, 1888-01-08
NOTE BOOK WAITS.
Stray Incidents Picked Up in
Many Places.
Anecdotes of Men Who Have
Become Famous.
A Very Breezy Letter From a
Famous Pen.

StOre unuer the Via SOutn CnurCn, i
came upon a widowed German pamphlet
on Bayreuth, Bavaria, which recalled a
never printed and all but forgotten predic-
ton l once heard Wagner make regarding
himself;one subsequently literally fulfilled.
next day following the first production of
the masters masterpiece. "Parsifal.
The city was thronged with visitors and
ablaze with excitement over the majestic
scenes and passages of 'Parsifal." A
few Of us from foreign countries were
paying our respects to Materna, the origi-
nal Knudry, at her hotel, when Wagner
entered the room. He was almost pros
trated from that terrific toreboding often
following a supreme success. Strlding
about the place, pale and restless, and I'M
mindful of the solicitude and praise of
those present, in an almost tragic burst of
grief he at last exclaimed:
"Ah, triumph kills the body, if it
immortalizes a namel | shall never
again create. My power is gonel"
In less than six months time Richard
Wagner's killed" body was brought
back from Italy and laid at rest in old
Bayreuth. This life had been exchanged
for an immortal name.
There is still hanging at the New York
elevated railway station news stands n fine
Iicture of Editor Pulitzer of the World,
recently issued as one of the Curio'S series
of page illustrations. Occasionally, as if
by some miserable fatality, alongside it
will be tackled a page of Judge or Puck in
which the veteran editor, Dana, of the
Sun will be sadly caricatured. 1t is not a
fair show for Dana (who is really a splen-
did old fellow as was proven the other
afternoon at Park Place station, when a
garrulous mother and chattering daugh-
ter, a tall, spare, elegantly dressed gentle
man, wearing eyeglasses, and myself, stood
in front Of the news stand, almost the only
waiting passengers.
If there amt Pulitzer shouted the
old lady in a way that made us all start.
Where, maw?' gasped the bouncing
daughter.
why, therel" iabbing at the Curao
picture with her umbrella, and taking a
good look at the really distinguished face.
Don't pear like a bad man, neither,
though them writers and editors are all
bad men. very badl"
Should think he didn't Why, he's
handsome enough to hug!" gurgled the
irrepressible maiden. Nav, what's
Dana n Pulitzer all the time acting like
two old fighting cats for?"
What for2 Why, bless mel Here
the old lady staggered under the gigantic
nature Of the query as has the public for a
long time but like Silas Wegg and the
hard words, she was equal to the occasion.
Lowering her voice she said with fine
scorn and wisdom:
Some hussy of a female, I~venture!'
"Oh? Well, l don't care" persisted
the young woman. Il just think, NAV,
Pulitzer's a mighty sight prettier man
than old Mr.. Dana!''
They then made a rush for a Harlem
train, nearly ran over a fine looking gem
tleman with glasses; but the latter made
the two a most courtly obelsance, and, if
ever man did, smiled from his heart, 80
do Il'
The gentleman was Mr.. Joseph Pulitzer
and in those few minutes he had had
more fun than he got during all last falls
political campaign.
There is more than one recorded in
stance where the most powerful, poetic
and comprehensive descriptions in litera-
ture have been made by those who have
never looked upon the scenes described.
Down in the lower Canadian provinces
there is a certain good family possessing
an autograph letter from Longfellow,
strikingly Illustrative Of this. No creation
of genius more truly bears the evidence
of patient study and observation than does
Longfellow's "Evangeline. And yet
Longfellow was never in his life in Old
Acadia. 81 fear to visit your interesting
country he writes his Nova Scotia
friends, lest the charm of my imaginings
IISonnnnr mnat in frutb toll unt, chat
| never have been there. The notes on
which the incidents of 'Evangeline' are
based, were all generously furnished me by
my good friend, Nathaniel Hawthorne"
1t is time this important bit of literary
history was better known. Had it not
been for Hawthorne there would have
been no "Evangeline;" and one almost
regrets that the wizard of Salem did not
leave more than the unsought record of a
generous act from the knowledge We now
know he possessed of the lives, loves and
dolor OF a people pathetic in the world.
heart memory from their unhappy for
tunes. -
Old John Walton and wife-and may
they sit side by side through all eternity
as cherry, radiant and loving as | always
find them at 5 Russell street, Portland
Is over 80 years of age now, and it is a
delight to listen to his tales of the days
and ways when the century came in.
Among his earliest and strongest recollec-
tons was a peculiar feature in the burial
ceremonies Of the hero of Tripoli, Com
modore Edward Preble, in Portland in
1907. They had sent out all the coun-
try over he relates, for band music.
No'entire organization could be got. But
more than a hundred musicians came,
sort of on their own hook. When they
got here it was found hat while the town
was overrun with every manner of must
clans and musical instruments, that there
was nj one dirgc or march they could all
play together, if they were to be hung for
it. The funeral obsequies in every other
respect were more imposing than ever be-
fore or since, known here; music must be
had whether or no; and it was finally dis
covered that the musicians could all play
just one composition. | don't remember
the name of it, but anyhow it was a roll
licking Irish jig and the mournful cortege