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The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, February 15, 1912, Image 1

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EDITED AND PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY THE INMATES OF THE MINNESOTA STATE PRISON
Vol. XXV. —No. 28.
Hope, faith and Love.
There are three lessons I would write;
Three words as with a burning pen,
In tracing of eternal light
Upon the hearts of men.
Have hope. T hough clouds environ snow
And gladness hides her face in scorn.
Put through the shadow from my brow.
No night but hath its morn.
Hare faith. Where’er thy bark is driven,
The calm’s disport, the tempest’s mirth
■ Know this—God rules the hosts of heaven
The inhabitants of earth.
Have love. Not love alone for one,
But men, as men thy brothers call,
And scatter, like the circling sun ,
Thy charities on all.
Thus grave these lessons on thy soul —
Hope, faith and love—and thou shalt find
Strenght when life’s surges rudest roll,
Light when thou else wert blind.
Frederick Von Schiller.
THE RETURN.
Beau Esprita.
It wasn’t a specially clear and
balmy afternoon. The mellow au
tumnal sun did not shine from those
proverbial cloudless skies. For all
that Dan Rugg knew to the con
trary —if he knew anything at all
about it —such skies were but po
etic illusions of sentimental story
writers or at best, the shadowy relic
of a long dead mythology. There
was nothing mythical, however, in
the wind-driven rain that beat into
his face as he rounded the unshelt
ered street corner; nor was it very
poetic, unless in rather too obvious
suggestion of “streams that flowed.”
Dan Rugg was uncumfortably con
scious of a stream that flowed in
side the collar of his rusty coat,
seeping from the abreviated rim of
his battered Derby hat.
Now this may seem a not very
propitious way to begin a story,
but really lam not to blame for
that —nor was Dan Rugg. Could
we have had our way it would never
have happened at all; or needs must
that it be, Tvould all have happened
in the conventional, clear and balmy
mellow autumnal, cloudless, Garden
of Eden manner with Dan Rugg, the
regular, faultlessly tailored, clean
limbed, handsome young Prince
Charming stepping from his perfect
ly appointed, numberless horse-pow
«r, many thousand dollar motor car.
Rut the weather man will have his
way; and so will those tides that
ebb and flow through the currents
of life, and which have been known
before now and doubtless will be
known many times more to eddy in
to some comparatively still harbor
such weather-beaten driftwood as
Dan Rugg.
YY r e do not complain of these
things, Dan Rugg and I. They are
From a sheltered doorway across
the street a policeman scowled at
Dan Huger as he hurried along in
the rain, and Dan’s hand went re
assuringly to the pocket of his coat
wherein lay certain papers, duly
signed and sealed with the Seal of
the State.
There was something infinately
•caressing in the -movement, like a
lover caressing the spot beneath
which reposed the first-given tress
of the Only Girl, and his hand lin
gered over the pocket until it drop
ped to open the door of a house no
less rusty, no less battered in appear
ance than Dan himself.
Within was the odor of many peo
ple crowded into many little rooms;
of many feeble fires smothering in
••
, ... j&r. ' -i itsfcQag' v . si-
STILLWATER, MINNESOTA, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 1912.
many draftless stoves; of many pots
of cabbage preparing for the satis
faction of many hungry mouths.
It was an odor sw r eet to the nos
trils of the rain-drenched scrap of
driftwood —the odor of home first
sensed after years of absence.
On the last of the little square
landings, littered with rough arti
cles of household use which could
find no room in the crowded tene
ments, hot unlike the scum of a
great kettle forced over the edges
by the troubled movement of its
stewing contents yet clinging and
dripping down it’s rough sides, Dan
paused. '
There was only one door on this
landing, a seamy, worm-eaten door
which leaned askew in the narrow
strip of grimy wall as if much squirm
ing about in futile attempt to find
an easier position between the roof
which pressed down heavily from
above and the stairs that reached up
greedily from below had perman
ently impaired its power to stand
errect. Not a beautiful door, cer
tainly; rather, a door with a story.
A poor sort of door, you will say, to
open upon a scene of beauty such as
angles hesitate before. Perhaps —
but if so, again we are not blame,
Dan Rugg and I.
In our eyes it was a Golden por
tal set with pearls of great price, its
weary, skewy, leaning was the eager
outreaching of a-joyous welcoming
gate (it would have been all this in
fact could we have had our way); it
was the door of home for Dan Rugg.
No odor of smothering fire or pre
paring cabbage came through it’s
many seams, and Dan paused to
brace himself before tapping on it’s
worm-eaten panels. He knew of the
love that waited his coming on the
other side, but what §lse would he
find? Oh, what else?
A weak, startled voice answered
his rap and he entered. A tiny
room and bare, with the heavy roof
pressing down on it in sloping walls
dim lit by the flame of a meagre can
dle. A rusty stove sagged, tireless
and weary, on three legs in one cor
ner; a rough table leaning again st
the wall held two or three empty
tins. A narrow bed was braced in
the corner by the light; and prop
ped on it’s scanty pillows half lay a
frail little woman, her hands still
clutching the rough cloth she had
been trying to work on. For a mo
ment her strained eyes stared at the
man just within the door in startled
inquiry, then recognition coming she
flung herself from the pillows into
his outstretched arms. The weak
voice came full and strong in her
cry. “Boy! Boy! Danny Boy.”
He knelt beside the bed, holding
her close, neither speaking for a long
time. Then in answer to her ques
tioning eyes, he said, “They found
it wasn’t me, after while. The fel"
low that did it got hurt bad and
owned up. They gave me this.”
He drew his arm from around her
emaciated form and brought out the
packet, duly signed and sealed with
the Seal of State. Sh*» sank back
upon the pillows, t -
unopened against be* breast, for 1-
ling it as a little b; (■. Dan ; .'u-,-'
stirred uneasily,gig 'Tel: K'-o’’Ti?nnej
room; noticing it’s 1 t . V
stove, the empty t. is. HS
rested on a little rockei. -j ■ ■"! \\
broken but spotless*;- budless, vitn j
a tiny crutch leai
v _ , . . r .
IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.
arm and a bit of childish needlework
tidied across the baok. He half rose,
startled, “YVhy Maggie? Where is
she? Maggie?” The woman’s hand
held his own in a tighter clasp and
she drew him down again beside her.
“She-is happy now, Dan, tad —well.”
Their little Maggie had been a crip
ple from babyhood; she could not be
well in this life. The strong man’s
head bowed down in her lap and a
hard sob shook his frame.
Her fingers strayed over his rough
short-cropped hair, lingering softly,
caressingly, and she repeated,
Happy now, Danny Boy—happy
—and well,” The weariness of her
unnourished frame had again crept
into her voice and her head drooped
piteously until it lay beside his on
the coverlet. Between them lay the
paper they had given him in return
for years of toil and heart break, in
return for the little crippled daugh
ter whose life he might have pro
longed had there to watch
over and care for her; in return for
the toil of the weak woman in the
lonely attic, alone, and with no one
to supply the Necessities of life; the
paper —duly signed, and sealed with
the Seal of State.
How Not to Write a Letter
Carelessness is responsible for poor
results from form letters many times.
This may take the form of careless
ness in statements made, in the ap
pearance of the letter, in errors in
mailing, and in dozens of other es
sentials.
Illustrating carelessness in the
form to be sent.is the following ex
tract from from a form letter sent
by a medical company to a man who
inquired about a preparation they
manufactured which they advertised
would put on flesh. Their error
was so glaring that it made the let
ter a joke —and beware misapplied
humor, for it doesn’t secure business.
Remember until the discovery of
Blank, nothing has ever been known
which could 3>e depended “upon to
put ten, fifteen and even thirty
pounds of firm “stay there” tissue.
Think a moment what it would
mean to you to have even fifteen
pounds added to your present weight.
Fifteen pounds well distributed over
your figure vt»ll mean a plump, full
face free ftym lines and furrows,
well rounded arms and neck, a firm
bust, enoughj “upholstery” upon the
hips so that jou can endure to sit for
hours uponja hard seat. Fifteen
pounds will-fnean legs, not drum
sticks. f
Excuse ote frankness; this is a
confidential letter, there is no need
of mincing natters just between us
two.
In view o| the fact that this re
markable fink letter was “beaded
in”very cleally with the gentleman’s
name, it is nit surprising that he felt
inclined to wmder whether the joke
was on him <b +he sender. Conclud
ing- that the letter would have to
bear the of it, he failed to take
advantage of the onnor it-.v tn <rat
uls
*nd to nra bus* ” —F;om
si
In troubl-isYtark hour no
i away to dcjj/.'Sti/. ic*r Xhiiil
hi&ya&rfcbfd 4md whei o« ; re
!in Iwok learn $4 wisely .to Vi j- the
! good fortune- ox life as it t ri* /* W
DEFECTIVE PAGE
EARLY DAYS
A. F. B.
Paver Read Before the Chautauqua Circle:
Some fifty years ago, a young
German had left the shores of the
Fatherland and finally arrived in
the United States. Disembarking
at Castle Garden, which at that
time was the landing place for im
migrants and after passing through
the hands of those who look after
the immigrants, he, with a number
of others, left for the state of Illi
nois, there to engagfe in farm work.
At this work the young man con
tinued for. the period of fiye years,
at the end of which time he, who a
short time ago had been classed as a
foreigner, was now a citizen of the
United Slates.
Furthermore he had saved during
those five years, money enough to
enable him to start out in business
for himself.
YVe next find him in the state of
Minnesota, then almost a wilderness
sparsely settled and full of roving
bands of the war-like Sioux and
others.
Undaunted the young man pur
chased a small tract of land and on
it built a rude log cabin. His near
est neighbors lived some seven miles
away, still he did not lack for com
pany for the Indians were ever
near,
Many a night the entire space of
the small cabin was taken up by
them, who came uninvited and who
helped themselves to what ever
suited their taste or fancy. Many a
night the young man went supper
less to bed and in doing so won the
good will of the red men, which in
after years stood him in good stead.
Many a time also the Indians, after
a successful day’s hunt, would re
turn to the cabin and leave a plenti
ful supply.
Settlers were few in those days
and the Indians were not only
friendly but grateful and kind.
And so the years sped on until
one-never-to-be-forgotten day, the
young settler was rudely taken from
his home, the clothing stripped from
his body, which was then painted
black, after which he was forced to
dance for hours in order to save his
life. The Indians were on the war
path and had devastated the whole
country east of the Mississippi,
burning and killing all whom they
came across.
For many weary days the captive
was forced to march with the In
dians and many were the times
when death would have been a re
lief, especially when straggling
bands of the most blood-thirsty sav
ages would return to camp at night
and display the bloody scalps in tri
umph, many of which the captive
recognized as belonging to some of
his neighbors.
No doubt all of the members of
this circle have read of the New
Ulm massacre and the final death by
hanging of thirty-eight of the In
di * h? took part in the same.
’> i* it- period in the young man’s
Me we s .all pass and only say that
1 s of untold suffering he
-nnnrry r -rved at
mu * - me. Only a heap of ashes
of the log cabin and years
s ’’ 1 hardship again stares
-
give up? No! He builds
V
\ -
Tcnlln , I SI.OO a Year 1
1 ERMB- | CMontbs FiftyCts.
a better and stronger home and in
time another comes and shares it
with him. To this couple several
children were born, all of which to
day have ever been upright, honest,
bard-working, American citizens,
except one, who is unworthy to be
called their son.
When Uncle Sam called for vol
unteers, these young men gladly
offered their lives to their father’s
adopted country. And today where
once there stood a log hut there
now stands a pleasant humble home,
facing the main street of a thriving
city numbering some ten thousand
souls. The same being mostly built
by those who came from that little
spot across the sea.
As a rule the Germans are the
most wanted, ard are considered
the best class of immigrants in the
United States today. Most all of
them are hard-working honest, up
right sturdy men, and their goods
sell on sight. I wish the members
to take this statement as I mean it
when I say: There are no better
class of people in the world than
the honest upright immigrant who
comes here to better his condition;
for on account of them has it alone
been possible to make this country
what it is today.
Just think where Milwaukee
would be if it had not been for the
sturdy sons from the Fatherland.
And what .would we do if all of the
protectors of peace would go back
to Ireland? And if all the foreign
ers would return to their native
lands Uncle Sam would have an
awful time looking for an American.
The Indian reservation would be
his last hope, and we doubt, at this
time, if one could be found willing
enough to admit being a full-blooded
American.
How then can any one make the
statement that the Americans lead
the world in all branches of indus
try without including foreigners
from all parts of the world?
By careful study you will find
that its not the ones born under the
American Hag that control the big
gest of the industries in this coun
try, but that it is those who were
born in a foreign land. It takes all
classes of people to make a world,
and were it not so, we perhaps
would not be here today.
We are all foreigners in one way
for we have proven false to our
selves and to the land that we called
home.
In closing I might say that the
only reason a large number of ar
ticles made only by Americans can
be sold today, is because it has that
little trade mark —“Made in Ger
many.” y
If you have never enjoyed a hap
py day in your life, try this:
The next time you meet some
poor fellow down and out just kind
ly pat him on the back and say:
“Here old boy, cheer up! Come
over and have lunch. I know just
the man who is looking for a fellow
like you.”
Let him know you have faith in
him and see how quick he will re
spond. You can never feel true
Bappiness until you have made some "
other cheerless soul see the cheering
rays of light. If God made you
strong he did so that you might help
your weaker brother. Are you do
ing it? —A. F. B.

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