They have caps on their heads, and fishermen and herders may be distinguished by the style of these. Fishermen’s caps are pointed, while those of herders are square. In going out over the snow in winter, Lapps have long, narrow runners of wood fastened to their feet, and carry a pole in their hand. These runners are five feet or more in length, and only a few inches wide, and on them—aided by their poles—the Lapps glide along finely over the hard snow.
The fishing towns of Holland are interesting. Every traveller wants to see Vollendam and Scheveningen and the hamlets on the Island of Marken. The men and women in these towns are kind-hearted, simple people, who are proud of their own village and think their own dress finer than that of other towns. Each of these fishing villages has its characteristic costume. The men of the Island of Marken wear a close-fitting jacket which ends at the waist and great, baggy, knee pants. Marken women wear round, white caps, fitting the head closely, with an open-work border, and a bright waist, with striped sleeves, over the front of which is a square of handsomely embroidered cloth. Little girls all through Holland dress exactly like women. But for her child face you would take the little girl from Scheveningen to be a grown person. She wears a dainty white cap pinned on with two great round-headed pins. Her ample dress quite reaches the ground; her white apron is neatly tied, and her purple shawl, tightly wrapped about her shoulders, is demurely crossed, and the ends are tucked under her apron strings. She wears the common wooden shoes of the country
A crowd of boys running in such shoes [wooden] over the hard paved roads makes a great clattering. On Sunday the wooden shoes of men and boys are usually fresh whitened; if their owners enter a house, they leave the shoes outside the door. I am sure you cannot guess what little Dutch boys do with old wooden shoes. They make capital little fishing boats out of them, which they sail on the canal. The real big fishing boats are really shaped very much like shoes too.
The Basques, especially those living in the mountains, are proud, happy, and independent. They are easily angered and quick to fight. They love their old life and customs and dislike changes. They still use many old-fashioned things such as the clumsy ox-cart, with great, solid wooden wheels and heavy wooden axle. The old dress has disappeared in many places, but is picturesque. Men wear rather loose and baggy trousers, a close-fitting vest, a sort of blouse or jacket that reaches only to the waist, a wide, white collar turned down over the neck of the blouse, and a loose necktie with streaming ends. They wear a loose cap jauntily on the head. Men and women both delight in bright colors.
In the northmost part of the Scandinavian Peninsula and Finland live the Lapps. There are probably not more than ten or twelve thousand, all told. They have had much contact with the Finns, and speak a language related to Finnish. In many customs they resemble them. This is not strange, as the land they live in is much the same.
Group of Western Lyres
There are already countless varieties of these spinning reels. The French boat builders also apply them to inriggers . One of the best varieties is the " Davis swivel rowlock ", which Hanlan has always used.
Top - Wrong grip
Bottom - correct grip
After the pose, the student should learn to hold his belt. Inadvertently when rowing to apply some force, he will tighten his belt tightly, even pinch it. Now this is nothing but a waste of forces, because it makes the muscles, namely those of the lower arm, tense and tired, without obtaining any greater result. The hands should only serve as a means of connecting the strap to the body; so the looser the belt is held, the better, and to that end only the two extremities of the fingers are bent, as a result of which a hook is formed, as it were, which wraps around the belt; (bottom picture) the thumb is held under the belt and also only with the extreme member pressed against it. The wrist joints should absolutely not be bent downwards, because this is precisely what makes the muscles of the lower arm tense, which is of no use and should therefore be strictly forbidden. After all, the aim must be not to exert a muscle without obtaining any result proportional to the effort. The hand must therefore be held in such a way that it forms a straight line with the arm.
In 1884, the competition again took place in Oudshoorn. The board had now decided to add races for two-belt seniores and for junior four-belt and two-belt races for the sake of the public. The song " Oude vier ", however, remained the main song, the university race . The prize was once again won by Leiden, which reached the winning post 4 seconds before Utrecht and 36 seconds before Delft .
Ships the British, and the German, navy might have had! Designs by the Kaiser and other naval theorists.
The first illustration on this page is a design for a battle-ship made by the Kaiser in 1893, to replace the old "Preussen," then out of date. The vessel was to carry four large barbettes and a huge umbrella-like fighting-top.
Illustration No. 2 is an Immersible Ironclad, designed by a French engineer named Le Grand, in 1862. In action the vessel was to be partly submerged, so that only her three turrets and the top of the armoured glacis would be visible.
No. 3 is Admiral Elliott's "Ram," of 1884. The ship was to carry a "crinoline" of stanchions along her water-line, practically a fixed torpedo-net.
No. 4 is Thomas Cornish's Invulnerable Ironclad, of 1885. She was to have two separate parallel hulls under water; above she was of turtle-back shape.
Avoid what is called the "ruffianly style of dress" or the slouchy appearance of a half-unbottoned vest, and suspenderless pantaloons. That sort of affectation is, if possible, even more disgusting than the painfully elaborate frippery of the dandy or dude.
During the 18th century corsets were largely made from a species of leather known as "Bend," which was not unlike that used for shoe soles, and measured nearly a quarter of an inch in thickness.
I believe that the imagination is the principal motive force in those who use the divining rod; but whether it is so solely, I am unable to decide. The powers of nature are so mysterious and inscrutable that we must be cautious in limiting them, under abnormal conditions, to the ordinary laws of experience.
From “Lettres qui découvrent l’Illusion des Philosophes sur la Baguette.” Paris, 1693
A gypsy girl lights a gypsy mans cigarette
A Gypsy family washing in the river
A woman sawing wood
Ruins of castles crown almost every prominent summit, and the scenery grows wilder and more beautiful at every bend of the river. Kallenberg, Wildenstein, Wernwag, Falkenstein, and a half-score of other ruins, equally wonderful in situation, tempted us to sketch them, and we found the most delightful spots imaginable wherever we paused and exchanged the paddle for the pencil.
Women water carriers
At every available point of the crowded river-front washerwomen, with their petticoats wet to the waist, stood knee-deep in the stream, and accompanied their lively chatter with the vigorous tattoo of their active mallets. In the shadow of the houses near the landing great piles of watermelons were the centres of groups of all ages, every individual busy with the luscious, juicy fruit.
Just below Widdin, at the Bulgarian town of Arčer Palanka, the general course of the Danube changes from the south to the east; and to the town of Cernavoda, in the Dobrudscha, about 300 miles below, the river keeps the latter direction with few and slight deviations. The long, straight reaches were here enlivened by many sailing-vessels of the fifteenth-century type, with high ornate sterns, and single mast set midway between the bow and stern. Sometimes we met them gayly ploughing their way up-stream, with every bellying sail drawing full, and again we saw them dragged slowly against the current by a long line of patient Turkish sailors harnessed to a tow-rope; or else we came across them tied to the trees in some quiet spot awaiting a favorable wind, the decks covered with sleeping sailors, no man on watch.
Turkish Sailing Lotka, Sulina
The river life was mostly confined to the larger craft; very few small boats were seen, and almost no fishermen. The great clouds of canvas on the Turkish vessels gleamed above the trees behind the islands far in the perspective, and the black smoke of tow-boats with their trains of loaded lighters was a constant feature in the ever-changing landscape. Occasionally a huge flat-boat of the roughest build, piled high with a cargo of red and yellow earthen-ware, melons, sacks of charcoal, and other miscellaneous merchandise, floated down in the gentle current, steered by Turks in costumes of varied hue, the whole reflecting a mass of glowing color in the stream.
The Wienerthor, Hainburg
The Watch-tower, Theben
Showing the sketch-book to inhabitants of a town
The rapid current hurried us on, not against our will, and we only paused to watch the monks haymaking in the meadows, wearing a dress which looked like a compromise between the costumes of a washerwoman and a Cape Cod fisherman. They must have suffered in the hot sun, with their gowns of heavy woollen stuff, but they suffered in silence, and did not deign to answer our greetings or even to turn their eyes upon us.
Our afternoon cruise was not further remarkable except for the sight of various immense ferry-boats swinging across the stream attached to wire guys and bearing two great loads of hay, cattle and all, and for a visit to Ingolstadt, a military post of great importance and correspondingly unattractive aspect.
The Bell tower, Lauingen.
Spectators watching us set up camp
Roumanian Peasants Selling Flowers and Fruit
Roumanian Peasant Girl
Woman returning from market pushing a barrow with empty baskets
Woman standing in front of the Pump at Pöchlarn
Peasants of the Delta
Peasant Wagon, Hainburg
Peasant Girls Mowing
Peasant Girl, Thieben carrying a tall load on her back
Peasant Girl of the Black Forest
“Our Guard,” Servian Militia Camp
On the Tile-boat
Under other circumstances we would have spent a day or more at Riedlingen, where we found most interesting architecture along the river-front and saw a party of nuns at work in a hay-field. We had a little more social success with them than we did with their coreligionists, the monks at Beuron, for they turned their great, cool, flapping head-dresses in our direction, and actually seemed temporarily interested in our canoes, and in us as well.
Mosque in Silistria
In the late afternoon we floated out of the sweet air of the meadows into a stratum of effluvia from the tanneries of Tuttlingen, and but for the fact that the town claims as its hero Max Schneckenburger, the author of the words of “Die Wacht am Rhein” who was educated here in his youth, and for the more cogent reason of hunger, we probably should have paddled past the town without pausing longer than to admire some of its architectural features.
Loading Grain at Braila
In Sunday Dress, Monostorszég
Hungarian Girls at Bezdán
At the post-office, where we went to buy our first Hungarian stamps, the gossiping old postmaster and his wife—characters not unfamiliar in the rural offices in other countries—were so overwhelmed by the extent of our requirements and the number of our letters that the wheels of official machinery refused to work at all. After they had carefully read all the addresses, and had marvelled long at the range of our correspondence, we succeeded in communicating to their dazed senses the fact that we wanted to buy a stock of stamps of various denominations.
Dredging the Delta
Crossing the Weir—Rottenacker
Country Market-boat, Budapest
Bulgarian Fisherman Basket-making
Bulgarian Buffalo Cart
Even the hissing of frying fat in the numerous cook-shops seemed hushed for the time; the vender of kukurutz (green corn on the ear) slept in a shadow; and the Bulgarian bozaji, selling slightly fermented maize beer, alone broke the drowsy silence with his mournful cries.
Black Forest Cow Team
Black Forest Cow Team
A Little Girl of Hainburg
A Hungarian Ferry
On several occasions after this the organist came to the chapel on purpose to listen to Handel as the latter played, and he was so struck by the boy's genius that he determined to surprise the Duke by letting Handel play His Highness out of chapel. Accordingly, on the following Sunday, when the service was concluded, the organist lifted Handel on to the organ-stool, and desired him to play.
The Duke and his friends had risen to their feet as Handel began to play, but the Duke instantly detected a difference in the playing, and, glancing towards the organ-loft, he was astonished to behold the figure of a child bending over the keys. But as he listened his astonishment became greater, for it was no longer the child's figure that arrested his attention, but the melody which was pouring forth from the instrument. Instead of walking out of the chapel, the Duke remained standing where he had risen, with his gaze riveted upon the child player, and of course the members of the household likewise kept their places. At length, when Handel ceased to play, the Duke turned to those about him with the inquiry: 'Who is that child? Does anybody know his name?' As no one present seemed to know, the organist was sent for to explain matters. After a few words from this official the Duke commanded that Handel should be brought before him. When the boy appeared he patted him on the head, and praised his performance, telling him that he was sure that he would make a good musician.
One day, when Handel was seven years old, his father announced his intention of paying a visit to the castle of the Duke of Saxe-Weissenfels. Handel was most anxious to be allowed to accompany his father, because he had heard that the Duke kept a great company of musicians to perform in his chapel. But the father refused his consent, and the boy turned away with a look of fixed determination in his eyes. 'I will go, even if I have to run every inch of the way!'
Handel did not know then that forty miles lay between his home and the castle, but having formed his bold resolution he awaited the moment when his father set forth on his journey, and then, running behind the closed carriage, he did his best to keep pace with it. The roads were long and muddy, and although he panted on bravely for a long distance, the child's strength began at last to fail, and, fearing that he would be left behind, he called to the coachman to stop. At the sound of the boy's voice his father thrust his head out of the window, and was about to give vent to his anger at George's disobedience; but a glance at the poor little bedraggled figure in the road, with its pleading face, melted the surgeon's heart. They were at too great a distance from home to turn back, and so Handel was lifted into the carriage and carried to Weissenfels, where he arrived tired and footsore, but supremely happy at having won his point.
For some time this secret practising continued without arousing suspicion on the part of the other inmates of the house. One night, however, when the child had resorted to his favourite spot, he was suddenly missed by those below, and, as it was known that he had been sent to bed, some fears were felt as to what could have become of him. The servants were summoned, but could give no account of him; the father was fetched from his study, whither he had retired, and a search began. The alarm increased when it was ascertained that the child was in none of the living-rooms of the house, and it was decided that the garrets and lofts must be searched. Calling for a lantern, the surgeon ascended the stairs leading to the lumber-room; it was possible that the boy might have found his way thither on some childish expedition, and there fallen asleep. Great was the father's surprise, on reaching the top-most landing, to hear faint musical sounds proceeding from behind the closed door. Noiselessly retracing his steps, he summoned the rest of the household, and then, ascending the stairs in a body, they paused outside to listen. Sure enough the old garret was full of melodic sounds! Now near, now far off, they seemed to the listeners to be wafted from another world; there was something uncanny about it, and the maids gazed into each other's faces with a scared expression, as the master softly lifted the latch, and, having peeped into the room, beckoned silently to the rest to follow him.
George Frederick Handel
Handel's birthplace, Halle, Saxony.
George Frederick Handel, as the boy was named, was the son of a surgeon of Halle, Lower Saxony, in which town the child was born on February 23, 1685. Even before he could speak little George had shown a remarkable fondness for music, and the only toys he cared for were such as were capable of producing musical sounds. With this love for music, however, the father showed no sympathy whatever; he regarded the art with contempt, as something beneath the serious notice of one who aspired to be a gentleman, and that his child should have expressed an earnest desire to be taught to play only served to make him angry.
Ludwig van Beethoven
The King next requested him to play a six-part fugue, and Bach extemporised one on a theme selected by himself. The King, who stood behind the composer's chair, clapped his hands with delight, and exclaimed repeatedly, 'Only one Bach! Only one Bach!' It was a visit replete with honours for the old master, and when he returned home he expressed his gratitude by writing down and elaborating the piece which he had composed on the King's theme, dedicating it to His Majesty under the title of 'Musikalisches Opfer' (Musical Offering), and sending it to Potsdam with a letter begging its acceptance.
Johann Sebastian Bach
Lüneburg possessed two schools, attached respectively to the Churches of St. Michael and St. John, and the rivalry between the two was so keen that when, as was the custom during the winter months, the scholars were sent out to sing in the streets in order to collect money for their support, the respective routes to be traversed had to be carefully marked out so as to prevent a collision.
With his mouth curved into a cruel smile, Christoph seized the manuscript book and the copy, and, taking them from the room, hid them away in a new place where Sebastian could not possibly find them
Bach copying from his brothers book which he 'borrowed'
Then, taking his pen and some manuscript music-paper with which he had provided himself, he began his task of copying out the pieces contained in the book.
An hour or more slipped away in this absorbing occupation, and it was not until the moon had shifted her position, so that her rays no longer afforded the necessary light, that Sebastian ceased to ply his pen. Then, having hidden the book away and removed all traces of his work, the now wearied little musician sought his pillow and fell fast asleep.
'Christoph, I wish you would let me have that book of manuscript music which you have in your cupboard—the one which contains pieces by Pachelbel, and Frohberger, and Buxtehude, and ever so many others—you know which I mean. I will take such care of it if you will only lend it to me for a little while.'
Christoph was about to leave the room, but he turned sharply to his little brother as the latter put his request.
'No, Sebastian, I will certainly not lend you the book, and I wonder that you have the impertinence to ask me such a thing! The idea of your thinking that you could study such masters as Buxtehude and Frohberger—a child like you! Get on with what I have set you to learn, and do not let me hear any more of such fancies!'
With that Christoph shut the door behind him, and Sebastian was left to ponder sadly upon his elder brother's harshness in refusing to accede to his simple request. The disappointment was very keen, for little Sebastian had been longing to get possession of that precious volume. For several days past he had spent hours in his brother's absence gazing at its covers through the lattice doors of the cupboard, and feasting his eyes upon the names of the musicians which were written on the back in bold letters in Christoph's hand.
Peasant Woman and Churn
Interior view of Trajan's Basilica (Basilica Ulpia), as restored by Canina.
Basilica , a word of Greek origin, frequently used in Latin literature and inscriptions to denote a large covered building that could accommodate a considerable number of people. Strictly speaking, a basilica was a building of this kind situated near the business centre of a city and arranged for the convenience of merchants, litigants and persons engaged on the public service; but in a derived sense the word might be used for any large structure wherever situated, such as a hall of audience (Vitruv. vi. 5. 2) or a covered promenade (St Jerome, Ep. 46) in a private palace