The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, May 17, 1896, Page 18

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, MAY 17, 1896. FD o AM ~ PICTURES ATTHE ACADEMY "7~ AND THE SOCIETY OF ICAN ARTIST < % PRING has come to New York. Not the fresh, green, exuberant | K\ soring of California, but a spring | that is timid and deprecating. | The trees in the park are quite | bare and black agamnst the sky, but| as you drive or wal¥ under them you observe that every branch and twig boasts | Apvil's livery of tiny green buttons. The air is soft and warm and the streets have n after-Easter gayety. For the vivid, sre brilliance of the grass after our first | ns in California, for the gorgeous burst | flowers, look to the bounets of the women. Veritable roof-gardens sway past on the street, in carriages, in the cars. Every one is out enjoying this breath of the phenomenal early summer. The park is crowdea with riders, who come thunder- ing down the hard paths, with the silver cycle flashing in and out between them, nost under the horses’ hoofs. The streets are alive with posters—post- ers for the opera, the theaters and con- certs; every one runs; everywhere there is a crowd. | The picture exhibitions are the single exceptions. Here the crowd penetrates in straggling groups of but three or four. Of course, the opening day is over and done with. The fashionable world bas paid its ormal call; the charming little rooms of v of American Artists, the more tentious halls of the academy bloom in icturesque quiet. home of the society isunder the shadow of Carnegie Hzll, with the sun slanting on its gray tiled roof. It is per- haps irreverent to sneak of the society first, when the academy is so much its s verior in point of age. The society occu- pies the position relative to the academy that the new salon of the Champs dGe Mars does to the old salon of the Champs Ely- sees. Theacademy represents the so t i sometimes the di T t3 repre brilliance, as frequently the extravagance nts the youth, the ireshne: Th and au academy is the past, the soc the future. The exhibition of the society covers tne walls of but three rooms; two of them con- tain pictures hung in but two lines: in the ries are statuettes, busts and a atures. In all thereare but 246 numbers in the catalogue. The first glance as we step into the first room gives one the 1mpression of light— light—light pouring from every canvas. It is like stepping into a room with a hun- ared windows—the frame has the same re- lation to the picture that a window-frame has to the outside world—it concentrates, it composes, it limits the vision. When 1 close my eyes I s=e the Hopkins house in San Francisco, where the spring exhibition must now be holdinz high | revel. I contrast the frescoes, the heavy decorations, the wooden panels, the erim- | son and goid and magenta, the light | streaming in from the unshaded windows, with these quiet, cool rooms, the soft, | vague absence of color on the walls, and I pray for indulgence for the unhappy artists condemned to exhibit under such disadvantages. It might be as well tocon- trast also_these 246 pictures with those I have so often seen in San Francisco. At home we are most of us experimenting, groping in the dark—this New York exhi- bition is so choice, so delicate, so assured. The inevitable superficial colored canvasis a rara avis; everywhere we find the sin- cerity of deterruined effort, sincerity per- haps to false ideals or temporary lights, but always sincerity. In the first room’ there are pictures by three one-time Californians—a landscape by Mary Brady. a portrait by Emil Carl- sen, several figure studies by Guy Rose. Brady has achieved a distinct suc- cess. Her “Sand Dunes in California’’ are unmistakably under a Monterey sky. The light is very sharp and keen, the drawing in the middle distance—the edges of the shore, the flat smoothness of the < remarkable, everything is at once hard and bright; even the green of the rough shrubs is crude but true. The water is a little indefinite, a little woolly, but the canvas is so vital it makes the por- traits and landscapes around it Sseem washed in watercolor or painted on paper. The portrait by Emil Carlsen is that of a young woman in a yellowish brown waist and a black skirt. £he rests one hand on a table with a blue cloth. An inkwell breaks its flat surface. The other hand bangs over the back of her chair. In the background—that large, flat, empty back- ground Mr. Carlsen loves to paint because truly so few can paintit—is the drawing of a column that 1s not part of a Greek temple, but simply an accident of Mr. | Carlsen’s immense, bare studio which he has used to balance his composition. Thne portrait—outside of the disuinction of color which Mr. Carlsen never fails to render—has a di-tinction of character in i which he is not always successful. The bead is that of a clear-eyed, self-reliant, determined American woman, drawn as Manet would draw it—with very few colors, | very flat surfaces, all the finer modeling | in the edges between the light and shadow, the brow hard, the eyes set well in the head, the nose and chin drawn with firm but delicate touches. “The Moth,” by Guy Rose, represents a little winged nude figure. She has flown into a dimly lighted room and lies prone on her face, her wings broken and singed. | Iiis a very modern room into which she | has fluttered, with sofa cushions and most | ordinary chairs, and through the window we see the trees in Washington Square. The contrast of ideal and real 1s a little barsh. There is another canvas called “The | Annunciation,” rather like a colored | Christmas cara, apparently a young wo- | man feeding pigeons and a dim lady in| a wedding veil superintending. Mr. Rose | is happier when he confines himseli to | Jess ambitious subjects. The solemnity of | the subject makes the treatment trivial, his delicate color becomes thin and inef- fective. fo The most important portrait in the| exhibition is that of the little daughter of | J. M. Sears by John S. Sargent. It is not Sargent at his best, but it cheapens every other portrait in the room. 1 must apologize for all the drawings, which were mere scratches made hurriedly. Special ermission from the artist is required be- ore any reproduction of his work is al- Jowed. I have attempted only the ar- rangement of the masses. The child is in white, her feet are crossed, her hand stretched forward for the flowers. The canvas is a big sketch, but across the room it is remarkably decorative, and the little white figure stands so firmly it seems absurd to remark at closer range the slippery drawing in the sittle silk stpckinged legs, the thinuess of the brass jars which retiects like glass and is as indefinite. As a portrait 1t leaves a slight feeling of dissatisfaction. The child is a child, not the chiid. There is a cer- tain lack of interest—a certain weariness about it—the artistic question was absorb- ing, tue human child was a bore. | glazing, no tricks of technique. | and unpretentious canvas by the same its simplicity—a photograph could not be more direct—here there is no mystery of The cloud of blonde hair, the vague blue eyes, the loose little crimson lips, even the gesture, the reach of the small hands for the flowers is spiritless—but what spirit in the paint- ing of all of them—what a touch of liquid color in the eyes, in the moist lips; what creamy whiteness to the dress; whata sug- gestion of big loose-leaved flowers! There are two little pictures ot moonlight, one by Louis Dessar, the other by Frank Herrmann. There is the contrast between artificiality and truth. Whistler is re- | sponsible for one, nature for the other. ‘The E'taples Harbor,” withmisty ships, misty houses, water without surface, has nothing to distinguish it from a thousand false “‘impressions” done by a thousand clever men and women. The ‘“Hotland Night” by Mr. Herrmann, with its empty, colorless sky, the little gray houses huddled together, the sug- gestion of little figures hushing by in the descrted street, even the light of an orange moon justrising ov er the housetops—how ca refuily it is all painted, how simply ren- years of age. The {!rize was instituted in 1887 by Dr. Seward Webb of New York. Mr. Metcall is cleverness itself. He has half a dozen small pictures—*Children on a Ferry Landing”; a “Wild Mustard Field,” with phantom sails and water and hills over the edge of the fields; a little “Midsummer Afiernoon,” with a distant shore gleaming through trees, with little houses and blue water and white sails; an ‘‘Inner Harbor''—here we have great logs floating down the smooth, oily stream. “The Gloucester Harbor” has won the Webb prize—a dull sky, the inevitable water full of the little quivering reflcctions he paints so well, littie white houses on the banks, the foreground a la Monet. What remarkable things can be done with iresh splashes of paint and so little varia- tion of a general theme! George R. Barse has a beautiful nude figure 1 pastel; it is calied a *Study for Phryne’—a firm and _delicate drawing, marvelous in its solidity when we consider the medium; the fizurestands azainst a lavender drapery, the face hid- den and the beautiful hair confined by the golden bands. Frank Benson has a decorative tigure of Summer, which has been purchased by the Shaw fund—a yearly contribution of $1500 aevoted to the purchase of a composition painted in oil by an American artist, and the picture becemes the property of Sam- uel T. Shaw, the aonor of the fund. The “Summer” is a charming figure 10 white draperies that arelow in tone but luminous against the dull blues and greens of the background. sphinx is the dark figure of a8 woman with ! a light shining around the child hidden in her shawl. In the distance are tents and the suggestion of a caravan, halting for the night. The daylight pours pitilessly upon this great, flat, dark night, depriy- ing it of whatever depth and mystery it may have possessed in the painter’s studio. The Era of Christianity, as represented by the very small figure of the Virgin, is rather overwhelmed by the savage mys- tery of the colossal Sphinx, which, even with the disadvantage of the harsh light, secms to be admirably painted. There are yards nng yards of paintings; now and then the attention is attract and held. Carlton Chapman has a tiny canvas painted with photographic fidelity. ‘“The Casino at Narragansett” gleams with the sharp brightness of gay dresses, the smart trappings of grooms and horses and carts, alter Shirlaw has the con- ventional Holland canvas, sober!y painted in dull graysand browns, & woman and chila with the inevitable sabots like water buckets in the foreground. There is a remarkable battle scene called “Into the Fight,” by Thomas Trego. It is apparently bloodless, except for the color of the horses, these astonisning ani- mals having turned a deep crimson, with feracity perhaps, or the effect of reflection from the pools of gore the artist has not painted. Next to it is a landscape like a Diaz, so fresh, so vivid, painted with such force and vizor. It is called a ‘‘Landscape with Cars,” and the artist is Frederick B. Wil- liams. The sky is swept with clouds, the deep, wet, green earth has a wide shadow, in the single gleam of sunlight the trans- figured little train of cars flashes like a rocket, with a puff of smoke and a burst of sudden light and color. Theodore Robinson’s large canvasof a Woman sewing under the trees gives one a saddened pleasure. The color is so quiet, so calm, the pleasant green trees drop little faint shadows like leaves upon the woman's drooping head and shoulders. Itis very peaceful under these sheltering trees. There is a “Primeval Forest,” by Ed- ward Moran., It is very primeval.” The only animal yet created isapparently a very tiny bear, hung like an Examiner badge on'one of the great, smooth bowl- ders. The discovery of the bear in this most complacent ana not at all terrifying forest gives one quite a little surprise, like solving a picture puzzie—find the only ani- mal in this picture. most interesting portrait is that by Benoni Irwin ot the author James Lane Allen—the man who has written so many charmin% Southern stories. [t isa very virile and dignified canvas, as Mr. Lwin’s portraits of men invariably are. There is a big unfinished illustration, “Founders of a State,” at which poor Tom diner Greene Hammond Jr., a portrait that Franz Hals might have signed. head of a young man with a broad face, small, twinkling e¥el_ & nose distinctly uplifted and very full red lips, painted with that unhesitating brush that man- ages to retain all the freshness of a sketch with the distinctions of color all the re,r.lzeu of the world will not give. In his Work you may follow every strokg, the painter seems to say: _ ‘‘Here you are; it is perfectly easy. yoollf‘at your model and paint him. That is all!” That is all—to find the points of vital in- terest in the model is to paint them. Technique is neither modern nor old—this portrait is marvelous in its absolute ab- sence of any distingnishing method—it might have been painted a year ago or in a century to come, but it is hard to im- af:ne any oblivion to which the portrait of this broad, full-blooded, smiling, gently impertinent young man could be eon- signed. VAN Dyck Browx. New York, May 9, 1896. ' THE MAGYARS. A Race That Is Rapidly Increasing in Population. In copnection with the approaching Mil- lennium Exhibition Professor Vambery of the Puda-Pesth University delivered a lec- tare here last night on the origin and de- velopment of the Magyar race, to which he has for many years devoted special study. The lecture-hall was densely crowded and the keeneat interest was man- ifested in the professor’s discourse. Professor Vambery began by stating that there was a scarcity of trustworthy histori- cal evidence relative to the earliest origin of the Hungarian nation. All that was known on the subject has been derived from a Byzantine and an Arab writer. According to them, the Magyars were a tribe of Turkish nomads, who, being B driven from their own territory by the encroachments of their more powerful countrymen, wandered westward and entered Hungary by way of the Lower Danube in’ response to an invitation of King Arnulph of Bavaria, who needed their military assistance against the Slav King of Moravia. For nearly a century the Magyars settled in Hungary continued their primitive mode of life us warlike nomads, undertaking periodical raids to all parts of Europe and capturing numerous prisoners; these they emploved in agricultural pursnits, while the Magyars themselves remained the dominant race. Toward the close of thre tenth century the Magyars embraced Christianity, and, blending in one political body the various ethnical elements which Louisc® B - BY lows PauLPrssur WA OMAN \“/ SEWING 5/7 THeoDorRE RosiNson wuumTvamwvm o 3 r il 'i,‘ 4 i o) ! fli‘flllljfll‘.fllhmflflfl ] Il \ PorTRAIT BY EMIEL CARLSEN. TorTrArT oF JArEs ANCAUEN — BY Penont [rwin — e dered, with how little regard for the ap- proval of the crowd. And then a small artist hangs in the opposite corner. Two little Dutch fizures in a doorway, a boy and a girl in grays and browns, a window | in the background has a bright yellow shade and the two heads are modeled against it so simply, with so much feeling and naivete, Poor Theodore Robinson, who died on | the 2d of April, has five. landscapes, crowned with the lanrel wreath which tells us that he, at least, has “arrived.” To live for ten years on the verge of the grave, 1o go on working to the very last— for one canvas bears a date of this very spring—not to show by a touch too little ~ the ideal of ‘the task to which he had set himself— here we have the modern soldier, brave, cheerfnl, genial and as indifferent to the terrors of the transition from this world to the next as though it meant simply a walk across the street. There is not one somber canvas, everywhere the light prevails—the figures of the women folding the linen on the grass, the spotted hilisides of Ver- Tt is not possible to even touch upon each canvas in so delightful an exhibition —there is a Dewing refined almost out of existence, painted in laze upon glaze; a portrait by Frances Houston distinguished in pose, a woman 1n pale green, the face blooming against a great tapestry flower behind her. Mrs. MacMonnies, wife of the sculptor, has two decorative figures—The | Breeze and Diana. The Breeze is a draped figure swaving against a background of soft biue. The folds of the drapery have a sculptured force, with a fine, free move- ment. Robert Reid has a nude all ina shimmer of light and a Spring all in a rainbow of color. Mrs. Kenyon Cox has her small son Leonard drawn as Kenyon Cox himself might draw it, with infinite care and study, with great delicacy, with very little tenderness. “Little God Pan,” by Will Sur, would make a charming illustration; but is an artificial study, with ralse purple shadows which suggest the necessity of condemn- ing the *'Little God Pan’ to a sojourn in the leper gettiement in Molokai. All in all it is an exhibition to be proud mont, full of the human interest of log | of; if it recalls foreign masters it is only cabins and field and path; the “Little Mill,” which has a beautiful guality of actual technique rather d fferent from the vivid, rather woollfv use of paint Mr. Rob- inson preferred (alas, for the past tense!). All of these are painted with the cheerful sunlight penetratine every corner. And as we are telling of heroes, there is a little dark head by Thomas Hovenden. Every one will remember the thrill of horror atid painful admiration with which the death of poor Tom Hovenden was greeted. A fine close to so iuteresting a career! Hovenden harled himself in front of a train in order to save a child, and was himself crushed to death—a more heroic but hardly & braver end than that of poor Robinson. J. H. Twachtman is another hero. He has painted a canvas of ‘‘Waterfalls,” boldly attacking a subject worn to a chromo in the past and sacred to cheap gold frames and red plush bindings. The waterfall has been resurrected. How freshly he has painted it; with what mod- ern feeling; what a spark of beautiful color! Millard Metcalf is the winner of the Webb prize. The annual Webb prize of imitative at a resvectful distance, as all modern work suggests the influence of the few men who have made their impress upon the time—Mauet dead, Whistler and Monet living. In the academy we breathe a little more freely. We may descend from the heights, Here are ali the familiar faces—the thick, oily, dark landscape of fifty years ago; the mythological figure as smooth as a porce- lain painting, with immense long-lashed eyes, a tiny mouth and a yearning ex- gres-ion: the Spanish Beauty or the Greek lave, as you will. One or two small sparkling landscapes hung high seem to defy the hanging committee to do their worst. They shine in delightful contrast tolarge and heavy studies of landscapes hun: beneath them. The first canvas to greet the unwary visitor is the rather gloomy production entitled “The Two Great Eras,” by that extremeiy clever young San Franciscan, Eric Pape. It bears the legend: *‘The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light. They that dwell in the land of the shadow of death,” etc. It is an enormous canvas—Night in Egypt, the great Sphinx, silent, gigantic is given for the best landscape The brush work is always maddening in vainted by an American artist under 40 and impressive, with the pyramids in van- ishing perspective. At the foot of the Hovenden was at work just before his death. A very simple and effective canvas 1s that called ““Louise,” by Louis Paul Des- sar. Everything is painted in a gray mon- otone very delicately—the grayish white cap, the grayish blue apron against the faint gray of the walls. The dress and the stove are a little deeper gray. The whole study, whicn is for an illastration, is al- most black and white, but its effect is dis- tinctly one of color. The picture which has won the first Hallgarten prize is called “In a Btudio,” by Mary Brewster Hazel- to! n. The Julius Hallgarten prizes—$300, $200 and $100—are given for the three best pictures painted in the United States by American citizens under 36 years of age. The Thomas B. Clarke prize (§300) is given for the best figure com position, with- out limit of age. et The Norman Dodge prize (§300) is given for the best picture painted in the United States by a woman, without limitation of age. . Mary Curtis Richardson and iss Clara McChespey of San Francisco bave secured this prize at different ex- hibitions. The Lotus Club fund is a fund of $1600, subscribed annuaily by members of the Lotus Club, for one or more paintings to be purchused at the annuai exhibition of the National Academy of Design. E ‘The winner of the first Hallgarten prize, Miss Mary Brewster Hazleton, may con- gratulate herself. Her canvas is very sur- ¥"5iflz—very surprisingly commonplace. here is neither vitality nor finca in the poses. The artist is working for an audi- ence. She is looking neither at her pic- ture nor at her model, whose pose is very much that of an antique Venus, nor at her guest, who is staring steadily at nothing tall. The wall is not flat, and the color s any distinction. However, she has won the Hallgarten prize; that is some- thing to have accomplished. There is a portrait of Professor Theodore Dwight of Columbia College by D. Hunt- ington which is full of character. The be- nevolent old head is painted almost with tenderness, and is very simple and pleas- ant in color. y Next to it is a picture called “The Pri- vate Rehearsal,”” apparently a rehearsal of articulated dolls with a great deal of care expended on the painting of buttons and embroidery. argept has a portrait of Gar- had become residents in Hungary, con- stituted the Hungarian nation. For centuries the Magyar minority continued to rule over the non-Magyar majority by sheer force of their warlike and governin characteristics. By the aid of their liberal institutions and the hospitality which they extended to foreigners they succeeded in maintaining their supremacy through all vicissitudes. From the Asiaticnomads the present Hungrinn nation descended. Professor Vambery then went on to say that Hungary had invariably formed an insurmountable barrier against the bar- barism of the East. Had it_not_been for the stubborn resistance offered by the Christian armiesof Hungary to the inroads of Turkish hordes, the progress and civilization ot Western and Central Europe would have been retarded for hundreds of years. Indeed, it could be said that Hungary acted as the sentinel of Western civilization, but in consequence of its being in perpetual readiness for war the intellectual condition of the country had remained behind. Dar- ing the past two centuries this had been remedied, and in all respects the progress and development of the nation had been remarkable. At the beginning of the present century the agyar popu- lation of Hunpay numbered only about 3,000,000, o-day it exceeds 8,000,000. There is scarcely any trace left of his Asiatic extraction inthe modern Magyar. He still retains, however, those liberal, generous and chivalrous traits which assisted him in conquering the va- rious non- Magyar elements of the country, and which haye given him that extraordi- nary absorptions by mesns of which a mere handful of Asiatic wanderers have gradually grown into a powerful ion which is'about to celebrate the one thou- sandth anniversary of its existence.—Lon- don Times. —————— A horse can draw on the worst kind of earth road about four times as much as he can carry on his back. On a good macad- amized road he can pull ten times as much, on a wooden road twenty-five times as much and on a raiiway fifty-eight times asmuch. ——————— A curious borometer is used in Germany and Switzerland. 1t is a jar of water with a frog and a little stepladder in it. When the frog comes out of the water and sits on thesteps a rainstorm will soon occu.r THE MONARCH OF THE PEARL-FISHERS J. Clark, the Queensland Gem- Hunter, and His Story of Fortune. HE EMPLOYS ABCUT 1500 MEN. Has Lately Founded a Pearl . Shell Farm Which He Has Stocked From Deep Sza Waters. James Clark of Queensland, Australia, the king of the pearl-fishersand the owner of the only pearl-shell farm in the world, is at the Occidenta:. Mr. Clark’s pearl-shell farm is stocked with 150,000 pearl shell, which he collected from the deep sea waters. He believes that he can grow pearls and sheils. [t is a new thing. Nobody has ever attempted it before. Mr. Clark is on a tour of the world to investigate the various pearl fisheries. He has all the facts and figures concern- ing them at his finger-tips. He is much interested in the extensive pearl fisheries in the Gulf of California, but, of course, only in an abstract way, as he has no money invested in them. The king of pearl-fishers employs no less than 1500 men and 250 vessels. Of the army of 1500 men 250 are skilled divers. The vessels used are of all sizes, the average cost of each being about £600. “I bhave been fifteen years engaged in pearl-fishing,’” said Mr. Ciark last night. “My fisheries are in the Torres Straits, in the north of Queensland. I began in a small way, and have given the pearl fish- eries my close attention during all these years. My experience has led me to the belief that with proper intelligence in the selection of a place one can raise pearls and pearl shells as easily as one can raise oysters, but of course to do this you must know how. I started a large pearl-shell farm three vears ago, and have stocked it | with shell which I obtained in many in- stances far out at ocean, in the deep water. To grow shells successfully, according to my experience, thus far, the water must not be too deep. “Thnere is one thing I am sure of, and that is _that, no matter how many pearis are produced, the supply can never equal the demand, and therefore there is no dan- ger of any combine among the pearl-fish- ers of the globe. Itis for the purpose oi finding out all I can in regard to the pearl fisheries of the different parts of the world that I bhave now set out on this trip. I keep pretty well informea in regard to the gearl fisheries in all parts of the country. {our great fishery in the Guli of California is the biggest one on the American conti- nent, and practically the only one, except- in;iilhat of the Guli of Mexico, below the ulf. “I want to geta scientific partner in connection with my pearl-shell farm. want a man who knows science, and who also knows as much as possible about | pearls and shells. This is one of the other purposes of my trip. With the big fish- eries on my hands and the new ferm which I have started I have rather more to do than I can weil attend to, so I need an associate to look after the farm where the new pearls are growing. “The pearls that are grown in the Torres Straits are all of the color that you see here. This beautifui silver arl which you see on my scarf is a good illus- tration of the kind we produce. There is oniy one color, in fact, and it is the most desired among purchasers. This large oval pearl you may think something abnormal in’its way, but we get many of them. There is uuuemon but that the Torres fisheries produce the finest pearls to be had. The market showsthat. They bring the highest prices.” Mr. Clark is a man of medium height and middle age. He is said to be a multi- millionaire and to have acquired his colossal fortune since he began peari-figh- ing a few years ago. He hasa reddish beard, a clear gray eye and a quiet. con- fident way of talking that is very interest- ing. “My pearl-shell farm,” he continued, ‘‘occupies a stretch of water ten miles long and about five miles wide on the edge of the Torres Straits. The water is shallow, for it is only in this kind . of water tiat shells can be successfully matured. Any experienced pearl-fisher can tell at a I glance from the surrounding shores whether or not he has the best fishing- ground. S “If the shores are high and rugged it indicates that the water is deep and cold. The shells do not attain the greatest size there. Besides this it is bard on the divers in going so deep for them. 5 ““Where the shores are low and receding and the water warm there are to be found the finest shells and the biggest pearls. *I ship my shells to London in my own vessels. The shells are used for scores of different purposes now and there is a greater demand for them each year. They £o to London in my vessels by hundreds of tons. ““The pearlsare marketed in London and Paris mainly. The catch each year runs, roughly speaking, from $200,000 worth up to almost five times that. Thereis a con- stantly growing demand for them. I have beeu in the business long enough to ascer- tain that for a certainty. “It is because of this that I am now try- ing to make pearls and shells by my farm, which I have established and stocked by a portion of what I have caught.” r. Clark will be here only for a few days. He intends visiting the notable fisheries of the Old World and will spend some time in New York, London and other cities. THE BIG IF. If things that have not, had really The ring of the real coin: 1f potatoes, for instance, were mealy, And beefsteak was all tenderloin. If goatmeat was southdown mutton, And butchers had civilized souls, If collars were easy to button And butions were glued in their holes. %1 women's tongues were not wagsy, And sweot little babes never cried} 1f trousers never got baggy And shoestrings would always stay tied. 1f money was made by talking, And never a man was a rozue: 1f distance did not mean walking, And carfares were not in vogue. If cross words were not reproaches, And kisses ne'er meant to betray: I mosquiioes wero only cockroaches, And Jersey a fit place to stay. If your frowns, dearest Maud, were caresses, Fuch pout but the seal of & kiss: 1f you ever had quite enough dres: O, then, wouldn ¢ living be blis New York Sun. KICKING TREES. D e— Lumbermen Must Know Them and How to Keep From Being Kicked. Very few who have never witnessed the method of lumbering n our forests realize the danger, with its accompanying fascina- tion, the hard rugged work, with its health-giving results, or the enjoyment to | be found in camp life in the solitary | woods, miles from civilization. | The danger from flying limbs or a “kick- ing’’ tree as it falls, lodges or strikes upon | a stump or across a log and swings around lor flies back with terrible force is not no- | ticed by the lumbermen if they are lucky enough to dodge successfnlly. Another danger that people little realize is that |of the teamsters who haul the logs | from the stump to the main road. Much of the timber is cut up on the mountain sides, which are so steep that a horse team can scarcely climb up. At the top loes measuring from thirty to fifty feet in length are loaded upon one sled and are dragged down the mountain. In places the road goes down so steep that the ends of tbe logs are above the horse’s hips. The logs with the sled tip town, and away they go down the mountain as fast as the horses can go,with the teamster hanginz to the reins and keeping his balance upon the logs as they thrash and roll around beneath his feet. Occasionally the teamster emits a ter- rific yell that would put a Co- manche Indian to shame, to warn his brother teamsters that he is com. ing, so they can get out of the way. They drive into a turnout, and the loaded team spins past them. It isselaom thata horse loses his footing: if he does the team is sluiced down the mountain. Occasionally they go against a tree, and sometimes both of the horses are killed, but they gen- erally come out all right, with a few scratches. With the advent of the railroaa and in- vention of wood pulp, the uses of the spruce tree have been changed orenlarged, and so iar as Byron, Me., is concerned the manner of getting it from the forest to the market has changed. The logs are now loaded onto cars in the forest and hauled to the very mill docrs, where they are converted into pulp and paper. During the present winter logs have been hauled to the Rumford Falls Paper Company’s miil, converted into paper, shipped to dis- tant cities, where it is used by some of the leading daily papers, printed, returned and read by the camp's crew where the lumber was cut within a fort- night from the time the tree was cut in the forest. Such is the effect of the progress of civilization upon this branch of business. Even now in remote secuions where railroads have not reacned, one year is reckoned on to get the lumber to market, and ‘it sometimes takes two years to run the lumber out of the stream to the main river.—Rumford Falls Times, | James Clark, the Queensland Pearl-Hunter, Who Has Lately Siocked a Gigantie Pearl-Shell Farm. by a “Call” artist.] (Sketched from life Q