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(librx VOLUMT. TWO HUMBER THIRTY-FIVE. WHAT WE THINK OF WHAT WE SEE Uy A. E. FA FIS A UR, Flanaginn Editor. A foreigner visiting this country has criticised the American women on the ground that they hurry too much. We are at a loss to know where he got that idea. Perhaps he saw them on their way to a bargain sale. If he had ever waited for one to dress for the theatre, he would have a different opin ion. He has never heard of that inmate oi an American asylum who went around all day mutter ing 11 Thirty-one; Thirty-one; Thirty-one.” He had gono mad buttoning his wife’s shirt wasits, which had just that number of buttons up the back. Our Uncle Andy Carnegie has specified just what constitutes respectability. He says: “There is no better test of a respectable member of society than a bank book showing a good balance or title deeds to a house or farm unencumbered by debt. ’ ’ There is some dissatisfaction expressed at this mling in certain quarters. A contemporary has gone so far as to cite as authority the following: “Andi he called unto him the twelve and began to send them forth by two and two. “And commanded them that they should take nothing for their journey, save a staff only; no scrip, no bread, no money in their purse.” But it is evident, as we have heretofore remark ed, that times are changing and that standards of respectability are shifting with them. n n There are people who are in favor of all kinds of laws now in force, such, for instance, as the laws against murder, arson and carrying concealed wea pons, and they believe firmly in the efficacy and justice of such laws, notwithstanding the fact that the crimes against which they are directed are still being committed here and there. They are opposed to a prohibition law, however, because it “won’t prohibit.” They do not want the law, because they foresee that there will be violations of it. No law will ever totally prevent crime, but the honest and persistent attempt to enforce it will lessen crime. We have heard of a conversation between a minis ter and a policeman which illustrates the point. In a certain town there had been a large number of burglaries, and not a single burglar had been cap tured. A minister met a policeman in the street and could not refrain from mentioning the subject. “What a number of burglars there are about!” he said. “Why don’t you officers arrest them?” The policeman looked solemnly at the minister and then replied: “Sir, there are thousands of people going to Hell every day. Why don’t you ministers stop them?” A story related by a Northern minister who spent last Winter in the South for the benefit of his health, discloses the fact that owing to conditions among •TLANTA, GA., OCTOBER 24, 1907. the colored brethren, although the laborer be “worthy of his hire,” it behooves him at the same time to take sensible precautions. The minister in question was not idling away his holiday, but was pursuing the work of his church with his accustomed vigor among the white residents of the section wherein he was sojourning. He de voted considerable time to observation of the con ditions among the colored people. One morning while driving along the public road the minister met a negro preacher of the neighborhood, of whom he had seen but little, but whose confidence he had apparently already won. The negro was what is commonly known as a “locus” preacher. The con versation between the two fellow shepherds began upon the weather and naturally drifted to religion. “Tell me something of your work,” said the white minister. “Do you take notes for your ser mons ? ” “Wa-al, no,” cautiously admitted the brother in black. “I useter be guilty ob dat, fo’ a fact, but I’se learned by ’sperience an’ I have refawmed. Since I cum to know dese niggers at dere rale worth, I ’quires de cash. Notes is no good roun’ heali.” Times have changed considerably since the days of George Washington. The majority of people have recognized that fact, but an Italian of New York City has had to be taught it rather severely. Pasquale Rosaka chopped down a small cherry tree in Dyker Park, intending to carry it home for fire wood. He was arrested and arraigned before Mag istrate Steers. In response to the question as to his guilt or innocence of the charge against him, he said: “I no tella da lie, boss. I choppa da tree down witta me hatch.” There was no reduction for honesty, and he was fined ten dollars. He paid it in high disgust, mut tering : “Georga da Wash no tella da lie and gitta da pat on da back. Ino tella da lie and gitta stung good.” Which teaches the moral that a good get-a-way for today may not work at all tomorrow, and that the wise man keeps guessing. I? H Mr. Fairbanks, Vice President of the United States, better known as “Buttermilk Charley” to the coarse and vulgar herd, has suffered much on account of the announcement that he served cock tails at a dinner given to President Roosevelt in Annapolis some time ago. The incident has been discussed in all the papers of the country, both secular and denominational, and has caused Mr. Fairbanks much embarrassment. Up to the time of the dinner, Mr. Fairbanks was very prominent in the affairs of his church, but there were very grave doubts expressed as to his suitability as a delegate to a certain conference, owing to the cock- tail episode. It was not alleged that he had him self indulged in this vicious beverage; nobody, so far as information went, had actually swallowed a* cocktail; no breath had been detected after the dinner bearing the tell-tale aroma; even cloves were not in evidence. The whole trouble was that cock tails were served. Various explanations have been made by well meaning friends of Mr. Fairbanks. A prominent religious paper stated “on the highest authority” that “an intimate friend of the fam ily” ordered the cocktails without the Vice-Pres ident’s knowledge and “in violation of his Method ist habits.” This sounded a little odd, but we are at last reassured. We learn that the cocktails were not the seductive kind that cheer and, alas, ine briate. They were simply oyster cocktails See this earnest letter, printed in The Sun of the 14th instant: “To the Editor of The Sun—Sir: All this non sense ab mt cocktails at Mr. Fairbanks’s house arose from lhe fact that they were oyster cocktails. A waitress in the house, who is now visiting me, says so. J. B. D., Jr. “Providence, October 12.’*’ Now. That fixes everything up all right, and we are glad; so glad. A story told by a lawyer as one of his personal experiences is related in the Kansas City Times. This is it: “A woman came into my office one afternoon and said she wanted to see a lawyer on a rather im portant matter. She was very calm and self pos sessed. “ ‘What can I do for you?’ I asked. “ ‘Well,’ she said in an easy tone, ‘my husband ■was hurt in the wreck the other day.’ “I noticed that she was dressed in mourning, but from her indifferent tone I gathered that it had no connection with her husband’s accident. “ ‘Was your husband badly injured?’ I asked. “ ‘Yes,’ she answered in the same quiet voice, ‘He got his head cut off.’ ” Now we fail utterly to see any point or any fun in that story. The facts, when the story is boiled down, are as follows: A most respectable lady, dressed in mourning, entered an attorney’s office and stated that, owing to the fact that her husband had suffered injury in a railway wreck, she wished to consult a lawyer. In response to inquiry, she further mentioned that her husband’s injury con sisted in the loss of his head. Now what is there in this tragic story to provoke mirth? What is there to wonder at? If a lady’s husband has his head cut off, she at once, and almost automatically, as it were, becomes a widow. Then why on this earth should she not wish to consult an attorney? We are disgusted with some of the alleged funny stories ' that are given space in cur papers. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR. FIVE CENTS A COPY.