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 JOHN NAGLE'S 
 PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 "Nature offers all her creatures to him 
 as a picture language. " Emerson. 
 
 
 Compiled by 
 ". • ' o''\'. .^>^^n®V ^- Pratt. 
 
 'It IS long ere we discover how rich we are. " Emerson. 
 
 MANITOWOC, WISCONSIN. 
 1901. 
 
1<^:^'^1\^ 
 
 .^y' 
 
 <. 
 
 THE tIBRARY OF 
 
 GONG«ES3, 
 Two Ccwisa Reoeiveb 
 
 FEB. 4 ^902 
 
 COT'RtOHT ENTRY 
 
 /S-Ce-. ■]_' <7 ot 
 CLASS «- XXa w«. 
 
 X % w t^ 
 COPY B. 
 
 Entered according to the act of Con- 
 gress, in the year 1901, in the office of the 
 Librarian of Congress, at Washington, by 
 SYDNEY T. PRATT. 
 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
(^ bis mmaz is (Affectionately dedicated 
 to milliam Renry Carles, m. D., in 
 
 recognition of ftis wortft in bis cbosen 
 profession, and in tbe spberes of 
 manbood, action, intellect and f riend- 
 sbip. Tew men appreciate to a greater ex- 
 tent, tbe elegance, deptb and beauty of tbe 
 pbiiosopby of tbe late 3obn Ragle tban does 
 Dr. earles, and no man appreciates tbe doc- 
 tor's bigb professional bonor and skill, bis 
 Kindly beart, entertaining wit, aggressi^^e 
 acbievements, and modesty more tban does 
 tbe undersigned to wbom bis unfailing 
 friendsbip made tbis i^olume possible. 
 
 Sydney C. Pratt. 
 
FOREWORD. 
 
 Sec. Mcr.— How is this man esteemed here in the city? 
 Angelo— Of very reverend reputation, sir, 
 Of credit infinite, highly beloved. 
 His word might bear my wealth at any time. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Such was John Nagle. A succinct analysis of his charac- 
 ter and, withal, a keen insight into the motives guiding him 
 arc found in the words of one who knew him intimately: 
 
 "It might be difficult to say what was included in Mr. 
 Nagle's conception of character. It would not be difficult 
 to indicate some things that certainly were not included m 
 it. His standard rejected absolutely the man who need- 
 lessly wounded the feelings of a child; the man who allowed 
 himself to use indelicate language in the presence of boy, 
 or girl, or woman: the man who shirked duty or responsi- 
 bility because to meet it might cause him inconvenience or 
 loss, or subject him to danger; the man who betrayed a 
 trust, a friend, or a woman; the man who denied an obliga- 
 tion which rested solely in parole, and to which there was 
 
no witness but himself and the person who demanded per- 
 formance: the man whose word was not his bond m any 
 matter whatever in which it was pledged: the man who 
 extended his hand when you were prosperous, and, who 
 looked the other way when he passed by in your day of 
 adversity. * * * 
 
 "When measured by these tests which, he, himself applied 
 to others, or, by any test that may reasonably be applied, it 
 is fondly and confidently believed, by those who knew him 
 and loved him and mourn him and will hold him in 
 remembrance while life lasts, that, in his own phrase and m 
 Its broadest and fullest meaning, John Naglc was a man 
 of character." 
 
 John Nagle early m life evinced a love of literature, mak- 
 ing good books his life-long companions. History, phi- 
 losophy, science, and poetry had equal fascination for him and 
 each contributed its moiety to his expanding intellectual 
 vision. Men and women about him afforded him opportu- 
 nity for observing character, which he quickly seized, and 
 the columns of the old Pilot tell the story of his masterful 
 analysis of human motive. The plummet of his reason- 
 ing sank deep into the souls of men, giving him guage of 
 impulse and action. Below the surface he discovered the 
 passions that sway and the virtues that restrain. His was 
 the School of Life in which he studied until the twilight 
 
came. Then, when the horizon darkened, he closed his eyes 
 upon a useful career, and fell into a peaceful slumber from 
 out of which no sound of time or place shall wake him. 
 
 Mr. Nagle wrote to make life purer and sweeter. He 
 understood the besetting traps laid to snare the young from 
 paths of rectitude, hence, in no uncertain language did he 
 show his solicitude for them. The impress of his person- 
 ality, example, and writings is evident. 
 
 Testimony is frequent: "I consulted Nagle and am the 
 benefciary of his counsel." The youth sought his advice 
 and profited by it. The reason Mr. Nagle attained wide 
 influence is found in the application of his own philosophy 
 to his own life. He was a man of strong convictions, and 
 his opposition to social sham and veneer was implacable. 
 
 As a writer beauty characterized his diction. His power 
 of expression was not surpassed by writers whose names 
 adorn the Temple of Fame. The loom of his subtle intel- 
 lect spun sentences which, for grace and lucidity, are English 
 models. Language was an art with him; he knew words, 
 their force and tenderness, and could call them to his service 
 at will. He joined m indissoluble union, poetic expression 
 and profound thought, bringing about this literary 
 marriage by rigorous adherence to his native tongue, pure 
 Anglo-Saxon. His unvarying rule in writing was the use 
 of simple idioms: no straining after effect is anywhere 
 
noticeable, and this fact constitutes his ifst charm. His 
 sentences flow as easily as a rivulet, one following the 
 other m sequence until the end is reached, then it 
 would be defacement to add or take a word away. 
 
 The purpose of this volume is to preserve the literary 
 gems which had their origin and form m the mmd of Mr. 
 Nagle. His personality brought him into an unique relation- 
 ship with the community where his active life was spent and 
 the Compiler believes, that, in thus collating some of the best 
 specimens of his writing, the excerpts will be read and reread 
 by those who knew John Nagle, with kindly remembrance of 
 the man who caused the genial rays of a sunny and optimistic 
 mmd to brighten, for many years, their hours of relaxation, 
 when his paper brought to them the doings of restless life. 
 He gave to his readers, however, more than contemporary 
 news, the mere gossip of the drawing room; he gave them 
 an uplifting philosophy, as noble m conception as it was 
 exquisite in its developement. "Make man happy," he 
 wrote, "and his life is a paean of praise. And what is the 
 source of happiness? Judicious enjoyment of the things 
 that are." Let this principle be universal and you solve the 
 vexatious and ever recurring asperities engendered by the 
 unequal distribution of wealth and social position. 
 
 His philosophy would make men happy whatever their 
 situation, yet he was not indifferent to material and intellec- 
 
tual progress. He knew, however, that sinister jealousies, 
 aroused by envy, retard advancement, invite gloom, and end 
 m retrogression, and he would obviate such catastrophe, in 
 individual or collective life, by living in the light. 
 
 In the pages which follow no word of politics is found. 
 The scheme of the book is to reveal that, in Manitowoc, a 
 master of English phraseology, a poet of no mean order, 
 and a philosopher once moved among the people. The pulse 
 of genius throbbed within his brain, and the seed of his 
 reflections has been sown with prodigality, bearing fruitage 
 m many lives here and elsewhere. 
 
 And, now, in yielding the succeeding pages to a more 
 gracious pen the Compiler wishes to acknowledge his in- 
 debtedness to the man who gave felicitous expression to 
 lofty ideals. It is inexpressibly delightful to be brought 
 into touch with a mind so free from dissimulation, intellec- 
 tual trickery and ambiguity, and in this inadequate way to 
 perpetuate his memory. THE COMPILER. 
 
1^^ 
 
CHRISTMAS=TIDE. 
 
 The holiday season comes when Mother 
 Earth has least warmth in her heart for us, 
 when the winds have lost their voluptuous 
 softness, and heaven's blue its tender depths. 
 The early frosts, that mellowed Nature's love- 
 liness ere destroying it, have deepened in inten- 
 sity, and clutch with chilling grasp where before 
 they touched with gentlest though blighting 
 caress. The clouds sweep on wings of chill- 
 ing blasts with sinister motion, while the Al- 
 pine piles on the horizon seem like mausole- 
 ums of vanished summer. Nature has ceased 
 to smile, and we must turn to the heart of 
 
friendship for the warmth which the soul 
 covets and which gives buoyancy and hope to 
 life. 
 
 It is winter in the heart which knows not 
 love. Selfishness is a misery at this season 
 when to live within oneself is to bar out the 
 spirit of good will whose fruitage is the 
 Christmas gift. Those deft fingers which 
 have fashioned the offerings of affection for 
 some loved one have been the active agent of 
 a kind heart centered on a benevolent purpose. 
 That gift is a visible token of regard; pure, un- 
 selfish, holy; typifying the divine precept: "It 
 is more blessed to give than to receive." 
 Evil cannot be joint tenant in the mind that har- 
 bors generous thoughts. Regardless of our 
 belief or disbelief in the divinity of the Child 
 whose first draught of life was poverty, as deep 
 as his sympathy for the sorrows of the children 
 of man, that birth has been the beacon light of 
 charity. The Star of Bethlehem which guided 
 
the Chaldean shepherds may no longer direct 
 the faithful to the true God; but the fitful 
 gleam of benevolence shines out with steady 
 light at this time and leads to a higher plane 
 of humanity==a realization of the favored Utopia. 
 Man, seek not thy brother by the light of 
 creed when good will has made all the world 
 kin. The symphony of love through the lips 
 of laughter and the voice of kindly greeting; 
 the prayer of gratitude which speaks through 
 the kindling eye and the warm hand clasp 
 have no formula of words to provoke conten- 
 tion. 
 
A COUNTRY BOY. 
 
 A country boy is happy in his deprivations 
 when Nature is at her best, because then his 
 soul can lave unstinted in her beauties, and his 
 whole being become photographed with her 
 charms, --sympathetic with her moods. The 
 song of the bobolink has in it for him more 
 than the pleasure of melody. It quickens the 
 imagination, and awakens every slumbering sus- 
 ceptibility of youth. The blue heaven is but 
 a screen which hides from mortal vision the 
 abode of the blessed, and the shimmering beams 
 of sunlight are angels' smiles. The delicate 
 blossoms of the wild plum rise before him as 
 things of beauty, not as a promise of the fruit- 
 age it will be later his privilege to despoil, 
 and the bursting buds of elms, fragilely beauti- 
 ful, are trysting places for the winds and sun- 
 light m their wooing. 
 
AN OLD TIME PICNIC. 
 
 The picnic of the olden time has fallen into 
 disuse. It came then at rare intervals, and left 
 no evil in its track. It was marked by inno- 
 cent jollity and a feast in the green woods. 
 The viands might not of themselves have been 
 tempting, but keen appetites and genial fellow- 
 ship lent their aid to make of a frugal spread a 
 rare symposium. The boys and girls were 
 just what the words mean, and knew how to 
 appreciate a holiday from the very rarity of the 
 occurrence. The whole crowd could not by 
 pooling their capital get cash enough to pur- 
 chase one glass of beer. Swings were made 
 of the masts of the basswood and these took 
 the place of the dance of older gatherings. 
 
 The picnic now-a=days has a bar as an invar- 
 iable accompaniment. Yes, and the catgut 
 squeaks, or the brass band brays, and the feet 
 keep time to these measured sounds. 
 
The boys are young men, the girls, young 
 ladies, carrying fashion's trappings to the ex- 
 tent of being decorously blase. The bare leg- 
 ged, collarless boy is no longer an attendant 
 upon picnics, and yet it seems as if there is 
 getting to be a void up in that adult plane of 
 true manhood because that bare legged boy has 
 quit his former haunts. That bare legged lit- 
 tle rascal has quit the country school and some- 
 how that school has grown weak in real strength 
 though its tinsel dress has put it more in ac- 
 cord with the times. The girl with coarse 
 cloth dress and heavy shoes has gone too, and 
 there seems to be but few recruits for the ar- 
 my of womanhood. That happy border land 
 where the young life expanded into genuine 
 adult maturity through responsibilities and hab- 
 its which properly belong to that period, has 
 been given over to the keeping of the stilted 
 formalities of social demands. 
 
DANCING. 
 
 Dancing is not wrong in itself. It is a form 
 of amusement which, indulged in properly, has 
 high value as a recreation. But it should not 
 invade the domain of duty. When it does, it 
 is an evil. Any form of amusement which 
 trespasses on duty, or makes duty irksome, has 
 reached the realm of dissipation, and is fraught 
 with danger to the participants. When danc- 
 ing is sought with such eagerness that duty 
 receives but fugitive attention, it becomes 
 a vice, and the more dangerous if it has paren- 
 tal approval. That is a test which every par- 
 ent can apply and the remedy should be quick 
 on the heels of perception. 
 
NATURE'S LANGUAGE. 
 
 A boy who does not love the forest is a boy 
 only in years. All of us can recall a favorite 
 tree, a shady nook in which dreamy reflection 
 took possession of us when the flitting and the 
 song of birds were the movement and voice of na- 
 ture. And we are better because we can recall 
 those experiences; they are resting spots for 
 the mind when oppressed by the shallowness 
 of life. There is no child who has found 
 friendship with nature, who has not, thereby, 
 injected some purity into his life. And the 
 fountain is ever fresh with the waters of con- 
 tent, when our imagination takes us back to 
 early times when nature spoke to us in the lan- 
 guage of the soul. 
 
 Vs^\^\^ 
 
RELIGION IS LOVE. 
 
 Religion in its true sense, divorced from 
 malignant persecution of what is deemed error, 
 purified of intolerance, superstition, and pre- 
 tense of exalted goodness, is love pure and 
 simple. There is no promise of the future 
 that makes it so blessed as the hope that love 
 has an existence which extends beyond the 
 grave. The love of friends is the purest and 
 most exalted element of life, the essence of 
 the soul. It is unshaken by prosperity, it is 
 triumphant over misfortune and makes existence 
 sweet. The mother who mourns a child can 
 have no conception of heaven higher, purer, 
 holier, than a place where she will meet "the 
 loved and lost, again." 
 
 What in life is worth its survival except it 
 be love? Hope at best is but a wish wedded 
 to faith. But there is solace in the thought 
 that the flower of sweetest fragrance is nour- 
 
ished by the tears which affection sheds, and 
 blooms "where sorrow may not enter." If 
 this life is but a preparation for another, higher 
 and better, then the best and purest attribute of 
 this should be allowed entrance into that realm 
 whose gates of pearl it has opened. Love 
 makes heaven possible and earth pleasant. It is 
 the great heart of the universe, whose pulsa- 
 tions are charity and good will; the life which 
 is immortal, the hope that endureth. 
 
A GIRL'S EDUCATION. 
 
 Girls have their future in their own hands. 
 Fathers are too busy with affairs of business, 
 and in planning for the future of their sons, to 
 reflect that girls have a future, which includes 
 something besides marriage or the prim acer- 
 bity of old maidenhood. Mothers have too 
 much concern for the requirements of the pres- 
 ent to demand anything practical in the educa- 
 tion of their children. To dress with taste, 
 appear well at a party, be attractive and prop- 
 erly religious, are the summun bonum in the 
 early life of a girl, according to the mother's 
 idea. But there are not a few girls whose 
 eyes rest on the future, and who have a purpose 
 beyond social pleasures and the delights of 
 youthful love-making. They are not striving 
 to cast off all feelings of responsibility, but 
 they are acquiring strength to be able to dis- 
 charge life's duties as become women. These 
 
are the true women, the leaders of a fashion 
 which sinks deep into the current of life and 
 developcs the womanhood which has not 
 frivolity as its chief characteristic. The edu- 
 cation which dignifies life with a purpose, has 
 the elements of real beauty. Culture must 
 reach character. A girl who has learned to 
 sew well has given evidence of a higher con- 
 ception of life's duties than one who has re- 
 ceived a "polish" which precludes all know- 
 ledge of domestic accomplishments. 
 
NEW YEAR'S DAY. 
 
 The old year which was ushered in with 
 manifestations of joy, has added one more link to 
 the cycle of time. The old, old story, "The 
 king is dead; long live the king," will soon 
 undergo its annual repetition. The stream of 
 time will flow unobstructed over the imagi- 
 nary border which separates the Old from the 
 New, bearing on its surface chaplets of laurel 
 or wreathes of cypress, jewels of hope or 
 tears of sorrow. Ambition will seek the 
 "chamber of the gifted boy;" Discouragement 
 will wait upon the footsteps of the timid; In- 
 dustry and Indolence will claim their votaries, 
 and sighs and laughter will be strangely com- 
 mingled in that jumble of incongruities known 
 as life. But all those who bore the burden 
 of sorrow, and those who trod the table land 
 of success, will at the next recurrence of this 
 festival, join in hailing the advent of the new year 
 
and speeding the departure of the old. This 
 life runs on until infinity is reached. Im- 
 mensity stretches beyond the blue heavens, 
 but Reason cannot follow Imagination beyond 
 the precincts of this life. We are hedged in 
 as Rasselas was in the Happy Valley and know 
 not what lies beyond. The canker of discon- 
 tent may eat into our hearts, but neither hope 
 nor fear can pierce the mystery which circles 
 the horizon of life. We have to do with 
 this world and with this life; what lies beyond 
 is but a corollary of these. Whether pinched 
 by poverty, or blessed with wealth; burdened 
 with misfortune, or crowned by success, we 
 owe a duty to mankind which, if properly dis- 
 charged, will add to the pleasurable emotions 
 inseparable from this season. 
 
DUTIES OF PARENTS. 
 
 Paternity brings duties wKich it is a crime to 
 ignore. Children may be instructed in doc- 
 trinal points of belief, and may have a superfi- 
 cial coat of piety, but they need the affection- 
 ate watchfulness of parents until character is 
 fully formed. But that injudicious affection 
 which constantly indulges every wish of a 
 child, which takes pride in curtailing child- 
 hood, and making women of girls, and men of 
 boys, before age, or experience, fits them for 
 the position, is more fatal than the repression 
 that comes from dislike. It is now the fashion 
 for girls, before the innocence of childhood 
 has ripened into the experience of woman- 
 hood, to ape the flirtations of young ladies, in 
 years at least, attend balls, receive the atten- 
 tions of boys who assume the habits of young 
 men, and enter into paths beset by dangers. 
 The mother will allow her child of fifteen to 
 
play the young lady without a thought of the 
 consequences, but would be shocked if the 
 child manifested a disinclination to attend 
 church. The mother exercises no supervi= 
 sion over the literature her child may read, 
 though the country is flooded with the most 
 pernicious kind, but requires constant attend- 
 ance at Sunday school. Seemingly, to bring 
 a child up in some religious denomination 
 makes unnecessary any precaution to prevent 
 the formation of bad habits, and relieves the 
 fear of evil associations. It is wise to give 
 religious instruction, but, without the much 
 more impressive lesson taught at the fireside, 
 it brings forth but indifferent fruit. The 
 lessons taught in church are, in point of effect, 
 second to those learned from a mother's lips. 
 Home should throw its sacred influences 
 around youth and guard it from evils which 
 appear seductive. 
 
GOOD IN ABSTENTION. 
 
 The man who discontinues some expensive 
 and useless habit is benefited whether he does 
 so in response to the promptings of his moral 
 nature, or because decreased income suggests 
 retrenchment. Man is always in danger when 
 he can satisfy every wish. If things come 
 easily to him he loses diligence and his char- 
 acter is weakened. There is always good in 
 abstention whether voluntary or forced. 
 
MOTHERING SUNDAY. 
 
 Mothering Sunday, in the times gone by, 
 is said to have been a festival, and the cus- 
 tom to which it was sacred should give per- 
 petuity to the day. Then, it was the practice 
 to pay homage and respect to the old mother 
 at the old home around which clustered the 
 fondest recollections. It must have been a 
 day devoted to feelings more holy and enno- 
 bling than Thanksgiving Day brings forth, be- 
 cause in Thanksgiving there is always a feel- 
 ing of self, which keeps it from being entire- 
 ly divorced from the bustling, busy, everyday 
 life. Mothering Sunday was solely de- 
 signed to bring happiness to the mother whose 
 life had been deprived of that fountain of joy, 
 the presence of her children. It offered a 
 guaranty to her that, although the duties of 
 mature life might have put a check upon the 
 affection of her children for her, that affection 
 
still glowed with all the old time warmth. 
 The adult children turned to the * 'light of 
 home" on that day, bringing with them some 
 token of love. The mother was the person to 
 whom homage was paid. She was the load- 
 stone who drew the fragments of the family 
 together and made it again **one and indivis- 
 ible.'' She was queen of the day — the 
 old mother antiquated in dress, and, perhaps, 
 uninformed in, at least heedless of, modern 
 ideas of etiquette, but still the queen of the 
 day, ==assuming those prerogatives which de- 
 rive their charter from maternal love, and are 
 guided by the promptings of the heart rather 
 than by the grammar of formal etiquette. It 
 would be a splendid thing to revive Mother- 
 ing Sunday. It would be a delight to the 
 mother and a blessing to the child who needs 
 often to recur to the simplicity and unselfish 
 afFection of the old time when love taught 
 him duty. 
 
THE VIOLIN. 
 
 There is something in the music of a violin, 
 when touched by a master hand, beyond the 
 power of description. It is more than melody. 
 It has the fervent feeling of spiritual emotion 
 and the deep pathos of human feeling. It is 
 the unsyllabled language of the soul, -a vibrant 
 beauty whose touch is exalting. No other 
 instrument has the sympathetic fervor, the ca- 
 pacity for sounding the most profound depths 
 of the human heart, awakening its most deli- 
 cate susceptibilities. It is a fountain of de- 
 licious sounds, playing with the abandon of 
 inexhaustible resource. 
 
PICTURE FROM NATURE. 
 
 The tufa in the vicinity of the Yellowstone 
 geysers forms a dust which is quite penetrat- 
 ing, the sun's rays are reflected from the white 
 rocks and exposed portions of the body suffer, 
 and one is apt to get his feet wet without 
 being aware of it because of the tepid 
 character of the water. One leaves these 
 basins with singular feelings. Here in 
 close proximity are the eternal snows and the 
 fires which quench not. The streams come 
 down the hills cool with the icy breath of the 
 mountains and mingle with the heated waters 
 which seem to be the fevered sweat of a demon 
 in agony. The sun beats down pitilessly on 
 the sojourner in the valley, but the wanderer 
 on the hill feels the breath of the Ice King. 
 It is a land of contradictions, wonders and 
 hardships. No wonder the Indian who has his 
 faith quickened by seeing the flashings of the 
 
Northern Lights should view the place as the 
 threshold of Hell. Science takes no cogni- 
 zance of the supernatural, but the child of 
 "untutored mind'' readily refers the inexplic- 
 able to one of the Manitous, and here is a 
 manifestation of power which fills him with 
 dread, and he flies from the wrath which seems 
 to threaten him. Poor savage! the hills no 
 longer afford you refuge, and soon your race 
 must seek an asylum in the bosom of that 
 God whom you worship here in visible signs. 
 You are doomed. The log cabin of the white 
 man is planted in the shadows of the frowning 
 mountains of Montana and his herds graze in 
 the valleys where the Buffaloes once cropped the 
 sear grass. There is no place too bleak, too 
 forbidding, too far removed from everything 
 which gives life value, for the man who is 
 willing to make Montana his home. He 
 might make his home on the sterile lava beds 
 and find improvement in the change. In set- 
 
tling in Montana he has reached the acme of 
 dreariness, cheerlessness, and hardship. Death , 
 can have no terrors for him as it brings release, 
 and the future can have nothing in store from 
 which a soul can shrink. 
 
THE POWER OF LOVE. 
 
 There is no higher force than love. It has 
 inspired the lovers of humanity in all ages and 
 countries. The love of country has caused 
 the patriot to leave his blood-stained footprints 
 on the sands and snows of a thousand fields. 
 The love of home and family causes the hard 
 hands of the toiler to struggle for the neces- 
 saries of life. The love of humanity produc- 
 ed the sacrifices of the Howards. The love 
 of truth sustained the constancy of the martyrs 
 of science and liberty, and causes the privations 
 and sacrifices of the explorer who faces death 
 amid arctic snows and cold and ice. Yes, all 
 the tears that have been shed, all the prayers 
 that have been offered, all the kisses given by 
 the rosy lips of health to the ashen face of 
 death, all the fond hopes expressed amid clouds 
 and mists, have sprung from the great fountain 
 of human affection, love. 
 
A COUNTRY BOY'S SUNDAY. 
 
 There is a genuine pleasure in that day- 
 dream which brings up visions of green woods, 
 the cool stream, the joyous crowd of boys 
 with no remembrance of the past, with no 
 thought of the future, nothing to mar the 
 pleasures of the present. There is glory in 
 realized ambition; there is satisfaction in amass- 
 ed wealth; there is gratified vanity in becom- 
 ing famous, but for real unadulterated pleasure, 
 the honest, simple hearted, country boy's Sun- 
 day, untrammelled by conventionality, has in 
 it a degree of pleasure which wealth and 
 honor cannot give. 
 
AN OLD MISSION. 
 
 There is an old mission a few miles from 
 San Diego, away among the mountains. My- 
 self and a friend set out for this historic spot, 
 while others were busying themselves with 
 things more modern and more interesting from 
 the tourist's standpoint. The school has one 
 hundred nine pupils, all Indian children. Noth- 
 ing is taught but English, though Spanish is the 
 language of the playground. The devotion 
 of the children to the sisters in charge is one 
 of the finest examples of the power of moral 
 force I ever witnessed. There never was a 
 time when I did not respect the noble women 
 who have given their lives to charitable and 
 benevolent work, but never did their self-de- 
 votion appear more grand than in this isolated 
 mountain valley amid the ruins of early effort, 
 working in the interest of a race having noth- 
 ing to give in return, and whose extinction is 
 
anticipated with pleasure by those who shape 
 the sentiment which governs the age. The 
 young Indians who attend the school are civi- 
 lized in the best sense of the term. 
 
 The sisters are well educated and their con- 
 versation has the charm of naturalness which 
 seems in keeping with their natural surround- 
 ings. They stood with us among the ruins 
 of the old mission until the stars came out, and 
 the frowning hills seemed to shut in the val- 
 ley from the outside world. One of them 
 slipped away, and soon the children were sing- 
 ing an old Spanish hymn. It was inexpressi- 
 bly sweet, and as the notes were echoed from 
 the mountains, it seemed as if unseen spirits 
 were joining in the melody. If there is re- 
 ligion worthy of the name, it nowhere finds 
 better expression than among those grand old 
 hills amid which those Spanish priests worked 
 most faithfully for the Master. Nor can bet- 
 ter exponents be found than those sisters 
 
whose good work has in it no element of 
 selfishness and no hope of earthly reward, and 
 who care not whether the world knows the 
 good they are doing except in so far as 
 knowledge of it may aid in enlarging the 
 measure of its beneficence. 
 
THE CHILD BEAUTIFUL. 
 
 A child is beautiful; beautiful for its in- 
 nocence and confiding trust in the good inten= 
 tions of all with whom it comes in contact. 
 The parent, the school, the church can have no 
 higher mission than to guard the beautiful 
 child from the evils the years may bring. 
 The bloom on the cheek will fade. Trouble 
 will trace its indelible lines on the face, but 
 the unstained character will look out through 
 the clear eye with all the loveliness of younger 
 days. 
 
 The growing years of children make renew- 
 ed demands on our care. Now is the time to 
 inculcate habits which will be a safeguard 
 against the attacks of vice. Do not seek to 
 make children men and women by allowing 
 them to indulge in amusements suited to adult 
 age. Many amusements proper for grown 
 persons are vices for children. Let them not 
 
be taught to look for pleasure in excitement. 
 The child who lives in an excitable atmos- 
 phere is taking poison into his moral system. 
 The little girl who takes part in kissing games 
 or anything of that nature, is applying the ax 
 to the root of her virtue, the boy grows up 
 to sneer at propriety in the intercourse of 
 ladies and gentlemen. 
 
 There is no better safeguard than reading, 
 and that, at home; look to the child who never 
 turns to a book with pleasure. That child will 
 seek amusements in places where character is 
 blasted, and the seeds of immorality are sown. 
 Guard your child by giving him good habits as 
 a talisman against vice. When the seeds of 
 vice are sown early, they are not easily eradicat- 
 ed; and when the flower of virtue receives ear- 
 ly attention, it is not readily blighted. 
 
UNSELFISHNESS OF GIRLS. 
 
 The boy as a rule is selfish, petted, spoiled. 
 The girl receives no attention. She is not 
 expected to make her mark in the world. But 
 if parents would only make an inventory of the 
 kind acts of their children, they would find the 
 girls so pre=eminently in advance of the boys 
 that it would be a question whether the latter 
 were worth raising. It is because the girls 
 are not raised in an atmosphere of adulation 
 that they vend their energies in personal effort 
 to rise, and succeed, while the boys, who arc 
 promised a career, await its coming without 
 eiFort on their part. 
 
THE FROST KING. 
 
 Last week was a return of the old-fashioned 
 winter when time was young in this land. 
 The snow came down fast and furious, but re- 
 mained where it fell, and the country roads 
 were smooth, glassy and level, a delight to the 
 traveler. There is between Meeme and 
 Schleswig, Manitowoc county, Wisconsin, a 
 forest, the most extensive in the county, the 
 surface broken with deep ravines and rugged 
 hills. A good road runs through this wood 
 and a ride over it, on Wednesday last, were 
 worth ten years of humdrum life. At a dis- 
 tance, it looked like an immense orchard in blos- 
 som, and one could almost fancy the winds 
 were laden with the fragrance of May. Every 
 twig was wreathed with garlands of filmy snow, 
 with a delicate bordering of embroidery gather- 
 ed from the humid atmosphere by the fairy 
 touch of the Frost King. The evergreens 
 
drooped beneath their loads, forming beautiful 
 canopies, fitting bowers for some fair Titania. 
 There was a suggestion of peace in the whole 
 scene, of purity, and an expression of beauty 
 now seldom encountered since "the flowers of 
 the forest" are "a wedc away/' 
 
MUSIC THAT IS ETERNAL. 
 
 There is no person who is not, to some de- 
 gree, a lover of music, and, in all stages of civi= 
 lization, musical instruments, of some kind, have 
 soothed troubled feelings, or aroused passions. 
 But it is a singular fact, that those melodies which 
 become most popular have in them something 
 that touches the deeper emotions. A humor- 
 ous song is short lived. It may amuse but it 
 leaves none of that indescribable thrill that may 
 properly be called the ecstasy of the soul. A 
 song must have "soul'' to be immortal. The 
 plaintive airs of the negroes, as touching in 
 their sadness as they are beautiful in their 
 simplicity, will last as long as melody has 
 the power to please. The words may be, in- 
 deed generally are, a meaningless Jumble, but 
 the music is of such exquisite beauty, so clear- 
 ly a product of the heart, that it has the power 
 of touching that organ and making an impres- 
 
sion, which, like the memory of the dead, is 
 sweet from its sadness. Men, instinctively, rev- 
 erence those airs whose inspiration is from the 
 depth of the soul. Vicious men, and those 
 merry in their cups will sing humorous songs, 
 but never one of the character under discussion. 
 It would seem sacrilegious, a wanton effort to 
 injure feelings peculiarly sensitive to impro- 
 priety. 
 
 The Irish are a people, though of a mercur- 
 ial nature, subject to fits of despondency. Their 
 airs are the language of the soul and are im- 
 pregnated with melancholy. There are none 
 sweeter, none more lasting. Scotch airs have 
 also a suggestion of tears in them and gain im- 
 mensely by the touch of sorrow. A patriotic 
 song may stir, a lively one may amuse, but there 
 is none that will sink so deeply in the heart as 
 that which is born in sadness. 
 
THE HIGHEST PLEASURE. 
 
 If Heaven ever touches Earth it is when 
 mortal man finds pleasure in bringing happiness 
 to others; when the spirit of charity is abroad 
 casting out the demon of Selfishness from the 
 hearts of men. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 There is something in the approach of au- 
 tumn, the border land of summer, that is 
 depressing, just as if the shadow of death 
 were brooding over the future. There are 
 dark clouds in the sky which cut off the sun- 
 shine; there is gloom in the heart which dark- 
 ens hope and makes life ''scarcely worth liv- 
 ing." The wind has a mournful cadence, and 
 the trees sway as if the motion were a sigh of 
 sorrow. Everything seems to harmonize with 
 the prevailing spirit of sadness, and animate 
 nature moans forth a dirge. Dew drops seem 
 like tears, and the evening breeze is a sigh. 
 The moon itself seems to wear a garb of grief 
 and flits among the clouds, a tear-stained Diana. 
 It is a season for men to grow mad, for an- 
 guish to gnaw at the heart, and for melancholy 
 to usurp the throne of reason. The retina 
 only receives dark impressions, the tym- 
 
panum transmits none but doleful sounds. 
 One is feasted on dismal thoughts on every 
 hand until it becomes a regular symposium of 
 sorrow. Those imps, the Blues, that feed one 
 on dejection, are in their heyday, implac- 
 able as a Nemesis, persistent as a Devil. They 
 revel in gloom and drag one down to the 
 Slough of Despond. Work is performed 
 mechanically, and what in its nature is amuse- 
 ment, is now a bore. One "sucks melancholy 
 from a song as a weasel sucks eggs," and longs 
 for night that he may seek forgetfulness in 
 sleep — the twin-sister of Death. A miser- 
 able world this, when the year is falling ''into 
 the sear and yellow leaf"; and there is a linger- 
 ing wish that the shadows which come from 
 the West would bring that icy breath that 
 gives forgetfulness and rest. 
 
THE MANLY BOY. 
 
 Just as one predominant trait is an index of 
 character, so the upbuilding of character in a 
 school, is evidence of the excellent training 
 that is given. Tom Brown's manly boy- 
 hood, full of faults, though not grevious ones, 
 the result of an excess of animal life and im- 
 pulsiveness, is a field for the imagination of the 
 youthful reader. It is the growth of healthy 
 sentiment in a boy, this strenghtening of the 
 moral fibre amid perplexities and under con- 
 ditions which might lead to ruin, that gives in- 
 spiration and arouses feelings of hopefuless. 
 Tom Brown at Oxford is a living personage be- 
 cause of the human sympathy which gives life 
 to the story. No boy is good at all times. 
 Tom Brown teaches that a boy may be good 
 and still be a boy of many faults. 
 
MOTHER. 
 
 There is no injunction which appeals more 
 strongly to man's affection than that which 
 reads "Honor thy father and thy mother/' 
 When a man thinks of what his mother has 
 endured for him, the affection she has lavish- 
 ed on him, the sacrifices she has made for him, 
 the faith she has in him. he must be worse 
 than a brute if the warm current of his love 
 docs not center in her, no matter what her 
 faults. 
 
FOUNTAIN OF PIETY. 
 
 The heart which is surcharged with charity 
 to all is the fountain of true piety, and raises 
 man to the uplands of practical religion. Pray- 
 er is but the expression of thoughts which fill 
 the soul, and deeds not words are its prop- 
 er exponents, fesus, the son of Man, is a light 
 to the skeptic no less than Jesus, the son of 
 God, is the hope of the Christian who relics 
 for salvation on the blood which was shed for 
 man's redemption. Lofty church spires may 
 not invoke piety in one whose heart will melt 
 in ready sympathy in the presence of suffering. 
 Christ ate with Publicans and Pharisees; mod- 
 ern Christians persecute opposite sects: Christ 
 wept over the dead Lazarus; Puritans enjoyed 
 the suffering of tortured witches, but that 
 "peace on earth," which was heralded by 
 Christ's coming, is daily gaining strength and 
 tolerance; charity and good will are extending 
 their sway over humanity. 
 
POSSIBILITIES OF MAN. 
 
 Nothing stands isolated and cut away from 
 all the activities and influences of external agen- 
 cies, and yet remains sufficient in itself to ac= 
 complish a worthy end. The ocean steamship 
 lying at the wharf, cold and motionless, has, 
 within it, great possibilities, but not until the 
 expansive power of steam, itself again depend- 
 ent on the active agency of heat, quickens la- 
 tent energies into life, and the throbbing engine 
 sends the great wheels on their tireless rounds, 
 does the mighty craft show its power. The 
 acorn, hid in the darkness of the earth, covered 
 with a carpet of virgin whiteness, has, within 
 itself, possibilities that would make a forest 
 giant to live through, and laugh at, the storms 
 of centuries, but not until the potent influence 
 of the sun causes nature's tears to kiss the 
 warmed earth, can the future king of the sylvan 
 grove be wooed from the bosom of nature. 
 
As it IS in the physical world, so it is in the 
 realm of spiritual existence. The child, lying 
 unconscious in its cradle, has, in it, possibilities 
 that may "stir the laughter or the rage of mil- 
 lions/' but not until the deft hand of nature, 
 and the gentle influence of the living instruct- 
 or, come to the rescue, are the latent powers 
 aroused into living, expanding thought, search- 
 ing for laws governing matter, intellect, and 
 morality. Butmatter unfolds, ripens, sheds its 
 fruit, and then dies, bequeathing the same ele- 
 ments, with their possibilities neither impaired 
 nor increased, to the succeeding generation of 
 plant and rock; while in the region of mind the 
 blossom IS ever more beautiful and fragrant, 
 the fruit richer and more palatable, the whole 
 inheritance greater in mass and in intrinsic val- 
 ue, making the spiritual possibilities of man 
 seem well nigh infinite in their range and pow- 
 er. 
 
 Why, then, should we not avail ourselves of 
 
all that is possible of the best thought, the 
 sublimest emotion, and the clearest reasoning to 
 be found on the social and ethical problems 
 that confront human life? Man alone is to 
 blame if "history with all her volume vast has 
 but one page." Yet the words of the poet 
 are delusive, for man is ever capable of prying 
 deeper into the mysteries of nature, and if he 
 is faithful in his activities he will be rewarded 
 with solvents for the complex problems of life. 
 
THE GENIAL GERMANS. 
 
 No one can appreciate the sturdy character 
 of the Germans, their liberality, good fellow- 
 ship, and freedom from bigotry, unless he 
 mingles with them. No man, no matter what 
 his nationality or his creed, can ever say that, 
 socially or politically, he suffered at the hands 
 of Germans because of his nationality or 
 creed. But, to one on the outside, the ap- 
 peals of the demagogues to the dominant race 
 in this country naturally cause a prejudice which 
 is wholly undeserved so far as the Germans 
 are concerned. Their societies arc wholly 
 different from those of other nationalities. 
 Nationality is no bar to admission. In all so- 
 cial relations there is an inborn courtesy 
 which prevents any reflection on any nation- 
 ality. The * 'outsider" who mingles with 
 them is not made to feel that he is a trespasser. 
 He is received openly and cordially, and if he 
 
does not feci at home it is his fault. These 
 things are not known to those who do not 
 mingle with the Germans. They are not 
 susceptible of flattery, nor supersensitive to 
 criticism, but the demagogues think they are, 
 and employ the one, and avoid the other, not 
 for the good of the Germans, but with the 
 mistaken notion that their favor may be thereby 
 won. The best way to win the respect of any 
 nationality is to be independent and manly, 
 never witholding criticism when the occasion 
 demands it, and never indulging in obsequious 
 adulation. 
 
THE INDUSTRIOUS STUDENT. 
 
 The Industrious student rarely has occasion 
 to complain of the hours spent in study. He 
 has educated himself into the habit of giving 
 attention to the matter in hand, and his powers 
 are concentrated on the task. The complaint 
 of over-study comes from the student who 
 wastes time in permitting other subjects to 
 share his attention while engaged in the per- 
 formance of duty, and, dallying with a task, 
 cultivates irresolution by his methods of 
 work. The worry incident to a conscious 
 lack of preparation, the time spent in 
 listless endeavor, the mental disquietude in- 
 duced by patchwork effort, and the bodily sym- 
 pathy with mental inertia, are indeed symptoms 
 of overwork. The writer has known parents 
 to attribute every little sign of lassitude in 
 their daughters to over-study, when the real 
 cause was lack of thought, and need of work. 
 
Physicians cloak their ignorance, and flatter 
 parents by their promptitude in discovering the 
 source of difficulties in the severe exactions of 
 the school, when in a majority of cases the 
 prescription which would bring relief would 
 be to advise the student to work more earnest- 
 ly and dawdle less. 
 
WOMAN'S AFFECTION. 
 
 A woman clings to life not because her fear 
 of death is stronger than that of man, but be- 
 cause she is more affectionate, truer to duty, 
 and less beset by despair. Man's best quali- 
 ties are revealed by the very activities in which 
 he is engaged, but the depth of a woman's pur- 
 pose, her strength of feeling, and capability 
 for sacrifice, are never revealed until some 
 emergency calls them out. There is rnuch 
 that is noble and good hid behind frivolities 
 which belie woman's nature, and frivolity is 
 readily discarded when a demand is made on 
 those womanly qualities, which are much more 
 common than we suppose. A woman's friend- 
 ship is not easily won, but when it is, its roots 
 find a place in her soul. With capacity for 
 suffering, she has acquired the strength to bear 
 it more uncomplainingly than man. 
 
THANKSGIVING DAY. 
 
 The heart that does not throb with a quick- 
 ened impulse on Thanksgiving Day, must long 
 have beat time to sorrov^'s measure. It is 
 purely a secular holiday, borrowing no feature 
 of solemnity from **fears of what is to be." It 
 may not **knit new friendship,'' but it thaws 
 the frost of selfishness from the heart, and 
 quickens sluggish life with the instinct of good 
 will. It crystallizes prayer into good acts, 
 happy thoughts, and generous promptings. 
 The busy, bustling world is shut out from the 
 family group; a truce is called, and the soldier 
 in the battle of life, everywhere, enjoys the 
 brief respite. 
 
 Why should not this pleasurable feature be 
 an element of all holidays? At what higher 
 purpose can religion aim than to bring joy to 
 the heart of a child, rest to the troubled soul 
 of the anxious parent, and to all, that elevated 
 
sentiment of kindly feeling, regard and charity, 
 which always attends pleasant companionship? 
 The prayer which agony wrings, which fear 
 inspires, or selfishness dictates, may have an in- 
 tensity of earnestness, but it does not gladden 
 the heart. Make man happy, and his life is a 
 paean of praise. And what is the source of 
 happiness? Judicious enjoyment of the things 
 that are. Oh, sad-eyed parent! look at the 
 merry group which surrounds you to-day, and 
 ask yourself if you have not found a surer way 
 to the confidence and hearts of your children 
 than through gloomy, lifeless precepts, with 
 which you have clogged their minds, shutting 
 out the genial warmth of parental solicitude, 
 and establishing a censorship where should be 
 loving guidance. Man of the world, when 
 acting the devotee of that exaggerated fashion 
 of giving large donations to ostentatious char- 
 ities, have you, at such times, felt that expan- 
 sion of soul which you now experience in be= 
 
Ing one of a group which numbers no sad hearts? 
 And conscientious church=goer, has the clergy- 
 man as, in studied phrase, he addressed the 
 throne of the Most High, inspired you with 
 that feeling of ''goodwill to men," that has 
 taken possession of you while you aid in pass- 
 ing around the well-filled plates. The ear 
 that has never been attuned to any but doleful 
 sounds, the eye that has never looked upon 
 any but gloomy pictures, the lips that have 
 never syllabled any but sorrowful words, have 
 naught to do with the melody, the sunshine, 
 and the sweet communion of this world. Their 
 hosannas are choked with sobs; their hearts are 
 fountains of bitterness. 
 
 ^ 
 
SPRINGTIME. 
 
 There is something in the vigorous march 
 of springtime, sweeping over the meadows in 
 luxuriant depths of living green, flinging out 
 the banner of fragrant blossoms from fruit trees 
 to kiss the wooing breeze, which recalls 
 the springtime of life, when the spirit was 
 buoyant, hope strong, and the future cover- 
 ed with the sheen of bright promise. *'The 
 tender grace of a day that is gone'' may be 
 brought back by an aimless ramble through 
 the country one of these bright days. Nature 
 is never more amiable. She woos you with 
 profusion of flowers, and a melody as rich and 
 dulcet as it is varied; the air is sweet with the 
 fragrance of buds and blossoms, and the 
 woods, in the fragile beauty of the tender leaves 
 are as lovely as a tinted transparency. The 
 bobolink at this season, a trill of joyous song in 
 flight, is everywhere; the robin's note is never 
 
still; the catbird's voice is heard at intervals, 
 and the blackbird's whistle sounds sweet in 
 this symposium of song. Go out for a ramble 
 and come back happy with having tasted some 
 of the sweets of life, more worthy of search 
 than the things of ambition. 
 
THE PUBLIC SCHOOL. 
 
 The public school by performing its legiti= 
 mate work properly, developes character, and, 
 by strengthening good purpose, and teaching 
 recognition and performance of duty, gives a 
 moral tone to character which cannot be im- 
 parted by dabbling in precepts. The trouble 
 with our clergy generally is that they do not 
 understand child nature. The child is in= 
 capable of reasoning, and never directs his 
 conduct by the religious teaching he receives. 
 He is guided largely by direction of others 
 until habit comes in as second nature to give 
 trend to his actions. The true teacher sees 
 that the child does promptly and in an orderly 
 manner what it is proper he should do. The 
 discipline of the school teaches him that a 
 certain amount of self-denial on his part is 
 made obligatory for the good of the little 
 community in which he lives for a certain 
 
number of hours each day. His moral nature is 
 strengthened by doing those things which con- 
 stitute the basis of moral principle. Action 
 is always antecedent to the formulation of 
 the principle which is but an expression of 
 what has been done. The public school 
 teaches the thing by practicing it, both in its 
 moral and intellectual features—one fortifying 
 the other and making it complementary. 
 
SANITY OF WORK. 
 
 We hear much of the evils of overwork, 
 and ''breaking down'' is often mistakenly attrib- 
 uted to severe mental or manual labor. Nerv- 
 ous excitability and anxiety, when accompani- 
 ments of labor, weaken the body and affect the 
 mind. It is proper to distinguish these from 
 labor, and to avoid their debilitating influence, 
 but it is not wise to suggest cessation of work. 
 The body inured to labor, and the mind accus- 
 tomed to discipline, can best cast off the evils 
 which beset them. Thought may bring weari- 
 ness, and bodily labor exhaustion, but these 
 are natural conditions, and nature provides a 
 cure. It is when thought runs in forbidden 
 channels; when imagination occupies itself with 
 unwholesome pictures; when desires run to 
 excess, that the weakness ensues which perma- 
 nently impairs bodily and mental vigor. Those 
 who fancy they suffer from overwork receive 
 
more injury from the character of the rest they 
 take than from the labor they perform. The 
 avenues through which weakness reaches the 
 mind, are the emotions. These are quite 
 active in young people, and their abuse invaria- 
 bly results in that unhealthy mental condition 
 which vanity ascribes to a worthier cause. 
 Can healthy exercise of body and mind be 
 carried to extremes? Rarely; because strength 
 to withstand comes with increase of exercise. 
 Good plain food is seldom, very, very seldom, 
 indulged in to excess. The depraved appetite 
 always longs for that which injures, and grows 
 in weakness with increase in desire. As it is 
 with exercise, so it is with mental activity, 
 and when overwork is complained of, it is 
 wiser to correct the perversion than to dis- 
 continue labor. Very few people are injured 
 from this cause which is described as if it 
 were a national epidemic. Many suffer from 
 want of wholesome employment. 
 
A HAPPY PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 To the old, the new life which they are 
 nearing, brighten it, as you may, with the ef- 
 fulgence of divinity, is a place of exile, the 
 paths to which, are beaten by the tottering 
 steps of fear. Regrets for vanished youth 
 cloud the vision of future bliss, and gratitude 
 gives place to reminiscences sad as **the 
 memory of buried love". As the years creep 
 on they bring pleasure and pain. The one 
 lights the eye but transiently, while the other 
 leaves scars that time fails to heal. * * * 
 
 From the gospel of love and friendship and 
 quiet content, the true philosophy of life is 
 preached. There is much gained if, even for 
 one brief day, we snatch respite from care, 
 anxiety, and toil. The Sybarite is not a whit 
 more wasteful of life than the Anchorite, and 
 the revel, which marks many a festal board, is 
 far more conducive to that correct living and 
 
to that charity which **thinketh no evil" than 
 is that solemnity of visage and bitterness of 
 heart that comes from religious contemplation 
 of the world's wickedness and one's individual 
 trials. If the present offers pleasures, let not 
 their enjoyment be marred by painful mem- 
 ories of the past, nor by fruitless concern for 
 the future. Let gratitude be uttered by the 
 voice of mirth, and prayer be syllabled by the 
 the lips of joy. 
 
SLANG. 
 
 The persistent use of slang is an evidence 
 in most cases of mental inertness. When it 
 is the fashion to use a saying only expressive 
 because of its novelty, a great many yield to it 
 as they do to fashion in clothes, while refusing 
 to express approval. But such persons tire 
 of the silly utterances and return to rational 
 words to express the ideas for which the slang 
 was a stereotyped form. The slang expression 
 may be used with effect by one who rarely 
 uses it in conversation or public speech, but 
 one cannot help deploring the tendency tow- 
 ard slang. The fact is our young people are 
 getting to use a sort of gypsy dialect, and 
 have sentences ready framed to express a 
 thought, without the necessity of thinking. 
 Conversation has no charms for the reason 
 that there is nothing new in it, simply a re= 
 arrangement of the patent sentences prepared 
 
in the slang factory. And yet society would 
 be shocked with an oath, something less censur- 
 able than the addiction to slang, because it 
 does not, in conversation, serve as a subject 
 for thought. The words "chestnut" and "chest- 
 nut-bell" in their brief run were a greater 
 aggravation than all of the profanity since 
 swearing was invented. The person who 
 uses slang habitually should be made to wear 
 the cap and bells. 
 
 ^$«0 
 
 ^ 
 
WINNING AN EMPIRE. 
 
 The Texas Rangers won an empire by their 
 prowess, and offered the fruits of their victory 
 to the country in which their cradles were 
 rocked. Strange fatuity of statesmanship! the 
 offer was reluctantly accepted, and barely escap- 
 ed rejection. When one travels over this 
 magnificent state today, an empire in extent and 
 achievement, with a future so full of promise, 
 that present prosperity merely serves as an in- 
 dex of what is to be, he cannot help thinking 
 that the United States came nigh "throwing 
 away a pearl richer than all his tribe/' It 
 is glorious history which has descended to us. 
 by reason of this acquisition, the struggles of 
 the early pioneers; the war of independence not 
 less glorious than our own; the Alamo, well 
 named "the Thermopylae of America," the 
 missions whose battered walls speak of the past 
 when war was the handmaid of religion, and 
 
whose dark rooms bear testimony to the som= 
 ber character of the religion of the early day. 
 Texas has been misunderstood by the people 
 of the North. It has within its confines every= 
 thing essential to a nation's well-being. Itjs 
 people are not typical Southerners, as they 
 have a dash of Western breeziness which gives 
 piquancy to the chivalrous courtesy of the 
 South. 
 
GRANDEUR AND BEAUTY. 
 
 All the lake cities are beautiful. Nature 
 was in a pleasant mood when she blended gran- 
 deur with quiet beauty along the shores of 
 these great inland seas. The islands which 
 break the broad expanse of water in northern 
 Lake Michigan, are a feast to the eye with 
 their dark wooded slopes. They seem to ab- 
 sorb the sunshine in their languorous depths, 
 and invite the mind to dreamy drowsiness. 
 But the waters are treacherous as the scattered 
 wrecks testify. There is no captain who does 
 not breathe a sigh of relief when the laby- 
 rinth channel through reefs and shoals is pass- 
 ed on the way out from Escanaba, Michigan, 
 and the undisturbed swell of the great lake is 
 felt. 
 
 ^ 
 
HOME IS WOMAN'S SPHERE. 
 
 The shop girl's training and her constant 
 surroundings are not such as to elevate her 
 ideal of life, and she is doomed, at best, to a 
 miserable existence while unmarried. When 
 she becomes mistress of her own house, she is 
 a stranger to its duties, and her tastes unfit her 
 to make home pleasant or cheerful. The girls 
 who work as domestic servants receive, as a 
 rule, wages fully up to their demands, and the 
 training they receive is an excellent prepara- 
 tion for the home in which they, themselves, 
 are to govern in the future. They are labor- 
 ing in woman's proper sphere; a field that their 
 whole antecedent education should prepare them 
 to improve and beautify by their intellectual 
 acquirements as well as by their discipline in 
 the household. Much of the misery now prev- 
 alent among women has been incurred by 
 their seeking to fill the positions of men, and 
 
those who preach equality for both sexes in all 
 fields of labor are the authors of the mischief 
 that has been done. Housekeeping is a high 
 art. It will never be unsurped by men. It 
 will always remain woman's field. How then 
 can it be properly cultivated in all homes, if 
 the heresy that woman should be allowed to 
 compete with man in all work is to prevail? 
 This pernicious philosophy has been advocat- 
 ed by women whose hopes for a reign in a do- 
 mestic circle were blasted, and the acerbity of 
 whose tempers has given a wrong direction to 
 their aspirations. 
 
FUNCTION OF EDUCATION. 
 
 The long recognized function of education 
 is to give to man control of his inner forces, 
 to make him cognizant of the laws of the ma- 
 terial and spiritual world, and to render him 
 able to comprehend and apply them for his 
 own liberal advancement. A properly educat- 
 ed person is not a child viewing certain facts 
 and occurrences as aberrations of Nature. On 
 the contrary, he learns to reduce all events to 
 a few higher denominations called the laws of 
 the universe, while he looks with wonder and 
 admiration upon the laws themselves, his soul 
 swelling with emotion and longing for a 
 glimpse at the unexplainable power that pro- 
 duces order where the ignorant mind sees only 
 chaos. 
 
LOYALTY TO HOME. 
 
 The city would have been piloted to its 
 grave if the crew had not mutinied and refus- 
 ed to follow the course and thus saved the ship. 
 The trouble was, a part of the crew rushed too 
 fast, carried too much sail when they should have 
 reefed, recklessly plunging along, heedless of 
 the rocks and breakers, which it was liable to 
 meet on its course, and the result has been, 
 what was to be expected, that it met injury, 
 but one which is not beyond repair. It has now 
 gone into dry dock; the carpenters and calkcrs 
 are gathering up material and in a short time it 
 will be afloat again and ready to continue its 
 course with renewed vigor, and with more ex- 
 perience, secured by the late disaster, and with 
 a better prospect of future success. 
 
 The old ship may not be as large in dimen- 
 sions, nor as grand in luxuries furnished, as 
 some others are, but it has a beautiful model. 
 
is substantially built, and in it I will chance 
 my life and all. to the end of my days. The 
 anchor, the symbol of hope, is still at its bow. 
 so let us not despair. 
 
VIEW FROM MT. WASHBURN. 
 
 We ascended Mt. Washburn with horses, 
 until they became an encumbrance, and then my- 
 self and a clergyman pushed ahead on foot. 
 Here were immense snow drifts, and above 
 them in clear patches, bloomed the flowers. 
 It was a singular companionship. On little 
 shelves could be seen where animals had rested 
 and everywhere were evidences of the inhab- 
 itancy of the Rocky Mountain sheep. One's 
 head swims before the summit is reached, and 
 well it might, because this peak is 10,000 feet 
 above the level of the sea. The top is flat, the 
 gale piercing, the flowers many and beautiful, 
 though the frosts are still there and what a beau- 
 tiful panorama is spread before you! Clear 
 around in an unbroken circle sweep the mount- 
 ain peaks, their banks of snow glistening in the 
 sunlight. What were somber pine forests when 
 you rode through them are mellowed into a 
 
beautiful dark green, the inequalities being 
 wholly hidden from the eye. The blue waters 
 of Yellowstone Lake rise into view and the 
 patches of meadows look like well kept farms. 
 The whole park is beneath you cinctured by a 
 chaplet of snow. It is a fascinating sight and 
 one not quickly forgotten and repays one fully 
 for the weariness of the ascent. 
 
FALLS OF MINNEHAHA, 
 
 Minnehaha Falls are not high, nor is there 
 a great volume of water tumbling over them, 
 but they have a quiet beauty which charms one. 
 The brook"it is not much else, -sings, through 
 its whole course below the Falls until it is swal- 
 lowed up by the river to which it is a tributary, 
 a restful melody. The current is swift, but the 
 stream never brawls. The rocky valley 
 through which it plows is in perfect harmony 
 with the rippling stream whose murmurs are 
 gladsome sounds. The hills have no rugged 
 features; they are softened with foliage and the 
 whole place is pregnant with calm beauty and 
 restfulness. Those laughing waters and their 
 surroundings will bring to any one, once a 
 country lad, the most pleasing recollections of 
 woodland streams and forest paths. I never 
 visited a place more conducive to restfulness, 
 pleasing recollections, or complete banishment 
 
of worldliness. There is nothing approaching 
 sublimity. Everything takes quiet possession 
 of the heart in a gentle way, and one is inex- 
 tricably in love without having felt the ap- 
 proach of this Nature Cupid. 
 
THE MATERIALISTIC AGE. 
 
 Our own age seems to have its powerful 
 determining characteristics. It may be called 
 the materialistic age. A scramble to gain 
 wealth and distinction among the perishable 
 products of man's labor, seems to be assuming 
 the proportion of a national trait. Selfishness 
 rules the human breast; and desire for gain too 
 often makes people oblivious to their higher 
 interests. Avaricious desire not only rules the 
 individual, but its baleful influence creeps into 
 every branch and fibre of the social organization. 
 Every element of physical and intellectual 
 power is now made subservient to man's pas- 
 sion for gain, and turned into a producing 
 agent at the earliest possible day. The learned 
 professions are now entered by the merest 
 novices in learning. Persons who scarcely 
 know the functions of government, or the ele- 
 mentary facts of history, are classed as lawyers; 
 
persons without a smattering of general scien- 
 tific education, are called physicians; persons 
 to whom mental science is a mystery, and the 
 simplest principles of pedagogy vague or mean- 
 ingless, arc called teachers; persons are often 
 ordained to show the Way and the Truth without 
 an acquaintance with society or a disposition 
 to drop the plummet to sound the depths of 
 human passion; and the vast army of children 
 is withdrawn from school at an early age to 
 learn trades, or earn bread at some form of 
 manual labor. 
 
LIFE. 
 
 Life is a unionof joys and sorrows of passing 
 clouds and flitting sunshine. -Jts pathway is 
 sometimes beautified by pleasant flowers and 
 again darkened by somber shadows. The moth- 
 er who bends with loving solicitude over the 
 cradle of her child has a fountain of Joy in her 
 maternal aflFection. But the love-light in her 
 eyes is often quenched in tears and her affec- 
 tion brings forth a fruitage of sorrow. Grief 
 is a parasitic plant which feeds on love, and 
 the smile of to-day is often but a prelude to 
 the tears of tomorrow. 
 
KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. 
 
 Bulwer, in his Varieties of English Life, 
 devotes a chapter to the refutation of the max- 
 im, '^Knowledge is power/' The many in- 
 ventions of the nineteenth century, all useful, 
 many curious, give to the industrious student 
 a power transcending that of the mightiest po- 
 tentate. The seemingly idle speculations of 
 profound thinkers often crystallize into that 
 which promotes the cause of civilization to a 
 greater degree than does the labors of a gener- 
 ation of statesmen. The closet has done more 
 toward the advancement of the interests of 
 mankind than have legislative halls. Fast up- 
 on the splendid results which came from a 
 knowledge of the properties of steam came 
 the inconceivably quick transmission of mes- 
 sages through the agency of electricity. The 
 telephone with its miraculous reproduc- 
 tion of tones makes the wonders of the tele- 
 
graph seem commonplace. The phonograph 
 appears next on the scene, with its seemingly 
 incredible capacity of conserving sounds, to 
 give us almost unbounded faith in the omni- 
 potence of science. A membrane, a grooved 
 cylinder and a stylus are endowed by the intel- 
 lect of man with a faculty, which, heretofore, 
 has been peculiar to Nature's most perfect or- 
 ganism, and makes the fable of Frankenstein 
 seem a reality. With the wonderful achieve- 
 ments of science before us, Tyndal's labors to 
 discover the principles of life should not be 
 prejudged as the fruitless efforts of an enthusi- 
 ast. The miracles which science performs to- 
 day are great enough to win belief in the di- 
 vinity of man. 
 
VIRTUE IS RESERVED. 
 
 Virtue is reserved not obtrusive. When- 
 ever a parade is made virtue is absent. Not 
 that it is lacking in assertion, but that it has 
 modesty as its chief characteristic. There is 
 no man living who is wholly pure, there are 
 some women, but they are not given to adver- 
 tising the fact by condemning those who have 
 fallen. Virtue is more compassionate and 
 charitable than vengeful and relentless. Os- 
 tentatious virtue is hardly superior to unobtru- 
 sive vice. 
 
MIDSUMMER. 
 
 There is rare beauty in the woods in midsum- 
 mer which no one can fully appreciate but he 
 whose memory is a storehouse of pleasant re- 
 collections gathered in that early period when 
 **life was love." The patches of sky seen 
 through the rents in the green curtain of na- 
 ture's weaving, flecked with shreds of fleeting 
 clouds, bring to mind the heaven of childhood 
 which needed not doctrine or philosophy for 
 its revelation. The winds seem to have a 
 softness and fragrance which lull the spirit to 
 rest and thus blot out the harshness of life. 
 Rest, now, has no feature of languor and the 
 vigorous, happy life with which one is sur- 
 rounded is inspiriting. There is no prescription 
 that can match the woods for efficacy. 
 
THE BELLE AND FOP. 
 
 There are many women whose natures, from 
 birth to maturity, systematically eliminate ev- 
 ery germ of womanly worth, who are moulded 
 into creatures of fashion, fit companions for 
 man who loves beauty without a soul, and are 
 "ordained to flutter and to shine and cheer the 
 weary passenger with music." But this is 
 training and not a development of inherent 
 traits. They are distorted women, a growth of 
 false ideas, a misconception of beauty; flowers 
 made neutral to please the eye at the expense 
 of their worth. 
 
 Man born to wealth, or reared with the 
 same disregard for future usefulness that char- 
 acterizes the training girls receive, is as worth- 
 less a member of society; of as little conse- 
 quence in this progressive world, as the gay 
 belle who has no thoughts beyond personal 
 adornment and fashionable enjoyment. Every 
 
thoughtless, giddy girl, can be matched by a 
 brainless, worthless fop. While her virtues 
 are negative, his vices are positive. Women 
 need have no fear to institute comparisons be- 
 tween the showy members of both sexes. 
 
THE BOOK OF NATURE. 
 
 How sad to think of a man living three 
 score years and ten, never for one moment con- 
 sidering a simple law governing the world! 
 This in a country that pretends to give people 
 an education. But once open the book of Na- 
 ture and what an endless source of enjoyment is 
 exposed to the intellectual view. The world 
 would no longer be looked upon as a finished 
 product; the vulgar conception of the few years 
 of its existence would expand into untold mil- 
 lions, and the apparently finished beings would 
 be seen to be the work of hidden forces oper- 
 ating through endless ages that have lapsed. 
 
 The study of Nature not only gives enjoy- 
 ment but furnishes food for thought which nev- 
 er need be dug from a stagnant pool. This 
 is an age of science, and the application of it, 
 and consequently its study should be made a 
 part of the training of every child. 
 
PATHOS IN SONG. 
 
 There is no place where song appeals to the 
 heart and stirs it in sympathy with infinite ten- 
 derness, of which song is the language, that the 
 Suwanee River is not known through the 
 matchless melody which bears that name. The 
 pathos of this song exceeds that of Home 
 Sweet Home while the burden of its sorrow 
 is sweeter in its simplicity and more earnest 
 in its tender longings. It is dispair, finding 
 voice in the universal language which reaches 
 consciousness through the heart, which speaks 
 with the fervor of instinct. 
 
DICKENS AND CARLYLE. 
 
 One cannot read a sketch of the lives of 
 Thomas Carlyle or Charles Dickens without 
 a feeling of indignation at the abuse which 
 their wives received. --Dickens's was deliberate 
 cruelty, driving out from his heart the woman 
 he had promised to cherish and making her life 
 a wreck because her intellect did not keep pace 
 with his. When we read some of his beauti- 
 ful passages on child life and woman's love, 
 knowing how unmanly, realized ambition made 
 him, we cannot help believing that the divine 
 sympathy, which he painted so eloquently, was 
 nothing more than sentiment cast off in the in= 
 tercourse of practical life. This discarded 
 wife appears in the background and in the elo- 
 quence of sorrow, hardship, and suffering takes 
 the coloring out of his beautiful words. 
 
 Carlyle was cruel, but unconsciously so. 
 His wife was a superior woman, not equal to 
 
her husband in intellectual force, but vastly 
 so in all the qualities that give beauty to life. 
 But she lived alone. She was not the confi- 
 dant of her husband, though worthy of being 
 so by virtue of a well cultivated mind and a 
 tender solicitude for which its object was un- 
 worthy. She admired rather than loved the 
 intellectual giant with whom her life was 
 linked, and he was more intent in adding to his 
 own literary fame than in contributing to her 
 happiness, and this when she had voluntarily 
 resigned everything for his sake, when every 
 thought was for him, every deed an act of love 
 or kindly ministration. From the fame the 
 man has acquired, we are apt to lose sight of 
 the neglected woman yearning for the society 
 of her husband, and made to feel that a woman's 
 highest duty is to toil for the man she marries. 
 Neither wealth nor fame can compensate for 
 the love of a true, pure woman, andCarlylc in 
 requiring affection, without recognizing or re- 
 
turning it, lays himself justly open to the im- 
 putation of cruelty and disregard of man's high- 
 est duty. The affection of his wife was 
 worth more to him than the praise of the 
 world, and he would deserve the latter more, 
 had he had more consideration for the woman 
 whose life he made unhappy. 
 
PREPARATION FOR EASE. 
 
 The tendency of the age is toward higher 
 education, not for the pleasures incident to in- 
 tellectual culture nor for that strength of char- 
 acter proceeding from the philosophy which 
 mental acquirements breed. This is because edu- 
 cation enlarges opportunities for the acquisi- 
 tion of wealth, enables one to rise above the 
 necessities of manual labor and brings a cer- 
 tain amount ofpraise which is, at best, nothing 
 but flattery with a gloss of refinement. Every 
 motive, hope, and aspiration has in it something 
 of the earth, earthy; a base of selfishness, a 
 framework of cupidity with an ornamentation 
 of honorable ambition. Law, medicine, aad 
 theology, the three great professions, which at- 
 tract genius, are departments in which that gen- 
 ius glorifies itself, the benefit to mankind, if 
 any accrues, or the fuller exposition of prin- 
 ciples, if such is the result, is but an incident 
 
of this pre-occupying purpose. This is the 
 loftiest purpose which animates people in the 
 honorable professions. The fame which learn- 
 ing brings is the incentive **to scorn delight 
 and live laborious days," and not the purely 
 intellectual pleasure of overcoming those dif- 
 ficulties which obstruct the pathway of the 
 mind to the uplands of thought, or that benevo- 
 lent purpose of giving light that man may be 
 happier. 
 
 Of the many young men attending school, 
 how very few realize that the education they 
 are receiving is designed to fit them to be bet- 
 ter members of society, to enable them to dis= 
 charge with more efficiency the duties they 
 owe themselves, and to recognize those com- 
 plex mutual relations which society imposes. 
 That it is to elevate them in sentiment, and to 
 assist nature by acquired intelligence. The 
 graduate of the high school feels as if the 
 modicum of learning, of which he has become 
 
the possessor, raises him above the level of 
 common humanity and that his destiny is to 
 be carried out in the battlefield of life where 
 mind and not muscle contends. A difference 
 in the means of supplying bodily wants is, to 
 his understanding, the line of demarcation be- 
 tween the aristocracy of intellect and the 
 commonalty of labor. Indigence with uncal- 
 loused hands is preferable to plenty without 
 the social distinction of being above manual 
 labor. 
 
 With three-fourths of the boys and young 
 men between the ages of four and twenty, 
 looking forward to the presidency, a large 
 percentage of the remainder more modestly 
 ambitious, but working that their **lines may 
 be cast in pleasant places," where are our pro- 
 ducers to come from? With the misconception 
 which obtains of the object of scholastic 
 knowledge, are we not educating too much? 
 If the inevitable result of schooling beyond 
 
the rudiments, is to raise a young man above 
 himself and produce a distaste for labor, is not 
 ignorance preferable? It is evident, the fault 
 is not in education. There is no labor which 
 intelligence will not dignify. But it is the 
 purpose for which education is sought; the 
 false aspirations which have their birth in the 
 many dissertations on the "advantages of edu- 
 cation," which verify the proverb that a "little 
 learning is a dangerous thing." 
 
A PRIMEVAL FOREST. 
 
 Twenty miles east of Antigo, Wisconsin, 
 are primeval forests and a stream aptly named 
 the Evergreen runs through them. This 
 river charmingly combines the babble of the 
 brook with the rush of the mountain stream. 
 The solitude of these heavy forests is rarely 
 disturbed by the human voice, while the rippl- 
 ing waters break upon the silence with sooth- 
 ing and pleasing harmony. In the clear, cool 
 waters of these woodland streams, fed by per- 
 petual springs, the brook trout thrives. He 
 is in charming accord with his surroundings. 
 Rapid as a flash of light, glistening with the 
 beauty with which he is in perpetual contact 
 and game while a throb of life remains, he 
 seems to be Nature's metaphor for a happy 
 union of agility and grace. 
 
THE BAD LANDS. 
 
 The Bad Lands lie in the western part of 
 Dakota and the eastern part of Montana. They 
 are now known by the more euphonious name 
 of Pyramid Park, though the first is more ap- 
 propriate. The hills are a queer formation, 
 rising abruptly from the plains, barren, bleak 
 and stupendous, they give the surrounding 
 country the appearance of being blighted by a 
 curse. They are a mass of clay without life, 
 without vegetation, a corpse of clay with no 
 hope of a future. Their appearance is an 
 explanation of their origin, volcanic eruption; 
 a boiling without an outbreak, as uninviting a 
 piece of work as Nature ever fashioned. 
 Some of the scrubby trees, common to this 
 section, started a sickly growth on the un- 
 inviting sides of the hills. But the inhospit- 
 able soil did not afford them means of life and 
 they perished. A vigorous tree on the Bad 
 
Lands would be the Marriage of Death and 
 Life. The eastern ridges of the Rocky 
 Mountains are the Bad Land hills on a more 
 stupendous plan. Bare, barren, snow clad and 
 forbidding, they frown on the valleys at their 
 feet. Distance does not soften their rugged 
 features and their sides and summits are devoid 
 of verdure. Their rugged crests cut the blue 
 sky sharply and the snow glistens in the sun- 
 light. But one turns from the view with any- 
 thing but a feeling of pleasure. The valleys 
 even, are not fertile, and seem a fit complement 
 for the sterile hills. Colonies of prairie dogs 
 sit on their haunches and look unconcernedly 
 at the passing train. Passengers with revolv- 
 ers and little sense, blaze away at the little 
 animals, but it does not make much difference 
 to them. 
 
A VIGNETTE. 
 
 The gilding of the hills by the slowly sink- 
 ing sun gives the valleys the charm of dreamy 
 repose which is inexpressibly soothing, and 
 wooded slopes seem to grasp the shadows as if 
 they were the mantle of the coming darkness. 
 
GOOD ADVICE. 
 
 "Keep your children in at nights." These 
 were the last words addressed to parents by 
 Henry Ward Beecher. They are wise and 
 timely. The conditions that called them forth 
 exist in all cities. There are parents so in- 
 dulgent and forgetful as to permit their girls, 
 attending school, to enjoy the company of cal- 
 low youths who put on airs and perambulate 
 the streets with their "girls'' by their sides. 
 Young people ape the virtues and adopt the 
 vices of their elders at too early a date, and it 
 may well be questioned which are more de- 
 structive of character. If the vices of drink- 
 ing, smoking, and social dissipation seem una- 
 voidable they should, if possible, be postponed 
 until the physical organism can better with- 
 stand their evil tendencies and until judgment 
 is so clarified that moderation will not inter- 
 fere with the recuperative forces of nature or 
 
make the person a victim of a slavish habit. 
 Parents should recognize that certain phases of 
 virtue when too easily acquired are not one 
 whit less injurious than a vice, for they too 
 often lead to a vice. 
 
INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 No reform was ever instituted, having pre- 
 judice for its corner stone. To teach that a 
 man who is successful is to be hated, is to teach 
 that persistent effort, industry and frugality 
 are vices, and that personal ambition is to be 
 discouraged. The work of reform, if it is to 
 be successful, must be prosecuted with the in- 
 struments at hand. No community was ever 
 made better by sudden revolution, and no man 
 was ever fired, by manly resolution, to better 
 his circumstances while repining at his lot and 
 giving heed to the teachings that his distress is 
 wholly due to causes outside of himself. When 
 a man rallies his own forces and makes them 
 active in his own behalf, he seldom finds it 
 necessary to demand that the progress of his 
 neighbor be checked so as to preserve equality. 
 He can do more by exercising his own forces 
 than he can by an attempt to hinder others from 
 
 Lore. 
 
acquisition so that in the general distribution 
 of what chance gives, his share may be increas- 
 ed. Improvement in society comes through 
 the improvement of the individual. It is a 
 better cause to warn people against their own 
 faults than it is to influence them against those 
 of others. No man is made better by having 
 his attention constantly called to the harm oth- 
 ers are doing. 
 
SELF RESTRAINT. 
 
 In avoiding prudery, people should not run 
 to the opposite extreme of license, and young 
 persons cannot aiFord to defy decency, or dare 
 the condemnation of people of staid habits and 
 approved judgment. The ordinary rules of 
 politeness should be observed at all times, and 
 being one of a large assemblage, in no way 
 justifies that remissness which leads to vul- 
 garity. Society should interpose restraints 
 not incite laxity. To be boisterous at gather- 
 ings is to be ungentlemanly; to chatter inces- 
 santly is to be undignified and discourteous. 
 
SENTIMENT. 
 
 No one wants to stay the hand of progress. 
 But enterprise should sometimes yield to sen- 
 timent. The song of the bird is sweeter to 
 the ear than his morsel of flesh is to the palate. 
 Man has a heart as well as a stomach, and the de- 
 mand of the latter should not forever crush out 
 the longings of the former. 
 
JOHN NAGLE'S PHILOSOPHY 
 Done into print by Herman Charles Berndt, 
 in the year of grace MDCCCCI, in 
 the office made famous by the 
 brilliant mind and unique per- 
 sonality of the author of 
 the philosophic reflec- 
 tions herewith 
 issued. 
 

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