For ages upon ages this mighty microorganism has waged a cruel destructive war upon the human race. After fifty years of observation and study of its ghastly doings, I can say that I would rather have the power to cause the tears shed on its account to cease than to be the greatest official or the greatest owner on the earth.
For ages upon ages this mighty microorganism has waged a cruel destructive war upon the human race. After fifty years of observation and study of its ghastly doings, I can say that I would rather have the power to cause the tears shed on its account to cease than to be the greatest official or the greatest owner on the earth.
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AMERICA IN SYMBOL
In the hour when for the first time I stood before the cataracts of Niagara, I seemed to see a vision of the fears and hopes of America. It was midnight, the moon was full, and I saw from the suspension bridge the ceaseless contortion, confusion, whirl, and chaos which burst forth in clouds of foam from that immense central chasm which divides the American from the British dominion; and as I looked on that ever-changing movement, and listened to that everlasting roar, I saw an emblem of the devouring activity, and ceaseless, restless, beating whirlpool of existence in the United States. But into the moonlight sky there rose a cloud of spray twice as high as the falls themselves, silent, majestic, immovable. In that silver column, glittering in the moonlight, I saw an image of the future of American destiny, of the pillar of light which should emerge from the distractions of the present—a likeness of the buoyancy and hopefulness which characterize you both as individuals and as a nation.—Arthur Penrhyn Stanley.
In the hour when for the first time I stood before the cataracts of Niagara, I seemed to see a vision of the fears and hopes of America. It was midnight, the moon was full, and I saw from the suspension bridge the ceaseless contortion, confusion, whirl, and chaos which burst forth in clouds of foam from that immense central chasm which divides the American from the British dominion; and as I looked on that ever-changing movement, and listened to that everlasting roar, I saw an emblem of the devouring activity, and ceaseless, restless, beating whirlpool of existence in the United States. But into the moonlight sky there rose a cloud of spray twice as high as the falls themselves, silent, majestic, immovable. In that silver column, glittering in the moonlight, I saw an image of the future of American destiny, of the pillar of light which should emerge from the distractions of the present—a likeness of the buoyancy and hopefulness which characterize you both as individuals and as a nation.—Arthur Penrhyn Stanley.
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AMERICA, THE NAME
The meaning of the name Amerigo has been often discust, the only thing certain being that it is one of those names of Teutonic origin, like Humberto, Alfonzo, Grimaldi, or Garibaldi, so common in northern Italy, which testifies to the Gothic or Lombard conquest. Americ, which occurs as early as 744A.D., is probably a contracted form of the name Amalaric, borne by a king of the Visigoths who died in 531. A Bishop Emrich was present at the Council of Salisbury, in 807, and an Americus Balistarius is mentioned in the Close Rolls (thirteenth century). It has been conjectured that the stem is im, from which we get the name of Emma. The meaning of this is not known with certainty, tho Ferguson thinks it may denote “strife” or “noise.” Since, however, the name is probably of Gothic origin, and since the Amalungs were the royal race of the Ostragoths, it is more likely that the stem is “amal,” which was formerly thought to mean “without spot,” but is now more plausibly connected with the old Norse “aml,” labor, work. The suffix “ric,” cognate with rex, reich, and rick, means “rich” or “powerful,” and, therefore, the most probable signification of Amerigo is “strong for labor.”—Isaac Taylor,Notes and Queries.
The meaning of the name Amerigo has been often discust, the only thing certain being that it is one of those names of Teutonic origin, like Humberto, Alfonzo, Grimaldi, or Garibaldi, so common in northern Italy, which testifies to the Gothic or Lombard conquest. Americ, which occurs as early as 744A.D., is probably a contracted form of the name Amalaric, borne by a king of the Visigoths who died in 531. A Bishop Emrich was present at the Council of Salisbury, in 807, and an Americus Balistarius is mentioned in the Close Rolls (thirteenth century). It has been conjectured that the stem is im, from which we get the name of Emma. The meaning of this is not known with certainty, tho Ferguson thinks it may denote “strife” or “noise.” Since, however, the name is probably of Gothic origin, and since the Amalungs were the royal race of the Ostragoths, it is more likely that the stem is “amal,” which was formerly thought to mean “without spot,” but is now more plausibly connected with the old Norse “aml,” labor, work. The suffix “ric,” cognate with rex, reich, and rick, means “rich” or “powerful,” and, therefore, the most probable signification of Amerigo is “strong for labor.”—Isaac Taylor,Notes and Queries.
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American Citizenship—SeeIgnorance.
AMERICAN OPPORTUNITY
A young Irishman who settled in Chicago forty years ago, and found his first employment as driver of a baker’s wagon, has just retired from business a millionaire. An Italian, then aged sixteen, who reached Trenton, N. J., thirteen years ago with barely sufficient money to set up in business as a bootblack, now owns twenty-three houses, and announces his intention to take up real estate. Both these passages of contemporary biography are recorded in the same newspaper. Probably they will attract little attention or remark. That is to be explained by the happy circumstance that such progress from poverty is no exceptional thing in this country, and any community could match the stories with many that are equally striking.—BostonTranscript.
A young Irishman who settled in Chicago forty years ago, and found his first employment as driver of a baker’s wagon, has just retired from business a millionaire. An Italian, then aged sixteen, who reached Trenton, N. J., thirteen years ago with barely sufficient money to set up in business as a bootblack, now owns twenty-three houses, and announces his intention to take up real estate. Both these passages of contemporary biography are recorded in the same newspaper. Probably they will attract little attention or remark. That is to be explained by the happy circumstance that such progress from poverty is no exceptional thing in this country, and any community could match the stories with many that are equally striking.—BostonTranscript.
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American Prosperity—SeeProsperity as an Advertisement.
AMERICANISM, TRUE
Suppose you are a father, and you have five children. One is named Philip, and Philip says to his brothers and sisters: “Now, John, you go and live in the small room at the end of the hall. George, you go and stay up in the garret. Mary, you go and live in the cellar, and, Fannie, you go and live in the kitchen, and don’t any of you come out. I am Philip, and will occupy the parlor; I like it; I like the lambrequins at the window, and I like the pictures on the wall. I am Philip, and, being Philip, the parlor shall only be for the Philipians.” You, the father, come home, and say: “Fannie, what are you doing in the kitchen? Come out of there.” And you say to Mary, “Mary, come out of that cellar.” And you say to John, “John, don’t stay shut up in that small room. Come out of there.” And you say to George,“George, come down out of that garret.” And you say to the children, “This is my house. You can go anywhere in it that you want to.” And you go and haul Philip out of the parlor, and you tell him that his brothers and sisters have just as much right in there as he has, and that they are all to enjoy it. Now, God is our Father, and this world is a house of several rooms, and God has at least five children—the North American continent, the South American continent, the Asiatic continent, the European continent, and the African continent. The North American continent sneaks away, and says: “I prefer the parlor. You South Americans, Asiatics, Europeans, and Africans, you stay in your own rooms; this is the place for me; I prefer it, and I am going to stay in the parlor; I like the front windows facing on the Atlantic, and the side windows facing on the Pacific, and the nice piazza on the south where the sun shines, and the glorious view from the piazza to the north.” And God, the Father, comes in and sends thunder and lightning through the house, and says to his son, the American continent: “You are no more my child than are all these others, and they have just as much right to enjoy this part of my house as you have.”—T. Dewitt Talmage.
Suppose you are a father, and you have five children. One is named Philip, and Philip says to his brothers and sisters: “Now, John, you go and live in the small room at the end of the hall. George, you go and stay up in the garret. Mary, you go and live in the cellar, and, Fannie, you go and live in the kitchen, and don’t any of you come out. I am Philip, and will occupy the parlor; I like it; I like the lambrequins at the window, and I like the pictures on the wall. I am Philip, and, being Philip, the parlor shall only be for the Philipians.” You, the father, come home, and say: “Fannie, what are you doing in the kitchen? Come out of there.” And you say to Mary, “Mary, come out of that cellar.” And you say to John, “John, don’t stay shut up in that small room. Come out of there.” And you say to George,“George, come down out of that garret.” And you say to the children, “This is my house. You can go anywhere in it that you want to.” And you go and haul Philip out of the parlor, and you tell him that his brothers and sisters have just as much right in there as he has, and that they are all to enjoy it. Now, God is our Father, and this world is a house of several rooms, and God has at least five children—the North American continent, the South American continent, the Asiatic continent, the European continent, and the African continent. The North American continent sneaks away, and says: “I prefer the parlor. You South Americans, Asiatics, Europeans, and Africans, you stay in your own rooms; this is the place for me; I prefer it, and I am going to stay in the parlor; I like the front windows facing on the Atlantic, and the side windows facing on the Pacific, and the nice piazza on the south where the sun shines, and the glorious view from the piazza to the north.” And God, the Father, comes in and sends thunder and lightning through the house, and says to his son, the American continent: “You are no more my child than are all these others, and they have just as much right to enjoy this part of my house as you have.”—T. Dewitt Talmage.
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Americans as Spenders—SeeMissions, Indifference to.
AMERICA’S ATTITUDE
“The attitude of the United States that she was not warring with China in 1900 and that she recognized no spoils of war; the attitude that made her give back to China the large quantity of silver which fell into her possession at Tien-Tsin; that made her give over to the Chinese Government, unmolested, the treasury and its treasures in the Forbidden City; that caused her, without compulsion, to cancel the Boxer indemnity fund, is an attitude too deep, too broad, too high for word expression. Does not this attitude reveal a strong current of sisterly good will, when it is able to sweep away the heavy weights of financial gain? This attitude is not one of spontaneity; the seed was brought over in theMayflower; it was planted in the virgin soil of liberty, where it rooted, and was watered with treasured dew-drops; was nourished into being in love’s tenderness; was sustained in truth’s fortitude. This is the story of our country’s attitude.”—“Letters from China.”
“The attitude of the United States that she was not warring with China in 1900 and that she recognized no spoils of war; the attitude that made her give back to China the large quantity of silver which fell into her possession at Tien-Tsin; that made her give over to the Chinese Government, unmolested, the treasury and its treasures in the Forbidden City; that caused her, without compulsion, to cancel the Boxer indemnity fund, is an attitude too deep, too broad, too high for word expression. Does not this attitude reveal a strong current of sisterly good will, when it is able to sweep away the heavy weights of financial gain? This attitude is not one of spontaneity; the seed was brought over in theMayflower; it was planted in the virgin soil of liberty, where it rooted, and was watered with treasured dew-drops; was nourished into being in love’s tenderness; was sustained in truth’s fortitude. This is the story of our country’s attitude.”—“Letters from China.”
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Amity—SeeKindness.
AMITY AFTER WAR
News of an international event of no little pathos comes from Port Arthur. Around the great fortress were buried thousands of Russians who fell in the siege, and whose graves were unmarked. The Russian Government asked permission to gather these remains in one place and erect a tomb for them which should be a suitable monument to their heroism. The Japanese Government replied by asking for permission to engage in this sad duty as a token of honor to the Russian dead. In this Russia readily acquiesced, and the tomb, which is of noble proportions and Etruscan in design, was recently dedicated. At these solemn services the old foes met once more. General Nogi, the hero of Port Arthur, was by special order of the Emperor the representative of Japan. Russia sent two generals and an admiral, who were supported by many Russian officers who had fought over that very ground. Regiments of Japanese troops stood on guard, as did also representatives of the Japanese navy. These latter, at the moment of unveiling, bore a worn and battle-torn flag to the tomb, and reverently lowered it as a tribute of respect. The religious ceremonies were in charge of the Bishop of Peking, of the Russian Church. (Text.)
News of an international event of no little pathos comes from Port Arthur. Around the great fortress were buried thousands of Russians who fell in the siege, and whose graves were unmarked. The Russian Government asked permission to gather these remains in one place and erect a tomb for them which should be a suitable monument to their heroism. The Japanese Government replied by asking for permission to engage in this sad duty as a token of honor to the Russian dead. In this Russia readily acquiesced, and the tomb, which is of noble proportions and Etruscan in design, was recently dedicated. At these solemn services the old foes met once more. General Nogi, the hero of Port Arthur, was by special order of the Emperor the representative of Japan. Russia sent two generals and an admiral, who were supported by many Russian officers who had fought over that very ground. Regiments of Japanese troops stood on guard, as did also representatives of the Japanese navy. These latter, at the moment of unveiling, bore a worn and battle-torn flag to the tomb, and reverently lowered it as a tribute of respect. The religious ceremonies were in charge of the Bishop of Peking, of the Russian Church. (Text.)
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AMUSEMENTS
A news item says:
Mrs. A. B. Sims, of Des Moines, winner of the woman’s whist championship of the United States, stood before an audience of 4,000 at Winona Lake and told why she burned up the forty decks of cards that she had at her home.“It was not uncommon for me to play whist from 10A.M.to 11P.M.,” said Mrs. Sims. “After that I saw what I was really doing. I burned up all the pasteboards, and I should like to speak in every church to the women and tell them what card-playing led me to, and what it will lead them to. It was undermining our church. The whist and euchre parties were sweeping the women of the congregation and the church was sinking because of their neglect. The card craze as it prevails among women is the most serious competitor the Church has to-day.”
Mrs. A. B. Sims, of Des Moines, winner of the woman’s whist championship of the United States, stood before an audience of 4,000 at Winona Lake and told why she burned up the forty decks of cards that she had at her home.
“It was not uncommon for me to play whist from 10A.M.to 11P.M.,” said Mrs. Sims. “After that I saw what I was really doing. I burned up all the pasteboards, and I should like to speak in every church to the women and tell them what card-playing led me to, and what it will lead them to. It was undermining our church. The whist and euchre parties were sweeping the women of the congregation and the church was sinking because of their neglect. The card craze as it prevails among women is the most serious competitor the Church has to-day.”
Worldliness manifests itself in its games as in other phases of its life.As the fathers saw the horror of the gladiatorial shows and their pernicious effect on morals, so in these latter days is caution necessary and salutary.
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Anarchy, Remedy for—SeeEvil, Self-destructive.
ANCESTOR WORSHIP
The destructive influence of ancestor worship far outweighs its benefits. It is a ruthless and voracious land-grabber; the best of the hills are for the dead. The living may go to Jericho, or may huddle together down in the malarial flats, while the ancestral shade rests in the high places on the hill. The exhilarating surroundings of the trees and green sod are for the dead, the living are left to the dust and heat and smells of the market-place.Ancestral piety forbids the digging of the hills for gold or silver or any other treasure. What are the living and what is yellow gold compared with the sweet repose of my father’s ghost? Away with all sordid visions and leave the hills in peace!—James S. Gale, “Korea in Transition.”
The destructive influence of ancestor worship far outweighs its benefits. It is a ruthless and voracious land-grabber; the best of the hills are for the dead. The living may go to Jericho, or may huddle together down in the malarial flats, while the ancestral shade rests in the high places on the hill. The exhilarating surroundings of the trees and green sod are for the dead, the living are left to the dust and heat and smells of the market-place.
Ancestral piety forbids the digging of the hills for gold or silver or any other treasure. What are the living and what is yellow gold compared with the sweet repose of my father’s ghost? Away with all sordid visions and leave the hills in peace!—James S. Gale, “Korea in Transition.”
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ANCESTRAL EXAMPLE
It was the custom of the primitive Romans to preserve in the halls of their houses the images of all the illustrious men whom their families had produced. These images are supposed to have consisted of a mask exactly representing the countenance of each deceased individual, accompanied with habiliments of like fashion with those worn in his time, and with the armor, badges, and insignia of his offices and exploits; all so disposed around the sides of the hall as to present, in the attitude of living men, the long succession of the departed; and thus to set before the Roman citizen, whenever he entered or left the house, the venerable array of his ancestors revived in this imposing similitude. Whenever, by a death in the family, another distinguished member of it was gathered to his fathers, a strange and awful procession was formed. The ancestral masks, including that of the newly deceased, were fitted upon the servants of the family, selected of the size and appearance of those whom they were intended to represent, and drawn up in solemn array to follow the funeral train of the living mourners, first to the market-place, where the public eulogium was pronounced, and then to the tomb. As he thus moved along, with all the great fathers of his name quickening, as it were, from their urns, to enkindle his emulation, the virtuous Roman renewed his vows of respect to their memory, and his resolution to imitate their fortitude, frugality, and patriotism.—Edward Everett.
It was the custom of the primitive Romans to preserve in the halls of their houses the images of all the illustrious men whom their families had produced. These images are supposed to have consisted of a mask exactly representing the countenance of each deceased individual, accompanied with habiliments of like fashion with those worn in his time, and with the armor, badges, and insignia of his offices and exploits; all so disposed around the sides of the hall as to present, in the attitude of living men, the long succession of the departed; and thus to set before the Roman citizen, whenever he entered or left the house, the venerable array of his ancestors revived in this imposing similitude. Whenever, by a death in the family, another distinguished member of it was gathered to his fathers, a strange and awful procession was formed. The ancestral masks, including that of the newly deceased, were fitted upon the servants of the family, selected of the size and appearance of those whom they were intended to represent, and drawn up in solemn array to follow the funeral train of the living mourners, first to the market-place, where the public eulogium was pronounced, and then to the tomb. As he thus moved along, with all the great fathers of his name quickening, as it were, from their urns, to enkindle his emulation, the virtuous Roman renewed his vows of respect to their memory, and his resolution to imitate their fortitude, frugality, and patriotism.—Edward Everett.
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Ancestry—SeePedigree.
ANCHOR, AN
Every ship has an anchor, and there are times when the safety of the ship depends on its right use of its anchors. When I was a boy in Constantinople, an American captain visited our house. He told us that his ship was anchored in an exposed harbor in one of the islands of the Ægean, when a violent storm broke upon them. Both of the anchors which they had down began to drag, and it was only a question of time when they would be cast ashore. They had one little anchor still unused, and tho they did not hope much good could come from dropping it they took the chance. To their great surprize and equal delight, tho the two larger anchors would not hold, the smaller one held, and they rode out the storm in safety. When they came to weigh the anchors, the two large ones came up easily, but the smaller one came with great difficulty. When at last it appeared above the surface of the water, lo and behold, the fluke of the anchor had caught in the ring of a large man-of-war’s anchor that had been lost there long before! The man-of-war’s anchor had been embedded in the soil, and this accounted for the fact that the little anchor held.
Every ship has an anchor, and there are times when the safety of the ship depends on its right use of its anchors. When I was a boy in Constantinople, an American captain visited our house. He told us that his ship was anchored in an exposed harbor in one of the islands of the Ægean, when a violent storm broke upon them. Both of the anchors which they had down began to drag, and it was only a question of time when they would be cast ashore. They had one little anchor still unused, and tho they did not hope much good could come from dropping it they took the chance. To their great surprize and equal delight, tho the two larger anchors would not hold, the smaller one held, and they rode out the storm in safety. When they came to weigh the anchors, the two large ones came up easily, but the smaller one came with great difficulty. When at last it appeared above the surface of the water, lo and behold, the fluke of the anchor had caught in the ring of a large man-of-war’s anchor that had been lost there long before! The man-of-war’s anchor had been embedded in the soil, and this accounted for the fact that the little anchor held.
Every man voyaging on the ocean of life ought to have an anchor. The apostle speaks about a good hope, which he says we have as an anchor sure and stedfast entering into the unseen, which is within the veil.—A. F. Schauffler,The Christian Herald.
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ANCIENT ART
To the student of architecture it may be surprizing to learn that the arch, until recently supposed to have been unknown to the ancients, was frequently employed by the pre-Babylonians of more than 6,000 years ago. Such an arch, in a poor state of preservation, was, a few years ago, discovered in the lowest stratum, beneath the Babylonian city of Nippur. More recently an arched drain was found beneath the old city ofFara, which the Germans have excavated in central Babylonia. The city, altho one of the earliest known, was built upon an earlier ruin, and provided with an arched drain constructed of small, plano-convex bricks. It measures about one meter in height, and has an equal width.While delving among the ruins of the oldest cities of the world, we are thus finding that at the time when we supposed that man was primitive and savage, he provided his home and city with “improvements” which we are inclined to call modern, but which we are only reinventing. (Text.)—Prof.Edgar James Banks,The Scientific American.
To the student of architecture it may be surprizing to learn that the arch, until recently supposed to have been unknown to the ancients, was frequently employed by the pre-Babylonians of more than 6,000 years ago. Such an arch, in a poor state of preservation, was, a few years ago, discovered in the lowest stratum, beneath the Babylonian city of Nippur. More recently an arched drain was found beneath the old city ofFara, which the Germans have excavated in central Babylonia. The city, altho one of the earliest known, was built upon an earlier ruin, and provided with an arched drain constructed of small, plano-convex bricks. It measures about one meter in height, and has an equal width.
While delving among the ruins of the oldest cities of the world, we are thus finding that at the time when we supposed that man was primitive and savage, he provided his home and city with “improvements” which we are inclined to call modern, but which we are only reinventing. (Text.)—Prof.Edgar James Banks,The Scientific American.
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Ancient Human Remains—SeePrehistoric Women.
Ancient Masters—SeeCompliment.
Anesthetics—SeeBenefaction of Anesthetics.
Angel Ministers—SeeCooperation, Lack of.
Angel Visitants—SeeIndifference to the Good.
Angels—SeeFriend, The Sympathetic.
Angels Astray—SeeRescue.
ANGER
A cobbler at Leyden, who used to attend the public disputations held at the Academy, was once asked if he understood Latin. “No,” replied the mechanic, “but I know who is wrong in the argument.” “How?” replied his friend. “Why, by seeing who is angry first.”
A cobbler at Leyden, who used to attend the public disputations held at the Academy, was once asked if he understood Latin. “No,” replied the mechanic, “but I know who is wrong in the argument.” “How?” replied his friend. “Why, by seeing who is angry first.”
Let not your angry passions rise, if you would be a full overcomer. (Text.)
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ANGER, FUTILE
The camel has one very bad fault. He likes to “pay back,” and if his driver has injured him in any way he will not rest till he has got even.The Arabs, people who wander about the desert, and so use the camel a great deal, know about this fault of his, and have a queer way of keeping themselves from getting hurt.When a driver has made his camel angry, he first runs away out of sight. Then, choosing a place where the camel will soon pass, he throws down some of his clothes, and fixes them so that the heap will look like a sleeping man.Pretty soon, along comes the camel, and sees the heap. Thinking to himself, “Now I’ve got him,” he pounces on the clothes, shakes them around, and tramples all over them. After he tires of this and has turned away, the driver can appear and ride him away without harm.Poor, silly camel! He has been in what we call a “blind rage,” so angry that he can’t tell the difference between a man and a heap of clothes.
The camel has one very bad fault. He likes to “pay back,” and if his driver has injured him in any way he will not rest till he has got even.
The Arabs, people who wander about the desert, and so use the camel a great deal, know about this fault of his, and have a queer way of keeping themselves from getting hurt.
When a driver has made his camel angry, he first runs away out of sight. Then, choosing a place where the camel will soon pass, he throws down some of his clothes, and fixes them so that the heap will look like a sleeping man.
Pretty soon, along comes the camel, and sees the heap. Thinking to himself, “Now I’ve got him,” he pounces on the clothes, shakes them around, and tramples all over them. After he tires of this and has turned away, the driver can appear and ride him away without harm.
Poor, silly camel! He has been in what we call a “blind rage,” so angry that he can’t tell the difference between a man and a heap of clothes.
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Angle, At the Right—SeePlace, in the Right.
Anguish—SeeSuffering Transformed.
ANIMAL ANCESTRY
A simple-minded Irish priest I have been told of, having heard that we were descended from monkeys, yet not quite grasping the chronology of the business, recently visited a menagerie, and gave particular and patient attention to a large cage of our alleged poor relations on exhibition there. He stood for a long time intently scrutinizing their human-like motions, gestures, and expressions. By and by he fancied that the largest of them, an individual of a singularly grave demeanor, seated at the front of the cage, gave him a glance of intelligence. The glance was returned. A palpable wink followed, which also was returned, as were other like signals; and so it went on until his reverence, having cast an eye around to see that nobody was observing him, leaned forward and said, in a low, confidential tone: “Av ye’ll spake one w-u-r-r-d, I’ll baptize ye, begorra!”—Joseph H. Twichell, D.D.
A simple-minded Irish priest I have been told of, having heard that we were descended from monkeys, yet not quite grasping the chronology of the business, recently visited a menagerie, and gave particular and patient attention to a large cage of our alleged poor relations on exhibition there. He stood for a long time intently scrutinizing their human-like motions, gestures, and expressions. By and by he fancied that the largest of them, an individual of a singularly grave demeanor, seated at the front of the cage, gave him a glance of intelligence. The glance was returned. A palpable wink followed, which also was returned, as were other like signals; and so it went on until his reverence, having cast an eye around to see that nobody was observing him, leaned forward and said, in a low, confidential tone: “Av ye’ll spake one w-u-r-r-d, I’ll baptize ye, begorra!”—Joseph H. Twichell, D.D.
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ANIMAL DOMINION
An English hunter tells the story of a tigress that was known all over India as the man-eater, who once had given her whelps a live man to play with. She carried off the man from an open hut in the forest where some wood-cutters were sleeping. His companions took refuge in trees, and from their place of safety saw her take the man alive to where the whelps were waiting close by, and lay him down before them. As the man attempted to crawl away the whelps would cling to his legs with teeth and claws, the tigress looking on and purring with pleasure. (Text.)—Louis Albert Banks.
An English hunter tells the story of a tigress that was known all over India as the man-eater, who once had given her whelps a live man to play with. She carried off the man from an open hut in the forest where some wood-cutters were sleeping. His companions took refuge in trees, and from their place of safety saw her take the man alive to where the whelps were waiting close by, and lay him down before them. As the man attempted to crawl away the whelps would cling to his legs with teeth and claws, the tigress looking on and purring with pleasure. (Text.)—Louis Albert Banks.
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Animal Friendliness—SeeProtection.
ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE
A recent dispatch from an Indiana town says:
Jeff Clarke, a farmer of Wabash township, owns a mule that plays the part of an alarm-clock every morning with such regularity that Clarke has about discarded the little alarm-clock that hangs on the bed-post and firmly refuses to part with the animal.Promptly at 4 o’clock this mule kicks the side of the barn four times in succession. At first Clarke thought the animal was ill, and for several mornings he got up and investigated. He took note, however, that the gong of the alarm-clock started buzzing when the mule started kicking.He put two and two together, and reached the conclusion that the mule knows the hour when the Clarke household should arise and begin the day’s work.
Jeff Clarke, a farmer of Wabash township, owns a mule that plays the part of an alarm-clock every morning with such regularity that Clarke has about discarded the little alarm-clock that hangs on the bed-post and firmly refuses to part with the animal.
Promptly at 4 o’clock this mule kicks the side of the barn four times in succession. At first Clarke thought the animal was ill, and for several mornings he got up and investigated. He took note, however, that the gong of the alarm-clock started buzzing when the mule started kicking.
He put two and two together, and reached the conclusion that the mule knows the hour when the Clarke household should arise and begin the day’s work.
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The criminal classes of Moscow, Russia, are beginning to believe that the police dog “Tref” is possest of an evil spirit.It was rumored recently, in the night shelters and criminal dens of Moscow, that “Tref” and his keeper were on the track of certain robbers, and were about to scour the town.It transpired that a number of bank-notes and other valuables had been stolen from a Moscow gentleman named Pokrofsky. “Tref’s” services were immediately requisitioned. He was put on the scent of the thief, and, after taking a circuitous course, entered a night shelter and made straight for an old coat belonging to a house-painter who was known under the name of Alexander. The sum of five hundred rubles, which had been stolen from M. Pokrofsky, was found in one of the pockets of the coat.“Tref” then left the night shelter, and, still hot on the scent, went to the shop of a second-hand dealer named Gussef, and here a number of silver articles stolen from M. Pokrofsky were discovered. A cabman drove up at this time, and complained that he had just been robbed of a fur coat and an ordinary overcoat. “Tref” was at once taken to the scene of the theft, and within a few minutes found the clothing concealed in the courtyard of a neighboring house.—PhiladelphiaRecord.
The criminal classes of Moscow, Russia, are beginning to believe that the police dog “Tref” is possest of an evil spirit.
It was rumored recently, in the night shelters and criminal dens of Moscow, that “Tref” and his keeper were on the track of certain robbers, and were about to scour the town.
It transpired that a number of bank-notes and other valuables had been stolen from a Moscow gentleman named Pokrofsky. “Tref’s” services were immediately requisitioned. He was put on the scent of the thief, and, after taking a circuitous course, entered a night shelter and made straight for an old coat belonging to a house-painter who was known under the name of Alexander. The sum of five hundred rubles, which had been stolen from M. Pokrofsky, was found in one of the pockets of the coat.
“Tref” then left the night shelter, and, still hot on the scent, went to the shop of a second-hand dealer named Gussef, and here a number of silver articles stolen from M. Pokrofsky were discovered. A cabman drove up at this time, and complained that he had just been robbed of a fur coat and an ordinary overcoat. “Tref” was at once taken to the scene of the theft, and within a few minutes found the clothing concealed in the courtyard of a neighboring house.—PhiladelphiaRecord.
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SeeConviction Through a Monkey;Direction;Instinct, the Homing.
Animal Instinct—SeeFaith Better Than Sight.
Animal Retaliation—SeeAnger, Futile.
ANIMAL SAVES LIFE
St. Clair McClary, a miner, buried deep in a snow-slide, at Seward, Alaska, owed his life to the keen scent of his dog. The snow-slide swept down the mountain. Four men at work on the property were caught without warning and buried under several feet of snow and débris. Two escaped without serious injury. So deep was the slide, however, that difficulty was experienced in reaching the others. The dog led the rescuers to a place several yards distant, where, after hard digging, they came on the men, who had been buried eight hours. Thomas Coales was dead under the icy weight. McClary was barely alive when taken out.—The Associated Press.
St. Clair McClary, a miner, buried deep in a snow-slide, at Seward, Alaska, owed his life to the keen scent of his dog. The snow-slide swept down the mountain. Four men at work on the property were caught without warning and buried under several feet of snow and débris. Two escaped without serious injury. So deep was the slide, however, that difficulty was experienced in reaching the others. The dog led the rescuers to a place several yards distant, where, after hard digging, they came on the men, who had been buried eight hours. Thomas Coales was dead under the icy weight. McClary was barely alive when taken out.—The Associated Press.
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ANIMAL SOLVING PROBLEM
A tiny mouse recently solved the problem of getting an electric wire through a pipe 197 feet long at the Vinery Building (Norfolk, Va.). There were several bends in the pipe, and modern methods, such as blow-pipes, failed to produce results.A mouse was caught and a thread tied to its leg. A tape was tied to the thread, and the wire to the tape. The mouse was given a start, and went through the pipe in a hurry. Liberty was its reward.—PhiladelphiaRecord.
A tiny mouse recently solved the problem of getting an electric wire through a pipe 197 feet long at the Vinery Building (Norfolk, Va.). There were several bends in the pipe, and modern methods, such as blow-pipes, failed to produce results.
A mouse was caught and a thread tied to its leg. A tape was tied to the thread, and the wire to the tape. The mouse was given a start, and went through the pipe in a hurry. Liberty was its reward.—PhiladelphiaRecord.
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Animal Traits—SeePeaceful Instinct of Simians.
ANIMALS, ABSURD FONDNESS FOR
A seamstress whom I know was sewing in the home of a wealthy woman in one of the aristocratic suburbs of Boston. She was there every day for nearly a week, when finally her patience became exhausted and she left the house never to return.She said she could stand being fed on crackers and milk every day at the noon meal, but when she heard the mistress of the house at the telephone ordering half a chicken for her pet dogs she could withhold her wrath no longer.Of course, the good woman of the house was sweetly unconscious of the absurd comparison between the dogs’ food and the food for the seamstress. Had she had any sense of the meanness of her conduct, she neverwould have telephoned that message within the hearing of the seamstress.The truth of the matter was that her heart—as much as she had left of it—was all wrapt up in her pet dogs, and her interest in human beings had become as a matter of habit, simply a question of the amount of service they could render her. She is probably whining to-day about the seamstress who didn’t know her place and who was jealous of people who had means.—George W. Coleman, “Searchlights.”
A seamstress whom I know was sewing in the home of a wealthy woman in one of the aristocratic suburbs of Boston. She was there every day for nearly a week, when finally her patience became exhausted and she left the house never to return.
She said she could stand being fed on crackers and milk every day at the noon meal, but when she heard the mistress of the house at the telephone ordering half a chicken for her pet dogs she could withhold her wrath no longer.
Of course, the good woman of the house was sweetly unconscious of the absurd comparison between the dogs’ food and the food for the seamstress. Had she had any sense of the meanness of her conduct, she neverwould have telephoned that message within the hearing of the seamstress.
The truth of the matter was that her heart—as much as she had left of it—was all wrapt up in her pet dogs, and her interest in human beings had become as a matter of habit, simply a question of the amount of service they could render her. She is probably whining to-day about the seamstress who didn’t know her place and who was jealous of people who had means.—George W. Coleman, “Searchlights.”
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Animals as Pest Destroyers—SeeBarriers.
Animals Before Men—SeeHeartless Pagans.
Animals, Inferior to Man—SeeMan’s Conquest of Animals.
Animals not Original—SeeOriginality of Man.
Animals, Reason in—SeeReasoning Power in Animals.
ANIMISM
The child’s religious nature, like that of primitive man, is animistic. Professor Dawson, in “The Child and His Religion,” says:
It is hard for children to resist the feeling that a summer shower comes with a sort of personal benevolence to water the dry flowers and grass. A little girl of four years illustrated this feeling on a certain occasion. There was a thunder-shower after a long dry spell. The rain was pattering on the sidewalk outside the house. The child stretched forth her hands toward the rain-drops and said: “Come, good rain, and water our plants!” Flowers and trees have individuality for most children, if not for all. Ruth’s mama found her sitting among the wild geraniums, some distance from the house. “What are you doing, Ruth?” “I’m sitting by the flowers. They are lonesome and like to have me with them, don’t you know?” At another time she said: “Mama, these daisies seem to look up at me and talk to me. Perhaps they want us to kiss them.” On one occasion she said to her brother, who was in the act of gathering some flowers she claimed for herself, “I don’t think it nice to break off those poor flowers. They like to live just as well as you do.” The boy thus chided by his sister for gathering her flowers was generally very fond of plants and trees, and felt a quite human companionship in them. He could not bear to see flowering plants hanging in a broken condition, or lying crusht upon the sidewalk. Even at the age of ten years, he would still work solicitously over flowers like the violets, bluets, and crowfoots, with evident concern for their comfort.
It is hard for children to resist the feeling that a summer shower comes with a sort of personal benevolence to water the dry flowers and grass. A little girl of four years illustrated this feeling on a certain occasion. There was a thunder-shower after a long dry spell. The rain was pattering on the sidewalk outside the house. The child stretched forth her hands toward the rain-drops and said: “Come, good rain, and water our plants!” Flowers and trees have individuality for most children, if not for all. Ruth’s mama found her sitting among the wild geraniums, some distance from the house. “What are you doing, Ruth?” “I’m sitting by the flowers. They are lonesome and like to have me with them, don’t you know?” At another time she said: “Mama, these daisies seem to look up at me and talk to me. Perhaps they want us to kiss them.” On one occasion she said to her brother, who was in the act of gathering some flowers she claimed for herself, “I don’t think it nice to break off those poor flowers. They like to live just as well as you do.” The boy thus chided by his sister for gathering her flowers was generally very fond of plants and trees, and felt a quite human companionship in them. He could not bear to see flowering plants hanging in a broken condition, or lying crusht upon the sidewalk. Even at the age of ten years, he would still work solicitously over flowers like the violets, bluets, and crowfoots, with evident concern for their comfort.
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Announcement, Apt—SeeChoir, The.
ANSWER, A SOFT
A drunken carter came into a Greenock (Scotland) train and sat opposite a clergyman, who was reading his paper. Recognizing the profession of his vis-a-vis, the carter leaned forward and in a maudlin way remarked, “I don’t believe there’s any heaven.” The clergyman paid no heed. “Do you hear me?” persisted the carter. “I don’t believe there’s any heaven.” Still the clergyman remained behind his newspaper. The carter, shouting his confession loudly, said, “I tell ye to your face, and you’re a minister, that I don’t believe there’s any heaven.” “Very well,” said the clergyman; “if you do not believe there is any heaven, go elsewhere, but please go quietly.” (Text.)—LondonGraphic.
A drunken carter came into a Greenock (Scotland) train and sat opposite a clergyman, who was reading his paper. Recognizing the profession of his vis-a-vis, the carter leaned forward and in a maudlin way remarked, “I don’t believe there’s any heaven.” The clergyman paid no heed. “Do you hear me?” persisted the carter. “I don’t believe there’s any heaven.” Still the clergyman remained behind his newspaper. The carter, shouting his confession loudly, said, “I tell ye to your face, and you’re a minister, that I don’t believe there’s any heaven.” “Very well,” said the clergyman; “if you do not believe there is any heaven, go elsewhere, but please go quietly.” (Text.)—LondonGraphic.
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Anthem, Extending a National—SeePraise, United.
ANTHROPOMORPHISM
Spiritual manhood has put away childish thinking. What, for instance, does a child think about God? Professor Street publishes some first-hand illustrations of childish conceptions of God. He says that children “completely anthropomorphize God, making Him subservient to time, space, and passions, just the same as they themselves are.” I recall an example or two: When a girl was told that the stars were God’s eyes, she at once asked where His legs were. Another saw, for the first time, a cupola on a barn. Gazing at it she asked, “Does God live in that little house?” A boy asked some one if God made the river running back of his house. On receiving an affirmative answer, he promptly replied, “He must have had a big shovel.” When another boy refused to say his prayers, he was asked for the reason. He answered, “Why, they are old. God has heard them so many times that they are old to Him, too. Why, He knows them as well as I do myself.”—F. F. Shannon.
Spiritual manhood has put away childish thinking. What, for instance, does a child think about God? Professor Street publishes some first-hand illustrations of childish conceptions of God. He says that children “completely anthropomorphize God, making Him subservient to time, space, and passions, just the same as they themselves are.” I recall an example or two: When a girl was told that the stars were God’s eyes, she at once asked where His legs were. Another saw, for the first time, a cupola on a barn. Gazing at it she asked, “Does God live in that little house?” A boy asked some one if God made the river running back of his house. On receiving an affirmative answer, he promptly replied, “He must have had a big shovel.” When another boy refused to say his prayers, he was asked for the reason. He answered, “Why, they are old. God has heard them so many times that they are old to Him, too. Why, He knows them as well as I do myself.”—F. F. Shannon.
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ANTICIPATING SUCCESS
One may so believe as already in a sense, to possess:
In a little parlor down-stairs of Mencci’s house in Staten Island were three large altar-candles in the Italian colors of red, white and green which, Mencci told us (says a correspondent of theCentury) he and Garibaldi had amused themselves at making in a leisure hour “to illuminate the Campidoglio of Rome when the Italian army should enter the Eternal City and make it the capital of United Italy.” When Rome was recovered, three other candles in the Italian colors were actually sent to Garibaldi there. (Text.)
In a little parlor down-stairs of Mencci’s house in Staten Island were three large altar-candles in the Italian colors of red, white and green which, Mencci told us (says a correspondent of theCentury) he and Garibaldi had amused themselves at making in a leisure hour “to illuminate the Campidoglio of Rome when the Italian army should enter the Eternal City and make it the capital of United Italy.” When Rome was recovered, three other candles in the Italian colors were actually sent to Garibaldi there. (Text.)
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ANTICIPATION
It was Schelling who said that if he had truth in one hand and the search for truth in the other, he would let truth go in order that he might search for it. Something of this philosophy is in these verses:
For me the loitering of the road,The hidden voice that sings;For me the vernal mysteries,Deep woods and silent springs.I covet not the ended road,The granary, the sheaf;For me the sowing of the grain,The promise of the leaf. (Text.)—Lippincott’s Magazine.
For me the loitering of the road,The hidden voice that sings;For me the vernal mysteries,Deep woods and silent springs.I covet not the ended road,The granary, the sheaf;For me the sowing of the grain,The promise of the leaf. (Text.)—Lippincott’s Magazine.
For me the loitering of the road,The hidden voice that sings;For me the vernal mysteries,Deep woods and silent springs.
For me the loitering of the road,
The hidden voice that sings;
For me the vernal mysteries,
Deep woods and silent springs.
I covet not the ended road,The granary, the sheaf;For me the sowing of the grain,The promise of the leaf. (Text.)—Lippincott’s Magazine.
I covet not the ended road,
The granary, the sheaf;
For me the sowing of the grain,
The promise of the leaf. (Text.)
—Lippincott’s Magazine.
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SeeNature’s Antidote.
ANTIPATHIES, INSTINCTIVE
It would be an excellent accomplishment if an abhorrence of moral evils could be bred in men similar to the instinctive antipathies described in this extract:
It seems absolutely incredible that Peter the Great, the father of the Russian navy, should shudder at the sight of water, whether running or still, yet so it was, especially when alone. His palace gardens, beautiful as they were, he never entered, because the river Mosera flowed through them. His coachman had orders to avoid all roads which led past streams, and if compelled to cross a brook or bridge, the great emperor would sit with closed windows, in a cold perspiration. Another monarch, James I, the English Solomon, as he liked to be called, had many antipathies, chiefly tobacco, ling, and pork. He never overcame his inability to look at a drawn sword, and it is said that on one occasion when giving the accolade, the king turned his face aside, nearly wounding the new-made knight. Henry III of France had so great a dislike for cats that he fainted at the sight of one. We suppose that in this case the cat had to waive his proverbial prerogative, and could not look at a king. This will seem as absurd, as extraordinary to lady lovers of that much-petted animal, but what are we to say of the Countess of Lamballe, of unhappy history, to whom a violet was a thing of horror? Even this is not without its precedent, for it is on record that Vincent, the painter, was seized with vertigo and swooned at the smell of roses. Scaliger states that one of his relations was made ill at the sight of a lily, and he himself would turn pale at the sight of watercresses, and could never drink milk. Charles Kingsley, naturalist as he was to the core, had a great horror of spiders, and in “Glaucus,” after saying that every one seems to have his antipathic animal, continues: “I know one (himself), bred from his childhood to zoology by land and sea, and bold in asserting and honest in feeling that all, without exception, is beautiful, who yet can not after handling and petting and examining all day long, every uncouth and venomous beast, avoid a paroxysm of horror at the sight of the common house-spider.” (Text.)—Cassell’s Family Magazine.
It seems absolutely incredible that Peter the Great, the father of the Russian navy, should shudder at the sight of water, whether running or still, yet so it was, especially when alone. His palace gardens, beautiful as they were, he never entered, because the river Mosera flowed through them. His coachman had orders to avoid all roads which led past streams, and if compelled to cross a brook or bridge, the great emperor would sit with closed windows, in a cold perspiration. Another monarch, James I, the English Solomon, as he liked to be called, had many antipathies, chiefly tobacco, ling, and pork. He never overcame his inability to look at a drawn sword, and it is said that on one occasion when giving the accolade, the king turned his face aside, nearly wounding the new-made knight. Henry III of France had so great a dislike for cats that he fainted at the sight of one. We suppose that in this case the cat had to waive his proverbial prerogative, and could not look at a king. This will seem as absurd, as extraordinary to lady lovers of that much-petted animal, but what are we to say of the Countess of Lamballe, of unhappy history, to whom a violet was a thing of horror? Even this is not without its precedent, for it is on record that Vincent, the painter, was seized with vertigo and swooned at the smell of roses. Scaliger states that one of his relations was made ill at the sight of a lily, and he himself would turn pale at the sight of watercresses, and could never drink milk. Charles Kingsley, naturalist as he was to the core, had a great horror of spiders, and in “Glaucus,” after saying that every one seems to have his antipathic animal, continues: “I know one (himself), bred from his childhood to zoology by land and sea, and bold in asserting and honest in feeling that all, without exception, is beautiful, who yet can not after handling and petting and examining all day long, every uncouth and venomous beast, avoid a paroxysm of horror at the sight of the common house-spider.” (Text.)—Cassell’s Family Magazine.
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A well-known officer of Her Majesty’s army, who has proved his strength and courage in more than one campaign, turns pale at the sight of a cat. On one occasion, when asked out to dinner, his host, who was rather skeptical as to the reality of this feeling, concealed a cat in an ottoman in the dining-room. Dinner was announced and commenced, but his guest was evidently ill at ease; and at length declared his inability to go on eating, as he was sure there was a cat in the room. An apparently thorough but unavailing search was made; but his visitor was so completely upset that the host, with many apologies for his experiment, “let the cat out of the bag,” and out of the ottoman at the same time.—Cassell’s Family Magazine.
A well-known officer of Her Majesty’s army, who has proved his strength and courage in more than one campaign, turns pale at the sight of a cat. On one occasion, when asked out to dinner, his host, who was rather skeptical as to the reality of this feeling, concealed a cat in an ottoman in the dining-room. Dinner was announced and commenced, but his guest was evidently ill at ease; and at length declared his inability to go on eating, as he was sure there was a cat in the room. An apparently thorough but unavailing search was made; but his visitor was so completely upset that the host, with many apologies for his experiment, “let the cat out of the bag,” and out of the ottoman at the same time.—Cassell’s Family Magazine.
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Antiques, Artificial—SeeAge.
ANTIQUITY
Sven Hedin has furnished additional evidence of the Chinese invention of paper. On his recent journeys he found Chinese paper that dates back to the second half of the third century after Christ. This lay buried in the sand of the Gobi desert, near the former northern shore of the Lop Nor Sea, where, in the ruins of a city and in the remnants of one of the oldest houses, he discovered a goodly lot of manuscripts, many of paper, covered with Chinese script, preserved for some 1,650 years. The date is Dr. Himly’s conclusion. According to Chinese sources, paper was manufactured as early as the second millennium before the Christian era. The character of the Gobi desert find makes it probable that the making of paper out of vegetable fibers was already an old art in the third Christian century.—The Scientific American.
Sven Hedin has furnished additional evidence of the Chinese invention of paper. On his recent journeys he found Chinese paper that dates back to the second half of the third century after Christ. This lay buried in the sand of the Gobi desert, near the former northern shore of the Lop Nor Sea, where, in the ruins of a city and in the remnants of one of the oldest houses, he discovered a goodly lot of manuscripts, many of paper, covered with Chinese script, preserved for some 1,650 years. The date is Dr. Himly’s conclusion. According to Chinese sources, paper was manufactured as early as the second millennium before the Christian era. The character of the Gobi desert find makes it probable that the making of paper out of vegetable fibers was already an old art in the third Christian century.—The Scientific American.
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SeePedigree.
ANXIETY, COST OF
An English auctioneer tells the following story:
I had eight acres of land to sell, and there was one landowner in the district, whom I will call Mr. Robinson, who was very anxious to secure this particular piece of land because it adjoined his own estate. He had already attempted to acquire it by private arrangement, but the negotiations had fallen through.Being engaged at the funeral of a relative on the day of the sale, he left very definite instructions with his butler, who had only entered his service a day or two before, to attend the sale and buy the land at any price. The butler duly came to the sale and took up his station in the old chimney-corner, out of sight of every one excepting myself. It so happened, however, that Mr. Robinson was back from the funeral earlier than he expected, and, going to the sale and failing to observe his butler, began the bidding with an offer of $2,500. Up and up went the price, the landowner and the butler bidding against one another like Trojans, until at last the field was knocked down to the latter at $7,500. The feelings of Mr. Robinson and the amusement of the company may be easily imagined when the purchaser remarked in a quiet voice, “For Mr. Robinson. Here’s his check for you to fill in for the deposit.”Fortunately, Mr. Robinson was anything but a poor man, and he had benefited to the tune of $200,000 in the loss of his relative, so the few extra thousands he paid did not hurt him.
I had eight acres of land to sell, and there was one landowner in the district, whom I will call Mr. Robinson, who was very anxious to secure this particular piece of land because it adjoined his own estate. He had already attempted to acquire it by private arrangement, but the negotiations had fallen through.
Being engaged at the funeral of a relative on the day of the sale, he left very definite instructions with his butler, who had only entered his service a day or two before, to attend the sale and buy the land at any price. The butler duly came to the sale and took up his station in the old chimney-corner, out of sight of every one excepting myself. It so happened, however, that Mr. Robinson was back from the funeral earlier than he expected, and, going to the sale and failing to observe his butler, began the bidding with an offer of $2,500. Up and up went the price, the landowner and the butler bidding against one another like Trojans, until at last the field was knocked down to the latter at $7,500. The feelings of Mr. Robinson and the amusement of the company may be easily imagined when the purchaser remarked in a quiet voice, “For Mr. Robinson. Here’s his check for you to fill in for the deposit.”
Fortunately, Mr. Robinson was anything but a poor man, and he had benefited to the tune of $200,000 in the loss of his relative, so the few extra thousands he paid did not hurt him.
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ANYHOW, THE LAND OF
Beyond the Isle of What’s-the-Use,Where Slipshod Point is now,There used to be, when I was young,The Land of Anyhow.Don’t Care was king of all this realm—A cruel king was he!For those who served him with good heartHe treated shamefully!When boys and girls their tasks would slightAnd cloud poor mother’s brow,He’d say, “Don’t care! It’s good enough!Just do it anyhow.”But when in after life they longedTo make proud fortune bow,He let them find that fate ne’er smilesOn work done anyhow.For he who would the harvest reapMust learn to use the plow,And pitch his tent a long, long wayFrom the Land of Anyhow!—Canadian Presbyterian.
Beyond the Isle of What’s-the-Use,Where Slipshod Point is now,There used to be, when I was young,The Land of Anyhow.Don’t Care was king of all this realm—A cruel king was he!For those who served him with good heartHe treated shamefully!When boys and girls their tasks would slightAnd cloud poor mother’s brow,He’d say, “Don’t care! It’s good enough!Just do it anyhow.”But when in after life they longedTo make proud fortune bow,He let them find that fate ne’er smilesOn work done anyhow.For he who would the harvest reapMust learn to use the plow,And pitch his tent a long, long wayFrom the Land of Anyhow!—Canadian Presbyterian.
Beyond the Isle of What’s-the-Use,Where Slipshod Point is now,There used to be, when I was young,The Land of Anyhow.
Beyond the Isle of What’s-the-Use,
Where Slipshod Point is now,
There used to be, when I was young,
The Land of Anyhow.
Don’t Care was king of all this realm—A cruel king was he!For those who served him with good heartHe treated shamefully!
Don’t Care was king of all this realm—
A cruel king was he!
For those who served him with good heart
He treated shamefully!
When boys and girls their tasks would slightAnd cloud poor mother’s brow,He’d say, “Don’t care! It’s good enough!Just do it anyhow.”
When boys and girls their tasks would slight
And cloud poor mother’s brow,
He’d say, “Don’t care! It’s good enough!
Just do it anyhow.”
But when in after life they longedTo make proud fortune bow,He let them find that fate ne’er smilesOn work done anyhow.
But when in after life they longed
To make proud fortune bow,
He let them find that fate ne’er smiles
On work done anyhow.
For he who would the harvest reapMust learn to use the plow,And pitch his tent a long, long wayFrom the Land of Anyhow!—Canadian Presbyterian.
For he who would the harvest reap
Must learn to use the plow,
And pitch his tent a long, long way
From the Land of Anyhow!
—Canadian Presbyterian.
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APOLOGY APPRECIATED
The Hon. W. P. Fessenden unintentionally made a remark against Seward, which was considered to be highly insulting. When Fessenden was informed of the construction placed upon it, he went frankly to Seward, and said, “Mr. Seward, I have insulted you, but I did not mean it.” Mr. Seward was so delighted with the frank apology that he exclaimed, “God bless you, Fessenden! I wish you would insult me again.”—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”
The Hon. W. P. Fessenden unintentionally made a remark against Seward, which was considered to be highly insulting. When Fessenden was informed of the construction placed upon it, he went frankly to Seward, and said, “Mr. Seward, I have insulted you, but I did not mean it.” Mr. Seward was so delighted with the frank apology that he exclaimed, “God bless you, Fessenden! I wish you would insult me again.”—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”
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APPAREL
The late Mark Twain, inThe North American Review, gave a striking “Sartor Resartus” sketch of what might be the Czar’s morning meditations, from which we quote the following paragraph:
“After the Czar’s morning bath it is his habit to meditate an hour before dressing himself.”—LondonTimesCorrespondence.(Viewing himself in the pier-glass.)Naked, what am I? A lank, skinny, spiderleggedlibel on the image of God! Look at the waxwork head—the face, with the expression of a melon—the projecting ears—the knotted elbows—the dished breast—the knife-edged shins—and then the feet, all beads and joints and bonesprays, an imitation X-ray photograph! There is nothing imperial about this, nothing imposing, impressive, nothing to invoke awe and reverence. Is it this that a hundred and forty million Russians kiss the dust before and worship? Manifestly not! No one could worship this spectacle, which is Me. Then who is it, what is it, that they worship? Privately, none knows better than I: it is my clothes. Without my clothes I should be as destitute of authority as any other naked person. Nobody could tell me from a parson, a barber, a dude. Then who is the real Emperor of Russia? My clothes. There is no other. (Text.)
“After the Czar’s morning bath it is his habit to meditate an hour before dressing himself.”—LondonTimesCorrespondence.
(Viewing himself in the pier-glass.)
Naked, what am I? A lank, skinny, spiderleggedlibel on the image of God! Look at the waxwork head—the face, with the expression of a melon—the projecting ears—the knotted elbows—the dished breast—the knife-edged shins—and then the feet, all beads and joints and bonesprays, an imitation X-ray photograph! There is nothing imperial about this, nothing imposing, impressive, nothing to invoke awe and reverence. Is it this that a hundred and forty million Russians kiss the dust before and worship? Manifestly not! No one could worship this spectacle, which is Me. Then who is it, what is it, that they worship? Privately, none knows better than I: it is my clothes. Without my clothes I should be as destitute of authority as any other naked person. Nobody could tell me from a parson, a barber, a dude. Then who is the real Emperor of Russia? My clothes. There is no other. (Text.)
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SeeDress Affecting Moods.
APPAREL IN FORMER TIMES