Home / Albums / Tag Century:19th 856
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Gautier was not pure dreamer. Though the world of his art was as far from the world of Paris, as the world of Mr. Yeats from the world of London or Dublin, he was not a seer, or a poet between whom and reality hung a veil of dreams. He was a solid man, one of whose proudest memories was a blow that registered five hundred and thirty-two pounds on an automatic instrument, the result of daily washing down five pounds of gory mutton with three bottles of red Bordeaux.
336 visits
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Scott was a part of this revivified world, and his importance in it is not that of its inventor, but of the man who brought so many of its qualities into the art of story-telling that his novels became a secondary inspiration, and moved men as different as Hugo, Balzac, and Dumas, to express themselves in narrative.
741 visits
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Hawthorne is one of the earliest story-tellers whom we remember as much for himself as for his books. He is loved or hated, as an essayist is loved or hated, without reference to the subjects on which he happened to write. He wrote in a community for whom a writer was still so novel as to possess some rags of the old splendours of the sage; an author was something wonderful, and no mere business man.
228 visits
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De Maupassant for seven years submitted all he wrote to Flaubert's criticism. If we add to the preceding essay some sentences from Flaubert's correspondence, it will be easy to imagine the lines that criticism must have taken, and interesting to compare them with the resulting craftsman.
183 visits
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Plan of North Carolina sharpie of the 1880's
237 visits
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Image 9703
245 visits
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Image 9700
219 visits
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Image 9701
215 visits
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Image 9699
214 visits
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Over on the North Side, on the west side of Clark street, a few doors north of Division street, there is an establishment which in some respects is unique. It is reached either by the North side cable cars or by hansom cab, the fare for the latter being fifty cents for each person. This resort is known as Engel’s, and for several seasons past it has been the favorite with the blooded youth of the North side as well as of a large clientele of chance visitors. It was formerly kept by a man named Matthai and adjoining it was a smaller resort kept by a Monsieur Andre. Andre is now dead and his place closed. On the site of Mr. Matthai’s triumphs Mr. Engel now lives and flourishes.
194 visits
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Victims of the Tiger
The facilities for running such money traps are so limited and the risk of arrest and punishment so great that the chances of encountering against a “brace” game are about 100 to 1 against the patron; the only consideration with the “slick” gentry who manipulate the games being how to most expeditiously relieve the wayfarer of his wealth at the least possible risk to themselves.
276 visits
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These dining-rooms are small apartments, neatly partitioned off and graded in sizes to suit parties of from two to twenty. That these are liberally patronized may be inferred from the merry bursts of laughter that are occasionally heard pealing through the carpeted halls as the busy waiters go scurrying to and fro with their piles of well filled dishes. It has been said that it is from the sale of wines that the proprietors are enabled to maintain these private-dining-rooms, consequently it is the proper caper to wash down the very reasonably priced dinner with a bottle or so of one’s favorite style of grape juice if the person can afford it, and if you can’t, why, you have no business there.
265 visits
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The Madison Street Opera House and the Park Theater, which were briefly mentioned in the preceding chapter, are two resorts that may be regarded as occupying a unique position in the amusement roster. The Madison Street Opera House gives two performances daily and its manager, the veteran Colonel Sam T. Jack, is reputed to be coining money. The size of the audiences that fill Col. Jack’s theater twice a day is attributable, possibly, to the fact that the house is devoted entirely to the presentation of burlesque.
189 visits
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The Tiger and its Haunts—Gambling Games Great and Small wherein the Process of Parting the Fool and his Money is Carried on with Facility and Dispatch
194 visits
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THE statue which stands in the Haymarket, the broad square on Randolph Street extending from Desplaines to Halsted, commemorates an event only second in importance in Chicago’s history to the great fire of 1871. It stands as a mark of that awful night, May 4, 1886, when the mouthings of the anarchists culminated in the hurling of a bomb—the only bomb ever thrown in America—into a squad of police, of whom seven were killed and sixty-six laid low with awful wounds.
165 visits
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..most Chicago hackmen are imbued with a praiseworthy desire to earn all they can, and are none too conscientious in their ambitions to acquire riches rapidly, there is a very easy manner in which to avoid disputes, namely: make your bargain with your Jehu before you enter his vehicle.
257 visits
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Speaking of the peanut and lemonade men reminds one that the two great circuses, Barnum & Bailey’s and Forepaugh’s, exhibit in Chicago every summer. They generally appear for two weeks each, and of course parade in due form, according to custom, through the streets of the city on the opening day.
283 visits
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The Author, while sufficiently modest to keep his identity a secret, makes bold to assert that no person who scans the pages of this book will be able, after he has done so, to lay claim to ignorance of the means whereby to procure entertainment or solace for such hours of idleness as he may find on his hands during his stay in this city.
147 visits
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A party of visitors in which there are one or more ladies will unquestionably go on a shopping excursion of greater or less extent, according to the tastes of the fair ones and the length of the purses possessed by their escorts.
183 visits
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The term adventuress is applied to women of careless reputation who, being much too smart to endure the ignominious career of professional demi-mondaines, resort to various shrewd schemes to fleece the unwary. Some of their class work in concert with male partners and in such cases the selected victim generally becomes an easy prey. The confidence man may be dangerous; the confidence woman, if she be well educated and bright, as well as pretty, is irresistible except with the most hardened and unsusceptible customers.
432 visits
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Detailed mention of the magnificent opera house in the Auditorium building has been reserved until now in order that it might take its proper place in the description of the mighty edifice which is the wonder and admiration of the United States, and a topic of comment to some extent in Europe.
The project of the Auditorium, three sides of which face Wabash Avenue, Congress Street and Michigan Avenue, is said to have emanated from the brain of Mr. Ferd W. Peck, a capitalist, who, in a speech to the Commercial Club, outlined the advantages that would be likely to accrue to the city from the possession of such a building. As the Auditorium is one of the sights of the city, it deserves a special description.
142 visits
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Prof. Swing is one of the leading personalities of the religious life of the city. He is a man of exceedingly plain exterior but his sermons are sound and forcible. It would be difficult to analyze his creed or that of the people who go to hear him.
239 visits
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Satellites of the Tiger
373 visits
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The carousel is a form of entertainment which has grown popular with a certain class of people within recent years. The term may be a little obscure to the uninitiated, but they will readily understand its meaning when it is explained that the carrousel is nothing more or less than the old-fashioned “merry-go-round” which we all easily remember as a feature of fairs, circuses and other out-door entertainments.
333 visits
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On the water
654 visits
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The Auditorium, Richelieu, and Leland Cafes, together with29 Devine’s wine-room on the other side of Jackson Street, and Colonel John Harvey’s “Wayside Inn” in the alley, form a sort of circuit or beat, which these “rapid” young men (i.e. the “bloods”) travel at all times, including such hours as the sale of cheering beverages is forbidden by city ordinance. Of these, Harvey’s is perhaps the most unique resort, though if one cannot find his friends in one of the places named after midnight he is tolerably certain to encounter them in one of the others.
197 visits
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The “indignant husband” game is a favorite one with adventuresses of the second class, by which term is signified such fair and frail creatures as occupy a somewhat lower place in the plane of rascaldom than the fairy who relies92 solely upon discreet blackmail without publicity for her means of support. This game is usually played upon very green persons for the reason that very few others would fall victims to it.
147 visits
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One has not space at command to cite all the methods by which the unwary are fleeced out of their wealth. Besides, new and treacherous schemes are constantly being invented. It is impossible to tell what plot the genius of the confidence man will strike next. These shrewd geniuses have even gone so far as the selling of banana stalks to farmers for seed.
265 visits
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Under this caption come the entertainments of a more or less unstilted character; that is to say, entertainments that, while being in no wise disreputable, are nevertheless arranged with a view of catering to the tastes of people of both sexes who do not care to spend the evening in the narrow confines and the matter-of-fact atmosphere of a regular theatre.
208 visits
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At the Stage Entrance
Men lined up at the stage entrance to a theatre
146 visits
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An Ideal Afternoon
443 visits
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Man and woman eating in restaurant
280 visits
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If an ordinary dance or ball is enjoyable how much more so is a masquerade—that merry carnival in which identities are mysteriously hidden and all manner of pleasant pranks indulged in by the maskers, whose brilliant and variegated costumes transform the aspect of the thronging floor into a kaleidoscopic expanse of ever-changing beauty. The accompanying illustration depicts the sort of jolly scene to be encountered at a typical Chicago masquerade—a scene which, witnessed for the first time, is rarely forgotten until it is eclipsed perhaps, by another later and even more novel.
234 visits
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It is, nevertheless, a fact that there are still a large number of professional gamblers in Chicago—presumably there always will be—and while there are no notorious houses open the stranger who is yearning for a little action for his spare cash can be readily accommodated. The notorious Hankins castle on Clark street is tightly closed, but every night there may be found in that vicinity any number of “sporty-looking” gentry who will be only too glad to guide the inquirer to a secluded spot where he can be accommodated with as large or as small a game as his inclination may dictate or his means allow.
129 visits
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Lincoln visiting the Army
284 visits
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Ford’s Theatre, where President Lincoln was assassinated
184 visits
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House where the President died
187 visits
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Abraham Lincoln
144 visits
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The Lincoln Monument, Springfield, Illinois
149 visits
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One of the most novel and interesting sights which attracts the traveller's attention when he first arrives in Egypt is the syce running before the horses as they go through the narrow, closely packed streets. How the crowd scatters, and the donkey-boys hustle their meek property out of the way as one of those runners comes bounding along, shouting, in the strange Arabic tongue, "Clear the way!" The sun shines upon his velvet vest, glittering with its spangled trimmings, the breeze fills the large floating sleeves till they wave backward like white wings.
501 visits
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Image 9077
657 visits
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Image 9076
554 visits
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Our camp on a summer’s evening was a cheerful scene. At this hour, fires burned before most of the tepees; and, as the women had ended their day’s labors, there was much visiting from tent to tent. Here a family sat eating their evening meal. Yonder, a circle of old men, cross-legged or squat-on-heels in the firelight, joked and told stories. From a big tent on one side of the camp came the tum-tum tum-tum of a drum. We had dancing almost every evening in those good days.
638 visits
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“Do the spirits eat the food?” I asked. I had seen my grandfather set food before the two skulls of the Big Birds’ ceremony.
“No,” said my grandfather, “They eat the food’s spirit; for the food has a spirit as have all things. When the gods have eaten of its spirit, we often take back the food to eat ourselves.”
446 visits
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“At this hour fires burned before most of the tepees.” In fall or winter the fire was within the tepee, under the smoke hole.
444 visits
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Autumn came; my mothers harvested their rather scanty crops; and, with the moon of Yellow Leaves, we struck tents and went into winter camp. My tribe usually built their winter village down in the thick woods along the Missouri, out of reach of the cold prairie winds. It was of earth lodges, like those of our summer village, but smaller and more rudely put together. We made camp this winter not very far from Like-a-Fishhook Point.
501 visits
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To eke out our store of corn and keep the pot boiling, my father hunted much of the time. To hunt deer he left the lodge before daybreak, on snowshoes, if the snow was deep. He had a flintlock gun, a smoothbore with a short barrel. The wooden stock was studded with brass nails. For shot he used slugs, bits of lead which he cut from a bar, and chewed to make round like bullets. Powder and shot were hard to get in those days
495 visits
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My father stabled his horses at night in our lodge, in a little corral fenced off against the wall. “I do not want the Sioux to steal them,” he used to say. In the morning, after breakfast, he drove them out upon the prairie, to pasture, but brought them in again before sunset. In very cold weather my mothers cut down young cottonwoods and let our horses browse on the tender branches.
625 visits
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Turtle was old-fashioned in her ways and did not take kindly to iron tools. “I am an Indian,” she would say, “I use the ways my fathers used.” Instead of grubbing out weeds and bushes, she pried them from the ground with a wooden digging stick. I think she was as skillful with this as were my mothers with their hoes of iron.
448 visits
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Turtle’s hoe was made of the shoulder bone of a buffalo set in a light-wood handle, the blade firmly bound in place with thongs. The handle was rather short, and so my grandmother stooped as she worked among her corn hills.
She used to keep the hoe under her bed. As I grew a bit older my playmates and I thought it a curious old tool, and sometimes we tried to take it out and look at it, when Turtle would cry, “Nah, nah! Go away! Let that hoe alone; you will break it!”
425 visits
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Indians, when journeying, made the campfire outside the lodge in summer; inside the lodge, in winter. Usually a slight pit was dug for the fireplace, thus lessening danger of sparks, setting fire to prairie or forest. The fire was smothered with earth when camp was forsaken.
454 visits
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Old Turtle made me a dolly of deer skin stuffed with antelope hair. She sewed on two white bone beads for eyes. I bit off one of these bone beads, to see if it was good to eat, I suppose. For some days my dolly was one-eyed, until my grandmother sewed on a beautiful new eye, a blue glass bead she had gotten of a trader. I thought this much better, for now my dolly had one blue eye and one white one.
391 visits
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Image 9065
403 visits
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“We had a hard time,” he said. “Perhaps the gods, for some cause, were angry with us. We had gone five days; evening came and it began to rain. We were on the prairie, and our young men sat all night with their saddles and saddle skins over their heads to keep off the rain.
“In the morning, the rain turned to snow. A heavy wind blew the snow in our faces, nearly blinding us.
913 visits
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The next morning when I went out of the lodge, I saw that the black-bear skin was bound to one of the posts at the entrance. This was a sign that my father was going to lead out a war party. I was almost afraid to pass the bear skin, for I knew it was very holy.
600 visits
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Image 9062
600 visits
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Image 9061
541 visits
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Image 9060
521 visits
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One evening in the corn planting moon, she was making ready her seed for the morrow’s planting. She had a string of braided ears lying beside her. Of these ears she chose the best, broke off the tip and butt of each, and shelled the perfect grain of the mid-cob into a wooden bowl. Baby-like, I ran my fingers through the shiny grain, spilling a few kernels on the floor.
“Do not do that,” cried my grandmother. “Corn is sacred; if you waste it, the gods will be angry.”
440 visits
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I was too little to note very much of what was done. I remember that my father set up boundary marks—little piles of earth or stones, I think they were—to mark the corners of the field we claimed. My mothers and Turtle began at one end of the field and worked forward. My mothers had their heavy iron hoes; and Turtle, her old-fashioned digging stick.
445 visits
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Image 9057
454 visits
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One morning, having come to the field quite early, I grew tired of my play before my grandmother had ended her work. “I want to go home,” I begged, and I began to cry. Just then a strange bird flew into the field. It had a long curved beak, and made a queer cry, cur-lew, cur-lew.
I stopped weeping. My grandmother laughed.
“That is a curlew,” she said.
503 visits
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The small lodges we built for winter did not stand long after we left them in the spring. Built on low ground by the Missouri, they were often swept away in the June rise; for in that month the river is flooded by snows melting in the Rocky Mountains.
The loss of our winter lodges never troubled us, however; for we thought of them as but huts. Then, too, we seldom wintered twice in the same place. We burned much firewood in our winter lodges, and before spring came the women had to go far to find it. The next season we made camp in a new place, where was plenty of dead-and-down wood for fuel.
We looked upon our summer lodges, to which we came every spring, as our real homes. There were about seventy of these, earth lodges45 well-built and roomy, in Like-a-Fishhook village. Most of them were built the second summer of our stay there.
463 visits
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The beds of the rest of the family stood in the back of the lodge, against the wall. They46 were less simply made than my father’s, being each covered with an old tent skin drawn over a frame of posts and poles. The bedding was of buffalo skins. As these could not be washed, my mothers used to take them out and hang them on the poles of the corn stage on sunny days, to air.
Most of the earth lodges—at least most of the larger ones—had each a bed like my father’s before the fireplace; for this was the warmest place in the lodge. Usually the eldest in the family, as the father or grandfather, slept in this bed.
417 visits
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Her face washed, Red Blossom sat on the edge of her bed and finished her toilet. She had a little fawn-skin bag, worked with red porcupine quills. From this bag she took her hairbrush, a porcupine tail mounted on a stick, with the sharp points of the quills cut off. She brushed her hair smooth, parting it in two braids that fell over each shoulder nearly hiding her ears. Red Blossom was no longer young, but her black tresses had not a grey hair in them.
467 visits
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Image 9052
437 visits
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But if the weather was cold, we did not go to the river to bathe. An earthen pot full of water stood by one of the posts near the fire. It rested in a ring of bark, to keep it from falling. My mothers dipped each a big horn spoon full of water, filled her mouth, and, blowing the water over her palms, gave her face a good rubbing.
471 visits
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My mothers dipped each a big horn spoon full of water, filled her mouth, and, blowing the water over her palms, gave her face a good rubbing.
404 visits
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White people seem to think that Indian children never have any play and never laugh. Such ideas seem very funny to me. How can any child grow up without play? I have seen children at our reservation school playing white men’s games—baseball, prisoners’ base, marbles. We Indian children also had games. I think they were better than white children’s games.
I look back upon my girlhood as the happiest time of my life. How I should like to see all my little girl playmates again! Some still live, and when we meet at feasts or at Fourth-of-July camp, we talk of the good times we had when we were children.
531 visits
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I remember one morning, just after breakfast, I heard singing, as of a dozen or more men coming toward our lodge. I started to run out to see what it was, but my mothers cried, “Do not go. It is the Black Mouths.” My mothers, I thought, looked rather scared. We were still speaking, when I heard the tramp of feet. The door lifted, and the Black Mouths came in.
They looked very terrible, all painted with the lower half of the face black. Many, but not all, had the upper half of the face red. Some had eagles’ feathers in their hair, and all wore robes or blankets. Some carried guns. Others had sticks about as long as my arm. With these sticks they beat any woman who would not help in the clean-up.
452 visits
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My little half sister was my usual playmate. She was two years younger than I, and I loved her dearly. She had a pretty name, Cold Medicine. On our prairies grows a flower with long, yellow root. In old times, if a warrior was running from enemies and became wearied he chewed a bit of the root and rubbed it on his eyelids. It made his eyes and tongue feel cold and kept him awake. The flower for this reason was called cold medicine. When my father spoke my sister’s name, it made him think of this flower and of the many times he had bravely gone out with war parties.
504 visits
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We had a game of ball much like shinny. It was a woman’s game, but we little girls played it with hooked sticks. We also had a big, soft ball, stuffed with antelope hair, which we would bounce in the air with the foot. The game was to see how long a girl could bounce the ball without letting it touch the ground. Some girls could bounce it more than a hundred times. It was lots of fun.
528 visits
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A girl now lay downward on the hide. With a quick pull, the others tossed her into the air, when she was expected to come down on her feet, to be instantly tossed again. The game was to see how many times she could be tossed without falling. A player was often tossed ten or more times before she lost her balance.59 Each time, as she came down, she kept turning in one direction, right or left. When at last she fell, the pile of weeds saved her from any hurt.
552 visits
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Until I was about nine years old, my hair was cut short, with a tuft on either side of my head, like the horns of an owl. Turtle used to cut my hair. She used a big, steel knife. In old times, I have heard, a thin blade of flint was 60used. I did not like Turtle’s hair cutting a bit, because she pulled.
528 visits
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“Do the spirits eat the food?” I asked. I had seen my grandfather set food before the two skulls of the Big Birds’ ceremony.
“No,” said my grandfather, “They eat the food’s spirit; for the food has a spirit as have all things. When the gods have eaten of its spirit, we often take back the food to eat ourselves.”
609 visits
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“Once in Five Villages,” my grandfather went on, “there lived a brave man who owned a gun. One day a storm blew up. As the man sat in his lodge, there came a clap of thunder and lightning struck his roof, tearing a great hole.
“This did not frighten the man at all. Indeed, it angered him. He caught up his gun and fired it through the hole straight into the sky. ‘You thunder bird,’ he shouted, ‘stay away from my lodge. See this gun. If you come, I will shoot at you again!’”
541 visits
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Image 9042
620 visits
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We Hidatsas do not reckon our kin as white men do. If a white man marries, his wife is called by his name; and his children also, as Tom Smith, Mary Smith. We Indians had no family names. Every Hidatsa belonged to a clan; but a child, when he was born, became a member of his mother’s, not his father’s clan.
An Indian calls all members of his clan his brothers and sisters. The men of his father’s clan he calls his clan fathers; and the women, his clan aunts. Thus I was born a member of the Tsistska[8], or Prairie Chicken clan, because my mother was a Tsistska. My father was a member of the Meedeepahdee,[9] or Rising Water clan. Members of the Tsistska clan are my brothers and sisters; but my father’s clan brothers, men of the Meedeepahdee, are my clan fathers, and his clan sisters are my clan aunts.
536 visits
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But it is never good for a man not to know his faults, and so we let one’s clan cousins tease him 68for any fault he had. Especially was this teasing common between young men and young women. Thus a young man might be unlucky in war. As he passed the fields where the village women hoed their corn, he would hear some mischievous girl, his clan cousin, singing a song taunting him for his ill success. Were any one else to do this, the young man would be ready to fight; but, seeing that the singer was his clan cousin, he would laugh and call out, “Sing louder cousin, sing louder, that I may hear you.”
558 visits
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In those days, when a man mourned he cut off his hair, painted his body with white clay, and threw away his moccasins. He also cut his flesh with a knife or some sharp weapon. Now when a man sought a vision from the gods, he wept and mourned, that the gods might have pity on him; and for this he went away from the village, alone, into the hills. So it happened, that Snake Head-Ornament, on his way to the hills, went mourning and crying past a field where sat a woman, his clan cousin, on her watch-stage. Seeing him, she began a song to tease him:
He said, “I am a young bird!”
If a young bird, he should be in his nest;
But he comes here looking gray,
And wanders about outside the village!
He said, “I am a young snake!”
If a young snake, he should be in the hills among the red buttes;
But he comes here looking gray and crying,
And wanders aimlessly about!
541 visits
