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Yol. 5. No. 21. IKE. His quiet ways an’ bonest look Won all the diggin's at the start; His blue eyes seemed an open book In which we read bis guiless heart. He first showed up at Placer Mount, Jes’ alter the big ’BO strike. An’ unobtrusive loafed around. All unconcerned an’ quiet like. Some thought he war a millionaire Prom 'Frisco, lookin’ up a snap, Whilst others said he had the air Of some revival gospel chap. The boys soon tied him to the name Of "Reverend Sanctimonious Ike,” .Jes’ cause he played the pious game So unconcerned an’ quiet like. He nursed the sick; spoke words o' cheer To them as ’ras’led with despair. An’ at the bed o’ pain hear His low, sad voice in earnest prayer No matter whar distress war found. You’d see that Sanctimoneous Ike, Jes’ like an angel movin’ ’round. All unconcerned and quiet like. One night the safe in which war kept The dust of all the men in camp War busted open while we slept. By some durned, onery, thievin’ scamp We took the trail amazin’ quick. An’ soon struck Sanctimonious Ike, Leadin’ a pack mule down the creek, All unconcerned an’ quiet like. We found the stuff, a jedge was chose. An’ thur beneath a jackoak tree, The court convened, an’ w'en it rose, We took the back trail quietly. As up the mountain side we dim. We took a back’ard glance at Ike, A hangin’ from a jackoak limb. All unconcerned an' quiet like. —Capt. Jack Crawrord Good People, Is It True? Within the past few months the follow ing question has presented itself to my mind: Whither shall the ex convict go up on his release? I have looked the question over in all its different phases. The soldier worn out by fbreed marches and hard fighting is buoyed up with the thought of home and loved ones; the sailor during his tempestuous life on the ocean has ever present before his mind a picture of home and its attendant welcome to him “when his ship returns.” The imagery of the convict is no less vivid. The day he enters the state institute where all the doors open inward he com mences to calculate and figure out the date when he shall again be free. He, like the soldier, the sailor, or the young student an ticipating his first vacation, has tender thoughts of home—a mother, sister, wife and children, perhaps looking forward to the day of his return. His term of sentence may be of long or short duration. The first, second and third years have passed and the end is drawing nigh; he has ceased longer to patronize the tonsorial department and his joy is nearing completion. Only two months; how they drag; each day seems a week; but gradually the time passes from months to weeks, and then he counts the hours until finally the last trump sounds and his resurrection takes place. During his confinement he has learned nothing evil, has formed habits of industry, has been a member of one of the largest to tal abstinence societies in the United States, his name has been entered on the credit side of the record with all the “good time” allowed by law, and when the warden and officials bid him God speed he is clothed in his right mind, and willing and anxious to again enter the ranks of honest labor. The door opens, he passes outward, and once more he breathes the pure air of free dom. During the war many pathetic scenes were witnessed upon the release or ex change of prisoners. Men wept and em braced each other, some got hysterical and many and many a poor, broken down prison wreck upon sight of the old flag fairly grovelled and Kissed the earth in silent worship at the staff from which it floated. This only illustrates the similar feeling of the released convict. lam speaking now of the first timer. Upon his release everything seems new to him. His vision has been bounded north, south, east and west by thirty-foot wails. His .promenades have been methodical in the extreme —from his •cell to the workshop on the main street, and varied only on bath days and Sundays by a short outing along “Hyacinth” avenue. Stillwater, Minn.,Thursday, Dec. 31,1891. While waiting for his train he passes away the time in looking around and “gawking” until, like Dickens’ little Joe, he is told to “move on.” He looks hurridly around and meets the stern gaze of a “minion of the law” who is “onto him” and again em phasizes his order. He moves. At the de pot he is observant of the silent sneers and winks passed to and fro among the em ployes. At length his train comes in, and, thank Heaven, he is nearing home. The conductor collects his fare and eyes him sus piciously while doing so. When he (the conductor) has collected and entered up his trip he takes a vacant seat near some pas senger, and the ex convict, if he happens to look up, will find two pairs of eyes rested upon him. He is almost home and his troubles will soon be over. He has hardly alighted from the train when his friend Jones hails him with “Hello, old fel low, got home again, eh?” Every person whom he ever knew and who knew about his trial, conviction and sentence seem, that day of all others, to be on the streets through which he has to pass, and their greetings of "Well, how did you stand it?- When did you leave (meaning the town which is synonymous of prison life)?” and similar expressions, grates harshly on his sensitive ears. When he at last reaches home and true friends, his mind is in that peculiar, high strung, nervous condition that he does not want to leave the only shelter that seems ready to protect him from his friends. He is a new curiosity in town and everyone wants to see him—a real, live ex convict. After a few days rest he musters up cour age to agan venture on the streets—proba bly on some domestic errand, mayhap to seek employment. Whether on business, or in search of work he becomes the ob served of observers, and his applications for means of earning a livelihood are met with flimsy excuses or pointblank- noes. Whether to the layman he applies for work, or to the clergyman for counsel in this his hour of need, there seems no helping, sym pathetic hand reached out to help or raise the fallen brother. Probably, and no doubt, these men are strongly in sympa thy (on paper) with the poor prisoner behind the bars, they would not give one iota or spare one hour from official duties to bring back to manhood the poor outcast. The poor fellow gets discouraged by these repeated rebuffs and disappointments and while wandering about is looked upon bv the authorities with suspicion, and the fact of his having “doue»time” places him be yond the pale of respectable society and he easily falls into the hungry maw awaiting to receive him. He is in every sense of the word an outcast of .society and his poor in nocent family suffer to appease the dictates of a morbid and unreasonable prejudice. With no friends at hand to assist, no pros pect of work at home and probably with no means to enable him to get away, his condi tion is deplorable in the extreme. He wanders off to some other point where he is unknown, and obtains employment, but in an evil hour some former acquaintance stumbles across his path and with a natural fondness for gossip imparts to the neighbor hood the Story of the unfortunate and life again becomes a burden. I knew of one young man who had served a short term of 3 months in prison and upon hi 9 release decided to put a long distance between himself and the penitenti ary which he had left. He went to Fort Omaha and enlisted, anticipating that his regiment would be ordered to some frontier post. During the annual eucampment of state militia it is customary to send a bat talion, or regiment of regulars to take part with the state troops in their military movements. Unfortunately this man’s company formed a part of the detail and while in camp he was met and recognized by a former acquaintance who addressed him in a manner that excited suspicion among his comrades. To day the man is a deserter fiom the U. S. Army with a re ward of S3O pending over him for his ar rest. So it is with the ex convict. A man may be guilty of horrible abuses of his family, such as wife beating, turning his children out of doors, etc., etc., and will receive a nominal punishment in jail which may be repeated many times during the year. He may put in two thirds of the year in the county bastile. but there is no such stigma attached to his conducf of brutality as there is to that of the poor devil who. in a mo ment of despair and in order to save a hungry family, might hold up a wealthy citizen, steal a few dollars worth of grocer “ IT IS NEVER TOO DATE TO MEND.” ies, or forge an order or check whereby to drive the wolf from the door. The jail bird can return to his daily avocation after his release and suffer no greater damage to his reputation than that of having been a little wild or tough. Not so with the ex convict. No matter how straightforward his conduct may be, how open and above board his dealings with neighbors, the plague spot is there and the scar upon his character is ever visible to the mind’s eye ot some of the community and he will di rectly or indirectly be occasionally advised of its existence. A man that does right in prison will receive aid and sympathy from the officials and 1 believe theirs is the only true and practical sympathy that exists. The only other place that 1 know where it exists is in the dictionary. My conclusion, and I speak from per sonal knowledge, is that it is bad judgment for a released inmate of an institution of this kind to return to the scene of his downfall. Should I live to serve my time, and I pray 1 may. for ambition to do right is still strong within me, no one except God, my family and myself shall ever know of my destination. I will beware of “my friends” even if 1 have to go again and live with the Esquimaux. M. F. How to Memorize. "Those who have a good memory,” says a writer, “are generally thought to be ‘gifted.’ and are said to possess an ‘inesti mable blessing.’ It is not sufficiently known that a ‘bad memory’ may be made better by judicious treatment.” Such words as these, if true, should encourage those who have well-nigh abandoned the hope ot improving their power to memorize. It is true in a sense that memory is a gift. The memories of Napoleon and Shakspere may be accounted for on the ground of special natural endowment. Music also is a gift which in some measure is presented to every human being. Few are endowed with the genius of a Wagner or a Men delssohn. but small iudeed must be the qat ural gift of the person who is unable to carry “Old Hundred,” or ‘ Yankee Doodle.” The charge of inability to sing or remember lies not so often at the door of nature, as at the door of inexcusable neglect. Too often the secret failure lies in the words of Isaac Taylor—"the memory becomes almost tor pid if neglected.” What are the schools doing in the way of memory training? Nothing as such. What about the teachers? There are many nota ble exceptions, but as a rule the teachers are assigning lessons, and hearing recita tions. Thankful indeed would be many a scholar, and many hours of digging and pounding would be saved the average pupil if even only now and then the teacher would spend a few moments of the recita tion hour in suggesting how the next lesson should be learned. Every teacher should give much attention to methods of work. Memory training, which is really mind drill, should be taught in the schools. Every pupil at a compara tively early age should become acquainted with the laws of his mind and should be trained to a systematic and proper use of them. I have often wondered at the memory of the ancient and the savage. These had no system and yet their memory is proverbial. This is quite true. The ancients as a rule did possess good memories. Poems con taining thousands of verses were handed down in memory, through many genera tions. The Indian says. “God gave the white man a note book because He knew he could not remember.” But still there is an explanation for these wonderful memo ries. One reason lies in the fact that fewer things occupied the mind. Neither the an cient nor the savage busied himself about so many things in a week as the average mod ern thinks in a day. One important principle in remembering is to think of but two things at once, while the majority of persons in these days seem to find it necessary to think of about twenty things at a time. It is true, moreover, that many of the helps of to day are injurious to the memory. Our forefathers knew the Bible by heart. We refer to the concord ance when we wish to find a passage of Scripture. Napoleon we are told wrote on a slip of paper the name which he wished to remember, and then threw the paper away. He wrote to get the impression through eye Rive Gents. and hand as well as through ear. He threw the paper away so that his memory would be given the responsibility of reproduction. The definition of Mnemonics is, “A sys tem of precepts and rules intended to assist' the memory.” The first system of mnemon ics is referred to the Greek Simonides, who flourished 500 B. C. He invented the top ical or locality method. He is said to have been led to this by noticing that he was able to recall at once the names of a number of persons in connection with the positions occupied by the different persons at a table. Many systems of mnemonics have been devised and more than one hundred differ ent treatises on the subject have been issued. But in the use of many of the sug gestions made, there is a danger of weaken ing the memory by forcing it to make arbitrary connections between things. I am indebted to an acquaintance for the following—and I would suggest to each reader of this article to give it a trial: Starting with the word Washington, write down one hundred words just as they occur to you. Let your second word be the one which Washington naturally suggests to you. Possibly it will be capitol. It may be president. Take the word which first comes into your mind. In the same manner let the third word be suggested to you by the seeoud, the fourth by the third, and so on. Be careful that the third word is not sug gested by both the first and the second. Drop the first entirely, and let your mind go from the second alone to the third. Hav ing written this list of words, you will have furnished yourself with a cheap but very useful mirror of your mind. A person once boasted to Foote, the comedian, of the facility with which he could memorize, when the actor said he would write down a dozen lines in prose, which he could not commit to memory in as many minutes. A Vv'ager was made and Foote produced the following: “So she went into the garden to cut a cabbage leaf to make an apple pie; and at the same time a great she bear, coming up the street, pops its head into the shop. What, no soap? So he died, and she very imprudently mar ried the barber; and there were present the Picininunies, and the Joblilies, and the Garyules, and the great Paryandrum him self with the little round button on the top: and they all fell to playing catch as catch can, till the gunpowder ran out of the heels of their boots.” The story adds that Foote won the wager. It is very evident, there fore, that statements utterly disregarding the order of nature and events, must defy, if carried to great length, the strongest memory. . Rame ous. A Faint Heart. I was pondering in my cell over Longfel low’s beautiful lines, “Life is real, life is earnest,” brought to mind by a conversation overheard on Christmas Day between two of our boys. Admitting that it is far from right to listen to a conversation not meant for one’s ears still there are times when advantage should be taken to study the ins and outs of ourselves who, side by side, try to outlive the fearful humiliation brought about by our mistakes. These are the words I heard: “I have made up my mind that as I can never become a rich man, that it is best to resign myself entirely to circumstances and pull through the best way I can.” Now this kind of talk is simply out of all reason; and 1 have been unable to fully understand how a man in the possession of his faculties can be so possessed with such thoughts that can only bring destruction not only to himself but also sadness to the loving ones who, perhaps, anxiously await his return. O, let us engrave in our minds, in letters of fire, the words that form the acme of man’s independence: “I will” and “1 won’t.” Let us continually be looking forward to brighter things. We have all ample opportunities to improve our minds while here; and there is no excuse when on the day our pardon is granted that looking back to these walls we can say, “Yes, it has been very hard to be con fined; but still I feel stronger and I will be a better man.” Pig Ikon. A wicked man who reproaches a virtuous one is like one who looks up and spits at heaven, the spittle soils uot the heaven, but comes back and defiles his own face. — Sakya Muni. A man will spend enough money warm ing himself by grog-shop fires to buy out a coal-and-wood business.—Puck.