The Tapestry Of The New World

THE TAPESTRY OF THE NEW WORLD

By Fanny D. Bergen

NE of my earliest and pleasantest recollections is of sitting beside my invalid grandmothers bed, and examining the various designs of the cotton-cloth of which were made the blocks of its patchwork bed-quilt, and listening to stories about the women and children whose gowns were there represented. Or sometimes it was my delight to sit up in bed before rising in the morning, tracing with my finger certain favorite calico patterns on my bed-covering, while, after waking my aunt from her morning nap, I asked questions that drew forth story after story of characters that, by her oft-repeating, had become most familiar to me. Where is the child who does not love to hear father, mother, or other older friends tell about "when I was young?" Now, I fancy there are few objects which, by association of ideas, are more fertile in recalling bygone times and people than an old homemade quilt.

It was not only the friends and neighbors suggested by the scraps of their clothing, with whom I became familiar in these bed-quilt talks, but I also incidentally heard much of the romantic Lake George country, where the quilts which I have in mind had been made. I learned of trees, shrubs, and flowers not found in our part of the West. The white birch, whose bark the country children stripped off and used for paper, seemed to me on enchanted tree. Hearing of another kind of birch—the black I now know it to have been—that afforded a spicy, edible bark, and of the scarlet-fruited checkerberry that decked the woodland pastures, favorite haunts of the school-children, I envied the latter their paths to school and their noon-time rambles. To this day, I cannot contentedly pass a black birch-tree without securing a twig, remembering my childish desire to know its oft-described flavor, which my imagination had made wonderful as ambrosia. Then the beautiful lakes, the distant mountains, the forests still peopled with deer; and perhaps most like a fairy-tale of all, was the vivid description of a stillhunt. No old tale of a German forest has left with me a more weirdly beautiful impression than this account, heard when I was but a few years old, of the bevy of hunters all clad in white, to be invisible against a background of snow, armed with their long flint-lock rifles, setting forth on their expedition after deer and moose.

One of these patchwork quilts, made of as many colors as Joseph's coat, is an album of family and neighborhood history in which are preserved in cipher, to be translated only by the maker or one who by tradition has inherited them, the tales, character-sketches, and so on, clinging about the homely collection of odd patches.

Besides gossip about people and places, one finds recorded in an old quilt much of interest regarding fabrics and their prices. Have you never been  entertained by some "old-time" lady, as the Southerners say, while she points out the incomparable difference between the texture of the old-fashioned chintz or French calico of fifty to a hundred years ago, and the cheap American prints of to-day, that can be bought for from five to twelve cents per yard? I have beside me a holder, cut out of a fragment of a quilt made of two dresses that when partly worn had been used, the one for the top, the other for the lining. One is of cotton goods made to look as if twilled, the background of mixed white and browns that give a neutral tint, from which stand out small, geometrical figures of pale grass-green and a dear red, undimmed by all these years. The other side is of fine French calico, printed in similar colors that are still fresh, in one of the graceful patterns of interwoven vines, leaves, and flowers, so conventionalized as to bear little resemblance to any plant of land or water, but which remind one of the borders of pieces of tapestry. This calico was bought almost sixty years ago in Boston, and cost sixty-two and a half cents a yard. I also recall a woollen comforter, whose lining was of home-made white flannel, and the upper side of the less worn parts of a fine plum-colored cloak of camlet cloth, and another of a fadeless dark blue. The permanence, both of fabrics and colors, would compare well with that of antique, oriental rugs. It used to be not uncommon to manufacture both quilts and comforters out of partly worn garments, when stuffs were more durable than at present, and were so cared for that years of wear might be had from them when put to some second service, after the original dress or cloak had quite gone out of fashion, or else the wearer had become tired of it.

The silk and velvet patchwork bed- covering often elaborately decorated with embroidery or painting, that have been the fashion for a dozen years or more, are by no means the only survivals of this art, once general in American households. In not a few villages or country towns within a short distance of Boston, many common calico or woollen quilts are yet made every year. In the more rustic parts of New England, as well as in similar places in the Middle and Western States, such quilts are still more common.

The Pennsylvania German women have long been famous quilt-makers. In a thinly peopled part of one of the earliest settled counties of northern Ohio are some farmers of "Pennsylvania Dutch" extraction, sometimes a generation or two removed. It was once my fortune to spend a few days in a roomy two-and-a-half-story frame-house on a mill-farm in this neighborhood, The traditional cleanliness of the best North German housekeepers kept the numerous large, but unhome-like, rooms as fresh and neat as a new barn. From the shining, small-paned windows and the much-swept rag-carpets and speckless whitewashed walk, to the sand-scoured porches and doorsteps, all was clean from constant scrubbing and dusting. I slept in the big spare-chamber, a long room with several windows, a bare floor, and a bed built so high with straw and feather-beds, that to mount it I was almost compelled to climb from a chair. In one corner of this barren chamber stood a large stool, on which, piled one on top of another, was a stack of bed-quilts that reached half-way to the high ceiling. They were the work of the last unmarried member of the family, who was not more renowned for her quilting than for her skill in knitting and crocheting.

But it is to the more remote districts of the Southern States, that one must go to find this domestic industry carried on most zealously. A folk-lore correspondent from North Carolina writes thus: " The quilt-making is in general confined to the farmers' wives and daughters. Their winter's work is piecing and quilting the quilts. In fact, the young ladies do not consider themselves marriageable until they have made and are the owners of a goodly number of home-made quilts. The latter part of the winter is the time for the finishing up of quilts, and is quite a gala season. They often make quiltings, i.e., a, number of ladies who can handle needle and thimble dexterously, are invited to spend the day and quilt. A great dinner is prepared; by night the gentlemen gather to help eat supper, and to take the quilt out of the frames, and have a general good time." It is not strange that, with their love of gay colors, the negroes of the South often take kindly to this sort of handiwork. It has also, to some extent, been taken up by some of the least nomadic of our American Indians. Rev. J. Owen Dorsey, of the Bureau of Ethnology, has kindly sent me three designs which were drawn for him by a Biloxi Indian from quilts pieced by his Indian wife.  In consonance with the simple, sometimes even rough, surroundings of a pioneer life, the women of the English colonies in America and in provincial regions, in their primitive art of patchwork suggest, even to this day, their environment by fashioning' out of cloth such patterns as the "log-cabin," "link and chain," "bear's paw, "duck's-foot-in-the-mud," " fence-row," " goose- chase," "state-house-steps," or "Washington's march." To be sure, in these patchwork designs we have, instead of portraits and pictures, but the rudest symbolism.  The tulip, in all parts of the United States a very favorite appliqué design for quilts, is perchance a survival of the tulip mania, that for a time seized the Dutch burghers of the New Netherlands. Other floral designs, the sunflower, double peony, rose of Sharon, basket of flowers, etc., hint at flower-borders lovingly tended by the over- taxed hands of a busy housewife, who still made time to put this bit of color into a very practical, prosaic life.

To me these home-made quilts are chiefly interesting because of the glimpses they give of the makers and. their lives. Minstrels and troubadours, and the glamour of distance, have combined to surround the high-born lady of the age of chivalry with a halo of poetry and romance ; but, after all, was the semi-conventual existence of the Lady Margaret, or Eleanor, or Rosamond of lay or ballad, as she embroidered away her years shut in by thick castle walls, really as free and rounded out as the lives of women in American pioneer days or in country life to-day? Is not the lot of the back-woodsman's wife or daughter in her log-house, with her marigold and larkspur border in front, and it may be a cluster of tall sunflowers in the back corner of the garden, with a life of hard work, homely fare, and the simplest joys and sorrows, a far more enviable one than that of "the noblewomen of the mediaeval castles? Less sweet and wholesome too, by far, was the career which lay before those same noblewomen, than that which offered itself to our stately colonial matrons, or that which awaits those who now toil at our latter-day tapestry, whether they are women in quiet village homes or in roomy farm-houses, east or west, on valley farms among the mountains of Tennessee or North Carolina, or in Southern mansions, shut away from the neighborhood of busy towns by long stretches of cypress-swamp or pine-barrens.

The tale of Penelope's patient loyalty to her long-tarrying lord, as she puts off the clamoring suitors by her vow never to re-marry until the web still in her loom be finished, might be matched in our unromantic New World by the true story of many an old patchwork quilt, could the poor bite of printed cotton speak out and recall the story of some Melinda, Ruth, or Mary Ann, whose deft fingers sewed together the flimsy mosaic. Many a love-dream has been. sewed into one of these crude attempts at art. Have you not seen a matron gently smooth an old quilt, as with lowered voice she tells you, "This is one I quilted the winter before I was married." You may be sure that any chance scrap of chintz, gingham, or calico once gay, now, it may be, faded by time, wear, and frequent washings, may bring to her mind as many tender memories as are recalled to another by the dried rose, the sprig of forget-me-not, or the true lovers knot put away with tender care in some private drawer.

Then, how far back into memory land may not one be carried by the "four- patch" or "nine-patch" quilt, made by childish fingers just learning to guide the needle? Anyone who thus took her first lesson in sewing, as she sat on a low stool beside mother or grandmother and performed the daily stint, either of stitching or over-and- over sewing, in putting into blocks the squares cut by older hands, can never see this work of earlier years without recalling many pictures of that time. Or if in childhood some pair of busy little hands were forever folded to rest, every bit of cloth which they once held, and every stitch which they once set with conscientious painstaking, will thereafter be more precious to someone than any piece of Gobelin tapestry.

Several years ago a brother of George Puller, the artist, picked up from a pile of rags in a junk-shop in Greenfield, Mass., an old linen spread, elaborately embroidered in colored crewels, in the old-fashioned stitch very like that used in modem Kensington work. At the upper end, in cross-stitch, we read "Betsey Clark, her work," and that is all we know of her who patiently wrought the flower-pot from which straggle the long, nondescript vines and flowers which spread over the bed-cover. I have a little hypothetical romance for myself about this forsaken piece of embroidery, that was by a mere chance rescued from its ignominious destiny. The lady who owns it has another theory very different from my own. You, reader, may construct one for yourself, but we shall never know what loneliness, poverty, or desolation is back of the fact that such an elaborate piece of needlework should have come •into a miscellaneous mass of paper-rags.

I have often slept under a wild-lily quilt, an unusually fine example of cot- ton appliqué, that was done more than forty years ago by an Ohio district school-teacher. Some of the squares were made as she sat with the family where she chanced to stay, in the odd hours before and after breakfast, or supper; for this was before "boarding around" had gone out of fashion, and the country school-mistress was a guest as well as boarder during her week or more at each of the various homes, and it would have been utterly contrary to usage for her to seclude herself in her own chamber. I dare say others of the blocks had their graceful patterns daintily cross-stitched on to the white back- ground during the summer noon-time,. as the teacher kept guard in some hot little frame school-house, while the boys and girls, whom she so zealously and wisely taught, rambled off to shady green woods, whence they came back laden with long pieces of wild grape- vine selected for skipping-ropes, and with leafy branches, flowers, mosses, and lichens with which they decked the poor barren school-room. Object-lessons were not talked of then, but these trophies voluntarily brought in by her pupils served this born teacher as texts on which she based many an informal talk that kept both teacher and pupil near to sweet out-of-door things.

I recall another quilt in appliqué work of about the same age as the wild-lily, and made in the same locality. Its pattern is called the "tea-leaf"— I cannot imagine why. The leaves of the bunch at the base of the large red and yellow patch are of green calico, with markings of black and yellow. Both these prints are of the quality that used to be known as oil calicoes, of remarkably fast colors. The border of this quilt is made of a row of very conventional flower-baskets. Here the .leaves and stems are cut out of the green calico, the flowers from the red, and the basket itself from a brilliant orange oil-boiled calico figured in black.  The quilting on this bed-cover is wonderfully fine and intricate. The white squares, alternating with the appliqué blocks, are each quilted in a floral design, and the groundwork of the whole quilt is done in fine diamond and shell-work patterns. The dainty, even stitches of this close quilting were done by a farmer's wife, amidst such busy days as would stagger most American women of a generation later.

I have rumors of a wonderful bed-quilt made of the silk wedding-gowns of Esther Powell, a granddaughter of the earliest French Huguenot settled in America. When General Washington visited Newport, this quilt was sent over from Narragansett to grace his bed. It was not wholly finished until 1795, when a woman was hired to quilt it in a wonderfully elaborate pattern. It took her six months to do it, and she was given her board and twenty cents a week in payment. I have been told of a quilt after the familiar cube pattern, in red, white, and blue, that was made by a colored woman who had been a Virginia slave. I wonder if the owner of the poor brown hands was conscious of a sadly pathetic irony as she thus combined the colors of freedom and liberty into a bed-cover for a slave.

 Perhaps the quaintest, though by no means the most beautiful, bed-cover that I ever saw is a very queer woollen counterpane, which I call the Quilt of the Inn. Its centre is made of blocks; of appliqué work of the most varied designs, and its border of rough patchwork cut from red and green flannel, the latter apparently hand-woven. Between the patchwork border and the appliqué work squares is a broad stripe of black alpaca decorated with a vine made by sewing on, in a wavy line, a narrow red woollen braid. This most artificial vine is laden with large appliqué flowers, doubtless not copied from nature. The central squares are either of black broadcloth or of coarse buff flannel The latter may once have been white, but become yellowed with  age. This most grotesque bit of art  needle-work is supposed to be more  than one hundred years old, and to have been made by a long-ago occupant of  an old tavern near Eye Beach, N. H.  The inn itself and various members of  the family are pictured. Many favorite animals are shown hereon in silhouette, and mine hostess herself sits in a  most sentimental attitude, watching the  gambols of what seems to be her pet  goat, though I would not stake my  head on the species of this quadruped.  On another square, at a glance one may  recognize General Washington, and one  block is composed of a genre scene  apparently representing the sale of a  colt, a transaction which would seem,  from the manner in which he holds his  linen money-bag, to have been satisfactory to the seller. The black cloth  figures that form the silhouette designs have the dress and features out-  lined in coarse stitching of white  thread. The black velvet cat stares at  one from white porcelain-button eyes.  The needle-woman of the old inn must  have had great taste for natural history subjects, since besides the multifarious floral designs and the familiar animals of the home and farm-yard, she has fashioned out of her crude appliqué work numerous birds of various kinds. There are  blue birds with yellow wings and  yellow birds with blue wings,  green birds with bright-red wings  and eyes! there are black birds  with red wings and red birds with  blue wings, and other interesting  ornithological vagaries. To be  sure, there is an utter lack of perspective, and the pigeons (?) sitting on the ridge-pole, whose heads considerably overtop the great  square chimney, are somewhat out of proportion. What a giant pie such birds would have made for some hungry wayfarer seeking entertainment at the roadside tavern.

It was only after the closet-bed of Anglo-Saxon times, or the high-panelled Himmelbett had given way to other forms more open to view  from without, that attention was paid to the appearance of bed-spread or coverlet. In the middle of the fifteenth century woven coverlets seem to have come into use in the Netherlands, while they were introduced into Scandinavian countries about half a century later. In England the growth of taste in adorning me bed-coverings seems to have been more rapid, for Neckam speaks of ornamental quilts in the latter part of the twelfth century, and a coverlet found in the palace of the Duke of Lancaster, during the popular uprising of 1381, was worth a thousand marks.

Large Block from the Quilt of the Inn.

Two centuries later, among articles for a bed for Queen Elizabeth, was a "counterpoint of orange-colored satin quilted with cut-work of cloths of gold and silver, of satins of every imaginable tint, and embroidered with Venice gold, silver spangles, and colored silks fringed to correspond, and lined with orange sarcenet* Such splendors were at least equalled in Sweden by a bed-covering of Gustavus Vasa, which was stiff with gold and silver threads. † The coverlets, some of them of very simple patterns, and others of quite ornate designs, made in the Netherlands as early as the middle of the fifteenth century, would seem probably to be the ancestors of the coverlets, generally with ; a coarse white cotton warp, though sometimes made with a woollen one, and a woof of colored woollen yarm, that were woven in Canada and in various parts of the United States up to thirty or forty years ago, and that we find are still made on hand-looms in a few localities in the Southern States. Most of these American coverlets were woven in plaids or broken plaids. But more elaborate patterns, not composed of geometrical figures, were also used in their weaving.

I am the possessor of a blue and white coverlet of decidedly ornate design. It is one of many made in northern Ohio, by one Samuel Meily, who has left his autograph neatly woven into the bottom comers of each bed-spread. By hearsay I have learned that old Samuel was a Pennsylvania German, and he must have been something of an artist in his way, for there is a smack of German art in the border of my coverlet, which is composed of prim little flowerpots and ridiculous dwarf pear-trees, bearing blossoms at the top as large as the fruit that grows so unnaturally near the ground. 1 recall a red and green and white cover from the same man's hands, having a border of comical little roosters, and another called the "Log- cabin," from its border of tiny houses.

As to the date at which our modem patchwork and appliqué quilt began to be made, it is impossible to do more than guess that the early examples of European quilts are but remains of earlier specimens, which may well have been imitations of oriental originals. "We shall have to rest satisfied with such statements as that of one of the curators of the South Kensington Museum, that all experts differ as to origins. At the present time patchwork of silk, woollen, and cotton is more or less made by Parsee, Hindoo, and Mohammedan women in India. In Europe the art is familiar to Italian, German, and Scandinavian women, as well as to the women of Great Britain and Ireland. In the Azores the peasants make cotton patchwork bags that they carry about the streets as we do baskets or shopping-bags, and sometimes these are used by workmen to carry their lunch.

Out of between two and three hundred quilt patterns which I have collected, the great majority are made up of permutations of a few rectilinear plane figures such as the triangle, the rhombus, the square, and the rectangle. The floral designs are usually crudely symbolic rather than pictures of the flowers whose names they bear. The same pattern occurs in various parts of the country under the most diverse names. This is especially true of the mathematical combinations. Now and then there is an evident reason for the names given to those multitudinous designs, but oftener they are apparently purely arbitrary.

A very quaint quilt block, partly pieced and partly done in appliqué, that came from the eastern shore of Mary land, is there known as the tulip, but the same pattern in southern Indiana is called the double peony. The hexagon or honeycomb pattern in various parts of the United States is called "Job's trouble," or "a Job's trouble." There is a tradition that the idea of this hexagonal pattern was derived from the shape of the pillars of the Giant's Causeway. From Baltimore comes the superstition that a "Job's trouble " quilt brings bad luck. It is said to be unlucky to keep such a quilt, even if left unfinished. I know of the following instance: A lady jestingly told this superstition to a relative who was at work on such a quilt, saying, " So you had better not keep it, but give it to me." The gift was made and we receiver kept the ill-omened patchwork until she had lost by death three young children, when she : burned it. On the other hand, I hear of a pattern that, in Washington, D. C., is said to be of good omen. I have not its name, but from its description think . it probably the peculiar form of the " rising sun," that consists of one gigantic star, whose centre is the centre of the quilt, the open spaces between the star points being filled in with patchwork.

A pattern known in Puritanic New England as "the church steps," in tropical Louisiana becomes the "pineapple." One of the most complicated of the geometrical designs that I have encountered is made by cutting a number of small squares out of white cotton cloth and an equal number out of colored cloth. A quadrant of a circle is then cut from one corner of each of these squares. By various combinations of these quadrants with the remains of the squares, a number of patterns have been evolved, somewhat resembling one another, but bearing very different names. One of these combinations in Louisiana is called "the world's wonder," another in North Carolina is " the fool's puzzle." From quaint old Provincetown, Mass., comes still another under the name of " around the world." A different variant in western Massachusetts is called "Chinese puzzle." But in a little village in eastern Massachusetts I find the best name of all for this somewhat bewildering quilt pattern, viz.," Peter pay Paul" In Louisiana also the simplest form of this pattern is called " robbing Peter to pay Paul" If you look for a moment at this design and notice how the bit cut from one square exactly fills the vacancy left in another, you will at once see the applicability of this name. " Sugar bowl " and " fly " are two northern Ohio names for a block made up of eight alternate dark and light triangles radiating, as it were, from a common centre ; while it appears in Maryland as " crow-foot," and in Pennsylvania as " fan-mill," a name in which one catches a glimmer of rationality. United, several of these little blocks constitute " Katy’s ramble " in the eastern part of New-York. The "old maid's whim" of one locality, in another is called " bachelor's puzzle." A very simple mathematical design, which in Louisiana bears the pretty but wholly arbitrary name of "rosebud," in Illinois is called "bear's paw." Quilt-makers in Massachusetts call the same pattern " duck's foot," while slightly modified in eastern New York it, is called "the duck's foot in the mud" To a by no means unique pattern from northern Ohio, made up of squares, rectangles, and triangles, is attached the jingling name of " Johnny around the corner. Elsewhere it is known simply as " the wheel" A very popular pattern in all parts of the country, frequently known, and with reason, as "screw-plate," is so rich in names that I cannot refrain from giving the whole varied list "Dove in we window," "hole in the barn-floor," " puss in the corner," "shoo-fly," "Lincoln platform," and " love-knot," are all names for this same design. And in southern Indiana it was very popular after the war as "Sherman's march."

Only very extended and careful research would make it possible to give even the briefest summary comparison of the decorative designs of primitive races of men, but in a general way it may be said that in the art-work of such peoples, whether of the earliest periods of which we have any knowledge or of tribes now living, large use is made of simple geometrical figures, such as circles, rectangles, diamonds, and so on; and without doubt many of the patterns formed by the combination of a few simple geometrically shaped pieces of cloth would lead us into strangely interesting by-ways, if we could trace out all their relation-ships and antecedents. I have studied many of which space does not permit the mention here, but perhaps no one design which we might find on a patch' work quilt has such a wonderful history and extended associations as one composed of twelve small right isosceles triangles of one color, and the same number of another color, that is sent to me from northern Ohio under the name of "catch-me-if-you-can," and which is known in western Massachusetts as the " windmill" pattern. Modifications of this quilt pattern under other names are to be met with elsewhere. The design is a very good representation of the sacred cross of India. The following account of the origin of this symbol is quoted from Edkins's " Chinese Buddhism:"

"Buddha before his death, committed the secret of his mysteries to his disciple, Maha Kashiapa. He was a Brahman, born in the kingdom Magadha in central India. To him was intrusted the deposit of, esoteric doctrine, called cheng-fa-yen-tsang, 'the pure secret of the eye of right doctrine.’ The symbol of this esoteric principle, communicated orally without books, is , man or wan. This, in Chinese, means, ‘10,000,' and implies the possession of 10,000 perfections. It is usually placed on the heart of Buddha in images and pictures of that divinity. It is sometimes called sinyin, 'heart's seal' It contains within it the whole mind of Buddha. In Sanscrit it is called svastika. It was the monogram of Vishnu and Shiva, the battle-axe of Thor in Scandinavian inscriptions, an ornament on the crowns of Bonpa deities, in Thibet, and a favorite symbol with the Peruvians." I hear a rumor that this far-spread emblem has been traced to ancient Troy. It is the mystic sign of the wise and humorous elephant-headed god Ganesa or Ganésh, whom the Hindus are wont to invoke at the beginning of enterprises, and whose image is frequently placed as tutelary deity on their doorways. The svastika stands on the first page of Hindu ledgers and day-books, and was a common stamp on East Indian coins. A saddle in the Chinese department at the Boston Art Museum bears a svastika in gold on the front of its pommel. Looking on a saucer, I find that it forms the connecting openwork in the panels of the light fence that skirts a part of the grounds about the palace home of the Chinese maiden, who is the heroine of the old legend that we can never forget, while a bit of dear old blue and white willow-ware pottery exists, bearing the pictured story of the two devoted lovers who lived and died together, and whose souls, as two doves, still hover over the island where rest their ashes. Variously modified, it is interlaced in the arabesque border of the plates of the same table service. Here I find it forming the basis of the pattern that borders a Persian rug, and a narrower stripe, used to separate the larger and more conspicuous designs of the same rug, is composed of a continuous row of diminutive brown crosses set on one of the ineffable blues of the Orient It is unnecessary to cite further from the innumerable oriental instances where this religious symbol is used either as a stamp or in decorative art, but the thing interesting to ethnologists is its existence in the occidental world. The Spaniards found it in Yucatan when they first came there. A design essentially like the Buddhist cross is engraved on shell gorgets of the mound-builders, found in Tennessee. Among other relics of this ancient American people that were dug up during excavations recently made near the Scioto River, in Boss County, Ohio, under Dr. Putnam's direction, were several hammered copper plates, each bearing the svastika. Strangely enough, this sacred cross of India occurs as a mystic symbol of the wind powers on war charts of the Kansa and Osage tribes.**

If some learned traveller from the Orient chanced to. stop overnight in an out-of-the-way corner of the "United States, where patchwork quilts still sometimes take the place of woven counterpanes, and upon awakening in the morning should-find his bed-cover besprinkled at regular intervals with this mystic sign of the religion of his own land, surely, if he recalled Hans Christian Andersen's dramatic tale of "The Tin Soldier," and of his final reappearance in the very room from which he had been so lucklessly borne away, he too would exclaim, "Nein, wie sonderbar kann es doch in der Welt zugehen!" “Nay, how wonderfully things can come to pass in the world!”

* Quoted by Henry B. Wheatley: The Bedroom; Antiquary, vol. x., p. 190, 1884, p. 190

† Dr. Troels Lund: Das Tagliche Leben in Skandinavien, wahrend des Sechzehnten Jahrhunderts, pp. 167, 168

** J. Owen Dorsey: Kansa Mourning and War Customs, American Naturalist, July, 1885