MARY CATHERINE JUDD Principal of the Lincoln School Minneapolis Minn.
The very cordial reception given this little book by teachers and children, both in school and out of school, has tempted me carefully to revise the stories, omitting some and adding others, in the hope of making the book still more welcome and more helpful. The illustrations in the present edition are all from classic sources, and reproduce for the reader something of the classic idea and the classic art.
The book was originally prepared as an aid in Nature Study, and this thought has been retained in the present edition. By reading these myths the child will gain in interest and sympathy for the life of beast, bird, and tree; he will learn to recognize those constellations which have been as friends to the wise men of many ages. Such an acquaintance will broaden the child's life and make him see more quickly the true, the good, and the beautiful in the world about him.
Phaeton was the child of the Sun-god, Apollo.
"Mother Clymene," said the boy one day, "I am going to visit my father's palace."
"It is well," she answered. "The land where the Sun rises is not far from this. Go and ask a gift from him."
That night Phaeton bound his sandals more tightly, and, wrapping a thicker silken robe about him, started for the land of Sunrise, sometimes called India by mankind.
Many nights and many days he traveled, but his sandals never wore out nor did his robe make him too hot or too cold.
At last, as he climbed the highest mountain peak of all the earth, he saw the glittering columns of his father's palace. As he came nearer he found that they were covered with millions of precious stones and inlaid with gold. When he started to climb the numberless stairs, the silver doors of the palace flew open, and he saw the wonderful ivory ceiling and the walls of the long hall.
He was glad that the steps were many and he looked long at the pictures carved on the walls by an immortal artist.
There were pictures of both land and sea. On the right was earth with its towns, forests, and rivers, and the beings that live in each. On the left was the ocean with its mermaids sporting among the waves, riding on the backs of fishes, or sitting on the rocks drying their sea-green hair. Their faces were alike, yet not alike, as sisters ought to be.
Up, up the hundreds of steps he climbed, never wearied. On the ceiling of this marvelous hall he could see carved the stars of heaven. On the silver doors were the twelve strange beings of the sky, formed of stars; six on each door.
The last step was reached. Outside the sky was dark, but at the doorway Phaeton stopped, for the light from his father was more than he could bear. There sat Apollo, dressed in crimson, on a throne which glittered with diamonds. On his right hand and on his left stood the Days, bright with hope; and the Months, hand in hand with the Days, seemed listening to what the Years were whispering to them.
Phaeton saw there the four seasons. Spring, young and lovely, came first, her head crowned with flowers. Next came Summer, with her robe of roses thrown loosely about her and a garland of ripe wheat upon her head. Then came merry Autumn, his feet stained with grape juice; and last, icy Winter, with frosty beard and hair, and Phaeton shivered as he looked at him. Dazzled by the light, and startled to find himself in such a presence, he stood still.
"Apollo, my father, grant me one request, that I may prove to mortals that you are my father."
"Brave son, ask what you will, the gift is yours."
"Will you let me for one day drive your chariot?"
Foolish father, foolish son! Apollo shook his head three times in warning.
"I have spoken rashly. This one thing no mortal can achieve. Nor can any immortal save myself hold in the horses that draw the fiery car of day. It is not honor, but death you ask. Change your wish."
"My mother taught me that my father always kept his promises."
"It is even so, rash boy. If you do not change, neither can I. Bring the chariot of the Sun."
The daring child stood beside the glorious car that was higher than his head. His eyes flashed bright as the diamonds that studded the back of the golden chariot. The golden axle gleamed through the silver spokes, for the chariot was made of naught but gold and silver and precious stones.
Then Early Dawn threw open the purple doors of the eastern sky. The stars, answering the signal of the Day Star, slowly passed from sight, followed by their marshal.
The Hours obeyed Apollo's orders, and, harnessing the horses, led out the wondrous creatures and fastened them to the chariot.
Apollo bathed Phaeton's face with ointment, and taking up the crown of shining rays, fastened it on the rash boy's head.
"My son, you will at least take my advice in one thing: spare the whip and hold tight the lines. You will see the marks of the wheels where I have gone before, and they will guide. Go not too high or you will burn the heavens, nor too low or you will set your mother's home, the earth, on fire. The middle course is best. Take the reins, or, if even now you will change your wish, abide here, and yield the car to me."
Phaeton leaped into the golden chariot, and with a proud smile thanked his father. Then he gave the word to the horses.
They darted forward through the morning clouds with the fury of a tempest. Men on the earth thought it was noonday and tried to do double their daily work. The fiery horses soon found their load was light, and that the hands on the reins were frail. They dashed aside from their path, until the fierce heat made the Great and the Little Bear long to plunge into the sea.
Poor Phaeton, looking down on the earth, grew pale and shook with terror. He wished that he had never seen these shining steeds, had never sought the palace of the Sun, and that he had never held his father to that rash promise.
Diana, who drives the chariot of the Moon, heard the mad racket in the sky, and shooting her arrows at the frightened horses, turned them aside in time to prevent them from dashing her own silver car to pieces.
"What have I done that this punishment should come? Slay me, or save my people from this burning!"
Jupiter, from his seat in the thunderclouds, saw the danger the heavens and the earth were in, and hurled his lightnings at the rash driver. Phaeton fell dead from the chariot. From morning till night, and from that night till morning, he fell like a shooting star, and sank at last into an Italian river. His sisters trembled so at his fall and wept so bitterly that they changed into poplar trees upon the river banks. Even to this day they mourn for him and tremble at the least breeze from heaven. Apollo's horses, calmed by Jupiter's voice, finally found the track. When evening came they entered the western gates of the sky and were taken back, by way of the north, to their stalls near Apollo's palace.
"What a queer name for a day! Why didn't the people who named the days give them numbers instead of names? I can never remember how to spell Wednesday. What is the use of the third letter in it?"
"My little girl, when you have finished your lesson I will tell you a story; then I think you will always remember where the fourth day got its name."
It did not take Hilda many minutes to finish her studying, with the promise of a story before her.
"In the spring they were told that Woden made the leaves come and the flowers open. No one knew the true God then. Everyone said that Woden lived in a beautiful city in the sky, north of our own Northland. All the houses there were gold and silver, and the most splendid one was Woden's royal palace. This was called Valhalla. To reach it one had to ride or walk the whole length of the rainbow, as it arched from land to land. But there was a sharp-eyed watchman at the gate who stopped anyone who had no right to cross that seven-hued bridge.
"In Valhalla, Woden's people were always happy. They were never sick; they never died. There were no little girls and no little boys in this golden palace, only soldiers; and some of these were women! Woden often sent his shield-maidens, as they were called, to battlefields to carry to Valhalla the souls of brave men. When the choosers of the slain rode through the air, their glittering, shining robes and spears, and their swift horses made a strange, bright light in the North. People called it Northern Lights, but Woden knew it was his Valkyrias. Did you ever see them?
"In another palace of gold in this beautiful city of the northern sky were Woden's wife and family. This palace was called Fensalir. Woden's wife was Frigga and his eldest son was Thor. I must tell you about this son. Thor owned three precious things. Can you guess what they were?
"One was a red-hot iron hammer. When he threw it at a mountain the rocks split open wide and all the Frost Giants who lived within the rocks and upon the mountain were killed.
"The second thing was a wonderful belt. When he put it on he was twice as strong as before.
"The third was a pair of iron gloves. When he put these on he could throw his hammer twice as far.
"There is a story told of how Thor once threw his hammer so far that it could not return as it had always done. It fell near an immense giant who seized it and hid it half a mile deep under the rocks. Thor sent the God of Fire to win it back, but the cruel giant would not give it up unless Thor would bring Freya, the loveliest of the goddesses, to marry him. But Freya refused to go and live with a fierce giant.
"Thor wanted his hammer. At last the God of Fire, who had seen this giant, told Thor to dress himself like Freya and to put on a heavy veil. He did this and the two gods rode far away, on the rays of the setting sun, to recover the lost hammer.
"When the giant saw them he took them to his house. At supper time he wondered how a goddess could eat so much, for Thor devoured eight great salmon and a whole roasted ox. Then he wondered how she could drink so much, for Thor drank three hogsheads of honey wine. Then the giant pulled the heavy veil aside and wondered what made her eyes like fireballs. The God of Fire explained everything, for Thor would not speak. Then the hammer was asked for. It was laid in the mock bride's lap. As soon as Thor had it in his hand he stood up, slew all the giants and utterly destroyed the wicked town. Then he went back to Fensalir and told Frigga, his mother, how he had recovered his hammer.
"Frigga was as powerful as Woden or Thor. All things which Woden had made obeyed her, nor dared harm anything when she forbade them. It may be she did not know of the lost hammer or she would have saved Thor his long journey.
"Frigga was one of the most beautiful creatures the world has ever known. No picture was ever so perfect and beautiful as she. Her robes were lovelier than those of any other goddess. Sometimes they were of gold and scarlet, sometimes of purest white, and many times of modest green. She loved to spin, and no spider ever spun so fine a thread as she on her spinning wheel. She worked so faithfully that Woden changed the wheel into shining stars, and when you look up at Orion again remember that the Norse people called that constellation Frigga's distaff.
"And now, Hilda, these three, Woden, Thor, and Frigga, still live upon our earth and are bound by loving ties. Strange to say, however, they can never meet again, for only one comes to earth at a time. At midnight, Woden, the father, leaves, and Thor, his son, stays with us till another midnight. Then Frigga, the mother, comes for a single day, but she never can see again her son nor her husband.
"Does Hilda guess what my story means?"
"I am not quite sure, mother; help me a little bit."
"In my story, Hilda, I told for whom three days of our week are named. Can you tell which days?"
"Why, mother, is that it? I know one, that is Woden's day, or Wednesday. Yes, there is Thor's day, or Thursday, but what is the other?"
"Didn't I tell you the mother never could see again her son or her husband? Do you see the meaning now?"
"Oh, I know! Friday is beautiful Frigga's day."
"Yes, you have guessed the three, Hilda. Now, do you see that Thor's day comes when Woden's day goes? And as soon as Thor's day is over, then comes Frigga's day. They come to earth, but never meet."
"Why, how queer it all is! When I say the names of the days of the week, it will seem as if you were telling me the story again."
"And now a little more, Hilda. Do you remember the colors of the robes that Frigga wore?"
"You said she wore green or white robes, or sometimes scarlet and gold. Her dresses must have been very beautiful."
"Look out of the window Hilda. What color is the lawn?"
"Why, the grass makes it green."
"What color will it be in winter?"
"Why, white with snow, of course."
"And in the fall, Hilda?"
"Oh, I know now what you mean by Frigga is the ground, isn't she?"
"Not the ground, but the earth. Woden, with his one all-seeing eye and his mantle of blue and gray, is the sky, and Thor, with his streaming red beard and his crashing hammer, is the thunder."
"Oh, mother, how strange it is that such a story should come just from the word Wednesday! I am glad that I am a Norwegian."
"When we were at grandpa's last summer, we used to stay out so long, playing under the trees in the dooryard, that nearly every night we saw the moon.
"Sometimes it was big and round, and sometimes it looked like grandpa's sickle, only it had no handle.
"And you ought to have heard the queer stories aunt Hattie told about the moon. Some of the stories were very funny, and some were very beautiful.
"Let's find a window where we can see the moon and then tell stories about it. Come, boys," and little Jack led the way.
"Here is a grand place to sit, Charlie. Right here, all of us together on this sofa, and you must tell us a story."
"This is one of the stories I like best; maybe you won't, though.
"Apollo, the god of the sun, had a twin sister named Diana. Apollo liked to hunt with his golden bow and arrow, and his sister loved him so much that she was always with him. He taught her how to use the bow and arrow as well as he could himself. Sometimes their mother would set up a target for them, and she was just as proud of Diana's quick eyes as of Apollo's strong hand, for no matter what they aimed at, Diana could shoot as well as Apollo. By and by, when Apollo had grown too old for idle sport, he was given the sun to rule over, and Diana begged for something just as grand to do. 'Such work is too hard for my brave girl,' her mother would say, but at last Apollo said he would help her, and so she was given the moon to rule over."
"Why, Charlie, how queer that sounds, for you know the sun does help the moon to shine," said Jack.
"Keep still, Jack; it is almost nine o'clock, and I can't stop to talk about the queer part; you must just watch for that," and Charlie went on with the story.
"Diana was as grand and proud, driving the silver chariot of the moon, as Apollo in his gold chariot of the sun. Sometimes, when her work was over, she left the moon and came to earth again to hunt. She would call her friends, the maidens she used to play with, and away they would go, each with a silver bow in hand and a quiver full of arrows fastened at their backs.
"One day, while they were hunting, they heard strange dogs in the woods. Each one of the girl hunters hid behind a tree and waited. Diana ran from her tree to a cave so that she could not be found. At last a foolish hunter came in sight. He seemed to act as if he knew he ought not to be there, and he wandered from left to right, as if he had never hunted before. Then he started for the very cave where Diana was hiding, for he knew by the willows a spring was there."
"Poor fellow! He could not move. As he stood there he found his arms were changing to the straight fore legs of a deer. Horns came out of his head, his brown eyes grew bigger, and so did his ears, and in a few minutes even his own dogs did not know him. He bounded away, but his pet hounds sprang at him and caught him.
"Diana and her friends were miles away, and no one could save the poor fellow from the fate of a hunted deer."
"Oh, I think Diana was cruel," said Jack.
"I thought it served him right, when I heard it," Charlie said. "He knew he had no right in Diana's forest, and she can't hunt in the moon, for they say there are neither trees nor animals there."
"Jack and Jill Went up the hill To get a pail of water; Jack fell down And broke his crown And Jill came tumbling after."
"Every night, mother, I see a beautiful star in the sky so different from the others. It comes first and shines so bright that it seems as if it were the loveliest star in the whole sky. Won't you watch for it to-night with me?"
The mother smiled, for she thought she knew which one of the stars Mamie would point out. Sure enough, that night as they both sat in the hammock watching the sunset, out came the very star she expected. In a moment Mamie saw it and nearly fell out of the hammock as she screamed and clapped her hands.
"There it is, mamma! There it is! I know it because it looks straight at me. It knows me, I believe, for it never trembles a bit, like the other stars! Did you ever see such a lovely one?"
Her mother smiled an odd little smile.
"What makes you laugh at me, mother? I know you are laughing, by the corners of your mouth; they go up so queerly. Tell me."
"Why, Mamie, that is Venus you are watching. I have watched her every year since I first found her long ago."
"Venus? Who is Venus, mother? And what makes you call a star her? I didn't know a star could have a name. Who named her? Did you, mother? What made you call her Venus?"
"Seems to me you ask a great many questions, little girl. Which one shall I answer first?"
"Did you name my star yourself?"
"No, Mamie, it was named hundreds of years ago when many stars had names given them. You know people have watched and studied the stars almost since the world began."
"And was Venus a little girl or a woman? I know she must have been lovely or they would never have given her name to my star."
"Your star, as you call it, Mamie, is at present the evening star. By and by it will be the morning star. I will tell you where it got its name.
"Venus was a lovely woman, but she never was a little girl. The old, old story books say that one day as some people were walking by the sea they saw a rose-tinted shell rise on the crest of the wave. This great shell opened, and beautiful Venus, clothed in raiment like sea-foam when the sun shines on it, stepped out upon the waters. The people watching were not surprised when they saw a sunset cloud sail down and take her to the edge of the western sky, where the ruby gates opened and she passed through to the world of the gods. That was her home. Whenever she wished to return to earth she came in a silver chariot drawn by snow-white swans. Her head was always wreathed with roses and myrtles. White doves carried her messages. Her dress is of the finest silk, the color of the pink sea-shell."
"Why, mamma, you say is! Do you mean Venus is still alive?"
"No, dear, she never was alive. It is only one of the many beautiful myths that people used to believe two thousand years ago. But artists love to paint pictures as beautiful as Venus was thought to be, and there are many lovely statues of her. Sometimes it almost seems as if she must have been alive. When we go to the art gallery, see if you can find a Venus.
"But say good-night to your star, for it is late. Some time you will miss her and find another in her place. Tell me, dear, when the new star comes."
"Oh, I am going to watch every night, mamma. Will the new one have a name?"
"Yes, but I'm not going to tell you its name or its story till it comes."
It is an easy matter for any one to find the three great stars in the sky that are arranged in a row, like three great diamonds sparkling on the front of a mammoth crown. They shine out, clear and bright, whenever Diana takes her silver bow, which we call the moon, and goes to hunt in her secret fields or forests. These three stars have been called Orion's Belt for thousands of years, and for ages children and grown people have watched for their coming after the sun has gone below the horizon.
The story told of Orion by the ancient Greeks has been repeated by some of our poets, and Henry W. Longfellow has written in his own beautiful way of this same famous Greek hunter who never knew fear. Perhaps you will be more interested in his poem after you have read this short account of the mighty giant whose belt of stars is longer than other giants were tall.
Orion was the son of Neptune, the god of the sea. His father gave him power to walk upon the water or to wade in the deepest ocean without drowning. You know that if he had the power of walking in such places, he did not need to swim, and his steps were so long that he could walk much faster than his swiftest enemy could run.
Orion was very fond of hunting, and wore, as his mantle or robe, the tawny skin of a huge lion he had slain. His club and his sword were his only weapons, and he needed no others, for his long arms helped him to strike before he himself could be hurt. Once he was made blind, but as he wandered by the seashore the music of the singing waves which were his father's home gave him comfort and led him to a friend who guided him to Apollo. One bright sunbeam from Apollo's crown touched Orion's eyes and they saw more clearly than ever before. Nearly everything was Orion's friend, for with his great strength he was always ready to help those who could not help themselves. But he was so huge that many who did not know him were afraid, and one day the Pleiads, daughters of Atlas, saw him coming and they fled away so fast that they were changed into doves. You can find the place where they alighted in the sky, just ahead of Orion. He still follows them, and his dog Sirius, who carries the famous dog star, is close at his side; but the Pleiads never allow Orion to overtake them in their long journey through the regions of the sky. The Pleiads are so beautiful that you must learn to find them, and this cluster of six twinkling stars, "a swarm of fireflies tangled in a silver braid," will guide you in finding the belt of the mighty hunter Orion, the giant of the heavens. Four other very brilliant stars mark his shoulders and his knees.
"Oh mother, what do you think? Last night that English boy, Charlie Thornton, asked me if I knew where Charles' Wain was, and when I said I didn't know, what do you suppose he showed me? Why, nothing but the Big Dipper up there among the stars. I told him he was mistaken and that nobody ever called it the odd name he had for it. But he said his mother called it that, and he wouldn't give it up. Wasn't that queer?"
"Why, no, Ralph, I don't think it was strange that he called it as his mother had taught him. That is exactly what you do. Many English people call it Charles' Wain. Wain means wagon, and it does look a little like a cart or wagon."
"I don't think it does, not the least bit. It looks just like a big dipper, and like nothing else."
"Why, you silly boy! What would you think if I should tell you that ever so many people call it the Great Bear?"
"Why, that is queerer yet. Can you see a bear up there in the sky? Maybe when it thunders it is the Great Bear growling!" and Ralph jumped off the porch and rolled on the grass, laughing at his discovery.
In a moment a thought seemed to come to him, and springing up, he ran to his mother's chair on the porch and said: "Mother, is there any story about the Great Bear? How did it get up there among the stars? Is the North Star the Bear's eye? Does his nose always point to the North Star, the same as the two pointers in the Big Dipper?"
"Now, my boy, you will be surprised again when I tell you that there are two bears in the sky, the Great Bear and the Little Bear. The wonderful North Star is in the tip of the tail of the Little Bear."
"Now, I know there is a story about them, just as there was about those three beautiful ones you showed me in Orion's belt. You told me about Orion, now you will tell me about the two bears, won't you?"
"It is a sad story, Ralph, and you know you don't like sad stories. But I will tell it to you, and sometime, in the years to come, you may read it in a language that is as old as the story.
"Near a beautiful city on the other side of the world was a large forest. The trees in this forest were very tall, and their branches so thick that they made a roof over the ground below. One could wander for miles and miles in the shade of this forest and never find a house, or any living creatures but the birds and wild animals.
"Once on a time some hunters came back, after having been gone many days, and said that away in the heart of the forest they had had a glimpse of a beautiful snow-white bear. Not one of them had been able to get a shot at it with his arrows, and some thought it was only a dream. The story spread throughout the city, and all the boys and young hunters were anxious for a chance to win so fine a prize as the snow-white skin. Not for himself, oh, no, for whoever brought it home must hang it in the temple.
"This young man was dearly loved by everyone. His mother had left him when he was only a few years old, and gone, no one knew where. He was cared for by his uncle, and grew up, hoping each year his mother would return. He took long journeys trying to learn if she were still alive, but no one could ever tell him a word about her. These journeys had made him very bold and brave, and there was no cave so dark, nor mountain so high, but that he would search it in the hope of finding his mother.
"He found six young hunters ready to go with him into the heart of the forest. They looked very fine in their bright, shining hunting-suits, with their bows and arrows, and every one wished them success.
"They wasted no time in the pleasant fields outside, but started for the dark, sunless forest. It was slow work picking their way through the tangled bushes growing under the trees, and it took many days to reach the place described by the hunters who had told them the story of the strange white bear.
"'Whoever sees it first must call to the others. It may be that this is enchanted ground, and something dreadful will happen to the one who is alone,' said the leader of the hunting party.
"'It is well said,' they all agreed. In the heart of this wild forest they wandered, shooting the strange birds they saw there, and saving the long feathers and wings, to bring home after the hunt was over.
"One day the leader of the hunt chased a wonderful bird for hours from tree to tree, riding beneath the branches, trying to get a shot.
"At last, just as he had his arrow in his bow, ready to aim, his horse reared and nearly threw him backward to the ground. There, beside him, stood the snow-white bear.
"Its two fore paws were stretched out to meet him, and its eyes seemed full of the love he used to see in his mother's eyes. It was a beautiful sight, and the arrow meant for the bird shot upward into the sky, harming no one, but bearing the next words of the hunter as a message to the great Jupiter.
"'O, my mother, let me live forever with you!' exclaimed the hunter, as his strong arms were clasped about the white bear's neck.
"'My mother is found!' he shouted, and Echo repeated over and over, 'Found! Found!' until the six fellow hunters came to where the mother and her son were standing, gazing with loving eyes toward Mount Olympus, the home of their gods.
"The winged arrow had taken its flight to Jupiter and the son's prayer was answered.
"Jupiter's lightnings flashed and the six hunters saw their strong leader change into the Great Bear, and gently guide his mother, the Little Bear, to her home in the sky. He took his place near her, at Jupiter's command, and now follows wherever she leads. He points forever to her and to the North Star which she keeps. Those who watch this unchanging beacon among the stars sometimes remember that the people of long ago thought that it was placed there to tell them of the unchanging love of mothers."
"Oh, I knew there was a story. It came out all right at last, and that takes the sad part away."
Among the star pictures in the sky may be found one called Gemini, or the Twins. The ancient Greeks used to believe that twin brothers named Castor and Pollux had been really placed in the sky. They once lived in Sparta; their mother was the lovely Leda, and one of their sisters was the beautiful Helen, whose capture caused the famous Trojan war.
These brothers were as devoted to each other as twins are said to be, and one was never seen without the other being near. Their love for their sisters was very great, and once when Helen was captured by two noted warriors, these twin brothers of hers found her and brought her safely back to their mother's house.
Castor was very fond of horses. He could tame the wildest one that was ever caught, and lead it about like a pet dog as soon as his magic touch had taught its fiery spirit that he was its master. He could ride better than any one in the kingdom, for no horse had ever thrown him.
Pollux was just as famous in boxing and wrestling. He taught young men many tricks with the hand and foot, and was the leader in all games.
The two brothers were proud to be allowed to go with the other heroes in quest of the golden fleece. When the sweet music of Orpheus stilled the wild storm that arose on the sea and threatened to wreck the Argo, stars appeared upon the heads of Castor and Pollux, for their great love for each other was known to the Olympian gods who had sent the storm.
When the curious flames, that sometimes during storms play about the masts and sails of a ship, were seen on other ships after this voyage of the Argo, the sailors would always cry out, "See the stars of Castor and Pollux!"
Their love for each other made them more famous than anything else. When at last Castor was slain in a great battle, Pollux prayed Jupiter to let them be again united. The prayer was granted. Not long after this, the poets tell us, the star picture of the Twins was discovered in the sky, and there the two loving brothers stay forever watching the earth to see if they may help others to be faithful to the end.
Soon after the world was made, God created a beautiful maiden and gave her charge of all the birds beneath the heavens. Her name was Lindu. Her father's name was Uko. She knew all the birds of passage, and where they should go in autumn, and she sent each flock on its way.
Lindu cared for the birds tenderly, like a mother for her children, and gave them help whenever it was possible. She sent the stormy wind to blow dust into the eyes of the fierce hunters when they were seeking to slay her pets. It was not surprising that all the world loved her, and those who dwelt in the sky most of all.
The North Star wished to make her his wife. He drove up to Uko's palace with a dusky coach drawn by six black horses, and in the coach were ten fine presents. But Lindu did not love him.
"You always stay in one place, and cannot stir from it," said she. "Go back to your watch-tower."
Then came the Moon drawn in a silver coach by ten gray horses, and the Moon brought twenty presents. But Lindu did not love the Moon.
"You change your face too often and not your path, and that will never suit me," she said.
"I do not love you. You follow the same track day by day, just like the Moon. I love the changing seasons, the changing winds, anything that changes."
At that the gold-red horses leaped away and Lindu was alone with her birds.
At length the Northern Light came from his home in the midnight land in a diamond coach drawn by a thousand white horses. He was so grand that Lindu went to the door to meet him. His servants carried a whole coach-load of gold and silver, pearls and jewels into her house. She loved this bright suitor at once.
"You do not travel the same path all the time like the others. You set out when you wish and rest when it pleases you. Each time you wear a new robe, and each time you ride in a new coach with new horses. You shall be my bridegroom."
And Lindu's choice was made.
The news was sent throughout the world, and guests came from the four sides of the sky and of the earth to greet Lindu and the Northern Light. It was agreed that the wedding should be when the birds flew south. Back to his home in the midnight land went the Northern Light, knowing that Lindu loved him best.
The torrent which fell half a thousand feet over the mountain side sent Lindu her bridal veil. The Frost King sent her laces so fine that a breath of summer air would have destroyed them, and they were stored away in a block of ice for safe keeping. The birds brought her robes of butterfly wings softer than silk and more beautiful than velvet. Her sandals were from the wings of the honey bee, stronger than reindeer skin, and fleeter than a chamois' foot.
Spring passed away. Summer came and went. The birds flew south, and Lindu waited for the Northern Light's return. Snow sparkled on the earth, but no hoof-beat of his thousand white horses broke the stillness of the midnight air. Spring came, but never the Northern Light.
Then Lindu began to weep, and from her tears sprang the little brooks in the valleys of Earth. The birds flew about her head and rested on her shoulders. They tried to caress her in a hundred ways, but Lindu did not heed them. Then they flew away and wandered in strange places, building nests where no nests were ever seen before. Many an egg was lost and many a nestling stolen because Lindu was not near to help her birds.
At last Uko heard their sad songs and then saw his daughter's grief. Uko's heart was always merry and his hands so full of work that he had not noticed Lindu's trouble. He ordered the Four Winds to lift her gently and bring her to him in his sky palace.
She dressed herself in her bridal veil, her frosted laces, and robes of butterfly wings, and the four strong Winds lifted her from the ground. The song-birds of Earth gathered about her and sang their sweetest songs. With her white bridal veil streaming far out on the air and a happy smile on her lips, Lindu sailed across the sky to Uko's palace. There she lives now, happy as her father Uko. Her white veil spreads from one end of the heavens to the other, and whoever lifts his eyes to the Milky Way beholds the maiden in her bridal robes.
From there she directs her birds. From there she waves her white hand in greeting to the Northern Light as his thousand horses leap through the sky. She has forgotten his unkindness and her sorrow. The Northern Light still loves her, but is so changeful that he can never keep a promise. Uko has given Lindu her station in the heavens and her work. Forever beautiful and forever young, never changing, she forever smiles at the changeful Northern Light.
Once there was a man who decided to take a journey to the uttermost end of the world where it touches the sky. He thought he could reach that point only by sea, but being tired of the water decided to travel on the wings of an eagle. A raven told him better, however, for the nights are months long in the far Northland and the eagle loves the sunlight.
Then this man, who was a king, gave orders to fell the greatest oak tree in his three kingdoms. Olaf the Brave undertook this task. The oak tree was very large and neither sun, moon, nor stars could shine between its leaves, they were so close together. The king commanded that deep-sea sailing ships should be made from its trunk, warships from its crown, merchant ships from its branches, children's boats from the splinters, and maidens' rowing boats from the chips.
But the wise men of Norway and Finland assembled and gave the king advice. They told him that it was no use building a wooden ship, for the spirits of the Northern Lights would set it on fire. Then the king made a ship of silver. The whole of the ship—planking, deck, masts, and chains—was of silver, and he named his vessel "The Flyer."
Then—for this was ages ago—he provided golden armor for himself, silver armor for his nobles, iron for the crew, copper for the old men, and steel for the wise men.
When everything was ready, he and his sailors set out for Finland. But they soon turned and headed "The Flyer" to the far north. The Great Bear in the sky guided them.
At the helm of the ship was a wise pilot who knew all languages and the speech of birds and beasts. The winds of Finland were angry because he slighted their country, and a great storm arose and blew the ship out of her course. The birds sang to the helmsman and told him by their song that his ship was being driven on the bleak and desolate coast of Lapland.
The king and his bold comrades succeeded in landing in Lapland, but could find no people. At last a sailor discovered a house. In it dwelt a wise man and his daughter. The king asked the wise man the way to the end of the world. The wise man answered that he had asked a vain question.
"The sea has no end, and those who go westward have found their death in the Fire Island. Turn homeward and live," said the wise man.
The king only answered by asking the wise Lapp if he would be their guide to the Fire Island. He consented and went aboard the ship. His name was Varrak.
He steered the boat due north for thirty days and thirty nights. The first danger they met was a great whirlpool, whose center was a vast hole into which had been drawn many a brave ship. Varrak threw overboard a small barrel wrapped in red cloth and trimmed with many red streamers, but with a rope attached to it. A whale swallowed this bait and then tried to escape as he felt the rope pulling him. In his flight he towed the ship to a safe place in the open sea.
This brought them far westward and at last they came within sight of the Island of Fire. Iceland, men call it now, but surely it has as much fire as ice. From the middle of this Iceland they could see great pillars of flame and vast clouds of smoke ascending into the air.
Varrak warned the king of his danger, but was commanded to run the boat ashore. Those who explored the land found a vast mountain casting up flames and another mountain pouring out smoke. Soon the party came across great spouting fountains of boiling water, and they found the ground beneath their feet to be burning lava.
The son of Sulev, who was leading this exploring party, wandered through snow-fields covered with ashes. A shower of red-hot stones warned him that he was near the volcano. Going too close to this burning mountain, his hair and eyebrows were singed and his clothing took fire. He rolled in the snow and saved himself.
Then the son of Sulev thought it best to go back to the ship. Calling his party together, he found that the youngest, the yellow-haired boy who was cupbearer to the king, was gone. The birds told the helmsman, the wise Lapp, that the lad had made friends with the water-sprites beyond the snow mountains and would never return.
The winds drove the ship about for many days till she grounded again on a strange shore.
Another party of nobles and sailors went to search this country. Being tired, they lay down under an ash tree and fell asleep. The people in this land were giants, and a giant's daughter found them. They were so very small to the giant child that she picked them up and put them in her apron, and carried them home to her father.
"Look at these strange creatures, father," she said. "I found them asleep under a head of cabbage in our garden. What are they?"
The giant knew them to be men from the east. Now the east has always been noted for its wisdom, so he questioned these men with riddles.
"What walks along the grass, steps on the edge of the fence, and walks along the sides of the reeds?" he asked.
"The bee," answered the wise man of the party.
"What drinks from the brooks and wells, and from the stones on the bank?"
"The rainbow," replied the wise man.
Then the giant told his little daughter to put the strangers back exactly where she had found them. But the wise man asked her to carry them to the ship just for fun. She leaned over the vessel like a vast cloud and shook them out of her white apron upon the deck. Then with one long breath she blew the ship four miles out to sea. The king shouted back his thanks.
But that wind blew northwest instead of north. The cold was intense and they watched from midnight to midnight the combats in the air between the spirits of the Northern Lights. The sailors were frightened, but the king was pleased. He was farther north than ever before.
The helmsman warned them that they were approaching another shore. No birds welcomed them or sang them the name of the country. Men dressed in the skins of dogs and bears met them as they landed, and took them to their homes on sledges of ice drawn by dogs. Their houses were of blocks of ice and snow, and their talk sounded like dogs barking.
The king did not like these people, for their land was cold. The wise man told him again that his search was an idle one. The end of the world was not for mortal eyes to see. At last the king believed him and sailed homeward. No man to this day has been able to find the far north, the end of the world.
In the land of Thrace there lived, years ago, one who was called Orpheus. He was the sweetest singer ever known. His voice was low and soft.
When men heard this voice all anger ceased, and their thoughts were thoughts of peace. Even wild animals were tamed.
Orpheus went into the woods one day and took nothing but his harp with him.
No quiver of arrows was on his back, nor hunting spear at his side.
He sang and sang till the birds flew down on the ground about him, and seemed to think that a creature with such a voice must be merely another kind of bird.
A wild cat came creeping slyly between the trees, trying to catch the little feathered listeners. Orpheus took his lute and played upon it, and the wild cat became as tame as the birds. They all followed Orpheus farther into the forest.
Soon, from behind a rock, a tiger sprang to attack the wild cat. The birds and the wild cat called to Orpheus. When he saw the trouble he took his harp again, and while he sang the tiger came trembling and purring to his feet and the birds, the wild cat, and the tiger followed Orpheus still farther into the forest.
He sat down by a tree to rest and the bees came and showed him where their honey was hidden in the tree. He fed his friends, and then he and the tiger led the way to a river where there was the purest water.
Tall trees bent low before him, and young trees tore themselves from the ground and followed in his train.
Foul waters parted so that Orpheus and his band might pass through unharmed; they knew no longer any evil thing.
Before they reached the river of pure water, to which the tiger was leading them, a lion, fierce with anger, sprang madly at his old enemy. Orpheus took his harp and played so wonderfully that the pine trees sighed with sorrow, and the lion, loosing his hold on the tiger, followed the sweet singer of Thrace. At the river the birds, the wild cat, the tiger, and the lion drank together with Orpheus, with not one thought of hurting one another.
"We are tired," said the birds. "Let us stay here by this river," and Orpheus agreed. The birds flew to the trees, while the others tried to rest on the huge rocks by the shore, but these were jagged and rough. They would give no rest to any one.
Then Orpheus began to play, and the hardest rocks were stirred. They rolled over and over into the river, and in their places the softest beds of white sand were ready for all. Orpheus rested, with the lion and the tiger for his night-watchers, and the wild cat asleep in the tree with the birds.
In the morning the harp sounded again, and the strange company wandered away, happy to be near the music. The three wild beasts fed together on the river grasses and forgot that they had been life-long enemies.
Orpheus had said, before he came into the wood, that he was tired of men and their quarrels; that wild beasts were easier to tame than angry men; and so he found it during these two days in the forest.
He took his harp and played and sang a sweet, wild song of love and peace, and overhead the leaves and branches of the oaks danced for joy of living. Not one growl, not one quarrel was heard where even the echoes of the music went. The very rocks answered the voice of Orpheus, and everything was at peace.
Then came the sound of the hunting dogs. The lion raised his shaggy head, but put it down again. Savage light came again into the eyes of the tiger and of the wild cat. The dogs came nearer. Orpheus played on his lute and the dogs came and lay down at his feet, and the hunters went home without their prey.
That night Orpheus led the birds and beasts all back to the places where he had found them, and went home to live once more in his cave in Thrace.
For years hunters told, over their camp-fires, strange stories of a tiger and a lion who lived together in the deep forest; of a wild cat with eyes like a pet fawn; and of birds whose songs were so sweet that wild beasts grew tame as they listened.
Sometimes, even in these days, it seems as if Orpheus were singing again.
When the wind stirs, there comes sweet music. The pine trees sigh, the leaves and branches of the forest trees dance as in the days when Orpheus first went into the woods of Thrace.
When the south wind blows, earth's voices become low and sweet, and the birds sing soft melodies to greet its coming.
Old books tell us that Orpheus was really the south wind itself.
Vanemuine, the god of song, dwelt on the Hill of Taara. But he grew tired of living in Finland and of his beautiful hill, so he sent word for all things to come to him to receive the language they were to speak before he went away to his palace in the sky. As they gathered around him, he opened his lips and sang so sweetly, so softly, that the murmur of his harp strings seemed almost harsh as compared with the music of his rich voice.
The wandering winds who listened afar off caught and remembered only the loudest tones. The sacred stream that flows so softly around the Hill of Taara chose for its language the rustling of the silken garments which moved upon his shoulders as he played.
The listening trees of the forest heard the rushing of his flowing mantle as he descended from his throne on the crest of the hill; and ever since, this has been the language of the tree-tops. If one will sit on the mossy bank of a little brook near by a full-leaved forest, he may even now fancy that Vanemuine is come again to earth.
Some of the larger creatures took up the deeper tones of the heavy harp strings, and their language is now full of these sounds. Others loved the melody of the lighter strings, and this softer music is ever in their voices.
In his great joy Vanemuine sang songs never before heard on the earth, and the listening nightingale caught their meaning, never to forget. When you hear the nightingale pour out its song in the dusk of evening hours, you hear an echo of the song the nightingale heard upon the Hill of Taara.
Vanemuine sang of love and of the beautiful springtime. The happy lark heard and understood, and the sweetest tones of the song she sings over and over with each returning morning. As she soars higher and higher into the clear air, she sings her song, trying to tell the whole world of the love and beauty of which she heard so long ago.
While everything else was being made so happy, the poor fishes were having a sad time. They could not leave the water to go to the Hill of Taara, but they stretched their heads out of the brooks and rivers to their very eyes, yet kept their ears under. So they saw Vanemuine, the song-god, move his lips, but heard nothing, and they did as he did and made no sound. To this day the poor, dumb fishes move their lips, but speak no language.
Only the men and women who stood close around the Hill of Taara understood everything that was sung. That is why human voices more than any others can thrill us and make us see the beautiful and true.
Vanemuine sang of the glory of heaven and of the beauty of earth. He sang of the flowing waters and of the rustling leaves. He sang of the joys and the sorrows that come to all people, to children and parents, to the rich and to the poor. If we listen to the songs sung to-day, with open ears and expectant hearts, we may hear all that Vanemuine sang so long ago upon the Hill of Taara.
When Vanemuine's songs had been heard by all the world, he rose on the wings of the winds and went far into cloudland to his golden palace in the sky. There he still sings his wonderful songs for those who are greater than mankind.
To this very day the people of Finland think they can sometimes hear Vanemuine's voice when the forest trees sigh in the wind, or the water in the river softly laps against its rocky shore. Perhaps—who knows?—we may hear him, too, if we listen well!
"Oh, Grace, do see that man with all those little balloons! Don't they look like a bunch of big cherries?"
"Yes, they do, Carrie, but cherries are all of one color, and some of his balloons are red and some are blue. Oh, here is one that has burst. See, it is only a little rubber sack that was once full of air."
"Once a man named Ulysses was sailing over a great sea, and he came to an island. He and his sailors were so tired and hungry that they stopped for food and rest. The King of the Winds—his name was Aeolus—was very kind to them, and they feasted for fifteen days; then they had to go forward on their journey again. King Aeolus thought so much of Ulysses that he told him that he would see that he had good sailing weather all the way home, if Ulysses would promise to take charge of what he would give him.
"King Aeolus went alone to the great cave in the mountains where he kept the four strong winds and some of the weaker ones. He pounded on the door with his heavy key to let them know he was there, and that they must wait his call. Then he unlocked the door and let out the strong East Wind, but caught the others in a great bag made of a whole ox-hide. This he tied with a stout cord, and the East Wind took it on his shoulders and carried it to the boat that was about to sail.
"Then King Aeolus told Ulysses how to fasten it to the mast, and the East Wind had great frolics with the queer bag in which were his brothers.
"King Aeolus told Ulysses never to sleep unless his faithful watchman was guarding this treasure. Ulysses thanked him and promised faithfully. Such beautiful weather had never been known before for so long a time. The East Wind had no one to quarrel with, and the boat flew like a bird for nine long days.
"The captain grew weary the tenth night and went to sleep while his watchman was off duty. That was just the chance the sailors wanted. Slyly up to the mast crept a strong sailor, thinking he would cut down this treasure which he thought was gold. As soon as the string snapped, he found out his mistake, and so did everyone in the boat.
"The mighty North Wind felt the loosening strings and rising from the corner of the ox-hide bag, into which he had been thrust, rushed past his brothers and escaped first into the open air. The West Wind came after, screaming hoarsely, while the South Wind, roused to anger by such rough treatment, whistled fiercely as his brother, North Wind, grappled with him. The clouds were twisted into curious shapes as the winds wrestled above the sea. The strong East Wind strove to drive back the West Wind, but found that nine days of rest had given his brother great strength, and the waves rose like mountains under their feet. For seven hours the winds fought, while the waters were black, for not one star dared to watch the battle. The boat of Ulysses was tossed like a seaweed, and the sailors longed for the sunlight that they might see if the storm had taken anyone from the ship. When the light came and the fury of the winds grew less, it was found that not one sailor had been lost; not even the traitor who had cut down the bag. His punishment was to live.
"When the winds were tired with their roaming, they came back and were willing to be led to their cave, but the stout ox-hide bag was lost, and King Aeolus never made another."
"Grace, you should not try to have the last word. It is a bad habit to get into. Shut your lips and run into another room if you can't stop yourself by any other means."
"Why, auntie, what a funny way to cure me! But I don't see that I need any such thing. Johnny was in the wrong and he knows it."
"You see, you are having the last word now. Do you remember what you heard out by the great rocks the day of the picnic?"
"Oh, that echo! Wasn't it perfect! I said, 'come here,' and it answered, 'here,' just as plainly as one of the girls, and we talked with it ever so long."
"Can you call it answering, Grace? Think what it really did."
"Oh, I know now, but I don't like to tell, because—because it seems a little as you say I do."
"Yes, Grace, and I am going to tell you a story about the very first echo. Please try to remember it and shut your lips and run away whenever you feel like having the last word. Will you, dear?"
"I'll remember the story, anyway," said Grace, as she cuddled down on a footstool at the feet of her aunt.
"This is a sad little story," said her Aunt Kate to her, "and I'm glad it is only a story.
"The first echo was a pretty girl who had only one fault—she would talk too much. She not only talked too much and sometimes, I fear, too loud, but when others tried to say a word, she would begin again and try to outdo them. She loved to tease and to vex people. Still, she was so beautiful that no one could bear to punish her.
"One day Queen Juno came down to earth (you see, Grace, this is one of the old myths) and saucy Echo dared to torment even her. Juno had left her throne in the sky to search for someone Echo knew.
"'Where is he, Echo?' Juno asked.
"'Is he Echo? Oh, no, I am Echo. Did you want me?' the saucy girl answered.
"'How dare you do it?' Juno said.
"Just then Iris, Juno's maid of honor, came with a shining car drawn by two peacocks, and away they both went over the rainbow bridge back to Juno's throne.
"Echo in her sorrow ran and hid herself in a cavern.
"She wandered from cave to cave and rock to rock, always answering back when those who tried to find her called, but never able to tell where she was. She grew thinner and thinner, till at last nothing was left of her but her voice.
"That she will always keep, and try as hard as you may, you can never have the last word with Echo."
Queen Juno was the wife of Jupiter, the great king. She lived with her husband in one of the cloud palaces of the sky, lighted by the moon and stars at night and the sun by day.
Juno had many followers who were ready to do her bidding, but she loved best of all her beautiful maid of honor, the princess Iris. No one dared to use the rainbow but Iris, to whom it had been given by Jupiter. Whenever Iris was in haste to obey Queen Juno's orders, down from the palace she would sail in a chariot drawn by two peacocks, and if she wished she might ride all the way over the rainbow.
Think of the beautiful Iris, wrapped in a fleecy cloud, gliding over this wonderful path in the heavens! Wouldn't it have been a lovely sight to see?
Once Juno sent her all the way to Dreamland to bring to Halcyone, the daughter of Aeolus, a dream of her husband, who was far away on the ocean.
Iris loved to help poor mortals, and tears filled her eyes when she heard how this lonely woman longed to see the one she loved so well.
The clouds caught the tears from the eyes of Iris, and quickly made ready for her the glorious rainbow bridge, reaching from Dreamland to the wonderful Garden of the Gods.
She wrapped herself in a cloud chosen from the sunset and, stepping into her chariot, gave the signal to her birds and drove swiftly down, down to the dim country of the King of Sleep.
Before she could reach the entrance to his palace, she had to drive through field after field of poppies, red as the sunset she had just left in the sky, for poppies give sleep to the people of Dreamland.
Somnus, the King of Sleep, lived in a deep, still cave, so dark that he had never seen the rainbow or the sun. There was no gate; soft black plumes and curtains served as doors. Here in the heart of Dreamland Iris saw all about her strange, beautiful dreams.
There were dreams for children of toys and candies and plays; dreams for men and women of all that they had ever wished for; dreams, dreams, everywhere. But Iris did not like darkness any better than you and I do, and she quickly gave an order for the King of Sleep to send the best dream possible to the anxious Halcyone. Then back she drove over the rainbow bridge, up, up to the bright palace in the clouds.
As soon as she had left the rainbow's track it faded away, but, even before it was out of sight, a dream of her husband had come to Halcyone, and Iris was happy.
Iris loved the water best of all things on earth. She always wore a chain of raindrops for pearls, and a cloud for a robe. She had an army of soldiers by each river bank. Men called the soldiers plants, but their swords were always drawn for Iris, and their stately heads were adorned with her favorite colors.
When you see a group of plants clustered at the water's edge, with their sword-like leaves pointing to the sky, and their great blue flowers looking like a crown, remember that is the flower Iris loved.
Tiu, Ziu, or Tyr, were three names for one of Woden's sons. Tiu was the brother of Thor, and his mother, Frigga, was always proud of his courage in war and of his skill and strength in battle. The soldiers of the Northland cried to him for help as often as they did to his father, Woden.
Tiu's sign was a sword, and the brave old kings of Norway and their followers used to engrave his name upon their bright steel blades that they might please the great warrior who lived in Asgard. It was thought that if Tiu saw his name written in the strange Runic letters he would give his help to the man who honored that name and keep his good sword sharp.
Thor and Tiu went, in the olden time, to the house of a giant to secure a large kettle which was in the giant's house.
Thor's goats drew with magic swiftness the chariot in which the two rode, and Thor and Tiu arrived at the house in a few moments.
The giant's wife hid the two huge visitors under one of the many caldrons she had in her kitchen. When her husband came he broke all the kettles but one by just glancing at them. He welcomed his visitors in a very grim way and ordered them to be seated at the table with him. Thor ate so much that the giant grew angry, but Thor told him he would repay all by bringing him fish from the sea the next day.
Thor caught two whales and carried them to the giant's house, as he had promised. The giant laughingly said that he would give him one of the kettles if he could carry it. Tin tried twice and failed, but Thor, putting on his magic belt, lifted the kettle and set it on his head like a cap.
Then the goats took the two sons of Woden back to their home in Asgard.
If anyone should tell you that the giant was winter, and his kettles the strangely shaped icebergs of the arctic North, would you believe it? Thor was the god of thunder riding in the clouds with his brother, the god of bravery and of the strong winds.
Tiu's name has been given to the day before Woden's day, and when Tuesday comes, try to be as true, brave, and swift as Tiu, the son of Woden.
"Go to the river Pactolus, find its fountain head, plunge in, and when your body is covered your fault will be washed away."
"O, grasshopper, grasshopper gray, Give me molasses and then hop away."
That is what Bessie Allen said to the little creature she held between her thumb and fingers. Did you ever say that rhyme? I should not wonder if you had said it an hundred times.
The grasshopper in Bessie's fingers seemed very ready to give her brown molasses from his little mouth and then she let him hop away while she went to catch another. She did not want that molasses; all she wanted was the fun of catching the little "hoppity-hops," as she sometimes called them.
"Come, catch me! I'm a hopper," called her five-year-old brother Willie. And she saw the little fellow hopping through the grass.
Bessie had so much fun trying to catch this new "grasshopper gray," that she forgot all about the little creatures she had been pinching.
At last she had her arms around her brother Willie.
"Now you are caught," she said. "Give me some molasses."
And then they both laughed so hard that their mother heard as she came to the door to look for them.
"I have a new name for Willie."
"What is it?" asked their father.
"When I was in school one of my lessons was about the beautiful goddess Aurora. She was said to open the rosy gates of dawn with her own fingers, so that the wonderful horses of Apollo might pass through to follow their shining track through the sky. She was so beautiful that Tithonus, who lived on the earth, always watched for the sunrise, that he might see Aurora. After a while she began to watch for him, too. She looked down every morning on the wakening world and found that he was almost the only one among mortals who enjoyed the glorious colors Apollo painted in the sky with his arrows of light. One morning she dared to sing to him, and then he answered that it was Aurora, and not Apollo, for whom he was watching each morning at sunrise. She loved him for this and became his wife.
"Being a goddess, she could live for ever, and she wanted Tithonus to live forever, too. The gods and goddesses never drink wine or water, but ambrosia from golden goblets. She brought a golden goblet of ambrosia to Tithonus on the earth, and, after he had taken a drink, told him the happy news that now he should live forever. But she had forgotten to ask of the gods for him the gift of eternal youth.
"For many years they loved each other dearly. Then Aurora saw that Tithonus was growing into a little old man.
"When he was one hundred years old he was shrunken to the size of a boy of ten.
"When he was two hundred years old he was no larger than a baby, only he was very lively, and could run as fast as a man.
"When he was three hundred years old Aurora could scarcely find him, save as his song told her where he was. With his head bent down to the ground he did not look like a man, and he made his home by the dusty roadside. But every sunrise he sat upon the tallest spear of grass he could find and chirped to Aurora as she opened the gates of dawn for Apollo. After years and years Aurora forgot all about the little gray grasshopper, but I don't think Tithonus has forgotten her, for he and all his grasshopper friends chirp the same song as when he first came to live among them."
"Poor old Tithonus!" said Bessie.
"Why, no," said her father; "mother said he could never die. Maybe it was Tithonus who gave you molasses to-day. Yes, perhaps that was ambrosia instead of molasses that the gray grasshopper dropped from his lips."
"Oh, don't tell any more!" laughed both Willie and Bessie. "We won't catch another grasshopper."


Ah, the joys of relationships! This is one area where there is such a variety. Whether it is with a spouse, child, sister, brother, mother, cousin or friend, there must be a relationship. Learning to be honest, open, trustworthy and connected are keys to healthy relationships. You may have experienced a time when you've been surrounded by a room full of people and still felt lonely. Just because we are not literally alone, it sometimes feels as if we are. Many of us are never taught how to connect with people on an intimate level which leads to destructive, unhealthy relationships. As you learn to take care of yourself, gain inner confidence and set healthy boundaries, you will find that the level with which you relate to people will be more honest, trusting, deep and lasting. E5 Coaching has a motto – "treat others the way in which you would like to be treated." It takes very little effort to see remarkable results.
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Q: QOpenGLShaderProgram - multiple instances yield corrupt results I have a QGLWidget (Qt 5.2.1).
The GLWidget instantiates two other classes that each contain their own QOpenGLShaderPrograms, load their own shaders, and handle their own drawing. This makes for a nice encapsulation.
HOWEVER -- the issue is that the data from the axis mesh (first one being initialized) is appearing in the second class's shader. So, it never draws its own object with its own shader. If I reverse the order of init() calls, the same thing happens in reverse.
The two drawing classes are structured identically, so I'm including only the Mesh class for brevity.
Here's the result. The AxisMesh, which draws lines, is drawing them over the Scatter class, with the same color, instead of in their own color and where they're supposed to be drawn.
The lines in this picture should be a different color and a different location:

QUESTIONS:
Is it allowed to have two QOpenGLShaderPrograms in a QGLWidget?
Is there something wrong with the approach below?
GLWidget initialzeGL method:
void GLWidget::initializeGL()
{
    // Instantiate our drawing objects
    m_axisMesh       = new PlotItemAxisMesh(m_plotManager, m_plotSelection, &m_axisScale);
    m_surfaceScatter = new PlotItemSurfaceScatter(m_plotManager, m_plotSelection, &m_axisScale);

...

    // Initialize the axis mesh class
    m_axisMesh->init();

    // Initialize the scatter points class
    m_surfaceScatter->init();
}

GLWidget paintGL method:
void GLWidget::paintGL()
{
    glClear(GL_COLOR_BUFFER_BIT | GL_DEPTH_BUFFER_BIT);

...

    // Draw the mesh
    m_axisMesh->draw(m_camera.data(), modelMatrix);

    // Draw the points
    m_surfaceScatter->draw(m_camera.data(), modelMatrix);
}

Axis Mesh init method:
void PlotItemAxisMesh::init()
{
    initializeOpenGLFunctions();

    // Initialize the shaders
    initShaders();

    m_program->link();
    m_program->bind();

    // Load the data into the local VBO
    build();

    // Release (unbind) all
    m_program->release();
}

Axis Mesh build method:
void PlotItemAxisMesh::build()
{
    ShmooPlotMatrix *matrix = m_plotManager->getPlotPointMatrix();

    // Calculate the y-axis height in OpenGL terms
    uint32_t yHeight = (m_xMax + m_yMax)/2;
    float yScale     = yHeight / fabs(m_axisScale->getMax() - m_axisScale->getMin());
    float yOffset    = 0 ? m_axisScale->getMin() > 0 : -m_axisScale->getMin();

    // Since we swept X/Y but are plotting the points as X/Z, then Y becomes the value
    m_xMax = matrix->getXMax();
    m_yMax = yHeight;
    m_zMax = matrix->getYMax();

    m_vertexArray.clear();
    m_vertexArray.reserve(4*(m_xMax + m_yMax));

... (load vertexAray with data)

    m_vertexBuffer.create();
    m_vertexBuffer.bind();
    m_vertexBuffer.setUsagePattern(QOpenGLBuffer::DynamicDraw);
    m_vertexBuffer.allocate(&(m_vertexArray.front()), vertexSize);

    // Tell VBO how to read the data
    m_positionAttrIndex = m_program->attributeLocation(m_positionAttr);
    m_colorAttrIndex    = m_program->attributeLocation(m_colorAttr);

    int offset = 0;
    m_program->enableAttributeArray(m_positionAttrIndex);
    m_program->setAttributeBuffer(m_positionAttrIndex, GL_FLOAT, offset, 3, sizeof(VertexData));

    offset = sizeof(QVector3D);
    m_program->enableAttributeArray(m_colorAttrIndex);
    m_program->setAttributeBuffer(m_colorAttrIndex, GL_FLOAT, offset, 3, sizeof(VertexData));

    // Release (unbind) all
    m_vertexBuffer.release();
}

Axis Mesh draw method:
void PlotItemAxisMesh::draw(PlotCamera *camera, const QMatrix4x4 &modelMatrix)
{

    m_program->bind();
    {
        // Set modelview-projection matrix
        m_program->setUniformValue("mvpMatrix",  camera->getProjection() * camera->getView() * modelMatrix);
        m_vertexBuffer.bind();
        glDrawArrays(GL_LINES, 0, m_vertexArray.size());
        m_vertexBuffer.release();
    }
    m_program->release();
}

A: Thank you to @Reto Koradi for the solution
The fix was to change the draw methods to enable/set the attribute buffers at draw-time.
void PlotItemAxisMesh::draw(PlotCamera *camera, const QMatrix4x4 &modelMatrix)
{
    m_program->bind();
    {
        m_vertexBuffer.bind();

        int offset = 0;
        m_program->enableAttributeArray(m_positionAttrIndex);
        m_program->setAttributeBuffer(m_positionAttrIndex, GL_FLOAT, offset, 3, sizeof(VertexData));

        offset = sizeof(QVector3D);
        m_program->enableAttributeArray(m_colorAttrIndex);
        m_program->setAttributeBuffer(m_colorAttrIndex, GL_FLOAT, offset, 3, sizeof(VertexData));

        // Set modelview-projection matrix
        m_program->setUniformValue("mvpMatrix",  camera->getProjection() * camera->getView() * modelMatrix);

        glDrawArrays(GL_LINES, 0, m_vertexArray.size());
        m_vertexBuffer.release();
    }
    m_program->release();
}

Proper drawing

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


Congratulations winners! I am a big fan of Olay products.
Thank you so much for the opportunity I was given to participate! My skin looks great!
Thank you so much for allowing me to participate in this campaign! My skin looks lovely!


text:
Right Place, Wrong Time (song)
1973 single by Dr. John
"Right Place, Wrong Time"
Single by Dr. John
from the album In the Right Place
"I Been Hoodood"
Songwriter(s)
Mac Rebennack
Dr. John singles chronology
"Iko Iko"
(1972) "Right Place, Wrong Time"
(1973) "Such a Night"
"Right Place, Wrong Time" is a song by American musician Dr. John. It was the first single from his sixth album, In the Right Place and became his biggest hit single.
During the summer of 1973, the song peaked at number nine on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100. It is ranked as the 24th biggest hit of 1973. In Canada, the song reached number six.[1]
A verse lyric from the song ("Just need a little brain salad surgery/got to cure my insecurity") was the inspiration for the title of the album Brain Salad Surgery by the English progressive rock band Emerson, Lake & Palmer, replacing the working title of Whip Some Skull on Yer.[2] Both titles are slang expressions for fellatio.[3][4]
1 Personnel
2 Chart history
2.1 Weekly charts
2.2 Year-end charts
3 Use in media
4 Cover versions
Personnel[edit]
Dr. John – lead vocals
Art Neville – organ
Leo Nocentelli – lead guitar
George Porter Jr. – bass guitar
Ziggy Modeliste – drums
Additional personnel
Gary Brown – saxophone
Robbie Montgomery – backing vocals
Jessie Smith – backing vocals
David Spinozza – guitar solo
Allen Toussaint – piano, percussion, rhythm guitar, horn arrangements
Chart history[edit]
Weekly charts[edit]
Chart (1973)
Australia (Kent Music Report)[5] 98
Canadian RPM Top Singles[1] 6
US Billboard Hot 100[6] 9
US Cash Box Top 100[7] 11
Year-end charts[edit]
Canada[8] 70
US Billboard[9] 24
Use in media[edit]
"Right Place, Wrong Time" was included in the soundtrack of the 2000 comedy film Lucky Numbers. The song was featured in an episode of American Horror Story: Coven, an episode of That 70's Show and in the movies Dazed and Confused and Fun with Dick and Jane (2005). In 2008, the song was included in How I Met Your Mother's fourth season ending "Right place, right time". It also appeared over the opening credits in the film Sahara, as well as the trailer for the second season of Fargo. The song was included in the soundtrack to the 2010 video game Skate 3. Also included in Black Lightning (S3:E7). The songs intro was sampled by Dr. Dre and used in the intro to the movie Deep Cover
Cover versions[edit]
The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion covered the song, releasing it on Acme Plus, the UK version of Xtra-Acme USA. This version appeared on the Scream 2 soundtrack, and the film's title, together with the names of stars Neve Campbell and Jada Pinkett, can be heard shouted several times during the song's intro.
The Screamin' Cheetah Wheelies covered the song on their album Magnolia (Capricorn Records, 1996).
James Booker covered the song on his album Gonzo: Live 1976 as a medley with "Desitively Bannaroo".
Dave Matthews Band covered the song with special guests Preservation Hall Jazz Band as a tribute to Dr. John, following his death, at Alpine Valley Music Theatre on July 5, 2019.
BB King and Bonnie Raitt covered the song for the soundtrack to the film Air America.
^ a b "Canada RPM Weekly, July 7, 1973". Bac-lac.gc.ca. 17 July 2013. Retrieved 7 June 2019.
^ Marchese, Joe (2014-07-31). "Razor and Tie Revisits Emerson Lake and Palmer's "Brain Salad Surgery" For 40th Anniversary". The Second Disc. Retrieved 2019-06-07.
^ Emerson, Lake & Palmer (March 2, 1992). "Emerson, Lake & Palmer ROCKLINE Interview Part 1". Rockline (Interview). Interviewed by Bob Coburn. Rockline.
^ Emerson, Lake & Palmer (June 22, 1992). "Emerson Lake & Palmer In The Studio - Brain Salad Surgery". In the Studio with Redbeard (Interview). Interviewed by Redbeard. Dallas: In the Studio with Redbeard.
^ Kent, David (1993). Australian Chart Book 1970-1992. St Ives, N.S.W.: Australian Chart Book. ISBN 0-646-11917-6.
^ Joel Whitburn's Top Pop Singles 1955-1990 - ISBN 0-89820-089-X
^ "Cash Box Top 100 7/07/73". Tropicalglen.com. Retrieved 6 June 2019.
^ Canada, Library and Archives (February 8, 2017). "Image:RPM Weekly".
^ "Top 100 Hits of 1973/Top 100 Songs of 1973". Musicoutfitters.com. Retrieved 6 June 2019.
Listen to "Right Place, Wrong Time" on YouTube
Gris-Gris (1968)
Remedies (1970)
The Sun, Moon & Herbs (1971)
Dr. John's Gumbo (1972)
In the Right Place (1973)
Desitively Bonnaroo (1974)
City Lights (1978)
Tango Palace (1979)
In a Sentimental Mood (1989)
Goin' Back to New Orleans (1992)
Television (1994)
Anutha Zone (1998)
Duke Elegant (1999)
Locked Down (2012)
Ske-Dat-De-Dat: The Spirit of Satch (2014)
Hollywood Be Thy Name (1975)
The Ultimate Dr. John (1987)
"I Walk on Guilded Splinters"
"New Orleans"
This 1970s song-related article is a stub. You can help Wikipedia by expanding it.
Retrieved from "https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Right_Place,_Wrong_Time_(song)&oldid=1063243255"
1973 singles
Dr. John songs
Atco Records singles
1970s song stubs
Articles with hAudio microformats

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
GLCCB to host post-Pride town hall meeting to discuss changes
By By Kevin Rector and The Baltimore Sun
The GLCCB is hosting a town hall meeting to hear feedback from the public on changes made to Baltimore Pride this year. (Photo by Kenneth K. Lam)
Organizers of Baltimore Pride, which occurred last month in a new location for the first time in years, will host a town hall meeting to hear feedback on the changes from members of the public.
The event is scheduled for 7 p.m. July 23 in the Mason Lord Room of the Waxter Center, home of the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Community Center of Baltimore, which organizes and hosts Pride each year.
Kelly Neel, the group's interim executive director, said in an email that the goal of the meeting is "to explain the process behind facilitating a major Pride event and its challenges, and to hear feedback from the community about what worked this time around and what didn't."
Pride this summer was moved north along North Charles Street to an area known for Artscape and near Penn Station after police and neighbors in Mount Vernon -- the event's traditional home -- complained of uncontrolled crowds in years past.
The new location was used for the Saturday parade and block party and for the Sunday festival, which usually takes place in Druid Hill Park.
The changes turned an open-air drinking party into a more controlled environment, where drinkers had to consume alcohol in designated beer gardens.
Some attendees said they missed the old atmosphere.
Neel said in addition to the town hall meeting, the GLCCB is also in the process of completing a report on this year's Pride, and how the changes panned out.
Baltimore educator will use Lowe's grant to help train students for construction jobs at a new center
Hug your children and appreciate them for the unique talents they each have
Garden Q&A: On identifying magnolias and mystery insect bites
In addition to chatting about Pride, Neel said members of the GLCCB are also hoping the town hall meeting will bring out people interested in helping with Pride in future years.
Artscape


Trolling around the Library of Congress website in preparation for a workshop, I came across this photograph. It made me wonder about what wounds we heal in ourselves when we tend bees. We talk about medications, methods of dividing our colonies, nectar flow, harvest…what we don't always discuss is how, strangely, those teeming, stinging insects "fix" us in ways that don't always make sense.


The Department of Nuclear Energy has in place various mechanisms to involve Member States in the development and review of IAEA Nuclear Energy Series (NES) publications*. When broad involvement of Member States cannot be ensured due to resource constraint, the Department of Nuclear Energy provides Member States with the opportunity to review draft NES publications.
A summary of such publications will be placed on this page. Interested Member States can request the final draft of the publication through Permanent Missions by writing to NE.Publications@iaea.org. Review and comments should be submitted to the same email address.
The deadline for requesting the final draft is one month after the date on which the summary of the document has been published on this page. The review period is also one month after the date on which the final draft of the publication has been sent to the Permanent Mission.
Only comments received through Permanent Missions and within the review period shall be considered.
*The prevailing mechanism for Member States' participation in the preparation of Nuclear Energy Series publications is through IAEA's Technical Meetings.
There are currently no NES publications open for review.


text:
Gift Ideas: Games & Puzzles
Okay, this is it. The final gift list for 2021. And this one might be the most fun?
The Grahams play a lot of games. We play games when we camp. We play games on the back porch on summer evenings. We play games a lot in the cold winter months. We also do a lot of puzzles in the winter. Winter feels like puzzle weather.
This is a list of some of our favorites. Truthfully, I had a hard time narrowing it down. Apparently, we love a lot of games and puzzles. So the main point of this post might not be to buy the ones we love (even though I think you'll love them like we do!), but to play games with people you love and sit around a table with good snacks and an intricate puzzle with others. It actually doesn't matter which ones you choose.
(Some of the following links are affiliates. When you use these links, I make a very small commission from your purchase. It doesn't change the price for you. Thanks for supporting Trusty Chucks in this small way.)
Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza (link)
This is our current go-to game. We played it at Thanksgiving with family and had so much fun. It was the first time we'd played it with more than just the four of us, and it's a much better game with a 5 or 6 people. Our dogs HATE this game because it's loud (think slapping and pounding the table). They normally hide in my office when we play. It's also kinda rough, but that's only if you play with very competitive people who don't tone it down when playing with kids. Which is my whole family. (This would be a great stocking stuffer.)
LEGO Minifigure 1000 Piece Puzzle (link)
Our family tradition is puzzles for Christmas morning. Chris and I normally each get a puzzle, and the girls get one too. After presents have been opened and we're watching movies and eating more food, someone opens up one of the puzzles and then we spend the rest of the day, on and off, completing the puzzle. By the evening, everyone has spent some time working on it and it's done. This LEGO minifigure puzzle was Chris' puzzle last year. If you have a LEGO fan in your family, this one is really fun.
Uno Flip (link)
We play a lot of games when we camp, and this is one of the two card games we play the most. It's like the original Uno, but the cards are two-sided and depending on how a card is played, you might have to flip your hand and start a whole different strategy to win. This is a more cut-throat Uno, and we love it. (This would be a great stocking stuffer.)
Tenzi (link)
Harper fell in love with Tenzi at school. She finally bought it for herself this summer when we were traveling, and she plays with it often. She can mess around with the dice by herself, play with Ellie, or we can all play together. It's a quick game if you need it to be. For a stocking stuffer this Christmas, she's getting the 77 ways to play card set that expands the Tenzi game into all kinds of other stuff.
Monopoly Deal (link)
This is the other card game we play a lot while camping. This one is a little more intense and time consuming than Uno Flip, but it's easy to set up and clean up and is definitely shorter than the never-ending original Monopoly game. I'm actually not a fan of Monopoly, but this one isn't half as bad as that boring version that takes four years to play. (This would be a great stocking stuffer.)
Scrabble (link)
Oh look, the English major is telling you to buy Scrabble. Didn't see that coming. No, but seriously, Scrabble is fun! Ellie spent time at my mom's this weekend, and she played it for the first time. She came home telling me how fun it was, and I was personally insulted she thought she was telling me something I didn't know. Not to give you a very personal glimpse into our marriage, but Chris and I used to play Scrabble a lot when the girls were little. They'd go to bed, and we'd stay up late playing Scrabble. Like the elderly people we were meant to be. Our Scrabble board got ruined this summer while camping, so I'm getting a new one for Christmas. HUMBLE BRAG.
Exploding Kittens (link)
Adding this to the list because it's an Ellie Graham favorite. The cards are clever. Death is eminent, but it's fun (and quick). I love quick games, seriously.
Jenga (link)
Don't sleep on Jenga. (Is anyone actually sleeping on Jenga? No. I just wanted to type that.) This is fun for all ages, and doesn't last super long. (See above for my views on quick games.) You can play a few rounds in a short amount of time, and it's fun for kids to play by themselves. When the girls were younger, they would "practice" Jenga so they were ready the next time family game night rolled around.
A Rainbow World 1000 Piece Puzzle (link)
This is another Christmas morning puzzle. We actually like to pick up puzzles when we travel and save them for presents. This is mine from last year; we picked it up in North Carolina, I opened it Christmas morning in Indiana, and then we carried it down to Florida where we celebrated the New Year. That's the great thing about puzzles, they can go anywhere and fill a whole evening.
Ticket to Ride (link)
Okay, full disclosure: we own this, but haven't played it yet. We know lots of friends who love it, so I'm trusting their opinions and adding this to the list. We'll probably break it open in December, so I'll come back and delete this if it's dumb. Stay tuned.
Sequence (link)
I played Sequence a lot with my family growing up. We loved the strategy of it; how we could all play, no matter what age we were (I mean, not toddlers, but 10 and up, for sure). When the girls were little, I discovered they had made a Sequence for Kids (link) version so we used to play this when the girls were younger. We passed it on to our niece, because now the Graham girls (10 & 12) are old enough to play the adult version.
Pets Rock 550 Piece Puzzle (link)
Another fun puzzle we love. This is one the girls got for Christmas a few years ago. It's the right size to be challenging but not overwhelming for older kids. Also, it's pop stars as cats and dogs. If you have an Adele or Katy Perry fan, this would be fun to give them.
Mexican Train Dominoes (link)
Mexican Train is another classic we've been playing for years. You can play with 4 or more people and it's just basic matching, but with strategy and luck. We love this one for game nights with friends.
Follow Your Nose Puzzle (link)
Last puzzle suggestion, I promise! They just make so many great puzzles now. You don't even need my suggestions, just Google your favorite thing (succulents, shoes, maps, etc.) and "puzzle." You'll find plenty of great ones. We really love dogs, so this dog puzzle was a hit.
Skip-Bo (link)
Skip-Bo is another childhood classic for me. My maternal grandparents loved playing Skip-Bo, and we played it at their house all the time. It's good for older kids or adults, and it would be a good addition to a family game night. (Again, another great stocking stuffer.)
Finally, two games I'm buying for Christmas this year that I've seen lots of people talk about recently: Slapzi (link) and IncoHEARent (link). Slapzi is made by the same people who make Tenzi, but it's cards instead of dice. Harper has her eye on this one so Santa is bring it this year. If you're interested in both Tenzi and Slapzi, Amazon sells them together as a set. IncoHEARent is more of an adult game. They do sell a kids' verison, but I'm buying the adult version for game night with our friends. It's along the lines of Cards Against Humanity, so keep that in mind if you're gifting it. It's not for everyone.
DISCLOSURE: AFFILIATE LINKS USED
« Gift Ideas: For the Porch Mom
I Deleted Facebook »


For the first time in 30 years, an extraordinary collaboration between Alejandro Jodorowsky and Moebius is being reissued.
When Moebius (aka French comic artist Jean Giraud) passed away in March, fans mourned the loss of his voice–er, pen–which had been so influential in sci-fi visual culture. Filmmaker Ridley Scott summed Giraud's influence nicely last year: "You see it everywhere, it runs through so much you can't get away from it." But many more were completely unaware of Moebius, whose works remain largely in French, despite his work on films like The Fifth Element and Tron (to say nothing of his own prolific bibliography).
In The Eyes of the Cat, a cat is attacked by an eagle as it wanders through a decaying, futuristic city. The text-free narrative is full of violence and chaos, influenced by Jodorowsky's Panic Movement, a surrealist group the filmmaker formed in 1962 (named in tribute to the enigmatic Greek god). Each plate is detailed and gritty, and at 16″ x 12″, begs to be examined at close range. We follow the struggle between the two animals, and watch the eagle rip out the cat's eyes. In a tower high above the city, the bird delivers them to an eyeless child.
The narrative was oddly prescient. Towards the end of his life, Giraud was plagued by cataracts, undergoing operations to preserve his fast-decaying eyesight. "They took my eye out, they took it to a shop. They did the sort of sushi chef stuff to it," he told the Los Angeles Times' Geoff Boucher in 2011.
If you're interested in Moebius, I'd highly recommend The Airtight Garage, a well-kept Tumblr about his work. In the meantime, check out Humanoid's catalog, which includes another Moebius reissue this month, here.


In a former article the popularity and advantages of the pedestal writing-table were referred to. The bureau is, however, perhaps an even greater favourite for a variety of reasons, for, although equally commodious, it does not take up nearly so much room.
Also, it is a remarkably picturesque piece of furniture, and last, but by no means least, it is far less expensive than a pedestal-table. Quite a nicely made little bureau, 2 feet in width and of inlaid mahogany, can be bought for £4 or £5.
One very distinct inconvenience of the bureau has now been overcome, and that was the let-down flap with pull-out supports. The flap was very liable to be broken owing to the user forgetting to draw out the supports, in addition to which it was a tiresome process for anyone in a hurry. The new automatic hinges are a great improvement, as they cause the supports to move out when the flap is opened.
Bureaus are, of course, made in quite a variety of styles. There is the usual model with three roomy drawers underneath; or, to go to the other extreme, there is one with only one drawer, and below that a tray. Then the bureau with a bookcase or china cupboard above it is very delightful, especially if it is an old one or a really good copy.
A bureau is inexpensive and very convenient. As the flap is lowered the supports under it come into position automatically, thus lessening the risk of breaking the flap Photo, Harrods and above the pigeonholes a little china cupboard with leaded glass doors. This can be had for £4.
The Queen Anne is a very picturesque and greatly appreciated period, and the bureaus made on these lines are really charming. They have two or three shallower drawers than the ordinary bureau, and are raised on cabriole legs. The walnut wood of which they are built is very pleasing, as are the quaint drop handles fitted to the drawers. A good reproduction can be bought for £7 or £8.
Another of the advantages of the bureau is that it gives one, in the pigeonholes, a very suitable receptacle for the account and address books that are necessary to the busy woman.
The account-book is prone to be a very unsightly object-so much so, that it is not surprising that even its exterior makes people shun the task of setting its contents in balancing order.
An American cloth covered account-book can, however, be made quite attractive with the aid of a little glazed linen, such as is used for window blinds, decorated with a wreath or other design cut from chintz.
Under this, letters, to form the word "Accounts," roughly cut from chintz, should be pasted. The capital A should measure about one and a quarter inches in height, and the smaller letters about three-eighths of an inch. It looks well to have the letters cut from different parts of the design, so that some of them have touches of pink, some of red, mauve, or of green.
A chintz with a very small design should be selected, while dark green, perhaps, is the colour most suitable for the glazed linen which forms the cover.
Buy an American cloth covered account-book for about 4d.., cover the book with a piece of light brown paper, allowing a turnover at each end, 1 3/4 inches deep, to form a pocket. Then cut a piece of linen to cover this with a turning of 1/2 inch all round. Paste this on the brown paper, and cut a snip in the turning on a level with the pocket. Fold up the pocket, crease it, lap the turning over it, and paste it down. The cover now will be complete, except for the chintz decorations, which must be pasted on the outside by means of a good photo-mountant.
Blotting-books can be made in a similar fashion, only in this case the backs must be stiffened with two pieces of card instead of brown paper. The larger surface of the cover, moreover, allows for more variety in the way of decoration, and anyone with the artistic sense will find satisfaction in planning novel arrangements.
Jacobean designs are very good, and the bird motif which is seen in so many of the chintzes can be used with great effect. For blotters, a paler green or a tussore or rose-coloured glazed lining can be employed, since a blotter is not subject to such hard wear as an account-book. As the blind material can be bought in various widths from about is. a yard, the cost of manufacture is very small.
A Queen Anne bureau in walnut with cabriole legs is quaint and charming. The quaint drop handles to the drawers are in keeping with this design thing under a shilling can be converted into a thing of beauty with very little trouble. Slip a knife under the paper pasted at the back, and take off the little stiffened linen corners. Then get a mat of the blue Chinese embroidery that is sold quite inexpensively at the shops. Cut pieces from this to fit the triangular corners, leaving a turning at the longest side. Paste the embroidery on with a mixture of Higgins' photo-mountant and seccotine. Then put the corners back in place over the blotting-paper and paste them in position, using the same mixture for this purpose. It may be necessary, if the paper as been torn, to cover the whole back with a fresh piece, or with a piece of glazed lining. A little note-block covered to match would also be most pleasing. A case like a book-cover should be made, and covered with the embroidery. The hinge may be of furniture galon. The cover should be lined with thin silk," oversewn around the edges, and on the underside this lining should take the form of a pocket into which the scribbling - pad should be slipped.
The fashion in writing - table accessories varies as .in everything, and anything trimmed with Chinese embroidery is fashionable (1911).
In other things, also, there are a number of "revivals." For instance, quill pens, although it must be confessed, fitted with steel nibs, are quite smart. They are found in all sorts of gay colours, of which perhaps Royal blue and red are the most used, though the correct thing is to choose a colour to harmonise with your room. These quills cost under a shilling each, and are. very effective. They are generally thrust into a little glass receptacle filled with shot or coloured glass balls in order to keep them clean. Sometimes a silver vase or some favourite ornament such as an old lustre mug is filled with shot instead; in fact, this is an idea that anyone can put into practice successfully at once. Sealing-wax is another "revival," and a silver sealing-wax holder is among most people's writing-table paraphernalia. Their price is between 3s. and 4s., and a nickel lamp to use with them costs 4s. 6d.
Quill pens with steel nibs are liked by many, and are thrust into a lustre mug, or glass pot filled with shot with a minute gold collar from which a wee pearl is suspended. These are, of course, objets de luxe, but there are many simpler models in silver or silver-gilt to be had.
A writing-table pincushion is a thing that should never be forgotten, though it very frequently is omitted. Something in silver is nice, especially a little silver shoe; or, failing this, a china slipper has a very good effect. An embroidered linen pincushion is also quite appropriate, if shades that go with the room are chosen for groundwork and embroidery. Even in wastepaper baskets there is an innovation to record, though, strictly speaking, it is not a "basket" at all, but a round box like a larger edition of the old-fashioned muff-box, covered with printed linen or chintz. The latter is the safer choice, as it keeps clean longer. In a small size these are to be had for the moderate sum of 3s. Of course there are more elaborate versions of the same thing covered with brocade and edged with galon, but they are not any prettier, though probably anyone who has a shabby cretonne edition will re-cover it for themselves in this fashion. It would be possible to go on endlessly with this subject of writing - table accessories, but one or two items can be mentioned in conclusion, such as the small globe that some people place near at hand .so that they may know in just what part of the world is the far city to which they may be directing their letter, in these days of families and friends spread all over the earth. Foreign correspondence at once suggests stamps varying in value, and a stamp-box with two or three divisions should be at hand and replenished regularly.
There are also reference books that are somewhat too bulky to be kept in the bureau, but which can be placed on or near the writing-table in a trough-shaped shelf.
The woman who travels about much will require a Bradshaw or A B C Railway Guide. She who is interested in philanthropic work, or who is honorary secretary to some society, will need a directory containing the names of well-known people who are most likely to be interested in her pet charity. There are also the most charmingly bound sets of reference books sold complete in their case, giving information on a variety of subjects likely to be of use to the writing woman. Choice can be made from these according to individual needs, and most people will include a standard English dictionary in their list.


This web page contains articles and reviews on the relationship between Nationalism and Marxism.
This is a varied collection of articles. Some are papers delivered at conferences. Others have appeared in academic journals.The main focus in on the Basque country [Euskadi] but there will be shorter items on other nationalisms, particularly Scots and Irish. Some of the shorter pieces have appeared in Revolutionary History, What Next?, Capital and Class and New Interventions. .
Last updated on the 17th of November 2002. I plan to add more material frequently.
This site is written by John Sullivan.
A Journey to Nowhere. The Basque Left, Politics and Armed Struggle A description of the failure of ETA-PM to create a political party which would combine nationalism and socialism, while mobilising the population in support of ETA's objectives (6000 words).
Marxism and Nationalism Ephrain Nimni, MARXISM AND NATIONALISM: Theoretical Origins of a Political Crisis.
Tom Nairn: "Faces of Nationalism"
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It's something all gadget users — photographers included — are guilty of: using our gear in any and all circumstances, regardless of how appropriate it is. Artist Kevin LCK has turned his incredible skills with design and cardboard to critiquing the way people use technology with his series "Ordinary Behavior".
"'Ordinary Behavior' is a project about the unhealthy relationship between human and technology in an everyday context. I have created a set of five illustrative objects as the tools of revealing the absurd situations. They are all made of paper cardboard and appear to be everyday electronic appliances and devices that can be found in our domestic environment, however, their interiors are modified into miniaturized human scaled space. I seeked to detach the audience from the real world temporarily, provide them with a space to rethink and reconsider the way we behave and think about the relationship between ourselves, objects and environment with technology in a more conscious way."
The other objects in the series include a microwave, iPhone, and computer. While you might not agree with his stated goals, you have to admire his extreme proficiency with cardboard, creating such an excellent replica as this M3. We've featured cardboard cameras made by artists before including Kiel Johnson's intricate simulacrums of SLRs, point-and-shoots, rangefinders, and Polaroids; and this more textured, cardboard version of a Nikon F SLR.
All of which begs the question: what is it about cardboard that lends itself so well to camera creations?