The record-union., 1899-10-29

and Other Documents Illustrative of
American History, 1606-1775." He has
added careful notes and intends the
book to be a companion to his Select
Documents Illustrative Of the History
of the United States" Taken together
these volumes provide "a useful working
selection of the chief constitutional and
legal documents Of our colonial period.
An English translation Of a volume Of
Legends Of the Bastile" is just coming
out. The author, M. Funck- -Brentano,
claims to have discovered, while delv-
ing among the records of the great
prison, that the Man in the Iron Mask
was an Italian named Mattioli; also
that the mask was not iron, but vel
vet.
Here is a personal version of story
about Mr. Kipling-a story not alto
gether unfamiliar. "One day." he is
quoted as saying, II was sitting in my
study in London, when suddenly a gen
tleman appeared at the door unan-
nounced, followed by two schoolboys.
is this Rudyard Kipling?' inquired the
gentleman.
Yes 1 answered.
He turned round.
Boys this is Rudyard Kipling'
And this is where you writer he
continued.
Yes / replied.
Boys, this is where he writes
And before had time ask them to
take fhaxy III
all. I suppose, they had all literary
London to do in that way"
*%
Pail Mall Gazette: In that charming
volume of South Sea tales by r. l..
Stevenson, entitled Island Nights En-
tertainments, there is dedication:
To three old shipmates among the islands.
Harry Henderson.
Ben Hird.
Jack Buckland.
Their friend, r. L. s.
Ben H1rd, Well-knoWn island super
cargo, died on board the Pacific Islands
Company's steamer Archer two years
ago, and was buried on the lonely ISL
and of Funafuti, one of the Ellice
Group in the Northwest Pacific, the
people of which (under the title of
"Funafuti') formed the subject of a
book written by the wife of Professor
David OF Sydney, early in the present
year Jack Buckland was the reckless,
eXcitable Tommy Hadden of THE
Wreckers," and Jack Buckland was be-
loved by both Stevenson and Ben
Hird, despite his mad freaks in Sydney
and Samoa when he had a surplus of
cash, and painted, or tried to paint,
both places red. And Jack is dead
now. He died a few months ago in
Suwarrow Island, an even more lonely
and isolated atoll than that on which
his comrade Ben, the bluff, genial
Scotch supercargo, lies at rest TO
both Of these "old shipmates" of Ste
venson the end came suddenly = to
Hird at sea, and to Tommy Hadden
through the explosion of some powder.
Hird, a man of past 40, was. or tried
to be at times, mentor to the hand
some, irrepressible Jack of %. But
both were by nature and instinct in
tended to be mated with Captain Davis
of the Farallone, when he sang:
Q honey, with our pockets full OF money,
We Will trip, trip, trip, we will trip it on
the quay
~A4A~ VIII NettlSO Win hdI0y anu ION Will
dance with Sail,
When We're all back from South Ameri-
kee.
The third man, who is first named
in the dedication, is the manager in
Sydney of the German-Australian
Steamship Company, and as he is not
dead, nor likely to be for a consider
able time, now that he is out of the
South Sea trade, he deserves to be con.
graduated for not being mentioned fur
ther.
But those-and there are many in
the Southern Seas-who knew Ben and
Jack and r. L. S. will often think of
all three together. The dust Of the