hairs cut from the cat’s back. He was never opposed, but always encouraged. When he grew older a coun- cil of the neighboring Quakers was held ro decide on the question of young West’s following his calling. They wisely agreed that God would not bestow faculties and forbid their employment, and 50 he went to London to study. Now John is an artist because he has to be. It is a disease he has. Unlike the measles or the mumps, he doesn’'t recover so quickly when doctored. nally he comes to Paris. Fortunate for him, if he is by nature a gentleman and has already an education, even an ordinary one. It always helps to be a gen- tleman. Education, to be sure, does not make an artist nor originate talent, but it does develop it and often brings out great and unexpected powers. Ignorance seems | to go with an artistic temperament, ana | specializing always tends to narrowness, which in time cramps and finally kills all Then, too, there is a vast difference be- tween a painter and an acknowledged painter. Geod luck does not always stand at the door knocking. It must oiten be made, and the process is long and painful. The irony of non-appreciation by one’s nearest and dearest is often an artist's greatest fame. & L 5 You remember Meissonier’s experience, His granddaughter, upon ber fifteenth or sixteenth pirthday, had received a beauti- ful fan. The sticks were exquisitely carved in ivory, but the fan itself, of black gauze, was absolutely plain. Evidently the donor intended that the art of the grandfather should enhance the value of the present. He was about to do so, when she stopped him: *Voila! qu’il va me xn’ter mon eventail avec ses mannequins!”’ (He is going to spoil my fan with his dummies!) * k k Kk Kk Toreturn to our unfortunate John! His genius or talent may not develop sa quickly as that of his neighbor and plaf'- mate, Henry. He may paint tolerably well. He may draw the figure accu rately and sketch with cleverness churches and restaurants. Even then,when he has feeling ana originality. When John arrives in Paris he is filled to overflowing with all the young students’ | dreams of future greatness. He takes up | his studies at Julien’s and talks| of nothing but work—morning, noon and | night. The old men listen, but say nothing. | hey know that he will cool off in a lit- tle while and work only balf a day. When | he shall have reached this stage he may | have learned to value quality more than | quantity. On the other hand, he may have learned.the greatest fault of modern | Bohemia—incorrigible laziness. This lazi- ness may be shown in many ways. He | may be simply bumming, not dreaming | great dreams of work, as he lies on his | couch and gazes at the chimney pots| through wreaths of smoke. He may waste | his time by taking models out to the coun- | try, or he may go out to study new sights and scenes in earnest. Often it takes| weeks to adjust the proportions of this | grand new experiment and pleasure, and | during the adjustment work often_suffers. | Everything is in_his favor here if he will only make it so. sory instruction. For a reasonable sum (5 francs a half day) he can have the best private models in his own studio. There are numberless incitements here to study his profession which America cannot give, and all these cost him nothing. The streets are filled with picture-shops and galleries. The people themselves are pic- tures walking about. The churches, the theaters, the concert-rooms and the res- taurants are covered with pictures. The atmosphere is surcharged with art. He is also away from all restraints and free to do as he will. * k k k k In a few months a letter comes from his father, asking if John’s masterpiece is | ready. Then a small army of sisters, cousins and aunts who think that he has already done great things in the sketch which” he made of Aunt Mary, conse- He has all sorts of acces- | reached thisstage, he should be happy if he | 1 ead an uneventful life for the next five or six years, toiling steadily, as if he were plying an ordinary trade. There is some- thing more to be sought than praise- worthy industry on small things. He m ust follow with all his might after origis n ality in the solution of his favorite prob- lem. Noartist can fit himself into ane other’s form or shape. He must find his own fitness. He must do something more than aim for perfection of form ard effectiveness of coloring—the modern craze. Belore he begins a life and death strug- file for originality in feeling and sentiment e will probably pass through the numers ous crazes of medievalism, romanticism and all the other isms in which young painters in all ages indulge. Sifting chaff from wheat takes time. And it takes courage, too, for an artist of to-day to reverence ideas above mechan- ism. He will have all manner of evil | spoken against him by his brother artists, | But there are people who do_not look for exquisite beauty of form and color alone in a picture. It would be impossible and unjust to ctiticize the work of contemporary students. But the most of them possess one excellent quality 1n common—their | determination to be original in all | lines — first of all in _imagination | (whicH is a lost art to-day); in tha | choice of mnew subjects which shall be distinctively American ; in the manner of treatment of old subjects—in short, in the power to combine great sentiment with great artistic effect in coloring. At the same time, all Americans, both students and artists, Fo”e”‘mo acknowledged faults—the high ights in their studies are not toned enough and they do not pay sufficient at- tention to drawmi.‘ LORENCE BLANCHARD. 25 Avenue Wagram, Paris, Oct. 25, 1895. NEW TO-DAY—DRY GOODS. 107-109 POST STREET. 1220-1222-1224 MARKET STREET KOHLBERG, STRAUSS & FROHMAN. IMPORTANT -:- 'MEN'S SILK HANDKERCHIEFS, 20 STORE NEWS. Handkerchiefs. Dress Goods. Novelties. Special Some Big The New Sale. Bargains. Arrivals. Always the largest and We quote four of the One hundred styles of ' most varied stock at low= specials on sale this New Veilings came est consistent prices, yet week. Don't judge the Thursday. The beauti- ‘we have never been able goods by the prices. Up- ful Chine Point Ribbons to sell ali Linen Handker- chiefs at such low prices as those quoted in this ** Buy your Holi= day Handkerchiefs while initial assortments are complete. town prices qualities. sell Dress G Goods are very different from downtown prices. The goods are the same We do not on Dress are decidedly novel. An- other lot of Brownie Cushion Tops in tinted denims. New Draperies, New Silks. Only a few oods in our items in this *‘ad.”” Postestreet store. HANDKERCHIEFS. LADIES INITIAL HANDKER- CHIEFS, box of six, narrow hem- stitched, hand-embroidered initial..... 50° LADIES INITIAL HANDKER- CHIEFS, box of six, wide hemstitch, hand-embroidered initial, fine quality lawn. sl DIES' LINEN HANDKER- LACHH-:P‘S. box of six, hemstitched, ure linen, the fashionable small tials; should be 81 50 or $1 75 & box. g1 LADIES' LINEN HANDKER- CHIEFS, box of six, pure Irish linen, fine hemstitched, pretty initizls, $2 cheap; & lovely DOLd&Y Bift.....c.vuene EIEL inches square, Japanese silk, hand- embroidered initials, wide hemstitch, last year 8 for $1. .......... 25° MEN’S SILK HANDKERCHIEFS, 20 inches square, American silk, quite heavy, handgome initials, always bee: sold &t 50c. £ MEN'S SILK HANDKERCHIEFS, 23 inches square, very heavy silk, wi hemstitch, elaborate intials, chea] 500 at 75¢ each = BROWNIE “TOPS.” DRESS GOODS. ENGLISH ARMY SERGE, 50 inches, 6 yards a pattern, navy and brown only, warranted all wool; 35 pieces will be 50° NIGGERHEAD CHEVIOT SUITINGS, 38 inches, 7 yards a pattern, strictly all wool, new colorings, styl- ish; 15 pieces will be sold at. 5 4 45° AMAZON CLOTH SUITINGS, 52 inches, 6 yards a_pattern, all staple colors ‘and black, beautiful finish, all wool; 20 pleces will be sold at 50° FRENCH MOMIE SUITINGS, 38 inches, 7 yards a pattern, warranted silk and wool, two and three toned effects, new stylish colorings.... 55 50° Dress Goods at Market-Street Store Only. VEILINGS. Recelved more than 100 styles last week. You are sure to get the newest and prettiest styles here. We call especial attention to large variety of Plain Fishnets In this new lot. All the new mesties and ots. NOVELTY VEILINGS. 25c to$ 2.50 NEW RIBBONS. CHANGEABLE RIBBONS, 314 inches wide, 10 colors, a new pattérn, very rich, extra quality, 60c grade. 2 35° CUSHION TOPS—You remember the other lot we had, those delightful, comical patterns on stout tinted denim: 200 more just in; they are 24 inches square, the designs in tints. Brownie patterns. 260 Home, Sweet Ho) c ‘Auld Lang Syne.. WARP PRINT RIBBONS, 81, ¢! wide, absolutely the uewrzthcr‘::t?:; for neckwear and millinery, beautitul o Dresden effects, shown for first time. ., 60 A& We also have these Dresden effects 1 Print silks, $1, §1 25, $1 50 and §2 o yawd. -