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EDITORIAL PAGE
&/>e SUNNY SOUTH
Published Weekly by
Sunny South Publifhing Co
Businefs Office
THE CONSTITUTION BUILDING
ATLANTA, GEORGIA
Subscription Terms:
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to Z>he Sunny South only
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LESS THAN A PENNY A WEEK
Entered at the peatofllce .Atlanta* Ga.,n* second-elans mall matter
March 13, 1W01
J&
We Sunny South Is the oldest weekly paper of Literature,
Romance, Pa ft and Plftlon In the South It is now re«
Jiored to the original shape and will be published as form
merly every week & Pounded In 1874 It grew until S899,
when, as a monthly, its form was changed as an experlm
ment & It now returns to its original formation as a
weekly with renewed vigor and the intention of eclips*
ing its most promising period in the past.
A Word to Sunny South
Contributors
N the interest of system and justice
to all, the management of The
Sunny South desires to call the at-
-ntion of its contributors to a few
facts. Many manuscript have been
received in this office recently
where the writer seems to have
entirely forgotten the necessity of
placing his name and address
where the editor may find it for
ready reference purposes. When
this important detail is overlooked,
it becomes necessary to keep the
manuscript in the office for an in
definite length of time, until the
writer communicates with the management re
questing news of his contribution. 1 his is the
case whether the matter is meritorious or other
wise, for no publisher is willing to undertake the
responsibility of printing anonymous contribu
tions.
Another detail which several of our contribu
tors seem to have lost sight of is the proper
preparation of their manuscript for the editoh*
wbost duty it is to read and pass on all contri
butions. Matter should be written on one side
of the paper only; if not typewritten, which is>
preferable, it should be transcribed clearly and
legibly, the pages being so numbered and placed)
as to minimize possibility of mistake. If the
contributor does not send a personal letter with
his article, or even if he does, it is best to write
plainly his name and address on either corner
of the first page of the manuscript to guard
against mistakes and delays in event the letter)
accompanying the article should become mis
placed.
Frequently, when manuscript has been in this
office for only a few days, the editor is asked for
an immediate expression as to its merits, and to
name the date on which it will be used. It is
impossible to do this at short notice. Innumer
able contributions are received daily, and * due
time must be given to their consideration, the
essence of justice in passing on fiction or other
branches of writing being conscientious consid
eration. Then again, the contributor must bear
in mind that there are, in all probabilities, sev
eral others taking precedence of his manuscript
by reason of earlier contribution and must not
be disappointed or puzzled if results are not im
mediate. 1 he Sunny South seeks to do justice
to all so kind as to contribute to its columns, and'
'in order to do so is compelled to be absolutely!
impartial in timing the publication of the various
articles submitted.
•As Regards Spirits and
Spirit Visitation
HE las. five years have witnessed a
wonderful revival of what may
crudely be called “spiritualism” in
this country. I he word, however,
covers a multitude of phases. It
may relate to religious affiliation,
it may be of scientific origin, or of
purely psychical nature, where in
vestigations are made with an hon
est purpose to discover facts, if
such exist, or establish frauds, if
such are being perpetrated on the
credulous or susceptible. The Rev.
Minot J. Savage, a prominent cler
gyman of New York, undoubtedly
a type of the highest intellectual development
which this country affords, has created a sensa
tion both among members of his occupation and
the laity by declaring his firm belief in “spirits.”
„e believes that there is hardly a house in the
united States but has at some time been the
abode of some ghostly visitant, and he sees no
logical reason why there should not be spirits
surrounding us in every act and condition of our
lives.
This somewhat frank and unusual confession
has drawn fierce criticism from many quarters,
gome of the more rabid among Dr. Savage’s
brethren desire to read him out of his church ;i
others take the stand that he is entitled to his
honest convictions, even if they are of a bizarre,
unorthodox nature. The laity has taken a promi
nent part in the discussion, the prevailing tone
being one of either ridicule dV dissension. One
particularly positive and clear contributor to the
controversy has attracted our attention. This
writer takes a rigidly materialistic view of the
matter. While not directly attacking religion,
he holds that every development in the physical
geography of the world, every achievement ac
complished by mind, every evidence of progress,
cnbghtenment and every demonstration of
scienc. has its source in the fundamental princi
ples of cause and effect, and that, such being the
case, there is little room for the supposition that
spirits exist, or that if they do exist they surround
and communicate with tangible flesh and blood.
We do not desire to participate in this discus
sion. Arguments which have religion at their
base almost invariably give rise to discord and
resentment and we have known of little good to
come from their continuance. Then again, we
do not believe the time ripe for th'e discussion of
such questions in the public prints. It is along
these lines, more forcibly than any other, that!
the adage applies, “a little knowledge is a dan
gerous thing.” We, each of us, may have our
personal convictions regarding psychic phenom
ena, but none of us KNOW anything. So long
as tnis is undeniably the case, wherein comes gain
|jn ■ exploiting as certainties or realisms . beliefs
which may influence the religion or happiness of
It he many thousands wuo let other people do their
•thinking for them?
Not that we mean to decry research along
jlhese lines. It seems to us that it is the most
fruitful and promising field of human effort, on
the contrary. \Vc believe that the world is roused
to the vastness of the subject as never before in
its history. We have no doubt that in every na
tion, in the humblest grades, keen, conscientious
minds are striving along the dark passage way
(to what end they know not. It is not this earnest
Effort which we would discourage. What we
hold it wise to t’hrottle is the premature expres
sion of shallow views, the tendency to dogmat
ically announce absolute decisions, when we are
not even at the first milepost. All we can do is
to grope in the dark, and helpfully guide the hand
of the man who may be a little farther advanced
fhan ourselves.
We further deplore the controversy for the
undesirable manner in which it involves religion.
Such a blight has been cast over the entire sub
ject by the repulsive growth of charlatanism that
religion is manifestly too dear, too personal, too
(vital a subject to be implicated in its meshes.
When Should Business Re*
tirement Come?
MONO the many old questions un
der new faces which are being
hauled over by the press of this
country, one of the most interest
ing concerns the time at which a
man, successful in the pursuit of
business, should retire from active
work and. in hackneyed phrase,
“enjoy the proceeds of his labor.”
Symposiums, containing the opin
ions of the most successful men in
the United States on this subject,
are being conducted by several
leading newspapers. 1 he views of
Andrew Carnegie will be interest
ing, since he has been preeminently in the publid
eye by reason of his many benefactions. He
savs, partially: “By retiring from business while
still in full health and vigor 1 can reasonably ex
pect to have many years for usefulness in fields!
which have other than personal aims, and not to
spend mv old age in struggling for more mil"
lions.”
Somewhat different from this view, and unique
in that it mentions nothing of a charitable nature,
is the contribution of John D. Rockefeller, the
Standard oil magnate. He says:
1 <lo not see how 1 can lot go until I die. My interests are
so many and far-reaching that there is no possibility of my
being able to retire at sixty, or even ten years later, it me
and the capacity for work are siuireu me. Poit it is. o,
course, possible gradually to transfer many of the burdens to
younger shoulders, as has been already done.
William C. W hitney, the New York millionaire
ind politician, has made up his mind very firmly,
to retire from active business, having reached
; sixty years of age. lie states that it has long
been his ambition to pursue this course when lie
attained three score years, and devote the re
mainder of his time to pursuits not precisely
within the world of business, perhaps some pet
hobby which busy cares have prevented his en
joying during the period devoted to the amassing
of wealth. This he calls "the time to begin real
living.” He takes the stand that previous suc
cess and the acquisition of wealth has purchased!
for the individual freedom to spend the remain
der of his days as he elects.
Abram S. Hewitt, a typical successlul New
Yorker, and Chauncey Depew, United States sen
ator and president of the New York Central
railroad, take very much the same ground in the
symposium. They believe that a man who v.e-
’serts his work because of the approach of late
years is in serious danger of rusting out. His
mind having nothing further, of vital nature, to
occupy its powers, and its entire bent turned!
from other pursuits into that particular one in
which success has been met, straightway begins
to diminish in power and zest of life when the!
responsibilities ot existence are removed.
.We b . eve that one Oi the keys to the situa
tion may be found in a sentiment from Mr. Car
negie set forth in a part of his statement not
quoted in this editorial. After declaring that he
approves the wisdom oi specified retirement, but
naming the change as dangerous inasmuch as he
has known it to cause much unhappiness, he gives
as the reason "because so many, having the abun
dance to retire upon, have so little to retire to.'l
It is exactly along this line that several editorials
have been published in The Sunny South recently,
and it is satisfying to have this view corroborated
by one of the vast judgment and experience of the
philanthropic ironmaster.
The trouble, not alone with millionaires but
with nearly every moderately successful business
man as well, is that he narrows his scope by too
close application to one line. If his bent be
handling stocks and bonds, it is the custom to
center the mental energies almost entirely upon
the fluctuations of the market, and in studying
their causes • nd effects. Just as well, if a man
deal in lanu, lumber or butter, so absorbed are
the faculties in mastering the detail of the occu
pation that other happenings directly under his
nose escape him altogether. With a great many
people their pleasures, a rather doubtful term to
apply in this connection, are taken in their busi
ness. As a very natural result the mind is abnor
mally developed in that one direction and woe
fully vitiated or stunted in others. Half the
beauties of life, worlds of which many people
are ignorant, are passed by unnoticed.
We are almost beginning to believe that the
average well inlormeu business man is the ex
ception. Test him in conversation, and while he
will evince a vague knowledge of art, literature,
science, religion, discovery and other topics which
you niay introduce, he could not, for the life of
..ini, tell you anything definite beyond the bounda
ries of the occupation in which he spends his
daylight hours. Thus it is that when the oppor
tunity comes for retirement, as it does to very
few- men, it finds the subject totally unprepared.
He clings to the things which have made the
brightest and best years of his life, and his mind
is unable to occpy new fields, even when it is at
liberty to do so.
THE SUNNY SOUTH
Poems of Sentiment
and Fancy
*
Mother is Crowing Old
The eyes that were bright with a starry
light
Are faded and dim today.
The brow once so fair with no line of
care.
Its fairness hath drifted away.
And the face like a flower in its youthful
bloom.
With its wealth of beauty untold.
Is careworn and sad and plaintive today
For mother is growing old.
For you and for me hath the lines of
care
Been drawn on the patient face,
And the form that is bent and feeble now,
Hath lost its old-time grace.
And the hair like a rift of drifted snow
Hath lost its gleam of gold,
The footsteps are tottering quiet and
slow.
For mother is growing old.
On face and form and in dim blue eyes
Are the works of passing years.
Made while the patient, tender heart
Was throbbing, perchance, with tears
For the safety of those so loved, so dear,
More priceless far than gold.
And it saddens my heart to feel and know
That mother is growing old.
And soon, ah, yes, alas! all too soon,
Will the quiet footfall cease.
The tender eyes will have sightless
grown.
The loving heart find peace;
The willing hands will be folded low,
The warm sweet lips grown crId,
Then loyal and patient and loving be,
For m ither Is grow ing old.
—may e. McMillan.
Belleview, Ga.
*
Resurgam
A soul lay, trembling, near that cross
On which hung, crucified,
A Savior fa thorn-crown’d King)
All bruised and worn with suifering,
And looking on Him, cried:
“Oh. Master, was it then for me
Thy precious blood was shed?
For mo the anguish and the tears.
For me the conflict through the years,
Which bows Thy sacred head!
“Such pain divine must bear some fruit;
And what, alas! have 1
To offer for this sacrifice
Which bears aloft to Paradise
Those worthy now to die?”
A tender voice, as from above.
Made answer: “Live for Me!
Then will 1 not have borne in vain
The jeers, the scioffs and stinging pain;
Once more I'll live—in thee!”
) '
A sighing breath and then again
Came softly wafted down:
“A life lor others nobly spent
Will lend to thine a sweet content—
My cross assures thy crown!"
—SOPHIE PLUNKETT GA1I.MARD.
Atlanta. Ga.
*
Jfbundant Love
Fill life's cup so full of love
That no evil may creep in.
Then will earth soon be transformed
And no more be courting sin.
Peace, sweet peace, will fill the soul.
As the rule of love holds sway,
Angel voices then will sing
Through the long millennial day.
Hearts, o'erflowing With God's love,
Make the su«shirfi of the world,
I eve alia k'imfTie's e'er should, then, •
Have their banners all unfurled
So that all may see the way
To the Heavenly Father’s light,
Which illumines earth with joy,
Filling it with sweet delight
—MARTHA SHEPARD L1PPINCOTT.
Moorestown, N. J.
What Men
By W T Stead
Written for Ti'he Sunny South
HAT is worship? It is the
voluntary devotion to that
which we esteem to be the
highest. What !s it that
people in London and New
York voluntarily devote
most service to? I put out
of the question the service
that is involuntary or com
pulsory, as for instance,
the greater part of our
daily life, which is spent
in securing the necessaries
of existence, what we shall
eat, what we shall drink, and where
withal we shall be clothed; and, what is
of ever-increasing importance in great
cities, in what house we shall find shel
ter. The earning of a livelihood is as
compulsory as a soldier's drill. Worship
must be voluntary, and all worship is at
tended by sacrifice. In discussing the
gods of other nations, we go to their
temples an! altars, and when the sacri
fices cease to smoke on the altar we
recognize that faith is growing cold.
Hence voluntary sacrifice is of the essence
of worship.
Who then, judged by this test, is the
God, or who are the gods of the two
great capitals of the English-speaking
race? There may be two capitals, but
they have only one God. or at least one
supreme God. for :n New York and Lon
don. as in ancient Rome, there is a Pan
theon of deities. The great God, the
Jupiter of the medorn Olvmpus, whom
all men worship and whom a great num
ber serve with almost undivided atten
tion, is Self. It is the fashion to speak
of the worship of the Almighty Dollar.
But the dollar itself is not a deity: it is
rather a thing which we pursue, chiefly
in order to offer it up as a sacrifice on
the altar of Self. Of course there are
many good people who will regard this
assertion as rank heresy. They say that
they worship the Lord God Almfi | ty.
either Jehovah of the Jews, or the Fa
ther who is revealed by Jesus Christ: but
as a matter of fact for one thought that
men spare either for Jehovah or Jesus,
they have a hundred thoughts about
themselves. It is not the Will of God,
but what they want for their own grati
fication. their own comfort, their own
vanity—that is, their supreme law. Self
is the God of this world, and there are
none so good but that they do him rever
ence.
The forms of popular religion do not
differ so much in the object to which
they are directed as in the method. As
in the church there are many forms of
rituals, so In the worship of Self there
are many differences of service. Some
men display their devotion to Self by
seeking for power, others by seeking so
cial status, others again by devotion to
mere physical comfort; while a smaller
class, who care little for the comfort
of their body, are equally devoted to
the cultus of Self In intellect and taste.
But the temple of the popular religion
has many side chapels, and some are
much more crowded than others. Pleas
ure, Power, Vanity, Luxury, appeal with
varying force of attraction to our citi
zens, from day to day, and from year to
year. Each one of these chapels is more
crowded than the Christian temple or the
Jewish synagogue. Hence New York and
London alike are predominantly Cities
of Destruction from wihleh the pilgrim in
MARCH 22, 1902
My
the Tramp Busy World
By IJfN MJtCLJtREN
Author of Bonnlo Brier Bush” etc
Written for B»e Sunny South
iNE of the memorable and
pitiable eights of the west,
as the traveler journeys
across the prairies, is the
little greup of Indians
hanging round the lonely
railway station. They are
not dangerous now, nor
are they dignified; they
are harmless, poor, abject,
shiftless, ready to beg or
ready to steal, or to do
anything else except work,
and the one possession of
the past which they still retain is the
inventive and instinctive cunning of the
savage, who can read the faintest sign
like a written language, and knows the
surest way of capturing his prey. One
never forgets the squalid figure with
some remains of former grandeur In his
dress, and the gulf between us and this
being of another race, unchanged amid
the modern civilization. And then one
comes home and suddenly recognizes our
savages at our own doors.
Our savage tramps along our country
roads, and loafs along our busy streets,
•he stops us with his whine when no po
liceman is near, and presents himself
upon our doorstep, and when he is a mas
ter of his business will make his way
into our house. He has his own dress
combining many styles, and various pe
riods, thougli reduced to a harmony by
liis vagabond personality. He has his
own language, which is unintelligible to
strangers, and a complete system of
communication by pictures. He marries
and lives and dies outside civilization,
sharing neither our habits nor our Ideas,
nor our labors, nor our religion, and the
one infallible and universal badge of his
tribe is that our savage will not work.
He will hunger and thirst, he will sweat
and suffer, he will go without shelter,
and without comfort, he will starve and
die, but one thing he will not do, not
even to get bread, and that is work; not
even for tobacco, his dearest treasure
and kindliest support, will he do fifteen
minutes honest labor. The first and last
article in his creed, for which he is tire-
pared to bo a martyr and which makes
him part of a community, is “1 believe In
idleness.” He has in him the blood of
generations of nomads, and if taken
oit the roads and compelled to earn Jiis
living would likely die. A general law of
compulsory industry wouid tiring the race
to an end.
Besides his idleness he has many faults,
for he is a liar to the bone, he is a
drunkard whenever he cun get the
chance, he steals in small ways when
it is safe, iie bullies women if they are.
alone in a country house, he has not a
siieaking acquaintance with soap and
water, and if he has any virtue it is not
of a domestic character. He is ungrate
ful, treacherous, uncleanly, and vicious,
to whom it is really wrong to give food,
far more money, and to whom it is bare
ly safe to give the shelter of an outhouse,
far less of one’s roof. And yet he is an
adroit, shrewd, clever, entertaining ras
cal. He carries the geography of coun
ties in his head down to the minutest
details which you can find on no map,
knowing- every mountain track, and for
gotten footpath, every spring where he
can get water, and the warmest corner
in a wood where he can sleep. He has
also another map in his memory of the
houses and the people that dwell therein;
which he ought to pass by, which it were
a sin to neglect, which are worth trying,
and which have changed hands. And he
is ever carrying on his ordnance survey,
and bringing information up to date, and
as he and his fellows make a note of
their experiences for those who follow
after, it may be safely said that no ono
knows either a country side or its in
habitants better from his point of view
than our friend the vagrant.
Perhaps the struggle for existence has
quickened his wits beyond those of his
race, but at any rate our vagabond is not
fettered by that solid and
TheTribs conventional English in-
of Tramps tellect which persists in
Obi ervei doing things as our fa-
No Price* tbers used to do them,
dents and will not accommo
date itself to changing
conditions. Our vagabond has certain
old lines which lie has long practiced
Worship:
Bunyan's Allegory must flee, if he would
attain to tho celestial city; but the num
ber of pilgrims is few. and even among
them there are few or none who do n it
pay surreptitious visits to the shriaes
from which they have fled.
Russell Lowell in his poem. “The
Search,’’ describes how he went to seek
for Christ, and found Him not, although
he found His churches
in v. hich from time, to
time His followers deem
ed it their duty to sub-
themselves to a
imprisonment, im
agining that thereby they
served Him. If it be true that all paths
to the Father lead, when Self the foot
has spurned,” then it is evident that in
the worship of the true God we need to
look further afield than to the churches
or chapels which are dedicated to His
worship. That these churches may and
do render great service to aid the citizens
of both New York and London to turn
away from the worship of the false God
whose altars smoke with ever-renewed
sacrifices in every household, is not to be
denied; but the service of the true God
Is not to lie measured by the splendor
cf their ritual, the number of their serv
ices, or the correctness of their creed,
but solely by the extent to which they
dethrone the almost universal idolatry
of Self and establish in the heart of the
individual the principle of revolt against
the popular heathenism and replace it by
a passion for altruism. But even when
the most liberal allowance has been made
for the beneficent influence in this re
spect of the religious organizations spe
cially so called, nothing is more certain
than that both in London and New York
the groat majority of humanity lies al
together outside of their direct influence.
There is not sufficient accommodation in
either city to take in all the population,
and even that scanty accommodation is
far in excess of those who avail them
selves of it. The fashion of taking a
census of attendance at places of wor
ship has died out of late. But twenty
years ago it was very popular, and the
results were tolerably uniform. In no
town were there sufficient sittings to ac
commodate more than a fraction of the
population, and In no town did the con
gregation fill more than a fraction cf
the seats. We must, therefore, look else
where for a universal constant opposing
force, if we would understand how it is
that the worship of the false God Self
is prevented from working out Its logical
result of universal selfishness, and the
extinction of love from the heart of man.
For God is Love, say-* the apostle; and
where Love is God is. and where Love
is not, there is no God manifest to Man
kind.
The universal mainspring of true re
ligion, therefore, which fortunately op
erates in both cities constantly, despite
all difficulties, is the natural Instinctive
yearning desire of man for woman, and
woman for man; and the resultant of the
consummation of that yearning in tho
love of mother for child, which is at once
the emblem and fruit of the divine in
stinct. The true temple of the living God
is not the church but the home in which
“our. Father" Is no phrase from a prayer,
but a living reality, *nd where the moth
er and the child are the supreme influence
in home.
In New York and London, as in all
great cities, this perennial means* of
grace is limited by the very conditions
of city life. For hundreds of thousands
in both cities home life is absolutely lm-
God not
Always
Found in
Churches ject
or Chanels short
and which he is always willing to use.
in suitable circumstances, such as the
workman out of employment and tramp
ing to another city to get a job because
he has not money enough to pay his
railway fare, or a convalescent just dis
charged from hospital, and. king „J U f
way home to his wife and children, or a
high-spirited man too proud to beg, and
only anxious for a day's work in some
employment Which cannot be found with
in 20 miles. And when he plays any of
those role3 he is able to assume an air
of interesting weariness as if he could
not drag’ one leg alter the other, and on
occasion will cough with such skill as to
suggest galloping consumption, and when
he posts as poor (but proud) he only al
lows the truth to be. dragged from him.
But when those lines fail and new inven
tions are needed for new times, he rises
to the occasion. If there i?e a great min
er's strike he goes from town to town
begging money for his wife and children
at home, and * explaining the hardships
of a miner’s life which he has diligently,
although superficially learned; and after
a war he is a reservist who threw’ up his
profitable job at his country’s call, and
is now penniless and starving, but still'
unwaveringly patriotic; and j. there be
any Interest in the sea through recent
storm and shipwrecks, he also, this man
of many trials and many journeys, has
been saved with difficulty from the waves
and lost his little all. If he calls upon a
priest he is careful to call him "Father,”
and to pose as a faithful Catholic, and
if he be an irishman, his brogue then
becomes a fortune; and if he drops in
upon a minister of tho.- Kirk he recalls
the good which he got w?V sitting in
the West Kirk of Paisley, and if he be so
fortunate as to bo really Scots in blood,
and thereftre acc uaintod with theology,
he will not only deceive that minister,
but even the elect themselves. 1 mean the
Caledonian Society. When the vagabond
comes upon, a home of simple lay piety’,
he allows it to be understood that he has
led a life of fearful wickedness, but is
now a genuine penitent, asking only for
the means of gaining an honest livelihood.
He is fertile in devices and brilliant in
execution, without any prejudices against
the past or present, but ever bringing
forth from his treasury of unabashed
falsehood and ingenious impudence things
new and old.
Our savage hns also got what I be
lieve the Red Indians have not, an agree
able sense of humor which no doubt is
limited by’ practical details, but is in its
way very captivating. Wliat a stroke of
delightful in ny it was for a pair of
our savages to take a long street between
them, the man begging down the right
hand side, and the women the left, while
the man told a mournful tale of his
w'ife's death, and asked money to get her
a coffin that she might be respectably
buried—he being poor (but proiul) anci a
broken-hearted widower—as well as to
clothe their two mourning little ones in
black for the funeral; and the woman
told exactly the same story as she went
down the opposite side of the street, ex
cept that it was her husband she was
burying, and she was poor (but proud>
and a broken-hearted widow. They tooK
no notice of one another across the
street, and none when they completed
their work at the further end, but a
few minutes later they were sitting in the
same public house together, both won
derfully comforted and affording a re
markable illustration of the dead bury-
ing their dead.
Our vagabond is a superb actor within
his own province, and g.-eatly enjoys a
triumph in any conflict with the enemy.
He was one day singing the “Sweet By
and By” with such a voice and so much
unctuous emotion that I lost patience,
and broke out on him for his laziness
and profanity. For a moment he was
almost confounded, and then he assumed
an air of meek martyrdom suggestive
of a good man who had been trying to
do his little best for the salvation of his
fellow-creature, and was being persecuted
for righteousness’ sake. This was for
the benefit of a simple-minded old gentle
man who had been greatly shocked at my
Continued on last page
In London and New
York ^ &
possible. It is blasphemy to dignify with
the name of a home a crowded apartment
in a London slum or a New York tene
ment house, in which a herd of human
animals pig together for shelter or for
warmth. The overcrowding of the dwell
ings of the poor which renders home life
impossible, dries up. or at least atten
uates the flow of that river of the water
of Life which is the perennial source
from which the human heart can slake
its unquenchable thirst.
In London there are at this moment
•900,000 persons living in dwellings which
are overcrowded, that is to say, more
than two persons live in one room with
less than 400 cubic feet of space for each
person. In 1891, nearly 40,000 persons oc
cupied 6.000 rooms. We do r.ot usually
lodge six pigs in one sty. But in each
of these 6,000 rooms, six or more English
men, Englishwomen and English children
were herded together under conditions
which made privacy impossible, decency
inconceivable, and immorality inevitable
The same, story may be told of New York.
As cities become great, homes become
smaller and smaller, and in thousands
of casts they disappear altogether, and
when the home goes family life is im
possible, and man reverts to the promis
cuity of the brutes.
Nor Is that the only way in which city
life tends to strengthen the hold of he
great false idol of Self upon its votaries.
The lack of opportunities for social in
tercourse by which young men and maid
ens can meet freely for the purpose of
mutual acquaintance, friendship and mar
riage, tends directly toward that sin of
great cities which is rightly called pros
titution. inasmuch as it is that corruption
of the best thing which is the worst of
all things, and the perversion of the
instinct which is the eternal revelation of
God in man to the service of the most
callous selfishness.
How many persons are there in New
York and in London who are living in
such innocent intimacy with more of
the other sex as to be able to call them
by their Christian name? In the village
or in the small town where every Jack
is known to every Jill, it is different. But
In London there are thousands to whom
every one is Mr. or Mrs. or Miss or .
surname without a prefix, and when the
Christian name drops out of use a great
feeder of a civilized Christian life ts
dried up at its source.
Hence if we would undermine the tem
ples of the great god Self, and establish
a purer worship, the worship of God who
whieb Ve ’ the m06t efCectlve method hy
which we can operate U to promote more
freedom of innocent intercourse between
the vast multitudes ot lonely dwellere
cmt fl teV treet3 ’ aad to promote S S fa"
cilltate by every means, public and
vate. municipal or religious, the creaHon
of homes In which family life is
The home is the true temple of the liv’
ing God. whose worship goes on
morning till evening, and £hoL *J? m
never cease. It is cf course 8
alas! we all know, for the i ‘ a ’
to be the temnle tw hoB ?« Itself
■MB JRS. F
F~'V?| rent)ff.
IKV1 I iy elected
. JI of the nat
Mrs Schoff
FREDERIC
the noi -
presided
tiona] con
gress of mothers,
has been promirjetjt
for many years in
societies having for
their object improve
ments in the laws re
lating to the care ot
children. Xt was
largely through hsr
efforts that the near
juvenile court
was passed ,n Pennsylvania entirely!^
moving children from appearu,,,., , r /
criminal courts. A„ s . Schott has
ttful home and children of her ’* " J "
whom she is devoted. She propCsl
inaugurate a number of reforms 1.
conduct of her society. 11 ’ ;
1LLI) Marshal IM
Wolseley, who
deft England f Q
scat of
>r tl
war
■-—Africa, hi
not been in aeeo*
ith the Salisbuit
government K j n ,L
the Boer outbreak
assumed seri 0 u g
proportions, and re
tired from the com
mand of the army
in favor of Icird
Roberts two years
Lord Wolseley, now 79 years of
in the Burma-i
now years ot ■
Pise war, the Crimea, 1
in China in 1860, and J
Mrs AT W Baker
to be the temple for the cuitlvaMoJv
selfishness of the family, but ° f a
is at least one step higher fniurji^
ideal than the self-centered
the solitary unit. It is w* , eoce of
,lfe often stands in the wsT
wider altruism, just as patriotism^* ° f ^
in the way ot the true «— l 8n> stand*
of those whose country Is
whose nation is mankind world,
not let our devotirm to the^W** 1
the most potent hander to. our2J
what is good, although it a •£
cause there is something fceUsg*
Senator Elkin, of West
storm center of a fierce
leading colleges. The
at Princeton, another «
third at the University
■These three brothers
war over the as
institutions. They
other on their 1,
track teams, tmIL
outcome,
upo« by
The
was the
1
Lord IVolseiey
ago.
was
the Indian mutiny
fought in the Boer war of 1881. He
had a/ll the honors his country can grant.
The report is now that he is going to
South Africa on personal business. There
is a disposition to doubt this, however.
♦
HE return home of
Andrew D. White,
the United States
ambassador at Ber
lin, which has been
rumored since fam
ily bereavements ami
business interests
gave the ambassa
dor a desire to give
up his post, is said
to be set for No
vember.
Mr. AVhite began
Andrew D White bis diplomatic career
as attache of the United States cmliass;
at St. Petersburg over forty years ago.
He was president of Cornell university
front 1867 to 1885, and while still the head
of that institution was for two years min
ister to Germany.
From 1.892 to 1894 he was minister to
Russia, and in 1897 was appointed am
bassador to Germany. He was chairman
of the United States deleagtion to The
Hague peace conference.
RS. N. W. BAKER,
who is organizing
the modistes and
dressmakers of tho
United States into
a inion for mutual
protection, is a well-
known writer o/i
fashions, as well as
a large importer of
women's belongings.
She has already
started her work by
• g. mixing in New
York and other east
ern cities, and purposes to secure the
membership of the 300,000 women in th.
business. Mrs. Baker is a Chicago worn-
an. She declares that members of the
above professions are often .bni!)U^Rk ,
posed upon, and that some concerted ar
tion is necessary as a precautionary meas
ure.
♦
EWTON Booth Tar
kington. author of
“The Gen tieman
from Indiana,” who
has just been nomi
nated for the state
legislature of
Indiana, is one of
the popular young
writers of the day,
a newspaper man,
an illustrator as
well as novelist and
playwright. “Mon-
JV B Tarkingron sieur Beaucaire” is
his most ambitious effort at playwriting,
and “The Gentleman from Indiana” is the
best known of his novels. Mr. Tarklng-
ton has never been in politics before. He
was born in Indianapolis in 1869, and i<«
a Princeton man.
Not only is he popular as an author, but
he has also made large numbers of pow
erful personal friends.
-•
APTAIX ARENT
SCHUYLER
CROWN 1NSH I ELD.
chief of the bureau
of navigation of tho
navy, whose nomi
nation as rear admi
ral has been sent to
the senate by the
president, came into
prominence first at
the outbreak of the
Spanish war as a
member of the board
Capt Crowninshieldot strategy and - in
connection with his present assignment in
the bureau of navigation. Captain
Crownlnshield was relieved of the com
mand of the Maine in favor of Captain
Sigsbee just prior to the catastrophe in
Havana harbor. He served" as a junior
officer during- the latter part of the civil
war. being graduated from the naval
academy in 1863. He was made captain'
in 1894 and is 52 years of age. He Is
of the United States delegation
naval service and has a wide
ance with officers of high rank in
service.
♦
George Henry, Earl Cadogan. lordl
tenant of Ireland, who has advb
k'ng to postpone his long contes
visit to that country until a more
tious time, began his political
a conservative member of parlii
Bath, and has always been a st
of Lord Salisbury’s policies. He _
fifth earl of Cadogan on the death -
father in 1873. In 1875 he was a
namentary under secretary for
for the colonies in 1880. From !
he was lord privy seal, and n
lord lieutenant of Ireland sinos I
married Lady Beatrix Jane,
second earl of Craven, in
62 years old and is popular
people.