Harper's Round Table, November 10, 1896

Part 7

Chapter 72,431 wordsPublic domain

The ship's kitchen is large and cool. There were some sailors cooking, and some were washing clothes. Others were sewing, reading, writing, and talking. Then we went through the petty officers' quarter, which was a kind of long hall, on each side of which were small rooms, and all along this hall sailors were asleep in all kinds of positions. We went to a lower deck in the boat, and our guide showed us where they telegraph to all parts of the ship. There were two rows of boxlike instruments, and in the middle of each was a button. The sailors wore navy-blue blouses and pantaloons and Tam o' Shanters that were trimmed with white braid. The marines' suits were trimmed with gold braid. Instead of Tam o' Shanters they had caps. We went also to see Fort Charles. The moats are three feet deep and five feet broad. They are very thickly overgrown with scrub-oak. We picked up a few shells on the beach as mementos of our trip to the _Indiana_. I would like a few correspondents.

EMILY MITTELL. BLUFFTON, S. C.

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Books for a Girls' Chapter.

I have organized a little club of five girls, three thirteen-year-olds, one ten, and one eleven years. We call it the Iris Club, in honor of Juno's hand-maiden between the earth and sky; and also in honor of her, our colors are purple and white. Our dues for the first month are ten cents, and after that five cents. We are going to give these dues to the Home for Friendless Children. I thought it would be nice to take up some noted work which all would enjoy--the oldest as well as the youngest. I love Dickens, but his works are so lengthy, and the plot so long in evolving, that the younger ones might lose interest. Can you suggest a list of books?

ADELAIDE L. W. ERMENTROUT. READING, PA.

Ellen Douglas Deland's _Oakleigh_, _The Wide, Wide World_, which is a standard, but which you may have read, and Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney's books--all of them.

* * * * *

Amateur Illustrator's Outfit.

"What utensils are needed by an amateur illustrator, and where can they be obtained? J. S."

CORNING, N. Y.

Illustrations are made in two ways--pen-drawing, and what is called "wash." For the former get good Bristol board, a bottle of drawing-ink, and some small steel pens. The outfit will cost half a dollar, perhaps, and can be had from a dealer in artists' materials, or your bookseller may have them. If he has not, he can get them for you. To draw in wash use ivory black and Chinese white. The drawing is a water-color, and the picture is made with the lights and shades of the background, the ink, and the white. Use water-color paper and small sable brushes--half a dozen assorted sizes. You can get the outfit by sending to the address given in any advertisement. These are all the utensils you need. The rest comes by practice and study.

* * * * *

A Query in Natural History.

Adelaide L. W. Ermentrout asks: "Can any one interested in natural history tell me the name of the queer object which I am going to describe? It is a worm about one inch long and one-fourth of an inch in diameter. The body is brown, but over the back is a patch of green bordered with white. In the centre of this patch is a brown spot. At each end of the body are two horns covered with bristles, and around the body are tufts of bristles like fringe on a cushion. At one end, under the body, is a little head with which it feels its way. There are two tiny eyes at the sides. Its under side has little holes in three parallel rows, by which, I suppose, it clings. It is a hideous creature. What is it, where does it come from, and what does it develop into?"

* * * * *

A Startling Experiment.

Not long ago I went to the American Institute Fair, in New York, and went through a most mysterious performance. At one end of the hall was the "illustrated" X rays. To see this wonder, you pay ten cents and put your hand in front of a tube and peep through an instrument which looks like a stereoscope. At first you see nothing but a dark object; then, as if by magic, a faint outline of the hand appears, and then--horrors--you see the bones--the actual bones--of your own hand with all their ugliness!

This is a most wonderful experiment, and, if possible, I would advise all those who can, to "see the bones of your own hand." Some timid persons may shrink from this ghastly sight, but I firmly believe that they would learn something by seeing this marvellous scientific experiment.

FRED. W. PANGBORN, JUN. HACKENSACK, N. J.

* * * * *

The Lesson of a Life.

The late George du Maurier was an example of a man who worked his way to fame and fortune. True, when just turned sixty he had a wonderful "run of luck," but it is to be remembered that his genius had been present all the long up-hill years before sixty. The trouble was, the world would not see it.

Daniel Webster, upon the conclusion of the greatest effort of his life, that wonderful speech in the United States Senate, was congratulated on being able to make such a speech off-hand. Asked if it really was extempore, as it appeared, he replied, "Yes, but I have been all my life preparing it."

It was much this way with the late novelist. Du Maurier wrote and the world applauded. Quite simple. Quite easy. Not so. Du Maurier studied for many, many years, and faced discouragements that would have sent weaker men to the wall. Like Webster, his effort at last seemed almost "extempore" in spite of the fact that his custom was to write, rewrite, tear up, write again and change; but he had been all his life a student, a patient toiler, piling up a capital of experience, not knowing whether he should ever be able to realize any thing from it or not. In spite of Du Maurier's phenomenal success near the close of his life, his personal history is a lesson to young persons in this: That the price of success must be paid, just as the price must be paid for land, for gold, or for anything else of value.

* * * * *

"Chinese" by the Way of South Africa.

From distant South Africa comes the following. It is not quite new, if it did come so far, but we print it, partly because it always stimulates, and partly to oblige the sender, J. G. Tanté, who is a young stamp-collector of that distant place where we have so many other Round Table members--Somerset East, Cape Colony, South Africa. Here is the story:

A Chinaman died, leaving his property by will to his three sons as follows: "To Fuen-huen, the eldest, one-half thereof; to Nu-pin, his second son, one-third thereof; and to Ding-bat, his youngest, one-ninth thereof."

When the property was inventoried, it was found to consist of nothing more nor less than seventeen elephants, and it puzzled these three heirs how to divide the property according to the terms of the will without chopping up seventeen elephants, and thereby seriously impairing their value. Finally they applied to a wise neighbor, Suen-punk, for advice. Suen-punk had an elephant of his own. He drove it into the yard with the seventeen, and said:

"Now we will suppose that your father left these eighteen elephants. Fuen-huen, take your half and depart." So Fuen-huen took nine elephants and went his way.

"Now, Nu-pin," said the wise man, "take your third and go." So Nu-pin took six elephants and travelled.

"Now, Ding-bat," said the wise man, "take your ninth and begone." So Ding-bat took two elephants and vamosed. Then Suen-punk took his own elephant and drove him home again.

Query: Was the property divided according to the terms of the will?

When office work has tried the nerves And taxed both hands and brain, A quick, cool wash with Ivory serves To soothe and ease the strain.

Copyright, 1896, by The Procter & Gamble Co., Cin'ti.

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* * * * *

HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York

* * * * *

NOW SHE KNOWS.

Hattie is no longer in doubt. She has often heard good people declare that it was "raining cats and dogs," and for a time believed that they were romancing, or, at least, prevaricating. Now she thinks they were speaking the truth. "If it doesn't rain cats and dogs sometimes," says Hattie, "how do the Skye-terriers get here? That's what I want to know."

* * * * *

"Where did you go last summer, Jacky?"

"We didn't go," said Jacky. "We staid home."

* * * * *

AN ITEM FOR SAILORS.

Here is an important statement--if true--for those interested in sailing. An English newspaper says that while it is hard to believe that the speed of a sailing-vessel can be increased by boring holes in her sails, an Italian sea-captain nevertheless claims to have conducted experiments which go a long way towards proving it. His theory is that the force of the wind cannot fairly take effect on an inflated sail, because of the cushion of immovable air which fills up the hollow. To prevent the formation of this cushion, the captain bored a number of holes in the sail. These holes let through the air which would otherwise have been retained in the hollow of the sail, and allowed the wind to exercise its whole power by striking fairly against the sail itself. Several trials of this device have been made, and it has been found that in a light wind a boat with ordinary sails made four knots, while with the perforated sails she covered five and a quarter knots. In a fresh breeze she made seven knots with the ordinary and eight and three-quarter knots with the perforated sails; and in a strong wind she made eight knots with the old and ten knots with the new sails. This gain--from twenty to twenty-five per cent.--is of so much importance that the experiments will be repeated on a larger scale.

* * * * *

THE JOCUND WIND.

For a practical joker there is nothing like the wind. It blows clothing hung out to dry from one neighbor's yard into another; it will whisk your hat off in a jiffy, and compel you to make yourself a spectacle chasing after it; it is worse than the small boy who removes gates on All-Halloween, for it not only removes gates, but sky-lights and window-shutters. Worst of all, it is no respecter of persons. It will prank with a King as readily as with a beggar, and years ago in France it had its joke with no less a person than the Prince-President himself--the one who subsequently overthrew the republic and proclaimed the empire, with himself as Emperor, Napoleon III. According to the chronicles, the way of it was this:

When the Prince-President, on his journey through France, came to Bordeaux, a triumphal arch had been erected for him by the prefect at the entrance to the town. A wreath suspended by a rope was to be let down on his head as he passed under it, and the arch bore this inscription: "He has well deserved it." But a gust of wind carried off the wreath, so there was nothing left but the rope with this legend--"He has well deserved it."

* * * * *

This is a true story of Peter Apple, of Oakland, Marion County, Indiana. He was a raw recruit when his company took part in an attempt to storm a battery at Vicksburg. The fire of the rebels was so hot, however, that the Union troops were forced to retreat. Private Apple was so excited, however, that he did not hear the command to retreat, and in the disorder of the contest rushed over the breastworks unharmed and grabbed a gunner by the collar. Then he turned about and dragged the man back to the retreating Indianians, and cried out:

"Boys, why did you not come on? Every fellow might have had one!"

* * * * *

MRS. HOPE. "Ethel, Miss Nerfus is coming to-day, and I want you to be mamma's good little girl."

ETHEL (_aged five_). "Oh yes, indeed, mamma! I'm always very particular about what I do when visitors are here."

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End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, November 10, 1896, by Various