The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 16, 1899, Page 11

Jbe San Francisco This Spec Opens. Call’ HHome Study Circle. imen Sheet Contains the First Week’s Installment of the Courses With Which the Autumn-Winter Term of the ‘““Home Study Circle” The Continuation Will Be Found in the Issucs of THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, Beginning Monday, October 16. THE SAN FRANC'SCO CALL'S | Home Stupy CIRCLE.|- HOW TO STUDY SHAKESPEARE. i (Copyrighted, 1899, by Seymour Eaton.) | THE SAN FRAN@SCO CALL'S HOME STUDY CIRCLE. DIRECTED BY PROFESSOR | SEYMOUR EATON. | SEYMCUR EATON, INSTRUCTIVE | POPULAR STUDIES IN ness, anarchy and riot. A single example TN o i may serve (“Timon of Athens,” iv, 1.): READ‘ NG {R E | SHAKESPEARE e e it ViU Bl e = Pluck the grave-wrinkled senate from the e s 3 , bench, Aut : x x 1846-190 | Dow & i . Dr. Ham ilton | And minister In their steads! ar £ | V. Mabie, D ert S D ‘Hizam GCor- Bankrupts, hold fast; M October 16 | 56 Vida D. Scud- | Rather than render back, out with your knives Mor . D irsanyh joer and ¢ | And cut ,\'(\uy",‘lrun:‘:r’ r::r;va: ! Dannlar Stndies i A RE| =, e At L Popular Studies in Shakespeare, |- HOW X0 STUDY SHAKESRR YRR/ scwi, i, be, g, pecs, i, oy s Fick | e Is approaching | Instrution. mann mysteries and trades, 08 N i t time. 1T he feels | Degreed, obs . customs and laws, 5 Great Artists. Confounding contraries, Dexlihe to yc And let confuston live It will be observed that piety and re- ligion are conceived quite in the old Ro- 1 spirit, primarily as the bonds which knit up the social fabric and preserve it to know what to do be- thr w ugh it is be- at to look for. It is a Jookixn avor to or Girls. tndies for Boys. 1 State from ruinous di; tegration.’ nother fine kLN assage, which every good citize: s tatesmen. rcaitats at least onte a year, is “Trollus & TR e & Compar: onsehold Economy. nation Meauro it is 2 100K- | he admittec s no be- UAKF ARF Haver in erywhera | TARL L contempt abble, the people he terms them. 1 e's > m: \i( up-bu. Hen. IV , 89-90): s is a 100KIng | ap havitat v and unsure utiful line, | “Hath be that buildeth on the vulgar heart Vit of tone: .- the questfon, Ag:\ln‘ “Antony and Cleopatra,” I, i, 2 best .ap- | 708.4)7 the qu n, What Our slippery people, o n Shakespeare? | Whose love is nev to the deserver irse, not attempt to enum- Tl his deserts are gs which one may rea- % 1. hich, | From ges it is clear that find in the he vials of his scorn such pas Shakespeare em) at the summit . lart of the rest of Italy. I TITIAN, THE NESTOR OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. BY ARTHUR LINCOLN JR., PH. D, FROTHINGHAM There ie very little mystery In Titian's He was the most finished embodiment of the sensuous aspect of the developed ren- nce of Italy. He was also, on account of his life of 9 vears, a living history of Venetian painting in its whole perfod of bloom. | the de He witn ed both the dawn and line of th golden age of the ren- itian's surroundings made him what he Before his day Venetian art had not yme into line with other Italian schools. | The cold, diplomatic, mercantile Venetians | had loved the gorseous side of the ancient | art of the Byzantine empire; they had not | felt the religlous emotions that accom- panied and made possible the Giottesque i Superb color and lack - of finner life characterized their school of painting until the middie of the fiftéenth century, only a generation before Titian’s birth. It was then that the Bel- lini family fmported into Venice some of the results of the study of the antique, of the science of perspective and of the hu- man form and character, that had. been transformirg the Tuscan school of the ly renaissance. Still, even under Bel- lini, the Venetian school maintained a dis- tinet individuality, due to the character of the people and the atmosphere of the la- THE WORLD'S GREAT ARTISTS. | i | most life and practical unanimity as to his art, | THE WORLD’S GREAT ARTISTS. (Copyrighted, 189, by Seymour Eaton.) THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL'S HOME STUDY CIRCLE. SEYMOUR EATON. DIRECTED BY PROFESSOR hout the sensuality that had crept into s female figures. The bearded man in Munich, and _ especially the _superb “Young Man With the Glove” (Louvre), are the most exquisite of this class, the mpathetic of all the master’s por- traits. The famous “Flora” (Uffizi) still retains, with all its sensuousness, some of the poetry of the past. Titian ‘'soon substituted for the Gior- glonesque repose great vehemence of action and luxuriance of form. He shows it in his Bacchanalian series for the Duke of Ferrara, especially in the superp “Bac- chus and Ariadne” (National gallery), and in his great religious plcture notably his great altar piece in the Bell' Arti, the ssumption of the Virgin” where action runs riot. The rather theatrical tendency of these years (1518-30) is shown in_ his painting, “St. Sebastian” (1522), which Titian himself regarded at the time as his masterpiece; it reached its climax in_his favtyrdom of St. Peter Martyr’ (1530), which” was quite universally thought to be his greafest picture, and the first in- stance where the human figures were made subordinate to the landscape. In 1523 Titian secured a second powerful patron, Federigo Gonzaga, Duke of Man- tua, for whom he produced the masterly Sntombment” (Louvre), the portraits of the Duke and Duchess, the superb “Bel- la” (Pitt) and the “Venus” of the Uffizi, working steadily for the Duke until hi death in 1540. He increased his popularity at home by the spectacular altar plece at the Frari (1525) called the “Madonna di Casa Pesaro.” In 152 new period in Titian's life and art commenced through his association FROM THE STRATFORD PORTRAIT. as the Stratford portrait and presented in 1887 by W to the Birthplace Museum, where it is very prominently a the bust in the Stratford TITIAN, BY HIMSELF. if not of thejupon instability and infirmity of purpose ‘nt myself with [ with relation to the discharge of eivic du- - more obvious, if | ties, and that, like Dante, he regards repre funda- | vacillation as only one degree less despic- oet’s work and are | able than overt and flagrant iniquity sid- | 4. While it IS thus true that Shakespeare has for his characters a scaie of values and ne that, | recognizes a pantheon of v ues, {t must o of tho | be said, on the other hand, that there is ‘I am a man, and | an_excellence for which he has but scant seneath | and conventional appreciation. I refer to = broke | the virtue whi y reference to Shake- | God, as th v mentioned have to line as his | man or the 1gh he can at times he has | manifest tenderness and reverence in his e proper acred things (as, oy - 8. Hamlet,” T, i, 153164; TG 44), vet for rever- 10t approve r worship, for holiness of life, he uid not love n g I has but slight regard. The . he reve: amiabie friar in “Romeo and Juliet” by no means inspires unqualitie ambitious Gloucester, hard 111, is infinitely i the King Ric in his | ure for M has but stolen the livery | of the court of heaven to serve the devil { in. It is true that in this same play we | have mention of activ mpelled by ance Prayers from preserved so From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate | To noth temporal. but the character of Isabella must be re- arded as a quite excepti and 7 | Shakespeare could hardly have sympa- | thizea with the sentiment of Milton (*Par- | adise Lost,” 11, 603-6): plete Begin this Kkespeare. Count note their in- Judge not what is best By pleasure, though to nature seeming meet, at types they ! B ¥ pes reated as thou art to nobler end, i "‘;"‘ffd,"{f Holy and pure, conformity divine. ve in dif- | Shakespeare came between the earlier ages of fajth, with their exaltation of re- ligion, and the puritanism of the seven- teenth century. He finds the middle ages ow far they Wi that_you d about. When S z S ° | picturesque and despises the Puritans; he with half a dozen | B CiPee S hina ‘of the remaissance, and o b | s Kingdom is a kingdom of this world. o T atil. |, 5. While Shakespeare's prime interest i in humanity he yet an open eye for the terror, the majesty and the beauty of the physical universe and for the aspect of all things visible. Take but two filus- he man_who could this wor!d of human begun to fodnd & {rations—the one of the sun (“Richard 5] A Kespenre’s. bt 2 ARL- A%, Blo) when ILIX, LL. B "‘"“‘,,f‘,-‘fi‘.‘«.}‘v'}i'; From under the terrestrial ball &, i erpre(at! ops of the east . Th e EIGE, He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines; lower t the other of the winds (“2 Hen. IV, III, lower than |{ 9o4gy: ver at a loss | T his person-, who take the ruffian billows by the tops, in ‘spiritual their monstrous heads and hanging Curiing. them | With deafening clamor in the slippery clouds; or, if you wish another, add the picture afloat (“He V. III, prol. 7- But'in any case note how he person- how .he makes nature alive with Thou_strok would akespeare has definite views con- ng poetry, its nature and processes. he proclaims the office of poetry to i soften and refine (“Two Gentlemen of | Verona,” 111, ii, 72 ff.): to the fn- v «h springs, br |ue features fertile— Cursed be I that did so! | Much 4s the force of heaven-bred poesy. zome idea of s [For Ompheus' iute was strung with poets o r m all o sinews i frat was 1 e you [“mfsflb Solden touch could soften steel and sty me o | Make tigers tame and huge leviathans { Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. ent injust- | Again, he tells us what is the poet’s ma: | ter faéulty (“Midsummer Night's Dream, LV, £, 12-17): !'The poet's eye,.in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth_glance from heaven to earth, from earth | to heaven: 5 - | And, as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the Doet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing | A local habltation and a name. the island h we rese he suffer the peer of y make n find his wit tely diverting. of his even ¢ ) despise ou tion of hi now king indeed, ithuriel ‘and us i s for ou ome la £ the Hons: Epear o ! : n to the State. |in his t He affirms 2 deep and hard truth (“As ducation of Oitildren, 3. Shakespeare You Like It III; fli, 19): “The truest ' for the civic virtue poetry {s the most feighing.” He perceives ther the framework t | that art mav surpass nature (“Venus and s that he brands s | Adonis,” 289 fr.): rence all treachery, disloyal at- | fide, ‘all ruthless and insolent tyvranny | Look when a painter would surpass the life, Tl 1 partt Jome Study | 4nd all deliberate failure to co-operate in | _In limning out a well-proportioned steed. s and the the. Automn- ancement of e common weal. | His art with nature's workmanship of strife, Term are age booklet, every one of the more serious | A% If the dead the living should exceed. mely illus tch be malled n “ome of the comedies, will | S0 did this horse excel a common one free of charge o Juest 1are in prl‘rJG!. h"x e King { In shape, in courage, color, pace and bone, Q . zes filial ingratitude; in | 4 1n tn 117 \ / 1 zicide and oppression; in n the perplexed question concerning specim: Now and again the whole THE AN FRANCISCO CALL, A tempest of his eloquence is poured out in Call Building - - - - » San Francisco, a tiood on the unsoclal vices, on lawless- (Continued in Column Seven, Page Two.) i goons; 1t still relied upon color rather than upon drawing; on an appeal to the senses rather than to the intellect; on texture rather than action. But the Bel- linl were still essentially devoted to reli- ious or historic art. They swere not destined to be frankly psychological and to embody in paint the dreaminess of th sea haze, the intangible phases of the landscape, the sensuous delight of drift- ing on the lagoons by night, the content that comes from ignoring the conscience and opening the arms to all physical de- lights. This was reserved for their suc- cessors. Titian was born in 1477 of the noble Ve- cellf family, at Pleve di Cadore, in the Alpine region north of Venice.. At the age of 9 or 10 he was brought to study painting, first in the studio of the Mosaicist Zucecato, and later under the gentle Bellini. He finally appears to have passed into the extensive workshop of Giovanni Bellini, who for many years had been and was long after to remain the supreme ruler of Venetian painting. But_the impress that young Titian Te- cefved from these last representatives of the early renaissance was neither strong nor lasting, for his spirit was that of the new age and his fellowship with the young men waiting, like himself, for a leader to r. Such a leader came in Giorgione, uous poet-painter, the dreamer of no older than Titlan, but with the of intuition, of genius, which he lacked. The two young men became close associates under Giorgione’s material as well as ideal guidance. It is at times as difficult to distinguish the contemporary works of these two young artists as those of the famous Greek sculptors, Scopas and Praxiteles, so deeply had Titian be- come impregnated from the stronger spirit. .The association lasted until Gior- glone's death; the artistic dependence never quite ended. Titian was slow in attaining fame. Not until his rtieth year, in I when he ed Giorgione in decorating the pal- alled Fondaco del Tedeschi, does he to have acquifed an independent On Glejgione’'s premature seem reputation. i death, in 1510, Titian c@mpléted a number of his friend’s unfinished pictures. Almost immediately he received his first impor- tant ipdependent commission, for a se- ries of sixteen frescoes in the Scuola del Santo at Padua. He failed to show in them any special proficitncy in the style of grand compos / A glance at what is known of Titian's pictures up to this time shows but few landmarks. The “Man of Sorrow (S. Rocco, Venice) typifles his study under Bellini; the “Zingareila’” Virgin (Vienna), the beginning of Glorgione's influence in about 1500, with the added earthiness that was Titian's, while the “Pope Alexander VI Presenting a Bishop to St. Peter” (Antwerp), painted toward 150: shows that Giorgione's Influence was not yet compiete and also marks the first step in his series of great portraits. All litian's works up to about 1305 are religious sub- jects, not varying fundamentally from the Bellini and Cima type, but, soon after, Titlan, under Giorglone’s guldance, enter- ed the énchanted sphere of poetic alle- gory, where, unlike religious art, there was no tradition to prevent a mm;;)me]y original treatment. However graceful are Titian's worl#s at this time, such as the “Baptism of Christ’” in Rome (Capitol), he is not yet a master. He “finds” him- self, though still in a Giorgione garb, in the two allegories called *“The Three Ages” and the famous “Sacred and Pro- fane Love,” probably painted just before Giorgione's death. Even in" his early treatment of these themes the aroma of Giorgione's poetry has evaporated. It is true that the sensuousness has not vet, as it will later, lapse into complete sensual- ity, but Titian already Shows in the *Pro. fane Love” his delight in the splendors of the female form. After his Paduan work Titian signal- ized his return to Venice by a superh “'St. Mark Enthroned Among Saints” (1512), and then, aspiring to a more public rec- ognition of his position, he began, in 1513 an attempt to dispossess of his monopoly the aged monarch, Giovanni Bellini. Ti- tian's appointment as state painter help- ed to procure him the favor of his first zreat art patron, Alfonso d'Este, Onke of Ferrara, for whom he painted religious, allegorical and mythological subjects, as Well as portraits, for many years. The famous “Christ and the Tribute Money" in Dresden was painted for him. Titian's male portraits at this time still. had the gentle, poetic melancholy of Giorgione, Venice to | with the notorious Pietro Aretino, the most corrupt man ‘of a corrupt age, and with all his high connections and wealth the champion blackmailer of history During his stay in Venice he found T tian’s talents useful and so helped him to the favor of various Italian potentates, and especially of Charles V of Spain. Ti. tian was' perniciously -and permanentl affected by Aretino In his art and charac- ter, learning to fawn on the great and to worship money in & way unworthy of the dignity of a great artist, and learning es- pecially to prostitute his art. During this period of his middle life Titian painted little more than portraits, often flatter- ing, and alluring nudes for his princely patrons. He showed himself wiiling to paint without seeing his model, as in his portrait of Francis L. and to give to a woman of &0 the semblance of 20, as in the case of Eleanora Gonzaga. Prominent at this time is his portrait of ‘‘Hyppolito de Medicl” (Pitti), when Titian’s own ex- periences helped him to portray the un- scrupulous, cruel, shifty type. A worthy mate to it the portrait of “‘Pietro Are- tino” (Pitti) himself. Ten years after-the “St. Peter Martyr” Titian produced another great religlous picture, the “Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple,” which In its harmonious and spectacular composition served with the “Ecce Homo"” as a model to other Venetian masters, such as Tintoretto, and never surpas<ed by them. The prince- ly house of ¥Farnese succeeded (1542) the Gonzagas as Titian's patrons, and as Pope Paul 111 was a Farnese, Titian S thus for the first time brought into close con- nection with the papal court. The painter finally, when nearly 70 years old, trav- eled beyond the limits of Northern Italy and went to Rome. There he met the Titian Michelangelo. The two artists rep- resented not merely an artistic opposition —of design versus color—but an opposition of character. Michelangelo was typically strong, independent, puritanic; Titian was supple, fawning, luxurious. There could be no sympathy or understanding. From the earlier Florentine masters with whom Titian then became a little better ac- quainted, he received something; at least. it appears as if Verrocchio were not for- eign to his “John the Baptist”” (Venice) nor Raphael to his celling picture of “Wisdom" (8. Marco), nor even Michelan- gelo to his “Adam and Eve” (Madrid), all of which he painted after his visit to Rome and Florcnce. Not long after Titian made an even greater journey, to the court of Charles V at Augsburg, where he painted one of his most consummate masterpieces, the equestrian portrait of “Charles V at the Battle of Muhlberg” (Madrid)., Titlan had now for several years reached the summit of his ambitions. He was the favorite of popes and emperors and feared no rival. Yet he never ceased from nagging for money and from sending unordered pic- tures in_hopes of being well paid. After the death of Charles V Titian was in high favor with Phlllg II, whom he had more than once painted while he was yvet prince. Perhaps it was the influence of Spanish fanaticism gradually creeping over him, perhaps It was the advance of old age, but Whatever the reason may be we see Titian gradually returning to religious _scenes and treating them with less. triviality and less brutality. At the same time he does not so often treat nude figures and myth- ological scencs. Aretino was dead; neo- catholicism was supreme. The “‘Christ Crowned With Thorns™ (Munich) and the “Pieta” (Venice, Bell’ Arti), on which the master was engaged at the time of his death, are good examples of this kind of pseudo-religious hysteria that formed quite a lengthy prelude to his death in 1576, during the great plague. The significance of Titian’s art lies not in drawing or comhposition, but in color- ing. His drawing was indifferent, though Michelangelo regarded 4t as defective. His ability to compose, at first decidedly sec- ond-rate, became excellent, but his large compositions never were his most char- acteristic pieces—as compositions. Neith- er is Titlan suggestive and inspiring in the theme or the inner life of his pic- tures, as are so many other great Italian artists. The delight he does give us— speaking of a person thoroughly pass judgment upon the work ticular department of art. A ma ing a specialty of collecting r and who is considered from ent to pass upon a p ba a_connolsseur in Wi . stic—This word is no used. The noun is altruism elfishness. Any movement ha |end the good of others may be truistic. ste_this word in your newspape (Copyrighted, 1399, THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL'S HOME STI DESK STUDIES ,FOR GIRLS. THEM. Keep_a common writing pad on your desk. When you hear a new word whi interests you or when you come acro one in your reading jot it down. Take time to look up its meaning. Frame te in which this word is used correct] corporate it into your own vocabulary using it in your conversation the first chance you get, not in an affec way, but as part of your everyday speech. You must learn to distinguish ~between words suitable for conversation and words which are better adapted to the printed page. Conyersational speech has sounl and feeling. Written speech may be technical. scientific, exact; the meaning Is conveyed wholly by s. while in conversation the meaning is conveyved in part by the gesture, the voice. and the personality of the speaker. Take the following twelve words for your first lesson and add a dozen more of your own choosing during the week: Resume—This Is & French word which has come Into common use. It is pronounced ¥ zsu-may, with accent upon first and last lables. t means a summary, a summing. up, a condensed account. We ¥ that a par- ticular magazine or paper gives a good resume of current events. Connoisseur--Pronounced -seur, with the A connoisser 1s a critical ju person who competent to pa: thing The word and magazine reading. You are sure to meet it. Ghetto—The name Ghetto | of a city or town formes as in Rome or Fr: nt this name is a synonym for narter.” Measures are r: or directly op onplace meth: is the given to the par rt for ti lical when they a 1 to A man extrer or o when m he is. opposite and methods in poli his_ides and social affairs. The rad from all_traditions and establi Salon—Pronounced sah-long. e liable accented. An apartment in w pany is to receive; hence, a fa reception or gathering. The name specifically_appled to periodic socfal In Paris. The name is also applied to th nual exhibition in Paris of works of living artists Bohemian—A person, especially an artist or lterary man, who leads a free life, ing little regard to what society he frequents and despising the conventional. One who prefers adventure and speculation to settled industry and who doed not work well in the harness of ordinary life. This word is pretty used in America as the opposite tional. The bohemian's dress and habits and dinners and pleasures are not always in har- mony with the rules or customs of society. Personality—A man’'s personality Is that SEYMOU I. NEW WORDS AND_ HOW TO USE | DESK STUDIES FOR GIRLS. by Seymour Eaton.) ‘DY CIRCLE. DIR R EATON ECTED BY PROFESSOR ] which pertains to his person, | eharacterize | person. Pers a man of good address dressed and of courteous, speech. A man of pleasing personality is a man the goodness of whose character impresses one immediately. A man of strong personality s & man with strong and effective power ot will. Bourgeots—Pronounced vord 18 commonly ned or uncultured. (boor- the things which a man who is well free and gentlemanly boor-zhwah. This used in the semse of unre- In France the name bour. hwah-ze) ie used to designate the middle or artisan class as distinguished from the aristocracy nd stiff as If on stilts; 1sed in the sense of mechans as, a stilted walk: a stilted speech. tice of conduet- The name 1s nse of tact, or of anagement of men. an s diplomatic when he ex- Jgment and a cautious policy | in securing the co-operation of other men. The word politic is very similar in meaning, but refers more to_careful personal relations ourced ren-nay-sahns. This birth, a revival or resur- plied specially to the period of awakening in arts and letters during the last Diplomac i gotiations ed generally in the ity and skill in the ¥ that a ercises keen | centuries of the dark ages. The renaissance began in Italy in the fourteenth century and sbread gradvally over Western Europs. The name is applied also to the art and architec- ture which bel t period of histo # “The rena vie of buflding and decoration succee. the gothic and sought | to reproduce the forms of classical ornamen- | tation."” | _This series will be continued next week, | Let us turn now to a few suggestions and | cautions which will aid us in our written speech. When we speak of pure aff, pure watet or pure gold we mean air, gold or water that S 2l ared of all extraneous matter. Similarly, when we speak of gura language we mean language that has been cleared of all extraneous words and phrases. The dross of language consists of vulgarisms, words and phrases that hould be avoided even in conversation— uch as “kid” for child, “kick the bucket, “vou bet,” etc.: colloquialisms, words and Jhrases admissible in conversation, but 3 iitable for written composition, such for i nt, ‘‘sat upon” for cen- Colloquialisms when used at per time and place may give force to conversation. A celloquial- h may be quite proper in the peech of one person may be wholly out )i place in the speech of another; provin- cialisms, words confined to some particu- larfprov » or locality; oBsolete words, n words which have not been incor- porated into our language; newly coined words. We must not rid our speech of all its spice and ginger and snap, but it must be remembered that these qualities eannot be introduced by merely. Lan- guage is simply the wire which carries the message. Propriety of language means the using of words (1) in their proper senses, (2) in proper connections. Any sense or_connec- tion of words ma considered proper that has the concurrent authority of standard writers wi haye lived near enough to our own time to be regarded as safe guides for present usage. We shall | take up for our lesson next week a few | common improprieties of speech. SHOP AND TRADE STUDIES FOR BOYS. I. ARITHMETIC OF THE WORK- SHOP. ung men beginning the should have a knowledge arithmetic as far as common known as long, work of this, of elementary fractions, including tables square and cuble measures. Lesson No. 1. Lengths or_distances are measured by the foot, yard or mile. Land is measured by the chain, which consists of 100 links and is 22 yards long. Areas are measured by the square foot, square vard or square mile. Solids are measured by the cubic inch, cubic foot or cubic yard. A foot of lumber is a Soliu containing 144 cubic inches. A piece of board a foo square and an inch thick is said to be a board foot. If cut into four equal piece so as to make a block 6 inches square and 4 inches thick it is still a board foot. To find the solid contents of such a block we iply the length and breadth and together, that is 6x6x4, which gives us 144. The student will note, then, that a foot of lumber is 144 cubic inches of lumber, no matter what shape the wood may be. In the following exercises only flat sur- taces are considered. All the boards may be taken as only one inch thick: 1. How many feet of lumber in an inch board $ feet long by § inches wide? A 8 e ° and these are placed on top of each other | 'SHOP AND TRADE si_@iéé}bk BOYS. How } built around a field 60 rods by 40 rods, rod is much lumber will it take? (Note—A feet.) How many s are inches are there on ths i es of a rd which is 7 feet 3 Inches | long by 2 feet 2 ir s wide? 5, A square vard is cut from-acboard 15 feet Pz and 18 inches wide. Find the length of | the remainder. 7. A board built around a railway feet, If the lumber is many feet i& will 2 two sid platform 18 feet wide i8 to be station 30 feet by 60 e 1 inch thick how it ake? 8. An advertising sign 100 feet long by 20 feet high is made of inch- lumber costing $30 a thousand feet. Find the value of the lum- ber in the sign. 9. A walnut board is 10 feet long by 1S inches wide. How many feet and inches of the length must be cut off to make 41, board feet? : < | =] 2. A floor Is the shape of the above diagram. AB Is 42 feet and AC 36 feet. It has an ele vator shaft 8 feet by 10 feet in the center. Find the cost at 5 cents a foot of the inch lumber necessary to cover the remaindgr of the floor. 3. How many feet of lumber in a board 13 feet 6 Inches long by 16 inches wide? 0 rods 40 rod> 4. A tight board fence € feet high is to be | 10. Find the value of the inch lumber at 6%4 | cents a foot in a platform of the shape shown in the diagram, considering that each arm of the cross (AB or CD) is 18 feet long and & | feet wide. , | HINTS AND ANSWERS. Lesson No. 1. (1) 4 feet. The hoard is 9 inches by 6 inches. 96x6 divided by 144 equals i. (2) $7160. The area of the whale floor is 2 square feet and the area of the elevator ce Is 80 square feet. There are therefore feet to be covered and each square foot resents a board foot. (3) 18 feet. (4) 19,500 feet. (5) 4524 square inches. (6) 12 feet. A «quare yard contains 9 times 144, or 128 squars nches, " This divided by I8 inches (the breadth) gives 72 inches (the length). If § feet are cut 12 feet will remain. (7) 4176 feet. The platform in a straight line would be 232 feet long by 18 feet wide. (S5) $§0. (9) 3 feet. It is necessary to cut off §48 square inches (i'z | square feet). A surface 36 inches long by 13 inches wide equals 648 square inches. (1) $11 70, L Note—Lessons in drawing, office arith- metic and business records will follow the lessons in *‘Arithmetic of the Workshop.”™ THE CALL’S Home Study Instruction Course Will prove of int erest and benefit to people in all walks of life. often but not always—is almost purely through the color sense; in the landscape, the atmosphere, the combinations and gradations of tone, the play of light, the inwardness of color. He shows extreme reticence for a Venetian in producing his (Continued in Column Seven, Page Two.) Bankers, Lawyers, Merchants, - Are all equally interested. Mechanics, Educators, Studenis Please interest your friends in the Home Study Circle.