Well-Chosen Gifts

1900

Berlin papers state that the family of Prince Bismarck found a serious difficulty after his death in disposing of the presents sent to him during the last few years of his life by his enthusiastic admirers. The gifts were numbered by the thousand and embraced the most incongruous articles, from a live rhinoceros to a coffin.

All men, says an old proverb, give gifts; but few men give pleasure with their gifts.

Why should a man or woman, striving to express affection for a friend, cumber him with a nuisance? Usually because, in choosing a gift, we are apt to consult our own tastes rather than those of our friend.

After William Penn died, the Indians in his province sent to his widow, Hannah, a cloak of the most costly furs. "To protect her," was their message, " while travelling alone without her guide for the rest of her way through the thorny wilderness."

Here were all the qualities of a perfect gift: a fine meaning embodied in an article of value and of service to the person to whom it was given.

A poor widow to whom Queen Victoria had granted a pension wished to express her gratitude and loyalty. But what could she give that the empress of one-fourth of the world would value?

She was an expert amateur photographer, and it occurred to her to take pictures of all the places visited by the queen when she was a young wife with Prince Albert.

The little volume was finished, simply bound and sent to Windsor Castle, and the queen is said to keep it among her chief treasures.

In the meaning, not the cost, of a gift lies its value. — Youth's Companion.

Life-Destroying and Life-Saving

1900

An eminent physician lately called attention to the important part wars have taken in hospital development. He declared that the Crimean War developed the trained nurse and the training-school. In the American Civil War, medical men learned that small hospitals, and even hospital tents, are better than large enclosed structures for the sick and wounded. To the knowledge thus gained is due the pavilion tent.

It was war, also, it is asserted, that led, not to the discovery, but to the introduction, of antiseptic surgery. Medical science will profit by the conflict now in progress in South Africa. Through disease and wounds there treated, benefit will come to the civilized world.

Thus out of a great evil may come a great good; for war compels resort to every expedient to save the lives of one's own soldiers, no less than to destroy the lives of those in the hostile army.

Moreover, the experience gained in the effort to save life is at the service of the world. There is nothing provincial or selfish in genuine surgical or medical skill. Its work and triumphs are for all men. Quackery conceals information which may help the race, except as it disposes of the knowledge for cash; but the surgeons and the physicians of approved attainment and experience feel that their mission is limited only by the bounds of possible service to their kind. In war, in peace, under favorable or perilous conditions, appreciated or criticised, the good physician, the conscientious operator, does his duty, and is discontented only when his service is less complete than his professional ideal. — Youth's Companion.

Baseball Season Opens

1900

The opening of the baseball season" is a phrase which implies that the season opens everywhere at once. In reality, the season opens in our big country very much as the honey season for the bees, or the season of birds' singing, or the strawberry season, opens — that is to say, not long after New Year's day in Florida, and from that date on to a period several months later in northern Maine. Now that American soldiers have introduced the American game in Havana, San Juan, Manila and Iloilo, baseball has all seasons for its own.

Although general terms upon anything dependent on climate do not fit a country which extends from the arctic zone to the tropics, the statement may be regarded as approximately accurate that "the baseball season has opened." Baseball is an excellent and manly game, not especially dangerous, interesting, strategic, and well-adapted to the development of the body and the sharpening of the wits.

No game meets, with less harm, the natural demand for an out-of-door sport to act as a means of healthy athletic competition between schools and communities. But its very popularity and adaptability have led to grave abuses. If baseball had not been so interesting, so universal, it would not have gained the discredit which has come from a system of professionalism, a traffic in players, and a frequent display of rowdyism in the field.

Yet with all the discredit, which, after all, affects but a small proportion of the baseball-playing, the game is losing none of its popularity or its real value as an athletic sport, and the reopening of the baseball season is still a matter for rejoicing. — Youth's Companion.

An "All-American" Conference

1900

Arrangements are in progress for the assembly at the City of Mexico next year of a general congress of all the independent governments on the American continent. The gathering will be similar to the "Pan-American Conference" which met at Washington in 1889. One result of that conference was the formation of an International Union of American Republics, with a "bureau" of general information. The bureau, which includes in its membership all of the republics, is taking up the preliminary work of the proposed congress. The replies which Secretary Hay has received to his letter suggesting the new conference indicate that all the American republics will be represented.

The conference will have no political aims. It will consider questions of trade, facilities for transportation by rail and sea, banking systems and customs methods, and perhaps it will discuss the feasibility of a permanent tribunal of arbitration to settle disputes among the republics without recourse to war.

There were apprehensions, when the first Pan-American Conference was called, that its usefulness would be impaired by the suspicions and jealousies of some of the governments represented. This did not occur. The new conference should strengthen the ties of common interest among the American republics. If, as is hoped, similar conferences can be held in the future once in two years, or even oftener, at the different capitals, these results may be made permanent. — Youth's Companion.

"Patriots' Day"

1900

The State of Massachusetts has a holiday which, although it is but seven years old, has attained great popular success. It is called Patriots' day, and is celebrated on April 19th, in commemoration of the battles of Concord and Lexington.

In Massachusetts this holiday has a special reason for its existence, aside from the fact that Concord and Lexington are within the limits of the state. It takes the place of the old Fast day, which fell by custom on the first Thursday in April. The transformation of Fast day into a day for baseball, fishing and merrymaking was a perversion of what was intended to be "a day of humiliation, fasting and prayer." The people were not willing to give up the vernal holiday, and the celebration of the anniversary of Concord fight gave an opportunity for retaining it. A bill has been introduced in Congress to make April 19th a national holiday.

Of course Congress has no power to make the observance of a holiday binding on the people; but if the nation were to make the day a holiday for its functionaries and employes, its example would undoubtedly be followed by some at least of the states.

It may be suggested that a day might be found for a vernal holiday which would not commemorate the opening of the great war which gave the country independence. The battles of the Civil War have wisely been left uncelebrated, nor have the anniversaries of battles with other countries been turned into holidays.

On the other hand, it is impossible to celebrate the beginning of national life without celebrating some incident of the great struggle with England; and it would be absurd to suppose — considering how holidays are spent — that animosity toward "the mother country" would be fostered, or would even be intermingled with the sentiments which a spring holiday might awaken.


Medicine to South Africa

The horrors of war in South Africa have been softened by many acts of magnanimity on both sides, and fierce foes in combat have forgotten animosity when moved by the appeal of human needs. Before the relief of Ladysmith a message went from the camp of the Boers to that of the British, requesting, for the relief of men in hospitals, a certain kind of medicine which the Boers' medical department lacked. The request was instantly granted. The Boers' confidence in the humanity of their foes was as touching as it was creditable to the British who inspired it.

— Youth's Companion.

Statue Given by Indiana

1900

Although each state has the privilege of placing in Statuary Hall, in the national Capitol, statues of two of its illustrious sons, ten states only have thus far availed themselves of the opportunity in full. Six other states have presented one statue each. On a recent Saturday afternoon, in the Senate-Chamber, a marble statue of Oliver P. Morton, the "war governor" of Indiana, was presented to the nation in the name of that state.

Mr. Fairbanks, the senior senator from Indiana, was the first speaker. Among those in the galleries were the widow of Mr. Morton and several of his nephews. On the floor had gathered, besides senators, several of the representatives from Indiana, and other friends of the man whose deeds were to be recounted.

"This statue," began Senator Fairbanks, "is to stand in yonder hall. Assembled there are the marble figures of citizens, soldiers and statesmen. In good time representatives of each of the states will be gathered there, when the number will equal the membership of the United States Senate. Parties here may come and go, administrations may rise and fall, but no change will occur in the members who join the select assembly in that exalted and historic hall."

The physical difficulties under which Mr. Morton labored during the later years of his life, when a member of the Senate, were brought out by Mr. Fairbanks, and also by Mr. Allison, who had served in the Senate with him. Mr. Morton had long suffered from an incurable malady, which compelled him to be seated while speaking and to go into the Senate supported by attendants. And yet he worked so hard in the committee-room and elsewhere that Senator McDonald, his old-time colleague, described him as "tireless among the tired, and pressing on where strong men gave way."

Senator Beveridge, also of Indiana, made the concluding speech of the day, after which the Senate passed resolutions accepting the statue and thanking the state for its gift.


Sugar For The Troops

German soldiers get a ration of sugar; so do British and French soldiers when on duty in the tropics. And now, by advice of the medical staff and with the approval of army officers, the United States Commissary Department has been shipping many tons of confectionery, put up in pound packages, for the use of our soldiers in Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Philippines.

— Youth's Companion.

Princess and Countess

1900

The romances of royalty are as tragic as those with which Mr. Anthony Hope has filled the imaginary realm of Ruritania. Princess Stephanie, a daughter of the King of the Belgians, in the bloom of early youth became the wife of Archduke Rudolf, the Crown Prince of Austria-Hungary. She seemed destined to be an empress, but her life in Vienna has been overshadowed with unhappiness. The tragic death of the crown prince left her a widow with a young daughter to be educated in the stateliest but most gloomy court in Europe.

The princess at thirty-five has entered upon her second romance. Her marriage to Count Elmer Lonyay involved the sacrifice of her royal rank and complete separation from her daughter, who has reached the age of sixteen. The King of the Belgians and the Emperor of Austria each attempted to dissuade the princess from this second marriage, but she had fallen in love with the Hungarian count, and chose to take her leave of a court where she has never been happy, and to leave behind her daughter, to whom she is devotedly attached.

At the marriage, which took place in March, neither her royal father nor her imperial father-in-law was present. Etiquette forbade them to assist at the ceremony. But the countess has not forfeited their love or their esteem.

The count is of noble, but not of royal, birth. He has estates in Hungary, and is a diplomatist who has been connected with the Austrian embassies at several European courts. Royal etiquette is rigid and without sentiment. The crown princess, who had expected to be an empress, divested herself of royal rank and privilege when she became a countess. She can never again meet on terms of equality her own daughter, who is a great figure at the Austrian court, and is to marry a king's son.

Yet she has exchanged a life which had become a perpetual tragedy for one that promises happiness; and every one who knows her, wishes her happiness in the fullest measure.


Doesn't Go To Waste

Thrift can almost live on what extravagance throws away. The dust from blast furnaces is apparently worthless material, but in France successful experiments have been made with it for fertilizing purposes. The land responded satisfactorily. The dust contains ingredients which the earth finds to be stimulating. After all, there is little on this world of ours that is without value.

— Youth's Companion.

A Sugar Barrel

1900

"A sugar barrel, boys!" What a scampering that announcement used to cause among the boys in the vicinity of a country store, a few years ago, when much soft brown sugar was used. The emptied hogsheads, with a luscious coat of sweetness adhering to the rough staves, were cast out in the back yard, much to the boys' delight. John B. Grozier, who spent his youth in Canada, recalls these "sugar-barrel" scenes from his own experience.

One of the boys was always on the watch as informal scout, to give notice to the rest of anything interesting and available in the way of fun. The empty sugar hogshead used to appear with considerable regularity. The scout would see it, and after a liberal taste himself, would rush to the mill-pond, where he would probably find the rest of us bathing.

"A sugar barrel, boys!" was his greeting. It was enough. Putting on half of our clothes as we went, we would dash off after our guide, like a scattered train of camp-followers.

It must have been comical to see a dozen urchins straggling along, picking their way barefooted over the rocks and rough ground; struggling to put on a ragged vest or a coat, while maintaining a sort of Indian jog-trot for fear of losing a share in the feast.

Then, lo, the hogshead; and into it the first comers rushed pell-mell. Those who came after contented themselves with hoping there would be enough for all; or possibly they obtained a morsel or two by clever reaching from the outside. — Youth's Companion.

Arab Horses

1900

So much has been written about the respect of an Arab for his horse that it is natural to think of the Arab steed as peculiarly delicate and sensitive to adverse influences. This is not the case. The wants of an Arab horse are few, and he will maintain his health and spirits under conditions which other horses could never endure.

Indeed, not only can he put up with hardships at a pinch, but he actually deteriorates if too carefully tended. This has been proved again and again by purchasers who have refused to believe the usual three feeds of grain a day to be too much, or the morning hour of walking exercise too little.

The fact is that an Arab is naturally so high-spirited, and so difficult to tire, that even a single feed of corn is excessive unless he is being subjected to exceptionally hard work. He will answer every requirement as a hunter, if his food is restricted to hay, or even to grass. In the summer he thrives best when he has the run of a paddock, and can regulate his own food and exercise.

These remarks apply to the ordinary Arab horse in every-day life. What a picked animal can do when put upon his mettle is almost beyond belief. An officer recently returned from the Sudan says that after a ride of eight hundred miles his horse showed no signs of overwork, although he had cast all his shoes before a quarter of the journey was accomplished. Many of the camels had died on the way, and others had suffered severely, but the Arab horse was unhurt.

It was an Arab that, at Firozpur, carried one hundred and forty-six pounds and won a ten-mile race in twenty-five minutes, a feat of endurance rarely, if ever, equalled. — Youth's Companion.

The Story of a Message

1900

Among stories of war, few are more thrilling than those of dispatches carried through an enemy's country. An instance given by the author of "East Tennessee and the Civil War" offers a striking picture of the almost infinite dangers which often attend upon such a service.

During the siege of Knoxville, it was imperative for Grant, at Chattanooga, to communicate with General Burnside. He sent five couriers with dispatches, by as many different routes. One of the messengers was never heard of again. Three were taken prisoners, and the fifth, arriving at Kingston, after a ride of eighty miles, was too thoroughly exhausted to proceed farther.

It was still forty miles to Knoxville, as the crow flies. Burnside must have the dispatch. A few men, to whom the courier applied, shook their heads. Longstreet's forces held the country, the weather was cold, and the roads were execrable. Then it was that a delicate young woman, Mary Love, said she would go. Her services were accepted.

Mounted on a fleet horse, she sped on, now on the highway, now along by-paths, now through the forest, how over the open hills. Suddenly she came upon a Confederate picket, and was taken to the provost marshal. With perfect composure she told him that she was the sister of Doctor Love, a Confederate surgeon at Knoxville, and that she was riding his horse. The provost marshal knew Doctor Love and knew his horse. The girl was allowed to proceed.

Once more she dashed on. After a long and circuitous ride she reached the river opposite Louisville, her native town, crossed the wide stream, and hastened to the house of her brother-in-law. She had travelled thirty-five miles in a few hours by night, but her exhaustion was complete. She fell to the ground, and had barely strength to say that the dispatches must go on.

Mary Love had come in circles, and there were still fifteen miles to go. The men of the household had gone to the war. After a hasty consultation, a boy of thirteen, John T. Brown, offered to complete the journey, and his mother bade him Godspeed.

Wheeler's Confederate cavalry held the town, and pickets were stationed on all the roads. At nightfall, Mrs. Brown and her boy slipped down to the river's edge and scrambled through the dense undergrowth along its bank for two miles. They had passed the picket lines. Here the mother turned back.

The night was bitter cold, but the boy travelled on, picking his way through the darkness and forests. At length he reached Little River, a distance of eight miles. The stream was swollen and he could not cross. He doubled back on his trail for some distance, and made his way to the house of an old friend of his father. The gentleman received him kindly, and early in the morning he proceeded on his way. By daylight he was able to cross the river, and at length reached the Federal pickets. Then, under the charge of a sergeant, he was sent to General Burnside's headquarters, still several miles away.

The general read the dispatch, and learned that Sherman's army was at hand. In a few minutes bands of music struck up, and batteries pealed the news that relief was coming. Little Johnny sat wondering what it all meant. Suddenly soldiers gathered round him, and one of them, catching him up, set him on his shoulders, and with cheers and shouts he was carried down the street. Then, for the first time, Johnny understood all he had done. — Youth's Companion.

A Salute Wasted — Was Old Negro Cook, Not the General

1900

The flag-ship Monongahela was anchored off the navy-yard at Pensacola Bay in 186—, and Admiral Farragut, who was then in command, was on board. He had been very busy the week before paying official calls on the mainland, and among those who had entertained him was General Canby. When, therefore, word was received that the general would visit the ship the next day, the admiral was determined to have everything ready to receive him in a style becoming his rank.

The old boat was scrubbed and holystoned from stem to stern, the bright work was given an extra rub, and things generally were put into the best of order. Captain Heywood, now brigadier-general commandant of the marine corps, had a special inspection of his company of marines, and not a spot of rust or a dull helmet spike escaped his notice. When night closed in, darkness settled down over a very clean ship and a very tired ship's company.

Bright and early the next morning the admiral's launch was sent off to bring the general aboard. At the last moment it was discovered that there was no fruit for luncheon, and Pompey, the admiral's cook, was sent in the dingy to get some.

Pompey was a character in his way, and had been with the admiral for many years. He was very proud of what he called his military bearing, and wore his beard carefully trimmed to a point. His hair and beard were nearly white, and although he was sixty years old, he ruled the other negroes with a rod of iron.

By ten o'clock every one was standing by in full dress, when the quartermaster came aft and reported that the admiral's launch was returning.

The officer of the deck walked to the rail and took a squint at the boat through his glasses. A man clad in a blue uniform was seated in the admiral's cane chair in the stern, but as the gunwale struck him just below the shoulder and the awning hid his head, the officer of the deck was not certain that it was General Canby until, as the wind lifted the edge of the awning, he caught a glimpse of a gray beard.

Word was passed that the general was coming off. The crew were beat to quarters, the marine guard paraded, and the gun squad, detailed to fire the salutes took their stations.

Everything was in readiness, and the admiral and his staff stood at the head of the gangway to receive the guest. A hush of expectancy settled over the ship.

The boat drew nearer. Just as the launch scraped alongside, boom! boom!! came the salute from the guns.

"Present arms!" came the command to the guard, and at a sign from the flag officer the band struck up "Hail to the Chief."

Amid all this military pomp and splendor the occupant of the launch was slowly clambering out, feet foremost, and just as the last gun was fired he stood erect at the top of the gangway.

Merciful heavens! It was Pompey, with a bag of fruit in each hand!

Confusion! The honors intended for a general had been rendered a negro cook! As the situation dawned on the men, even discipline could not check a general shout of laughter. The old admiral himself laughed until he could laugh no more.

It seemed that in some way the dingy had gone off and left the old negro, and that he had managed to convince the coxswain that "Marse Farragut was jes' bound to have dat fruit befo' the general came."

Pompey wanted to land at the port gangway, but the coxswain insisted that the admiral's launch never went to the port side, and that the old man would have to land on the starboard side, aft.

Had the awning been a little higher, the mistake in identification would not have occurred. As things were, no one could be blamed, and the affair was treated as a joke, while Pompey was nicknamed the "General."

When, an hour later, General Canby did come off, he was received with all due ceremony, and on being told the story, laughed till the tears rolled down his cheek; and demanded to see the man who had stolen his salute. — Youth's Companion.

Queen Victoria Spoke Hindustani Fluently

1900

An Aged Student

Monarchs can never afford to leave off learning, whatever their subjects may do. A striking instance in point is furnished by an article in Pearson's Magazine, an article the proof-sheets of which were corrected by Queen Victoria herself.

From this article it appears that in spite of all her duties and responsibilities, in spite of the fact that she has devoted so much time to the study of politics as to have become one of the greatest living authorities on the practical politics of Europe, Queen Victoria has within the later years of her reign, acquired an intimate acquaintance with a difficult language spoken by a large number of her subjects.

She makes it a custom, we are assured, to note in Hindustani the daily events of her life, keeping a diary for this special purpose. She speaks the language fluently, having devoted a part of every day for the last ten years to instruction in it, and to acquiring a knowledge of the intellectual treasures of the East.

The queen has surprised many of her Indian visitors by making unexpected observations in good Hindustani. As everybody knows, she is always attended, when at home, by one or more of her picturesque Indian servants. It is not, however, so generally known that she always speaks to them in their own tongue. However small the remark, or however serious the command, it comes to them in Hindustani.

Universal admiration has been expressed at the determination of the queen at an advanced age, not only to learn to speak Hindustani, but also to take an interest in the literature of India, and to acquaint herself with the ideas and aspirations of her Oriental subjects. — Youth's Companion.

The Man Who Dared Disobey

1900

The great soldier is the man who, as a subordinate, on all ordinary occasions obeys orders implicitly, but who, when the great emergency arrives, knows that, to save the day and his country, he must disobey. He breaks his orders on his own responsibility, knowing that the result and the future will justify him. Failure would be his ruin. Success may immortalize him. And if he is great, he knows that he shall succeed.

One of the members of the Russian imperial cabinet, Monsieur Witte, minister of finance, is one of the most powerful and important men in the empire. Highly esteemed and trusted by the emperor, he is respected and honored by the representatives of foreign powers. Yet Monsieur Witte is of humble origin — a fact which, in Russia, where every circumstance favors the man of noble blood above the plebeian, has counted for much against him.

Monsieur Witte, in his early life, after an imperfect education, was made station-master at a small and unimportant railway station in southern Russia. The war between Russia and Turkey arose, and hundreds of thousands of soldiers had to be transported into Roumania and Bulgaria. One day Monsieur Witte, in his station, received telegraphic instructions to make certain arrangements in connection with the passage of these troops along the line.

In Russia orders from a high source, connected with the affairs of the government, are terrible things, not to be disobeyed. But this young man saw that obedience in the present instance would create great confusion, if not positive disaster. His superiors had told him to do the wrong thing. He ventured to violate his instructions, and to do the right thing.

The president of the railway summoned the young man before him, and asked why he had presumed to disobey his telegraphic orders in a matter of such vast consequence. Monsieur Witte told him why, and convinced him that he, the station-master, was right, and that the orders were wrong. Instead of removing or punishing him, the chief of the road advanced him.

Afterward this railway president, Monsieur Wichnegradski, was called to St. Petersburg to assume a place in the imperial cabinet. Remembering the man who had so successfully disobeyed, he sent for him and gave him a post under him. After that Monsieur Witte's advancement was rapid, and he rose to occupy the highest "business" position in the empire — that of minister of finance. — Youth's Companion.

"Bread Upon the Waters"

1900

The reward of a generous deed seldom comes more opportunely than it did in an instance reported by the Cleveland Leader. It appears that a prominent Clevelander named Cole, who has recently died, was forced to leave Cornell University at the close of his sophomore year, for lack of funds.

He went to New York, and began a canvass of mercantile houses and offices, in search of a position. Among many others, he visited the office of a produce merchant, who seemed greatly taken with his personality. The result of the interview was that the merchant said to Mr. Cole:

"Young man, go back and finish your college course, and I will foot the bill."

Mr. Cole accepted the offer, completed his course with credit to himself and his strangely found friend, and at once entered upon a business career. It was not long before he prospered in a business venture, and found himself able to repay the sum advanced for his education. He went to New York, sought out the office of his friend, and stepping up to his desk, laid down seven hundred dollars.

"Mr. Cole," said the old merchant, "if it were not for this money my credit would have been dishonored to-day. Maturing obligations would have gone to protest. You have saved me!" — Youth's Companion.