Puslapio vaizdai

that it would have reached its present status through other causes. The town is known throughbut the whole country by its press, and that press has magnified its importance and influence everywhere. It has been a center of intelligence and a center of attraction, and has done, in one sense, more than anything else to make the town what it is one of the brightest and most enterprising towns in New England.

It is, however, with reference to the power of the daily press in fixing the centers of the publishing interest that we write this article. The issue of magazines and books is not fixed by the ordinary considerations of commerce. This interest is the greatest, perhaps, among those that are influenced or controlled by the daily press. The advertising | centers and the centers of the greatest newspaper excellence and influence are the centers of the publishing interest. So long, for instance, as the representative New York press maintains its present preeminence, New York will remain the center of the great publishing interests of the country; and all other publishing centers will work at a disadvantage. We do not say this in disparagement of any other press or locality.

We simply recognize existing

facts,-facts which are becoming more and more apparent to every observer. There is to be a great publishing center in the West. The growth of that region is so gigantic, its interests are so thoroughly individualized, its wants are so identical, and its resources are so great, that it will have a literature. It will never cut entirely loose from the East in this matter; but the time will surely come when it will send us for exchange in kind the productions of its teeming press. The center of the publishing interest

in the West is being fixed to-day by its newspapers. That city of the West which has the best daily press, the press that goes everywhere and is felt everywhere,—will publish the books and magazines for the West. The greatest daily press and the greatest publishing interest will go together. The same may be said of the new South, which the future is sure to bring us.

And here, on behalf of the whole book and magazine interest, it is proper to recognize the dependence of that interest on the newspaper press for its prosperity. The daily and weekly newspaper, in its periodical visit to every fireside, is the medium by which the great publishing interest of the country reaches the public. The advertisement, the notice, and the review which appear in the columns of the newspaper are the only means by which the book and magazine-buying public become acquainted with the new issues of the press. Neither author nor publisher can ever repay the debt owed to the newspaper for its service in this matter, except by making his productions so worthy of commendation that that commendation shall be service rendered to the public whose patronage he seeks. It is pleasant to notice that the interest of the public in literary matters makes all intelligence concerning them valuable, and that, so, the current issues of magazines and books become subjects of current news, eagerly demanded by those for whom newspapers are prepared. It is here that the publishers of newspapers find their interests identified with those of the writers and publishers of books and magazines, and here that they find the justification of the most friendly and reciprocal relations with them.


We think we are very loyal to the true pathos of life when we cry out against the sentimental expression of it. The most withering thing that can be said about any work of art is that it is sentimental. We are glad to find that So-and-So is a sentimentalist, for then we are relieved of the necessity of sympathizing with him, at least. But, as we grow older, and begin to comprehend the volume of human misery,-all its strength, and stretch, and subtlety, we come to know how shallow the vision that took no ken of the pathos underlying even the sentimental. It is a melancholy gift that many have, of at once being actors in, and witnesses of, the play of life. All who have that gift know well how to weep at the grand dénoûment when the heroine falls moaning upon the breast of her dying lover; but God pity the lesser number who see the pathetic in all the situations, humorous and tragic alike.

There are two things that puzzle me. One is, the

amount of misplaced virtue in the world; that is to say, the immense quantity of downright goodness scattered around among the commonest sort of people; among people about whom there are no social safeguards whatever, and who would be quite up to the moral standard of their neighbors if they gave a loose rein to all manner of passion. I tell you, when a man who has been surrounded with pure influences,-I do not mean with austerity or fanaticism, from which he would be likely to suffer reaction,-when a man who has breathed no atmosphere but that of moderation and decorum looks back upon his own life, and trembles at his hundred hair-breadth 'scapes from utter ruin, of one kind or another, he cannot help wondering what keeps the unprotected classes from going altogether and utterly to the bad. It was one of the best saints out of the calendar who declared himself competent to commit any crime under the sun of which he had ever heard, and what it is that keeps the average

sinner from going straight through the criminal list, | of rushing into a burning building, catching into his it is hard to tell.

The other puzzle is how the ordinary human is able to bear up against the enormous weight of suffering imposed upon him,—not simply the misery of which the papers tell under startling head-lines, or in little paragraphs that travel the rounds of the press, and startle you now and then with their grim | and gruesome humor,-not simply the distress which is the subject of charity reports, and governmental statistics, not simply the obvious examples of quiet endurance, the heroic men and women whose lives are one long self-sacrifice,—not simply these, but the absolute discomfort and pain, physical, moral, and æsthetic, that is borne by almost every human being in the world, with such nobility of endurance that the croaker and complainer is so much the exception that he is pointed at with scorn, and shunned by his fellows as an anomaly and a nuisance.

I think I never had a clearer idea of the general forlornness of mankind than in contemplating a cat at the ferry-house, the other morning. It was a nipping and an eager air. Wherever the salt spray had dashed, there had it stiffly frozen. There seemed to be no rest for the claws of her feet, except on the floorway, from which a thousand boots would have spurned her trembling form. So she had mounted a chilly, slippery beam, and crouched there in abject | shame and panic. Why did she not go home, you ask? But even if she had a home, home was no home to her unless she was in it. She had no hand in the fate that compelled her to that shivering perch, subject to gibe of man, bark and snap of dog, and shy of stick. "Yonder," (I said,) "in that poor perplexed, cold, hungry, homeless creature, is a type of mankind! Scat!"

And speaking of heroism, one is never so much surprised at the impulsive, grandiose sort, as at that which may almost be called the negative kind. I pity the man who does not consider himself capable

arms a beautiful maiden, and bravely bearing her away in safety through smoke and flame, tumbling rafters and bellowing trumpets. One has an actual appetite for such an adventure. But suppose the beautiful maiden no longer beautiful; or suppose the circumstances to be altogether different, and the question, not whether you shall rush in, but whether you shall rush out; whether, in fact, you shall run for your life, or, like that girl you have lately read of, stay by the side of one whom you fain would rescue, till the flames curl about your feet, and drag you into the jaws of death—perhaps, even without the reporters being informed of all the circumstan


There are certain alleviations which we can readily appreciate. It is easy to see that some people gather fortitude from the fact that misery cannot be helped; that what can't be cured must be endured. When they see "the inevitable," they "straightway fall in love with it!"

I am sure, moreover, that the artistic sense is a genuine alleviation in many cases. Artistic natures may have what is called a great capacity for suffering; but the law of compensation is seen at work here also. You will know what I mean if you have ever caught yourself, in some strange mood, imagining the particulars of a bereavement, through whose scenes you have beheld yourself moving, not without a sense of æsthetic satisfaction, the slow-paced, melancholy hero.

But really the greatest relief is-not to care; that is to say, not to care for any great length of time. That is the thing that consoles me most, in the matter of other people's calamities: perhaps they will get over it. It isn't quite the poetic thing for them to do, of course; but they are off my mind at any rate, and I'm always grateful to the poor devil whose trouble, like the fellow's in The Wicked World," in severe cases lasts all night.

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As a people, we take just about a third as much open air exercise as we need. In the warm weather we get along tolerably well, because pure oxygen | comes to us, whether we will or not; but with the least chill of autumn we incontinently bring out the double sashes, and hunt up the weather-strips. Not satisfied with this, we ride, if we can, when we are compelled to leave our stifling domiciles, and stay out just the briefest possible while that will serve our purpose. Not one person in twenty ever thinks of going out in winter for the mere sake of reaching the external air. It seems not to occur to persons

generally that they need any other atmosphere than that which constantly surrounds them. Much of that terrible disease, pulmonary consumption, arises from the fact that most people's lungs are not fairly expanded and filled with pure oxygen more than two or three times a year. Now that the ice can be counted upon, it would be well if young and old and middle-aged would buckle on runners, and have a grand skate together. It is capital exercise, and the out-door equivalent of dancing. Arms, legs, heads, hearts and lungs, all respond to its exhilarating influence. Moderately indulged in, it is healthful in the extreme. The only difficulty is, that it is likely to entice one too far. Skate if you can, but

if you can't, try coasting, if there be a convenient hill. And if that be not practicable, a good run will answer. It is not air alone, remember, it is


Newspapers Domestically Considered.

Too low an estimate is apt to be set on the domestic value of newspapers. After reading them, and putting ourselves, through their agency, in mental correspondence with the world, they are thrown aside and forgotten. But to suppose their usefulness bounded by their news columns and the waste-bag is a thriftless mistake.

In the first place, there are the household recipes, to be found in stray corners, often excellent, and deserving a refuge on the fly-leaf of the family cookbook. Then come the pretty verses, the strange and droll stories, the brief biographies and reminiscences which, pasted in a scrap-book, are a source of neverending pleasure, not only to those who do not care for richer intellectual food, but to those who have only odd minutes for reading.

Notwithstanding the squibs jocular journalists have penned on the use of newspapers for bedclothing, we know from experience that these are not to be despised. They may not be as comfortable as your blankets, but certainly they keep out the cold. Two thicknesses of papers are better than a pair of blankets, and in the case of persons who dislike the weight of many bed-clothes, they are invaluable. A spread made of a double layer of papers between a covering of calico or chintz, is desirable in every household. The papers should be tacked together with thread, and also basted to the covering to keep them from slipping. An objection has been made on account of the rustling, but if soft papers be chosen the noise will not be annoying, especially should the spread be laid between a blanket and the counterpane.

As a protection to plants against cold, both in and out of doors, nothing is better. If newspapers are pinned up over night at a window between pots and glass, the flowers will not only not be frozen, but will not even get chilled, as they are so liable to be at this season. In the same way, if taken to cover garden-beds, on the frosty nights of early autumn, they will allow the plants to remain safely out-doors some time later than is common.

One of the oddest services to put our journals to is the keeping of ice in summer. An ingenious housekeeper recently discovered that her daily lump | of ice would last nearly twice as long when wrapped in newspapers, and placed in any kind of covered box, as when trusted solely to a refrigerator. This is very convenient, since it is possible to have the best and cheapest refrigerator constantly at hand.

To polish all kinds of glass after washing, except table glass, no cloth or flannel is half so good as a newspaper; and for a baker's dozen of other uses, quite foreign to its primal purpose, it is without a rival.

The Penalty of Moving.

ADULTS are prone to think of this intolerable but often necessary annoyance only as it affects them. The influence of continuous change of abode is far more pernicious to children than is commonly imagined. At the time, they rather enjoy the topsyturvy condition of things, and their love of novelty is gratified by going somewhere else. But, as they grow up, and more after they have grown up,— they look back upon their past life, which should be full of home associations, as a sort of domestic game of "pussy-wants-a-corner." They have no pleasant memory of household gods or household altars. The parental idea is marred by repeated shiftings from one roof to another before the filial feeling has had time to spread its tendrils, or even to take substantial root.

It is impossible to over-estimate the effect of a pleasant home-life upon the mind as well as the heart. Men and women who have had happy homes in their childhood and youth, will be anxious to recreate them by marriage and domesticity. Nothing of the sort can reasonably be expected where the home has been but a repetition of houses in which meals have been eaten and lodgings secured.

Hotels are notoriously bad for the rearing of children; and yet how much better is a dwelling occupied for one or two years, and then surrendered for another and another?

We Americans have not such an excess of domesticity as to be able to spare any of it. On the contrary, we need to cultivate all we have, instead of reducing the slender original stock by playing at hide-and-seek with our neighbors. Very often it is not possible for a family to stay in one place; but where it is possible, it should be made a domestic religion not to move.

Is it not probable that much of what is known as unhappy temperament,-the restlessness, irresolution and despondency of after-life,-may have no meaner or profounder origin than the May-day inconveniences which annually thrust farther out of reach the possibilities of a substantial home-feeling?

Fashion Note.

PARIS is friendly this season, and is willing to stand by us in our sudden and unwonted economy. It is, of course, impossible to speak with'any assurance of the spring modes; but one thing is certain (or, at least, advices by our carrier-pigeon so assert) that plain long skirts, sans overdress and all trimmings, with short round waists, and bare of ornamentation, save the fraise in the neck, are the correct style for evening. Court dresses,-i. e., everything except walking-suits,-are all to be formed in this wise. Indeed, many have already appeared in the most elegant salons of France; and before summer is fairly here we may expect nothing else for gas-light toilette.

Economy and Elegance.

ECONOMY and elegance are so rarely coupled that they are naturally thought to be incongruous. They are not always so, however; for simplicity is an element of each. A number of women of fashion

have learned this since the recent monetary disorder has rendered their usual lavish expenditure absolutely impossible. At the beginning of the season they were unable to see how they could attend certain parties and receptions without new gowns and novel adornments. Determined to go, however, they had recourse to their own ingenuity and invention, in place of drawing on the marital and paternal

bank account. In other words, they devised new robes and garnitures from old ones. The result was remarkable, altogether beyond their fondest expectation. They appeared on the social occasions, which they so much coveted, to far more advantage, as respects dress, than they ever had before. Their costuming was generally admired, and particularly commended, the majority of their acquaintances thinking that what they wore had been purchased regardless of price.

This effect had been produced by simple adapta

tion of means to end, by sober consultation between judgment and good taste. The feminine innovators had discovered, for the first time, what properly

belonged to them,-what particular thing or things

their complexion, stature, form and favor required. It was a triumph of individuality, fitness and delicate apprehension over general rules, fixed mode and adherence to antecedents. The experiment has proved so successful that those who were impelled to it from. economy, will continue it from the conviction that it has served, and will still serve, the cause of elegance.

Children and Money.

MOST persons seem to believe that children, even after they have reached an age of intelligence and discrimination, should not be trusted with money; that those who are so trusted are almost invariably ruined. More harm is done, in our judgment, by an exactly contrary course. If children, at least when they are fairly out of leading-strings,-are not

allowed to have small amounts of money, how can they possibly learn its proper use? Wise spending is the result of experience, instead of theory, even with grown persons. How then should the merest youngsters learn to use sixpences and shillings steadily withheld from them?

Human nature is always benefited by a sense of responsibility, and children are by no means an exception. So long as they are deprived of money, they can have no elear idea of its value, and, later in life, when they begin to get some, they very naturally waste it in order to make up for their early de

privation. A boy should be allowed to buy his own tops, marbles, and skates, instead of having them bought for him. In this way he will enjoy them more, and have a more thorough appreciation of them. If he makes a mistake, chooses a bad top. or imperfect marbles, or poor skates, do not replace them with such as he would like; but let him use those of his own selection till he has the money to

buy others. Next time he will know what not to buy, will be more careful in deciding, and will have gained a desirable feeling of self-dependence. It is, perhaps, a little hard for tender parents to com

pel children to abide their own mistakes. The rule

seems harsh; but the world is so infinitely harsher a school than any home can be, that, for ultimate

good, present pain may be endured.

have little, if any temptation, to get it by improper

Children accustomed to money in moderation

or dishonest means. It then ceases to bear the attraction of forbidden fruit, or to appear to their ardent fancy as if all happiness were included in its power of purchase. Are not the boys who pilfer, or carry from the household anything they can turn into cash, frequently those who have been impelled to it by a scant allowance of pocket-money from parents to whom it would have been a trifle? With legitimate indulgence they very soon learn that a shilling is worth but a shilling, and that a dollar is only a dollar; that, badly used, one or the other will bring discomfort as well as pleasure; and this lesson cannot fail to be of permanent benefit to them. The boy who has learned to use sixpences judiciously while he is ten or twelve, will be pretty apt to understand the proper value of dollars before he is out of his teens.

Early Photography.


WE have received the following notes, which we publish as a matter of justice to all parties:

THE RIDGE, DOVER PLAINS, N. Y., Oct. 4, 1873. To the Editor of Scribner's Monthly:SIR: In the May issue of your Magazine, Professor John W. Draper commented upon my statement in a paper on Pro

fessor Morse, which appeared in the March issue, that "the first photograph ever taken in America was that of the tower of the Church of the Messiah, on Broadway," by Professor Morse; also, that after he (Morse) had succeeded in taking likenesses of the human face with the eyes shut, "Professor Draper shortened the process, and was the first to take portraits with the eyes open." Professor Draper, in his comments, says that he, and not Professor Morse, took that photographic view of the Church of the Messiah.


to the photographic portrait from life," Professor Draper says, "It was I that took the first, and that not merely in America," for none had been taken in Europe. "Professor Morse," he continues, "never made a photograph until he had learned the art in my laboratory, in which, at that time, he spent every evening."

My statement was drawn from a printed letter written by Professor Morse for publication. When Dr. Draper's communication appeared, I could not find that letter among my papers. I have just found it. It was printed in The Philadelphia Photographer, a monthly magazine, for January, 1872, The letter bears the date of "New York, Nov. 18, 1871." After speaking of his personal interview with Mr. Daguerre, of receiving from that discoverer the first copy, "probably," of his pamphlet describing his invention, that came to America, and from the drawings in which he constructed "the first daguerreotype apparatus in the United States," Professor Morse says:

"My first effort with it was on a small plate of silvered copper, about the size of a playing card, procured from a hardware store; but defective as it was, I obtained a good representation of the Church of the Messiah, in Broadway, from a back window of the New York City University. That was, of course, before the construction of the New York Hotel. This I believe to have been the first photograph ever taken in America. Perceiving in its earlier stages that photography was an invaluable and incalculable aid to the arts of design, I practiced it for many months, taking pupils, many of whom, at this day, are among the most prosperous photographers. I early made arrangements to experiment with my eminent friend and colleague in the University, Professor John W. Draper, building for the purpose a photographic studio upon the top of the University. Here I believe were made the first successful attempts by Dr. Draper in taking photographic portraits with the eyes open, I having succeeded in taking portraits previously with the eyes skut, for it was considered at that date that the clear sunlight upon the face was necessary to a result."

If my statement of the claim of Professor Morse was erroneous, this letter of his, explicitly making the claim, is responsible for the error. I will only add that the "silvered copper" plate, having on it the picture of the Church of the Messiah, may be seen among a collection of his earlier daguerreotypes, now at Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, which were presented to that institution by Professor Morse a year or two before his death.

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UNIVERSITY, Washington SQUARE, NEW YORK. Oct. 20, 1873. [ To the Editor of Scribner's Monthly: SIR-Mr. Benson J. Lossing having kindly forwarded to te the substance of a note which he is about to have inserted in your journal, respecting the first daguerreotype portrait, I would ask the favor of this being published at the same time. Mr. Lossing's object is to give his authority for imputing, in a former number of your journal, this invention to the late Professor Morse. It is found in a letter written by Professor Morse to Mr. Wilson, dated November 18, 1871, in which he says: "I early made arrangements to experiment with my eminent friend, Professor John W. Draper, building for the purpose a photographic studio on the top of the University. Here, I believe, were made the first successful attempts of Dr. Draper in taking photographic portraits with the eyes open, I having succeeded in taking portraits previously with the eyes shut; for it was considered at that date that the clear sunlight upon the face was necessary to the result."

Perhaps I cannot dispose of this letter, which I had not seen until now, better than by producing another letter of Professor Morse. When Mr. M. A. Root was engaged in writing his book entitled "The Camera and the Pencil," published by Lippincott in Philadelphia, and Appleton in this city, he addressed a letter of inquiry to Professor Morse, whose reply is dated "Poughkeepsie, February 10, 1855." In this Professor Morse says: About the same time Pro

fessor Draper was successful in taking portraits; though whether he or myself took the first, I cannot say. Soon after we commenced together taking portraits, causing a glass building to be constructed for the purpose on the roof of the University." The entire letter may be found in the book above referred to, pages 344-348.

Thus it appears that in 1855 Professor Morse was unable to say whether he or I took the first portrait. His recollection was clearer at this date than it became in 1871, when he claimed the entire honor, but not so clear as it would have been in 1839. I regret to have to add that this letter caused an alienation between my old friend and myself. I was astonished that he had forgotten the numerous fine portraits I had made and shown him long before the glass studio was built, and long before he had done anything in the matter himself.

In the scientific world it is recognized that priority of publication shall be considered as establishing priority of discov. ery or invention. I published in the "London and Edinburgh Philosophical Magazine," in March, 1840, an announcement that I had succeeded in procuring portraits by the daguerreotype, and shortly afterwards, in the same journal, gave a detailed account of the whole operation. In these publications the invention, of course, was openly claimed by me, and Professor Morse's name was never mentioned. He saw them while they were in manuscript, and again after they were printed, and put forth no counter claim. Indeed, I believe he never published anything on daguerreotype portraiture.

As to experiments in the glass studio for the purpose of taking photographs with the eyes open, I can assure you that many very perfect portraits with the eyes open had been made by me long before that expense was encountered. Let me add that at this time Professor Morse was completely occupied with the invention of his telegraph; he had his apparatus in my laboratory; he was not familiar either with chemical or optical science, and took an interest in photographic portraiture only from an artistic point of view, his earlier life having been devoted, as is well known, to painting as a profession. JOHN W. DRAPER.

A New Poet.*

"THE King of the Vasse," the opening poem in Mr. O'Reilly's volume, is a remarkable one, and if the legend be the creation of Mr. O'Reilly, it places him high among the few really imaginative poets. It is the story of a Swedish family that emigrated to New Holland long ago. The youngest member of it, a boy of six, dies just as they come in sight of land. They bear the body ashore, stricken with grief, and are met by the natives and their king, a weird old man of eighty. He is strangely moved by the sight of the dead child.

"Then to his folk

With upraised hands he spoke one guttural word,
And said it over thrice; and when they heard,
They, too, were stricken with strange fear and joy."

He draws near the child, and throwing back the skin of his furred robe, shows upon its belt a small red globe of carved wood.

"The King then raised his arms, as if he blest The youth who lay there, seeming dead and cold; Then took the globe and oped it, and behold! Within it, bedded in the carven case,

Songs from the Southern Seas, and other Poems. By James Boyle O'Reilly Boston: Roberts Brothers.

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