SI
Why It May Be Considered as a Measure
of Self'Defence.
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Edmond Kelly.
WELVE years ago a farm colony bill was drawn by a com
mittee appointed by all the charitable societies in New York;
but it did not secure i Albany a moment's serious atten
tion. We are told by our legislators that poverty is not a
crime. When we answered that our bill did not make of it
more of a crime than the penal code, but only proposed to
substitute for the expensiveand degenerating system of the
misnamed workhouse, inexpensive and regenerating work
on a state farm, and that the plan had operated effectually
In Holland and Belgium for over a hundred years, we were told that the plan
might do in Holland, but it would not do here. So also in the archives of
the French senate may still be read the report made by Thiers, when ap
pointed by Louis Philippe cn a committee to investigate the first railroad ever
built, which concludes as follows: "Railroads may serve a purpose in Eng
land, but they are not suited to France."
A similar bill, improved by borrowing from late experience in Switzer
land, has been drawn once more by a similar committee, to which was added
our Commissioner of Charities, Mr. Hebberd. This bill is likely to receive
a better reception at Albany than the previous one because it will be intro
duced and supported by the great railroads of New York state; for the rail
roads have discovered that the tramp is an intolerable nuisance. Col. Pang
born, of the Baltimore and Ohio, has lately estimated that the damage occa
sioned by tramps to railroads in the United States amounts In a single year
to $25,000,000. For the tramp in America does not tramp; he rides on rail
roads; he sets fire to freight cars and freight stations; he obstructs the lines,
wrecks trains, and is a fruitful canse of action for damages. The measure,
therefore, which was thrown out by the Assembly when proposed from mo
Stives cf humanity, will be passed as a measure of self-defense. And self
defense thus constitutes an element of the power always at work on the side
of progress- that neither ignorance nor interest will be able to resist. Just
as cholera forced from the British Parliament In 1S30 hygienic measures
which up to that time the landlords had been able successfully to resist, so
every evil carries within itself the agent of its own destruction, and the very
men who now resist progress will one day awaken to the fact that they them
selves, even in their moments cf bitterest resistance, have all along been the
unconscious instruments cf this very power which some of them today affec'
to despise. From the Century.
Model
Heathen Marriages
THE CATFISH.
Ey Maud Cliurton Eraby.
HE more one studies the problem of marriage the more plain
does it become that many of the heathen Ideas on the sub
ject are infinitely superior to ours. One of the dreams of
Socialist reformers, for Instance, is the endowment of moth
erhood. They regard it as a Utopian vision of the far fu
ture not likely to b fulfilled for years to come. Among the
Mohammedans this dream is a reality. The maintenance of
children devolves so exclusively on the father that the
mother is entitled to claim waeea for nursing them! The
importance of her services to the state in rearing healthy citizens is thus
recognized in the most practical manner.
We hear a good deal of agitation nowadays about making the conditions
of divorce equal to both sexes. Among the Shawanese this is already done.
An unfaithful husband can be turned adrift by his wife, who retains all his
property. They go one better and make drunkenness also an offense for
which divorce can be obtained.
The savage tribes whom we strive to convert have apparently a much
clearer Idea of the real basis of marriage, the end for which it was ordained,
than we, who seem to marry for almost every other reason than the desire
for children. With savages the offspring is the main purpose of wedlock.
Married couples in some tribes do not live together at all until shortly before
or sometimes actually after the birth of the first child, and in some cases the
marriage is not binding until a child is born. Among others a childless wife
can at any time quit her husband, but may not marry again. Westermark is
authority, but I cannot recall the names of the tribes from memory. These
poor heathens recognize, it will be seen, that children are the chief tie the
only real bond that unites a man and woman permanently in short, that
"marriage is rooted in family rather than family in marriage."
I he Corporate UJe
"1
Ey the Rao. Dr. Robert Mackenzie, of the
Rutgers Riverside Presbyterian Church, New York.
ORPORATIONS, they say, have no conscience, and this is
true, for there is no -longer the personal "I" but the cor
porate "we." The church has no conscience, the college
class has no conscience. Conscience cannot be distributed
any more than a suit of clothes can be distributed among a
hundred men. It is like the seamless robe of Christ. You
can cast lots for it, but you cannot distribute it. Conscience
is personal. Hence there is nothing more lawless, inhu
man, brutal than a company of men who have sunk the "I
luj ttu m tiie corporate "we. lnis is the central issue, as it is me cenrrai
danger of this day. Manifold drifts of opinion are setting toward all that is
corporate, collected, communal, to the threatened submergence of the per
sonal self.
But whether you are one of four hundred or of two, let not the artificial
corporate, body blind you to the natural responsibility of self. The wrong
will Le shared by all. The responsibility will bo shared by each. It is the
very task of legal science so to make a combination of many as to evade the
responsibility of each.
We have, therefore, to wrench away the self out of the entanglement of
the many. As men in a mob are suffocating we elbow our way to the edge
that'we may breathe. "Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin as self neglect."
Judges Must fiot Be
Swayed by the Mob
Ey Judge J. Otis Humphrey,
of Illinois.
HERE are many citizens whose action is such that they at
least allow us to believe that they expect the judicial de-
jj 0 partment of the government to be run in accordance with
fj public sentiment. When the day comes let us trust that
w jj it may never come that the judicial branch of government
jo nvvri ivru iHJlii lis UUlUliU UUL' L)V Hie Clamor OI IUB pupil-
lace, the end of the government is net far distant. No gov
ernment can long survive whose judiciary yields to the pop
ular frenzy that follows tor a moment the mere clamor of
the unreasoning, uneducated, In that particular case, opinion cf the public oi
even of the press". Law is not the arbitrary creation of a majority's will or
of any will, but it ought to be, as we trust it may ever be, the well
roundad, well-considered justice of the state, enlightened by the reasonings
of the court which enforce it. You would have little respect, I thick, for a
court who curbeds its views to meet the popular clamor
m . . .
When de nighta is warm en de moon is
full,
You kin catch mo cats dan you cares to
pull. . ;
No trouble 'bout de bait;
A grub'll do or a li'i' fat meat,
Fer all he wants is supp'n' to eat.
En he ain't no ban to wait.
Ner dar Kin't no trouble 'bout luck wid
him, . . .
You kin tie yo' line to a swingle' hmb,
En when you goes to look, ' .
You'll fin' cfat limb a-dodgin' 'roun',
En bubbles risin' en floatin' on down,
En a catfish on yo hook.
But I chooset to take a pole in mine
En git ; in a splotch er bright moon-
shine
En fish dar wid my han';
I knows, den, when lie hits his lick
(He 'swallows de hook; you needn't be
?uick),
lets him show his man.
When I slings him out on de good dry
grass, .
He don't complain, but he's full er sass;
He kicks a little while, .
Den lays dar, wid a pleasing look,
En. while I's rippin out de hook,
lie takes it wid a smile.
John Charles McNeill, in "Lyrics From Cotton Land.'
Conscience, the Conqueror.
By REINA MELCHER
Sylvia was fast developing a Con
science. The moment when she had
admitted thai she wanted Christo
pher, a Boy, to kiss her was for her a
moral crisis that had shaken her sen
sitive being to itscore, and had left
her morbidly on guard against every
weakness of the flesh. The house
that was Sylvia's home looked a
promising place for a Conscience to
prosper; the stateliest old homestead
in the town it was, where dwelt Syl
via and Madam, her grandmother,
with only each other for company
amid the many empty rooms.
Sylvia's mother and father had
died in the height of their youth and
their love, leaving none but the old
lady and the little lass, who were
now the last of their family. Across
the gulf of years these twain clasped
hands, and entered into a comrade
ship more loyal and more sweet than
life can often show. They were, in
deed, comrades of the spirit, for be
neath the child's quick ardor and the
woman's quiet peace burned the same
tireless flame. So dear they were,
one to the other, that Sylvia scarce
realized the loss of even closer affec
tions, awd the grandmother, who was
by temperament both blithe and
brave, let no gloom cross their thresh
old. Despite Its lonely chambers, their
was not a house of grief, nor even of
memories, but its atmosphere was
different from that of other homes,
nevertheless; a romance, a mystery
brooded over it; one felt that fairies
probably danced behind its closed
doors, and that such an ethereal vis
itor as Conscience might well show
there a palpable presence.
Sylvia did cherish the fancy that
Conscience walked with her, an im
perative hand in hers, now leading,
now restraining; she seemed almost
to see a slender shape beside her, as
like to hers as her own shadow, and
a wistful little face that resembled
the face she herself might wear in
heaven. .
Her quickening mentality caught
fire, and led her far into a mystic
realm that children seldom tread.
She found it a fair country, but she
traversed it in silence, for her newly
wakened imagination was strangely
shy, and would pause at a breath of
doubt from her own soul. Conscience
alone fared onward with her, una
fraid. During these days Sylvia suf
fered an outward change. Her pretty
cheek hollowed almost imperceptibly,
but not too slightly for Madam to see.
Her eye3 became too large, and her
alert step lagged, signs that Madam
noted with alarm.
"The brain is outgrowing the
body," said Madam, but she kept her
thoughts to her own heart, and wait
ed for the right way to be shown to
her. For she herself was of the same
spiritual fiber as her granddaughter,
Rnd relied much on her intuitions, in
tuitions which had been tempered by
time and a sane and cheerful intelli
gence, and which were thereby wise
counselors that she did well to trust.
She remembered a season when she
had first seen with the eyes of the
mind, and she knew that though she
had not always seen true, she had in
variably looked at beauty. She had
walked, in a glad trance, through a
land so lovely that not all the follow
ing years had dimmed her fond re
membrance. "And there," said Madam, "is my
Sylvia walking now. It is well for
her to go a little way, but unless she
be an angel in disguise which I vow
she is not! or a poet which noth
ing so merely feminine could ever be
she must not tarry long. I cannot
have her sentimental and thin."
So while Sylvia spent a morning In
school, Madam put the volumes of
poetry cn the topmost shelves, and
then betook herself to the shops to
buy a frock and a hat that should
tempt a little maid into the normal
paths of vanity.
Through the succeeding week, Syl
via watched Madam's nimble needle
work magic on a flowery stuff, and
insensibly she drifted more and more
frequently to Madam's side.
"What i3 it, Grandmother?" she
asked, on an occasion when Madam
shook out the dainty folds with ex
ceeding ostentation.
" Twi!l be a frock," answered
Madam, non-committally.
Such reserves were not usual be
tween them, and Sylvia hovered cu
riously nrar.
"And who is the frock for?" per
sisted she, after an Interval of dis
creet hesitation.
Madam only smiled, but she drew
Sylvia close and tcok a measurement
round her waist with a practiced
hand.
"It's for me!" announced Sylvia,
triumphantly. "It's for me, Grand
mother, dear!" And the "Lady of the
Lake," which had somehow escaped
confiscation, fell from Sylvia's grasp
and lay unheeded on the floor.
"She will not be a poot," thought
Madam, with blended regret and re
lief. " 'Twould have been a great
destiny, but I am quite content to
have her 'just charming."
When the frock, with all its al
lure of lace and frill, was finished,
and the rose- garlanded hat was
brought forth to complete it, Sylvia's
rapture was so genuine and so en
gaging that Madam did, indeed, feel
content to have her just charming.
"Dearie," said Madam, "you shall
wear these to church, next Sunday."
And Sylvia's one protest was, "But
Sunday is so far away!" If Con
stance stood by, witnessing her
downfall, she was happily unaware.
No voice of warning against a flow
er sprigged muslin reached her now.
When the Sabbath morning
dawned, Slyvia rose to greet the
sun with the elation that naught but
vanity inspires. The weather looked
like a background painted especially
for a flower dotted frock, and Syl
via gave a joyous courtesy to It from
her window.
"How old Martha Haynes will
stare!" exulted she. "Bold thing!
She's always making eyes at" Chris
topher. Before I'd run after a Boy!"
And then she smiled slyly, as if she
might have added that she had no
need to run after a Boy because
the Boy ran after her.
So pleasant were her reflections
that she forgot her companion, Con
science, who cowered in a corner,
neglected and sad and more wraith
like than ever.
"Grandmother," questioned Syl
via across the breakfast table, "shall
I wear pink ribbons or white?"
And Madam lent herself to the
discussion with a seriousness befit
ting the affairs of nations.
Later in the morning, as Sylvia
marched proudly down the church
aisle and past the eclipsed Martha,
she caught a glance from Christo
pher's eyes. Airily she fluttered her
ribbons and flounces for his further
undoing, and when she slipped into
the pew it was with a gratified con
sciousness that she was still in the
range of his vision. For though she
had suffered a deep moral humilia
tion on probing her weakness for a
Boy, she was none the less willing
to be fair in the Boy's sight.
Fair she was, after the fashion of
a slim young seraph; her hands fold
ed themselves demurely on her lap;
her face lifted to- the minister's with
an earnest purity of gaze.
"What wonderful concentration in
a child!" thought the minister, look
ing down on her, and never dream
ing that Slyvia's pose, like her frock,
was designed to enslave a small
member of his unsuspecting sex, and
to drive one of her own to envious
despair.
But presently, at a single word
from the sermon, Sylvia sat erect,
and her assumed attention changed
to an interest painfully real. The
arresting word was Vanity, for the
minister was young, and felt youth's
hot intolerance for the frailties of
humanity and the snares of the
world. His face glowed with en
thusiasm while he proclaimed his
ascetic creed, and if the older folks
among his congregation failed to re
spond as ardently, it .was not so with
Sylvia. He had stabbed her to the
soul with the sword of his righteous
ness. Beneath his word3 her compla
cency shriveled like a burning leaf;
suddenly she saw her frock as a
thing accursed, a lure of evil, and
herself as one lost forever in the
ways of sin. The bar of sunlight
that slanted across the church
seemed to redden as if with the
Wrath of God, and the familiar scene
and faces took on a terrible menace.
The sword of righteousnes had smit
ten her down.
She did not know how the awful
and impressive service came to an
end, nor how she dared rise from
her seat and start out with Madam,
quite as if nothing remarkable had
occurred.
Poor Christopher, who was sheep
ishly hanging about the church door
as she passed, appeared to her in the
baleful guise of a tempter, rather
than one tempted as he veritably
was, and she vouchsafed him neither
look nor word.
He trailed disconsolately down the
street in her wake until he reached
his own gate, where dignity demand
ed that he enter; but in the garden
he halted, still staring after her, pon
dering sadly on this latest vagary of
Woman, ead wondering wherein he
had offended.
Sylvia knew that' he was " watch
ing, and once, she would have, car
ried herself accordingly, but her
bearing, to-day, was unpretentious to
the point of weakness, for Sylvia was
a Sinner. She had trodden"the for
bidden path of vanity, and she was
awaiting her punishment.
So certain was she that punish
ment must be her portion that she
would not have been surprised had
a shaft of lightning descended on
her, or a fiery cloud caught her up
from the earth and borne her to a
judgment as merciless as the minis
ter had predicted. Yet she at last
found herself safe beneath her own
sheltering roof. She even sat down,
with her grandmother, to dinner, si
lent and trembling, it is true, and
with only a pretended appetite, but
still unharmed.
Madam perceived her pallor, and
plied her plate with dainties, but
when Sylvia left them almost un
touched, and fled to her bed cham
ber, the grandmother did not follow.
"Not yet," Madam told herself pa
tiently. "Young souls have to suf
fer their own birth paDgs. Ah,
Lord," she murmured, remembering
the youthful minister's stern creed,
"how many of Thy creatures deny
Thy sunshine!"
The afternoon was long to Mad
am. Its hours wore by so wearily
that even her wisdom, which was
greater than is common to women,
was sorely taxed to endure the strain,
but she was finally rewarded.
Twilight had fallen when a som
ber figure crept into the room where
Madam was waiting. The figure was
Sylvia, but a Sylvia so unlike her of
the morning that none but the un
erring sight of love could have iden
tified her. Her eyes were swollen
and dull from weeping; her bright,
soft hair was strained tightly back
from her forehead and temples to
avoid the curls of vanity; and she
wore an old and faded frock, resur
rected from a box which Madam had
intended for charity. Beside her,
though invisible to unsympathetic
eyes, strutted Conscience, the Con
queror. Madam fetched a startled breath,
and instantly held out her arms. Syl
via came to them, shamed and dumb,
but once in their blessed embrace,
her silence gave place to sobs, and
at last to inarticulate speech. Slowly
Madam soothed her, drawing from
her the while, in discontented, frag
ments, the story of her transgression
and her repentance.
"Oh," cried Sylvia, when she
gained courage to raise her head
from the shoulder that had harbored
it so tenderly, "oh, Grandmother, if
it i3 wicked, why does God let me
want to be pretty?"
And then, in defiance of her
church, Madam undertook to inter
pret the Divine Will.
"Sylvia," Bhe said, and her voice
was like a harp that her many year3
had stored with noble harmonies,
"Sylvia, look at yonder rose in the
vase upon the table. Isn't it beau
tiful?" "Yes, Grandmother," assented Syl
via. "It is fashioned," Madam contin
ued reverently, "by the Hand of God,
for His glory and our joy. ' If the
rose, of its own accord, defaced it
self, it would thwart the purpose for
which it was created." She paused
to let her words bear fruit, and fin
ished gently, "Sylvia, you are just
a human rose. Be beautiful, dear,
not for your own selfish pride, but
that you may carry loveliness and
light into dark places, and rejoice
heavy hearts."
"Oh," exclaimed Sylvia in rapt
tones, "it's nice to be good, after
all!"
And Conscience, the Conqueror,
indulged in a fleeting smile. From
Uncle Remus's the Homo Maga
zine.
Painful Cheerfulness.
Cheerfulness is sometimes pain
fully acquired. It's frequently like
the man at the photographer's. This
man, sitting for his portrait, said im
patiently to the artist: "Well, have
I got now the pleasant expression you
desire?" "Yes, thank you," said the
photographer. "That will do nicely."
"Then hurry up," growled the man,
"It hurts my face." Argonaut.
A Woman's Chance of Marrying
(If She Wants the Man.)"
Woman'sAge. Chance3 in 100.
18 to 25. 100
25 to 30 100
30 to 35 100
35 to 40 100
40 to 60 100
Widow, any age 100,001?
New York Evening Sun.
Happier Loser.
"Weil, Bobby, how is your sister?"
asked the parson.
"Oh, she's sick in bed; hurt herself
terrible," replied the youth.
"I'm sorry to hear that. How did
it happen?"
"We were playin' who could lean
farthest out of tho window and sh8
won!" Lipplncott's.
O P,50 PRODUCE BEAUTIFUL ivnPKS t
the sole condition necessary is that which
the great Goethe indicated: "Fill your
mind and heart, however large, ivith the
ideas and sentiments of your age, and O
the work will follow. ' jr. Tutne I O
From the Printing Art Sample Bo ok.
O! P
O '
THE FATAL GIFT OF BEAUTY.
The novel reader cried:
"I'm sick of the beauties of Enid and Fair,
And proud Lady Gwendolen gives me a
pain.
Paint me a freckle-faced girl with red hair;
Write me a novel of plain Mary Jane."
So the novelist wrote.
But the novel read:
Like roses bepowdered with gold was her
face,
A halo of flame-colored tresses had she;
Though a duchess, she waived all her right
to "Your grace,"
And said, "To my lover, I'm plain
Jeanne Marie."
Judge,
FEW SPEAKING PARTS.
"All the world's a stage,"
"Yes; and the majority of us are
billed as 'citizens, villagers, populace,
and the like." Houston Chronicle.
ONE EFFECT.
Knicker "What would women do
If they could vote?"
Bocker "They would always look,
cool in a convention hall." New
York Sun.
-f.Vj
A HAIRBREADTH ESCAPE.
Stella "I suppose you have had
many hairbreadth escapes?"
Knicker "Yes; a woman's coiffure
was all that kept me from seeing a
play once." Harper's Bazar.
HER INHERITANCE.
Jeannette "Does Miss Boardman.
get her lovely complexion from her'
father or her mother?"
Gladys (sweetly) "From her fs
ther. He's a chemist." Tit-Bits.
WOMEN IN POLITICS.
"Mrs. Wardheel is making trouble
for the organization."
"As to how?"
"Declares she'll wear no bosses?
collarette. " Washington Herald.
MUST BE.
She "Is he such a credulous
chap?"
He "I should say. Why, he car
ries an umbrella if the weather man
predicts snow." New Orleans Pic
ayune.
WHAT SHE WANTED.
Captious Customer "I want a
piece of meat without any bone, fat
or gristle." -
Bewildered Butcher "Madam, I
think you'd better. have an egg."
Sketch.
ONE GOOD FEATURE.
, "I am not adroit. Every day I do
something that makes me worry."
"That's bad."
"Well, each new worry makes me
forget the worry of yesterday. It
might be worse." Washington
Herald. .
to
IT IS.
"The 'vaudeville people seem
think the old jokes go best." , -
"That's a mighty comforting
thought," declared te press humor
ist, as he tried to arrange some new
angles to au ancient jest. Washing,
ton Herald.
THE EXTREME OF STRENGTH.
"When I see what Barlow accom
plishes I am forced to admiration,"
said Busting. "He has great physical
endurance."
"Yes," replied Gargoyle. "That
maii has the constitution of a debu
tante. " London Telegraph.
A SCHEME.
"To what do you attribute your
success?"
"To taking people at their word,"
answered the Polonlus with chin
whiskers. "Take a man at his word
nowadays and it surprises him so that
he never fails to live up to it.".
Houston Chronicle.
NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS.
A struggling author was once
dreaming of the time when magazine
publishers would come to him and
fight for the exclusive rights to his
writings at $1 per word.
"But I shall spurn them," mur
mured he, at the same time launching
a vigorous kick, which wrecked his
typewriter.
It cost him $2.35 to gst the instru
ment rerajretf. L&itisvilla Courier-
Journal.