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The famous saying that "Good Americans, when they die, go to Paris," is generally supposed to be his, though Oliver Wendell Holmes told me one day that he himself was really the author of it; but, if a keen witticism was floating about fatherless in the Boston circles it drifted to Tom Appleton as putative parent.
He paused for a time by the fountain, not sufficiently curious to join the crowd that stood gaping at the apertures through which the members of the chorus could be seen ascending the stairs to the upper dressing-rooms, many of them carolling scraps of song from the opera as they went. Appleton soon reentered the lobby and again surveyed the audience closely.
But his satisfaction over the mischief he had done received a rude jolt when at his first moment of leisure he looked over the late magazines which he had bought before taking leave. In one which had appeared on the news-stands that very day he found, to his amazement, an article by Miss Eliza Appleton, in which his own picture appeared.
Excepting a few school-books and some out-of-date census reports, they were the only books in the Appleton house. Betty guarded them like a little dragon. They were the only things she owned that the children were not allowed to touch.
The meaning which is thus supposed to be the natural one has been sanctioned by the legislative and executive departments of the Government, and established by a usage, virtually unbroken, from the foundation of the Government to the present year. The exhaustive publication on the Presidential Counts, just made by the Messrs. Appleton, leaves little to be said on this head.
"The Old Clock on the Stairs" was suggested by an old farmhouse timepiece at the country house of Mr. Appleton, his father-in-law. While the house described was in the country, the description answers well to the poet's own residence, which also contained an eight-day clock which reached from floor to ceiling.
Not one man in a hundred, says Appleton, I not one man in a hundred, reaches his chief-of-staff. Next morning," the General continued in a staccato which was often his habit, "had breakfast before daybreak and went 'round there. Place just swarming with Californians army contracts." Went back to hotel. More Californians, and by gad old Baron Steinberger with his nose hanging over the register."
Now the trail of the great cattle drives the Long Trail-was a thing of tremendous importance of itself and it is still full of interest. As it may not easily be possible for the author to better a description of it that was written some twenty years ago, that description is here again set down. * * "The Story of the Cowboy," by E. Hough. Appleton. 1897. Reprinted by permission.
But here they were literally unable to reach the works; the fatal rifle-bullet drew a line at which bravery and cowardice, nonchalant veterans and trembling boys, were equalized in the dust. By John Ratcliffe Chapman, C. E. New York: D. Appleton &. Co. 1848. Rifle-Practice. By Lieut.-Col. John Jacob, C. B., of the Bombay Artillery. London: Smith, Elder, & Co. 1857. The Rifle; and how to use it.
The Exploits and Triumphs in Europe of Paul Morphy, the Chess Champion; including an Historical Account of Clubs, Biographical Sketches of Famous Players, and Various Information and Anecdote relating to the Noble Game of Chess. By Paul Morphy's late Secretary. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. 203.
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