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ROMANCE OF ALABAMA HISTORY—M’GILLIVRAY’S CHICANERY—By B. F. Riley, D. D.
AT great sacrifice and by laborious travel, the commissioners of the government under General Pick ens, made their way to GaJphlnton, when, lo! McGill!vray was not there. Instead he liad sent to represent the Indians the chiefs of two towns accompanied by about »'•<» warriors. As negotiations had been conducted by Gllltvray and as ids pres enco was necessary to consummate the proposed treaty, th. re wan not only dis appointment ort the part of the commis sioners, but great indignation. Even though every chief had been present, the absence of their representative and com missioner would invalidate :«y agree ment. and this McGililvray well know. Nonplussed by his absence, the commis sioners of the government merely stated to those present that which Congress de sired to accomplish, and withdrew. This gave rise to fresh complications which now assumed a three-cornered aspect, as the federal commissioners' plans were oh-1 IMMMHHIHMIMMIMMHMItHMtMIMttttlltfM . jected to by the commissioners of Geor gia on the one hand, and by the In dians on tlie other. Conditions were growing worse instead of better, much to the delight of Alexander McGillivray, who would produce such a juncture as would eventuate in his final enrichment. With out the knowledge of either of the other parties, he was pulling the wires with the hand of an adept schemer. After all the negotiation, therefore, the whole affair proved a fiasco. Still something must be done. Condi tions could not remain as they were, and border warfare was continually immi nent. The government was prostrated by the revolution, and a general war with the Indians might invite an inter ference on the part of both England and Spain. President Washington was much worried and perplexed, and summoned to his aid the ablest councilors. The sit uation was exceedingly grave, and a sin gle misstep might plunge the country into the most disastrous of wars. The next step led to the appointment | of Dr. James White as the superintend ent of the Creek Indians. Dr. White was cool and cautious, a skilled diplomat, and was familiar with Indian treachery, while he had the advantage of enjoying to a degree their confidence. He was not without a sense of self-reliance in the undertaking, and if he could not succeed in the ratification of a treaty, he would so probe into the situation as to glean facts which would enable the government the better to pursue its policies. He knew McGillivray well, and was not averse to a tilt in diplomacy with this arch plotter and schemer. He at once wrote to McGillivray from Cusseta, setting forth bis mission and that which lie proposed to accomplish. The reply was one of equivocal phraseology, lengthy, shrewd, evasive. It might mean anything or nothing, and was susceptible to a va riety of interpretations. The upshot of the correspondence was a meeting at Cusseta. This time McGillivray was pres ent with a proposal to the national om-1 missioner. which proposal was astound ing and startling. Surrounded hv a large number of chiefs, MeOilUvray submitted his unreasonable proposal. This occurred in April. 17S7. The proposal In brief was that the general government make large and unreasonable grants with the alterna tive of a prompt acceptance or that of a declaration of war on the first of the following August, Just four months hence. McOlllivray knew that the pro posed conditions would not be accept ed. and he also knew the consequence of a war to the young nation. Mut ters were not growing better fast. Here was a Juncture for the skill of the ripest statesmanship. Thu general government and the state of Georgia were as much out of accord as were both with the Indians. It was an op portunity which the keen MeGlliivray could not suffer to remain unused. It was a matter of bargain and trade with him and the question uppermost with him was how much he could derive from it. ^ So astounding was the proposal that l>r. White found himself a pigmy deal ing with a colossus, and he could do nothing more than to report to the President the result of the meeting. All the while McGlllivray was shuf fling with the Spanish authorities in such a way as to extort large sums of gold from them, while he was dis sembling with the American govern ment for a similar reason, using mean while the deluded Indian as an instru ment to promote his designs. He would hold the Indian in his grip by an af fected solicitude in his behalf, while he would promise certain results to Spain for given sums, and meanwhile agitate Washington with a threat of war. Men and interests, however sacred wor<« to him as puppets to he em ployed for the profoundest selfishness, lie would create demonstrations of hos tility on the part of the Indians in | order to extort from Interested mer I chants tribute to quell the disturbance, lie would threaten Spain with America, and America with Spain, thereby pro ducing alarming conditions in the com mercial world, and from nations and merchants alike he reaped booty. Exasperated to a pitch almost un controllable, Washington at one time | thought of a war of extermination, but this would Involve the lives and prop erty of the people of the whole south, [involve the country seriously with I England and Spain, and leave a stain on tho American government, and the idea was abandoned. Resourceful as lie was. Washington had practically reached the limit of suggestiveness when it occurred to him to appoint a secret agent charged with the mis sion* of inviting a big council of the Indian chiefs to repair on horseback all tho way from Alabama and Georgia to New York, then the seat of national government, in order to confer with him in person in the adjustment of all grievances. Col. Marinus Willett was chosen by the President for this delicate and difficult function. Taking- a ship at New York, Colonel Willett was just 14 weeks reaching Charleston, from which point he Im mediately set out along the Indian trails on horseback for the region of the Chattahoochee. He was served by faithful Indian guides and through [ many days of hard riding he proceeded to his destination where he had ar ranged a meeting with MeGillivray and all the great chiefs. Conditions were now favoring MeGillivray* for he well knew' that ho had produced fright at the national capital and was abund antly prepared for the result which he was now nursing. According to pre arrangement. Colonel Willett and Col onel MeGillivray met at the tow'n of Ocfuske, on the Tallapoosa river. Me GJUlvray found his match in Colonel Willett, who was as skilled in the art of diplomacy as was MeGillivray, but without his unscrupulousness. A MAD ACTOR’S LAST TRAGEDY—By Dr. W. E. Evans ONE morning about four years ago I was engaged in my study in Birmingham, when my servant came to the door with a visiting card an nouncing LAURA IDA BOOTH. In a few minutes I was in the parlor. Tho visitor wanted to see mo about im portant business, she said, and preferred to bo in a room where we should not be subject to interruptions. I thereupon in vited her into my study, motioned her to a eomfortablo chair, and bade her feel free to ask mo anything, or to loll me anything that concerned herself, if she thought I might be of assistance to her. 1 was not long in deciding that the per son before mo was a lady of refinement. She was tastefully dressed, and was (ftdte pretty. Her complexion was dark; her hair was black; her eyes were large and coal black with a brilliant sparkle; her forehead was broad and high, and her faco was round rather than oval. She would have been pronounced a pretty woman by any one passing her on the street. She had with her a leather handbag, wlioso contents caused its sides to bulge considerably. After she had taken her seat ehe began to make known tiie occasion of her visit to me by saying: "1 am an actress, and have been on the stage for years. I have been advised to come to you by one of tho editors of Tho Age-Herald who answered my ques tions over tho phone this morning. Ho said that you could give me morn infor mation than tiny body else, by ^reason of* mi old family friendship, on the subject that lias led mo to travel many hundreds of miles. I have gone to Washington and to other cities, and have interviewed many prominent men who were formerly employed In t lie service of the, govern ment; and while f have gained a great deal of knowledge on the one subject that swallows up all other interests, yet, '1 am not fully satisfied. I am still prose cuting my investigations, and having heard of you, I am hero to ask your as sistance, for I believe that you arc in position to help me.” r assured her of my interest and sym pathy, after which she proceeded to tell mo, that, she had always been taught to believe that she was the daughter of John Wilkes Booth. That Booth was not the man w ho was killed in a barn In Vir ginia after the assassination or Mr. 'Lin coln, but that ho escaped from Washing ton and finally found his way to the mountains of Tennessee, where he lived for many years in seclusion under an assumed name. “In the course of time," she continued, “he married a mountain girl, and about a year after the mar* iiage, I was born. My mother had never known her husband by any name except that by which everybody in the moun tains knew hpn; but later be became confidential, and divulged his real name. He positively swore that ho was the John Wilkes Booth whom the world thought had been killed; but that he had defeated the secret service men and the army of government detectives, and had gained his hiding place In the mountains of Ten nessee. My mother believed him, and has always persisted that John Wilkes Booth was my father and her husband. Yonp may see the Booth features In my face. Now, give me your opinion of my story." As tile lady began to recite her story. I listened with a smile of incredulity upon my face, mentally saying the while, an other revival of an old story; but I soon saw that she believed most profoundly the things she related, and, so, I heard her with serious patience. When she had finished her narrative. I asked her if she had any papers or pictures that would tend to identify her father with John Wilkes Booth. Where upon she opened the handbag that T had already noticed, and drew forth a mass of letters, clipped extracts from news papers, photographs, and wood cuts. As they were handed to me I laid them care fully on my desk and. Inspected them. There was a picture of Booth which had been cut out of a magazine or newspaper. 1 was quite familiar with the original photograph, and have seen it, from time to time, for many years. Then I held up another picture and asked, “Who is this?” “That is my father—can you not see that this man and the other are one?’’ 1 could not sec quite so well us that, but I could see a likeness. Then I read letter after letter that had been written her by former officials in Washington and elsewhere. They were generally encouraging to the woman seek ing knowledge of her paternity. The writers said they found much In her story to interest them, hoped she would prose cute her search, there might be more in it than one supposed at first blush, and so forth and so on! I went through the mass of alleged proofs, and as 1 was obliged to bo honest with her, '[ turned my revolving chair un til. I could look her square in the face, and said, “My dear Madam, I cannot deceive you In a matter that you take so seriously. T must bo frank with you. You have nothing in that batch of letters and pictures to justify your claim to be •the daughter of John Wilkes Booth. I :\vc some articles in my desk that will forever establish the fact that Booth was killed in Caroline county, Virginia, at the Garret farm, lie never escaped to Tennessee.” Thereupon, 1 reached to one of the desk drawers, and dn vv out several official envelopes, whose contents 1 read to my visitor who listened with profound atten tion. rf shall hero disclose to the reader the remarkable evidences that T possessed of the statement 1 had made with such emphasis. 1 shall not say how I came by what 1 now have and hold. I shall reveal no secrets that may Involve the memory of those who are gone to the great mystery beyond. I shall write with care and only in a general way. I was a mere child when Booth was killed; but as the years cdme and went, many of (hose who had been tho young actor’s friends became my acquaintances, some of them were my kinsmen. I came to know theatrical people who were on tho stage the night Mr. Lincoln was assassi nated, when Laura Keen’s company played “Our American Cousin;” and X remember quite well the old theatre, now destroyed, I believe. I stood at the bod .siue, only a few years ago, of an aged man who was dying. He had been Booth's friend, and told me—and yet, I shall not write what lie told me. It will do no good. In the same room w ith Laura Ida Booth the day she sat in my study, there was a manuscript copy of several entries that Booth had made in ills journal: It will be remembered that Mr. Lincoln’s assas sin expected to cross from the Maryland side of the Potomac river to King George county, in Virginia, within a few hours after shooting the President. But he, and Harold, who was with him, hud to hide for several days on the Maryland side of the river, because of the United States gl\i boats which W'cre on the look out, for blockade runners on the Potomac. While in hiding Booth continued his cus tom of writing in his journal. When his body was dragged out of the Garret barn, he having been shot and tho barn being in flames, upon searching his body they found his personal journal, r give a few Mnes therefrom: “After being hunted like a dog through sw;amps and woods, and last night chased by gun boats till I was forced to return wet, cold, and starv ing, with every man’s hand against me. T am here in despair. And why? For doing what Brutus did and was honored for doing, and what made William Tell a hero.” Then the diary proceeds to ex press the tortures of conscience; he fears that God will not forgive him, and thinks he'd hoi ter go back to Washington and clear ids name. Ho writes, ‘T am aban doned, with the curse of Cain upon me, when, if the world knew my heart, that one blow would liavo made me great.” Then follows, ” -— mother;” an en try that docs not concern us. Another; “X do not wisli to shed a drop of blood, but I must fight the course.” These en tries uro enough. The journal was found upon the body of the man who wroto It. Tho writer was John Wilkes Booth. I then read to my visitor a copy of an order issued by General Townsend to the commandant of the old Capitol prison. This order was written in response to a letter received from the lato Bdwin Booth asking that the body of ills brother be turned over to the family for interment. The order required the custodian to let any member of tho Booth family, or Mr. Jacob Weaver, an undertaker, have the body of John Wilkes Booth. Up to this time the body lay in a cell In the prison, under a long slab of stone. Only a few persons knew of its whereabouts, it had been buried Iri the darkness of tiro night, and It was generally believed that it hud been sunk In the Potomac. Uppn application the body was turned over to Mr. Jacob Weaver, lie bad II taken to Bnllimore, mid in the presence of the family and a few friends it was buried in Greenmount cemetery in the Booth lot, near the tall shaft that marks the grave of Junius Brutus Booth, the elder, and not fur from a grave held by mo in most reverent affection. Before the body was committed to the earth the coffin was opened. There was enough nr the body left for purposes of Identification, and if all else had yielded to decay, the head was sufficiently pre served to establish the certainly that John Wilkes Booth was tho man lying in tho coffin. There was tho same won drously thick, wavey black hair. A cer tain person present leaned over the body and clipped off a lock of that beautiful hair from tho decaying brow—-“and here it is, madam, look at it! It. is not as black as It was once, you will observe a tingo of brown; but it is soft and silky, notwithstanding tho many years that have passed since beneath it throbbed tho wild brain of tho romantic actor." •She looked at mo with wondering eyes, and was silent. After a while she asked. "Do you think he was crazy?” “I'ndoubt edly. As a boy Brutus was bis passion; lie would assassinate trees; lie would at Jib posts; ho would stride as Brutus does on the stage; rind would quote Brutus in dramatic tones, as his eyes flashed fire from their dark depths, t have heard in tho family-” but this is enough, for I said some things to her 1 do not wish to publish. When I had finished rny side of tlie story, my visitor sat silent for a while, then she said: ”T have learned more to day about tlio whole case than I have ever known, and more than tho people whom I interviewed In Washington ever seemed to know.” r bade her farewell at tho door, and have not seen her since. Kor many years after tho assassination of Mr. Lincoln it was impossible to con vince people that Booth had paid the penalty of his deed. Men would report that they had seen him face to face in foreign lands, long after ho hud been killed. A newspaper published a story to the effect that a. young lady, in (Jeorgla, was receiving letters from him. Some one started the rumor that Booth had ap peared in Richmond, Va., as a rlerg\ man and was known h\ the name of the'Rev. Dr. Armstrong. They saw in I>r. Arm strongs limp, tho result of Booth’s acci dent incurred as he leaped from the. Pres ident’s private box to the stage, after lie fiyed the fatal shot. Dr. Armstrong’s hair was black, too; but, if I remember rightly, it was as straight ns an In dian’s. This was all nonsense. In regard to the ease made known to me by Laura Ida Booth, t shall assert what r believe. Tho man who said lie was John Wilkes Booth was either of unsound mind, or was knowingly an im poster. lie looked something like Booth, lor lie had a high forehead, black hair, blaek eyes and a blaek moustache. Tn a condition of mental abnormality he could readily eoneeivo himself to he Booth. Thousands of eases of misconceived per sonality are reported by neuropatholo gists. cm tho other hand, if ho were a sane man, one may easily see how lie couhl assume the name of a famous, or infa mous, person to whom he bore a resem blance, fur tho purpose of gaining local notoriety. How the mountaineers would i marvel at having among them the world's greatest fugitive! He would he perfectly safe in asserting his self-imposed per sonality. He could not be apprehended by tho government authorities, for they know that Booth was dead. He ran the risk, however, of being shot down by some mountaineer Maro Antony, who was an admirer of the assassinated Caesar. When I think of tho career of John Wilkes Booth, my mind quickly springs to tho tragedies of Hamlet, and King Lear. In the lirst T recall these lines, and apply them to Booth: •■The Hash and outbreak of a tiery mind.” “His mad ness is poor Hamlet’s enemy.” “O, what a. noble mind was bore o’erthrown.” ”U, ho Is mad, Laertes.” Broni Lear I take the words and apply them to Booth's mind: “As mad ns the vexed sea “Alack, sir, lie': mad. 'Tis tho times.” And I never read the lines in Henry VHI, without Blinking of Booth: "Was he mad, sir? ' “O, x cry mad, exceeding mud.” CONCERNING CLOTHES III—By George Eaves, D. D. SPEECH was given us that we might hide our thoughts,” says Macchiavelli, with line Irony. Imitating him, we may say that dress Is given us that we may reveal our sex, our rank or office, our occupation, our personality. The more we cover, so much the more do we reveak^ Most people, taking a cursory view of clothing, would say that it has two functions, to promote modesty or de cency, and to protect the wearer; also that both these functions are served by covering and hiding the person. But we have found reason to suppose that the tirst dress was a string around the • Waist or shoulders, to serve as a pocket jpr belt for carrying a tool or weapon. HArnl now we discover that tl\e more t|*vo cover ourselves the more we re weal ourselves. So that both historically feud personally the superficial judgment gjrovcs its own shallowness. No sooner was the string around the Waist or shoulders than the woman and tlie man hung leaves upon It, for dec orative purposes. By and by skins of animals are employed, the bark of trees, presently woven material, and at last the modern array of silks and velvets and laces and ribbons, shoes for the feet and millinery for the head. But as to decency, again I must insist that the woman of the Dyak nation In Bor neo, who w'ears a single leaf, has her feelings of modest decency as truly, I though not with such complexity, as the modern western lady who inherits the delicate soul of a thousand western mothers all expensively attired. Indeed it becomes increasingly evident to the student of anthropology that dress owes far more to decorative than to utili tarian aims. It began with no purpose but convenience. It developed by the in terplay of a desire to decorate and a desire to increase the conveniences of ... existence; but on every hand we have proofs that convenience is constantly sacrificed to display, or to some more or less obscure motive of fashion, es sentially decorative. In western lands man has chosen tho line of convenience, since life has be come more strenuous, and lie lias yielded to woman his former almost complete monopoly of dress as orna ment. Woman has therefore cultivated the art of fine raiment and has made it a means of arresting attention and even of awakening desire. For it is ackonwledged that sins against chas tity actually Increase In direct ratio to tiie '‘civilization'’ or dressing of so ciety. Such sins are most common, not among naked savages, but where fash ion rules most imperiously and where most attention Is given to the art of sumptuous clothing. That is where libidinous passion makes its grand as sault on womanhood and creates a "’kite slave traffic. And tko women kave themselves largely to blame be cause they affect styles of costume that appeal to the abnormal psychol ogy of their masculine contemporaries, rendered abnormal by all this mystery and the elaborateness and this sex em phasis through many generations. It would be impossible, for instance, In the south seas, or among the Af rican tribes who go nude, to find a group of lads gaping around an ex hibition of native girls In '’tights.'' Tt would be equally* impossible for a lady member of the aristocrucy of New Guinea to earn vast sums bv bare legged dancing as it Is said a member of the British aristocracy Is now do ing In New York. Why? The question needs no answer. To those people there is no indecency, because there is no mystery. And here is a point for mis sionaries: You do not Increase chas tity or decency by compelling your na tive Fijian or Papuan to clothe him self. You may make him far less de cent; you may flood him with sala i eious sentiments of which he has al ways been innocent. Y'et in London and New York and Birmingham there are numberless persons who measure social safety, as the lirst New Yorkers did. by the number of garments society dons. What we must learn is that the n.ore sex emphasis and the more mys tery, so much the more allurement there is in a complex society. It is In this region that boys and men, yes, and girls and women, too, become degen erate by a diseased imagination. Here is the psychological danger of clothes. Protection will be found in giving children a frank and wholesome fel lowship, surrounded by the sanctities of home. Boys and girls must be guard ed from the dangers of conventional mystery, while reverence is still pre served. Without such wholesome and frank fellowship In the home, what chance has a civilized boy to be an in telligent and clean gentleman? So long as mystery abides, so long the defiance of convention has its own perils. Every breach of custom, every change of fashion, even the occasional, donning of gala dress or evening at tire, is charged with danger, lets loose I currents of psychic voltage which can burn human souls. Such lightnings play around every social organism! Such tragedies are carried in coats and pet ticoats! Its “difference" is the tragedy and tlie beauty and the flashing peril of dress. Festive raiment has from time immemorial held a singular lure. In fes tivals do men and women exchange habiliments and strut in a Gallic mas querade. We all know how sadly the Anglo-Saxons and the Germans per form tliis ceremony, but the Latin na tions do it naturally and we try to imitate them. The coryphee, garbed as a quaint masculine creature, does not dream that she is the lineal descend ant of savage ancestors who swapped breechclouts in a prehistoric Mardi Gras. Yet such is the fact, our friend Professor Crawley being judge. To make the utmost contrast with daily custom is the Joy of the festival, he says, and so in every land men and women exchange their apparel to make a laugh infectious. But we, In these sed ulous days of ours, need provoking mirth more frequently than did our forbears; and so the danseuse springs upon the boards as little like the nor mal women as may be, that the pit and gallery may snicker appreciatively. But the foolish lad who flattens his nose against some vulgar window where that danseuse appears in colored pho tography, or who purchases the mono tint replica thereof in the Police Ga zette, or who, in his more foolish later years, provides himself with a "den” on whose quasi-artistic walls the same coryphee shakes her aged hut still fan tastic toe as of yore, finds the com bination of the mysterious and the unusual compelling his very soul to worship with a pleasure that is chiefly shame. Ah, it Is so very complex! But if every woman agreed to be so al tered as a coryphee always, on every sidewalk, both boy and man would be more normal. After the first gasp we should get accustomed to the new de crees of fashion and accept the style as most defensible. Such power hath cus tom! What gravels the boy, the lad, the man, is the association of ideas start ed by the unusual, the anomalous, with the vaguely mysterious and forbidden. It is upon the untaught, both boys and girls, that these forces of social psychol ogy play most mortally. The intrinsic mischief and venturesomeness of young tilings impels many an ignorant girl to risk the defiance of custom, but she finds that the huntress is smitten with a poi soned arrow. A desire to attract easily becomes the vulgar determination to com pel admiration. Lacking normal and wholesome fellowship in things of rea son, these children naturally substitute for that an irrational intimacy that is first mawkish and then ruinous. The church, the school, the home—what are they doing to avert the gathering storm, the ripening tragedy? They have the clue to the situation. Some wholesome Instruction in sex hygiene is within their reayh, though the task is difficult in deed. If a girl would be known as a lady, must she not move secure in a re gion where the very suggestion of sex tragedy does not come? Instinctively she will so reverence the souls of her boy friends as she reverences her own soul. The sacred fact of personality, its in violable dignities, will be more to het than all the meretricious glories of “con quests.” And the boy who would attain to the reputation of a gentleman will ignore any accidental shocks to his sense of propriety and convention, because lie will assume that his girl friends are sweet and innocently pure and incapable of playing tricks upon his imagination. To produce such girls and none other, sucli boys and none addled of heart and brain, is the business of home, school and church. But can anyone guess where the dif ference is between such an attitude and that of boys and girls in a savage com munity, where the virtue of chastity is accepted as a supreme law of social life, though raiment may be almost lacking? It is not the raiment that makes the delicacy, nor is it the delicacy that makes the raiment; hut it Is long centuries of custom that have shaped all these. Ruskin’s seven lamps of architecture have their counterpart in the seven canons of clothing. But who shall name these seven? Certainly the first must he called Reverence. The essential vulgarity of much that we call dress is that it lacks self reverence and reverence for the rights of others. Talk of “Lotzean self-feeling!” By that, of course, Is meant tho impulse to spread Ihe area of one's personality, to magnify one's Importance. Would you call that insolent pride reverence? Such tail-spreading by insufferable dandyism is the death of self-respect, tlie denial of social unity. You shall sec "Lotzeau self-feeling” in the child who plumes her self on the possession of n hat more expensive than her sister Jane's. You shall see it in the fat man who balances on his broad cranium a silk hat of ordi nary proportions, and who carries tran scendent,ally a gold-headed walking cane. There is "Lotzeau self-feeling" In the young lady who endeavors to blind one with phrenetic hatpin or with an exuber ant feather or ribbon, 12 Inches high, on a hat crown already six inches too high. Reverence, however, cannot abide with tlicso monstrosities. Reverence is not pride In self-extension, hut a humble and keen regard for others' well being. Rev erence, therefore, i*i a. lamp of dress ar chitecture. It regards the susceptible, mystery-haunted boy, who is trying to get acquainted with his own body and to walk intelligently among others' per sons. Certainly he it is whom Convention first entices am', then seeks to slay. Tlie second lamp is Confession. This Is the confession lhat man Is man, woman woman. It is (he tacit recognition of physiological facts. Woman's dress must be womanly, man's manly. The third, as I see things, is the canon of Simplicity, the supreme virtue of dem ocracies. Here America breaks faith with demons': and glories in expensive and excessi " things. Woman must save (he spirit "I democracy for America. She Is losing it. The fourth canon of dress would he Reticence, u very major rule of an. But the modern age Is losing Its reticence, hiuI is groping to regain what It lias so large ly lost already. Its antithesis Is osten tation, its sisters are modesty and sim pi left ty. I am not writing of dress in Its symbolism of rank and wealth and dig nity. These sporadic claims to distinc tion vulgarize dress even in tho pre tended effort to make its evolution demo cratic. Rank and dignity are for the pagent of by-gone feudal days, and they may help us bear this drab and loveless era of the compulsory and the common place. The psychology of dress looks out on pageants and historic wonder-periods with a most complacent stnile. By all means let us have pageants, but only in play. Hut everyday garb must exhibit not the difference of caste hut tho com mon interest and unity of womankind and mankind. Something malicious, cruel, tragic, inheres in dress that symbolizes wealth and rank and superiority. "Am I iny brother's keeperV* Little Hister, adventuring in these strange cross currents of responsible being, it was not you who first asked that question, but C wish you would ask it, now and then. I wish you would ask it when you put on your garments, when you select them, when you eye the fashion plates. The ‘‘robe of righteousness" is always sprin kled with tears, but is the most ex quisite of gowns, it is the only one tit to wear. Jt Is more likely to cost $5 than , or $155. These others are less able than this one to express tho larger and truer self. Between aspiration and de spair the fine lad may be driven to lose himself, while you shine in raiment of needle worjc. Simplicity, Reticence, let them stand for tin* third canon and tho fourth. Tin* -fifth is Oraciousiicss, the sixth Ad equacy, and the last Serviceableness, which is the belt, or finishing touch. These are all more than self-regarding virtues, and therefore they belong ti/ clothing, which is the medium by which you approach and Influence the others. Do .von not think the day is coming- when you will be able, as an artist, to create a dress in obedience* to canons like theso -a whole costume, from hat to heels? HEART TO HEART TALKS—By.James.A.'.Edgerton OVE rules the world. War, the conqueror, finally meets liis own conquerer. The lion of the earth and the lamb of God He "down together, and the lamb is master. Non resistance, the returning of good for evil, is triumphing over force and vio lence. The battle songs are dying, and the hymns of peace are swelling up to the very throne. The brute in us grows feebler and the God in us grows si l onger with the passage of the ypars. The life and death of *the Nazarene are not forgotten, and the gospel of good will was not in vain. The song sung by the angels over Bethlehem 1900 years ago is today re-echoed by angels and men over the whole earth. The dawn gives place to the sunrise. The children of men look over into the promised land of brotherhood. From the heavens above to the earth be neath the souls on both sides of the seeming veil of death are vibrant to the thought of universal love. At last, like little children, we are coming to see. Love is the all in all. It conquers hate, it conquers war, it conquers sin, it conquers wrong, it conquers us, and only when we are fully conquered by it do we really be gin to live. Love ever gives itself, never exacts. It ever serves, never enslaes. It does It ever serves, never enslaves. It does bless Its objects and gains it own hap piness in the happiness of the one be loved. Tt denies not itself. Tt flows out to all creatures. It is good will. It is comradeship. It is glad in the prosperity and well being of others. It is innocent, trusting and joyous. It is good cheer In the heart, laughter on the lips and sunshine hi the life. It Wearies not in well doing and fails not fit rebuffs. Tt is as diffusive as light, as Imperceptible, as life giving, us till conquering. The. soul that has it has Solved tbp riddle of the sphinx and found the key to heaven. Love is the divine law of life. When the Master would test one of klg disciples lie did not propound a l catechism or a creed. He said, “Lov-1 est thou me?” When asked as to the command ments he gave two, and love is the burden of both—love thy God and love thy neighbor. There is but one royal road to suc cess. That is the street called Straight. The man who follows any other road is headed toward trouble, and sooner or later lie will get what is coining to him. A straight line is the shortest dis tance between two given points. A strainglit man is the quickest to arrive at the point toward which he aims. I This, of course, is on the theory that the straight man moves. All the eth ical standards in the world will hardly make a sluggard arrive. Let no young man make the mistake of thinking that he can hoodwink and outwit the universal law of things. The moral law is a most important part of this universal law. Let no man, young or old. imagine that he can long delude even Tils fel low men. Day by day the intelligence ! of the race increases, day by day there is a growing Inslsteince that every one j play fair. The man who said that “might makes right” avu.s a literary crook. Lincoln stated the real law when lie reversed the formula and made it read, “Right makes might.” He pro\ed his Avords by his works. It Avas because he was right that placed Abraham Lincoln among the gigantic figures of modern times. The consciousness of being right gives a man nerve, backbone and con fidence in "himself. He knows lie has solid backing. The business of the Avorld is being done more and more on the basis of confidence. The fiioral defective is im possible in this new field of commerce.-' The merchant who has an established reputation for honesty has a capital that cannot be deposited in banks. The late J. P. Morgan testified that his loans were made to men of character rather than to those with collateral alone. ' Collateral may be stolen or may de preciate In value, but character is thief proof and is not subject to bull and bear raids. Tlie temple of success is situated on the sfreet called Straight. In the early morning, after the death of President McKinley had been flashed around the world, a newspaper man, weary with the laLor of the night, took his way homeward. Since even ing the bulletins had indicated the certain end. An entire nation was shocked and stunned, and in every capital of the world were expressions of sympathy and grief. Kach click of Hie telegraph instruments was articu lated with sorrow, while underneath this note was one of indignation at the dastardly agent of murder who had conceived the deed. Here was a new force that was a portent, and men looked at the future with foreboding. One reporter had remarked, "If there Is a God he has left thiB world to be ruled by chance and chaos." Out of this turmoil Hie newspaper man went into the night. Tlie hour was ap proaehing the dawn, and there was si lence over tlie city. The only sounds heard were the occasional shrill crow of a cock, the distunt bark of a dog and a solitary hoof beat echoing front some neighboring street. Men might be torn by grief and frenzy, hut nature was un moved. Tlie ruler of a populous nation had lallen, but through all the excitement and change he rtf were stability and peace. 1 lie great blocks of brick and mortar loomed I he same its oil yesterday. The distant mountains stood as they had stood for centuries. . Overhead the stars shone with an un wonted brightness. Low io the west was .. ’o the north lay the polar slat and Hie bear, to Hie east was a brilliant planet, yellowing in tlie dawn, and arch ing across the zenith was tlie Mllkv way, strewn like dust with tlie suns. Ail the numberless constellations stood exactly as they had stood at tlie birth of the first tana. ^ There were wolds on worlds, sys tems on systems, till the mind was be wildered at their contemplation. The infinite spaces were populous with orbs. There were.stars so distant that the light of the troubled earth dwindled to a point and disappeared trillions of miles short of them. Around these suns were innu merable otiier planets, peopled by other races, on which were enacted other trag edies. On through the infinite silence swung the worlds, the suns and the systems, in perfect order and harmony. Outward to the limits of vision and still oulwurd through unthinkable distances marched the glittering companies, regiments and armies of worlds. And so perfect were the plans of the Commanding General that there were no false steps, no clashes, no faltering ranks. Kvery commanding sun was In his place, as were the planets and moons, the celestial privates, and all moved with the precision of a perfect machine. Before this sublime spectacle the wor ries of the world dwindled, its fevers grew cool and the complaints of the hu man fell silent. The questioning of God became the babble of a child who does not understand. The talk of chaos was the discordant squeak of a mouse among the swelling harmony of the spheres. The newspaper man had caught a glimpse of the real. Henceforth he de cided that in some sort he would attempt to give the vision voice. He knew no better avenue than through his accus tomed work, for the modern newspaper is supposed to stand, above all else, for real things. Why not be a king in your own world, not a Icing over ethers, but a king over yourself? If you full to exercise self sovereignty you are like ;■ ruler who abdicates, who i-onfesses himself too weal: to sit upon his throne. Such a ruler Is a quitter. Don't you be a quitter. Did you ever realize that your body is made: up of many lives, that it is full of organisms and that your own will is 4he ruler of this populous realm? Did you ever realize that you are a bundle of appetites, of desires, of affect tions, of forces that you cannot measure and of tendencies you cannot fathom? Did you ever realize that you in your heredity and in your soul, whose origin you do riot know, nave inherited the wis dom and experiences, the essence and results of innumerable lives? This is no mean kingdom over which you are called to exercise control. There Is in you something of your father and father’s father, of your mother and moth er’s mother, of remote generations whose names you never heard. % There are also in • you reminiscences of yourself, memories that elude you and | .vet^are very potent in shaping your life. Just as you are the heir of the past, j so you are the creator of the future. Your children and children’s children1 through the generations of the future] will be better or worse because of what you do, what you think, wlmt you are. Have you measured these things? Have you contemplated v.hat your rulership of self may mean? It Is not alone vour own success or failure you are shaping, but the happi ness or misery, tl.e strength or weak ness. the health disease of those un born. Not in one single moment of pur lives do we live unto ourselves alone. We are helping or Hurting others all the while For kingship means responsibility and in rulership over ..elf is involved obliga tion unto others. Whatever your station In life, you are a king or queen in your own right. Rule yourself. Follow the royal road of success, not only for your own sake, but for those you love and for those who will come after you. The world •-ailed him impractical, a dreamer. Yet may It not bo possible that It has been the world that did the dreaming—likewise that its dreams have been nightmares of error, of false self consciousness, of shadows, of passions and prejudice* and of the husks of life instead of Hie substance? A dreamer, was he? Mediocrity lias called every genius a dreamer. Igno rance has called every philosopher a dreamer. Blindness has railed every prophet a dreamer. Sloth has culled every reformer a creamer or something worse. The old. standing among its fetish worship and its relics of the past, has hurled it sneer at the open eyed new—“You are a dreamer." A dreamer, was he? Yet Ids dream has overturned empires and systems. The pa ganism of (’.recce, of Home and of tin north fell before it. J1 spread over all the civilizations of Kurope, found a new' land and a new home beyond the sea and is just now winning its wnv against the older religion's of the Orient. A dreamer, was he? Yet against hi* dream the onslaughts of materialistic philosophy have been made for 1900 Near* in vain; bis disciples have been fed tc wild beasts and burned at the stake; pro fessed followers have misrepresented him and loaded down bis pure, spiritual faith with a mass of formalism and Image wot - ship. Yet despfto all the opposition and obscuration he has a firmer : dd on tin world than e\er before. A dreamer, was lie? Y< t today tin- few minds arc just begin in g to realize tin wonderful meaning and scope of hi* dream; his healing is again being prac ticed; great forces are springing up R put his social ideals into action; his truth is being revitalized by a spiritual renais sance. and the world is just now gaining ravishing glimpses of a real Christian era ahead. A dreamer, was be'.’ Yet hi dream was the sweetest and most beautiful vision ever brought before the eyes of the hu man ran', and it is coming true o tJalllcm. long lin-t thou be<>n mis represented both b) friend and toe. De spised and almost alone in Judea. tb> faith lia* grown until its devotees an laboring In all the earth. \t la t through the long night of persecution and abuse it has come to the dawn of its triumph. Il has survived the attacks of its enemies. [and more marvelous still it has survived M he barnacles who fastened themselves upon it for selfish or class ends. And it is carrying forward its gospel of regen eration, of health and of social brother hood until It shall conquer the world. Many are deterred from seeking religion because there are hypocrites who profess it. Would these people cease trying to make money because there are counterfeit coins in circulation? .A thing must never be condemned bo cause it lias imitations. Jtather arc these unintentional testimonials to its worth. For were it without merit no one would care to Imitate it. The fa»'t that there are wolves ins, beep's clothing is no reflection on tho sheep. That there are imitation diamonds does not detract from the value of the real stone. That anyone assumes a virtue bo does not possess is an unconscious tribute to that virtue. There can only be an imitation where there is a real article to ho imitated. Otherwise there would bo no model. Nor would there be an Incentive. Men only counterfeit those things which people es | teem. The genuine always precedes the spurious. So the existence of the spu rious always proves that somewhere Is i the genuine. j The fact that there are imitation relig ionists is very sincere flattery to the true religionists. That there are hypocrites is all the more reason that everyone else 1 should seek to be really good. All are i nor false. There is truth somewhere. I After all, much of the bypocracy wo think we sen in others may come from our misunderstanding of them. We are , "ever qualified to judge another until wo I can put ourselves in Ids place, seo through 1 his <•> <-s and feel with his consciousness, i ^ftcr that wo shall not desire to judge him. nut* main concern is to get right ' ourselves. Then we shall bo surprised | to see how nearly others aro right. I if you would realize how beautiful the : world is get beautiful in your own spirit. | it is wonderful what a transformation ft works* Try It,