BENNIE 
 THE PYTH lAn 
 
 ,^ 
 
 OF 
 
 ^ 
 
 m 
 
 
 LEWIS BARHETTFRETZ 
 
Class __tiSj_S 
 
 Book I^ C^rSd- 
 Copght)^" >^0\ 
 
 COPyRIGHT DEPOSrr. 
 
LOUIS BARNETT FRETZ 
 
 i. \^ i iia jj 
 
Bennte, tfte PptWan of 
 ..Spracuse^ 
 
 AND OTHER TITLES 
 
 By 
 LEWIS BARNETT FRETZ 
 
 We may write our thoughts in books, 
 We may trace them in the ground, 
 We may hang them up on hooks. 
 We may box them up as sound. 
 But each book away will fade, 
 Each trac'd line will show decay 
 Each hook 'come a pointed blade. 
 And each box a castaway. 
 
 CHICAGO, 
 
 SCROLL PUBLISHING COMPANTt, 
 
 I90I. 
 
THF I I8RAI»Y OF 
 G<,NGREr.S, 
 
 Two COP4E8 Receive* 
 
 APR. 14 1902 
 
 Oq?Y8I««T cntrv 
 
 / ^ -7 ^ xT 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 T632-U 
 
 Copyrighted, 1901, 
 by the Author. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Bennie, the Pythian of Syracuse, - " '9 
 
 In Memoriuni, - " ' , ' „ • ^ ,t 
 
 The Modern Duality, or a Man of the Period, 31 
 
 _ _ - 94 
 Friendship, - • " " 
 
 Dionysius, the Tyrant of Syracuse - " ^^4 
 
 Rathbone Temple, 'j-^ .- \- - " ^^^ 
 
 The Bachelor Gii-r^i Rtisolve, - - " ^ 
 
 Ma's Dirty, Lazy Boy, Jim, - - " ^5 
 
 Waterloo's Smiling Twenty, " " ' ^2 
 
 What the Human Heart May Endure, 
 
 The Boilermakers' Dance, - - " " ^^^ 
 Fixing the Fault, - - " ' " ^^^ 
 
 Break the Alabaster Now, - - " ^ " ^ 
 
 Aged Now, - - " ' ' 
 
 House Decoration a Fine Art, ' ' A. 
 
 Real Beauty vs. Pretty, - " " " ^4 
 
 Is Kissing Wrong? " ' ' " ' 130 
 
 Christian Endeavor, - " " " 
 
 America's Silent Army, " " " " ,7^ 
 
 Bugs, - - _ - 146 
 
 Somebody's Mother, - - " 
 
 When the Pretty Lilacs Bloom, - " ^^ 
 
 Things Heard About Town, ' " " 16c 
 
 •♦The Man With the Hoe," " " ' . 166 
 
 Civilized Barbarism, - - " ' ^ " ^^^ 
 
 Newspaper Reporting, - - " ' ^ 
 
 Reflections, - " " ' " 
 
LEWIS BARNETT FRETZ 
 
 AUTHOR AND JOURNALIST. 
 
 Is a native of Indiana, born near Newberry, March 
 4. 1868. His early years were spent on the farm after 
 the fashion of the ordinary country boy. Coming from 
 an ancestry whose history was made in the Grand 
 Duchy of Baden, Alsatia and Lower Switzerland, he 
 inherited a strength of constitution able to bear the 
 requirements of great energy. Full of life and activity, 
 not unmixed with ambition, he began early to do things. 
 Possessing good intelligence, intellectual life became 
 most natural, and at the age of twelve he was known 
 as a full-fledged book agent. A close student of human 
 nature, this experience made him keenly observant of 
 men and events. 
 
 His school days ended at the age of sixteen, when 
 he began the practical operations of life. 
 
 After serving a three years' apprenticeship at the 
 painter's trade, he found the use of pigments and oil 
 detrimental to health, and abandoning that profession 
 took up an apprenticeship in the printing business, be- 
 ginning November 19, 1888, in the office of the Auburn 
 Courier, which position opened the way to higher intel- 
 lectual attainment; though not without privation and 
 many a hard struggle. 
 
 Possessed of unusual oratorical talents, Mr. Fretz 
 lost no opportunity for their cultivation, and at the age 
 of nineteen stood without a peer in DeKalb county as 
 a debater. Following his conversion, in 1890, this reputa- 
 tion was instrumental in his admission to the Council 
 of Teachers in the Indiana Eldership of the Church of 
 God, from which body he was granted a life certificate 
 at its annual session held at Helmer in September of 
 
lo LEWIS BARNETT FRETZ. 
 
 1899. Thus as a tradesman, painter, printer, lecturer, 
 poet and journalist, he has had the advantage of no 
 circumstances save those which he ambitiously created 
 for himself. 
 
 His first literary success, The Modern Duality, or a 
 Man of the Period, was granted an open reception by 
 scholar and student alike in Chicago and other of the 
 larger cities, as well as in town, village and hamlet. 
 His latest, Bennie, the Pythian of Syracuse and Other 
 Titles, is ample proof of what an American boy can do 
 if he will. 
 
 Mr. Fretz is a member of Mentor Lodge No. 591, L 
 O. O. F., Auburn; Kosciusko Lodge No. 230, Knights 
 of Pythias, Syracuse; Sobriety Lodge No. 347, Daugh- 
 ters of Rebekah, Edon, Ohio; Edon Y. P. S. C. E. ; 
 Church of God, Auburn, and Garrett Congress No. 31, 
 Modern Samaritans of the World. 
 
AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 It has been said that "in the making of books there 
 is no end." That is probably true, especially with 
 reference to good books. To use a metaphor, the 
 world is burdened with libraries of books; these books 
 may be good, bad, or indiflferent, in proportion as the 
 thought contained within them is good, bad, or in- 
 different. Some books are better than others. The 
 standard of measurement in a book is usually the cri- 
 terion by which the character of the author writing 
 it is to be measured. Some authors write books for 
 fun, others for gain; still others for the good it may 
 do those who read. 
 
 The object of the present work has been in most 
 part to teach. The author, in the preparation of the 
 manuscript, had at least two objects in view: The 
 first, to set down in clear characters the things he 
 felt ought to be known, regarding his fellow men, as 
 their conduct and customs were observed in practical 
 life. The other was to make a plain record of his 
 thought as it appeared in his associations with men 
 and his observations in society. As to the clearness 
 and accuracy with v^hich these incidents and conclu- 
 sions have been set down by a conscientious writer 
 can only be known and appreciated by a careful per- 
 usal of the book. 
 
 Bennie, The Pythian of Syracuse, and Other Titles, 
 and especially Bennie, are the practical result of prac- 
 tical experience. Whatever virtue there may be in 
 the thought and philosophy of this work will be 
 clearly shown by a careful perusal. That is all the 
 author asks. Let each person read with an eye to 
 discovering virtue, purity, and excellence, rather than 
 
12 AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 for the disclosure of fault. No guaranty is sent out 
 that the work is faultless. No doubt it is full of 
 fault; at least the author is so. 
 
 It is equally true that there may be more of virtue 
 than of fault, and if so, the reader owes it to himself 
 to find it. 
 
 All permanent thought is the result of inspiration. 
 Philosophy itself cannot be ground from the cold facts 
 of law. That gentle, inspiring, invisible must temper 
 and tone to the point where freedom abounds. The 
 author does not presume to compete with Demos- 
 thenes, Cicero, Aristotle, Epictetus, Antoninis, Carlyle, 
 Keats, Holmes, Emerson, Longfellow, Browning, 
 Tennyson, and others, but he does pretend to set 
 down his own particular thought in his own par- 
 ticular way. No mystery, no dark and hidden syllo- 
 gism, no attempt at buffoonery. Facts as far as pos- 
 sible; pictures where most convenient. 
 
 No claims are made above the ordinary as to 
 poetic diction. A regular meter has been adopted, 
 and the thought, rather than the rhyme, has predom- 
 inated. To those "who have been initiated, this little 
 volume is intended to tell everything; to those who 
 have not been initiated, it tells nothing. There are 
 five hundred thousand Knights of Pythias, nine 
 hundred thousand Odd Fellows, and nearly nine 
 hundred thousand Masons in the United States. Out 
 of this aggregation there should come a per cent, of 
 the appreciative sufficient to justify a work of this 
 kind. 
 
 1901. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It is with no small degree of hesitancy, yet with an 
 indescribable feeling: of pleasure and satisfaction that 
 I approach the reading world, and particularly that 
 part of it known as fraternal, with a creation decidedly 
 new on the line of secret society literature. 
 
 At the close of a pleasant summer day I sat by 
 my window, looking out from beneath the spreading 
 brandies of a friendly maple and viewed the grandeur 
 of the sun as he hastened toward the Occident. 
 
 From far in the North to far in the South, sullen 
 sheets of blackened vapor hung like a leaden sea 
 against the horizon, and spread a shadowy pall over 
 the landscane beneath. As the K'ng of Day ap- 
 proached this storm-burdened curtain of Nie^ht, its 
 refractory r?ys se-med to press a challenge for su- 
 premcicy. which, like a m"ghty stroke of Thor. burst 
 the bnnds o^ murk and liberated myriads of entities, 
 pmbln zoned with all the prismatic colors of the rain- 
 bow. 
 
 Nearer the background of this electrified picture. 
 a waving mass of translucent purple widened gradu- 
 ally like riDples on the bosom of some placid lake 
 until it reached the azure dome above. Here and there, 
 delicate tints of pink and amber evolved like polished 
 garnitures, pinning back in graceful folds, as it were, 
 the shifting portierres of Heaven, in such a way that 
 mortality might catch at least a glimpse of the un- 
 speakable glories beyond ere nocturnal shades h d 
 them away in obscurity. From the center and bottom 
 of this thrilling panorama a mirage shaft of molten 
 gold was cast up which, in turn, spread over the firma- 
 
14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ment, already garbed in transparent prettiness, like a 
 halo of the ethereal. 
 
 Magic splendor glowed in spotless sheen on hill and 
 dale, until lost amid the hazy breadths of listless 
 skies, darkening shadows crept like a misty veil 
 abroad. Loiteringly and slow these soothing chariots 
 of the night seemed to rise higher and higher, like 
 fairy spectres in a land of promise and of plenty. 
 
 The last gleam of sunlight fell like a heavenly bene- 
 diction on the heaving bosom of Earth, all beauteous 
 in her wrappings of emerald and blooming flowers. 
 Coy, like some half-grown schoolgirl waiting in arbor 
 for a sweetheart and, with round cheeks flushed by 
 the finer tints of twilight. Dame Nature appeared on 
 the scene, robed in nice fitting sheets of flakey clouds 
 tipped in gold. These seemed fastened at the belt 
 line with a corsage of silver, while the skirt showed 
 evanescing ruffllings, variegated and rubescent. Bear- 
 ing gracefully and proudly a tiara of stars, she smiled 
 demurely and passed to her apartments, curtained just 
 them with majestic efifulgence. 
 
 Striking a "fetching" attitude, she seemed to ex- 
 pectantly bide the caresses of Aurora's dawn and the 
 kissings, nectar-steeped, of Heaven's beneficent dews. 
 Magnificent in appointment and attired in regal robes 
 of richest texture, she witched the wooings of even- 
 tide as serenely as a happy bride captures her ador- 
 ing groom at the nuptial altar. From some hidden 
 recess in her matchless costume, fragrance, deep- 
 scented and pleasing, floated in air like some medici- 
 nal balm of the Orient, carrying in the depths of 
 its omniscient perfume the power to comfort and to 
 heal. 
 
 Each tiny flower and blade of grass, each small 
 bush and shrub, and trees, which unto greater pro- 
 portion and strength had grown — each, all, seemed 
 to join in one mighty chorus of praise and thanks- 
 giving. 
 
 It was while resting within and absorbing the be- 
 nign influence of this peculiarly entrancing atmos- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 15 
 
 phere, that I recalled a fitting sentiment of Owen 
 Meredith in Lucile: "The thought that thrills our ex- 
 istence most, is one, which, ere we can frame it in 
 language is gone." During a brief season of crystal- 
 lized ecstacy, the rejoicings of my own wondering 
 soul found expression in something like the following 
 soliloquization: 
 
 Great, "wide, beautiful, wonderful world. Matchless 
 art thou, and incomprehensible! Where is thy begin- 
 ning; where thy ending? 
 
 Oh, language of Nature, ever peaceful and instruc- 
 tive, thou dost teach us to know how sweet it is to 
 live, how grand to die, with a full knowledge of our 
 power to. enjoy the immutableness about us! The 
 world, God's treasure-house for the sublime and in- 
 finite, how incomparable its illimitableness; how be- 
 wildering its beauty and loveableness ; how spiritual- 
 izing and inspiring its harmony ! Most truly it is a 
 grand galaxy of imperturbable effusiveness and spon- 
 taneous coalescence! The mind of mortal man cannot 
 fathom the mysteries of creation. Should there be 
 any one thing above all the rest which, from the 
 very nature of itself is calculated to inspire composi- 
 tion, eloquent, poetic; paintii^^, rich, exceptional; 
 sculpture, exquisite, rare; son^?, melodious, heavenly; 
 music, thrilling, divine, that tiling is a view of some 
 of the master wonders in Navuicr 
 
 Such were the impressions (»* '^^*' "'^^yl during that 
 short hour by the study window, that the iiicidentr of 
 my life came before me like an exciting panorama, 
 and mentally the thought presented itself: Truly 1 
 have basked in the sunushine of prosperity at the 
 floodtide of noonday; I have awakened at the darkest 
 hour in adversity's midnight; I have enjoyed for a 
 season the comforts and advantages of worldly honor 
 and a happy home; I have felt the breath of calumny 
 burn my cheeks with withering heat; I have fully 
 known the joys of domestic life; I have seen the 
 shadows of Death as he crossed the threshold of my 
 hearthstone to blight the fairest flower in my heart's 
 
i6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 affections with his icy touch; I have reclined on the 
 lap of luxury and felt content; in a moment of dire 
 calamity, I have seen all swept away, as if by a cyclone 
 or an avalanche, and myself left — almost friendless, 
 penniless, and alone. 
 
 Pausing in these reflections, I crossed the room and, 
 sitting down to my desk, took up my pen and began 
 to write in verse as by the uncontrollable impulse of 
 inspiration — Bennie, The Pythian of Syracuse, wa.'^ 
 the surprising and happy result. 
 
 In the construction of Bennie, The Pythian of Syra- 
 cuse, my purpose has not been so much to excel the 
 average in literary style and poetic diction, as to tell 
 a simple story in my own 4)articular way. How well 
 ■ I have succeeded in carrying out that purpose you. 
 kind reader, will doubtless be in position to judge by 
 the time this little volume has been carefully perused. 
 Thus I consign it to your keeping, with the hope that 
 your just criticism, after having carefully read, may 
 be kind, even though of necessity it becomes severe 
 as touching technicalities. 
 
 Prior to June ist, 1899, P. P. XXXVI, Bennie, The 
 Pythian of Syracuse, was not even a thought in the 
 m.ind of the author, and had the circumstances under 
 which the major portion of these verses was brought 
 out been less propitious, the story of Bennie Hodge's 
 initiation, experiences, teachings, illness and trium- 
 phant death as a Knight of Pythias, as told in this 
 volume, would doubtless have remained unwritten un- 
 til now. 
 
 The real opportunity for telling the story came 
 about after something like this fashion : The members 
 of Leonidas Lodge, No. 205, Waterloo, Ind., decided 
 to observe the regular authorized K. of P. Memorial 
 Day, on Sunday afternoon. June 11, 1899. It was their 
 first effort along that line, and they naturally had a 
 desire that the program on that occasion should go 
 to record as a memorable event. And quite accurate- 
 ly did the brotherhood reckon about the matter. 
 
 The committee on arrangements tendered your hum- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 ble servant the honor of delivering the principal ad- 
 dress, which was finally accepted, but with trepida- 
 tion. The one most imoortant query presenting itself 
 to me was, "what shall be said to the people?" And I 
 must confess that the question was one of consider- 
 able gravity. But the gods help those who try to help 
 themselves. I was granted an audience with the 
 Muses! 
 
 On the day appointed the people assembled from 
 miles around to witness the exercises. The street pa- 
 rade was magnificent and those taking part enthusias- 
 tic — not boisterous, as is sometimes characteristic of 
 public gatherings — but solemnly energetic, with a 
 modesty both graceful and sublime. The Opera House 
 was taxed to its utmost capacity and, if my testimony 
 can be taken here, I never had the pleasure of ap- 
 pearing before a more inspiring and appreciative au- 
 dience, or one which seemed to enjoy so much of de- 
 light in conveying to my ears the highest opinions for 
 an individual effort. Thus under these auspices, smil- 
 ing faces, bright uniforms, beautiful flowers, thrilling 
 music, and an afternoon filled with sunshine, Bennie, 
 The Pythian of Syracuse, found echo in the hearts of 
 men and women with a tenderness of sentiment and 
 sympathy of eloquence that was strange and new — 
 even to me; and, I was glad for the beauty of poesy 
 to reach the innermost of humanity, where by a sin- 
 gle touch of the magic wand of Love, prejudice van- 
 ished like the mists before summer sun and Pythian- 
 ism gained a stronger hold in a community hitherto 
 fruitful of well-meant, but ignorant opposition. 
 
 Now, that the Muses and the people have sanc- 
 tioned the result of earnest endeavor by setting the 
 seal of success upon it, may not the record be set 
 forth, that, of the .=i00,ooo Knights of Pythias in the 
 United States and Canada, not one has failed to read, 
 honestly, Bennie, The Pythian of Syracuse? With the 
 hope that you, respected reader, may have profit in 
 the perusal of this little volume as I have had pleasure 
 in its construction, I will leave the subject to your 
 unction. 
 
BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF 
 SYRACUSE. 
 
 Long years agone. the Knights of Syracuse, 
 
 Initiated Bennie Hodge 
 
 In all the ranks — Orient, Mystic, Muse — 
 
 Made of him, one in their Lodge. 
 
 Oft when we go to the Castle at night. 
 
 Our thoughts steal to that fateful time, 
 
 When, with helmet and shield and armor bright, 
 
 He sought the Knighthood rank to climb. 
 
 Friendship's lessons he had been fully taught. 
 
 In the capacity of Page — 
 
 That Life with great uncertainty is fraught 
 
 Alike to Neophyte or Sage. 
 
 Charity oped to him a pleasant dream; 
 
 Changeful, as on he strove apace. 
 
 And found things are not always what they seem, 
 
 While running this uneven race. 
 
 The Brotherhood admired him as a Knight, 
 
 For the rare manhood he displayed 
 
 In passing "through," without tremor and fright. 
 
 Or becoming anywise dismayed. 
 
 Firmly standing by all duty and trust, 
 
 He lived the Truth, as truth he saw. 
 
 In hope that when he went, as go he must, 
 
 His Crown the King would not withdraw. 
 
 Alas, for Bennie! In a fitful hour, 
 He passed on to that mystic bourne — 
 Illness held him fast within its power, 
 
20 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 And from the Castle he was torn. 
 
 Long weeks he laid in pain, the direst kind, 
 
 His frail body with fever burning. 
 
 As tho' there was no ease which he could find, 
 
 In any direction turning. 
 
 The physician with scientific mien — 
 
 Dosing out powders and potions — 
 
 Gave all kinds of tonic he'd ever seen, 
 
 Down to — "professional notions." 
 
 But Science or Medicine could not give 
 
 Vitality to flieeting life, 
 
 Nor make our dying brother longer live 
 
 To struggle on in miortal strife. 
 
 Faithfully did we watch beside that bed, 
 
 Trying hard to keep him quiet ; 
 
 But the wild delirium filled his head, 
 
 In spite of all — care and diet. 
 
 Finally the last came so swift and nigh. 
 
 His going we could not contend; 
 
 And, Bennie, seemed to know he had to die — 
 
 Was gladly awaiting the end. 
 
 He prest Chajilr-i''- '/eek to his chilling brow, 
 
 A--* -^-^^c g^fndy into his ears: 
 
 "The Master calls me — I go to him now ; 
 
 "All's well with Soul, so dry your tears. 
 
 "Weep not for me. Dear Prothers, weep no more, 
 
 "I'm going to the Lodge on High, 
 
 "Where Angels get the Password at the door, 
 
 "And hear our voices when we cry 
 
 "Yester eve as I tossed upon this cot, 
 
 "There came to me a vision bright ; 
 
 "Of the Eternal— I'll forget it not. 
 
 "Where Seraphs reign in holy light. 
 
 "And I saw her among them, precious wife. 
 
 "Who sleepest in her narrow bed, 
 
 "Down there, so far away from human life, 
 
 "Within God's City of the Dead. 
 
BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 21 
 
 "Her smiling face came unto me last night, 
 
 "In Dreamland's happiest vision, 
 
 "With eyes beaming contentment's clearer sight — 
 
 "Joy of that home Elysian. 
 
 "Then, joy of joys, I heard her gentle voice, 
 
 "Speaking in sweetest accents low ; 
 
 "And, it made my own grieving heart rejoice, 
 
 "To hear those tones again, below, 
 
 I prest my lips to her soft, velvet cheek. 
 
 As was my wont in times of yore, 
 
 "My love went out to her — angelic, meek — 
 
 "I wanted her forevermore. 
 
 "These feet seemed to be treading upper air, 
 
 "So thrilled was my very Soul ; 
 
 "And, I forgot she is a spirit there ; 
 
 "In yon realm— the Christian's goal. 
 
 "The monLh of beautious, fragrant flowers, 
 "Brought her to me, a blushing bride, 
 "Graceful— a rose from Earth's blooming bowers, 
 "Yet a woman — my heart's true pride. 
 "Mem'ry went back to that eventful June, 
 "During my dream's entrancing flight, 
 "And recalled the grand wedding afternoon, 
 "Which filled our lives full with delight. 
 
 "When she died I didn't know the reason why, 
 
 "She could so calmly go to sleep, 
 
 "And leave me, her husband, alone to sigh, 
 
 "And fret — her endless absence weep — 
 
 "But now it is truly a great relief, 
 
 "To know her Soul's at anchor cast, 
 
 "Within the happy land where Christ is chief — 
 
 "Where we may meet again, at last. 
 
 "Sing, Brothers, the Song of Fraternity, 
 "Which woos from Sin; 'Though passion's slave, 
 "Let me bear that Ode to Eternity, 
 "A symbol of the Love you gave. 
 
22 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 "Glory to God in the Highest," he said, 
 While "God Save the True Knight," we sang; 
 Each feeling himself in sight of the dead, 
 As solemnly the echoes rang. 
 
 A quorum of Knights stood around his bed, 
 
 Sorry that one of us should go 
 
 To join that vast majority, the dead. 
 
 And leave a vacant Chair below, 
 
 Alas, for Humanity's short'n'd sight, 
 
 That sees not o'er the present hour ! 
 
 His eyes had closed to Earthly day and night. 
 
 Death had gr?>gped him in its power. 
 
 To each Sir Knight he spoke with fitting cheer. 
 
 Telling all how we ought to live : 
 
 "I spent na^' life," he said, "in Godly fear, 
 
 And can face all that Death may give 
 
 Be trut, then, and honest before the World, 
 
 God's blessings by prayer invoke. 
 
 So that, when Death's throngs are around you furled, 
 
 You'll be free from Sin's galling yoke. 
 
 In fancy now. Uniformed Knights I see; 
 
 Marching proudly the Golden streets. 
 
 Displaying the Pythian Angles three. 
 
 Around the Supremest of seats. 
 
 Soon I'll join that Guard of helmet and plume. 
 
 So brilliant and strong and brave, 
 
 Who passed Imperial Rank through the tomb. 
 
 Beyond the silence of the Grave. 
 
 Farewell to all, my Fellow Lodgemen true, 
 
 I take departure from you now. 
 
 To view the scenes of the Supreme Lodge through, 
 
 And carry a Crown on my brow. 
 
 I bid you, my Brethren, a last adieu. 
 
 Before leaving Dear Mother Earth, 
 
 To join that Knightly Host so pure and new, 
 
 In the Land of my Spirit's birth." 
 
BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 23 
 
 Sometimes, in this World of Care and Sorrow, 
 Mortals intuitively see 
 Somewhat into the things of tomorrow — 
 Find themselves from burden more free. 
 Could we but know the how of all our pain. 
 While trying to endure so much, 
 Ofttimes happiness would return again, 
 In Joy's sweet reign our lives to touch. 
 
 Many times we see cheeks swollen and wet, 
 
 With the stream of Grief's moistest rain, 
 
 All because a few small worms will forget. 
 
 From scoffing, mocking, to refrain. 
 
 Oh, how oft do we hear the trembling sighs. 
 
 That come from a breaking heart, 
 
 And see tears drip, scalding, from blood-shot eyes, 
 
 A flood — tlie Soul's tenderest part. 
 
 At such moments as these in the lives of all. 
 
 True Sympathy has a mission. 
 
 To soothe and comfort Men, both great and small. 
 
 And lead them by mild judition 
 
 Into the knowledge of more joyous things. 
 
 Many a heart is hard and cold. 
 
 That never in Love's own sweet music sings 
 
 Affection's pure language, so old — 
 
 Which, if its possessor could only know 
 How much of gladness could be brought, 
 To those who fret and weep and sorrow so. 
 Would be laden with Hope's fine thought. 
 But alas! He who grieves, must grieve alone: 
 Each bear his load as best he can. 
 While no friend is ever near to condone 
 The vein of sadness in a man. 
 
 Thus Benn's life closed like a glow in the West, 
 'Mid the triumphs of Living Faith; 
 Thus his Soul's Temple went down to its rest, 
 Garlanded with Virtue and strength. 
 
24 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 Hope's bright morning in his countenance shown; 
 As he turned his face to Heaven, 
 Each Sir Knight knew his Earthly work was done— 
 His failings were forgiven. 
 
 Gently we folded his hands on his breast, 
 
 Tears of sadness our hearts did shed; 
 
 In his own Lodge Robe his body we drest — 
 
 Bore it to God's Plain of the Dead. 
 
 Sadly, indeed, we've missed him since he's gone. 
 
 Whither the Great Chancellor willed, 
 
 But we'll think that only on Earth, alone. 
 
 Is his work of Charity stilled. 
 
 All human words may fall like heartless jeers. 
 
 On hearts welling with sighs and sobs, 
 
 Where Sorrow has left its deep trace of tears, 
 
 Made bitter by their aching throbs. 
 
 The Grief-stricken Soul can trust and hope 
 
 In the richness of God's love. 
 
 And, even though it here in pain must grope, 
 
 He'll cheer it in that Land, above. 
 
 There are Ties, which spring from the Human heart, 
 
 Spontaneous, swift, and uncalled, 
 
 And by a kind of modest, subtle art, 
 
 Get into Human acts installed. 
 
 By the drafting instincts of their power, 
 
 Are bound in mutual union. 
 
 Men, who in Love live Life's brief, mystic hour. 
 
 Intent on happy communion. 
 
 But in the darker Tragedy of Life, 
 
 It is hard to discover how. 
 
 Amid turmoils and never-ending strife, 
 
 Man removes Cain's mark from his brow. 
 
 Ere he's settled in position or tho't. 
 
 There come corrupt things to disturb. 
 
 Where feelings should be calm, not overwrought. 
 
 With gnawings and aches that uncurb. 
 
BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 25 
 
 Oft when in hopeful, expectant mood, 
 
 We forget that we're merely dust, 
 
 And class ourselves as altogether good, 
 
 Neglect our duty to be just 
 
 Sometimes a cold and heartless Cynic's smile. 
 
 Accompanied by skilled retort, 
 
 Will ironate the warmest ardor, while 
 
 Gloom's shadows cross the face athwart. 
 
 In Human wickedness, distrust and hate, 
 
 Is born an abundance of 111, 
 
 Which, like Sin, doth True Character derate, 
 
 And in the heart Murder instill. 
 
 The World's most splendorous, glamourous sight. 
 
 Reveals naught to the brain and eye. 
 
 Save sensuality's natural right, 
 
 To meet its own wants, low or high. 
 
 Men often meet graciously in the Strand, 
 
 And seem to like each other well. 
 
 While a flame burns beneath their strike of hand, 
 
 Fiercer than any Demon's spell. 
 
 The world looks on and says they're truly friends ; 
 
 But behind polished make-believe, 
 
 The Spirit of Mortal helpless descends. 
 
 To where others it may deceive. 
 
 Many times we sadly mistake the zeal, 
 
 Of those who must about us flit. 
 
 And thus the basest motives seem such real 
 
 Things of Purity to admit. 
 
 But bye and bye the strongest mask must fall. 
 
 From before what is grossly false. i 
 
 And then, Virtue rising above it all. 
 
 Ever True Character exalts. 
 
 Honor, her pennant proudly holds in air, 
 To guide weak and faltering feet. 
 Upon the mountain-top of* Faith to share 
 Guerdon of safety — strong retreat. 
 
26 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 Grandl}^ indeed, that banner waves on high, 
 Its "excelsior" of Hope and Love — 
 Brightest Gem, which sparkling studs the sky 
 Witli gleams of gladness from above. 
 
 It seems the meanest thing when one must note 
 
 The narrow, shilly-shally grace. 
 
 With which some people, at their best, remote, 
 
 Do wreathe in smiles a frownmg face. 
 
 The Law of Politeness doth make request, 
 
 That, no matter how much we feel 
 
 Like ignoring Gallantry's Meek Behest, 
 
 Our flagrant thoughts we must conceal. 
 
 Sadness sometimes comes to the human heart 
 For which account can't be given ; 
 Like the shades of some melancholy art. 
 Away from its channel driven. 
 Tragic may be the writing on the scroll 
 Which spreads the Tale of common woe. 
 But if Mankind will look beyond that roll, 
 The sight relieves — we've found it so. 
 
 Simple Duty, then, would seem to consist 
 
 In observing the Laws of Right, 
 
 And thus Vicious Temptation resist 
 
 By kind acts, be they great or slight, 
 
 Though Man may often wander from the main 
 
 Path by the most successful trod, 
 
 Charity will take him aboard her train. 
 
 And bring him that much nearer God. 
 
 Though the Pythian path's long and dreary. 
 
 With many a heart-rending sight, 
 
 To win the Spur, we must never weary. 
 
 Of the Duty wdiich makes the Knight. 
 
 To be Faithful and always do the Right, 
 
 The Pythian must watch with care, 
 
 That his Works and Prayers are all his might 
 
 A.gainst Sin's imprisoning snare. 
 
BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 27 
 
 'Tis sad when Calumny with seething breath 
 
 Touches the cheeks of a Being, 
 
 And sears its helpless victim down to Death, 
 
 With what it Knows — 'though not seeing. 
 
 But sadder still when Men will Honor claim, 
 
 To whitewash hearts as vile as Sin; 
 
 And, by the contrast, righteous wrath inflame 
 
 In the minds of those pure within. 
 
 A scoundrel may wear the coat of the sheep, 
 
 To 'deceive his fellow men by. 
 
 But, somehow, his time comes at last to weep, 
 
 Though Fate prolong it till he die. 
 
 Really happy are they who never hear 
 
 Aught said against a living soul, . 
 
 Which they cannot repeat, except with fear, 
 
 Of blasting what they might extol. 
 
 Study well the meaning of that strange spell. 
 
 Which creeps upon Manhood's estate. 
 
 And brings madness beyond tongue to tell — 
 
 Makes one the acts of Mortals hate! 
 
 Let not your precious Soul be narrowed low 
 
 On the plane of a Pessimist, 
 
 When your heart should throb and your cheeks should 
 
 glow, 
 In Jov, like a Philantropist. 
 
 Gentlemen of the World may wink and leer, 
 
 At the Pythian' s humble trust, 
 
 In the God who speaks through the Soul so clear. 
 
 Of the Laws he may keep, those he must ; 
 
 But eventually they too will see 
 
 That Real Manhood has the power 
 
 To keep a Knight from Vice, and make him free. 
 
 From danger, in temptation's hour. 
 
 Let not one of our Ideals slip away, 
 Through the channels of selfish mood; 
 For, we might lose all, in a single day — 
 
28 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACJSE. 
 
 God's confidence — by being rude. 
 
 Truly blest are the mystic ties which bind 
 
 Hearts together in Faith like ours, 
 
 And give the World the secret where to find 
 
 Friendship's trysting and its powers. 
 
IN MEMORIUM. 
 
 Now, we'll strew Flowers of Benevolence, 
 
 On each Knight of Pythias' grave; 
 
 Not in the bombast of show or eloquence, 
 
 But in the spirit Master gave. 
 
 And as each Memorial Day comes round, 
 
 We'll take a firmer, better stand. 
 
 On Fraternity's ample, fruitful ground, 
 
 And fill the Lodge with Knights more grand. 
 
 How solemnly mysterious the things 
 
 This day's services do contain! 
 
 Each Sprig of Mint a fond memory brmgs. 
 
 And each Ode ends in soft refrain; 
 
 But Knighthood seems to see behmd them all, 
 
 The Beauty of a Purpose true, 
 
 Which needs must make great effort lest it fall, 
 
 Beneath the force it would subdue. 
 
 Place these Carcanets of Myrtle and Rose, 
 
 With tender, willing, helpful hands. 
 
 To show the deep. Undying Love for those 
 
 Who sleep, in this and other lands. 
 
 We'll ne'er forget the Gratitude we owe, 
 
 To those who moved among us, here. 
 
 And in our own quaking hearts tried to sow. 
 
 The seeds of Honor and Faith, so dear. 
 
 We may ne'er get to hear a battle cry. 
 Or see the Tyrant in his rage; 
 It may not be ours on the Block to die— 
 Because this is a peaceful age — 
 But to be true to the Truest that is left, 
 We must be up now, and alive, 
 To the wants of those alone and bereft- 
 Widows and Orphans, who survive. 
 
 We'll attend the sick and the hungry feed— 
 There's nothing on Earth to reserve. 
 
30 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 From dependent Knighthood's general need, 
 
 Which strove the Order to preserve, 
 
 Let Friendship, Charity, Benevolence, 
 
 Outshine other stations in life, 
 
 As the greatest Science of Reverence, 
 
 And worthy our eagerest strife. 
 
 Oh, how solemn, how strange, how new, the things 
 
 The depths of Our Friendship reveal ! 
 
 What Happiness each hour its presence brings, 
 
 In attempts our pain to conceal. 
 
 Inner eyes seem to see about the Soul, 
 
 The candor of a spirit true. 
 
 Which flames high in Love — beyond all control, 
 
 To conquer Self — its pangs subdue, 
 
 Stony hearts of the World may hoot and sneer, 
 
 At Hope within the- Knightly breast. 
 
 And the throbbings which strike so loud and near 
 
 The bottom of what's purest, best — 
 
 But the future may cause them yet to know 
 
 That Virtue hath a charming grace, 
 
 To lift the Soul from pain and make it grow 
 
 In the gladness of Love's sweet place. 
 
 Then it m.ay be that their mockings and jeers 
 
 Will return in sorrow and pain, 
 
 And fill their false lives with quakings and fears; 
 
 Deny Friendship's office to gain. 
 
 We'll be true, then, and honest, each to each ; 
 
 Faithful through verging transition, 
 
 That our lips no vow of heart impeach : 
 
 As becomes the true Patrician. 
 
 We know not what the future has in store: 
 
 Whether Success will be our Fate, 
 
 Or failure mark our steps and shape before 
 
 A Path to lead at rapid rate. 
 
 But we'll believe and trust in earnest .mood. 
 
 Rising from the heart's mystic well, 
 
 To help us meet that fate, as meet we should; 
 
 And the Tale, other folks will tell. 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY, OR A MAN OF 
 THE PERIOD. 
 
 A LECTURE IN SEVEN CHAPTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER FIRST. 
 
 Man in General. — Apostrophe to the world ; Des- 
 cription of a Summer's Sunset; Quotation from Owen 
 Meredith ; Conclusion to Apostrophe and Mental 
 Soliloquization; Quotation from Longfellow; Intro- 
 ductory Conclusion to Prologue; A Series of Observa- 
 tions ; Man a Zoological Biped ; Man a Duality ; 
 Man a Medley of Contradictions ; An Atom in the 
 Great Nebular System from which is Deduced the 
 Human Family; Correct Method of Value Measure- 
 ment; Character the Most Reliable System; Public 
 Opinion a Coquettish Mistress; Principle Ultimately 
 Triumphs Over Reputation ; Sequent Finale 
 
 Our own beloved Longfellow's 
 
 "Hights by great men reached and kept- 
 Were not attained by sudden flight, 
 But they, while their companions slept, 
 Were toiling upward in the night," 
 
 has ever been a beacon star in the horizon of my life, 
 the prime incentive to which all my energies bent. 
 Burdened by a cross of ignorance and superstition, 
 and fettered by the galling bands of poverty, I began 
 digging my way down into the great mine of human 
 life with but a single ray of light to guide — hope ; but 
 one companion — opportunity ; but one criterion — am- 
 bition. Unremittingly were the years passed in pick- 
 ing particle by particle from the solid mass of knowl- 
 
32 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 edge until finally a huge bowlder of the quartz rock 
 of experience was brought to surafce, which being 
 cast into the crucible of love came forth through pa- 
 tience as refined gold in a crown of purest wisdom. 
 Thus enthroned with the royal diadem of virtue and 
 sceptered by the authority of truth and justice. With 
 judgment ripened to a degree of accuracy in the sternest 
 school of reality — experience, I come before the public 
 in a series of systematic observations on that zoological 
 biped called Man and his manifold diversity in character 
 and principle. 
 
 "A tiny speck upon the scene where lights and shadows 
 meet, 
 
 "A merest atom on a field where joys and sorrows 
 fleet ; 
 
 "A simple nothing in the whirl of struggling, seeth- 
 ing life. 
 
 "With its greatest, best endeavor, a mere zero in the 
 strife. 
 
 "A brief and tired existence, feeble at its greatest 
 hight, 
 
 "A flickering star, whose meager beam is quickly lost 
 in night. 
 
 "A thing, whose, life and being hangs on a hair-like 
 thread, 
 
 "Suspended from a vast unknown where sleep un- 
 numbered dead. 
 
 "With mystery for beginning and oblivion at the end. 
 
 "As myraid worlds of atoms ever on an upward trend. 
 
 "Yet this small, presumptuous morsel, with a vision 
 lame and dim, 
 
 "Sometimes really thinks the Universe was solely 
 made for him." 
 
 Man, as a creature, is a queer sprig of something 
 known to the polite world as gentility. Comparative 
 to the balance of natural creation, he holds within 
 the giintless shades of his own small sphere, a meas- 
 ureless expanse of obscurity. That is to say, he has 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 33 
 
 within himself the power to control and explore almost 
 every other mystery coming under his notice He 
 knows no unconquerable enemy, except Death ; he 
 bows subservient to no force less powerful than him- 
 self. 
 
 Man is a duality, consisting of persons : — two selves ; 
 each as distinctly opposite to the other as are the 
 Iwo principal recognized constituents of the Universe, 
 matter and energy, opposite to each other. Yet this 
 duality in nature is so harmoniously blended as to 
 form one complete and unbroken whole. 
 
 He is a medley of contradictions, and at the same 
 time an individual consistency. He is not all times 
 consistent; he is not at all times inconsistent; but, 
 all the days of his life, he is practically both. He is 
 as much of the one as of the other. Either charac- 
 teristic is becoming to him, because he is unquestion- 
 ably and radically both. 
 
 Man is as he is, because of himself, he cannot be 
 otherwise. He does as he does, because of himself, 
 he cannot do otherwise. I do not intend to advance 
 the opinion that he would not be different, or that 
 he would not do different, if he could ; but T do mean 
 to imply it as my belief that he could not if he would. 
 
 It is said of a plethoric swain, and the thought 
 amply illustrates the idea thus far brought out, that 
 one pleasant evening he hied himself henceward to the 
 domicile of his lady love and gallantly escorted her 
 fo the theater. His conduct during the evening was 
 no different than that of others belonging to the 
 genteel and altogether exclusive set, who absented 
 themselves almost simultaneously from box, parquet 
 and dress circle, between acts, on the pretext of need- 
 ing to see a man on the outside. Finally the curtain 
 for the last rolled down and the particular couple in 
 question started for home. The lady's name was 
 Maude, and for quite a distance these young people 
 walked in silence, Maude, to all appearances, totally 
 absorbed with her own reflections. Presently the 
 monotony began to be oppressive. To liven mat- 
 
34 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 ters the young man said: "Maude, what is the matter? 
 You seem to have forgotten my presence, altogether.*' 
 She repHed : "I am trying to solve a problem." "May 
 I ask what it is?" responded he, suavely. "I was 
 wondering," she continued, "whether when you went 
 out between • acts, you took whiskey to drown the 
 scent of the cloves, or took cloves to kill the fumes of 
 
 the whiskey. In either case ." "Well, in either 
 
 case, then, what?" questioned he, interestedly. "In 
 
 either case it was a signal failure, for I could 
 
 smell the whiskey through the cloves just as easy 
 as I could smell the cloves through the whiskey." 
 
 There is that innate desire rising instinctively and 
 unbidden from the human heart to be and to do the 
 best, but because of an inborn duality, the animal of 
 which submits most readily to an unnatural trans- 
 formation, and gains predominancy over the psychical, 
 he can only act in antagonism to that which sober 
 judgment decides is best. Either consciously, or un- 
 consciously, all things patent to the predominant force 
 yield abject obeisance to it. This is a fixed principle. 
 
 Sometime, somewhere, somehow, the impression has 
 come to each and every individual that he or she might 
 rise higher than the common level of sensual satisfac- 
 tion, and physical contentment. The mind, ever active, 
 is ceaseless and untiring in its endeavors to bring the 
 individual morally to its own elevation, which is ever 
 and always above and beyond the present. This is 
 hope. 
 
 Men are neither all good, nor all bad To possess 
 either character in the absolute to the exclusion of 
 the other, would of itself, disfranchise the individual of 
 all things Earthly; give him a doubtful heritage in 
 Eternity. Saints are the one. Demons are the other. 
 But all men are both good and bad. Either principle 
 is becoming to them, because each is absolutely and 
 unalterably both. The "eternal fitness of things" de- 
 mands that he, man, "the capstone of the climax of 
 paradoxes," should be just as he is, that the qualifi- 
 cations for Eternal Citizenship may be more clearly 
 zipparent to the careful and observant. 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 35 
 
 Directly in line with the teachings of the Bard of 
 Avon, the good men do in this life dies not with them, 
 but lives on, through succeeding generations to com- 
 fort and to bless, until, like some benedictional tradi- 
 tion, it is remembered in a sort of worshipful rev- 
 erence. Likewise the evil survives the mortal activity 
 of its progenitors to pursue posterity as a curse- 
 freighted menace to the growth and advancement of 
 *.heir morals Everlasting may be the good and in- 
 destructible the evil — aye blessed becomes the virtue 
 and damning the vice, which emanate from the con- 
 duct of men after they, themselves, have ceased to 
 exist. 
 
 Each individual is an atom in the greatj the mys- 
 terious system, from which is deduced the human 
 family. As the loss of a smgle atom in the construc- 
 tion of a complete material whole is unestimable, even 
 so is the value of a man, incalculable. A man's worth 
 is not to be expressed in the terms employed to indi- 
 cate the commercial value of so much aqua, salt, 
 calcine, carbon and glue ; neither by prettily worded 
 epitaphs deeply graven in polished marble — for mar- 
 kets fluctuate and monuments of stone crumble into 
 dust, leaving no rule by which to calculate and no 
 solid surface upon to chisel. How, then, will you 
 accurately estimate the worth of a man? Ah, there's 
 the stickler — the dead rocks and shoals upon which 
 many a gallant bark has been shattered ! In view of 
 all this, how will you accurately estimate the worth 
 of a man? 
 
 The most reliable system of measurement seems to 
 be character, the bulletin-board of what a man is, what 
 he is doing, what influence he exerts in the world. 
 \s a fundamental doctrine, it should never be over- 
 looked or forgotten that character is what we really 
 are. Reputation is merely what others, perforce of 
 occasion and circumstances chance to think we are. 
 
 Public opinion, or reputation, is perhaps one of the 
 most uncertain and irresponsible things with which 
 mankind associates. To-day, mayhap, she sounds the 
 
36 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 tocsin .of glorious achievement in behalf of a fellow- 
 creature, and in laudatory phrase sings his preference 
 to the skies, thus causing even the minutest com- 
 munities to do him homage. To-morrow, with a 
 bewitching twirl of her treacherous wand, he is buried 
 beyond all hope of resurrection beneath a mountain of 
 calumny. Indeed, is public opinion the coquettish mis- 
 tress of the reputational destiny of men, whose every 
 caprice has in it some whimsical proportion of success 
 or failure for every man, woman and child. 
 
 A patronizing tone of her enchanting voice, or a sin- 
 gle glance from her sparkling eyes, brings the world 
 prostrate at her feet. On one she smiles gracefully, 
 approvingly; on another, she frowns contemptuously. 
 Thus reputations are created and destroyed by whatever 
 mood this sportive goddess may be in at the time of 
 speaking her mind. 
 
 With character it is different. A man wins only 
 what he merits. All of the superficial blandishments 
 he may flourish will not gain for him one single per 
 cent more of credit than justly belongs to him 
 
 Many times men, whose hearts are as black with 
 corruption as the smutted walls of the infernal regions, 
 wash the outward filth and grime from their hands 
 in Pluto's popular stream and float complacently with 
 the tide as fondled favorites. On the other hand, men 
 whose every motive and impulse were as true as steel 
 have been ruthlessly thrust into the pit of ignominy 
 simply because, and for no other reason than that 
 this flirting queen of public estimation frowned on 
 them with disfavor. 
 
 Ordinarily the contrast between these two conditions 
 would seem to be in advantage of public opinion, or 
 reputation, but when the great searchlight of Truth 
 is turned on, and mortality can see to the bottom of 
 every impulse and understand the motive : when by 
 Faith a glimpse can be had beyond time and the pres- 
 ent, then it is that character and not reputation, ap- 
 pears most triumphant. 
 
 You can determine the innermost of a man by look- 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 37 
 
 ing at him, no more than you can classify the analyt- 
 ical components of water by tasting it. Each mortal 
 of earth is a creature of times and circumstances. The 
 grimy garb of rags serving to in a way protect his 
 body from piercing winds and biting frosts, may be 
 but so much evidence of the many drops of blood 
 sweat in the agonies of the world's Gethsemena, in an 
 honest effort against fate to sustain himself and his. 
 In short, not every man is a vagrant who happens to 
 wear soiled clothes and does menial service for a mor- 
 sel of food and a place to lodge at night; because it 
 often happens that the elegant and costly suit of broad- 
 cloth fails of getting paid for, and that labor with most 
 people is a matter of necessity, rather than a thing of 
 choice. 
 
 The great want of this age, says one writer, is men. 
 Men who aie not for sale. Men who are honest, sound 
 from center to circumference, true to the heart's core. 
 Men who wM condemn wrong in friend or foe, in 
 themselves as well as others. Men whose consciences 
 are steady as the needle to the pole. Men who will 
 stand for the right if the heavens totter and the earth 
 reels. Men who can tell the truth and look the truth; 
 and look the world and the devil right in the eye. Men 
 that neither brag nor run. Men that neither flag nor 
 flinch. 
 
 Men who can have courage without whistling for it, 
 and joy without shouting to bring it. Men in whom the 
 current of everlasting life runs still and deep and strong. 
 Men too large for sectarian limits, and too strong for 
 sectarian bonds. Men who do not strive, nor cry, nor 
 cause their voices to be heard in the streets, but who 
 will not fail nor be discouraged till judgment be set on 
 earth. Men who know their duty and do it. Men who 
 know their place and fill it. Men who mind their own 
 business. Men who will not lie. Men who are not too 
 lazy to work, nor to proud to be poor. Men who are 
 willing to eat what they have earned, and earn what 
 they have paid for. 
 
3S BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 CHAPTER SECOND. 
 
 HOME. — Motive for Sentiment and Feeling; 
 Thoughtless Days ; Pleasant and Unpleasant Experi- 
 ences ; Dearest Spot on Earth; Counsel Room and 
 Hearthstone ; Common Court Where All Matters in the 
 Household Are Brought for Adjudication; Father's 
 Justice and Judgment ; Mother's Kindness and Sympa- 
 thy Toward Offenses and The Offenders ; The Mecca 
 to Which the Thoughts of the Homeless Ever Turn ; 
 Haven of Every Child's Refuge, the Rirthplace of 
 Earthly Institutions ; Woman's Exclusive World, etc.. 
 
 Home ! What currents of sentiment and feeling the 
 mere utterance of that one word sets in motion ! What 
 a vast multitude of memories crowd to the fore at the 
 simple thought of that most significant of words, home ! 
 Recollections outline in all the vividness of an ever- 
 present reality, the experiences, both pleasant and un- 
 pleasant, properly belonging to the embryonic days of 
 childhood. The pleasant experiences are reviewed with 
 gladness and satisfaction ; the unpleasant experiences 
 are just as closely attended by regrets and inward pain. 
 Oh, that the innocence of childhood might not be pol- 
 luted by the blighting taint of error ! Sweeter, indeed, 
 would be the memories "as fond recollections present 
 them to view;" grander would be the manhood, nobler 
 the womanhood, and more sublime the endeavor, as on- 
 ward we march to old age and the end. But why fosjer 
 the thought of realizing such sanguine hopes for the 
 mortals of earth, since century after century has wit- 
 nessed simply a repetition of the natural round in 
 domestic affairs from one generation to another? The 
 proposition that a blushing, modest maiden shall for- 
 sake father, mother, sister and brother, and cut off all 
 her associates, to join her prospects with those of a 
 man presupposes the establishment of a home, and 
 subsequently the maintenance and rearing of children. 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 39 
 
 That home may be good or bad, happy or unhappy, 
 pleasant or unpleasant, christian or unchristian, just in 
 whatever degree the makers thereof incline to good or 
 evil. The prime incentive rising to the dignity of legiti- 
 mate home construction is a condition apparent only 
 after men and women pass bej^ond the bounds of mere 
 friendship through the portals of that sphere where 
 nectared exaggeration is the bodiless substance upon 
 which passion-stricken mortals thrive, and have said all 
 to each other that any two usually say who meet as 
 strangers and finally through the process of continued 
 intimacy decide to face the joys and vicissitudes of life 
 as one. Love, that indefinable, that all-enrapturing 
 something — that mysterious, pleasure-fraught under- 
 current sweeping like gentle zephyrs through the web- 
 less fabric of hnman being is the only basis upon which 
 substantial and lasting happiness can be successfully 
 reared. It is a passion, which when fanned into life by 
 sentimental associaiions knows no law, obeys no man- 
 date, yields to no government, except itself, and ulti- 
 mately becomes so tremendous in its force as to baffle 
 the powers of humanity in controlling it. The power to 
 love comes from heaven, and when not uncurbed by evil 
 is as the after-melody of an enchanting strain of music, 
 or the rythm of a bright, new song and sparkles in its 
 freshness like dewdrops new-kissed by the golden mes- 
 sengers of morning. What love-lorn maiden does not 
 in her hopeful, expectant moments allow imagination 
 to cast her delicate pinions across the vale of anticipa- 
 tion and weave a network of dreams about orange blos- 
 soms, wedding chimes, a bridal veil and a happy home? 
 What woman is there who has not confessed to herself, 
 if not to others, the wish that her ideal knightly hero, 
 her affection-crowned king, might become the embodi- 
 ment of real flesh and blood, seeking the richest gem 
 in the casket of values — her hand — with her heart, the 
 quintessence of her whole soul within it? This is the 
 first, the last, the highest, the greatest ambition of a 
 true woman's life, to "love and be loved in return." 
 With that fortification she can live down hatred, bid 
 
40 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 defiance to enmity, destroy jealousy and create emolu- 
 ments ipr the human race. Give her a loom of felicity 
 with a shuttle of confidence, and she will, from the 
 warp and woof of maternity weave a purple robe of 
 chastity for her household and clothe herself in honor 
 with the sweetest word in any language spoken by the 
 tongues of men — mother — the captive chain of earth, 
 the touchstone to heaven, the synonym of God. 
 
 Home — the place, dearest spot on earth — where child- 
 hood's comforts and culture are planned and pursued; 
 the place, most sacred to heart, where father and 
 mother, and sisters and brother, were wont to meet 
 around the family hearthstone to chat and counsel, or 
 to engage in many a merry romp and game ; the com- 
 mon court, where all matters of domestic jurisprudence 
 were brought in appeal for adjudication. Who does not 
 recall in after years how just and impartial father tried 
 to be in all his judgments; or, how kind and sympa- 
 thetic mother was toward offences and the offenders? 
 Who does not feel some pangs of regret because of his 
 meanness and ingratitude for benefits received at a 
 time when he or she was no less than a nuisance and at 
 best but little better than a subject of toleration? Home 
 is the Mecca to which the thoughts of the homeless are 
 ever turning; the Utopia, which fills the sleepless nights 
 of indigent wanderers with visions of ample store as 
 comforts unto the commonweal. How gladly would 
 many who possess so few of the comforts of this life 
 and control so little of this world's goods that the 
 azure dome of heaven is their only shelter, sunlight 
 their only means of warmth and a tuft of greensward 
 their only pillow, accept the genial hospitality of that 
 home which once was theirs for the choosing? But 
 alas! the changes of time have swept all possibility of 
 recovery beyond human skill. The mistakes of the past 
 cannot be so amended as to bring back the advantages 
 then lost. Home is that haven of rest to which heart- 
 sick, sin-bedraggled mariners course their frail barks, 
 tossed hither and yon by the surging billows on life's 
 tumbling sea of sorrow and adversity. It is "the holiest 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 41 
 
 of holies," the city of every child's refuge; it is the 
 eternal fixture in the birth and maintenance of earthly 
 institutions; it is the Eden of lasting friendship and 
 tender affiliations ; it is woman's exclusive realm, the 
 small domain over which she reigns imperial queen ; it 
 is the schoolroom of infancy and its influences are man- 
 ifold, far-reaching and 'sublime. As a complement to 
 home-life it can h<^ truly said that woman is a graceful 
 creature to whose whims man caters as he would obey 
 statute law. She moves the world with a smile or a 
 tear ; her opinion?; voiced, shape the purposes of nations 
 to noble ends; she can have, at will, the grade of hu- 
 manity best suited lo her tastes. If she wants noble 
 manhood, she ha^ only to require it ; if she is satisfied 
 with degraded manhood, that is all she can expect ; and, 
 unfortunately, she has not been strict, as a rule, in her 
 requirements and the race has suffered accordingly. 
 
 Home is the place where a man's true measurement is 
 taken. 'Tis here that he lays aside his mask and bares 
 his breast for penetration. He may masquerade at the 
 market-place, as a popular barterer ; in the forum, as a 
 careful magistrate ; on the street corner, a good-natured 
 fellow; by the field, an industrious husbandman; but in 
 his own home is to be learned whether he be an imp or 
 angel, king or cur, hero or humbug. It matters not 
 what the world says of him, whether he be coronated 
 with kingly jewels or bathed in ancient eggs; it mat- 
 ters nothing as to his reputation : if his babies dread his 
 coming and his wife swallows her heart every time she 
 speaks to him, he is a clear- water fraud ; he may pray 
 till exhausted; keep the neighbors awake with songs of 
 Zion, and shout hallelujah in tones of thunder from the 
 eternal hills — he's a fraud. A pertinent question arises 
 here: Why is it that men — some men — husbands and 
 fathers, can be and are all sauvity and afTableness on the 
 street, in society and at their places of business, to those 
 with whom they come in contact — even going so far in 
 their overtures of politeness toward others as to win 
 the encomium "generous and jovial," yet just so soon as 
 they leave the bustling mart and dizzy whirl of society 
 
^2 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 to enter the privacy of home they and good manners 
 part at the gateway? Instead of greeting the innocent 
 prattlers that rush joyfully to meet him with a merry, 
 hearty romp, and his wife with a tender smile and kiss 
 of affection, why is it that this counterfeit make-shift 
 of a husband and father pushes the little ones roughly 
 aside with a harsh, "stay there, now, and don't you 
 move," and frowns on her of tender heart with a with- 
 ering sneer, which carries in it all the ignoble traits of 
 paternal bossism and domestic autocracy? If he can be 
 pleasant to others, he can be pleasant to his family; 
 if he don't do it, he's a hypocrite. A man has no right 
 to apportion his gra-ces to his friends and dish up his 
 tyranny to his family. His wife and children have 
 claims he cannot ignore; if he has not learned that he's 
 unfit to assume the obligations of a parent. But are 
 men the ones always most at fault as touching house- 
 hold disharmonies? Verily we shall see. Reason does 
 not admit an eft'ect without a cause, and a single glance 
 behind the scene may reveal startling thiiigs. The bane 
 of most human lives is due to a lack of prudence, and 
 perhaps in no sense is the cause for woe more apparent 
 than in matters of modern lo^-e-making. Were young 
 folks, and old ones, too, for that matter, more judi- 
 cious in the selection of life-companions, there would be 
 less sorrow and disappointment, fewer life-long regrets, 
 less: reason for divorce-court intervention. Young men 
 discuss fashion, talk nonsense, and whisper love, be- 
 cause it is comparatively easy to make indiscriminate 
 remarks, especially when the dear girl seems pleased 
 with such foolishness and no opposition arises, no esti- 
 mate of opinion is at stake. To discuss intelligently, 
 science, art, literature, music, economics, government, 
 antiquities, mythology, history, and the like, requires 
 unflagging energy of body, unwavering fidelity to 
 study, adroit accumulation and a carefully stored re- 
 source of memory. The average young man and young 
 woman can dissertate on senseless frivolities and enjoy 
 sentimental slush to far better advantage than they can 
 contemplate differentiation. The majority of young 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 43 
 
 ladies are not seeking intellectual and moral capabilities 
 near so much as they are looking for a "dear fellow" 
 of "swell" appearance and pleasing adeptness in the 
 wiles of fascination. No very great inducements are 
 held out for merit and active manhood, hence young 
 men study only to attract the carnal eye and thus be- 
 come merely succedaneums in the rank and file of the 
 Vv'orld's celebrities ; indigents of earth's husbandmen. 
 In this matter both men and women are at fault. 
 Women, as a rule, do not demand a higli standard of 
 moral worth, and men are not apt to stock the market 
 with an unsalable article. Yet withal, this same faithless 
 offspring of Adam assumes the sacred responsibilities 
 of parentage with no brighter prospects than incon- 
 stancy and divorce. If the women of this age would 
 require that each man aspiring for favor should be aM 
 that constitutes true manhood — would set a plausible 
 example, infidelity would drop out of the world as 
 effectually as witchcraft became a lost art. When hus- 
 bands and wives disagree, it is usually the fault of both 
 of them ; when they agree, it is due to the effort of both 
 of them. This is an incontrovertable rule, an immutable 
 law. If the husband makes as much effort to hide all 
 his shortcomings from his wife as he did to hide them 
 from his sweetlieart ; if the wife tries as hard to keep 
 her imperfections in the background — strives with the 
 same earnestness to keep herself wreathed in smiles in 
 the presence of her husband as she did in the presence 
 of her lover; if both of them keep themselves as 
 anxious to settle an argument without debate, after 
 marriage, as before, there can be no domestic rebellions, 
 no household insurrections, no need for judicial treaties 
 of peace. The little government known as the home, 
 would, under such administration, move under the 
 pleasant restraint of civil service without appeal to 
 jurist arbitration. The whole system of matrimonial 
 suzerainty, reduced to diplomacy, is this: Persons mar- 
 rying should be mentally and physically equal; they 
 should be in touch with all that constitutes moral con- 
 geniality; they should be naturally adapted to each 
 
44 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACJSE. 
 
 other, with positive and negative refraction of dispo- 
 sition — that is to say, each must be a certain mental 
 and moral magnet to the other; they should be equal 
 in rank and station; the leader of fashion would hardly 
 be compatible to her father's coachman; they should 
 understand domestic economy and household govern- 
 ment ; they should treaty with peace as touching all 
 things having to deal with their happiness and the com- 
 fort of those about them; they should not go at matri- 
 mony as they would if purchasing a piano, sewing 
 machine or carriage; they should know that to them 
 and to the sacred state of matrimonial existence be- 
 longs the responsibility of furnishing the world with 
 healthful and honorable posterity ; that as they, hus- 
 bands and wives live, just so will their children be apt 
 to live after them; that when love and common sense 
 reign supreme it is as impossible to have a domestic 
 quarrel or a family jar, as it woud be to get rain from 
 a cloudless sky at noonday; that a pair of bewitching 
 eyes in her and a fascinating smile from him, should 
 not become the basis upon which the marriage cere- 
 mony is set ; that marital relations should be consid- 
 ered while the individual is in full possession of all his 
 or her faculties — fewer mistakes were recorded did 
 people do this. 
 
 Home is the source of felicity where friend and foe, 
 master and servant, lover and sweetheart, brother and 
 sister, father and mother, run counter-current to each 
 other in the delusive eddyings of love and hatred, truth 
 and error, fact and falsehood, fidelity and (fifidelity, 
 hope and despair, and whatsoever else there 'je in the 
 conditions of unchanging variety in the movement of 
 passions. Of all the rest, somehow I like friendship, 
 because it at once and always , implies an affection 
 purged of all the impurities of self-devotion. Love, as 
 applied to connubial relationship is one of the most 
 selfish passions that assume proportion in the general 
 make-up of human nature — unreasonable and exacting 
 in all of its requirements no opportunity is given for 
 that liberality of kind intercourse so essential to the full 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 45 
 
 measure of mortal welfare and happiness. An exordial 
 exegesis of the elements from which the terms love 
 and friendship are taken would involve at least the first 
 principles of secular intercourse, as touching individ- 
 uals, families, communities, states and nations, in their 
 primitive, as well as in their cardinal relations to suc- 
 cess or failure, joy or misery, as bound by the limits of. 
 home and society. The stability of home influence is 
 not dependent so much upon that intangible energy 
 which instinctively separates kindred spirits from the 
 common throng and binds them in felicitous fealty, as 
 it is upon that indefinable rationality rising unbidden 
 from the human heart to pity and to sympathize, and 
 which, in its matchless movement through man's nature 
 builds character that desires to correct error without 
 offending it, to strengthen principle by encouraging it. 
 The first is love sentimentally endowed; the latter 
 friendship fundamentally enthroned. That hearthstone 
 is not substantial, nor do I count its influence edifying 
 or enduring, which has no firmer foundation than 
 momentary blindness to fault — sentiment. Sentimen- 
 tality seldom, if ever, gets deeper in feeling and value 
 than the surface, wherever and whatever that may be, 
 •while that broader sympathy which unites hearts and 
 society in the most comprehensive conception of their 
 virtue and usefulness strikes at the center and bottom 
 of social possibility like unto a spiritual laxative, mov- 
 ing gracefully away all impurity just so far and just 
 so fast as its presence becomes the leading force and 
 most active principle. Were I writing marriage ethics 
 one of the first, if not the first requirements would pre- 
 scribe that no home be permitted by law or otherwise 
 where the aspirants for such station are not the best 
 of friends. Friendship seeks, protects, defends; senti- 
 ment indulges ignores, forgets — wraps itself and its, 
 in a cloak of exculsiveness unstable, undefensive, sel- 
 fish. Sentimentality is the handmaid of lust, and her 
 chief office seems to be the gratification of sensual 
 desire; friendship is the companion of faith, and stands 
 as the central support to the tabernacle of hope and 
 
46 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 charity, and furnishes joy for time and eternity. Per- 
 sonally, I could not violate the dignity of moral man- 
 hood to the degree that marriage with a woman in 
 whom T did not confide absolutely, would imply. I 
 could not marry the woman I did not love, respect 
 and honor. These three principles belong to friend- 
 ship and not to sentiment. In short, true love is nothing 
 less than friendship purified, and never can lose its iden- 
 tity in sentiment. As a case in point, I now recall an inci- 
 dent in real life which was brought to my notice during 
 a sojourn in Chicago, recently. The youngest daughter 
 of respectable parents became infatuated with a like- 
 diseased young man a few years ago. Perhaps no 
 sadder fate could have befallen her of tender suscepti- 
 bilities, in this world of uncertainty and circumstances, 
 than to learn to love that man deeply, truly, passion- 
 ately, and at last through his perfidy and fickleness 
 be driven to despair. A lass of sixteen summers un- 
 fitted from a lack of education and experience to com- 
 bat the seductive influences environing her she ruth- 
 lessly admitted to the sacred domain of her budding 
 womanhood, associations coming in the guise of 
 friendship but rotten at heart with sentimental treach- 
 ery. Uninitiated in the inquitous ways of vice and 
 uninstructed in the safest principles of moral rectitude 
 her confidence was easily won by the sly artifices of 
 the man she afterwards married. To her, simple trust 
 and implicit confidence were synonymous to virtue 
 and a major chord in the anthem of life. The world 
 opened out to her, as it has to myriads of others, a 
 great, grand, pleasure-bringing fact, and mankind 
 was accepted as it seemed. No thought entered the 
 young innocent's mind that things are not always 
 what they appear to be, nor that existence through 
 the coming years might after all be to her 
 an empty dream — an endless night of suffering as a 
 penalty for her Qiisobedience to the counselings of 
 father and mother. . Her confidence once won she 
 looked upon the world and her admirer in a new 
 aspect. Inspiringly the great searchlight of her con- 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 47 
 
 fiding nature penetrated the filial atmosphere about 
 her, and cast a brilliant shaft far out over the sea 
 of anticipation and from its chaotic blackness re- 
 flected back bright visions of her noblest self in the 
 personage of him she had learned to trust. The open 
 frankness of his soul, apparently revealed in every 
 act performed, in every word spoken, and in every 
 glance from his eye ■"» proved to be a winning appeal 
 for all she held deav. By one sweep of his master- 
 ful presence she bowed, his subservient slave. Her 
 heart, her soul, her divinest hopes, her loftiest ambi- 
 tion, each, all, at once became his to lift up and cher- 
 ish, or to degrade and ruin at will. The marriage 
 was opposed by the patents of the girl, and upon 
 substantial grounds, too, but the selfishness of sen- 
 timental exclusiveness prompted an elopement and 
 a clandestine ceremony. The young husband wearied 
 of the novelty in a comparatively few months and as 
 a natural consequence began to neglect his wife, by 
 seeking pleasure among questionable associates around 
 other firesides than his own. This condition of afifairs 
 was kept up until separation became imperative as a 
 relief to a deluded and heart-broken woman, who now 
 must endure the anguish of blighted hopes renewed 
 by every kiss she imprints upon the brow of the 
 son left in her care, who bears in his rosy counten- 
 ance something of the image of both herself and her 
 betrayer. Had this man been truly a friend to the 
 woman he called wife, that friendship of itself would 
 have shut out every other association not brought with- 
 in the sacred precinct of her society, and the son 
 coming to them would have been the third eolden 
 link in the chain of enduring af^liation, which has in 
 it peace, hope and happiness. To suffer through his 
 recklessness and treachery did not seem, to lessen her 
 devotion for him, but to the contrary, rather increased 
 it until a certain limit was reached when patience and 
 forbearance ceased to be a virtue, then she in all_ the 
 desperation of pent-up fury felt the love-passion within 
 
48 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 her changing to hatred — miserable, terrifying, deadly 
 hatred — as blasting in its raging nature as the warmth 
 preceding it was blessed. This case is but one more 
 testimony to the theory that when a woman learns to 
 love a man truly, honestly, devotedly, whether she be 
 his mother, sister or his sweetheart, she has no in- 
 terests not identified with his own. She as intuitively 
 clings to him as the clambering ivy clings to the mon- 
 archal oak, until every root and branch has decayed — 
 the trunk rotted to its very heart — every vestige of 
 manhood forsaken him, and he, like some noxious 
 thing of the forest dense and deep, or like a specter 
 cloud in a winter's sky. drops out of existence, silent- 
 ly, unmourned. and unredeemed, into the mysterious 
 and unalterable vale of nonent'.ty. Thus we are left 
 with the final conclusion, that, for the man who delib- 
 erately and purposely wins a young woman's warmest 
 regards only to cast her and them ofif as a child lays 
 aside some tired-of plaything, there should be no sym- 
 pathy; no penalty too severe for the reprehension of 
 his crime. He is a moral leper, a social vampire feed- 
 ing on hideous principles, a menace to integrity and 
 honor; a monster to be shunned as the poisonous 
 fumes of some vile decoction; he should be excluded 
 from the society of honorable men and women, and 
 avoided as a spirit of the unrespectable. The high- 
 wayman, the pilferer, or the midnight assassin, are 
 each and all better than he; for, they at their worst 
 can but relieve one of property and deorive of life, 
 while he robs her of tender heart of life, honor, integ- 
 rity, hope, friends and happiness; and. above all. be- 
 trays the most sacred trust of a human being! It 
 is human to imagine that when the Great King comes 
 in power and glory to make up His jewels, no soul 
 will be more welcome or more precious, no hands 
 will gather sweeter flowers or strew richer garlands 
 in the land of Paradise, than she who is unjustly per- 
 secuted, betrayed and cast out here. 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 49 
 
 CHAPTER THIRD. 
 
 EDUCATION. — Meaning and Scope; the Two 
 Conditions Distinguishing Individuals; Knowledge a 
 Systematic Accumulation of Facts; Joy of Culture and 
 Refinement; Difiference Between Education and Book- 
 Learning; Schools Not Exclusive Educators; The 
 First Institution of Learning; Adam and Eve's First 
 Lesson From Text Book of Experience; An Impor- 
 tant Factor in Educational Development; Intellect- 
 ual Gold; Moral Ornament and Mental Exchange; 
 Parents the First and Chief Instructors; Metaphorical 
 Gem. 
 
 Education! What immensity of meaning is wrapped 
 up in that simple collection of letters; over 'what a 
 vast and fertile area of tillable surface it spans! Gib- 
 bon wisely said: "Every person has two educations; 
 one which he receives from others, and one more im- 
 portant, which he gives to himself," and to the 
 trained eye and brain of the scholar it seems clear that 
 there are virtually but two conditions distinguishing 
 individuals: one is knowledge; the other, a lack of it — 
 ignorance. Either condition is a matter of choice 
 or necessity and assigns to the solemn pages of his- 
 tory the fateful record of cause and effect as tempered 
 by the competency or incompetency of its possessor. 
 
 Knowledge is the direct result of study, instruction, 
 observation and experience — a systematic accumula- 
 tion of facts upon which the mind may render just and 
 impartial judgment and by which memory is stored 
 with information concerning persons, places and 
 things. The action of the mind upon facts thus ob- 
 tained produces what is commonly recognized as cul- 
 ture and accomplishment: polish to nature, as it were. 
 Ignorance is evidence of the lack of all this and the 
 strongest symbol of barbarism. Locke in the beauty 
 of philosophy gives utterance to the belief that "The 
 last resort a man has recourse to in the conduct of 
 
50 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 himself is his understanding," and human intercourse 
 seems to justify the conviction that there is no joy so 
 complete to refined nature as refinement. There is 
 nothing to be more thoroughly enjoyed, aside from 
 contemplating the best thought of cultured people as 
 it appears in their books, than simply reclining in the 
 balmy atmosphere of genius and absorbing the benign 
 influence of the genteel. No person can pursue this 
 course for any length of time and fail to* reflect some 
 proportion of that influence in his or her customs and 
 manners. It is a doctrine worthy of belief that a life 
 directed by association with the truly cultured cannot 
 in that be shaped amiss, because the preliminary steps 
 to such exaltation signify the unconditional surrender 
 of all false assumption and superstitious coarseness, 
 and the unequivocal adoption of studious habits, to- 
 gether with a gradually growing preference for intel- 
 lectual superiors. Open frankness when regulated by 
 prudence is a characteristic most admirable in anyone. 
 Perhaps one of the most detestable and withal mis- 
 leading practices of some grades of modern society are 
 found in the operation of that sort of superficial mod- 
 esty assumed by many "chalk and water" people, 
 which compels one to guess at everything about them 
 — their ages and complexions not excepted. It is not 
 what a man or woman appears to be, but that which 
 he or she really is; constitutes the measure of merit 
 which establishes his or her claim to the distinction 
 of. lady or gentleman, scholar or ignoramus. It is 
 not the creed adopted, nor the articles of faith sub- 
 scribed to, but rather the knowledge which is put into 
 practice that counts as vice or virtue. Whatever a 
 man is he is, in spite of all the pedantic displays he 
 may exhibit to the contrary. Wealth is a very poor 
 substitute, even in the commercial sense, for gentility 
 and intelligence, though perhaps the latter can best be 
 "shown off in company" by the habiliments afforded 
 of a large possession of the former. But when reality 
 is gone after and considered from the standpoint of 
 what it must be, then to the genuine student is re- 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 
 
 51 
 
 vealed the value of a beautiful self in a coarser tene- 
 ment of clay. In the clearer presence of individual 
 excellence all reckless foibles, chimerical fancies and 
 sham reserve appear at a painful disadvantage. Re- 
 finement is wealth to a degree, but it is not so certain 
 a thing that wealth is refinement. In truth one is the 
 measure and the other the means by which the intrin- 
 sic worth of men and women is estimated; that is to 
 say, refinement is the result of long and tedious dis- 
 cipline, while wealth is the means by which opportu- 
 nity for carefully and accurately burnishing nature to 
 an animated and graceful interest in mental power and 
 capability is attracted. The repulsiveness of discul- 
 ture is most keenly felt by those of delicate accom- 
 plishments. Just as some ethereal fabric yields soiled 
 surface in the presence of baser elements, even so and 
 likewise contrasts the sheen of intelligence with the 
 grimy hues of ignorance. There is a joy in the so- 
 ciety of the cultured, even though no speech find the 
 pleasing shape of utterance. The aesthetic atmosphere 
 touching the erudite sweeps across the path of ignor- 
 ance and tutors it in the finer sensibilities of finished 
 character. 
 
 Education, then, is simply a broadening and deep- 
 ening of the powers of mind, evolving as it were, 
 thought minutia into the largest and best of which 
 they are capable, and sharpening the perceptions to 
 the keenest realization of their existence and surround- 
 ings. There is a marked difiference between education 
 and learning. A person may be familiar with the tech- 
 nicality of books: he or she may be able to repeat by 
 rote the gist of their contents, and still lack many of 
 the qualifying principles in the ultimate of his or her 
 education. On the other hand, an individual may 
 lack somewhat of the technics and yet be furnished 
 with a competency to meet the practical requirements 
 of everyday life far superior in degree to that possessed 
 by him who confined himself wholly to the college or 
 university curriculum. What truth in the teaching'- of 
 Pythagoras, the Greek philosopher, -who said: "The 
 
52 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE, 
 
 desire to know contains not always the faculty to ac- 
 quire." The real and the unreal, the ficial and the su- 
 perficial, the practical and the impractical are forever 
 battling against each other. The real, or educated 
 man or woman is the complement in some part of all 
 that signifies proper development. The superficial, or 
 book-learned only, is simply an indecipherable out- 
 put of mechanical institutions, and may be in a sense 
 popular, but ultimates eventually in unseemly traits. 
 Mental and moral development is a matter far- 
 reaching in its import. It has to deal with the 
 world's virtue and usefulness as imbedded in the hearts 
 of its people. It touches every home and re- 
 dounds to the value of every institution. De- 
 velopment of the mental and moral faculties implies 
 education and education always implies in some 
 degree teaching. Every human being is a creature 
 of education, and as such remains from the ingress to 
 exodus. All that is seen, heard and associated with 
 during the natural course of life, has some humble 
 part to perform in the drama of mortal career — makes 
 some contribution to the store of human knowledge. 
 Schools are not the exclusive educators; pedagogues, 
 not the only instructors — in fact they can be but the 
 promoters of the beginning. Book-learning is a 
 knowledge of the contents of books, while the educa- 
 tion which follows that and other processes is the de- 
 velopment of nature commensurate to the limits of 
 itself. Whatever, then, develops the man from neophyte 
 to sage in his fullest capacity, that is his educator. 
 Therefore, a period of study confined wholly to the 
 narrow latitude of books, results simply in a good, bad 
 or indifferent erudition of men, while to unshackle the 
 mind and ascribe to it the freedom of the infinite wins 
 to the action and the individual a deeper, clearer and 
 more practical familiarity with what is to be acquired. 
 The first institution of learning was established soon 
 after the creation and at the beginning of the first cen- 
 tury of the world's existence when Adam and Eve 
 took their first lesson from the text-book of experi- 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 53 
 
 ence in the Garden of Eden; and through all of the 
 ages since then men and women have received their 
 first instructions in the first schoolroom— The Home. 
 This fact, then, furnishes us with the theory that the 
 home of a child is the first and most important factor 
 in the primary development of its natural propensities. 
 The word child implies the man or woman of a few 
 years hence, and therefore places us in the presence of 
 innumerable possibilities. 
 
 The founding of the first university occurred at Ox- 
 ford by King Alfred in 872, King Philip II. following 
 with the University of Paris in 1200. The first col- 
 lege of the University of Cambridge is said to have 
 been founded by Hugo, Bishop of Ely, in the year 
 1257. These were followed by the German Empire 
 at Prague, tv8; University of Edinburg, 1582; Trin- 
 ity College. Dublin, 1591; Harvard, 1636; Yale, Say- 
 brook, Conn., 1700, afterward, New Haven, 1716. These 
 latter were antedated somewhat by William and Mary 
 College, established 1617, building erected at Williams- 
 burg, Virginia, 1693. tt • j 
 
 For two hundred and fifty-nine years the United 
 States has given the- children an opportunity to ac- 
 quire an education by means of town schools 'which 
 were established by legislation about the year 1642. 
 Dear old Connecticut was the first of the states to take 
 active steps in that direction, a school having been 
 opened at Hartford. Massachusetts was a close second 
 and opened the first common school in 1645, but three 
 years later. These schools of two hundred fifty odd 
 years ago, presented the primitive opportunities in 
 America for people in the ordinary walks of life. They 
 formed the nucleus about which has clustered the in- 
 fluences leading up to the grander educational insti- 
 tutions of to-day. 
 
 Statistics show that in 1899, there were 16,738,363 
 pupils receiving education in the United States. Indi- 
 ana had 556,651 pupils enrolled, or 24.61 per cent of its 
 population, with an average daily attendance of 424,- 
 725. This work gave employment to 15,488 teachers. 
 
54 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 Child-study became the earnest Hfe-work of such 
 men as John Knox, Robert Raikes, Pestalozzi and 
 others, 'who gave to humanity the system of child-cul- 
 ture most worthy of place among all the accepted ed- 
 ucational systems extant. To them, and especially 
 to Pestalozzi, is due an uncancellable debt of grati- 
 tude for the kindergarten method now so popular in, 
 this country and in Europe. The extreme limits of 
 psychology, pedagogy and anthropology have been 
 traversed for the benefit of rising generations, and as 
 teachers advance in their search for knowledge along 
 this particular line their concern increases because of 
 the responsibility accompanying individual influence 
 and instruction; and, it is with a keen sense of what 
 each will be held accountable for in at least two worlds 
 that shapes out and deepens their interest as to what 
 and when and how they shall teach. The early years 
 of child-life are filled with serious fact — r.o doubts, nor 
 fears, nor reasonings — but solemn, serious fact. With 
 intellectual faculties as susceptible to impressions as a 
 lump of plastic molder's wax, and fully as unrelaxing 
 in the tenacity with which they retain those impres- 
 sions, the little "bunch of possibilities" starts on its 
 first voyage of exploration from the cradle. Unable 
 to avoid that which is detrimental, and likewise in- 
 competent to select only that which would be bene- 
 ficial, the impressions of vice are just as deep as are 
 the impressions of virtue; hence, it matters not wheth- 
 er a child learns evil or good, or both, it is all the 
 same so far as the acquiring phase of the proposition is 
 concerned. Whether a child learns more of good than 
 of evil depends largely upon the degree of care ex- 
 ercised by those having in charge the development of 
 infant possibilities in furnishing such environments as 
 have a tendency to correct fault by judiciously over- 
 looking it to the point where true character stands 
 out in its strength of nobility and grandeur. Culture 
 of faculties and refinement of manners are the means 
 by which it is to be determined whether an individ- 
 ual has been properly taught, these accomplishments 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 55 
 
 containing and being the value limit of intellectual 
 gold, whether it be cast into moral ornament or coined 
 into the denominated specie of mental exchange. 
 Under the kindergarten plan of instruction it is in- 
 tended that the young mind shall broaden and deepen 
 to a possession of fact by coming in contact with the 
 things of nature in such ways as evolve mental power 
 and physical growth through association with ma- 
 terial objects, rather than to involve cultivation from 
 speculative theories. Thus the child gradually comes 
 into harmony with its surroundings in degree com- 
 mensurate to its natural growth. In other words, the 
 child learns to know things by their right names and 
 acquires something of a knowledge of their nature 
 by being made familiar with them at a time in life 
 when impressions need to be simple, though none the 
 less accurate and trustworthy. I believe the most 
 difficult task of th ^ average teacher does not arise 
 so much from the introduction of new rules and new 
 methods, as from the necessity of continually abro- 
 gating false impressions and casting out error, which 
 in most cases are not due to ignorance of right, but 
 rather to misapplication of the law by which truth is 
 made apparent. The simplest law of mathematics 
 says, "Know the truth and it shall make you free." 
 
 Simple statement, isn't it? "Yes," you say, "but ." 
 
 But whftt? Ah, the mastery of that difficult science is 
 the only legitimate means by which the student can 
 really know that the law is simple. While wandering 
 through the wilderness of error the very simplicity 
 of that law becomes almost an unsurmountable com- 
 plication. Only after the light has been reached can 
 the aimlessness of previous endeavors be seen. What- 
 ever is true regarding the law of mathematics is true 
 of almost anything else which qualifies the mind. The 
 old idea of chocking an infant's mind full of rules and 
 precepts has very properly given way to the more 
 rational method of storing child mind with a knowl- 
 edge and fullness of itself, so to speak — that is, asso- 
 
56 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 dating it with those things most natural and attractive 
 to it — until such time as truth shall require fixed and 
 specified limits. The intellect thus systematically ex- 
 panding to a possession of the truth, the child must 
 as a natural consequence adopt, without aversion, the 
 common systems of metal evolution as the only right 
 thing to do. Under this proposition it is obvious that 
 so soon as a pupil is fitted to move under the disci- 
 pline of rigid rule, the rule ceases to be a rule, and 
 all seeming inflexibility of the discipline vanishes into 
 the purer atmosphere of simple pleasure in a perfect 
 knowledge of the truth. 
 
 To my mind the quickest and most certain method 
 of confounding a child's integrity and honor, and con- 
 fronting it with a menace to the foundation of its true 
 character, is for parents to destroy its confidence in 
 their truth and veracity. To every child father's opin- 
 ion should be supreme; mother's opinion should be 
 supreme; — both a royal tribunal from whose decision 
 no appeal could be taken; and there should never 
 arise in that child's presence a discussion of, nor even 
 a comment upon the judgment of either, except in so 
 far, at such times and on such occasions as compli- 
 mentary notice of the same will tend to furnish the 
 child with a higher appreciation and a purer concep- 
 tion of the imperial virtue of that supremacy. It not 
 infrequently occurs that the measure of an individual's 
 moral experience is fixed in the adverse by the author- 
 ity and good judgment of one parent being questioned 
 by the other. The young mind and heart may not be 
 able to reason from cause to efifect at the time, but its 
 little intellect will garner the impressions of this 
 stultifying influence of fidelity precipitated until such 
 time as it can collect the facts and upon them render 
 judgment for itself; and then, perhaps, the seed you 
 have thoughtlessly sown, parents, will burst forth in 
 the vigor of bud and blossom only to yield to you, 
 eventually, a bountiful harvest of shame and remorse. 
 Too much stress cannot be laid upon the responsibility 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 57 
 
 of those intrusted with the rearing of children. How 
 well husband and wife ought to be prepared by adapta- 
 tion to each other and to the great work of culturing 
 the tender flowers of humanity consigned to their 
 care! How carefully ought the plans to be laid for 
 that child's future just so soon as it becomes an ap- 
 parent incumbency. I believe did candidates for the 
 exalted position of fatherhood and motherhood give 
 more attention to the framing and maintenance of a 
 proper constitutional government for the people of 
 their household, the population of that little republic 
 would in most cases be free from the slavish bondage 
 of mistrust. To be instrumental in the existence of a 
 human being, and then abandon that being to the pol- 
 luting suspicions of a sin-burdened world, is a crime 
 against heaven — an insult to God, that the atoning 
 blood of Christ and the agonies of the Cross may not 
 blot out. Time, that silent, though unerring developer" 
 of hidden forces, shall furnish the revelation. The oc- 
 casion when that indifferent mother called father's 
 justice and. judgment into question, she set in her off- 
 spring's little heart a cancerous root of unbelief that 
 must forever be a thorn of doubt pricking through its 
 side of honor and integrity as a man or woman — a 
 jagging briar goading it on to desperation. Perhaps 
 no sadder fate, no greater calamity can come into a 
 young child's life than to blast its confidence in the 
 things which and those whom it loves. It is just as 
 natural for a child to love one parent as the other, and 
 for either to attack any principle of virtue in the 
 other is to scatter combustible fragments by which 
 that same child will, by the light of common sense and 
 reason, kindle a fire of indignation so hot as to burn 
 out root and branch, the faith it has in both. Never 
 tamper with childhood attachments, if you would en- 
 dow your children with the rich garniture of truth 
 and clothe them in the purest garment of real man- 
 hood and true womanhood. The days of youth are 
 critical. They make up the sum total of life's spring- 
 
58 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 time, in which every bud and leaf and stem begins 
 to exercise forces perceptible, in the way of thoughts, 
 words and acts which have very much to do with 
 the fashioning" of each individual plant as touching 
 its moral strength, spiritual prolixity and physical 
 beauty during the summertime of manhood and wo- 
 manhood. It is at this season of change from child- 
 hood's budding and leafing to maturity's full-blown 
 blossom that I would have only refreshing dews of 
 toleration and sympathy, and gentle showers of en- 
 couragement and proper instruction fall from the 
 heavens of mortal love to nourish these human pos- 
 sibilities to hardiness and vigor, the fruits of whose 
 hands must be gathered in Time's Autumn for the 
 Winter of Eternity. No biting frosts of neglect 
 should blight, no chilling winds of indifference should 
 wither, no cutting blizzards of contempt should freeze 
 out the vitality of these tender plants — young men 
 and young women — in their efforts to be and to do 
 the best, but rather, let them be potted, so to speak, 
 in the greenhouse of infiJiite wisdom where the tropi- 
 cal sunlight of right thinking can develop and bring- 
 out every shade of right speaking and right doing 
 possible. Thus only can they become full-grown, 
 deep-colored and fruitful in the highest sense of na- 
 tural perfection. I have long been favorable to the 
 opinion that each child's early associations should be 
 closely with those who enjoy the hope of saving faith. 
 Children are not apt to practice in after life things 
 strangely different from what are learned in childhood. 
 It therefore ought not to be expected that they will 
 accomplish or seek after that which the parents and 
 the church people fail to set a value upon. The. adverse 
 influence of parents does more sometimes to 
 unravel and annul the instructions of true teachers. 
 than any other system of forces brought to bear upon 
 the future manhood and womanhood of our race. 
 This, of course, is not true in all cases, but the 
 rule is far from being the exception. When Napoleon 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 59 
 
 sought to climb the Alps with his army, a courier 
 was asked if an army could ascend those rugged and 
 dangerous heights. The courier replied: "It might 
 be done." "Then," said the monarch of battles, 
 "It shall be." The history of that famous march 
 shows that it was done. If the parents of our country 
 would say, 'Tt shall be," and support the declara- 
 tion by that indomitable courage and unswerving 
 tenacity to a purpose, which won victory after vic- 
 tory for Napoleon, the glorious age to which hope 
 looks, when all kindreds, tongues and tribes of the 
 earth shall be bound by one law — that law the law 
 of universal brotherhood — would not be long in dawn- 
 mg as an actual reality. Give the children proper 
 mental development, and their morals will take care 
 of themselves. 
 
 CHAPTER FOURTH. 
 
 SOCIETY.— The Three Grades of Elite: Giddy 
 Whirlpool of Polished Sin; Man Born With Social 
 Nature; But Two Kinds of Social Relationship: Sor- 
 row in the Wake of Fashionable Revelry; Reality of 
 Things] The Banquet and Ball; Picture from Life; 
 Customs of Society an Exacting Law; Newspaper 
 Men a Necessary Adjunct; Radical Reform Unpar- 
 donable: Average Society Lady's Vanity; Butterflies 
 of Fashion. 
 
 The world has at least three distinct grades of what 
 is nicely called Elite Society. These distinctive grades 
 are classified in adverse ratio as best, better, good. 
 Wealth, influence and position are the all-important 
 and controling factors in determining the particular 
 class to which an individual belongs. To belong to 
 either grade and to be thoroughly in the swim and 
 float with the current of social popularity, it some- 
 
6o BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACJSE. 
 
 times becomes necessary to sacrifice whatever convic- 
 tions the individual may have as to real virtue. To 
 be in the giddy whirlpool of elite society, is to revel 
 heedlessly in a sort of polished sin. It is true man 
 is born with a social nature of some sort, and to take 
 that nature away from him would be to rob him of 
 all that is dear and all that is worth living for. There 
 is but one grade of society, in reality, that is worthy 
 of honorable men and women; there is but one grade 
 of society worthy of efifort in becoming members of; 
 that is that which makes men and women better, 
 and that lifts the standard of morality and virtue to 
 higher perfection and utility. There are, in the ulti- 
 mate, but two kinds of social relationship, namely, 
 good and bad. Each of us is attached to one or the 
 other. We cannot belong to both. Elite society's 
 realm is but the picture gallery of false modesty, arti- 
 ficial beauty and baseless ethics. Give me intellectual 
 and social intercourse with men who can think — men 
 who have found the force of peaceful enjoyment in 
 the reality of things; let me bow before women whose 
 footprints are deep in the sands of virtue, and the 
 world can have its vaudeville and its sham. It occurs 
 that misery and sorrow follow society's revelry. I 
 have set at the banquet table; I have mixed with 
 those around the festal board; I have seen simple 
 beauty and rustic health 'intermixing with such sym- 
 metry and grace as to be charming; I have listened 
 to enrapturing music as it rose with voluptuous swell 
 and floated away in inspiring reverberations; I have 
 seen the fairest of accomplished musicians sweep the 
 polished keys of the piano, with impassioned, almost 
 inspired fingers, in response to which silvery tones 
 pealed forth in melody and stole away in rippling 
 murmurings of broken loveliness. But alas, their 
 sonorous sweetness echoed back only sadness and 
 loneliness to the heart of she who so admirably per- 
 formed. By her taste and skill she delighted those 
 about her, but the pain pictured in her countenance 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 6i 
 
 told only too plainly that her soul was not in the 
 work and that she was not at home. To be a butter- 
 fly of fashion and a belle of that glittering assump- 
 tion called Elite Society was. to her, imprisonment 
 of the most miserable sort, while to have roamed in 
 the fields and among the flowers, and to have mingled 
 her voice with the voices of nature's songsters would 
 have been a paradise of supremest happiness. Though 
 enabled to enthrall others, her heart was silently but 
 surely breaking because of the emptiness about her. 
 
 The customs of society at times are troublesome. 
 They become so partly because their requirements 
 are in a sense one-sided, and partly because they are 
 misunderstood. This condition of affairs owes its ex- 
 istence to a fashionable extreme, which having run 
 the gauntlet of its usefulness, long since sought the 
 protection of enemies rather than the support of 
 friends. 
 
 Among other things men are stoutly protesting the 
 right of newspapers to comment in detail on cos- 
 tumes and jewelry worn by ladies on social events. 
 It is argued that a man would be filled with horror if 
 on scanning the pages of the morning paper, he were 
 to find his attire tout ensemble described in detail. 
 This of course would depend somewhat on the man, 
 although it must be admitted that the custom in ques.- 
 tion, even though it be established, is in many ' in- 
 stances decidedly unpleasant. Especially is it so when 
 some peevish and petted belle of society reeks ven- 
 geance on the head of a poor guileless editor, for hav- 
 ing committed the extraordinary crime of denying 
 valuable space in a complimentary write-up of her 
 achievements in the fashionable world. Through 
 habit, the practice of making the fads and fancies of 
 a few members of the human race conspicuous prop- 
 erty, gratuitous, has become law — a law as fixed in its 
 immutableness as the existing spirit of resentment in 
 the disposition of daneuses who fail to excite favor- 
 able and coveted comments from the press. The 
 
62 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 newspaper man who gets a delicate perfumed "prefer- 
 ence" invitation, and does his part indifferently will 
 soon find himself occupying the unenviable position of 
 a forgotten hero and reputed only as a sort of block- 
 head or nondescript. 
 
 The ordinary reporter is seldom, if ever, invitea to 
 a party, soiree or ball, because of his unmatchable 
 popularity, but rather that he may have opportunity 
 in writing spicy compliments; in many cases about 
 people, who being pufifed by the gas of their own 
 egotism, disdain even a nod of recognition. He is 
 supposed to oscillate his feelings out of mind and 
 courteously accede to the wishes of the world social, 
 and blandly close his eyes and ears to all about him, 
 save that which is presumably most charming and 
 beautiful — captivating manhood and her environ- 
 ments. As exacting as it may seern to need to obey 
 the mandates of such a law, a radical reform oi? that 
 line would not be unlike trying to banish the tradi- 
 tions of mythology or straining an unpardonable 
 point on the original Four Hundred, so firmly is it 
 fixed as an active principle in the minds of society 
 people everywhere. 
 
 The average society lady's modesty is not at all 
 dashed by seeing her name attached to a complete 
 description of her attire, jewelry and general appear- 
 ance at the last grand ball or reception; but it rather 
 adds satisfaction to vanity. The thorough butterfly 
 of fashion does not permit her cheeks to crimson with 
 sensations of false modesty, when her eyes behold the 
 flattering mention she sought so hard to gain. 
 
 Men seek the praise of women; women strive to 
 please men; neither try to merit the good opinion of 
 members of their own sex, and, if woman deems it 
 essential for struggling ink-slingers to write up her 
 wearing apparel, art de la mode, why — why they must; 
 and that settles it. 
 
 Life as mankind observes it seems to be an inex- 
 plicable admixture of the unknown quantity. Human 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 63 
 
 short-sightedness is apt to overlook the truest and 
 most essential elements of social success and moral 
 happiness. Mortals soon forget that earthly things 
 are transitory, and at best but symbols of that higher 
 and better experience called perfection. 
 
 The people of the world, tout ensemble, are suffer- 
 ing the pangs of bitterness and remorse. Most of 
 them at one time or another have tasted the cup of 
 heart-refining and soul-trying experience even to the 
 depth of its gallish dregs. Regrets come to many in 
 rapid succession, as though the cloud of adversity 
 hung thick and heavy above and around, ready to 
 drench them in an avalanche of casualties at any 
 moment. The sky of existence, which, to human per- 
 ception, might be blue and tranquil in the joys and 
 hopes of earth, is overhung with the draperies of 
 quick-coming obscurity curtained by the gloomy 
 shroudings of mourning. This condition is but the 
 effect of a certain cause, a full understanding of which 
 •would render its apparent results less stultifying and 
 objectionable, in that the birth of it is directly trace- 
 able to ignorance and superstition on one side and 
 lecherous contention for political power and per- 
 sonal aggrandizement on the other. These two forces 
 so formidable to each other can never exist in har- 
 mony together. One or the other, or all of them, 
 must be abrogated from the credenda of mortal ac- 
 quirements before the sunshine of peace and love and 
 happiness can penetrate the thickening veil with dis- 
 pensations of comfort and prosperity. 
 
 Amid the turmoil and unsuitableness of our envir- 
 onments forgetfulness becomes such a weakness as 
 to render it a habitual ailment. Infinite wisdom has 
 decreed that when a certain period of years has been 
 reached time can be no more. Often people are sordid 
 and unhappy because of that selfishness within them, 
 which denies the pleasure of thankful appreciation for 
 the beautiful in nature. It is strong evidence of con- 
 tentment when an individual rejoices on account of 
 
64 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 the many blessings coming to him in the way of 
 health, position and influence. It is a healthful sign of 
 progress 'when those blessings are made the means 
 by which wholesome comfort is brought to others. 
 In short, thrice blessed Js the man who realizes that 
 he is blessed. One of the first laws of human ex- 
 istence is that finite immutableness by which we may 
 recognize beauty in nature when we see it. It would 
 seem to be an impossibility that men could live in this 
 land of sunshine and flowers, where the cheering song 
 of birds is twittered from every tree and fragrance, 
 deep-scented, ladens every breeze with its balmy 
 sweetness, and be totally oblivious of all these nat- 
 ural conditions of happiness. Yet many there are 
 who become insensible to the very things which mean 
 most (in the aga;reyate of contentment and well-being. 
 Men represent in a greater or less degree the force 
 of cause and effect. The numerous habits which one 
 is apt to acquire have very much to do with making 
 natural surroundings unpleasant. Many men and 
 ■women whose prospects in childhood were as bril- 
 liant as the changing colors at sunset, now exhibit 
 the gloomy consciousness of blighted hope and the 
 sorrowful result of not improving the golden opj^or- 
 tunities of life as they come. The depraving influ- 
 ence of vice has never been able to lift a fallen vic- 
 tim from the gutter, or endow him or her with the 
 emoluments of virtue. Under its effects the sensi- 
 bilities become deadened and the intellect weakens 
 before the wholesome impressions of refinement. 
 Upon the carefulness with which the faculties within 
 us are cultivated to an appreciation of the things 
 without us, and their proper relation to us', will de- 
 pend the degree of happiness which we enjoy. To 
 violate the laws of nature in this respect is criminal 
 and only invites a positive stunt to manly develop- 
 ment, and is in every sense abortive to the highest 
 ideas of human happiness. Men and women do not 
 become mean, low and degraded in a day or a year, 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 65 
 
 but as a rule, go step by step down the broad path- 
 way that descends to ruin. Perhaps the helpless ine- 
 briate before us with his periodical blasphemy and 
 drunken stupor is but the hopeless wreck of him who 
 was once a happy, careless boy, whose plump, rosy 
 cheeks where tinged with the crimson flush of life's 
 brighest morning, while with eyes sparkling in the 
 ruddy glow of health he chased the gaudy butterfly 
 the livelong day. Content 'with bare feet, scant attire 
 and unkempt hair, he joyously explored the realms 
 of nature in field and bower, and gloried in the ma- 
 jestic splendor of the universe. How little was he 
 disturbed by thoughts of danger lurking in the lati- 
 tude where the pleasures of youth abode. But the 
 soothing influence of a mother's nurturing love, the 
 fostering care of a proud father, the adorations of 
 an affectionate sister, and the counsel of admiring 
 friends, thrown aside and disregarded, opened up to 
 him an avenue of temptation larger than the strength 
 of his moral nature could combat. Thus in the pur- 
 suit of imaginary freedom he brought on his own 
 ruin, until with friends, hope and manhood all gone 
 he was seen heedlessly plunging into the relentless 
 stream of dissipation and more swiftly each time the 
 current of depravity carried him on toward the rocks 
 of destruction. At first, perhaps, indulgences are in 
 a sense moderate and seemingly harmless, but as time 
 rolls on and slavish habits become fixed, men and 
 women gather about the altars of vice in a manner 
 not unlike honey-making bees around the Judas-tree. 
 Lured by the beauty and fragrance of blooming rich- 
 ness, they sip of the nectared sweetness until inocu- 
 lated with its poison they drop helpless at its trunk. 
 Among the fashionable means for going to extremes 
 is that pandemonium of popular vice, the ballroom. 
 Here is usually to be found a brilliant display of art 
 and genius. Fair women and gallent men assemble 
 at theaters of uncertain action. Splendorous in ap- 
 pointment and illumined by the golden light of a 
 
66 BENNIE, TH^ PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 thousand tapering jets, rich garnitures of luxuriant 
 drapery and blooming flowers lend beauty to the lovely 
 and the brave, who join hands to chase the passing 
 hours with flying feet. Merry music rises in harmony 
 with the gems sparkling and gleaming from throats 
 of alabaster and floats away in volumes of entrancing 
 melody; separating, as it weie, all semblances of care 
 from the atmosphere of gaiety, mutual bliss reigns 
 supreme as swiftly the hours roll on. A ruddy glow 
 radiates each cheek while pretty maids with dainty 
 feet trip the fantastic toe and terpsichorean joys spring 
 from fascinations of the time. Infinitely alluring 
 seems the mazy waltz, as mfatuated couples glide like 
 fairies over the polished floor, until lost amid the 
 mysterious contrivances of a fond embrace. This pic- 
 ture is all very nice till one begins to inquire what is 
 going on behind the scenes, then it has a different 
 appearance altogether. 
 
 On a recent visit to the metropolis of the great 
 west, where opportunity ror observing the customs 
 and habits of society folk could be obtained, I noted 
 that a very great amount of suffering and disease is 
 due to "Drug Drunkenness of Females." The female 
 drug drunkard is directly the output of so-called civili- 
 zation, prolific, flourishing and evidently come to stay. 
 The best position for gathering information resulted 
 from taking a seat in one of the popular theater 
 buildings. Here congregated the beautiful, the proud, 
 the wealthy from all over the city, attired in costumes 
 befitting the occasion — and many of them slaves — 
 Morphine, did you ask? Yes, but this is but one of a 
 dozen drugs that has in it intoxication, disease and 
 death. It doesn't require a physician to detect the 
 unfailing symptoms of a drug drunkard. There are 
 hundreds of women who go about the city half 
 "jagged" on Dovers powders. They will have their 
 powders and in a few years they are dead. Ether is 
 a late fad with the fashionable drunkard. It is taken 
 in very small quantities, two thimblefuls being an 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 67 
 
 average drink, but a swell toper can take ten or twelve 
 drinks and attend a reception in the evening. It is 
 said of a wealthy society lady that she consumes a 
 half-pint of ether a day. By nightfall she has reached 
 the glorious stage of smiling, floating, dreamy sen- 
 suousness. Men call her languor Oriental, and won- 
 der that she can never be induced to empty her wine- 
 glass or move away from her silken cushions, where 
 she. remains to all blandishments a lovely sphinx. 
 Then comes the antipyrene fiend, chloral and cocaine 
 victims, paregoric "guzzlers," tea dissipators and per- 
 fume drinkers. Perfume drunkards, it is said, are 
 quite as numerous as devotees of the poppy seed. Of 
 this last polite habit Kate Carter, of New York, 
 says: "If you are observant, you will see any lady 
 take her little 'nip' any afternoon at a matinee, or 
 concert, or lecture. She opens her reticule, or, if 
 too up-to-date for a bag, you will notice her frequent 
 recurrence to the great pocket of her sealskin. From 
 this she takes what you suppose to be a sugar plum 
 or a cough lozenge. If you look closely you will 
 find that it is a square of white sugar. Don't turn 
 your head away, for you will find something to interest 
 you. My lady is about to take a perfume 'ball' right 
 here in the presence of the audience and amid the 
 glare of the incandescent lights. Another dive into 
 the pocket and she brings forth a handsome, finely- 
 cut crystal smelling bottle. You are interested now; 
 she does not raise this to her nostrils, but drops some 
 of its contents on that square of sugar, and before you 
 can say 'Jack Robinson' has popped it into her mouth, 
 downed it like a Kentucky thoroughbred. It's an 
 agreeable dose, sugar and violet water: — five or six 
 lumps will distort the vision and cause the female feet 
 to wander. This perfume drunkard always carries 
 her bar about with her, and usually goes home in a 
 carriage." And still the list increases to bromide of 
 potassium, bromide of ammonia, bromide of lithium, 
 with a companion-mate to ether, phenacetine. In the 
 
68 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 face of all this is it any wonder that the race is groan- 
 ing under its burden of intemperance and wickedness 
 in high places? Society, especially thai glittering as 
 sumption called elite society, finds a few mortals of 
 earth upon which to bestow distinction of some sort. 
 In New York City there are six married ladies to 
 whom fashion has bowed in the superlative degree. It 
 is a matter of pride to be distinguished for something. 
 Cholly Knickerbocker in the New York Journal 
 writes: "Mrs. S. Van Rensselaer Cruger is the most 
 decollete woman at the opera. I can't say that Mrs. 
 Cruger is the least dressed woman at the opera, for 
 Mrs. Cruger is most dressed when she is most decol- 
 lete, and she is always most decollete at the opera. 
 A beautiful neck is one of the rarest gifts of nature, 
 and the woman who does not admire Mrs. Cruger's 
 style of dress or who would cavil at the height of her 
 bodice is simply purblind with envy. Mrs. Cruger is 
 not only the most decollete woman at the opera, but 
 the most attractive as well. 
 
 "Mrs. C. Albert Stevens is the most beautiful woman 
 at the opera. She is a fair type of American beauty. 
 Her even-featured face, her expressive eyes, her tall 
 and slender figure, her graceful bearing, and that last- 
 ing quality of good looks that has withstood the wear 
 and tear of a dozen years in the social whirl, maid and 
 matron, combine to win universal admiration, no mat- 
 ter how much we may dispute about the use of the 
 superlative in her case. 
 
 "Mrs. Ogden Mills is the most exclusive woman at 
 the opera. In her own estimation, at least, Mrs. Mills 
 is the Macgregor of society — where she sits is the head 
 of the table. If society were a four-in-hand coach Mrs. 
 Mills "would insist on tooling the vehicle with nobody 
 in the box seat. 
 
 "Mrs. James Lorillard Kernochan is the finest all- 
 around sportswoman at the opera. When Mrs. Ker- 
 nochan rides to hounds, the very birds in the air 
 hover on poised wing in envy of her grace, while the 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 69 
 
 boldest horseman of all the hunt finds it to the limit 
 of his skill to keep the pace she sets. 
 
 "Mrs. Henry Sloane is the best-gowned woman at 
 the opera. I tremble as I make the assertion, for I 
 know at least fifty women who will dispute the truth 
 of the statement af once, with the firm conviction that 
 each of them is better gowned than Mrs. Sloane. 
 
 "Mrs. John Jacob Astor is the most aristocratic 
 woman at the opera. Judgment here is based more 
 upon genealogy than the assumption of any Vere de 
 Vere airs by Mrs. Astor, although her good looks and 
 her wealth would have turned many a less sensible 
 head than hers." 
 
 Yet, not one of them is worthy the honor of being 
 the mother of a Washington or a Lincoln. No, there 
 is nothing desirable in that glittering assumption called 
 Elite society. 
 
 CHAPTER FIFTH. 
 
 Every man has religion and every man puts into 
 practice throughout his daily life his religion. Not 
 every man, however, has in his possession, Chris- 
 tianity. Religion is the efifort of man to restore him- 
 self from moral destruction; Christianity is the effort 
 of God to restore him from sin and degradation. 
 Religion is a code of discipline; Christianity is a sys- 
 tem of regeneration. Carlyle fittingly remarks, "It 
 is well said, in every sense, that a man's religion is 
 the chief fact with regard to him." The highest pur- 
 poses of religion is the revelation of truth — the funda- 
 mental doctrine of Christianity. In a way I regard 
 truth as the correct history of fact. The knowledge 
 of a fact about which truth has given an accurate 
 account brings freedom from mental bondage. Truth 
 is not fact, fact is not truth; fidelity is neither; but, 
 
each is radically and unalterably a part of the other. 
 The existence of fact does not always imply truth; 
 the existence of truth and fact does not necessarily 
 imply fidelity, but the existence of truth must of ne- 
 cessity imply fact. Fact is the action; truth is the 
 accurate record of that action; and, fidelity, the con- 
 forming result of fact and the accurate record of it. 
 Logical and moral truth are inseparable. To have one 
 you must have the other. Each is component of the 
 other; neither can stand alone. To illustrate: — I 
 pass along a certain street and see a man painting 
 the palings of a fence in three colors. I say to the 
 first person met that Mr. So and So is painting his 
 fence red, white and blue. The person spoken to 
 passes that way and finds, as I had said, the man 
 painting the fence — that is the fact, the action; each 
 alternate paling respectively, red, white and blue — 
 that is the truth, the correct account; when dry the 
 paint shows the same colors — that is fidelity, con- 
 formity of subsequent conditions to the fact of which 
 truth made a correct statement. Reverse the condi- 
 tions at any point and the result is apparent. I don't 
 care to talk about the fault in anyone. By constantly 
 recalling the faults of others we become faulty our- 
 selves. The most pleasure comes from ignoring the 
 fault and admirmg the virtue, except, of course, where 
 the growth of fault intercepts the growth of virtue. 
 Then charity has the right to act; not that charity 
 which consists in almsgiving, but that charity which 
 covers the faults of another, yet tends to their cor- 
 rection. It seems to be humanity's inherent weakness 
 to be forever flaunting the shortcomings of people, 
 but the Humble Man of Gallilee would teach us to 
 reason of the good and forget the bad within us. If 
 we expect to find a person who is faultless, on earth, 
 our expectation is in vain; hence, from that stand- 
 point alone, one person has no moral right to find 
 fault in another. Scripture advises that we "confess 
 our faults to one another," but nowhere is authority 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 71 
 
 given for finding fault of another; for, how can I 
 pick the "mote" from my neighbor's eye when I 
 have a "beam" in my own? No man was ever re- 
 deemed from the error of his ways by pointing out 
 the error only, but rather by glorifying the beauties 
 of right. He who sees the right must admire the 
 right, and by thinking of good rather than of evil, 
 unconsciously does the right because he knows noth- 
 ing else to do. 
 
 • The two principal recognized constituents of the 
 imiverse are matter and energy. Matter is anything 
 that occupies space; energy is that hidden, intan- 
 gible force, which when united with matter brings 
 about whatever form it may have. The correctness 
 of this pertient theory in physics is truthfully shown 
 by a block of coal being brought in contact with two 
 other forces equally powerful as to space and action. 
 There it is, an unshapely mass of seemingly lifeless 
 substance; tersely termed the imprisoned sunlight of 
 a thousand summer mornings. Cast it into the fur- 
 nace, and what happens? Ah, just so soon as the 
 energy in the coal rises to the zenith of that in the 
 fire it bursts forth in the glory of a golden morn- 
 ing, and the silent captives thus set at liberty, uniting 
 with other forces return to the power of light and 
 heat and the material returns to the earth from 
 which it came. Man is as distinct from the universe 
 as God is distinct from the universe, and His crown- 
 ing creation, man. Matter and energy constitute 
 them both. Both universe and man are dependent 
 upon processes peculiar to themselves for develop- 
 ment. Observation teaches that all things material 
 are constantly undergoing changes; that is, are fol- 
 lowing the mutations of a fixed order of things called 
 nature. While the animal, vegetable and mineral king- 
 doms are governed by similar laws of assimilation 
 and transformation, yet man, as an animal, must be 
 treated as a distinctive organization. He differs from 
 the lower animals in that whatever knowledge the 
 
72 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 lower animals seem to possess is instinctive, while 
 that of the human is intuitive and constructive. This 
 fact is amply shown in the truth that a horse, for in- 
 stance, may work in harness for a period of ten or 
 fifteen years, and at the end of that time, will not 
 know any more about plowing or performing the vari- 
 ous kinds of service for which the horse is useful 
 than at the beginning, except insofar as familiarity 
 with certain surrounding and regular routine may 
 bring it into action. The animal has but one knowfi 
 faculty — instinct — while man is a creature of many 
 faculties. However, according to the philosophy of 
 Epictetus, of all the given faculties, hidden powers, 
 with which the human being is invested, but one of 
 them is capable of contemplating itself and knowing 
 all the rest — that is the rational faculty — the will 
 power, the mind. Upon this ONE faculty rests, then, 
 the theorem from which is deduced the divinity of 
 man. Simply speaking, the soul, the spirituality in 
 man is practically all there is about him that enables 
 him to I ;ason, to think, to will — that makes him m- 
 telligent Is there a human being so devoid of un- 
 derstand iiig as not to be amazed at the unexampled 
 magnitu ;e of nature's treasure-house of values? Does 
 that man or woman exist, who is satisfied to think 
 all the mighty demonstrations of power and mystery 
 in creation so lavishly thrown in our way are but 
 things of chance? Unfathomable, profound mystery 
 surrounds us on all sides; evidences of divinity in 
 magic glow shape the course of our faltering foot- 
 steps, but the greatest and most impenetrable mystery 
 of all is man himself. Changeable as the moon, ^nd 
 uncertain as the winds that blow from the four cor- 
 ners of the earth, he hardly gets fixed in a position 
 or an opinion, till he becomes unfixed and susceptible 
 to change. Yet some there be who seem ready to 
 presume that man is soulless, Godless, salvationless, 
 and without destiny; except in next to the latter 
 case, as his good acts may redeem him through the 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 73 
 
 sanction of his own conscience and the approval of 
 his fellowmen. If man has no soul; if there is no 
 God; if no Savior ever paid the ransom for his trans- 
 gression; if when he dies, he is no different than a 
 dog, cat, horse or an ox, without destination or a 
 future, what virtue can there be in the argument that 
 he ought to live strictly in accordance with a fixed 
 code of moral laws and do homage to a rigid disci- 
 pline just for the mere satisfaction of having con- 
 science and his fellows approve of it? If man has 
 no soul he can have no conscience; if he have no 
 conscience, he cannot discriminate between right and 
 wrong, and stands before the world a mental pauper 
 shorn of all the sublime elements that go to qualify 
 his competency to determine truth and error; if he does 
 not know right from wrong and is morally incapable 
 of distinguishing truth from error, then he is in no- 
 wise better than the beasts of the field and there is 
 naught to elevate him above the level of an animal. 
 Without sfiul and conscience it is impossible to be 
 intelligent; therefore, from the standpoint of reason 
 itself, the whole theory of infidelity and atheism is 
 proven to be a fallacy — an absurd aggregation of non- 
 sensical sophistry. 
 
 "What matters it what faith or creed my brother 
 holds 
 
 If it to him through thought and deed the truth un- 
 folds? 
 
 What matters it what name he bears if on life's way 
 of pain and cares 
 
 He bears "the sign?" For his own soul must learn 
 the right 
 
 And his own eyes must see the, not mine or thine. 
 
 The same sun shines on all men's ways and chooses 
 none. 
 
 How should I think he sheds his rays on mine alone? 
 
 The life eternal dwells in all the germ of power how 
 shall I, then, 
 
74 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 Pronounce his doom when hi my brother's may bloom 
 the 'holy flower?' " 
 
 The thrill of happiness, the buoyancy of hope, and 
 the spirit of contentment, pass into dissimulative dis- 
 sidence when splendorous day lowers in royal robes 
 dimissory till curtained behind the sable garments 
 of night naught but gathering gloom appears. Hushed 
 to silence, nature breathes the quiet of a sabian god. 
 With no star to guide, no glowing moon to cast its 
 mellow light across the pathless space of heaven's 
 ebon vault, insidious inspissation blights the sheen 
 of inspiration's golden morn. So it ever is in human 
 life. The fruitful thoughts and the pleasant memo- 
 ries of a half-forgotten past mingle in painful recol- 
 lection when the sunlight of earthly experience van- 
 ishes into the shadowless gloom of that black night 
 called "death." The diluent forces of nature yield 
 to the salient cunning of that noiseless reaper, who 
 with sickle keen is stalking boldly abroad. The 
 brightest anticipations of the soul, the deepest 
 thoughts of mind, and the warmest impulses of the 
 heart glide into saturnine evanescence, when the 
 grim monster thrusts aside friend and foe and like 
 a chilling wave from mountains capped with snow 
 pushes his way into the home, and removes, un- 
 warned, the very member we seem least prepared to 
 spare. Thus against human wishes is the carcanet 
 of afftliation broken; thus the current of militant ac- 
 tivity is suddenly stopped in the uncertain course 
 of its progress and enjoyments. Bitter, indeed, is the 
 flood that flows from the fountain of tears, when the 
 last fleeting breath liberates a human soul from its 
 prison-house of clay. Oft is heard a heart-piercing 
 cry at the flickering of a life-light into eternity. 
 How sadly we note the demise of a loved one. and 
 realize with a full consciousness of griefful solemnity 
 that the rippling, mirth-provoking laugh will sound 
 on our ears no more and that voice of merriment 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 75 
 
 is hushed forever. Is it possible that the power of 
 those eyes wont to sparkle in the sunlight of pleas- 
 ure is eternally shut in by the narrow limits of the 
 tomb? Is it fate that decrees that the winning smile, 
 the crimson flush of joy rising unbidden from a ten- 
 der and affectionate heart shall be loclfed in the icy 
 embrace of death through all eternity? But such is 
 life. We know not the hour when we shall be called 
 to the exequies of a fellow creature. It may startle 
 to awake at the dawn and meet the shadows as they 
 steal across the threshold and reveal the conscious- 
 ness of mourning and desolation. Yet withal, this 
 condition of things should not seem so strange. 
 Earth is but the place in which humanity must be 
 fitted for something higher and better — a life more 
 lasting and sublime. A country in which mortality 
 is qualified for citizenship in the Golden City, peopled 
 with the ransomed hosts of God. Who has not felt 
 impressions of the sublimity of things, when standing 
 above the open grave into whose silent depths has 
 been lowered the body of one cherished with the fond- 
 est hopes of mortal love? Who has not, when bitter 
 tears gushed from, depths illy fitted to sustain their 
 torrent flow, looked up to heaven for comfort in the 
 hour of direst bereavement? Who has ever been able 
 to stand with the grief stricken and not feel emotions 
 of inner self rising to the surface moistened with the 
 mists of common sympathy; or, if from bursting 
 eyes no tear could be wrung, has not felt a gentle 
 wave of understanding sweeping through the deeper 
 current of human affection? Who in the innermost 
 recesses of his heart has not desired that every victim 
 of disease and death might go to a world of better 
 things? What death-bed scene has not inspired the 
 thought that another soul has but homeward winged 
 its flight? Through all the mutations of life we face 
 the truth, that to live is to die. Unkind seems the 
 fiat of fate, which relentlessly tears asunder the ten- 
 der cords that bind in common fealty the brotherhood 
 
76 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACJSE. 
 
 of man. But relentless and unyielding as the tendons 
 of the law may appear, we fain would cast the effer- 
 vescent shadows of brotherly love over the life-his- 
 tory of the dead, and in their mantled keeping afifect 
 a remembrance of only the good deeds of men after 
 they are not. 
 
 We go to the theater and studying the dramatis 
 personse note the different impersonations to be made 
 by the actors; then, as the interest grows apace, cog- 
 nizance is taken of the real character apparent of the 
 men acting the various parts in the drama. Some are 
 tragic, others are comic, still others are emotionally 
 sentimental; these are heightened in their vividness 
 by the cunning, conscienceless plotter and his emis- 
 sary, the unscrupulous villain. The whole cast must 
 be intensified by the victorious conquests of a noble 
 hero and beautified by the presence of the plucky 
 heroine. What we are; what we expect to be, are 
 indications on the dialplate of futurity of what we must 
 become if "we would keep pace with the progress of an 
 aggressive age and touch the greatest accomplish- 
 ments required by present demands. The mind is 
 forever active, and that it may lose no opportunity for 
 usefulness the individual ought to be active also. Sel- 
 dom, if ever, an actor brings out the most that his 
 part of the drama will admit of, except the character 
 in its fullness be a counterpart of some identical 
 principle within himself. That which is often con- 
 sidered the climax of high art in the dramatic world 
 is simply the acting of the impersonator true to his 
 nature. The real actor is never so true an artist as 
 when he unconsciously impersonates in its complete- 
 ness the innermost of himself. All imitation, then, 
 that is not true to the nature of the man falls short 
 of its highest degree of perfection, even though it 
 gleam and sparkle in the sheen of the artificial; being 
 artificial, every defect is clearly apparent to the true 
 scholar in natural affairs. Men may be so closely 
 imitated as to deceive, but nature supplanted, never! 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 77 
 
 People stop on the street to gaze at a bulletin board; 
 of course it is the bulletin they are gazing at. What 
 else could it be? Yet that simple catch-attention 
 afifair means and signifies vastly more than seems 
 apparent in the simple action of stopping and gazing. 
 There must have been some reason for stopping, oth- 
 erwise the people would not have stopped. This, then, 
 is the philosophical theorem from which is deduced 
 the proposition that it is only the unusual things that 
 attract men's minds and attention. This fact is proven 
 by the fact that beside this same bulletin board was a 
 fancy sign in variegated coloring, rich in fruitful words 
 and appealing sentences; yet, withal, the simple, unas- 
 suming, cold-facted bulletin possessed a clearer faculty 
 for "fetching" the crowd than gaudy colors or sublime 
 sayings. An informal retrospect of the past, even 
 though incomplete, would assure any ordinary person 
 of the necessity for wisdom in the future. The mis- 
 takes others have made and the shortcomings of our- 
 selves are connecting links in the great chain of human 
 progress which binds all people to a common respon- 
 sibility — the caring for and protection of the weak 
 and helpless in whatever struggles may come to them. 
 Men often commit crimes because of the incontroUable 
 desire within them to do something sensational, and 
 after getting into the clutches of the law, spring the 
 "insanity dodge" on a heretofore over-credulous pub- 
 lic as a challenge for its leniency. No man ever com- 
 mitted murder with his hands, who did not first per- 
 petrate the crime in his heart. Therefore it follows 
 without needless tedium in matters of argument that 
 if a man is capable of goading himself on to the com- 
 mittal of crime, he should be considered responsible 
 for it, and susceptible to the penalties of a broken 
 law. A judgment granted is not always a judgment 
 estimated; in many cases it is but the beginning of a 
 system of evolution that eventually unfolds the true 
 characters of the judged, and judge, which to say the 
 least are in nowise indicated by the initial adventure. 
 
78 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 I now recall an incident of my own life and experi- 
 ence: 
 
 'Twas in the month of beauteous flowers, when roses 
 and lilies were in bloom; 
 Anna became my radiant blushing bride. — I be- 
 came her happy, loving groom. 
 Often now in the dark, still hours of night, memory 
 steals to that fateful June 
 And recalls its many prospects bright, as they were 
 our wedding afternoon. 
 Love was sov'reign o'er all we thought and did, and 
 joy, a shadowless, pleasant dream — 
 Floated into four months and a year apace; nor did 
 it stop, in life's fitful stream — 
 Till one night, when death with wicked glares wrapt 
 us in terror and sore affright; 
 She called for earnest and ardent prayers, and I saw 
 her die, my heart's delight. 
 She prest my cheeks to her hot fev.ered brow and 
 breathed tenderly into my ears: 
 "The Master calls me; I go to him now; I knew 
 of this; so dry your tears. 
 Weep not for me, I pray you, now no more; I'm go- 
 ing where papa and sisters are — 
 Where bright angels sing on that golden shore, 
 and beckon me through the gates ajar. 
 "Sing again a glad song of Jesus' love, that redeems 
 from death, sin and the grave; 
 Let our voices now sound a Savior's praise, for the 
 plan of salvation He gave — 
 "Glory to God in the highest," she shouted, while "I 
 love Thee my Jesus," we sang — 
 Her eyes grew brighter and her heart seemed light- 
 er as through the night's stillness the echoes 
 rang. 
 Excited friends gathered 'round her bed, shocked to 
 think it at last must be true 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 79 
 
 That she'd soon be numered with the dead who was 
 now so young and strangely fair, 
 Alas, for poor humanity's shortened sight, that sees 
 not beyond the present tide! 
 Her eyes had already closed to earthly light, and 
 death had robbed me of my bride. 
 To young and old alike she spoke with cheer, tell- 
 ing us all how we ought to live: — 
 "I spent my life," she said, "In Godly fear, and can 
 'front all eternity may give. 
 Be true then, and honest before the world, God's 
 blessing daily by prayer invoke — 
 So that when death's chains shall bind you fast, you'll 
 be free from sin's ignoble yoke." 
 Thus her life closed like a glow in the west, 'mid 
 the triumphs of a living faith; 
 Thus her soul's temple went down to its rest, wreathed 
 in garlands of virtue and strength 
 Hope's bright morning in her countenance shone as 
 I gazed on her face cold and wan; 
 Her calm features more angelic had grown, as I saw 
 them at coming of dawn. 
 Heartbrok'n we fold'd her hands on her breast while 
 tears of grief from our soul we shed. 
 In her wedding robe, her body we dressed and bore 
 it to God's City of the Dead. 
 Sad and lonely to me have been the hours since 
 they buried her my pride and my love; 
 Yet "when night's curtain is pinn'd back by the stars" 
 her spirit rests 'round me and above. 
 
 CHAPTER SIXTH. 
 
 Politics is one thing, political economy quite an- 
 other. A man may be expert as a politician and at 
 the same time be plebeian in the science of economics. 
 
8o BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 Politics is a system of gaining position through power; 
 economics, the science of obtaining power through 
 position. The one is a matter of means, the other a 
 matter of men; each is diametrically opposed. To 
 say that a leader is a politician is not to say that he 
 is also an economist; to class a man as an economist 
 does not distinguish him a politician — one is the 
 science of comfort, the other the art of scheming. 
 Julius Caesar was successful as a shrewd politician, 
 but a flat failure as a political economist. He knew 
 the value of votes, but was devoid the secret of peace 
 and happiness. His dethronement resulted. 
 
 It is not a little surprising in this age of progress 
 and universal intelligence to note how some men with 
 insatiable cravings for political preferment insist en 
 being fondled in the lap of public sentiment and ca- 
 ressed by the Goddess of Liberty. The pedantry of 
 these would-be monarchs in some communities is lit- 
 tle less than intolerable. If tolerated at all, it is bvit 
 a forced obeisance which renders homage and not the 
 free will of a grateful liberty-loving people. This class 
 of individuals is born as other men are born, but lack- 
 ing the qualities of the true citizen they seek to climb 
 the heights for which no natural endowment exists, 
 and after attaining some degree of eminence as com- 
 morants persistently imagine that all other men, no 
 matter of what caste, character, or profession, are 
 under obligations to submit meekly and unquestion- 
 ingly to the encroachments of such arrogant auto- 
 crats. The true political aristocrat is he who can 
 and does appreciate the value and dignity of every 
 other real man or woman. He has the key for solv- 
 ing the aesthetic problem of having all things in com- 
 mon. The true ruler of a people will as naturally 
 drop into line and find his place among them as water 
 finds its Ipvel. Where the place seeks the man posi- 
 tion and leadership bestow themselves properly upon 
 the right. Men defend a thing as true only when they 
 themselves doubt. The truth needs no defense. It is 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 8i 
 
 able to sustain itself at all times and under all cir- 
 cumstances. Strike it down and it will rise again; 
 bury it beneath a mountain of opposition and it will 
 escape as certainly as sunlight scatters darkness; con- 
 fine it in the darkest caverns of the Deep and it will 
 ride the rolling billows as grandly as the proudest 
 ship; burn its face with calumny and it will triumph 
 as majestically as the spirit of Him who gave it; pol- 
 lute its robes with falsehood, it will free itself as se- 
 renely as the dove of peace carries a message of good 
 will to men; try as you will, resort to whatever meas- 
 ures you will, truth will outlive every foe and over- 
 come every obstacle. Therefore, it in nowise matlers 
 ■whether men become leaders or followers, in the true 
 sense, they must approach such position through qual- 
 ifications naturally belonging to them. The right to 
 reject any and all aspirations of men for political 
 control fittingly obtains as a sovereign heritage and 
 is the imperial means through which the principles of 
 justice and equity are enforced. When the people take 
 up and use such properly vested right as the natural 
 weapon of defense against despotic infringement, it 
 would be as easy to stop the tides of ocean as it would 
 be to block the current of popular sentiment. Though 
 free to act as citizens of the grandest r^epublic on 
 earth, yet many are the pierced American hearts that 
 bleed in agony because some human vampire plumed 
 and gloating has fixed them as a mark for his spumous 
 invectives and unrighteous schemes — a vampire hide- 
 ous, whose gluttonous greed craves for him the spoils 
 of every conquest, whether noble or ignoble. With 
 no consciousness of justice he sets the heel of ty- 
 ranny upon the liberties of his fellows and tears piece- 
 meal the franchise of the commonweal, and calls it 
 putrid; he burns deep in the flank of nationalism the 
 insidious brand of oppression and fetters America in 
 bondage. Anarchy is his name. 
 
 illustration: Lowell's "behind the curtain." 
 Recent investigations by chemists concerning the 
 
82 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 modest and withal unobtrusive appearing cigarette 
 show that under cover of apparent legitimacy, there 
 lingers a deadly asp, as did in the basket of flowers 
 presented to Cleopatra, destined to sting the bright- 
 est and best of our race with a withering blight. Like 
 unto Bonous Upas of the moistless desert, its poison- 
 ous fumes inoculate every breeze. Faced with the 
 proposition of honest business, unscrupulous manu- 
 facturers and dealers thrust upon the market a method 
 of drugging that eventually must unfit a large percent- 
 age of the human race for meeting its obligations. 
 moral and physical, to the world and posterity. Of 
 all the habits which are apt to be acquired in this life 
 the consumption of opium is among the most deplor- 
 able. There are other habits more offensive, perhaps, 
 at the time being, but there are none which so thor- 
 oughly and stealthily rob a man of all that is manly as 
 the habit of indulging in this stultifying, deadly drug. 
 Verily the end of the cigarette fiend is horrible and the 
 business of the vender is damnable ; yet, withal as abom- 
 inable as the whole matter seems, it is no less honor- 
 able, morally, than the business of unprincipled 
 politicians who set in motion a system of 
 politics which degrades a man and challenges his in- 
 tegrity. Such is the policy of every citizen who wishes 
 to reduce his country to the extreme limit of national 
 disintegration, and the effects of the fatal cigarette 
 are no more disastrous to the race than is the cor- 
 rupting influence of mere partyism destructive to the 
 empyreal power of American franchise. Among the 
 great questions haunting the courts of political juris- 
 prudence beneath the waving folds of the Stars and 
 Stripes, today, is the admittance of woman to equal 
 suffrage, and as a matter of course has influenced 
 champions and incensed opposers. Whatever con- 
 clusion may be correct in the premises it may be sa'd 
 in defense that the society is not stable, nor can it 
 hope to be enduring; which fails to admit as a chain 
 thread in the web of its vital fabric the redeeming vir- 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 83 
 
 ttie of woman's influence. She wields the strongest 
 forces for good, and since no organization, whether 
 secular or religious, is or ever has been independent 
 of woman's efifort to be right no good reason exists 
 why the world would not be materially benefited by 
 extending her field of usefulness. History shows that 
 the world has never had a crisis when woman did not 
 contribute largely to whatever success came in pass- 
 ing it. If her counsel, wisdom and sympathies are 
 trustworthy and a desideratum in times of peril, it 
 seems as though there could be no valid objection to 
 according each daughter of Eve the coveted privilege 
 of registering her likes and dislikes in times of peace. 
 If any doubt exists as to her competency to act judi- 
 ciously and patriotically, it is at least in a measure 
 abrogated by the belief that the ballot would certainly 
 be as safe in the average woman's keeping as it now 
 is in the hands of millions of so-called citizens who 
 can claim the right of franchise on no better qualifica- 
 tions than that they are male inhabitants of lesral age. 
 Morally, woman has a right to vote, being as she is 
 a citizen, paying taxes to maintain governmental in- 
 stitutions and answering to the requirements of civil 
 law. The theory seems pertinent that American politics, 
 at least, will not be pure until the American women 
 realize an opportunity to make them pure. The island 
 of Java is one of the Dutch colonial dependencies called 
 the kingdom of Bantam, an independent little king^ 
 dom governed and defended by women. The nominal 
 sovereign is a man, whose council of state consists 
 of three women. All the authorities and officials of 
 court and state and the soldiers are women. The men 
 are agriculturists and merchants only, and the king — 
 as in the case of the ruler of Dahomey — has a cavalry 
 body-guard of amazons, beautifully drilled, and armed 
 with spears and carbines. So much for at least one 
 Holland tributary and so much in support of the 
 twentieth century woman in politics. But turn the 
 canvas and scan the picture on the opposite side for 
 
84 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 a little while. "The woman was made for the man, 
 but not the man for the woman." The all-wise Creator 
 knew what was best when He planned the work of 
 men and women, and accordingly furnished each with 
 organism suited to the duties of their respective offices 
 with regard to each other and the race. Had God 
 intended woman to be a creature of conquest, He 
 would have organized her with faculties and facilities 
 in keeping with that purpose. She was second in 
 creation and it seems right that she should be guilt- 
 less in the matter of trying to reverse distinctions in 
 procreation. To oppose the natural order of things 
 is sure to bring trouble, and because of her properly 
 inferior organism, woman has advanced but little be- 
 yond the line of failure any where except in the 
 Home, in society, and in the church. These are her 
 fort and she should be satisfied with them. Nations 
 reflect their womanhood in the men they have. 
 Woman has the first chance at man and if she does 
 not make out of him what she wants him to be she 
 has nobody to blame but herself. Men, as a rule, are 
 very much what their mothers taught them to be. If 
 the mothers of our country seek to rear honorable 
 men, it is honorable men they will see. This nation 
 is not nearly so much in need of women legislators 
 as it is in need of WOMEN mothers. Cervantes' 
 Don Quixote was no more of a ridiculous commen- 
 tary upon the Knight Errantry of Spain, than is this 
 much agitated question of woman's suffrage a bur- 
 lesque on the manhood of America. What is wanted 
 and most needed is lingeried homemakers, not bifur- 
 cated lawmakers. If woman will take care of the 
 heme, it is consistent to think that the nation will 
 take care of itself and her too. What more can she 
 ask? If she will attend strictly to her known part 
 of the work she will be contented and happy, and no 
 cause will exist for criticising or reversing the plans 
 of her Creator. Turn, if you please, to the history 
 of the Holy Women of Israel; and, again, to the 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 85 
 
 Heroic Women of France— there learn that their 
 having won a place in the history of the world's 
 achievements is due to their tenderness, sympathy and 
 love, rather than to prowess as politicians, diplomats 
 or warriors. And again, turn to the touching story 
 of Disraeli in announcing the death of Princess Alice 
 in Parliament. She had been cautioned by the physi- 
 cian not to inhale the breath of her little boy, who 
 was ill of diphtheria. The little fellow was toss- 
 ing in his bed in the delirium of fever. The princess 
 stood by the side of her child and laid her hand upon 
 his forehead and caressed him. The touch cooled the 
 fevered brain and brought the wandering soul_ back 
 from its wild delirium to nestle for a moment in the 
 lap of a mother's love. Then throwing his arms 
 atound her neck he whispered: "Mamma, kiss me."- 
 The instinct of a mother's love is stronger than 
 science or statesmanship or royalty, and she pressed 
 her lips to those of her child. And yet there is not 
 a true woman in all the wide world but would say 
 she had not a real mothers' heart had she refused 
 to kiss her bairn. So it will be to the end. The 
 true mother will kiss her child, the wife her husband, 
 and the maiden her lover, though death in a thousand 
 shapes is ambushed 'neath the ruby tint of pouting 
 lips. The world had its Alexander, Rome its Caesar, 
 France its Napoleon, Germany its Bismarck, England 
 its Gladstone, Ireland its Parnell, America its Wash- 
 ington, its Lincoln and its Blaine, and withal, the 
 brilliancy of each of these shining stars in the horo- 
 scope of nations is but the glorified scintillations of 
 a mother's undying love and watchful care. What 
 thoughtful person does not glean the essence of pu- 
 rity and power from that beautiful poem by Joaquin 
 Miller: 
 
 "The bravest battle that ever was fought, shall I tell 
 you where and when? 
 
86 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 On the maps of the world you will find it not; 'twas 
 
 fought by the mothers of men. 
 Nay, not with cannon, or battle shot, with sword or 
 
 nobler pen; 
 Nay, not with eloquent words or thought, from mouths 
 
 of wonderful men. 
 But deep in a walled-up woman's heart — of woman 
 
 that would not yield, 
 But bravely, silently bore her part — lo! there is that 
 
 battlefield. 
 No marshaling troop, no bivouac song; no banner to 
 
 gleam and wave; 
 But oh! these battles they last so long — from baby- 
 hood to the grave. 
 Yet, faithfully still as a bridge of stars, she fights in 
 
 her walled up town — 
 Fights on and on in the endless wars, then silent, un- 
 seen — goes down. 
 O, ye with banners and battle shot, and soldiers to 
 
 shout and praise, 
 1 tell you the kingliest victories fought, were fought 
 
 in these silent ways. 
 O, spotless woman in a world of shame! with splendid 
 
 and .silent scorn, 
 Go back to God as white as you came, the kingliest 
 
 warrior born!" 
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTH. 
 
 The relations which every person sustains in life, with 
 regard to home, education, society, religion and poli- 
 tics, each and all have within them some characteristic 
 evidencing the fact that behind all legitimate purpose 
 there rests an active principle, which gives to all suc- 
 cessful enterprise its primary motive and latent energy. 
 
 Carrying this proposition to its final conclusion, we 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 87 
 
 find that the young man's brightest prospects for suc- 
 cess, as the world measures success, lies in the fact 
 of his having a business ; a calling or profession ; some 
 regular and approved method for bringing to his aid 
 and use, a profit above the amount of his investment 
 in capital and the employment of native talent and me- 
 chanical skill. 
 
 Among the various spheres through which the young 
 man or woman may move are the domestic, educational, 
 social, religious, political, commercial and fraternal. 
 
 Of these multiplied sources of contact and enter- 
 prise, the commercial world is not the least important. 
 In fact business operations become the principal en- 
 gagement in the minds of both parents and children., 
 The promise held out by commercial life, often becomes 
 so intense as to swallow up all other considerations. 
 
 How to accumulate money or its equivalent, and a 
 lot of it, is the all-absorbing question which confronts 
 each indiv dual from the time he or she is competent to 
 recognize the size, shape, color and use of a penny, 
 until the hoary frosts of age paint the landscape of 
 white on brews that have stood till the evening of life^ 
 
 As a rule parents puzzle themselves with the ques- 
 tion of "how shall we advantage our sons and daughters, 
 so that they shall be able to gain vast amounts of 
 wealth, and do it easier than we have been able to do?" 
 This object becomes in time the fondest ideal of their 
 doting hearts. But is the fondest ideal the highest 
 ideal? Without a doubt. But then, is it the noblest, 
 most righteous ideal? Possibly not, in many instances. 
 
 Ruskin fitly criticises this practice where he calls at- 
 tention to the fact that most parents in seeking out 
 a suitable instructor for their children, do not require 
 the larger nature of the children to be developed, so 
 much as they require that the young minds and hands 
 be taught the art and cunning of money-getting. As 
 a result, the world today is groaning beneath its burden 
 of money-makers, and it cannot be safely said that 
 morality and merit have grown commensurate to the 
 status of wealth and its systems of manipulation. 
 
88 BENXIE, THE PYTHIAX OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 When a boy or girl learns to measure merit by the 
 standard of dollars and cents, he or she invariably, 
 knows the secrets of commercial hypocrisy, and try 
 as we will, the delusive subordination of shifting profits 
 and losses can never be made to balance or replace 
 the absence of intellectual growth. 
 
 It is a part of the work of fraternity to cause a man 
 to forsake his avariciousness, by touching and tender- 
 ing his heart with the sweeter influence of love, hope 
 and charity, without which life itself could be nothingi 
 more than a delightful dream. 
 
 Next to and above all the rest in a young man's 
 early life is his anticipation for future success. So 
 important does the fact of facility become in the ex- 
 istence of every person that it can well be said a 
 man's profession or business is the thing of vital 
 consideration to him. His ability to move independ- 
 ently through the world is measured very largely 
 by his skill in acquiring by some method that which 
 will pass as an equivalent in value to his needs. 
 Clothes, food and a competency above actual cxpe.nses 
 are the natural incentives to industry. Whether a 
 man be cultured or uncultured, it is the labor of his 
 hands which contains his permanent capital. To 
 some their trade or profession becomes their hobby. 
 This should not be. A man's trade or profession 
 should at best be no more than a secondary matter — 
 the means by which temporal wants are in a popular 
 sense supplied. Never make your business the prin- 
 cipal theme of conversation. There is, perhaps, 
 nothing more despicable to the average mind than 
 to hear people always talking about their trade or 
 profession. If a man Ts a good workman, his work 
 and his employers are the proper sources from which 
 a reputation should come. if. as with some, reputation 
 is the thing desired. If a man is a bad workman his 
 loss of situation and his work are sure to advertise 
 him. 
 
 To acquire a fortune seems to be the highest am- 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 89 
 
 bition of most men. A fortune on paper is easy 
 enough to contemplate, but when it comes to a real- 
 ization of the same it requires hard labor, patience 
 and economy. On the line of economy, I am con- 
 vinced that it is not what a man earns, but what he 
 saves that makes for him a fortune. The average young 
 man spends enough money each week, for which he 
 receives no substantial good in return, to make him 
 independently rich, if kept for a period of years. We 
 lose too much time, and time is money. Just calcu- 
 late for a moment on the amount of time that people 
 lose: "Five minutes per day wasted for ten years 
 makes 18,250 minutes or one i month ; ten minutes per 
 day wasted for ten years makes more than 600 hours 
 or two months; thirty minutes per day wasted for ten 
 years makes 1,825 hours or a half year; sixty min- 
 utes or one hour per day wasted for ten years makes 
 3,620 hours or i year out of every ten. How few 
 waste so little as one hour per day. Progress may 
 be slow, but how "much could be accomplished, how 
 much learned in the moments that are wasted; how 
 much self-improvement could every man and woman 
 obtain, and how much better and abler could he or she 
 become by employing the time that is wasted doing 
 nothing or something that is no better than nothing. 
 In the course of an ordinary man's life, he absolutely 
 wastes more time than would take him throusrh col- 
 lege and make him one of the educated men of his 
 day and locality." 
 
 Every man should have a vocation, and he should 
 choose that vocation for himself. No person should 
 attempt to learn a trade or profession without first 
 weighing himself in the balance and then for good 
 and sufificient reasons select that profession or trade 
 in which he finds himself least wanting in natural 
 adaptability. I observe my own experience, which is 
 but the story of thousands for whom so-called friends 
 have tried to select a calling. I appreciate in 1 feel- 
 ing sense, the hight of seeming accomplishment. Peo- 
 
90 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 pie tell me I am endowed with a genius, brilliant and 
 v^nviable. Some go so far as to advise me as to a 
 Aiture course. Several say I am best suited for the 
 profession of law; others say the medical profession; 
 still others the stage; while a larger number select 
 for me the ministry. However, I have endeavored to 
 use my own counsel, in the premises, and have made 
 Journalism my choice, believing as I do, that no 
 broader field is open in this day and age of the wor'd 
 for an ambitious man. No class of men, in my judg- 
 ment, have a wider range for the accumulation of 
 general information than the Journalists of our time. 
 iNo ladder of fame has so few shining stars on the top 
 round as Journalism; no mountain of educational fa- 
 cility has so broad a plateau of uncultivated, tillable 
 lands, rich and fertile in the mental products of the 
 19th century as this mountain of Journalism. It isn't 
 every "quill pusher" who wears out pencils at an 
 editor's desk that is a Journalist. In fact, almost any 
 "country parson" or "skule master" can assume the 
 role of an editor with "proper dignity" ; but it takes 
 BRAINS, and lots of them to make a Journalist. I 
 would not imply by the foregoing that I consider 
 myself a Journalist, or that I ever expect to reach 
 the highest rounds of distinction on that ladder of 
 fame, but it is my intention to infer that I believe my- 
 self better adapted to newspaper work than to any 
 other line of professional life. Although my experi-" 
 ence in the world has been considerable and varied; 
 though my spare time has been largely given to ex- 
 periment and study; and, by these some degree of 
 efficiency has been attained in my chosen profession, 
 yet after all, I feel more and more each day like 
 saying as did the silver-haired sage: "Alas, how little 
 do I know! What more have I gained than a term?" 
 As I ponder over the words of such thinkers as Epic- 
 tetus, Antoninus, Cicero, Plutarch, Bacon, Carlyle, 
 Emeison, and others, and contemplate the depth of 
 their power and learning the thought comes to me 
 
. THE MODERN DUALITY. 91 
 
 that I can never be more than a mere atom — a medi- 
 ocre in pursuit of a "will-'o-the-wisp. However, Joel 
 Chandler Harris offers some consolation where he says: 
 "Genius! Bosh! It's hard work, I tell you. While 
 ^some of you fellows are building castles that crumble 
 I'm at a desk — at work. I haven't time to stare the 
 fire out of countenance. I'd rather build log cabins 
 on earth than loaf around among the stars. And that's 
 what I do. I nail myself to a chair and bend to the 
 work, and when you see it flowing pretty fast you 
 say, 'That's genius !' Go to work, my brother, go to 
 work." 
 
 A review of Chapter Six reveals a conservative argu- 
 ment on woman's right to a place in politics. Her 
 defense there is so strong in her favor that it seems 
 inconsistent to ignore her presence and influence in 
 business. That she has a right and influence is not 
 a matter of conjecture and surely her opportunity for 
 competition and the advantage she takes of it proves 
 her competency. We love her most, though, in an- 
 other sphere than the bustling mart or the dizzy 
 whirl of business enterprise; she does not appear at 
 her best in commercial operations. Her principal 
 fort is in the home and at housekeeping. In this 
 avocation she can and does excel, if she studies her 
 business. Observation has shown me that there are a 
 great many housekeepers who know comparatively 
 nothing about the finer art of homekeeping. House- 
 keeping is not homekeeping, homekeeping is not 
 housekeeping. To say that a woman is a good house- 
 keeper is liot to exactly attest her a good homekeeper- - 
 to state that a woman is a good homekeeper is to intimate 
 also that she is more or less familiar with the details of 
 housekeeping. What difference do I make between 
 housekeeping and homekeeping? Simply this: Home- 
 keeping bears about the same relation to housekeep- 
 ing that a fleece of wool bears to the sheep — the sheep 
 is covered by the fleece, but cannot cover the fleece. 
 In other words, the fleece is not the sheep, the sheep 
 
92 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 is not the fleece; yet, the two from their very nature 
 are inseparable. Housekeeping consists chiefly in 
 the preparation of a proportionate amount of food 
 each day, looking after the laundry, placing bric-a- 
 brac, hanging pictures and arranging curtains, dusting, 
 sweeping, making beds, dressing the children, receiv- 
 ing callers and entertaining friends. THIS IS THE 
 SHEEP. Homekeeping signifies the ability to per- 
 form all the duties of keeping house, and in addition 
 incorporates the delicate art of making home the 
 dearest spot on earth by shedding abroad in it an in- 
 fluence that brings husband, son and daughter to- 
 gether by the simple bonds of affection. There are 
 a great many so-called homes which are merely lodg- 
 ing places, where the members appear at regular in- 
 tervals for their meals and to sleep. Cheerless and 
 dreary, nothing of that comfort which keeps a man 
 interested in himself and his is found; hence, he seeks 
 pleasure otherwhere, and his wife wonders, and may- 
 hap his neighbors wonder why he does ndt pass more 
 time in the society of his family. Housekeeping im- 
 poses no task greater than catering to the physical 
 wants of the household, while homekeeping has to 
 deal with the happiness or unhappiness of each mem- 
 ber of that household. THIS IS THE FLEECE. 
 There is no nobler work for woman than the duty 
 of caring for the homes of our land. She should 
 study it, live it, be it, and her crown of reward must 
 of necessity be studded with brighter stars than she 
 could possibly win in competition to her brothers in 
 any of the other worlds of common enterprise. God 
 knew what was wisest and best when he planned the 
 work of men and women, and try as we will, the 
 race cannot succeed without homes and mothers; and, 
 no improvement has yet been invented over first prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 In the wild, mad rush for fame and wealth, while 
 throngs are pressing with relentless tread toward the 
 goal of glittering assumption called worldly honor, 
 
THE MODERN DUALITY. 93 
 
 it may be profitable to the young man to stop and re- 
 flect a moment on the fact that compartively few really 
 great men are much spoken of in history. Reputa- 
 tions are won by individuals at some particular thing 
 or on some particular line. Some have gained dis- 
 tinction as generals, others have merited homage as 
 statesmen, 'while still others have grown large in the 
 public eye as civic reformers. Who has not admired 
 Napoleon, Washington, Grant, as generals? Bismarck 
 and Blaine, as statesmen? Gladstone and Lincoln, as 
 civilians and reformers? Yet withal the man who 
 would achieve true greatness is he who conquers him- 
 self. The most difficult conquest ever carried by any 
 man, is the conquest over self. He who gains the 
 victory over self has outrode Washington, Grant or 
 Napoleon; outshone Blaine or Bismarck; accom- 
 plished more than Lincoln or the "Grand Old Man." 
 There is a vast difference between reputation and 
 true greatness. Reputation is usually what it seems 
 to be — a meteoric flash. Character is what it is — the 
 sum total of whatever degree of greatness to which 
 the individual possessing it aspires. Learn your busi- 
 ness, young man, then work at it, for as Ruskin says: 
 "The law of nature is that a certain amount of work 
 is necessary to produce a certain quantity of good of 
 any kind whatever. If you want knowledge, you must 
 toil for it; food, you must toil for it; and if pleasure, 
 you must toil for it." 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Some things there are in this life which of them- 
 selves are occult; others there be, which become so 
 through manipulation. Of the naturally unfathomable, 
 the mysterious movements of those tender chords that 
 bind in common fealty the Brotherhood of Man, per- 
 haps are as little understood as many of the other 
 laws active in the Universe and among the families 
 of Earth. The Law of Friendship is not unlike the 
 law of gravitation — invisible, intangible — yet so force- 
 ful that all material matter is subject to its. involu- 
 tions. True Friendship springs spontaneous and un- 
 bidden from the human heart, and in the ultimate of 
 its excellence, recognizes no weight, comprehends no 
 height, measures no limits, shapes no bounds, but 
 exists as an infinite power of containableness. Though 
 spontaneous, its coming in life may not be instantane- 
 ous. For, as Joanna Bailie has pertinently said in 
 those beautiful lines in DeMontfort: 
 
 "Friendship is no plant of hasty growth. 
 "Though rooted in esteem's deep soil, the slow 
 "And gradual culture of kind intercourse 
 "Must bring it to perfection." 
 
 It is certainly a most appreciable thing for one per- 
 son to receive from another the candid assurance that 
 he or she is regarded as a friend. As a rule we never 
 know to a certainty just who our real friends are until 
 some turn in our affairs causes us to need the assist- 
 ance of those outside our own family circle. Every 
 individual who pats you on the shoulder and in mo- 
 ments of enthusiasm shouts "good fellow," cannot be- 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 95 
 
 cause of such things necessarily be termed your 
 friend. In fact, it often so turns out that he who 
 ecstatically swears eternal allegiance and good fellow- 
 ship to you, is only biding his opportunity to plunge 
 the dagger of rivalric hatred and infidelity into your 
 back — that too in an hour when you are disarmed, 
 helpless or not expecting treachery from any source. 
 Many trusting hearts have been drained of their con- 
 fidence through wounds inflicted by conscienceless 
 dagger-thrusts of supposed friends. Bacon knew what 
 he was saying when he wrote his inimitable essay on 
 "Friendship." Bailie, Fuller, Young, Addison, Cath- 
 erine Phillips, and all the rest for that matter, were 
 not ignorant of the qualities necessary to constitute a 
 true friend. So long as one is in position to carry 
 the sweep of fortune and float with the tide of pop- 
 ular favor, seeming friends flock on all sides like 
 moths fluttering about a brightly burning lamp. But 
 let misfortune come; let the dark clouds of adversity 
 gather and the multitude of apparent friends, like a 
 flock of sheep at sight of a hungry wolf, scatter in 
 all directions — at best but a very limited number re- 
 maining behind to know what becomes of you. When 
 the shimmering chimera which attracts the worldly, 
 selfish, mercenary friends is gone, the incentive and 
 make-believe friends are gone also. Therefore, pur- 
 suant to a sensible sort of philosophy, if you find a 
 true friend in adversity, it will be eminently safe to 
 retain him in prosperity, even though he be, as is 
 sometimes the case, but a plain, matter-of-fact, un- 
 assuming ignoramus, so to speak. A true friend . is 
 he, and he only, who administers to our wants when 
 we are in need and cannot help ourselves, and when 
 all others have forsaken. The value of a friend is 
 not to be measured by the estimate society and the 
 world has placed upon him. Did we go to the forum 
 of public opinion for eligibles to our innermost faith 
 as we go to Dun and Bradstreet to learn the respon- 
 sibility of a merchant, it is likely that a long list of 
 
96 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 desirable names could be selected, but since we can 
 only appeal to one source for the selection of those 
 in whom to confide — instinct — it is the common lot 
 of all to find the number of eligibles painfully limited. 
 It is hardly to be expected that those who cluster 
 about you at party or ball with smirk and smile and 
 ethereal levity, would make any attempt whatever to 
 •protect your property against depreciation, throw safe- 
 guards around your body at the approach of danger, 
 or defend your character against the searing breath 
 of calumny. Rather those, who, know the inurements 
 of pain and sorrow on the practical side of life, are 
 the ones usually first to intuitively read a nature in 
 need and respond promptly to its instinctive call for 
 help. 
 
 There is a wide difiference between Acquaintance- 
 ship and Friendship. Our acquaintances are simply 
 those with whom society brings us in contact, while 
 our friends are those to whom we consign the keep- 
 ing of our moral interests and in whom we confide 
 our inmost secrets. The former may exist and asso- 
 ciate on approval, but the latter have vitality and 
 worth only through the mysterious contrivances of 
 implicit confidence. We choose our friends from 
 among our acquaintances, and touching such choice 
 Young says, in "Night Thoughts:" — 
 
 "First on thy friend deliberate with thyself: 
 "Pause, ponder, sift; not eager in the choice, 
 "Now jealous of the chosen — fixing, fix; 
 "Judge before friendship, then confide till death." 
 
 Where two persons are in reality true friends, neither 
 of them experiences any difficulty in believing absolute- 
 ly and faithfully in the other, because as Catherine 
 Phillips asserts: — 
 
 "Friendship's an abstract of this noble flame, 
 " 'Tis love refined and purged from all its dross, 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 97 
 
 " 'Tis next to Angel's love, if not the same, 
 " As strong as passion is, though not so gross." 
 
 Where such conditions of heart obtain doubt is 
 among the impossibilities, and fidelity comes as na- 
 turally as the spirit of contentment or the impulse of 
 ambition, leading onward and upward to that higher 
 and purer atmosphere where the eye of the Soul can 
 see and feel as did the mind and heart of Bacon, when 
 he said: — "It had been hard for him that spake it to 
 have put more truth and untruth together in few 
 words than in that speech, 'Whosoever is delighted in 
 solitude is either a wild beast or a god; for it is most 
 true that a natural and secret hatred and aversion to- 
 wards society in any man hath somewhat of the sav- 
 age beast ; but it is most untrue that it should have any 
 character at all of the Divine nature, except it pro- 
 ceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, but out of a 
 love and desire to sequster a man's self for a higher 
 conversation: for a crowd is not company, and faces 
 are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling 
 cymbal, where there is no love. * * * It is a mere 
 and miserable solitude to want true friends, without 
 which the world is but a wilderness. Whosoever in 
 the frame of his nature and affections is unfit for friend- 
 ship, he taketh it of the beast and not from humanity. 
 
 A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and dis- 
 charge of the fullness of the heart, which passions of 
 all kinds do cause and induce. We know^ diseases of 
 stoppings and suffocations are the most dangerous in 
 the body; and, it is not much otherwise in the mind; 
 you may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open 
 the spleen, flower of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum 
 for the brain, but no recipe openeth the heart but a 
 true friend, to whom you may impart griefs, joys, 
 fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth 
 upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift 
 or confession." When persons have seen, instinctive- 
 ly, each through the very nature of the other, and can 
 
98 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 fully feel the uniting strength predominant, no safer 
 plan presents itself for the perpetuation of that frame 
 of mind than to adopt Shakespeare's advice: 
 
 "The friends thou hast and their adoption tried. 
 "Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; 
 "Nor, dull thy palm of entertainment, 
 "With each new-found, untried fledgling." 
 
 Emerson says, "Friendship, like the immortality of 
 the soul, is too good to be believed."' In support of this 
 theory I bring the experience of life in evidence, fully 
 confident that the reader will recognize much in it that 
 is common to the lives of all true hearts who have seen 
 and believed beyond the coarser atmosphere of egotism 
 and individuality alone : 
 
 I reign dow^n deep in a real woman's heart, 
 
 In the fond heart of my friend kind and true; 
 
 Pauline — who with affection's nicer art, 
 
 Hath certain gone her way my own heart through. 
 
 I mean not that coarse, sentimental flush. 
 
 So eagerly sought by the indiscreet; 
 
 But finer thought — -to speak, we need not blush — 
 
 Strongest bondage of the Soul, pure and sweet. 
 
 Oft have her soulful orbs beamed with surprise. 
 When I, somehow by the suddenness of chance. 
 Would above petty things of Earth arise, 
 And point out acts our morals to enhance. 
 She came to me like a star in the sky. 
 Gleaming beacon to my faltering feet; 
 And, her kindness won me, I know not why, 
 The very first time we'd a chance to meet. 
 
 'Twas on a beautiful winter's evening. 
 On the thirty-first day of December, 
 Kosciuskoans were then receiving 
 Enmask, if correctly I remember. 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 99 
 
 'Twas a select party of girls and boys; 
 Of young men and women in Syracuse 
 Who came full of vim and all sorts of toys, 
 To please the others and themselves amuse, 
 
 T attended at the hostess' request, 
 
 To write of the things I could hear and see, 
 
 Thereby answering a social behest — 
 
 To -watch with them— egress of ninety-three. 
 
 My suit was common, like that of the host — 
 
 An ordinary business attire — 
 
 While she, now my friend, was dressed as a ghost; 
 
 Which costume, I did not then much admire. 
 
 But when the supper hour came with a bound. 
 Just before the old year went swiftly out, 
 And the guests filled almost three tables 'round 
 Indulging all, in jest and smile and pout. 
 The hostess introduced my lady friend, 
 Who, with lowly bow and a tender smile — 
 Gave to me her attention there and then, 
 And 'gan at once my spirits to beguile. 
 
 Later on at a social reception. 
 
 She sat to my left 'mid the guests so grand;— 
 I think her now, as then, with exception; 
 I know her better— do you understand? 
 She has gone with me to party and ball. 
 And given me many a pleasing chance. 
 To study her qualities, each and all — 
 To learn that she may own worth could enhance. 
 
 All these years she's been my Councellor wise, 
 As touching things of interest to both_; 
 Plans to make me glad she seems to devise, 
 And to break our friendship she's ever loath. 
 She confides me all of her secrets too— 
 Those knawing troubles refined women know— 
 
 L.ofC. 
 
lOO BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 And often wonders what she'd better do, 
 The absence of such ill-feeling to show. 
 
 Many times have I heard her trembling sighs, 
 And saw her bosom heave with sobs, 
 While tears flowed freely from her flaming eyes, 
 And her heart beat wildly, its aching throbs. 
 At such times the most I could do or say, 
 Was just to look her calmly in the face — 
 Brush the scalding drops from her cheeks away. 
 And coax happy smiles to brighten their place. 
 
 Oft have the little windows of her soul, 
 Been thrown full open to my gaze, so wide, 
 That I saw no duty, save to condole, 
 The tender heart that me she did confide. 
 Trustingly she'd permit me — only guest — 
 To remove the treacherous holocaust, — 
 While I'd try to woo troubled thought to rest; 
 Would offer sympathy — whate'er she'd lost. 
 
 Some people may think our attachment queer. 
 
 Considering I'm a man — she's a maid; 
 
 But no manner of senseless talk or jeer, 
 
 Can change what I believe, or what I've said. 
 
 To me, she is the plainest, frankest friend. 
 
 Who speaks deploringly of all her fault, 
 
 And seemeth ever ready to descend, 
 
 To where my own base moods she can exalt. 
 
 To the individual seeing through the light of a clari- 
 fied vision there come singular, yet competent con- 
 ceptions of the beauty, strength and utility of that 
 inner unity of forces titled, "Friendship." In the his- 
 tory of. all ages the incidents where true souls were 
 "knit together," as the sacred writer puts it, in the 
 purest bonds of faith are rare, and have called out 
 more or less memorialization. Damon and Pythias, 
 two Pythagoreans, who lived in the fourth century 
 
FRIENDSHIP. loi 
 
 proceeding the Christian Era, and David, the son of 
 Jesse, and Jonathan, the son of Saul, furnish in their 
 lives particular examples of fidelity in the face of 
 danger and difficulty. 
 
 To the man or woman of the World, the conditions 
 of mind and heart which lead to patience and suf- 
 fering by one person for another where there is no 
 visible sign of compensation or reward, have about 
 them the air of mystery. 
 
 The bassic principles in which the ideas of Friend- 
 ship center, shape themselves into forms harmonious 
 to that frame of mind and condition of heart which 
 clothe in rythm such thoughts as are controlled by 
 that fine art in diction, plainly termed, poetry. 
 
 As a professional art, it often happens that mutual 
 friends are unlearned in the science of meter, yet in 
 their associations the language of each touches a sym- 
 pathetic choid of euphony in the breast of the other. 
 
 The poetry of the Soul, and every soul has a kind 
 of poetry, is ever collating pleasing sounds; and, for 
 most part, in unexpected places — sometimes from sur- 
 prising sources. In other words, the heart hears ar- 
 ticulate vibrations as lips give them motion, and thus 
 the mind is inspired by thoughts of healthy apprecia- 
 tion. It was Addison who wrote: 
 
 "Great Souls by instinct to each other turn. 
 "Demand alliance, and in Friendship burn;" 
 
 which calls to mind the testimony of Mrs. Browning, 
 who in writing to a "friend," following the day of 
 their marriage made the memorable remark, that, no 
 person in all the wide world could understand her hus- 
 band as she understood him. 
 
 Both were earnest, both were poets, which proves 
 there is no higher assurance of Virtue than that one 
 is earnest, except it be the eloquent story written in 
 the language of the heart, and which makes known 
 to one other as much of its inner self as the possessor 
 
I02 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 knows to exist, and fitly constitutes the foundation for 
 trustworthy belief by both— belief so strong that no 
 power on earth can break it. 
 
 That sense of Soul within one person which speaks 
 its complement in another seems sufficient to prove, 
 at least to the philosophic mind, that, as water seeks 
 its level and finds it, even so and likewise do souls 
 of equal intensity seek and find each other; and, as 
 one has said, "However much you see that is not 
 there, you perfectly understand what is there." I am 
 faithful to the belief that the wants of men and women 
 are not dissimilar, with regard to sympathy, and love, 
 and understanding. The things which every man's 
 nature craves, is, to be loved, sympathized with and 
 understood; the things which every woman's heart 
 desires, is to be understood, sympathized with and 
 loved. To the full accomplishment of this end, both 
 confider and confidante must be serious, each with 
 the other — because it is only "the slow and gradual 
 growth of kind intercourse" that reaches the depth 
 and power of an untangled relationship of Virtue with 
 its own — poetic rythm. 
 
 Thus we can in a measure comprehend how it was 
 possible for Jonathan to defy the anger of irate Saul 
 in defense of the mterests and life of one he loved, or 
 Pythias, who could bless the gods for preventing the 
 return of Damon, for whom he was held in ban as 
 hostage. 
 
 The story of Damon and Pythias is a rich narra- 
 tive of that Pythagorean religion, which founds its 
 final resolution in the brightest diadem of an inner 
 philosophy that taught its students to see no terror 
 in death compared to the prostitution of their morals 
 and faithfulness to their word and honor. For, as 
 the immortal bard would teach: 
 
 "From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, 
 "The place is dignified by the doer's deed: 
 "Where great additions swell, and virtue none. 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 103 
 
 "It is a dropsied honor; good alone 
 "Is good, without a name; vileness is so: 
 "The prope'ty by what it is should go, 
 "Not by the title. * * * Honors best thrive, 
 "When rather from our acts we them derive 
 "Than our foregoer." 
 
DIONYSIUS, THE TYRANT OF 
 SYRACUSE. 
 
 Most sad is the record made by Circa, tliat having 
 defeated the Carthaginians, Dionysius took possession 
 of the chief city, Syracuse, as King, and proceeded to 
 make everybody afraid of him. 
 
 This he succeeded in accomplishing but the sense 
 that he was occupying a position that did not belong 
 to him, and was exercising power which should prop- 
 erly have been vested in a council of magistrates, 
 caused him to be exceedingly hated and filled his life 
 with harshness and suspicion. 
 
 It is said he had a chamber hollowed in a rock near 
 the state prison in such a way as to conduct sounds to 
 his ears as he sat on the throne. Thus he was en- 
 abled to hear what his captives said of him. Diony- 
 sius was in constant dread. He slept in a bedroom 
 with a wide trench around it, to protect him from 
 assassins. 
 
 At one time he put a barber to death for saying he 
 held a razor to the tyrant's throat each morning. After 
 that he had his young daughters to shave — or until he 
 distrusted them — when he had them singe his beard 
 with hot nut-shells. 
 
 Thus we see a man of power, who under ordinary 
 circumstances should have loved and honored, by 
 his own choice of conduct, groveling in the very ruin 
 of dishonor and suspicion. 
 
 One author has it that at the time the incidents be- 
 gan to occur about which the story of Damon and 
 Pythias is told, there was a great public gathering in 
 Syracuse, and Damon and Pythias being men of some 
 
DIONYSIUS. 105 
 
 prominence were among the throng, having in their 
 company Damon's Httle son. At a point where one 
 of the driveways from the royal palace connected with 
 a principal street of the city, quite a crowd had gath- 
 ered. 
 
 Dionysius' son, a boisterous, cruel fellow, came 
 dashing down the drive in a chariot, drawn by a span 
 of mettlesome greys, at a break-neck gait. He seem- 
 ingly paid no attention to the people, but would have 
 driven over them, but for the fact that Damon grabbed 
 the bits and brought the horses to a sudden stand- 
 still. 
 
 This so enraged the King's son that he struck 
 Damon several times across the face with a heavy 
 whip, and immediately laid complaint before Diony- 
 sius, who sentenced Damon to death at sundown. But 
 a few hours intervened, so he was placed in the dun- 
 geon. 
 
 Pythias, who was the bosom friend of Damon, came 
 forth and pleaded with the King for a six-hours' re- 
 spite in behalf of his friend, that he might be per- 
 mitted to see his wife before he died, ofifering himself 
 as hostage for Damon's return. 
 
 Here was something decidedly new to the usurper 
 who sat on the dishonorable throne at Syracuse. He 
 could not understand it, but resolved to test the fidel- 
 ity of these two men. Accordingly, he ordered Py- 
 thias in chains and gave Damon liberty for six hours. 
 Imagine, if you can, dear reader, what would be the 
 expectations and anxiety for the final outcome of such 
 an event to one of Dionysius' turn of mind. 
 
 He recalls the moment when, before remanding 
 Damon to the dungeon he had said. "We reserve this 
 proud, assassinating demagogue, who whets his dag- 
 ger on philosophy, for — an example to his cut-throat 
 school! — the axe, and liot the sword. Out of his 
 blood we'll mix a cement to our monarchy; here do 
 we doom him to a pu!:''c death." 
 
 He also remembers how proudly Damon answered 
 
io6 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 his unjust edict by saying: "Death's the best gift to 
 one that never yet wished to survive his country. 
 Here are men fit for the Hfe a tyrant can bestow, let 
 such as these live on." 
 
 He also feels something of a cringe of conscience 
 when his taunting, cruel words, "Hold you there, lest. 
 having stirred our vengeance into wrath, it reach unto 
 those dearer than thyself — thy wife and child. Ha! 
 have I touched thee, Damon? Is there a way to level 
 thee unto the feebleness of universal nature? What, 
 no word? Come, use thy time my brave philosopher. 
 Thou hast a few moments left," bring vividly Damon's 
 ringing declaration, "I know thee well — thou art wont 
 to use thy tortures on the heart, watching its agoniz- 
 ing throbs, and make a science of that fell anatomy! 
 These are thy bloody metaphysics — this thy barbar- 
 ous philosophy! I own thou hast struck thy venomed 
 sting into my soul, but while I am wounded, I despise 
 thee still! My wife! My child! Oh, Dionysius, thou 
 shouldst have spared me that." 
 
 Indeed, who can note, without a feeling of sympathy, 
 the tenderness of Damon's speech to his nearest 
 friend, Pythias, after the tyrant had denied a hearing 
 to -Damon's pleas that his wife might visit him in the 
 prison. 
 
 "Ere you came up, my friend, I was about to leave 
 a greeting for you. I bade the of^cer say, too — despite 
 of rules well conned and understood, in such a time 
 as this — so sudden, hopeless and unlooked for. — the 
 eyes will water and the heart grow cowardly, at 
 thoughts of home, and things we love at home; and 
 something like a sorrow, or a fear, for what may hap- 
 pen them, will stick in the throat to choke our words, 
 and make them weak and womanish." 
 
 Then again, the mystery of mysteries, when Pythias 
 throws his whole soul into that personal appeal to 
 the King: 
 
 "Behold me, Dionysius, at thy feet! As thou dost 
 love thy wife, and thy sweet children; as thou art a 
 
DIONYSIUS. 107 
 
 husband and a father, hear me! Let Damon go and 
 see his wife and child before he dies — for six hours 
 respite him — put me in chains: plunge me into his 
 dungeon, as a pledge for his return; do this — but this 
 — and may the gods themselves build up thy greatness 
 as high as their own heavens." 
 
 Can we marvel at the King's saying in response to 
 that apeal, "What wonder is this? Is he thy brother?" 
 Nor is less reason for wonderment in Pythias' reply, 
 "No, not quite my brother. Not — yes, he is — not in 
 the fashion that that the world puts on, but my brother 
 in heart!" 
 
 Still wrapped in his own selfishness and blinded by 
 suspicions Dionysius could not yet see into that 
 science of human living which could and did lead to 
 the sacrifice of life for another — one who was a 
 brother only by instinctive adoption. However, to his 
 credit let it be said, he began an investigation, which 
 not only convinced him of his utter insignificance, but 
 gave to the World a bassic principle upon which to 
 build one of the greatest and grandest fraternities 
 known to mankind. 
 
 Whatever may have been Dionysius' character and 
 reputation, none can doubt the sincerity of his pur- 
 pose in trying to test the fidelity of Pythias, by steal- 
 ing, disguised, to his dungeon and urging him earn- 
 estly to flee from the certain death awaiting him, 
 claiming to be a friend who had heard the King's 
 plan to intercept Damon's return. 
 
 The manliness of Pythias stands out in still bolder 
 contrast to the human and sentimental side of the 
 question when we note the peremptory manner in 
 which he sets aside the suggestions of Dionysius and 
 the pleadings of Calanthe, his betrothed, by saying: 
 
 "If mothers love the babe upon the breast, when it 
 looks up with laughter in its eyes, making them weep 
 for joy — if they can love, I loved, and do love thee, 
 my Calanthe. But wert thou magnified above thyself, 
 as much in fascination as thou art above all creatures 
 
io8 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACJSK. 
 
 else — by all the gods, in awful reverence sworn, I 
 would not cheat my honor!" 
 
 None will question the beauty of that philosophy, 
 which prompted him to say in the face of Calanthe 
 and the disguised, and pretended rescuer on hearing 
 that the King had broken faith, that, "I should not 
 have heard it; or having heard it I still hold it false. 
 This busy world is but made up of slight contingencies 
 — there are a thousand that may alter this, or leave -it 
 where it was; there is not one, should push us a mere 
 point from any pledge of manliness and honor. Yet 
 would I live — live to possess my own Calanthe here, 
 who recommends existence with a smile so sad and 
 beautiful! — Yet would I live — but not dishonored! — 
 Still, Calanthe, he may return — May! May! That word 
 ends all! Death looks grimly, and the grave is cheer- 
 less — yet I do, I do prefer the certainty of death to 
 the possibility of dishonor." 
 
 Returning to Damon, we find that after arriving 
 home and conveying the information of his sentence, 
 Hermion, his wife, urged him to flee to Greece or 
 Italy that his life might be preserved to her and their 
 child. She argued as most men and women would and 
 do argue, that, 
 
 "Life, to save that, the wrong becomes the right. 
 The gods that made us so quickened us, nature so 
 prompts us, and all men forgive it, because all men 
 do it. By the love (if thou hast any) of thy wife and 
 child — aye frown Damon, frown and kill me, too, or 
 live for us! Husband look on us, we are at thy feet." 
 
 To those readers, who are husbands and fathers 
 there will come something of a conception of the feel- 
 ings of Damon, when he said in defense of his pur- 
 pose: 
 
 "Yes, you are, I see it, and my heart bleeds for you. 
 Nay, I must turn my eyes from you, while you are 
 urging me to my dishonor, and bid me murder Py- 
 thias that I may live. Farewell, my Hermion; fare- 
 well, forever!" 
 
DIONYSIUS. 109 
 
 Our hearts go out for the slave, who in his devotion 
 for'^hL master' sought to save his life by f Y^ng ^ 
 horse upon which he rode. Aye isn t there the sign 
 
 "^'^1^:1^^^. I have slain his horse. Never 
 shall he return! This hand has cast an intercept be- 
 twe n him and the block Perchance he' 1 kill me- 
 biit I heed not that; the time shall be, when, at 
 U^cuUuJ' name, he will lift up his hands and weep 
 
 ^""inTed the heart bleeds when the fate of that slave 
 is recalied because his blind devotion is a pleasing 
 contrast ti the estimate set upon human character 
 by pra tical men of a practical world who measure 
 men's inclinations by the common standard of self. 
 
 Dionysins held, that, "Over all, that science, which 
 do?hm'old 'touching the soul and its affection, 1 
 hieh discoursing, had attracted him. It was his 
 c led ihat n this flesh of ours, self ever entertains 
 predominance. And to all friendship he was a per^ 
 servering infidel. For this reason he tried the strange 
 experiment, never for a moment behevmg that Damon 
 would return— to death. 
 
 In this condition it is plain he was not fit to com 
 orehend the character of two such men as Damon 
 and Pythias Nor was it until the very last moments 
 o? resphe that he could fully understand the sacredness 
 
 °'oh"how the heart of every Knight has thrilled 
 at the reckal of the incidents of those last moments! 
 A Syracuse is thronged with people who have 
 come from far and near to witness the execut on 
 orone w^o dared the authority of a wretched ru e • 
 As the sun sank lower and lower, the expectation 
 grew more intense-almost breathless at times 
 ' The population had no faith in the Possibdity o 
 Damon's return, but at the last moment, when Py^thias 
 wa^on the block, he came in sight, upon which mighty 
 shouts arose. 
 
no BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 Breathless and exhausted he fell senseless at the 
 place of execution Regaining consciousness after a 
 little, he sees the scatfold, the block, the axe and 
 the executioner and — Pythias alive. Then mount- 
 ing the scaffold, he shouted: 
 
 "I am here upon the scaffold, look at me. I am 
 standing on. my throne; as proud as yon illumined 
 mountain, where the sun makes his last stand; let 
 him look on me too; he never did behold a spectacle 
 more full of natural glory. Death is — ha! all Syra- 
 cuse starts up upon her hills, and lifts her hundred 
 thousand hands and shouts. Hark, how she shouts. 
 Oh, Dionysius, when wert thou in thy life hailed 
 with a peal of hearts and hands like that one? Shout 
 again and again, until the mountains echo you, and 
 the great sea joins in that mighty voice, and old 
 Euceladus, the Son of Earth, stirs in his mighty 
 caverns. Tell me, slaves, where is your tyrant? Let 
 me see him now; why stands he hence aloof? Where 
 is your master? What has become of Dionysius? 
 
 Knights of Pythias of the World, how grand a 
 foundation for the Fraternal Order that came into 
 existence nearly -two score years ago, for the practice 
 of the three golden principles — Friendship, Charity 
 and Benevolence — and which now numbers more than 
 half a millfon! 
 
RATHBONE TEMPLE. 
 
 Step lightly, my Brother between these walls. 
 
 Where alone friendship's altar rests enshrined, 
 To hold the ballot box and ballot balls, 
 
 Which, to the grandest Order yet designed. 
 Elect Pythian candidates as they come, 
 
 To find out how Rathbones pass the time, 
 Away from husband, and children, and home, 
 
 Every Tuesday night at Vesper's chime. 
 
 As you pass the guard at the inner door, 
 
 Be sure that the signs you correctly give, 
 Else the Sisters may march you 'round the floor 
 
 And perforate your vision with a seive. 
 For when the Rathbones meet on business bent, 
 
 'Tis well each Knight remembers where he's at ; 
 Strong in their defense and quick to resent; 
 
 They might soon show him the door and lii.s hat. 
 
 Forget not, Brother, that these Sisters all. 
 
 Have taken a vow before that altar. 
 Which silent rests in every Castle Hall, 
 
 Firm as the wave-washed rocks of Gibraltar. 
 Therefore, unto us they stand in the light 
 
 Of a great Sisterhood in Pythianland, 
 Where each, who's taken this vow, has the right 
 
 To fill with something, each small, empty hand. 
 
THB BACHELOR GIRL'S RESOLVE. 
 
 Just thirty-one years old I am, they say, thirty-one sum- 
 mers I have passed! 
 
 Oh, dear! It seems to me but yesterday, that la Httle 
 girl was classed. 
 
 Ah, yes, a child, with toys an' hurts an' tears; rosy- 
 cheekt romp of tender age, 
 
 Stranger to trials and sorrows and fears — to problems 
 on Life's faulty page. 
 
 I joy today in Earthly pleasures free, my heart and 
 mind serenely calm; 
 
 For, at this hour, my watching eyes can see, delight- 
 ful ease in Nature's balm. 
 
 At school I was taught of Science and Art — also 
 something in Classic lore; 
 
 Yet, out of it all. there's a tender heart, my innermost 
 self to adore. 
 
 My mind goes back in memory once more, to occa- 
 sions of childish glee, 
 
 When my old board playhouse, so rich in store, stood 
 by the back-yard apple tree. 
 
 These thoughts remind me of those blissful days, when 
 innocence and girlhood care, 
 
 Shaped a principle of feminine ways, "which, often in 
 pain, I must bear. 
 
 Oh, gladsome! must have been those youthful days, 
 with life made bright by newest joys, 
 
 Coming from merry songs and mirthful plays, among 
 the neighbor girls and boys. 
 
 Then, too, there's Papa and Mamma so dear, who 
 guided my infantile feet; 
 
 They have kept me at their hearthstone, so near; 
 given me their love, pure and sweet. 
 
THE BACHELOR GIRL'S RESOLVE. 113 
 
 But passing years wonderful changes have brought, in 
 
 teachings liberal and grand, 
 Knowledge, its generous power hath wrought, the fol- 
 lies of youth to disband. 
 True, not all joy, nor all pain have I seen — somehow 
 
 mixtures of all, forsooth, 
 Have sheened Life's tioublesouic pathway, I ween, 
 
 with thoughts of purity and truth. 
 Yet, o'er me steals a feeling of sadness, as I think of 
 
 times that are gone. 
 With their wealth of ioi^e and hope and gladness — 
 
 their work and play and joy and song. 
 But why worry about things of the past? Whatever is, 
 
 must so remain. 
 Why gaze upon circumstance, then, aghast, and from 
 
 duty-doing refrain? 
 They tell me a Spinster's fate is my doom; no doubt 
 
 that is true, gentle tolk. 
 But I'd rather live alone, I presume, than marry a 
 
 shiftless Old Bloke. 
 Better without a husband, I believe; even though I 
 
 die an Old Maid, 
 Than to let some man my spirit aggrieve, and shrink 
 
 from his presence — afraid. 
 In abundance the World has its pleasures; and, hard- 
 ships, too, 'tis my belief; 
 We choose playthings and call them our treasures, 
 
 though through them comes much of our grief. 
 But ere very long phantoms they glide — into gloomier 
 
 shadows they go — 
 And hard by them our frailties and pride, "which we, 
 
 in our ignorance show. 
 Now, as for me and my own choice of plans — why, 
 
 they must be just to my taste: — 
 My neighbors shall know the work of my hands, not 
 
 one jot of time will I waste. 
 Those little Tots coming under my care, shall be 
 
 things of love true and kind; 
 Tabby Cat, too, -will come in for a share of my heart's 
 
 affections to find. 
 
114 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 In the Wgrld's mad rush for fame and all that, I'll 
 
 stay by my own little place; 
 I'll contend not for fine gown, nor high hat; nor rib- 
 bons, nor flimflams nor lace. 
 I intend being as nice as I can, with a countenance 
 
 most comely. 
 And should I ne'er have the care of a man, I'm glad, 
 
 though humble and homely. 
 The sky is cloudless and cheerful tonight, with spread- 
 ing dome of azure hue, 
 While yon silver moon with its mellow light, gives 
 
 lustre to the falling dew. 
 Each zephyr breeze a new happiness brings, where the 
 
 old swing rocks to and fro; 
 The voice of the night-bird with music rings, as it 
 
 comes in tones soft and low. 
 Beautiful stars — diamonds in the sky; so bright they 
 
 stud that open space — 
 Firmament, and heavens so great on high, I scarce 
 
 can look them in the face. 
 Twilight has already come and gone — gloom of night 
 
 is around me here: 
 A breath of fragrance comes to me so lone, laden 
 
 with melody and cheer. 
 Let me sing again the songs of childhood, which 
 
 made my heart so light and gay. 
 As I traversed meadow-lot and wild-wood, for flowers 
 
 and pleasures and play. 
 Right here, in these very shadows, and swing, I'll 
 
 gaze on in hopeful content. 
 At the sparkling gleams those tiny stars fling — smiles 
 
 of the Saviour, which are sent. 
 Then farewell, to girlhood's happy young years, which 
 
 have passed too quickly away: — 
 I'll live the future in hopes and in fears, content with 
 
 my duties and day. 
 Thirty-one! I may not reach them again! But 
 
 whether I do so or not, 
 I'll be the truest, best woman I can, and never find 
 
 fault with my lot. 
 
MA'S DIRTY, LAZY BOY, JIM. 
 
 Ma, she says, "Jimmie, wash yer han's an' face; 
 
 "Comb yer hair, an' go right to Skool! 
 
 "You're the laziest young un' on the place— 
 
 "A playin' an' actin' the fool — 
 
 "Hurry up! Git on them stockin's an' shoes, 
 
 "An' take 'long yer books an' dinner! 
 
 "Oh, dear, you're so slow! It gnes me the blues- 
 
 "Sca'mper ofif, you little sinner!" 
 
 I don't see w'at they've got Skool fur ennyway; 
 
 Jus' to shut Boys up in a cage, 
 
 An' keep 'em shut up there, day after day, 
 
 Readin' dry ole books, page by page. 
 
 W'y can't we have a rest once in a while? 
 
 I'm quite sure it's more fun to play 
 
 Football, Shinney, Black Man, an' run a mile. 
 
 Than 'em 'ere hard lessons to say. 
 
 I don't think the feller w'at wrote our books, 
 
 An' made out all 'em rules so thick, 
 
 Ever spent many hours with line an' hooks 
 
 Or broke winders out with a brick. 
 
 I know he didn't swipe nest eggs from the hen, 
 
 Were she laid 'em in Spring to set; 
 
 Nor chase his Daddy's hogs out o' the pen; 
 
 Nor the sheep, till pantin' an' wet. 
 
 I guess he never tried to ketch a duck, 
 As it went floatin' down the Crick; 
 Don't think he ever hoed the garden truck, 
 Or on his Mother played a trick. 
 He never had the fun o' runnin' out, 
 
ii6 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 An' shooin' chickens off the lot; 
 
 Or his back warm'd up with a hick'ry sprout, 
 
 Fur skarin' cows to make 'em trot. 
 
 He never plugged Dad's melons in the patch, 
 An' found 'em as green as grass — 
 Never hung on the barn-door by the latch. 
 Or thow'd stones't all who tried to pass. 
 He didn't gether sheaves in harvest fer fun, 
 Nor fetch the water in a jug; 
 He didn't try to go thru' swamps on the run, 
 An' fall into the mire kerchug; 
 
 He never hunted fur squirrels an' nuts, 
 
 An' carried the gun in his hand; 
 
 He never came home, all bruises an' cuts. 
 
 With eyes full 'o leaf-dust an' sand; 
 
 He never practiced with arrow an' bow, 
 
 Aimin' at the dog an' the cat; 
 
 Never across wet hayfields had to go, 
 
 To find his lost stockin's an' hat. 
 
 He must 'ave been a pious little lad, 
 
 To grow up without doin' wrong; 
 
 Jus' stayed real close by the side o' his Dad; 
 
 Didn't w'istle, or sing a loud song. 
 
 I'd shout to see my Pa raise me like that! 
 
 There'd be sorrow among the folks: 
 
 'Cause I wus born the very hardest bat — 
 
 Chock full 'o boyish tricks an' jokes. 
 
 Pa, he says, boys ain't no bizness to Skool: 
 
 'Cause they're more useful on the farm; 
 
 There they don't have to learn lessons by rule, 
 
 An' if they're mean, it doesn't do harm. 
 
 Wen he was a lad, livin' near the Sea, 
 
 His Pa let 'im stay right to home: 
 
 His Ma did 'is work fur 'im, te he, he — 
 
 Not even 'is hair did he comb! 
 
MA'S DIRTY, LAZY BOY, JIM. 117 
 
 I'm jus' real glad that Skool will soon be out! 
 
 Then Ma won't call us so early 
 
 To get up; an' we'll hop an' skip about, 
 
 With Rover, Tommy an' Curly — 
 
 Down through the orchard an' field o' clover, 
 
 Across the fence, near to the Crick, 
 
 Were they washed the lambs an' sheared 'em over, 
 
 An' made 'em look so thin an' sick. 
 
 Won't we have fun, tho', at the swimmin' hole, 
 
 Wen we git from this dingey Skool? 
 
 We'll swim, an' dive, an' fish, with line an' pole, 
 
 At the dam, an' in Thompson's pool. 
 
 What'll we care fur 'rithmetic, an' grammar, 
 
 Readin', writin', singin', spellin', 
 
 Wen we can jus' crack the whip an' clamor 
 
 The joy in ov.r bosoms wellin'? 
 
 Pa says he thinks I would make a preacher; 
 
 But Ian' sakes! You jus' ought to see 
 
 The fellers make trouble fur the teacher, 
 
 Wen she mentions such stufif to me! 
 
 I'm goin' to be a Hobo, an' roam 
 
 O'er all this wide an' fertile Lan', 
 
 From the" hall up town to the State-house dome:— 
 
 Jus' you 'watch me, w'en I'm a man! 
 
 Jokes aside, we've got a dandy teacher; 
 Fine eyes, small ban's, soft an' white; 
 Smilin', warm-hearted, delicate feature — 
 But she makes the Kids do what's right! 
 She paints a pictur', or spins a story, 
 An' tells us all 'bout the lesson; 
 Sometim^es, she sings a song 'bout Ok Glory; 
 Then ag'in she puts us guessin'. 
 
 But the Kids don't like "Prof," 'cause he's the coon, 
 That slaps yer ears an' pounds yer hand; 
 An' -we're all glad that Skool kill let out soon: 
 
ii8 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 Then we'll show 'im who's got the sandi 
 Pay 'im back fur grabbin' our collars, 
 An' jerkin' like a Hottentot; 
 An' we don't care how he kicks an' hollers 
 There's no one like our own Miss Scott. 
 
 She loves a lad, an' tells 'im he's okay — 
 
 Made o' jus' the right kind o' stuff 
 
 To do great things, whether at work or play; 
 
 'A real diamond in the rough." 
 
 But somehow I ain't built like other boys, 
 
 That come here so strong and ruddy; 
 
 I can't perform tasks an' call 'em my joys: 
 
 Guess I'm too lazy to study. 
 
 But I hope when Life's lessons I master — 
 All is plain which puzzles me now — 
 I'll heach that haven without disaster, 
 'Though I didn't know the why an' how. 
 I mean to spend the Summer vacation — 
 Not at hard work! But to be prim: 
 In keeping clean my own reputation, 
 As Ma's dirty, lazy boy, Jim. 
 
WATERLOO'S SMILING TWENTY. 
 
 'Waterloo's Smiling Twenty" lasses prim, decided a 
 day at the Lake, 
 
 Where they all could swing and ramble and swim, was 
 the kind of outing they'd take. 
 
 So with energy and effort supreme, they settled the 
 thing in a trice. 
 
 And secured hayladders, wagon and team, and a driver, 
 by name Robert Price. 
 
 At an early hour on Tuesday morning, the twenty-sev- 
 enth day of June, 
 
 Old Sol in gold the landscape adorning, shone on garb^ 
 — from pink to maroon. 
 
 Bright, happy faces, too, there were in plenty, assem- 
 bled at Darby's abode. 
 
 Where these pretty girls, The Smiling Twenty, climbed, 
 the wagon and Northward rode. 
 
 Ah, what a lovely sight they did present! as swiftly 
 
 they were borne away, 
 To the green spot of languorous content — Cold Springs 
 
 — on that fine, sunny day! 
 Their lunch-baskets, full to the very brim, with all 
 
 kinds of goods things to eat, 
 And strong hammocks, which they tied to a limb — 
 
 made up this great holiday treat. 
 Gaily they talked and sang along the trip— hearts light 
 
 — high spirits' goodly slice — 
 They, womanlike, allowed no chance to slip, for crack- 
 ing jokes on Mr. Price. 
 At last, through Hamilton they had to pass, before to 
 
 Cold Springs they could get — 
 Where rude Romeos gazed on each blessed less— mad^ 
 
 eyes blink, which are blinking yet. 
 
120 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 Not a single man 'was seen in that crowd — Waterloo's 
 
 maidenly sweetness — 
 Our own Smiling Twenty, who seem so proud, to 
 
 "go't" alone with completeness. 
 And all went well till they wanted to swing — pick- 
 
 nicking's not without alloy — 
 One girl got "mixt" with hammock rope and ring, 
 
 and shouted for her own Dear Boy. 
 Finally to them the dinner hour came, when baskets 
 
 oped and gave to sight — 
 Mass of pie, cake, chicken and other game, as would 
 
 make Kings smile with delight. 
 Guests of honor, Misses Powell and Shull, got many a 
 
 toast and favor. 
 While the girls ate down their chicken and crull, and 
 
 sipt their drink of water flavor. 
 
 It was truly a pleasant place to be, 'neath the dense, 
 
 of that grand old shade, 
 Where Dame Nature, her treasures so free, had lav- 
 ished on lake, hill and glade. 
 "Alas!" sighed the maids, "how short is the time, when 
 
 home, we'll have to be going, 
 "And in that bumpy old wagon to climb — we're sure; 
 
 we'd rather go rowing!" 
 So with fingers deft and a style so nice, they packed 
 
 basket, hammock, trinket; 
 Then sought their handsome driver, Mr. Price, and, 
 
 said, "Stay? Now don't you think it! 
 "We are going home, and that pretty quick! Hurry 
 
 us off, Sir! to the South! 
 "If ever again, we do such a trick, we want to be slapt 
 
 in the mouth." 
 
 *Twas quite dark when the load came into town, look- 
 in all tired out and weary; 
 
 Faces bright in the morn, now sunburnt and brown, 
 presented a scene most dreary. 
 
 Thus "Smiling Twenty" had a day's pleasure, and hard- 
 ships, too, 'tis our belief; 
 
WATERLOO'S SMILING TWENTY. 121 
 
 They took playthings and called 'em their treasures, 
 
 and thru' 'em came much of the grief. 
 We know not what thoughts the girls have in mind, 
 
 whether they'll still procrastinate, 
 Or each begin to hustle 'round to find, a doting 
 
 "hubby" for her mate. 
 Perhaps they'll get up a society, these Twenty nice, 
 
 innocent joys — 
 Who'll "go" when they like — in propriety, without 
 
 the company of Boys. 
 
WHAT THE HUMAN HEART MAY 
 ENDURE. 
 
 How much our hearts may bear without breaking! 
 Great flesh suffering, yet it does not die! 
 I wonder if keenest pain and aching 
 Of souls and bodies, brings their end more nigh? 
 Death bides His own time; till that hour is worn, 
 All suffering may be borne. 
 
 We shrink at sight of the physician's knife, 
 Our faces blanch at the touch of cruel steel, 
 That seems to be searching for human life! 
 Yet to our feeble sense these pangs reveal 
 This truth: the heart's tender cords may be torn, 
 But that, too, can be borne. 
 
 Sorrow comes towering high in our way, 
 We flee at once from the approach of heartless ill. 
 And try to find escape — shed tears and pray: 
 The blow falls; then our quivering hearts are still — 
 Pain goring at us with its sharpest horn; 
 But such things must be borne. 
 
 One life is twined about another life; 
 That soul is sweeter, dearer, than our own; 
 Sometimes it faints and falls in mortal strife; 
 Then we feel stunned, heartbroken and alone, 
 And wish we were pulseless, like those we mourn. 
 But this too, must be borne. 
 
 We may endure all things — yes, famine, thirst. 
 Misery, pain, bereavement, deadly grief; 
 Of woeful sorrow, Life's afflictions, worst 
 
THE BOILERMAKERS' DANCE. 123 
 
 Through obedience, patience and full belief 
 In Him, who, for us, was tired, faint and worn, 
 Can earthly ills be borne. 
 
 THE BOILERMAKERS' DANCE. 
 
 It's eleven years ago, I believe, 
 
 That the Boilermakers in town, 
 Decided fully on Thanksgiving Eve, 
 
 To do things up, and do 'em brown. 
 So they got together the girls and boys, 
 
 Who were known to be pleasure bent, 
 And gave them the right to an evening's joys — 
 
 The right to dance their hearts' content. 
 
 'Tis true, throughout these years, some have blundered 
 
 In making the Dance a success, 
 But in this happy year. Nineteen Hundred, 
 
 All have cause to rejoice, I guess. 
 The garbs of green and blue and black and pink, 
 
 Worn by ladies of smiling face, 
 Made each young man gallant when he'd think 
 
 Of Garrett's youth, beauty and grace. 
 
FIXING THE FAULT. 
 
 Strange, indeed, is the turn affairs sometimes take 
 in our lives. It happens on occasion that some mor- 
 tals are given a foretaste of heaven, only to suddenly 
 relapse into the throes of despair, enshrouded with a 
 cloud of casualty so thick and so dense that the feeble 
 sunlight of hope proves powerless to penetrate. Thus 
 many lives are often filled with gloom and sadness. 
 In our human sightedness we often fix the respon- 
 sibility for certain desperate conditions on the shoulders 
 of some one individual and thereby try to satisfy the 
 requirements of our own minds with regard to those 
 supposedly guilty of disturbinsr the tranquility of our 
 existence and circumscribing the limits of our peaceful 
 enjoyment of material things. 
 
 Could we know all the circumstances leading up to 
 the actions we question in others ; could we feel, as 
 they, the harassing grip of misfortune, and know the 
 uncertainty of all earthly things, as experience teaches, 
 then perhaps our estimate of the conduct of some would 
 be commendatory, when under meager knowledge of 
 detail it of necessity becomes condemnatory. 
 
 There's divinity shapes our ends, 
 
 Though we see it but in part ; 
 When God, love to his children sends. 
 
 And fills with faith each human heart." 
 Could we always know what was best, 
 
 We'd bless the day that we were born — 
 Give men some love, to God the rest. 
 
 Never forsaken nor forlorn. 
 But we do not know. And because 
 
 We do not know what we ought, find 
 
FIXING THE BLAME. 125 
 
 All the faults and pick out the flaws 
 
 Belonging to all human kind; 
 And think, that, of all, we the worst 
 
 Of treatment ever have received! 
 Sometimes our fellow men we've cursed — * 
 
 For by them, have we been deceived. 
 
 What I am I know not ; what I expect to be I can 
 think not; what I will be I can say not, but out of 
 all — a sort of jumbled up mass in chaos of circum- 
 stances — I hope eventually to emerge pure and spotless, 
 made holy and sinless through the blood of Him who 
 hath said: "I am the way, the truth, the life and the 
 light." Of myself I can do nothing meritorious, save 
 to look, listen and believe in that almighty power which 
 can reach down into the lowest depths of degradation 
 and by a single movement cleanse from all unright- 
 eousness and lift the human soul to the highest planes 
 of dignity and integrity. Through the precious love of 
 Jesus we are made perfectly whole. 
 
BREAK THE ALABASTER NOW. 
 
 Faithful, is there one sweet-smelling flower, 
 Which you've grown in the garden of your heart, 
 For the friend, who in a sympathetic hour, 
 Declared that from your side he would not part? 
 Withhold not thy florals ; the narrow Bier, 
 Sees no other than its burden of Death ! 
 Hears no sound, gives no smile and sheds no tear, 
 Though Nature embalm it in fragrant breath. 
 If you've a wreath for an aching brow, 
 Won't it be best to bestow it now? 
 
 Would you break the box of precious ointment — 
 Anoint the head, to you, dearer than gold, 
 With love, in proportion, God's appointment — 
 Keep the heart young, though the body grow old? 
 Delay not. Tomorrow may be the day 
 When funeral cortege moves slowly by 
 With him, to whom you now could tribute pay; 
 Before the spirit takes its flight on high. 
 
 Lest o'er his grave in the morn you bow, 
 
 Break the box of alabaster now. 
 
 Have you not seen in a sad upturned face. 
 The sharp footprints of griefs merciless tread? 
 In that countenance have you not found trace 
 Of unspoke sorrow, in a heart deep bled? 
 From those faded cheeks you've read the story. 
 Of departed hopes, when life still was young 
 And the World seemed filled with nameless glory — 
 The heart in triple happiness was hung. 
 
 Can you not — for just one fault allow — 
 
 Break the box of alabaster now? 
 
BREAK THE ALABASTER NOW. 127 
 
 Have you seen those sadly passionless eyes, 
 From whose inactive depths no flashing light 
 Gleamed in gladness or sparkled with surprise, 
 At hope's victory — beacon star of night? 
 Have you seen colorless lips try to speak, 
 The soul's immeasurable weight of grief, 
 And be quiveringly speechless and weak, 
 In bringing the heart its needed relief? 
 
 Would you not help such soul keep its vow, 
 
 By breaking the alabaster now? 
 
 Have you heard that voice once tuned like a lute, 
 In painfully discordant notes try to sing, 
 The melody of a soul that was mute. 
 Inharmonious, without music's ring? 
 Did not your own heart become more tender 
 At the hopelessness of that piteous wail, 
 Did you not wish to be that soul's strong defender- 
 Begin the "fiat of fate" to assail ? 
 
 If we'd escape despondency's slough, 
 'Tis meet; break the alabaster now. 
 
 In keeping with that great Gospel of Love 
 Preached to this hapless World so long ago. 
 The grief-stricken may look in faith above, 
 And find sweet comfort in the Heaven glow. 
 But before grasping hold that mighty arm, 
 It's a part of the greatest human creed, 
 That in spreading sympathy's mild alarm, 
 We help our brother satisfy his need. 
 
 To do so and not ask the why, how. 
 
 We should break the alabaster now. 
 
 Better that naught be said o'er the casket, 
 That contains the lifeless body of one 
 Who received not of Love's floral basket. 
 To cheer his pathway so narrow and lone. 
 The dead read no obituary lines, 
 And hear not the dirge or requiem song, 
 Which help, faithfully, mortal designs 
 
128 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSK. 
 
 At covering all fault before a throng. 
 
 If we would joy with our friends, I trow, 
 We must break the alabaster now. 
 
 Better that coffin be plain, flowerless, 
 
 Which holds a form whose life was filled, 
 
 With that fragrance which makes Death powerless, 
 
 And from which. Life's own essence is distilled. 
 
 When the heart's throbless, cold and breath abated, 
 
 Then garlands throw us backward no perfume ! 
 
 Our gifts may be by the World related, 
 
 But will they smooth one furrow? Why presume? 
 
 If we're earnest for the why and how. 
 
 We will break the alabaster now. 
 
AGED NOW. 
 
 This day I feel to look back at the morn, 
 
 Through the vistas of changing years, 
 Intervening the hour when I was born. 
 
 And this hour, with its hopes and fears. 
 As I gaze in retrospective vision. 
 
 The rough coast of Life's surging sea 
 Seems set by the wiH of Divine precision 
 
 Against the bygone years and me. 
 
 And the silver threads on my brow 
 Remind me that I am aged now. 
 
 Indeed, I see me now in my childhood. 
 
 And the balmy days, when a girl, 
 I leapt and ran in meadow and wildwood; 
 
 Or led in playground's dizzy whirl. 
 Nor have I forgotten the days at school, 
 
 In the old log cabin by the lane. 
 Where the children were taught the Golden Rule, 
 
 Amid green fields and waving gram. 
 
 But the sharp lines here on my brow 
 Say I was younger then than now. 
 
 Age, Old March, with its cold, blustering ides, 
 
 And piercing storms so bleak and wild, 
 Swings like a reefer through Life's ocean-tides, 
 
 Full of vim, as I, when a child. 
 Sixty-seven times has this month rolled 'round, 
 
 With its burden of birthday chimes, 
 Since I first in this sinful world was found 
 
 And began to learn baby rhymes. 
 
 But the deep furrows on this brow 
 Show that the end is nearing now. 
 
I30 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 One by one I note the changes in life, 
 
 Since I as a maiden shy, fair, 
 Met Henry, dear soul, and became his wife — 
 
 Entered the joys of household care. 
 Happy indeed have been the many years 
 
 I've reigned — housekeeper and mother — 
 Sometimes in gladness and sometimes in tears 
 
 Living always for another. 
 
 But wrinkled lines are on his brow, 
 Which show we both are aged now. 
 
 Oh, we cannot know what there is in store 
 
 For my husband, my children, me — 
 But we hone for this, if for nothing more — 
 
 That in Death we'll together be. 
 I have tried the Faith that the Savior taught, 
 
 And wish that all my children would; 
 I have seen the power of righteous thought 
 
 And know what it means to be good. 
 
 When 1 see Jesus' thorn-crowned brow, 
 I feel I'm getting younger now. 
 
 Dear Henry, we'll be happy while we may. 
 
 And wish many a glad return. 
 To our home of the rich, ripe years, and day. 
 
 Before they strew our graves with fern. 
 Or mourn our departure from the earth. 
 
 Which gives to us our health and life; 
 And, may each returning day of my birth 
 
 Thrill our hearts as husband and wife. 
 For I see in that future, now 
 When o'er our coffins they will bow. 
 
HOUSE DECORATION A FINE ART. 
 
 March has come. There is no question about it. Just 
 what the experience of most people will be during the 
 next thirty days is more or less uncertain. But whether 
 the climatic changes of the month bode us good or ill 
 most certain it is that at the close of these days of 
 boisterous winds and unsteady barometer spring house- 
 cleaning will alight flush upon us with all its con- 
 fusing accessories and artificial blandishment. 
 
 Parlor and sitting room, drawing room and con- 
 servatory, library and private apartments — in fact every 
 interenclosure from cellar to garret, including kitchen 
 and scuttle closet — will be thrown wide open for an 
 airing. So thoroughly has this system of semi-annual 
 housecleaning obtained as an absolute essential in the 
 fundamentals of domestic life in American homes that 
 the average housekeeper would feel as though she had 
 been unpardonably absent from an important session cf 
 e?..!stence did she neglect any of these warlike attacks 
 on the in many instances unaccountable accumulations 
 of grime and dust. 
 
 Incidentally, these stirring occasions strike terror to 
 timorous husbands, and in justice to the faltering cour- 
 age of an average man in the presence of a fastidious 
 enemy of dirt wielding a dust broom vigorously against 
 inoft'ensive cobwebs, is it any wonder that he trembles, 
 loses his temper and lets escape a volume of lurid ad- 
 jectives that would in nowise sound euphonious in print 
 when wrestling with stubborn, though seemingly insig- 
 nificant stovepipes that insist on staying unjointed?* 
 From a domestic standpoint it is thought not, though 
 morally such deportment might be considered a breach 
 of the commandment, "Thou shalt not swear." 
 
 Already many housewives are revolving in their 
 
132 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 minds the form, shape and extent of the coming on- 
 slaught. It is a pretty sure thing that whatever plan of 
 cleansing and decorating is adopted, good taste, artis- 
 tic effect and stability are the qualities most desired in 
 the home as an equivalent for time, money and energy 
 required in the removal of dust accumulations of sev- 
 cr?J months. In these respects no persons have so p'/o- 
 lific faculties for producing artistic effects, so keen sen- 
 sibilities in perceiving the delicate touches of high arr 
 in decoration, as women, but after all when professional 
 skill, practical economy and health are weighed in the 
 balance their judgment in the selection of artist and 
 materials is not infallible. 
 
 Some housekeepers insist on papering and want noth- 
 ing else in the way of wall and ceiling garniture, others 
 prefer to use whitewash, calsomine and calcine, still 
 others have faith in alabastine fresco or plastic coating ; 
 and. of a truth in these latter days even, a few instruct 
 the decorator to paint their walls. In any and all of 
 these methods for beautifying there are objectionable 
 features, and dangers too, of which the knowing pain- 
 ter, paperhanger and decorator stands in mortal fear. 
 P.apering possiblv exhibits the fewest reasons for ob- 
 jection, and is. all else being equal, the least dangerous, 
 especially if the mild tints and transparencies are vsed. 
 To paint the walls of a room in the common colors is 
 to inoculate It more or less with disease germs. This 
 condition of things with reference to painting is ac- 
 counted for in the fact that the oxides and leads form- 
 ing the base of most pigments take on the form of ar- 
 senic poison as soon as exposed to air. hence it is the 
 most dangerous method of purifying made use of in 
 the art. 
 
 A decorative artist in his repairing and beautifica- 
 t'on of cheerless homes is to be regarded with refer- 
 ence to these things very much in the same light that 
 decides the choice of a physician to subvert the rav- 
 ages of disease — the one who understands his business 
 best is to be preferred above all others. A very com- 
 mon but nevertheless erroneous idea exists in the minds 
 
HOUSE DECORATION. 133 
 
 of many that anybody who can cut paper and paste 
 pi! per, can hang paper. A sad mistake, indeed, as many 
 have found out by bitter and costly experience. It is 
 true there does not seem to be much skill required in 
 "slapping" paper on a wall. For a fact there is not, 
 but "slapping" paper on the wall is the smallest part of 
 the job — just as much so as administering an anaes- 
 thetic is not the principal function in the reduction of 
 a fracture or the performance of a surgical operation. 
 Preparation of walls and materials is the thing requir- 
 ing knowledge and skill. As an instance in point, what 
 does the novice know about coloring in distemper and 
 varnishing paper? What practice can he be expected 
 to have had in the management of hanging crimson- 
 stained ground papers, forty inch, plain tints, stamped 
 gold, wood hangings, flocks, etc. ? What can the mere 
 initiate be expected to know about making the different 
 kinds of paste necessary, or preparing walls and 
 grounds, and keeping clear of wall-damp, the greatest 
 menace to the decorator's art? How can an inexperi- 
 enced cub be expected to know just what remedies to 
 adopt for the eradication of impediment, such as for 
 instance, the use of wall metal, battening,- canvassing, 
 sheet lead, etc.? And yet any or all of these very 
 things may be needful in the decoration of any single 
 house, even in so small a place as Edon. Experience 
 tenches the wisdom and economy of employing a prac- 
 tical and finished workman, no matter what the cost. 
 
 Since among the popular methods for effective house- 
 cleaning none has as yet been developed that surpasses 
 paper hanging, it having the double advantage of econ- 
 omy and healthfulness, and in view of the supposition 
 that most of the homes in Edon will be decked in 
 bright, cheerful spring colors, a few suggestions may 
 not come amiss. First, secure a first-class workman — 
 a professional — who by experience and preparation is 
 competent to judge the value of a hygienic job. Have 
 him to examine your walls and submit the selection of 
 suitable paper as much as possible to him. If he is 
 master of his trade the contrasts and harmonies will 
 be correct and the result satisfactory. 
 
REAL BEAUTY VS. PRETTY. 
 
 Beauty is not eternal, neither is it a matter of inheri- 
 tance. At best and in the ultimate it becomes a thing 
 of acquisition, and because of that fact is transitory. 
 The qualifying word "real" simply suggests the per- 
 manency of its contrast with baser elements, and of 
 course, does not signify its endless existence. Beauty, 
 whether real or unreal, is not confined to humanity 
 alone but is also found as a condition in both animate 
 and inanimate entities. This fact is unquestioned. 
 
 Beauty is not eternal because it is but a symbol by 
 which we convey the knowledge of our appreciation of 
 symmetry in form, regularity in shape and harmony of 
 color, which by reason of necessity must absolve, de- 
 cay and fade with the objects it describes. It is not a 
 matter of inheritance because symmetry of form, regu- 
 larity in shape and harmony of color are not common 
 to infancy, therefore are not dependent upon the ability 
 of the object possessing those enhancements to gather 
 such qualities from its surroundings as when assimi- 
 lated with like qualities within itself, will, through the 
 natural law of cohesion shape out a pleasing appear- 
 ance. The fact that an object is dependent upon some- 
 thing else for its full and final development makes the 
 result of that development a decided acquisition. 
 
 Character is merely a matter of strength or weakness, 
 and may be found in a tree, rock or hill, as well as in a 
 man or woman. With reference to a rock or hill, the 
 word character is used as a symbol indicating power of 
 resistance to contending external forces; in a man or 
 woman it implies a virtue in good or evil, health or 
 disease. This, too, without regard to the appearance 
 of eiiher object or individual. 
 
REAL BEAUTY VS. PRETTY. 135 
 
 Real beauty is antonymous to either organic or super- 
 ficial ugliness and does not necessarily imply anything 
 of the condition of mind and heart "which, at its great- 
 est height of influence in the right, makes a pious man 
 or woman ; or which, in its simple depth and propor- 
 tion of wrong, creates the vascillating weakness of a 
 beast — the first God-like, the latter demoniacal. The 
 difference between mind power and brute force pre- 
 ponderates in favor of the mind, in that brute force is 
 but a visible means to an abstract end, while mind is 
 the evidence of internal progression. Whether this 
 psychological movement be in the right or in the 
 wrong direction depends upon the individual concep- 
 tion of the moral or immoral influence of his or her 
 action. Beauty describes a flower, a dress or a produc- 
 tion; noble thought, true heart, strong character, pure 
 life, real principle, are definitive qualities in admirable 
 men and women. 
 
 Attention might be called to a large number of 
 women who have been particularly admired for their 
 charming "prettiness" — incorrectly by some called 
 "beautiful"— beautiful as applied to the human face and 
 form being confounded by the more rational word 
 "pretty." A thing may be beautiful because it is per- 
 fect, and still not be pretty. A woman may be pretty 
 with all her faults, and of course, not beautiful. Pretty 
 is the symbol by which our tongues express the pleas- 
 ure of our eyes; beauty, the instrument by which we 
 exhibit the strength of our inward selves. The on^ 
 is a sentimental suffusion; the other, an immaculate 
 power of sense. Thus we have the first prime proposi- 
 tion, "beauty is not eternal, neither is it a matter of 
 inheritance." 
 
IS KISSING WRONG? 
 
 Now, kissing is a delicate morsel of something most 
 difficult to define. It constitutes the sum total, the 
 final outcome of a subject bruited in all conditions of 
 life from the highest to the lowest, and mooted alike 
 in hamlet and city. Kissing is a common theme, a 
 thing with which all and yet none are familiar and, 
 withal, there remains a mist of mystery pervading as 
 unknowable as the impulse of human nature. 
 
 Some people insist on the impropriety of that pecu- 
 liar method of intimating sentiment, arguing from the 
 proposition that such practice is scientifically, medi- 
 cally, morally and etiquettically incorrect. Some high 
 authorities have taken the time and trouble to finely 
 expostulate with their fellows in learned diction, but 
 the fact still stands that kissing may be appoved from 
 the standpoint of all these as well as from the right 
 of adopting a long established Biblical code. 
 
 Science has failed to establish the truth that "edul- 
 corated labial osculation" is detrimental to the mental, 
 moral and physical development of any person. Physi- 
 cians have not learned that any except infectious dis- 
 eases have ever been transmitted from one person to 
 a;nother through the soul-searching welding of lips. 
 Etiquette has no law against one affectionate person 
 expressing that condition of heart to another by the 
 visible sign, a kiss. Ethics are obscure in their proof 
 of damage to individual character through the un- 
 certain changes of facial contact. Religion, as lived 
 by the ancient fathers, fully endorsed the office of a 
 holy kiss as the symbol of purity and christian love. 
 
 Whatever motive may prompt the bestowal of a 
 kiss, whether true or false, the power of that instru- 
 ment of conveyance for feeling is in nowise diminished. 
 
IS KISSING WRONG? 137 
 
 A kiss may be a token of fidelity or betrayal; none can 
 tell, save those benefited or injured by the bestowal 
 of it. As the same sunlight which causes vegetation 
 to develop and mature, and gives color to leaf and 
 flower, will cause that same vegetation to wither and 
 decay, and that same leaf and flower to wilt and fade 
 — out of season — even so and likewise does a kiss either 
 edify or villify the intents of the heart in just so much 
 as it be pure or impure, true or false. The fact that the 
 sun's heat destroys vegetation is no argument against 
 the office of the sun. The fact that some people per- 
 jure their souls with a kiss — falsely given — does not 
 obtain against the virtue of a kiss. Where one in- 
 dividual prostitutes the uses of affection's seal, a thous- 
 and are submerged in the ocean of its virtue. 
 
 I must concur in the belief that too mj^ch careless- 
 ness and laxity are extant as touching- the sacred office 
 of a kiss. A real kiss is the fountain flow of blissful 
 love; the more passionate, pure and blissful the love, 
 the richer and more abundant the flow of kisses. How- 
 ever, as the strongest current in the tides of ocean 
 loses itself in the fashioning of other currents, even 
 so the incessant flow of kisses must weaken the force 
 producing them, unless, as is sometimes true of ocean 
 currents, a reinforcement lends aid to the fountain- 
 head. In view of the fact that but few ocean currents 
 find return channels, it does not seem safe to expect 
 human forces to be more highly favored by accidental 
 circumstances. As true love is the sweeter and the 
 more enjoyable because of its rarity, it may not be 
 amiss to identify wholesome kissing with it, since both 
 signify purity of mind and joy of heart. 
 
 I am not a convert to the opinion that a husband, for 
 instance, should regard his wife as more kissable the 
 first year of married life than the tenth ; likewise inter- 
 vening years; neither would I advocate an over-in- 
 dulgence or an undue repression of the desire to kiss 
 — but let it be at any time or any place under proper 
 conditions. I think a kiss at the right time and place 
 and every day in the year to be essential to the wel- 
 
138 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 fare and happiness of those kissed and kissing. I now 
 recall that very touching story of Princess Alice, whose 
 little boy was seriously ill of diphtheria. She had been 
 cautioned not to go near the bedside of her suffering, 
 child lest her own life be jeoparized. Bidding defiance 
 to all counsel she approached the bed upon which the 
 little fellow tossed in fever and pain. She laid her 
 hand upon his forehead and caressed him. The touch 
 cooled his fevered brain and brought the wandering 
 soul back from its wild delirium to nestle for a moment 
 in the lap of a mother's love. Then throwing his arms 
 around her neck he whispered: "Mamma, kiss me." 
 The instinct of a mother's love is stronger than science 
 or statesmanship or royalty, and she pressed her lips 
 to those of her child. So it will be to the end. The 
 true mother will kiss her child, the wife her husband, 
 the sister her brother and the maiden her sweetheart, 
 though death in a thousand shapes lies ambushed 'neath 
 the ruby tint of pouting lips. 
 
CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR. 
 
 Endeavorers, is there one sweet flower, 
 
 Which you've grown in the garden of your heart 
 For Jesus, who said, in His last sad hour: 
 
 "My spirit from the world shall not depart? 
 Withhold not thy florals ; the narrow bier 
 
 Sees no other than its burden of Death; 
 Hears no sound, gives no smile, sheds no tear, 
 
 'Though Nature embalm it in fragrant breath. 
 So DeKalb Endeavorers, I trow, 
 You'll want to bestow your wreaths just now. 
 
 Would you break the box of precious ointment- 
 Anoint the head, to you, dearer than gold, 
 
 With love, in proportion, God's appointment- 
 Keep the heart young, though the body grow old? 
 
 Delay not; tomorrow may be the day 
 When funeral cortege moves slowly by, 
 
 With those to whom you now could tribute pay. 
 Before the spirit takes its flight on high. 
 Lest o'er your grave in the morn they bow, 
 You'd best begin your endeavors now. 
 
 Have you not seen in a sad, downcast face, 
 
 The sharp lines of grief's merciless tread? 
 In that countenance have you not found trace 
 
 Of unspoke sorrow, in a heart deep bled? 
 From those faded cheeks you've read the story 
 
 Of departed hopes, when life still was young. 
 And the world seemed filled with nameless glory— 
 
 The heart in triple happiness was hung. 
 Can you not renew your sacred vow, 
 And begin Christian Endeavor now? 
 
I40 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 Have you seen those tearless, passionless eyes, 
 
 From whose inactive depths no flashing light 
 Gleamed in gladness, or sparkled with surprise. 
 
 At hope's victory, — twinkling star of night? 
 Have you seen colorless lips try to speak, 
 
 The, soul's immeasureable weight of grief. 
 And be quiveringly speechless and weak 
 
 in bringing the heart its needed relief? 
 Would you not help such soul keep its vow, 
 By just trying to Endeavor now? 
 
 Have you heard that voice once turned like a lute, 
 In painfully discordant notes try to sing 
 
 The melody of a soul that was mute, 
 Inharmonious — without music's ring? 
 
 Did not your own heart become more tender. 
 At the hopelessness of that piteous wail ; 
 
 Did you not wish to be that soul's strong defender- 
 Begin the "fiat of fate" to assail ? 
 If we'd escape despondency's slough, 
 'Tis meet; begin Endeavoring now. 
 
 In keeping with that great gospel of Love, 
 
 Preached to this hapless world, so long ago, 
 The grief-stricken may look in Faith, above. 
 
 And find sweet comfort in the heaven-glow. 
 But before grasping hold that mighty arm, 
 
 'Tis a part of the greatest human creed, 
 That in spreading sympathy's mild alarm. 
 
 We help each brother satisfy his need. 
 To do so, and not ask the why — how, 
 We should begin Endeavoring now. 
 
 Better that naught be said o'er the casket, 
 That contains the lifeless body of one 
 
 Who received not of love's floral basket. 
 To cheer his pathway so narrow and lone. 
 
 The dead read no obituary lines; 
 
 Hear not the Dirge, or the Requiem song. 
 
 Which help, faithfully, mortal designs, 
 
CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR. 141 
 
 At covering all fault before a throng. 
 If we would enjoy Jesus. I 'low, 
 We must begin Endeavoring now. 
 
 Better that cofifin be plain, flowerless, 
 
 Which holds S. form whose life was filled 
 With that fragrance, which makes Death powerless, 
 
 And from which Life's own essence is distilled. 
 When the heart's throbless, — cold — and breath abated, 
 
 Then garlands throw us backward no perfume! 
 Our gifts may be by the world related ; 
 
 But will they smooth one furrow? Don't presume: 
 If we're earnest for the why and how. 
 We will make Christian Endeavors now. 
 
AMERICA'S SILENT ARMY. 
 
 Just thirty-eight years ago, I believe, war clouds hung 
 dark this country o'er. 
 
 And its loyal sons sprang prompt to relieve, in num- 
 bers a million or more. 
 
 Fiercely they strode past the enemy's lines, bent on 
 a vile curse to destroy; 
 
 With that courage which history defines, belongs to the 
 real Yankee boy. 
 
 It's a sad thought, yet one most dear to all — too griev- 
 ous to express in words — 
 
 Of how they arose at the country's call, an' fought 
 like tigers with the hordes. 
 
 Boldly they marched on to the battlefield, joined to- 
 gether, a living wall — 
 
 Each fully determined never to yield, even though in 
 death he must fall. 
 
 Proudly they bore to that hot Southern clime — story of 
 peace in tones so clear — 
 
 And taught the Negro the terror of crime, and honest 
 manhood to revere. 
 
 Thousands of comrades so noble and true, are lying 
 silent in the grave. 
 
 Who gave their lives and all in honor's cause, and pur- 
 chased freedom for the slave. 
 
 These motionless sleepers so deep in ground, under 
 their laurels dearly bought — 
 
 Truly have a name, the wide world around — Liberty, 
 the prize which they sought. 
 
 But no more for their joy the campfire gleams, or to 
 them gives its cheering light. 
 
 Where happy freedom's mellow moonlight streams its 
 flood of peace, so pure and bright. 
 
AMERICA'S SILENT ARMY. 1^3 
 
 Give them, oh people, your heartful praise, for golden 
 
 deeds of valor done; 
 Let us here, our banner, Old Glory, raise, to show the 
 
 world what they have won. 
 About this emblem moving in the sky, kissed by Na- 
 ture's every breeze, 
 We'll proudly rear our bulwarks strong and high, of 
 
 homes and men — the nation's trees. 
 May the grand old Stars and Stripes ever wave, with 
 
 their colors — Red, Blue and White — 
 In gentle folds o'er each veteran's grave, a true token 
 
 of faith and might. 
 'Tis meet that we strew garlands of flowers, upon each 
 
 soldier's somber tomb. 
 Our humble gifts from earth's sweetest bowers, now 
 
 rich in leaf and bud and bloom. 
 Worshiping lips may here speak words of grace, and 
 
 honest hearts send forth their love. 
 To coax brighter smiles in each widow's face, whose 
 
 husband rests with Him above. 
 Ye sons and daughters, your glad tributes give — a 
 
 tithe to those who wore the Blue — 
 For redeeming the land in which we live, and the flag 
 
 to me and to you. 
 We'll not forget that conflict of the past, nor the bat- 
 tlefields red with gore. 
 Whereon our father's lot to chance was cast, and the 
 
 bullet-rent cloth they bore. 
 We'll ne'er forget the loyalty maintained, while striving 
 
 for victory's crown; 
 Nor, the principle of manhood sustained, in striking 
 
 vile slavery down. 
 Brothers, should we not then more thankful be, in our 
 
 noble work just begun; 
 That we live in this land, happy and free, and are each 
 
 a veteran's son. 
 S. O. V. camps their attention should turn, to bring- 
 ing Sons into the fold — 
 Helping them the law of friendship to learn, as did 
 
 our Sires, in times of old. 
 
144 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACJSE. 
 
 We may ne'er get to hear a battle cry, nor see the 
 
 tyrant in his rage ; 
 It may not be ours on the field to die — because this 
 
 is a peaceful age — 
 But to be true to the trust that is left, we must be up 
 
 now, and alive, 
 To the wants of those alone and bereft — widows and 
 
 orphans, who survive. 
 Keep green in our thoughts, those living and dead, who 
 
 strove the nation to preserve — 
 The sick attended, and the hungry fed — nothing there 
 
 is, we can reserve. 
 Let friendship, charity and loyalty, outshine all our sta- 
 tions in life. 
 As greater than science or royalty, and worthy our. 
 eagerest stife. 
 
 All honor, then, to whom honor is due, there are those 
 
 of whom we'd relate — 
 Our own brave lads who went from Waterloo, for the 
 
 conflict of ninety eight. 
 To defend the Pearl of Antilles, from Spanish treachery 
 
 and wrong. 
 They fought Bushwhackers an' Guerillas, with cannon 
 
 an' musket so strong. 
 Our Company I did its humble part, preparing for the 
 
 awful fray — 
 And fear, 'twas not known to a single heart, leaving 
 
 the station on that day. 
 Though they saw not the harbor, Havana, nor carried 
 
 wreckage from "The Maine," 
 They joined the Stripes to the Red Bandanna, and 
 
 bleached our country of its stain. 
 Hail ! Dewey, Sampson, Hobson, Schley, Shafter — 
 
 America's heroes so true ! 
 For giving the Dons their sad hereafter, in love for the 
 
 Red, White an' Blue. 
 For these gallant men there's name and renown — 
 
 but neighbors what will w^e do 
 To honor those marching to Tampa town — brave Com- 
 pany I, of Waterloo? 
 
BUGS. 
 
 Bugs seem to have the floor just at this peculiar 
 period in American history. The clan bearing this eu- 
 phonious title has been receiving living reinforcements 
 from all directions and in the personage of everything 
 that has any right whatver to the title and distinction 
 of "bug." It has been astutely put that the i6 to i 
 people are silverbugs; prohibitionists, waterbugs; wo- 
 man suffragists, ladybugs; soundmoney men, goldbugs; 
 mugwumps, humbugs; popocrats, straddlebugs; mem- 
 bers of the Four Hundred, bigbugs; with the bedbug, 
 chintzbug and the potatobug doing business at the old 
 stand, and in the regular way, as complacently and 
 vigorously in all departments as though nothing had 
 occurred to mar the pleasure of their vocation. Being 
 a distinct cast of "bug" they disdain to mingle with 
 any other set or cast of bugs, having gold and silver 
 as an incentive, but with becoming dignity adopt a law 
 unto themselves that it is meet that the farmer should 
 share with them his Paris green, his crops and his 
 blood. They enter no controversy, make no noise, 
 publish no newspapers; but "neglect not the assem- 
 bling of themselves together as the way of some men is, 
 but exhort one another all the more as they see the 
 day approaching" when the farmer must arise and with 
 sickle and hoe gather in what is left of the fruits of 
 his toil. The moral to this is obvious and simple. 
 
SOMEBODY'S MOTHER. 
 
 The day was dark and gloomy. A cold drizzling rain 
 had been falling during almost the whole of two days, 
 thus rendering every aspect outdoors most dreary. The 
 air was heavy, with a penetrating chill not unlike the 
 nocturnal permeation of late autumn or early winter. 
 At times the wind swept in sharp gusts from the north 
 and northwest, with its burden of freshness sent by the 
 ice gorge in lake and river. The streets were slushy 
 and many of the foot-crossings almost imoassable. In 
 short, it was a typical April day in Indiana. 
 
 It was Saturady before Easter. Notwithstanding the 
 inclemency of the weather, people from the rural dis- 
 tricts thronged the business thoroughfares of one of 
 those quaint, besmoked, though enterprising railroad 
 towns of which the Hoosier state is prolific. The spirit 
 of the place was hustle, and ere they were aware the 
 lusty farmer, the tradesman and the mechanic, caught 
 the influence of a stirring atmosphere in a stirring 
 town and began, as a matter of course, to stir them- 
 selves. Of those congregating outside the stores, men 
 and women, boys and girls, each, all, seemed to be in 
 a great hurry to get somewhere or to do something. 
 Surging to and fro like waves on an angry sea, each 
 pushed and jostled the other as though the last oppor- 
 tunity in life, the last moment of existence had been or 
 was about being reached. It was salesday with the big 
 stores, and people from far and near had come to do 
 their marketing for the following week. All were fa- 
 miliar with these occasions, hence none appeared to be 
 surprised at the great activity. 
 
 At a point where two of the principal streets inter- 
 sected, a large crowd of men and boys had gathered. 
 
SOMEBODY'S MOTHER. 147 
 
 No one could tell just why a denser mass of humanity- 
 found concourse at that particular corner, than at a half- 
 dozen other corners in sight. But the largest crowd 
 was assembled at this corner and that fact alone is 
 quite sufficient to the purpose of this tale. 
 
 Nobody seemed to be expecting her ; none could tell 
 from whence or how she came, or whither she was 
 going. In fact her coming was more or less of a sur- 
 prise to at least one person, when of a sudden an aged 
 lady — sad-eyed, wistful, emaciated, cheeks pale, wan 
 and hollow, as from the effects of disease or intense 
 suffering and shoulders rounded almost to deformity — 
 edged her way, step by step, with slow and measured 
 tread through the boisterous and not over polite aggre- 
 gation of human beings. Her shoes were old and her 
 dress, of an ancient pattern, was badly worn and faded; 
 here and there a patch was to be seen, JDUt the whole 
 scrupulously clean. A thin shawl, which had long 
 since done ample service, answered the purpose of 
 headgear and cape. Looking neither to the right nor 
 to the left, and with lips firmly set, she seemed intent 
 upon one purpose only — reaching a destination some- 
 where in advance of her. To all else she was totally^ 
 oblivious. So absorbed was she in this one purpose 
 that she heard not the scoffs of the overdressed, hair- 
 brained fop, nor the billingsgate of the street gamin; 
 nay, she was insensible alike to the levity of garrulous 
 youth, and the bellicose of belligerent superannuation. 
 She was going somewhere. She felt it, believed it, and 
 being extremely anxious to finish the journey, brooked 
 no delay. Wind, rain, a motley crowd, none of these 
 things could deter her. She must arrive there. 
 
 But where? Who could tell? No matter. The lady 
 had no disposition to disclose her purposes; none dared 
 to question her; in fact none was specially interested 
 in anything just then, save perhaps mere amusement. 
 Though rudely jostled about, the woman maintained 
 a stolid indifference, except now and then a frown of 
 displeasure would appear on her otherwise placid face. 
 
 At last, after many feeble efforts, she reached the 
 
148 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 middle of the street crossing and tremblingly awaited 
 the opportunity to pass on. Just at that instant a frac- 
 tious team of dapple greys which were hitched to a 
 heavy vehicle, having become frightened at some ob- 
 ject farther up the street, and getting beyond the driv- 
 er's control, dashed wildly around the corner. The 
 woman heeded not their noise, saw not her peril. She 
 had but one thought, but one purpose, that was of 
 
 . But before she could have framed the word, 
 
 had she so desired, all power of thought within her 
 was stilled. Eyes, ears and brain had ceased for the 
 time to act. A fatality had overtaken, a serious ac- 
 cident had happened to her. The horse nearest her, 
 a mettlesome beast, plunged madly forward and side- 
 wise, and struck the woman on her head with its hoof, 
 from the effects of which she fell in a senseless heap 
 on the pavement. She made no sound, uttered no word, 
 save a deep, gutteral groan, as the wheels of the vehi- 
 cle passed dangerously near; that was but once, and 
 only for an instant. Then all was still and she laid 
 as one dead. 
 
 Of the motley crowd which blockaded the corner, but 
 one, a young man, who had treated with silent con- 
 tempt, the small, chaffy talk of his fellows saw the ac- 
 cident. 
 
 He took in the situation at a glance, and without 
 a word sprang to the old lady's side. Bending tenderly 
 over her prostrate form, he raised her gently by his 
 strong right arm, to almost a sitting posture and spoke 
 low, but earnestly into her ears. But she breathed not, 
 heard not, spoke not;— was to all appearances dead. 
 
 By this time a crowd had gathered and after a mo- 
 tion from the young man, the unfortunate woman was 
 borne tenderly to a place of safety, where a physician 
 was summoned, who promptly applied restoratives. 
 Ere long she opened her eyes and gasped: "Where 
 am I ? What am I doine^ here ? Oh, yes, I remember, 
 now — I was going home." 
 
 At this, the young man, stepped near and said, "What 
 can we do for you madam — m-o-t-h-e-r?" 
 
SOMEBODY'S MOTHER. 149 
 
 At the sound of that word, "Mother," her ■wrinkled 
 face Hghted up with a smile — a smile that was too 
 sanguine of hope, too real for earth, and she said, look- 
 ing the young hero for the first time in the eyes, 
 "There is nothing to be done, my boy, just let me go to 
 sleep ; I am so t-i-r-e-d, and she fell back on the im- 
 provised pillow — a corpse. She had at last gone home ! 
 
 The young man bowed his head and wept; nor did 
 it seem as though his tears would cease their flowing. 
 An awful silence reigned for a space; none dared to 
 break the majestic solemnity, until finally someone in 
 the crowd touched the young man on the shoulder and 
 inquired, "Who is she; where does she belong; what 
 is she doing here; how did it happen?" 
 
 The young man's grief having somewhat spent itself 
 the sudden sound of words seemed to awaken him, and 
 
 he replied, "She is my his frame shook and sobs 
 
 choked him — she is my — , she lived in a little thatched 
 cottage along the river side, and was trying to reach 
 home, when a runaway team struck her down at yonder 
 crossing." 
 
 Having uttered these words the young man dropped 
 his face in his hands and 'wept as if his heart were 
 broken. 
 
 An elderly man approaching at this juncture, on see- 
 ing the woman in a heap and the young man prostrated, 
 exclaimed, "What is this?" Loosening the shawl from 
 about the woman's throat, he peered hastily into her 
 face. Withdrawing suddenly he approached a bystander 
 and in choking tones remarked: "Somebody's 
 mother. Yes she was somebody's mother. She was 
 his mother. Her life was not an easy one, nor her 
 experiences a flowery bed of ease. She suffered many 
 heartaches and partook of keenest privation. Her son 
 was not always a good son. He was wayward, and 
 not infrequently unkind. But she endured it all hero- 
 ically. She bore him and all his faults into the world 
 at the same time, she was willing to think, and was 
 therefore obligated to look after him. She did her 
 duty bravely. If he got angry she was there to soothe 
 
ISO BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 his spirits back to humor; if he became vindictive, she 
 was all forgiving; if he became intoxicated she saw he 
 was sober; if he got into prison, she followed him to 
 his cell; if he was ill, she nursed him back to health. 
 Thus under all conditions she remained faithful to his 
 interest. No sorrow was too deep for her to comfort, 
 no dungeon too dark and silent for the light of her 
 undying love. Oh, yes, she was somebody's mother. 
 She was his mother^ but he realized it not. 
 
 What is purer than honesty? Nothing, What is 
 sweeter than charity? Nothing. What is richer than 
 wisdom? Nothing. What is brighter than virtue? 
 Nothing. What is more steadfast than faith? Nothing. 
 These qualities living in the mind and heart create the 
 firmest foundation for happiness. 
 
 WHEN THE PRETTY LILACS BLOOM. 
 
 When pretty lilacs in the garden bloom, 
 A.nd lift their heads in fragrant sheaves; 
 
 When sunlight frightens away clouds and gloom, 
 And the wind plays tricks with the leaves; 
 
 When sparrow, robin and wren take their room 
 Very near to the cottage eaves — 
 
 'Tis then, though human strength be failing fast, 
 
 Eyesight dim and still growing dim, 
 That my heart thrills with gladness to the last; 
 
 My Soul joys in an unsung hymn — 
 And in the beauty of a matchless world. 
 
 My gaze to yon star-realm is cast. 
 
 Many years have passed since dear Anna went 
 
 To her AngeUc home on high; 
 The last radiant glance to me she sent — 
 
WHEN THE PRETTY LILACS BLOOM. 151 
 
 I see it yet; will, till I die! 
 Just now, when fragrant lilacs upward shoot, 
 I see her face toward me bent. 
 
 She truly worshiped these homely flowers, 
 
 And gave them with hands ungloved; 
 They've cheered me in my lonely hours — 
 
 Brought me near to the one I loved; 
 Their perfuming sweetness and color rare 
 
 Fall on my life like April showers. 
 
 I too, freely love these old-fashioned things, 
 Tree-like, blooming fragrant and grand; 
 
 Which, many a happy memory brings 
 Of an Angel, in the glory land, 
 
 Whose voice in Heaven's music rings; 
 A.nd who beckons me with her hand. 
 
 There be some newspaper editors who pride them- 
 selves on their ability to tell what they assume to be 
 "the truth." This is egotism, pure and simple. It 
 is not necessarily good journalism for a man to tell 
 "all he knows." Such things sometimes show the limit 
 of a man's intelligence. Then too, there is a diflference 
 between the plain statement of a fact and obscene vul- 
 garity; a shade of difference also exists between "sim- 
 ple truth" and invulnerable insinuation. 
 
THINGS HEARD ABOUT TOWN. 
 
 Pungent Points Picked From What People Say on 
 Street and Out-of-Way Places. 
 
 John Schnitzer tells a good story on "Pinkerton" 
 Burritt, who it is alleged, was made the brunt of a 
 harmless joke on Friday night of last week, while keep- 
 ing vigilance against invaders to the smallpox district 
 on the North Side. It seems that a certain person 
 of the feminine gender concluded to test the extent of 
 "Pinkerton's" ability to deport himself a guardian of 
 the peace, pure and simple. So an "efifigy" man was 
 "fixed" as though attempting to climb into the loft 
 of a barn on the premises, and then "Pinkerton's" at- 
 tention was called to the matter. In the darkness it 
 was impossible to tell just what kind of a "hobo" it 
 was, but "Pink," accompanied by a fellow policeman, 
 Logan, by name, who was "on," sought the presence 
 of his "hoboship." After cutting his neck a "few," he 
 approached the silent climber and demanded some ex- 
 planation as to why he was there. But "effigy" was 
 silent as the shades of Hamlet's ghost. Finally "Pink" 
 took hold of his arm, when lo, by all the beauties of 
 the craft, the gesticular appendage was not of flesh. 
 Then "Pink" enunciated a mild ameliorant to his 
 wounded feelings. 
 
 As the writer was walking along Quincy street, the 
 other day, he observed a coterie of men seated on the 
 stonepile anent the billboards west of Ike Whirledge's 
 place. Among the men who were discussing common- 
 places was an old boyhood friend, Willis Mochamer, 
 by name, who had brought a load of hay to the Gar- 
 rett market. After friendly greetings, the talk turned 
 
THINGS HEARD ABOUT TOWN. 153 
 
 to street paving, railroading, farming, hiring hands, 
 social gossip and finally to the subject best understood 
 by the coterie, namely, horses. This subject was pre- 
 cipitously introduced by the appearance of an old jockey 
 from Avilla or Albion, who, it seems was well, though 
 not favorably known to the crowd. As he came up, 
 a lean, lank, bilious temperament chimed out a "hello 
 there Bill! Where can I buy a good team?" The 
 horse jockey replied, "Of me. I've got a fine team." 
 "What does it weigh," asked the man of bilious tem- 
 perament. "Thirty-four hundred," ventured the jockey. 
 A dead silence fell. One of the number remarked that 
 even yet a liar was once in a while to be found among 
 some horsemen, although most of them were truthful. 
 
 One of the primary necessities of these days is the 
 shining parlor. That is to say, a room suitably situated 
 for one of those high chairs to stand in upon whicli 
 gentlemen sit while receiving a polish to their footgear. 
 The position of the man or boy who shines shoes is 
 humble, but by no means a mean profession. In fact 
 it were a hard problem to solve did men attempt to get 
 along without the perennial shine or polish of their 
 footgear. On Saturday evening the writer mounted 
 the hight for a shine in one of the numerous parlors 
 about town, presided over by an elderly man, who in 
 his younger years was a cooper by trade. "Can you 
 fix these up for Sunday?" was asked, referring to our 
 "tans." "Oh, I guess so," said the man of dope and 
 cloth, who began the mysterious operation with a vigor 
 befitting more youthful years. He was talkative too, 
 not extremely so, but sufficiently so to make the time 
 pass quickly. Among other things he said, "My trade's 
 gone. I never was so swift as some, but I lay some 
 claim to quality." By this time the shoes were fin- 
 ished and shone like new silver dollars. "Are they 
 as good as the boys could do?" he asked. "Yes." 
 
 It does not happen very often that the boys about 
 town have the privilege of getting their hair cut gratis, 
 
154 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 but just now there is opportunity for grooming the 
 hirsute appendage. We did not know of it, or a quarter 
 would have been saved to our own exchequer recently. 
 But then, we didn't and it cost us that much for our 
 ignorance. We'll speak to the barbers next time, 
 though, about the matter before spending the precious 
 quarter. We would not have "been onto the racket" 
 but two boys happened to be talking about the matter 
 in our hearing, and one of them said, "Say, why don't 
 you have your mane trimmed? It won't cost you nuth- 
 in down to Zeis's." "Why," spoke out the other, "is 
 he cutting hair free?" "Yep. Doin' it for practice, 
 see?" 
 
 An aged tailor in town, one evening when in a rem- 
 iniscent mood, made the remark that he did the tailor- 
 ing years ago for people who have since acquired some- 
 thing of this world's goods — enough to make them 
 egotistical and pedantic. "They were talkative, then," 
 said he, "and I trusted them for my pay, but now they 
 find disposition only to grunt out a bare recognition. 
 I contend that human f^esh is human flesh and one man 
 is just as good as another. We owe it to everybody 
 to extend the common civilities." 
 
 "Reddy" Ward went into Pete Stoner's barber shop 
 the other day, and after discussing — Reddy is quite a 
 discussionist — the wind and the news of the day, the 
 subject of "weather" was taken up. After dropping 
 snugly into a chair, napkin spread, and lathered to ears 
 and eyes, how "Red" did dissect the bureau of predic- 
 tions. Temperatures and barometers were not in it 
 when he announced himself tired of changing clothes. 
 Some one asked: "How would you like to live where 
 they don't need any clothes?" "Reddy" blinked his 
 eyes just as he always does when thought is heavy 
 upon him, and replied: "I worked with a gang once 
 that didn't wear much of anything, but the climate was 
 far from agreeable." A knight of the razor and strop 
 
THINGS HEARD ABOUT TOWM. 155 
 
 asked: "Where was that, Red?" "Among the pud- 
 dlers, of course." 
 
 The old gentleman was quitely perusing his daily 
 paper when the stranger approached his "shining par- 
 lor," He immediately arose — that is, the aged gentle- 
 man — and tendered the stranger his chair and the news- 
 paper. The chair happened to be one of those high 
 ones and an easy recliner withal. Ere long the stranger 
 was buried in Ella Wheeler Wilcox's department of 
 the Chicago American — that is to say his mind was ab- 
 sorbed by her dissertation on "A Good Husband." 
 Meanwhile the elder man was applying brush and dope 
 on a pair of tans which were about as muddy as Ran- 
 dolph street clay could make them. At last the story 
 was finished, but not so with the shoes. His lordship 
 of the shining parlor had the larger job. As a sort of 
 easement to the situation, the stranger started a con- 
 versation by saying: "It beats all what weather we've 
 had, dosen't it?" "Yes," replied the burnishing artist,^ 
 "but things seem to grow. Don't hear much about' 
 the smallpox any more. Folks must talk about some- 
 thing. You see, they have lots more time to talk now 
 than was afiforded twenty years ago. Then a family 
 of eight or ten kept the women folks busy cooking 
 and sewing and the men busy earning a living. But it's 
 different now. All that has been changed. People 
 have plenty of time to talk. If there's no smallpox 
 or scandals, then they talk about their neighbors. 
 These are great times, I tell you." With that he ap- 
 plied the finishing touches, which pleased his customer, 
 whom he sent away joyful, not to say reflective. 
 
 A young hopeful was jumping up and down on one 
 of the boards used to cross Randolph street at Stoner's 
 corner Tuesday evening. There was water under the 
 board and it was muddy. The "kid" evidently enjoyed 
 seeing it splash and went at the work with a vigor 
 which would have been entirely absent in any useful 
 occupation. A bystander approached "Louie" and 
 
156 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 asked: "Why is that boy like a hog?" "I don't know, 
 unless it's because he's near to nature's heart — mud." 
 And they all laughed but the "kid." 
 
 Some people do a great deal of bragging about what 
 they can do and seem to take an intense interest in try- 
 ing to gull people into believing they are "it," so to 
 speak in all directions, when in reality they are not 
 "it" nor anywhere near to becoming so. It must be an 
 excellent reputation for truth and veracity which re- 
 quires fifty dollars every time a statement is made to 
 make it seem plausible. 
 
 Dear old Kansas has been the experiment ground for 
 everything experimentable. The latest to encourage 
 the pencil pushers is to the eflfect that an "editor of 
 that state declares that it is a man's duty to be as 
 good to his wife as circumstances will permit, and he 
 has purchased for her a hoe and garden rake, and 
 promises if his delinquent subscribers will pay up to 
 buy her a wheelbarrow and shovel." 
 
 There are in the world an excess of 15,300,000 men, 
 which admits of the conclusion that there are an army 
 of '^old bachelors" also. Strange, isn't it? Of course, 
 but then there is a reason for it. According to an ex- 
 change but one country has an excess of women. In 
 no other nation is this true, except in Europe. It is 
 said that "In the frigid and torrid zones men pre- 
 dominate, while in the temperate regions where indus- 
 trial development is highest, women outnumber the 
 men." 
 
 Pennsylvania does not appear to like tramps. The 
 people of that state are a unit on that question and 
 evince a determination to give his trampship the very 
 thing he most despises — work. The country is in- 
 fested with a class of men who have none of the finer 
 senses of the average citizen and care nothing for 
 patriotism; they have no pride, no ambition, save to 
 
THINGS HEARD ABOUT TOWN. 157 
 
 itinerate from place to place. Purely nomadic in their 
 habits, they can have no interest in the welfare of any 
 particular community, nor feel the responsibility of the 
 true American citizen. Indiana can well afford to join 
 her sister state in making tramphood a crime punisha- 
 ble by hard labor. Place upon them the restrictions 
 and obligations of lawabiding citizens and it must cer- 
 tainly follow that tramp life takes an upward trend. 
 
 Have you heard of "skoliosis," the new disease from 
 which children are said to be suffering just now? 
 You haven't? Well, now, that is too bad. Henry 
 Suder, of Chicago, can tell you all about it. Does it 
 not seem strange that with from eighteen to twenty- 
 three hours for recreation our children are unable to 
 undergo the strain of learning to read, write, cipher 
 and spell? If such be the case, then God pity the 
 next generation. The News is not ready to think that 
 present-day progeny are such weaklings, but rather 
 that some gymnastic enthusiast is attempting to find 
 some new excuse for his particular brand of physical 
 exercise. If in reality, however, the children are con- 
 tracting "skoliosis," then we have no duty for the 
 present time more urgent than to take drastic measures 
 for stamping it forever from the face of the earth. 
 
 Edward H. Harriman has gained for himself the 
 distinction of being "Wall Street's Nanoleon." That 
 statement reads like war news, does it not? Well, 
 it means war, and war to the knife, too, especially in 
 the direction of the poorhouse. We read in history 
 of men who went to battle in ancient times that they 
 might take people captive and in so doing acquire the 
 right of confiscation. Great wars were waged on the 
 hypothesis that "to the victors belong the spoils." In 
 most cases "spoils" were the principal reasons for the 
 embroglios of those days, and if the truth were 
 known, for many of the embroilments and insurgencies 
 of the present day, the purposes involved are no more 
 praiseworthy. Take the case of the recent panic in 
 
 i 
 
158 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 Wall street. The Pompey of the industrial world and 
 the Caesar of the banking interests both backed by 
 the gigantic monied commercial corporations of two 
 continents arrayed themselves for a conflict which 
 should decide who was greatest in the stratagetic ma- 
 nipulation of finances. J. Pierpont Morgan was nom- 
 inally King of financiers, such proclamation having 
 been provoked by his recent monopolization of manu- 
 facturing institutions. Kuhn, Loeb & Co., the 
 Deutscher Bank of Berlin, and James Stillman, presi- 
 dent of the National City Bank of New York, were 
 not ready to bestow the palm upon this self-crowned 
 monarch, and forthwith planned to become rulers 
 themselves. They at once selected Harriman as hench- 
 man and called the engagement over the Northern 
 Pacific. Unlike Mr. Leiter, of wheat fame. General 
 Harriman was not alone ; neither was General Morgan. 
 The Atlantic Ocean was between them, however, and 
 when the final charge was made a lull came in opera- 
 tions and in the interim, thousands of little specula- 
 tors, all true soldiers and brave, fell by the wayside — 
 ruined ! The two great leaders, Pompey Morgan and 
 Caesar Harriman, only were left, not as equals, but 
 one was the greater. Which one? American finan- 
 ciers said, "Harriman." Now it is thought the second 
 Jay Gould has appeared on the stage of action. How- 
 ever, the future battles must be likened to the combat 
 of Soraub and Roosthrum, of the Persians and Tar- 
 tars, respectively, as chronicled by the Piiad. They 
 will be stubborn and to the finish, hand to hand. 
 
 We have labor unions, manufacturers' unions, steel 
 trusts, oil trusts and every other kind of a trust, union 
 or combination for the protection of somebody, bui 
 the latest thing in the trust line is the "Evangelical 
 Trust." It is an organization proposed by Rev. G. 
 W. Lasher, D. D., pastor of the Ninth Street Baptist 
 church, Cincinnati, whereby it is proposed to control 
 the services of evangelists. The Doctor seems to think 
 the big preachers are entitled to protection in the 
 
THINGS HEARD ABOUT TOWN. 159 
 
 matter of competition with the smaller ones, and in 
 lieu of that belief sugs^ests the trust. This reminds 
 us of an occasion of a few years ago, when one of the 
 churches in Indianapolis sent to Chicago for a big gun. 
 who came and talked theological abstracts at the rate 
 of $50 per night, and went away at the end of three 
 weeks without a convert. Again, we remember a so- 
 called Doctor of Divinity from Washington, D. C, 
 who a few years since filled the Fort Street pulpit 
 at Detroit, in the absence of the regular pastor. He 
 took a text such as is usually chosen by evangelists 
 to stir up enthusiasm. The gentleman in question, 
 however, discoursed so abstractedly in the abstract, that 
 his congregation fell asleep. It seems to be this class 
 of ecclesiastical highlights who want to be bolster^-d 
 up by a monopoly to control the output of the evan- 
 gelistic product. This, of course, is a poor commen- 
 tary on the apostolic instructions of the Humble Man 
 of Galilee, when he said, "go into the byways and 
 hedges and bring them in," and "think not on what 
 ye shall say, for I will put such words into your 
 mouths as the world shall not be able to withstand," 
 and also, "the laborer is worthy of his hire." "It is 
 likely that a universal prayer meeting would be a more 
 potent factor in the evangelization of the world, than 
 all the gigantic 'evangelical trusts' ever conceived of. 
 If preachers will preach the gospel, they will need no 
 'trust' to bolster them up." 
 
 A great deal is being published about Dr. Herron. 
 Before unequal relations obtained in his household 
 Prof. Herron's opinions were par-excellent, but since 
 everything is not as it should be in a preacher's home. 
 Dr. Hillis of New York, assumes that Herron's 
 opinions on that account are no longer worthy of 
 consideration. We have no acquaintance either with 
 Dr. Herron or Dr. Hillis, but it occurs to the writer 
 just now that if a single wrong act in a man's life 
 is the criterion by which is to be judged his ability 
 to think, then Bacon, Shakespeare, Rousseau, Ruskin, 
 
i6o BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACJSE. 
 
 Robert Burns, David, Solomon, Chopin, Liszt and 
 many others, are not entitled to a place in the thought 
 of the scholarly. Dr. Hillis repudiates the teachings of 
 his own school, and lays his judgment open to criti- 
 cism by the position he has taken against a fellow- 
 scholar. It is a very serious business to undertake 
 the measurement of a man's intellect by the standard 
 of his morals. 
 
 The trial of Prof. Herron by the Grinnell Congre- 
 gational church for immoral conduct brought to pub- 
 lic notice a wholesale allotment of fallacies, if one 
 may judge by the common standards of character meas- 
 urement. The testimony adduced tended to show that 
 George D. Herron, like thousands of others, had tired 
 of the common requirements of domestic life, and in 
 order to carry out a diabolical plan for the separation 
 of himself and wife, turned his back on established 
 customs, repudiated the marriage vows and galavanted 
 across America and over Eurooe in company with and 
 at the expense of a woman who ought to have had 
 respect enough for Mrs. Herron, if not for herself, 
 to regard the risfhts of a wife as greater than the 
 claims of a paramour. Under pretense of scaling in- 
 tellectual heights to which his wife could not attain, 
 the professor opened his bosom to an "affinity," and 
 thus freed himself from the trouble of looking after 
 his wife and babies. The evidence shows that Mrs. 
 Herron was untiring in her endeavors at intellectual 
 attainment, and that of the two she is the better 
 scholar. But the professor preferred an "affinity" to 
 her companionship, and through his egotism and in- 
 humanity destroyed the purest influence of a home and 
 destroyed the happiness of a pure woman who suffered 
 untold agony and faced death for his sake. The 
 proper medicine for him is not excommunication or 
 ostracism, but a genuine, old-fashioned raw-hiding. 
 Having laid claim to the superior intellectuality, he 
 should be made to feel a physical pain for every heart- 
 ache he purposely caused his wife to suffer. Still, he 
 
THINGS HEARD ABOUT TOWN. i6i 
 
 may not have brains enough to appreciate the philos- 
 ophy of such chastisement, though righteously ad- 
 ministered. 
 
 Poor old Prof. Crook of the Northwestern Univer- 
 sity is the subject of considerable comment among 
 learned men in London since laying his love for edul- 
 corated osculation on the altar of science. Even the 
 Britishers who worship at the shrine of science are 
 slow to grasp the situation and proclaim Prof. Crook 
 a worthy martyr. In all probability this position of the 
 British is a more certain sign of true culture than 
 the mere fact of a single professor of science in a 
 popular institution turning sour in the name of his 
 profession on a heaven-ordained and a God-given 
 privilege of mankind. Promiscuous kissing is neither 
 polite nor permissible, but he who would reap the rich- 
 est fruition of his existence is not competent to ignore 
 the fundamental principle of domestic tranquillity. 
 The man who goes through life without the pales of 
 conjugal relations, simply attempts to compel the 
 world and his Creator to accept a half man for a 
 whole one. Ampere, Faraday, Sir David Brewster, 
 Galileo, and thousands of others, who could be men- 
 tioned, found their loftiest impulses to scientific re- 
 search in the wise counsels of a wife. Again, the man 
 who allows his profession or ambition to rob his 
 wife of a kiss now and then is hardly worthy the name 
 of scientist. 
 
 Dear old China is looking into the face of a dark 
 future as an empire. No encouraging promises are 
 held out for the future. The picture is all the more 
 unformidable because a woman is at the bottom of 
 all the trouble. The dowager empress seems to ex- 
 ert a peculiar influence over the emperor, and unless 
 this bewitchment can be broken and a better cabinet 
 selected, there is no guarantee for the future peace 
 and safety of that country or its foreign dependen- 
 cies. It was a woman who gave Adam an interestmg 
 
i62 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 experience in the garden of Eden ; it was a woman 
 who induced Haman to desire the destruction of a 
 nation of people ; it was a woman that caused Samp- 
 son to lose his hair and eyes, and now it is a woman 
 who destroys the glory of the Celestial Empire. It is 
 to be hoped she may see her folly earlv enough to 
 redeem some of her atrocities before the dismember- 
 ment of that vast domain takes place. 
 
 The world is made up lareely of fads and fancies. 
 Particularly is this so among Americans, who han- 
 ker after titled idiosyncrasies. The latest thing 
 among the girls in the fad line is the Janice Meredith 
 c'^rl. The "Smart Set" of New York, Boston and 
 Philadelphia think it quite the proper thing to wear 
 one of those large, lingering rolls of hair so popular 
 in revolutionary days. Mary Mannering is respon- 
 sible in a measure for the picturesque and novel orna- 
 mentation, she having adopted that style of coiffure as 
 beloncrine to the role she carried in the play, "Janice 
 Meredith." 
 
 The lawver who induced some fellow to file a suit 
 for damages for injury in the explosion of the "Maine" 
 in all probablity was not aware that he was setting in 
 motion a chain of events to come before the commis- 
 sion, of greater siarnificance than at first could possiblv 
 have been surmised. The United States assumed all 
 obligations in lieu of Soain's s!-uilt in the matter, but 
 if the claims for damaares are allowed it must be shown 
 thpt Snain was gfuiltless. None will deny that the 
 proposition is one of great complication, and in case 
 damages are established the oft-cried "Remember the 
 Maine" becomes a fake or farce. 
 
 As an evidence of ffood faith A<?uinaldo has pro- 
 claimed peace in the Philippines. Under ordinarv cir- 
 cumstances an announcement of this sort would be 
 received in America with gratitude and possibly loud 
 acclaim. But coming from the source It does and at 
 
THINGS HEARD ABOUT TOWN. 163 
 
 a time when people generally are on the anxious seat 
 anyhow, the declaration of peace among the inhabitants 
 of those far-off islands is received with a shade of 
 suspicion that only those things in war are well which 
 end well in overtures of peace. It may be that Aggie 
 is in earnest. Such things have been before and 
 may be again, that a few men suddenly change opin- 
 ion and become faithful to the interests and purposes 
 of the opposite side, but the exception is against the 
 rule, except in cases of rare material gain. Just what 
 this new citizen of the United States expects to gain is 
 yet the query. The most he has now is newspaper 
 notoriety. 
 
 The Hoosier has a place in the world, whether the 
 person be a man or woman. Great minds there are 
 in Indiana, and they not infrequently think along the 
 sarne lines. A fair example of this is shown in a work 
 written by Caroline Krout, which deals with the prin- 
 cipal characters in "Alice of Old Vincennes." This 
 work was in process of construction at the time Thomp- 
 son's work appeared. Both stories were written in the 
 same town, but neither author knew of the other's 
 story. This is a remarkable coincident and reminds 
 the writer of a short story he wrote once, in which 
 the principal character involved the personage of a 
 bachelor friend who had lived wifeless for twenty 
 years beyond the natural period of expectancy. No one 
 thought of his taking unto himself the responsibilities 
 of domestic life. He was a confirmed o^d bachelor, 
 and said so. However, before the second chapter of 
 that story was finished the papers announced his mar- 
 riage to a charming widow. Strange things happen 
 sometimes, even among authors. 
 
 In the opinion of a great many able writers on civic 
 problems it is held that the American prosperity now 
 observable gives promise of a permanenecy unparalleled 
 in the history of the nation. Money, the fundamental 
 element of success in any enterprise, is circulating in 
 
i64 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 a larger volume than ever was known of before. A 
 syllabus of the comptroller's report on December 31st, 
 1900, would show: One-dollar bills, $102,000,000; fives, 
 $300,000,000; tens and twenties, $700,000,000; silver, 
 $160,000,000. The success attending this distribution 
 of over a billion of dollars through the regular chan- 
 nels of trade, is evidence conclusive that the best lub- 
 ricant for the wheels of industry is plenty of money 
 in the hands of the people. Money is the electric cur- 
 rent that shocks the business world into life and ac- 
 tivity. 
 
 Aginaldo has been captured and the United States is 
 one citizen ahead. That is. if swearing allegiance is 
 the making of a citizen. Better to be careful, though. 
 There have been times in the history of the past, when 
 enemies were temporarily reconciled through the oath 
 of allegiance. We say temporarily, because it sometimes 
 happens that enemies, by choice or otherwise, fail to 
 realize the full meaning of Americanism. The good 
 old Methodist plan would be to take Aggie on pro- 
 bation. 
 
 Hon. Robert W. Taylor has a big job on his hands. 
 He no doubt is acting from the influence of a certain 
 conviction that marriage laws in general ought to be 
 less lax in their application to the morals of the mar- 
 riage state, but his proposition for a uniformity of 
 statutes regulating divorce carries with it the necessity 
 of fortificati(:3lh in arms and plenty of good ammuni- 
 tion. Perhaps none are more particular in maintain- 
 ing the purity of the home than Americans. In fact 
 the first principles of Americanism were puritan and 
 orthodox. One man for one woman and one woman 
 for one man was so positively the rule in those days, 
 that even a second marriage was a rarity, and a mar- 
 riage succeeding divorce was looked upon with abhor- 
 rence. Most people were taught to look upon divorce- 
 ment as a crime. Our forefathers believed it to be so. 
 
"THE MAN WITH THE HOE. 
 
 Much has been written about that class of men who 
 till the soil. Some writers are eulogistic; others divide 
 their compliments between approval and condemnation; 
 still others find nothing prim or correct in the avocation 
 of the ruralist. 
 
 The fact still remains that however humble and un- 
 assuming the profession of a farmer may be, as a 
 whole, he is thoroughly endowed with the aristocracy 
 of hospitality. Go to his home when you will, whether 
 at daybrenk, noontide, or the midnight hour, and a 
 greeting unmixed with affectation tempers his wel- 
 come. He takes his visitor by the hand and says "I 
 am glad to see you" with that earnestness of speech 
 which dispels all doubt of sincerity. His ways may 
 not be up to the standard of the elite, but that fact is 
 in his favor, because it is the virgin evidence that he 
 has not given his time to the mastery of senseless 
 etherealities — those popular nothings society has in- 
 vented to fill in time and round out form. 
 
 When meal time comes, he has a way of asking you 
 to partake of his provender that puts to shame the tact- 
 fulness of the shrewdest fashionable in the land. You 
 don't say no ; you couldn't if you wanted to. Yet, 
 withal, you feel fully welcome. No stiffness, no for- 
 malities ; he knows and cares nothing about them ; but 
 just a plain sort of neighborliness that makes you feel 
 you are not imposing on anybody by accepting an in- 
 vitation to eat or sleep in his house. 
 
 Freely blest is the man who realizes the calm dig- 
 nity of "The Man With The Hoe," in all his relations 
 to life. 
 
CIVILIZED BARBARISM. 
 
 The spring of 1901 will certainly be a season of ag- 
 gressiveness among the belles of fashionable society. 
 Feminine frippery and effeminate flimflams are ideas 
 which know no extreme too s^reat for them to sur- 
 mount, no novelty too ridiculous for them to adopt. 
 The rattlesnake is the reptile of guilelessness which 
 the daughters of Eve will appropriate as an article 
 of apparel this season, or rather his skin. Just think 
 a moment on what a menagerie a man accompanies 
 every time he goes out with his wife or his sweet- 
 heart for a drive or stroll. As a usual thing she will 
 have a silk worm dress, a sealskin sacque, ostrich 
 feather hat, goatskin shoes, whalebone stays, kidskin 
 gloves, horsehide belt, tortoise shell comb, fish scale 
 trimming, stuffed canary bird, clam shell buttons, spitz 
 dog muff, minktail collarette, alligator hide purse and 
 a rattlesnake tie ! Oh, ye gods ! The barbarians of the 
 Fiji Islands, bad in their way, yet none of them ex- 
 hibit a barbarism like unto this. 
 
 NEWSPAPER REPORTING. 
 
 Jourialism is a remarkable profession, which requires 
 a fitness and aptitude peculiar in itself. The following 
 is a fair sample of ordinary reporting, minus theoretic 
 detail and refers to a High School commencement : 
 
 PROGRAM AT CHURCH. 
 
 On Sunday evening Rev. W. A. Pavy delivered the 
 baccalaureate sermon to a large and appreciative audi- 
 
NEWSPAPER REPORTING. 167 
 
 ence, including the graduates. Mr. Pavy is a man of 
 fine accomplishment and his discourse was embellished 
 by many of the brighter gems from classic lore. He 
 also pointed out to the class of 1901, many of the con- 
 ditions surrounding them and called attention to the 
 higher as well as the conmion responsibilities of each. 
 The sermon, as a whole, reflected strong credit to the 
 gentleman delivering it and won many golden opinions 
 as to its intrinsic worth as a theological and educational 
 dissertation. 
 
 Thursday afternoon was a typical exemplification of 
 the lives of at least thirteen young people, who, with 
 their friends, neighbors and teachers, assembled at the 
 First Methodist Church to witness the execution of a 
 program of great significance. The day being the date 
 of National Memorial lent a charm to the occasion not 
 old, yet not new, but altogether pleasing. 
 
 The first nunioer on the pr6s:ramme was a violin solo, 
 "Berceuse" (B. Godard), by Geraldine Sembower, who, 
 in her own particular way, interpreted that title in 
 a style of musical discourse which clearly showed an 
 aptitude for the profound in art. Miss Sembower has 
 a brilliant future before her, which requires only the 
 fullness of time and experience to develop a mastery. 
 
 "The Value of an Education," by Edith Schunk, was 
 an excellent oration and showed the young lady to be 
 a careful student. If she strives to practice the thought 
 expressed, her everyday life must reflect grand achieve- 
 ment on practical and trustworthy lines. 
 
 "Progress of the Ages," by Claudia Trainer, was a 
 happy conceit in essaying, and disclosed a familiarity 
 with the record of men and events and won for Miss 
 Trainer a sincere regard for her accomplishment. 
 
 Minnie Childs talked of "Little Things," and sought 
 to discover to her hearers the fact that great things 
 can come only through the skillful and careful aggre- 
 gation of the "little things." This is true philosophy 
 and worthy of emulation, in fact, a necessity in the 
 event of any successful career, that the "little things' 
 be well looked after. Miss Childs won high opinions. 
 
i68 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 "Home" was the subject handled by Carlie Gard. 
 We say handled, because the treatment was germane 
 to the whole purpose of the theme. Terse, pungent an(i 
 forceful, and with a sharply defined individuality she 
 carried her auditors successfully from introductory to 
 climax. Her style reminds one of Lillian Bell, whose 
 crisp, catchy and convincing phraseology has won for 
 her so many warm admirers. Miss Gard gave voice 
 to the sentiment that the sweetest word in any language 
 spoken by the tongues of men is — home. The subject 
 v/as well assigned. 
 
 Mrs. Rilla Merica fully sustained her excellent repu- 
 tation as a vocalist in "Bird of the Mountain." by J. 
 Maurice Hubbard. It had been hard for Mr. Hubbard 
 to have written melody better suited to the capabilities 
 of the singer ; it had been still more difficult for Mrs. 
 Merica to have made a selection in which the true 
 value of her voice could be better shown. 
 
 "The Tree of Liberty is Nourished by the Blood of 
 Tyrants" was ably, though all too briefly, deliberated 
 upon by Otto Swantusch. Tall, manly and thoughtful, 
 Mr. Swantusch presents a striking appearance on the 
 platform, and not the least of his natural endowments 
 is a strong, mellow voice. 
 
 "Examples and Models" was a peculiar thing out of 
 which Maude Childs brought nuggets of pure gold. 
 The stress of her argument seemed to lie in the mat- 
 ter of always copying from perfect patterns. A theory 
 of eternal worth, which gives evidence of careful 
 thought and preparation. 
 
 Grace Feagler took up the idea of "The Necessity 
 of Practical Training-" and carried her audience to a 
 rational conclusion, that practical life requires prac- 
 tical men and that practical men are the reasonable re- 
 sult of practical training. 
 
 Geraldine Sembower discussed the question "Where 
 Shall We Work" in a plain, instructive fashion, adduc- 
 ing the final conclusion that the place to work is wher- 
 ever the work is to be found that we can do. Success 
 is the sensible reward for hard labor. 
 
NEWSPAPER REPORTING. 169 
 
 The program at this point was interspersed with a 
 pleasing solo in two parts, "Tell Him I Love Him 
 Yet," and "The Message" (Caverly), by Mrs. Telia 
 Moore, who has a voice of culture and who sang with 
 her usual power. The capabilities of her voice were 
 well measured. 
 
 "Might Wins a Way." the subject interestingly de- 
 lineated by Delia Parker, in which was shown the 
 fact that brain and brawn required an equilibrium, if 
 man presumes to accomplish the highest aims. Miss 
 Parker is endowed with an abundance of native talent. 
 
 Gwennie Richards delivered a carefully prepared 
 oration on "The Influence of Home and Its Litera- 
 ture," in which was exhibted a familiarity with do- 
 mestic affairs and a knowledge of the classics. Par- 
 ticular reference was made to Charles Dickens. 
 
 "Words" was the title assismed Beatrice Harkness, 
 and it is no breach of etiquette to say that her name- 
 sake of Latin grammar fame was but little more care- 
 ful in the selection of his derivatives than was Miss 
 Beatrice in the treatment of her subject. Words are 
 the pictures of thought, the forerunners of action, and 
 he who is carefullest of his words is carefullest of his 
 acts. Words are the pigments of purpose, which when 
 mixed with the oil of conscience can be spread on 
 the canvas of enterprise and create the Rembrandt of 
 victorious achievement. 
 
 "Over the Alps Lies Italy" was Grace Palmer's sub- 
 ject, which she handled gracefully and instructively. 
 The gist of her argument would be that all worthy 
 efiforts require a struggle — sometimes a hard struggle 
 — before the attainment of one's selected goal is 
 reached. As the soldiers, hungry, footsore and dis- 
 heartened, were cheered to bravery by the announce- 
 ment of their general "that beyond these mountains 
 lies Rome," even so the exolorers for knowledge and 
 place should remember that the richest reward lies 
 beyond the highest and most rugged mountain of diffi- 
 culty and opposition. 
 
 Porter Andrews elicited the opinion that he was 
 
I70 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 familiar with Grecian history, and gave all who had 
 read Ruskin's "Mornings in Florence," "Queen of the 
 Air," "Sesame and Lillies," "Lays of the Spanish 
 Chevalier," etc., a new impetus for the furbishing up on 
 literature. He innocently recalled one of the greatest 
 events in Florentine history by referring to Savon- 
 arola, who died a martyr for liberty at the hands of 
 the IVIedicii, and spake into the ears of Lorenzo the 
 words no other man would have dared to utter. But 
 he was talkinar more narticularly about art and took 
 "Michael Angelo" as his subject. 
 
 This was fittingly followed by a piano duet, "Zamba" 
 (Herold), by Delia Parker and Grace Reyher, both of 
 whom exhibited skill and careful training in the making 
 of vibrant sounds. This also closed the program for 
 the afternoon. 
 
 The floral decorations were tasteful and in keeping 
 with the spirit of refinement. The class colors, black 
 and red, formed the bas-relief at the rostrum. This 
 combination, taken together with the eleven prettily 
 gowned young ladies seated in a semi-circle on the 
 platform, the circle faced on the front by the two 
 young gentlemen in conventional black, created a pic- 
 ture worthy the brush of a Raphael or Angelo. 
 
 EVENING PROGRAM AT OPERA HOUSE. 
 
 In the evening a full house greeted the graduates at 
 Wagner's Opera House. Across the foyer a susoended 
 drapery in the class colors furnished a backp-round 
 for the class motto, "Might Wins a Way/', in large 
 letters. Potted flowers furnished the contour of the 
 stage, and the same pleasinp- array of youth at the 
 afternoon exercises put a finishing touch to the scene. 
 
 The first number was a selected quartet by Mes- 
 dames Merica and Moore and Messrs. Brinkerhoff and 
 Lollar. These singers have a reputation beyond the 
 necessity of comment, and they fully sustained it on 
 this occasion. 
 
 Rev. J. M. Haines, in a few well-chosen words, in- 
 voked divine unction upon the event, and asked es- 
 
NEWSPAPER REPORTING. 171 
 
 pecially that God's blessing might rest with the class 
 of '01. 
 
 "Rhapsodic, hongroise No. 6" (F. Liszt), by Miss 
 Maude Sembower, followed directly the invocation. In 
 the performance of this difficult discourse m harmony 
 the player exhibited a proficiency of technique very 
 gratifying to most of her audience, which, to say the 
 least, was in most part critical. The News does not 
 know how many musicians there are in Garrett, nor of 
 any number specially gifted in the heaven-born art. 
 but of a truth this is certain, that Miss Sembower has 
 the accomplishment and touch of a real artist in inter- 
 pretation of the conceptions of the gieat thinkers in 
 harmony. Garrett people have reason for pride in the 
 fact that society has the benefit and influence of one 
 whose skill recommends higher recognition. 
 
 Prof. E. E. Lollar next introduced Henry R. Patten- 
 gill, who had been spoken of and advertised to lecture 
 on the subject "Made in America." He was the same 
 Henry of old, humorous, pathetic and vigorous in enun- 
 ciation and deliberative in argument. He had lost noth- 
 ing of the power identified with him in the delivery 
 of "Gumption with a Big G," a few years ago, yet very 
 plain and practical, withal. It was not possible to 
 conceive of what material had been gathered by this 
 master mind, out of which could be adduced the sub- 
 ject matter for the title announced, but no sooner had 
 Mr. Pattengill taken his position on the platform than 
 all were made aware of the drift of his thought. He 
 spoke of a visit to the Metropolis of the West, and 
 while en route down town on a street car a sudden 
 halt was called, which required some time and consider- 
 able energy to remove the cause for. 
 
 The obstruction consisted of. only a dray — a common 
 transfer van — loaded with a gigantic piece of machin- 
 ery constructed from pure steel. On the face of this 
 was printed in large yellow letters, "Made in America ; 
 consigned to Liverpool." 
 
 The wheels on one side of this vehicle had become 
 fastened somehow between the track and roadbed. After 
 
172 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 considerable pushing and pulling — pulling by the horses 
 and pushing by the car — the track was cleared and the 
 journey pursued. This incident and the consignment 
 label furnished the lecturer with some new reasons for 
 thought, from which was finally evolved the lecture, 
 "Made in America." 
 
 In following out the ideas suggested by the Chicago 
 incident, Mr. Pattengill saw in a paper from that city 
 a half column or more devoted to inventions and ma- 
 chinery made in America and shipped to foreign coun- 
 tries. There must be a reason for this, he concluded, 
 and tracing the matter found that these things were 
 the natural and plausible results of education among 
 the children in American homes. 
 
 "Why is this?" said he. "Because the hands of the 
 teachers have been on the heads of our children ; lo 
 these many years." 
 
 Why is the American inventor better than the foreign 
 inventor? Because his education has made him keen, 
 quick, calculating and versatile, and reminds one of 
 the argument set forth by Dr. Nourse in his "John 
 and Jonathan," wherein that famous preacher compared 
 English conservatism with Yankee ingenuity. Or 
 again, memories of Col. E. P. Holp were recalled, when 
 in his "Almighty Dollar" he says in substance, "A dol- 
 lar by chance falls into hell. The Englishman would 
 charge it to his profit and loss account ; the Jew would 
 jump across the chasm expecting to grab it as he went; 
 the Yankee would jump in after it and run the risk of 
 being able to invent a way to get out. 
 
 Thus the whole matter is summed up in the state- 
 ment that education is the bulwark of our people. 
 
 Mr. Pattengill paid a glowing tribute to Indiana and 
 her industries and closed his remarkable address by 
 reciting James Whitcomb Riley's "Old Glory." 
 
 Mesdames Merica and Moore and Messrs. Brinker- 
 hoff and Lollar sang an interesting quartet, after which 
 Prof. Ezra E. Lollar presented the graduates with their 
 diplomas. 
 
 Rev. W. A. Pavy pronounced the benvuiction. 
 
 Again in history has the school year opened and 
 
NEWSPAPER REPORTING. 173 
 
 closed : again has commencement day with nervous 
 strain and uncertainty come and gone ; again both 
 teacher and pupil are left to a season of recreative 
 contemplation of what is and what might have been ; 
 again doth the wisdom of Pythagorous resound through 
 the sacred domes of the centuries, "The desire to know 
 does not always contain the ability to acquire. The 
 true seeker after knowledge should be unknown to 
 fear." 
 
 Once more a class has gone forth with confidence and 
 deportm.ent to mingle with the outer world, each tak- 
 ing his or her way to carve out fortune and happiness 
 from the chaos of circumstances and adventure. May- 
 hap some may seek citizenship in foreign lands ; others, 
 perchance, will find their life work at home; but under 
 all conditions and in whatever clime, may they each 
 and all remember the kindly care of teacher and the 
 humble sacrifices of parents, and the hearty good wishes 
 of friends in all their laudable undertakings. 
 
 The community is better, the influence of its society 
 is enlarged and the scope of its morals broadened by 
 the fact of these thirteen young people having attained 
 a royal degree at a royal time in the events of national 
 life. Let us cherish their memory and encourage future 
 generations to the achievement of the noblest enterprise 
 among the institutions of earth, so that when the final 
 commencement day is held in eternity the lamp of 
 knowledge shall shine out the glorified beacon of per- 
 fect liberty as wrought out through the mijyhtiest engine 
 of rieht over wrong — brain and brawn cultivated to the 
 highest possible degree of perfection. Thus shall our 
 own escutcheon free itself from the stain of ignoble 
 distinction. Let us keep the fires of Americanism burn- 
 ing high on the altars of home so that when the emblem 
 ^f American liberty unfurls on land and sea it shall 
 be kissed by the breezes of independence. 
 
 The class roster in a paragraph is : Geraldine Sem- 
 bower, Edith Schunk. Claudia Trainer, Minnie Childs. 
 Carlie Card, Grace Palmer, Otto Swantusch, Maude 
 Childs, Grace Feagler, Delia Parker, Gwennie Richards, 
 Beatrice Harkness, Porter Andrews. 
 
REFLECTIONS. 
 
 This being true, it is of paramount importance that 
 the novitiate be not too hasty in his search after wis- 
 dom and knowledge. In the study of any branch of 
 learning he should take the time to carefully analyze 
 every word in every sentence. Time is a wonderfully 
 artful arbitrator of mental difficulties, and under ordi- 
 nary circumstances is ihe least faultful' condoner of 
 truth. Emerson was always wanting to get at the 
 bottom of things, which ever takes time.v and because 
 of that fact, he made fewer mistakes than many others 
 who were less active and less patient in the pursuit of 
 that principle in the solution of mental problems. It 
 is very easy to make mistakes. In fact, no one is free 
 from error, but thanks to certain systems in operation 
 among investigators, some are less chargeable with that 
 fault than others. Experience is a great teacher, and 
 withal an expensive one. 
 
 We often hear persons spoken of as seeming to have 
 more perfect control over their nassions than others, 
 and sometimes imagine that we would be like them 
 if possible. Now let us think for a moment on that 
 one particular passion, anger. To have complete and 
 absolute control over one's temper signifies that natural 
 tendencies have merelv succumbed to the mellowing 
 influence of higher culture. In short, if one person 
 conducts himself more admirably than all the others 
 about him, it strongly suggests the truth that his abil-^ 
 ity to appear mild under all circumstances is due more 
 or less to the fact that he has had the benefit of a 
 more rigid discipline than the rest. 
 
 As touching offense, no person can be really offended, 
 unless he or she thinks so. If we never think we are 
 
REFLECTIONS. 175 
 
 ofifended we can never be offended. Therefore, the 
 burden of self-effort lies in the strength of our power to 
 gain mastery over the thought created within by out- 
 ward conditions and circumstances. This is Stoic 
 philosophy, to be sure, but it is nevertheless truth on 
 that account. 
 
 When you imagine it is natural for anyone to be good, 
 faultless, you err just that much in judgment. All 
 must watch, just as surely as all are tempted. All 
 men are tempted, but it is quite possible that not all 
 men need to yield to temptation. The sin of tempta- 
 tion arises from yielding, not from the temptation it- 
 self. 
 
 To wish that we might be like another, is also to wish 
 that we may undergo the test known as the firey fur- 
 nace of refining and regeneration. If another has vir- 
 tues above our own, it may be that each of them rep- 
 resents a drop of blood sweat in the agony of the 
 world's Gethsemena on the cross of mental and moral 
 crucifixion. That is what it costs to be what one 
 seems. 
 
 The more carefully a man pursues the study of him- 
 self, as compared to the universe, the less confidence 
 he has in the false dignity of most men. The more 
 thoroughly he learns the lessons of life, the more keen 
 become the impressions of his own littleness in such 
 things as pertain to his ability to cooe with the auda- 
 cious and aggressive elements of nature. 
 
 The world appreciates the value of self-disciplined 
 men. That same world also places a premium upon 
 honest, persevering effort. Great mental labor is al- 
 ways rewarded with knowledge. History will bear 
 out the statement that the majority of the world's il- 
 lustrious men came from the humbler walks of life. 
 
 The fact that an individual has a diploma from some 
 popular college or university, is by no means positive 
 evidence that he has acquired an education. 
 
 In human society there are things happening the while 
 which never meet the public eye or reach the common 
 ear. They are offensive bevond the limits of ethical 
 
176 BENNIE, THE PYTHIAN OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 law, therefore fail of getting to be a morsel for gen- 
 eral gossip. To know about them is burden enough, 
 without any attempt at scandalizing. As for instance, 
 there be those whose tastes are groomed to a nicety, 
 whose instincts become wholly animal when the re- 
 straints of social intercourse are removed. Many 
 young ladies who would abhor the ideh. of going on 
 the street unchaneroned, have no compunction in the 
 matter of admitting unknown young men to their 
 homes and to their confidences on no better recom- 
 mendation than that they are of "swell" appearance 
 and are lavish in their expenditure of money. 
 
 Whether we believe so or not, it is certain that expe- 
 rience does teach us, mayhap unconsciously, but none 
 the less truly. As a result we often intuitively escape 
 many cramping predicaments, that had we not been the 
 timelv recipients of the experience we could not have 
 avoided. 
 
APR 14 1902 
 
APR 141902 
 
 1902 
 
Siii;..