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1535.] perfect powers by the English archbishops, could be resisted successfully under pleas of exemption and obedience to the rules of the orders. Thus the abbeys had gone their own way, careless of the gathering indignation with which they were regarded by the people, and believing that in their position they held a sacred shield which would protect them for ever. In them, as throughout the Catholic system, the sadness of the condition into which they had fallen, was enhanced by the contrast between the theory and the degenerate reality. Originally, and for many hundred years after their foundation, the regular clergy were the finest body of men of which mankind in their chequered history can boast. They lived to illustrate, in systematic simplicity, the universal law of sacrifice. In their three chief vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, they surrendered everything which makes life delightful. Their business on earth was to labour and to pray: to labour for other men's bodies, to pray for other men's souls. Wealth flowed in upon them; the world, in its instinctive loyalty to greatness, laid its lands and its possessions at their feet; and for a time was seen the notable spectacle of property administered as a trust, from which the owners reaped no benefit, except increase of toil. The genius of the age expended its highest efforts to provide fitting


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300 tabernacles for the divine spirit which they enshrined; and alike in village and city, the majestic houses of the Father of mankind and his especial servants towered up in sovereign beauty, symbols of the civil supremacy of the Church, and of the moral sublimity of life and character which had won the homage and the admiration of the Christian nations. Ever at the sacred gates sat Mercy, pouring out relief from a never-failing store to the poor and the suffering; ever within the sacred aisles the voices of holy men were pealing heavenwards, in intercession for the sins of mankind; and influences so blessed were thought to exhale around those mysterious precincts, that the outcasts of society—the debtor, the felon, and the outlaw—gathered round the walls, as the sick men sought the shadow of the apostle, and lay there sheltered from the avenging hand till their sins were washed from off their souls. Through the storms of war and conquest the abbeys of the middle ages floated, like the ark upon the waves of the flood, inviolate in the midst of violence, through the awful reverence which surrounded them.

The soul of 'religion,' however, had died out of it for many generations before the Reformation. At the close of the fourteenth century, Wyeliffe had cried that the rotting trunk cumbered the ground, and should be cut down. It had not been cut down; it had been allowed to stand for a hundred and fifty more years; and now it was indeed plain that it could remain no

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/


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 To preserve Seville Oranges liquid as also Lemons.

Take the best Seville oranges and pare them very neatly, put them into salt and water for about two hours; boil them very tender, till a pin will go into them easily, then drain them well from the water and put then into your preserving pan, putting as much clarified sugar to them as will cover them, laying a trencher or plate on them to keep them down; set them over a fire, and by degrees heat them till they boil; let them have a quick boil, till the sugar comes all over them in a froth; then set them by till next day, when you must drain the syrup from them, and boil it till it becomes very smooth, adding some more clarified sugar; put it upon the oranges, and give them a boil, and set them by till next day, when you must do as they day before. The fourth day drain them, and strain your syrup through a bag, and boil it till it becomes very smooth; then take some other clarified sugar, boil it till it blows very strong, and take some jelly of pippins, as will hereafter be expressed, with the juice of some other oranges; after they are preserved as above directed, take two


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Rh 7. The door-keeper went to look for Raikva, but returned saying, 'I found him not.' Then the king said: 'Alas! where a Brâhmana should be searched for (in the solitude of the forest), there go for him.'

8. The door-keeper came to a man who was lying beneath a car and scratching his sores. He addressed him, and said: 'Sir, are you Raikva with the car?'

He answered: 'Here I am.'

Then the door-keeper returned, and said: I have found him.'

1. Then Gânasruti Pautrâyana took six hundred cows, a necklace, and a carriage with mules, went to Raikva and said:

2. 'Raikva, here are six hundred cows, a necklace, and a carriage with mules; teach me the deity which you worship.'

3. The other replied: 'Fie, necklace and carriage be thine, O Sûdra, together with the cows.'

Then Gânasruti Pautrâyana took again a thousand cows, a necklace, a carriage with mules, and his own daughter, and went to him.

4. He said to him: 'Raikva, there are a thousand cows, a necklace, a carriage with mules, this wife, and this village in which thou dwellest. Sir, teach me!' 5. He, opening her mouth, said: 'You have


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58 brought these (cows and other presents), O Sûdra, but only by that mouth did you make me speak." These are the Raikva-parana villages in the country of the Mahâvrishas (mahâpunyas) where Raikva dwelt under him . And he said to him:

1. 'Air (vâyu) is indeed the end of all. For when fire goes out, it goes into air. When the sun goes down, it goes into air. When the moon goes down, it goes into air.

2. 'When water dries up, it goes into air. Air indeed consumes them all. So much with reference to the Devas.

3. 'Now with reference to the body. Breath (prâna) is indeed the end of all. When a man sleeps, speech goes into breath, so do sight, hearing, and mind. Breath indeed consumes them all.

4. 'These are the two ends, air among the Devas, breath among the senses (prâna).'

5. Once while Saunaka Kâpeya and Abhipratârin Kâkshaseni were being waited on at their meal, a religious student begged of them. They gave him nothing.

6. He said; 'One god— who is he?— swallowed the four great ones, he, the guardian of the world.


text:
Thanksgiving (Coates, "Now gracious plenty rules the board")

 * Coates, Florence Earle (1905), "Thanksgiving" in Scribner's Magazine (November 1905).
 * Coates, Florence Earle (1909), "Thanksgiving" in Lyrics of Life (1909).
 * Coates, Florence Earle (1916), "Thanksgiving" in Poems II.


text:
User:Solerus

Hallo, ich bin Solerus aus Wien.
Mein Heim-Wiki ist WPDE (dewiki); dort kannst mehr über mich erfahren unter Solerus

Mein Single-User-Login (SUL) lautet ebenfalls auf Solerus

Hi, I'm Solerus from Vienna.
I am at home on WPDE(dewiki); there You may visit me under Solerus to get more information.

My Single-User-Login (SUL) is also Solerus.

CU, Solerus, September 21, 2012

title: User:Solerus


text: The Coming Colony/Chapter 10

title: The Coming Colony/Chapter 10


text: The Coming Colony/Chapter 11

title: The Coming Colony/Chapter 11


text: The Coming Colony/Chapter 12

title: The Coming Colony/Chapter 12


text: The Coming Colony/Chapter 13

title: The Coming Colony/Chapter 13


text: The Coming Colony/Chapter 14

title: The Coming Colony/Chapter 14


text: The Coming Colony/Chapter 15

title: The Coming Colony/Chapter 15


text: The Coming Colony/Chapter 16

title: The Coming Colony/Chapter 16


text: The Coming Colony/Chapter 17

title: The Coming Colony/Chapter 17


text: The Coming Colony/Chapter 18

title: The Coming Colony/Chapter 18


text: The Coming Colony/Chapter 19

title: The Coming Colony/Chapter 19


text: The Coming Colony/Chapter 20

title: The Coming Colony/Chapter 20


text: The Coming Colony/Chapter 21

title: The Coming Colony/Chapter 21


text: The Coming Colony/Chapter 22

title: The Coming Colony/Chapter 22


text: The Coming Colony/Appendix A

title: The Coming Colony/Appendix A


text: The Coming Colony/Appendix B

title: The Coming Colony/Appendix B


text: The Coming Colony/Appendix C

title: The Coming Colony/Appendix C


text: The Coming Colony/Appendix D

title: The Coming Colony/Appendix D


text: The Coming Colony/Appendix E

title: The Coming Colony/Appendix E


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 But ‘Rule Britannia’, which appeared in its first form in the ‘Alfred’ of 1740, although ascribed to Mallet, is probably by Thomson. In the Advertisement to the masque, in the edition of his works published in 1759, Mallet, with studied vagueness and perhaps with some insincerity, says: ‘I was obliged to reject a great deal of what I myself had written in the other: neither could I retain, of my friend’s part, more than three or four single speeches, and a part of one song.’ A collation of the versions, in the light of that statement, may appear to favour Mallet’s claims; but to this, at best an inference, is opposed the fact that the song appeared during his lifetime with Thomson’s name affixed (The Charmer, 2nd edit. Edinb. 1752, p. 130).

Besides the works mentioned above, Mallet published a collection of ‘Poems on Several Occasions’ in 1743, and a second under the same title in 1762, and. at Smollett’s request, he contributed to the ‘Critical Review’ (, p. 46). A collected edition of ‘The Works of D. Mallet, Esq.’ appeared in 3 vols. in 1759. His poems have been reprinted by Johnson (vol. liii.), Bell (vol. lxxiii.), Anderson (vol. ix.), Park (vol. xxix.), and Chalmers (vol. xiv.) An annotated edition of his ‘Ballads and Songs,’ by F. Dinsdale, was published in 1857.

MALLET, LOUIS (1823–1890), civil servant and economist, was descended from a Huguenot family which left Rouen in 1558 because of religious persecution, and settled in Geneva, where they soon attained a position of importance in the republic. His grandfather was the celebrated publicist, Mallet du Pan, who had settled in Paris as a journalist, but was forced in 1798 to seek a refuge in England from the storms of the French revolution. His correspondence has been lately republished under the auspices of M. Taine. Louis Mallet’s father, John Lewis Mallet, was well known to Pitt, and owing to Pitt’s influence became a clerk in the audit office soon after 1800. Louis’s mother was Frances, daughter of John Merivale of Barton Place, Exeter. Born in London on 14 March 1823, he entered the public service in 1839 as a clerk in the audit office. In 1847 he was transferred to the Board of Trade, where he soon attained the post of private secretary to the president. In this capacity he served (afterwards Lord Taunton) [q. v.], 1848–52, and, 1855–7. It was not until 1860 that a chance of distinction offered itself, which his economic studies and financial ability enabled him to turn to account. In that year he was appointed one of the assistant commissioners under [q. v.] for drawing up the tariff in accordance with the articles of the treaty of commerce with France, which had provided merely that no duty should exceed thirty per cent. ad valorem. The work of the commissioners was therefore very important and laborious; upon its success depended that of the treaty, and Mallet, in the course of his negotiations, soon impressed Cobden with his ‘strong intelligence and efficiency.’ The extension of commercial treaties throughout Europe, the policy of which, though never frankly accepted by the liberal party, Mallet strenuously advocated, gave him incessant employment at the board of trade until April 1865. From that date till September 1867 he was employed in the negotiations connected with the signature of the treaty with Austria. In 1866 he was made a C.B. and in 1868 he was knighted.

The death of Cobden in 1865 left him the principal authority on questions of commercial policy, and the chief official representative of free trade opinion. He had unfortunately little time for extra official work, but he contributed occasionally to the publications of the Cobden Club (see below) and at a later date he assisted Mr. John Morley in preparing the ‘Life of Cobden.’ In 1872 he retired from the board of trade, but was almost immediately nominated (August 1872) by the Duke of Argyll to the council of India in London. Two years later (February 1874) he succeeded his cousin, [q. v.], as permanent under-secretary for India. In 1875–6 an official visit to India, unfortunately cut short by illness, enabled him to obtain some practical insight into Indian problems. His work at the India office was of great importance and utility. In the controversy which ended in giving to India


text: Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Haldeman, Samuel Stehman


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Rh relics are thrown up. Probably no city in the world now inhabited, has so many relics of ancient days buried beneath it. The accumulation of centuries has gradually raised the surface of the whole city, and buildings erected a hundred or two hundred years since have lost the whole, or a portion of their lower stories, in many instances. At the residence of Mr. Hammekin, Calle Independencia, No. 1, which comprises a portion of the old Convent of San Francisco, I was shown a well twelve feet in depth, the bottom of which is what was formerly the surface of the ground in the patio, and the marks of old stair-cases, etc., etc., on the walls of the lower story, show that the filling in to bring it to the present level of the streets, could not be less than six to twelve feet.

Señor Altamirano, the best Aztec scholar living, claims that the proof is conclusive that the Aztecs did not come here from Asia, as has been almost universally believed, but were a race originated in America and as old as the Chinese themselves, and that China may even have been peopled from America. He points out on their old maps and charts, various things which Humboldt misunderstood and by which he was led into error, and demonstrates that the Aztecs, indeed, occupied Arizona in the fifteenth century as Humboldt supposed, but only as a colony sent out from the Valley of Mexico—not as a people making a temporary halt on a long march in search of a new home. If he is correct—and I think he is—extensive excavations in the "made land" of Mexico, would result in interesting revelations.

I had often heard the great National Monte de Piedad of Mexico, spoken of in terms of unqualified


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334 praise, before my coming to the country, and it was therefore, with not a little pleasure that I accepted the kind invitation of the director, Señor Don Francisco De P. Cendejas, to inspect it in all its details, and accompanied my kind friend Colonel Enrique A. Mejia, to the place.

This great establishment was founded, not as a matter of speculation, but as an act of practical Christian charity, by Pedro Romero de Torres Count de Regla, who on the 2d day of June 1774, gave three hundred thousand dollars in coin, for a perpetual fund for loans, and himself wrote out the rules and regulations under which, with some modifications, it is conducted to this day.

The object of the pious and philanthropic founder, was to provide the poor and temporarily needy, with a place where they could deposit whatever they might have of valuables in safety, and obtain upon them an advance in coin, at such a rate of interest as would not put it out of their power to reclaim them; thus protecting them, effectually, from the rapacity of the proprietors of the old-fashioned pawn-broker's shops; and how well he succeeded the present condition of the institution testifies.

The Spanish Vice Rey of Mexico, designated for the use of the institution, the great and magnificent house erected by Hernando Cortez for his own use, immediately after the conquest, and into which he built the great cedar beam found in possession of the Aztecs, which was regarded, for its immense size, as a curiosity in its day, comparable with the great trees of California in ours, with a certain amount of religious veneration thrown in. That beam nearly cost him


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Rh his position, in spite of all he had done for the glory of God in the way of butchering Indians, and the honor and aggrandizement of the Kingdom of Spain, in acquiring by fraud and violence the mighty dominion of Mexico. It is still sound, and uninjured by time, though it has been removed to the Museum as a public curiosity, and no longer occupies its old place in the structure.

The building fronts upon the grand plaza, opposite the great cathedral of Mexico, and is almost in the exact condition to-day in which it was left, when its great founder died, more than three hundred years ago. The same cedar beams support the roofs of all the grand halls and corridors, and the hideous heads, sculptured by his command and placed in his presence over the doors and windows, still look down on the visitor with their derisive grin, as they did before the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock. The very staircases, with steps cut from great blocks of fine-grained lava from Popocatepetl, which he ascended, are ascended by the visitor to-day; and in the great patio you walk over the flag-stones trod many a time, and oft, by the grandest fillibuster and most pious and heroic butcher of all time.

On the 25th of February 1775, this great establishment was solemnly dedicated to the honor of God and the good of mankind, and thrown open to the public. From that day to this it has never been closed, and its business has continued uninterruptedly, though earthquakes have shaken its walls, though men and kingdoms have passed away, and the whole political and social aspect of the world has changed. Revolution after revolution has culminated in the grand plaza in front, or the palace beyond; but within its thick and solid


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336 walls, all has been quiet; and silently and undisturbed, the work planned by its founder, has gone on day by day, as it will go on years on years after the writer, and the reader of to-day, shall have been forgotten.

I can conceive of no more perfect system for the protection of the interest of the borrower, than that upon which this institution is operated to-day; and I wish it were possible for us to establish such a bank in every city in the United States.

You—no my friend, some other man—must raise funds to meet a temporary—it is to be hoped—emergency. A watch, or diamond ring, or some other valuable is offered as security at the Nacional Monte de Piedad. Two valuators are called on to pass upon it. They make their estimates, separately, and then on comparison of the two, the medium is adopted. On diamonds and other precious stones, and similar articles of unchanging value, the bank will loan up to seven-eighths of the agreed valuation, and on articles of less determined and permanent value, a lesser sum, according to circumstances; the average being much more than could be obtained on the same articles in the United States, by a stranger, at an ordinary pawnbrokers.

The interest varies, according to the time on which the loan is made, and the amount. The lowest rate is about three per cent., and the average nine and three-quarter per cent, per annum, on all the transactions of the institution. You—no, our friends—borrow money for a year, and can pay interest on the loan and have it carried on for any number of years, if desired.

When interest is no longer paid, the article pawned is kept in the vaults for seven months, and then taken out and passed into the hands of the official valuator


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Rh who estimates its market value, and places the figures upon the ticket. From his hands, it passes into the sales-room, where it is exposed for sale for one month, at the price fixed by the valuator. If not sold at that sum during the month, it is again re-valued, the price being reduced, and again placed on sale for a month. And so on for five months. If at the end of a year from its forfeiture, or five months from its first exposure for sale, it still remains unsold, it is offered at public auction, and if it fails to bring as much as the loan and interest, the public valuator must refund to the bank the amount of the deficit, from his own purse.

If, on the other hand,—as is generally the case—it brings more than the amount due the bank, then the surplus is placed on deposit to the credit of the party who obtained the loan, and it remains subject to his order, or the order of " his heirs, executors, administrators and assigns," for one hundred years. If it is not claimed within the century, it is reasonably supposed that the depositor has died intestate, or moved to some other locality, and the money belongs to the bank. The centenial anniversary of the foundation of the establishment is now near at hand, and after that there will be many such sums forfeited annually.

Three sets of books are kept, viz., those of the "Contadurin" "Depositarin" and "Tesoreria" and the ticket must exactly agree with, and the article be identified from each, before it can be given up or disposed of. The smallest sum loaned is one dollar, and the largest four thousand dollars; but it is now intended to change the law so as to admit of loans being made up to ten thousand dollars. No loans are made upon real estate or any kind of goods not deposited in the vaults. The


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Rh It was with a feeling as of one coming forth from the tombs of the dead past, that I emerged from this cave of weird enchantment, and stood once more in the cheerful sunlight of day, while the great iron door closed with a clang, behind us.

In the sales department I noticed an article of some value, which I desired for a present to one of the dearest of friends, and offered to buy at the price fixed. The salesman gravely held it up, and asked if anybody present would pay more, explaining that the law required him to do so; and no one responding, it was wrapped up and handed to me. Then we went into the parlor, where Cortez received and entertained his guests, drank a glass of the bright, yellow wine of old Spain from Parisian glasses with the Director, Señor Cendejas, bade good bye to one of the most interesting localities I have ever visited in my life, and strolled out upon the Plaza to look on the richly-clad women of Mexico with prayer books in their hands, walking with grave, decorous silence towards the great Cathedral; and the thousands of ragged bare-footed Indians, from villages twenty-five, fifty, or a hundred miles away, bearing great burthens on their backs, as they trudged patiently along, on their annual pilgrimage to the shrine of their adored Saint and Holy Mother and protector of their race, the Virgin of Guadaloupe.


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HE story of the apparition,—or rather—numerous apparitions of the Virgin Mary, commonly known by the appellation of the "Virgin of Guadaloupe," in December, 1531, immediately after the conquest of Mexico, to the Indian convert, Juan Diego, and the subsequent erection of the church of that name on the spot, has been often told by historians and travelers, and I need not again relate it in detail.

Suffice it then to say, that on the 12th of December 1531, the pious Juan Diego, praying by night on the volcanic hill of Guadaloupe, about three miles outside the north-eastern gate of Mexico, and some five miles from the grand plaza, saw the Virgin, clad in robes of wonderous splendor, with a face dark as that of the Indians, but radiant with a light not of earth, standing above in the air. She told him that in order to save the Indians of Mexico, and prove to them that she was indeed their Mother, she had appeared in this complexion, and desired him to go to the Bishop of Mexico and tell him that it was her wish, that in her honor a church should be erected at that point. He was so astonished at the apparition that he dropped his sombrero from his hand,—you can see the same old hat there now just as he dropped it—nevertheless, he rallied his wits, and talked back until he was satisfied that he had the full purport of the message, and then hurried off to the


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Rh Bishop's Palace and told the illustrious Señor Don Fray Juan Zumarraga, first Bishop of Mexico, what he had seen and heard.

The Bishop listened, but doubted. In sore trouble Juan Diego went back to the hill, and at its foot the Virgin again appeared to him, and repeated, in substance, her first message, adding, that the Holy Mother Church would never be blessed in Mexico, until the church was erected in her honor at the point she had indicated. A great, flowing well or spring of mineral water, dark and turbid, but excellent for scrofula and other diseases of the body and the soul, burst out from the rock where she stood this time, and it is flowing yet; I drank some of the water just three hundred and thirty-eight years, to a day, thereafter, and it did not make me seriously sick. He went back to the Bishop, and still the worthy prelate doubted.

A third time she appeared to him, and told him to carry, as a proof of his story, to the Bishop, a bunch of full-blown roses, such as do not bloom, even in Mexico, in midwinter. He wrapped them in his blanket and hurried to the Bishop. When the latter unrolled the bundle, and saw the roses, his unbelief was disturbed; but when the roses fell apart and disclosed a beautiful picture of the Holy Virgin, miraculously painted on the coarse cloth of the country, the dark face glowing with sacred light, he knew that the message was indeed of Heaven, and falling on his knees, he kissed the hem of her garment, and declared that the church should be erected as ordered.

When the Spaniards, under Cortez, escaped from Mexico on the Noche Triste, one of the soldiers dropped a rag-doll, or image, and on their return in triumph,


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344 they found it unharmed, and christened it "Our Lady of the Remedios." They built her a great church, and she was the patron saint of Mexico until the Guadaloupe arose to contest the devotion of the populace with her. The war was long and bitter, but the Indians outnumbered the Spaniards ten to one, though conquered, and they had not a single Indian saint in the calendar—they have not one to this day, though many saints have been canonized in Mexico—and a brown-skinned Virgin was something worth fighting for. The Guadaloupe triumphed, and to this day her shrine is sought annually by the Indians of all Central Mexico, while that of our Lady of the Remedios is almost deserted.

Subsequent to the third apparition, the Virgin of Guadaloupe appeared to others, and directed where each structure should be raised. On the top of the hill, where she first appeared to Juan Diego, they raised a magnificent chapel in her honor: at the foot of the hill where the spring burst out, they erected a chapel over the well, and a small but costly church in the rear; and where she delivered to him the roses inclosing the miraculous picture of herself, they built a church which, though despoiled of much of its former wealth of gold and silver, is still a mine of the precious metals, a marvel to visitors from all parts of the world, and in the eyes of the poor Indians of Mexico the holiest shrine on earth.

For two centuries, it was no uncommon thing for one hundred thousand people to be gathered in and around the church and chapels of Guadaloupe on the anniversary of her apparition to Juan Diego, and from the 1st to the 15th of December, the place was one of daily resort for thousands on thousands of devout worshipers. A


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 the benefit of free trade, in the abolition of the cotton duties, and the reconstruction of the whole customs tariff, Mallet’s was always the guiding hand. He was a steady advocate for the further employment of natives in the lower branches of the Indian services. From the time when, together with Lord Reay, he represented India at the monetary conference at Paris up to his appointment in May 1887 to the royal commission on the relative value of the precious metals, he was a strong bi-metallist, basing his views, not so much on the practical necessities of the Indian government, as on its logical and economic soundness. Mallet was also a royal commissioner on the laws relating to copyright in October 1875, for the Paris exhibition of 1878, and the London exhibition of 1878; while in March 1877 he was a commissioner to negotiate a new treaty of commerce with France.

Mallet retired from the India office, owing to failing health, on 29 Sept. 1883. The value of his forty years of public service was acknowledged by his admission to the privy council on 23 Aug. 1883. He died at Bath on 16 Feb. 1890. Mallet married in 1858 Frances Helen, daughter of the Hon. and Rev. Edward Pellew, and left four sons.

As an official Mallet was distinguished by the broadness of his views and by a sympathy with public needs, which made him very intolerant of narrow officialism. He had much personal influence with political leaders, although with party politics he had nothing to do. He imbibed in youth and retained throughout life the keenest interest in the higher literature of France and England, living by preference among men who divide their time between letters and affairs.

Mallet’s occasional writings were collected in a volume entitled ‘Free Exchange,’ by his son, Mr. Bernard Mallet, in 1881. The first part contains republished pamphlets and articles on (1) ‘The Political Opinions of Richard Cobden;’ (2) ‘The Policy of Commercial Treaties;’ (3) ‘Free Trade and Free Enterprise;’ (4) ‘State Railways;’ (5) ‘Egypt;’ (6) ‘Reciprocity;’ (7) ‘Statement of Bimetallic Theory;’ (8) ‘The National Income and Taxation.’ The second part contains an unfinished treatise on ‘The Law of Value and the Theory of the Un-earned Increment,’ the fruit of his years of retirement. As an economist he had always been, like Jevons, in sympathy with the French school and in disagreement with Mill, and these chapters are an attempt to trace the common economic errors on the land question to their true source—a mistaken theory of value—and to place on a scientific basis the opposition to schemes of ill-considered reform.

The most comprehensive and complete account of the ideas which animated the Cobdenic creed is perhaps to be found in Mallet’s writings. In his view it was a carefully thought out political scheme, embracing every department of the national life; in its international aspect, upon which, like his master, he laid especial stress, it was a policy of concord and peace, which for England followed logically and of necessity upon the repeal of the corn laws; and in its domestic character it was much more than a mere question of tariff reform, it was a distinct bid for the solution of the social problem, and an assertion in its broadest form of the principle of private property, of which free exchange is only an attribute. All Mallet’s writings are characterised by great power, both of abstract thought and of exposition.

[Private information.]

MALLET, ROBERT (1810–1881), civil engineer and scientific investigator, son of John Mallet of Devonshire, who settled in Dublin as an iron, brass, and copper founder, was born in Dublin 3 June 1810. He entered Trinity College in December 1826, graduated B.A. 1830, and M.A. and master in engineering 1862. In 1831 he became a partner in his father’s works, assuming the charge of the Victoria foundry, and expanding it into a large concern, which ultimately absorbed all the engineering works of note in Ireland. One of his first undertakings was raising and sustaining the roof of St. George’s Church, Dublin, a massive construction weighing 133 tons; for this work he was in 1841 awarded the Walker premium by the Institution of Civil Engineers. For Guinness & Co., the brewers, he bored an artesian well, besides constructing steam barrel-washing machines and large sky coolers. In 1836 he built a number of swivel bridges over the Shannon. In May 1839 he was elected as associate of the Institution of Civil Engineers, and was made a member in 1842. He next turned his attention to the supply of water to Dublin, and surveyed the river Dodder in 1841 at his own expense, with a view to furnishing a supply of pure water, and of procuring water for the paper-mills in summer-time. Between 1845 and 1848 he erected many terminal railway stations, engine sheds, and workshops, besides the Nore viaduct, a bridge 200 feet in span, with girders of 22 feet in depth. The Fastnet Rock lighthouse was built by him in 1848–9. His name is well known by his invention of the buckled plate, which


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The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Fisher, Irving

FISHER, Irving, American political economist: b. Saugerties, N. Y., 27 Feb. 1867. He was educated at Yale (A.B., 1888; Ph.D., 1891), where he remained as member of the faculty, becoming professor of political economy in 1898. He spent 1893-94 in study at Berlin and Paris. From 1896 to 1910 he edited the Yale Review. He was a member of Roosevelt's National Conservation Commission. He is president of the American Association for Labor Legislation and Fellow, of the American Statistical Association. He is a member of the American Economic Association and many other societies. He has published ‘Mathematical Investigations in the Theory of Value and Prices’ (1892; trans. French, 1916); ‘Elements of Geometry,’ with Prof. A. W. Phillips (1896, trans. into Japanese 1900); ‘Bibliography of Mathematical Economics’ in (and assisted in translating and editing) Cournot's ‘ Mathematical Theory of Wealth’ (1897); ‘A Brief Introduction to the Infinitesimal Calculus’ (1897, trans. into German 1904, Italian 1909); ‘The Nature of Capital and Income’ (1906, trans. into French 1911, Japanese 1913); ‘The Rate of Interest’ (1907, Japanese condensation with ‘Nature of Capital and Income,’ 1912); ‘National Vitality’ (1909); ‘The Purchasing Power of Money’ (1911, trans. into German and French 1916); ‘Elementary Principles of Economics’ (1912); ‘Why is the Dollar Shrinking?’ (1914); ‘How to Live,’ joint author with Dr. E. L. Fisk (1915); also numerous articles, monographs, etc.


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is come the month of roses! To the woods my verse has flown Gathering fragrance and honey From the blossoms newly blown. Beloved, come to the forest, The woodland shall be our shrine Scented with the holy perfume Of the laurel and the vine. From tree-top to tree-top flitting The birds greet you with sweet lay, Finding joyance in your beauty Fairer than the birth of day; And the haughty oaks and hemlocks Bend their leafy branches green Forming rustling, regal arches For the passage of a queen. All is perfume, song and radiance; Flowers open and birds sing: O Beloved, 'tis the season Of the Spring!

Flowing from a haunted cavern Is a crystal fountain where Naiads nude and flower-breasted 3]

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 Bathe and play and freight the air With the joyance of their laughter And the gladness of the wave When they stoop over the fountain And their tresses 'gin to lave. And they know the hymns of Eros That in lovely Grecian tongue Pan one day made in the forest In the glorious age of song. Sweetest, of that glorious hymnal I shall choose the fairest phrase To enrich with ancient music The full cadence of my lays. Sweet as sweetest Grecian honey Will my song be when I sing, O Beloved, in the season Of the Spring! 5]

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The New International Encyclopædia/Pfeiffer, Franz

PFEIFFER,, (1815-68). A Germanic scholar. He was born at Bettlach, Switzerland, studied at Munich, became royal librarian at Stuttgart in 1846, and in 1857 was made professor of German literature in the University of Vienna. He was one of the most important Germanists of recent times. He founded the review Germania, and the series Deutsche Klassiker des Mittelalters, for which he edited Walther von der Vogelweide (6th ed. 1880). His more valuable works are: Der Dichter des Nibelungenlieds (1862), Freie Forschung (1867), and, among many editions, Barlaam und Josaphat (1843). Die deutschen Mystiker des 14. Jahrhunderts (1845-47), and an edition of the Deutsche Ordenschronik of Jeroschin (1854).


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Eleven Poems

Once poemas

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346 thing to see a comely young Indian girl, with a sufficient dash of Spanish blood in her veins to cause her cheek to bloom like the sunny side of a yellow apricot, trudging along with a pet puppy in her arms, carrying him to taste the holy waters of the miraculous spring of Guadaloupe.

A railroad now runs along the road of the Penitents, and pilgrims are seldom seen crawling along on their hands and knees, as of yore. I went out there on Sunday, December 12th, on the holy anniversary. The road all the way from the northern gate to Guadaloupe, was so blocked with ox-carts, mule-carts, saddle-horses, and carriages, all bearing visitors to the shrine, that we could hardly force our coach along; and the multitude on foot, raised such a dust as almost to stifle us. We saw but one person —a poor old woman—crawling along upon the knees, by the side of the road; all the rest marched, or rode, straight ahead. The cars went loaded. Most of the people in the better class of carriages, and in the cars, were wholly, or partially, of European blood; but all those on foot, or in carts, were Indians. The former generally appeared to go to see what was to be seen; the latter all went, umnistakably, to worship.

We got within a quarter of a mile of the church, and leaving the carriage, made our way with difficulty through the motly crowd into the plaza in front of the church. There were probably twenty-five thousand to thirty thousand people, of all ages, sexes, and conditions there, and they were going and coming all the time.

All the bells in the towers of the church—some twenty in number—began ringing at once, and the air was filled with their melody. Those old


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Rh padres were wonderful bell-makers. With the very rudest appliances, and only charcoal for fuel, they managed to cast here in Mexico, three centuries and more ago, better, and sweeter-toned bells, than we in the United States or Europe are able to produce to-day, with "all the modern improvements" and unlimited means at our command.

At last, after infinite toil and jostling and pushing through the ragged and swarthy crowd, we reached the church door, and entered it. The whole worn and worm-eaten floor of the great edifice was covered with kneeling Indians, all devoutly repeating prayers, and many carrying lighted wax-candles in their hands. Quietly as was possible we worked our way through the crowd, and reached a central point upon the floor. The air was filled with the incense burning in golden censers around the great altar, and yellow with the dust which the ever-coming and going throng raised in clouds from their soiled garments and the dirty floor.

The wealth once held within these four walls was almost fabulous, and even now when silver and gold in many places have been replaced by baser metal, heavily gilded, it is still enormous. The choir and surroundings of the great organ are all of precious metal, and the gallery, leading down from the choir through the center of the church to the great altar on the north, has on either side a massive railing or balustrade of solid silver, sufficient in aggregate weight to load a first-class railroad car, at least. The altar is surrounded by burnished metal on every side, and all the altar ornaments, which are almost numberless, huge, and massive, are of solid gold and silver.

Wrapt devotion was on every face, but the intense


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348 bigotry which once characterized the assemblages here, is fast passing away. We stood erect, though bareheaded and silent, amid the vast kneeling throng, and not a single reproachful look, so far as we could see, was cast upon us. Twenty years ago, had four heretics from a distant land thus dared profane this holiest of God's holiest temples with their accursed presence, their lives might have paid the forfeit; but while the faith survives, the fierce fanaticism is dead, and to-day we were only pitied, not hated. The confiscation of the Church property, and destruction of her temporal power in Mexico, has done much to bring about this state of things; and slowly, but surely, the light of a higher and nobler civilization is dawning on even the most benighted portion of the people of Mexico.

All around the walls of the church were tables at which sleek priests sold little books giving a full history of the Virgin of Guadaloupe, and ribbons, each about two feet in length, on which there was a black mark some six inches long, and the inscription "The true measure of the face of Our Lady of Guadaloupe of Mexico." These little ribbons are supposed to possess great virtues, guarding the wearer against many diseases and misfortunes, and every pious visitor, however humble his or her means, carries away at least one of them. Each ribbon is said to have been touched to the divinely painted picture of the Virgin, which, inclosed in a solid gold frame, hangs against the northern wall over the high altar. I saw a half bushel of them brought in at once and piled up on the table before one of the priests, who spreading out his hands blessed them in a hurried business-like manner, and then


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Rh politely to me said, just as a dry goods clerk in New York, might have said: "Yes, Señor, one rial each, how many will you please to have?"

I took a couple to carry home as presents to some young Catholic friends, and with them got his blessing which I propose to keep for my own use.

On one side of the church I noticed a great number of rude pictures representing miracles in the way of cures of deadly diseases, or direct interposition to save the imperiled from instant death, performed by the Blessed Virgin of Guadaloupe. These were hung there by the pious recipients of such favors, and they appear to be regarded with much reverence by the simple worshipers. I noticed that the paint on the picture of the Virgin which came down from Heaven with the roses which Juan Diego delivered to the Bishop, had begun to crack and peel with time, but have no doubt but that it will be miraculously restored again, and it is likely to outlast many generations of mankind to come.

From the church a winding pathway leads up the steep face of the rocky hill to the chapel on the summit where the Virgin first appeared to Juan Diego. Half way up the hill is a curious structure of stone, plastered and whitewashed, which represents the sails, mast, and yard of a ship. In fact, the mast of a ship is said to be really built into the masonry. This was erected many years ago by a pious old Spanish rover, who in the hour of mortal peril on the Spanish Main vowed to the Virgin, that if she would enable him to tack, and prevent his galleon going on the rocks, he would do this in her honor; she did it; and he kept his word like a man and a Christian.


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350 In the chapel, which is richly ornamented like the church, is the original picture of Juan Diego after receiving his message hurrying to the Bishop to deliver it. I was pained to notice that the picture was that of a Spaniard with thin features and a slight curling beard—not that of an Indian at all. There must have been a mistake here somewhere. However, the old clothes which Juan Diego wore are still there, and as they prove the truth of the story in the main, why should we care for a few discrepancies in the minor details.

At the foot of the hill, just below the main church, we saw where some enthusiastic explorer had been boring for oil, with regular Pennsylvania machinery. The rock is purely volcanic, and pitches directly away from the point where he was boring; nevertheless, if he had found oil there in such a sacred place, it would beyond doubt have been unusually valuable for illuminating and other purposes.

We worked our way around to the chapel on the north-east of the church, which stands over the great flowing well of mineral water which opened at the touch of the Virgin's foot. There was a dense crowd around it, and all were drinking of its waters and filling jars and earthen jugs and bottles with it, to carry away to their homes to be used as medicine until their next annual visit. I noticed that the copper kettle with which the water is drawn up from the well, is chained fast; but that is the custom of the country, and must not be construed into a direct reflection on the honesty of the pilgrims. A Mexican lady who visited the well with me, tasting the water remarked, "It is very disagreeable!" when a woman standing by her rebuked her with:


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Rh "Yes, but you must remember that it is sent by the Holy Mother, and is good both for your body and your soul!"

Thousands come here from long distances to be healed of scrofula, etc., by the waters of this well, and are healed. But then I am compelled to add, that I know springs in Arizona, Nevada, and California, which yield equally healing waters, beside which no Virgin is known to have ever appeared by any sort of miracle.

The Indian-blooded crowd appeared to regard the festival as partaking, to some extent, of the character of a religious anniversary and a general holiday combined. Of the thousands who pushed and jostled each other in the plaza and the streets around the church, more than half were eating something as they went, and in all directions might be seen small family parties seated on the dusty ground, picnicing with evident hearty relish on the coarsest viands. Dried meat, mainly that of sheep and goats, particularly the latter, appeared to be the staple, and boiled or roasted calabras, or coarse pumpkin, stood next in order. Here you would see a whole family marching along, each munching quietly at some part of a dried goat, the hind leg, apparently having the preference, and there another, greedily devouring pieces of cold boiled pumpkin, without salt, pepper, or butter. One healthy young fellow, I noticed gnawing away at the head of an ancient billy-goat which he held by the horns, and evidently "as happy and content as Swimley's boarders, the best looking men in town," etc. etc.

Oranges, bananas, cheremoyas, aquacates, piñons, and other fruit and nuts were exposed on mats on the ground, for sale, all about, and the dealers in tortillas


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352 and cakes of all kinds drove a thriving trade. It is said that pocket-picking is one of the chief features of the annual festival of Guadaloupe, and many of my friends have been robbed there in the most adroit manner; but our party did not suffer from any such depredations, and one of us to my certain knowledge stood in no serious danger of heavy loss at that time.

The whole festival reminded me of the annual pilgrimage of the common people to the pagan shrines of India, in some of its features; nevertheless, there was an evident earnestness and religious conviction in the manner of all the worshipers, which must entitle them to the respect of even the greatest cavilers and scoffers at their form of faith. The great mass of the believers in every faith in the world, are honest and earnest in their convictions, and these simple worshipers at the shrine of the Virgin of Guadaloupe, are entitled to the foremost rank in that list. If simple faith shall justify and make men whole, they, surely, have less to fear and more to hope for in the future life, than most of us who claim to hold more enlightened opinions on religious subjects.

Coming home, we passed the old palace of the Inquisition, an institution which nourished in all its purity and vigor in the Vice Royalty of Mexico in its earlier days. A grand, gloomy old pile of architecture, with reminiscences of untold horrors and cruelties, indescribable, clinging to every stone in its massive walls. It was confiscated and put to better uses long ago. Opposite it is the ruinous old church of San Domingo, and by its side, the little plaza in which the French under the Empire, used to murder their prisoners of war at day-break; the wall is still pitted with the bullet-marks


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Rh as if it had the small-pox. Strange, is it not, that Mexico did not love the Empire?

The Protestant movement in Mexico is something which I cannot fully understand, and which particularly surprised, and I may say astonished me, more than anything else I witnessed. I am not a member of any church, and profess no special creed, but as an enemy of every form of slavery and oppression, I cannot but regard this Protestant movement with interest and sympathy. That it will accomplish all which is expected of it by its friends, I am not inclined to believe; but that it will be the means of reforming the Catholic Church of Mexico and removing the abuses which made it a by-word, reproach, and curse to the country, I regard as highly probable. I must bear testimony to the earnestness and devotion of these "Evangelical Christians" of Mexico, and their wonderful success. I am not inclined to meddle much with the religious affairs of any people, but as a matter of fact, and as illustrating the condition of the country, I append the statement of the leader in this great movement, without endorsing his conclusions. The mere facts, I know to be as he has stated them:


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The New International Encyclopædia/Pfeiffer, Ida

PFEIFFER, (1797–1858). An Austrian traveler. She was born at Vienna, and began her career as a traveler by a trip to Palestine and Egypt when she was forty-five years old. This

was succeeded by others to Scandinavia and Iceland in 1845, and in 1846-48 to Brazil, Chile, China, India, Persia, Armenia, and the Caucasus. Another journey was taken, in 1851-55, to Africa, Australia, and America, resulting in some valuable acquisitions for the Museum of Natural History at Vienna. In 1856 she set out for Madagascar, where she was imprisoned. Broken in health, she returned thence to die. Her works, which have been translated into English, include Journey of a Viennese to the Holy Land (1843); Journey to the Scandinavian North (1846); and A Woman's Journey Round the World (1850).


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Spanish original and English translation side by side?
I haven’t found how to have the right width on the pages when side by side [//en.wikisource.org/wiki/Eleven_Poems here]. Any ideas? --Zyephyrus (talk) 18:15, 21 September 2012 (UTC)

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The New International Encyclopædia/Pfeil, Joachim Friedrich

PFEIL, pfīl,, Count (1857—). A German explorer and colonist in Africa and New Guinea. He was born at Neurode, in Silesia, studied at the gymnasium of Göttingen, and in 1873 went to Natal. He learned the vernacular and stayed in the country four years; then (1879), after a visit to Europe, he settled in Orange Free State and with Wilson mapped the course of the Limpopo; but illness forced him to return to Germany. In 1884, having entered the employ of the Society for German Colonization. Pfeil went to East Africa with Peters and Jühlke, and in 1886 succeeded the latter as general manager of the company in Somaliland. This post he resigned in 1887, and entered the service of the New Guinea Company. His travels and explorations in the South Seas are described in his Studien und Beobachtungen in der Südsee (1899), and he also wrote Vorschläge zur praktischen Kolonisation in Ostafrika (1887), and Zur Frage der Deportation nach den deutschen Kolonien (1897).


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478 side as it is by the advance of the sky-scraper. The old-fashioned busy Philadelphia crowds, as I remember them, could still take their time in the streets, so that I remember, too, my friend, George Steevens' astonishment because a passer-by he thanked for information could linger to say "You are very welcome." The old-fashioned Philadelphia business, going on at a pace that only New York and Chicago could beat, was still accomplished with so little fuss that the rest of America laughed at Philadelphia for its slowness and sleepiness, and told those old time-worn stories that have passed into folk-lore. It was just this that gave Philadelphia such a distinct character of its own—that it could be laughed at for slowness and sleepiness by the other towns, and all the while be sleepy and slow to such good purpose as to make itself into one of the most prosperous and influential in the country: to be able to work at the American pace and yet preserve its dignity and sedateness.

But the old stories have lost what little point they had. Philadelphia does not look slow and sleepy any longer. Things have changed, indeed, when a modern traveller like Mr. Arnold Bennett can speak of "spacious gaiety" in connection with Philadelphia—with its spacious dulness the earlier traveller was more apt to be impressed. At last, however, it has given up its country-town airs for the airs of the big town it is—given up the calmness that was its chief characteristic for the hurry-flurry of the ordinary American town. And there is scarcely a Philadelphian


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The New International Encyclopædia/Pfeufer, Karl von

PFEUFER, pfoi'fẽr, (1806-69). A German physician who introduced the rational method of physical and chemical explanations for physiological or pathological conditions. He was born at Bamberg, and studied medicine at Erlangen and Würzburg. After eight years of practice in Munich, Pfeufer held academic positions in Zurich (1840-44), in Heidelberg (1844-52), and in Munich (1852-69). Besides his great contributions to method, which appeared in the Zeitschrift für rationelle Medizin (1844 sqq.), he wrote on cholera, Zum Schutz wider die Cholera (1849; 3d ed. 1854), and introduced public sanitation as a requisite in medical study. Consult Kerschensteiner, Leben und Wirken des Dr. Karl von Pfeufer (Augsburg, 1871).


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Rh who regrets it, that is the saddest part of it—scarcely a Philadelphian who does not rejoice that Philadelphia is getting to be like New York.

I think, of all the innovations, this was the one that distressed me most, though I could understand the difficulty of calm in the face of the multitude of new housing and traffic problems it has had to tackle, at a rate and with a speed that the Philadelphian, left to himself, would never have imposed upon it. Somehow, it has had to keep on putting up those rows of little two-story houses in sufficient numbers to shelter the too rapidly increasing population if it is to maintain its reputation as the City of Homes; somehow, it has had to provide subways, and elevateds, and new suburban lines with no level crossings, and new central Stations and Terminals, and big trolley cars out of all proportion to Philadelphia's narrow streets, and taxis too dear for any but the millionaire to drive in, if the too-rapidly increasing crowds are to be got to work and back again; somehow, new bridges have had to cross the Schuylkill, new streets have had to be laid out, so many new things have had to be begun and done in the too-rapidly growing town, that there is small chance and less time for it to take them calmly or, alas! to keep itself clean and tidy.

II

In my memory Philadelphia was a model of cleanliness under a clean sky, free of the smoke that the use of soft coal has brought with it. Every Saturday every


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482 girl—"maid," Philadelphia calls her now—turned out with mops and buckets and hose, for such a washing up of the front for a week that, until the next Saturday, Philadelphia could not look dirty if it tried. But I do not believe that a legion of servant girls, with all the mops, buckets, and hose in the world, could ever wash Philadelphia clean again, to such depths of dirt has it fallen. It could not have been more of a disgrace to its citizens when Franklin deplored the shocking condition of its streets, especially in wet weather, or when Washington had to wade through mud to get to the theatre where he found his recreation. It has become actually the Filthydelphia somebody once called it in jest. Not even in the little Spanish and Italian towns whose dirt the American deplores, have I seen such streets—all rivers and pools and lakes when it rains, ankle-deep in dust when it is dry, papers flying loose, corners choked with dirt, tins of ashes and garbage standing at the gutter side all day long—even London, that I used to think the dirtiest of dirty towns, knows how to order its garbage better than that. We Americans are supposed to be long-suffering, to endure almost anything until the crisis comes. But I thought that crisis had long since come in the Philadelphia streets. Everybody agreed with me, and I was assured that a corrupt government having been got out and a reform government got in, already there was tremendous talk of schemes for garbage—bags to be hauled off full of


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Rh, dust-tight on the way, and hauled back empty, old paper to be bought up by the city so that no thrifty citizen would throw a scrap of paper into the street—and as tremendous talk of experiments in garbage, ten patriotic citizens promising to contribute one thousand dollars each to make them. I was assured also that the reform Mayor has done his best and struggled valiantly against the evil, but unfortunately it is not he alone who can vote the money for a wholesale spring-cleaning. It occurred to me that, in the meanwhile, we might be better off if we returned with much less expense, to the hogs that were "the best of scavengers" when William Cobbett visited Philadelphia. Or, at no more than the cost of a ticket to New York, the reformers might at least learn how to keep garbage tins off the front steps of inoffensive, tax-paying citizens at five o'clock in the afternoon when they ask their friends to drink tea in that English fashion which is as novel in my Philadelphia as the difficulty with the garbage.

My own opinion was that Philadelphia had lost its head over the magnitude of the task before it. In no other way could I account for the recklessness with which old streets were torn up for blocks and repaired by inches; new streets built and horrible stagnant pools left on their outskirts—the suburbs quite as bad in this respect, so bad that I understand associations of citizens are formed to do what the authorities don't seem able to; boulevards planned and held up when half finished, a monumental


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486 entrance designed to the most beautiful Park in the world and, on its either side, silly little wooden pergolas set up to try the effect, by the dethroned government I believe, and, though nobody, from one end of the town to the other, approves, neither the time nor the money is found to pull them down again—neither the time nor the money found for anything but dirt and untidiness.

III

The people, their manners, their life,—everything seemed to me to have been caught in this mad whirlwind of change and haste. The crowds in the street were not the same, had forgotten the meaning of repose and leisureliness; had at last given in to the American habit of leaving everything until the last moment and then rushing when there was no occasion for rush, and pretending to hustle so that not one man or woman I met could have spared a second to say "Your are welcome" for anybody's "Thank you," or, for that matter, to provide the information for anybody's thanks;—indeed, these crowds seemed to me to have mastered their new role with such thoroughness that to-day the visitor from abroad will carry away the same idea of Philadelphia as Arnold Bennett, who, during his sojourn there, never ceased to marvel at its liveliness.

And the crowds have migrated from the old haunts—every sign of life now gone from Third Street and round about the Stock Exchange, where nobody now is ever in


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 two pounds of clarified sugar, boil it to blow very strong; next one pint and a half of pippin jelly, and the juice of four or five oranges; boil them all together; then put in the syrup that has been strained and boiled to be very smooth, and give all a boil; put your oranges into your pots, or glasses, and fill them up with the above made jelly; when cold, cover them and set them by for use.

 * Note.—Be carful in all your boilings to clear away the scum, otherwise you will endanger their working; and if you find they will swim above your jelly, you must bind them down with the sprig of a clean whisk.

Sugar Pears.

Take any quantity of pears, which are but half ripe, make a split on their head coss ways with a knife, no deeper than the heart. After this is done, put a pan of water on the fire, and when it boils put your pears in it, and boil them in, with a slow fire, till they become a little soft; then take them off the fire, and throw them immmediately into another pan of fresh water, in which you squeeze three lemons, pare your pears and put them in that lemon water: they will turn as white as snow; then take a preserving pan, put in it some of the first degree of your clarified sugar, put your pears in it, and let them boil about twelve minutes, taking care to take off all the scum they will throw; then take them out from the fire and put them in an earthen vessel; you will


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Rh a hurry—carts and cars going at snail's pace, the whole place looking as if time did not count—the old town business quarter deserted for Market Street and Broad Street round the City Hall.

And the crowds do not get about in the same way—no slow, leisurely ride in the horse-car to a Depot in the wilds of Frankford, or at Ninth and Green, on the way to the suburbs, but a leap on a trolley, or a rush through thronged streets to the Terminal at Twelfth and Market, to the Station at Broad and Market. And it was another sign of how Philadelphia had "moved" since the old days when, in place of the old horse-car, which I could rely upon to go in a straight line from one end of the long street to the other, I took the new trolley and it twisted and turned with me until the exception was to arrive just where I expected to, or, if I only stayed in it long enough, not to be landed in some remote country town where I had no intention of going. I have been told the story of the stay-at-home Philadelphian as puzzled as I, who was promised by a motorman, as uncertain as she where he was going, that at least he could give her a "nice ride through a handsome part of the town." Worse still, the trolley did not stop at the corners where the car used to stop so that I, a native Philadelphian, had to be told where to wait for it by an interloper with a foreign accent. Nor was it crowded at the same hours as the car used to be, so that going out to dinner in a Walnut Street trolley I could sit comfortably and not be obliged to hang on to a strap, with everybody


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The New International Encyclopædia/Pfister, Albrecht

PFISTER, pfĭs'tẽr, (c.1420-c.1470). A German printer, to whom the discovery of the art is sometimes wrongly attributed. It seems probable that he worked as wood engraver for Gutenberg. About 1455 he founded a press in Bamberg. There he printed Boner's Edelstein (1461); the Book of the Four Histories (Joseph, Daniel, Esther, and Ruth) (c.l462); the famous Biblia Pauperum (1462); and Belial of the same date. Consult: Heffels, Gutenberg: Was He the Inventor of Printing? (London, 1882), and Dziatzko, Gutenberg's früheste Druckerpraxis (Berlin, 1890).


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490 who got in or out helping to rub the freshness from my best evening gown, which would have been my fate in the old days.

And the crowds were not managed in the old way—the ordinary policeman used to do his best to keep out of sight, and here was the mounted policeman prancing about everywhere, and, at congested corners, adding to the confusion by filling up what little space the overgrown trolleys left in the narrow streets. I am not sure that it was not this mounted policeman—unless it was the coloured policemen and the coloured postmen—I had most difficulty in getting accustomed to. I came upon him every day, or almost every hour, with something of a new shock. Can this be really I, I would say to myself when I saw him in his splendour, can this be really Philadelphia?

IV

The difference I deplored was not confined to the crowds I did not know; it was no less marked in the people I did know, in their standards and outlook, in the way they lived. It is hard to say what struck me most, though nothing more obviously the first few days than that flight to the suburbs which had left such visible proofs as those signs "For Rent" and "For Sale" everywhere in the streets where I was most at home—a flight necessitated perhaps by the inroads of the alien, but only made possible by the annihilation of space due to the motor-car.

Once, when a Philadelphian set up a carriage, it was


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Rh the announcement to Philadelphia that he had earned the fifty thousand dollars which fulfilled his ideal of a fortune. In my day Fairman Rogers' four-in-hand was the limit, and but few Philadelphians had the money and the recklessness to rival him. Now the Philadelphian does not have to earn anything at all before he sets up his motorcar, and it is the announcement of nothing except that he is bound to keep in the swim. Our children begin where we leave off, as one of my contemporaries said to me. Everybody has a motor-car. Everybody who can has one in London, I know, and there also the signs "To Let" and "For Sale" in such regions as Kensington and Bayswater have for some time back explained to me the way it has turned London life upside down. But in Philadelphia not merely everybody who can, but everybody who can't has one, and the Philadelphian would not do without it, if he had to mortgage his house as its price. I remember how incredulous I was, one of my first Sunday evenings at home, when I was dining with friends in the crowded-to-suffocation dining-room at the Bala Country Club and was given as an excuse for being rushed from my untasted coffee to catch an inconsiderately early last train, that ours was probably the only dinner party in the room without a car to take us back to town. But from that evening on I had no chance for incredulity, my own movements beginning to revolve round the motor-car. If I was asked to dinner and lunch at a distance to which nobody would have thought of dragging me by train in the old days, a


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494 motor was sent to whirl me out in no time at all. If I went into a far suburb for an afternoon visit, instead of coming soberly back to town on my return ticket, I would take a short cut by flying over half the near country, often in the car of people I had never seen before, as the most convenient route to the hotel. All Philadelphia life is regulated by the motor-car. It makes a ball or a tea or a dinner ten miles away as near as one just round the corner was in my time, and so half the gaiety is transferred to the suburbs and the suburban country, and, to my surprise, I found girls still going to dances at midsummer.

And the motor has made club life for women indispensable. The woman who comes up to town in her car must have a Club, and there is the Acorn Club in Walnut Street, The New Century, and the College and Civic Clubs, jointly housed at Thirteenth and Spruce, and more clubs in other streets, probably, which it was not my privilege to be invited to; all, to judge by the Acorn, with luxurious drawing- and dining- and smoking- and dressing- and bed-rooms, and women coming and going as if they had lived in clubs all their lives, when a short quarter of a century before there had not been one for them to see the inside of. And for men and women both, the car has brought within their reach those amazing Country Clubs that have sprung up in my absence. I had read of Country Clubs in American novels and short stories, I had seen them on the stage in American plays, but I had never paused to think of them as realities in


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Rh Philadelphia until I was actually taken to the Bala and Huntington Valley Clubs, and until I ate their admirable dinners—at Bala, with the crowds and in the light and to the music that would have made me feel I was in a London restaurant, had it not been for the inevitable cocktail—and until I saw with my own eyes the luxurious houses so comfortably and correctly appointed—even to brass bedroom candlesticks on a table in the second-story hall, just as in an old-fashioned English inn, though as far as I could make out there was excellent electric light everywhere—until I also saw with my own eyes the trim lawns, and gardens, and the wide view over the delicate American landscape, and women in the tennis courts, and the men bringing out their ponies for polo, and the players dotted over the golf course.

And whether the Country Clubs have created the sport or the sport has created the Country Clubs, I cannot say, but in the increased attention to sport I was confronted with another difference as startling. Philadelphia, I know, has always been given to sport. It hunted and raced and fished before time and conscience allowed most of the other Colonists in the North the chance to amuse themselves out-of-doors, or indoors either, poor things! And the old sports, barring the least civilized like bull-baiting and cock-fighting, were kept up, and are kept up, and had their Clubhouses, which, in some cases, have survived. But, in my time, these sports had been limited to the few who had country houses in the right


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The New International Encyclopædia/Pfizer, Gustav

PFIZER, pfĭt'sẽr, (1807-90). A German lyrist and critic of the Swabian school. He was born in Stuttgart, studied at Tübingen, and in 1840 became professor at the gymnasium in his native city. He wrote Gedichte (1831), Dichtungen epischer und episch-lyrischer Gattung (1840),

and Der Welsche und der Deutsche (1844); translations of Bulwer and Byron; the critical work Uhland und Rückert (1837), and an attack on Heine which called out the Schwabenspiegel. His poetry is more original and reflective than most of the products of the Swabian school.


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HEN it rains in Amsterdam, it pours; and when the thunder takes a hand in the performance things are pretty lively; this is what my friend Balthazar Van der Lys was saying to himself one summer night, as he ran along the Amstel on his way home to escape the storm. Unfortunately, the wind of the Zuiderzee blew faster than he could run. A frightful gust tore along the quay, unhinging hundreds of shutters and twisting scores of signs and lamp-posts. At the same moment, a number of towels and handkerchiefs which had been hung out to dry were blown pell-mell into the canal, followed by Balthazar's hat, and it is the greatest wonder in the world that he was not treated to a bath himself. Then there was another flash of lightning, a deafening roar of thunder, and the rain came down in torrents anew, literally wetting our poor friend to the skin, and causing him to redouble his speed.


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120 On reaching the Orphelinat Straat he rushed under the awning of a shop to seek refuge from the rain; in his hurry he did not take time to look where he was going, and the next moment he found himself fairly in the arms of another man, and the two went rolling over and over together. The person thus disturbed was seated at the time in an arm-chair; this person was no other than our mutual friend, Cornelius Pump, who was undoubtedly one of the most noted savants of the age.

"Cornelius! what the mischief were you doing in that chair?" asked Balthazar, picking himself up.

"Look out!" exclaimed Cornelius, "or you will break the string of my kite!"

Balthazar turned around, believing that his friend was joking; but, to his surprise, he saw Conielius busily occupied in winding up the string of a gigantic kite, which was floating above the canal at a tremendous height, and which apparently was struggling fiercely against all effort made to pull it in. Cornelius pulled away with all his might in one direction, while the kite pulled away in another. The monstrous combination of paper and sticks was ornamented with a tremendous tail, which was decorated with innumerable pieces of paper.

"A curious idea!" remarked Balthazar, "to fly a kite in such a storm."


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496 or the leisure for the gentlemanly pursuit of foxes and fishes, and their clubs were primitive compared to the palatial Country Clubs, whose luxury women now share with men. If you were in the hunting or fishing set, you heard all about it; but if you were not, you heard little enough. But you did not have to be in any set to keep up with the great Philadelphia game of cricket, which was popular, exclusive as the players in their team might be—all Philadelphia that did not play scrupulously going on the proper occasions to the Germantown Cricket Ground to watch all Philadelphia that did. The one alternative as popular was the pastime of rowing, the exclusiveness here in the rowing men's choice among the Clubs with the little boating clubhouses on the Schuylkill where boats could be stowed. And now? The cricket goes on, as gentlemanly and correct a pastime as ever. And the boating goes on, but with a delightful exclusive old Colonial house, for one Club at least, hidden in thickets of the Park where the stranger might pass within a stone's throw and never discover it, but where the boating party can dine with a privacy and a sumptuousness undreamed of at Belmont, where boating parties dined in my young days. And, in addition, time has been prodigal with golf and tennis and polo: women, who had begun tennis in my time, now beginning golf, games which, I might as well admit, I have no use for and can therefore say little about. And I am told that the University foot-ball matches are among the most


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Rh "I am not doing so for fun, you fool," answered Cornelius with a smile; "I wish to verify the presence of nitric acid in yonder clouds, which are charged with electricity. In proof of which, behold!" and with a desperate effort the man of science succeeded in pulling down the kite, and pointed with pride to the bits of paper which had been burned a dark red.

"Oh, bah!" replied Balthazar in that tone of voice so common to those who do not understand anything of these little freaks of science. "A nice time to experiment, upon my word!"

"The best time in the world, my friend," simply answered Cornelius. "And what an observatory! you can see for yourself! there is not an obstruction in the way! a glorious horizon! ten lightning-rods in sight and all on fire! I have been keeping my weather eye open for this storm, and I am delighted that it has put in an appearance at last!"

A violent thunder-clap shook the ground like an earthquake.

"Go on! grumble away as much as you please," muttered Cornelius. "I have discovered your secret and will tell it to the world."

"And what is there so interesting in all this, anyway?" asked Balthazar, who, owing to his drenching, was in anything but a good humor.

"You poor fool," replied Cornelius, with a smile of pity; "now tell me, what is that?"


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Rh important and lavishly patronized social functions of the year. And in town is the big Racquets Club, in a fine new building, big enough to shelter any number of sports besides. And the Natatorium, in moving from the unpretentious premises in South Broad Street, where it has left its old building and name, to the marble palace that was once George W. Childs's—Oh, the sacrilege! the house where his emperors and princes and lords and authors were entertained,—has converted the swimming lesson into the luxury of sport. And all told, so many, and so exhaustive, and so universal are the provisions for sport that I might have believed the Philadelphian had nothing in the world to do, save to invent amusements to help him through his empty hours.

And, apparently, it is to provide for the same empty hours that those elaborate lunch places have multiplied on Chestnut Street, some delightful where you feast as only Philadelphia can, some horrible where you sit on high stools at counters and fight for your food; that little quiet discreet tea-places have sprung up in side streets; that gilded restaurants, boasting they reproduce the last London fads and fashions, have succeeded the old no restaurant at all; that hotels as big and strident as if they had strayed off Fifth Avenue increase in number year by year, culminating in the Adelphia, the latest giant, which I have not seen; that the old poky hotels of my day have branched out in roof gardens where on hot summer evenings you can sit up among the sky-scrapers, a near


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122 "Why, a flash of lightning, of course!"

"Naturally! but what is the nature of that flash?"

"Why, I always supposed that all flashes were alike."

"That shows how much you know!" answered Cornelius, in a tone of disgust. "Now, there are several classes of lightning; for instance, lightning of the first class is generally in the form of a luminous furrow and is very crooked and forked, affecting a zig-zag movement, and of a white or purple color; then, there is the lightning of the second class, an extended sheet of flame, usually red, and which embraces the entire horizon in circumference; and finally, lightning of the third class, which is invariably in the form of a rebounding, rolling, spherical body; the question is whether it is really globular in shape or merely an optical illusion? This is exactly the problem I have been trying to solve! I suppose you will say that these globes of fire have been sufficiently observed by Howard, Schübler, Kamtz—"

"Oh, I don't know anything at all about such rot, so I won't venture an opinion. The rain is coming down again and I want to go home."

"Wait a moment," calmly replied Cornelius; "and as soon as I have seen a spherical or globular flash I will—"

"I have n't time to wait: besides, I would be


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Rh a fool when I only have to go a hundred feet to reach my door. If you want a good fire, a good supper, a good bed, and a good pipe, you will be welcome; and If you want to look at a globe, why, the globe of my lamp is at your disposal. I can say no more."

"Stop a moment, my flash will be along presently."

Balthazar, whose patience was now well-nigh exhausted, was preparing to take his departure, when suddenly the sky was lighted up by a bright flash, while the thunder burst with a loud report a short distance away. The shock was so violent that it almost knocked Balthazar over.

"That was a spherical globe, and no mistake!" joyfully exclaimed Cornelius; "I have made a wonderful discovery: let's go to supper!" Balthazar rubbed his eyes and felt of his limbs to assure himself that he was still in the land of the living.

"The lightning struck near my house!"

"Not at all," replied Cornelius, "it was in the direction of the Hebrew quarter."

Balthazar did not stop to hear any more, but started off on a dead run; Cornelius picked up his little bits of paper and was soon following at his heels, in spite of the drenching rain.


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124

An hour later the two friends, having enjoyed a bountiful supper, seated themselves in comfortable chairs, and between the whiffs of their meerschaums laughed at the storm which was still raging furiously outside.

"This is what I call real enjoyment," remarked Cornelius. "A good bottle of white curacoa, a good fire, good tobacco, and a congenial friend to talk to; am I not right, Christina?"

Christina came and went; she was here, there, and everywhere at the same time, removing plates and placing fresh glasses and a huge earthen jug on the table. At the mention of her name by Cornelius she blushed a fiery red, but said nothing in reply.

Christina (it is high time that we tell you) was a young girl who had been raised out of charity, in the house of our friend Balthazar.

Shortly after the death of her husband, Madame Van der Lys, Balthazar's mother, felt some one tugging at her dress as she was kneeling at her devotions one Sunday morning; fearing that some one was trying to pick her pocket she grasped the hand of the supposed offender. The hand belonged to a little girl, and was as cute and small as it is possible for a hand to be. The good woman


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Rh was deeply moved at this exhibition of crime in one so young, and her first thought was to let the little one go; but she finally decided to give the waif a home, like the dear, good woman that she was. Then she led little Christina out of the church and made her accompany her home, the child crying all the while with fear that her aunt would whip her, Madame Van der Lys told her not to be afraid, and succeeded at last in obtaining the information that the child's parents belonged to that class of idlers who spend their time in running about fairs and kermesses; that the child had been broken in at an early age to all the tricks adopted by strolling mountebanks; that the father had been killed while performing a dangerous feat on the horizontal bar; that the mother died in want and misery; and finally that the aunt was an old hag who used to beat her black and blue, and who was instructing her in all the branches of crime. I do not know whether you have ever met Madame Van der Lys, but she was as good a woman as her son is good a man. She therefore decided to keep the child, whom the aunt never called to reclaim. She brought her up well and had her educated by an excellent woman. It was not long before the little waif knew how to spell, read, and write, and she soon became a model of good manners and refinement. Then, when the old lady shuffled off this mortal coil she had the satisfaction


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358


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500 to William Penn on his tower, and get whatever air stirs over the red-hot furnace of Philadelphia; that a huge new hotel has appeared up Broad Street where it seems the Philadelphian sometimes goes with the feeling of adventure with which he once descended upon Logan Square. Even business hours are broken into; the lunch of a dozen oysters or a sandwich snatched up anywhere has gone out of fashion; the chop, in the Philadelphia imitation of a London chop-house that seemed luxurious in my Father's day, has become far too simple; and disaster was predicted to me for the Stock Exchange by a pessimistic member who knew that, from the new building that has followed the Courts to the centre of the town, brokers will be running over to lunch at the Bellevue and to incapacitate themselves more or less for the rest of the day, and business will go on drifting, as it has begun to, to New York and will all be done by telephone. And as if the feasting were not enough of a pastime, everywhere lunches, teas and dinners are served to the sound of music, so that distraction and diversion may be counted upon without the effort to talk for them. When I was young, the best Philadelphia could do in the way of combining music and eating—or principally drinking—was at the Mäennerchor Garden at Ninth and Green, where a pretzel might be had with a glass of beer, or a sherry cobbler, or a mint julep—"high-balls" had not been heard of—and the Philadelphia girl who went, though it was under the irreproachable charge of her brother, could feel that she was doing


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126 of leaving behind her, in addition to Gudule, the cook, a lass of fifteen who was as bright as a florin, and who would never permit her master's fire to go out for want of proper attention. In addition to all these good qualities, she was polite, refined, clever, and pretty; at least such was the opinion of our friend Cornelius, who had discovered in her eyes a look not at all unlike a flash of lightning of the third class. But, a truce to this! If I gossip any more I will be divulging family secrets!

I will add, however, that Christina always gave Cornelius a hearty welcome because he brought her interesting books. The young savant made a greater fuss over this little housekeeper than over all the painted beauties of the town. But it seemed as if the storm had paralyzed the young girl's tongue. She had declined to take her seat at the table, and, under the pretext of waiting on the two friends, she came and went, scarcely listening to what they had to say, replying only in monosyllables, and making the sign of the cross every time there was a flash of lightning. Shortly after their supper, Balthazar turned round to ask her a question, but she was no longer there, having retired to her room. He rose from his chair, and approaching the door of her room, listened attentively; but as all was silent he was evidently convinced that the young girl was already fast asleep, for he returned to his place


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Rh

Among the many interesting institutions in Mexico, the National School of Art and Design is worthy of special mention. This establishment is on an immense plan like every other public institution, but is in many particulars imperfect, for want of sufficient funds to carry out all the ideas of its founders. The building, of cut stone, very costly, and substantially built, covers a great area, but is only partially furnished and occupied. Commenced in the last century, its style of art is still of the ancient order, though perfect in its way. Many really fine painters have graduated here, and their works cover the walls of the vast salons.

Among the recent graduates is Felipe Gutierrez, who two years since, attracted much attention in San Francisco, California, as a portrait painter, and after earning a respectable sum in that branch of his profession, went to Rome, and there recommenced his studies under the most favorable auspices. I heard of him a few weeks since, as one of the most promising artists of the art capital of the world. Among the pictures on the wall I saw and recognized several of his.

The Mexican people—I might say the Spanish American people—have a natural talent for music, painting, and the fine arts generally, far beyond that of our own countrymen or even of the Europeans; and the wealth of painting and sculpture, the former especially, to be found in Mexico, in public institutions and private residences, is almost beyond belief.


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Rh and sat down beside Cornelius, who was busily engaged filling his pipe.

"What's wrong with Christina to-night?" he asked, pointing to her room.

"Oh, it's the storm," replied Balthazar; "women are so timid!"

"If it were otherwise, we would be deprived of the pleasure of protecting them as we would children—especially Christina, who is anything but strong. I really can't look at her without crying; she is so frail, so delicate!"

"Oh, ho, master Cornelius!" exclaimed Balthazar, with a knowing smile; "you are almost as enthusiastic over Christina as you were over the lightning a little while ago!"

Cornelius blushed to the very roots of his hair as he replied: "Oh, it's not the same kind of enthusiasm, however!"

"I suppose not!" remarked Balthazar with a hearty laugh. Then, taking Cornelius by the hand and looking him square in the face, he added: "Come now, you don't imagine that I can't see what is going on? You don't only amuse yourself at flying your kite over the Amstel, overgrown boy that you are, but you also play at racquets with Christina, and your two hearts answer the place of shuttlecocks."

"What, you suppose that—" muttered the savant, evidently confused.

"For over three months I have known that it


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360 Nevertheless, I must confess to some disappointment on visiting the School of Art and Design. Hundreds of historical, scriptural, religious and classic pictures, elaborately, and, generally, well executed, adorn the walls; but there are not a dozen, illustrative or commemorative of the grand and romantic incidents of the Spanish conquest and subsequent history of Mexico; and, stranger still, the wonderful scenery of this glorious land has been almost wholly neglected. There are dying saints and martyrs by hundreds, Abrahams leading Isaacs to the sacrifice, Judiths and Holofernes, Sampsons and Delilahs, Susannahs and Elders, Kings and Queens of old Spain and old Europe, Monks and Bishops, and Hermits and Brigands, without end.

There are a number of pictures of undoubted authenticity, from the old Spanish Masters, and more Virgins of Guadaloupe and elsewhere, than would stock any reasonably-sized heaven; but one looks in vain for the scenery of the Sierra Madre, the Barrancas of Beltran and Atenquique, Popocatapetl, Orizaba, the Valley of Mexico, and a thousand other glorious subjects for the landscape painter which this country affords.

Of the new pictures, I saw one representing Virgil and Dante looking into hell, which is magnificent in the simplicity of its design and the savage force of its execution. Another—not quite finished—representing the Indian girl who first discovered the art of making pulque from the milk of the aloe plant, with her attendants, presenting the liquor and the plant itself to the King of Tula, is very beautiful and artistic in design, gives a perfect idea of the costumes and appearance of the ancient Aztecs, and is worth a square acre of fly-blown saints, musty martyrs, damp, old hermits in mouldy


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128 was not merely to see my beautiful countenance that you have called here twice a day—at noon, on your way to the zoological garden, and at four on your way home."

"But this is the shortest way," ventured Cornelius.

"Yes, I know—to the heart!"

"But—"

"Come, now, let us reason: Christina is unlike most girls of her age; she has a wise head and a loving heart, I assure you; she is certainly clever enough to admire and appreciate such a talented person as Mijnheer Cornelius Pump, who thinks nothing of lending her his rare books. You squeeze her hands, you are solicitous for her health. You read her a regular lecture on chemistry every time you see a spot on her dress, on natural history whenever you see a pot of flowers, and on anatomy whenever you see the cat! She listens to what you have to say with open ears, and a look of attention which is really charming; and yet you would pretend that love is a minor consideration in all this, especially when the man of science is only twenty-five and his pupil just eighteen?"

"Well, then, I do love her, since you will have it so!" answered Cornelius, with a look of defiance in his eyes. "So kindly tell me what you propose to do about it!"

"That's for you to say—"


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Rh cells, and the heroes and heroines of classic literature, in costumes suggestive of rheumatism, diptheria, pneumonia, and early death.

The department devoted to painting is the largest and most complete. One of the four grand salons is surrounded by portraits of the old masters and classic authors in fresco, executed quite recently by Ramon Sagrado, an artist of Mexico, in excellent style. Among the art objects in all the public and private houses of Mexico, the portraits, statues, and busts of Humboldt invariably attest the regard for the memory of that great man, which prevails among all classes of society. The art galleries are now being renovated and put in good order once more. When I visited them it was during vacation and I did not have the pleasure of seeing the students at work. There are many empty frames in the salons, and we were told that the pictures which once filled them were borne away as spoils by the French, who appear to have laid their vandal hands on everything rich, beautiful, and desirable, in Mexico.

The department devoted to sculpture is also very extensive, and contains many objects of rare excellence in art; but the same lack of originality and nationality, and the same slavish devotion to European styles and models is visible everywhere. In the department devoted specially to engraving on copper and steel crayon, and pencil drawing etc., there are many specimens of work of rare excellence, and a great number of very fine and curious old English, French, German Spanish, and Italian engravings, such as cannot be found elsewhere on the continent.

In the department of coins and medals, there is a collection embracing many thousand specimens. All the


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Rh "Oh, I intend to make her my wife!"

"Then, why the mischief don't you tell her so?"

"That's precisely what I intend to do."

"Then embrace me!" exclaimed Balthazar, "and drink to the health of Cupid, for I, too, am going to get married!"

"I congratulate you, my boy; and who is the fortunate one?"

"And I am going to marry Mademoiselle Suzanne Van Miellis, the daughter of the rich banker," continued Balthazar, all in one breath.

Cornelius gave a low whistle, which, translated, means: the devil!

Balthazar continued:

"And just think of it—I have loved her for over six years! I never wanted to pop the question because I was afraid her father would tell me that it was his money and not his daughter that I was after. But my opportunity came at last. Her father died a short time ago, leaving her his sole heiress: she is one of the wealthiest girls in the town."

"The wealthiest by far," gravely interrupted Cornelius.

"One day as we were walking together by the river she stopped for a moment and looking into my eyes, she said: 'Now, my friend, I don't want you to bear me any ill-feeling for what I am going to say; but, since the death of my


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130 father, and coming into my inheritance, I assure you that I am most unhappy. I can no longer distinguish between those who love me for my riches and those who love me for myself; there are so many who pretend to adore me that I am suspicious of them all; and I would rather throw my fortune into the Amstel than wed a man who would aspire to my hand through mercenary motives!'

"'Ah, mademoiselle,' I sighed; you can understand that I was not over-anxious to be mistaken for one of these fortune-hunters.

"'Oh, my dear friend,' she exclaimed, 'I know that you are not that kind of a man. Now I am going to tell you my ideal of a husband. I would never accept the love of a man who had not cared for me previous to the death of my father. Ah! I would indeed be confident of that man's love, and I would return it to him a hundredfold!'

"'Then I am that man!' I cried out; 'I have loved you for over six long years, and I never dared to tell you so, although you must have noticed that I was slowly but surely dying for the want of your affection!' Then she looked down at the ground, and whispered; 'Maybe I have,' and she looked at me as if trying to read the truth in my eyes. It was easy to see that she wanted to believe what I said, but was afraid to do so.


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Rh something very shocking and compromising. But in the new Philadelphia, it is music whenever the Philadelphian eats or drinks in public, which seems to be next to always.

It may be said that these are harmless innovations, part of the change in town life as lived in any other town as big. But the marvel to me was their conquest of Philadelphia, the town that used to pride itself on not being like other towns, and there they exaggerated themselves in my eyes into nothing short of revolution. The craving for novelty—that was at the root of it all: of the restlessness, the willingness to do what the old-fashioned Philadelphian would rather have been seen dead than caught doing, of the deliberate break with tradition. Nothing now can be left peacefully as it was. I felt the foundations of the world crumble when I heard that the Dancing Class has taken new quarters over in Horticultural Hall and the Assembly in the Bellevue, that Philadelphia consents to go up Broad Street for its opera, quieting its conscience by the compromise of going in carriages and motors and never on foot. There surely was the end of the old Philadelphia, the real Philadelphia. And it made matters no better to be assured that so rapidly does Philadelphia move with the times that the Philadelphian who stays away from home, or who is in mourning, for a year or so, finds on coming back, or out of retirement, that Philadelphia society has been as completely transformed in the meanwhile as Philadelphia streets. Nor did it make matters better to discover the different prices that different