The excitement and enthusiasm of goldwashing still continues increases from the California Star dated June 10th, 1848, recorded for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. Many of our countrymen are not disposed to do us justice as regards the opinion we have at different times expressed of the employment in which over two-thirds of the white population of the country are engaged. It appears to have gone abroad a belief that we should raise our voices against what someone has denominated an infatuation. We are very far from it and would invite a calm recapitulation of our articles touching the matter, as in themselves, amply satisfactory. We shall continue to report the progress of the work, to speak within bounds, and to approve, admonish, or openly censure whatever in our opinion may require it at our hands. It is quite unnecessary to remind our readers of the prospects of California at this time as the effects of this goldwashing enthusiasm upon the country through every branch of business are unmistakably apparent to everyone. Suffice it that there is no abatement and that active measures will probably be taken to prevent really serious and alarming consequences. Every seaport is far south of San Diego and every interior town and nearly every rancho from the base of the mountains in which the gold has been found to the mission of San Luis south has become suddenly drained of human beings. Americans, Californians, Indians, and sandwich islanders, men, women, and children indiscriminately. Should there be that success which has repaid the efforts of those employed for the last month, during the present and next, as many are sanguine in their expectations and we confess to unhesitatingly believe probably, not only will witness the depopulation of every town, the desertion of every rancho, and the desolation of the once promising crops of the country, but it will also draw largely upon adjacent territories. Awake Sonora and call down upon us, despite her Indian battles, a great many of the good people of Oregon. There are at this time over one thousand souls busy in washing gold and the yield per diem may be safely estimated at from fifteen to twenty dollars each individual. We have by every launch from the Embarcadera of New Helvetia returns of enthusiastic gold seekers heads of families to affect transportation of their households to the scene of their successful labors or others merely returned to more fully equip themselves for a protracted or perhaps permanent stay. Spades, shovels, picks, wooden bowls, Indian baskets for washing, etc. find ready purchase and are very frequently disposed of at extortionate prices. The gold region so called thus far explored is about one hundred miles in length and twenty in width. These imperfect explorations contribute to establish the certainty of the placera extending much further south, probably three or four hundred miles as we before stated, while it is believed to terminate about a league north of the point at which first discovered. The probable amount taken from these mountains since the first of May last we are informed is one hundred thousand dollars and which is at this time principally in the hands of the mechanical, agricultural and laboring classes. There is an area explored within which a body of fifty thousand men can advantageously labor. Without maliciously interfering with each other then there need be no cause for contention and discord whereas yet we are gratified to know there is harmony and good feeling existing. We really hope no unpleasant occurrences will grow out of this enthusiasm and that our apprehensions may be quieted by continued patience and goodwill among the washers. End of article. This recording is in the public domain. American Industry Abroad from the New York Times dated January 11th, 1859. American Industry Abroad, Americans and their inventions and doings in Europe from our own correspondent, Paris, Thursday, December 23rd, 1858. In a late letter I gave you the history of the triumph of certain modifications in surgery introduced into France by American surgeons. I propose today to give you a resume of American Industry Abroad, giving the place of honor on account of its extent to dentistry. I ought to mention first however that Dr. Boyman's operation has been adopted so rapidly that it is declared by the best surgeons of Paris as the only operation to be practiced hereafter for the malady which it is destined to remedy and we thus see a young American surgeon introducing into France and at the great seat of medical science a certain cure for malady which the most distinguished surgeons of two centuries have sought for with but indifferent success. In their notices of Dr. Boyman's operation however, the surgeons who have thus far lectured upon it have not failed to give credit to other surgeons who were more or less successful in the cure of the accident in question. Thus in Europe, Diefenbach and Jobaire have been particularly successful in its treatment. Dr. Jobaire claiming to cure one-third of his cases by a very simple operation. While in America, Dr. Hayward of Boston, as long ago as 1828, performed the operation successfully and to him as due great credit for the modifications he introduced. To Dr. Sims, also of New York, credit is given for his improvements in this operation within late years while the astonishment is expressed that Dr. Sims should so singularly designate himself in a public address as the instrument especially selected by Providence to discover a cure for malady which had been already cured even in his own country while he was yet in his infancy. I ought to mention here also that the practice of local etherization by means of electricity is becoming general as well in surgery as in dentistry. It is felt that all that is required to generalize this practice is a better knowledge of the particular cases to which it is adapted and of the manner of applying it. And regret is expressed by the French surgeons that they have not access to the experiments and the experience of American surgeons. I will not pretend to explain why dentistry in Europe is so far behind that in the United States. It is most singular that in France where surgery and the accessories of the toilet have been brought to the highest perfection, the art of the dentist should have been left so completely in the rear. Until very lately the art was ranked among the lowest of trades. A dentist was in fact but a puller of teeth and one of the commonest expressions in French is even to this day, Elmencom une arrache de Denise. He lies like a dentist or a tooth puller. It was not until American dentists settled in France that the art was at all respected or indeed deserved to be respected. Mr. Brewster was the pioneer of American dentists in Europe. He settled in Paris in 1836 and soon became the dentist of Louis-Philippe, the czar Nicholas and other monarchs. He was bought out by Mr. Thomas W. Evans of Lancaster, Pennsylvania in 1850, who with his brother Theodore now continues the business. These gentlemen not only maintained the position seated them by Dr. Brewster but they have extended it. They are the dentist to the courts of France, Russia, Bavaria, Wertenburg and I believe of Belgium and Saxony. With such high protection it may be readily conceived that the practice of these gentlemen is immense. Besides the legion de monne ran into the elder brother by the emperor of France, both the brothers have received decorations and rich gifts from the other monarchs by whom they are employed. They have just built on the avenue de l'imperatrice, a private residence, which is an ornament to that new and elegant thoroughfare. Mr. James Fowler, formerly a partner of the deceased, Harvey Burdell, afterwards established in Bleaker Street, New York, came to this city four years ago and went into business as a dentist on the Boulevard des Italiens in partnership with a French merchant by the name of Prater, the latter furnishing the funds for the establishment of the house. At the end of three years, however, Mr. Fowler sought and obtained before the tribunals a dissolution of the partnership and at once established a new house in the place de la Madeleine. Since his residence in Paris, this gentleman has made several pieces in gold for the replacement of lost parts, which excited the astonishment and the admiration of the Academy of Medicine and of the entire faculty of Paris. Among these were an entire lower jaw in gold with the teeth affixed, several upper jaws, obturators, etc. Although not new in America, it was the first time any successful attempt of the kind had been made in Europe, and Mr. F is now in the enjoyment of a first-rate reputation and practice. Mr. Prater obtained a workman from the United States of the name of Fowler and is continuing the business at the old place under the name of Fowler and Prater. Mr. Horner of Philadelphia is a partner in the long-established English house in the Rue de Luxembourg, which now bears the name of Stevens, Watson, and Horner. This is the largest and richest dental establishment in the world, its income reaching $60,000 a year. Gold work, however, has only been introduced into this house since the entrance of Dr. Horner. Previously, their artificial pieces were made of hippopotamus and tire and decayed teeth were filled with amalgams, the ancient French and English system. Dr. Gage, formerly of Mobile, has also established himself in Paris as a dentist and like the other is doing a good business. Mr. Potter, an American dentist who has practiced in Bombay and in Lisbon, has been for some years established in this city and lately took into partnership a dentist of New York, Mr. Crane. Dr. Parmley, formerly of New Orleans, an elder brother of Dr. Eleazar Parmley of New York, has been practicing dentistry for three years past upon children in the schools of Paris and London to an attack of typhoid fever followed by partial paralysis disabled him from the active pursuit of his profession. He continues to reside in Paris, however, and gives advice to families and schools in regard to the care of the mouth and young people. A gentleman who announces himself to the public as an American dentist, Dr. Cough, formerly of the United States, late dentist to her majesty the Queen of Spain, has established himself in Paris within a month. Dr. Cough, according to his circular, speaks English, German, Spanish and Swedish, but judging from the doctor's name, we think he ought to have commenced his enumeration of languages with the Swedish. As I was passing rapidly in a carriage a few days ago through an obscure quarter of the Folborg Saint Germain, I had a hasty glance at a sign which had evidently just come from the painter's hands and which bore the words, Dantiste American, preceded by a name of the purest Gallic origin, so you see how the current is running. So widespread is the reputation of American dentistry that the teeth of nearly every monarch in Europe are filled, pulled and replaced by Americans or a Sui de Saint Americans. Thus, as I've already mentioned, the Evans of Paris are the dentists to the courts of France, Russia, Bavaria, Hamburg, and some other smaller states. At Rome, Dr. Burgess, an American, is the principal dentist. At Madrid it is Dr. McKeehan, another American. The principal dentist of Berlin is Dr. Abbott of Bangor, Maine, while the court dentist is a German who studied in America and who calls himself in consequence an American dentist. At Vienna, where it is almost impossible for a foreigner to get permission to do business, Dr. North, also of the state of Maine, has rapidly gained the first position among the aristocracy, although he has not yet arrived at the court. When he first went to Vienna, Mr. North was obliged by the police restrictions from giving any publicity, either by advertisements or by a sign at the door. While stowed away privately in the upper part of a house, wondering whether his enterprise was going to fail or succeed, he was one day surprised at receiving the visit of Prince Liechtenstein, who came to get work done. The American complained of the rigors of the police, and the prince said to him, never mind the police, take a house to suit you, put your sign out, and if they trouble you, come to me. Mr. North did as the prince advised. The prince sent his daughters and others of his relatives and acquaintances, and from that day the fortune of Dr. North was a fixed fact. He numbers now in his protectors not only the Liechtensteins, but the Metternichs and the Schwarzenbergs. In St. Petersburg, the aristocracy employed two Irishmen, brothers, who studied their profession with Dr. Bruce Ripp Paris, and who call themselves American dentists. The principal dentist at Hamburg is Dr. Cohen, who studied in America and calls himself an American dentist. The brother's calendar, who studied dentistry in New York, do the court and the principal business in Stockholm and Christiana, the capitals of Sweden and Norway. There are a few other dentists scattered through the German Confederation, Germans by birth, who receive their professional education in the United States and who call themselves American dentists. At London, Mr. Rahn, an American dentist, has rapidly reached a large practice in exclusively aristocratic families. Another American, whose name I forget, has also arrived at a large practice in London. At Manchester, there has been an American dentist for a good many years. This closes the chapter on dentistry. Two American physicians are in practice in Paris. Dr. Bigelow of Boston and Dr. Belarde of Philadelphia, both graduates of the School of Paris. The latter gentleman, however, is of French origin. He was two years' house physician in the wards of Dr. Trousseau at the Hotel du. Both these gentlemen are doing well, but fortunately for the small American colony in Paris, their business is not confined exclusively to their countrymen. We have no American lawyer in Paris, although we need one, but we have two ministers and two places of worship regularly established. The chapel built by the Americans in the Rue de Berry last year continues under the pastoral charge of the Reverend Mr. Sealy. The Episcopalians, however, have organized a congregation and secured a place of worship in one of the upper rooms of the Church of the Oratoire and the Rue Saint-Honoré. From a dozen members three months ago, this new congregation has reached nearly 100. It is called the American Episcopal Chapel in Paris, and its pastor is the Reverend W. O. Lamson, late of St. Paul's Episcopal Church, New York. The number of American artists now in Paris is extremely limited. Mr. Kellogg is still occupied on Oriental subjects. Mr. White is painting a picture for the state of Maryland, Washington resigning his commission. Mr. May has a variety of subjects on the easel. Mr. Cranch has gone to Italy. Mr. Fagnani, the sculptor late of New York, has fixed himself permanently on the Champs-Elyse and is engaged on buss. Mr. Thompson, the American photographic artist and photographer to the Rothschild family, continues on the Boulevard des Italiens. An American dagrotypist has lately established himself in the Rue de Faubourg Poissonnaire. Of bankers we have in Paris three American houses, John Monroe & Company, Lansing Baldwin & Company, and Green & Company. The latter house, which suspended two years ago, will resume business again the 1st of January at the old place. Place St. George under the title of Vanderbrock, Green & Company. Since the great exhibition of 1855, several American inventions are manufactured on a large scale in France. Of these, the most important are McCormick's and Manny's Reapers, the vulgarized India rubber of Goodyear, which has acquired an immense extension and employs daily several thousand men. The sewing machines of Singer & Grover & Baker & Company, and of Wheeler & Wilson, Tucker's Artificial Marble, Pitt's Threshing Machines, Chamberlain's Court Cutter, and a variety of other inventions. End of article. This recording is in the public domain. The Dakota, a description of one of the most perfect apartment houses of the world. From the New York Times, dated October 22, 1884, recorded for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. From the Daily Graphic, Wednesday, September 10th. Probably not one stranger out of 50 who ride over the elevated roads or on either of the rivers does not ask the name of the stately building which stands west of Central Park between 72nd and 73rd streets. If there is such a person, the chances are that he is blind or near-sighted. The name of the building is the Dakota Apartment House, and it is the largest, most substantial, and most conveniently arranged apartment house of the sort in this country. It stands on the crest of the west side plateau on the highest portion of land in the city and overlooks the entire island and the surrounding country. From the east, one has a bird's eye view of Central Park. The reservoir castle and the picturesque lake, the museums, and the mall are all shown at a glance. From this point also can be seen Long Island Sound in the distance and the Hills of Brooklyn. From the north one looks down on high bridge and the tall reservoir tower, which looks as slender as a needle. From the west can be seen the Palisades, the Orange Mountains, and the Broad Hudson, which narrows into a silver thread as the double row of hills close together far away in the distance. Looking south one sees the tall towers of Brooklyn Bridge, Governor's Island, and far beyond the green hills of Staten Island and the blue waters of the lower bay. Every prominent landmark in the landscape can be distinguished from this location, and the great buildings of the lower city are as prominently marked as if the sightseer were floating over the island in a balloon. At this elevation, every breeze which moves across Manhattan from any direction is felt. This is a feature which needs no emphasis to make attractive such stifling days as these. The building is of the Renaissance style of architecture built of buff brick with carved Nova Scotia-free stone trimmings and terracotta ornamentation. Although there is a profusion of ornament in the shape of bay and octagon windows, niches, balconies, and balustrades with spandrels and panels and beautiful terracotta work and heavily carved cornices, the size and massive construction of the edifice prevent any appearance of superfluity. The building is about 200 feet square and 10 stories high. The upper two stories being in the handsome Mansard roof, which with its peaks and gables surmounted by ornate copperwork, cresting and finials, and relieved by dormer and aureal windows gives the entire structure an air of lightness and elegance. The construction is of the most massive character, and the aim of the owners has been to produce a building monumental in solidity and perfectly fireproof. The brick and mason work is of unusual weight. The walls being in some places four feet thick, and the partitions and flooring have iron beams and framing filled in with concrete and fireproof material. On the 73rd Street side, there is a handsome doorway, and on the 72nd Street front, a fine arched carriage entrance with groin roof and elegant stone carving. Both entrances lead into the inner court from which four separate passages afford access to the interior of the building. From the ground floor, four fine bronze staircases, the metalwork beautifully wrought, and the walls wanes-coated in rare marbles and choice hardwoods, and four luxuriously fitted elevators of the latest and safest construction, afford means of reaching the upper floors. The ladies' sitting room, adjoining the staircase in the southeast corner, will be decorated by the Mrs. Greater Rex, a guarantee that the work upon it will be artistic and unconventional. There are four iron staircases and four elevators enclosed in massive brick walls and extending from the cellar to the kitchens and servants quarters in the upper stories separate from the rest of the house, which can be used for domestic purposes, carrying furniture, merchandise, et cetera. There are electric bells to each elevator and a complete system of electric communication throughout the house. The building is in four great divisions which enclose a courtyard as large as half a dozen ordinary buildings. This gives every room in the house light, sunshine, and ventilation. Under this courtyard is the basement, into which lead broad entrances for the use of tradesmen's teams. Here situated the most interesting portions of the building, or at least the most novel ones. The floor is of Asfaltum, as dry and hard as rock. This basement also has a courtyard as large as the one above and lighted by two huge, lattice manholes which look like a couple of flower beds in the stone flooring. Off of this yard are the storerooms of the house in which the management will store the furniture and trunks of the tenants free of charge. A porter is assigned to this duty alone. The rooms are all marble floored, lighted and heated and accessible at all hours of the day or night. The rooms of the servants are also on this floor. These consist of separate dining and toilet rooms for the male and female servants and a male reading and smoking room. These are not for the personal servants of the tenants but for the general help of the management which will not number far from 150 persons. The laundry, kitchen, pantry and bake shops and private storerooms are here also for the owners combine a hotel with the apartment house and furnish eating facilities for all the tenants of the building who prefer it on the table to hold plan. Opening from the lower court and extending under the open ground in the rear of the building, a large vault, 150 feet long, 60 feet wide and 18 feet deep is now being excavated. When finished, it will contain the steam boilers, steam engines, et cetera for hoisting, pumping, et cetera and the dynamos for supplying electric illumination in the Dakota and adjoining 27 houses. The vault will be roofed with iron beams and brick filling arches and made flush with the land in the rear of the building, 225 feet deep which will be laid out as a garden. The boilers with the furnaces, machinery, et cetera will thus be located outside the walls of the building safely remote. The first floor contains the dining rooms which are finished in a perfect manner. In this case, these words really mean something. The floors are of marble and inlaid. The base of the walls is of English quartered oak carved by hand. The upper portions are finished in bronze base relief work and the ceilings are also quartered oak, beautifully carved. The effect is that of an old English baronial hall with the dingy massiveness brightened and freshened without losing any of its richness. The effect is heightened by a large Scotch brown stone engraved fireplace which ornaments the center of the room. The business office has oral communication with every portion of the house and the wants of the tenants can be attended to as quickly as can be done by human ingenuity and a perfectly arranged service. In addition to the four staircases mentioned before which are finished in bronze and marble, there are four iron staircases for servants, four passenger elevators and four servants elevators. The Dakota will be divided into 65 different suites of apartments each containing from four to 20 separate rooms so that accommodations can be furnished either for bachelors or for large families. There is an air of grandeur and elegance not only about the halls and stairways but also about the separate apartments that cannot probably be found in any other house of this kind in the country. The parlors in some instances are 25 by 40 feet with other rooms in proportion and there are in many cases private halls to the suites furnished with fine bronze mantles, tile hearths and ornamental open fireplaces. The parlors, libraries, reception and dining rooms are all cabinet trimmed, paneled and wanes coated in mahogany, oak and other attractive and durable woods and are furnished with carved buffets and mantles, mirrors, tile hearths and open great fireplaces and parkade floors. The kitchens are spacious and provided with ranges with ventilation hoods all with mint and tiled facing and marble wane scoting. There are porcelain wash tubs, large storerooms and closets and butler's pantries equipped in the most complete manner and each suite has its private bathrooms and closets fitted with the most approved scientific sanitary appliances. The plumbing and hygienic arrangements are fully equal to anything in this country. On the top story are six tanks holding 5,000 gallons of water each and supplied by steam pumps having a daily capacity of 2 million gallons and about 200 miles of pipe have been used in affecting its circulation. Not only in the sanitary appliances but in every other department there is a completeness that is surprising. The precautions taken to secure proper ventilation in a pure atmosphere to ensure safety to occupants in cases of fire or panic and to extinguish fire are perfect. When opened, the comfort and convenience of the guests will be further insured by the accommodations of the dining rooms, laundry and barbershop run to the most improved plan in connection with the building. It is the perfection of the apartment style of living and guarantees to the tenants' comforts which would require unlimited wealth to procure in a private residence. The wisest precautions have been taken to ensure freedom from the ordinary cares of the household to the fortunate tenants. For instance, the coal and kindling wood are purchased by the manager in large quantities and sold to the tenants who take an exchange for their money, tickets which are presented at the office and the fuel is carried to their rooms in convenient quantities thereby saving the user from any of the necessary troubles in buying and storage. This may seem like a small matter but it is only one of the hundred plans taken by the owners to secure the comfort of the tenants. It is almost needless to state that the building is as nearly fireproof as any which can be erected. There are continuous passageways extending through the four divisions on the roof, ninth, eighth and first stories. On the 10th floor, there is provision for a playroom and gymnasium for the children well-lighted and ventilated and commanding a grand view of the city and surroundings while on the ninth floor there will be extra servants' rooms, private laundries and drying rooms, dormitories for transient male and female servants and adages of the building and lavatories, toilet rooms and bathrooms for their use. The work on both the Dakota and the neighboring apartment house and private dwellings owned by the estate has been done not only in the most careful manner but with a view to permanence and convenience and to symmetry as well as beauty of appearance. The greatest skill and experience and the best materials, large means could command have been employed and the manner in which the work in each department has been done reflects the greatest credit on those entrusted with it, especially upon the architect, Mr. H.J. Hardenburg, who has supervised the work from its commencement to its now rapidly approaching completion. Both the Dakota, the private residences and the smaller apartment house are now ready for occupation and we need hardly comment on the peculiar attractions they will possess for those who have experienced a desire for an eligible residence on the west side. The natural and artificial attributes of the position are all in favor of the buildings which for comfort, ample space, celebrity, convenience and accessibility cannot be excelled and a glance that our description will suffice to show that everything skill could furnish, ingenuity and experience suggests has been supplied. The managers of the Clark estate, the owners of the property are well known for their fairness and liberality to tenants and every care will be taken to ensure comfort and well-being. The rents are moderate when compared with the accommodations furnished and those desiring to secure either dwellings or apartments can examine plans, et cetera and make arrangements at the office of the estate at number 25 West 23rd Street, New York. End of article. This recording is in the public domain. Francis Gift accepted from the New York Times dated October 29th, 1886 recorded for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. Francis Gift accepted. Liberty's statue unveiled on Bedelow's Island, a great holiday to be remembered in this city, magnificent land and water parades, imposing ceremonies and the presence of a great multitude mark the occasion. Liberty, 104th of July broke loose yesterday to exalt her name and despite the calendar rolled themselves into a delirious and glorious one. At daybreak, the city stirred nimbly and flung a million colors to the heavy air for the cloud king had covered the heavens and moved upon the waters. But she plumed herself and showered, scarlet and snow and azure and gold, defying the skies to darken her festival. Then streamed the people, convergent rivers of life, hurrying and sweeping through a thousand channels to the path of the pageant. There, eddying or gathered or running counter to the onward tide till the great thoroughfares overflowed and billows of humanity surged crosswise and splashed sprays of small boys to every ledge and cornice and accessible foothold till the very lampposts were crowded and the doomed telegraph poles creaked with their burden. There was no solemnity. The clerk of the weather had done his miserable best to make things gloomy and forbidding, but American spirit rose to the occasion, bubbling with enthusiasm and frolic and would have none of the dampness thrust upon it by the changeful wind or the sloppiness beneath. By eight o'clock the plot thickened and the blare of bugles, the jolting of caseon and gun, the measured tread of regiment after regiment swinging into line, the clash of arms and the captain's sharp cry, the throbbing roar of a hundred drums louder and nearer all spoke of busy preparation for the peaceful march of glorious war. And about this time the prevailing features of the scenery were drum majors in our perorius bands. It seemed to have rained brass bands during the night and hailed gorgeousness with no drainage to carry the surplus away. There were bands of 70 pieces and bands of seven, bands striped and feathered and zoned and trimmed and buttoned galore, not a square inch of plainness visible on any tooting tooton from top to toe. Bands somber and sad and thin, looking as though they had been packed away in a damp trunk sometime about the centennial with no camphor and it just emerged somewhat moldy and careworn and little moth-eaten but amazingly enthusiastic and discordant. Bands from every armory, theater and dance hall in the city. Wendy bands from Boston with vociferous horns. Mild bands from Buffalo with a dropsicle tuba that cadence the march with immeasurably abysmal grunts. Bands from Hoboken and Newark, each man throwing his whole soul into a different tune. Bands from Sing Sing and Poughkeepsie in Newberg, each man throwing his whole soul into no tune at all. Bands from Albany that ought to have been poisoned or blown up on the way, squealing and wheezing their excited course through the maddened air. Bands from Washington that could be heard a mile. Bands from Philadelphia that couldn't be heard at all and seemed merely to be going through the motions but doing their best. Bands proud and bands humble. Bands full and bands skimpy. They tooted and whistled and shrieked, more and more coming each minute and still they came. And the drum majors. If there is anything in appearance, the pay of a drum major must be $64,000 a year and he ranks the commander in chief. He is nickel plated in his humblest places and gilded and embroidered and furred the rest. Then Baldrick and Belt and Scarf and Aguiletto and Draped and Gerdet about and with baton and sword of peerless burnish he is dazzlingly complete. Where is the major general? Asked the small boy. Dunno, dares the drum major. Take the drum major in his pride, nine feet high and four thick and swelling as he comes. Nothing moves till he stirs. The serried line is at rest. The captain's chatting, the men at ease. The horn's big and little and the band are still and the unwalled drum is asleep. Suddenly the drum major stiffens. All is instant commotion. Ten shunt, Cree hump. The muskets are lifted together. Horn's big and little are raised. A pause and 30 puckers hold the band in a spell and the athletic gentleman with the buckskin potato masher prepares to administer a soul-stirring thump to the jumbo drum. The drum major lifts his baton. The puckers increase and apoplexy is imminent. He gives it a flip and a twirl, bang, boom. A womb, snort, rattle and bray from the horns altogether and the pageant moves for show the drum major has willed and glittering general and staff, the prancing steeds and steady legions, the music and feathers and lace and flash of ominous steel, three miles of obsequious glory tread in his train. From the roof of the post office yesterday, the scene was beautiful, bewildering and impressive. The very darkness of the day seemed but to make each color brighter and the great street was gay from the teeming square to where it turns at the marble spire and is lost to view. A thousand flags and streamers, banners and devices pendant and glowing to brighten the scene. Thick as an angry anthill, swarmed every foot of roadway and window and staircase and roof were crowded to see. Suddenly the clatter of hoofs and a sharp command and obedient the multitudes parted. Then the flowing of that river of color and sparkle, brighter and brighter as it neared, the air trembling to the tones of sonorous brass and the brigade strode proudly by, regulars in our own with troops from sister states sending tribute to honor the day. Two miles of these and then the societies of the children of France, then the judges and governors, the mayors, the veterans of wars whose memory we cherish for the heroes they gave us, the police of Philadelphia and Brooklyn, the carriage of the father who gave us liberty, knights of Pythias and Templars and then amid a whirlwind of cheers, the volunteer fire laddies, red-shirted and haughty, dragging the precious relic of struggles and glories long dead and half forgotten. Like a comet, the pageant burned its way and swept seaward dissolving like a dream. Then the wild rush for the river and bay where the mighty statue stood facing the east. Sullen the sky and tumultuous the waters, but little cared they that went down in the ships or they that throng the sea wall and wharf with expectant eyes. The clouds had lowered till the gray and gray commingled. From the battery the island and the statue were shrouded in mist. The hurrying thousands stopped and stared upon the driving vapor, then laughed and pressed onward to find ferry or tug or steamer or barge. Philosophers of the school of forethought brought rod and bait and tackle, ranged themselves along the string piece and merrily yanked the shining squilgy from the vasty deep. Adventurous souls chartered wary or dingy and tumbled about on the waves like a cockle, narrowly missing this paddle wheel to encounter that and earning many of frenzied pilots' blessing. There stole a white-winged yacht like a ghost coming and vanishing and coming again. Huge steamers swept in stately silence to the main. Here, there, and everywhere moved the ferries and the passenger boats whose machinery seemed perpetually reaching down into the cabin for something it never quite succeeded in fetching up, all black with humanity. Now lifted the brooding cloud for a moment and showed the ships of war, brilliant with bunting, pointing to the tide, the island, the waiting goddess, 100 plunging tugs and speeding yachts and saucy launches, each a mass of flustering color then the cloud dropped again and they were hidden. Unseen tugs bellowed horse warnings and were answered. Fog horns brayed from the crawling schooners, the throb of coming paddles was heard and nothing seemed but a gliding shadow. Now it pleased the skies to drizzle and wilt the enthusiastic citizen's collar and huddle him wherever shelter was afforded. Then a puff of sudden wind drove the comfort from his bones and invested him with a chill. It was dismal sightseeing by the water's edge and strong rhetoric was in favor. Suddenly above the signal shrieking of the watchful pilots came a new and more maddening den. Something had broken loose and plenty of it.  Now all was bustle, crowds hurried to the gangways and embarked, the hozzers were lifted from the piles, the pilots spun the wheel to starboard and blew a long and terrible blast. A hidden bell tinkled somewhere. There was a muffled roar and a beating of waters. The salt air took new vigor and the waves rolled swifter and more darkly by. The city had vanished. Again the whimsical wind withdrew the veil and the naval pageant startled the eye. Twenty abreast the four running tugs casting the white spume high from their bowels and thrusting the billows a sighting contempt, shrieking as only tugs can, snorting and coughing, sea devils that they are, out for a frolic and no work and determined for this day to paint the harbor red. Behind them huge bulks move stately, steamers bearing their thousands, scowls plebian and yachts aristocratic, dredges fresh from delving, nondescripts fish from some aboriginal canal, proud warriors of the sea, ferry boats, freighters, coasting steamers and rivercraft, everything that could float and move was there, a world of shipping, flying every flag the ocean knows. Such a tooting and bellowing and churning as whip the waters about the island into yeast as they took their places has never in the wildest pilot stream been seen before and a hundred collisions impended at once and were averted by that neat churn in the nick of time which only these tricksters of the wheel understand. For a moment more the clouds relented and showed the city's spires, the grows of Staten Island, the marvelous bridge, the grim old fort, the peerless sweep of river, the clustered heights of Brooklyn and Jersey, the stretch of water through the narrow seaward and all the pomp and bustle of the greatest harbor in the world, then like a pall fast settling shrouded all, again nothing but the throng of shipping, nervous shifting expectant and the mighty figure with the lifted torch. The time had come, from out the hedging vapors clamored a shrill voice for right of way and the dispatch drove at full speed through the frightened tugs in and out the ranks of the men of war and came to rest. Then from the flagship the quick gleam and shock of the salute taken up and re-echoed, gun after gun to honor the chief of the nation. Then a lull and a silence, the fleet rocking sleepily on the swell, all eyes were fixed upon the veil which hid the mighty face. Half an hour passed, suddenly it dropped and the majesty of the goddess was seen. Thunder after thunder shook cloud and sea, the brazen voice of steam lifted its utmost clamors, colors dipped, men cheered and women applauded, the sounds from the sea were hurled back from the land. Bell spoke to Bell and cannon to cannon till all men of the thousands gathered in her honor knew that liberty had been given and received. End of article, this recording is in the public domain. Another murder in White Chapel, from the times of London, dated September 1st, 1888. Recorded for LibberVox.org by Leanne Howlett. Another murder of the foulest kind was committed in the neighborhood of White Chapel in the early hours of yesterday morning, but by whom and with what motive is it present a complete mystery? At a quarter to four o'clock, police constable Neal, 97J, when in Buck's Row, White Chapel, came upon the body of a woman lying on a part of the footway and on stooping to raise her up in the belief that she was drunk, he discovered that her throat was cut almost from ear to ear. She was dead but still warm. He procured assistance and at once sent to the station and for a doctor. Dr. Llewellyn of White Chapel Road, whose surgery is not above 300 yards from the spot where the woman lay, was aroused and at the solicitation of a constable dressed and went at once to the scene. He inspected the body at the place where it was found and pronounced the woman dead. He made a hasty examination and then discovered that besides the gash across the throat, the woman had terrible wounds in the abdomen. The police ambulance from the Bethnal Green Station having arrived, the body was removed there. A further examination showed the horrible nature of the crime, there being other fearful cuts and gashes and one of which was sufficient to cause death apart from the wounds across the throat. After the body was removed to the mortuary of the parish and Old Montague Street, White Chapel, steps were taken to secure, if possible, identification, but at first with little prospect of success. The clothing was of a common description, but the skirt of one petticoat and the band of another article bore the stencil stamp of Lambeth Workhouse. The only articles in the pockets were a comb and a piece of a looking glass. The latter led the police to conclude that the murdered woman was an inhabitant of the numerous lodging houses of the neighborhood and officers were dispatched to make inquiries about as well as other officers to Lambeth to get the matron of the workhouse to view the body with a view to identification. The latter, however, could not identify and said that the clothing might have been issued any time during the past two or three years. As the news of the murder spread, however, first one woman and then another came forward to view the body and at length it was found that a woman answering the description of the murdered woman had lodged in a common lodging house, 18th Rall Street, Spittle Fields. Women from that place were fetched and they identified the deceased as Polly, who had shared her room with three other women in the place on the usual terms of such houses, nightly payment of four pence each, each woman having a separate bed. It was gathered that the deceased had led the life of an unfortunate while lodging in the house, which was only for about three weeks past. Nothing more was known of her by them, but that when she presented herself for her lodging on Thursday night, she was turned away by the deputy because she had not the money. She was then the worst for drink but not drunk and turned away laughing saying, I'll soon get my DOS money, see what a jolly bonnet I've got now. She was wearing a bonnet, which she had not been seen with before and left the lodging house door. A woman of the neighborhood saw her later. She told the police, even as late as 2.30 on Friday morning and White Chapel Road, opposite the church and at the corner of Osborne Street and at a quarter to four, she was found within 500 yards at the spot murdered. The people of the lodging house knew her as Polly, but at about half past seven last evening, a woman named Marianne Monk at present and inmate of Lambeth Workhouse was taken to the mortuary and identified the body as that of Marianne Nichols, also called Polly Nichols. She knew her, she said, as they were inmates of the Lambeth Workhouse together in April and May last, the deceased having been passed there from another workhouse. On the 12th of May, according to Monk, Nichols left the workhouse to take a situation as servant at Ingleside Wandsworth Common. It afterwards became known that Nichols betrayed her trust as domestic servant by stealing three pounds from her employer and absconding. From that time, she had been wandering about. Monk met her, she said, about six weeks ago when herself out of the workhouse and drank with her. She was sure that deceased was Polly Nichols and having twice viewed the features as the body lay in the shell maintained her opinion. So far, the police have satisfied themselves but as to getting a clue to her murderer, they express little hope. The matter is being investigated by Detective Inspector Aberline of Scotland Yard and Inspector Helsen, J Division. The latter states that he walked carefully over the ground soon after eight o'clock in the morning and beyond in the discolorations ordinarily found on pavements, there was no sign of stains. Viewing the spot where the body was found, however, it seemed difficult to believe that the woman received her death wounds there. The police have no theory with respect to the matter except that a gang of Ruffians exists in the neighborhood which blackmailing women of the unfortunate class takes vengeance on those who do not find money for them. They base that surmise on the fact that within 12 months, two other women have been murdered in the district by almost similar means. One is recently as the 6th of August last and left in the gutter of the street in the early hours of the morning. If the woman was murdered on the spot where the body was found, it is impossible to believe she would not have aroused the neighborhood by her screams. Buck's Row being a street tenanted all down one side by a respectable class of people superior to many of the surrounding streets. The other side having a blank wall bounding a warehouse. Dr. Llewellyn has called the attention of the police to the smallness of the quantity of blood on the spot where he saw the body and yet the gashes in the abdomen laid the body right open. The weapon used would scarcely have been a sailor's jackknife but a pointed weapon with a stout back such as a cork cutter's or shoemaker's knife. In his opinion, it was not an exceptionally long bladed weapon. He does not believe that the woman was seized from behind in her throat cut but thinks that a hand was held across her mouth and the knife then used possibly by a left handed man as the bruising on the face of the deceased is such as would result from the mouth being covered with the right hand. He made a second examination of the body in the mortuary and on that based his conclusion but will make no actual post-mortem until he receives the coroner's orders. The inquest is fixed for today. End of article. This recording is in the public domain. The White Chapel Crime from the New York Times dated July 18th, 1889. Recorded for LibreBox.org by Leanne Howlett. London, July 17th. The woman whose body was found in Castle Alley in the White Chapel district last night was a middle-aged female of the disreputable class. Her throat had been cut to the spine. When the body was found it was lying on its back. The abdomen had been slashed on a horrible manner in several places. No part of the body was missing. Warm blood was flowing from the wounds when the body was discovered. A policeman who with the watchmen of an adjacent warehouse must have been within a few yards of the spot when the crime was committed, heard no noise. Policemen have been placed at fixed points in White Chapel since the murders of this character began there. And since the one preceding that of last night, officers have been stationed at a point within a hundred yards of the scene of the last tragedy. An old clay pipe smeared with blood was found alongside the body. It is supposed by the police that this will furnish a clue to the murderer, although it may have belonged to the victim. Several arrests of suspected persons have been made, but they were discharged from custody. There being no proof on which to hold them. It is stated that a letter was received by the police officials before last night's murderer in White Chapel signed Jack the Ripper, in which the writer said that he was about to resume his work. End of article. This recording is in the public domain. White Chapel crimes and French elections from the New York Times, dated July 21st, 1889. Recorded for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. Gossip of the Day Abroad, White Chapel Crimes and French Elections by the commercial cable from our own correspondent. London, July 20th. This sinister revival of the White Chapel Butcheries has not specially excited the well-to-do parts of London, where in fact it seems to be taken as an interesting variation upon the midsummer monotony of existence. But people who saw something of the slums in the east and south parts of the metropolis last night will never forget the unprecedented and terrible spectacle. Thousands of the lowest gutter type of street women were drunk in very bravado. All the refuse population of countless stews was swarming aimlessly from one gin shop to another, shouting, quarreling and shrieking hideous jokes. Many hunters of extra police, seemingly more stolid, heavy-footed and thick-witted than ever, pushed their pompous way through the throngs, and nobody talked or thought for a moment about anything but Jack the Ripper. During the night, there were two or three murderous attempts made on women with knives. But in an investigation, these all turned out to be ordinary regulation of phrase between drunken sailors and harpies who sought to pick their pockets. And in each case, after furious attempts by the maddened crowds to lynch them, the prisoners were released from the station houses. The afternoon papers shamelessly traded on the rumors born of one of these arrests and placarded the streets with staring posters of the arrest and full confession of Jack the Ripper hours after the falsity of the report had been established. It takes an event like this to show the London press and London police at their very worst, and it would be hard to say in the present instance, which is the least adorable. There seems to be no more prospect now than there was a year ago that the remarkable criminal who is committing these murders will be detected unless it be by chance. Mr. Parnell's wildly enthusiastic reception at Edinburgh yesterday and today cannot be minimized by the fact that a considerable minority of the Burgesses make a written protest against the freedom of the city being conferred on him, any more than the diminution of the Tory majority by nearly 1,000 in the East Merrillabone Division of London yesterday can be explained away. The home rule tide has clearly not been checked by the recent sensational occurrences in the Parnell Commission. It is still rising, and it is likely to gather new strength by the fierce dissension which has risen over the question of fresh grants to the royal family. This is a subject on which it has always been easy to raise the bile of the electorate, and more than ordinary virulence has been given to the present agitation by the open bad faith of the Queen's advisors. End of article, this recording is in the public domain. Another London murder from The New York Times dated September 11th, 1889. Recorded for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. London, September 10th. At 5.30 o'clock this morning, a policeman found the body of a fallen woman lying at the corner of a railway arch on Cable Street, Whitechapel. The head and legs had been cut off and carried away, and the body opened. Policemen passed the spot every 15 minutes. Those on duty last night say they saw nothing suspicious. The manner in which the limbs had been severed from the body shows that the murderer was possessed of some surgical skill. The woman was about 30 years old. There was no blood on the ground where the body was found. Neither was there any blood on the body. From this, it is evident that the murder was committed in some other place. It is believed that the woman had been dead for two days. The body has not been identified. Three sailors who were sleeping under the arch next to the one under which the body was found were taken into custody by the police. They convinced the authorities, however, that they had seen or heard nothing of a suspicious nature, and they were discharged. End of article. This recording is in the public domain. World's Fair Annoyances. From the New York Times, dated May 22nd, 1893. Recorded for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. World's Fair Annoyances. Visitors made as uncomfortable as they well could be. Impossible to get anything decent to eat or drink at Jackson Park, even at outrageous prices, extortionate charges for common necessities, the exposition officials guilty of disgraceful mismanagement, Chicago people have overreached themselves. Chicago, May 21st. Several weeks having elapsed since the opening of the fair, it is interesting to note what the impression concerning the exposition as an institution is, based on the sensations experienced in that short time. The consensus of opinion is that, so far as the exposition proper is concerned, it will be in a few weeks more thoroughly complete, comprehensive, and satisfactory, and there the high opinion of it stops. No such impression of the incidence of the exhibitions in the various buildings exists. The same confidence is not reposed in the management of the grounds, the hygienic and sanitary conditions, and the general comfort of visitors. Individually, in other words, the exhibits in the main buildings will be all that could be asked, but collectively, when all the things which go to make up the grand aggregate are considered, the fair is in many respects a disappointment. This disappointment is not because of a lack of stupendous and marvelous things, but rather through the poor facilities for enjoying and studying them. A spectacle may be ever so gorgeous or unparalleled, but people want to feel comfortable properly to appreciate it. There is no great pleasure in looking at fireworks if the spectator is chilled through or ill. So also much of the pleasure to be derived from the splendid showing of the world's fair is turned to gall and wormwood, at least for the people of ordinary means, by the manifest and palpable disadvantages and drawbacks which beset them at every step. The greatest of these is, of course, the great problem of food. How can a man be lifted up and improved by art when he studies the masters of France, England, and Holland on an empty stomach? How can he have great and beautiful ideas during the process of digesting a sandwich made of staff and donuts that would sink an armor-clad cruiser? There is no hope that the food at the world's fair will ever be better or lower in price than it is now. The pretense of the management that they would stop extortion was not conceived in good faith and was practically not executed at all. The only effect was to cause one restaurant to mark down its prices five cents here and 10 cents there. The prices were high enough to stand a reduction of five and 10% and still remain outrageously high. A New York Times correspondent has tested this matter of restaurant food and prices by visiting each day a different eating place and the result was sufficient to justify the unequivocal condemnation of the concession system which permits the most reprehensible features of a monopoly. The claim of the concessionaires that they paid a large bonus and must give the world's fair a varying percentage of gross profits does not justify the condition of things that exists so far as the public is concerned. It merely makes the world's fair management a party to petty robbery and shifts the responsibility where it doubtless belongs. In no eating place is it possible to get enough food to satisfy ordinary hunger for such a price as prevails in the best city restaurants for a thoroughly satisfactory meal. The German places were looked to to serve good food at moderate prices but they are as bad if not worse than the French and the American. When two indifferent Frankfurter sausages, a tablespoon full of sauerkraut, two slices of bread and a piece of butter cost 60 cents. The larceny is very little less than that of the French restaurateur who extorts the same price for a sandwich and a cup of coffee. In the Vienna cafe, a midway place-sance, when a man orders a bowl of soup, roast veal and bread and butter, he pays $1.35 for it and no potatoes go with the veal either. It is utterly out of the question eating the lunches served at the regular lunch counters where the sandwiches are kept for a week and the beer and coffee are unspeakably bad. In one lunchroom, a hungry and tired woman must stand up at a counter and pay not less than 50 cents for what would cost 20 cents and be much better downtown. In a Turkish restaurant, two pint bottles of beer and two infantessimal caviar sandwiches cost 90 cents. The story of the proprietor of this place fixes the blame where it belongs and is a sample of the tale of woe of every other concessionaire at the World's Fair. He is an Italian, long resident in Constantinople. He said, I paid to Mr. Levy who has a concession for all things Turkish, $6,000 for permission to conduct the only Turkish restaurant and 15% of the gross profits besides. What he pays the World's Fair management, I do not know but it is a large sum. I brought from Constantinople many rich and costly pieces of tapestry to furnish the restaurant and my expenses so far have been $3,000. I have not taken in $15 and I have been open nearly a week. To make money on an expenditure of $15,000 for a place 30 by 20 feet, I should have done a large business from May 1st. There was, however, delay of the most trying kind in getting the cafe open and now the people will not come. It is so everywhere. The people will not eat in the World's Fair grounds. I cannot say I blame them but it is not our fault.  We must make it up by high charges or lose what we have invested. The policy of the management and the matter of food is duplicated in catalogs, steam launches, gondolas, rolling chairs, typewriters. In short, everything one is obliged or is not obliged to bring or hire. The exclusive concession to one typewriter company results in a man paying $2.25 to have 10 letters written and he can't get it done any cheaper because no competition is permitted. Such a policy in the opinion of pretty much everybody is short-sighted. It may be true that people can bring their lunches or get a late breakfast and leave the grounds for an early dinner but some people cannot do either and must eat on the grounds. Neither it may be said does one have to hire a rolling chair or pay 50 cents to go from one station to another in a steam launch. They can walk however tired they may be but for the thousands whom business not pleasure calls to the fair, this is poor consolation. The post office in the world's fairgrounds is likewise a delusion and a snare. Collections are made about four times a day but it requires the better part of a day to get mail from the post office in the fairground to the Chicago post office where it must go to be sorted and distributed. It would seem that it should be sorted at Jackson Park and that time saved. There are enough inconveniences to the person who visits Jackson Park on business or pleasure to make a reverse side to the picture which portrays the beauties of the world's fair. This reverse side becomes more emphatic when it is known that the management dines and wines almost daily on the representation that this is necessary to promote foreign and domestic interest in an exhibition which should enlist that interest by other means it would seem and that it makes up the expenses thus incurred by extorting money from concessionaires who in turn must get it back from the people. No wonder the bottom has dropped out of the golden expectations of so many Chicagoans who had no doubt whatever of making tremendous fortunes from the people who came from elsewhere. There has been the biggest slump imaginable in the hotel, the restaurant and other lines which would be pitiable to look upon but for the greed which has been displayed. So far there have been no big fortunes made. Several small ones are being lost. The hotels are not one third full and half the new ones are not open yet. Of course when warm weather comes if that ever does more people will come to the fair but Chicago made preparations to entertain 500,000 strangers a day and the largest number ever seen in Chicago yet has been much less than 100,000. And somehow the better class of people cannot blame their fellow citizens of other cities for entertaining their own opinions about the fair. The fault found is in no case with exhibitors, states or nations. It is with the management that takes from the people and gives in return only what it feels it has to give to get them to come. That extracts enormous sums from foreigners on gilded representations of tremendous immediate returns and takes its time about giving them lights and decent roads that is constantly in a snarl with somebody in which to a man up a tree presents the most palpable evidence of either incompetency, willful neglect or something worse. Time and pleasant weather may cure some of the world's fairs defects but they will not reduce food prices, heal the sores of exhibitors whose wares are left unprotected from the ravages of the elements and thieves nor remedy the grave mistakes that have already been made and must of necessity have effects which will be lasting on their influence on the complete success of the exposition. The white buildings can scarcely with all their architectural charms make amends for the unesthetic appearance of the popcorn and chair booths nor the great exhibits themselves entirely dispel the tired feeling which there are no benches to believe. Since President Cleveland pressed the telegraph key on the platform of the grandstand May 1st the ruling powers appear to have been stricken with apathy and as far as a complete exposition is concerned it appears to be as far in the future now as it did the first day. They seem to have been paralyzed by the poachety of performances besides the plethora of promise. Their expectations had been keyed up to such a pitch that anything less than a complete fulfillment of them struck them as no fulfillment at all. And there can be no question that the reason the people have not flocked to Chicago as it was confidently expected they would is to be found in the existence of conditions that the management of the fair could have prevented if they would. It may be too late to change them now but as they made a mistake in accepting $2,500,000 from Congress on the terms imposed they may find that they will have to revoke a few other contracts in order to restore confidence and convince the world that existing arrangements are not all one-sided as against the people and in favor of a corporation of Chicago capitalists. The latter has all along labored under the big disadvantage of mistaking the intemperate enthusiasm of Chicago's hotel keepers and small businessmen and the schemers of the Chamber of Commerce, Unity and other 16 story buildings for the sentiment of the American people. The latter differ with the Chicago boomers on the good judgment of declaring an exhibition complete a month before it is nearly finished and bringing people from long distances at great expense to spend money in Chicago in order to be able to go away and say they did not see the exposition. Yet this small section of Chicago's citizenry is getting its reward for overzealousness. The failure of banks will and the judgment of many be followed by collapses and other if smaller lines and it is safe to say that Chicago has already learned enough to build her next exposition on something more substantial than wind and sand. End of article. This recording is in the public domain. Memorial notices, Mr. Oscar Wilde. From the Guardian Unlimited, dated December 1st, 1900. Recorded for liverbox.org by Leanne Howlett. Mr. Oscar Wilde died at Paris last Friday in his 45th year. He was the son of Sir William Wilde, an imminent Irish surgeon and his mother was a woman of considerable literary ability. In 1874, he entered Magdalene College, Oxford, where he won his two firsts in the classical school and also the Newtogate Prize for English verse. But the bent of his mind was not academic or scholarly. Even while he was at Oxford, he was the most prominent leader in the new aesthetic movement as it was called. The asceticism of the day was largely a misreading of the spirit of Hellenism. The modern world is apt to draw false antithesis between the good and the pleasant and to make hard and fast distinctions between the moral, intellectual and physical sides of life. The Greek knew nothing of this antithesis. Moral and physical excellence were alike, beautiful. Moral and physical defects were alike, ugly. Hence the philosophic basis of the new aesthetic movement or cult of the beautiful. The beautiful in life was the only thing worth pursuing. Ugliness was a thing to be avoided. Of course, there is a degree of truth in all this, but the fallacy of the aesthetic doctrine of that day, as many understood it, was that it narrowed down the comprehensive Greek ideal of beauty to mere physical or material beauty. The extravagances of the aesthetic school are almost forgotten now, but it's warped in one sided philosophy was not born with wild nor has it died with him. He had great literary gifts. His romance, the picture of Dorian Gray, which embodies his philosophy of asceticism is a book of unmistakable tragic power. In 1892, he appeared as a writer of comedies with Lady Windermere's fan. This was followed by a woman of no importance and an ideal husband. His plays were witty, paradoxical and perverse. There was little variety in the characterization, but the work in other respects was technically admirable. In 1895, Wild disappeared from public life. Two years later on his release from prison, he published The Ballad of Redding Gao, perhaps his most powerful piece of writing. Wild's life is one of the saddest in English literature. His abilities were sufficient to win him an honored place as a man of letters, but they struggled in vain against his lack of character. End of article. This recording is in the public domain. How to Dress in the Water by Evelyn Sharp. From The Guardian Unlimited, dated May 26th, 1906. Recorded for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. How to Dress in the Water by Evelyn Sharp. There is a universal idea in England, shared even by the traveled, that the sea bathing of France is superior to ours. I think this only means that we find it more amusing to bathe in French than in English surrounding, for there is really not much in the French bathing arrangements that is worthy of imitation over here. In some French seaside places, Calais for instance, the arrangements are much the same as ours. One bathes from a machine, as at Marguerite or anywhere else, and the tide goes out so far that after a warning shot from outside of Attention, Civil Play, the bather finds himself jolted and bumped over the sand till he is conveyed with luck to a depth of three feet of water, beyond which is only possible to wait after an argument with a presiding Neptune and yellow oil skin, who blows a tin trumpet and screams at any hardy swimmer who is out of his depth. At most places though, France certainly supplies the little lathe and canvas huts so highly admired by the English visitor. I suppose because it is distinctly French, and therefore suggestive of summer holidays, for I can think of no better reason. The only difference I can see between the bathing machine and the bathing hut is that the one is movable and the other fixed, and the latter is a doubtful advantage when the hut is placed high up on the beach. I have always found both equally uncomfortable, stuffy and ill-lighted, and I have never been able to understand why neither is improved by the simple method of making the roof of ground glass and inserting a skylight in it. The solitary advantage enjoyed by French over English sea baths resolves itself into the tub of hot water supplied at the former, for which one has to pay twice over, first in the form of a ticket and secondly in that of a tip. The fact is it is very difficult to make ideal bathing arrangements for the million. The only enjoyable way to bathe is to live on the seashore, use one's bedroom for a machine, and swim whenever inclined. I admit this is not meet the requirements of the mass of summer holiday bathers, but then. I am never really convinced that the summer holiday bathers want to bathe as much as they pretend they do. I am not referring to swimmers. They never bathe in the summer holiday sense. They go out before breakfast without talking about it and return with an appetite that commands respect for their silence. They do not discuss the state of the water and the temperature. They do not shudder with the fearful joy at the side of breakers. They do not spend half the morning waiting for a bathing machine with a sneaking hope that they will not get one and the other half five minutes subtracted for the bathe and dressing themselves with numbed fingers. It would be interesting to know how many people can stand shivering on the steps of a bathing machine without wishing it were all over and that they were dry and dressed again. I know the alleged reason for sea bathing is that it makes you feel so well afterwards, but so does any unpleasant experience merely by force of contrast. It has never seemed to me an argument for going to prison, for instance. However, the summer holiday world really thinks it likes bathing and for that reason, the dress in which it bathes becomes of some consequence. In France, the quality of the bathing dress is higher than in England, though I have seen as ugly visions at Balone as at Folkstone and as charming ones at Folkstone as at Balone. Still, mixed bathing, solely becoming general over here, has always existed in France and this has naturally made the French costume of more importance. At the same time, some of the best costumes I have seen on either side of the water have been worn by English women and I think this is because the English woman, being by instinct more of a sportswoman than her French sister, would not sacrifice utility to appearances quite so much and at the same time, having once grasped the necessity of being charmingly as well as practically clad in the water, will attain both ideals the more successfully of the two. I do not mean by this that English swimming is necessarily better than French. From what I have seen of both, there is little to choose between them and some of the best diving I ever saw was done at Dip, largely by the natives. But there is this difference between them. The French woman who cannot swim simply does not bother about it. She frankly bathes in a few inches of surf and spends her time conversing with her friends on the beach. The English woman, on the other hand, always keeps up the fiction that she is there to swim and, if she can do nothing better, stands with one foot on the ground and does the arm stroke, getting quite a respectable distance by a series of little hops and deceiving no one. Therefore, the least skillful of English bathers has some regard for the practical side of her costume, just as the most skillful of French swimmers has some regard for the appearance of hers and there is not the least reason why a bathing dress should not be practical as well as becoming. In the shops they are, as a rule, neither one nor the other and I should strongly advise feminine bathers, if possible, to make their costumes at home. The ready-made dress is nearly always made of surge, a fairly good material for the purpose as it does not shrink or cling or tear, but even when very fine, wet surge becomes heavy. For bathing in public, a dress has to contain so much material that its texture, since it is to be saturated with water, becomes of the first importance. For those who can afford it, I should unhesitatingly recommend taffeta silk of the strongest kind. The prettiest and most serviceable bathing dress I have seen, worn at Dieppe by an English girl, was in black taffeta and would satisfy every requirement of the woman who wants to swim and look well at the same time. It was light, strong, did not sling, looked the same wet or dry and dried quickly when exposed to the air. I cannot speak with experience of its wearing possibilities, but this one saw the season out at Dieppe and taffeta should wear as well as most materials have chosen carefully. We cannot all afford silk costumes, however, and Italian cloth makes a very good substitute. This wears well, I know, retains its glossy appearance when wet and is not heavy, besides being both cheaper and lighter than surge. I must confess, though, that it is inclined to cling when drenched with water, an objection that cannot be urged against bunting, another excellent material for a bathing costume. Bunting repels rather than holds the water and although light and loosely woven is as strong as can be desired, in dark blue it is very successful and the cost is small. I should always be inclined to recommend dark rather than light colors for the water and personally have a great preference for black, though red can be effective enough if the wearer can rely upon keeping her color when bathing. There is as little variety and the shape is in the material of the ready-made bathing dress and here again it seems as though it has been designed neither for use nor for appearance.  It has stuffy tight sleeves which impede the swimmer by cutting her arms horribly. It is made in two pieces, the bodice and skirt being combined in a shapeless tunic that more than reaches the knee but is not long enough to hide the baggy knickerbockers that protrude below it as in early Victorian pictures of little girls. Now nothing ever devised by a dressmaker could well be more unbecoming than a garment that ends well below the knee. A figure of perfect Greek proportions could not be clothed in it and stand the test. Yet it is so easy to design and make a pretty bathing dress. To begin with, the bodice and knickerbockers should be combined into one garment, fastening on the shoulders. The short circular skirt, well gored, should be put on separately. The knickerbockers must end above the knee and the skirt reach to the knee and not an inch lower. Any disinclination to show the knee can easily be obviated by the wearing of stockings which is very generally done abroad and adds a finish to the costume without impeding the swimmer. Sailor collars, even when stitched firmly all round, give a high-shouldered appearance which should be avoided. An ordinary turned-down short collar could take its place or the dress might be finished off round the neck with a narrow feather-stitched band or with a square opening if preferred, though this ladder must fit well to keep out the water during a dive. As to the sleeves, I think nothing can better the very simple one I've always worn and found most comfortable for swimming. It consists of an undersleeve brought into a band round the arm just above the elbow and it leaves the upper arm bare from shoulder to elbow. A second band, halfway between the two, rather improves the appearance, especially if both bands are fastened with a little bow or rosette. Needless to say, all these hints are intended only for the woman who wants to bathe in public. For the swimmer who can bathe unseen, there is nothing better than the regulation racing dress to be bought at athletic outfitters. The pinot is another important part of the costume, especially in France, where the walk from the bathing hut to the sea is to be considered. Some people think that a kind of opera cloak without sleeves made in bath tallying is all that is required, but I cannot help thinking that this sort of cloak when wrapped around a dripping figure merely suggests the indoor bath. The best shape is that of a Japanese kimono and if the cotton material in which this is generally made is considered too limp for the purpose, the shape can easily be copied in something that repels the wet, such as bunting or better still, the rough house flannel of which we are now making our walking skirts. Personally, I prefer a warm woolen wrap when I come out of the water and it certainly looks better. As to the color of the pinot, it should, if possible, harmonize with the rest of the costume, but this is not very important. End of article. This recording is in the public domain. Faw Murders, Stanford White from the New York Times, dated June 26, 1906. Recorded for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. Faw Murders, Stanford White shoots him on the Madison Square Garden Roof about Evelyn Nesbitt. He roined my wife, witness says he said, audience in a panic, chairs and tables are overturned and a wild scramble for the exits. Harry Kendall Faw of Pittsburgh, husband of Florence Evelyn Nesbitt, former actress and artist model, shot and killed Stanford White, the architect, on the roof of Madison Square Garden at 11.05 o'clock last night. Just as the first performance of the musical comedy, Mamzell Champagne was drawing to a close, Faw, who is a brother of the Countess of Yarmouth and a member of a well-known and wealthy family, left his seat near the stage, passed between a number of tables and in full view of the players and of scores of persons shot White through the head. Mr. White was the designer of the building on the roof of which he was killed. He, it was, who put Ms. Nesbitt, now Mrs. Faw, on the stage. Faw, who was in evening clothes, had evidently been waiting for Mr. White's appearance. The latter entered the garden at 10.55 and took a seat at a table five rows from the stage. He rested his chin in his right hand and seemed lost in contemplation. Faw had a pistol concealed under his coat. His face was deathly white. According to A.L. Bellstone, who sat near, White must have seen Faw approaching, but he made no move. Faw placed the pistol almost against the head of the sitting man and fired three shots in quick succession. Body fell to the floor. White's elbow slid from the table. The table crashed over, sending a glass clinking along with a heavier sound. The body then tumbled from the chair. On the stage, one of the characters was singing a song entitled, I Could Love A Million Girls. The refrain seemed to freeze upon his lips. There was dead silence for a second and then Faw lifted his pistol over his head, the barrel hanging downward, as if to show the audience that he was not going to harm anyone else. With a firm stride, Faw started for the exit, holding his pistol as if anxious to have someone take it from his hand. Then came the realization on the part of the audience that the farce had closed with a tragedy. A woman jumped to her feet and screamed. Many persons followed her example and there was wild excitement. L. Lawrence, the manager of the show, jumped on a table and above the uproar commanded the show to go on.  Girls too terrified to sing. The musicians made a feeble effort at gathering their wits and playing the chorus music, but the girls who romped on the stage were paralyzed with horror and it was impossible to bring the performance to an orderly close. Then the manager shouted for quiet and he informed the audience that a serious accident had happened and begged the people to move out of the place quietly. In the meanwhile, Faw had reached the entrance to the elevators. On duty there was fireman Paul Bruden. He took the pistol from Faw's hand but did not attempt to arrest him. Policemen Diebs of the Tenderloin Station appeared and seized his arm. He deserved it, Faw said to the policemen. I can prove it. He roined my life and then deserted the girl. Another witness said the word was wife instead of life. A woman kissed Faw. Just as the policemen started into the elevator with Faw, a woman described as dark-haired and short of stature reached up to him and kissed him on the cheek. This woman, some witnesses declare, was Mrs. Faw. The crowd was then scrambling wildly for the elevators and stairs. The employees of the garden who knew Faw and nearly all of them did, as he visited the place often, did not seem greatly surprised at the tragedy. When Faw entered the garden in the early part of the show, he seemed greatly agitated. He strolled from one part of the place to another and finally took a seat in a little niche near the stage. He was half hidden from the audience but could see anyone who might enter. It is believed that he knew just where White would sit and had picked out this place in order to get at him without interference. Henry Rogers of 222 Henry Street was seated at the table next to the one at which White was sitting when he was killed. He says that Faw fired when the muzzle of his pistol was only a few inches from White's temple. Another witness said that after firing three shots and looking at White as if to be sure that he was stone dead, Faw uttered a curse and added, you'll never go out. A Girl's Visions and Her Career. From the New York Times, dated April 9th, 1910, recorded for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. A Girl's Visions and Her Career. Winston Churchill contributes a fascinating study of American womanhood and the making. In elder days when the hero rode forth upon his charger, militant and adventurous, following his high vision, the course of empire lay westward. The heroine trailed humbly behind the man on horseback or she was trampled beneath the iron hoofs or if she was good, waited demurely to be caught up on the cropper behind the victor and made a part of the triumph. They have changed all that. In our time it is the heroine who carries the pen and rides the high-steed ambition. She comes out of the west and her stars in the east where lies her vision of empire. Spurred on by vague longings for finer things, for graces, beauties, splendors, power, titles, mastered by insatiable curiosities and limitless aspirations, she climbs and tramples as she climbs upon an ascending series of dead selves.  For she rides with her clear gaze on the goal and she rides fast. The figure would not be a fair one, however, if you did not remember that the woman on horseback is more Joan of Arc than Tamerlane. No matter if her vision is a never-never land of gracious living, which wears the outward semblance of the world of fashion in New York, London, and Paris, while her voices call her to a box at the opera, not to the saving of her country. The plain fact is that this girl out of the west who is the typical heroine of this woman's age grows so fast that she outgrows her hero almost as soon as she has found him, for she outgrows her old self. Her eyes look upward and outward, his are bent on ground where he grubs. The man of our time is so busy a builder of the material edifice of life that his task leaves him no leisure for growth such as hers. The edifice encloses him, limits him, as the shell does the oyster. Of such stuff, heroes are not made. Modern machinery has slain the hero. The heroine has stepped into his place because in our system of life the only person not harnessed to the chariot of accumulation is the young woman. She only is free. She is the one of all of us who has leisure to dream and buy her dreams to grow, and heavens how she does grow. Jack's beanstalk is nothing to her. That is why America furnishes wives to the European aristocracy and heroines to the novelists of many nations who sometimes give Miss America a very bad name and why the land supplies hardly any heroes even to our own novelists. And that also is why Winston Churchill, who was hitherto clung to the tradition of the hero as the true protagonist, has so far distanced his previous performances in the present story where he frankly accepts the heroine's development as the thread upon which the drama must hang. She it is that moves and grows and she it is that you follow absorbedly. The story is her progress, the seven stages of honor a laughing well. She happened to be born in Nice where her father was consul, but for our purposes she begins in St. Louis as a very pretty little girl with a natural talent for charming for having things done for her by other people just for the pleasure of doing it. She has the rich imagination which leads to limitless aspiration and the invincible innocence which in a certain kind of young woman merely adds effect to the feminine arts which she uses instinctively for all her ends. You watch her grow up in her homely and provincial setting and fall under her spell as you watch. You see her transplanted to New York mistaking the show for the substance. Choosing a hero, she could only have invested with heroic glamour at just that stage. It was a schoolgirl stage. A hero she is bound to outgrow very soon.  You see her established upon Fifth Avenue and welcomed at Newport and you watch her ways with men and women and her education in heroes. Of the series of these heroes all but one command both respect and interest, exercise explicable fascination upon the growing honor in her separate stages. There is a divorce which might have been in Reno though that Nevada city is not named. There is an episode of passionate romance with a wholesome melodramatic touch. Life also is that way. There are throughout scenes and people admirably selected and deftly presented vital situations skillfully handled. Even what is hardest, illuminating episodes peekedly managed. Above all, there is always honor. Her young face toward the light as she sees it remaining through all her blunders, young America incarnate, invincibly ideal. Those crudities of style which in Mr. Churchill's earlier novels used to pain the fastidious are hardly to be found here at all. Crudities of taste there are of course. Failures intact and an omniscience of human nature which is the novelist's business but these are not glaring. It is a far cry from Richard Carvel to a modern chronicle. And if Mr. Churchill's picture of St. Louis is truer than his picture of New York, it is because St. Louis 20 years ago was real and New York of today is mostly sham. A modern chronicle by Winston Churchill illustrated by J. H. Gardner-Soper, New York, the Macmillan Company, $1.50. End of article. This recording is...


Hello there, Mr. Marks here, your friendly neighborhood math teacher. Remember, it's not about just getting the right answers, it's about learning and growing along the way. Today's problem is coming to us from a McDougal-Lytel geometry textbook. This problem is a great introduction into geometric concepts. Join me in today's episode of Mr. Marks, Math Adventures.