The Patton courier., May 11, 1906, Image 6

HERE were times when
Charlie Bartle could take
his straitened circum-
stances with a light heart.
When the sky was blue
and the air of Paris keen yet balmy,
was more exhilarating than wine, his
studio in the Rue Breda lost its shabbi-
ness. On such days as these he went
down into the street and watched gay
women make their purchases for lun-
cheon. The disarray of their costume
in the morning contrasted with the
splendor with which he had seen them
emerge from their houses the night be-
fore. They lingered at the door of
green grocers bargaining for their veg-
etables with the strenuousness of mod-
‘el housewives. Several had sat for
him, and with these he exchanged the
gossip of the quarters. Then, his eyes
filled with the vivacity of that scene,
he returned to his studio, and sought
to place on canvas the dancing sunlight
of the Parisian street. He felt in him
the courage to paint masterpieces. But
when gray clouds and rain made the
colors on his palette scarcely distin-
guishable from one another, his mood
changed. He could scarcely bear the
dingy shabbiness of his studio. He
looked with distaste at the picture on
which he had been working for a
month and saw that it was bad. His
poverty appalled him.
It was on such an occasion that
Charles Bartle sat, pipe in mouth, con-
templating with deep discouragement
the work of his hands. He smoked
gloomily, Presently, with a sigh, he
took a palette knife and prepared to
scrape down all that he had done.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” cried Charlie,
round.
It was slowly opened by a little old
man, with a bald head, a hooked nose
of immense size, and a gray beard.
He was shabbily dressed, but the rings
on his finger, the diamond in his tie,
and his massive watch chain, suggest-
ed that it was not from poverty.
“Monsieur Leir!” said Charlie, with a
smile. “Come in. I'm delighted to sez
you.”
“I knew you couldn't paint in this
mveather, so I thought I shouldn't be in
the way.”
He came into the room and looked
at Bartle's unfinished canvas. The
« painter watched him anxiously, but no
‘change in the I'renchman’s expression
betrayed his opinion.
“Do you think it’s utterly rotten?”
asked Charlie.
“My dear fellow, you young men are
g0 impatient.” You buy a canvas, and
you buy paints, and you think you can
produce marvels immediately. You
won't give time to it, and you won't
give patience. The old masters weren't
in such a hurry. lead Vasari and
you'll see how they worked.”
Charles Bartle impatiently
aside his palette knife.
“I wish I'd veen a crossing sweeper
rather than a painter. It's a dog's life
that I lead. I do without everything
that gives happiness, and I don’t even
do work that's fit to look at.”
Monsieur Leir sat down, took from
his waistcoat pocket the stump of an
unfinished cigar, rubbed the charred end
vith his finger and lit it. He smoked
this with apparent satisfaction. In
his day he had known many painters.
Some had succeeded, but most had
failed, and he knew that the profes-
gion, even for the fortunate, was very
bard. Genius itself starved at times,
and recognition often did not arrive till
a man was too embittered to enjoy it.
But lie liked artists, and found a pecu-
liar satisfaction in their society. Mon-
sieur Leir was a dealer. He had early
seen the merit of the impressionists,
had bought their pictures systemati-
cally, thus saving many of them from
disaster and at the same time, benefit-
ing himself, and finally sold them
shen the world discovered that Ma-
looking
threw
net, Monet and Sisley were great
painters. His only daughter had mar-
ried Rudolf Xuhn, a dealer in New
Xork, so Moasieur Leir felt justified
fn spending the years that remained to
him in a condition of opulent idleness.
But he flattered himself that the paint-
ers whose works he nad bought for a
song were his friends as well as his
customers, and it pleased him still to
potter about the studios of those who
yet lived. When Charlie Bartle settled
in the house in which he himself had
an apartment, Monsieur Leir gladly
made his acquaintance. The young
man was delighted to Lear stories of
the wild life they led in Montmarte in
the seventies, and he was taken, too,
by the'kindliness of the retired dealer.
There was an unaffected amiability in
Monsieur Leir's manner, which led the
foreigner quickly to pour into his sym-
pathetic ear his troubles and his ambi-
tions. The dezler was a lonely man,
and he soon began to feel a certain af-
fection for the young painter. Now
that he was no longer in the trade he
could afford to put charms of manner
before talent, and the mediocrity of
his friend's work touched his gentle
old heart.
“It's one of your bad days,
vieux,” gaid the dealer.
“I wish to goodness I was a dealer,
like you,” laughed Charlie. “At least,
1 shouldn’t be worried to death by the
approach of quarter day.”
“Phe picture trade is.no place for an
honest man now,? returned Monsieur
Leir, reflectively. It was zll very well
in the old days, Jk@n we had it in our
mon
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own hands, We drove hard bargains,
but it was all above board. But now
the Christians have taken to it there's
a good deal too much hocus-pocus.”
“I simply can’t go on this way. I
have to pay 300 francs for my rent to-
morrow, and 1 shan’t have a penny left
to buy myself bread and butter for the
next month. No one will buy a pic-
ture.”
Monsieur Leir looked at him with
good-natured eyes, but he said nothing,
Charlie glanced at the portrait of a
very pretty girl which stood in soli-
tary splendor, magnificently framed on
the chimney piece.
“1 had a letter from Rosie this morn-
ing. Her people want her to give me
up. They say there's not the least
chance of my ever earning any money.”
“But will she do that?’ asked the
dealer.
“No, of course not,” answered Char-
lle, with ddcision. *“She’s a good girl,
But it means waiting, waiting, wait-
ing; and our youth is going, and we
shall grow sore with hope deferred.
When at last we marry we shall be
disillusioned and bitter.”
He sighed deeply. He brooded with
despair on the future, and the old man
did not ventur> to disturb him. He
watched the painter with compassion.
At last, however, he spoke.
“What are the exact conditions on
which the father of your fiancee will
allow you to marry her?”
“They're insane. You see. she has
five thousand pounds of her own. He
refuses to consent to our marriage un-
less I can produce the same sum or
show that I am earning two hundred
and fifty a year. And the worst of it
is that I can’t help acknowledging he's
right. I don't want Rosie to endure
hardship.”
“You know that my daughter's hus-
band is a dealer in New York,” re-
turned Monsieur Leir, presently. “I
vowed when I sold off my stock that
I would never deal in pictures again,
but I'm fond of you, my friend, and I
should like to help you. Show me
your stuff, and I'll send it to Rudoif;
Lhe may be able to sell it in America.”
“That weuld be awfully good of
you,” cried Charlie.
The dealer sat down, while Bartle
placed on his easel one after the other
his finished pictures. There were, per-
haps, a dozen, and Monsieur Leir
looked at them without a word. Fer
the moment he had gone back to his
old state, and he allowed no expres-
sion to betray his feelings. No one
could have told from that inscrutable
gaze wiether he tiought the painting
good or bad.
“That's the lot,” said Charlie, at
length, “D'you think the American
public will seize their opporunity, and
allow us to marry?”
“What is that?” asked the dealer,
quietly, pointing to the last canvas, it's
face against the wall, which Bartle
had not shown him.
Without a word the painter pro-
duced it and fixed it on the easel. Mon-
sieur Leir gave a slight star., and the
indifference of his expression vanished.
“Watieau!” he cried. “But, my dear
fellow, how did you get that? You
talk of poverty aud you have a Wat-
teau. Why, I can sell that for you in
America for double the sum you
want.”
“Look at it carefully,” sraiied Char-
lie.
The dealer went up to the picture
and peered into it. His eyes glittered
with delight. It represented a group
of charming persons by the side of a
lake. It was plain that the ladies,
so decadent and dainty, aiscussed pre-
ciously with swains, all gallant in mul-
ti-colored satius, the verses of Racine
or the letters of Mme. de Sevigne. The
placid water redected white clouds,
and the trees were russet alreadyswith
approaching autumn. It was » state-
ly scene, with its green woodland dis-
tance, and the sober oprlence of oak
and elm, and it suggested ease and
long tending. . Those yellows and
greens and reds glowed with mellow
light.
“It's one cf the few Watteaus I've
ever seen with a signature,” said the
dealer.
“You flatter me,” said Chariie. “Of
course, it'a otuy a copy. The original
belonged to some old ladies in England
whom I knew; and last summer when
it rained, I spent my days in copy-
ing it. I suppuse chance guided my
hand happily; every one agreed it was
not badly done.”
“A copy?’ cried Monsieur Leir. “A
copy? Where is the original? Would
your friends sell it?”
“The ruling instinct is as strong as
ever,” laughed the painter. “Unfor-
tunately, a month after I finished this
the house was burned down, and every-
thing was destroyed.”
The dealer drew a deep breath, and
for a moment meditated. He looked
at Charlie sharply.
“Didn't you say you wanted three
hundred francs for your rent?’ he
asked very quietly. “I'll buy-tbat copy
off you.”
“Nonsense, I'll give it you. You're
taking no end of trouble for me, and
you’ve been awfully kind.”
“You're a fool, my {riend,” an-
swered Monsieur Leir, “Write me out
a receipt for the money.”
He took from his pocketbook three
banknotes and laid them on the it 14
Bartle hesitated for an instant, but
wanted money badly. He shrugged his
the receipt. But as he was about to
give It, an ldea came to him and he
quickly drew it back,
“Look here, you're not going to try
any hanky-panky tricks, are you? I
won't sell you the copy unless you give
me your word that yon won't try and
pass it off as an original”
A quiet smile passed across the deal
er's lips.
“You can easily reassure yourself,
Just paint out the signature and put
your own name on the top of it.”
Without a word, Bartle did as the
old man suggested, and presently his
own name was neatly painted in place
of the master's,
“I don't mistrust yon,” he said, as
he handed the receipt, “but it's well
not to put temptation in the way of
wily dealers.”
Monsieur Leir laughed as he pock-
eted the document and took the Wat-
tean in his hand. He pointed with a
slightly disdained finger at Bartle's
pictures.
“I'm going to take the copy along
with me, and I'll send my femme de
menage for the others,” he said. But
at the door he stopped. “I like your
pictures, my friend, and when Rudolf
knows that I take an interest in you,
I dare say he'll be able to sell them.
Don’t be surprised if in another mon.h
I come and tell you that you can marry
your fiancee.”
Monsieur Leir packed the Watteau
with his own hands, and dispatched it
without delay. He wrotes a discreet
little letter to his son-in-law announc-
ing its immediate arrival and suggest-
ing that they should share the profits
of its cale. It was growing late, so
he went to his cafe and drank the
absinthe with which he invariably pre-
pared for the evening meal. Then,
wlth a chuckle, he wrote the following
note:
To the Chief Officer, U. S. A. Customs,
New York.
Sir: An attempt will shortly be mace
to pass through the Customs a copy
of a picture by Wattezu. It is signed
Charles Bartle. If, moreover, you scrape
away tiie name, you will find the sig-
nature of a French painter. I leave
you to make what inference you
choose. Yours fa.chfully,
AN HONEST MAN.
Less than this was necessary to ex-
cite the suspicions of the least trust-
ing section of mankind. It was scarce-
ly to be wondered at, therefore, that
when Rudolf Kuhn went to the Cus-
tom House at New York to pass the
picture (hat had been rent him, he was
received with incredulity. He asserted
with conviction that it was only a
copy. and produced the receipt which
Monsieur Leir had been so cautious as
to send him. But the official who saw
him merely laughed in his face. He
was quite accustomed to the tricks
whereby astute dealers in works of
art sought tc evade the cuty.
“I suppose you'd be surprised if I
told you that the picture was signed by
Antoine Watteau,” he said, with a dry
smile.
“More than that. I should be
amazed beyond words,” answered Ru-
dolf Kuhn confidently.
Silently the customs officer took a
palette knife, scraped away the name
of Charles Bartle, and there, sure
enouzh, was the French artist's sig-
nature.
“What have you got to say now?” he
asked in triumph.
A curious light passed through the
dedler’s eyes as he stared at the can-
vas, but he made no other sign that
Monsieur Leir's astuteness had sud-
denly flashed across him.
“Nothing,” he replied.
With meekness he paid duty on the
estimated value of an original Wat-
teau, and a very heavy fine into the
bargain for his attempt to defraud the
customs. He took the picture away.
But when he reached home that night
he kissed his wife on both cheeks,
with unusual warmth.
“You father's still the smartest
dealer in Europe, Rachel,” hesaid. But
when she asked for an explanation
of his words, he merely shook his head
and smiled.
In New York the newspapers learn
everything, and perhaps it was not
strange tnat within twenty-four hours
of these events an important journal
had an amusing account of how Ru-
dolf Kuhn, the well-known dealer, had
been foiled in his attempt to pass
through the customs, as a copy of some
obscure painter, a very perfect ex-
ample of the art of Watteau. It was
a triumph for the officials, and the
newspapers gibed freely because they
had go: the better of a wily Hebrew.
Now Rudolph Kuhn Lad a client who
chose ¢) spend much of his vast wealth
in the acquisition of Old Masters, and
no sooner had he read these entertain-
ing paragraphs than he hurried to the
dealer's shop. When he saw the pic-
ture he burst out laughing.
“I like your impudence, trying to
pass that off as a copy.”
“I showed them the receipt,” smiled
Rudolf, with a deprecating shrug of
the shoulder.
a copy. It was sold to my representa-
tive in Paris as such.”
The millionaire looked at the dealer
and chuckled. “Wei, Uncle Sam’s
Customs are good enough guarantee
for me. I'll give rou fifty thousand
dollars for it.”
“1’!1 take sixty,” answered the other,
quietly.
“Not bad for a copy,” smiled the
buyer. “I'l have it at that.”
He carried the picture off, and with
it the various documents which the
Custom House had Celivered to Rudolf
Kuhn in proof that he had paid both
duty and fine. In face o these it
would have been a skeptic indeed who
doubted the authenticity of so delight-
ful a work.
* ® * * * % * * = * *
Some weeks later Monsieur Lelr
again knocked ot Charlie Bartle's door.
He advanced into the middle of the
studio, and without a word counted
out fifty English banknotes of a hun-
dred pounds each.
shoulders. He sat down ard wrote (
“What the dickens are you doing!”
: i =
/
}
“I propose to sell it as}
erled Fartle, who thought he had sud-
denly taken leave of his gs nses,
“Five thousand pounds,” sald the old
man, “I thought you'd like to see the
monsy actually befora you, go 1
changed it into these notes.”
“What do you mean?’
“It's your shave of the profit on the
sale of your pictures, and you marry
your Rosie whenever you choose.”
Bartle stared at Monsieur Leir, help-
lessly. He thought it must ve idme
heartless jest, but the old man's eyes
gleamed with their usual cindliness. He
rubbed his hands joyfully a2 he gloat-
ed over the painter's utter cousterna-
tion. At last he vouchsafed to explain.
Bartle understood vaguely that a Cali.
fornia millionaire had bought his pies
ture, all the pletures, and this money
was the result, He v:nted to write
to this amiable and discerning patron,
but Monsieur Leir hastily told him that
was impossible. The Californian had
bought the pictures and taken them
away without leaving his address. Mon-
sieur Leir assured him that the Ameri-
can millionaires were note riously eccen-
tric. Bartle drew a long breath and
looked at the pile of notes.
“Take them to the bank, my boy,”
said the old dealer, encuanted with the
young man’s pleasure, “and send a
wire to a certain lady.”
He made the notes into a bundle,
and put them in Bartie’'s pocket, and
led him out of the louse. The painter
walked as though he were in a dream.
But when Monsieur Leir had seen the
young man safely on his way to the
bank he went to his own apartment.
He took out Charlie's pictures, which
had remained in the safe obscurity oi
a well locked cupboard. One by one
he ripped them off their stretchers, and
one by one he put them in the fire. He
laughed as he saw them crackle in the
flames. Then he took » hatchet and
cut up the stretchers : eatly.
“Here is some excellent firewood,”
he chuckled, as he gave the bundle to
his mail.
He rubbed his hands when he
thought that thus he saved several
coppers. It had slipped his memory
completely that he had just made his
friend ©» present of £3000.—New York
NICS
The rapidly increasing scarcity of
ties in the country constitute one of
the grave problems which the railroads
have to face.
pl,
SCIBNCHY
N
~~
Indiana University has been offered
an endowment for pathological re-
search by Dr. Benjamin Taylor Terry,
of Columbia University.
The oscillating character of light
ning flashes has been proved by B
Walter from photographic records,
which showed a wave-shaped fluctua:
tion in luminosity.
The new Cunarder, the Mauritania,
will, according to a special cable des:
patch, be a perfect palace of light, as
she will be fitted with five thousand
sixteen-candle power lamps.
The tenth International Congress of
Geologists has been called to convene
in the City of Mexico on September 6
1906. Sr. Jose Gi. Aquilera will be the
chairman, and Sr. Eziquael Ordony the
general secretary. The official pro
gram announces a number of excur:
sions in connection with the conven:
tion.
In his revised book of altitudes, the
geographer of the Geological Survey
gives the height of Mount Hood as
11,225 feet, in place of the old meas:
urement of 11,932 feet. Shasta is set
down as 14,380 feet high, and Rainier
at 14,363. California has twelve peaks
over 14,000 feet, twenty-three over 13,
000, and fifty-five over 12,000.
The Erie Railroad is about to com:
mence a series of experiments with
gasolene cars, with the idea that it
they prove practicable they will be
used on many of the small and now
unprofitable branch lines. It is be:
lieved that these cars will be widely
adopted because the inroads made up.
on the passage receipts by trolley com:
petition make necessary a more rapid
and more elastic service than is af.
forded by the steam power.
Experiments at Sault Ste. Marie have
demonstrated that magnetic as well as
hematite ores can be successfully and
economically smelted by electricity,
says the Boston Transscript. Not only
can the electric process be applied to
various grades of Canadian ores, but
iron ores containing considerable per-
centages of sulphur and phosphorus,
and which up to the present have been
regarded as valueless, can be success:
fully treated by the higher temperature
available in an electric furnace.
The Average Age of Birds,
The doctrine of vegetarianism ap-
pears to be slightly shaken by the re-
sult of an investigation that an Eng:
lish newspaper has made into the
subject of the longevity of birds. With
one notable exception, the carrion. or
meat feeding birds are the longer lived:
The exception is the swan. The aver:
age ages of some of the best known
birds are given in the following: Black-
bird lives twelve years; blackecap, fif
teen; canary, twenty-four; crane,
twenty-four; crow, 100; eagle, 100;
fowl, common, ten; goldfinch, fifteen;
goose, fifteen; heron, fifty-nine; lark,
thirteen; linnet, twenty-three; nightin-
gale, eighteen; parrot, sixty: partridge,
fifteen; peacock, twenty-four; pelican,
fifty ; pheasant, fifteen; pigeon, twenty;
raven, 100; robin, twelve; skylark,
thirty; sparrow hawk, forty; swan,
100; thrush, ten, and wren, three years.
The average age of the boarding house
| variety of chicken is still undetermined. |
—New Orleans Times-Democrat.
J
JAPANESE PRODUCERS
OF HAND MADE PAPER.
Finished Product Used in More Expensive Class of
Books in ‘Edition de Luxe.”
NATURE FIRST
PAPER MAKER.
Clothes Made
and Worn---Waterproofing For Baskets
Almost as Good as Cloth.
AAMMOANNN NAAN SANNA DIANNA AANA MANN
Ra HO EER ON RRR
MONG the old arts of Ja-
pan not the least interest-
a
© A © ing is the making of paper
X R by hand, The beautiful
finished product is fami-
liar now to the people of the Western
world, where it is used in the making
of the more expensive class of books, in
voditions de luxe” But although our
ancestors spun their own linen, with
us paper was never a household art,
as it was in Nippon and is to-day, in
spite of the spread of the factory sys-
tem in that country.
Nature was the first paper maker.
Every one has seen the rice paper
which the Chinese use for making ar-
tificial flowers. It is taken direct from
the Fatsia plant, not the rice of com-
merce; from its cylinder of pith, which
is dried and unrolled. Then, to say
nothing of ppyrus. there is a birch
bark. on which to inscribe the sacred
writings preserved in their lama-series.
The bark of a South American tree fur-
nishes the traveler with a thin brown
tissue in which he can roll and smoke
his tobacco. Japan iS well supplied
with a class of trees, the thin bark of
which must have given the natives a
hint that there was a material that
might be made over so as to serve
the uses of the scribe.
There is the Edgeworthia, or three
forks, ~ shrub easily identified by the
triple branching of its shoots, and the
“kago,” or paper mulberry, a small
tree that grows, like a willow near
water courses. If you happen to be in
Japan in the early winter you may see
how the peasants make paper from
their “kago.” They go about it in this
wise:
The grain harvest is over, the gor-
geous tints have trued from the ma-
ples, the sap has run down from the
trees. ‘Che farmer and his boys go to
the dams across the rice fields, cut the
stalks from the kago trees and carry
them home in small bundles.
Then the big bathtub, in which the
parboil themselves according
family ¢ lin
to Japanese custom, 1S brought into
requisition. The kago sticks are boiled
in this caldron till the useless skin
peels off from the white inner bark.
Meanwhile the carefully saved wood
ashes of the thrifty household are dis:
a vat filled with hot water.
The bark is cooked in tkis lye till all
its eummy impurities are dissolved
out; after having been rendered clean
and soft by that means, it is now beat
en into a pulp with wcoden mallets.
All hands then turn to and vigorously
knead the puip into balls called *s0-
sori.”
THE FINISHED PRODUCT.
A bateh of sosori having been pre-
all is now ready for the last act.
an oblong trough
solving in
pared
The paper tub proper, !
of wood, is dragged from its resting
place, cleaned and filled with water, to
which a little mucilage of mallows is
added. Into this liquid the farmer
crumbles the balls of pulp and stirs the
mixture into a mush. He now takes
his “form,” a square sieve made of
fine bamboo splinters, and dipping 1t
into the mess Scoops out enough to
cover its surface with a thin film, The
mucilage makes the park cells cohere
and “set” in parallel lines, so as to
form a moist, sticky sheet—paper 1
embryo. The “form” is tilted up, the
water drains away and the film dries
into a sheet of hand-made paper.
In this simple process the long, tough
fibre cells of the bark were first torn
asunder, then reunited. The operator,
as it were, demolished nature's build-
ing without injuring the pricks and
—————
More Railways Needed.
“Tt is simply a matter of impossibil-
ity to get cars enough to take the
freight offered by the shippers of the
Pacific Coast. destined for astern
points,” said Mr. D. A. Skinuer, of
Seattle.
“It iy not with us a matter of rates,
but a question of more vital import-
ance—the obtaining of transportation
facilities. The lumber manufacturers,
despairing of getting their product
handled by the railroads, make earnest
but ineffectual attempts to get ships
that will take it to the mastern ports
of the United Sates. The ships are as
hard to obtain as railroad cars. This
congestion of freight is an index to
the vast volume of business and the
mighty development of the Pacific
Northwest. There are now, counting
the Canadians, six lines of transconti-
nental railways, but they are wholly
inadequate to do the business, and we
of the Coast hail with delight the con-
struction of tixree additional lines. Still,
it must be remembered that the busi-
ness of the country is increasing at
such a rate that when the new Gould
line, the Milwaukee, and the new
Grand Trunk are finished, it is al-
most a certainty that the manufactur-
ers and shippers of California, Oregon,
and Washington will be just as great-
ly pressed for transportation facilities
as they are to-day. We are infinitely in
oreater need of more railroads than of
cheaper freight rates.—Washington
Post.
Nothing New.
Uncle Jerry Peebles was looking over
the list of “amended spellings” recom-
mended by the reformers, ‘Good
land!” he exclaimed, “I don’t see noth-
in’ strange in them words. That's the
way I've allus spelled ’em.”—Chicago
Tribune,
then used them to huild according to
a plan of his own.
The resulting paper is said to be
“more pliable, firmer, more durable
than that made by machine,” It is
porous and readily takes the Indian ink
from the brush which Japanese writ-
ers use instead of a pen. It tears easi-
ly along the grain, but if torn across
the lines of cohesion a rough, fuzzy,
edge is produced.
The Japanese have a hundred uses
for this product of their domestic in-
dustry. A square of the absorbent ma-
terial serves the “‘musume” for a hand-
kerchief. Glazed and painted with
beautiful designs, the paper is folded
into fans. Impregnated with a drying
oil, it makes a waterproof cover for
traveling baskets that is largely in
demand during the rainy season. It
takes the place of glass in lanters
and in the frames of the “shoji,” those
portable screens with which a Japan-
ese room can be so quickly trans-
formed into a suite of chambers.
These are but slight advances from
the sheet of paper as it comes from the
tub. But by more elaborate processes
the cunning artificers of Japan con-
vert paper into an elastic substance
like leather. For this purpose they,
select a stout kind called “senda,”
which is manufactured by mixing the
pulp obtained from different barks.
This is coated with lamp black, oiled,
dyed and finally lacquered. It is from
this “leather,” ornamented with gold
lines and colored patterns, that floor
cloth is made, as well as pipe cases
and the little boxes that tourists bring
home.
CLOTHES MADE OF PAPER.
Even wearing apparel, in Japan, is
made of paper. By glueing together
sheets of the tougher and more flexible
kinds a cloth is manufactured which,
after being saturated with a special
oil, is made up into waterproof cloaks.
In cost and usefulness these coverings
rank below the rubber coat, but far
above the primitive “mino,” or small
portable straw thatch with which the
poor coolie protects his shoulders from
the rain. The old fashioned black,
varnished hat, the “chimney pot” of tne
Samurai, was made of cemented
sheets of paper, finished off with a
lustrous coating of the beautiful native
lacquer.
Perhaps ihe most astonishing of the
Japanese paper productions is a sauce-
pan. Nor is it made to be looked at
merely; it can be safely used for cook-
ing over a charcoal fire.
a long jump from a thin tissue to a
kitchen utensil, from a substitute for
glass to a substitute for iron.
But is there anything in common, it
may be asked, between this home-made
paper and the wire wove, cream laid
factory produc: manufactured here
from licen rags?
The common factor is the vegetable
cell. The wall of this, the unit of
plant life, however it may differ in
shape or size, is chemically identical in
shape or size, is made of cellulose.
This material resists the action of the
dilute ..cids and alkalies which are
used to remove the gums an » sin, all
that the plant has stored in its cells,
but which the manufacturer regards
as impurities. But in making paper
from rags the cells are cut in pieces
and lose their identity, whereas by the
Japanese process they are merely sep-
arated and put together again. Hence,
it is said, resulis the superior tough-
ness and durability of the hand-made
paper.
Mahogany Wood.
Chippendale owes his reputation to
the fact that he published a book of
designs with over 200 copperplate en-
gravings, so that to-day anyone who
wishes may get them and reproduce
them exactly or with such changes and
improvements as suit his fancy. That
they are capable of improvement Chip-
pendale himself was the first to de-
clare. Chippendale was one of the
first makers of mahogany furniture.
Before his time this precious wood
was valued only for the medicinal
quantities it was supposed to possess.
The idea of making furniture of+*ma-
hogany wood appears to have been the
result of chance. A certain physician
in London had a great many mahogany.
planks, and, wanting a candle-box, he
sent for a cabinetmaker and instructed
him to use the mahogany for the re-
quired article of furniture. The man
objected that the wood was too hard
for his tools, and the doctor told him
to get harder tools. The man did so,
and when the doctor saw the box he
was dazed at its beauty. Patients and
friends talked about it, and at last
the Duchess of Buckingham came to
see it. She was enraptured and per-
suaded the doctor to give her wood
for a similar box. As a result mahoge
any got to be the fashion.
Expect Many Visitors to Alaska,
Consul Ravndal, of Dawson, reports
that 2450 excursionists made the round
trip to Skagway last summer, and
that the steamship managers believe
the excursion business to Alaska the
coming summer will be quite large.
In the tombs of the ancient Egyp-
tians, along with painted dolls having
movable limbs, have been found mar-
bles, leather covered balls, elastic balls,
| and marionettes moved by strings.
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