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/ ,4 EDITORIAL PAGE &/>e SUNNY SOUTH Published Weekly by Sunny South Publifhing Co Businefs Office THE CONSTITUTION BUILDING ATLANTA, GEORGIA Subscription Terms: To those who subscribe to Z>he Sunny South only Six Months, 25c ^ One Year, 50c 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.