Morning journal and courier., 1893-02-04

Hosque-Tennyson and the Glas-
cow Bookseller-IIkIeyss All saints
Churchyard Gates-Thc Irish aeuld
Man of the Branchesss-Early Morn
ing I'm venice-Alexander A Anderson,
the Scottish ssSurfacemans Poet-A
Wandering Irish Minstrel.
LONDON, Jan %.
To the Editor OF the JOURNAL kSD COURIER.
No one who has visited Algiers will Ger
forget the lovely though diminutlve mosque
Of Sidi abb el-Rhsmsn, which stands
soove the Garden of Marergo and over
| looks the ses. Its surroundings are charm
| ing, and within its little cems.ery are eu-
| calyptus, mulberry and fig trees shading
the qusint old tombs. The inner chapel
is sort Of shrine from being the burial
place of numbers of Moslem saints, Pa
chss and Deys; and a wondrous number
of sacred relics. emnlems and carvings,
with lamps, ostrich eggs, embroiderIes.
grotesquely decorate the columns, walls
aud hang from the ceilings. More than a
million francs have been expended on such
gifts and tokens.
1t is In this little mosque that one will
see so many Arab women. The glitteriug
elk hsiKs hide their faces, but there is a
constant atmosphere of perfume, an end
less tinkle of concealed and hslf-concesled
iswelry, 6 continuous murmur of muslcsl
voices in prayer, and oeaseless rustic of
womsn's attire ss they come. go OF pros
trste themselves in their devouons The
latter are certainly solemn and impressive,
whether down among the old fsher-folk,
at the Grand Mosque with the Msleki rite,
or here where the weslthier Arab men and
women come clad In the richest textures
of the orient and laden often with jewels
which would purchase kings ransom.
The Mcslem must prsy FIVE times each
day. Every act of prayer begins with
these words from the Koran: Praise be
to God, the Lord of all creatures, the mos.
merciful, the Lord Of the day of iudg-
mentl Thee do we worship. We implore
thy aid. Direct us In the right way"
This and other passages are repeated, led
by the thalIb, a sacred scholar ard an old
msu, in the nature of responses The
faces of sll are toward the east, their Nee
CO. At each mention of the name of God
every worshiper prostrates himself 60 that
seven parts of the body-the head, bands,
knees aud feet-touch the sacred carpet
togsther.
The booksellers of Scotland, and partic-
ulsrly the sscond hand booksellers dealing
in curious and valuable work, of whom
there are very many In Edinburgh and
Glasgow, do not entertain very kindly
fesling for the memory of the late Lord
Tenpyson. They cite many little unpless
ant chsracteristics of the laureate as a
man, but their particular reason for IN
friendliness lies in the fact that. as they
insist. he was even more Of a Shylcck
than Rnskin In all his relations with book
sellere; and thst not many yssTs since
he nearly caused the ruin Of cna of their
number, Mr. Robert Forester, bookseller
of the Royal Exchange, St Georges
Square, Glasgow.
A stranger one day ssuntered into Mr..
Forrester's shop mesnly clad, grizzled
and unkempt and betrsy ing all the ordi-
nary marks of seedy customer beneath
ious, be said, 10 get a very cheap copy
of two of TsnnysOn's poems as gifts to
poor folk Who were not able 10 purchase
lS WINS EARNA ttNcshA GOpAEE pL
the cheapest copyright English editions,
but these were far too dear. Hadn't Mr.
Forester something within his means
perhaps one of those cheap American re-
printsi Oh, yes, he had two copies, left
by some family returning from America,
but 81 was Illegal TO sell them That
would not matter In so good a cause.
The grizsled stranger pressed the pur-
chase and finally secured the two copies
snr uhs II kz-
than Lord Tennyson hInself. and through
the unmanly nrtifce he succeeded In
mulcting Mr.. Forester 20 the extent of
two hundred aud fifty pounds
Everybody in the United States knows,
or knows sbout, brave and good old Rob
ert Collyer, who, though foE a quarter
century one of our grsatest of preachers.
works in his study beside the very anvil
on which his prentice days were passed
before he became full Hedged Yorkshire
blacksmith. His master was "Owd JAG
kie" Birch, the village emith of quaint
old nkley, il Whsrfedsle.
When yOu stand by its ancient church
of All Saints. and lock in upon its mossy
graves and the Runic crosses, your hands
will grasp the bars of its huge iron gates.
They were forged on 'oEd Jsckie's" anvil
by this same stout hearted "Yorkshire
biScksulitu. anu tOElrnON hs one iuEAt
away from Ilkley the feeling comes strong
ly that there was wrought into these rods
aud bsrs hero grit m re impressive and
imperishable than is revealed in all other
monuments or tokens left in Whsrfedale
since the days when the Romans trod these
pleasant ways.
There is sn old qustrain among the
Irish pessantry. the origin of which, for
the spirit of insistive prophecy 1t contains.