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Vol. 1. No. 9. WITHOUT MIC. I.INES BY A CONVICT IN I*BISON How does the active world go on Without me? Its laugh of joy, its sigh, its groan. The sun, the stars, the rolling moon. The brooks, the rivers, oceans moan Without me Say. is the busy world the same Without me? Do men seek fortune still, and fame. Beam with good will, or blush with shame Or is its existence but a name. Without me? And how along the paved street Without me? I>o friends once daily want to meet. And in the bonds of friendship greet Each other, smile in union sweet, Without me? Within the realms of "home sweet home,” Without me? Listening tor steps that never come, Of a weary wanderer’s endless roam, And is it silence, sadness, gloom. Without me? Is there o’er all a deathlike calm Without me? Do "hearts that once beat high and warm’ With love, now feel that greatest charm Broken, and elsewhere seek a balm Without me? Oh God forbid! O world go on Without me. Ye moon and stars, unfading sun. All nature's endless courses run. And friendship's webs be deftly spun Without me And in that circle broken still Without me. Bind up those hearts by Thy sweet will, And in their lives Thy peace instill. Protect them, Lord, from every ill. Without me Will there hereafter come a day Without me? When time ends and worlds pass away When Christ o’er all resumes his sway, l.et there be no heaven, I pray. Without me Tlie Way of Tlie World. Editor Mirror I am sick of the driveling cry that some of your contributors are wailing forth to the public about the wrongs they have received at the hands of stiff-necked society, and about the inequality of justice, the trickery of lawyers, prejudiced juries, the hounding detectives, and everything and everybody that had a hand in their detection and pun ishment. They try to make themselves ap pear as objects worthy of sympathy by re lating how they were led into wrong doing by bad company. Oh no! they were never bad company for anyone. They never pointed the finger of ridicule at the repent ant, nor romanced to the novice about “brown stone fronts, fast horses,” etc., nor imparted to him the secret of making them. Oh, yes, you are poor little Oliver Twists and all the rest of us are Artful Dodgers, Fagans and Sikeses. Where will you tindbad company if not here? And who in thunder are you if not a part of it? You howl about reform. Why don’t you practice it, and not go around squirting “Lark” juice on Mr. Colligan’s clean floor? Oh, yes, you love your dear old mothers and when you get out will go limping home like broken-legged poodles, and mother will take you in her loving arms and pour the soothing balm of sympathy into your wounded hearts, and stuff out your lank sides with the fatted calf. Y'ou will stay at home and comfort poor old mother till you have wheedled her out of her little hoard, and the “old man” begins to frown and be inquisitive, which your sensi tive natures cannot endure; and so again you are forced by the heartless “old man” to abandon mother, home and fatted calf. So by and by we will hear again the Stillwater, Minn., Wednesday, Oct. Q, 188 Y. old, old story of the hounding detective, the prejudiced jury, the clang of the cruel prison doors and the cold and cheerless cell. And by the way, brethern, when your cells seem cold and cheerless, if you will look back to your days of liberty and think of how, on many a cold winter's night you sought the hospitality of a “side-door Pull man,” and there retired by the light of a match to shiver out the dreary watches of the night and have your titful slumbers dis turbed by the shriek of the soulless switch engine, you will feel better contented with your surroundings, and will not be so ready to complain that the squeak of a night guard's slipper disturbs your slum bers. Remember our motto: “It is Never Too Late to Mend.” Now, don't think that I have tried to be “s-a-r-c-a-s-t-i-e.” for I have not. What I have written is intended to be in the same spirit as the following little poem which l hope you will read: “Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For this brave old earth must borrow its mirth. It has troubles enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer. Sigh, and ’tis lost on the air: The echoes rebound to a joyful sound. But shrink from voicing care. Bejoice, and men will seek you. Grieve, and they will turn and go: They want full measure of all your pleasure. But they do not want your woe. Be glad, and your friend; are many, Be sad, and yon lose them all; There are none to decline your nectared wine, But alone you must drink life’s gall. Feast, and your balls are crowded. Fast, and the world goes by; Succeed and give, and it helps you live. But no one can help you die. There is room in the halls of pleasure For a long and lordly train. But one by one we must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain.” L. I*. Tilt* Love of Some Other Fellow’s Sister. Editor Mirror Much has been said in the columns of The Minnon about maternal and paternal love, but as yet nothing has been written of the sisternal (see Webster’s new edi tion) love of some other fellow's sister. I’m getting somewhat mixed on this. Mr. Editor, but I’ll untangle it as soon as my emotions are quieted. The affections of some other fellow’s sister are as constant as the stream of water flowing through the cellroom and as vigilant as a night guard. These affections entangle them selves in the buttons of his nightshirt and stay there even after the buttons are off. The heart of the other fellow's sister is not dealt out by bits; it is not forced in any one direction. It, of its own free will, steps forth and presents itself intact to your ten der mercy. Yum, Yum. The love of father and mother is divided between their children —that of some other fellow’s sister is all yours. I mean, of course, provided this sister is not a widow with a few chil dren. It is very touching to see fathers and mothers meet their disgraced sons in a place of this kind, but how much more affecting is the touching of another feilow’s sister. Only the other day I saw a very handsome young lady meet her sweetheart who was in prison stripes. He. with downcast eyes and blushing cheeks, was at a loss how to gleet her. Suddenly turning, she saw her sweetheart and with a cry threw herself into his arms. Not a word was said by either, but the silence was divine. Why. if I’d been in that fellow’s place I would have been not only dumb, but deaf, blind and left handed. She was so ab sorbed in her sweetheart that she forgot the presence of others. I really don’t believe ‘..’SjSsljsa “ IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.” she caied whether any one saw her demon strations of love or not. As soon as she was released from her surroundings she very sensibly did not cry nor criticise the tit of his clothes, but began the conversation as though they had parted only yesterday. Finally the young man overcame his feel ings of shame which harrassed him when lie lirst saw her. Her actions showed him plainly that she wanted him to forget his disgrace and be her same devoted lover as of old. She did not soft soap him and tell him she was stuck on his suit, or that his hair pompadour was becoming. She re mained about an hour and left him the most miserably happy man in the prison. He hasn’t been tit for anything since. Would maternal or paternal love have that effect on a man? Never. And this girl was some other fellow’s sister. If a man wouldn’t reform after having a loveable girl put her arms about his swan-like neck and press her cherry lips against his rosebud mouth, every mother or father that he ever had could not reform him. lie is a lost sheep. I admit that maternal and pater nal affections are lasting but. not as much so as the affections of some other fellow’s sister. A case I read of last week conclu sively proves this. A widow whose hus band had been dead more than eighteen years married a second time and informed No. 2 that her dear hubby No. 1 never put his feet on the mantel piece nor smoked strong pipes in the parlor. How many mothers would remember such trivial traits of their sons? You hear of mother and father disowning their sons. Do you ever hear of any other fellow’s sister disowning any one? Why is it? Because they are glad enough to own any one you saw Mav be so, who knows? Oct. 1. 1887. Max. Tlie Vessel We Have Shipped In. This is a grand old ship but 1 would not advise any of my friends to undertake a trip in her. Here I’ve been on board two long years, and have not crossed the equa tor yet. The winds are in general favor able, intermingled with a squall occasion ally, but those are of short duration and do not in the least obstruct our course. Our officers are good men. and well able to care for the ship and crew whatever storms may arise. Our captain, lirst and second lieu tenants take their observations regularly each day,although they do not work this ship by lunar observations, sun’s altitude, lati tude, etc. Still, they have a way of doing business which we would call “dead reckoning,” and, although our speed is slow, we will sometime reach the port of destination. We are bound for a foreign port called “Liberty,” and are in hopes of reaching there sometime, although the (our ship 1 mean) is creeping along like a snail going backwards. Now, this ship is not like the ships 1 am used to. though a great many things are very much alike; for instance, the observations, the boatswain’s whistle that calls us all on deck, but not to shorten sail, because since I’ve been here I've not seen anything to shorten sail with. There are no bunt lines, no clewlines, no beachlines, no down halyards, nor anything of the kind. It is all steam. She is running by steam en tirely, and it puts me a little out of the way sometimes, but 1 have learned one tiling since 1 have been here, and that is, when our boatswain blows his whistle, to get around pretty lively. He is a pretty good man, but he can’t stand any nonsense. I am merely saying this for the good of my new shipmates who may sign a nicies and come on board during our trip: just get. along lively and don’t put on i <• many airs, and you'll be all right, because he don't like a man that shirks his duty or one that imagines he owns the ship. So just go along easy, mind your own business and everything will be well. When you see a squall coming just shorten sail and heave to, and all will soon be passed. We have a good steward on board and about Five Gents. twenty-five midshipmen. We do not get a month’s pay in advance, the same as any other ship, because the storekeeper who is ou board is a very accommodating man, and he will furnish you with everything that is necessary for the trip—clothing, bedding, soan, needles, thread, tobacco, matches, knife, fork, spoon; in fact, every little thing a sailor needs is ready as soon as you step on board. She is a good sea boat and very comfortable in a great many re spects. 1 have never seen a man called in his watch below to make or shorten sail, and I don’t think you need be afraid of being called out too often. There is another thing that I wish to tell you. Beware ot the marines that are on guard. You can see them walking around the taffrail and they have strict orders to shoot any man that tries to desert the ship. Instead of striking six bells at (I o'clock, the same as any other ship, they only strike three. So don’t make a mistake, and be always ready to watch below or watch on deck. And now my friends it is my watch be low, and I an going to turn in for a short time. If there is any alteration in the weather give me a call, but I am afraid this weather wiil continue for a good while yet. It has had a dark and dreary look for some time now. but you know the old proverb, “after rain comes sunshine.” so. after this darkness we will have light; and it seems to me that a ray of light has tried to break through the clouds for a long time, and I would not be surprised if we would get a spell of very fair weather with favorable winds continued. Well, good night; call me if you should happen to see land, though lam afraid that we have a long distance to run yet. No raging billows break against our sides. No furious tempest, nor yet tlie running tides Disturb our peace, endanger our frail ship— And still we are terribly tired of the trip. Because there’s darkness, nothing left but night The dismal day brings not a ray of light. Although we feel forsaken and alone. We say, "O God, Thy will be done.” Oct. 1, ISBT. GEO. ANDERSON. Hold On, Roys. Hold on to your tongues when you are just ready to swear, lie. or speak harshly, or use any improper word. Hold on to your hand when you are about to strike, or steal, or do any improp er action. Hold on to your foot when you are on the point of kicking, running away from study, or pursuing the path of error, shame or crime. Hold on to your temper when you are angry, excited or imposed upon, and when others are angry about you. Hold on to your heart when evil persons seek your company, and invite you to join their games, mirth or revelry. Hold on to you name at all times, for it is more valuable to you than gold, high places or fashionable attire. Hold on to virtue —it is above all price to you in all times and places. One Cashier Tilsit Is Safe. “1 see you have a new cashier,” re marked the president of one bank to another. “Y'es, we set him io work yesterday.” “Had any experience?” “Lots of it.” “Under heavy bonds. I suppose. Our man is under §150.000.” “Well, no. we did not require big bonds.” “(beat heavens, man. he'll run off in tw> weeks with the whole bank.” >. e have every conlidence in him.” • Well, you’ll pay dearly enough for it. lie'll be in Canada inside of a month.” “1 think not. You see he has just run away from a Canadian bank with §200,000. 1 think he is safe enough.”—Minneapolis Journal. Y’ou may depend upon it that he is a good man whose intimate friends are all good, and whose enemies are decidedly bad. —Lavater.