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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (June 23, 1907)
THE SUXDAY OREG0XIA, PORTLAND, JUNE '4J, 17. 0 Lie M GEORGE F'EAKER M-D- ' . B trrrr "-"Trti-" "tt nrr TiiMiirowrT"""Wnti V . tem. sz3.l ill I II II III lit! II I i I I I I I II I ml hi I II I III I I II II ill I II II 11 ' AMIDDLSAGED man with a fresh ly shaved red face and a short clay pipe in his mouth came roll ing burlily up the street, his hands in his Jacket pockets, cap pulled over his brows, Ms eyes darting here and there, taking in all the sights of the great city that came in his way. A good student of character would set him down at once as an English sailor ashore in a strange country. his wages securely stowed away in some scirct part of his pain fully new and ill-fitting suit of blue serge. Short of stature, but bulky and Bolid. aftw the fashion of his native oaks, with features whose natural stol idity was enlivened startlingly by the un expected brilliance of his eyes, which, though gray, were of so dark a shade that the effect was nearly that of pierc ing black, and with the assurance of well considered and unshakable opinions in his manner, he was plainly no sort of prey whatever for the landsharks. If he had his roll in his clothes he was able to keep it there, as far as they were con cerned. And the proof was. if one had needed other proof than his appearance, that here he was two miles up from the wharves, safe in the heart of one of the best residential districts, having passed under the very noses of the longshore barkers, runners, heelers, and' strong arm men, like a sturdy old battleship among river pirates and mudscows. His build and gait wore enough to inspire re spect, even seen from a distance, and the fiery glitter of his eyes as he ap proached would be nothing less than ap palling to a person with secret intentions toward him. Arrived at the entrance to the public garden the sailor turned his back upon It. spread his legs, took his pipe from his mouth with his right hand, and. blow ing a cloud of smoke upward, with a lift of the chin, ran his eyes over the build ings across the way. Then he lowered his .gaze to the hurrying crowds on the sidewalk, glanced swiftly at the street signs, put his pipe back into his mouth, relieved the congestion of his nose be tween his thumb and finger, wheeled and rolled Into the park. On an empty bench he seated himself, fitted the tin stopper to his pipe, thrust it Into his coat pock et, and drew forth a small piece of pa per lined with diagrams. This he studied fur ten minutes, his face gathered In a perplexed scowl. Then, "Dang!" he burst out. crashing his great fist down upon his knees. He looked at the diagram again for a long moment, again said "Dang!" and repeated the pounding of the knee. From a little flat pin cushion which he fished from his pocket he selected four pins, picking them out with a sureness and grace that no ordinary landsmen would believe possible, after a glance at the enormous thumb and awkward ap pearing square fingers, and with these he fastened the small paper to the slats of the seat. Then, following the lines with a careful forefinger, he traced out certain figures, muttering bis calcula tions as he worked them: "This 'ere's a bloody putry how-d'-do. this Is! As how? Why, then, here's the ship, and here's the park, and here's yore Commonwealth avenue. But then atn here's yore Arlington street, and here's yore blessed Church street, way off up here, no'theast by east, and yore Tark street clean away down here sou'east by halfeast. and here is Summer street, run ning the same tacks identical as Winter, and on the chart Summer is west and Winter is east, and blorst my bloody eyes if I didn't heave out o' ther a min ute back, and they're the other way about or I'm landsman. And here I lay. up here, by Park street here's the church." casting his eye at the tall spire over the way. "but the signs says Boyls ton. And the' ain't no Boylston on the chart! And this here's Beacon, only a lit tle furdcr on its Commonwealth, and not Beacon, and here's Beacon 'way oft sou'east agin, and Fark street church be calmed under her lee. when It oughter be l&yln' tin alongside about where I be this blessed minute. And. shiver me! here it is. too. on Boylston street, right in hail, but stern fore-foremost, at the wrong end of the park!" He straightened up with a jerk and cast his ey toward the heavens, as if In search of the sun. by which to get his bearings, but It was a gray day and there was no sun in might. He pulled out his pipe with a surly growl, light ed it, and sat puffing stolidly, now and then glancing at the man and occa sionally looking up and down the wail and into th near-by paths among the trees. Presently, as a young man and woman entered the gates, strolling slowly along, he gathered the map up with a hasty movement, folded It In his hand out of view, and turned his bead away trom the advancing couple. Three other persons passed Immedi ately after these, without gaining from him more than a quick glance as they approached. But the fourth, who was In the yeoman's uniform of the United States Navy, he accosted. "Mate,"' he said, "Where's this here Arlington street?" "Right hre." he answered, pointing to the street behind him. "Right here!" he growled, throwing u suspicious, menacing eye at the blue Jacket. "Why. ain't that there Fark Street Church?" The bluejacket laughed. "So you're up against the curves of this town, too!" he said. "Well, we've all been there! The streets is sure crooked, that's a fact This church is the Arlington street. Park street Js at the other end of the common a mile up there! You've been sailing in cir cles, likely. Where you from, mate?" But the sailor's only answer was to get up and. muttering anathemas against landsmen's charts, and every thing else that belonged to them, or was related to them in the remotest degree, walked off. puffing his pipe, fcta hands in his pockets, ills eyes set straight ahead, as if in search of some known light. At the corner of Commonwealth ave nue, two blocks beyond, he stopped short at sight of the long double rows of trees stretching away into the dis tance, with the graveled walk between them, and pulled out his map. A mo ment's scrutiny of it elicited a grunt of satisfaction from him, and he set off along the sidewalk, looking at the numbers of the houses as he went. At length he paused before a brown stone front, tucked his pipe away, set tled his cap on his head, coughed fog gily, mounted the steps and was hunt ing for the bell when he saw a printed notice: "Sickness; don't ring; please walk in." "This here is what I call A rum go!" he muttered, standing back a step or two and throwing a calculating eye up and down the facade. Then, "Well, anyhow, if I c'n board htm without no body's seein' " He softly turned the knob, and, greatly to his surprise, stood face to face with a lootman over six feet tall. "Lud!" he exclaimed, throwing off his habitual poise, and doubtless awed by the servant's gorgeous livery. "Did you wish to see anybody?" the footman said, with a supercilious glance at the visitor's ill-fitting clothes. "Not to say as how I don't, shipmate." he answered, dryry, having immediately gained his accustomed stolidity, "seein" as I've sailed twelve thousand miles to meet up long er Cap'n Whlttaker Rarr some. Does he live here?" "Yes. but he's sick on his deathbed and nobody is admitted " A girlish figure, with pale face and large brown eyes, beneath which dark semi-circles showed, came forward softly. "Are you an old friend of Mr. Ran some's?" she asked the sailor. "You said you had come so far to see him " She paused, her childish, innocent, but unattractive face upturned to him, seem ing almost spectral in the darkness of the hall. '"My father, miss, was Stephen Par ker." he answered, pulling off his cap, "and I " "Oh, I have heard my father speak of him frequently. Please come this way," she said. "But nobody can see him," she continued, when she had led him up stairs and into a little reception-room. "I am so sorry! How he would have liked to meet the son of his old friend!" She put her handkerchief to her eyes, while he sat uncomfortably on the edge of a sofa and twirled his cap in his hands. "So he's goin", is he?" he said, as she finally, brushing the tears away, raised her head. "There is no hope," she answered. "The doctors have given him up. It is only a question of time a very short time." "Well, of course," he condoled, "it's hard. But he's an old man and a"n3 of course, ye see but there, that ain't what I come to say. It s partic'ler un fortnit It is. all round that's what it is. Because, d'ye see, my father, who was great friends long of him when they was cap'ns together, and afterwards, too, when Cap'n Ransome gut rich in tea, in Ceylon, leavin' the sea. though my father kept at it till be died. You knowed about that, didn't ye?" he asked sud denly. "Oh, yes. He often has told me of Captain Parker, and what great friends they used- to be. But I thought I thought " She stopped in confusion, arresting her glances, which were straying over his face and general appearance as if she were surprised that a son of - Captain Parker should show so little refinement. "Ye see, I runned away,'' he said, as one replying to a criticism. "No colliges for nie. The sea, d'ye mind? I was all for that. 'Twas agin the old man's will, but he was a kind sort, the old man was, and when he died he didn't hold it out agin me. No. he left me everything. So there ye are. And among other things he left me somewhat to say to Cap'n Ransome. a somewhat that's Important." He paused and glanced at her face, which was anxious. Then he proceeded: "It has to do with a thing long gone byto right a great wrong, to say it above board, and It can't be done onless I can see hlin. Jest two minutes alone with him " "But. sir, Mr. Parker!"' she cried in agitation, rising and standing before him, "he can't meet anybody. The least exer tion wears him out. The doctors say " "Miss." he interrupted, 'yore his adopted daughter, ain't ye, not his real one?'' "Y'es, sir. I am; but he has been more than a father to me. and " Well, it's for yore sake that I want to see him." He crossed his knees and sat back confidently. Rut the girl, with a wan smile of relief, answered: "Then, sir, no matter about it, if it Is only for me. I certainly should not have him disturbed on my poor account. If it were for another " He seemed taken aback for an instant. "Well, there is another," he said, after some hesitation, "but I didn't want to speak of him. I don't know him not even his name, but you do. lady. It will make all the difference to him. Whoever he is. he is your promised husband " Her face, a moment before pale, and determined as a face of its meek character could well be. now flashed to a real beauty, and set lines- softened, the lips quivered and the mild eyes flashed into eagerness. Her whole small form took on a womanly coyness almost Impossible to Imagine In her until it was seen, and she spoke with an excitement which she tried in vain to hide, interrupting him: "Mr. Parker." she said, "if you will wait here one minute I will see what I can do. The doctors are with him now. and I will ask their advice. If it la pos sible for him to receive anybody In the world, you shall be that one." She ran out hurriedly, blind to the ex pression on his face, whatever It might be. scarcely seeing him or aavthiaa. rec ognizing no logical gaps In the situation, intent only one one thing the thought of HIM. The sailor Jumped up and softly fol lowed her down the dim hall, his face grim, his eyes glittering. Four doors be yond she stopped and went in. The sailor stole on to the next door, turned the knob stealthily, peered into the vacant room, ran to a cabinet of ebony, inserted a key, pushed the slide back, exchanged for a long envelope he saw there one which he took from his pocket, locked the cabinet, and inside of one minute was back in the reception-room, sitting as he was when the girl left him. Presently she returned, regarding him strangely. "My father says that he was under the impression that his friend's son was an Oxford University man. arid that he was no longer living," she said hesitatingly. "Oh, well, ye see," he answered readily, "I runned away from there. Yes that's it: I runned away. No college for me! And so 'twas give out that I was dead. That's it. D'ye see?" His words were far from reassuring her, innocent as she was of the world's ways, and she still regarded him with eyes in which some undefined fear lurked. "Are you sure It Is about him that you wish to see my father?" she asked, anx iously. "Because if it isn't" She hesi tated. "Well. I'll tell ye what." he said, as if suddenly arrived at a satisfactory conclu sion. '"I"ll go git the papers 1 didn't fetch 'em along this time, d'ye see and I'll come agin. Then ye'll see for yer self, for I'll show 'em to ye." He picked up his cap and arose. "But, sir, my father wishes to see you!" she exclaimed- . "Though the doctors do not approve, he wishes it, for he cannot Imagine what the important thing is" "Well, I'll git the papers and come agin." he interrupted, moving toward the door. She stood well away from him, but her anxiety regarding his message overcame her fear of his person, and she asked hastily: "Couldn't you tell me the nature of the communication you wish to make to him? He cannot imagine what it may be. and I. you know you said that I that it was for my sake. too. I have a right to know." "Well. I'll brirg the papers, that's all." he growled, glaring at her. With that he passed down the stairs and out, the footman opening the door for him stiffly, while she followed him with troubled eyes. ."What a strange man! What could his message be?" she murmured. Then she hurried softly back to the sickroom. Dr. Furnivall, seated in his library, drew a breath of relief. He had had a hard day and was tired. What with his prison duties as resident physician, his private practice, and, recently, since the fame of his hypnotic powers had spread so widely, the grind he had been called upon to undergo In police circles, he was pretty well worn out. But this evening there was nothing on the tapis and he would The door opened without ceremony and in walked Dr. Gerrish. He was flushed and excited, and held a paper in his hand. Though he was privileged to burst in up on his iriend in this sort of way if he so wished, he began an apology. "If It weren't so important '' he be gan. "Oh.. yes! Everything is important with you young fellows. But. to tell you the truth, there hasn't been an important happening since 6000 B. C. That is ac cording to Usher's chronology. Adam and Kxe were born then. My own notion Is plagiarized from Rabelais, Montaigne. Mr. Shakespeare, and others, all equally un known today .except -in name, nothing ever happened that was or is or in any way can be important. Well, go on!" He smiled affectionately at his younger friend, leaned back in his chair, put on his spectacles of colored glass, and looked attention. But Dr. Gerrish was in earnest. He did not respond to his friend's banter, except by a fleeting smile. Then he began: "Three of us were in consultation this afternoon overa case that will puzzle even you." "Who were they?" "Whewell and Hersey. with me." "Good men! What was the case?" "That's it. What is it? Listen now." Dr. Gerrish leaned eagerly over the table toward Dr. Furnivall and con tinued: "Take a man 60 years old, hale and strong never eick in his life. Gradually he becomes weak; no appar ent disease; organs intact; no bad hab its: just sinks, and goes to bed. For a long time no physician called because not considered necessary: Just a weak ness which, with ordinary care, will paas away. But It doesn't pass away. On the contrary. It grows greater, and keeps on growing greater, he refusing medical advice, until a whole year is gone by. Then the daughter will wait no longer, and calls In Hersey. Her sey can make nothing at all of the symptoms, and calls in Whewell. Whewell is all off, too, and calls in me. I also am all off. Now. I want you, we all of us want you, and I am here to get you; and," he added, thrust ing the paper he had held in his hand since he entered, under Dr. Furnivall's eyes, "here la the document that will fetch you." Dr. Furnivall put out his hand for it, but Dr. Gerrish withdrew it. "It is a record of symptoms," he said, "filed down to the last analysis. You need not know them all. This will be enough for you, or I am much mis taken. Listen." Searching here and there in the writ ten diagnosis, leaving out the minor details, he read, eagerly, the symptoms of a disease so strange that it never had been heard of by merely practicing physicians in the United States of America, and by but few of the best physicians anywhere. Y'et these symp toms sounded so simple! The follow ing is all Dr. Gerrish read: ""Almost utter muscular weakness breathlessness upon least exertion palpitation of heart puffy face en larged spleen and lymphatic glands slight fever badly defined reddish patches on body profound mental lethargy: all this, with no mania, no delusions, but of course with no op timism, no hope. Lethargy the pre dominating feature. Patient's age. 60 years or so." Dr. Furnivall arwse at once. "Is it far from here?" he inquired, his hand on a push button. "Whlttaker Ransome'sl" replied Dr. Gerrish succinctly. "Indeed! Then we'll just walk around the corner. We shall need no convey ance." The patient lay a massive ruin in his sireat bed, like a giant tree stricken down. The flesh, over, his ponderous bones had shrunk until the corrugated skin, except over his face, which was puffy, resembled thick bark more than the cuticle of a man. His great hands, pale and thin, lay like skeleton claws outside the quilt, the veins showing large and knotted, but filled apparent ly with some llghter-hued fluid than good red blood. The eyes were closed wearily, the whole body expressed weariness in the last degree, and the man seemed even to breathe with the reluctance of one over- a hard and painful task. It was a ghastly spec tacle. But Dr. Furnivall cast only one glance at the patient hlnvself.. His at tention was all. concentrated on a vase and its accompaniments on the mantel from the Instant he 'first saw It. Long necked, of well-levigated clay. It was gilded without and within with a dull, golden-colored mica. By the side of it stood a glass jar containing a brownish-red powder, and close to that was a forked stick, one fork of which was split and filled with chicken feather, while inside hung a little clay pot con taining a number of chicken bones. Dr. Furnivall, having finished his ex amination of this unique curio, looked from it interestedly to the patient, and then beckoned Dr. Gerrish. "I did not know he ever was in Africa," he said, motioning toward the patient "It was not Africa, it was India there is where he made his money in the tea business." "Yes, but this vase and these " "Oh, his nephew gave him those. He is a surgeon, a young Englishman, his sis ter's son, and his heir, out somewhere in the Anglo-Egyptian Soudan." Dr. Furnlval threw him a quick, singular glance. "Do you suspect nothing?" -he asked. Dr. Gerrish shook his head, with a quick glance in his turn. ''No, why?" Dr. Furnivall stepped to. the bedside arid looked down earnestly at the slumbering patient. He took his pulse. Then he whispered to Dr. Gerrish: "I am going home to refresh my mem ory with an authority that occurs to me. Bring me some of the patient's blood as soon as you can. If we haven't run up against the most subtle, - fiendish crime " "Crime!" gasped Dr. Gerrish, taken wholly by surprise. "You say this nephew is his heir Is there a likeness of him of any kind in the house that you know of?" This seemed to Dr. Gerrish to be exceed ingly irrelevant, but he answered readily by pointing to the wall, on which was hung a fine oil painting of a young man In uniform. Dr. Furnivall stood back and examined It. His mental processes as he did so were somewhat as follows: The interpretation has become so famous among physicians and phrenologists that it would be supererogatory to introduce here any more than the striking points of it: "The brain is largest 'the base, as com pared with the upper superior convolu tions of the cerebrum, especially in the upper frontal lobes at the seat of the faculties of benevolence and veneration. The development immediately over the eye shows perception in a marked degree, and the fullness of the eyes themselves means a flow of language words, words, words, to such an extent that a superficial observer, or one who loved the speaker, would believe him much deeper and more accomplished than is the case. The fore head, in the abrupt recession of the up per superior convolutions, indicates also this same lack of benevolence. Casualty, comparison and veneration are largely de ficient. His most striking faculty Is that of human nature. The head, through the regions of the ears and the temporal lobes is extremely broad it means destructive ness. acquisitiveness, sccretiveness. There is great energy and executive ability, love of money and power, active slyness and cunning. Roof-shaped at the vertex, slop ing toward the parietal eminences, the head here indicates a lack of conscien tiousness. The still, small voice in this man is so very small and still that be never heard it. His self-esteem will give him absolute confidence In his ability to carry out whatever scheme his selfish pro pensities may concoct, and he has the de termination and steadfastness of the bull dog. His cerebellum is abnormally de veloped, which Indicates muscularity and he Is doubtless strong and vigorous. Car ing primarily for his own feelings and wants, sly. surreptitious, yet at the same tinje forecful, he Is a dangerous type, of man, one in whom it would be difficult to find any natural quality of a gentle man neither love, honor, trust, nor con science." Dr. Furnival turned from the portrait to Dr. Gerrish. "What uniform Is that in the picture?" "I don't know. But he is a surgeon, in the Egyptian medical service, until re cently working with the Soudan commis sion." "Until recently? Where is he now?" "On his way here. He was sent for three months since, and is expected daily." "How long ago was this vase received?" "Oh,' he brought It himself when he was in the city last year." "Ah, he has visited here himself! Do you know if the patient has been out of the United States lately?" "Not for eight years, certainly, for I have known him for that length of Hem." "Well, bring me the blood." Dr. Furnivall straightened tip from his microscope and, putting on his spectacles, looked at Dr. Gerrish. "It Is as I thought," he said. "Bac terlologlc culture of trypanosomes!" "Good heavens!" ejaculated Dr. Ger rish, stepping quickly to the micro scope. "How on earth did you ever come to suspect such a thing?" "In the first place, the symptoms of the patient indicated It. And as soon as I saw that odd vase In his room I was practically certain. For vases of that sort, as I see by my authority here, are made only in the Bahr-El-Ghazal province In the southern Sou dan, where trypanosomiasis, or 'sleep ing sickness, Is common. Dr. Gerrish, who was eagerly study ing the culture, raised his head quickly. "But," he .said, "the patient was never there and how could he con tract " "The disease Is spread in two ways, first by the bite of the tsetse fly. That Is the common way." "Well, there are no tsetse flies here!" "No, there are not But there is the second way direct inoculation of the parasites into the blood and we have hypodermic needles here." Dr. Gerrish stared at him blankly a moment. Then he comprehended, and his face paled. "Good God! Can he be such a subtlf fiend?" he murmured. "The disease proves fatal, you under stand, always not until, a long timt subsequent to inoculation, however, anywhere from three months to three years after decided symptoms appear. And there is no sign of poison only general paralysis, or chiefly that." "But why should he wish to do It? He was his uncle's heir, and would get his property anyway, or most of it. And. indeed, all of it. in effect, for he is to jnarry the adopted daughter, who is the only other living person likely to be thought of in the will." "The reasons we may leave until we interview the nephew. Rest assured he had good ones In his own estimation. I'll get a warrant for him, and as soon as he arrives he and I will have a little chat together on the subject." The next day, accordingly, found Dr. Furnivall face to face with the young Englishman, who had reached his un cle's house that morning. The portrait w-hich the doctor had studied was a good likeness, and he shuddered in wardly as he looked into the pitiless gray eyes and felt the atmosphere of brutal selfishness that enveloped the man beneath the cultivated suavity of manner, which, to the casual observer.' was very far from uninviting. Stout and florid, of the pure English type, in the traditional slouchy suit of gray tweed, he conversed with the doctor as one of his uncle's physicians, manifest ing much sorrow over his condition. He said that he supposed they had aban doned all hope of his recovery. "Yes," answered Dr. Furnivall, look ing into his eyes. "You have just seen him, I un&erstand. What, in your opin ion, is he afflicted with?" "Oh, I haven't examined him, don't you know. Not yet. You have very fair physicians in this country, and I fancy everything has been done for him er properly, and all that I don't say what might have been if I could have seen him 'in time. Er too late now, and all that er!" "You have no idea what his dis ease is?" "I fancy it is er old age, don't you know er general paralysis er er " His face having shown several re markable changes of expression as he talked, his eyes in the doctor's, begin ning with perplexity, running into va cancy, into stolidity, and then earnest ness, now settled Into deep introspec- THE WORLD-FAMOUS ENGLISH MUSEUM Psychology of Children's Toys of Ages Grouped Together in Folklore Exhibition MOST people, perhaps, would not mind confessing that the vastness and an tiquity of the British museum are a little too much for their knowledge and appre ciation. Yet now and again the dazed wanderer will come upon some slight and inconspicuous object In a case which will so appeal to his imagination that the place becomes suddenly a great reposi tory of human and even humorous mem ories. The melancholy wanderer whom we saw the other day double up in laughter at the sight of an Ivory chess-knight was struck by the same sort of inspiration that filled Keats after his first sight of the Grecian urn. Might not the museum authorities more often help the Imagina tion of these lesser Keatses by popular displays? Their own half-hearted at tempts suggest how much might be done in this way. At present, in the Greco Roman room, at one end of which Keats urns are gathered, is a case labeled "toys and games." The tiny objects in it are admirably designed to enliven the imagi nation of casual visitors.' The generic child does not change much with the cen turies and the Greeks and Romans were particularly human. But what a splen did birdseye view of the psychology of the childish toys of the several continents and ages could be thus grouped together in a folklore exhibition. The little black children of South Africa, the red Indians of North America, the little Malayese, Infant Russians, and perhaps early Britons played much the same games as these Greek and Roman children and the Egyptians before them. It is not wholly a question of a common origin, a point on which anthropologists too much insist. It is rather a common humanity coming out In infancy. In this museum case are a number of animals; horses, cows, sheep and a mar velous beast, evidently made by a child, labeled with some pawky humor as "hare (?) running." The query is certainly justi fied. Consider these animals from the "hare (?) running" from Tanagra, sixth century B. C-, to the modern nursery store. Today a Noah's ark is still a popular toy, and a "moo-cow" among the earliest of distinct impressions. Accord ing to the very latest educational theory, parents are strongly advised to provide their children with some sort of plastic clay that the artistic Instincts with which they are born may be kept alive and de veloped. From the English baby mur muring "moo-cow' among the Noah's ark animals or later fingering wax Into clumsy shapes, jump to South Africa. Seated in a circle on the veld are a group of Kaffir children drawing wonder fully perfect circles on the ground and molding grotesque but curiously distinc tive shapes of ail the domestic animals, which they maneuver In and out of com pounds. They sing too, In their own dialect, sentiments not so different from Stevenson's: The friendly cow all red and white I love with all my heart. She gives me cream with all her might To eat with apple tart. only thev would substitute mealies for the apples. The Greek children, artisfbora, were bet ter designers than present English chil dren, but the young Kaffirs with no artis tic parentage, are better than either. The problem emerging from these animal figures in the glass case is worth a student's notice. Are we today killing the artist eye that survives In primitive peo ples by education and artificial toys? Augusts Rodin, who has perhaps more right to speak than any living artist, said recently in conversation that modern children could only see in two dimen sions. They had eyes for outline, but very rarely for depth as well as length and breadth. He and Mr. Hovelacque made a number of experiments to test the theory, and found that things were even worse than Rodin has suspected. Many children could scarcely summon up to the eyes of imagination even the out line of things. When, for instance, "boat" was mentioned, the picture that presented tion; and his voice, trailing away' to silence for on' Instant, began again without hesitancy, but with a mechan ical intonation. "What did you ask me?" he contin ued. "What disease is your uncle afflicted with?" As Dr. Furnivall put the question this time the door of the room, which had been slightly ajar up to this mo ment swung wide, and Dr. Gerrish and another man came in. The subje'et gave them no attention, but ansvf cred at once: "Sleeping sickness!" "How did ne contract it?" "I inoculated him with trypanosomes 14 months ago!" t . "How did. you manage to do that without his suspecting it?" "I put enough arsenic in his -food to give him violent pains in the stomach and bowels, and followed with hypo dermic injections to relieve the suffer ing, one containing the trypanosomes, the other morphine. For the arsenical poisoning I gave him hydrated ses quioxide of iron." The man in plain clothes with Dr. Gerrish stepped nearer, but Dr. Furni vall put another question. "What was your object in inoculat ing your uncle with this fatal disease?" "He was a strorg man, likely to live long, and I wanted his money as soon as I could get it. Besides, he had made conditions In his will that did not suit me. By its terms I am to marry "nis adopted daughter or else give up half the property to her. I was present when itself to many of them was Just the let ters of which the word was made; and the inquirers, as Mr. Hovelacque told me. came to the conclusion that teaching letters to children in early years was death to their artistic sense. The ap pearance of Roman ink-pots and pens, and the earlier stilus for drawing on wax, which are Included in the same case as the "hare (?) running," seemed to justify the moral drawn by Mr. Rodin. How else explain that the children of a great artistic race have not half the natural skill in molding of the young Kaffir, the most natural animal imaginable till he reaches his teens? The same idea as Rodin's, though applied a little differently occurred to Victor Hugo. In the most thoughtful chapter of the most thought ful book, Notre Dame de Paris, he depicts the young priest pointing, first to the book In his left hand, then to the twin towers of the cathedral, while he draws the succinct mora! "cecl a tue cela the printer has killed the architect. Perhaps the most astonishing thing in young children is the immediate difference of tastes in boys and girls. From the beginning of time girls have delighted in dolls. In the museum case are dolls of every description ivory dolls, bone dolls, wooden dolls with swivel joints. It would seem that the only modern developments are swivel eyes and a hidden squeak once described in my hearing by one of the best known of our archeologists as "the primal voice of the stomach," com mon to dolls and children. But of all the dolls the most appealing is a rag doll, its mouth askew. Its features flat tened these centuries, its limbs, one would saj. knawed off; an ugly, misshapen, ill designed thing that no doubt some Infant woman hugged to distraction, took to bed at night and woke in the small hours to dandle. Is not this persistence of the doll in what may be called with special appropriateness "early history" a proper Justification of the scheme of today's educationists to provide dolls as pegs for Instruction in the elementary schools? Greek boys, at a more advanced age at any rate, showed a tendency to regular street-arab ways. Perhaps the most boy like thing, though the disks were prob ably used by older people, is the use first of abusive words for which "slacker" and "scored off" may serve as transla tions on a set of drafts. But what most suggests street corners is- the wealth of knucklebones, mostly real knuckle-bones, though some are of more precious make. We do not know whether knuckle-bones quite hold their popularity, but they have been one of the commonest boy amusements for six centuries at any rate, and in the terminology have been traced some almost prehistoric phrases. Perhaps some English parents have not disdained to take a hand at the game, hut there Is probably no modern parallel to the custom Illustrated by a statuet to be seen In another part of the museum of two women of fashionable mien, squat ting opposite each other in the excitement of which should first ring the complete changes without an omitted note. We missed from the collection the ball what was it made of? with which Nauslcaa played. Indeed the collection contains no spheres except marbles, and these are In all sorts and sizes, some even far from round. They too, were a man's as well as a boy's game in south ern Europe ; and not so long ago as time in the British museum counts the undergraduate at Oxford was so devoted to the game, that a special statute had to be passed forbidding blm to play on the steps of Queen's. What a theme for some popular exploiter of folklore would be "the evolution of the ball" from the earliest times to "the leathery duke" that swelled and swelled Into the bounding bladder of the Harrow school song. It were a plausible contention that the dis covery of india-rubber, by altering our games, has permanently affected the character of modern peoples, just as chess (and the museum has some wonder ful examples of chessmen) is said to .have developed in the Chinese their slow Im movable temperament. Tet, when all is said, the store of old toys is small. It is because, as today, children always did; Sam jA the will was made, and pretended to agree to its provisions, knowing that with a man like him it would be use less to do otherwise: he would have his way. I had a duplicate key to his cabinet made while I was here, and when, some months after my return to the Soudan, I learned that he was too sick to be up and around. I sent here a man. a sailor, who is in my power, with the key. I coached him up on a c.ock-and-tull story that he was the son of an old friend of my uncle's, and on some pretext or other he was to get Into the room, which I described to htm, where the cabinet was kept, and change the real will, which was locked up there, for one I had forged myself. All this was done while I was thous ands of miles away, so that no suspic ions could attach to me should occa sion of suspicion of anybody arise. Even that was not likely. There is no body interested but the girl, who will accept meekly whatever happens: and, you know, I didn't want her, but I did want the money." '"And I want you," said the plain clothes man, stepping up to him as Dr. Furnivall turned away in disgust. "I arrest you for the poisoning of your uncle, Mr. Whlttaker Ransome. Later the charge will be murder. Come! Step lively!" With a look of the deepest astonish ment on his usually self-satisfied face, the young man was hustled from the room not too gently. (Copyright, 1907. by W. G. Chapman.) SEXT W EEK "THE MAX W ITH THE ULASiS EYE." break up their toys, or because then as now,1' they chiefly delighted--dolls and knuckle-bones always excepted in real things, things that were not meant tor toys: But of all my treasures the best is the king. For there's very few children possess such a thing; And that is a chisel, both handle acd blade, "Which a man who was really a carpenter made. We think the Greek child must have harbored that sentiment when the rough pestle and mortar came into his hands with some real corn to bray into real flour. London Outlook. Torture Kelics on Sale. London News. Several torture relics were lately put up for auction at Stevens', Covent Garden, but they did not excite much competition. There were no eager calls, even for a hangman's rope. One dollar and seventy five cents was all that was given for one which had been used by the renowned Berry. An iron screw, or foot-squeezer, was bought for 5, and the same figure was paid for a sot of double stocks, and also for what Is termed a "drunkard's cloak." The last named is one of those instru ments of old which was Intended to put the delinquent to shame. It is shaped like a huge pail, and the drunkard who was to be disgraced was fastened into it with only his head visible through a narrow aperture at the top. The cloak gave the wearer the minimum air room, the hands being practically pinned to the sides, and walking was only possible in a kind of. shuffling movement. Other articles sold were an ancient whipping post with shackles from Ox ford, two sets of shackles which were used in old Newgate prison, ancient branding irons and an Iron "boot" into which the victim's naked foot was placed, and boiling oil poured in, all of which sold at (3 each. An ancient chair from the Castle of Xorenburg, in which people were secured ture collar with spikes, $5.25. Passing; of a Clipper Ship. " New Tork Times. Another of those full-rigged clipper ships so seldom seen on the Atlantic in recent years has just sailed into the har bor at the end of hor last voyage across the Atlantic. The ship was the big B. D. Sutton, built at Bath, Me., 26 years ago, and which, as soon as her present cargo is discharged will be towed to some shipyard there to be converted Into the most unsightly of all craft the coal barge. The Sutton came from Hongkong, and made the 7000-mile voyage between the Cape of Good Hope and Baltimore in 43 days, one of the fastest passages ever made by a sailing vessel between those points. Ballade of the Reception. Puck. ' Dear me. how do you do! I've longed to see you so. Why, what a pretty blue It's new I'm certain No? My dresses always show; But you you've such a way A bit of -lace a bow (Yes, such a pleasant day! That Smith woman! Well, who Invited her here? Oh, Indeed ! You like her. too ? But she's so common, though; Yes, really quite de trop, And then the neighbors say Of course these stories grow (Yes, such a pleasant day!) Dear Mrs. Smith, It's you ! H-re I've looked high and low To find aomeon I knew . . . A song! How beartly alow! And May voice like a crow X loved that last one. May, It seemed so npropo -Yes, such a pleasant day!) ENVOY. No, really, I must go; I'd simply love to stay. But "best of friends" you know i Ya. such a pleasant day I)