WHY MARCH4THIS INAUGURATION DAY.

The Principal Reason for the Selection of This Date Was the Curious Fact That It Seldom Falls on Sunday.

There have been many objections raised to the date upon which the Presidents of the United States are inaugurated, chief among them being the usually inclement weather which prevails so early in the spring.

The first President Harrison contracted the cold which caused his death, soon after he assumed office, at the ceremonies attending his inauguration; and anxiety is always expressed lest the unhappy incident should be repeated. There was a reason for choosing that date, however, which very few persons have ever heard of.

When the day was fixed upon the 4th of March, It was because that date seldom occurred on Sunday. But three times during our history has the inauguration day fallen on that day. The first was the second inaugural of James Monroe, the fifth President, March 4, 1821; the second was when Zachary Taylor was made President, March 4, 1849; the third was the inauguration of Rutherford B. Hayes, on March 4, 1877.

This will happen three times during each century, or one year after every seven leap years. Except when passing from one century to another, there is a slight variation, as will be observed in the following dates of the past and future inaugurations, of the first two centuries of the republic:

March 4 1821March 4 1849March 4 1877March 4 1917March 4 1945March 4 1973

March 4 1821

March 4 1849

March 4 1877

March 4 1917

March 4 1945

March 4 1973

The Beginnings of Stage Careers.[2]ByMATTHEW WHITE,Jr.EIGHTH INSTALMENT.

The Beginnings of Stage Careers.[2]

ByMATTHEW WHITE,Jr.EIGHTH INSTALMENT.

ByMATTHEW WHITE,Jr.

EIGHTH INSTALMENT.

A Series of Papers That Will Be Continued from Month to Month and Include All Players of Note.An original article written forThe Scrap Book.

A Series of Papers That Will Be Continued from Month to Month and Include All Players of Note.

An original article written forThe Scrap Book.

2. Began March SCRAP BOOK. Single copies, 10 cents.

Margaret Illington and Grace Elliston First Sought Thespian Fame Under Cognomens Now Almost Forgotten.

Although widely divergent in their personal appearance and methods of acting, Grace Elliston and Margaret Illington, the first twoMicein “The Lion and the Mouse,” have one thing in common—each, after appearing on the stage under one name for some time, changed it for another.

Miss Elliston, it will be remembered, createdShirley Rossmorein the original production of the well-known Klein play last autumn, while Miss Illington went to Chicago later on in the second company, and made a big hit in the part when the piece was tried in London. To take the ladles in this order then—

Along about the middle or early nineties, a New York critic, in noticing the appearance at the Casino of Frank Daniels in “The Wizard of the Nile,” wound up his comments with these two sentences: “There were others that were clever—and one little beauty of a maid whose eyes played havoc with the audience. Her name is Grace Rutter, and she will be a star some day.”

This “little beauty of a maid” was only in the chorus, and although she has not yet fulfilled the strict letter of this prophecy, she has come pretty close to it, and is yet young. Born in Bluff City, Tennessee, she became interested in amateur theatricals and in a small way made her first professional appearance at the old Lyceum Theater, Memphis, in “Boccaccio.”

The experience was fascinating, and an offer from a traveling company tempted her beyond her strength, and she went on the road, finally reaching New York as a member of “The Dazzler” company.

At a benefit performance of some sort she recited. Richard Mansfield happened to be present, saw promise in her work, and engaged her as a member of his Garrick Theater stock company, then in its first season at this house, which Mr. Mansfield had just taken over from Edward Harrigan and renamed. But as it happened, it was also his last season there, and Miss Rutter’s only opportunity was to doDodoin a burlesque of “Trilby” called “Thrilby.”

Hoyt & McKee, who succeeded Mansfield in the control of the Garrick, gave Miss Rutter a small part in Hoyt’s farce, “A Day and a Night,” which, in turn, secured for her an opening with Daniels, and in due course she was added to the musical comedy forces at Daly’s, where she was seen in “The Geisha,” “The Circus Girl,” and other London importations.

But although she might be progressing all this while so far as salary was concerned, the ambitions in Miss Rutter’s heart were not being at all satisfied, and in the spring of 1899 she resolved to begin at the foot of the ladder again and mount up the dramatic rather than the light musical rounds.

After some casting about and a period of hope deferred, the ambitious young woman obtained a chance to appear with Daniel Frohman’s stock company at the old Lyceum. There she made her début in “His Excellency the Governor.” She decided, however, that the old name was against her, associating her as it did with musical work, so she appeared on the house bill as “Grace Elliston.” Perhaps her most notable work at the Lyceum was in the charming, fantastic curtain-raiser, “The Shades of Night.”

She remained with the Lyceum company for another season, and then, at the Criterion, created the leading part in that short-lived dramatization, “The Helmet of Navarre.” When this mistake was laid away on the upper shelf, minus camphor balls, Miss Elliston passed toBonitain a big Academy of Music revival of “Arizona.” Her Shakespearian aspirations were realized in 1903–’04, when she becameOliviain Viola Allen’s offering of “Twelfth Night.”

It was in 1900 that patrons of James K. Hackett, in “The Pride of Jennico,” saw that the part of the gipsy girl was played with much fire and dash by a very young actress who was set down on the program as Maude Light. Investigation shows this to be the real name of a stage-struck young woman from Bloomington, Illinois, who, after some very modest attempts in Chicago, had come to Daniel Frohman with her dramatic aspirations. She was placed in a minor rôle with the Hackett company, to be speedily promoted toMichel, the gipsy aforesaid, the second important female part in the play. And it wasn’t long before she was sometimes doing that of thePrincessherself, whenever Bertha Galland was out of the cast. Her change of name was made at the request of Mr. Frohman. It seemed that the other women were all using stagenoms, so when the matter was laid before her Miss Light expressed her perfect willingness to fall in line.

“But what shall I call myself?” she inquired.

“I’ll make you up a name,” replied Mr. Frohman, and forthwith took her native State, Illinois, and her home town, Bloomington, and out of the two formed “Illington,” prefixing “Margaret” for euphony.

From the Hackett play Miss Illington passed to the stock company at Daly’s, still under Mr. Frohman’s management, appearing as theMaidin “Frocks and Frills,” a small part which she made stand out vividly, and at the same theater she didFleur de Lysin “Notre Dame.”

E. H. Sothern’s troupe next claimed Miss Illington’s services, and she took Cecilia Loftus’s place as leading woman when that actress fell ill and was obliged to leave the stage for the hospital.

In the autumn of the same year (1903) Miss Illington created the leading part in that distinguished failure, “A Japanese Nightingale,” but during the brief run of the piece she assumed a part attended with more success—that of the wife of her manager, Daniel Frohman. It was announced then that she would leave the stage at the end of the “Nightingale” engagement, but, as so often happens in such cases, the bridegroom proposes and the bride elects to please herself. So the very next spring we found her asHenriettein the all-star cast of “The Two Orphans.” And last season she filled the title rôle in “Mrs. Leffingwell’s Boots.”

For the coming winter Miss Illington is to be entrusted with the most important part that has yet fallen to her—that of the leading lady with John Drew in Pinero’s new play, “His House in Order”—a rôle created in London with great success by Irene Van Brugh, who made such a hit here a few years ago with John Hare in “The Gay Lord Quex.”

Jane Wheatley Celebrated Her Recovery from First Attack of Stage Fever By Falling Victim to a Second.

Although stock company work, with two performances a day and a weekly change of bill, is an awful grind, it is also about the only way nowadays in which the young player can obtain the necessary experience to give him or her that versatility which broadens ability.

Take, for instance, the six weeks last spring when Jane Wheatley filled an engagement in Providence as leading woman of the Albee stock company, at Keith’s. During that period she wasMurielin “The Second in Command,” an English comedy;Lucyin “The Dictator,” an American farce;Katherinein “If I Were King,” a romantic drama;Phyllisin the Goodwin-Elliott play, “When We Were Twenty-One”;Marcellein “The Gay Parisians,” a lively farce from the French; andMary of Magdalain the Scriptural play, “The Holy City.”

Of her work in the last-named part, a local critic wrote: “She carried the rôle through from the moment of awakening from the scarlet bondage with a spirit of reverence that was much more than mere acting, and had applause been permitted she would have carried off all honors.”

Miss Wheatley is a young woman who went on the stage from pure love of it, starting In 1898 with a very lowly part In “The Christian.” She was with Viola Allen for three seasons, and subsequently she played prominent parts with Sadie Martinot. She followed Grace Filkins asLady Airish, in the support of Alice Fischer, in “The School for Husbands.” The account she has furnishedThe Scrap Bookof her start in the profession is so very entertainingly written that I am giving it herewith in her own words:

“While studying in Boston some years ago, every penny of my allowance went for theater tickets, and the Hollis Street Theater was my favorite haunt. My chum was an enthusiast on the subject, if ever there was one, and I made a very good second. We had our respective favorites, and mine was Miss Viola Allen. I always had hoped to meet her, and even thought she might advise me or help me to a position on the stage. But how to arrange a meeting?

“My chum (Kate) and I talked it over, and finally decided upon a plan of action.

“Kate had gone to a boarding-school, somewhere in Canada, and had heard much from the teachers about Miss Allen, who had been a former student there. One of the teachers even suggested giving Kate a letter to Miss Allen. These facts were all we had to introduce us, but I remember that I was the timid one and Kate the fearless.

“After the matinée one day we summoned up courage and went to the stage entrance, sent in our cards, and, with beating hearts, waited. Miss Allen was then leading woman with the Empire stock company.

“In a few minutes a maid came out to us, and with cold politeness inquired what we wanted.

“‘We wished to see Miss Allen,’ was our answer.

“I know now what a piece of effrontery it was on our part, for when an actress has played a long part, and has only a short time before she has to play it again, she is ready for only one thing, and that is rest. However, Miss Allen was then, just as she always has been, kind, and invited us to come another day—which we did; and this time we were successful, for she saw us, and I remember how happy it made me.

“I remember the conversation, too; for she spoke of what was uppermost in our minds—our ambitions. So encouraging was the interview with this dear lady that when I finished my studies in Boston I wrote to her, saying that I meant to start my professional career in the autumn, and ‘would she help me?’

“She did. In reply to my letter, she said there were no parts in her play, ‘The Christian,’ except those requiring experience, but that some characters would speak in chorus, and I would be welcome to such a part.

“I remember an illustration made frequently by Dr. Emerson at the Emerson College. He pointed out to us that on the stage we were like parts of a mosaic—alone we were nothing, but as a part of the whole, each one in his place very necessary to the whole. I did not then realize how very small was to be my part of the mosaic—its proportions were exaggerated in my mind, and I had visions of myself in a dainty or artistic costume, entering with two or three other young ladles, and speaking in chorus, something as do the four daughters in ‘The Gay Parisians.’

“I also remember Miss Allen’s apologetic remark about the salary. ‘The money is nothing,’ she said.

“As for that part of it—money—it had never entered my mind. The happiness of having the opportunity was enough; and to think of being paid, actually paid, for simply doing what I loved to do! It was all very beautiful.

“To skip rehearsals, which, needless to say, were a source of great enjoyment, as it was all so new to me, the opening night in Albany came, and there my troubles began.

“The ‘characters speaking in chorus’ formed a mob, and extra supernumeraries were engaged for the night in Albany. It was a wild enough mob; my pride suffered, and my toes, too, for both were trodden upon. The damp cellar dressing-room with its many occupants, and the harsh, severe directions of the stage manager—it was all so different from what I had expected.

“In the course of the evening I found a lonely corner in the despised cellar and wept long and bitterly. Was this the way to Fame? Could I bridge these humiliations and discomforts? The goal seemed very far off, and I remember repeating to myself:

“‘I’m cured! I’m cured!’

“However, I went on to Washington with the company. There I tried another day of it, but conditions grew worse instead of better. During the afternoon of the second day in Washington I packed my bag, walked to the station, bought a ticket for New York, said nothing to any one of my resolution, but wired my father to meet me, and got on the train, bound for home.

“And oh, how glad I was to see my father, and he to see me! And how glad he was that I was ‘cured’ of my desire to be an actress!

“Well, to make a long story short, I remained ‘cured’ only a short time—two weeks, I think it was.

“A nice letter from Miss Allen, saying that she would keep my understudy for me, enticed me to return when the company played in New York. I refused to give up again, although those first tears were not the only ones I had cause to shed during that long season.

“My reward came, however, for before the close of the theater year the girl whose rôle I understudied left the cast, and they gave me her part for the rest of the season. Miss Allen helped me herself to do justice to it—even to rehearsing me after matinée, when she must have been very tired.

“And it was in my beloved Boston, where I had first met her, that I played my first part, and in her company, only the theater was the old Boston Museum, not the Hollis Street.”

Front of a Negro Place of Worship Was the Scene of Henry E. Dixey’s Preparation for the Stage.

“The steps of a colored church near where I lived was my practise-ground, and I was on the stage when I was eight.”

Thus spoke Henry E. Dixey, in his dressing-room at the Lyric, between the acts of “The Man on the Box,” in response to my question about his start in his stage career—a career that stands out more remarkably than the majority. After achieving a reputation in a burlesque with which his name became so closely identified that it was often used interchangeably with his own, he went into Daly’s theater and playedMalvolioin “Twelfth Night,” in a fashion to cover himself with glory. He has scored high in the Gilbert & Sullivan operas, and is now a successful star in high-class comedy.

Dixey’s real name is Dixon. He was born in Boston on January 6, 1859. His parents had no connection with the theater, and had no idea that Harry’s predilection for dancing was going to lead him there. When very young he helped eke out the family income by becoming a cashboy in a dry-goods store but he wasn’t a shining success at it. The part he liked best was being sent on errands, which gave him an opportunity to collect cronies about him and practise fancy steps on his improvised stage in front of the African meeting-house, as aforesaid.

It didn’t take the dry-goods people long to “get on” to the idiosyncrasies of their youthful employee, and in due course he lost his job and was cooling his heels all day long on the sidewalk, most of the time in the vicinity of the stage-door of the Howard Athenæum, then under the management of the late John Stetson.

When Stetson was putting on “Under the Gaslight,” he needed a street urchin, so he decided to give the little Dixon chap a chance to show what he could do. The child introduced a song and dance, made an instantaneous hit, and thus started on his career. His part was calledPeanuts, and he was retained at the Howard for small bits with James S. Maffit and his partner, Bartholomew, in their pantomime work.

How he managed to pick up an education, with his head full of the stage, is difficult to determine; but one has only to talk with Mr. Dixey to know him for a man of keen intelligence and common sense. But his parents continued to keep him under their eye in Boston until after “Evangeline” was produced. Here he encountered his old friend, James S. Maffit, again, as theLone Fisherman. Crane was in the cast, too, doingLe Blanc, the notary. Dixey was the forelegs of the famousHeifer, the hind ones submitting to the direction of Richard Golden. But during the tour of the famous piece Dixey did very many of the other parts in the burlesque.

In the course of the early eighties John Stetson extended his field of operations to New York, and set up a stock company at the Fifth Avenue Theater. Dixey, as one of its leading members, createdChristopher Blizzardin “Confusion.”

In New York he fell in with William F. Gill. Dixey had some of the ideas for “Adonis.” Gill had more, and put them together in the shape of a burlesque. They tried to get Dixey’s old friend and first manager, Stetson, to bring it out at the Boston Globe. But he got cold feet on the proposition, declaring that it was too expensive to mount. Rice took it in hand, and after he had demonstrated the thing to be a success Stetson wanted an interest in it, in exchange for which he was willing to plank down twenty thousand dollars, but it was then too late.

“Adonis” ran at the Bijou in New York for more than three hundred nights, and was afterward done in London.

“The Seven Ages,” built on the same lines, was a frightful frost, if a thing can be said to be so when done in a temperature of one hundred and three degrees, which Mr. Dixey avers the thermometer registered at the old Standard in the early—and last—nights of the piece.

After “The Seven Ages”—Daly’s for Dixey, and in this connection I want to quote from an interview the actor gave to a writer for the New YorkDramatic Mirrorsome ten years ago.

“Do you know,” he said, “that I really was the firstSvengalion the stage? In ‘The Tragedy Rehearsed’ I introduced a little Trilby burlesque, where Miss Rehan was hypnotized into singing ‘Ben Bolt.’ That was the very earliest stage use of Miss O’Ferrall.

“Afterward I went to Augustin Daly and proposed that he should dramatize ‘Trilby,’ have Miss Rehan play the character, and let me doSvengali. It would have revolutionized things at Daly’s. But he pooh-poohed me, and wouldn’t listen to the idea. Instead, he put on ‘A Bundle of Lies,’ where I had a fifteen-line part. The play was a fearful frost.”

Just previous to the death of Stuart Robson, Dixey made a big success asDavid Garrickin the play “Oliver Goldsmith,” which Augustus Thomas wrote for Robson; then, by way of striking variety, Dixey went to London in a Casino review, “The Whirl of the Town,” which failed to please England.

A few years later, when Charles Frohman imported Barrie’s “Little Mary” to the Empire, puzzling New York by the play written around the stomach, Dixey was theEarl of Carlton.

Dixey, by the by, does not believe in stock companies, and is rather pessimistic as to the future of our stage, in the way of the supply of actors.

“Where are they coming from?” he said to me the other night, in the course of his chat about his own start in the business. “What training do they get under the present system to fit them for any work out of a set groove into which chance and the powers that be happen to drop them? Suppose, for example, you are a young man who has done good work in amateur theatricals, and with a ‘pull’ in the shape of a letter of introduction to a big New York manager. You are also straight and tall and would make a presentable appearance on the stage.

“Well, you have your interview with the big manager of to-day. He looks you over, presses a button, and to the obsequious underling who answers the summons, he says: ‘Put this gentleman in the juvenile part in Number Three company of “Mrs. Prettytoes’ Shoestrings.”’

“You are elated at first at getting a job, but you find later on that ‘Mrs. Prettytoes’ Shoestrings’ has long since exhausted its drawing powers in the big cities, and is billed for six months through the one-night stands of Texas and Arkansas. You play the same part for all that period, and the next season maybe you will receive a rôle exactly on the same lines when, if you are lucky, week stands may replace the single night stops.

“And so it goes. Because you look the character you are assigned to it, and you never have an opportunity to show what you can do in the way of versatility, and consequently you never grow. Again I repeat, Where are the big actors in the next generation to come from?

“How about the stars of to-day? Were they not nearly all of them shining marks twenty years ago, having been cultivated under the old order of things? The only show a man has nowadays outside of the few cheap stock companies, to play more than one part a season, is when the first play put out fails.

“How different this was around Civil War times, when your star traveled from town to town and the companies in the various theaters were obliged to be up in the various plays he put out? Our cities were so small then that the same people had to be counted on to support a week’s engagement, so the bill had to be changed nightly. Twenty years from now I wonder who will be the stars, how many of them there will be, and—save the mark!—to what artistic merit will they attain?”

In a sense Mr. Dixey is himself a victim of the system he deplores. His season in “The Man on the Box” having been so successful, his manager has secured the dramatic rights to Cyrus Townsend Brady’s novel. “Richard the Brazen,” which will give Dixey a part on very similar lines to the consciencelessLieutenant Worburtonhe enacts in the Harold MacGrath story.

THE ROMANCE OF HALLOWE’EN.

Old Superstitions and Observances to Which the Scotch Still Cling Tenaciously—Ceremonies That Accompanied Lighting of Hallow Fires—How Lassies Compel Spirits to Reveal Natures of Those Who Are to Wed Them.

Like almost all of the Christian festivals, Hallowmas, or All Saints day, is associated with an ancient pagan celebration of great antiquity, and from this older rite many of its curious and singular observances are derived. Hallowe’en is the vigil of the feast of All Saints, and the custom of its elaborate observance is general everywhere, though its greatest development has been reached in Scotland.

Modern practise has largely omitted what was at one time the most important part of Hallowe’en ritual—that is, the lighting of bonfires at nightfall by each household. From this practise the relationship that it bears to the older Druidical festival of Samuin is apparent. This was a great occasion in the days of the ancient pagan worship, and all the hearths were on this day rekindled from the sacred fire.

Indeed, sacred fires seem to have been a part of the various forms of worship of many nations. The Germanic people had their fires, as well as the Celtic, so the custom was not wholly Druidical, but from the Druids came most of the superstitions that now cluster around the eve of the Christian festival.

The feast of All Saints was introduced very early by the Christian Church because of the impossibility of keeping a separate day for every saint. In the fourth century, when the persecutions of the Christians had ceased, the first Sunday after Easter was appointed by the Greek Church as the day for commemorating the martyrs generally.

In the Church of Rome a like festival was introduced about 610A.D., this being the time when the old heathen Panthéon was consecrated to Mary and all the martyrs.

The real festival of All Saints, however, was first regularly instituted by Pope Gregory IV, in 835, and appointed for the first day of November. It was admitted into England about 870, and probably about the same time into Ireland and Scotland. The festival is common to the Roman Catholic, English, and Lutheran branches of the Church.

The leading idea of Hallowe’en is that it is the time of all others when supernatural influences are strong, and charms, therefore, will not fail to work. Spirits, both good and evil, walk abroad on this one mysterious night, and divination attains its highest power. All who choose may avail themselves of the privileges of the occasion with the certainty that their questions will be answered.

Nuts furnish the principal means of reading the secrets of the future, and in some parts of England the night is known as “nutcrack night.” The nuts are cracked and eaten, as well as being made the oracles of the occasion, and apples also are used in the games and for divination.

The poet Burns, in the notes to his poem, “Hallowe’en,” speaks of the passion which human nature has had, in all ages, for prying into the future—particularly unenlightened human nature; yet it is not always the ignorant who indulge in the Hallowe’en pranks. It is by the peasantry in the west of Scotland, however, that the night is regarded with sincere veneration and believed to be truly great with meaning.

Burns gives some of the spells and charms whereby the lassies test their fate. Among these customs are the pulling stalks of corn, the blue clue, and eating an apple before the glass. He also mentions sowing hemp-seed, “to winn three wechts o’naethings,” “to fathom the stack three times,” “to dip your left shirt-sleeve in a burn where three lairds’ lands meet,” and, finally, a curious process “with three luggies or dishes.”

Another writer tells of fagots made of heath, broom, and dressings of flax tied upon a pole. These are lighted and then carried upon the shoulders of some one who runs around the village, attended by a crowd. Weird effects are produced on a dark night, when numbers of these fagots are blazing at the same time.

Still another writer tells of the custom of collecting the ashes from the bonfire when the fire has burned out. They are carefully gathered into the form of a circle, and a stone for every person of the several families interested in the fire is put into this magic pile. If any stone is injured or moved next morning it signifies that the person represented by that stone is “fey,” and will not live a twelve-month from that day.

In the days when the “hallow fire” was kindled, various magic ceremonies preceded its lighting. These exorcised the demons and witches and rendered them powerless. When the ceremonies were finished, the fire was lighted and carefully guarded by the men of the family from the depredations of certain societies which were formed, sometimes through pique and at other times for fun alone, for the purpose of scattering these fires. The attack and defense were often “conducted with art and fury.”

The first ceremony of Hallowe’en was pulling the kail (stalk). By its shape and size the young women determined the figure and size of their future husbands, while any “yird,” or earth, sticking to the roots meant fortune. The taste of the “custoc,” or heart of the stalk, showed the temper and disposition, and finally the stems or “runts” are placed above the door, and the Christian name of the person whom Fate sends first through the door gives the name of the gentleman.

In an old book of the early part of the sixteenth century there is a passage as follows:

“We rede in olde tyme good people wolde on All Halowen daye bake brade and dele it for all crysten soules.”

This refers to the ancient custom of the poor going “a-souling,” or asking for money which they earned by fasting for the souls of the alms-givers and his kinsfolk. Presumably the “brede” was not eaten until the day after.

In some places these loaves were called “sau’mas loaves”—soul-mass—and were kept in the house for luck. Bakers gave them to their customers, and thus they resembled the Good-Friday bread and cross-buns.

The vigil and ringing of bells all night long upon All Hallows was abolished under Henry VIII, but, in spite of this, half a century later, under Elizabeth, a special injunction forbade all superfluous ringing of bells. Evidently the laws were not enforced then any more than now, and the nerves of the people were tried as they are in these days. It is our doorbells, however, not church-bells, that keep us on edge, with the small boy at the button.

A Collector’s Bequest.“My wish is that my Drawings, my Prints, my Curiosities, my Books—in a word these things of art which have been the joy of my life—shall not be consigned to the cold tomb of a museum, and subjected to the stupid glance of the careless passer-by; but I require that they shall all be dispersed under the hammer of the Auctioneer, so that the pleasure which the acquiring of each one of them has given me shall be given again, in each case, to some inheritor of my own tastes.”—From the Will of Edmond de Goncourt.

A Collector’s Bequest.

“My wish is that my Drawings, my Prints, my Curiosities, my Books—in a word these things of art which have been the joy of my life—shall not be consigned to the cold tomb of a museum, and subjected to the stupid glance of the careless passer-by; but I require that they shall all be dispersed under the hammer of the Auctioneer, so that the pleasure which the acquiring of each one of them has given me shall be given again, in each case, to some inheritor of my own tastes.”—From the Will of Edmond de Goncourt.

A LETTER FROM CHRIST.TWO INTERESTING DOCUMENTS, RECOGNIZED AS AUTHENTIC, THAT BEAR UPON THE LIFE OF THE SAVIOUR.The Greek Church preserves a very interesting tradition which seems to rest upon some evidence which many Biblical scholars accept as quite convincing. The tradition relates that while Christ was working His miracles in Palestine the report of His divine power spread throughout Asia Minor until it reached the ears of Abgar, the Prince of Edessa in Mesopotamia. Abgar was afflicted with leprosy; and at last, in his despair, he is said to have written a letter to Christ beseeching Him to journey to Edessa and heal the prince of his disease. To this appeal the legend says that Christ dictated a reply by the hand of St. Thomas the Apostle, and that after the crucifixion St. Thomas sent Thaddeus, one of the Seventy, to Edessa, where he cured Abgar, who, with all his subjects, became converted to Christianity.The tradition is very old, and is believed among the Eastern Christians. It is first found recorded by the Greek writer, Eusebius, in his “Ecclesiastical History,” written about the year 330. Eusebius gives copies of both letters. It was not until the year 494 that the Roman Church declared the letter of Christ to be fictitious. The Greek Church has never made any such declaration. Among those scholars who have accepted the letters as authentic are Tillemont and the German theologian Welte. The following is a translation of the two documents:ABGAR TO JESUS CHRIST.“Abgar, Prince of Edessa, to Jesus, the merciful Saviour, who has appeared in the country of Jerusalem, greeting. I have been informed of the prodigies and cures wrought by you without the use of herbs or medicines, and by the efficacy of your words alone. I am told that you enable cripples to walk; that you force devils from the bodies possessed; that there is no disease, however incurable, which you do not heal; and that you restore the dead to life. These wonders convince me that you are some god descended from heaven, or that you are the Son of God. For this reason, I have taken the liberty of writing this letter to you, beseeching you to come to see me, and to cure me of the indisposition under which I have so long labored. I understand that the Jews persecute you, murmur at your miracles, and plan your destruction. I have here a beautiful and pleasant city which, though it be not very large, will be sufficient to supply you with every thing that is necessary.”JESUS CHRIST TO ABGAR.“You are happy, Abgar, thus to have believed in me without having seen me; for it is written of me, that they who shall see me will not believe in me, and that they who have never seen me shall believe and be saved. As to the desire you express in receiving a visit from me, I must tell you that all things for which I am come must be fulfilled in the country where I am. When this is done, I must return to Him who sent me. And when I am departed hence, I will send to you one of my disciples, who will cure you of the disease of which you complain, and give life to you and to those that are with you.”

A LETTER FROM CHRIST.

TWO INTERESTING DOCUMENTS, RECOGNIZED AS AUTHENTIC, THAT BEAR UPON THE LIFE OF THE SAVIOUR.

The Greek Church preserves a very interesting tradition which seems to rest upon some evidence which many Biblical scholars accept as quite convincing. The tradition relates that while Christ was working His miracles in Palestine the report of His divine power spread throughout Asia Minor until it reached the ears of Abgar, the Prince of Edessa in Mesopotamia. Abgar was afflicted with leprosy; and at last, in his despair, he is said to have written a letter to Christ beseeching Him to journey to Edessa and heal the prince of his disease. To this appeal the legend says that Christ dictated a reply by the hand of St. Thomas the Apostle, and that after the crucifixion St. Thomas sent Thaddeus, one of the Seventy, to Edessa, where he cured Abgar, who, with all his subjects, became converted to Christianity.

The tradition is very old, and is believed among the Eastern Christians. It is first found recorded by the Greek writer, Eusebius, in his “Ecclesiastical History,” written about the year 330. Eusebius gives copies of both letters. It was not until the year 494 that the Roman Church declared the letter of Christ to be fictitious. The Greek Church has never made any such declaration. Among those scholars who have accepted the letters as authentic are Tillemont and the German theologian Welte. The following is a translation of the two documents:

“Abgar, Prince of Edessa, to Jesus, the merciful Saviour, who has appeared in the country of Jerusalem, greeting. I have been informed of the prodigies and cures wrought by you without the use of herbs or medicines, and by the efficacy of your words alone. I am told that you enable cripples to walk; that you force devils from the bodies possessed; that there is no disease, however incurable, which you do not heal; and that you restore the dead to life. These wonders convince me that you are some god descended from heaven, or that you are the Son of God. For this reason, I have taken the liberty of writing this letter to you, beseeching you to come to see me, and to cure me of the indisposition under which I have so long labored. I understand that the Jews persecute you, murmur at your miracles, and plan your destruction. I have here a beautiful and pleasant city which, though it be not very large, will be sufficient to supply you with every thing that is necessary.”

“You are happy, Abgar, thus to have believed in me without having seen me; for it is written of me, that they who shall see me will not believe in me, and that they who have never seen me shall believe and be saved. As to the desire you express in receiving a visit from me, I must tell you that all things for which I am come must be fulfilled in the country where I am. When this is done, I must return to Him who sent me. And when I am departed hence, I will send to you one of my disciples, who will cure you of the disease of which you complain, and give life to you and to those that are with you.”

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