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Vol. III.

MARCH, 1907.

No. 1.



(From Act II of "As You Like It," where it is sung by Amiens, one of the comrades of the banished duke

in the Forest of Arden.)

MyLOW, blow, thou winter wind!
Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude:
Thy tooth is not so keen,

Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh ho! Sing heigh ho, unto the green holly!
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.

Then heigh ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.


Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky!
Thou dost not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remember'd not.
Heigh ho! Sing heigh ho, unto the green holly!
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.

Then heigh ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.


la Every Land, and Throughout Al History, Success Has Been Won by the Sheer

Force of Unaided Merit.


E are accustomed to speak of the United States as the land of the self-made

man, and it is no doubt true that more poor boys have won their way to

wealth and fame in America during the last forty years than at any other period or in any other country. Yet everywhere, and in all ages—even where the lines of caste have been most strictly drawn-merit and genius have forced their way to the front through all social obstacles, and in spite of humble birth and adverse circumstances men of forceful personality have stamped themselves on the history of the human race. Here are some historic instances :

SOP and Homer, the most famous of

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John Keats, author of “Endymion," was the son of a hostler.

Linnaeus, the great Swedish naturalist, was a poor student who mended his shoes with paper and often depended on chance generosity for a meal.

Jean Francois Millet, painter of “The Angelus," was a farm-laborer, the son of a small farmer.

Mohammed, founder of a great religion, was a shepherd and a soldier in early life.

Thomas Moore, author of the “ Irish Melodies," was the son of a country grocer.

Napoleon was a penniless second lieutenant in 1785; in 1804 he was crowned an emperor.

Thomas Paine, author of “ The Rights of Man," was a stay-maker.

Samuel Richardson, one of the first famous novelists, was a journeyman printer, the son of a carpenter.

William Shakespeare was the son of a glover in a little country town; both his grandfathers were husbandmen.

George Stephenson, the inventor of the locomotive, was the son of a fireman at a colliery, and began life as his father's helper.

Terence, the Roman comic poet, was a slave.

Trajan, perhaps the greatest of all Rome's emperors, was the son of a common soldier, and began his career in the ranks.

Vergil, whose “Aeneid” is the typical Latin epic, was the son of a small farmer.

James Watt, inventor of the condensing steam-engine, was the son of a small merchant who failed in business.

Cardinal Wolsey, Henry VIII's famous prime minister, was the son a butcher,

spectively, if the stories told of them are true, a hunchback slave and a blind beggar.

Sir Richard Arkwright, inventor of the cotton-spinning frame, was a barber,

John Bunyan, author of “The Pilgrim's Progress," was a traveling tinker.

Robert Burns, Scotland's lyric poet, was the son of a poor nurseryman, and was himself a small farmer and a revenue officer.

Miguel de Cervantes, author of Quixote," was a page and a common soldier.

Christopher Columbus, discoverer of the New World, was a sailor, the son of a woolcomber.

Confucius, the Chinese sage, was a poor boy who began life as a store-keeper.

Captain James Cook, the famous English navigator, was the son of a farm-laborer.

Daniel Defoe, author of "Robinson Crusoe," was the son of a butcher.

Charles Dickens was a label-sticker in a shoe-blacking factory.

Michael Faraday, the famous chemist and physicist, was a journeyman bookbinder, the son of a blacksmith.

Benjamin Franklin a journeyman printer, the son of a tallow-chandler.

Giuseppe Garibaldi, whom Italians revere as their liberator, was the son of a sailor, and was at various times a candlemaker and a small farmer.

Ben Jonson, on whose grave in Westminster Abbey is the famous inscription " ( rare Ben Jonson," was a poor boy, the stepson of a bricklayer.

Edmund Kean, the celebrated tragedian, was the son of a stage-carpenter.



Caprice in Wome wandle Carefully,




It Is a Dangerous Attribute of Feminine Character; for While It May Noss
First Lessen Its Possessor's Circle of Admirers, Sooner or Later

Even the Most Forgiving Will Find It Intolerable.

An original article written for THE SCRAP Book.

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APRICE is the child of selfishness With women, however, the case is very

and of imagination. A capricious different. For the touch of insolence

person is, in the first place, one which is inseparable from caprice in men whose own pleasure or convenience must is absent from women, as a rule, or is so be consulted before the pleasure or con- covered up by other attributes as to make venience of any one else; and imagina- even those who suffer from it quite untion is ever present to depict with vivid- conscious of its real nature. Another reaness the delights and fascinations of the son why woman is permitted to be more thing which is absent or unrealized, as capricious than man is due to the fact contrasted with the thing which is at that those about her view her in a differhand and actual. Hence, the capricious ent light from that in which they view person's mind is a perpetual kaleido- a man. By tradition, and especially in scope, continually turning; and as fast our own country, woman is a being whose as each combination appears and is made wishes in small things (and life is made possible there arises a sudden curiosity up of small things) stand as law to and desire for the next, so that no pleas- almost every one about her. ure, no achievement, and no emotion It is, indeed, one of the finest traits really satisfies, but rather disappoints of the normal man that where a woman and must give way to what is new, or, is concerned he finds far greater pleasure in other words, to something which the in giving than in receiving. A sentiment imagination upon the instant conceives as of chivalry, a manly generosity, a large being better and to whose attainment tolerance, and a love of lending an everselfishness admits the existence of no present protection to that which appeals obstacle.

to him as needing it—these traits all tend Capriciousness, as a marked trait of to foster in the selfish and imaginative character, is far more common in women

an unrestrained and unlimited than in men, and for the reason that it is spirit of caprice. Caprice, indeed, enters necessarily kept under and discouraged into the gift of fascination as an essential by the sort of life that most men have to element. It charms because it supplies lead. Only one who has attained great the attraction of the unexpected, because eminence, and who is, therefore, abso- it affords a continuous succession of litlutely secure of his immediate entourage, tle mental and emotional shocks, because is permitted to be capricious; and by the it piques one's curiosity and keeps one's time that he has reached a position of interest perpetually active and alert, and, such personal irresponsibility as would therefore, because it is the antithesis of lead his associates to regard his caprices the commonplace. When it does not exo as not only pardonable, but even interest- ceed the bounds of reason, and when it is ing, he has gone through such a dis- found united with a certain superficial cipline as both tames his selfishness and sympathy and intelligence, it is very

, , limits and chastens his imagination. charming, and, indeed, it is almost in


separable from the universally accepted asked to do, and is pettishly repulsed for ideal of the fascinating woman.

not understanding through some miracuThe danger of capriciousness lies in lous prevision in just what particular the fact that it seldom remains under direction the ever-present capriciousness control and subordinated to the other will next turn, he will at last be disqualities that ought always to be blended heartened and discouraged, and will find with it, but that by constant exercise it the task of giving pleasure one that quite comes, in the end, to dominate them all, transcends the power of even the most and therefore to make of its possessor a

intuitive and the most devoted. thoroughly impossible and unhappy per- There is nothing so fatal to a perfect son. When a woman becomes so abso- understanding and to perfect love as a lutely given over to caprice that she loses perpetual succession of little checks and all stability of character, all sense of disappointments, which go on and on unobligation, all generosity, and even the til they become expected, and therefore slightest consideration for another, then induce a habit of mind which is either she has reached the stage when, though cynical or unfriendly. That five minshe may still attract and fascinate to a utes' inevitable delay in keeping an apmarvelous degree, she cannot long re- pointment should be allowed to spoil an tain and hold the loyalty of those whom evening's pleasure; or that a brougham even she considers worth retaining. was provided when the capricious person

happened at the moment to prefer a hanThe Limits of a Man's Patience.

som, and that two persons should immediFor there are limits to the patience and ately be out of touch with each other beendurance, and to the blindness, also, of cause of such a trivial mistake; that an even the most tolerant and generous of error in the ordering of a dinner should men; and what at first appears entirely seem to be weighed against the devoted charming will at last repel, when it is service of months and years, and that understood, and when it is stripped of some little turn of phrase should become its disguises, and when it stands forth far more significant than eloquent actions to the disillusioned mind as the most and perpetual self-sacrifice these things wanton selfishness—hideous and heart- in the end become intolerable to any less. All affection, all love, requires in- man; and after a time, whether it be long tervals of repose and rest; and in the or short, he will reach the very sensible presence of capriciousness, repose and rest conclusion that he has been a fool; and are never found. When caprice, at last, that in fostering caprice, which once becomes almost a mania, it spoils all seemed to be a charming thing, he has pleasure, it checks and chills devotion, it only bred a moral monstrosity to ruin and repels enthusiasm, and it wears out even destroy his happiness. the deepest and tenderest affection.

The capricious woman, therefore, is A man may love a woman very dearly; one who is likely always to have admirbut if, after he has studied all her tastes ers, but never for very long a lover who and has done his best to please her, and will be true to her and whose patience has sacrificed his own interests right and will endure forever. Perhaps at last she

. left, and comes to her with

will, if she be very clever, awaken to thing of a glow in his heart and a hope something like a real understanding of that he has deserved a moment's happi- how fatal even to herself is the selfishness, and then discovers that her whole ness that has become the greater part of mental attitude has changed, and that the her very being. And if she once comes very things for which she wished a thoroughly to recognize the real meanlittle while before are now the very ing and the real danger of unlimited things that she dislikes to think about, he caprice she will, before it is too late, cannot help a feeling, which at first is grow weary of herself. If so, she is nothing but a feeling of disappointment, likely at last to accept the control of but which, when it has been many times some one of a very different type from repeated, will become inevitably a feeling those who pampered her, and will end of disgust and disillusion. When he is by becoming the meek and submissive blamed for doing the things that he was plaything of a brute.


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