Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 28, Number 23, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 4 December 1897 — Page 6

'WRITTEN IN A HURRY

^CHARACTER IN AUTOGRAPHS QUICK- *?, LY DASH£D OFF. fC 5 Handwriting of Some Bn»y and Well

Known Men—Some Comparisons—Something Appropriate In Kaeh Signature.

[Special Correspondence.]

NEW YORK, NOV. 29.—The most interesting autographs are those that are written in a harry by a writer off his guard and in penmanship which doesn't pose. There is any amount of character in the unsigned note which Mr. Depew once hastily scribbled with reference to certain Wall street rumors and a part of which is printed herewith

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One most striking antithesis to Mr. Depew'8 hasty scrawl of the busy man is the carefully elaborate signature—almost "too good to be true"—of Paul Laurence Dunbar, the new negro poet:

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Magazine editors are busy men, and as a rule their signatures are hurried, but not always. Henry M. Alden's precise and careful hand is a sharp contrast to Mr. Gilder's dashing signature. John BriBben Walker's signature runs uphill, denoting a sanguine temperament. Here follow the signatures of the editors of Harper's, The Century and The Cosmopolitan, placed together for comparison:

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Funny men do not always write funny letters. Sometimes they do, however. Robert JBarr, in replying to a request for an interview, wrote not long ago: "I am on the home stretch of a notable novel, and famous men are being driven rudely away from my door eveiry day becauso I cannot soe them. However, I expect to finish this week and will be in town one day next. Then we can meet and amicably converse."

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With Mr. Barr's autograph I have coupled Amelia E. Barr's, only beoause of the similarity of name. Mrs. Barr writes a rather coarse, unshaded hand.

John Kendriok Bangs writes as follows in a small, clear soript, as plain ns print, concerning a certain photograph

It is a peculiar thing that so many big, robust moil write small hands and so nmuy small, nervous men write big, dashing signatures. Grover Cleveland, Conan Doylo and Julian Hawthorne are examples of the former sort, Edmund Clarence Stednian and Frank L. Stanton, the Atlanta poot, of the latter:

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In these days of cosmopolitanism the element of nationality hardly enters into the character of a signature. Legros, the French artist Henry Fuller, the Chicago novelist, and Lord Kelvin, the eminent British scientist, all write with bold, flowing strobes:

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On* of the most illegible signatures I vo ever seen is that of Dr. orpin rector of Trinity church, New

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York. The scrawl shown below was affixed to a complaint to a printer for setting up "the still small voice" as "the skilled small boy." I wholly sympathize with the printer! I have compared, with Dr. Dix's signature some that are plainer—the businesslike hand of W. H. Lecky, the historian Sir Walter Besant's, James Russell Lowell's and R. D. Blackmore's, and, for variety, Steve Brodie's:

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Paul Bourget, Hamlin Garland and Bret Harte have strongly marked, individual handwriting, Bourget's being rather affectedly quaint, Harte's fine and delicate, Garland's plain, strong and rather old fashioned. John Burroughs' signature is good and wholesome like himself:

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One who cared to pursue further tho subject of character in handwriting might compare tho signatures of three men so unlike as Rudyard Kipling, Robert Louis Stevenson and George Parsons Lathrop. Each writes about as one would expect him to do—one boldly, one quaintly, one precisely:

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Quite as great a contrast is that between the apparently unformed schoolgirl hand of Mary E. Wilkins, the fine nervous lines of Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward and the heavy black signature of Mrs. Henry M. Stanley:

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Three rather ourious signatures of the nervous sort are those of Jules Verne and Dr. Pasteur, each with a downward stroke at the end of the word, and Verdi, the veteran composer, with its ugly flourish:

Is there a type of signature common to men in politics? The autographs of Henry Cabot Lodge and Lord Salisbury are considerably alike in general effect, though the parallel might easily be pushed too far:

For a final comparison I have selected the autographs of John Fiske, the historian F. Hopkinson Smith, artist and humorist, and John Swinton, the strong old lion of socialism. There is something appropriate to the man in each signature:

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It iaqvometime# said that the practice of teaching children all to write alike in public school and with iniquitourfy fine stool pens is destroying all individuality in penmanship, bnt this does not seem to be the

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The autographs of

the men and women of today compare very favorably with those of any former time in boldnsss, force, originality and1 interact School writing doem't last long in most eam

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Edmoad de Gonconrt.

Edmond de Gonconrt was the chief spokesman of his school. He was the first to set the fashion, or at least the first to proclaim it, of going about note book in band for professional purposes, and on nothing did he pride himself so much as on the paternity of the "hu man document." For any useful—nay, blessed—formula let him receive all credit, so long as the invention is on derstood to be of a phase, not of a thing. The limitation is necessary, in view of certain extravagant pretensions which would assign to the founders of realistic fiction an honor and glory similar to that which, in physical science, belongs to the author of the "Novum Orga num.'' In both cases, we are told, there was a change of method in both the importance of particulars was emphasized. Unfortunately the comparison can hardly be extended to the subject matter and the results. Nature was unknown when Bacon prescribed rules for the discovery of her secrets. Human nature, the motives and conduct of men, was as well known 2,000 years ago as it is today.

No documentary novelist has added to the sum of general knowledge or done more than dress up old truths in a few new garments borrowed from various sciences. The innovation of realism, or naturalism, was at most, then, one of method applied to a given body of already known phenomena, just as the same facts may be treated by induction or deduction in turns. And even as an innovation of method it has been much exaggerated on the fatuous presumption, often made by De Gonconrt and others, that no novelist before Balzac had ever studied the details of life —a presumption rosting apparently on no other basis than the fact that our old friends, taking such study for granted, did not deem it necessary to be constantly talking about it.—Macmillan's Magazine.

Too Smart. I

General Hancock was sorely tried in 1861 by the extreme freshness of some of the officers of his command. One day the major of a western regiment rode up to Hancock's headquarters and, without dismounting, asked that General Hancock step out of his tent, as he desired to speak with him. When the superb" came forth, tlTe pompous major said to the general that he had come over for the purpose of getting orders as to what his regiment should do that afternoon, and without waiting for Hancock to give directions he went on to state that in his opinion, as the commander of the regiment in the absence of the colonel and lieutenant colonel, his regiment should devote most of the afternoon to battalion drill. Hancock' quietly gave directions that his regiment remain in camp and fix up its quarters as nicely as possible. When the major rode away, Hancock squared himself, folded his hands and looked after him. Without addressing any particular person he said: "The major is smart, smart, too smart! heavenly hosts, but he is a mighty smart man!"—J. A. Watrons in Chicago Times-Herald. ....

Women Art Students.

"Of all the curious things I ever seed,'' remarked the retired mariner, "these here girl artists are the ouriousest. The wonders of the deep is nothin to 'em. I was mendin a net down on the dock there a few days ago when one of 'em comes erlong, plopped that three legged affair of hers down near me, rigged up her ombrel and set to work at paintin a schooner 'et was layin off in the river. Tide was pretty near ther least of ther ebb when she began, and ther schooner was, of course, pintin up stream. Well, she got erlong pretty well puttin the two masts in her all right and the bowsprit. While she was paintin the hills across ther river tide turned and swung the old schooner around. When she come to look at her picter, she must er seen somethin was wrong about that air bowsprit. It looked wrong somehow, and I'm blest if she didn't go and pat another one on, sticking out over the stern of the danged thing."— New York Press.

It Brings Ravishing Dreams of Bliss. In southern Arizona the jail and prison officials have their hands full in trying to prevent the smuggling into their institutions of the seductive mariguana. This is a kind of loco weed more powerful than opium. It is a dangerous thing for the uninitiated to handle, but those who know its uses say it produces mare ravishing dreamB than opium. The Mexicans mix it with tobacco and smoke it with cigarettes, inhaling the smoke. When used in this way, it produces a hilarious spirit in the smoker that cannot be equaled by any other form of dissipation. When smuggled inside the prison walls, the Mexicans readily pay $4 an ounce for it, but free men buy it on the outside for 50 cents.—-Sail Francisco Call.

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The Worth of His Money. Not seldom in highland districts the attendance at church during unpropitious weather is but scanty. One minister, finding himself on a boisterous Sunday confronted with but one solitary auditor, who happened to be a gruff, outspoken character, took him into his confidence, with a view to propitiate him. Will I go on with the sermon, John?" John answered gruffly, "Oi coarse." Getting into the pulpit and leaning over it, he asked, ""Will I give you the Gaelic sermon or the English one?" "Gie's baitb. Ye're weel paid for said John, more gruffly stilL— Good Words.

Wished Particnlar*.

"It's much more comfortable," said the slightly haughty young actor, "ic be permanently located. I spent only ten weeks on the road last season."

Mr. Stormingtou Barnes looked at him suspiciously and inquired," Which kind —railroader tcnipi&e?"—Washington Star.

Ijtdy Pendulum.

From the New York Tribune comes story, which Mr. Moody recently told, illustrative of the fact that to the power of single hearted perseverance these is no known limit:

When I was in London some years ago, I saw a lady in my audience who could not walk and had a chair- on wheels in which she was brought into church. The look of disgust on her face and the attention she attracted in being brought into the meetings made me take notice of her. I spoke to her one day, and she said: "Mr. Moody, when this excitement is over and you have gone back to America the people will go back to their old ways. They won't keep on. They can't doit."

I talked with her for some time, but she stuck to her point. A day or two afterward I told the fable of the clock: The pendulum counted how many times it would have to tick before it was worn out, and it was so appalled at the number that it wanted to give up right there, saying, "I never can do it." "But," said one of the other parts of the clock, "it is only a tick at a time." "That is just what some of you are doing," I said, "saying that 'after Mr. Moody goes back to America the excitement will die out. We will not keep it up. We can't get grace enough to do so.' Get grace enough to live a tick at a time, a step at a time," said I.

That woman went home and bougl.k a clock with a pendulum and put it where she could see it. She preached so much about "a tick at a time" that her friends called her Lady Pendulum.

The day before returning to America I received a package from her. In it was a clock, and the letter with it said: "Please put this clock in your room, and when you look at it remember that Lady Pendulum is still living a tnk at a time." ,,

Glued Seams.

A correspondent who signs himself V. C., evidently meaning Victoria Cross, sends the following reminiscence to the London Telegraph: "Your account of the tailor who has invented gummed seams for sewed ones reminds me of the experience of a gallant French officer who was a friend of mine, then a young man, in the Crimea—General Pelissier. He was rather careless about his dress except when in uniform, and one day he surprised all his friends by appearing in a magnificent shepherd tartan suit. They were all envious of his splendid turnout. At night he joined in the conviviality which was taking place in one of the huts, wanned by a cheerful, blazing fire. The place got intolerably warm, and when Pelissier rose to go the company were amazed to find the shepherd tartan 'complet' fall to pieces in an extraordinary manner. The sleeves of the coat dropped to the floor, then the back, and the trousers also fell off in detachments. An examination showed that the seams, instead of being sewed, were glued together, and the heat of the hut had completely melted the composition. Pelissier had bought them from a Greek peddler and paid a high price for them. If that enterprising merchant had fallen into the general's hands within tbe next few days, I am afraid he would have had short shrift. Unless the new system is capable of better things than that most of us will be quite content to stick to the stitches."

j-v /MMM Bis Handwriting. Many stories are told relative to the illegibility of the penmanship of Rufus Choate, the famous lawyer. It is said that he once openly congratulated himself on the fact that "if he failed to get a living at the bar he could still go to China and support himself by his pen— that is, by decorating tea chests."

He once asked that a case might be postponed owing to his engagement in another ourt The judge replied that the case was one in -whioh he might write out his argument.

With a mock solemnity of countenance which he knew so well how to assume at a moment's notice he said: "I write well, your honor, but slowly."

This was too much for the judge and the assembled bar, and the courtroom echoed with prompt and unrestrained hilarity. There was not a lawyer present who had not more than once seen a specimen of what one of Mr. Choate's friends called his wildcat tracks,'' and the joke needed no explanation. youth's Companion.

yi His Modest Role. The fond mother of three children was obliged to remonstrate with hei oldest boy because in the children's games he would always take the lead and assign subordinate positions to his little brother and sister. The boy promised not to be selfish in the future. A few days later the mother, happening to go into the nursery, saw tbe twe younger children engaged in amateur theatricals. The elder boy stood aside with arms folded, moodily watching them. "We are playing Adam and Eve," said the youngsters. The mothei was much gratified, as she supposed that in this instance at least the boy had allowed his brother the principal role. She turned to the silent figure in the corner, about to praise him. Whc are you?" she asked. "God," was the answer.—New York Commercial.

Medical men say rheumatism is the forerunner of heart disease. Hood's Sarsaparilla cures rheumatism by its action on the blood.

Try Graln-O! Try Graln-O! Ask your Grocer to-day to show you a package of GRAIN-O, the new food drink that takes the place cf coffee. The children may drink it without injury as well as the adult. All who try it, like it. GRAIN-O has that seal brown of Mocha or Java, but it is made from .pure grains, and the most delicate stomach receives it without distress. the price of coffee. 15c. and 35 cts. per package. Sold by all grocers.

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