The White Pine news. [volume] (Treasure City, Nev.) 1868-1906, 1900-11-22

Matthew Arnold was accustomed TO
bestow the presentation volumes OF
verse sent to him by many unknown
bards OIL the Athenaeum's hall porter
and il is remembered that when new
waiter was asked whether Justin
Martyr was in the library he repliedi
II don't think he is member, my lord,
I'll go and ask the porter"
ambassador Choate recently had an
amusing experience in London book.
shop, where he went to buy n copy of
Dante's Hell" The clerk departed 10
seek the book, but soon returned to re.
mark: Il am very sorry, but We haven't
got He'll by Mr.. Dante. We've got
Twenty Years in South Africa, by Ce-
ell Rhodes. IL that would do" And
feeling" concludes Mr. Choate. that
that was practically the same thing, l
took the book"
one of the parishioners of a stately
and dignihed clergyman was much ad-
dcted TO drink, and one night the vicar
met him coming home in such a eondi-
ton that he demonstrated with him on
the spot. He endeavored to point out
the degradation of such state, and,
by way Of cllnching his argument, ask
ed; What would you say If you were
to see me Keeling down the road In a
state of hopeless lntoxicationT' The
offender appeared TO be deeply I'm
pressed, and answered, feryently: Il
wouldn't tell a soul, sir"
James Russell Lowell was dreamlly
strolllng along toward his home In
Cambridge, one unusually beautiful
night. Slowly, with serene, queenly
majesty, a full moon was ascending
her azure throne" pouring her lavish
light over all things and softenlng Into
semblances of beauty even the ugly
outlines of the conventional domestic
architecture round about. Duly illu
minated by the lovellness of the spec
tacle, the poet, as he passed by the
house of the estimable brother-man
who supplied meat to him regularly fol
slight consideration of profit, noticed
that valuable citizen leaning on his
fence and gazing up in kind of rap
way. 1t pleased Lowell to think thai
the butchers immortal soul was bath
ing itself in the flood of semi-spiritua
moonlight, and, pausing, he remarked
What beautiful night it Is, neigh
borr' Eyes, Mr.. Lowell, | was JUS
a-thinkln' what bully night for {
slaughterin' this would bew "Ol
course, Of course" gasped the poet
beating hasty retreat.
A few days before Ruskin's death {
New York editor dispatched his Lon
don representative to interview thu
sage of Brentwood on the beauties ant
benefits of bicycling. Ruskln, follow
ing his usual custom, gave the news
paper man so cold reception that the
latter lost no time In making his return
trip to London. A few days later the
correspondent received letter from
Ruskin, in which he said: "Some time
since l put myself on record as an an
tagonist Of the DEVILS own toy, the BIZ
cycle. want to reiterate, with all the
emphasis of strong language, that
condemn all manner of BIZ, tri-, and A.
B., g., or Z cycles. Any contrlyance OF
invention intended to supersede the use
of human feet on Gods own ground Is
damnable. Walking, running, leaplng
and dancing are the legitimate and nat.
ural joys of the body, and every at
tempt to stride on stills, dangle on
ropes, or wriggle on wheels is an af-
front 10 the Almighty. You can't i'm
prove on Gods appointed way of walk.
ing by substituting an improved cart
wheel" 1t is hardly necessary to add
that the letter was not used In the
symposium on the beauties and bene
fits Of bicycling