The Philistine: a periodical of protest (Vol. III, No. 2, July 1896)
Date: 2024-01-07T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: American literature -- Periodicals; American periodicals; Society of the Philistines (East Aurora; N.Y.) -- Periodicals

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Philistine: a periodical of protest (Vol. III, No. 2, July 1896)

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: The Philistine: a periodical of protest (Vol. III, No. 2, July 1896)

Author: Various

Editor: Elbert Hubbard

Release date: January 7, 2024 [eBook #72653]

Language: English

Original publication: East Aurora: The Society of the Philistines

Credits: hekula03 and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHILISTINE: A PERIODICAL OF PROTEST (VOL. III, NO. 2, JULY 1896) ***

The Philistine
A Periodical of Protest.

I am sure care’s an enemy to life.—Twelfth Night.

Printed Every Little While for The Society of The Philistines and Published by Them Monthly. Subscription, One Dollar Yearly

Single Copies, 10 Cents. July, 1896.

THE PHILISTINE.

CONTENTS FOR JULY.

A Sea Song, | F. W. Pickard.
A Bit of War Photography, | T. W. Higginson.
A Prologue, | Stephen Crane.
A Hot Weather Idyll, | Estes Baker.
A Venture in Manuscript, | Charles M. Skinner.
The Micketts of a Wybirt, | Ian Taylor.
The Purple Insurgent, | Frank W. Noxon.
Heart to Heart Talks with Men, | J. Howe Adams.
Plots and Things, | Kenneth Brown.
Side Talks with the Philistines. |
Conducted by the East Aurora School of Philosophy.

Have you seen the Roycroft Quarterly? The “Stephen Crane” number is attracting much attention and we believe it will interest you. 25 cents a copy.

Entered at the Postoffice at East Aurora, New York, for transmission as mail matter of the second class.

COPYRIGHT, 1896, by B. C. Hubbard.

NOTICE TO
Collectors of Artistic Posters.

On receipt of 10 cents we will send to any address, a copy of our largely illustrated catalogue of 500 posters exhibited by “The Echo” and “The Century.”

“The Echo” is the pioneer in fostering the poster in America. It began its department of Poster-Lore in August, 1895, and has printed it fortnightly, with many illustrations, ever since.

Each issue of “The Echo” bears a poster design, in two or more colors, on its cover. During the past year seven of these covers were by Will H. Bradley.

“The Echo” is $2.00 a year, 10 cents a number. New York, 130 Fulton Street.

LOOK OUT for the second and popular edition of “Cape of Storms,” price 25 cents. One sent free with every year’s subscription to “The Echo.”

THE LOTUS.

A Miniature Magazine of Art and Literature Uniquely Printed and Illustrated.

A graceful flower.—Rochester Herald.

It is a wonder.—Chicago Times-Herald.

The handsomest of all the bibelots.—The Echo.

Alone in its scope and piquancy.—Boston Ideas.

Artistic in style and literary in character.—Brooklyn Citizen.

The prettiest of the miniature magazines.—Syracuse Herald.

Each bi-weekly visit brings a charming surprise.—Everybody.

The Lotus seeks to be novel, unconventional and entertaining without sacrificing purity and wholesomeness. It seeks to be a medium for the younger writers.

The Lotus is published every two weeks and is supplied to subscribers for One Dollar a year; foreign subscription, $1.25. Sample copy five cents. On sale at all news stands.

THE LOTUS, Kansas City, Mo.

The Roycroft Quarterly:

Being a Goodly collection of Literary Curiosities obtained from Sources not easily accessible to the average Book-Lover. Offered to the Discerning every three months for 25c. per number or one dollar per year.

Contents for May:

I. Glints of Wit and Wisdom: Being replies from sundry Great Men who missed a Good Thing.

II. Some Historical Documents by W. Irving Way, Phillip Hale and Livy S. Richard.

III. As to Stephen Crane. E. H. A preachment by an admiring friend.

IV. Seven poems by Stephen Crane.

- 1—The Chatter of a Death Demon.

- 2—A Lantern Song.

- 3—A Slant of Sun on Dull Brown Walls.

- 4—I have heard the Sunset Song of the Birches.

- 5—What Says the Sea?

- 6—To the Maiden the Sea was Blue Meadow.

- 7—Fast Rode the Knight.

V. A Great Mistake. Stephen Crane. Recording the venial sin of a mortal under sore temptation.

VI. A Prologue. Stephen Crane.

THE PHILISTINE.

NO. 2. July, 1896. VOL. 3.

A SEA SONG.

Away with care! Away with grief!

Hurrah for life! Hurrah, we’re free!

Away with sorrow! Perish wrong!

Hurrah, Hurrah! The sea! The sea!

Yo ho, The waves are dashing,

Yo ho, The billows crashing,

Yo ho, The spray goes flashing

Down the bay.

Hurrah! The gulls are winging,

O’er bows the waves are flinging

The cooling, pelting, stinging,

Salt sea spray.

Away with care! Away with grief!

Hurrah for life! Hurrah, we’re free!

Away with sorrow! Perish wrong!

Hurrah, Hurrah! The sea! The sea!

F. W. Pickard.

A BIT OF WAR PHOTOGRAPHY.

After the applause won by Mr. Stephen Crane’s Red Badge of Courage, a little reaction is not strange; and this has already taken, in some quarters, a form quite unjust and unfair. Certainly any one who spent so much as a week or two in camp, thirty years ago, must be struck with the extraordinary freshness and vigor of the book. No one except Tolstoi, within my knowledge, has brought out the daily life of war so well; it may be said of these sentences, in Emerson’s phrase, “Cut these and they bleed.” The breathlessness, the hurry, the confusion, the seeming aimlessness, as of a whole family of disturbed ants, running to and fro, yet somehow accomplishing something at last; all these aspects, which might seem the most elementary and the easiest to depict, are yet those surest to be omitted, not merely by the novelists, but by the regimental histories themselves.

I know that when I first read Tolstoi’s War and Peace, The Cossacks and Sevastopol, it seemed as if all other so-called military novels must become at once superannuated and go out of print. All others assumed, in comparison, that bandbox aspect which may be seen in most military or naval pictures; as in the well known engraving of the death of Nelson, where the hero is sinking on the deck in perfect toilette, at the height of a bloody conflict, while every soldier or sailor is grouped around him, each in spotless garments and heroic attitude. It is this Tolstoi quality—the real tumult and tatters of the thing itself—which amazes the reader of Crane’s novel. Moreover, Tolstoi had been through it all in person; whereas this author is a youth of twenty-four, it seems, born since the very last shot fired in the Civil War. How did he hit upon his point of view?

Yet this very point of view, strange to say, has been called a defect. Remember that he is telling the tale, not of a commanding general, but of a common soldier—a pawn in the game; a man who sees only what is going on immediately around him, and, for the most part, has the key to nothing beyond. This he himself knows well at the time. Afterward, perhaps, when the affair is discussed at the campfire, and his view compared with what others say, it begins to take shape, often mixed with all sorts of errors; and when it has reached the Grand Army Post and been talked over afterward for thirty years, the narrator has not a doubt of it all. It is now a perfectly ordered affair, a neat and well arranged game of chess, often with himself as a leading figure. That is the result of too much perspective. The wonder is that this young writer, who had no way of getting at it all except the gossip—printed or written—of these very old soldiers, should be able to go behind them all, and give an account of their life, not only more vivid than they themselves have ever given, but more accurate. It really seems a touch of that marvelous intuitive quality which for want of a better name we call genius.

Now is it a correct criticism of the book to complain, as one writer has done, that it does not dwell studiously on the higher aspects of the war? Let the picture only be well drawn, and the moral will take care of itself; never fear. The book is not a patriotic tract, but a delineation; a cross section of the daily existence of the raw enlisted-man. In other respects it is reticent, because it is truthful. Does any one suppose that in the daily routine of the camp there was room for much fine talk about motives and results—that men were constantly appealing, like Carlyle’s Frenchman, “to posterity and the immortal Gods?” Fortunately or unfortunately, the Anglo Saxon is not built that way; he errs on the other side; habitually understates instead of overstating his emotions; and while he is making the most heroic sacrifices of his life, usually prefers to scold about rations or grumble at orders. He is to be judged by results; not by what he says, which is often ungracious and unornamental, but by what he does.

The very merit of this book is that in dealing with his men the author offers, within this general range, all the essential types of character—the man who boasts and the man who is humble—the man who thinks he may be frightened and is not, and the man who does not expect to be, but is. For his main character he selects a type to be found in every regiment—the young man who does not know himself, who first stumbles into cowardice, to his own amazement, and then is equally amazed at stumbling into courage; who begins with skulking, and ends by taking a flag. In Doyle’s Micah Clarke the old Roundhead soldier tells his grandchildren how he felt inclined to bob his head when he first heard bullets whistle, and adds “If any soldier ever told you that he did not, the first time that he was under fire, then that soldier is not a man to trust.” This is putting it too strongly, for some men are born more stolid, other more nervous; but the nervous man is quite as likely to have the firmer grain, and to come out the more heroic in the end. In my own limited experience, the only young officer whom I ever saw thoroughly and confessedly frightened, when first under fire, was the only one of his regiment who afterwards chose the regular army for his profession, and fought Indians for the rest of his life.

As for The Red Badge of Courage, the test of the book is in the way it holds you. I only know that whenever I take it up I find myself reading it over and over, as I do Tolstoi’s Cossacks, and find it as hard to put down. None of Doyle’s or Weyman’s books bear re-reading, in the same way; you must wait till you have forgotten their plots. Even the slipshod grammar seems a part of the breathless life and action. How much promise it gives, it is hard to say. Goethe says that as soon as a man has done one good thing, the world conspires against him to keep him from doing another. Mr. Crane has done one good thing, not to say two; but the conspiracy of admiration may yet be too much for him. It is earnestly to be hoped, at least, that he may have the wisdom to stay in his own country and resist the temptation to test his newly-found English reputation by migrating—an experiment by which Bret Harte has been visibly dwarfed and Henry James hopelessly diluted.

T. W. Higginson.

Cambridge, Mass.

A PROLOGUE.

A GLOOMY STAGE. SLENDER CURTAINS AT A WINDOW, CENTRE. BEFORE THE WINDOW, A TABLE, AND UPON THE TABLE, A LARGE BOOK, OPENED. A MOONBEAM, NO WIDER THAN A SWORD-BLADE, PIERCES THE CURTAINS AND FALLS UPON THE BOOK.

A MOMENT OF SILENCE.

FROM WITHOUT, THEN—AN ADJACENT ROOM IN INTENTION—COME SOUNDS OF CELEBRATION, OF RIOTOUS DRINKING AND LAUGHTER. FINALLY, A SWIFT QUARREL. THE DIN AND CRASH OF A FIGHT. A LITTLE STILLNESS. THEN A WOMAN’S SCREAM. “AH, MY SON, MY SON.”

A MOMENT OF SILENCE.

CURTAIN.

Stephen Crane.

A HOT WEATHER IDYLL.

The new assistant sat in the office, vainly endeavoring to discourage the perspiration in its efforts to show him how the water comes down at Lodore. But, with a perseverance worthy a wetter cause than the dry weather, it continued to flow from his mobile brow and neck, mop he never so well. The thermometer on the wall registered 89, and the calendar only May 1st. It was the new assistant’s first day in the office, and he had already begun to contemplate with humid horror the prospect of spending an entire summer in a place that was already warm enough to have caused his once stiff and glossy collar to emulate his puff-bosom shirt.

“Why,” he gasped to the Old Book-keeper, “what will it be when summer really comes?”

The latter, who had been a cent short in his cash the night before, gruffly replied that it would probably be June 1st. But, before the day was over, he, too, was forced to realize the heat and to speak of it. So, when his face began to assume the appearance of a greasy plank under a hydrant, he concluded that it might not be so great a compromise to his dignity for him to agree with his junior, and his looks showed him to be rapidly thawing. They managed to survive that day and the next and several others that followed. In the meantime the thermometer seemed bent, in fact, warped, upon beating all previous records, and the two sufferers watched the mercury climb, until it seemed to be trying to reach its Olympian namesake. The thought that the worst was to come served to increase their distress. It always does.

Finally, the Old Book-keeper, who occupied a sort of oldest inhabitant position in the neighborhood, although he had always worked for a living, threw up the sponge and reluctantly admitted that, for so early in the season, it really beat all the weather he ever saw. The new assistant sympathized with the old man in his defeat, and went so far in his efforts to cheer him, as across the street to buy the beer, without first proposing to match for it.

So affairs went on, nothing worthy of note transpiring, except, of course, the two now becoming warm friends. Every morning and again after lunch they would enter the office, take off their coats and everything else that Mr. Comstock might not object to, and drearily settle down to their work, always wondering if they would be able to stand it when summer really came. By this time, they had ceased to consult the thermometer, and the calendar was forgotten. Several pages that should have been torn from the latter remained there still: not enough air was stirring to move them. At last, one afternoon just as the new assistant had succeeded in opening his attenuated countenance wide enough to say, as usual—“I wonder what it will be when summer really”—the door was suddenly darkened by a portly form enveloped in a heavy overcoat and a confident manner that unmistakably stamped their wearer as the Boss, and a hearty voice exclaimed—“Well, this bracing weather is delightful after a hot summer on the Riviera!” The Old Book-keeper and the new assistant staggered to the door and looked out. The snow was falling thick and fast.

Estes Baker.

Knoxville, Tenn.

A VENTURE IN MANUSCRIPT.

Having finished some literature I put it into an envelope, with postage stamps to get it back; for that happened sometimes, even when it was real, hand-made literature, as in this case. It came back, because the editor of the Bugle said it was too long. I sat up that night paring and changing, and when it had been condensed a third it occurred to me that maybe there was a surer market for it in the office of the Banner of Freedom. Another try; more postage stamps. Returned with statement that “We never print stories less than 6,000 words long and yours is too short.” I rewrote it in part, restoring an episode on which I had slightly prided myself in the original version, and as it was neither long nor short I sent it, this time to Tomlinson’s Bi-Monthly. Tomlinson kept it for nearly two years before returning it, and it reached me a veritable tramp of a manuscript, dusty, creased, dog-eared and ragged, with editorial changes in blue pencil that could not be erased, and the remark that, as Tomlinson’s circulated largely among the Bulgarians in America, and received advertising patronage from them, it was impossible to print anything that might offend Bulgarians. This surprised me, because the fact that one of my characters, Gilhooly McManus, was a Bulgarian had nearly escaped my notice. He was introduced because his nationality made occasion for an incident that I needed, and had he been an American every reader would have denounced his conduct as absurd.

There was nothing for it but to copy it afresh and send it to Bloxam’s. It was returned in the next mail, manifestly unread, with the usual form announcement that “owing to pressure” etc., it was impossible, etc., so I tried The Pacific with it next. It came back in time with the objection that it was too sensational, and the next week it was returned by the Chambermaid’s Own as too quiet. Hanks’ Review would not have it because plots were going out of fashion, and The Athenian suggested that I imbue it with at least a trace of interest. At last a little one-horse magazine in Texas offered to print it if I would subscribe for three years to his magazine at two dollars per year. I accepted the offer by return mail, stipulating only that the magazine should be sent, with my compliments, to an almshouse.

And I set out on my next story wondering if the time would ever come when a man could speak his mind to his fellow men in print, or if all written things would have to be shaped according to the Procrustean notions of the average editor.

Charles M. Skinner.

THE MICKETTS OF A WYBIRT.

Then with a touchbox of transalpine tar,
Turning thrice round, and stirring not a jot,
He threw five tons of red hot purple Snow,
Into a Pigmy’s mouth, nine inches square.
Which straight, with melancholy mov’d,
Old Bembus Burgomaster of Pickt-hatch,

That plunging through the Sea of Turnbull street,

He safely did arrive at Smithfield Bars.

Then did the Turntripes on the Coast of France,

Catch fifteen hundred million grasshoppers,

With fourteen Spanish Needles, bumbasted,

Poach’d with the Eggs of fourscore Flanders Mares.

Mounted upon the foot of Caucasus,
They whirled the football of conspiring Fate,
And brake the shins of smug-fac’d Mulciber:
With that, grim Pluto all in Scarlet blue,
Gave fair Persephone a kiss of Brass,

At which all Hell danc’d Trenchmore in a string.

Whilst Acheron and Termagant did sing,

“The Mold-warp,” all this while in white broth bath’d,

Did Carol Didoes happiness in love,
Upon a Gridiron made of whiting-mops,
Unto the tune of “John Come Kiss Me Now,”
At which Avernus Music ’gan to roar,
Enthron’d upon a seat of three-leav’d grass,

Whilst all the Hibernian Kernes in multitudes,

Did feast with Shamrocks stewed in Usquebaugh.

At which banquet made of didillary
Took great distaste, because the Pillory
Was hunger-starv’d for want of Villains ears,
Whom to relieve, there was a Mittimus,
Sent from Tartaria in an oyster boat,
At which the King of China was amaz’d,
And with nine grains of Rhubard, stellified,
As low as to the altitude of shame,
He thrust four Onions in a Candle-case,

And spoil’d the meaning of the world’s misdoubt.

Thus with a Dialogue of crimson Starch,
I was inflamed with a nun-cold fire,
Upon the tenterhooks of Charlemagne.

The Dogstar howl’d, the Cat a Mountain smil’d,

And Sisyphus drank Muscadel and eggs,
In the horn’d hoof of huge Bucephalus,
Time turn’d about, and show’d me Yesterday,
Clad in a Gown of mourning; had I wist,
The motion was almost too late they said,

Whilst sad despair made all the World stark mad;

They all arose, and I put up my pen,

It makes no matter, where, why, how, or when.

Ian Taylor.

THE PURPLE INSURGENT.

Clangingharp told Frostembight the only prophetic way to write an epic was to save all the rough drafts, with interlinear corrections. He said your biographer could thus trace the growth of your work from its earliest inception to its final bloom, and the photographic reproductions would do away with the cost of sketches. Frostembight said a man that would write an epic was a lunk-head. Clangingharp started to get up and destroy Frostembight, but he stepped on Marcus Aurelius, and with a rush of words to the throat fell helpless into his chair. Marcus Aurelius was the cat. “Dam that cat,” added Clangingharp.

One night when Clangingharp sat writing, an episode occurred. Clangingharp couldn’t write on an empty stomach, and the verses he made when he was sober were so drab and elegiac that in spite of his remark to Frostembight he threw them away and went out after cocktails. He could write shriller and hotter stuff when he had had cocktails. Well, one night he sat thinking of what an empty thing a cocktail is. He had been writing verses, and he knew they were regrettable. But he did not go out and have cocktails. It might be told why he didn’t, but what’s the use? You go to a comedy to get away from your business troubles, and the chief clown constantly thrusts under your nose a big wad of stage money. It would simply be dragging in sordid matter that should have no place in a psychological study. It is enough to say he didn’t go out. He sat and plunked drops of purple ink from his pen into a blotter with an insurance advertisement on it that lay submissively on the desk. Then Marcus Aurelius leaped onto the blotter, and a fiendish shine glittered dryly in the epicist’s eye. He noticed the cat was white. Rainy afternoons on the fire-escape had made the beast very white. Clangingharp plunked a drop of royal purple on the tip of Marcus Aurelius’s tail.

The next instant Clangingharp had written:

“And gave him hemorrhage of the soul.”

“Great!” he screeched in a seething cauldron of joy. “Powerful!”

He began to wonder whether or not cattails were as effective as cocktails. He plunked another royal purple drop onto the cat’s tail, and wrote another line. It was not so good as hemorrhage of the soul, but it was pretty fair:

“And freshet-flushed his hydrant eye.”

For two weeks Clangingharp’s days and nights were dry. He did not go out after cocktails, and as there was a drought on the fire-escape the cat was becoming splendidly regal. The window was kept open, for the weather was hot; but Marcus Aurelius got no nourishment excepting an occasional mouse and what he absorbed from the ink, so he staid in. Clangingharp would sit there for hours and deliberately sling ink at him. Not a growl from Marcus. At last he would take down the folding-bed, and before getting in would remember the pen and wipe it along Marcus’s spine. Not a plaint from the cat: always patient and forgiving.

The epic was growing. It had become so vast now that Clangingharp had long since stopped saving rough drafts, and the complete copy was piled up neatly on his desk. There was so much that he had even ceased reading the whole of it through after writing each new line. The evening came when Clangingharp felt that he could finish the last canto. His heroine was about to get her document so she could be married to the hero, and Clangingharp felt that without stimulants he was scarcely up to writing the heroine’s final spasm to the jury. It may as well be said here that Clangingharp had been hearing from home lately, so he decided to go out and have them for a last strain. He piled his manuscript fondly on a corner of the desk, dipped his pen thoughtfully into the ink-well, and gazing abstractedly at Marcus, plunked the whole penful into a mute Aurelian eye.

When Clangingharp got back he had had several of them, so at first he did not quite take in what had happened. It seemed to him as if much greater cohesion and consistency had been imparted to the epic by the insertion interlinearly as well as between the pages, of his pot of mucilage. Illustrations had also been sketched over the sheets with the unbridled ink-bottle. The work as a whole had begun to circulate, and was already widespread in its influence. Much of it looked as if the critics had already been at it. Clangingharp stepped to the window and looked out. Golden light from the window in a first-floor flat shone brightly over the bottom of the air-shaft. There, curled up on the cement, lay Marcus Aurelius, a study in purple and dead.

“Dam that cat!” said Clangingharp.

Frank W. Noxon.

HEART TO HEART TALKS WITH MEN

QUERY ONE.

Whom do you consider the greatest living litterateur?

Formerly, this matter was in doubt; but there can be no dispute over this point in recent years. But, unfortunately, both good taste and modesty prevent me from making a more definite reply.

QUERY TWO.

I notice you frequently refer to Henry Ward Beecher as a great man; will you kindly state why you consider him such?

Mr. Beecher acquired some reputation in Brooklyn a few years ago as a preacher; this contributed somewhat to his fame. His principal claim to greatness, however, rests on his wonderful power of recognizing genius in others. He early saw the advantage of seeking out and connecting himself with the great geniuses of his neighborhood. I need scarcely add that I was raised in Brooklyn, and that he was among my first admirers.

QUERY THREE.

Should a young man smoke cigarettes?

I notice on glancing over our advertisement columns, that the cigarette trust has given up its devilish attempt to make our American women nicotine habitues, so I will divert from my usual plan of never referring to myself, and tell you my own experience as a reply to this question.

Ten years ago this very day, a large cigarette firm in New York City offered me ten thousand dollars a year if I would smoke their brand of these death-dealing instruments of the evil one. I was very very young at the time; this is my explanation of my only great temptation. I confess that I did not see the horror, the degradation in this suggestion; I saw only in the offer the gold. I am changed now, but, then, it was a fierce battle. But my mother plead with me, and she made me promise never even to think of such a wicked thing again. See the result. I now edit the largest journal in the world, and am educating the women of America what to do and how to do it. This lesson teaches you to do always as your mother tells you. Some day you may edit the Homely Ladies’ Journal, and then you can catch the sympathies of your readers with this sentiment, without fear of your conscience keeping you awake at nights.

QUERY FOUR.

Which of our great poets do you consider led the happiest lives?

Whittier and Tennyson, because they were so blessed with great friendships. I knew them both well myself.

I shall never forget that glorious day in London, when Tennyson told me, with tears in his eyes, that his only regret was that he had written himself out before I had taken charge of the Homely Ladies’ Journal; while Whittier, the dear old chap, told me his fiery war songs that brought him social ostracism, need never have been written had I edited the Woman’s House Journal during that period.

QUERY FIVE.

Do you find editing such a great journal as the Woman’s House Journal hard work? It must be, for I find it very hard to edit properly my own little country weekly.

This question it is almost impossible to answer; to you my work would seem Herculean, unceasing, impossible; but to me it is so different that I feel that I cannot answer this question to make myself intelligible. This question is doubly difficult to answer, for I have systematized my work by establishing a drag net for getting material. I will explain my method. I take up the latest magazine; I see a story by some new great writer, a society leader in the metropolis. Presto! I order a series of articles on “How Women Should Behave at Teas” from her pen. I hear that a great English novelist is coming over to seek the American dollar; again, as with lightning, I order an article “How Your Women Impress Me.” It is immaterial to me what they actually do write, or how far they wander from their text, so long as they use my ready made titles. They look so nice in the index.

In this way, I use the small talk of the writers as a soft food for my readers. Just as you attempt, in your feeble way, to serve up the gossip of your little hamlet in your weekly paper, so I do; for I tell you in confidence what women want is not literature, not art, not science, but gossip. So I make all the great writers of the day write gossip for them. This is the secret of my success. You should feel very happy now, for, although my thoughts and pen fly with lightninglike rapidity, I have spent five hundred dollars’ worth of time in answering your inquiry.

I will answer the rest of my anxious readers as soon as I can systematize other incidents in my very short but successward career. In the meantime, young men by following the lines laid down in this paper cannot fail of success, real, pure, noble success.

J. Howe Adams.

PLOTS AND THINGS.

UNFORBIDDEN FRUIT.

I have a plot:—A man and a girl in a boarding house in Duesseldorf were rather sweet on each other. It might have become love and a marriage, since they were the only Americans there, were both to stay all summer, and both attractive.

The romance began well, they even got so far that one day he held her hand and leaned forward, gazing deeply into her eyes.

Just then the Frau Professorin who kept the pension stepped suddenly into the parlor, saw them, and retreated precipitately.

Here was a catastrophe. Her reputation according to German ideas, gone. “Ein junges Maedchen sich se zu eenehmen—abschenlich!” Nothing but an engagement could excuse the holding of the hand of a junges Maedchen by a man.

They looked at each other and laughed, ruefully. Then they agreed to become engaged, temporarily: what in Virginia is known as “just engaged,” in contradistinction to “engaged to be married.”

For a time it was good fun. He was more devoted than ever; and they even thought of making it permanent. But you know how people act in Germany. Every time he came into the parlor, whoever was sitting beside her, jumped up, and he had to go over and sit beside her. Then he had to make pretty speeches to her while all the other boarders, with German tact, stopped talking and listened.

The man and the girl carried out their roles well, though they drew the line at having their picture taken with their arms around each other. This was a great disappointment to the other boarders. Neither the man nor the girl was able to talk to any one in the house except about the girl and the man. It got to be boresome after a while.

When at last they left Duesseldorf, the joy with which they flew asunder was something to see. There my plot and the romance end. Of course there were to be chaperones and scenery.

WHICH SINNED?

I was confessor; my cousin or Miss Hart was sinner (each has confessed on the other); the story is about this:—

He stood opposite her in the waltz quadrille. He did not know her, but thought what a pretty girl that was in the pink dress, and wondered if I knew her. (I was in one of the side couples.)

At “Ladies half change,” he reached out his hand with eagerness and she gave hers without reluctance. When they stood in their places again, he continued to hold hers, instead of dropping it as he might. (This may have been absent-mindedness.) Presently she turned to him, smiling, and glanced down at their hands. He smiled, too. Then she withdrew her hand, but without apparent offense.

Just then the order came, “Forward and back.” He reached out his hand for hers, saying, sotto voce, “You see, you might as well have let me keep it.”

This was all the preliminary skirmishing. The question of veracity comes next.

After the dance my cousin came to me.

“Who was that pretty girl opposite me?” He said.

“What girl?” I asked.

“The one in pink: who was to your right: and danced with the man in the wilted collar.”

“Ah! That was Miss Hart. Nice girl.”

“Yes,” assented my cousin. “She squeezed my hand the second time we met in the grand right and left. I wish you’d introduce me to her.”

The next dance happened to be the second extra, which I had with Miss Hart. We had not gone half way around the room when she said:

“Why didn’t you introduce your cousin to me? He squeezed my hand in the last quadrille.”

Of course it’s a simple matter of tact. I have my own opinion, but prefer to allow the sentimental reader to judge for himself. I have known Miss Hart a long time and she never has squeezed my—however I don’t suppose that really bears on the point.

THE UNUSABLE PLOT.

Here is another plot, but unfortunately it belongs to a friend of mine, so that I cannot use it.

If is half past four in Paris—stories of this class are always put in Paris—and the hero, who is also the villain, goes into a church. He stops at one of the chapels and looks in. A woman is there, but the light is dim and he cannot at first be sure that it is she whom he seeks, women’s backs being all somewhat alike.

She is kneeling, and she has been crying, though the hero cannot see that. He speaks to her and thanks her for giving him this opportunity of seeing her, and is going to take her hand; but she interrupts him and tells him that it is all a terrible mistake, that she cares for him to be sure, but that it is in a platonic way as a brother, that she truly loves her husband, and is sorry for all that has happened.

The hero who is also a villain listens with half a smile: he has seen women repent before, and it adds zest to the chase. His manner warms and he makes love admirably.

The heroine is nice—so the person who made this plot told me—and the hero is horrid. His hair is a little thin on the top of his head, and his boots are carefully polished, and he is a little fat. He is always polite to a pretty woman, but his politeness is something of an insult.

It is because the heroine is really nice, I suppose, that she at last persuades him that she does love her husband and not him. Then he goes away, and she, sinking down on the priedieu, listens to the click of his polished heels on the marble floor of the church. She sees at her feet the flowers which he had worn in his button-hole, and she picks them up and kisses them passionately. She is going to hide them in her bosom: but then being really nice she lays them before the figure of the Virgin, with a little prayer and then goes away.

As for the hero who is also the villain, he is piqued that it should be she that has stopped loving first; but is perhaps as well, he reflects, for she was beginning to bore him.

He looks at his watch and jumps into a cab. The horse goes fast, for the hero has an engagement at half-past five o’clock with Therese and has offered the cabman fifty centimes pour-boire if he will get to her house on time.

“SANS WINS, SANS SONG, SANS SINGER, AND—SANS END.”

I have another plot, but I do not expect ever to do anything with it. It is about the Man in the Iron Mask. Somebody is to be handling the iron mask—it is kept, I think, in the Invalides at Paris—when upon pressing a certain knob a hidden recess is to be revealed, constructed with marvelous ingenuity (as they always are you know) wherein is to be a paper telling all about the man in the iron mask.

There is nothing very original so far; but as I recollect this plot—I thought of it four years ago—the denouement was very striking. Unfortunately I have forgotten it.

Kenneth Brown.

SIDE TALKS WITH THE PHILISTINES: BEING SOUL EASEMENT AND WISDOM INCIDENTALLY.

Subscribers to the Philistine not fully understanding my jokes will be supplied with laughing gas at club rates.

The St. Louis Mirror is flashing the light on to one W. J. Arkell, who it says has a habit of carrying on a brilliant conversazione with himself through his chapeau. Just what this means I do not know, but Arkell is not the only man in this country who owns an Unjust Judge.

The city of Cork in Ireland has one hundred thousand inhabitants, one-half of whom can neither read nor write. Able-bodied men can be hired for forty cents a day, and women who get a dollar a week and board are very fortunate. The city of Cork has no street cars, nor electric lights; the best hotel has no elevator, nor gas; so you can neither fall down the shaft nor asphixiate. At bed-time you are given a candle which is duly charged in your bill. Three-fifths of the citizens are Catholics and yet the city of Cork boasts the finest Protestant Episcopal church of its size in the United Kingdom. I refer to the Church of St. Fin Barre. It cost seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The bronze gates that separate the chancel from the nave, alone cost twenty thousand dollars; sixteen thousand dollars were paid for one window, and the grill-work, hand carved, in the choir, took two men five years to make. The building of this beautiful temple was made possible only through the generosity of one Mr. Guinness, manufacturer of a certain “stout” that is known as “XXX.” This mixture is highly recommended for nursing mothers and those in need of a tonic.

And now a resident of Chicago proposes to build in the Windy City a church patterned after the beautiful church at Cork, but whose steeple is to be twice as high, and which is to cost a full million dollars. Cork can keep her rags and illiteracy; she may continue sending her guests to bed with a candle; but no longer shall she be able to boast her supremacy in things ecclesiastic—not by a dam sight!

The East Aurora Summer School of Literature: The season of 1896 opens July 1st, and will last for two months. The idea of the course being to prepare beginners that they may score a success in the fall publishing season.

A feature of our system is the Art of Sonneting which is imparted in three lessons, leaving the pupil then free to take up Novel Writing, Essay Composition or Dramatic Construction. The Modern Sex Novel Department is under the special care of the Matron.

For prospectus, address with stamp,

Doctor John Peascod, D. D., Principal,
Room 1001, Philistine Building,
East Aurora, New York.

A small but lusty Philistine is now following Strange Gods in one of the Buffalo (N. Y.) newspapers. In his “Philistine Talk” he cites certain authors who he claims have an itch for fame; and for their benefit and the benefit of Organized Charity he gives the following Fable:

The Emperor Claudius on going up the steps of the Capitol at Washington one day found a Beggar who had a bad case of Eczema. Now the Eczema had staked off its claim on that particular spot on the Beggar’s back where he could not scratch it. The Emperor being a tenderhearted man, and a generous, acceded to the fellow’s prayer and ordered a slave to scratch the Beggar’s back. Next morning on mounting the Capitol steps the Emperor found two Beggars in place of one. But instead of assigning two slaves to scratch the backs of the two Beggars, he remarked in a sweet imperial falsetto: “Here you shabby sons of guns! scratch each other!!” and passed on in maiden meditation fancy free.

To Jehn Z.—No, Way & Williams do not publish The Short Horn Register.

I descend again to Mr. Bok, and apologize to the Philistines for having once seemingly coupled his name with that of Mr. Howells. That particular issue of the Philistine is now listed at seven dollars with no copies to be found. Whether the scarcity arises from the agents of Mr. Howells having bought up all obtainable copies and destroyed them, or whether Mr. Bok’s emissaries scoured the book stalls for them, to keep as precious heirlooms, or both, I cannot say.

The New York World recently gave two full columns to old epitaphs, and how the writer missed this, the choicest of them all, I know not. I hope, by the way, that none of the enemy will be deceived by its typographical form and quote it as a Stephen Crane poem:

Here lies,
Foundered in a fathom and a half,
The shell
Of
Hawser Trunnion, Esq.,
Formerly Commander of a Squadron
In his Majesty’s service;
Who broached to, at 5 P. M., Oct. 10th
In the year of his Age
Three-score and nineteen.
He kept his Guns always loaded,
And his Tackle ready manned,
And never showed his poop to the enemy,
Except when he took him in tow.
But,
His shot being expended,
His Match burnt out,
And his upper works decayed,
He was sunk
By Death’s superior weight of metal.
Nevertheless,
He will be weighed again
At the Great Day,
His rigging re-fitted,
And his Timbers repaired;
And with one broadside
Make his old Adversary
Turn tail.

When George Haven Putnam said, “The chief business of the True Publisher is to discourage the publication of books,” he made a strong bid for immortality. The mot deserves to rank with Tallyrand’s concerning the gift of language.

In a recent issue of Harper’s, “the pastor of Mt. Clemens” has something to say. And who would ha’ thought Mark Twain had a pastor?

Any writer who poses before the country as being the winner of A Big Prize is no longer like Caezar’s wife.

Little Journeys

SERIES FOR 1896

Little Journeys to the Homes of American Authors.

The papers below specified were, with the exception of that contributed by the editor, Mr. Hubbard, originally issued by the late G. P. Putnam, in 1853, in a book entitled Homes of American Authors. It is now nearly half a century since this series (which won for itself at the time a very noteworthy prestige) was brought before the public; and the present publishers feel that no apology is needed in presenting to a new generation of American readers papers of such distinctive biographical interest and literary value.

No. 1, | Emerson, by Geo. W. Curtis.
”   2, | Bryant, by Caroline M. Kirkland.
”   3, | Prescott, by Geo. S. Hillard.
”   4, | Lowell, by Charles F. Briggs.
”   5, | Simms, by Wm. Cullen Bryant.
”   6, | Walt Whitman, by Elbert Hubbard.
”   7, | Hawthorne, by Geo. Wm. Curtis.
”   8, | Audubon, by Parke Godwin.
”   9, | Irving, by H. T. Tuckerman.
” 10, | Longfellow, by Geo. Wm. Curtis.
” 11, | Everett, by Geo. S. Hillard.
” 12, | Bancroft, by Geo. W. Greene.

The above papers will form the series of Little Journeys for the year 1896.

They will be issued monthly, beginning January, 1896, in the same general style as the series of 1895, at 50 cents a year, and single copies will be sold for 5 cents, postage paid.

G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS,
NEW YORK AND LONDON

The ROYCROFT Printing Shop has in preparation GLYNNE’S WIFE, a story in verse by Mrs. Julia Ditto Young.

Mrs. Young is a Poet who has written much but published little. This, her latest and believed by her friends to be her best work, is the product of a mind and heart singularly gifted by Nature, and ripened by a long apprenticeship to Art. As a specimen of the pure “lyric cry,” illustrating the melody possible in the English tongue, the volume seems to stand alone among all books written by modern versifiers. The delicacy of touch, the faultless rhythm, the splendid vocabulary and the gentle tho’ sure insight into the human heart, make a combination of qualities very, very seldom seen. The author knows, and knowing blames not: a sustained sympathy being the keynote of it all.

The publishers have endeavored to give the story a typographical setting in keeping with the richness of the lines. Five hundred and ninety copies are being printed on smooth Holland hand-made paper, and twenty-five on Tokio Vellum. The copies on Holland paper will be bound in boards covered with antique watered silk; the Vellum copies are bound in like manner save that each will bear on the cover a special water-color design done by the hand of the author.

The price of the five hundred and ninety copies is two dollars each; the Vellum copies five dollars each. Every copy will be numbered and signed by Mrs. Young. Orders are now being recorded and will be delivered on September 1st, numbered in the order received.

THE ROYCROFT PRINTING SHOP,
East Aurora, New York.

Quarterly. Illustrated.

“If Europe be the home of Art, America can at least lay claim to the most artistically compiled publication devoted to the subject that we know of. This is Modern Art.”—Galignani Messenger (Paris).

“The most artistic of American art periodicals. A work of art itself.”—Chicago Tribune.

Fifty Cents a Number. Two Dollars a Year.
Single Copies (back numbers) 50 Cents in Stamps.
Illustrated Sample Page Free.

Arthur W. Dow has designed a new poster for Modern Art. It is exquisite in its quiet harmony and purely decorative character, with breadth and simplicity in line and mass, and shows the capacity of pure landscape for decorative purposes.—The Boston Herald.

Price, 25 Cents in Stamps,
Sent Free to New Subscribers to Modern Art.

L. Prang & Company, Publishers.
286 ROXBURY STREET, BOSTON.

We make a specialty of Dekel Edge Papers and carry the largest stock and best variety in the country. Fine Hand-made Papers in great variety. Exclusive Western Agents for L. L. Brown Paper Company’s Hand-mades.

GEO. H. TAYLOR & CO.,
207-209 Monroe Street,
Chicago, Ill.

Have you seen the Roycroft Quarterly? The May issue is a “Stephen Crane Number.” 25c. a copy or one dollar a year.

The Roycroft Printing Shop,
East Aurora,
New York.

THE ROYCROFT PRINTING SHOP at this time desires to announce a sister book to the Song of Songs: which is Solomon’s. It is the Journal of Koheleth: being a Reprint of the Book of Ecclesiastes with an Essay by Mr. Elbert Hubbard. The same Romanesque types are used that served so faithfully and well in the Songs, but the initials, colophon and rubricated borders are special designs. After seven hundred and twelve copies were printed the types were distributed and the title page, colophon and borders destroyed.

IN PREPARATION of the text Mr. Hubbard has had the scholarly assistance of his friend, Dr. Frederic W. Sanders, of Columbia University. The worthy pressman has also been helpfully counseled by several Eminent Bibliophiles.

Bound in buckram and antique boards. The seven hundred copies that are printed on Holland hand-made paper are offered at two dollars each, but the twelve copies on Japan Vellum at five dollars are all sold. Every book will be numbered and signed by Mr. Hubbard.

The Roycroft Printing Shop,
East Aurora, N. Y.

BOOKS RECEIVED.

“An Honest Lawyer”—book just out—

What can the author have to say?

Reprint perhaps of ancient tome—

A work of fiction any way.

—Grace Hibbard.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHILISTINE: A PERIODICAL OF PROTEST (VOL. III, NO. 2, JULY 1896) ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that:

- • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”

- • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.

- • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.

- • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

Table of Contents

- THE PHILISTINE.

- CONTENTS FOR JULY.

- THE PHILISTINE.

- A SEA SONG.

- A BIT OF WAR PHOTOGRAPHY.

- A PROLOGUE.

- A HOT WEATHER IDYLL.

- A VENTURE IN MANUSCRIPT.

- THE MICKETTS OF A WYBIRT.

- THE PURPLE INSURGENT.

- HEART TO HEART TALKS WITH MEN

- QUERY ONE.

- QUERY TWO.

- QUERY THREE.

- QUERY FOUR.

- QUERY FIVE.

- PLOTS AND THINGS.

- UNFORBIDDEN FRUIT.

- WHICH SINNED?

- THE UNUSABLE PLOT.

- “SANS WINS, SANS SONG, SANS SINGER, AND—SANS END.”

- SIDE TALKS WITH THE PHILISTINES: BEING SOUL EASEMENT AND WISDOM INCIDENTALLY.

- BOOKS RECEIVED.

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE