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The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, September 23, 1909, Image 2

Image and text provided by Minnesota Historical Society; Saint Paul, MN

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn90060762/1909-09-23/ed-1/seq-2/

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Gh* Mirror
Edited «nd Published by the Inmates of the
Minnesota State Prison* Stillwater, Minn.
mitered at the postoffice at Stillwutei, Mian., as second-class
Bail matter.
Contributions solicited from all sources. Rejected manuscripts
Will not be returned.
THE MIRROR is issued every Thursday at the following rates:
One Year
Six Months - ----- .50
Three Months - - * " " ~ * 25
To inmates of all penal institutions - - 50 c*s. per year
Address all communications to
THE MIRROR,
Stillwater, Minn.
THE MIRK OR 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. It aims to be a home newspaper; to encourage
moral and Intellectual improvement among tho 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
shall accrue a surplus of funds, the money wll be expended In the
Interests of the prison library.
TO INMATES.
For the information of new arrivals and all others desiring to send The
Mirror to friends we wish to say that the privilege will be granted by
complying with the following rules: Write your own name and register
number and send same to this office with name and address of person to
whom paper is to be sent. Each paper must be kept clean and folded
in the same manner in which it is received and placed in your door
every Friday night. All inmates are requested to comply with this order
whether sending out a copy or not.
Service in the Prison Chapel at nine o’clock every Sunday morning.
Protestant and Catholic service every alternate Sunday. Rev. C. E.
Benson and Rev. Fr. Corcoran chaplains.
Come, Worry, let us walk abroad today,
Let’s take a little run along the way:
I know a sunny path that leads from Fear
Up to the lovely fields of Wholesome Cheer.
I’ll race you there —I’m feeling fit and strong.
So, Worry, come along!
We started on our way, I and my Care.
I set the pace on through the springtime air,
But ere we’d gone a mile poor Worry stopped,
Tried hard to catch his breath, and then he
dropped,
Whilst I went on —
Au easy winner of that Marathon.
And sinoe that day when vexed by any fear,
When Worry’s come again with visage drear,
I’ve challenged him to join me iu that race,
And found each time he could not stand the pace.
—John Kendiick Bangs, in Ainslee’e.
Bishop McGolrick of Duluth has announced
his intention of carrying out a plan to colonize agri
cultural lands in the northern part of the State. It
is his intention to endeavor to induce seven
thousand families now located in the congested cities
of the eastern part of the United States to remove to
lands which he has selected, personally inspeoted
and found to be particularly well adapted to general
farming and stookraising. The families selected for
settlement are to be of the Catholic faith principally
and farms in severalty are to be sold them upon
most favorable terms and at low prices. The plan is
not a moneymaking one, but is based primarily upon
philanthropic principles—that of bettering the moral,
material and spiritual condition of those who will
take hold of the good Bishop’s ideas.
The plan proposed by Bishop McGolrick is not
a new one. About thirty years ago Archbishop
(then Bishop) Ireland obtained a large tract of land
in the western part of the State and brought over
quite a number of families from Ireland. The town
of Graceville was founded—being named after the
then Archbishop of the Episcopate—Archbishop
Grace. The immediate results of Archbishop Ire
land’s colonization did not bear good fruit in the be
ginning, but there were numerous reasons for the
apparent failure in the initiatory transplanting of
families from a foreign country to a then praotically
wild and woolly frontier. Since that time great prog
ress has been made in railroading and in the growth
of the country—thus affording ready markets for
farm products. The result of whioh has been great
prosperity for the settlers brooght over by Aroh
bishop Ireland.
Bishop McGolrick is a good man in addition to
being an honest one. He has been engaged in do
ing beneficent works all of his long and eventful life.
Against bitter opposition and many difficulties he
has built up his diocese into one of power .and for
midable strength and character. In his present un
dertaking—that of peopling the northern part of the
State —and thus making waste plaoes “bloom anc
blossom as the rose,” he will be engaged in a grand
CHURCH NOTICE.
A CHALLENGE.
EDITORIAL.
and noble service. First of all, the people whom he
induces to locate on the lands selected will prosper
and call him blessed. The commonwealth will gain
materially in adding a large number of .desirable
families to the population of the State.
It may be said truthfully that if anyone can
make a success of the projeot outlined, Bishop Mc-
Golrick is that man and he ought to have the aid
and encouragement of all who can help the plan
along by word or deed.
John A. Johnson, the greatest Governor Min
nesota ever had, is dead. He passed away early last
Tuesday morning at Rochester, Minn., his untimely
demise mourned by every man, woman and child in
the State and by many millions throughout the na
tion.
President Taft in his speeches in the Twin Cities
referred to the late Governor as “Minnesota’s favorite
son,” and such he waa. The President also alluded
gracefully to the possibility of Gov. Johnson being
called upon to serve the nation in time to come in a
higher sphere —but Death, unconquerable, has
changed the course of history in that respect.
“In the midst of life we are in death,” and no
one knows what a day will bring forth. The un
timely death of Gov. Johnson is a sad blow and re
minds all of the immutable law of the Master which
calls home the high and the low—the rich and the
poor—at his own appointed time.
John A. Johnson was born in St. Peter, Minn.,
July 28,1861, and was therefore in his fortyninth
year at the time of his death. He attended the com
mon schools of his native city. At the age of four
teen he became employed in a drug store, where he
remained for ten years. In 1886 he became one of
the editors and publishers of the St. Peter Herald.
He was a member of the Minnesota National Guard
for eight years, having served as Captain of Company
I, Seoond Regiment. In 1899 he was elected to the
State Senate, serving one term. In 1904 he was
elected Governor of this State as a Democrat, being
reelected in 1906 and 1908.
Lieutenant Governor Eberhart, Republican, is
the new Governor.
A number of years ago Elbert. Hubbard wrote
his Message to Garcia which has been translated in
to and printed in every known living language. Mr.
Hubbard builded better than he knew when he wrote
that short article. The world wants the one who can
do things—not the one who is continually offering
excuses. The one who says, “I can,” is preferable to
the one who mumbles, moans, mutters or sputters,
“I can’t.” The man of excuses is not wanted any
where. He is of no use to himself or anyone else.
When a task is assigned to one to perform, the thing
to do is to go ahead and accomplish it. That is as
true in one place as in another. “Practice makes
perfect.” Genius is the fruition of hard labor. The
master minds of the world are all united upon that
axiom. Therefore, the thing to do is to be of that
class who work and watch and watch and work for
the opportunity to try to do that which the whining
and whimpering individual says he cannot perform.
This country can stand any kind of a tariff when
the producers are prosperous. It cannot stand any
sort of a tariff when the consumers are hungry and
the producers are poor. In the last analysis the pro
ducer pays all fixed. charges on everything—going
and coming. The farmer pays the freight on his
produce to market and pays the freight on every
thing he buys. Great is the producer—the fellow
who tickles the earth and makes it groan under the
good things it brings forth.
A celebrated scientist says it is impossible for
any human being to injure one’s self by work. That
sounds like arrant nonsense. Work is benefioial—
but too much work is injurions. No doubt about it.
Perhaps it would be more correct to say that over
work is never the immediate cause of a serious in
jury or the cause of an immediate irreparable, injury.
And the cry is: “Back to the farm —back to
the farm.” Farming is almost a luxury now with all
modern conveniences at the ruralite’s doorway.
Dr. Cook is evidently the man to reoover the
stolen Charley Ross and find out who struck Billy
Patterson.
Flying across the Atlantic in airships is ap
parently not far off—according to the present out
look.
When the mind rests the body is in repose and
that is a good thing for both brain and body.
Man’s ingenuity will conquer the air and all of
the elements.
The road to wealth is generally the road to ill
health.
UNDER THE LASH.
BY ANGLICUB.
WVWVWWI*
Little Chertnany Says:
Was ist? I blay der musik? Yah, yemubefc*
I blay der hundret-ton horn some more yet.
Dot Webb he aindt no Rood, ohoost blay
der horn
Like liddle pabies blay as soon’s
der born,
Don’d ged no musik, noddings else but
vind,
Brovessor says you bet I got him skinned.
Choost oom-pah, oom-pah, oom-pah
all der ray,
He blays choost like a dongey
eading hay.
♦ 9 9
The Baritone’s Views:
A little man you see in me,
You know my name? It’s A. F. B.
I am the man who killed the whale,
And skinned the shark and told the
tale.
Yes, sir, I did it, I alone,
And now I whale the baritone.
Heave ho, my hearties, let ’er rip,
Musio is great and so’s a ship.
The Solo Cornet’s Opinion:
I am the one and only man
Who governs things Pierian;
If you don’t know me, it’s your loss,
The great Chautauqua Circle boss.
This band wouldjaurely make
things hum
If only Ford could play the drum;.
Oxcuse me, does he play it well?
Just visper about William Tell.
Scientific Note:
I am an entomologist, an entomologologist,
My specialty is chugs.
In manner intellectual I simply disinfect yon all
With highly perfumed drugs.
Oh, I’m the boy that burns you out
And cleans you out and turns you out,
And when I play the bass,
Old Butch grows green and pink by turns,
He says he feels like Tommy Burns
When Johnson shoved his face.
Mistah Ford Speaks:
Yassah, aho, I play the dram;
Cain’t yo heah dat rum-tum-tom?
Unole John goes off the key,
Keys all look alike to me.
Marches old and all the new ones,
Hear me cover up blue ones.
When the clar’net squawks, ker-jee!
Where’d the band be without me?
Rum-pum! Rum-Pum!
Kr-r-r-r-r-r-r-r Rum-Pum!
Parlez'vous Frenchy?
Ze museek? Ah, I play heem grand*.
Wizout me where would be ze band?
I play ze two-step lullaby
Viz solo on ze water key.
And ven I praotees all ze boys
In solitair don’ make no nois,
Zey keep like mouses, oh! so steel,
And call me Weendy-Jammer Beel.
Tonsorial Talk:
You want a shave? You got a clock
Needs mending? Can ifix your lock?*
You’d like to learn to draw, you say?
I’ll ’tend to you some other day.
Pm busy on this melody,
“The Aeronautic Symphony,”
The words are Frenoh, by Isaac Pitman,.
I’ll bet you it will make a hit, man.
9 9 9
9 9 9
* ♦ *
ft ? *
? ? ?

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