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, v • SJe MIR RO R o I IFublished WeeKly i <£% L ,ocltlTT— ? i I &.t the I Voi, XVIII.—No. 33. V * \ r i' ' ¥ WHAT HAVE WE DONE TODAY? WE SHALL do so much io the years to come! But what have we done today? We shall give our gold in a princely sum, But what shall we give today? We shall lift the heart and dry the tear. We shall plant a hope in the place of fear. We shall speak the words of love and cheer, But what did we speak today? * * We shall be so kind In the after a while. But what have we been today? We shall bring to each lonely life a smile, But what have we brought today? We shall give to truth a grander birth, And to steadfast faith a deeper worth, We shall feed the hungering souls of earth. But whom have we fed today? * * We shall reap such joys In the by and by. But what have we sown today? We shall build us mansions in the sky, But what have we built today? ’Tis sweet in Idle dreams to bask, But here and now do we our task? Yes, this is the thing our souls must ask, “What have we done today?” —Christian Intelligencer. Ole and the Detective. OLE, a tall Norwegian, was a rather handsome fellow, with a short light beard and a heavy mustache; he looked a trifle paler than usual, but was quite quiet and collected, perhaps a little upset at the unusual disturbance in the shop where for so long he had worked, yet without the faintest sign of personal uneasiness about him. His fair skin, however, showing all too plainly the burning color that had rushed to his fare the instant that he knew he lay actually under suspicion of thieving. Mr. Morgan’s—one of his employers, and an Englishman—words made him tingle from head to foot, and he could have taken the man by the throat and shaken the breath out of him. For the suspicion, hard enough for any man to bear, was doubly hard for him on account of his nationality. That a Norwegian should be other wise than strictly honorable was to Ole a monstrous idea. He knew well that he and his countrymen had plenty of faults, but scrupulous hon esty was so ingrained in his Norse na ture, that to have the slightest doubt cast upon bis honor was to him an in tolerable insult. The detective—an Englishman from London —could not, of course, understand this. He was a clever and a conscientious man, but his experience was, after all, limited. He had not traveled in Norway, or stud ied the character of its people; he did not know that you may leave all your baggage outside an inn in the public highway without the least fear that in the night any one will meddle with it; he did not know that if you give a Norse child a coin equal to flve cents in return for a great bowl of milk, it will refuse with real distress to keep it, because the milk might be worth a little less; he had not heard the story of the lost chest of plate, which by good chance was washed up on the Norwegian coast, how the experts ex amined the crest on the spoons, and af- STILLWATER, MINNESOTA, THURSDAY, MARCH 2, 1905. ter infinite labor and pains succeeded in restoring it to its rightful owner in a far away southern island. It was, after all, qtiite natural that he should suspect the man who had colored so deeply, who protested so indignantly against the mere suspicion of guilt, who clearly shrank from the idea of being searched. “I will examine you first,” said the detective; and Ole, seeing there was no help for it, submitted to the indignity. For an instant even Mr. Morgan was shaken in his opinion; there was such an evident consciousness of innocence in the Norwegian’s whole manner and bearing now that the ordeal had really begun. In solemn silence two pockets were turned inside out. The left hand waist coat pocket was apparently empty, but the careful detective turned that inside out too. Suddenly Mr. M— cried vehe mently, “I told you so.” And Ole, roused to take notice, which before be had not condescended to do, looked down and saw a sight that made his heart stand still. Carefully pinned to the inside of the pocket was a clean, fresh, five hundred kroner note. He did not speak a word, but just stared at the thing in blank amaze ment. There was a painful silence. Surely it could be nothing but a bad dream. He looked at the unconcerned detect ive, and at Mr. Morgan’s excited face. It was no dream; it was a most horri ble reality—a reality which he was ut terly unable to explain. With an instinct that there was yet one man present who trusted him in spite of appearance he made a step or two to ward Mr. Jameson—Mr. Morgan’s business partner. “Sir,” he said, “I swear to you that I know nothing of this. It has astound ed me as much as it has surprised ydn. How it came there I can’t say* but I certainly didn’t put it there.” Mr. J— was silent, and glancing back Ole saw on the thin tips of the detect- “IT (8 METER TOO LATE TO REND.” ive a very expressive smile. The sight almost maddened him. In the shock of the discovery he had turned very pale, now the violence of bis wrath made him flush to the roots of his hair. “If you didn’t put it there, who did?” said Mr.M— indignantly,“don’t add falsehood to your sin, young man.” “I have never spoken a falsehood in my life; it is you who Ue when you say that I put it there,” said Ole. “My poor fellow,” said Mr. Jameson, “I am heartily sorry for you, but you must own appearances are against you.” “What! you, too, sir!” cried Ole hotly. The tone went to Mr. J—’s heart. “I think you did it quite uncon sciously,” he said. “I am sure you could never have taken it bad you known what you were about. You did it in absence of mind—in a fit of tem porary aberration. It is, perhaps, a mere result of your illness last summer, and no one would hold you responsible for it.” A horrible wave of doubt passed over Ole. Could this indeed be the ex planation? But it was only for a moment. He could not really believe it; he knew there was no truth in this suggestion of brain disturbance. “No one in absence of mind could have deliberately pinned the note in,” he said. “Besides my head was perfectly clear, not even aching or tired.” “Quite so; I am glad that so far you own the truth,” said Mr. Morgan. “Make a free confession at once and we will not press the prosecution. You yielded to a certain temptation, aud, as we all know, have special reasons for needing money. Come, confess ?” “You are not bound to incriminate yourself,” said the detective, who, act ing in a private capacity, was not bound to urge the prosecution “Still, what the gentleman suggests is by far the best course for you to take, i There’s not a jury or court in the land j that would not give a verdict against i you.” “I shall certainly not tell a lie to save open disgrace,” said Ole. “The jury or court may say what they like. God knows I am innocent.” “Now, I know that you are lying,” said Mr. M—, “don’t add blasphemy to your crime. You are the most irreli gious fellow I ever catpe across—a man who, to my certain knowledge, never attend any place of public wor- I ship, and do you dare to call God for | your witness ?” Nothing but the strong head of the : Norwegian kept back a sharp retort. But a great calmness had come over Ole, and his tone might have convin ced even Mr. Morgan had he not been !so full of prejudice. “God knows I am innocent,” he repeated; “and only He can tell how the note got there; I can’t.” “One word with you.” said Mr. Jame son, the detective, and they both went to Mr. J—’s private office. Soon the detective had accepted his fee and went off. Then Mr. Jameson called for Mr. Morgan and Ole to enter his private office. Inside of the office Ole stood face to face with what bad caused all this trouble, on a writing table before him was a note, just as fresh and crisp-looking as when it had issued from Norge’s Bank. “This has been a sad business, Ole,” said Mr. Jameson, leaning his elbow on the mantlepiece, and looking with his clear, kindly eyes at the young N orwegian. “But lam convinced that you had no idea what you were doing, and 1 should not dream of prosecuting you, or discharging you.” Poor Ole was too much stunned to be able to feel anyCgratitude for this. Mr. Morgan, however, left him no tipne to reply. “I think you have taken leave of yonr senses, Jameson,” he said, vehemently. “Save yourself the an noyance of prosecution, if you like; but it is grossly unfair to the rest of your employees to keep a thief in your house. Not only that, bat it is alto gether immoral; it is showing special favor to vice; it is admitting a princi ple which, if allowed, would ruin all business life. If there is one thing no ticeable in all successful concerns it is that uncompromising severity is shown to even trifling errors—even to carelessness.” “My business has hitherto been suc cessful,” said Mr. Jameson, “and I have never gone *on that principle, and never will. Why, are we to have a law of mercy and rigidly to exclude it from every-day life ? But that is the way of the world. It manages to shirk most of Christ’s commands.” We hope to be able some time in the future to explain how the note got in that pocket. A. R. Opes the Door of Your Deart. Open tbe door of your heart, my lad. To the angels of love and truth; When the world is full of unnumbered joys In the beautiful dawn of youth. Casting aside all things that mar, Saying to wrong, “Depart!” To the voices of hope that are calling you Open the door of your heart. Open the door of your heart my lass, To the things that shall abide; To the holy thoughts that lift your soul Like the stars at eventide. All of the fadeless flowers that bloom In the realms of song and art Are yours, if you’ll only give them room Open the door of your heart. Open the door of your heart, my friend, Heedless of class or creed, When you hear the cry of a brother’s voice, The sob of a child in need. To the shining heaven that o’er you bends You need no map or chart, But only the love the master gave, Open the door of your heart. —Edward Everett Hale. The Russian < Revolution. ( 1 THREE important facts werede- i veloped during the recent i strikes of workingmen in the < cities of European Russia. < First, that the czar was not competent to meet the situation. Second, that the autocracy will not tolerate public 1 expression of the grievances of the ; people and will use the army to main- ' tain its position. Third, that the peo ple of all classes in Russia are at present incapable of an organized re volt against the existing government. Nicholas 11. is not any stronger at the kingship than was Louis XVI. of France, but he has strong men to sup port his weak hand in the present crisis. Perhaps it is a part of the crafty policy of the autocracy to retire the czar into i the background and give the nobles the | reigns of government. This would make Nicholas appear as the “well in tentioned young man,” completely submerged by the Grand Dukes, who kindly undertake to restore order within his empire. The autocracy is sued orders for the army to disperse the mobs of strikers in the cities. The soldiers ‘blindly obeyed their officers and shot down without hesitation all those who did not immediately disband. The imperial army is loyal to the autocracy. The royal army quartered in Paris or its immediate vicinity in 1789, was in sympathy with the Revo lutionists. The people of Russia are not acquainted with the political ideas embodied in a constitutional form of government. The people of France were educated upon this subject for thirty years before the Revolution by hundreds of pamphleteers and popular writers. The French Revolution was of a gradual growth and not the event of a few years of agitation among the masses by a society of Revolutionists. In 1760 the French people were dis contented; in 1770 the educated people openly opposed the king and court. Ten years later the masses were in a state of chronic rebellion against the aristocracy and it was nine years more before the general uprising of the peo ple. On July 14, 1789, Paris was in the hands of .a mob, thirty per cent of ' which were armed. The Bastille was destroyed and the news spread quickly throughout France. A general revolt . started and the movement did not halt tcdua- i SI.OO per rear. In ad ranee I CKMtS. J Slx jj on^g M cent, until a complete revolution had oc curred in the government of France. The unfortunate Louis had no on* upon whom te lean. The czar haa thousands of troops to protect him; he has brave officers to lead them, and also many machine guns to turn against a revolting populace. The Russian Bastille is called the Fortress of St. Peter and Paul, and it still stands frowning from its position on the Neva. Farther down the river the strikers are again busy at their daily toil. Father Gopon is in exile and Maxim Gorky lies in one of the casements of the Fortress. However much we sympathize with the Russian people we must not mis judge the present crisis in that country. The czar is not competent, but the Grand Dukes are and have the situa tion well in hand. At no time was the autocracy in danger. The army did and will for the present come to the aid of the government. The revolution has a good start in Russia, and the peculiarities of popular discontent that marked the rise of the French Revolu tion are apparent. There have been eight famines in Russia since 1902 which has caused a great deal of suf fering among the peasantry. A foreign war has taken many from the field of productivity and consequently im poverished the lives of a great number. Last harvest in some districts there was a total failure of crops. The peasantry in these localities are this winter starving and next spring those that survive will not be in proper con dition, physically, to work their land. The soldiers who return from Man churia will spread discontent by tbeir tales of suffering in the war. The news of the rioting in the cities will be carried far and consequently disaffect the peasantry. The autocracy is bor rowing money as fast as the foreign money markets will take up the loans. Going in debt to pay debts. This is the same policy the ministers of Louis XVI. pursued to a disastrous end. Press dispatches now say that the czar is going to call the ancient land parliament together. Louis XVI. called the states general in session and from this body came the men who led the French Revolution to a success ful end. Pendennis. There Is a curious game called “why.” To play It wise men vainly try, We start It at our very birth Nor quit It till we leave this earth. When first the sun makes glad the eye We blink and wail and wonder “why,” What is the secret of success? E’en they who have it blindly guess. Why do the winds flow softly by? Why are the flowers, fresh and sweet, Scattered profusely at our feet? Why is it that mere gold can buy The good that toll will oft deny? We strive to solve and strive in vain The secrets of life’s joy and pain; We love, we lose, we laugh, we cry— ’Tis all In the great game of “why!” —Washington Star. Why Cried. Old Gentleman—Why are you cry ing, my little man? Small Boy (sobbing)—l dreamed last night that the school burnt down, and— Old Gentlman (sympathetically)— Oh, but I don’t believe that it has. Small Boy—Neither do I. I kin see the top of it over the hill. Side Walk prescription. The busy doctor was hurrying down the street when he was stopped by a man noted for his ability to get “side walk” advice. “I am thoroughly worn ont and sick and tired. What ought I to take?” asked the man. “Take a cab,” replied the unfeeling doctor.—New York Times. The greatest, coward is the one who is afraid of being charged with fear. —Ex.