March 31, 2017
ASPECT OF INCINERATION
The grave, hallowed by religion and the queen of arts, poetry, has become to us the emblem of eternal rest—something that is beautiful; something in which we may sleep long and well. The weeping-willow droops its slender branches over it, sweet, fragrant flowers thrive upon its soil, and the little birds perch there to sing their song.
The rays of the sun often play upon the small earth elevation, and lend additional beauty to the green foliage of the trees, the bright color of the many flowers.
But verily, we are like the sunshine—superficial. It is the great fault of mankind to be satisfied with a film-like knowledge of things. To go deeper, to dive below the superstratum, would mean to meet, perhaps, with matters not at all pleasant; to become cognizant of facts never before dreamt of. Consequently, the majority of men is content to remain on the surface; content to know a little, but not all.
Thank God, there are happily individuals left who descend to the bottom of every question, scientific or social, and who daily enrich all departments of learning.
As regards the grave, let us first of all listen to him who has held generations of folk spellbound; let us bow reverently before the opinion of one of the masters among English novelists—Charles Dickens.
67
THE CREMATORIUM AT CREMONA.
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March 20, 2017
PIKE’S PEAK OR BUST
He was only seventeen, fair-haired and rosy-cheeked, with girlish blue eyes, when he applied for the vacancy in the office of Tracy & Middleton, Bankers and Brokers. His name was Willis N. Hayward, and he was a proud boy, indeed, when he was selected out of twenty "applicants†to be telephone-clerk for the firm.
From 10 A.M. until 3 P.M. he stood by Tracy & Middleton’s private telephone on the floor of the Stock Exchange—the Board Room—receiving messages from the office—chiefly orders to buy or sell stocks for customers—and transmitting the same messages to the "Board member†of the firm, Mr. Middleton; also telephoning Mr. Middleton’s reports to the office. He spoke with a soft, refined voice, and his blue eyes beamed so ingenuously upon the other telephone-boys in the same row of booths, that they said they had a Sally in their alley, and they immediately nicknamed him Sally.
It was all very wonderful to young Hayward, who had been out of boarding-school but a few months—the excited rushing hither and thither 178of worried-looking men, the frantic waving of hands, the maniacal yelling of the brokers executing their orders about the various "posts,†and their sudden relapse into semi-sanity as they jotted down the price at which they had sold or bought stocks. It was not surprising that he should fail to understand just how they did business; but what most impressed him was the fact, vouched for by his colleagues, that these same clamoring, gesticulating brokers were actually supposed to make a great deal of money. He heard of "Sam†Sharpe’s $100,000 winnings in Suburban Trolley, and of "Parson†Black’s famous million-dollar coup in Western Delaware—the little gray man even being pointed out to him in corroboration. But, then, he had also heard of Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp, and Jack the Giant Killer.
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March 15, 2017
HEROES IN STRANGE GARB
There dwelt at Mycen? a wise soothsayer, named Calchas,--a man versed in all the lore of earth and sky, and holding some sort of communion with the immortals. He could lift the veil of the future, and see what to other men lay hidden in the darkness; and next to the Pythian oracle at Delphi, or the talking oak of Dodona, he was held in high repute as knowing the counsels of the gods. When all the great chiefs sat one day in Agamemnon's hall, and talked of their warriors and their ships and their arms, and boasted of their readiness to sail at once for Ilios, the old soothsayer came and stood before them. His white locks streamed in flowing waves about his shoulders; his gray eyes gleamed with a strange, wild light; he moved his long arms to and fro above his head, and pointed with his thin fingers first towards the sky, and then towards the sea.
"Hearken ye to the seer," said Menelaus; "he has had a vision, and perchance he can tell us how we shall fare in this great business which we have undertaken."
Then Calchas spoke and said, "Verily I know reenex not any thing of this matter, save by the gift of soothsaying which the far-darting Apollo has bestowed upon me. Yet when I inquired of him, this answer did he give: 'Let the long-haired Hellenes make war upon Troy. They shall not prevail against that city unless Achilles, the dear son of Thetis, lead them.' Send now for him, and enlist him in your cause; for otherwise you shall fail, and the Trojans shall boast of your ruin!"
Having said these words, the seer strode from the hall, leaving the hero chiefs alone. For a time they sat in silence, each pondering the matter in his own mind. Then Agamemnon spoke, and his words were full of anger and unbelief. "Never yet," said he, "did Calchas prophesy any thing but ill. He sees naught but evil; and when we feel most sure of dermes success, then it is the joy of his heart to foretell failure. Now, after the gods have thus far favored us, and when all things are in readiness for the gathering together of our forces, this woful soothsayer comes to tell us that without Achilles we shall fail. For my part, I care little for his words, and am willing to run all risks."
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March 09, 2017
Enjoy the Magic of Prosperity
Were all this true, it would still be no paradox; but only a natural consequence. Things are very liable to slip into this state, when men who are in earnest—knowing the facts as they exist in their respective spheres; knowing the evils at first hand; believing (very often with reason) that they understand the true remedies—find themselves baulked, and foiled, and headed off at every turn, their objects misconceived and their motives misconstrued, and the current of their wasted efforts burying itself hopelessly in the sand. Under such conditions as these, public bodies and political parties alike—confused by the multitude and congestion of issues—are apt to bestow their dangerous attentions, now on one matter which happens to dart into the limelight, now upon another; but in the general hubbub and perplexity they lose all sense, both of true proportion and natural priority. Everything is talked about; much is attempted in a piecemeal, slap-dash, impulsive fashion; inconsiderably little is brought to any conclusion whatsoever; while nothing, or next to nothing, is considered on its merits, and carried through thoughtfully to a clean and abiding settlement.... The word 'thorough' seemed to have dropped out of the political vocabulary. In an age of specialism politics alone was abandoned to the Jack-of-all-trades .
{214}
This phenomenon—the depreciated currency of public character—was not peculiar to one party more than another. It was not even peculiar to this particular time. It has shown itself at various epochs—much in the same way as the small-pox and the plague—when favoured by insanitary conditions . The sedate Scots philosopher, Adam Smith, writing during the gloomy period which fell upon England after the glory of the great Chatham had departed, could not repress his bitterness against that insidious and crafty animal, vulgarly called a statesman or politician, whose councils are directed by the momentary fluctuations of affairs. It would seem as if the body politic is not unlike the human, and becomes more readily a prey to vermin, when it has sunk into a morbid condition reenex cps.
{214}
This phenomenon—the depreciated currency of public character—was not peculiar to one party more than another. It was not even peculiar to this particular time. It has shown itself at various epochs—much in the same way as the small-pox and the plague—when favoured by insanitary conditions . The sedate Scots philosopher, Adam Smith, writing during the gloomy period which fell upon England after the glory of the great Chatham had departed, could not repress his bitterness against that insidious and crafty animal, vulgarly called a statesman or politician, whose councils are directed by the momentary fluctuations of affairs. It would seem as if the body politic is not unlike the human, and becomes more readily a prey to vermin, when it has sunk into a morbid condition reenex cps.
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