Bandon recorder., September 30, 1909, Image 6

BANDON RECORDER
BANDON........................ OMGON
If we dida't have to work there would
be no fun In loafing
In endeavoring to live up to it« name
Zephyr, Texan, seems to have sadly
overdone It.
Borne of these days the American
people will wake up and take hold of
the Black Hand without gloves.
"Free lumber,” avers the Omaha
Bee, "seems to have gone by the
board.” Yea, its bark was wrecked.
The famous hunter shot the gnu,
then drew his snickersnee, and with
one Bwlft and lusty stroke cut oft the
creature's g.
But with the silent gun, the man
who "didn't know It was loaded” will
be more surprised than ever when his
victim falls.
Birmingham, Ala., Is to have a fif­
teen story Jail. Evidently the people
of Birmingham do not approve of un­
derground dungeons.
If Jimmie Hyde cannot live In that
dear Paris he will be more emphat­
ically a man without a country than Is
the wandering Castro.
L.__________
'■■■■:■----- 7TET
Seaweed is to be ccnve-ted into an
article of food; considering what some
people can do with dandelion leaves,
we can believe anything.
The man who kills another through
reckless auto-drlvlng has committed
as serious a crime as though his
weapon were a knife or gun.
Emma Boldman
Comstock as "an
thony might get a
calling Emma "an
refers to Anthony
old mummy.” An­
horrible revenge by
old woman.”
Perhaps If Elinor Glyn will try a
beauty specialist before she comes over
again the men of this country may be
willing to do a little judicious flirting
with her.
A Chicago ice dealer loses a ring,
advertises for it, and the finder sends
it back by mall, without claiming a re­
ward. And truth scores heavily on
fiction again.
A Detroit woman says she got a civil
service appointment by praying for it.
Opponents of reform will now come
forward with a protest against the
religious test.
Wireless telephony was tested with
success at Paris, the other day, when
conversation from the Eiffel tower was
carried on over a distance of thirty
miles. Looks as if it was coming.
No one denies, of course, that there
are still “yards” of this old-fashioned
sort, especially in the smaller villages
and the country; but the increase in
population and the consequent ad­
vance in the price of land has created
near all the large cities suburbs In
which there is no space for yards.
The same Is true of the school­
houses. The space round them has
rrrrwn smaller and smaller, and decor
atlve shrubbery and restrictive rules
have combined to render almost im­
possible the hearty, wholesome, bole
terous play in which all participated
There has, of course, been a great and
wholly admirable Increase in the
number of public playgrounds, but It
Is difficult to make them quite take
the place of the old-fashioned yard,
where play could be Indulged In with­
out leaving home, and in the case of
the schoolyard, was enjoyed by those
who had neither ability nor inclina­
tion to “make the school team.” The
homes and the schoolhouses which
still possess good yards have some­
thing not lightly to be given up or
decorated too finely with plants and
flowers.
The passion of Americans for edu­
cation is illustrated—to the amaze­
ment of many foreign observers—
among other things by the extraordin­
ary activity of the so-caUed Chautau-
quas. There is, of course, only one
Chautauqua, but scores of summer
schools and assemblies have come to be
known by that name, and all are en­
gaged, broadly speaking, in educations1
work. Teachers, professional men and
women, clerks and other employes go
to these summer assemblies. Many go
for recreation and rest primarily, but
instruction, though secondary, Is In­
creasingly growing tn importance even
to these. It Is not too much to say
that several "seasons" at these assem­
blies result in a liberal education. The
program tor Chautauqua, for example,
announces eighty two lecturers, twelve
readers and sixteen musicians. The
lectures cover religious topics, social
service, health, efficiency, political sci­
ence, history and literature and art.
Recitals, concerts, athletics, games are
provided in addition to the didactic
courses. It Is well known that some
of the most famous and popular states­
men In the country appear at these
assemblies as speakers or lecturers.
The reactionary politicians, who prefer
silence and ignorance to wide discus­
sion, sneer at these things, but while
considerable summer "talk” is neces­
sarily superficial and half-baked, as It
were, on the whole the assemblies
make for intelligence and culture.
They reach tens of thousands of men
and women and give them either Ideas
or the stimulation and Intellectual
curiosity which lead to quiet study at
home. To teachers the summer schools
are a great boon; to busy men they
afford delightful vacations, with a va­
riety of entertainment and agreeable
means of "enlarging the mind” and
keepin in touch with the world's
thought.
P apers
IS GOVERNMENT NECESSARY TO MAN?
By Count Leo Tolstoi.
The governmental order of things is a tem­
porary and certainly not a perpetual form
of life. And just as the life of an individual
is not stationary but continually changes,
moves on and perfects itself, so the life of
all mankind is unceasingly changing, mov­
ing on and perfecting itself. As each indi­
vidual once played with toys, learned the
lessons, worked, got married, brought up
children, gained wisdom with age, so the life of na­
tions also changes and perfects Itself, only not like an
individual, in a few years, but in the course of cen­
turies and ages. And as for man the chief changes oc­
cur in the invisible, spiritual sphere of his religious
consciousness.
People who, owing to the existence of government
organizations, have advantageous positions, picture to
themselves the life of people deprived of governmental
authority as a wild disorder, a struggle of all against
all, just as if we were speaking, not of the life of ani­
mals, for animals live peacefully, without governmental
violence, but of some terrible creatures prompted in
their activity solely by hatred and madness. But they
Imagine men to be such merely because they attribute
to them qualities contrary to human nature, but which
have been perverted by that same government organiza­
tion under which they themselves have grown up. and
which in spite of the fact that It is evidently unneces­
sary and merely harmful they continue to uphold.
And, therefore, to the question, What would life be
without government? there would be but one answer—•
namely: that there would certainly not be all the evil
which is created by government. There would not be
property In land, there would be no taxes spent on
things unnecessary for the people; there would not be
the separation of the nations, the enslavement of some
by others; there would not be the waste of the people’s
best powers in preparations for wars; there would not
be the fear of bombs on the one side and of gallows on
the other; there would not be the Insane luxury of
some and the still more insane destitution of others.
WHAT IS THE SECRET OF HAPPINESS ?
Hy Sidney Dark.
The wise man discovers exactly what he
needs to be happy and endeavors persistently
to acquire the essentials.
The unhappy man Is a dull man. and the
dull man is the man without a soul. That
is the truth, and the whole truth. The dull
man eats and drinks and works and sleeps
and grumbles and sniggers and is just a rate­
payer. Most of us have to do all these things.
We have to be ratepayers. The horror comes when we
are just ratepayers and nothing more.
The dull man never laughs at himself, never plays
the fool, never loses his head—never dreams. A street
is a street to him, not the scene of daily and innumer­
able dramas. A child is a child, not a bewildering
conundrum. He believes the evidence of his eyes (he
actually boasts of it), and fancies that things really
are as he sees them. There is no conceivable error so
utterly false, no heresy so mischievous.
Dullness means a lack of Imagination, and without
imagination life and happiness are both Impossible.
Religion and art, from one point of view, share the
same mission. They bring to man the sense of amaze
ment.. They teach us that the world ts a wonderful
people
fairy palace, the palace of hourly miracles Then we
discover that we ourselves are most amazing creatures
The dull man Is not Interested in himself, has no self
love I am certain that no man can love hie neighbor
unless he has learned to love himself. From ourselves
we discover humanity.
1 know a nun who is happy dreaming of the glories
of a wonderful gray wonder world. I know a Salva
tionist who is happy because he is a son Of God. 1
know a cheeerful, roysterlng. often penniless, writer
who is happy because to him all men are good fellows
and all women adorable. The happy Socialist dreams
of the brotherhood of men; the cantankerous Socialist
yearns to interfere with his fellows.
It often happens that the men who stimulate lmag
Ination and encourage our dreams themselves fall to
attain happiness
They stand on the mountain and
point out the way. but they themselves never reach
the land of delight. They are, however, the great men,
and you and I are the common wayfarers. Their way is
not our way, and it may be that their sorrow is more
precious than our joy.
ENGLAND DESTINED TO LOSS OF INDIA.
By Saint Nlhal Singh.
It Is not hard to understand the reason
why the Britisher is destined to lose India,
no matter what concessions he may make to
the Indian. The minute the Englishman in
troduced the Indian to the literature of the
Occident a grave began to be automatically
dug for him. This grave digging has been go
ing on for at least fifty years. Each suc­
ceeding year has given a new impetus to the
educated Indians, accelerating the process.
The day has arrived in the history of Hindoostan
when the aspirations of the most intelligent of its na
fives have reached a point where they are utterly lntol
erant of foreign dependence and guidance. To use a
phrase of the times, the Indian wants to be "the whole
show.” This attitude is fast becoming volcanic in tend
ency, and this bodes no good to the Englishman in
India.
The example and the Inspiration of America has been
of the greatest help to the Hindoo. On account of its
old time isolation India, notwithstanding its size and
undoubted strength, was practically helpless. But to
the klowledge of Occidental literature has been added
the knowledge of Occidental literature has been added
the Occident. There are many Hindoos in the United
States at present, and they have learned something of
Western resourcefulness, not only in education but in
politics. They have taken or sent some of this knowl
edge home. When the awakening is complete England's
grasp will be loosened.
Two hundred thousand Englishmen domineer over
321,000,000 natives, and the day will not dawn to-mor­
row when England lets the Indians have complete
charge of their foreign and military affairs. Recently
Lord Ripon, a former Viceroy of India, said: "It is
impossible to place the military affairs of India under
the control of the people of India. We, and we alone,
must decide how many troops It is necessary to main
tain there and what money is needed to keep that force
in efficiency."
England's Interests In India clash with those of the
natives of the land. When the teeming millions of
India awake to realize what is best for them the Eng
lishman will become absolutely Incapable of holding
India.
Hllncl Girl'« Tribute to Rogers,
Former President Eliot, of Harvard,
ts compiling a set of "best books” for
Collier's. The New York publishers
are evidently determined that we shall
not be seriously bothered by the prob­
lem of disposing of our ex-Presidents.
Secretary Dickinson says he has re­
ceived Instructions from President
Taft to save $20,000,000 in the War
-Department during the fiscal year
1911. How would you like to have
the Job of saving $20,000,000 in a
year?
Each succeeding generation is bet­
ter than the last.
That is why we
do not burn witches nor own slaves.
And we do many things which our
children's children will think crimi­
nal and silly. Our youngsters have
every indication of living in a better
time than we have seen.
There is no more touching or sin
cere personal tribute than that paid
hy Helen Keller, the deaf, dumb and
blind young woman, on the memory of
Henry H. Rogers, who had taken a
great Interest In and largely paid for
her education. Miss Keller writes in
part:
In the death of H. H. Rogers I have
lost a dear friend. The protest of my
heart against the thought of losing
him makes me realize how much 1
loved him I shall not try now to ex­
press my gratitude, for I think that
Mr. Rogers shrank from expressions of
gratitude Mr. Rogers was always re­
sponsive. always sympathetic. He was
always doing little kindnesses quietly
and unnoticed. If I needed books, he
ordered them. If I admired a flower
or a plant, he sent it to me. He had
the Imagination, the vision and the
heart of a great man, and I count It
one of the most precious privileges of
my life to have had him for my friend.
The memory of his friendship will
grow sweeter and brighter each year
until he takes my hand again and we
gather roses together In the gardens
of paradise.
At the suggestion of the Peruvian
minister at Panama, the President has
ordered that the Pacific mouth of the
canal shall be named for Balboa, the
discoverer of the Pacific. The Atlan­
tic entrance is already named for Co­
lumbus. The suggestion was made on
The Brnt*.
the ground that Peru profited more
A
certain
Chicago
married man who
than any other country by Balboas
boasts to the boys that his wife never
discovery.
sits up for him. slipped out for a cigar
The "prairie-schooner” has long the other evening after supper, and
been only a memory in this country, failed to notice that his wife had her
where it played so prominent a part party gown on. When he softly tip­
in the days of the Western pioneers, toed into the house at 2 a m , says
but now we hear of it across the wa­ the Record-Herald, he was slightly sur­
ter as a vacation vehicle tn which prised to see a dewey-eyed lady trip
families go about the country in com­ down the stairway, turn her back to
fort and leisure. The Caravan Club, him and tearfully say:
"There are two hooks I just couldn't
whose three hundred members all
own such canvas-covered wagons, re­ reach, won’t you unfasten them so I
cently met In London to plan summer can go to bed?”
Fortunately he could and did.
trips. In these days of express trains,
automobiles and airships, there is
Should Tnke Hi« Medicine.
something alluringly restful in the
"A feller shouldn't stand In the mid
idea of spending a week or two of
the summer in a prairie-schooner voy­ die of the street to talk pessimism,"
age among green hills and beside declared the Plunkvllle philosopher.
“Why not?”
shaded brooks.
"Fust he says life ain't worth liv­
ing.
and then jumps when he hears an
There are signs that a most useful
honk.” — Washington
adjunct of the home and school life automobile
Times.
_____________
*
of the past in America is in danger
of disappearing Not so long ago but
Knaentlnlw of Oratory.
that men and women of middle age
"I have my speech nearly com­
will remember It. every public school­
house had a yard, and so. too. had pleted.”
"I suppose you have marshaled your
every village.and suburban home. In
arguments In serried ranks?"
the schoolyard, before the sessions
"No; I haven't taken up that part
opened and at recess, a howling mob
of It. But I have selected my anec­
flayed tag and "prisoner's hase" and dotes."—Washington Star.
"Pontpey” and baseball, and "I spy.”
In the home 'yard Tom and Billy and
How many times a day do you com
Ed and .loe-gathered frequently In the trend? How many times during a dav
afternoon« to play “stick knife” on dd you find fault?
♦he grass and usder the apple trees,
lie Isn't • progr. sivc magician who
•e.makc » freeicrful of leg ejeam. to
VUsk tA A M'.< .VsUibU'.eA MKgvihln® U always up to pts old tri« ka.
SONG.
Give me back my heart, fair child;
To you as yet 'twere worth but lit­
tle;
Half beguller, half beguiled.
Be you warned, your own is brittle.
I know it by your redd'ning cheeks,
I know It by those two black streaks
Arching up your pearly brows
In a momentary laughter,
Stretched in long and dark repose
With a sigh the moment after.
"Hid it! dropt it on the moors!
Lost it, and you can not And it”—
My own heart I want, not yours;
You have bound and must unbind it.
Set It free, then, from your net.
We will love, sweet—but not yet!
Fling It from you;—we are strong;
Love is trouble, love is folly;
Love, that makes an old heart young.
Makes a young heart melancholy.
—Aubrey De Vere.
OTHER PEOPLE S IDEAS
++++++++++4-++++-r+-}-+4-?-}-+-;.f.
On the morning after her niece's
wedding Miss Kitteredge put on her
rubbers and walked over to add a few
finishing touches to the daintily fur­
nished apartment In Indiana avenue,
which was awaiting the return of the
happy pair from their btldal trip.
She was surprised, on entering, to j
find the groom's Uncle Horace survey- '
Ing the place with evident satisfaction. (
There was, however, nothing strange .
about this, for It W’as well understood. 1
In both families, that It was due to !
Uncle Horace's liberality that Robert j
and Dorothy were beginning life with I
two sets of draperies at every window
and real Circassian walnut furniture
tn the reception room.
"Pretty complete outfit, eh?” he
observed.
"Oh, It's perfectly beautiful,” re
piled Miss Kitteredge. “None of the
others have had anything so fine You
see," she explained, "Dorothy Is the j
fourth one of my nieces to be married
• nd I've helped each one of 'em to fix
up her home.”
"I’ve noticed that you were doing
your full share toward fixing up this ,
one." said Robert's Uncle Horace "Did
they turn all the hard jobs over to
yon?”
"Old-maid aunts come tn handy at
weddings," said Miss Kitteredge "But
I've Injoyed It, even though I did get
tired."
“These things.” indicating by a ges­
ture the furniture of the reception
room, “don't look as though they were
made to sit on. I suppose, though, that
they’re the proper caper.”
“Yes,” she replied. "Dorothy says
they're excellent examples of the style
of Louis—something—I can't pro­
nounce It—and that the lines are ex­
tremely good, if you know what that
means!”
“I don’t,” he said. “But I think I’d
prefer the lines of these big leather
chairs in the den.”
He settled his portly frame in one
of them and Miss Kitteredge perched
herself flutteringly on the edge of the
couch.
“I mustn’t sit but a minute,” she
said.. “I promised Dorothy that I’d
arrange the things in her kitchen cup­
boards. It's funny,” she continued,
reminiscently, “what different Ideas
people have about fixing up houses
Now, when Emma, my oldest niece,
was married, she was crazy to have
everything oriental. There was a big
Japanese umbrella hung from the cell­
ing and things embroidered with
scratchy gold thread and big vases
with dragons on 'em and little bamboo
housekeeping she went in for the co­
lonial style—mahogany bedsteads with
pineapple posts and an old spinning
wheel in the parlor, you know.
"And now Dorothy's trying to make
her parlor look like the palace of some
wicked old French king!”
Robert's Uncle Horace laughed—a
big, noisy, hearty laugh. “You've had
considerable experience fixing
up
houses according to other people's
ideas,” he said.
Miss Kitteredge sighed gently. "Of
course.” she said. "I don't have any
time for housekeeping I make dress­
es— gowns, I mean—when I’m at home
and I Just board; but sometimes, Just
to pass the time, I picture to myself
the kind of a bouse I'd fix up if I was
doing it."
"What would be your idea?” he ask­
ed, regarding her with interest.
“Well, in the first place,” she de­
clared, "1 wouldn't bother so much
about having things match and har­
monize. because I think it makes a
better variety if they don't. And the
things in this place,” she continued,
"are kind of dull and fady, don't yoti
think? I’d have brighter colors and
more varnish. I’d have a carpet with
big red roses in it and a fancy mantel
with lots of little places to set knick
knacks on and a cuckoo clock. I’m
afraid,” she admitted, “that it wouldn't
be a bit artistic, but I'm sure it would
be cozy.”
"That sounds good to me,” remark
ed Uncle Horace, as she paused for
breath. "I've boarded a good deal, too
It's fourteen years since my wife died.”
Miss Kitteredge Jumped up. Even
in her youth she had never been the
kind of woman who regards every sin­
gle man she meets as a possible hus­
band; and for many years she had felt
only a second-hand Interest in matri­
mony. She had quite, forgotten that
Dorothy’s new uncle was a widower!
What must he think of her, chattering
to him like tnfs? Positively conflden
tial with a man she had never seen
until three weeks ago!
"I must get at those kitchen cup
boards,” she declared.
"Don't be In a hurry,” said Uncle
Horace. "Let Bob and Dorothy fix
their own cupboards! I want to talk
to you. That house you were describ­
ing is exactly what I've been wanting
"WHAT WOULD BL VOI K IDKA?”
all these years, only I didn't know It!
And you are exactly the kind of a
tables scattered around
till you woman I want------”
couldn't walk through the rooms.
But Miss Kitteredge had fled to hide
"Margery was the next one and she
her old-maidenly blushes in the kltch
was wild over mission furniture and
en. She wasn't -ready to listen to anv
fuzzy N; vaj > rugs and Indian pottery
more not Just yet' Chi'ago News
with queer black figures on it.
"But Clarice, her sister, always de-
The weathey man doesn't seem to
"Better sit down and res' a while." ’¡„•el. that tnl-con FutliitUi.e was po-
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A POSSIBLE PRESIDENT.
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Those on whose early life fortune
has not smiled may find encourage-
nient in a story which the New York
bun prints. \\ ith one dcdlar and twen­
ty cents in his pocket and a black dog
as his companion, a 14 year-old boy
was found wandering about the streets
of a Connecticut town not long ago,
seeking a home and a living Although
his supply of worldly goods was lim­
ited. the lad, whose name is Frank,
had plenty of character, and has found
the home.
He was born in New York City.
When 8 years old his father died. His
mother moved to a Connecticut town,
where she bought a small farm, and
secured stock, tools and furniture on
mortgage to start with.
The boy helped on the farm. As the
result of hard work ami considerable
privation, they accumulated enough
money to pay the mortgage on six
cows and the farming tools, leaving an­
other on the horses and furniture.
A few months ago the mother died.
After the funeral Frank was told that
a man had been appointed to settle his
mother's affairs. A little later he re­
ceived two dollars and.fifty cents, ami
was told to take his dog ami make his
own way in the world.
An official of a near-by town offered
him the choice of going to the county
home or being bound apprentice to a
man who. although called "doctor,” di«l
no doctoring. The boy declined both
offers, for good reasons, he says, and
started from one farm to another look­
ing for work.
The only condition he set on being
taken to work was that his dog be al­
lowed to live with him. The dog was
old. anti a mongrel at that. “But.”
said Frank, “he is all I have in the
world to love, and I’m going to stand
by a dog that has been my playmate
for years.”
He drifted to a small city, and there
the police gathered him in. When they
fed boy and dog, the boy did not begin
to eat until he had selected the best
piece of meat on the plate and given it
to the dog. He slept with his dog
beside him in the hospital room of the
police station.
Dog and boy were up early the next
morning and went to the railroad sta­
tion, where the farmers congregate to
ship milk to Boston. He asked for a
chance to work, but none of them need­
ed him. He was sent to a farmer on
the outskirts of the city, but this man
was in no need of help. Frank and his
dog returned to the police station and
spent another night there.
But the story of his search for work
had spread about, and had got to a
well-to-do farmer, who came to the
city the next morning and had a talk
with the boy. He was attracted by
Frank's Intelligence and grit, and en­
gaged him.
“Now,” said the farmer, “I'm going
to fit you out with new clothes." But
Frank demurred to this until he was
told that he would have a chance to
earn the clothes. “All right," said he.
“I’ll take them, then."
Now the farmer reports that Frank
is capable and always at work. He is
happy, his employer is satisfied, and
the black dog Is happiest of all. In
this there is nothing fanciful. Frank
stuck to his dog, and he stuck to his
purpose to seek work till he got it.
It is one example, of many, no doubt,
that shows what a boy can achieve by
his native strength, with no advant­
ages of birth or environment.
BEAVERS’ HOMES.
Ilow the I
Ion m Utile Builder«
CoiiNtruct Their Hoimea.
When the beavers' dams are com­
pleted, the animals separate into small
companies to build cabins or houses
for themselves. These are constructed
upon piles along the borders of the
pond. They are of an oval shape, re­
sembling a beehive, and they vary
from five feet to ten feet in diameter,
according to the number of families
they are to accommodate.
These dwellings are never less than
two stories high, generally three, and
sometimes they contain four apart­
ments. The walls of these are from
two feet to three feet thick, formed
of the same materials as the dams. On
the Inside they are made smooth, but
left rough without, being rendered Im­
penetrable to rain.
The lower story Is about two feet
high, the second is formed by a floor
of sticks covered with mud, and the
upper part terminates with an arched
roof. Through each floor there ts a
passage, and the uppermost floor Is
always above the level of the water.
Each of these huts has two doors, one
on the land side to admit of their go­
ing out and seeking provisions that
way, another under the water and be­
low where it freezes to preserve their
communication with the pond.- Eng­
lish Magazine.
The Sycamore«
The sycamore has been called the
Egyptian fig tree. The date of its be­
ing planted in England is not known,
but it was very early. Mary Queen
of Scots brought over from France a
young sycamore, which she planted in
the gardens of Holyrood, and from this
have sprung all the beautiful groves of
sycamores now to be seen in Scotland.
—St. James' Gazette.
A Prevluua Specimrn.
He—If I'd known how sarcastic you
were I never she have married you.
She—You had a chance to notice It
Didn't I say. "This is so sudden,” when
you proposed to me after four year«*
ceurtsbip? Boston Tianscrl^t*