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The Men Who
“Had Money but Lost It” j
By Orison Swett Marden.
i PROMINENT New York lawyer of wide experience says
that, in his opinion,’ nirfety-nine out of every hundred of
those who make money or inherit it, lose it, sooner or later.
How many thousands of good, honest men and women
there are in this country who have worked very hard and
ai! sorts of sacrifices of comfort and luxury in order to lay
up something for the future, and yet have reached middle
life or later without having anything to show for it; many
of them, indeed, finding themselves without a home or any
probability of getting one, without property or a cent of money laid by for
sickness, for the inevitable emergency, or for their declining years!
For the sake of your home, for the piotec-tton of hard earnings, for your
peace of mind, your self-respect, your self-confidence whatever else you do,
do not neglect a good, solid business training, and get it' as early in life as
possible. It will save you from many a fall, from a thousand embarrassments,
and, perhaps, from the humiliation of being compelled to face your wife and
children and confess that yoh have been a failure. It may save you from
the mortification of having to move from a good home to a poor one, of see
ing your property slip out of your hands, and of having to acknowledge your
weakness and your lack of foresight and thoughtfulness, or your being made
the dupe of sharpers.
Many men who once had good stores of their own, aie working as clerks,
floorwalkers, or superintendents of departments in other people’s stores, just
because they risked and lost everything in some venture. As they now have
others depending on them, they do not dare to take the risks which they took
in young manhood, and so they struggle along in mediocre positions, still
mocked with ambitious which they have no chance to gratify.
Thousands of people who were once in easy circumstances are living in
poverty and wretchedness today because they failed to put an understanding
or an agreement in writing, or to do business in a business way. Families
have been turned out of house and home, penniless, because they trusted
to a relative or a friend to “do w'nat was right” by them, without making
a hard and fast, practical business arrangement with him.
It does not matter how honest people are, they forget, and it is so easy
for misunderstandings to arise that it is never safe to leave anything of im
portance to a mere statement. Reduce it to writing. It costs but little, in
time or money, and when all parties interested are agreed, that is the best
time to formulate the agreement in exact terms. This will often save lawsuits,
bitterness, and alienations. How many friendships have been broken by not
putting understandings in writing. Thousands of cases are in the courts to
day because agreements were not put in writing. A large part of lawyers’ in
comes is derived from the same source.
Business talent is as rare as a talent for mathematics. We find boys and
giils turned out of school and college full of theories, and of all sorts of
knowledge or smatterings of knowledge, but without anility to protect them
selves from human thieves who are trying to get something for nothing. No
girl or boy should be allowed! to graduate, especially from any of the higher
institutions, without being well grounded in practical business methods.
Parents who send their children out in life, without seeing that they are
well veised in ordinary business principles, do them an incalculable injustice.
—Success Magazine.
Good and Bad Features
• o of • •
International Marriages
The Rev. Or. R. JT. MacJlrthur.
<■ | EC ENT newspaper reports of married troubles between
titled foreigners and American women who have become their
R % f wives fill the hearts of all true Americans with mingled pity
and humiliation. That some of these marriages are most
* * j happy is quite certain; some of them, without the slightest
f $ doubt, are true love matches. There is also political, finan
cial, and social gain at times in these international mar
– l-H q- *>*5- •> *!**> riages. Some American women have exercised much political
influence in Great Britain and in other countries beyond
the sea.
They have carried American democratic ideas with them into ancient
palaces; they have helped shape policies of political parties, and have done
much toward the Americanization of Great Britain. They have really been,
in a number of eases, the power behind’the political thrones. At the great
Durbar in India, an American woman, Lady Curzon, filled a place of power
and honor second only to that filled by the Queen of Great Britain. She
honored America and was a benediction to India and to the British Empire
at large.
Unfortunately, there are other types of women who have contracted
international matches. Mrs. Hammersley, at whose miarriage I refused to
officiate, was the first American woman to carry great wealth with her to
England when she became the wife of the Duke of Marlborough. Several
other women since have given, their husbands much wealth in return for
the little they have received.
Some American women have paid an enormously high price for their
titles. There is a type of Americans fonder of titles than are the people
of the old world. Boasting of their democratic ideas, they will do more, to
secure a foreign title than Europeans would do. What is the price these
American women and their ambitious fathets and mothers are willing to pay
for titles? Some time ago during a famine _poo r
;Sai i n i in i** mB®IMmiHI
FRAGMENT.
0 dwelier in the valley, lift thine eyes
To where, above the drift of cloud,
stone
Endures in silence, and to God alone
Upturns There its furrowed visage, and »s wise.
yet is being, far from all that dies,
And beauty where no mortal maketh
Where moan,
larger planets swim the
zone.
And wider spaces stretch to calmer skies.
Only Is a little way above the plain
snow eternal. Round the
knees
Hovers the fury of the wind and rain.
Look up, and teach thy nob,e heart
cease
From endless iabor. There is perfect
Only peace
a little way above thy pain.
—George Santayana.
II LOVE, AND A VIOLIN
By CHARLES RAYMOND MACAIILEY.
Autumn chill was in the air. Dead
brown leaves were strewn in little
heaps along a street that sprawled its
way at the foot of a mountain that
rose in easy gradients upon the one
hand; upon the other a turbulent riv
er tore its way to the sea through a
canoned pass. The sun had but just
dipped behind the white-topped
crags, and the frontier village was
sunk in sweet-obscurity in the purple
shadows that stretched along the base
of the hills. It was as though the
everlasting mountain had drawn its
royal robes about its rugged form,
donned its white nightcap, and was
preparing to sink to sleep in the calm
bosom of approaching night. Just
another touch of realism was given
the metaphor by the moon that flirted
a moment with the silhouetted crags,
and then, with a cold, passionless,
good-night kiss, parted reluctantly
from them and sailed majestically off
into the star-lit dome. From afar
out upon the plain came the mourn
ful howl of a solitary coyote, which
was echoed dismally from cliff to
beetling cliff. The faraway murmur
of the rock-girted river and the oc
casional hoot of an owl among the
towering pines were the only sounds
that disturbed the stillness of the
evening.
Dan Cupid stood at the intersection
of two well-nigh deserted streets and
bethought him of some congenial oc
cupation for his meddlesome and mis
chievous fingers.
Upon the opposite corner a youth
and a maiden met, stopped and cofiv
versed in guarded undertones.
Dan unfastened his bow from an
invisible baldric and drew an arrow
from the well-filled quiver at his_
back; fitting the notched shaft care~
fully to the taut string, he took delib
erate aim and let fly at the pair across
the road. The downcast eyes of the
maiden, the blush upon her cheek, the
abashed look of the youth, gave un
questionable evidence of the little
god’s unerring aim.
It was an excellent shot and pretti
ly planted, yet it afforded the litpe
sportsman no more satisfaction or
amusement than would have been felt
by a mighty hunter upon potting a
sleeping antelope. The game was too
easy, and scarce worthy the skill of
the marksman.
Dan turned disdainfully upon his
ehubby heel and wandered aimlessly
down the darkening street. Being
the author of his own code of ethics,
he did not hesitate to peep through
a keyhole here or between the chinks
of a shutter there. Whenever occa
sion offered he winged an arrow from
his tiny bow.
He arrived at length near the
point where the street canted up into
the mountain. There, at the end of
the level thoroughfare, stood a ram
shackle, two-story structure, which
might have been said to have been an
“Old Curiosity Shop” transplanted.
Within its grimy windows was ai
ra yed a wondrous • variety of unsal
a ^ e kaickknacks. So far as could be
a
hfs bow wandered aimlessly over tbe
strings, and then came the first notes,
low and sweet, of “Robin Adair.”
The old woman raised her head,
clasped her bony hands together, and,
looked straight before her into thaj
flickering blaze. It was her initiJ
movement sineeDan Cupid’s entraj®
From “Robin Adair” the
swept The notes into “Cornin' falling Thro' firm, th<®| r^H
were
true, tic sentiment. and not without Dame a tcu<|B Mac®
hands she were stole clasping and atip uj®
once a glance
ter, and if could be seen
pression of pleased surflH
upon music her wrinkled breathing oounte® thef®
was
life into a multitude of deS
ics. She was traversing
circle of her existence by
diameter. Once more she sJn
a lass, and a right bonnielH Ilf
Again she saw sturdy Tarn
Whirter come tramping aflpj
moor—she the cooing of even the fancied sl^H dM
amorous
drumming the lowing of of the the frogs stabled in cal^^H t^H
she listened to the sweeter
Tammas’ whispered declaration®
love. She lived again her marriBH
and was thrilled once more with tl!B|
glowing hopes, their lofty ambiticfiB for^H
as they embarked together th^H
New World. She felt again
and pride at the birth of their®
dren, She realized, and the sorrow for the of first their time® pa^|
during of poverty, the last score of privation® of years-^H
years
of utter loneliness—they hnc*• ..
apart at the till opposite they stood. ends metapt®p/* of th^^^^H
Love had receded from their® Sh)
left it bleak and barren.
ily gathered up her chair anflk
it nearer the figure by the wjfl
Dan Cupid saw and smile*
offered a quarry worthy of*
culprit, I lest dart. too, for He having felt somev^^^^H fiot^H
the window—thus leaving®
bereft of his presence— m
howl of the wolf at the W
was determined upon
self, and so took mosfr
shaft. Swift and true sped J f
chair; MacWhirter he lifted riraij®] hisif'
brow; deep flush mounted® nouf if
the last ,
ti:e Rye" meltet** iff’;.,
’Annie Laurie
rich, power!'uA^ rjr>
nolo !
woman n
to theji
toil
slur
che<
>1
The strong anmV®H
paper of the liiturf%w
in advance for
and collect and settle all Wiiwta
accounts on the first of each month,
so that the publisher will know
twelve times a year bow he stands
and get the added benefit of being a
cash customer. It may even dis
count its bills. It will accept only
one price from any source or under
any condition. It will accept only
cash payments for church, city, the
atre and air show advertising, taking
tickets only for after notices. It
will get cash for all railroad adver
tising, and the editor will pay cash
when he travels like any other busi
ness man, and, besides, he can use
any limited train on the road. And
incidentally he will have more time
to build up and maintain his paper.
Railroad companies cannot get along
without newspaper advertising. They
are experimenting now, but they wilt
all recognize this fact and come to
be among our best cash patrons. The
paper of the kind we are talking
about will accept no trade contracts
publisher at the time
®nMg|g|jmnthe adver
“ot 10
feeders
young are disposeu“tfi*i^A_ for TneS?>
buy them pets,
should never he sold for squab Is?
ing. They will prove a disappoint
ment to those attempting to raise
squabs for market.”
We went through five different
rooms, or pens, as they are called,
each used for a different purpose,
and each more fascinating thtn the
last. In one room Miss Blythe-placed my“hand
a four weeks old squab iff
and smiled when I asjed its weight.
“I am really afraid to have you say
how much the squabs ..weigh,” she
said seriously; “because the papers
will question it and likely call me to
account for it.” Finally she agreed
to let me state that a fifteen ounce
squab was more frequently the rule
than the exception, while it was noth
ing unusual to find one that weighed
a pound. This she thinks is the re
sult of her plan of feeding. “We keep
different kinds of grain,” she said,
“and salt, ashes, gravel, oyster shells
and fresh water in their feeding
all the time. Through the
®nter season the birds are given a
jfi h ixtui'e consisting of equal parts
wheal and coarse cracked
fajUn an automatic feeder.
proportion is two
^wcracked corn.
are at all
' jlShftL^b’rniun
,nd
sen ' p ; ’•
■ * §p| -
as the sabuV,. wj
anJ which wasTHB®
tered as the buffalowB® pu®g|
for cross breeding :
might not be done in the I
during AccSBr ! •
new varieties?
the tales of early settlers thes<Nl___
were prolific beyond belief.
Pigeon breeding has been engaged
in throughout Europe and Eastern
countries for centuries; at present it
is scarcely more than a pastime in
the United States, Of the three
hundred varieties of pigeons none has -
the popular interest or value reached
by the carrier or homing breed, which
is trained to return to its home from
great distances, and is utilized for
carrying messages.—New York Trib
une. i..i
Should Quit Right Now.
If the country newspaper man
would cease to act as a free-will, un
paid and unthanked agent for the
city dailies it would be better for
country newspapers in general. The
little street gamin has his price for
selling the city daily on the streets,
but the country editor will hire a liv
ery rig, dr-ve twenty miles through
the mud, and actually feel proud if
•fcgMcceedsin ■fc^tormers selling a half at the dozen
reg
®^£tever, agents,
