Jack Frost, the roguish fellow, The winds piped loud and shrill. By cosy firesides played, And Christmas trees arrayed. ΜΕ 4. Me an' Bab. E an' Bab went to church (Bab's our cat), an' Bab, she saw a mouse. An' course she wanted to catch him. An' she slipped out under my sack, where I'd hid her when we went to church, an' was out of the pew quicker'n no time. Well, my pa's a dicken, an' he had a correction-box, an' he was a leanin' over with the correction-box stretched out so't Frankie Hill, what sat in the farthest corner, could put in a cent, an' all the people was givin' centses, too, an' ten cents, too, an' five cents, too, an' he was a stretching out the correction-box to Frankie, and just then the mouse ran right acrost his feet an' Bab after him. An' my papa he gave a queer sort of cry, an' dropped the correction box, and all the centses fell on the floor in Frankie Hill's pew, an'-an' my pa's face went redder'n red, an' his ears an' his neck, an' he turns around an' sees our Bab scamperin' after the mouse,an' he started to go after her, an' everybody on our side was a-lookin' at Bab an' the people on the other side that couldn't see Bab was lookin' at my pa, and then they all looked at Mr. Green-that's the minister -an' Mr. Green he was lookin' orful solemn. An' the mouse ran acrost the raised place covered with red carpet, where the minister sits, an' he ran under his chair, an' Bab after him. An' all the dickens had laid down there correction boxes an' was goin' there, too-not under the chair I don't mean-but up to the raised place with red carpet, an' the mouse he scampered to the door that's one side of where the min'ster sits, an' he couldn't get out, an' there was no hole for him, an' Bab was after him lickety split, an' -an'-he comed back an' ran into old Miss Tromley's pew, an' she screamed an' ran out, an' then there was a regular scrimmage; an' the dickens was all mixed up, an' Bab was among their feet, an' my pa he stooped down, an' then he came down 'tween the pews with Bab in his arms an' his face was orful. An' he went out with Bab, an' the other dickens went for their boxes. An' Mr. Green he dropped his hank-cher, and he was orful long pickin' it up; an' then he coughed, an' hid his face in his hank'cher an' he shooked all over just like he did when my pa told that story about the dicken what put the wrong plaster on his nose; an' everybody was laughin', but I was cryin', 'cause I didn't know what my pa would do to Bab or-or-me. An' Frankie Hill was pickin' up cents in his pew when my pa comed back; an' he took me by the arm, an' led me out of church, an' says, very stern-"Go home!" An' our house is close by, so I went all by myself, an' my pa went back to his correction-box. An' I don't know what came of the mouse; but Jemima Jane says it's a good thing my ma's away, an' I'll get a proper "correction box" when she gets home. WERNER'S MAGAZINE BUREAU NOTES. A COMPARATIVE held, is the picturef the entertainment field, is the picture. play. It combines the old lyceum idea of a reader with the theatrical idea of seeing the characters while they are speaking. The public is a child which likes best to have stories told to it in some way visible and concrete. This the picture play does, and, when he who reads is an artist and the pictures presented are artistic, the combination is a strong one. A Scotch story, with pictures of Scotch scenery, read by a man with Scotch blood in his veins,-truly, here is a picture-play which should contain strength, charm, and local color. All the world knows "Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush," by Ian Maclaren, but all the world has not been fortunate enough to go to Scotland and see Tochty Woods or Milton Burn. Mr. Albert Armstrong presents the sketches "For Conscience Sake" and A Doctor of the Old School," using pictures which were made by him in "Drumtochty," and in which the likeness to the folk found there is most impressive. In these sketches Mr. Armstrong impersonates in all twelve characters and gives a dramatic view of these lovable men and women which one can hardly obtain from a simple reading of the book. In The Little Minister" also Mr. Armstrong impersonates thirteen characters, the costumes for which he arranged after a careful study of gipsy life and attire. He has spared no pains to make his picture plays true and artistic, as attested by the success which has attended them. That portion of the public which does not go to the theatre for all its views of foreign life, finds these picture-plays instructive and entertaining. ** Picture-plays are not the forte of men alone. Anna Delony Martin is giving in that way the "Prisoner of Zenda" and "Quo Vadis." two stories which in themselves are essentially dramatic and contain scenes which lend themselves to pictorial art in a very pleasing manner. In a picture-play it is necessary that the audience grasp the situations without descriptive passages from the reader, and a story in which the action is stirring and constant is, of course, the right one for the purpose, Miss Martin has shown admirable good taste and dramatic ability in her arrangement of the pictures and she interprets them with force and brilliancy. AMERICAN SOCIETY AND THE ARTIST. N what ways, mutually helpful and de society hold relation? If by society we mean the wealthy leisure class, the prosperous who are often so anxious to become Mæcenas and Mrs. Leo Hunters, a real problem is presented by this question. How can the artist and the rich man come together on a basis of mutual profit? This subject is discussed by Aline Gorren, in the November Scribner's. She admits that it is a difficult problem to bring the rich man and the artist together, because, unless the former has the proper kind of culture, the latter-always a hard person to get along with-is likely to degenerate into a mère 'entertainer.". This is particularly true of conditions in America where life is so strenuous and materialistic, and where there is no atmosphere of traditional culture. Says Miss Gorren : One "The point is one which needs to be squarely faced and clearly grasped. may not, for example, be indiscriminately in favor of the preposterous sums often paid by Americans to foreign singers, or players, or painters, and yet one may realize that the scale of payments to artists must be different here and abroad, because here the elements on which the artist feeds in his surroundings, and which he works up into his æsthetic output, are so much more meagre. He is called upon to give out constantly, and he takes in very little. Rich as is our American life, it is poor in the ways which signify most to the artist; poor in intellectually fruitful leisure, in stimulating craftsman like talk, in the prevalence of general ideas, in picturesqueness and variety of impressions. Abroad he may willingly work as hard as he does here for one quarter of the price that he here exacts, but the world around him yields him enough, in pictorial and emotional directions, to indemnify him a hundredfold." Artistic recognition in America, she declares has come to mean money, ostentation, show. "The vulgarization of artists is one of the sadly effectual accomplishments of American society." The verdict of “every serious artistic worker in any line," is unanimous on these points: "What is called society in America is a medium in which the artist is in a state of perpetual discomfort, is continuously ill at ease. Sometimes he is snubbed, but that is not the chief trouble. He could stand snubbing, especially equable and systematic snubbing, and be none the worse for it. What is really fatal to the artistic life is the fulsome and hysterical adulation which breaks out spasmodically to centre upon certain individuals, and in which all feeling for proportion, all instinct for measure and accuracy, are overborne and carried away by a sweep of sentiment that has something half savage, something almost brutal, about it. . . . The artistic development demands a more temperate atmosphere, and one less subject to violent contrasts of heat and cold. And it does not save the situation to contend-though this is certainly truethat American society reserves the great heats of its favors for the best and biggest achievements; that it has no enthusiasms for the second rate. The artistic life is not solely a thing of great achievements; it has shades, grades, steps and successions, of excellences. And it thrives where a fine and critical discrimination seeks out these halfperfections, these courageous attempts and genial trials, and, with an analytical feeling for the germ of beauty which they may contain, has proportionate satisfaction and pleasure in them, as well as in the fully rounded consummations. There are dangers involved in caring only for the best and biggest in art, as in other things. To know what he [the artist] is striving for and what road he is taking to get to his end, is to aid him more effectually than to applaud him to the echo, and to sign large checks for his work." PHYSICAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE ARAB. It is well known that the Arab is one of the finest specimens of physical manhood to be found on the earth. This is generally attributed to his devotion to horse exercise. Undoubtedly this exercise is to a large degree the cause of the Arab's splendid physique, but his general training and hab its must also be credited. From his earliest youth up the Arab carefully cultivates his physical powers. An account of the methods used is given by Alexander J Svoboda, in a recent issue of Sandow's Magazine. Says Mr. Svoboda: "The Arab infant has barely entered the world ere it is subjected to scientific swathing. The Arab mother every night and morning ties up her child (male or female) in such a manner as to prevent the fragile and weak limbs from becoming loose and disjointed. This régime is continued up to the age of two years, and during all this time the child never sleeps but in soft hammocks, so that the limbs may be unfettered and free to grow. After the age of two years the Arab becomes very anxious about the physical strength of his child. Its nourishment is of the purest, avoiding strictly any of those exquisite dishes which tend to vitiate the stomach and weaken the body. Its drink is simply clear water, entirely innocent of alcohol. Toward the age of five to seven years the children thus treated begin to show signs of physical force. At the age of eight years the Arab boy, the father being dissatisfied with his progress, is subjected to another process, which obtains throughout the whole of Arabia. This consists in rubbing him, night and morning, with a fatty substance-the fat of veal, beef fat, or, better still, mutton fat." Other factors in their wondrous strength and intrepidity are their habits of cleanliness, sobriety, hardihood, and the absence of all excesses in their lives. "The strong Arab has never been delicately reared. On the contrary, he has barely reached the tender age of three years when he is allowed to go forth alone and entirely naked, be it summer or the depth of winter, running anywhere and everywhere, jumping, throwing himself down, raising himself and falling again, the while being exposed, for hours together, to the broiling sun of the desert-all this hardship not causing him the slightest barm, but only making his limbs stretch out and strengthen. Thus he accustoms himself to hardy habits, his nerves firm, his muscles rigid. At the age of 14 or 15 his parents thrust him forth to hunt the wild beast in the vast desert, wrestling corps à corps' with then, aided only by a small dagger. The Arab who does not commence before the age of 10 years to concern himself with the development of his body is considered by all his people as a lost creature, and is described everywhere in their mocking speech as a mere woman." TESTING THE HUMOR OF AN AUDIENCE. A series of interesting lecture experiences are being told by Ian Maclaren in The Saturday Evening Post. Speaking of the capacity of the average audience to grasp a humorous situation, Dr. Watson says: 66 Audiences vary very much in excellence, and it is difficult to understand the reason, because you may have the most delightful and the most difficult from the same class of people. Audiences are like horses -some of them so hard in the mouth and spiritless that they almost pull your arm out of the socket, and others so bright and high-spirited that you hardly feel the reins in your hands, and driving-that is to say, speaking-is a delight. The ideal audience is not one which accompanies you from be ginning to end with applause and laughter, but one that takes every point and enjoys it with intelligent reserve so that your illustrations may be condensed into allusions and a word conveys your humor. One of my pleasures as a lecturer was to test every audience by a certain passage which divided the sheep from the goats, and I think my enjoyment was even greater when they were all goats. "It came into a reading from the BrierBush where the word 'intoxication' occurs. My custom is to stop and apologize for the appearance of such a work in my book, and to explain that the word is not known in Scots speech. There are, I used to say, two reasons why a Scotsman does not employ the word. The first is that he is imperfectly acquainted with the painful circumstances to which this word is supposed to allude, and the second, that a Scotsman considers that no one with a limited human intellect can know enough about the conditions of his fellow creatures to make such a statement. "When an audience took in the situation at once, then one could rest for a moment, since they require that time to appreciate the rigid temperance and conscientious literary accuracy of the Scotch people. When they took the statement in perfect seriousness, and one or two solemn reformers nod. ded their heads in high approval, then I wanted to go behind the curtain and shake hands with myself. More than once it was with difficulty I could continue in face of this unbroken seriousness, and once I broke down utterly, although I hope the audience only supposed I was laughing at some poor humor of my own." MUSICAL INTERPRETATION. The difference between simply "playing a piece" and properly interpreting the thought of the composer is treated by Carl Hoffman, in Music for November. Of what musical interpretation really is, he says: "This may be taken to mean a realizing in tone language of the inner meaning of a musical work according to the intent of its composer, or as the performer conceives it, to which attaches unavoidably something of the emotional state of the latter at the moment. For the composer's thought can never be stated in exact terms, and this for two reasons. It is modified, as already intimated, by the mood state of the player in its transition from conceiving to reproducing and again it is conditioned as to effect by the receptivity of the hearer-two greatly varying factors." The life, time, surroundings and person ality of the composer must always be taken into consideration before the proper interpretation of his work is possible. "The highest art attainment of any period," says Emerson, "represents the altitude of the human soul at that time." Says Mr. Hoff man: "It seems clear, therefore, that the artist seeking recognition in the consecrated office of an interpreter, a high priest to serve in the temple of art, must needs put himself, so far as possible, at the very beginnings of music and its literature, and master their forms and spiritual meanings on down through all ages to the present; and only the artist performer, instrumentalist or vocalist, who does so will be able in his interpretations, other things being equal, to prove the profound truth of the apostolic saying: The letter killeth, but the spirit maketh alive.' " The true artist must know all history, but especially the history of his art. "If the artist is to enter into the thought of the composer and see it with his mindif the emotional motive of the composer's work is to become an essential feature in his conception of it-in short, if the mood picture as a result of all this is to be true as well as striking, then his obligation to the past of which the composer is a part is incontestible. This obligation is dual in character; directed first to the composer's creative personality, and next to his artistic environment. Just as the actor upon the stage, in the unfolding of the plot and the interplay of character in it, must likewise give a faithful, correlative picture of the time in which the play is supposed to move in order to a complete histrionic effect, so must the performing artist-musician give us such a view of the tone poet in his work that we who listen to his music may feel even the atmosphere of his artist soul and life in it as an added charm to his music. Bach, for instance, must be studied in association with the ethical standards, mechanical limitations and art forms peculiar to his times, in order to arrive at an adequate conception of his music; moreover, one should meet him familiarly in the midst of his home life and duties, note his needs and struggles and feel the inspiration of the master's moral and artistic conscience. To conceive and play Bach as one would a composer of today is, of course, absurd from the standpoint of real art, and the result in such case would be more or less a distortion. And what is true of this master is true of all others belonging to the past. Their times, the moral and artistic influences bearing upon and working within them, warping, hindering or advancing their creative activity, must be studied intimately -'einstudirt' as the expressive German has it-if one would faithfully reproduce their works." LIP AND FACE READING FOR THE DEAF. A new aid for the incurable deaf is receiving a good deal of consideration in the medical and physical culture journals. It is known as lip-reading. In a recent issue of The Medical Record, Mrs. Cora D. Gorton has a paper on this subject, in which she characterizes the method as "a perfect system." More than two centuries ago, Dr. John Bulwer, an English surgeon, referred to "that subtle art which enables one with an observant eye to hear by watching the movements of the lips." The work of systematizing this and arranging it upon scientific principles, however, is of quite recent date. Although it may seem difficult to reach the result of understanding spoken language through any other medium than the sense of hearing, this can be accomplished through the education of the eye. Says Mrs. Gorton: "When we recognize the positions and actions of speech, we are reading speech. In its accomplishment, both a mechanical and an intellectual process is exercised. The sight may be trained to carry to the brain actions of the organs of speech, and the brain associates ideas with them. Facility requires not only a quick and trained eye, but a degree of intellectual alertness, to resolve doubts instantly when possible cases of ambiguity arise, there being a vast num. ber of words which appear alike to the eye of the speech-reader, words for instance, beginning with the labial consonants þ, b, m, and the linguals t, d, n. Such words, when presented separately, are to be distinguished with difficulty, but the mind of the reader is at once made certain when they are recog nized in their association with other words in the sentence. With unconnected words there is no context to assist the mind. The imagination is an aid to comprehension, and guessing oftentimes supplies doubtful words in a sentence in which two or three of the leading words are recognized. There is more to be seen by the reader than the mere moving of the lips, the position of the tongue, and the size and shape of the aperture of the mouth. There is the brow expression, whether it be contracted, elevated, or pas sive. He observes much that is important to his understanding from the expression of the eye and the unconscious movements of the head, the affirmative and negative nods. Perhaps one short sentence may contain a number of facial expressions other than those produced by the muscular activity of the mouth." The speech reader," she concludes, "grows unconsciously to note every mark of facial expression." Along much these same lines, but couched in more abstruse scientific language is a pamphlet recently issued on "Facial Speech-Reading." This is a translation of the work of Dr. Hermann Gutzmann, a specialist on the organs of speech in Berlin. Dr. Gutzmann advocates a system of reading the entire countenance by means of a plan which he elaborates, based on what he terms "external speech physiology." Of this system, he says: "The achievements of speech-reading instruction conducted upon these scientific principles are at times simply marvelous; especially so in the case of persons who have become deaf after infancy and have al ready acquired considerable command of language, -a circumstance by no means to be underrated. But even the congenitally deaf, and those who have become deaf in infancy, can attain an ideal faculty in speech reading. If this is denied, it only proves that those who deny it have had no experience in this special line of instruction. I was truly delighted in Hill's Anleitung zum Unterricht taubstummer Kinder,' to read his confirmation of my own practical experience and that of others. Hill says: Several of my pupils had achieved such skill that they could read the replies given to the teacher by their fellow pupils, even when the latter raised their hands to prevent the mouth from being seen, and so compelled the others to read their speech simply from the action and movements of the facial muscles remaining visible.' Dr. Gutzmann then proceeds to elaborate his system of "methodical speech reading instruction," which is too lengthy and abstruse to reproduce here. SKIPPING AS AN EXERCISE FOR NURSES. A Cardiff reader of the London Hospital, herself a nurse who has suffered considerably with her feet, recommends skipping as an exercise for nurses. She says: "Some I know, will laugh and ask what time or opportunity they can have for such nonsense, but if they realized how skipping on tip-toe strengthens the muscles of the calf and foot, which so often give way and cause that much-dreaded flat foot, they would, at least, consider it. When first I began nursing I suffered very much with my feet, as many nurses do, and after about three months in a small hospital I had to keep them constantly bandaged for the greater part of the rest of that year, otherwise I could not have kept about. Some years after, before entering a large London hospital, I consulted a doctor as to whether I could not strengthen my feet and ankles. He advised skipping, at first for five or ten minutes a day, gradually increasing the time to an hour, douching with cold water and no bandages, as of course the muscles learn to depend on them instead of on themselves. The benefit I gained was so great that even with the much harder work of a London hospital my feet went' without support of any kind. I believe many girls who are thinking of a hospital training would be saved suffering from flat foot if they would Elocution and Action The Best Text-Book for Class Use Price, 75c. In quantities, 60c., postpaid Edgar S. Werner Publishing and Supply Co. 43 EAST 19TH ST., NEW YORK try to strengthen their feet for some weeks before beginning work, and even after. Even nurses might steal at least a few minutes in the day from tennis or cycling, which I know some find time and opportunity for, and use the skipping rope." BRIEF MENTION. "The New Dawn in Education" (The Public Schools in Washington, D. C.). Arthur Henry, Ainslee's. October. "Music Study in Public Schools," Helen M. Place, Music. October. "Acoustics as Part of a Musical Education," Louis C. Elson. The Etude. "Poetry, Music and Morals," Charles Leonard Moore. The Dial. "Mme Sembrich's Musical Method," Marcella Sembrich. The Independent. "The Evil of Forcing Development," F. B. Hawkins. The Etude November. Pianoforte Playing as Drake, Music. November. a Study," Franke E. The Cuitivation of Touch." Mabel Josephine Coates, The Musician. November "Rhythm, Melody and Harmony." M. Kufferath, Music. November. "Boy Choirs-Their Advantages and Disadvantages. Clement R. Gale, The Musician. The Treatment of Girls' Vo ces." Herald (London). Nov. 1. The Musical "What is Fundamental in Music?" Editorial in The Inland Educator "The Intellectual Status of Musicians." Ernest Shriver, The Musician. October. "The Bicycle and the Musical." Dr. C. Crozat Converse, The American Art Journal. Nov. 4. "The Value of Competitive Gymnastics Baroness Rose Posse, The Posse Gymnasium Journal. July to November. An International Literature." W. L. Mendell, The Criterion. "Faults of Modern French Diction." Henry James, North American Review. Rhyme and Rhythm in the Koran." William F. Warren, The Open Court. November. "What Was Shakespeare Like?" John Munro, Cassell's Magazine. November. "The Trail of the Barnstormer." Eugene Wood, Ainsle's. November. "Modern Tendencies in Education." Hirst Hollowell, Education. November. Rev. J "The Toledo Manual Training School." President John Henry Barrows (of Oberlin College), Review of Reviews. November. "Educational Problems of the Twentieth Century" Charles F. Fleming, Forum. November. "The Phebe Hearst Architectural Competition for the University of California." H. S. Allen, Review of Reviews. November. "Expression in Music." Frances C. Robinson, New England Conservatory Magazine. October. "Art in the Schools." Scribner's. November. "The Child and Literature." Isabel Lawrence, The Kindergarten Review, November; Florence Hull Winterburn, The Woman's Home Companion, November; Boys and Girls and Books," The Dial. "The Child's Proper Development - The Confession of a Father," Cosmopolitan. November. "Modern Education." President Hadley, of Yale. Cosmopolitan. November. "Wagner from Behind the Scenes." Gustav Kobbé, Century. November. "The Making of a Mural Decoration." Royal Cortissoz, Century. November. "The Dramatic Festivals of Orange." Jules Claretie, North American Review. November. IRENE ACKERMAN : : : DRAMATIC READER ORIGINAL RECITATIONS Address: 20 WEST 15TH ST., NEW YORK CITY |