Chapter 8

The figures just given cover most classes of non-professional work. Musical composers, however, are said to live longer than persons engaged in other occupations, in proof of which this eminent list has been prepared:

Auber 89 Monsigny 87 Verdi 87 Cherubini 81 Rameau 81 Haydn 77 Spontini 76 Rossini 76 Gounod 75 Paisiello 75 Salieri 74 Handel 74 Lesueur 74 Gluck 73 Gade 73 Piccinni 72 Grétry 72 Meyerbeer 72 Saint-Saëns (living) 71

RARE WORKMANSHIP IN OLD TIMEPIECES.

ILL-FATED MARY'S SKULL-WATCH.

Book-shaped Article Made for Duke of Pomerania Is a Beautiful Triumph of Metal Engraving and Design.

Two of the most elaborate watches that have ever been constructed belonged, the one to Queen Elizabeth, the other to Mary Queen of Scots. Queen Elizabeth's watch was in the form of a duck, with beautifully chased feathers. The lower part opened, showing a face of silver, with an elaborate gilt design, and the whole was kept in a case of brass, covered with black leather studded with knobs of silver.

The Scottish queen's watch was in the shape of a skull, the dial being introduced where the palate should have been, the works being in the mimic brain cavity. A little bell struck the hours.

One of the choicest rarities of the Bernal collection was a book-shaped watch. This curious time indicator was made by order of Bogislaus XIV, Duke of Pomerania, in the time of Gustavus Adolphus. On the face of the book, where the dial of the watch is set, there is an engraved inscription of the duke, and his titles and armorial bearings, together with the date, 1627.

On the back the engravings are also very finely and skilfully executed, among them being the portraits of two gentlemen of the seventeenth century. The dial-plate is of silver, chased in relief, while the insides are beautifully chased with figures of birds and foliage. The watch has two separate movements, and a large, sweet-toned bell. At the back, over the bell, the metal is ornamentally pierced in a circle, with a dragon and other devices, while the sides are pierced and engraved with a complicated design of beautiful scrollwork.

THE MONEY KINGS OF ANCIENT ROME.

THEIR RECORDS OF EXTRAVAGANCE.

Antony and Caligula Appear to Have Been Leaders in the Wanton Expenditure of Vast Fortunes.

That the accumulation of vast fortunes was as possible in ancient Rome, which knew neither the railroad nor Standard Oil, as it is in the United States to-day, is shown by the following table that has been compiled from authoritative historical records.

While it may be true that the wealth of the Czar of Russia and John D. Rockefeller may exceed nearly all of these old-time hoards, there can be no question of the fact that as spenders of enormous fortunes Antony and Caligula have never been surpassed.

Crassus's landed estate was valued at $8,333,330

His house was valued at 400,000

Cæcilius Isidorus, after having lost much, left 5,235,800

Demetrius, a freedman of Pompey, was worth 3,875,000

Lentulus, the augur, no less than 16,666,666

Clodius, who was slain by Milo, paid for his house 700,000

He once swallowed a pearl worth 40,000

Apicius was worth more than 5,000,000

He poisoned himself after he had spent in his kitchen and otherwise squandered immense sums to the amount of 4,160,000

The establishment belonging to M. Scaurus, at Tusculum, was valued at 4,150,000

Curio contracted debts to the amount of 2,500,000

Milo contracted one debt of 2,915,000

Antony owed at the Ides of March, which he paid before the Calends of April 1,666,666

Seneca had a fortune of 17,500,000

Tiberius left at his death, and Caligula spent in less than twelve months 118,120,000

Gifts and bribes may be considered signs of great riches:

Cæsar presented Servilia, the mother of Brutus, with a pearl worth 200,000

Paulus, the consul, was bribed by Cæsar with the sum of 292,000

MACHINES TAKE JOBS OF INSURANCE AGENTS.

THEY ISSUE POLICIES IN ENGLAND.

Applicant Drops Coin in Slot, Writes His Name Through an Opening, and Then Gets the Document.

Do nothing by human labor that can be done by machinery--that is the business maxim of the twentieth century.

No man is sure of his job once an inventor gets on his trail.

Twenty years ago it was said that nothing on earth, with less intelligence than a human being, could set type, play the piano, add figures, or tie a knot in a piece of binding-twine.

The inventors said, "We can make machines of wood and steel--machines that have no brains and no feeling, that can do these things, and do them better than a man."

The world haw-hawed at the silly inventors, but the inventors have made good. In England, to-day, there are showing us a machine that can hand out an insurance policy, properly stamped and signed.

The machine, which defies fraud, looks like a clock. When the applicant drops his coin into the slot he pulls forward a handle, when out drops a pencil, already sharpened, and an opening is disclosed through which the signature is made. Then the client pushes back the handle and simultaneously the space closes and an insurance policy is issued through another slot.

Against the signature inside the machine is printed the exact date and the time to the very minute when the policy was issued. If the insured meets with an accident within seven days he applies to the insurance company for his weekly allowance, and if his name is on the register retained by the machine the policy is paid.

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF ARITHMETICAL SIGNS.

HOW THEY FIRST CAME TO BE USED.

Prone to Short Cuts and Abbreviations, Man Has Chopped Words Into Lines and Crosses.

A little mark or sign, used in every-day life so frequently that its users concern themselves only with its necessary meaning, may have a very elaborate history--may embalm much tradition. Take the English sign for a pound--£. How many persons have stopped to inquire as to its meaning? £ stands for the Latin _libra_, as "d," used to indicate the pence, stands for the Latin _denarius_, and as "s," used to indicate the shilling, stands for the Latin _solidus_.

The origin of arithmetical signs is explained as follows:

1. The sign of addition (+) is derived from the initial letter of the word plus. In making the capital letter, it was made more and more carelessly, until the top part of the P was placed near the center; and hence the plus sign was finally reached.

2. The sign of subtraction (-) was derived from the word minus. The word was first contracted into m n s, with a horizontal line above to indicate the contraction; then the letters were omitted, which left the short line -.

3. The multiplication sign (×) was obtained by changing the plus sign into the letter X. This was done because multiplication is a short method of addition.

4. Division (÷) was formerly indicated by placing the dividend above a horizontal and the divisor below. In order to save space in printing, the dividend was placed to the left and the divisor to the right, and a dot was written in the place of each.

5. The radical sign [TN Symbol] was derived from the initial letter of the word radix.

6. The sign of equality (=) was first used to avoid repeating the words "equal to" or "equals."

HOUSEHOLD GODS IN TRANSIT.

Two Lyrics Which Describe Some of the Vicissitudes of Those Who Seek New Dwellings and Give Employment to Furniture Vans.

FURTHERUPTOWN!

Tired to death, but walking fast, Along Broadway, one night, there passed A youth, who bore a pretty nice Umbrella, with this strange device, "Furtheruptown!"

His anxious eyes and weary feet Hunted the houses in each street; And like a New Year's fish-horn rung The accents of that unknown tongue "Furtheruptown!"

In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright; Beyond, the spectral street-lamp shone, And from his lips escaped a groan, "Furtheruptown!"

"Try not that street," the old man said; "A tenement-house is just ahead-- A public school is by its side"; Then loud that clarion voice replied, "Furtheruptown!"

"Oh, stay," the broker said, "and rest; This brown-stone house will suit you best." A tear stood in his bright blue eye, Sadly he said, "The rent's too high"; "Furtheruptown!"

"Beware of the livery-stable's smell, Beware the engine-house as well!" This was the agent's last good night-- A voice replied, far out of sight, "Furtheruptown!"

At break of day, as heavenward The Central Park policeman stared, Watching the gathering sunbeams there, A voice rang through the startled air, "Furtheruptown!"

By following up the unusual sound, A dying traveler they found, Still grasping his no longer nice Umbrella, with the strange device, "Furtheruptown!"

There, in the Reservoir, they say, "_Drownded_" but beautiful he lay, While somewhere over Bloomingdale A voice fell like a rocket's tail, "Furtheruptown!"

1877. _New York Evening Post._

A MOVING BALLAD.

You must wake and call me early, call me early, husband dear, To-morrow'll be the maddest time of all the round New Year; Of all the circle of the year the maddest, muddiest day, For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May.

Be sure and take the hammer round--we shall have need of that; Save all the paper you can find--and don't forget the cat. Don't mix the pickles and preserves, nor throw th' old brooms away, For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May.

And oh! tell Bridget, husband, to be careful how she moves The earthenware and crockery and other things she loves; And if upon the sidewalk you should hear a dreadful crash, You'll know our china dinner-set has gone to eternal smash.

Of course, some common things will break, some costly ones perhaps; But you can't expect to move, you know, without a few mishaps. And when we've got the moving done, you'll have some bills to pay, For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May.

The night winds come and go, my dear, along the vacant street, And the happy stars above them do not seem to mean to cheat; But to-morrow it will be sure to rain the whole of the livelong day, For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early, husband dear, To-morrow'll be the maddest time of all the round New Year; To-morrow'll be of all the year the maddest, muddiest day, For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May.

BROTHERS TO SISTERS.

THREE DEDICATIONS IN WHICH FAMOUS AUTHORS GIVE ELOQUENT EXPRESSION TO AFFECTION INSPIRED BY NOBLE WOMEN.

The men who wrote the three extracts which are given here represent three vividly contrasted types. Ernest Rénan was a distinguished Frenchman, a profound Hebrew scholar, and yet witty, cynical, and eloquent. John Greenleaf Whittier was a Massachusetts Quaker of rustic manners and great simplicity of life, who viewed Nature with the sympathetic eyes of a born poet, but always serious, simple, and sincere. Eugene Field was a Chicago journalist, full of irreverent American humor, rollicking and sometimes boisterous, although he too had a vein of tenderness in his nature and a sympathy with the finer things of life. Yet these three men all agreed in their affection for their sisters. Rénan wrote of his sister Henriette that "it was she who exerted the strongest influence on my life," and at his death he left a little volume containing his reminiscences of her.

It is evident from the dedications of Whittier and Field that each felt an almost equal debt of gratitude to the sisters with whom their early years were spent and whose affection they have so beautifully commemorated.

RÉNAN'S DEDICATION.

(From "The Life of Jesus," by Ernest Rénan. Translated by C.E. Wilbour. Copyright by George W. Carlton, 1863.)

TO THE PURE SPIRIT OF MY SISTER HENRIETTE, WHO DIED AT BYBLUS, SEPT. 24, 1861.

Do you remember, from your rest in the bosom of God, those long days at Ghazir, where, alone with you, I wrote these pages, inspired by the scenes we had just traversed? Silent by my side you read every leaf, and copied it as soon as written, while the sea, the villages, the ravines, the mountains were spread out at our feet.

When the overwhelming light of the sun had given place to the innumerable army of stars, your fine and delicate questions, your discreet doubts, brought me back to the sublime object of our common thoughts.

One day you told me you should love this book, first, because it had been written with you, and also because it pleased you. If sometimes you feared for it the narrow judgments of frivolous man, you were always persuaded that spirits truly religious would be pleased with it.

In the midst of these sweet meditations Death struck us both with his wing; the sleep of fever seized us both at the same hour. I woke alone!... You sleep now in the land of Adonis, near the holy Byblus and the sacred waters where the women of the ancient mysteries came to mingle their tears.

Reveal to me, O my good genius, to me whom you loved, those truths which master Death, prevent us from fearing, and make us almost love it.

WHITTIER'S TRIBUTE.

(From the dedication page of his "Home Ballads.")

I call the old time back; I bring these lays To thee in memory of the summer days, When, by our native streams and forestways,

We dream them over; while the rivulets made Songs of their own, and the great pine trees laid On warm noon-lights the masses of their shade.

And she was with us, living o'er again Her life in ours, despite of years and pain-- The Autumn's brightness after latter rain.

Beautiful in her holy peace, as one Who stands at evening, when the work is done, Glorified in the setting of the sun!

Her memory makes our common landscape seem Fairer than any of which painters dream-- Lights the brown hills and sings in every stream.

For she whose speech was always truth's pure gold Heard, not unpleased, its simple legends told, And loved with us the beautiful and old.

FIELD'S APPRECIATION.

(Dedication to His Sister, Mary Field French, from His "Little Book of Western Verse." Copyrighted, 1889, by Eugene Field, Published by Charles Scribner's Sons.)

A dying mother gave to you Her child a many years ago; How in your gracious love he grew, You know, dear, patient heart, you know.

The mother's child you fostered then Salutes you now and bids you take These little children of his pen And love them for the author's sake.

To you I dedicate this book, And, as you read it line by line, Upon its faults as kindly look As you have always looked on mine.

Tardy the offering is and weak; Yet were I happy if I knew These children had the power to speak My love and gratitude to you.

The Personal Character of the Czar.

BY FRANK MARSHALL WHITE.

Trained Observers of Men Describe the Impressions Made Upon Them by the Ruler of the Russian People, But No Two Agree in Their Estimates of the Man Behind the Mask.

_Compiled and edited for_ THE SCRAP BOOK.

In the present crisis in Russia the actual character of the Czar is a matter of unusual interest to the world at large, since he is one of the factors to be considered in predicting the outcome of the most tremendous social and political upheaval of the time.

It is difficult enough for the person whose acquaintance with the rulers of the earth is through the public prints to obtain an idea of the individuality of any one of the reigning monarchs, though we appraise many of them with confidence--if not with accuracy.

For instance, the popular conception of Edward of England is that of an affable gentleman, with a fondness for pageantry and show, and tastes that lead him to the race-track rather than to the library. Most of us believe William of Germany to be a cocky little chap, of tireless energy, who makes all knowledge his province in the intervals of being photographed and changing his uniforms, and who pays personal attention to the fireworks that invariably illumine his progress.

We consider Oscar of Sweden to be a man of scholarly tastes, who would rather write books than rule, and too modern in his ideas to make a regal figure on the throne. We think of the aged Emperor of Austria as a pathetic figure, a man of naturally kindly disposition, after a long life into which has entered almost every element of tragedy and unhappiness, ending his career an object of obloquy to many of his subjects.

A pathetic figure also, to our minds, is young Alfonso of Spain, upon whom are visited the sins of his fathers, who was born literally in a cabinet meeting, and in all the twenty years of his life has scarcely been out of sight of his mother or one of his guardians, and who begged in vain for only one day to himself, incognito, during his recent visit to Paris, as the greatest possible boon.

We know of the personal attributes of several other monarchs--that Carlos of Portugal is as likely as any of his contemporaries to meet the fate of Henry I of England; that Leopold of the Belgians is not to be mentioned in polite society; that Victor Emmanuel of Italy is a serious young man who believes that his first duty is to his country instead of to himself.

Mystery Enshrouds Czar and Sultan.

With the foregoing sovereigns we find evidence as to their habits and disposition in the same direction. Of the Czar, however, as of Abdul Hamid of Turkey--who is described by one set of biographers as a high-minded and scholarly recluse, and by others as a sodden and fear-shaken sensualist--we have two pictures at variance with each other in almost every particular. It may prove interesting, therefore, under existing conditions, to compare some recorded impressions of Nicholas II, as made by him upon various persons who have been brought into contact with him.

In the _World of To-Day_, for January, William T. Stead, editor of the _Review of Reviews_, of London, one of the ablest and best-known journalists of his time, and who recently had a personal interview with the Czar, writes of him thus:

The question as to his intelligent grasp of the facts of the situation with which he has to deal is one upon which those who are admitted to the intimacy of his councils can speak with authority. It is one, however, upon which those who have never heard him speak are often the most confident.

I can speak with some assurance on this matter, although it is one on which it ought not to be necessary to speak at all. But I have seen many men, crowned and uncrowned, in the course of a tolerably long and varied journalistic career. I have had four opportunities of talking with Nicholas II. Altogether I have spent many hours alone with him. Our conversation never flagged. It did not turn upon the weather, but upon serious topics both at home and abroad, in which I was intimately concerned and intensely interested.

Hence I have at least had ample materials for forming judgment, and few people have had more of the experience of contemporaries necessary to compare my impressions. I have no hesitation in saying that I have seldom in the course of thirty years met any man so quick in the uptake, so bright in his mental perception, so sympathetic in his understanding, or one possessing a wider range of intellectual interest.

Neither have I ever met any one man or woman who impressed me more with the crystalline sincerity of his soul. Of his personal charm, of his quick sense of humor, of the genial sense of good-fellowship by which he puts you at once at your ease, I do not need to speak.

A Former Instructor's Impression.

Mr. Stead's view partly corroborates that of a fellow-journalist, Brayley Hodgetts, who, in England, is considered an authority on Russian affairs, having received his earlier education in that country and lived there many years. Mr. Hodgetts wrote of the Czar in the _Pall Mall Gazette_, just before the war with Japan, as follows:

A very great friend of mine was one of his instructors, and when discussing in moments of confidence the character of his imperial pupil I never once heard him speak of him otherwise than in the language of sincere affection. He always used in referring to him the Russian expression _oomnitza_, meaning that he was wise and diligent.

It seems that he always showed great application, and also an imperial aptitude for acquiring knowledge; but, above all things, what struck my friend most was his high and noble sense of duty. "I have seen this young man, with his pathetically earnest face, grow up." he said. "When the time was ripe he was made a member of the Imperial Council, a sort of bureaucratic parliament in which the ministers of the empire and the various higher officials and privy councilors debate the measures which it is proposed to introduce. In this assembly the young heir apparent early manifested a quiet tact and wisdom which showed him to be a born ruler of men."

"Nothing Disconcerts Him."

Dr. Dillon, the St. Petersburg correspondent of the London _Daily Telegraph_, who visited the United States last summer to report the proceedings of the Portsmouth peace conference, telegraphed to his paper immediately after "Bloody Sunday" in January of last year:

If the emperor has changed his place of residence several times of late, he acted solely out of consideration for others, not from any sense of personal insecurity. It is only fair to him to say that he is absolutely calm and unmoved as he was after the intelligence had arrived that ninety thousand men had been wounded or killed on the Sha River.

Nothing disconcerts his majesty. A person who has spoken with him several times during the eventful days of this week assures me that he was less concerned, less preoccupied, on Sunday and Monday than was General Grant or Von Moltke before one of their critical engagements.

Just before signing to-day's ukase abolishing civil powers and administration and appointing Trepoff governor-general, his majesty was whistling a lively air in his apartments in the palace.

As Seen by Two American Business Men.

One of New York's foremost men of affairs, Charles R. Flint, who visited Russia last spring with a view to making an inquiry into the industrial possibilities of the country, was thus quoted in the _Herald_ on his return in June last: