Therefore they were the usual employees.

But this ogre, though evidently in the habit of employing a cub in this department, had now become dissatisfied and procured the more satisfactory service of an old bear; for, if you will carefully examine the text, you will see that the meaning is _obvious_, for, as though to insure all its readers from misunderstanding, you will see that it is _distinctly_ stated that--

"The cub-bed was _bear_."

Now we come _Thirdly_ to the word "none."

"And so the poor dog got none."

This word in the original stands for two things--first, n-o-n-e, meaning nothing, which was the heretical sense deducted by my opponent, and the other and correct sense being n-u-n--a woman with black veil, generally of tender years; and Mother Hubbard, who intended to supply her lord's table with one small bone, found that instead the bear had secured the bones of a _whole nun_!

_Fourthly_ and lastly, it is clear from the words "poor dog," that the ogre was poor, but _not_ Mother Hubbard.

No, my hearers, _evidently_ she was _rich_, evidently _she_ held the purse-strings, and the ogre had stealthily supplied his table with a luxury, and his house with a steward, for which he individually was incapable of providing the means.

This is _clearly_ the fact from the words of the text, for you will notice that it was _when_ she got there--not _before_, but _when_ she got there, that she found the change that had been made in the household arrangements.

And then, doubtless, ensued a scene such as some "poor dogs" nowadays understand only too well!

And now, my friends, we come to the moral. It is _not_ to beware of widows as my opponent tried to prove, but for you, my hearers, on one hand, to beware of marrying a poor but extravagant dog, and you, on the other, to beware of marrying a rich but penurious wife.

Augustus Wood.

Charles P. Sherman.

Miss Helen M. Graham.

It is scarcely necessary to state the fact that Mr. Augustus Wood is a native of Morristown, belonging as he does to a very old and well-known family, or that he is the author of a little volume ent.i.tled "Cupid on Crutches". This is a summer story of life at Narragansett Pier and makes one of a group of light novels which we will give in succession.

"A BACHELOR'S WEDDING TRIP."

BY "HIMSELF."

"Himself" we recognize as Mr. Charles Sherman, then a bachelor, who cleverly dedicates the book in these words: "To the Unmarried: as Instance of the Bliss which may be Theirs, and to the Married, as Reminiscent of THE trip, These Threaded Sketches are Fraternally Dedicated by the Author".

The third of the group is

GUY HERNDON OR "A TALE OF GETTYSBURG."

BY "ELAYNE."

Elayne, we know, is Miss Helen M. Graham, one of Morristown's Society girls who spends much of her time in New York.

This "Tale of Gettysburg" is the first venture of Miss Graham into the field of literature. Her choice of subject indicates that she is in touch with the growing realization among our novelists of how wide and fruitful a field is presented to them in the events of our civil war. The few graphic pictures already given by them of the social and other conditions of those stirring times, will be more and more valued by the present generation, and by those to come, as the years go on.

Other Novelists and Story Writers.

Among the poets, we have already mentioned as writers also of stories, many of them for children and young people,--

_Mrs. M. Virginia Donaghe McClurg_, _Miss Emma F. R. Campbell_, _Miss Hannah More Johnson_, And _Mr. William T. Meredith_,

the last being the author of a summer novel, "Not of Her Father's Race".

_Rev. James M. Freeman, D. D._,

who, in addition to his editorial work and more serious writing, has published more than thirty small juvenile works, written under the name of "Robin Ranger", and which are all very great favorites with children, and

_Mrs. Julia McNair Wright_,

who, besides her many volumes on many subjects, has written novels, among them, "A Wife Hard Won," published by Lippincott, and a large number of stories for young people, found in many Sunday School libraries, as well as stories on the subject of Temperance, which are found in the collected libraries of Temperance societies.

TRANSLATORS.

Mrs. Adelaide S. Buckley.

Mrs. Buckley, who has already been numbered among our _Poets_, has translated a German story called "Sought and Found" from the original work of Golo Raimund, which has pa.s.sed to its second edition. The translator says, in her four line preface, "This romance was translated because of its rare simplicity and beauty, and is published that those who have not seen it in the original may enjoy it also."

One never takes up these charming little German stories without exclaiming, no other country-people ever write in the same sweet, simple way! The reason is evident to those who have lived among Germans and experienced their unaffected hospitality. There is a peculiar simplicity of home life even among the n.o.bility. A friend says: "I so well remember now, a lovely morning visit, in particular, to a little, gentle German lady in her beautiful drawing-room which contained the treasures of centuries. No one, I am sure, could have helped being struck by her gentle simplicity and unaffected courtesy. She came in dressed in the plainest of black dresses, a white ap.r.o.n tied around her waist, and on her head the simplest of morning caps. But her sweet German language,--how beautiful it seemed, as in the low, musical voice which bespoke her breeding, she talked of her own German poets; of Walther von der Vogelweide and the great Goethe and Schiller, of Auerbach and Richter and modern story writers." Afterwards, in speaking of the charm and beauty of such simplicity, the friend added, "Yes, and she belongs to one of the oldest n.o.ble, hereditary families of Germany, and carries the sixteen quarterings upon the family shield, which, to those who understand German heraldry, means the longest unmixed German descent. We could not help contrasting such quiet manners with many of the artificial a.s.sumptions and the aggressive boldness found that winter in Dresden." Therefore we always hail with pleasure translations of these stories of German life among all cla.s.ses. Though to translate requires no creative power, translating is in some respects more difficult than creating, for the reason that to translate demands a quick comprehension and intuitive discernment of the spirit of a foreign language, of the conception of the writer and of the national life which the language embodies. And we must remember that it is in the power of interpretation that woman especially excels.

This little story is essentially well rendered, with the animation and vivacity of the original, and it has great merit in preserving its German spirit, that sentiment which is so marked and so unlike any other people.

What Dr. Johnson said of translation had a ring of truth as had all his mighty utterances, namely: "Philosophy and science may be translated perfectly and history, so far as it does not reach oratory, but poetry can never be translated without losing its most essential qualities." It would seem then that to know the poetry of a people one must read it in the original language, which every one surely cannot do. Mrs. Buckley however, recognizing this subtle quality of the poetry of a language, has left the little verses of the story untouched, wisely giving the translation at the bottom of the page. A very lovely translation it is however and after a short pa.s.sage from the book, "Sought and Found", we shall give another poetic translation of the poem "Im Arm der Liebe", by Georg Scheurlin.

The following is a short pa.s.sage from the story:

EXTRACT FROM "SOUGHT AND FOUND."

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF GOLO RAIMUND.

Upon the table lay Veronica's picture, which in the meantime had been sent.

The flowers, painted by her hand, appeared to him like a friendly greeting.

He took it up and regarded it a long time; then, followed a sudden inspiration, he wrote upon the back:

(Here follows the German verse, the translation below:)

Thy merry jest is gentle as the May, Thy tender heart a lily of the dell; Fragrant as the rose thy inmost soul, Thy wondrous song a sweet-toned bell.

As in sport he subscribed his name; and then, as this homage, which had so long existed in his heart, suddenly expressed in words, stood before him, black upon white it was to him as if another had opened his eyes and he must guard the newly discovered secret. He placed the picture in a portfolio, in order to lock it in his writing-desk, and his eye fell upon the journal which had so singularly come into his hands. He laid the portfolio beside it. Did they not belong together? Did not the mysterious author resemble Veronica?

Like a revelation it flashed over him and so powerfully affected his imagination that the blood mounted hotly to his temples, and, in spite of the severe cold, he threw open the window that he might have more air.