Page images
PDF
EPUB
[graphic][merged small]

and in household articles. It is good for the individual inside and out, and for the clothes he wears, and for the house that he lives in, from the basement to the lace curtains in the parlor and to the tiles on the roof.

Mr. Smith, by his individual efforts, has brought borax from the point where druggists sold it at 35 cents a pound to the position the position where it is an important article of commerce and a household staple of universal use. Although practically controlling the borax market. of the world, and the richest and

most extensive of all the discoveries, the great reduction in price has enable the poorest to use it. Mr. Smith is one of the best examples of the captains of industry of the West. Starting out as a poor youth he has, entirely unaided, steadily climbing the ladder of success, attained its rounds through his own individual efforts. More than the riches that he has gained, he has won the admiration and respect of all who know him and his many friends love him not only for his wealth and upright nature, but for his fine personal qualities.

[graphic][merged small]

By MINNIE D. KELLOG

ROW of little Buddhas of

Agilt, of bronze, of brass, of

wood, or of ivory, are seated in meditation on the shelf of an Orientalist's studio. In front of them lies a folio of the sacred writings of the East. It is forty inches long and so bound as to open and close like a folding fan, only the spokes in this case are completely covered with paper and are not fastened at either end. The margins of the one great enclosed page are illuminated in the best art of Siam, and the outer spokes, or covers of the book are washed with gold-leaf, for who would think of using an alloy here? So touch the holy volume with a gentle hand; yes, and with a gentle spirit.

On the corner of the shelf lies a leaflet from Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar. "Feb.25-True irreverence is disrespect for another man's god."

The pedestals of these little household gods vary, but the conventionalized lotus seems to be the favorite throne. This lovely flower, springing from the slime of the rivers and turning its face straight toward Heaven, won the heart of man immemorial ages ago, and holds it yet. He felt the simile long before language grew subtle enough to express it, and the Egyptians took the flower that had led his thought through nature up to nature's God as the symbol of Osiristhe noblest of his deities.

The Greek, artist that he was, seems to have found entire satisfaction in the material grace of the lotus, and it came to mean to him content in the present. The Arab, the fatalist, called it "the flower of destiny," "the fruit of Paradise." But where blossoms and fancies have been so long interweaving, one

might amplify or unravel forever.

The rudest of these pedestals seems to speak loudest. It has a mere indication of the lotus upheld by imploring figures, rough cut though they be; above sits Buddha with folded hands, meditating, as his creed commands. God above destiny, struggling men beneath it! But Buddha's hands are not always folded-another familiar position is the left hand in front of him and the right on his knee, with the wrist turned down and the straight, extended fingers pointing direct to the ground. There is a legend that when Buddha took his seat in Heaven the hosts about inquired, "By what right?" Buddha pointing downward replied, "Let earth be witness of my good works." Buddha, the meditator.

Here is an old ivory Buddha, carved with Oriental patience. The little god is seated upon a coiled serpent, under a tree. This evidently is historical. It must represent that tree under which Buddha sat for a week in fasting and meditation until he was relieved by a beautiful vision, and he went forth with his life work forever made clear to him. As to the snake, does it represent an ancient form of idolatry over which a better belief has risen, unconsciously triumphant? In Christian art, the serpent is generally writhing beneath its virtuous tormentor. Here Buddha and the snake are at peace. It is the boast of Buddhism that it has never drawn the sword, offensive or defensive; and if to this, some savant unearths some wisely forgotten exception, who then would dare compare the Christian record with it?

As I was stroking the rough little scales of the snake, Mrs. Searby Simms Smith, retailer of didactic. information, lady bountiful of ortho

[merged small][merged small][graphic][subsumed][merged small][merged small]

clothed and naked halves.

"Do you like legends?" "Indeed I do; and I believe in them. They speak the longings of our simpler brothers. Give me fancies upon facts, but deliver me from facts about fancies."

"Well, the story goes that some Buddhist monks suspected that some Jains were intruding at their rites. The sacred images of the Jains are always nude, and their religion strictly prohibits them from passing above one of them. So these Buddhists placed a little naked Jain idol on one of the lower steps at the entrance of their temple. The Jains painted clothing over half the image and then quietly walked past it. This tactful solution pleased some broad churchmen of the Far East, and ever since these diagonally draped images have been members of good standing among the Buddhas. Buddha is most often represented in the dress of an ascetic

which varies a little of course in the different countries. But Buddha was born a prince, entitled by Oriental law to disport all the insignia of royalty. There are certain little Buddhas jeweled and draped, which are preferred by the materialists of the Buddhist flock. Here is one, a little blaze of color in a gilt-lined shrine-but still the same meditative Buddha on the lotus, for “Even in a palace life may be well led."

I like the barbaric splendor lavished upon this tiny god. It is as sweet as the generosity of babyhood that presses its toys upon us. I wonder if, like the baby, it asks for that treasure back? Well, if impulse is better than afterthought, why, give to impulse its due credit? I like to close the shrine and muse upon the black laquered box before me-this altar of an unseen, unknown God, Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth.

TO MASCAGNI

By LUCILLE HARPENDING

Spirit! who hath a soul of melody;
And who canst echo into every soul
A portion of thy very spirit's whole,
Like the reverberations of the sea;
The very thoughts breathe in an ecstacy;
As if thou hadst from the celestial Pole
Descent, to choir on this mortal shoal,
And sing of the eternal Destiny.
O! There hath been a rapture in Thy song,
That hath not been in any other art;
Except within the realm of Poesy,
Which hath itself a string within the heart.
Yes, thou dost sing; and on this little sphere,
Make angels of us while we linger here.

[ocr errors]
[graphic][merged small]
« PreviousContinue »