Part 8

Perhaps it was not only the charm of the music of the sea and the lilt of the sailor’s songs which inspired him, but also his own heart’s craving for a cessation from wandering, and a home blessed by peace.

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[Sidenote: =Argument.=]

When the curtain rises we gaze on a wide storm-tossed ocean; the ship of the Norwegian mariner, _Daland_, lies at anchor near shore. Presently the sails of the _Flying Dutchman’s_ vessel emerge, blood-red, from the blackness of the storm. The _Dutchman_ steps ashore, for another term of seven years is past, and he is free to seek once more on earth the love of a faithful woman, whose devotion shall save him from the curse of wandering.

When _Daland_ reappears on deck he sees the _Dutchman_ and greets him, although he is a stranger, with open-hearted cordiality. The _Dutchman_ begs asylum for a few days in _Daland’s_ home, a few miles away, offering _Daland_ in return a share of the treasures he has amassed. To this _Daland_ consents.

“Have you a daughter?” asks the _Dutchman_.

“A beautiful daughter named Senta,” _Daland_ answers.

Then, with the precipitancy characteristic of all Wagner’s lovers, the _Dutchman_ cries:

“Let her be my wife!”

_Daland_, gazing on the treasures which the _Dutchman_ has shown him, joyously gives his permission.

The second act shows us a room in _Daland’s_ house, where _Senta’s_ friends are sitting before wheels, gaily singing and spinning. _Senta_ herself sits apart, gazing sentimentally at a portrait over the door—the portrait of the _Flying Dutchman_.

The gay song of her friends irritates her, and she bids them cease.

“Then sing us a better song yourself!” they cry.

_Senta_ accepts the challenge, and sings the ballad of “The Flying Dutchman.” At its close she jumps up and cries that she will be the woman to save the suffering mariner.

A few minutes later _Daland_ enters, accompanied by the _Dutchman_. _Senta’s_ eyes leap away from her father to the man beside him. Speechless and immobile she stares at the face of her dreams.

“Father, who is this stranger?” she breathes.

And _Daland_ whispers that he is a rich mariner who has come to woo her, and whom she must favor.

_Daland_ then leaves them alone. For long moments they stare at each other, while the passion of love for the first time fills the _Dutchman’s_ heart, and _Senta_ sees her fancies take form in reality.

When _Daland_ returns, _Senta_ has plighted her faith in the arms of her long-desired lover.

The third act presents the sea again. Two ships lie at anchor. That of _Daland_, which is gay with lights and movement, and the fantom ship of the _Dutchman_, dark and silent. Suddenly the sea, calm elsewhere, begins to rise about the ship of the _Flying Dutchman_.

Tongues of light shriek about its masts, a storm howls, the crew appears, and in satanic strains taunt the captain because he has not even yet found a faithful woman. Then suddenly the sea subsides, and darkness and silence again cover the ship.

_Senta_ comes out of the door of her house, accompanied by a suitor, Erik. _Erik_ pleads with her not to marry the _Dutchman_, but to renew that affection for himself which she must, he says, formerly have felt. He reminds her of an occasion when she stood, her arm about his neck, her hand in his.

The _Dutchman_ has drawn near, quite unperceived by either one of them, and has heard this tale. Ignorant of _Senta’s_ passion for himself, and now believing her to be but a mere flirt, he rushes forward, crying, “Farewell, Senta!” Then, pointing to the anchored ship, whose blood-red sails are being hoisted, he cries:

“I am the Flying Dutchman!”

As he leaps on board, the vessel moves out of the harbor. _Senta_ runs to a rock, from which she plunges after her lover into the sea.

As she does so, the curse is lifted, the fantom ship falls apart, and _Senta_ and the _Flying Dutchman_ together arise transfigured from the waves.

A NATION WITHOUT A LANGUAGE.

Despite Their Intense Patriotism, the Swiss Borrow Their “Mother-Tongue” from Three Other Countries—A Polyglot Parliament.

The Swiss constitute that curious anomaly, a nation without a language, and in this they are alone among all the peoples of the world. This is all the more remarkable when their intense patriotism is considered, and their really wonderful love of country.

The official languages are German, French, and Italian, these three being the recognized “mother-tongue” of the majority of the inhabitants.

About three-fourths of the people speak German, while the remainder divide four other languages among them—mainly French and Italian—the languages varying, as a rule, according to the proximity of the people to each country whose tongue they speak.

Public documents and notices are printed in both the French and German languages. In the Swiss National Parliament the members make their speeches either in French or German, for nearly all the members understand both these languages.

The orders of the President are translated by an official interpreter and furnished to the newspapers in both languages.

Three, Seven, and Thirteen.

Strange Persistence in Nature of These Mystic Numbers, Each of Which Has Ever Been Regarded as Deeply Significant by the Various Races at Different Periods of History, and Especially in Religious Observance.

Superstition of some sort or other has been attached to certain numbers from time immemorial, but the numbers three, seven, and thirteen have been particularly favored, and three and seven have figured very prominently in mythology, scriptural history, and elsewhere. Three is called the perfect number, seven is regarded as lucky, and thirteen as unlucky.

It was Pythagoras who termed three the “perfect number,” because it expressed “the beginning, the middle, and the end,” signifying a perfect whole.

On this account he made it a symbol of the Deity, and the “Holy Trinity” is now, and doubtless will be always, the most potent symbol of Christianity. The world was supposed to be under the rule of three gods: Jupiter (heaven), Neptune (sea), and Pluto (Hades). Jove is represented carrying three-forked lightning. Neptune carries a trident, and Pluto is accompanied by a three-headed dog.

Divides Things Into Three Parts.

There are three Fates, three Furies, and three Graces. The Harpies are three in number; there are three Sibylline books, and the fountain in Mysia, from which Hylas drew water, was presided over by three nymphs. The pythoness sat on a tripod; the Muses are three times three. Both Man and the World are threefold—the former, body, soul, and spirit; the latter, earth, sea, and air. The enemies of Man are the world, the flesh, and the devil; the kingdoms of Nature are animal, vegetable, and mineral. The cardinal colors are red, yellow, and blue.

In almost all countries new laws have to pass three bodies. In the United States, State laws pass the Assembly, the State Senate, and the Governor. Federal laws pass the House of Representatives, the Senate, and the President. In England there are the Commons, the Lords, and the King to be reckoned with.

Concerning the church there were the “Three Chapters,” otherwise three books on the subject of the Incarnation and the two natures of Christ, which caused a great controversy during the reign of Justinian and the popedom of Vigilius. In 553 these books were condemned by the General Council at Constantinople. One was written by Theodore, of Mopsuestia; one by Theodoret, of Cyprus; and the third by Ibas, Bishop of Edessa.

It was the “three bishoprics” of France that passed to the German rule after the Franco-Prussian War. They were Metz, Verdun, and Lorraine, each of which was once under the lordship of a bishop. In early days the churches were usually provided with what was known as a “three decker.” This structure consisted of the clerk’s desk, the reading-desk, and the pulpit, one above the other. Then again, Epiphany or Twelfth Day is sometimes known as “Three Kings’ Day,” as it is supposed to commemorate the visit of the three kings, or wise men, to the infant Jesus.

The three estates of the realm are the nobility, the clergy, and the commonalty in England, the sovereign being in a class by himself. One of the collects in the English prayer-books thanks God for preserving “the king and the three estates of the realm.” It was Burke who designated the press of the country “the fourth estate.”

Mention must also be made of the “three R’s” of education: reading, ’riting, and ’rithmetic; and the Bible is composed of three parts: Old Testament, New Testament, and Apocrypha.

The Holiness of Seven.

Seven always has been a holy number, and that may be why it is considered lucky. The creation occupied seven days; there are seven spirits before the throne of God. There are seven days in the week; seven divisions of the Lord’s Prayer; seven ages in the life of man; and the just are supposed to fall “seven times a day.”

The moon has seven phases, every seventh year was sabbatical for the Jews, and seven times seven years was the “jubilee.” The three great feasts of the Jews lasted seven days, and seven weeks elapsed between the first and the second of these.

Levitical purifications lasted seven days. In the Bible are mentioned seven candlesticks, seven trumpets, seven stars, and seven horns. The Lamb had seven eyes. Ten times seven Israelites went into Egypt, and the exile lasted ten times seven years. There were ten times seven elders, and Pharaoh, in his dream, saw seven ears of corn and seven kine.

The bibles or sacred books of the world are seven in number: the Bible of the Christians; the Eddas of the Scandinavians; the Five Kings of the Chinese; the Koran of the Mohammedans; the Tri Pitikes of the Buddhists; the three Vedas of the Hindus; and the Zendavesta of the Persians. Incidentally, the Koran dates from the seventh century.

The seven churches of Asia were founded in the following cities: Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamos, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia, and Laodicea. Strangely enough, each of these churches, which were founded by the Apostles themselves, are now Mohammedan, and the cities in which they stand, with the exception of Smyrna, are more or less insignificant.

Before the throne of God stand seven angels. They are Michael, Gabriel, Lamael, Raphael, Zachariel, Anael, and Oriphel. The Deity is endowed with seven spirits: the Spirit of Wisdom, the Spirit of Understanding, the Spirit of Counsel, the Spirit of Power, the Spirit of Righteousness, the Spirit of Knowledge, and the Spirit of Divine Awfulness.

In the life of the Virgin Mary there were Seven Joys and Seven Sorrows. The former were the Annunciation, the Visitation, the Nativity, the Adoration of the Magi, the Presentation in the Temple, the finding of Christ among the Doctors, and the Assumption. The sorrows were: Simeon’s Prophecy, the Flight into Egypt, the unexplained absence of Christ, the Betrayal, the Crucifixion, the Descent from the Cross, and the Ascension, when Mary was left alone. In the picture “Our Lady of Dolors” she is represented with her breast pierced with seven swords emblematic of her seven sorrows.

Seven Men Who Did Wonders In Chivalry.

The Seven Champions of Christendom were: St. George, of England, who was imprisoned seven years; St. Denys, of France, who lived seven years in the form of a hart; St. James, of Spain, who was dumb for seven years out of love for a Jewess; St. Anthony, of Italy, who was released from his enchanted sleep by St. George’s sons, who quenched seven lamps; St Andrew, of Scotland, who delivered six ladies who had lived seven years as white swans; St. David, of Wales, who was released from a seven years’ enchanted sleep by St. George; and St. Patrick, of Ireland.

The Seven Sages of Greece and their mottoes were: Solon, of Athens: “Know thyself.” Chilo, of Sparta: “Consider the end.” Thales, of Miletos: “Who hateth suretyship is sure.” Bias, of Priene: “Most men are bad.” Cleobulos, of Lindos: “The golden mean,” or “Avoid extremes.” Pittacos, of Mitylene: “Seize time by the forelock.” And Periander, of Corinth: “Nothing is impossible to industry.”

How the Old Alchemists Relied on Seven.

There are seven bodies in alchemy, each having its planet. They are: gold, the sun; silver, the moon; iron, Mars; quicksilver, Mercury; lead, Saturn; tin, Jupiter; and copper, Venus.

The Seven Deadly Sins are pride, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony, avarice, and sloth; while the Seven Virtues are faith, hope, charity, prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance.

Ancient teaching had it that the soul of a man was composed of seven properties, each under the influence of a planet, thus: fire animates, earth gives the sense of feeling, speech is gained from water, air gives taste, sight comes from mist, flowers give hearing, and the south wind gives smelling. Here are the seven senses, and then, too, as the boys at school are fond of saying, there are seven holes in one’s head: two ears, two eyes, two nostrils, and the mouth.

The Seven Sleepers were seven youths of Ephesus who fled from persecution to a cave and slept therein for many years. Their names were Constantine, Dionysius, John, Maximian, Malchus, Martinian, and Serapion.

There are two groups of Seven Wonders of the World. The antique group consisted of the Pyramids, Babylon’s Hanging Gardens, Mausolus’s Tomb, the Temple of Diana at Ephesus, the Colossus of Rhodes, Jupiter’s Statue by Phidias, the Pharos of Egypt, and the Palace of Cyrus (which was cemented with gold).

The seven wonders of the Middle Ages were the Colosseum, the Catacombs at Alexandria, the Great Wall of China, Stonehenge, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Porcelain Tower of Nankin, and the Mosque of St. Sophia at Constantinople.

The Origin of “Unlucky Thirteen.”

Thirteen is regarded as unlucky by a great many people who claim that they are not superstitious about other things, and there are thousands of tales of unfortunate occurrences supposedly due to that number.

The origin of the superstition is very generally supposed to be the “Last Supper,” at which the Lord and His Twelve Apostles were present. As a matter of history, the belief in the “hoodoo” antedates Christianity by centuries. Norse mythology deemed it unlucky to sit down thirteen at a banquet table, because at such a feast in the Valhalla, Loki, the spirit of evil and the god of strife, once intruded. Balder, the god of peace, was killed by the blind war-god Hoder, at the instigation of Loki.

The Turks so dislike the number that the word indicating it has become almost expurged from their vocabulary. The Italians never use it in making up their lotteries, and in Paris no house bears the number; and there is in existence there a profession the members of which make their living attending dinner parties in order to make the fourteenth at table.

At a discussion of superstitions recently one young man ventured the remark that he knew of hundreds of buildings in New York that had no thirteenth story.

“How is that?” he was asked.

“They are only twelve stories high,” was the reply.

Nevertheless, there are several skyscrapers in the metropolis in which the number thirteen is skipped both in numbering the floors and in numbering the rooms. The Kuhn-Loeb Building, at the corner of Pine and William Streets, is an example, and the building at the corner of William and Wall Streets has a twelfth floor and a fourteenth floor, but no floor in between.

THE STORY OF THE KILKENNY CATS.

Hessian Soldiers, Stationed in Ireland, Were Responsible for One of the Most Desperate Battles in History.

For more than a century the Kilkenny cats, which “fought until there was nothing left of them but their tails,” have been regarded as the most quarrelsome creatures of which there is any record.

Various accounts of their memorable encounter have appeared from time to time, but the version which is given the most credence is that offered by a writer in the _Irish Nation_. This story is as follows:

The story has been so long current that it has become a proverb—“as quarrelsome as the Kilkenny cats”; two of the cats in which city are asserted to have fought so long and so ferociously that naught was found of them but their tails.

The facts are these: During the rebellion which occurred in Ireland in 1798, Kilkenny was garrisoned by a regiment of Hessian soldiers, whose custom it was to tie together, in one of their barrack-rooms, two cats by their respective tails, and then throw them face to face across a line generally used for drying clothes. The cats naturally became infuriated, and scratched each other in the abdomen until death ensued to one or both of them.

The officers were made acquainted with the barbarous acts of cruelty, and resolved to put an end to them. For this purpose an officer was ordered to inspect each barrack-room daily and report its state. The soldiers, determined not to lose the daily torture of the cats, generally employed one of their comrades to watch the approach of their officer.

On one occasion he neglected his duty, and the officer was heard ascending the stairs while the cats were undergoing their customary torture. One of the troopers seized a sword from the armrack and with a single blow divided the tails of the cats.

The cats escaped through the open windows of the room, which was entered instantly afterward by the officer, who inquired what was the cause of the two bleeding cat’s tails being suspended on the line, and was told in reply that “two cats had been fighting in the room; that it was found impossible to separate them, and they fought so desperately that they had devoured each other up, with the exception of their two tails.”

DEAR HANDS.

Of the gems reprinted in THE SCRAP BOOK, our readers have received none more gladly than Mrs. Susan Marr Spalding’s “Fate,” which appeared in our first issue. Her name was then given as “Spaulding,” an error which we take this occasion to correct.

Few who read the poem in the March SCRAP BOOK were aware that Mrs. Spalding was still living. It is many years since “Fate” first appeared. The author’s fame, while amply justified by many other poems, has been permitted to rest upon that single earlier product, and the author herself has been lost sight of. Since “Fate” appeared, however, she has written much that is worthy of long remembrance.

Mrs. Spalding has been living with a friend, Mrs. Louise P. Sargent, of West Medford, Massachusetts, who writes of her, saying: “She is a helpless invalid, but so sweet and helpful that her influence radiates through a large circle.” Many friends sent her the March SCRAP BOOK, and she said:

“I am growing tired of ‘Fate.’ Why don’t they copy some of the sonnets, which are surely as deserving?”

Mrs. Spalding’s later poems, while perhaps no one of them strikes so vital a tone as “Fate,” are of high merit. We reprint from “The Wings of Icarus,” published by Roberts Brothers in 1892, the following fine sonnet:

BY SUSAN MARR SPALDING.

Roughened and worn with ceaseless toil and care, No perfumed grace, no dainty skill had these; They earned for whiter hands a jeweled ease, And kept the scars unlovely for their share. Patient and slow, they had the will to bear The whole world’s burdens, but no power to seize The flying joys of life, the gifts that please, The gold and gems that others find so fair. Dear hands, where bridal jewel never shone, Whereon no lover’s kiss was ever pressed, Crossed in unwonted quiet on the breast— I see, through tears, your glory newly won; The golden circlet of life’s work well done, Set with the shining pearl of perfect rest.

FROM THE COUNTRY PRESS.

Joys and Sorrows That Flit With the Flies Into Rural Editorial Sanctums—A Denial of Matrimonial Intent, the Tale of a Dog, and a Little Gossip That May be Useful at Quilting Parties.

AN ANNOUNCEMENT.

Miss May Tybell says she ain’t engaged to anybody, and that she won’t be, there being too much foolishness in Link already.—_Henderson (Nebraska) Tribune._

ROUGH ON THE COLT.

While Elwood Gardner was caring for a colt in the stable Thursday he reared and kicked him in the stomach, hurting him so badly that he is not able to do anything.—_Coldwater (Michigan) Courier._

THEIR EQUIPMENT.

The correspondent, as well as the entire town and county, extend the best wishes and success to this happy pair. There is not the least doubt in any mind that they will succeed socially as well as financially, as each has an unequivocal sense of ubiquity.—_Wapello (Iowa) Republican._

LOST AND WON AD.

Lost—By Miss Susie Holbert, Saturday night, among the Sir Knights and the Daughters of St. Marace Tabernacle, No. 10, money tied in a handkerchief. Failure to return the money has caused some feelings. Miss Holbert won first prize in the U. M. P. J. J. M. Whist Club.—_Lawrence (Kansas) Gazette._

A REMARKABLE COINCIDENCE.

They tell of a North Atchison woman who was preserving cherries when the preacher called. She couldn’t leave her work, so he was called to the kitchen, and she watched her preserves while he talked, and stirred them in a quiet, religious way while he offered a prayer. The prayer and the preserves were done at the same time.—_Atchison Globe._

A SEQUATCHIE MYSTERY.

Wonder what George Marson is doing over here riding muleback. He passed by here Sunday with his two-story collar on and with both hands in his pocket up to his elbows, with his feet lying between the mule’s ears. He had his shoes shined and he did not want to get them soiled. His mule was so small that his feet would drag.—_Sequatchie (Tennessee) News._

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Don’t sneak in at a ball game. Up at Salina last week a fellow borrowed a boat, crossed the river, got his feet wet and muddy, climbed up the bank, tore a five-dollar pair of pants on the underbrush, got poison-ivy all over his face, slipped up to the game in the park from the rear—all this but to find out that no admission was charged to the game.—_Marquette (Kansas) Tribune._

THE WORM TURNS.

The lady (?) who yesterday called the attention of another to our patched breeches, whereat they both laughed so heartily, is informed that a new pair will be purchased when her husband’s bill is settled. It has been due nearly a year. Don’t criticise a printer’s dress too closely while you are wearing silks with money due him. Tell your husband to send us twenty dollars and seventy-three cents, and save the cost of an entire suit.—_Swainsboro Forest._

THE KIND OF DOG IT WAS.

The following notice has been published in a northern Peninsula paper by a French-Canadian:

“Loosed. One dawg. Been loose him bout three weeks. Him white dawg almost white with him tail cut off close next to her body. Anybody find her bring him to me. I belong to him and shall give good rewards for the same. Black spot on him nose about size fifty cents or dollar piece, Canada money or United States all the same. For yours truly with anxious, Felix Carno, hind side of Methody Church about three blocks in the house up-stairs with green painting.”—_Exchange._

Van Nesten and the Burglar.

BY W. S. ROGERS.

The wind blew and blew. It flapped across the river and disported itself up through the town, shaking and tearing at things—gates, chimneys, and wire-hung smokestacks. It shrieked and roared through alleys and around corners, and at last it careened up Main Street, on the very stroke of midnight. There it contended with an uncertain-minded person, whom it found trying to navigate.