9
Mighty Germany
Ey Admiral von Koester, of the German Mavy
HE carrying out of our naval programme is necessary to
protect us against the attacks of nations, which view our
economic success with jealous eyes. We require these suc
cesses bectuse the steady increase of our population compels
lis to devote special attention to the growth of our oversea
interests. Nothing but tie strict fulfillment .of our naval
programme can create for us that importance upon the free
world-sea which it is incumbent on us to demand. It is
said that Germany cannot bear the burden of double arma
ments by land and sea. , The steady increase of our population compois ua
to set ourselves new goals, and to grow from a Continental into a world pow
er. Our mighty industry must aspire to new over-sea conquests. The number
of our merchant ships must be increased. We must dignify our colonies
with more importance. Our world trade, which has more than doubled in
twenty years which has increased from $2,500,000,000 to $4,000,000,
000 during the ten years since our naval programme was fixed and $3,000,
000,000 of which is sea-borne commerce alone, can only flourish if we con
tinue honorably to bear the burdens of our armaments on land and sea. The
German nation in 1900, after mature reflection, adopted the naval programme
Meantime our national fortune has grown by at least $5,000,000,000 the esti
mate of $500,000,000 a year is none. too high while the population has in
creased by S.000,000. Thanks to strong land armaments Continental Ger
many has enjoyed the blessings of peace for forty years, and has raised her
self to great affluence. Unless our children are to accuse us of shortsighted
ness it is now our duty to secure our world power and position among other
nations. We can do that only under the protection of a strong German
fleet, constructed according to the provisions of our naval law a fleet which
Khali guarantee us peace with honor for the distant futre.
p Jt
European Superiority
Speculations on the Cause of Hurts to Jimen
ican Pride
By Padraic Emmet Smith
u3
MEKICA-NS sometimes complain of the supercilious bear
ing shown by a good many Europeans, and particularly by
the inhabitants of the British Isles, toward persons and af
fairs American. This European disdain is an undeniable
reality and is directly due to the infantile enthusiasm and
awe shown by the average travelling Americans, and partic
ularly by their wemenkind, in the presence of anything
which has no counterpart in. their own country.
A crazy old edince marred by time, a cninless dude
with a title, a dirty little town which has been mentioned in history, anything
to which a rag of aristocratic sentiment can be tied, suffices to excite their
wonder. A manager at a London hotel once told me that an American girl
that day had collected the shells of some nuts which an carl had been eating.
Rich Americans in Europe have the reputation of being unmitigated snobs.
Mediocrists from Europe, whom the average European doee not know, are
lionized here and mobbed by "society."
A few months ago a humdrum leat by the brother, or rather the horse
of the brother, of a British lord sent a Madison Square Garden "society"
crowd mad with enthusiasm. What wonder that Europeans are supercilious?
What wonder that they should be surprised and delighted at the social humil
ity of Americans, and that they should believe that everything here is below
the level of the smug mediocrity of which they are themselves secretly
conscious?
inn 1 t 4-1 - ?
American Disease
By Henry Van Dyke
URIOUSLY enough, it was in France that the best treatment
of this disease developed, and one of the famous practition
ers, Dr. Charcot, died, if I mistake not, of the complaint to
the cure of which he had given his life. In spite of the tact
that nervous disorders are common among Americans, they
do not seem to lead to an unusual number of cases of men
tal wreck. I have been looking into the statistics of insan
ity. The latest trustworthy figures that I could find are as
follows: In 1900, the United States had 10G.500 insane per
ils ,u a population of 70 millions. In 189G Great Britain and Ireland had
128.S00 in a population of 37 millions. In 1S84 France had 93,900 in a popula
tion of 40 millions. That would make about 328 Insane persons in 100,000
for Great Britain, 235 in every 100,000 for France, 143 in every 100,000 for
America.
Nor does the wear and tear of American life, great as It may be, seem
to kill people with extraordinary rapidity. In 1900 the annual death rate
per 1,000 in Austria was 25, in Italy 23, in Germany 22, in France 21, in Bel
glum 19, in Great Britain IS, and in the United States 17. In America the
average age at death in 1S90 was 31 years; in 1900 it had risen to 35 years.
Other things such as climate, sanitation, hygiene must be taken into account
in reading these figures. But after making all allowance for these things,
the example of America does not indicate that an active, busy, quick-moving
life is necessarily a short one. On the contrary, hard work seems to be
-wholesome, and energy favors longevity. American Magazine.
The Point at Which We
3egin
By C. P. Botvne
tT IU WHIMilllll II HI" i
OPULaR thought begins by assuming that matter is the
most certain of all things. Spirit may be doubted, but
material things are undeniably there. This is the convic
tion with which we all begin and It very easily leads us
toward mechanical and materialistic thinking. The view,
however, is invested. The only sure facts in life are our
selves and the world of common experience, the human
world in short.
Ihis is where we really begin and wnere life Itself goe3
on, and ail thinking whatever that we may do must be related to these facts,
and whatever we believe must in some way be deduced from these facts. Mat
ter, then, as a metaphysical existence is no first fact, but only an abstrac
tion from experience. Life and experience are the first facts.
Now with this starting point we find ourselves living, thinking, feeling,
acting and producing a great many effects In the world of experience. We
are in this world depending upon it in some ways and able to act upon it and
modify it in some ways.
The physical world, then, is far from independent of our thought and ac
tion. We, the living persons, modify the world of things, use it for our pur
poses, build cities, traverse seas, subdue nature to our service, develop cov-
tnnxnent, social institutions, etc.; and in sdl of this we find ourselves given ',
as active 8tr?l controlling causes. North American Review.
MY PLEA,
Give me, 0 Fate, O Destiny, four walls beneath' a roof,
'A little cash that I may live and living hold aloof '
From humankind of every mold, whoe'er, whate'er it ber
Who think a mint of 'hoarded gold can give them power o'er met
Give me, 0 Guiding Star, a spot, beneath yon arching span,
Where I can hide, in pence, from that especial man
Who thinks, because bis prejudice is hard and cold and dry.
That he is more intelligent, more versed in truth than 1!
Give me, O Fortune, some far place beyond the eager tongu
Of him who sits in ignorance upon life's lowest rung!
Sahara's wilds, grim solitude, I care not where it be,
But lot me live where man's conceit I may no longer see!
Give me, 0 Luck, O Circumstance, the chance to get away
'A thousand miles from that crass chap who has too much to say!
Pregerve me from the gabfest trait, the over-plus of epeech
From all who wag their jaws too much I would be out of reach!
Lurana W. Sheldon, in the New York Times.
THE ORGAN!
ST.
By RENE I5A2TIN.
He was a very old gentleman, at
whom the street boys pointed because
of his long locks. He wore them
long and curling, like tho Bretons In
pictures, although he had come from
some obscure place in Flanders and
was living in a little city in the south
of France. The people of the neigh
boring villages, dwellers by the
Rhone, folk of the land of garlic, sun,
and wind, asked, when they heard
him speak:
"Who is that strange man with the
northern accent?"
"What! Don't you know -him?
That is the organist of our cathedral'
His clean-shaven face had the tone
of old Delft faiences, in which a tinge
of blue can always be seen beneath
the white enamel. His face was
broadZy outlined, like a Roman bust.
As to his eyes, they were buried un
derneath such a forest of eyebrows
that only two persons claimed to have
seen them that is, really to have
seen them. And yet these persons
differed in opinion as to their color.
'They are dark blue," said M. Fo
Holis, the priest of the cathedral.
To which the blower of the great
organ replied:
"I have seen them oftener than
you have, I who blow the organ; they
are brown, like the beetles on oak
trees."
Blue or brown, they had an anxious
tenderness when they looked at Cath
erine, the only souvenir of the most
painful episode of M. Bretwiller',
life, his marriage. M. Bretwiller, a
musician of the northern school,
whose very gayety was pensive, and
whose enthusiasm was melancholy,
belonged to the race of those great
barbarians who came down from their
forests to sunny Rome at the time of
the invasions. They felt the sun
beams delightful upon their helmets,
and their hearts were stirred by the
glow, which awoke within them a
new song. Their weapons trembled
in their hands at the sight of the
beautiful Roman women, and they
said to themselves that they would
do well to pitch their tents in a land
where the olive shades the twofold
harvest of grapes and wheat. After
their manner, and with great eager
ness, they tasted the delights of that
foreign land. But to understand is
not to be understood. M. Bretwiller
made proof of that truth. His south
ern bride had not the least suspicion
what a German musician might be;
and she died, of it. Catherine alone
remained to prove that the organist
had been married. She was puny
and ill-favored, as the product of two
clashing civilizations. Her hair was
too curly, her forehead too low, her
eyes, which could not decide between
the north and the south, had the hue
of dead embers. Her mouth, how
ever, was exquisite, modeled after an
tique.types, full and severe, large and
always moist, like the Hps of shells
which sing the eternal song. She
Eang divinely. Her father knew no1
greater joy, perhaps he really had no
other joy, than to hear the melodies
which he composed come forth from
that beloved voice and pas3 above the
mimosas in the garden, borne by the
air of Provence, , which carries music
more lightly than any other air, by
reason of habit, of the language, and
of the fragrance of the flowers. He
said to her, simply:
"See, Catherine, the greater part
of men have not soul enough for two.
They have only enough for them
selves. Those who have more soul
than they need for themselves are the
poets, the philosophers, the musicians
and the composers. Above all the
composers, for they speak the lan
guage least of all subject to restraint,
and therefore the most universal. A
noto has no country. A melody is
merely the key which opens the door
of dreams in all dialects." He also
isaid :
"I know very well that I am not
understood, here in the south. All
the members of the chapter have the
Italian ear. The priest rebels against
the fugue. The chapel-master, M.
Catbise, may not even know the
names of Bach, Franck and Wagner.
The air is saturated with Rossini's
cavatinas. My great organ, if I
would , permit it, would play sere
nades, all by itself. Its tremolo Is
diabolically easy. It is my honor to
strive to implant the German method
in this Latin country. I will make it
triumphant. It shall reign here some
da-, and you shall hear 'Tristan and
Yseult' in Avignon, and tho 'Phantom
Ship sung in sight of the sea by the
herdsmen of Camargue!"
Sometimes they went to walk !n
the outskirts of the city, upon the
bare hills where sparse groups of
tree3 point toward the sky. M. Bret
willer tried not to hear the Rhone,
which whistled an allegro o" auazicg
lightness; he tried to hear neither the
crickets, with their Neapolitan songs,
nor the tamarisk shrubs, those un
wearying murmurers of lullabies; but
when he came upon a pine tree, he
seated himself at its foot and took a
lesson. "Master of masters," he said,
'linger of the north and of the south,
self-sufficing, and evolving the same
meditative theme, alike beneath the
sun and the fog."
But, far more often, M. Bretwiller
did not go out. Jn the streets his tall,
bent figure was seldom seen, unless it
were on saints' days, half an hour be
fore service and half an hour after
ward. He walked along, already im
provising, possessed by the idea which
developed itself exuberantly in these
moments of exaltation. He saw no
one, bowed to no one, and did not
know that he had reached his destina
tion until suddenly the shadow close
to the Roman walls of the cathedral
made him raise his head. Then, go
ing in by a door of which he alone
possessed the key, he mounted the
organ gallery, seated himself, threw
a terrible glance at the blower, and
played a few chords, with his hand
and his foot, to test himself. Then,
the time having come, he abandoned
himself to the charm of his composi
tion, a charm which, alas, was con
fined to himself. He was no longer
bowed down, but erect, solemn,
happy.
The only person who disturbed him
in these joyful hours was Catbise, the
chapel-master, who responded to him
with the little choir-organ; Catbise,
who played the chants, a pure south
erner, and of the blond kind which
never knows self-distrust. This Cat
bise, who had not composed even a
waltz, delighted his audience with
preludes, sorrowful airs with flowery
variations, tearful strains mingled
with Tyrolean warblings, the art, in
fact, of the little Italians who smil
ingly play the violin in the streets.
Bretwiller execrated him, all the more
so because once or twice a year a
certain worthy canon, who had no
thought of ill-will, would come to
him and say: "How you master your
organ, M. Bretwiller! What a pity
that you are not always clear! See
M. Catbise, a young man with a great
future. There is a man whom one
can easily understand, and whom one
can follow without fatigue!"
Catherine consoled her father for
the injustice of men. She was the
true cause of this sacrificed life. If
you could have penetrated the secret
of that old artist's soul, you would
have seen what no one knew, not even
Catherine herself, that if he remained
in that southern land, so rebellious to
his art, it was not in order to secure
the triumph of his favorite composers
or of his own works, but to save
Catherine, who had been sickly from
her childhood. A physician In whom
M. Bretwiller had confidence had
said: "If she leaves the south before
she is twenty-five years old she will
not live." He waited, watching with
a growing hope the restoration of
this child who had neither strength
nor beauty. From year to year he
observed new favorable symptoms.
She had a faint color in her cheeks.
She walked more firmly. Her voice
assumed without effort the grave full
ness which indicates a robust life.
Would she live? And could they both
leave the valley of the Rhone, and
make their way to the north, she,
after having passed her early youth,
he, before his final old age? When
she sang he said aloud: "What a joy
to be so understood! What a queen
of high art you are!" At the same
time he thought: "We will leave
them all, these lovers of farondoles!
X will take you far away. You were
almost sentenced to death, and now
life smiles upon you."
Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty
five! She had reached her twenty
fifth year. M. Bretwiller only sought
an occasion, and the occasion came to
him without his suspecting it. The
rumor spread through the city that
M. Catbise had composed a mass In
sol minor for the approaching sel
omnity of Easter. At first the organ
ist did not believe it. (
"Sol minor? Solnlnor? Persons
of his sort only wr.ite in major, sir!
As far as he is concerned, how should
he write anything at all, even in a
common, hilarious tone? He has not
an idea. Catbise cannot have com
posed a mass; my own in re minor is
not finished, although I have been
working on it for fifteen years."
It was true, however. When he
received the score from the priest's
hands a rage took possession of the
organist; a rage in which there en
tered musical passion and a great deal
of jealousy. The priest said:
"You will acconpany M. Catblse's
mass on the little organ, will you
not, dear M. Bretwiller? Ho will
conduct."
"No, sir. I only accompany that
which exists. Catbise does not exist."
His resignation followed on the
same day. The organist wrote it off
hand, without hesitation, without
emotion. He was free. He could re
turn to the north and realize his
dream of twenty-five years. Only
twenty-five years Is a great age for a
dream.
. The first use which M. Bretwiller
made of his freedom was to go back
to the cathedral and to enter the
organ-loft. He tried the har.t-bois,
which he found of a most superior
quality; the celestial voice, which he
often used; the trumpet, which did
not displease him. With a sigh he said:
"Fine instrument, into what hands
are you about to fall!" And with the
point of his knife he inscribed upon
the largest pipe these words, which I
have read: "This organ will think no
more." It gave him a strange sen
sation to turn the key in the old lock
of the organ-loft.
As he came down the street from
the cathedral he went into the shop
of a man who sold hot cakes. He
used to buy one every Sunday, as he
went home from the great organ.
"Adieu, M. Besseguet." ':T'
"Don't you mean au revoir?" "r"
"No, adieu."
He did not explain himself, for ho
was affected. He felt the curiosity
of a foreigner in this city which he
Had not wanted to see during all his
life there. He observed the houses,
measured with his eyes the trees on
the avenues, recognized the passers
by, and saluted them with a slow ges
ture which followed them.
When he came in front of his gar
den hedge, he saw a pomegranate
blossom which had just opened. "I
shall regret that," he said. He went
along between the borders of violets'
which were so fragrant every morn
ing when hVj settled himself at his
piano, and he went past the grape
arbors which he visited so gladly in
the autumn, until he came to his
daughter, feeling less proud than he
had expected to feel. She had al
ready approved of everything. She
had more things to rerget than he
had; but, after all, since he was so
eager to leave the country
M. Bretwiller was astonished to
find that he was held by so many ties
to a land which he detested. His
nature was insistent. He loved to go
to the bottom of questions. He said:
"What matters it to us, here or
there? We shall carry with us our
happiness, my little Catherine, our
dear intimacy which is everything to
us."-
"Undoubtedly."
"We shall live in just the same
way."
"Gocd heavens, yes!"
"How you say that! Are you not
happy, Catherine?" He thought:
"As to me, there are reasons why I
should be sorry. But she? For
twenty-five years I have lived for her j
alone."
Catherine let herself be urged, to ;
answer. She hesitated, and ended
by saying, without understanding all
the cruelty of her words:
"I have been loved by nobody but
you!"
And M. Bretwiller went to the
north, having learned two things in a
short time; that it Is dangerous to try
to realize an old dream; but that it
is still more so, that it Is an absolute
imprudence, to wish to know the In
most essence of our happiness.
Translated for the Argonaut, by Ed
ward Tuckerman Mason.
To Carry Medicine Bottles. '
The woman who travels can utilize
(in old hot-water bottle by cutting off
the neck, sewing brass rings to tho
top of the bag thus formed, and
flrawlng a stout ribbon through the
rings. This forms an admirable re
eptacle for small bottles, which can!
thus be carried in hand bag or suit
sase without fear of damage from
leakage. New Idea Woman's Maga
line. ...
"'""7" Save the Hands.
Housekeepers can Ihus save the ap.
pearance of their hands, so they need
Rot wish they could leave them at
borne when they go visiting: Have
plenty of thick, soft holders near the
rtove, with which to take hold of tho
pots and pans. Keep a pair of gloves
bandy to use when putting wood in
ihe stove, or to work In the garden,
?r pick over coal ashes, or to put 'on
tfhen j'ou sweep.. Rub the hands at
light, with a mixture made of equal
parts of glycerine and rose-water to
jvhich add one drop of carbolic acid.
A.fter scrubbing or washing dishes
bathe the hands in vinegar or rub
nrith a cut lemon; and when you sit.
lown to your sewing, if they feel like
i nutmeg-grater, rub them with cam
phor, which will make them soft and"
pliable. Farm Journal.
The Real Test.
The kitchen is where the real test,
jomes. Here is more prose than poe
Iry, and it takes the best efforts of alT
joncerned to keep order and harmony
n this domain. System is the key to
:he situation. Plan your work a" day
ihead see that wood, water, an
food are all at hand before you sleep
Then know at what hour you need to
rise; set your alarm clock, and obejr
Its earliest summons.
In summer there is no better
breakfast than coffee, fruits, melons
gutter, eggs and cream, with good
Dld-fashioned buttermilk and honey
!n the comb. All these are available
too, on a well-regulated farm.
Dish-washing is an item, so pre
pare for it. Have a big boiler of hot
water, and an abundance of cold
plenty of clean cloths and drying:
towels. If j'ou have no sink, use a
ten-gallon pan or basin set into a.
hole to fit it, on the kitchen table.
Some really good soap-end a willing:
mind are all that is needed to make
flish-washing endurable. Progres
sive Farmer.
Linen Closet.
To one house with large rooms and"
plenty of closets there are a hundred
apartments so cramped for space that
a good-sized linen closet is an unheard-of
luxury. But, since linen
closets are a necessity to the careful
housekeeper, there is nothing to do
but to make one.
A practical closet may be made of
packing cases, one, two, or three, as
one needs them and has room for
them. Fasten the lids with hinges
and line the sides and bottoms with
unbleached calico, in which, if de
sired, might be stitched pockets to
hold sachets or sweet lavender. The
lids should be padded outside with
horsehair and a permanent rough
cover stitched on. Over all is fitted
a neat cretonne cover, with a flounce
hanging around the sides. If possi
ble, it is best to have three boxes, one 1
for the sheets, one for the table
cloths, napkins, doilies, etc., and the
other for pillow cases, bolster cases,
and towels.
Shirt-waist boxes may be con
structed in the same manner. Phila
delphia Telegram.
Homestead entries in Canada In
January, .1910, were 2698, or twice
those of January, 1909. Immigra
tion from the United States Is ex
pected to exceed 100,000 this year.
V
(3sl$e3 for a People's Kighxxv. I
V
They asked for the People's Highway, though never a word they spake;
Dim in the wind of their flight, defeatured, unhuman, they spurred,
Dim in the whirling dust that they left in their fatal wake
They asked for theTcoplc's Highway! . . . (The People said never a word).
They have run down a child; and yet, who will say that theira was the blame?
The child in the road it fluttered as silly tts fledgling bird!
They turned to the right, they turned to the left, and the child the same
But they could not stop on the Highway! (The People said never a word).
They have crushed the old lame man, as home .from his work he went
Or, was he deaf, that not at the signal repeated he stirred?
He kept the road, in his stupid way the'warning was sent
But they could not stop on the Highway! (The People said never a word).
The People are slow of speech, but their thought is to-morrow's law;
And the bolt of their judgment the heavier falls the longer deferred. . . .
When the Red Car mocked and the Black Car scowled, and the People saw
That they would not stop on the Highway hark to the People's word:
"Beggars! a road of their own with their wealth let them build, if they will,
And leave what is ours to us the right of the plodding herd!
Let the Ked Car lord it, the Black Car race with the Red. to kill
But not on our Highway. This is the People's Will and Word."
Edith M. Thoma3, in Putnam'i.
9
C
e
C
c
3
Tolenta Dabs. Scald a pint of In
dian meal in boiling water. Mix to
gether one tablespoon of butter, two
beaten eggs, two tablespoons of
cream and a pinch of salt. Stir this
into the cornmeal and drop from a
snoon into a buttered pan. Bake in
a moderate oven.
Coiled Black Beans. Let the
beans soak in a basin of water for
three hours. Drain and boil in fresh
water for three hours. Drain again
and put into another saucepan with a
little stock, a tablespoonful of chut
ney and a teaspoonful of mushroom
catsup. Cook for another half hour
and turn onto a dish garnished with
boiled ricer.
Bread Omelet. Soak a teacupful
of bread crumbs in a cupful of hot
milk. Break sit eggs into a bowl,
stir gently until mixed, then add the
bread and milk. Season with salt and.
pepper and turn into a hot frying pan
containing a spoonful of melted but
ter. Fry the omelet slowly, and when
brown on the bottom cut in half, turn
and brown on top.
Tapiocu Jelly. Let half a cupful
of tapioca soak for two hours in a
cupful of cold water, standing the
dish in a basin of warm water and
keeping it in a warm place. Pour
two mere cupfuls of water Into a
saucepan, add a cupful of sugar and
the rind of half a lemon cut into
shreds. Squeeze in the juice of a
lemon. Boil for five minutes until
the sugar is dissolved, pour in the;
tapioca and water and coo!c gently
for twenty minuter, roiu1 Into a
mould and serve when coIJ with
whippsd creatu "