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Vol. X.—No. 28
THE GIRL I LOVE. 1 am miles away from the girl of my choice. And the hours roll heavy and slow. For she said "Good bye" with a quivering voice. Then with tears, "Oh. I do love you so." 7 hose tears like gems in my heart are set. And I see them there all the time. And "I do love you so," is echoing yet. "Like the bell's most beautiful chime. .And I feel the touch of the shapely hand. As it clasped my own at the gate. And it seems to lead through this weary land To a home where the angels wait. 7 still feel the warmth of the ruby lips That gave me the good-bye kiss. And no butterfly e'er such nectar sips. Nor has tasted such exquisite bliss. So my heart aches sore for the time to come When that bliss again I shall know. And hear my four-year-old's welcome home. And her "Papa. I do love yon so.” —A. S. Holland in Home Magazine. Written for Tlic Prison Mirror. THE TEACHER’S SOCIAL STANDING We still fail to get much light on the question why the occupation of teach er involves the loss of social standing. By all analogy it should not be so. The possessor of money ranks the needy person. The one able to im part knowledge ought to rank the one destitute of it. This would happen in a society not artificial. Children, so ]ong as they take a natural view of life, look up to their teacher. It is only when they learn the artificial values in life that they begin to feel superior to the person who is paid to evoke their latent powers or to create aspirations in them. We go on re peating the adage that knowledge is power, meaning by it, however, the knowledge how to get money, and when we see either erudition or fac ility that does not get its possessor money, we lose our respect for that sort of knowledge. By this kind of reasoning, then, we might come to the conclusion that the profession of teach er would be more respected if it were better paid, and it certainly would be better paid, especially in the lower grades, if its importance were fully appreciated. The whole future of the state depends on a proper education of the children, and for that education is demanded the best talent and the high est character. It is possible that if men and women of the best talent and the highest character were employed in the primary schools and received high pay for their services, the teach er would stand higher in the social scale. But it is not altogether a mat ter of remuneration. The position of the soldier does not depend upon his pay. The officers of lower grade scarcely have enough in any country on which to support a wife and fam ily. Yet the military officer, without a cent of patrimony, takes, even in re publican America, as good a social position as any one. To be in the army or navy is to be socially well placed. There has always been something of this glamour about the soldier, even in the centuries when he was little more than the hireling of the rich merchants, or of legitimate and illegitimate princ es. Naturally we should say that he won admiration and the submissive love of women because his profession was one of imminent peril, because he took his life in his hands and kept it only by the weight and sharpness of his sword. But all occupations of danger do not bring this reward, the respect of men and the love of women. The fireman who constantly risks his life in extinguishing conflagrations, in STILLWATER, MINNESOTA, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY I, 1897 saving property and rescuing lives, gains therefrom no social position, llis business is to preserve, the soldier's is to destroy. It seems a perverse view of the world, that the destroyer should outrank in honor the preserver. There must be some other reason that guides the world in this election of its heroes. In Spain it is the matador who is the popular idol, and in a large pro portion of England and the United States it is the slugger. Is it, then, because brute force and physical prowess are held in such hon or that the inoffensive teacher is looked down upon V The briefless law yer and the physician feel that they have a position above that of a teach er. If we look at the matter from one point of view the ability to earn money does not seem to give social rank, nor always the possession of money. The man who has made his money finds it hard to come into his kingdom of heaven and sit down by the sister of the man who has inherited it. To be born rich brings a man more respect than to become rich by any exertion of his own. R. M. Written for The Prison Mirror. ALL ABOUT DOGS- ItctMMftMMMl* [By Gex. R. W. Johnson. T. S. A.] I have heard men speaking of other men and characterizing them as mean as a dog. Such a one may be a very mean, low, sordid fellow, but I wish to defend the dog against any such com parison. A man may be mean enough to maltreat and abuse his wife, but no dog was ever mean enough to fight the female of his kind. The dog is most devoted to his master, and is the only animal in the world that will fight his own kind in defense of his owner. A man may walk out followed by his faithful dog and should he become weary and lie down along the wayside and go to sleep, his dog will stand watch over him and protect him from harm. I have heard of a dog which was so much attached to his master that when the latter died and was buried, the loving animal laid down on the grave and refused to leave in search of food and absolutely starved to death rather than leave the little mound that marked the grave of his master. Again, many dogs exhibit a high degree of in telligence. I once owned a fine, large Newfoundland dog which went by the name of Felix. When my children went walking, Felix w r as sure to go, and I felt that they were as safe as if es corted by a troop of cavalry. The war coming on, I had him with me in my marches, until after the battle of Chickamauga when I sent him home. On the march he was ever at the heels of my horse. One day 1 noticed that he was nearly famished for the want of water, and turning to my servant I said, “Fisher, stop here and put Felix in the wagon when it comes up.” Ever after that I would say to him, “Felix, stop here and get in the wagon when it comes up.” At once he would leave the column and lie down in the shade and would remain there until my wagons came along, and he would get into it and ride into camp. My old friend, Surgeon Wright of the United States army, while stationed in San Antonio had a well broken pointer, but as the dog was getting old he had a puppy which he was training to take his place. He kept the young one tied in one corner of his room and when he yelped it was the custom of the doctor to switch him to make him keep quiet. As I was present, one evening, the puppy began to make a noise, but my presence prevented the doctor from applying the switch. The old dog went to the corner of the room took the switch up in his mouth and carried it to the doctor, as much as to say, “The youngster needs correction.” I have seen and heard so many smart “IT IS XEVER TOO EATE TO MEXD.” things on the part of dogs that I am satisfied they are not guided by instinct alone, but by a certain degree of intelli gence. Some breeds of dogs are more intelligent than others. Curs of low degree can be taught but little and seem to have only two objects in life, to live and to perpetuate their species. A colored man in the South had a singular dog. It was as long as a lax-ge dog, but its legs were very short. It had a bark large enough for an im mense aiximal. A gentleman asked him what was the nationality of his dog. The word nationality was not in his vocabulary and hence he did not comprehend the question asked him. The gentleman, seeing his confusion, asked him what was his breed, where upon the colored man replied, “he is jes dog, that is all.” Now there are a great many just such dogs found every whei'e, resulting from a mixing of breeds such as the bulldog with the spaniel and the offspring with the pointer and this again with the bull dog and so on. Written for The Prison Mirror, PHOTOGRAPHY Photography, as it exists today, is in deed a wonderful science and a beau tiful art; and its future is big with possibilities. A little independent think ing will convince the most skeptical of its boundless ir fluence on 4 the hap piness and advancement of the civil ized world. At first, when Daguerre succeeded in fixing an image on a sil ver plate, it served us well as a curious and profitable discovery. Results, how ever, were very uncertain. It was not until dry plates were introduced that the infant science began to outgrow its knickerbockers and take on the form of a giant. It thrust its way into all the multifarious branches of sci ence, and was found to be a willing and subtle servant; worth all the genii that imagination has in its wildest Rights produced. We have passed through the stages of anxiety and encouragement into one of enthusiasm, and today the camera is in the hands of every tourist, who thereby obtains pleasing souve nirs of their various wanderings. Ev ery nook and corner of the world that contains anything picturesque has sur rendered its charm to the magic art. Hundreds of beautiful productions from the camera are daily half-toned and presented through the various pe riodicals to entertain the masses and delight the lovers of art. We cannot all bo globe-trotters and wander at will, to drink in the delights of scenic grandeur, so lavishly bestowed by mother nature; but our ever-ready handmaid, “photography,” gathers up all that is beautiful and grand 1 , all that is interesting or curious in nature’s vast domain, for -our entertainment and instruction. A collection ef pho tographs with a c.omprehensive article descriptive of the scenes depicted, is only second in the information and pleasure derived to a personal visit; indeed it is often the photographs of a place which make a personal visit seem desirable. I think it was Browning who aptly said: “We are made so that we love, first, when we see them painted, things we have passed, perhaps a hun dred times, nor cared to see.” Among our fellow-craftsman, 1 be lieve there are none who do more to add to the happiness of mankind than the portrait photographer, and none have done so much to advance this most captivating art-science to its present high standard. Photography, formerly a trade, is now a profession, and plays a very important part in the advancement of modern art and sculp ture, not only in eliminating that which is unreal, but in cultivating an aesthetic taste in the masses and edu cating them to a better appreciation of what is beautiful in life and our everyday surroundings, thereby creat- ing a demand for the best that the skilled artist is capable of producing. The perfection which this branch of photography has attained is well illus trated in a verse clipped from a recent advertisement: "If you have beauty. Come, and we ll take it. If you have noue. Come, and we ll make it What a treasure is the collection of photographs we each possess of our friends. When our spirits are depressed —and we all have times of depression— what a pleasure to behold the faces of far-distant friends and recall the happy days we passed in their congenial pres ence! Perhaps we did not then fully appreciate their many good qualities, but now, as we fondly gaze on their counterfeit presentments, all their faults are forgotten and we see only the kindly expression of their familiar faces and realize how much they have added to our happiness. In the darkest hours of our adver sity, when we are shut out from home influences, with no genial ray of the sunshine of love to penetrate the gloom, we are cheered and comforted by the pictured faces of those we love. - A. C. R. Written for The Prison Mirror. THE COURSE THAT RUINS. The young man in the high tide of youthful vigor, flushed with that healthful elasticity only obtained by regularity, industry and the pure air the home circle can give, pants for the conflict with the fanciful world, the rumble of which he hears, just as the good soldier pants to participate in the battle, the cannon and small arms of which he hears the boom and rattle in the distance. Armed with his father’s advice and mother’s tearful blessing, he sets his face towards the distant city, firm in the resolution to bear himself as becomes an honest son. At this period of his life, all manner of dishonesty, and “ways that are dark and tricks that are vain,” are as foreign to his nature and thoughts as the de sire is to take the life of a fellow-being. He is swallowed up in the city's crowd, and his individuality is as completely lost as a little boat on the pathless ocean. He forms new acquaintances, and is introduced to an entirely new mode of life. His associates are genial, ■ full of animal life and spirits, and although his daily routine is totally at variance with his former habits and is distasteful to him at first, he accepts things in a passive way. He looks with a species of mild horror on the barroom and its contents; his senses sicken at the stench of sour beer and filth around the card tables and the pungent fumes of liquor that all the polish of the counter and the glittering array of decanters and cut glass can not disguise, and the ribald jests of its habitues cause a feeling of disgust difficult to describe. Now surely this is the time in his career when good angels look on and tremble in doubt and fear. He will follow one of two roads—resolve to avoid such places al together, or he will continue to visit them occasionally for awhile, and final ly as a custom. If the second course is pursued, his path henceforth is easily traced. His first glass—possibly cider —is followed by wine, or beer. Then comes the dice for the drinks or cigars —only for amusement you are to un derstand —then comes the cards. He must learn to play billiards; and his “kind friends” only too willingly teach him the art, but not the tricks; he only learns of them after his resources are exhausted. He soon learns to play for money, and falls an easy prey to his as sociates. He goes on from bad to worse until he finds himself in bad odor with his employers, and is discharged, characterless, moneyless and friendless. And now in the bitterness of his soul tcrmo. f SI.OO per year, in advance '/ .Six Months 50cents. his thoughts turn towards home and the dear ones there, but he has not the moral courage to return there a penni less prodigal. But how much better would his future have been to himself and all concerned in his welfare had he done so, but he draws around him that mantle of false pride and is lost! For a time he struggles on, but the future is made dark and dreary by a short-lived course of vice, and discouragement, if not despair, takes hold of him. In this condition he sees an opening for his first crime, and falls a victim to the devil’s snare. He associates with thieves, drunkards and various other kinds of criminals; they take him in hand and lead him through the dark lore of vice and sin as if he were in a training school, and in fact he is. To escape from justice he sneaks to some rail road station and steals a ride to some other place to continue on his career of crime until retribution overtakes him and lands him in confinement of more or less duration. All his after life, however long, is embittered by a consciousness of lost opportunities: a stain on a fair name because -‘you may crush the vase if you will, yet the scent of the rose will hang round it still.” The mercy of God purifies the penitent soul from all shortcomings, but pitiful man will point the finger of pity or scorn, and yet there are very few who are able to cast the first stone. SINBAD. MEN WANTED. The great need of this age is men; men who are not for sale; who will not truckle to wealth nor power, but stand up for right every time; men who are honest—sound from center to circum ference —true to the heart’s core—whom wealth can not lure nor poverty drive from the path of duty; men who can not be bought nor sold, coaxed nor flattered, cajoled nor driven from act ing and maintaining w hat is right and just; men who will condemn wrong in high or low places—in friend or foe—in himself as well as others—men who are fearless in the cause of Truth, who will stand firm “though the heavens fall” and face death like the Homan sentinel at the gates of Pompeii; men who will stand up for principle at all times and under all circumstances—men who can tell the truth and look the world and the devil square in the eye—who neither run nor flinches in the conflict for Truth—men who can have courage without shouting it, who know their message and their mission and dare tell it, whether popular or unpopular— who are the same every day, and have as much religion each day in the week as they have on Sunday, and do right for the sake of right; men who are not too lazy to work nor too proud to be poor, and want nothing but what they are entitled to; men who care more for Eight than for Riches; men who dare call things by their right names, and face a multitude in a righteous cause men who dare to do right and fear to do wrong; men who endeavor to make the world better by their existence, whose love of God is shown through love of man; men who dare live up to their honest conviction whether it be popular or not, and who dare to do right even if they are opposed by a multi tude of foes. —Muldrow (I. T.) Register. No man can “paddle his entire canoe” down the stream of life by himself. It is a good thing to paddle your own canoe, but it is better to assist someone else in paddling when that someone needs you. No man can live for himself alone, for each one in a measure de pends upon his neighbor. The family that is all for self will find that if they persist in this kind of life for any length of time, that when adversity hits them, as it must hit every man and every family some time, they will be left to paddle for themselves.—Ex.