FIELD'S APPRECIATION.
(Dedication to His Sister, Mary Field French, from His "Little Book of Western
Verse." Copyrighted, 1889, by Eugene Field, Published by
Charles Scribner's Sons.)
A dying mother gave to you
Her child a many years ago;
How in your gracious love he grew,
You know, dear, patient heart, you know.
The mother's child you fostered then
Salutes you now and bids you take
These little children of his pen
And love them for the author's sake.
To you I dedicate this book,
And, as you read it line by line,
Upon its faults as kindly look
As you have always looked on mine.
Tardy the offering is and weak;
Yet were I happy if I knew
These children had the power to speak
My love and gratitude to you.
The Personal Character of the Czar.
By FRANK MARSHALL WHITE.
Trained Observers of Men Describe the Impressions Made Upon Them by the
Ruler of the Russian People, But No Two Agree in Their
Estimates of the Man Behind the Mask.
Compiled and edited for The Scrap Book.
In the present crisis in Russia the actual character of the Czar is a matter of unusual interest to the world at large, since he is one of the factors to be considered in predicting the outcome of the most tremendous social and political upheaval of the time.
It is difficult enough for the person whose acquaintance with the rulers of the earth is through the public prints to obtain an idea of the individuality of any one of the reigning monarchs, though we appraise many of them with confidence—if not with accuracy.
For instance, the popular conception of Edward of England is that of an affable gentleman, with a fondness for pageantry and show, and tastes that lead him to the race-track rather than to the library. Most of us believe William of Germany to be a cocky little chap, of tireless energy, who makes all knowledge his province in the intervals of being photographed and changing his uniforms, and who pays personal attention to the fireworks that invariably illumine his progress.
We consider Oscar of Sweden to be a man of scholarly tastes, who would rather write books than rule, and too modern in his ideas to make a regal figure on the throne. We think of the aged Emperor of Austria as a pathetic figure, a man of naturally kindly disposition, after a long life into which has entered almost every element of tragedy and unhappiness, ending his career an object of obloquy to many of his subjects.
A pathetic figure also, to our minds, is young Alfonso of Spain, upon whom are visited the sins of his fathers, who was born literally in a cabinet meeting, and in all the twenty years of his life has scarcely been out of sight of his mother or one of his guardians, and who begged in vain for only one day to himself, incognito, during his recent visit to Paris, as the greatest possible boon.
We know of the personal attributes of several other monarchs—that Carlos of Portugal is as likely as any of his contemporaries to meet the fate of Henry I of England; that Leopold of the Belgians is not to be mentioned in polite society; that Victor Emmanuel of Italy is a serious young man who believes that his first duty is to his country instead of to himself.