Newspaper Page Text
GOD FIRST
By H. S. JENISON.
I turn my thoughts to Thee,
Thou great and mighty One;
And think, with wonder, love and praise,
Os all that Thou hast done.
Os good things that Thou hast
This day in store for me,
To take, and use, and grow thereby.
More faithful unto Thee.
1 ask to do my part
To make Thy Word come true,
And put Thee first in everything
That I may have to do.
AN APPEAL TO GOD-FEARING
DEMOCRATS.
(Continued from Page 6.)
one of the vilest of Chicago’s political bosses
and tricksters? Has the Democratic party not
shown itself in open alliance with the liquor
gang, 10, these many years? What else is the
meaning of Tammany and Tom Taggart’s
prominence in the party’s councils? Other
wise, why so many whisky politicians in gov
ernor’s chairs, where the party is victorious?
The Baltimore (1912) Convention.
A representative of the Associated Press
says Tom Taggart, the Indiana boss (and
gambler, P.) was one of the leaders of the
convention. Ilinky Dink McKenna, he who
runs Chicago’s saloons for bums, a notorious
corruption, (P), was active in the councils.
Charlie Murphy, boss of Tammany Hall, prob
ably the most corrupt and malodorous organ
ization on the face of the earth, was there.
Walter Costello, a Washington saloon keep
er, Champ Clark’s political manager in Wash
ington, stuck to Clark to the last.
Another man, prominent in the convention,
was Charlie White, the professional referee of
I am a lie —a lie that lived to do its
work well —and still lives as a haunt
ing ghost. I was born of a woman
one day in New York city, and my
mother was a young woman of wealth,
fashion and high family. She was
very prudent and discreet, a high-
Church Episcopalian. She was re
garded as a model of lovely manners
and good morally. Nevehtless I was
born of her.
Miss Cassendra Worthington had
many admirers. Among them was
Peter Stuyvesant, whom she loved,
and intended to honor with her hand.
He was of her set —rich, fashionable
and idle. He had told Cassandra she
was the dearest girl in the world for
him, but this was before he met Janet.
Janet was a gentle little girl, who
worked for her living. She painted
portraits in a little picturesque studio,
and she herself was a graceful, pic
turesque figure. She painted Cas
sandra’s picture, and idealized it in
the painting, which pleased the Mur
ray Hill belle and she determined to
patronize the modest little artist. She
would introduce Janet to her friends
as her discovery.
It was at Cassandra’s house that
Janet met Peter Stuyvesant. As soon
as she had introduced the two Cas
sandra knew she had made a mistake.
Peter had eyes and talk only for the
sylph-like girl with the dark, soulful
eyes, whose simple white frock set off
THE A UTOBIOGRAPHY OF A LIE
prize fights. Then comes T. R. Gordon, against
whom a post office fraud order was recently
issued. He said he had come to Baltimore to
help “Put out the rascals!”
The writer speaking of Tom Marshall, says,
“He is simply the limit. He is in open alli
ance with tlie liquor interests of Indiana. The
liquor interests are just as safe in Marshall’s
hands as they would be in the hands of Ilinky
Dink, and more so, for Marshall has the supe
rior intelligence to take better care of the
liquor interests.”
The reporter continuing, declares “The
saloons and bars about town had their hands
full. Many temporary bars were opened and
more than a hundred extra bartenders were
required for principal hotels alone. He goes
on to specify enlarged bar space and the in
creased number of bartenders employed by cer
tain leading hotels, mentioning among others
the “Emerson,” where Clark, Wilson and Har
mon had their headquarters. This hotel “open
ed an extra bar-room, added more than a hun
dred feet of extra, bar space, and employed
more than twenty-five extra bartenders.”
Reader, do you want to vote with this crowd?
and then go to judgment? And you a pro-
her grace and charm. He asked per
mission to walk with her to her stu
dio. It was not many days before he
told her he loved her, and in telling
her so he was sincere, as he had not
been with Cassandra. It was not
honorable, but society young men have
not very strict standards of honor.
Janet loved Peter and did not know
that she wronged Cassandra by doing
so. She was wholly unconscious of
any relation between Peter and Cas
sandra.
The inward rage of Cassandra was
great. She suffered at first in haugh
ty silence, but the time came when
she must speak, and she spoke to the
man. To the woman, of course, she
said nothing. Janet she scorned as
beneath her notice. Peter argued in
his own defense after the negative
manner of men in such cases, but it
was not effective except to convince
Cassandra that she was losing him for
ever. She was desperate that evening
when he kissed her at parting, and
that night I was born.
I was a puny little thing at first,
but Cassandra was wise in such baby
lore, and I grew rapidly by careful
and persistent exercise directed by my
zealous mother among the women of
her acquaintance. Several of them
mentioned me incidentally to Peter,
and later I was introduced to him.
Peter was a cad and a prig, and he
believed that I was exactly as repre-
The Golden Age for October 31, 1912.
sented. In a remarkably short time
I had met all the friends in the circle
of Cassandra. Some declined to
recognize me, but most did not, espe
cially those who sought the favor of
Cassandra. While Cassandra was
thus busy extending the circle of my
acquaintances, I was not introduced to
Janet. Cassandra managed better
than that. Janet did not know of my
existence; she did not know why so
suddenly and mysteriously she should
have been ignored, almost insulted,
by those who had before been polite
and ready enough to receive her as
Cassandra’s friend. She knew that
she had lost Cassandra through Peter,
but she did not understand why, and
she would not ask. Peter fell .away
with the others, but this did not pain
Janet so much as to lose Cassandra,
who had been very kind to her until
Peter appeared between them. Janet
was helpless in her own behalf. She
could not defend herself, for no one
openly gave her an opportunity.
At last one day Janet met me. A
good friend, who had declined to
recognize me when I had been intro
duced, took me to her. By that time
I had grown to be such a strong and
healthy lie that I compelled recogni
tion, and this good friend thought it
best that he should take me to Janet
rather than that someone less kindly
disposed should do so. Poor little
helpless Janet could not understand
fessed follower of the Holy Christ! (I Cor.
10:31.) Better vote the straight Prihibition
ticket. The candidates are Chafin and Watkins,
both earnest Christian men.
4* 4* 4*
REMARKS.
By E. V. Cale.
“Blessed are ye when men shall revile you,
and say all manner of evil against you falsely
for My sake.” So, there is such a thing as
being fortunate in your enemies. The right
kind of enemies are the wrong kind of folks.
You have, no doubt, frequently heard some
thing like this: “If that fellows ever gets to
heaven he will have to go during a revival,
for he never has enough religion any other
time.” Well, I’m afraid he will never go
there, even if he starts during a revival; for
righteousness has got to be the normal thing,
and not the abnormal, in your life and "mine,
my brother, before you and I are ever fit for
heaven.
The world does not owe me a living;! but
I owe the world a life—well spent.
4* 4* 4*
THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE EDITOR.
“The matter of newspaper subscription,”
says the Kansas City Star man, “reminds an
editor of the Greek philosopher whose poverty
began to pinch him. One of his friends sent
word to the men of the city that each should
take a certain kind of wine and on a certain
day go to the philosopher’s house and pour
the wine into an empty vat. And so they did,
but each thought that one bottle of water
would not be noticed in so much wine, and the
vat was filled with water. Thus the philosopher
received no aid. It is somewhat that way
with subscriptions. One fellow thinks he
owes only a small amount and so neglects to
pay it. The other fellow thinks the same and
the editor fares almost as well as the philos
opher.
me at all, and I had no explanations
to offer; I simply confronted her and
waited. I did not tell her who my
mother was, for Janet would have de
nied the relationship in horror. Cas
sandra had been her best friend, and
she could not possibly have believed
me had I told her. No, it was not
for me to tell her. I had a different
mission.
When Peter shunned Janet as
though she was some unclean thing,
and had come back to Cassandra
again, as the clean, she, my own
mother, began to neglect me, but oth
ers cared for me and would not let
me die. Why I do not know, be
cause they could have had no inter
est in the cause of my existence. I
lived on, following Janet wherever
she went. Slowly she faded. So
sweet a flower could not live in the
biting winds of gossip, and one morn
ing Janet lay dead in her studio and
an empty vial stood silent, but not
expressionless, on the table by her
bedside. The newspapers told pa
thetic little stories of the passing of
Janet, and if they knew of me, they
were kind enough to suppress the
knowledge.
I had done my work; my mission
was accomplished. Soon I died to
the world, but I remain a ghost to
haunt the soul of Cassandra, and one
day at the great Judgment Bar I shall
confront her,
7
