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Dutchman seems to appeal to him and to his temperament in a highly delightful way.
Mr. F. C. Yohn, who achieved such notable success in his historic pictures made for Lodge's '-Story of the Revolution," was born in Indianapolis twenty-three years ago, and studied for three years at the Art Students' League in New York. The present furor for accuracy has made the labors of the artist of to-day much heavier than one might imagine. Careless drawing, incorrect costume, even unhistorical furniture, is not pardoned by the critical public. Mr. Yohn may be classed as one of the most careful, conscientious, and painstaking illustrators of our time. Indeed, some think he has but one superior in this branch of work, namely, Howard Pyle. His illustration of the "Battle of the Brandywine " done in oil, and " A Camp Scene at Valley Forge " done in black and white, probably may be considered his most representative work. He has made a specialty of historical subjects, and seems to be equally at home in using all the modern mediums for illustration. He himself prefers oil, although he can do very good work with pen and ink and wash drawing. His earliest work was done for an Indianapolis paper. His first important illustrations were contributed to "Scribner's Magazine," and he has also made drawings for " Harper's Round Table," "Harper's Magazine," and "Collier's Weekly." It was not, however, until Story of the Revolution " were
his drawings for the
published that he came into such distinct prominence as an illustrator. Mr. Yohn has a studio in New York, is unmarried, is a quiet, modest man who does his work seriously in the best sense. He is now in England making illustrations for Governor Roosevelt's monograph on Oliver Cromwell, and as an example of his love of accuracy and his historical instinct, he is making careful drawings of armor, costume, and all the historical setting necessary for his drawings to illustrate this dramatic story.
Another pupil of William M. Chase is Howard Chandler Christy. He has also studied at the National Academy of Design. The "Century Magazine" is said to have had the honor of first accepting his work, and he had made some illustrations for the comic weeklies when the Spanish-American war broke out. He was at once sent to the front by " Leslie's Weekly ". and "Scribner's Magazine" to make drawings for them. Mr. Christy spent most of his time with the Rough Riders, but had his headquarters with the Second Infantry. He might be called the artist reporter of the war. No man caught the spirit, dash, and picturesqueness of the soldiers' life with greater accuracy and more evident truth than Mr. Christy. A series of " Men of the Army and Navy " and his picture of Colonel Roosevelt gave him great prominence, not
soon found that his theories did not bring in much bread and butter. He therefore turned his attention to illustrating, and has been singularly successful in this branch of art. His pictures of the Congressional Library in Washington display a marvelous power of technique and sense of proportion, as well as a true artistic feeling. His landscapes, historical buildings, and other architectural drawings are notable examples of accuracy, and show a poetic temperament. Mr. Peixotto has made a specialty of out-of-door effects, and has a decided leaning toward impressionism.
Mr. Ernest Haskell's latest work may be seen in two unique frontispieces for two recent publications of R. H. Russell's. One is a lithograph, in color, of "Rose Trelawney" prefixed to an edition of Pinero's "Trelawney of the Wells," a comedietta in four acts. This is a delightfully sketchy portrayal of the principal character in the play. The other is a poetic conception ot Miss Maud Adams as Juliet prefixed to an edition of "Romeo and Juliet " as she played it at the Empire Theater last spring. His well-known illustration of " Becky Sharp" completes a trio of character-studies that are in the manner of Whistler himself. Mr. Haskell is a trifle over twenty-three years of age, has studied in Paris, and has made many designs or posters. During the first year of his stay abroad he spent much time in studying, away from the schools of art, meditating on the old masters, and using his brains as well as his eye. He is said to be particularly fond of Daumier, Manet, Degas, and other members of their school. Mr. Haskell is particularly fond of lithography as a medium for his work. He is about to publish a volume of caricatures, a department of art he revels in.
Last year two books issued by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. attracted much attention because of the illustrations. One
was the new edition of Hawthorne's "House of Seven Gables," and the other was Frank Dempster Sherman's " LittleFolk Lyrics." The illustrators were the Misses Genevieve and Maude Cowles, and one realized in examining these drawings that these artists had attained a high degree of success at one bound. The Misses Cowles live at Farmington, Conn., in one of the well-known old houses of the place. Their first illustrative work appeared in "McClure's Magazine," and they have since been frequent contributors to other magazines. They have had the advantage of receiving their art education abroad. It is a much more difficult task to describe their peculiar style than one would think. They are evidently influenced by Boutet de Monvel; their drawings have a flat appearance, without any broad sense of perspective. They are notably successful in portraying children and old people.
For Mr. Mabie's "My Study Fire" they have just made sixty-four illustrations, many being full-page, and all showing a refinement of perception and poetic interpretation of this charming book which is unusual. Here their imagination is allowed full sway, while their nature studies have a genuine artistic flavor.
There are several other artists whose work is of so high merit that they deserve to be named, but they are not as recent as these eight that we have mentioned. Perhaps the most notable of these is Mr. Hambidge, whose work has been in the magazines for some time. Miss Green and Miss Corey, one in the "Saturday Evening Post" in Philadelphia, and the other in " St. Nicholas," have been doing some very delightful work. One cannot help believing that there is a great future for the American illustrator, and one looks for even better work in the future than has been done in the past.
The Magic Flute
By Andre Theuriet
Translated by H. Twitchell
THE three Magi kings, Balthazar, Melchior, and Gaspard, bearing gifts of incense and myrrh, set out to search for the child Jesus. As they did not know the road to Bethlehem, they lost their way, and, after having traversed a dense forest, they came, just at nightfall, to a village in the vicinity of Langres. They were very weary, and also hungry and thirsty. So they rapped at the door of the very first house they came to, to ask for food and shelter for the night.
This house, or hut rather, belonged to a woodman named Denis Fleuriot, who lived there comfortably enough with his wife and four children.
When the three kings had made their ■wants known to the woodman, the latter replied:
"Alas, my good people, I have only one bed and a cot for my children; as for supper, we can offer you nothing except some boiled potatoes and rye bread. For all that, you may come in, and, if you are not too particular, we will try to accommodate you."
The Magi accepted the invitation, ate the coarse fare with relish, and slept soundly in the woodman's bed. The next morning, before starting out on their journey, Balthazar, who was the most generous of the three, said to Fleuriot:
"I wish to give you something as a reward for your hospitality."
"We have given you the best we had, but we do not expect anything in return," replied the woodman, stretching out his hand as he spoke.
"I have no money," said Balthazar; "but I will leave you something better.
So saying, he took from his pocket a little flute which he handed to Fleuriot. As the woodman seemed to be disappointed, the king added.
"If you make a wish while playing on this flute, it will be granted at once, but in your prosperity you must always remember that others also have wants."
Denis readily promised to be generous to others, although he really did not feel
much confidence in his future ability so to act.
As soon as the three kings had disappeared around a turn in the road, Denis Fleuriot said to his wife, weighing the little flute contemptuously in his hand:
"They might have given us something better than this flute; for all that, I am going to play on it and see if they have fooled me.-'
Then he said in a loud voice: "I would like to have white bread, venison pate's, and wine for breakfast."
He played a little air on the flute, and suddenly, to his amazement, he saw on his table, which was covered with a fine white cloth, just the things he had wished for.
As soon as he became convinced of the powers of his flute, he played on it all the time, asking for everything that came into his head. He had new clothes for his wife and children, money in his pocket, an abundantly supplied table, and, as he had only to wish for a thing to get it, he soon became the richest man in the province. In place of his hut he built a superb chateau, which he filled with costly furnishings. On the day of its completion he gave a grand banquet to celebrate the event.
On the important night all the noted personages of the locality sat around a loaded table, which was resplendent with glitter and light. At the head sat Fleuriot and his wife, who was magnificently dressed, while musicians played charming airs in a gallery overhead. In order that the merrymaking might not be disturbed, the host had given orders to let no beggars or paupers into the courtyard, on any pretext whatever. He had even stationed two stalwart servants at the gates with clubs to chase away any intruders.
Now, on this very evening, the three kings, having left their gifts at the feet of Jesus, were returning from Bethlehem. On crossing the forest they recognized the village where they had slept, and, on seeing the chateau all illuminated, Gaspard said to Balthazar:
"I am curious to know whether our man has abused the use of his flute, and if, now that he is rich, he has kept his promise to be charitable to all."
"We will see," replied Balthazar, curtly.
They then dressed themselves as beggars, and, going to the chateau, asked for food and lodging for the night. They were received very roughly, and, as they insisted, making a great noise, Fleuriot put his head out of the window, saw them, and bade the servants loose the dogs; whereupon the kings beat a hasty retreat, not without receiving wounds on the limbs, however.
"I suspected as much," grumbled the skeptical Gaspard, rubbing his ankle.
"He shall rot remain long in his paradise," replied Melchior. "He shall feel the weight of the vengeance of the three Magi."
Meanwhile the revelers continued to make merry. They had just come to the dessert, and Fleuriot was brandishing a knife over a colossal cake, when the sound of bells was heard below in the court as a chariot entered, drawn by four magnificently caparisoned steeds. Fleuriot put his head out of the window once more, and, seeing the nobles, he ordered them shown up in all haste. He even
came with a torch to light them up the staircase. When the kings entered, with their crowns and purple robes, he recognized his former guests, and, although disconcerted, he begged them to sit down at the feast.
"Thank you," replied Balthazar, "but we do not care to eat with a man who treats the poor so badly."
"I compliment you on the way you have kept your promise," said Melchior, in his deep voice.
"So you set dogs on beggars 1" exclaimed Gaspard, rubbing his leg. "Just wait 1 I will play you a tune you have not learned yet 1"
And, drawing from his pocket a. little flute like the one given to Fleuriot, he blew on it with terrible force. In the twinkling of an eye, the revelers, tables, and chateau vanished, and the woodman found himself standing on the edge of the forest before the ruins of his hut, his wife and children in rags beside him.
"Fortunately, I have my flute left," he thought.
But he searched for it in his ragged pockets in vain; the talisman had disappeared with the three kings.
Ever since that time it has been the custom, when cutting the Twelfth cake, carefully to put aside a portion for the poor.
Skepticism: Its Cause and Cure'
By the Right Rev. Henry B. Whipple, D.D.
[These paragraphs are taken from the autobiography of Bishop Whipple, recently published by the Macmillan Company. For some account of this volume see The Outlook for November 4, 1899.—The Editors.]
MUCH of the doubt and unbelief of our day is a • revolt from a caricature of God, or from hard lines of extreme Calvinistic theology, and it only needs the presentation of the infinite love of our Saviour, who has revealed to us that God is Love, to answer most of the doubts that perplex men.
The tone and temper of the times reveal widespread unbelief. The press has familiarized the people with infidel literature. Many religious teachers have drifted from their moorings and have no anchorage. Science, which ought to be the handmaid of religion, has teachers who resolve faith into the unknowable. It is well to look the evil in the face, but there is no cause for alarm or for falling into a panic. The religion of Jesus Christ is not an opinion; it is a fact. Christianity has borne eighteen centuries of critical examination, and has conquered on every battlefield. No assault upon theological opinions, no criticism of the Bible, can change the facts of humanity. While men sin, suffer, and die, no philosophy of men, no achievement in learning, can destroy human aspirations. If Christianity were destroyed to-day, to-morrow's sun would find men world-wide testifying of their needs. Men can never be satisfied with the teaching that nature is a selfcreated and a self-perpetuating machine. The voice within and without testifies of God. The Incarnation is the revelation of God's love toward his suffering creatures. It reveals the Creator of the Universe as the Everlasting Father. It brings to us the Eternal Son as a Brother and Saviour. It gives us the Holy Ghost as a Guide, the Comforter and Helper of man. Sinful and suffering men have not only asked to know righteousness, but they ask for help to be righteous. These great truths will always be near the heart of humanity. Men can never love a God who has merely laid down immutable laws
1 Copyriaht. 1899. The Macmillan Company New York.
without giving to man the help to obey these laws. It is in the revelation of the Eternal Fatherhood of God, in the Infinite Love of Jesus Christ who gave himself for us, in the vivifying and new-creating power of the Holy Ghost, that burdened hearts find help. This revelation comes home to the wants of every man. It helps amid burdens; it lightens the load of poverty; it soothes the anguish of pain; it leads out of darkness and despair. We may pledge God's revelation to that which it does not teach and was never designed to teach; we may caricature God's truth and make it the devil's lie, but the great central facts of divine revelation will stand.
Honest doubt should not be denounced. Every sympathy of a Christian heart should be unsealed at the sincere confession, " I have lost my faith; I am without a clue to the labyrinth of life." No God to love, no Christ to pity, no Holy One to save 1 For such a one there should be the profoundest compassion. No words can express the righteous indignation which should be aroused against the man who makes sport of the highest aspirations of the soul, or who answers with smile and sneer the hopes of men who sin and suffer.
Honest, critical Biblical scholarship is not to be feared. The Holy Scriptures were written by men who were guided by God the Holy Ghost. As its custodians were human, it is possible that in the lapse of ages errors might have crept into the text, but all the research of the greatest scholars has not discovered a single error affecting in the slightest degree the revelation of God in Christ, which is the hope of the world's redemption. Suspicion should not follow earnest investigators in the domain of nature. The name of our king is " The Truth." God's truth will bear all facts. Science, since the days of Ptol my, has been reconsidering supposed established facts. One generation has modified or