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fixe prison gllirror.
Edited and Published by the Inmates of the Minnesota State Prison. Entered at the post office at Stillwater, Minn., as second-class mail matter. This paper will be forwarded to subscribers until ordered discontinued and all arrears are paid. Should THE MIRROR fail to reach a subscriber each week, notice should be sent to this office and the matter will be attended to at once. Contributions solicited from all sources. Rejected manuscript will net be returned. THE MIRROR is issued every Thursday at the following rates: Oae Year ------------ SI.OO Six Months - -- -- -- -- -- -.50 Three Months - -- -- -- -- - - *25 Te inmates of penal institutions 50 cts. per year Address all communication, Editor PRISON MIRROR, Stillwater, Minn. THE MIRROR is a weekly paper published in the Minnesota State Prison. It was founded in 1887 by the prisoners and is edited and man aged by them. Its objects are to be a home newspaper; to encourage moral and intellectual improvements among the prisoners; to acquaint the public with the true status of the prisoner; to disseminate penological Information and to aid in dispelling that prejudice which has ever been the bar sinister to a fallen man’s self-redemption. The paper is entirely dependent on the public for its financial support. If at any time there should accrue a surplus of funds, the money would be expended in the Interests of the prison library. ALL PERSONS receiving: copies of THE MIRROR who are not on our regular lists will please consider such as sample copies. If, after reading:, you conclude that THE MIRROR is worthy of patronagre send your name to this office for a trial subscription at rates as published above. If it takes nine tailors to make one man, it’s tough on the individual whose credit isn’t even good with one. Look down from above on the countless herds of men and their countless solemnities, and the infinitely varied voyagings in storms and calms, and the differences among those who are born, who live together, and die. And consider, too, the life lived by others in olden time, and the life of those who will live after thee, and the life now lived among barbarious nations, and how many know not even thy name, and how many will soon forget it, and how they who perhaps niw aie praising thee will very soon blame thee, and that neither a posthumous name is of any value, nor reputation, nor anything else. —Marcus Aurelius. Business is rushing among the bandits this fall; ransoms are advancing steadily, and the abduction market bolds firm. Never has there been a more prosperous autumn, and if trade continues the members of the Amalgamated order will hold a convention in December, looking toward consolida tion and co-operation. “Silverspot,” the mysterious P. Crowe, reports that the Nebraska market still holds firm, and the hard working, yet promising, little Bulgarian band is making quite a stir in the financial world by their original method of dealing cold hands and raising the ante. The mail order business also continues brisk. “I don’t wish to pass as a monopolist, or to create a corner in the attempts to lift the cup, but if no other challenger is forthcoming I am quite prepared to seriously consider making another effort.” That is the way Sir Thomas Lipton modestly an nounced a third “Shamrock” at the Chicago banquet in his honor last week. Those present jumped to their feet and applauded till the rafters rang, and their joy at the good news will be echoed by every lover of sport in the country, for the Irish knight is the “real thing” from the ground up. May he have better luck next time. The old “Defender,” the yacht which so de cisively defeated “Valkyrie II.” four years ago and which cost her owners nearly half a million dollars, was broken up last week and sold for junk. Sir Thomas is anxious to see more heavily built craft in the next contest, and here is another argument in favor of his plan. The house of deputies of the Episcopal con vention rejected the canons relating to divorce and marriage passed by the house of bishops last week, which action gives the church three years more to consider the matter before coming to a final de cision. The canon, as passed by the bishops, virtually forbade the remarriage of divorced persons, whether they were to blame for the separation or not, and also provided for the disciplining of Epis copalians marrying again after being divorced. The house of deputies, composed largely of lay members of the church, felt that the proposed canons were too radical, and in this it received the support of the press of the country. That the church, which heretofore has avoided any innovations along this line, should find it nec essary to seriously consider the question is another large hint that something is radically wrong with our divorce laws. The sentiment of the people is that they must be made more uniform and less farcial. What can be more absurd than Mr. Greb- NOTICE. hard, now rusticating at Sioux Falls, S. D. and getting the whole town drunk periodically, suing for a divorce on the grounds of desertion? Marriage from a sacred institution has descended to a most casual affair, and it is to be hoped that the action of the Episcopal convention will stir up the national lawmakers to the extent of passing a uniform divorce law. President Roosevelt had Booker T. Washing ton to dinner at the White House one evening last week, and now the cultured south is standing on its hind legs and pawing the air. The president has been very severely criticised and there is talk of changing the plans for his entertainment at Charles ton this winter. Why in the name of all that is inflamable shouldn’t Mr. Roosevelt ask Mr. Washington to dine with him if he sees fit to do so? Mr. Washington is his friend, he has visited him frequently at Oyster Bay, he is a gentleman and a scholar, and the fact that he is a colored man is merely a matter of detail. If he had been yellow or red instead of black no one would have thought anything of the matter. The majority of the people who say they want to elevate the colored race seem to think that the way to do it is to deluge the south with tracts, which the colored race is unable to read, or to sit quietly at home figuring out how this government could ship all the colored people in the country tc* Africa; now and then they attend a lecture on the subject, after which they say the race must be educated, and then they send off another bunch of foolish literature and some old clothes to the black belt. Mr. Washington goes down and educates them; and if there is such a thing as a “race problem” in this country he should receive the support of every thinking man. The idea that all men are born equal is rot of course. They’re not. But the difference between man and man is not a difference of color any more than it is of clothes. It is of brains, education, morals and breeding. And, anyway, one would think that President Roosevelt is eminently qualified to choose his own friends. From time immemorial men in prison have whiled away time by writing. In fact the desire to put one’s thoughts on paper seems to be part of prison life—perhaps, however, it is only a way prisoners have of getting even with the world. Be that as it may, the name of the books that have been conceived within prison walls is legion. There have been many histories, books on philosophy, religious books, books of travel and adventure and even biographies, but, so far as we know, but one love story can trace its origin to a prison—“Aucassin and Nicolete.” This charming tale was written by a man—his name is long since forgotten—confined in a French dungeon early in the twelfth century. It is not only a most dainty and interesting story, but is absolutely unique, being the only one of the ancient song stories to escape the ravages of time and find its way to the prosaic twentieth century. The charm of “Aucassin and Nicolete” is in describable and yet it is not due in the least to the matter contained in it. Nicolete is of the purely conventional type, with fair hair, blue eyes, cherry lips and somewhat insipid ideas; Aucassin is the belted, spurred knight, “true to hys ladye love.” Nat urally enough, there is a villain in the book, in the person of Aucassin’s father, who does his best to separate the lovers, both of whom are cast into prison only to escape and live happily ever after. No, the matter has little to do with the charm of the story. It lies in the sympathy of the author with his pair of lovers; in the enthusiasm with which he espouses their cause, and in the gentle kindliness with which the tale is told. There is something mighty pleasant in the thought of that old captive following the fortunes of his creations through the wildwood, where Nicolete built her bower of green bows, where the trees are and the water sings on its way to the sea, where the winds murmur lullabies through the branches, where the stars dance merrily to keep warm and where the moon lights up the brief sum mer nights; it is pleasant to think of him, forgetful of his surroundings, oblivious to the past, present and future, riding forth to adventure with Aucassin and Nicolete. And notwithstanding the fact that he was a philosopher, this old chap was made of the right stuff, with red blood flowing in his veins; for when Aucassin was warned that he would go to hell should he marry Nicolete, he replies, by your leave, that he had nothing to win in Paradise if his lady be not there, and, since there is plenty of good company in the other place, there he “would gladly go, let me but have with me, Nicolete, my sweetest lady.” Little did that prisoner in the long ago imagine that his story would brighten the lives of other prisoners eight hundred years later, or that it would grace the shelves of such an inconceivable thing as a prison library. The tale has lived and will live because, as its author intended it should, it delights sad men. | STORYETTES. I •T-—=••••:- Modern Advertising. A little over a half a century ago it was considered beneath the dignity of many substantial con cerns to advertise beyond the in sertion in the newspapers of an occasional business card. Some of the experiences of that time show how recently advertising, as we know it, has developed. A retail hardware house in an eastern city once found itself pos sessed of ten times the number of articles of a certain kind that it had intended to buy. As they had been ordered especially for a new hotel and were of a peculiar de sign, there seemed to be no way of disposing of them except at a merely nominal sum. One of the younger men con nected with the concern offered to “move them” at a fair price pro vided he be permitted to adver tise. The suggestion encountered much opposition, but finally a small sum was set apart to carry it out. The advertisement was drafted in an attractive way, and the people soon began to buy the new article. Finally the house was obliged to send to the manu facturer’s for more. When the next season’s trade opened, the member of the firm who had most opposed the experiment whispered to the young man that he had better write out a few notices “and put them in the papers.” From such beginnings the ad vertising practice has come. Thou sands of dollars are now spent not only in advertising itself, but in devising clever catch words, in genious phrases and illustrations which will stick in the memory of the reader as well as new general methods.—Youth’s Companion. Heirs of Living Rulers. Here are some interesting statis tics in regard to the heirs of living rulers. There are 39 rulers in Europe and 20 of them have no male heirs. Seven of them have one son, three have two, four have three, one has four, three have live, and only one, the emperor of Germany, has six. Altogether the 39 rulers have 50 male and 37 fe male descendants. Among these there are 24 princes and 14 prin cesses who are the descendants of German emperors, kings, grand dukes and princes. In every country except Servia the suc cession to the throne is established by law.—Chicago Times-Herald. EXCHANGES. James Harned and the Haddock boys trapped a skunk near Rifle the other day. They are now writing anxious letters to their parents, asking when they may come home.—Denver Post. It is rather surprising that Pat Crow did not make another con dition —that he should be paid the $50,000 reward in case he was not convicted.—Kansas City Star. The archbishop of York sug gests a day of national humiliation as a way to hasten the success of the British arms in South Africa.. Goodness, isn’t that what the Boers have been handing out to the British for some time?—Min neapolis Journal. Some people are awfully care less. A young New Yorker has applied for the annulment of his marriage because he wedded the mother of his intended bride by mistake.—Minneapolis Times. HELIOGRAMS. PEACEFUL JOHN —AND— Peaceful John, myself and. a silent partner, who has furnished, the capital, (a discarded joke book and a copy of Miss Susan B. An thony’s speech on “How to Manage a Husband”) have consolidated and are now prepared to corner the joke market. Mrs. Nation says the strokes of her hatchet are prompted by love. I wish Sister Carrie would visit us and fall in love with the man that blows his nose in the dining room. “Hope deferred maketh the heart sick,” as the board of pardons said when it freed a man sentenced to fifteen days in the workhouse. The foundation of real happiness is built on the rock of contentment with the heart for an architect. There are a few men in this in stitution who, when they go to bathe should wrap their vocabulary up in their red bandana and have it laundried along with their other soiled linen. “The way of the transgressor is hard”—if he is caught. The most effective way to put Emma Goldman’s vocal, battery out of action would be to land on her with the piledriver of silence and bury her in the mire of oblivion. Pendennis says Bismarck was a greater statesman than either Gladstone or Blaine. Before taking his quill in hand to pen that sen tence Pendennis refreshed himself with a foolish powder. If we are to judge from his look, it is apparent that Embalmed Beef Alger is stinking for a fight. Mr. Goat, to his wife —“Where is Billy?” Mrs. Goat —“He’s in the laundry chewing the rag with Miss Nanny.” When a drummer wears a long tailed coat it is a pretty sure sign that the dome of his trousers are shingled with various samples of cloth. * Igniter Johnson of dudeen fame tells me that through force of habit he washes his face every Sunday, whether it needs it or not. If you can’t digest the bon-mots of wisdom and golden gems of thought contained in this column you are a sufferer from chronic dyspepsia, and should at once consult that eminent specialist, Clinic, who will prescribe a remedy that, if taken as directed, will make you think that you were struck with a switch engine. P. S. There are some people who will probably be mean enough to insinuate that I am a capper for Clinic. The Emperor of Germany has decorated Lord Roberts with the order of the Black Eagle. It’s up to the Irish now to decorate Lord Kitchener with the order of the Connemera Cuckoo. Isn’t it about time that the dowager empress plucked another peacock feather from Li HuDg Chang’s Stetson? A woman in Indiana, fifty years of age, has just married her four teenth) husband—whatever is worth doing is worth doing well. “I think I will tickle my palate, ’ r said the ostrich, as he gulped down a spool of barb* wire.