ANTICIPATIONS.
It was early in December. The months had brought serious changes to all
but one of the group that the August morning had found in Mr. Archdale's
garden. Two had disappeared from the scene of their defeat, and to two
of them the future seemed opening up vistas of happiness as deep as the
present joy. Elizabeth Royal alone was a spectator in the events of the
past months, and even in her mind was a questioning that was at least
wonderment, if not pain.
Kenelm Waldo was in the West Indies, trying to escape from his pain at
Katie Archdale's refusal, but carrying it everywhere with him, as he did
recollections of her; to have lost them would have been to have lost his
memory altogether.
Ralph Harwin also had gone. His money was still in the firm of John
Archdale & Co., which it had made one of the richest in the Colonies;
its withdrawal was now to be expected at any moment, for Harwin did not
mean to return, and Archdale, while endeavoring to be ready for this,
saw that it would cripple him. Harwin had been right in believing that
he should make himself very useful and very acceptable to Katie's
father. For Archdale who was more desious of his daughter's happiness
than of anything else in the world, was disappointed that this did not
lie in the direction which, on the whole, would have been for his
greatest advantage. Harwin and he could have done better for Katie in
the way of fortune than Stephen Archdale with his distaste for business
would do. The Archdale connection had always been a dream of his, until
lately when this new possibility had superseded his nephew's interest in
his thoughts. There was an address and business keenness about Harwin
that, if Stephen possessed at all, was latent in him. The Colonel was
wealthy enough to afford the luxury of a son who was only a fine
gentleman. Stephen was a good fellow, he was sure, and Katie would be
happy with him. And yet--but even these thoughts left him as he leaned
back in his chair that day, sitting alone after dinner, and a mist came
over his eyes as he thought that in less than a fortnight his home would
no longer be his little daughter's.
"It will be all right," he said to himself with that sigh of resignation
with which we yield to the inevitable, as if there were a certain choice
and merit in doing it. "It is well that the affairs of men are in higher
hands than ours." John Archdale's piety was of the kind that utters
itself in solitude, or under the breath.
Katie at the moment was upstairs with her mother examining a package of
wedding gear that had arrived that day. She had no hesitation as to whom
her choice should have been. Yet, as she stood holding a pair of gloves,
measuring the long wrists on her arm and then drawing out the fingers
musingly, it was not of Stephen that she was thinking, or of him that
she spoke at last, as she turned away to lay down the gloves and take up
a piece of lace.
"Mother," she said, "I do sometimes feel badly for Master Harwin; he is
the only man in all the world that I ever had anything like fear of, and
now and then I did of him, such a fierceness would come over him once in
a while, not to me, but about me, I know, about losing me. He was
terribly in earnest. Stephen never gets into these moods, he is always
kind and lovable, just as he has been to me as far back as I can
remember, only, of course more so now."
"But things have gone differently with him and with poor Master Harwin,"
answered Mrs. Archdale. "If you had said 'no' to Stephen, you would have
seen the dark moods in him, too."
The young girl looked at her mother and smiled, and blushed a little in
a charming acknowledgment of feminine power to sway the minds of the
sterner half of humanity. Then she grew thoughtful again, not even
flattery diverting her long from her subject.
"But Stephen never could be like that," she said. "Stephen couldn't be
dark in that desperate sort of way. I can't describe it in Master
Harwin, but I feel it. Somehow, he would rather Stephen would die, or I
should, than have us marry."
"Did he ever say so?"
"Why, no, but you can feel things that nobody says. And, then, there is
something else, too. I am quite sure that sometime in his life he did
something, well, perhaps something wicked, I don't know what, but I do
know that a load lies on his conscience; for one day he told me as much.
It was just as he was going away, the day after I had refused him and he
knew of my engagement. He asked permission to come and bid me goodby.
Don't you remember?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Archdale.
"He looked at me and sighed. 'I've paid a heavy price,' he said half to
himself, 'to lose.' Then he added, 'Mistress Archdale, will you always
believe that I loved you devotedly, and always have loved you from the
hour I first saw you? If I could undo'--then he waited a moment and grew
dreadfully pale, and I think he finished differently from his first
intention--'If I could undo something in the past,' he said, 'I would
give my life to do it, but my life would be of no use.'"
"That looks as if it was something against you, Katie."
"Oh, no, I don't think so. Besides, he wouldn't have given his life at
all; that's only the way men talk, you know, when they want to make an
impression of their earnestness on women and they always think they do
it that way. But the men that are the readiest to give up their lives
don't say anything about it beforehand. Stephen would die for me, I'm
sure, but he never told me so in his life. He don't make many
protestations; he takes a great deal for granted. Why shouldn't he;
we've known one another from babyhood? But Master Harwin knew, somehow,
the minute after he spoke, if he didn't at the time, that he wouldn't
die for his fault at all, whatever it was. And then, after he spoke it
seemed to me as if he had changed his mind and didn't care about it in
any way, he only cared that I had refused him, and that he was not going
to see me any more. I am sorry for a man like that, and if he were going
to stay here I should be afraid of him, afraid for Stephen. But he sails
in a few days. I don't wonder he couldn't wait here for the next ship,
wait over the wedding, and whatever danger from him there may have been
sails with him. Poor man, I don't see what he liked me for." And with a
sigh, Katie dismissed the thought of him and his grief and evil
together, and turned her attention again to the wedding finery.
"Only see what exquisite lace," she cried, throwing it out on the table
to examine the web. "Where did Elizabeth get it, I wonder? She begged to
be allowed to give me my bridal veil, and she has certainly done it
handsomely, just as she always does everything, dear child. I suppose it
came out in one of her father's ships."
"Everything Master Royal touches turns into gold," said Mrs. Archdale,
after a critical examination of the lace had called forth her
admiration. "It's Mechlin, Katie. There is nobody in the Colonies richer
than he," she went on, "unless, possibly, the Colonel."
"I dare say I ought to pretend not to care that Stephen will have ever
so much money," returned the girl, taking up a broad band of India
muslin wrought with gold, and laying it over her sleeve to examine the
pattern, at which she smiled approvingly. "But then I do care. Stephen
is a great deal more interesting rich than he would be poor; he is not
made for a grub, neither am I, and living is much better fun when one
has laces like cobwebs, and velvets and paduasoys, and diamonds, mother,
to fill one's heart's desire."
As she spoke she looked an embodiment of fair youth and innocent
pleasure, and her mother, with a mother's admiration and sympathy in her
heart, gave her a lingering glance before she put on a little sternness,
and said, "My child, I don't like to hear you talk in that light way.
Your heart's desires, I trust, are set upon better things, those of
another world."
"Yes, mother, of course. But, then you know, we are to give our mind
faithfully to the things next to us, in order to get to those beyond
them, and that's what I am doing now, don't you see? O, mother, dear,
how I shall miss you, and all your dear, solemn talks, and your dear,
smiling looks." And winding her arms about her mother, Katie kissed her
so affectionately that Mrs. Archdale felt quite sure that the laces and
paduasoys had not yet spoilt her little daughter.
"Now, for my part," she said a few minutes later as she laid down a pair
of dainty white kid shoes, glittering with spangles from the tip of
their peaked toes to their very heels,--high enough for modern
days,--"These fit you to perfection, my dear. For my part," she
repeated, "you know that I have always hoped you would marry Stephen,
yet my sympathies go with Master Waldo in his loss, instead of with the
other one, whom I think your father at last grew to like best of the
three; it was strange that such a man could have gotten such an
influence, but then, they were in business together, and there is always
something mysterious about business. Master Waldo is a fine,
open-hearted young man, and he was very fond of you."
"Yes, I suppose so," answered the girl, with an effort to merge a smile
into the expression accompanying a sympathetic sigh. "It's too bad. But,
then, men must look out for themselves, women have to, and Kenelm Waldo
probably thinks he is worth any woman's heart."
"So he is, Katie."
"Um!" said the girl. "Well, he'd be wiser to be a little humble about
it. It takes better."
"Do you call Stephen humble?"
Katie laughed merrily. "But," she said, at last, "Stephen is Stephen,
and humility wouldn't suit him. He would look as badly without his pride
as without his lace ruffles."
"Is it his lace ruffles you're in love with, my child?"
"I don't know, mother," and she laughed again. "When should a young girl
laugh if not on the eve of her marriage with the man of her choice, when
friends and wealth conspire to make the event auspicious?"
"I shall not write to thank Elizabeth for her gift," she said, "for she
will be here before a letter can reach her. She leaves Boston to-morrow,
that's Tuesday, and she must be here by Friday, perhaps Thursday night,
if they start very early."
"I thought Master Royal's letter said Monday?"
"Tuesday," repeated Katie, "if the weather be suitable for his daughter.
Look at this letter and you'll see; his world hinges on his daughter's
comfort, he is father and mother both to her. Elizabeth needs it, too;
she can't take care of herself well. Perhaps she could wake up and do it
for somebody else. But I am not sure. She's a dear child, though she
seems to me younger than I am. Isn't it funny, mother, for she knows a
good deal more, and she's very bright sometimes? But she never makes the
best of anything, especially of herself."
It was the day before the wedding. The great old house was full of
bustle from its gambrel roof to its very cellar in which wines were
decanted to be in readiness, and into which pastries and sweetmeats were
carried from the pantry shelves overloaded with preparations for the
next day's festivities. Servants ran hither and thither, full of
excitement and pleasant anticipations. They all loved Katie who had
grown up among them. And, besides, the morrow's pleasures were not to be
enjoyed by them wholly by proxy, for if there was to be only wedding
enough for one pair, at least the remains of the feast would go round
handsomely. Two or three black faces were seen among the English ones,
but though they were owned by Mr. Archdale, the disgrace and the badge
of servitude had fallen upon them lightly, and the shining of merry eyes
and the gleam of white teeth relieved a darkness that nature, and not
despair, had made. In New England, masters were always finding reasons
why their slaves should be manumitted. How could slavery flourish in a
land where the wind of freedom was so strong that it could blow a whole
cargo of tea into the ocean?
But there were not only servants going back and forth through the
house, for it was full of guests. The Colonel's family living so near,
would not come until the morning of the ceremony, but other relatives
were there in force. Mrs. Archdale's brother,--a little patronizing but
very rich and gracious, and his family who having been well patronized,
were disposed to be humble and admiring, and her sister who not having
fed on the roses of life, had a good deal of wholesome strength about
her, together with a touch of something which, if it were wholesome, was
not exactly grateful. Cousins of Mr. Archdale were there also. Elizabeth
Royal, at Katie's special request, had been her guest for the last ten
days. Her father had gone home again the day he brought her and was
unable to return for the wedding and to take his daughter home
afterward, as he had intended; but he had sent Mrs. Eveleigh, his cousin
and housekeeper. It seemed strange that the father and daughter were so
companionable, for superficially they were entirely unlike. Mr. Royal
was considered stern and shrewd, and, though a well-read man, eminently
practical, more inclined to business than scholarship, while Elizabeth
was dreamy, generous, wholly unacquainted with business of any kind, and
it seemed too much uninterested in it ever to be acquainted. To most
people the affection between them seemed only that of nature and
circumstances, Elizabeth being an only child, and her mother having died
while she was very young. It is the last analysis of character that
discovers the same trait under different forms. None of her friends
carried analysis so far, and it was possible that no effort could have
discovered subtle likeness then. Perhaps it was still latent and would
only hereafter find some outward expression for itself. It sometimes
happens that physical likeness comes out only after death, mental not
until late in life, and likeness of character in the midst of unlikeness
is revealed usually only in the crucible of events.
That day, Elizabeth, from her window overlooking the garden, had seen a
picture that she never forgot. It was about noon, all the warmth that
was in the December sun filled the garden (which the leafless trees no
longer shaded). There was no snow on the ground, for the few stray
flakes premonitory of winter which had fallen from time to time in the
month had melted almost as soon as they had touched the ground. The air
was like an Indian summer's day; it seemed impossible that winter could
be round the corner waiting only for a change of wind. The tracery of
the boughs of the trees and of all their little twigs against the blue
sky was exquisite, the stalks of the dead flowers warmed into a livelier
brown in the sunlight. Yet it may have been partly the figures in the
foreground that made the whole picture so bright to Elizabeth, for to
her the place was filled with the lovers who were walking there and
talking, probably saying those nothings, so far as practical matters go,
which they may indulge in freely only before the thousand cares of life
interfere with their utterances. Stephen had come to the house, and
Katie and he were taking what they were sure would prove to be their
last opportunity for quiet talk before the wedding. They went slowly
down the long path to the clematis arbor, and then turned back again,
for it was not warm enough to sit down out of doors. Elizabeth watched
them as they walked toward the house, and a warmth came into her own
face in her pleasure. "Dear Katie," she said to herself, "she is sure to
be so happy." The young girl's hand lay on Archdale's arm, and she was
looking up at him with a smile full of joyousness. Archdale's head was
bent and the watcher could not see his eyes, but his attitude of
devotion, his smile, and Katie's face told the story.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
* * * * *
GLORIFYING TRIAL BY JURY.
By CHARLES COWLEY, LL.D.
Twice within two years representatives of the highest courts of
Massachusetts have published in the North American Review, panegyrics of
jurics and jury trials. The late Judge Foster and Judge Pitman both
concede--what indeed is too notorious to be denied--that there are
frequent and gross miscarriages of justice; but they touch lightly on
this aspect of the question. Being personally identified with the
institution which they extol, their self-complacency is neither
unnatural nor unpardonable. It seems not to have occurred to them, that
if a reform of our judiciary is really needed, they are "a part of the
thing to be reformed." But in weighing their testimony to the advantages
of trial by jury, allowance must be made for the bias of office and for
the bias of interest. In the idolatrous throng which drowned the voice
of St. Paul with their halcyon and vociferous shouts, "Great is Diana of
the Ephesians!" there was no one who shouted louder than the thrifty
silversmith, Demetrius, who added the naive remark, "By this craft we
live."
In the outset of his presentation of the beauties of jury trials, Judge
Pitman says that "certain elementary rules of law are so closely
associated with this system that change in one would require alteration
of the other." Now, these rules of law are either good or bad. If they
are bad, they should be revised; and the fact that they are so closely
associated with trial by jury, that they can not be amended without
injury thereto, adds little lustre to that time-honored institution. One
the other hand, if these "elementary rules of law" are good, it is
presumed that courts will be able to appreciate and apply them quite as
well as juries.
Judge Pitman then proceeds to argue that criminal trials without juries
would be attended with disadvantages, because he thinks that judges
would have, oftener than juries, that "reasonable doubt" which by law
entitles the accused to an acquittal. This warrants one of two
inferences: either the writer would have men convicted whose guilt is
involved in "reasonable doubt," or he fears that the learning and
experience of the bar and the bench tend to unfit the mind to weigh the
evidence of guilt or innocence. It is curious that in a former number of
the same Review, another learned writer expressed exactly the contrary
opinion.[A] Mr. Edward A. Thomas thinks that "judges are too much
inclined to convict persons charged with criminal offences," and that
juries are too much inclined to acquit them. And Judge Foster seemingly
agrees with Mr. Thomas upon this point.
[Footnote A: N.A. Review, No. CCCIV, March, 1882.]
Again: Judge Pitman argues that a jury is better qualified than a judge
to determine what is "due care." And Judge Foster, going still further,
says, "common men belonging to various walks in life, are, in most
cases, better fitted to decide correctly ordinary questions of fact
than any single judge or bench of judges." There are, unquestionably,
many cases in which the main questions are so entirely within the scope
of ordinary men's observation and experience that no special knowledge
is required to decide them. With respect to such cases, it is true that
"A few strong instincts and a few plain rules
Are worthy all the learning of the schools."
But where the questions involved are many in number, intricate and
complicated in character, and enveloped in a mass of conflicting
testimony requiring many days to hear it, is it not manifest that a
jury,--not one of whom has taken a note during the trial, some of whose
members have heard as though hearing not, and seen as though seeing not,
the testimony and the witnesses,--deals with such a case at a great
disadvantage, as compared with a judge whose notes contain all the
material testimony, and who has all the opportunity for rest and
relaxation that he may require before filing the finding which is his
verdict? With respect to such cases, it is clear that, as a learned
English judge has said, "the securities which can be taken for justice
in the case of a trial by a judge without a jury, are infinitely greater
than those which can be taken for trial by a judge and jury."[A] A judge
may be required to state what facts he finds, as well as the general
conclusion at which he has arrived, and to state upon what views of the
legal questions he has acted.
[Footnote A: Stephen's History of the Criminal Law, 568.]
Judge Foster most justly remarks: "There can be no such thing as a good
jury trial without the co-operation of a learned, upright, conscientious
and efficient presiding judge, ... holding firmly and steadily the
reins, and guiding the entire proceedings." This is what Judge Foster
was, and what Judge Pitman is, accustomed to do. But if the jury
requires such "guiding" from the court, and if the court is competent
thus to guide them, it is clear that the court must know the way and
must be able to follow it; otherwise it could not so guide the jury.
Judge Pitman also argues that the jury can eliminate "the personal
equation" better than the judge. But is this so? Does education count
for nothing in producing that calm, firm, passionless state of mind
which is essential in those who determine causes between party and
party?
Are not juries quite as often as judges swayed by popular clamor, by
prejudice, by appeals to their passions, and by considerations foreign
to the merits of the case? As Mr. Thomas asks in the article before
quoted: "How many juries are strictly impartial? How many remain
entirely uninfluenced by preference for one or the other of the parties,
one or the other counsel, or the leaning of some friend to either, or by
political affiliations, or church connections, or relations to secret
societies, or by what they have heard, or by what they have read? Can
they be as discerning and impartial as a bench of judges, or if inclined
to some bias or prejudice, can they as readily as a judge divest their
minds of such an impression?" If it be true that juries composed of such
material as Judge Pitman shows our juries to be largely composed of, are
as capable of mastering and determining intricate questions of fact as
judges trained to that duty, then we may truly say--
"Thinking is but an idle waste of thought,
And naught is everything, and everything is naught."
According to Judge Pitman, the system which prevails in some of the
states, of trials by the court without juries (with the provision that
the trial shall be by jury if either party demand it), "works
satisfactorily." The testimony of lawyers and litigants in
Massachusetts, Connecticut and other states where this system prevails,
is to the same effect. For ourselves, while far from desiring the
abolition of trial by jury, whether in civil or in criminal causes, we
are by no means disposed to "throw glamour" (as the Scotch say), over an
instrumentality for ascertaining legal truth, which is so cumbersome in
its operation, and so uncertain in its results. A jury is, at best, a
means, and not an end; and although much may be said about the
incidental usefulness of jury service on account of its tendency to
enlarge the intellectual horizon of jurors, all that is beside the main
question.
Whether a particular occurrence took place or not, is a question which,
whether it be tried by a judge or by a jury, must be decided upon
evidence; which consists, in part, of circumstances, and, in part, of
acts, but in part also, and very largely, of the sworn statements of
individuals. While falsehood and corruption prevail among all classes of
the community so extensively as they now do, it is useless to claim that
decisions based upon human testimony are always or generally correct.
Perjury is as rife as ever, and works as much wrong as ever. To a
conscientious judge, like Judge Pitman, "the investigation of a mass of
tangled facts and conflicting testimony" cannot but be wearisome, as he
says it is; and, in many cases, the sense of responsibility "cannot but
be oppressive;" but he has so often repeated a _dictum_ of Lord
Redesdale that he must be presumed to have found solace in it--"it is
more important that an end be put to litigation, than that justice
should be done in every case." There is truth in that _dictum_; but,
like other truths, it has often been abused, especially by incompetent
or lazy or drowsy judges. More unfortunate suitors have suffered as
martyrs to that truth than the judges who jauntily "cast" them would
admit.
Judges may do their best; juries may do their best; they will often fall
into error; and instead of glorifying themselves or the system of which
they are a part, it would be more modest in them to say, "We are
unprofitable servants." Not many judges have been great enough to say,
"I know I sometimes err," but some have said it. The lamented Judge Colt
said it publicly more than once, and the admission raised, rather than
lowered, him in the general esteem. When he died the voice of the bar
and of the people said, "Other judges have been revered, but we loved
Judge Colt."
Massachusetts gives her litigants the choice of a forum. All trials in
civil causes are by the courts alone, unless one party or the other
claims a jury. If the reader has a case of much complexity, either with
respect to the facts, or with respect to the law, perhaps he would like
to have our opinion as to which is the better forum. The answer is the
same that was given by one who lived at the parting of the ways, to a
weary traveller who inquired which fork of the road he should take:
"Both are full of snags, quagmires and pitfalls. No matter which you
take, before you reach the end of your journey you will wish you had
taken the other." In the trial by jury, and in the trial by the court,
just as in the trial by ordeal, and in the trial by battle in the days
of old, the element of chance is of the first magnitude.
PUBLISHERS' DEPARTMENT.
SENEFELDER, THE INVENTOR OF LITHOGRAPHY AND CHROMO-LITHOGRAPHY.--HIS ART
IN BOSTON DEVELOPED BY L. PRANG & CO.--COLOR-PRINTING ON SATIN, ETC.
A century ago the world knew nothing of the art of lithography;
color-printing was confined to comparatively crude products from wooden
blocks, most of which were hardly equal to the Japanese fan pictures now
familiar to all of us. The year 1799 gave us a new invention which was
destined to revolutionize reproductive art and add immensely to the
means for education, culture and enjoyment.
Alois Senefelder, born 1771, at Prague (Austria), started life with
writing plays, and too poor to pay a printer, he determined to invent a
process of his own which should serve to print his manuscript without
dependence upon the (to him) too costly types.
A born inventor, this Alois Senefelder, a genius, supported by boundless
hope, immense capability for hard, laborious work, and an indomitable
energy; he started with the plan of etching his writings in relief on
metal plates, to take impressions therefrom by means of rollers. He
found the metal too costly for his experiments; and limestone slabs from
the neighboring quarries--he living then in Munich--were tried as a
substitute. Although partly successful in this direction, he continued
through years of hard, and often disappointing trials, to find something
more complete. He hit upon the discovery that a printed sheet of paper
(new or old) moistened with a thin solution of gum Arabic would, when
dabbled over printers' ink, accept the ink from the dabbler only on its
printed parts and remain perfectly clean in the blank spaces, so that a
facsimile impression could be taken from this inked-in sheet. He found
that this operation might be repeated until the original print gave out
by wear. Here was a new discovery, based on the properties of attraction
and repulsion between fatty matters (printers ink), and the watery
solution of gum Arabic. The extremely delicate nature of the paper
matrix was a serious drawback, and had to be overcome. The slabs of
limestone which served Senefelder in a previous emergency were now
recurred to by him as an absorbent material similar to paper, and a
trial by making an impression from his above-mentioned paper matrix on
the stone, and subsequent gumming, convinced him that he was correct in
his surmise. By this act lithography became an established fact.
A few short years of intelligent experimenting revealed to him all the
possibilities of this new discovery. Inventions of processes followed
each other closely until in 1818 he disclosed to the world in a volume
of immortal interest not only a complete history of his invention and
his processes, but also a reliable description of the same for others to
follow. Nothing really new except photo-lithography has been added to
this charming art since that time; improvement only by manual skill and
by chemical progress, can be claimed by others.
Chromo-lithography (printing in colors from stone) was experimented on
by the great inventor. He outlined its possibilities by saying, that he
verily believed that printed pictures like paintings would sometimes be
made thereby, and whoever has seen the productions of our Boston firm,
L. Prang & Co., will bear him out in the verity of his prediction.
When Prang touched this art in 1856 it was in its infancy in this
country. Stray specimens of more or less merit had been produced,
especially by Martin Thurwanger (pen work) and Fabronius (crayon work),
but much was left to be perfected. A little bunch of roses to embellish
a ladies' magazine just starting in Boston, was the first work with
which the firm occupied its single press. Crude enough it was, but
diligence and energy soon developed therefrom the works which have
astonished not only this country but even Europe, and the firm, which
took thereby the lead in their speciality of art reproduction in color,
has succeeded in keeping it ever since from year to year without one
faltering step, until there is no single competitor in the civilized
world to dispute its mastery. This is something to be proud of, not only
for the firm in question, but even for the country at large, and to
crown its achievements, the firm of L. Prang & Co. have this year made,
apart from their usual wonderful variety of original Christmas cards and
other holiday art prints, a reproduction of a flower piece of the
celebrated Belgian flower painter, Jean Robie, and printed it on satin
by a process invented and patented by Mr. Prang. For truthfulness as a
copy this print challenges the admiration of our best artists and
connoisseurs. The gorgeous work as it lies before our eyes seems to us
to be as perfect as if it left the very brush of the master, and even in
close comparison with the original it does not lose an iota of its
charms.
Of the marvellous excellence of this, the latest achievement of this
remarkable house, thousands who visited the late exhibition of the
Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic's Association and saw Messrs. L. Prang
& Co.'s, extensive exhibit, can bear witness. Everybody who looked at
the two pictures, the original masterpiece by Robie and its reproduction
by Prang, side by side, was puzzled to distinguish which was which, many
pointing to the reproduction as the better, and in their eyes, therefore
as the original picture. The same was true with regard to many more of
this justly celebrated firm's reproductions, which they did not hesitate
to exhibit, alongside of the original paintings. Altogether, their
exhibit with its large collection of elegant satin prints, its studies
for artists, its historical feature, showing the enormous development of
the firm's work since 1856, its interesting illustration by successive
printings of how their pictures are made, and its instructive and
artistic arrangement of their collection, made it one of the most
attractive features of the fair.
What more can we say but that we are proud ourselves of this achievement
within our city limits; it cannot fail to increase the fame our beloved
Boston as a town of masters in thought and art. Honor to the firm of L.
Prang & Co.
NOTICES OF NEW BOOKS.
THE VOYAGE OF THE "VIVIAN" to the North Pole and Beyond, or Adventures
of Two Youths in the Open Polar sea. By COLONEL THOMAS W. KNOX, the
author of "The Boy Travellers in the Far East," "The Young Nimrods,"
etc. Illustrated; 8vo.; cloth, $3. Harper & Brothers, New York.
A fascinating story for boys, into which is woven by the graceful pen of
the author the history of Arctic exploration for centuries past. The
young readers who have followed the "Boy Travellers in the Far East"
will welcome this addition to the literature of adventure and travel.
LITTLE PEOPLE OF THE AIR, By the authors of "Little Playfellows."
Illustrated; 8vo., $1. D. Lothrop & Co., Boston.
A series of pretty stories of feathered songsters, for little men and
women, alike interesting to the young and children of an older growth.
POLITICS FOR YOUNG AMERICANS. By CHARLES NORDHOFF, author of "The
Communistic Societies of the United States," etc. Popular edition;
paper, 12mo., 400. Harper and Brothers, New York.
A series of essays in the form of letters, calculated to instruct the
youth of this country in their duty as American citizens.
A PERILOUS SECRET. By CHARLES READE. Cloth, 12mo.; 75 cents. Harper and
Brothers, New York.
This volume forms one of Harper's Household editions of the works of
this popular novelist.
THE ICE QUEEN. By ERNEST INGERSOLL, author of "Friends Worth Knowing,"
"Knocking Around the Rockies," etc. Illustrated; Cloth, 16mo., $1.
Harper and Brothers, New York.
A story for boys and girls of the adventures of a small party
storm-bound in winter, on a desolate island in Lake Erie.
GOD AND THE FUTURE LIFE; or the Reasonableness of Christianity. By
CHARLES NORDHOFF, author of "Politics for Young Americans," etc. 16mo.,
cloth, $1. Harper and Brothers, New York.
Paley's "Natural Theology," familiar to students, is supplemented by
this volume, which brings the argument down to the present developement
of science. It is a book for thoughtful men and women, whose faith in
the immortality of the soul needs strengthening.
MOTHERS IN COUNCIL. 16mo., cloth, $1. Harper and Brothers, New York.
A series of essays and discussions of value to the family circle,
teaching how sons can be brought up to be good husbands, and daughters
to be contented and useful old maids, and many other valuable lessons.
GOOD STORIES. By CHARLES READE, 16mo., cloth, $1. Harper and Brothers,
New York.
These short stories by Mr. Reade, some of which have appeared from time
to time in the Bazar, are here gathered in one volume. They are "The
History of an Acre," "The Knightsbridge Mystery," "Single Heart and
Double Face," and many others.
I SAY NO; or, the Love Letter Answered. By WILKIE COLLINS; 16mo.,
cloth,$1. Harper and Brothers, New York.
The announcement that a new novel from the pen of Mr. Collins has
appeared is enough to insure a large and steady demand for it.