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®l)e |irieon JUirror. Vol. VI.—No. 33. F'or The Mvrroe TWO OLD CRONIES Bonnvsack Beeswax and Old Jayson are a couple of jolly plugs, JSacli a cron of two month’s whiskers decorating horrible mugs. They go out. when in comes spring-time, with their plans already laid. Ye besiege the Exposition—experts in the boot black trade; Beeswax’s brain it was that plann’d it. and it suited Jayson well. Who with cap, up-jumped and swung it, only swung if—did not yell. No financier is Old Jayson, hardly can lie read or write. While a prodigy is G. Beeswax—on abstruseness shedding light; Beeswax schemed with subtle finesse, Jayson was an easy prey. And his earnings for “good conduct ” seem’d to float in Beeswax's way. Tall of stature is Old Jayson, tinted with an ebon hue— flhs delight is in “boot oufiin” which his daddy used to do. Finally agreement made they—as two weeks did intervene, Twixt the dates of their departure, from the wall environ’d scene. That G. Beeswax an assortment of “ boot-cuffins” should lay by. With the money of “ good conduct ” that Old .Jay son would supply— Jfcen return two days before-hand and for Jayson watch and wait; Train his hand, meantime, “boot-cuffin’’ on guard Flannery at the gate. Thus matured and plans found perfect. Jayson does coutent beguile. With his mouth to ears extending—counting days now, with a smile; jhoes his running with complaisance, knocks ici cles from the eaves; *ays they form so, to shed tear-drops ’gainst the day that Beeswax leaves; With penurious eyes keeps watching Massa Ben ner’s ’tater bin. Fora job of “sproutin’ ’tatersdog-gone” sure of “ extra tin.” ATid G. Beeswax still Is scheming, scenes in Kan sas to review, As detective for Old Jayson, delicate matters to pursue. And Old Jayson still absorbant swallows every thing in sight; Then proclaims the day’s transactions, by howls hideous, through the night: “Hidar. Beeswax! Whar’sdemdividen’s? Dem ‘ boot-cutfins ’—wliar’s my due? I objec’s to six month settlements! Divvy! else I’llrazzer you.” Ail night long in powerful accents float these echoes, wall to wall. And with pain each sudden out-burst does the strongest heart appall. A committee with credentials from G. Beeswax soon will wait, J l * encounter Foreman Rowan and a plan nego tiate— Jor phonetic-howls from Jayson, bottl’d for a dancer's call. And insure “ success most howling ” for the Boil er Makers’ ball. A View of It. Our universal aim seems to be hap piness. felicity of mind and body. What constitutes happiness? Philosophers kave answered the question in various terms, each giving his individual idea af what, to him, was happiness and how men were to secure the universal dis pensation of it. Confucius said, in con nection with securing universal happi ness the root of all law, that the follow ing should be obeyed: “ I)o not unto ethers what you would not have them do unto you." There is a doubt if a thief would seek retaliation from the fraternity who had robbed him in turn, nor is it to be supposed that he would wish the offender to be any more mer cifully dealt with than he would have been had he been discovered in the orig inal crime. The original thief would not wish the one that had dealt with him, as he (himself) had dealt with others, any happiness. And why ? Because the universal law is “an eye for an eye”— and not, “ Do not unto" others what you would not have them do unto you.” To punish supercedes to save in the minds «f the majority, good or bad. If we violate the law we know that we are jeopardizing our liberty, if we do not realize at the same time that we are eommiting a crime. We are aware that if apprehended we would be punished. We could not excuse ourselves to the court by pleading that we were maniacs of the “klepti" species, the court would not be satisfied with such a lame excuse; the court would reason that “the ma jesty of the law” must be upheld and the transgressor punished. The refor mation of the convicted felon w ould be held as a secondary subjugator. We find in the statutes a term of years or days ascribed to every offense, to be meted out to the violator. If society means to reform the criminal there is no need of ascribing to every unlawful act a given term of years or days. There is no need of measuring out jus tice like a grocer measures out his com modities—a fixed amount for a fixed price. Reformation means to cure, and if society means to cure the criminal of his evil tendencies, it should deal with him as it does with the insane—confin ing the convict until he is reformed, that is, until his moral disease is pro nounced cured. To sentence a criminal for a stated term of years is punishing the offender for the crime committed and not seeking to reform the unsound morality of the convict. To confine criminals until they have worked otft their own salvation, until they have shown by their conduct as prisoners that if restored to liberty they would become honest citizens, would be seek ing to reform the convict, as well as satisfying “ the vengeance of the law." The limit of imprisonment should be determined by the good conduct of the convict and not by the crime commit ted. When a convict had proved him self worthy of his liberty he should be set free, and if he erred he should be mercifully dealt with; but upon being given his liberty the third time and he abusing it, he should never again be permitted to mingle with the world. Perhaps this w ould be too hard on the third timer; but if one seeks to make a prison a place of irregular habitation, he shouldut least be allowed the priv ilege of making it his constant home. AVhat a world of recollections that word calls to mind! The high hopes, the resolves, and the goal we started out to reach. But as yet we have not reached it, having fallen by the way side when only half-way there. But the ambition is not dead, it is only sleeping. It can be aroused, and we will try once more to reach the goal. An ambitious man may be disappoint ed. his little scheme may have fallen through, but you will find him “bob bing up serenely” in a short time just as enthusiastic as ever. If you take away a man’s ambition what has he got left to live for? Nothing. He is dead or worse than dead, for he is tak ing up space that a good live man could fill. No man wants a man in his em ploy without he has some ambition, nor will he keep him there long; for as soon as he is found wanting in this re spect he is politely told that his services are not wanted. lie must make room for his more ambitious brother. A man with ambition who will take hold is bound to rise. We have a number of instances where men have risen to some high position by the sheer force of will, but behind the will was the ever inspir ing ambition beckoning them onward toward the goal. You show me a man without ambition and I will show you a man that is not fit to drive hogs. Ambition is to man what the dew is to the flowers—it is that invigorating life giving substance that is ever causing men to do and dare. There is nothing so stimulating to a man’s ambition as a little encouragement; a kind word now and then will work wonders. When a man finds that his efforts are appre ciated he will throw fresh energy into his work; it is no longer a task for he takes pleasure in doing it. So if there is any danger of any of you letting your ambition go to sleep, let me say to you arouse it. Don’t make the mis take that a great many make—that is to dream your time away while here thinking to make it up when you get on the outside. But go in now, and spend your time so that when that great day does come you will be prepared to fight life's battle anew. Yon. Shorn J\fKT No man ever discovers his power of locomotion until he starts on the finan cial down grade. —Christmas Puck. IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.” STILLWATER, MINNESOTA, MARCH 23, 1893. Ambition. Postal Thieves Always Caught. In an average year, says the postmas ter general’s private secretary, Marshall Cushing, in his book, “ The story of our Postottice” (1,000 pages and 500 illustra tions, just issued by the Thayers, of Bos ton,) perhaps fifty postmasters, a score of assistant postmasters, forty or fifty postoffice clerks, and any where from fifty to seventy mail carriers are arrest ed for dishonesty. But there are 230,000 people employed in the postal service in one way or another, and this percentage of wrong-doing is infinitesimal. But that does not prevent the inspector force from useing its hardest efforts to cut the percentage down, and they are doing it, especially since the lottery matter has been driven from the mails. It is to be said in extenuat ion, too, that these tens of thousands of postal employees are exposed to much temptation, and some times they find themselves in tight places financially, and it seems a simple thing to help themselves out temporari ly by “turning over” some of the gov ernment cash cash which is lying idle on their hands. Every dishonest postal employee imagines that his method of stealing is a new one; that he does it better than anyone ever did it before; and that he can elude detection. He is invarably caught. He can never tell when he is being watched or how \ — Ex. Joy In Oklahoma A special dispatch from Guthrie, Ok lahoma. March 4, to the Globe-Democrat, savs: “ All last night crowds lingered about the newspaper offices here waiting some news regarding the Cherokee Strip bill, and when along towards morniug the news came that the bill had been sent back to Congress, even the most san guine gave up all hopes of its passage. The city had scarcely got wakened up to business, however, this morning, when a message came that the bill had passed. Like a prairie fire before a high wind the news spread, and soon the entire city was allame with excitement. With in a half hour couriers were departing on horseback for the boomer s camps along the line. Everybody here, from the Governor down to the poorest negro, is delighted with the news, and all feel that Oklahoma will now take a stride forward which will surpass her glorious record of the last three years. The news was so good that the old boomers could not believe it for a time, but when they fully realized that the long hoped for hour had arrived some broke down and wept while others shouted and rushed about like crazy men. In the hundreds of tents and huts along the line, where families have waited long months, and some even years, with poverty and pri vation as companions, there is rejoicing such as only the homeless can know when at last a home is assured, and many an old crippled soldier to-night has his long suffering family gathered about him in the flickering light of the camp-fire talking hopefully of the fut ure. In every direction to-night the lights of great camp-fires are seen, show ing that the news is fast reaching the most isolated points, and all are rejoic ing here. In this city men are already preparing for the run, and fast horses have doubled in price. Car load after car load of tents, blankets and camp equipage are being loaded, and contracts have been let for the erection of build ings to house the thousands who will come here to wait.’’ Jaysonites You can mos’ alius rely on good, wholesome, an’ intellectu’l sustenance from the Pi’neer Press; but, whenebber I sees anythin’ in dem yare columns ’bout de balmy breath ob spring, an’ue mellifluous notes ob de summer song sters—specially dis season ob de year, I alius sets my wedder-eye on de line-gale, an’ ’mediately git out my great-coat an’ mittens. Public ’Pinion an’ Actual Fac’s.—De greates’ source ob information am de newspaper; it hab a potent influence on Tcdmq . 1 SLOO P er year, iu advance, i tKMo. , gj x 50 Cents. de unthinkin' an pivoted min’; it am of’en called de public 'pinion but after a little reflection, it all simmers down to one man. In de columns ob las’ week’s Mirror, I fin’ I is laid up wid de rheumatism, an’ dat am public ’pin ion. Now dat dog-gon’d editor who wrote dat, hab seen me ten hours a day, ebbery day, fo' two weeks, shov’lin’ snow an’ knockin' down icicles an dis am actual fac's. Profit an’ Loss. Now. let me see; I has cornin’ extra janitor duty, three dollars an' forty-eight cents; Chicago, Ulinoy, fo’-hundred miles; de elebenth day ob May, 1893, an" sproutin’ ’taters, one dollar an' twenty-five cents now, dis am all profit. Failin’ down stairs wid a porcelain cuspidor, one dollar an’ a quarter; mistakin' myself to be at a picnic, an’ carvin' de barber chair wid a razzer, fo’teen dollars; idog-gone! but how could 1 possibly, clean done gone, an’ so far forgits myself like dat!) stub bin’ my toe an’ spiffin' de bake-beans ober de waff, six dollars dis am all loss; an, only two through trains daily—its no use talkin' I can’t see inter dis ci pherin’ no how. Beeswax's de boy cam do de figurin'. De bigges' surprise ob all my born days wus de meetin’ ob Gunnysack Beeswax in dis yere place; not de fac’ ob his bein’ yere—but de fac’ ob seein’ him, wus what surprised me. I can dis remember mos’ distinc’ly’ bout thirty-fo’ year ago (summer fo' las’) me an’ Bees wax played shinny togedder in Missouri; an’ ’tuas den an’ dar he got de name of Gunnysack Beeswax. We wus 'ten din’ a scrub-oak picnic, got up an’ com posed ob us slabe chilluns ob de neigh borin' plantations, as wus custum ary wid vis ebbery huckleberry-season. Each one contributin’ somethin' in de line ob edibles. AVe had mos' all de luxuries, mention’ble, from hoe-cake to honey an' raw sorghum; an' us, picca ninnies, used to regale an’ gorge our selves, in a fashion mos' tremen’ous. De technical po’tions, an' mos’ classical elements ob de provision we alius laid aside fo’ de after-math, or desert, as de white folks caffs it. Beeswax, had at dat time, ex’cuted a surreptious man oevre, an’ depredated he ol’ missis’ cel lar ob ’bout fo’teen poun’s maple sugar which he brought as he contribution, all wrap’d up in a big gunny-sack bun dle an’ a roun’ dis, as desert*we all con gregated ourselves on dat joyful occa sion; an' arter undoin' ’bout six yards o’ burlap—de horrible truth dawn'd up on us, an' nervous prostration spasmod ically follow’d. Well! ob course, we done de bes' we could, an completed our repast wid libber an’ fried onions—but from dat time on, we alius called him Gunnysack Beeswax. Gunnysack alius wus de luckiest dog shootin’ craps an’ playin’ penny-ante, I ebber seed; in playin'*penny-ante, he wus alius sho’t* lay over me jes’ one pint; fi had a flush, he'd hab a full-house; fi had three jack, he’d hab three queen, an’ so it went on, in all de realastic facts ob life. Our limit never went beyon’ a chick’ll or watermelon, an’ I mos’ gen'rally went de limit wid a chick’n; an’ (when you calls it to min’) dat ’counts fo’ me an’ Biff Googins raidin’ de hen-roosts, dat I tole you 'bout week fo* las'. It wus im de paint shop, Thanksgivin’, dat I fust run across Beeswax in yere, an’ it done my ol’ brack heart heaps ob good to re count dem by-gone episodes. Gunny axed me wha’ brought me yere; an’ I tole him de whole story, ob how I had married two wives—an' got two year fo’ bigamy. Den I ax wha' brought him yere, an’ (yaw! yaw! yaw! dog-gone my buttons! de same ol’ Beeswax—still on* a head ob me!) he tole me, he had mar ried three wives, got three year -an’ mus’ be yere fo’ trigamy! An’ I jes’ mo’ dan drown’d dat North Hill band wid laughter. Old Jayson. Whipper: What is this book, “ The Simple Annals of the Poor,” eh ? Snapper: Probably biographical sket ches of the European noblemen who have married into American families. —Puck.