Kamakura Pens
|
|
Yale Fountain Pen Co.
Found in The COSHOCTOK AGE.-October 31 1885
BROADBRIM'S NEW-YORK LETTER
One of the oldest educational institutions
in the city is the American
Institute, which is now holding its annual
fair in the Great Building on 59th
Street and Third avenue. This vast
structure, in tho past few years has
been used for all sorts of purposes;
Religious revivals, walking matches,
running matches, skating carnivals
and political gatherings innumerable.
On consecutive nights its walls have
echoed with shouts for Grover Cleve-
land and Bonnanzas for the Plamed
Knight, But its legitimate use is for
an industrial exhibition; and once a
year it sets aside its motley, and
comes down to solid work. No other
instruction antedates it in continual
annual exhibition. When I was a
little boy, I can recollect with what
eager expectation I looked forward to
the opening of the American Institute
Exhibition in the Fall. It used then
to be held in Castle Garden, and all
the young fellows and their sweethearts
made the walls of the old fort
a trysting place, and many a tale of
love has been whispered in willing
ears, while looking over the waters of
the beautiful bay, and watching on its
waves the playful beams of the October
moon. But all that romance has
faded into the long ago: and the sighing
lovers of those days, are grandfathers
and grandmothers now—with
pains in their bones, and rheumatisim
and lumbago, and neuralgia, and all
the ills that make the lives of old people
so uncomfortable, but while gene-
ration after generation comes and
goes, the American Institute still remains,
and with each renewing year it
seems younger and fresher than before.
More marvellous still, there is Charles
Wagner Hull, the superintendent,
looking younger than he did a quarter
of a century ago; and John Chambers;
the secretary, not a whit the worse,
for his long years of service, whose re-
miniscences of the Institute run back
bright and clear, a half hundred year.
The exhibit this year fully sustains
its old time reputation, if indeed, it
doe not surpass any exhibition that
has proceeded it. Engines of every
class are there, from the gigantic Titan,
which could drive an ocean steamer,
to the dainty little motor, which a lady
attaches to her sewing machine.
Scattered over the vast floor is a multitude
of things, beautiful and uselul,
which it would take a month to describe:
Gorgeous furniture, rich hangings,
splendid specimens of pottery,
elegant cutlery, luxurious cases of preserves,
ingenious appliances for simplifying
and ensuring excellence in cookery;
and the thousand and one appliances
that add to the happiness of life.
While all these things interested me
very much, I am free to confess there
was a small exhibit which had for me
a greater attraction than anything I
saw in that vast exhibition. It was
the display of the Yale Fountain
Pen Company; of 149 William Street
New York. "The pen is mightier than
the sword," says Richelieu, but the
Old Cardinal spoke of a gray goose
quill. The old time Scrivener went
about with a bottle of ink hanging
from his buttonhole. In due time the
goose quill was superseded by steel,
and while the pen advanced the ink bottle
remained stationary. Then came
the era of gold pens, when every accomplished
book keeper and scrivener
walked about with a gold pen in his
pocket—but if he wanted to use it, he
had to hunt for an ink bottle or his
fine gold pen was of no use. Then
came the invention of the Yale Fountain
Pen. One of the greatest boons
e ver conferred on poor wretches, who
like myself are compelled to write for
a living—no one can appreciate it
more than the editor whose hands are
black with ink, and whoss manuscripts
are foul with blots, which always occur
on the most particular words.
Behind the table at this exhibit sat a
modest little lady intently engagcd in
writing; there was no unusual flourish
about her, but how deftly and cunningly
she used that magic little wand, as
she covered sheets after sheets without
looking for an inkbottle. Where is
your ink I inquired? Right here sir, she
pleasantly answered: enough to write
for a whole day, and she instantly took
the pen apart. It was a marvel of
simplicity and strength, and then the
little lady gave one of thoese wonderful
flourishes—which wheu finished—
proved to be a pair of turtle doves
cooing, and presented it to me
with one of the most bewitching
smiles, and as I wandered down the
main aisle contemplating; the magnifi-
cencc before me, I coud not help
wondering as I looked on my turtle
doves—if the dainty little representative
of the Yale Fountain Pen Co.,
meant one for herself and the other for
me?—perhaps!
If anyone has any information to share, please let me know at: