A soft caress, a word or two,— The pleasuring thing danced on its way; But to her, guileless child, it seemed That blossoms bright fell from the day. She sighs, the sputtering wick burns low, The night wind bends the long hill grass, And the soul of that fleeting bygone day Glides noiseless o’er the rock-ribbed pass. Ricardo Minor. Clippings from Exchanges OSCAR HAMMERSTEIN. An old Yankee fisherman up in Maine said to his son who was starting out to seek his fortune, “Sonnie, mind what I tell ye, in this here world you’ve either got to cut bait or fish.” Oscar Hammerstein, humorist, father of six children, plunger, man of business, cigar machine inventor, real estate speculator, vaudeville manager, composer, theater builder and impresario, is one of the men who fishes. [Illustration: OSCAR HAMMERSTEIN] He fishes where he pleases, when he pleases, and how he pleases. “He wants what he wants when he wants it,” and what’s more he gets it. When he wants to do a thing he asks Oscar Hammerstein’s advice. If Oscar Hammerstein says go ahead he goes ahead. This man has the faculty of disembodying himself. He looks upon himself objectively. He has implicit confidence in Oscar Hammerstein—in his judgment, in his courage, in his indomitable perseverance, in his star. The psychologists talk about the subliminal self. It is some such self which is Oscar Hammerstein’s guide, philosopher, friend, and mentor. I asked Mr. Hammerstein if he had a Board of Directors. He replied, “Certainly; see that long table there with all those chairs round it? Those chairs are my directors. I sit at the head of that table and vote myself a salary of $150,000 and my Directors pass it unanimously. I suggest; they approve.” One day about forty-three years ago a rich father Hammerstein in Berlin cruelly beat a young Hammerstein with a skate strap. That young Hammerstein was Oscar, and he decided he had had enough of that sort of thing. Taking his father’s violin he escaped from the music room where he was imprisoned. Selling the violin for thirty dollars he bought a steerage passage on a sailing ship bound for America. He says of this incident: “I landed on these shores covered with vermin and without a cent. After a time I came to a sign which read, ‘Cigar Makers Wanted. Paid While You Learn.’ So I went in and applied for a job—not because I had any passion for making cigars, but because I didn’t want to starve.” Within a short time this two-dollar-a-week cigar maker’s apprentice had invented a machine for binding cigar fillers which he sold for $6,000.