The Portland daily press., 1878-11-30

said by Diodorus Siculus to be nearly equal
to wine in strength and flavor. 1t was
the drink called by Herodotus "barley wine"
Why is it that men do not look at the
faces of women as they look at the faces of
each other? They not infrequently see the
face of an angel on the shoulders of rascal
or find gentle spirit looking out through
the eyes of a desperado, and they lose conf.
dence in physiognomy. But their distrust
vanishes when they look into a woman's
face. If that face be pretty, or delicately
colored, or especially if it be Madonna-llke in
expression they think the girl the sweetest of
all the saints. Women know better, and
their impatient knowledge has created the
blonde fend of fiction. But in their anger at
the blindness of men they have overdone the
thing. Their golden-haired demon is as ex-
travagant conception as the Lillith of the
Rabbins.
CHARLES Reade, in somewhere speaking
of great author who in his decline degraded
his gift by alluringly depicting vice, likened
him to rays of the setting sun gliding far-off
pig-stye. 1t is not Yorick's purpose to make
a comparison of that nature, but he wishes to
speak of the fact, doubtless noticed by all,
that some writer's can treat the dullest,
heaviest subjects in manner taat gives them
great interest. They have the secret of the
alchemists and transmute lead into gold.
The secret of the attraction too is not always
owing to felicity of literary style, is not repe-
tition of Swift and the broomst'ck. Yorick
has in mind two illustrations in contempora-
ry journalism. Agriculture is not o topic
that usually possesses interest for the general
reader. But the Hartford Courant has
man who discourses of the mulching of straw
berry beds with so much wit, who treats OF
hoes and like implements so entertainingly,
who talks in so winning fashion of sub-soil-
ing and drainage that his department is one
of the most readable in that excellent jour-
nal. The other illustration is furnished by
the provision-mar reports of the Boston
Sunday Herald. 1t has been thought that
Charles Lamb was the only man who could
give literary value to pork. The Herald
man contrives, however, to interest us in
that and other meats. He makes the turkey
as interesting as the nightingale, and onions
as the rose. His geese are all swans in the
literary sense. A stroll through the market
with him is as appetizing as description by
Dickens of lunch. Though not as good as
a good dinner it is the best thing in the Bar
mecide line since the days of Shacabac.
-"Anserinus" sends these lines:
SKELETONS AT MIDNIGHT OFF THE COAST.
Half tombed in drifting sands upon the shore
Are ye and needless lashed by angry seas,
As through your blackened ribs the breeze
Exultant plays, and crested breakers oar,
And screeching seagulls round thee PROSTATE soar
Vert thou aured by signs OF moaning trees
As sirens sought to charm with songs like these,
Ulysses and his brave companions o'er
To reefs deep-hidden, silent save in storm?
The laundering roll of the sullen surge,
The mercess sob of the gathering gale,
Plain answer make, as round the spectre-torm
Ofthese gaunt skeletons, they ceaseless scourge
The giants battered coat Of oaken mail