Mr. Hugh C. Weir, in speaking of this discovery, says: "From the inferno of the coal-strike dates the cementing of those ties of friendship and comradeship which have bound John Mitchell and Theodore Roosevelt. The president, plunging into the heart of the strike, sought and found the man whose hand held the pulse of events. He found him, haggard and white with the strain of a great exhaustion, upheld by the inspiration of a great purpose, and forthwith John Mitchell, coal-miner, son of a coal-miner, came into a place in the Roosevelt esteem which few men have equaled and no man surpassed. When at the White House conference of American governors, the president invited as guests of honor those five Americans who, in his judgment, ranked foremost in current progress, John Mitchell, the labor man, was high in the quintette." To have a plain coal-miner thus honored by the President of the United States is so exceptional that we cannot help wondering what there was about Mr. Mitchell that earned for him such distinction. To discover the source of his greatness it is necessary to study his life.

John Mitchell was born in the cottage of a humble coal-miner at Braidwood, Illinois, in 1870. In those days Braidwood was a dreary, dirty mining town almost surrounded by broad stretches of swamp.

When John was but three years of age his mother died. His stepmother, who no doubt meant well, was not affectionate; on the contrary she was very severe. As they were very poor she had to take in washings, and day after day it fell to John's lot to help his stepmother with the washings.

When he was six years of age, his father, the only real friend he had in the world, was brought home dead, killed in a mine disaster. In speaking of this period in his life Mr. Mitchell says: "The poverty and hardships that followed were marked by one circumstance that is imprinted indelibly upon my memory and which has had an impelling influence upon my whole life. My father had served a full term of enlistment as a volunteer in the Civil War. When he was discharged from the army he brought home with him his soldier's clothes, and I remember so well that when we had not sufficient bed clothing to keep us warm in the cold winter nights, I would arise and get the heavy soldier's coat and spread it over my little half-brother and myself. When we were snug and warm beneath it I would feel so happy and proud that my father had been an American soldier. And through all the years that have passed since then I have felt that same pride in the memory of my father, and in the love of country which, along with a good name, was our sole heritage from him."

When John was about ten, his stepmother married again. From the first his stepfather did not like him, and soon he became so cruel that the boy's heart was completely broken. With no home, with no one who cared for him, the big world seemed cold indeed.

Finally, unable to stand the abuse of his stepfather longer, he gathered his few belongings in a small bundle and started out to make his own way in the world. For a boy of only ten this was by no means easy. From house to house he asked for work until finally a farmer gave him a job. Though the hours were long and the work heavy, John stuck to it for more than a year when he went to a mine in Braidwood and got a job as breaker boy. Here he remained until he was twelve when he decided to go west. With no money and no friends he worked his way by slow stages all the way from Illinois to Colorado. He had hoped that mining conditions would be much better in Colorado, but found them even worse than they had been in Illinois. Unable to earn enough to supply the bare necessities of life, the miners were suffering hardship and want.

Thus surrounded by misery, John, though but a lad, found himself trying to think out ways of helping these unfortunate men and their families, for he could not believe that it was right for them to suffer as they did.

Finally conditions in Colorado became so bad that John, then twenty years of age, decided to return to Spring Valley, Illinois. Here, for the first time in his life, he saw a labor union so conducted that it was a force. The members of this union, all working men, met each week and discussed matters that were of interest to all. After discussing the topics they passed resolutions which they presented to the mine owners. In this way they were able to secure better wages, shorter hours of work, and safer mines in which to work.

In these labor meetings young Mitchell took an active part and soon developed ability as a public speaker. From the first his advancement in the ranks of organized labor was rapid, so rapid in fact that at thirty we find Mitchell president of the United Mine Workers of America. At the time he became president the organization had but about forty thousand members, but under his skillful leadership it grew until in 1908 its membership numbered over three hundred thousand men. Mr. Mitchell is still in the prime of life and is one of our most skillful and trusted labor leaders.

Better to appreciate the worth of the man, let us consider the following tribute to him: "He chose to use this unusual ability for the many rather than for himself alone. It seemed better to him that many thousands should eat more and better bread each day than that he should have for himself ease and luxury.

"Andrew Carnegie, beginning as John Mitchell did, in poverty and ignorance, made himself one of the foremost men of his time in the finance of the world. Behind him lies, as the result of his life work, a better system of refining steel, innumerable libraries—his gifts, and bearing his name,—a hundred millionaires and more—his one-time lieutenants—and personal wealth so great as to tax his gigantic intellect to find means for its expenditure.

"John Mitchell, in a life much shorter, leaves behind him not a better system of refining steel, not a hundred millionaires, not innumerable libraries with his name in stone over the doors, but better living conditions for four hundred thousand miners—more wages, fewer hours of labor, less dangerous mine conditions, far-reaching laws for greater safety, a better understanding between capital and labor."

* * * * *

"Let our object be our country, our whole country, and nothing but our country. And, by the blessing of God, may that country itself become a vast and splendid monument,—not of oppression and terror—but of wisdom, of peace, and of liberty, upon which the world may gaze with admiration forever."

—DANIEL WEBSTER.



MAUDE BALLINGTON BOOTH

A pleasant-faced little woman was talking to many persons in a great hall. She wore a dark dress. On the front of it were three white stars joined by slender chains. In the center of each one was a blue letter. The first letter was V, the second was P, and the third was L. Their meaning is Volunteer Prison League.

The little woman was Maude Ballington Booth, and she was explaining the work of this league, for she founded it. She said that she had come from England to the United States many years ago. Upon reaching here one of the first places she visited was a great prison in California. There she saw so much sadness and misery that she could not rest until she did something to help the men and women who were shut behind iron bars.

She began her work by holding a meeting in Sing Sing Prison on the Hudson River in the State of New York. She told the men that she was their friend and believed in them. She declared that there was no one so cast down or disgraced that he could not rise and make something of himself, if he would only try. Many of the men who heard Mrs. Booth that day had no families and had even lost trace of all their relatives. She said they could write her letters and she would answer. They had never before had any one treat them so kindly, and so letters by the hundred reached Mrs. Booth. One young man scarcely more than a boy, wrote her thanking her for the kind letter she had sent him. He called her "Little Mother." Soon this title became known, and all up and down the prisons of the United States men came to talk of the Little Mother and look for her coming; for her first work in Sing Sing Prison was so successful that she went from state to state organizing Volunteer Prison Leagues.



It is not always easy to do right even when one is well, happy, and in his own home. Think, then, how hard a task the men in prison found it when they became members of the new league! The day a man joined, he had given to him a white button with a blue star and in the middle of the star was "Look Up and Hope." He promised to do five things:

1. He would pray every morning and night.

2. He would read faithfully in the little Day Book the league sent him.

3. No bad language should soil his lips.

4. He would keep the rules of the prison.

5. He would try to encourage others, too, in right doing, and when possible get new members for the league. From the moment a man put on a button, his guards and fellow prisoners watched to see if he would keep his promise. A framed copy of what he promised to do was hung in his cell as a daily reminder. If a man was strong enough to accept these five conditions, he came to be a changed person. He wanted to do right, and he looked forward to the time when he would be free and could once more try anew in the big world.

Many persons told Mrs. Booth her plan would never work, but one by one men began to prove that it did. First there were dozens, then there were hundreds of men returning to their homes or going out to succeed in the business world.

By and by Mrs. Booth saw there should be places where the men with no families could go when they left prison. So she started "Hope Halls." These are homes in the different large cities of the United States. The Volunteer Prison League has officers who manage them but the general public is never told where these houses are.

In bygone days many men upon leaving prison have been led away by old evil companions. Others have found no place to stay and no work open for them because a cold, unthinking public had called them "jail birds." Mrs. Booth wanted these men to have a chance. Today a man who belongs to the league can, upon leaving prison, be directed to the nearest Hope Hall. There he can stay in comfortable quarters until he gets work. Kind friends help him and many business firms have come to take the word of the manager of Hope Hall. They give the man work and he goes out to take his place as a man among men.

Mrs. Booth has given her life to building up this league, and for many years earned all the money that was needed for running expenses. She did this by writing, and speaking in public. Everywhere she went the people listened to her story and many were glad to help her.

Although we claim her as an American, Maude Ballington Booth was born in a pretty little English village. Her father was the rector of the little church, and her mother was a loving woman devoted to her home. She died when Maude was fifteen years of age and on the moss-covered stone that marks her grave are the words: "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars forever and ever."

From such a home the young girl went to London. There she met Ballington Booth, son of General Booth, founder of the Salvation Army. They were married and she came to the United States with him to interest Americans in the cause of the Salvation Army. This was a hard task. Oftentimes the army was jeered openly. The Booths were actually stoned while holding meetings in the streets. But this did not stop them. Their work grew, and at last they founded the Volunteers of America and became the head of this order.

The busiest persons generally have time to do many things. So it was with Maude Ballington Booth, for she wrote a number of books about her work with prisoners, as well as lovely fairy tales for her little boy and girl. These children missed their mother very much when she went away to speak, so the next best thing to having her at home was to have the stories she made for them. These stories were sure to have accounts of pet animals in them, suggesting to the Booth children their own pets, and the following description of Snowball shows how well Mrs. Booth could picture the feelings of an insulted pussy cat.

"The three children seated themselves by the stately white cat; slowly the ragged coat was opened and out sprang a frisky plebeian kitten right under the Angora's aristocratic nose. What a picture it was. The little black kitten startled and dazed by the light and warmth, and a great prince of a cat towering over her. Snowball was frozen into an attitude of horror at the unexpected apparition. Every hair stood erect and his back looked like a deformed hunch, while his yellow eyes flashed fire.

"'Naughty, naughty Snowball,' called Baby, when the cats had gazed at each other for a full minute. 'It's little, and it's cold and it's hungry.'

"Whatever he thought of Baby's reproof, Snowball did think it was time to act, and like a flash the white paw darted at the offending kitten's ear, and, I am ashamed to say, he spit most crossly in its frightened little face, then at one bound he sprang to the mantle-piece and sat there growling. The children looked dismayed; the little kitten stood looking up at its unsociable host with a sweet, questioning little face, uttering mild little mews of protest in answer to his thunderous growls.

"Then Brown Eyes' wrath broke, and folding the kitten in loving arms, he said to Snowball, 'You bad, ungrateful ill natured cat, I am surprised at you, petted and cuddled and fed on good things, you turn and spit at a poor little kitten, who only looked up into your face and asked you to love it. We'll go away and leave you. You can stay there, and we'll get a saucer of cream for this kitten who is far nicer than you, cross cat; you bad cat, we'll leave you to yourself.'

"Left to himself Snowball repented but, alas! the door was shut. The merry voices that resounded through the house did not call him, while through the still room sounded the voice of his taunting enemy, that hateful clock, the words of which his conscience could so well interpret, 'Cross cat, bad cat, bad cat.'"

For years Mrs. Booth went from place to place throughout the United States raising money for the Volunteer Prison League, but when her father died he left her a small fortune. Now she uses this money for the great cause she loves, and is spared the hard work of traveling and speaking. Those who have heard her, remember a small woman with a soft, beautiful voice. This voice urged the world not to look at trouble and failure, but to lend a helping hand to men and women who want to lead a better life by following the stars of hope.



ANDREW CARNEGIE

Have you a library in your town? What is it called? Should you like to know why Andrew Carnegie decided to spend millions and millions of dollars in building beautiful libraries in this country and Scotland? I should like to tell you, for the story is very interesting.

Mr. Carnegie was born in far away Scotland in the year 1835. His father was a poor man who earned his living by weaving linen by hand. Soon machines were invented for the weaving of linen. As these machines could weave more cheaply, those who had made a living by hand weaving were thrown out of work. "Andie's" father was thus thrown out of employment and, hardly knowing which way to turn, decided to come to America.

Accordingly, when Andie was seven years of age, in company with his parents and brother, he came to this land of promise. In a land so large, it was not an easy matter for them to decide where to live. Finally they decided to settle in Allegheny City, just across the river from Pittsburg.

After the home was settled, one of the first questions to be solved was, whether Andie should go to school or go to work. But what could a boy so small do? He could be a bobbin boy in a big factory, he was told. So as bobbin boy, we soon see him earning his first money. Can you guess what his first wages were? From early morning until late at night he worked and, for a whole week's work received but one dollar and twenty cents.

So faithful and energetic was he, that he was soon promoted to engine-boy at a salary of a dollar and eighty cents a week. While the increase in salary pleased him, the work was not so pleasant, for he had to work in a damp cellar away from fresh air and sunlight. Then, too, he was alone most of the time.

It was while he was engine-boy that an event happened that caused him later in life to build libraries. Suppose we invite Mr. Carnegie, in his own language, to tell us about it.

"There were no fine libraries then, but in Allegheny City, where I lived, there was a Colonel Anderson, who was well-to-do and of a philanthropic turn. He announced, about the time I first began to work, that he would be in his library at home, every Saturday, ready to lend books to working boys and men. He had only about four hundred volumes, but I doubt if ever so few books were put to better use. Only one who has longed, as I did, for Saturday to come, that the spring of knowledge might be opened anew to him, can imagine what Colonel Anderson did for me and other boys of Allegheny City. Quite a number of them have risen to eminence, and I think their rise can be traced easily to this splendid opportunity."

No doubt it was the kindness of Colonel Anderson that prompted Mr. Carnegie, later in life, to bestow his wealth for the founding of libraries.

Since the work as engine-boy had never appealed to Andie, he was delighted when another promotion was earned. This time he was made messenger boy in a telegraph office in Pittsburg at a salary of two dollars and fifty cents a week. In speaking of this period Mr. Carnegie said: "If you want an idea as to heaven on earth, imagine what it is to be taken from a dark cellar, where I fired the boiler from morning until night, and dropped into an office, where light shone from all sides, with books, papers, and pencils in profusion around me, and oh, the tick of those mysterious brass instruments on the desk, annihilating space and conveying intelligence to the world. This was my first glimpse of paradise, and I walked on air."

Fortunately, the man in charge of the office, a Scotchman by the name of James Reid, took a liking to the Scotch lad and began to help him by teaching him telegraphy. Accordingly, during the leisure moments when Andie had no messages to deliver he studied so diligently that in a remarkably short time he became a skillful telegraph operator.

At this time his father died, leaving the support of the family to Andie. To support them he must earn more money, and so he left his job as messenger boy to become a telegraph operator on the Pennsylvania railroad. While thus engaged as an operator he invented a system of train dispatching that, each year, saved the company thousands of dollars. This invention attracted the attention of the railroad officials to young Carnegie, and he was made private secretary to Colonel Scott, vice-president of the road, and a little later was made superintendent of the Western division of the Pennsylvania railroad, all before he was thirty years of age.

It was while he was superintendent of the railroad that Mr. Woodruff, the inventor of the sleeping car, came to him with the invention. Mr. Carnegie listened to a description of the proposed cars. He saw that the idea was good and adopted it at once. Thus it was that on Mr. Carnegie's division of the Pennsylvania railroad the first sleeping cars in the United States were run.

Prior to this time all the railroad bridges had been made of wood; but it occurred to Carnegie that bridges should be made of steel, rather than wood. Accordingly, he organized the Keystone Bridge Company that built the first steel bridge across the Ohio River. As the bridge business grew, Mr. Carnegie decided that he could make more money by making his own steel for the bridges. To do this he organized a company and built the Union Iron Mills. So profitable were these mills that in a short time he purchased the Edgar Thompson Steel Rail Mill and the Homestead Steel Works. Gradually his business grew until in 1901, when he retired, his payroll exceeded eighteen million dollars a year, and he received two hundred and fifty millions for his share of the business.

But, I hear you ask, "How could he earn so much money? How did he get the money to start these great enterprises?" From the first he was economical and saved every penny possible; and fortunately for him his investments were always profitable, as the following examples will show.

When he was a telegraph operator, his friend, Mr. Scott, urged him to buy ten shares in the Adams Express Company for six hundred dollars. As Mr. Carnegie was able to get together but five hundred dollars, Mr. Scott lent him the extra hundred, and the investment was made. Soon these shares were yielding large dividends, which Mr. Carnegie carefully saved.

Already I have told you how Mr. Woodruff, the inventor of the sleeping car, came to Mr. Carnegie to get him to try out these cars. So enthusiastic was Mr. Carnegie over the invention, that he organized the Woodruff Sleeping Car Company, and borrowed money from every possible source to finance the enterprise. Here, too, he met with a degree of success that was far beyond his fondest expectations.

Suppose we invite Mr. Carnegie to tell us about his third investment. He says: "In company with several others, I purchased the now famous Story farm, on Oil Creek, Pennsylvania, where a well had been bored and natural-oil struck the year before. This proved a very profitable investment. When I first visited this famous well, the oil was running into the creek where a few flat-bottomed scows lay filled with it, ready to be floated down the Allegheny River on an agreed upon day each week, when the creek was flooded by means of a temporary dam. This was the beginning of the natural-oil business. We purchased the farm for forty thousand dollars, and so small was our faith in the ability of the earth to yield, for any considerable time, the hundred barrels per day which the property was then producing that we decided to make a pond capable of holding one hundred thousand barrels of oil, which we estimated would be worth, when the supply ceased, one million dollars.

"Unfortunately for us, the pond leaked fearfully. Evaporation also caused much loss, but we continued to run the oil in to make the loss good day by day, until several hundred thousand barrels had gone in this fashion. Our experience with the farm is worth reciting: its value rose to five million dollars, and one year it paid in cash dividends one million dollars." Surely this was a very profitable investment.

But most of Mr. Carnegie's money was made in the steel business, and, you ask how this was done.

Prior to 1868 the process of making iron into steel had been extremely expensive. In that year Mr. Carnegie introduced a method for making steel known as the Bessemer process. For years his mills had a monopoly of the process; and, as it reduced the cost of making steel by more than half, he made vast sums of money.

About all rich men two questions are always asked: How did they get their money, and what did they do with it?

While Mr. Carnegie may be justly criticized for some of the methods he adopted in getting his money, few can criticize the beautiful spirit that he has shown in giving it away. So liberal has he been that in a single year he gave away one hundred and twelve million dollars. Some of his more notable gifts are $22,000,000 for the Carnegie Institution in Washington, $24,000,000 for the Carnegie Institution in Pittsburg, $15,000,000 for Teachers' Pensions, $10,000,000 for Scotch Universities, and $70,000,000 for libraries.

In the northern part of Scotland is a large and beautiful mansion known as Skibo Castle. This was Mr. Carnegie's country estate, and here he and his wife and daughter lived in comparative quiet. In his late years, as in boyhood days, he loved to tread on the free heather of his beloved country. As the years multiplied, his sympathies gradually enlarged and his vision broadened. Though some, as they grow old, become sour and crabbed, Mr. Carnegie became increasingly optimistic and youthful in spirit, until death claimed him.

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"He is never alone that hath a good book."



ANNA SHAW

When Anna Shaw was four years old, her mother left Scotland with her family of small children and started for America to join her husband. After a few days' sail, a fearful storm arose and the ship returned with great difficulty to Queenstown. This was the first impressive experience of Anna's life, and she was destined to live through many exciting ones. Finally, another ship started on the long voyage across the Atlantic and this time the family reached the shores of our country and met the husband and father. Anna remembers his joy over their reunion.

But the next event that stands out clearly in her mind occurred after they had lived in the United States for a year or more. Her parents did not believe in slavery, and were anxious to help runaway slaves gain a place of safety and freedom. They had read Uncle Tom's Cabin aloud to their children, so Anna was not surprised when one day she went into the cellar on an errand and found a negro woman hiding there. The little girl was greatly excited and anxious to know just how the woman came there and where she was going. But when she told her parents of her discovery they became alarmed lest she might, through her interest, say things before strangers that would disclose their secret. Therefore they kept her away from the cellar on one excuse or another, and although Anna was sure her home sheltered many slaves on their journey to a free land, she never again saw one or knew anything about the system that helped these suffering persons.

The Shaw home was in a small Massachusetts town, and there was much happening to engage the attention of the children. Anna recalls the first money she ever earned. The amount was twenty-five cents, and she was paid that for riding in a Fourth of July celebration. After this seemingly great sum of money was hers, she and a small sister decided to spend some of it. They bought a banana, which was to them a strange and wonderful fruit, but they did not like it because they did not know how to eat it. They gave it away to a boy who quickly removed the peel and enjoyed eating the fruit. They were amazed, for they had tried to eat it just as they bought it from the dealer. When Anna saw their gift eaten so rapidly she was astonished and disappointed.

This incident was to be one of the last memories of her New England home, for the family moved to Northern Michigan and became pioneers. For toys she received at Christmas a small saw and an axe. These were typical of the life she was to lead for a number of years. Unlike many girls of her age, she had no time to play with dolls or sew; she was forced to do a man's work in helping with the new home.

Her father was a kind, gentle man, but very much of a dreamer. He did not realize that things must be done promptly if a family is to have food and shelter. Once he spent weeks reading and planning what kinds of grains would be best to sow, but long before he had decided, the planting season was over, the young crops were up, and the Shaws had none. The mother was not strong, yet she did an immense amount of work. As she had been highly trained in sewing, she made the clothing for the entire family. The two older girls, Eleanor and Mary, did the housework and this left Anna and her brother to do the rough outdoor work. Together they accomplished this and many other tasks. They even made a set of furniture for their simple cabin home.

Indians were all about through the woods, and once while out playing Anna saw a band of them going towards her home. She hurried back to see her mother giving them food. This they took with no thanks and departed. But later in the year they returned and brought Mrs. Shaw a large supply of venison to show her they appreciated her kindness.

Another time a number of Indians stopped at the Shaw cabin, and they had been drinking whiskey. They demanded food, and it was prepared for them. Meanwhile Anna and her brother, fearful lest the liquor might excite their guests, managed to go to the attic and let down a rope from the gable window. With it they drew up all their firearms, one by one. Then at long intervals, members of the family would slip away and hide upstairs where they knew they would be safe unless the Indians set fire to the house.

The hungry guests ate up everything, then stretched themselves out and fell into a drunken sleep. The Shaw children watched them all night through cracks in the attic floor, and when morning came were glad to see the Indians sneak away as if they were ashamed.

Many hardships came to the little family. Their cow died, and for an entire winter they had no milk. They had no coffee either, but made something they called coffee out of dried peas and burned rye. Anna was always cold; she cannot remember that the house was ever warm enough to be comfortable; still she enjoyed life and made up her mind to go to college, to be a preacher, and to be worth one hundred thousand dollars. She named this amount because it seemed so unlikely she would ever have any money. Often she would steal away and preach in the woods to an imaginary audience.

When she was fifteen years of age she began to teach school. She had but fourteen pupils, and they learned to read from whatever books they could find. The result was that their text books were almanacs and hymn books. For teaching she was paid two dollars a week and board. This latter did not amount to much, as often all she had for her luncheon was a piece of raw salt pork. Her salary was not paid promptly either, as the school authorities had to wait until the dog tax was collected because it was from this fund that the teacher's salary was drawn.

The largest salary Anna Shaw ever received for teaching was one hundred and fifty-six dollars a year, so at last she stopped and started to learn the trade of sewing. This was very distasteful to her, and she determined she would not earn her living with the needle. What she wanted to do was to preach. Finally she had a chance to give her first sermon, and her brother-in-law, who owned the county newspaper, printed this notice:

"A young girl named Anna Shaw preached at Ashton yesterday. Her real friends deprecate the course she is pursuing."

This did not discourage Anna Shaw, for she kept on working and in 1873 managed to enter Albion College in Albion, Michigan. She had earned a little money to pay her way, and she intended to get the rest by preaching. Her family disapproved so strongly of this step that they had nothing to do with her, and it was some years before they became reconciled and good feeling was once more established between them and the bright young woman.

Anna was twenty-five when she entered college, and she had had so much experience in her pioneer home she seemed much older. Every Sunday she preached in mission churches to congregations composed chiefly of Indians who sat listening solemnly, while their papooses were hung along the walls in their queer little Indian cradles.

From Albion College, Anna Shaw went to Boston Theological School, and after a hard struggle with poverty, was graduated from this institution as a minister. She had given to her for her field of labor a little church on Cape Cod, that part of Massachusetts that seems to stretch forth to meet the sea. Here she was the minister for seven years. The members of her church liked her, and she was always busy helping them in every way, from preaching funeral sermons and performing marriage ceremonies to helping settle neighborhood quarrels.

There were many amusing episodes in her life. One over which she has laughed many times was her purchase of a horse. She wanted a horse gentle and safe for a woman, so when she went to look at one that had been offered her the only question she asked was, "Is she safe for a woman?" The family who owned her said she was, so Miss Shaw bought her. When the errand boy at the Shaw residence went out to the barn to hitch up the new horse, the creature kicked so that the boy ran from the building thoroughly frightened. However, Miss Shaw went into the stall and harnessed the horse easily. Soon she discovered the truth; the horse was safe for women, she liked them, but she would not let a man or boy come near her. The only way she could be outwitted was when the errand boy put on a sunbonnet and long circular cloak of Miss Shaw's. Even then the horse would eye him suspiciously, but did not kick. Miss Shaw thought she had made a most peculiar purchase, but she became fond of Daisy, as the horse was called, just as she did of every person and thing in her parish.

At last, feeling the need of more training, in order to do good in the world, she went to a medical school, and after serious study became Dr. Anna Shaw. While there she became interested in the cause of Woman's Suffrage. At that time only a few persons believed that women, as well as men, should have the right to vote, and anyone saying they should was criticized severely.

Dr. Shaw went to work for this cause with great energy and steadfastness of purpose. From 1888 to 1906 she was closely associated with Miss Susan B. Anthony who was then the head of the suffrage movement. When Miss Anthony passed away, Dr. Shaw became one of the great leaders. In 1906 only four states had granted suffrage to women,

Wyoming in 1869, Colorado in 1893, Idaho in 1896, Utah in 1896.

Suddenly all over the United States women became interested in this cause to which a few devoted women had already given years of their lives, and in 1910 Washington was added to the small list of states where women had equal political rights with men. Then in quick succession came

California in 1911, Arizona in 1912, Kansas in 1912, Oregon in 1912, Alaska in 1913, Nevada in 1914, Montana in 1914, New York in 1917.

By 1917 women also had the right to vote for president and all offices except the judiciary, in Illinois, North Dakota, Nebraska, and Michigan. At that time there was partial suffrage for women in Arkansas, New Mexico, South Dakota, Iowa, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Oklahoma, Louisiana, Mississippi, New Jersey, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Florida and Ohio. In some of these states just mentioned, women voted for very few offices, but still they had a slight voice in the affairs of their state, and a large number of states refused women all voting rights. They were Texas, Missouri, Alabama, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Maryland, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Maine, Indiana, Delaware and Virginia.

Dr. Shaw's life dream was realized when woman was given the right to vote on all questions in every state in the union by an amendment to the Constitution of the United States.

Dr. Shaw died in the service of her country at Washington, in 1918.

Like so many of America's noble men and women, the secret of Anna Shaw's life has been service to others,—doing good to her fellowmen and working always for human justice.

* * * * *

AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL

"O Beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain! America! America! God shed his grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea."

—KATHARINE LEE BATES.



ERNEST THOMPSON SETON

How many boys of ten years of age know what they want to do when they are grown? Surely there are some boys of that age who have planned their future work or at least have dreamed about it. But how many ever do in later life just what they had thought of doing when in the fourth grade of the public school? Not many, you may be sure. However, some years ago there was a boy living in England who had decided on his life work by the time his tenth birthday passed. What is more, he carried out his plans with great success. Today you may read many of his books and look at interesting pictures he has drawn of wild animals that are as familiar to him as are the pets most boys and girls have in their homes. More than this, if a boy belongs to the Boy Scouts, he is a member of an organization that this man helped to found in the United States.

Ernest Thompson Seton was born in the northern part of England. His family moved to Canada, but he attended school in England and did not stay in America for any length of time until his schooling was completed. His name was originally Ernest E. Thompson Seton, but some years ago he changed it by turning the last two names around and putting a hyphen between them. As he has written under both names, persons sometimes wonder if there are two men who love the out of doors and write with pleasure of their open air experiences.

Mr. Thompson Seton's wish was to spend a large part of his life tramping over the country studying animals and learning woodcraft. The rest of the time he would write and make pictures of what he had seen. He felt he could stay within doors only part of each year. So as soon as he finished school and returned to the province of Manitoba he went to work in the fields. It did not take him long to earn enough money to live on during the winter, as his wants were few; then he set out to tramp all over the province. He watched the birds; he learned the ways of all the animals and could tell wonderful stories of their instinct and cunning. When he did live under a roof for a few weeks, he was always busy drawing pictures of his friends in the open or writing down accounts of their lives. One of his best known books was published in 1898 and was called, "Wild Animals I Have Known." This brought him to the attention of many readers; but he had been helping make books long before this one, for when the Century Dictionary was published he drew for it more than a thousand pictures of the animals that he had watched and studied.

In the course of his life he has been a hunter, a day laborer, a scientist, a naturalist, and an artist. At the same time he has been able to carry out his plan of spending the greater part of each year out of doors. Loving a free active life from his earliest boyhood, it is not strange that Ernest Thompson Seton was the first man to organize the Boy Scouts in America. In the Outlook for July 23, 1910, he tells the story in a most interesting manner. He says:

"My friend John Moale, a rich man, had bought several thousand acres of abandoned farm lands near Boston in the year 1900. This he made into a beautiful park, all for his own enjoyment. Around this park he built a strong fence twelve feet high so that no one could get into the park. His prospects of peace and happiness were excellent. But the neighbors resented his coming. He had fenced in a lot of open ground that had been the common cow-pasture of the adjoining village. He had taken from the boys their nutting-ground, and forbidden the usual summer picnics. He was an outsider, a rich man despoiling the very poor, and they set about making it unpleasant for him.

"They destroyed his fences, they stoned his notice-boards until they fell, and they painted shocking pictures on his gates. Mr. Moale, a peace-loving man, rebuilt the fences and restored the notice-boards only to have them torn down again and again.

"All summer this had been going on, so I learned on visiting Mr. Moale in September. Finally I said to him: 'Let me try my hand on these boys.' He was ready for anything, and gave me a free hand. I bought two tents, three old Indian teepees, and two canoes. I got some bows and arrows and a target.

"Then I got a gang of men to make a campground by the lake on my friend's grounds. On this I set up the tents and teepees in the form of an Indian village.

"Now I went to the local school house and got permission to talk to the boys for five minutes. 'Now boys,' I said, 'Mr. Moale invites you all to come to the Indian village on his land next Friday, after school, to camp with him there until Monday morning. We will have all the grub you can eat, all the canoes necessary, and everything to have a jolly time in camp.'

"At first the boys were bashful and suspicious, but finally they accepted the invitation, and at 4:30 forty-two boys arrived in high glee.

"'Say, Mister, kin we holler?'

"'Yes, all you want to.'

"'Kin we take our clothes off?'

"As the weather was warm I said, 'Yes, every stitch, if you like.' And soon they were a mob of naked, howling savages, tearing through the woods, jumping into the lake, or pelting each other with mud."

After supper, Mr. Thompson Seton tells us, the boys gathered around the camp fire while he told them one Indian story after another. For two days the boys ate, swam, canoed, and, what was most important of all, they became acquainted with the two men. There was no harm done the boats, teepees, or outfit other than fair wear and tear during that camping, and before it was over Mr. Moale, instead of having a gang of bandits to combat the year round, had now a guard of staunch friends, ready to fight his battles and look out for his interests when he was away.

That was the beginning of it. Every boy in the village is now a member of the tribe, and three other bands have been formed in the neighborhood. All this was in 1900. Since then thousands of workers have become interested and the work has spread, until today the Boy Scouts of America is one of the best known organizations of the country.

One reason for the growth of the Boy Scout movement is the fact that scouting usually makes boys cleaner and more manly than they were before. Should you like to know the Scout Laws that they learn and practice? The first law is this: "A scout is trustworthy." This means a scout's honor is to be trusted. Boy Scouts everywhere make a great deal of the word honor. The following story shows the scout's idea of honor: "A little newsboy boarded a crowded car the other night with a very large bundle of papers, and the conductor, with coarse good-nature, tried to favor him by not taking his fare, although of course he could not do this without cheating the railway. The boy looked at him with indignation, and could not believe that he was the conductor. He went all through the car hunting for the real conductor to whom he might pay his fare."

"A scout is loyal," is the second law. Loyalty is another word that is dear to the scout. Have you ever heard a scout say bad things about his scout master or about his fellow scouts behind their backs? Not very often, I am sure. If a scout has anything to say against any one, he goes directly to him and talks it over. The Scout Law explains loyalty saying: "He is loyal to all to whom loyalty is due, his scout leader, his home and parents and country." He must stick to them through thick and thin against any one who is their enemy, or whoever talks badly of them.

Have you ever seen the scouts salute the flag? The smiling faces and beaming eyes show that they love the flag dearly. Few can sing better than the scouts, for they mean every word they sing.

The instant our nation entered the great world war the Boy Scouts offered themselves to their country to do whatever the president asked. Since most of them were too young to enlist, it was at first thought that they could not do much. As the months passed, however, the boys have found one task after another, until now they are so busy that they put to shame many older people.

Then, too, the Boy Scouts have worked so silently, without making a fuss about what they were doing. In many of our large cities they have planted "war gardens" on every vacant lot they could get. In most cases all they raised in these gardens was given to the Red Cross. Furthermore, they have been the best friends the farmers have had. These scouts in large numbers have left their comfortable city homes to work on farms. They have not asked for the easy, pleasant jobs, but have been willing to do the thing that needed to be done most whether it was pleasant or not. Have you ever wondered who put up the thousands of posters asking the people to save food and buy bonds? In many cases this work has been done by the scouts.

The Boy Scout has been able to do so much because he is taught to be brave. The coward has no place among the scouts. The lad who is not willing to rough it soon drops out. Long hikes, coarse food, and hard work try the stuff that's in a boy. If he can stand up to all these he is sure to develop the endurance that makes him brave.

As soon as the war began, the educated young men of our country went to the officers' training camps to learn to become officers. After thousands of these young men who had tried to become officers had failed, the people began to wonder what the trouble was. Finally they asked the great army officers who had examined them, and received this answer: "Your young men are slouchy; slouchy in the way they hold their shoulders, slouchy in the way they walk, slouchy in their use of the English language, slouchy in the way they think." Should you like to know how the young men who had once been scouts fared? Almost without exception they passed, for the training they had received as scouts had cured them of much of their slouchiness.

A scout is not only brave but he is also courteous and helpful to others. Nothing delights a scout more than to be able to help a child or an old man or woman across a busy street. For these little services he must not receive tips. Major Powell, the great English Scout organizer, tells of a little fellow who came to his house on an errand. When offered a tip the lad put up his hand to the salute and said, "No, thank you, sir, I am a Boy Scout."

About the hardest thing a scout is expected to do is to smile and whistle under all circumstances. "The punishment for swearing or using bad language is, for each offense, a mug of cold cold water poured down the offender's sleeves by the other scouts."

Much more could be written in favor of the Boy Scouts. They are a body of boys of whom we are proud. And we shall ever be grateful to Ernest Thompson Seton for his noble work in organizing the Boy Scouts in America.

* * * * *

"Be Prepared"



JOHN WANAMAKER

It was a stormy, rainy day in New York City. We wanted to visit some of the great stores and shops, but were afraid of the bad weather.

Our friends who lived in the city laughed at us. They said: "This is just the kind of a day to go to Wanamakers. We will take the subway to the basement door and never be in the wet at all."

So we hurried to the underground railroad that runs beneath the busy streets, and were soon riding away in a fast express train. On we went in the darkness, through winding tunnels to the other end of the city. At last we stopped at a brilliantly lighted platform and were told that this was our destination. Leaving the train we did not ascend to the street, but went through great doors into a large room that was as light as day. Elevators took us up, up, from floor to floor. And what did we see, I hear you ask. We saw everything one could wish to buy. We saw everything we had ever dreamed of purchasing. We saw many beautiful things of which we had never heard, and we felt as if we were visiting a magic palace.

At noon we ate our lunch in a pleasant restaurant up at the very top of the enormous building. It was quiet and peaceful, and we were glad to rest. When we were through, we found an attractive little concert hall where many persons were listening to a deep-toned organ.



We were told we were welcome to sit down and hear the sweet music. An hour passed before we were ready to leave. Then we continued our sightseeing, and it was late in the afternoon before we were ready to go home. We returned the same way we had come and when we were once more far up town in our own familiar street the rain had just stopped. Then we realized we had been in doors all day long and known nothing of the storm. It had indeed been just the kind of a day to go to Wanamakers.

And what is Wanamakers? It is the name of two great stores, one in New York City and the other in Philadelphia. The owner, John Wanamaker, is the man who first thought of selling all manner of articles in one store, and so built what we call today a department store.

No one who knew John Wanamaker when he was a boy thought he had any better chances than any other boy among his playmates, and no one foretold that he would become a great merchant.

A plain two story house in Philadelphia was his early home. There he lived with his father and mother. His father was a brick maker, and while John was very small he would help his father by turning the bricks over so they would dry evenly. His father died in 1852. John was just fourteen, and he went to work in a book store. His wages were $1.50 a week, but he managed to save a little. His mother encouraged him and he says of her, "Her smile was a bit of heaven and it never faded out of her face till her dying day."

Although at first the boy earned but little to help this good mother, he soon was able to care for her in a way beyond his highest hopes.

What caused him to succeed? His capital! "But," you say, "he had no money; he was poor." True, his capital was not money. Let us see what it was. A few words will tell us. He had good health, good habits, a clean mind, thriftiness, and a tireless devotion to whatever he thought to be his duty.

He worked hard outside of business hours, improving himself for any opportunity that might come. And one came when he was twenty-one years of age.

The directors of the Philadelphia Y. M. C. A. were looking for a young man to become Secretary of the Association. They were anxious to secure an earnest energetic person who would make a great success, for it was the first time that such a position as Y. M. C. A. secretary had been established. They selected John Wanamaker and paid him $1,000 a year.

He went to work with a will, and everyone felt that he more than earned his salary. All the time he was saving, just as he had been doing when he worked in the book store. He had great hopes and plans. When he had saved $2000 he and a friend of his own age started a business of their own. Their store was named Oak Hall and they sold men's clothing. At that time business houses did not advertise in the newspapers as they do today. Neither were signboards used. Just imagine how puzzled the good folk of Philadelphia were when, one morning, they saw great billboards all over their peaceful city. On these were two letters, W. & B. No one knew what these letters meant. Everyone was guessing, and it was not until Oak Hall was opened that the public learned that W. & B. stood for Wanamaker & Brown, the name of the new firm.

Their first day's business brought in thirty-eight dollars. John Wanamaker himself delivered the goods in a wheel barrow. Then he hurried to a newspaper office and spent the entire thirty-eight dollars for advertising. After reading of the wonderful goods on sale there, customers poured into Oak Hall. They bought, too, for again John Wanamaker had spent his money wisely. He had hired the highest paid clerk in Philadelphia to manage the sales room, which meant that each customer was waited upon well and went away pleased, ready to tell his friends about the new store.

What do you suppose was told the oftenest? Probably you would not guess, because today all business houses have followed the plan that was used first in Oak Hall.

You will be surprised when you hear that it was the custom of having one price for a garment and sticking to it that caused the most talk. This price was marked plainly on a tag attached to the article to be sold, and any one could see it. Before this, clothing merchants had not marked their goods, but tried to get as much as possible from a customer. Often one suit of clothes had a dozen prices on the same day. So you can see what a change the energetic young man made. He did more than this. Because he wanted to please the public, he said if any customer was not satisfied he could return his purchase and receive his money back. This was a startling idea, but it worked, and made many friends for the young firm.

Their store waked up Philadelphia. Every week some new advertising appeared. Once great balloons were sent up from the roof. Stamped on each one was the statement that any one who found the balloon and returned it to Oak Hall would receive a suit of clothes. You can imagine how the people hunted for those balloons. One was found five months afterward in a cranberry swamp. The frightened farmer who saw it swaying to and fro thought at first that some strange animal was hiding there. You may be sure he was glad to hurry to Oak Hall with his prize and get the promised suit of clothes.

John Wanamaker kept on economizing and saving, for he wanted a bigger business. Then the idea came to him of selling many kinds of goods under one roof, and the modern department store was born. The store, though small at first, gradually grew until it finally became the largest in Philadelphia. Then it was that he decided to build an even larger one in New York City.

Today there are department stores throughout our country in every city and town. We like them and take them as a matter of course. But let us remember they had their beginning in the idea of this boy from Philadelphia.

His success looks very great to us, but it was built up step by step. He says it is due "to thinking, toiling, and trusting in God." This seems to sum up his life. Besides business, his interest in religious affairs has always been great. He has given of his wealth to many noble charities and helpful organizations. In Philadelphia he built a great building for a Sunday School alone. Thousands of persons attend this school each Sunday and there are classes there during the week for those who have had to leave school at an early age. He has remembered the Y. M. C. A. and, perhaps because of his early work with it, has been unusually generous in giving buildings to struggling associations. He even built one in the far away city of Madras, India, thus stretching out his influence for good nearly around the world.

But while he has had thought for those far away, he has also cared for the people who work for him. His stores were the first to have an entire holiday on Saturday during the hot days of summer. This was done so the men and women could leave the crowded city, if they wished, on Friday evening, and have a vacation of two full days in the country or at the seashore.

Then, too, he has encouraged the various departments of the stores to form clubs and musical societies. At times there have been two bands in the New York store, one composed of men and the other of women. They have rooms and hours in which to practice.

Besides playing and singing, some of the clubs study English, foreign languages, and many other subjects. It is possible for every person employed in one of the Wanamaker stores to add to his stock of knowledge through this club life.

Some years ago John Wanamaker began giving a pension to those who had served him for a certain length of time. This plan has since been followed by other firms because it promotes faithfulness and interest in the business.

This interest makes each one connected with the store realize he is a part of it. Perhaps this is shown best by the way pensioned men and women responded to Mr. Wanamaker's call in 1917, after so many men had left to join the army and navy. They went back to take the places of those who had gone, feeling that in so doing they were serving their country.

There was one fine old Scotchman past eighty years of age living in New York who had been forty-four years in the employ of Wanamaker. He had been on the pension roll for some time and was enjoying old age quietly. When he heard the call from his former employer, he went down to work as eagerly as a boy, glad he was strong and sturdy enough to do his part in keeping the great store open to serve the public.

Is it not a fine thing to be able to develop such spirit and energy among thousands of persons? Surely the mother of the boy who turned bricks for his father would rejoice if she could read her son's record. He has become one of the greatest business men of his day; he served our country well as Postmaster General but most of all he has given each year more and more time and money to help make the world better.

Can we not say of him that, while he has always recognized that the object of business is to make money in an honorable way, he has tried to remember that the object of life is to do good?

* * * * *

"And the star-spangled banner In triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free And the home of the brave."

—FRANCIS SCOTT KEY.



WOODROW WILSON

Thomas Woodrow Wilson was born at Staunton, Virginia, December 28, 1856. At that time Staunton was a town of five thousand inhabitants, situated in the beautiful and famous Valley of Virginia. Woodrow's father, a thoroughly trained and able preacher, was pastor of the Southern Presbyterian Church of the city.

When Woodrow was two years of age the family moved to Augusta, Georgia. In those days Augusta, a city of fifteen thousand people, was one of the leading manufacturing cities of the South. With its great railroad shops, furnaces, rolling mills, and cotton mills, it was indeed a hive of industry.

As a boy Woodrow was called "Tommy" by his playmates; but as he grew into manhood he dropped his given name and signed himself—Woodrow Wilson. His mother was a Woodrow, and by signing his name Woodrow Wilson he hoped to do equal honor to each parent.

During Woodrow's boyhood days, the Civil War storm-cloud was gathering; and when he was five years of age it broke in all its fury. Fortunately for him, Augusta was far removed from the scenes of conflict. Never can he remember having seen troops of southern soldiers marching through the streets of the city. Only once was he thoroughly frightened. When General Sherman was on his famous march to the sea, word came that he was about to capture Augusta. Immediately the few men who were left in the city, for most of them had gone to war, gathered all sorts of fire arms and marched forth to meet the enemy. All night they lay on their arms, but greatly to their relief the foe never came.

Naturally enough the most vivid memories young Woodrow had of the war were those in connection with the scarcity of food. Before the war the people of the South had never thought of eating cow peas, as they were thought to be fit only for cattle; but so scarce did food become that Woodrow had to eat so much cow pea soup that even yet, whenever he thinks of it, he feels the old time disgust.

Two things that happened immediately at the close of the war made a deep impression upon the lad who was then nine years of age. All through the war the president of the Southern Confederacy was, as you know, Jefferson Davis. Imagine young Woodrow's surprise when he saw the former president marched through the streets of Augusta, a prisoner of war, guarded by Federal soldiers. They were on their way to Fortress Monroe. During the war Woodrow, as we have already said, saw very little of the Confederate soldiers; but as soon as peace was declared, the Union soldiers took possession of the city, even occupying his father's church as a temporary barracks. The hardships suffered during the few years immediately at the close of the war were even greater than those during the war itself.

A thrilling event in the life of the lad was the day when Augusta had its first street cars. The bob-tail cars, with their red, purple, and green lights, and drawn by mules, afforded all sorts of fun for the boys. To make scissors by laying two pins crosswise on the rail for the cars to pass over was one of their most pleasant pastimes.

In those days there were no free public schools with their beautiful buildings for Woodrow to attend, so he was sent to a private school that was held in rooms over the post office. With Professor Derry, who was in charge of the school, spanking was the favorite form of punishment. While Woodrow and his chums differed very decidedly with the Professor's views regarding spanking, the boys were never able to convince him that their views were right. Finally, the lads discovered that pads made from the cotton that grew in the fields on every side of the city served them well whenever the evil day of punishment arrived. After they had made this discovery they were more reconciled to the Professor's views.

The best chum Woodrow had was his father. Busy as he was with the cares of his large church, he never was so occupied that he could not find time to chum with his boy. For hours at a time he would read to his son the worth-while things that Woodrow enjoyed hearing. Then, too, the busy pastor was in the habit of taking a day off each week to stroll with Woodrow in field, factory, or wood as the case might be. On these long strolls the father and son talked over many of the problems that were of interest to the lad. Little wonder, then, with such comradeship, that Woodrow rapidly developed along right lines.

Like all boys, he was fond of building air castles. Dwelling much in the realm of fancy, he imagined that he occupied all sorts of positions and did remarkable things.

Mr. William Hale in his excellent story of the life of Wilson describes one of these flights of the imagination as follows: "Thus for months he was an Admiral of the Navy, and in that character wrote out daily reports to the Navy Department.

"His main achievement in this capacity was the discovery and destruction of a nest of pirates in the Southern Pacific Ocean. It appears that the government, along with all the people of the country, had been terrified by the mysterious disappearance of ships setting sail from or expected at our western ports. Vessels would set out with their precious freight never to be heard from again, swallowed up in the bosom of an ocean on which no known war raged, no known storm swept.

"Admiral Wilson was ordered to investigate with his fleet; after an eventful cruise they overtook, one night, a piratical looking craft with black hull and rakish rig. Again and again the chase eluded the Admiral. Finally, the pursuit led the fleet to the neighborhood of an island uncharted and hitherto unknown. Circumnavigation seemed to prove it bare and uninhabited, with no visible harbor. There was, however, a narrow inlet that seemed to end at an abrupt wall of rock a few fathoms inland. Something, however, finally led the Admiral to send a boat into this inlet—and it was discovered that it was the cunningly contrived entrance to a spacious bay; the island really being a sort of atoll. Here lay the ships of the outlawed enemy and the dismantled hulls of many of the ships they had captured. And it may be believed that the brave American tars, under the leadership of the courageous Admiral, played a truly heroic part in the destruction of the pirates and the succor of such of their victims as survived."

Thus he dreamed dreams, studied, and chummed with his father until the eventful day arrived when he must go away to college. But where should he go? What college should he attend? A small Presbyterian college in the South was chosen. Before the end of the first year he was taken sick and had to leave college. Then it was that he decided to go to Princeton University, a decision that had much to do with his future career. Life in Princeton proved to be just the stimulus that he needed. Here, surrounded by the keenest, most alert young men of the country, he developed rapidly. Interested in every school activity, from baseball to debating, he won for himself a prominent place in the student body. So great was his thirst for knowledge, however, that his graduation from Princeton did not satisfy him. Accordingly, he next went to the University of Virginia where he was graduated from the law school in 1881. But even this did not satisfy, so he spent two years in Johns Hopkins University, receiving in 1885 the degree of Ph.D., the highest degree that any university can give.

Thus equipped, he became a professor first in Bryn Mawr College, then in Wesleyan University, and finally in Princeton. So pronounced was his success as professor in his beloved university that in 1902 he was made President of Princeton. So able was his leadership in Princeton that the state of New Jersey called him to be its governor. Could a University President make a good governor? The politicians were very much in doubt. It is needless to say that all watched him with deepest concern. Soon, however, it became apparent even to the most skeptical that he was destined to be New Jersey's ablest governor. Gradually, because of his strength, his popularity grew until the eyes of all the nation were fastened upon him. From the governor's chair he rose to the highest honor the Nation could bestow, he was elected to the Presidency of the United States.

Little did he realize when he accepted this honor that with it would come the heaviest burdens that any president save Abraham Lincoln had been called upon to bear. For eight long years he patiently bore those burdens and heroically faced every responsibility. Great as were the demands made upon him, he always proved himself equal to the emergency.

The last three years of his service as President found him dealing with problems of the Great World War, and at its conclusion he was one of the leading figures in the making of the final treaty of peace between the warring nations.

To take part in the treaty-making, Mr. Wilson twice went to Paris. It was the first time a president of the United States had ever traveled beyond the borders of our own country.

At the expiration of his term of office, Mr. Wilson took up the practice of law, at Washington.

* * * * *

"To such a task we dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything that we are and everything that we have, with the pride of those who know that the day has come when America is privileged to spend her blood and her might for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the peace which she has treasured. God helping her, she can do no other."

—PRESIDENT WILSON'S WAR MESSAGE.



MARK TWAIN

"Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in it and say:

"Barley-corn, Barley-corn, Injun meal shorts, "Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,"

and then walk away quick eleven steps, with your eyes shut and then turn round three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you do speak, the charm's busted.

"I've took off thousands of warts that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean."

"Yes, a bean's good. I've done that."

"But say, Huck, how do you cure 'em with dead cats?"

By this time, doubtless you are saying, "Oh, I know from what book you are quoting. I have Tom Sawyer at home and Huckleberry Finn, too. I read them over and over."

But would you not like to know something about the man, who could write so understandingly of boys? Suppose we read the story of his life and see if we can decide what gave him his wide knowledge of games and adventures, of boyish larks and youthful troubles.

We must go for his earliest experiences to a town on the Mississippi, one hundred miles from St. Louis. In the year 1839, the Clemens family moved to Hannibal from a still smaller town in Missouri, named Florida. The youngest child in the Clemens family was four years old. He was named Samuel Langhorne Clemens. For eight years this boy roved over the hills and through the woods with his playmates. There was a cave near Hannibal. Many strange creatures were said to hide in its depths. Also, there was Bear Creek where the boys went swimming. Young Sam tried hard to learn to swim. Several times he was dragged ashore just in time to save his life, but at last he learned to swim better than any of his friends.

Then there was the river, the broad Mississippi.

"It was the river that meant more to him than all the rest. Its charm was permanent. It was the path of adventure, the gateway to the world. The river with its islands, its great slow moving rafts, its marvelous steamboats that were like fairyland, and its stately current going to the sea. How it held him! He would sit by it for hours and dream. He would venture out on it in a surreptitiously borrowed boat, when he was barely strong enough to lift an oar out of the water."

We are told that when Sam Clemens was only nine years of age he managed to board one of the river steamers. He hid under a boat on the upper deck. After the steamer started he sat watching the shore slip past. Then came a heavy rain and a wet, shivering, little boy was found by one of the crew. At the next stop he was put ashore and relatives, who lived there, took him home, and so ended his first journey upon the river.

Years later he became a pilot on a Mississippi river boat and made many trips from New Orleans up the river and back. Such a trip required thirty-five days.

While acting as a river pilot, Samuel Clemens heard the name, "Mark Twain." An old riverman had used it as an assumed name, taking the term from the cry of the boatmen as they tested the depth of the river. Samuel Clemens had an intense love of joking and fun, so when he first began to write, he suddenly thought it would be amusing to sign some name other than his own. Therefore, he signed his articles "Mark Twain." This name clung to him, and many persons forgot or never knew that his real name was Samuel Langhorne Clemens.

Accordingly, in the river of his boyhood love, he found the name by which the world knows today one of the foremost American authors. Yet, in those early days in Hannibal, he had no idea of writing. Indeed, his days were so busy it is not likely he thought much of the future at all. He was the leader of a band of boys that played Bandit, Pirate and Indian. Sam Clemens was always chief. He led the way to the caves whose chambers reached far back under the cliffs and even, perhaps, under the river itself.

When he was a man, Mr. Clemens wrote two books telling of these early days in Hannibal. "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" and "Huckleberry Finn." "Tom Sawyer" was himself, and the incidents in the book all had their foundation in the days of his boyhood. The cave, as you may know, plays an important part in the latter story. In "Tom Sawyer," Indian Joe dies in the cave. There was an Indian Joe in Hannibal and while he did not die in the cave, he was lost there for days and was living on bats when found. This incident made a strong impression on young Samuel Clemens and he never forgot it. It was in the Clemen's house that Tom gave the cat pain-killer; there, too, that he induced a crowd of boys to white-wash the fence all one Saturday morning. It was at the Clemens' home, too, that a small boy in his night clothes came tumbling down from an over-hung trellis upon the merry crowd cooling taffy in the snow.

Such happenings were part of young Sam's life. He lived the out-of-doors and, when grown to manhood, he could recall all the sports and pleasures of those days. He cherished the memory of his boyhood friends and so wrote of "Huck" Finn, making him like Tom Blakenship, one of the riotous, freedom-loving members of Sam Clemens' band.

These boys crowded many adventures into a few years. Hannibal was the scene of stormy times. Black slaves were sold in the open market. Desperadoes roamed the streets. Lawlessness was everywhere and it was not strange that the residents of Hannibal did not think Sam Clemens amounted to much and prophesied that he would never grow up to follow a respectable calling.

Yet when his father died, Sam went to work in his brother's printing shop. Printed matter began to interest him. Then one day, in the dusty street of Hannibal, this half-grown, lively boy picked up a scrap of paper. A leaf torn from a history! Where did it come from? No one knows.

Books were not plentiful then in that little town. Yet, on this paper the fun-loving Sam Clemens read for the first time of Joan of Arc, the wondrous maid who led the French to victory. He had never heard of her. He had read no history, nor had he had an active interest in books. Studying there in the village street, reading the few lines of the marvelous story of the Maid of Orleans, there was created in him an interest that went with him throughout life.

He was by turn a printer, a pilot, a pioneer, a soldier, a miner, a newspaper reporter, a lecturer, but at last he found his true place. He became a writer and wrote books that continue to delight thousands upon thousands of readers. His life went into his books. Just as he drew upon his early days in Hannibal for the material in "Huckleberry Finn" and The "Adventures of Tom Sawyer," so he used all of his experiences. He wrote "Life Upon The Mississippi," a record of his days as a pilot; "Roughing It," a story of a mining camp; "The Jumping Frog," a western story that made his fame throughout the United States; "Innocents Abroad," a tale of his experiences abroad, and "The Life Of Joan Of Arc," a beautiful story that was always the author's favorite.

During the last years of his life, Mark Twain passed the winters in Bermuda and there he was, as ever, the friend of children. There was a pretty, little girl at his hotel named Margaret, who was twelve years old. She and Mr. Clemens went everywhere together and, on one excursion, he found a beautiful, little shell. The two halves came apart in his hand. He gave one of them to Margaret and said, "Now dear, sometime or other in the future, I shall run across you somewhere, and it may turn out that it is not you at all, but will be some girl that only resembles you. I shall be saying to myself, 'I know that this is Margaret by the look of her, but I don't know for sure whether this is my Margaret or somebody else's;' but, no matter, I can soon find out, for I shall take my half shell out of my packet and say, 'I think you are my Margaret, but I am not certain; if you are my Margaret you can produce the other half of the shell.'"

After that Margaret played the new game often and she tried to catch him without his half of the shell, but Mark Twain writes, "I always defeated that game, wherefore, she came to recognize, at last, that I was not only old, but very smart."

Mark Twain had lived 74 years when the close of his life here came April 20, 1910, in Redding, Connecticut. Once he wrote in one of his humorous moments, "Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry." When his life here ended, tributes were received from every land. He was mourned as few men have ever been. Why? Because he knew people; he loved them and interested them. Because, in his most famous days he still remained at heart the boy who played beside the river and loved the surging, restless flow of the mighty current.



WARREN G. HARDING

On the Saturday morning after election day in November, 1920, a crowd of people stood waiting in the railway station in Marion, Ohio. They were there to say goodbye to President-elect and Mrs. Harding, who were starting on a vacation journey; for, after the stirring times of the long campaign, they needed rest.

When the conductor of the train asked Mr. Harding if he should make fast time, the President-elect replied: "Go slow; I have been going too fast for the past two weeks."

It was not at all strange that so many should meet to say a fond farewell, for nearly everyone in Marion seems to like Mr. Harding. As we asked his fellow townsmen the reason for this affection, we were surprised that nearly all gave the same reason. They said: "We like him because he is genuine, frank, fair." "He is generous, considerate, and knows how to be a good neighbor." Indeed this spirit of neighborliness was shown clearly during the campaign preceding his election, when Mr. Harding decided to remain in Marion and meet his friends on the front porch of his own home. Because of this decision the Republican campaign of 1920 will long be known as "The Front Porch Campaign." To this front porch came many thousand men and women from every section of our broad land to meet Mr. and Mrs. Harding.

Had you been one of these pilgrims, you would have met a man over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a deep chest. Though he is not bald, his hair is exceptionally gray for a man of his age. He has the rare faculty of making you comfortable in his presence. While, with his deep blue eyes, he looks you squarely in the face as he talks to you, his look is so kindly that you feel at ease.

After this brief but delightful interview, you join an expectant multitude that has assembled on the lawn. Suddenly all eyes turn to the porch. Here stands Mr. Harding, gracious, dignified, serious. Breathlessly each awaits his first utterance. With a well modulated voice he addresses the multitude as he would speak to a group of friends. Soon you are listening as though he were speaking only to you. With no tendency to bicker he discusses the problems of government in a manner that reveals his clearness of vision and pureness of soul. All too soon the address is ended and the crowd begins to scatter. As each wends his way, the remark that is most frequently heard is this: "I like him and I'm sure we can trust him."

Now that you have met him and heard him speak I am sure you will want to learn more about his life.

On November second, in the year the great Civil War closed, Mr. Harding was born in Corsica, Ohio. How old, then, is he? Most of his boyhood days, however, were spent in Caledonia, Ohio, where his father was the village Doctor. In addition to practicing medicine he owned the Caledonian Argus, a typical village newspaper.

Since all boys of eleven must have at least a little spending money, Warren, as Mr. Harding was then called, found that setting type was his easiest way to earn pin money.

The first year Warren worked on the Argus, the circus came to town and brought Hi Henry's Band. Warren and another boy helped with unusual faithfulness and speed that day. They knew the paper had free tickets for the circus. Of course they would be given tickets. They planned what a glorious time they would have and, as long as the tickets did not cost anything, they could spend some of their hard earned money on side shows and ice cream. Noon came and no one had mentioned the circus tickets. The afternoon passed slowly; two o'clock, no tickets; three o'clock, no tickets; four, five, six o'clock, and no mention of the circus. Two indignant boys held counsel. Then as night fell, they went to the editor and demanded two tickets as their right. The tickets were forthcoming and two pleased boys went to the circus.

Perhaps the glories of Hi Henry's Band aroused the citizens of Caledonia. At any rate a band of fifteen pieces was afterwards organized there. An old harness maker, who liked to have the boys play about his shop, was an expert on the valve trombone. He showed his frequent visitor, Warren Harding, how to play the instrument; then Warren learned the tenor horn and became a full-fledged member of the Caledonia Band. Only those of you who have lived in a small town can know how important the band is. It gives concerts in front of the court house or on the square. It plays at rallies, picnics, shows, and leads in parades. So when Warren Harding joined the Caledonia Band, he felt quite grown up and impressive, perhaps more so than when he was elected President.

Not until 1882 did Dr. Harding trade his farm and move to Marion. His son had by that time been graduated from the Ohio Central College. Like many another young man of those days, he taught a term of school after leaving college. But he did not plan to remain a teacher. For a time he thought of the law as a profession, and also made some efforts to sell insurance. But his early knowledge of a printing office and the making of a newspaper influenced his tastes and desires.

His father had acquired an interest in the Marion Star, a struggling Republican paper in the county seat. Warren Harding became the editor. He had held this office only two weeks when he went to Chicago to the Republican National Convention hoping to see James G. Blaine nominated for the Presidency. While he was in Chicago, his father sold the Star and so upon his return Warren Harding, a Republican, became a reporter on the Marion Mirror, the Democratic paper.

In those days, the admirers of James G. Blaine wore high, gray felt hats. Warren Harding wore his when he went about Marion gathering news for the Democratic paper. Soon this annoyed the editor of the Mirror and young Harding was told he must stop wearing his "Blaine" hat. He refused, and so lost his job on the paper.

The night of election day, when Cleveland was elected President, Warren Harding and two old Caledonia friends decided to buy the Marion Star. That was the beginning of an ownership that has lasted ever since. There were plenty of hard days for the young editor but with prophetic insight he wrote and published in the Star:

"The Star is not going to change hands but is both going to go and grow."

Friends laugh and joke about the hard struggles of the Marion Star and the difficulties of the editor to make the paper go. They tell of times when Editor Harding didn't have money enough to pay the help. Nevertheless, he made the paper both go and grow, and these hardships only endeared him the more to the citizens of Marion. In the end he overcame all difficulties and his fellow citizens felt proud of his success.

Warren Harding had a strong sense of fairness and justice. When he had been editor but a short time, he wrote out his newspaper creed. Today, any reporter, who enters the service of the Marion Star, has given to him the following rules, which the President of our Country believes should be followed:

NEWSPAPER CREED

Remember there are two sides to every question. Get them both.

Be truthful. Get the facts.

Mistakes are inevitable, but strive for accuracy. I would rather have one story exactly right than a hundred half wrong.

Be decent, be fair, be generous.

Boost—don't knock.

There's good in everybody. Bring out the good in everybody and never needlessly hurt the feelings of anybody.

In reporting a political gathering, give the facts, tell the story as it is, not as you would like to have it. Treat all parties alike.

If there's any politics to be played we will play it in our editorial columns.

Treat all religious matters reverently.

If it can possibly be avoided, never bring ignominy to an innocent man or child in telling of the misfortunes or misdeeds of a relative.

Don't wait to be asked, but do it without asking, and above all, be clean and never let a dirty word or suggestive story get into type.

I want this paper so conducted that it can go into any home without destroying the innocence of any child.

WARREN HARDING.

Thus we see that President Harding has spent most of his life in newspaper work. Here, as we can readily see, he has gained the intimate knowledge of people that has made him genuinely human.

But his training for the Presidency by no means stopped here. For twenty years he has taken an active part in the problems of State and Nation. When only thirty-five years of age he was elected a member of the Ohio Legislature. As a member of this body, his efforts were so successful and so thoroughly appreciated that he was later chosen to Represent Ohio in the United States Senate. In this strategic position he did not lose an opportunity to acquaint himself with the complex problems of National Government. Little did he then realize that all this knowledge was fitting him to become the Head of the Nation. Such is the mystery of life.

"A large upstanding man. A man of great virility. A man of undoubted courage. An honest man, honest with himself and with the public. A man of good judgment and entire practicality. A generous, kind-hearted, and thoughtful man. Thoughtful of his subordinates, generous to his adversaries, and cordial to his equals. A man whose head has not been turned by the honors thrust upon him. A plain, everyday, practical man without illusions or visionary ideas. A man that is a supporter of stable government. A man intensely American in his instinct."



ADDENDA Note: The following pages are intended for a record of additional facts concerning the lives of these eminent Americans.



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