DEPEW ON EXERCISE AS A BEAUTIFIER.

It is the belief of Chauncey M. Depew that the men and women of to-day are more beautiful physically than their ancestors ever were. This fact he attributes to "the love of our people of this generation for healthful outdoor exercise. In an interview, reported recently in Physical Culture, he spoke of his observation of all nationalities and classes of people with regard to their physical development. said, in part:

He

"During the last quarter of a century there has been a very remarkable growth among our people of the popularity of outdoor sports that bring into play very many of the muscles of the body, and especially is this true among our women. The result has been the building up and development of beautiful figures, and from these-or, rather, I may say, along with their growthhave developed the radiant and beautiful faces that so impress us.

"I think there has been a great improvement in the physical appearance of most all of the great nations of the world within the last twenty-five years, but in none has the improvement been so much as that of the men and women of America.

I have observed that health and longevity are indissolubly connected with work. Work furnishes the ozone for the lungs, the appetite and the digestion, which support vigorous life, the occupation which keeps the brain active and expansive."

In a recent number of the London Lancet, Prof. Mosso, an eminent Italian physiologist, confirms Senator Depew's views. He

says:

"It is enough to look at the passers-by in the American streets to be convinced how much more developed and strong they are than our compatriots. The boys and girls are in point of physique far superior to ours. All the public takes an interest in physical exercises-every journal being compelled to report athletic competitions, regattas, football encounters, golf matches, My admiration for this new world is all the greater when I reflect that its civilization is that of the future, which even for Italy will have better days in store."

etc.

LITERATURE.

THE EPIGRAM AND ITS USE.
HE use

T and abuse of epigram is

the subject of an article in the London Spectator. "The power of the epigram in literature," says the writer, "has been great." Most epigrams, not French, he declares, have come down to us from antiquity. This is mainly owing to the fact that the Greek and Latin languages

"are far better vehicles of brief, terse expression than any of the modern languages.”

"One finds a single line of Aristotle packed with thought, just as one finds a single line of Dante and Shakespeare, the two moderns who have shared this ancient power. The words are closely wedded to the thought, and the thought is so mirrored in the language that the whole expression stands out clearly, and yet is so crammed with ideas that the. mind, familiar with modern writing in which a single idea is spread over pages of type, is almost bewildered by the compact simplicity of the ancient writer. To turn from the 'Ethics' of Aristotle to any contemporary ethical treatise is like losing oneself in a dense thicket after one has surveyed a noble group of lofty trees clearly outlined on a prominent hill against the blue sky."

The ancients lived under different conditions than we do, and their thought and language reflect the conditions under which they lived. (In this connection read the Jewish symposium in another part of this number.)

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Speech or writing is an expression of life, of thought. If the life or thought is simple, the expression is simple, and in the main the life and thought of Greece and early Rome are very simple, very clear. But the stream of modern life is no pellucid brook, dashing down from some highland fastness in pristine purity; rather is it a mighty river charged with the waters of many tributaries, turbid, full, manymouthed: We are so choked with multitudinous and conflicting emotions, so beset by diverse problems, so bewildered by all manner of ideas and considerations which never suggested themselves to the youth of mankind, that we have lost that large utterance of the early gods,' and can but express ourselves in the speech of a complex civilization."

An illustrated description of the cabarets" of Paris, the little cafés and inns where French poets congregate and recite their verses, is contributed to the January Scribner's by Eliot Gregory. After speaking of the influence exerted upon the student of any kind by the cafés, the writer describes a recital in these words:

"From five to seven, and again after dinner, the habitués stroll in, grouping themselves about the small tables, each newcomer joining a congenial circle, ordering his drink, and settling himself for a long

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sitting. The last editorial, the newest picture, or the fall of a ministry is discussed with a vehemence and an interest unknown to Anglo-Saxon nations. Suddenly, in the excitement of the discussion, someone will rise in his place and begin speaking. If you happen to drop in at that moment, the lady at the desk will welcome you with, 'You are just in time! Monsieur So-and-So is speaking, and the evening promises to be interesting.' She is charmed; her establishment will shine with a reflected light, and new patrons be drawn there, if the debates are brilliant. So common is this that there is hardly an orator to-day at the French bar, or in the Senate, who has not broken his first lance in some such obscure tournament, under the smiling glances of the Dame du comptoir."

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The first cabaret to become famous was Au Chat Noir" ("The Black Cat"), in Others Montmartre, founded by Salis.

grew up and became influential in molding the literary life of Paris. Says Mr. Gregory:

"It is almost impossible to give an idea of the delicate flavor of these informal evenings the sensation of being at home that the picturesque surroundings produced, the low murmur of laughing conversation, the clink of glasses, the swing of a waltz movement played by a master-hand, interrupted only when some slender form would rise and, leaning against the piano, would pour forth burning words of infinite pathos, the inspired young face lighting up with the passion and power of the lines."

He concludes with an estimate of the value of these cabarets to literature and art in general:

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'It would be difficult to overrate the influence such an atmosphere, breathed in youth, must have, later, on the taste and character. The absence of the sordid money-grubbing spirit, the curse of our material day and generation, the contact with cultivated intellects and minds trained to incase their thoughts in finished verse or crisp and lucid prose, can not but form the hearer's mind into a higher and nobler mould. It is both a satisfaction and a hope for the future to know that these influences are being felt all over the capital and throughout the length and breadth of France. There are at this moment in Paris alone three or four hundred poets, balladwriters, and raconteurs who recite their works in public.'

SHAKESPEARE AS A CONSERVER OF LANGUAGE.

The formation of Shakespeare clubs for the reading aloud of the works of the great dramatist, is recommended by Sir Henry Irving as a far-reaching benefit, by which the taste of the nation will benefit, the language will become more exact without losing its elasticity, and the priceless heritage of our English tongue will be preserved to the world in its purity."

Speaking of the conservation of the English language in its purity, Sir Henry says (in The Ladies' Home Journal):

"In France there is an academy, founded by Richelieu, whose labor is to complete and preserve the language. Its work is so earnest but so extremely slow that two centuries have not sufficed to complete the task. The academy leaves, however, to another institution, one founded by the actor Molière, the perpetuation of spoken excellence. Now, in the English-speaking countries we have not yet any subsidy for a theatre such as that which in France and Germany and Austria makes possible the presentation of works of merit with a frequency and in a manner difficult to sustain by any private enterprise. It is, therefore, necessary that the academic result be achieved by other means; and fortunate it is that we have such a recognized standard of excellence to look to as the works of Shakespeare. Indeed, for literary purposes two books go almost together. If we dissociate from the Bible all its sacred aspect, and regard only its wisdom and the beauty of the language in which its ideas are conveyed, we shall find much in common."

SCULPTURE, ARCHITECTURE, AND PAINTING.

T

ART FOR THE PEOPLE.

HE recent opening of the annual art exhibition at the Carnegie Institute at Pittsburg furnishes The Outlook with the text for an excellent little editorial sermon on "Art for the People."

"The important matter in the art development of a country is not so much the appearance of great artists as the spread of a genuine interest in art among the people of the country. It will be impossible to develop or sustain great art in America until art becomes a natural and inevitable form of expression, and that cannot be until Americans come to feel and think in terms of art. The Dewey Arch is a significant and hopeful sign of the times, because it is illustrative of what might be called almost a spontaneous expression of thought and feeling concerning a striking event in an art form. Those who are anxious, therefore, for the larger and finer expression of American life attach the greatest importance to every wise and rational method of reaching the general public, and of making that public in some way sharers in art interest and art advancement.'

As soon as art touches the life of the people, it will begin to interpret that life.

IMAGINATION IN A PORTRAIT PAINTER.

In discussing the claims of Sir Joshua Reynolds as a great portrait painter, a writer in Scribner's (George Butler) says:

"He saw no visions, he dreamed no dreams; but he was alive to the airiest and most subtile charms of the visible. All in his life and thinking was eminently actual and outward. The highest mastership in art is where the mind is equally balanced between the visionary spontaneity of imagination and such quiet, keen perception of outward fact as Reynolds had.

"The exercise of the imagination where painting is concerned is in composition or combination of known elements. Imagination is not creation, for even when viewing the varied chaos of cloud-form we recognize only the outlines we are familiar with -backed like a camel, very like a whale.' As soon as we desert the domain of the real. there is absolutely nothing, even the wildest designs of the artist, the chimera, the sphinx, are pieced from actual creatures."

Mr. Butler then refers to Whistler as one who idealizes as well as realizes.

BEAUTY IN PLANNING HOUSE SITES.

Mr. Julian Moore has a paper on 'A Lost Principle of Beauty in Architecture," in The Fortnightly Review, in which he pleads against the dominance of mathematical regularity in the building of streets and houses. He gives an interesting list of the irregularities purposely practised by the old architects for the purpose of giving a charm to their buildings. In street reconstruction this principle of artistic irregularity is even more important. "We should," says Mr. Moore, referring to London, "induce some of our public representatives to prevent the beautiful curves in our old streets from being Haussmannised into mere vast chutes, as are the French and American boulevards."

THE QUARRIES OF CARRARA.

Miss Helen Zimmern contributes to the Leisure Hour for December a bright paper on the quarries of Carrara. The rugged Apuan Alps have, it appears, supplied marble" since all time historic and prehistoric alike." The great marble quarries are under municipal ownership. Of the town of Carrara the writer says:

"Of studios where real artistic work is done Carrara can show more than one hundred. Here the marble is worked up into statues, ornaments, bas-reliefs, and what not besides. This is done on the spot, not only because labor is cheap here, but also because the Carrara people are beyond question the finest marble workers in the world."

E'

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CDWIN MARKHAM'S poem, The Man With the Hoe," has been the subject of a vast amount of discussion, not as to its literary and poetic merits (which are universally conceded), but on the point of its philosophy. Did Mr. Markham paint a true picture of the condition of the tiller of the soil? The poem also suggested other thoughts. What about the man without the hoe, the man who can not get work, or, having the opportunity, won't?

About six months ago a wealthy New Yorker, who preferred to remain anonymous, offered, through the New York Sun, three prizes ($400, $200, and $100) for the first, second and third best poems written on the general subject, along the lines indicated. The competition was to be decided by a committee of three, consisting of the editor of the Sun, Mr. T. B. Aldrich and Mr. E. C. Stedman. The result has just been announced. The committee declare that over one thousand poems were submitted, the average degree of merit being unexpectedly high. As is often the case in such competitions, the productions dealing most closely with Markham's conception of Millet's painting were, for the most part, lacking in poetic quality, while the best poetic efforts were not to the point."

The committee awarded the first prize to John Vance Cheney, for the following poem:

THE MAN WITH THE HOE.

[A Reply to Edwin Markham.]

"Let us a little permit Nature to take her own way; she better understands her own affairs than we."-Montaigne.

Nature reads not our labels, "great" and "small";

Accepts she one and all.

Who, striving, win and hold the vacant place;

All are of royal race.

Him, there, rough-cast, with rigid arm and limb,

The Mother moulded him,

Of his rude realm ruler and demigod, Lord of the rock and clod.

With Nature is no "better" and no "worse," On this bared head no curse.

Humbled it is and bowed; so is he crowned Whose kingdom is the ground.

Diverse the burdens on the one stern road Where bears each back its load;

Varied the toil, but neither high nor low. With pen, or sword or hoe,

He that has put out strength, lo, he is strong;

Of him with spade or song.

Nature but questions,-" This one, shall he stay?"

She answers "Yea" or "Nay."

"Well, ill, he digs, he sings;" and he bides

on,

Or shudders, and is gone.

Strength shall he have, the toiler, strength and grace,

So fitted to his place,

As he leaned, there, an oak where sea winds blow,

Our brother with the hoe.

No blot, no monster, no unsightly thing, The soil's long-lineaged king;

His changeless realm, he knows it and commands;

Erect enough he stands,

Tall as his toil. Nor does he bow unblest; Labor he has, and rest.

Need was, need is, and need will ever be For him and such as he;

Cast for the gap, with gnarléd arm and limb, The Mother moulded him,