Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 August 1890 — Painting a Book in Japan. [ARTICLE]

Painting a Book in Japan.

When he is ready to paint his book —for the Japanese use a brush and not a pen—the author betakes himself to his tinjr work-room and sits on the floor in a flowing garment of brown silk, lined with blue, his legs disposed comfortably under him. In front of him stands a lacquered table, about a foot square, and upon it are his writing materials, which are as -idyllic as his surroundings—his paper is delicately tinted yellow, with blue lines running up and down. His inkstand is a carved ebony slab, with one end hollowed out for water to rub his cube of India ink in, and hold i the four or five daintily decorated bamboo brushes which are his pens. Naturally he does not write his novel, but paints it. Beginning at the end of the whole, at the left of every page and at the top of every line, straight down between the two blue parallels, his small brown hand goes with quick, delicate, dark touches. Although the novelist’s “copy” might seem to a stranger to be daintiness itself, yet he always has it duplicated “by an artist” before sending it to the publishers, the success of the book depending so largely upon its artistic form. The “artist” to whom the “copy” is now intrusted proceeds to repaint the long series of word pictures with a professional dexterity which is something astonishing. A sensible man does not brag, avoids introducing the names of his creditable companions, omits himself as habitually as another man obtrudes himself in the discourse, and is content with putting his fact or theme simply on its ground. Some things we know by direct action of our senses; and yet the great mass of our knowledge must be that of faith. We believe in vastly more things than we can see, and more than are matters of our own experience. ' An article in a scientific paper tells “how to prevent railroad accidents.” Another way is to abolish the railroads and travel by water.