davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1916-03-25
STEAMBOAT NIGHTS.

STEAMBOAT NIGHTs BY H @. Dwight; Fronts
gieco by Brenda. l2alo. ~ sIl Dono.-iay'
Mr. Dwight ARRIVED" with his first
appearance in the magazines. Here was
a man with new stories 20 tell who
knew how 20 tell them. Whatever he
has written thus far has been worth
preserving in permanent form. one
wishes him the further success which
he deserves, for he IS an artist and
capital entertainer wthal. He knows
Constantinople through and through
the CorstantiHople whose history has
been unbroken, though often changed
in its turbulent course, since the days
Of Byzantium. And he knows its popu-
lation. Turks and Levantines. Greeks,
Armenians, all that mixture Of races
which makes the city so inexhaustibly
picturesque beneath the prevailing
grayness Of is physical appearance. lie
knows them and he delights in them
in the sturdy traits Of the Turk, the
rascality of most OF the rest Of them,
the mixture Of guile and naivet6 which
they present to the observer from the
West:
After It was quite dark a man
who strolled by happened 70 catch
sight OF my camera. He stopped
and began to examine II. ! dis
creetly lit cigarette in order to
show him that the camera had
proprietor. lie continued his in
spection, as much ss to show me
that he had known | was there.
Then he took out his tobacco box,
rolled cigarette with deli6era-
ton. came up 10 me, saluted me
politely, and lighted mis- cigarette
from mine. II is the custom OF the
country, you know. Nobody has
any matches. | suppose somebody
did once, but since then everybody
has gone on taking the sacred ire
from somebody else. Having made
the second salutation Of usage, the
stranger showed no haste 70 be of.
Indeed. after standing n moment,
he sat down on another stone near
me-not 30 near as the Greek had
done. From that, and from his 81
lence, and from a certain easy awk-
wardness about him, | guessed he
was Turk.
Thus begins the tale Of the voyage OF
II. /. VI. Abdul Hands ship, TIE
Leopard Of the Sea" She was ordered
20 take prisoner TO Yemen az an
hours notice; she stayed in port three
or four weeks 10 take on coal AM
stores. to have her engines repaired
and her bottom scraped. The mussels
made delicious pilaf; they became ia
nous among Stambou's gourmets. And
on the way the prisoner paid out Of his
own pocket for more fuel and moce
food TO take him to his destination.
Il is gorgeous tale Of the condition,
that were in Turkey before the revolu.
ton. In fact, the whole book is packed
with strange, enhancing adventure,
whose protagonists are exotic living
beings, not puppets. And the atmos-
phere il that Of the Arabian Nights
brought down to date. The book de
serves its inviting title.
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1916-03-25


GODS PUPPETS. BY william Alien White.
l2mo ". 300 The Macmillan COMPANY.
Two novelties, two short stories
and a sketch make up this new volume
Of Mr.. Whites They all stand for that
Americanism whose leader and cham
pion he is-the Americanism of
the Middle West, which, for one thing,
was the backbone of the movement that,
in a general sense, came to be known
as Progressivism. The malefactor OF
great wealth, the man whose soul is
shrivelled and polluted By the love Of
gold and its INSCRIPTIONS acquisition,
whose children are tainted BY its pos
session, is more than once the object
Of attack herein "The One a Phar-
isee' and "a Prosperous Gentleman
The Pharisee's wife is one Of the chief
victims Of his INSCRIPTIONS, ssncti-
moniou. greed; so are his three elder
daughters, and their husbands. The
youngest one saves herself only by
exile from the tainted atmosphere. The
Prosperous Gentleman, too, has his
woman victim IN his reckless youth,
and seeks another in his senility. In
fact, according TO Mr.. White, IL is the
women VINO are DOLn the real NlNllNlS
and the most harmful products of
wealth. There is Lalla Rookh Long
ford, who sought only her own graft
;ication in her charities, her public
work and her philanderings. But then,
her father was an Irishman who had
rowing eye, and she had been finished"
at no less than three boarding schools.
There is yindictiyeness almost, GER
tainly not a ray of pity, in Mr.. Whites
story Of the fall of the Congressman
who had hourished on the alliance be
tween politics and big business. By
fraud and corruption, by obeying or
ders, he had made mis- way from a law
Office 90 the Capitol. And then "the
gods arrived" and cast him out the
enthusiastic gods Of the New Democ-
racy. But his ally and master, the
Pharisee, found n way TO "oblieat my
self 20 the present incumbent. You
know the story Of the appointment of
the new United States marshal. had
20 have him"
In "The Strange Boy" Mr. White
laments the passing of the barefooted
American boy Of long ago, whose palace
Of magic was the barn, his training
school the woods and fields and hills
and brooks. There are no barns now:
their place has been taken By garages
And the Boy Scout fits them. Times
change.
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1916-03-25

pare him 70 Kipling. because his verse
is utterly different. We are
reminded of a little poem that Father
Tabb once wrote in depreciation 20 IN
English critic who had compared him
with Poe:
Good sir. IL was n cruel stab
With Edgar Poe to measure Tabb;
As well with Tennyson 70 rate
The present Poet Laureate,
which might be paralleled as FOLLOWS
for the present case:
The boosters wrong this modest strip
ling
By calling him a second Kipling;
As well 70 bracket in one line
George Meredith end Gertrude Stein.
But to 70 on with the Jacket which
we And irreslstible: "The rhymes OF
a real mans man. They swing IKE
racing car rounding curve; they
rladden the heart like a meadow larks
note on the frat morning Of vaca-
tion"-delightfu combination OF sim
lies! And further on: with this book
Mr. Bralev becomes the one American
poet for men and women who love fresh
air too much to stay indoors and read
any ordinary % verse -.
And. after all. Mr.. Braley is not half
bad. He is sometimes slipshod. some
times commonplace, but at his best he
ia racy, humorous and individual. lie
is no sentimental observer OF the
working world. but n bona fide member
of IT,; he sings OF miners, steel work
ers, sailors. cowpunchers, reporters and
tramps and the songs ring true.
Characteristic bit is this from Erie:
She's shallow an muddy an mean.
She's chuck full Of sandbars an such,
She's pretty when calm and serene,
But she's never that way very much.
You hardly kin sail by the chart,
Her shoals keep a-shiftin' around.
You'll think that you know her by
heart.
When-crunch-and yer boat is
aground!
You want TO be leery
An careful OF Erie;
She's husky, although she is small
A pugnacious dearie-
4 fgh ter-is Erie
The meanest old lake Of them all!
Oun propaganda Mrs. M!ller's "Are
Women People," has received Wide and
enthusiastic attention; but il deserves
another mention ana verse. We are
TOO modest, however-seeinR that the
material originally appeared in this
paper-to give the book the praise that
is its due; suffice il TO say that II IS
the best thing Of its kind that the SUI
fraee movement has yet produced. and
that every sufragist should 20 armed
with A copy. Our favorite rhymes
and they are fairly typical these:
Charm is a woman's strongest arm;
Ny charwomsn is full Of charm;
] chose her, not for strength Of arm.
But for her strange elusive charm.
And how tears heighten woman's pow
ersl
Ny typist weeps for hours and hours;
I took her for her weeping powers
They so delight my business hours.
A woman lives by intuition.
Though my accountant shuns addition,
She has the rarest intuition.
(And | myself can do addition.)
II, as we are credbly informed, MY
Country" was written by a girl Of six
teen, the writer should be encouraged.
The poem has marks Of immaturity,
but IL is not without merit. II shows
Imagination and a much livelier inter
est in the world outside the writer's
self than some poets ever acquire.
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1916-03-25
LITERARY CRITICISM
AND BOOK NEWS
The American Muse-Don Marquis and Some
Others-A Young Beginner-Mr. Ihayers
Noteworthy History Of the Child.

ular course of business, and expected
TO hold their own on the counters
alongside Of recent Action and pocket
classics.
II was a pleasure TO find again Ger.
tain things we had read in the sun Dial
and inefectively attempted 70 preserve,
and 20 discover also others that were
new 10 US. Our favorites are-DGce
Miss Amy Lowell, etc among the most
insubstantial and I'VE frankly admit
artificial poems in the volume the trio
lets. rondeaux, ballades and other ex-
amples Of what the new school Will
doubtless soon denominate gers en-
chdinf. Most delightful is the April
Song:
Fleet across the grasses
Flash the feet Of Spring,
Piping, as he passes
Fleet across the grasses.
Follow, lads and lasses!
Sing, world, sing"
Fleet across the grasses
Flash the feet Of Spring!
Idle winds deliver
Rumors through the town,
Tales Of reeds that culver,
Idle winds deliver.
Where the rapid river
Drags the willows down
Idle winds deliver
Rumors through the town
In tho country places
By the silver brooks
April airs her graces;
In the country places
Hayward April PAGES,
Laughter in her looks;
In the country places
BY the silver brooks.
Hints Of alien glamour
Even reach the town;
Urban muses. stammer
Hints of alien glamour,
But the city's clamor
Beats the voices down;
Hints Of alien glamour
Even reach the town.
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1916-03-25

"This Earth, 1t Is Also a STAR" Is
ballade as good as its title; and the
elegy "Silvia" has charming stanzas.
When he strikes what the shpcover
calls "a masculine note of almost rude
strength" Mr.. Marquis Is not, as rule
so happy. The anthropological poems
remind one too much land not enough
of Kipling-the Kipling of "Bvarra and
His Gods" Farewell, Romance and
ITS pretty, but is it art?" They con-
tain lines as poor as these:
as life itself not wonder-worth that we
must cry for miracles7
as 10 not strange enough we breathe
Does everything not God reveal?'
We hope that Mr.. Marquis will some
day make a new poem Of THE Nobler
Lesson; the idea is fine and deserves
more perfect execution. The last lines
are strong (the reference Is to the vir-
gin birth Of Christi:
"For if gods stoop, and with quaint
jugglery
Neck natures laws, how shall that
profit thee?
The nobler lesson is that mortals can
Grow godlike through this bafled front
Of man"
Mr.. Dana Burnet's poems have a
rather machine-made look. One mag
ines his method to be like that OF the
editorial writer: he glances at his
morning paper, selects the leading topic
of the day, turns on the mental steam
and forthwith produces a lyric. We
have poems Of the war, poems of Pena-
ma, poems Of prison reform, child la
Dor, the social evil. the unemployed,
the elevated, the subway.
The best Of the city poems are those
which are satirical and descriptive
rather than emotional and imaginative.
The Ballad of Dead Girls" which de-
scribes the scene after a factory fire
and then gives the talk in the saloon
between the district leader and the fac
tory owner (who paid the Systems
price and lived 70 lock his doors againr)
is good-far better than "The Wool
worth Building" with its vain attempt
al Swinburnian.
l am part Of the world at your feet,
have sorrow and laughter and days,
But you have undesirable dawns
And the frmness outlasting the
phase.
Mr.. Burnet is a thoroughly metro
politan poet. lie casts the appropriate
wistful looks at the country, but sell
dom strays further than the park. Even
while he is writing Of the woods and
fields one suspects that he has a book
Of poems at his elbow 20 refresh his
memory. Was it long after reading
Masefeld's "The West Wind" that Mr.
Burnet wrote THE Home Land? The
similarity Is, Of course, unattended. but
it is striking. Masefeld's poem begins;
It's n warm wind, the west wind, full
Of birds cries;
never hear the west wind but team
are in my eyes;
and Mr. Burnet's:
Ny land was the West land, my HON,
was on the hill;
never think of my land but II makes
my heart TO thrill.
Here are the verses Of Berton Bra.
ley" says the publisher. "They have
the swing and vigor Of Kipling-thougt
Mr. Braley groans when people com.
The mirror., 1916-11-30
Thanksgiving Day Motorized

Over the river and through the wood
To grandfather house we go,
But horses and sleigh are very passe
So tire chains crunch through the snow,
The four-hour journey is now made in one
With snarling horn clearing the way;
With a screech of alarm, we reach the
old farm
For a motorized Thanksgiving Day.
Two decades ago, grandfather gave thanks
For food on the groaning board;
But these days are spent, the modern old
gent
Pulls vaudeville jokes on the Ford.
The hunt for wild turkeys we used to
devour-
And annual story that thrilled
Is now out of date and the feasters relate
The tales of the motors they've killed
The chauffeur brings in the plum pudding
With hands not spotlessly clean;
We miss the old taste, it favors of waste
And spicing of burnt gasoline.
And after we've finished, grandfather must
How fast his new roadster can go;
He puts on full power, hits sixty an hour
And speeds up day once so slow.
By J. c. Burton-In Searchlight.
The mirror., 1916-11-30
=. p q E T r Y :.
From Our Exchanges.
Thanksgiving

Let us be thankful-not only because
Since las, our universal thanks were told
We have grown greater in the world s
applause,
And fortune newer smiles surpass the old.
But thankful fer all things that come as aims
From out the open hand of providence
The winter clouds and storm-the summer
calms-
The sleepless dread, the browse of Incidence.
Let US be thankful-thankful for the prayers
Whose gracious answer were long, long
delayed,
That they might fall upon us unavares,
And bless US, as in greater need we prayed.
Let us be thankful for the loyal hand
That love held out in welcome to our
When love and only love could understand
The need of touches we had never known.
Let US be thankful for the longing eyes
That gave their secret to US as they wept,
Yet in return found, with sweet surprise,
Loves touch upon their lids, and, smiling
slept.
And let US, too, be thankful that the tears
Of sorrow have not all been drained away,
That through them still, for all the coming
years,
We may look on the dead face of Today.
James Whitcomb Rilev
The mirror., 1916-11-30
/, Y. M. G. A. Glee Club
EntertainS

At our last Wednesdays entertainment
we had the rare pleasure of listening to a
Male Chorus combination of twelve men,
bers of the Y Nj. c. A. Glee Club, and
twenty members of the Dayton Ave. Pres
byterian Church of St. Paul.
Mr.. Rollin NJ. Pease. of St. Paul, director
of the organization provided the ''perman-
ent" audience with a splendid selection of
songs and anthems.
The visitors were accorded hearty ap-
plause to each selection, and judging from
its volume said: "Well done, and welcome
to our Silent City at some future date"
The selection: "Comming tbro the Rye
which was rendered by young lady of
the organization and fine violin solo by
one of the male members, also a song by
Mr.. Pease, in which a great range of vocal
ability was displayed are especially to be
commended.
The Management, in behalf of the in
mates, takes this opportunity to extend their
appreciation to the entertainers for their
splendid program
The mirror., 1916-11-30

explains the attachment of the people for
the Kaiser, notwithstanding the trials
Germany has undergone during these
twenty-eight years of Williams reign.
Even superficial glance at what the Hohen-
zollerns have been to their country bids me
remark that the backbone of the German
eign models of government. 1t has clung
to its own monarchy because the sovereign
was not only the first servant of the state,
but its true beacon-tower to success in fame
and power.
While the German aristocracy still clings
to its traditions of birth privilege, William
has bridged the old lines of former German
rulers and has striven to attract intellect
and merit in every class within his circle.
Authors, painters, men of science, invari-
ably the best of each class, were not mere
ly patronized, but distinguished in many
manner. Emperor Williams position is
an exceedingly difficult one: for Germany
was never more in need of strong charac-
ter at the helm than at the present mo-
ment, and he has always shown an earnest
desire to act up to the high standard ex-
pected of him, and to prove himself to be
the man Germany is in want of for the
greater happiness and welfare of the Father
land.
The mirror., 1916-11-30

Leaces From Our Poets
A Memory Picture
By Mr.. J. B.

Sure have little picture in my memory
stored away
That has just been lately rescued, from OBJ
livion and decay;
t is worth million dollars,-if one only
thinks that way,
For it helps me in forgetting needless wor-
ry of each day.
And when DAYS are bright and shining, and
my gypsy blood is keen
For the breath of soothing zephyrs, that
sweep out across the green,
| then find this little picture, comes in
timely as a balm,
For it helps me to fos get it, and my nerves
become more calm;
And it shows me that this worrying, only
adds to misery's lot
Where man is always wishing, wanting
things that he has not;
When l catch myself a'wishing, for the
things that can't be mad,
then find this little picture, makes things
look not quite so bad;
For it takes me TO that north-land, where
the chill is in the air,
Where the snow fakes are a falling, and
the earth is bleak and bare,
And l soon become acquainted, with my
friend the esquimaux;
can see him now a'hiking, round up
there in all that snow;
When l think of that poor human, up
there in that frigid zone,
Who is satisfied just living, eating snow
balls and whale bone;
Well, can't but help in thinking, that my
lot is good and kind,
And that all this fret and worry, is habit
of the mind,
So keep this little picture, in my memory
stored away
Like farmer saves his dollars, for long,
drear rainy day.
The mirror., 1916-11-30
Brotherhood

There's one blood pulsates through the
whole,
There's one Light shines in every soul;
Our life's great lesson is to see
This Truth-in all humanity.
How weak and trifling are desires,
That outer eye or flesh inspires;
Are we not higher than the sod,
Are we not channels for God
To work through-on this lower plane,
To live-that He may live again?
We all are sculptors-and alone;
Each block of marble is our own;
And we may fashion it so fair,
That earth and sky and sun and air
Shall think it is in prism true,
With Gods own glory shining through.
-Erelyn Il. Genton.
The mirror., 1916-11-30
Chautauqua SeCretary's
Report

The Chautauqua Circle met in regular
session in the school room Sunday after
noon, Nov. 26. The roll call disclosed
thirty-one members present. President
J. S. presided over the meeting, and, as
usual delivered a message of good counsel,
and his ardent and active interest in the
Circle hardly needs any commentator at
this time. Mr.. J. S. has already proved
his great zeal and enthusiasm in the work
the Circle is striving to accomplish and his
kind and helpful admonltions ought to be a
great inspiration to every member by TAX
ing an active part in the discussions and
also advancing ideas which will be of
mutual interest to the Circle.
The first paper on the program was,-
subject:-"The Future of Panama. by
K. w. in which the author very ably
covered the subject and was complimented
for his energetic effort in presenting so we'll
prepared a paper.
The next number on the program was
song by the Qualtette entitled Gloves
Old, Sweet Song to which the Circle
heartily applauded, and to which Mr..
S. D., our noted tenor, responded very
sweeNy with ''My Gal SAL
The second paper, was, as,-subject:-
"Wall Street, by W. S. in which the
author read a mastery paper on this sub
ject. 1t dealt chiefly with stocks, bonds
and securities and was very interesting and
instructive. And although it was openl;
stated that there were no hnanciers present,
some of the members had a vision that
after listening to such an intelligent and
instructive paper, that there might be
possible chance some day, to gain seat in
Wall street. Mr.. w. l.. stated that this
was one of the best essays that he had ever
heard on finance. The authors dictum
and delivery were excellent.
There being no further business, the
critic were called upon and gave a very
pleasing report.
Adjournment.
F. F. S., Secy,
The mirror., 1916-11-30
Pay Your Fare

Do not shirk your share of labor
Pay your fare!
Do not leave it to your neighbor--
Pay your fare!
Do your part to make things brighter,
Help to make life's burdens lighter,
For the square thing be fighter
Pay your fare!
Whether you be rich or poor
Pay your fare!
Though it makes you mighty sore
Pay your fare!
Don't pick out the easy road,
Do not seek the lightest load,
Bear with courage every goad-
Pay your fare!
Meet your troubles with grin
Pay your fare!
If you stumble try again -
Pay your fare!
If for crooked WORK they Jail you,
If your bosom friends all fail you,
And your enemies assail you
Pay your fare!
Do not grumble at your lot
Pay your farel
Though you suffer, whimper not
Pay your fare!
Always think of your old mothers,
Live to cheer the hearts of others.
Treat your fellow men as brothers
Pay your fare!
The mirror., 1916-11-30
The Little Boys Prayer

"Dear God, need You awful bad,
don't know what to do;
My papa's cross, my mammals sick;
l hain't got no friend but You.
Them keerless angels went and brung,
Std of the boy asst,
A weenchy, tweenchy baby girl,
don't see how they dast!
Say, God, wish. You'd take her back,
She's just as good as new;
Won't no one know she's second hand,
But 'ceptin' me and You.
And pick boy, dear God, yourself,
The incest in the fold;
But please don't choose him quite SC
young,
like him five years old"
The mirror., 1916-11-30
Give Me Content
By James Whitcomb Riley

Dear Lord, to Thee my knee is bent.
Give me content,
Full-pleasured with what comes to me
Whate'er it be;
An humble roof-a frugal board,
And simple hoard;
The wintry fagot piled beside
The chimney wide,
While the enwreathing flames upsprout,
And twine about
The brazen dogs that guard my hearth
And household worth,
Tinge with the ember's ruddy glow
The rafters low;
And let the sparks snap with delight,
AS fingers might
That mark deft measures of some tune
The children Groom;
Then, with good friends, the rarest few
Thou holdest true,
Ranged round about the blaze, to share
My comfort there
Give me to claim the service meet
That makes each seat
A place of honor, and each guest
Loved as the rest.
The mirror., 1916-11-30
The Voice

There is only one law and only one God
For all things under the sun
The sea and the sand, and the wind blown
soul,
And the God and the law are one.
And whatever the law and the God be
named
By beings like you and me,
They speak supreme in that cosmic voice
Which men call harmony.
"A. B. Paine.