ilututstrial (Unrpuratimts
liatu* Strarhcii :B>atVty Suite
By SAMUEL UNTERMYER.
Wcll-Known Corporation Lawyer.
§§ We have reached the line of safety in corporate
combinations. The working out of these great in
) dustrial combinations in the United States has clearly
shown the professional financier what the extreme
frontiers of his powers are in that direction. Corpora
tions have become to» vast, 100 clumsy, too remote
N from the original guiding hands and controlling
brains for continued success in the competition with
individual effort.
In my judgment the very big industrial corpora
tions will gradually grow weaker, will fall into what might be called
a state of senility. They contain the elements of their own destruction.
That much, at least, is plain.
I refer to those in which the element of individuality is disappear
ing, which applies to most of them. There are some where the element
of individual interest is retained. In those cases their power will in
crease, but they are few in number. 1 know of only three such cases
in which combination has been a great benefit and has served merely to
accentuate the great ability and resourcefulness of the guiding spirits.
So long as the men who created and shaped these original establish
ments —the men responsible for their success and familiar with their
working—so long as these men retained the ownership by reason of their
stock holdings, this centralization of business was on a sound and per
manent basis.
But matters did not slop there. The bankers gradually began to
be interested. They offered some of the new securities for sale and
found them to be profitable. Presently the public began to take the secur
ities in immense quantities. Then a fatal tendency developed. Manu
facturers could not resist the temptation to sell their securities at hand
some prices. They sold their holdings to the public. The public became
the owners of the corporations. The men who had created the business
withdrew.
This is, in a rough, round way, the real explanation of the weak
ness and temporary character of our great industrial stock companies.
With the original personal force, personal incentive and personal experi
ence eliminated from their various establishments they cannot compete
with individual enterprise based upon real and not fictitious capitaliza
tion.
Stockholders want their dividends. The stockholders want to see
the market values of their securities held up. If the president dares to
follow what he knows to be a prudent, necessary course, if the dividends
are cut or passed—even for the prupose of securing greater returns in
the future; a movement of the stockholders may presently overthrow
him from his place. This is one of the unfortunate conditions surround
ing and often controlling the management of our overgrown industrial
systems.
If I had to answer
A Unman sn>otiintt SRI
_ » 4 *\ - 4 _ make a good presi-
IX ;||osisibuitlJ dent?" I should be
obliged to say No,
By MRS. ALICE PARKER LESSER, ... (1 rr ~
with the qualification
Lawyer. 1
that the comparison is
with the kind of men
whom we have chosen for the office in this country. But why would
not woman make a good president ? That is the important corollarv
of the answer that she would not. It is because woman by nature
is unfitted for great administrative and executive responsibility? Ob
viously not, since the world's history furnishes illustrious examples
of the contrary.
A woman to-day would not make a good president for the identi
cal reason that no man would make a good president who has been
deprived, as woman has been and for as long as woman has been, of
practically all participation in political life and all political responsi
bility.
Will there be women who will make good presidents? That is
another question, and one to which 1 give the ready answer, Yes.
Woman's political capacity may be denied at the present time, but her
capability is undoubted. There are many administrative functions
in political life which she would perform far better than man; there
arc none which, as president of the United States, she would not per
form as well, given the experience and practice which men enjoy.
1 do not mean by this that the time will come when there will be
so many women fitted for the office of president as there are men,
but I believe that the exceptional woman of the future will compare
favorably with the exceptional man, and I believe that the average
woman of the future will be as competent to exercise all the rights
and duties of average citizenship as the average man.
There are certain executive duties which, it may be granted, will
always be more appropriately performed by man, but there are other
administrative duties for which I believe woman better fitted than
man. Why not a man and a M />
woman president ?
It has been claimed
She IJiuurr JW^, , l Uo T,
. j? *(♦ is true with some quali
n I tlt l* Jr 111 fications. Great men
By BISHOP SAMUEL FALLOWS. D. D. ' ' ' |U n I )rcSlntatlv(S
<>r incarnation of great
principles. They give
expression in voice and deed to the thoughts and ideas of a people, a
race or an age.
Ihe work of soeiity is shaped and directed by the few. The king?
of finance rule the mone\ market. 1 In - captains of industry die ate tc
the commercial world. The wheel within the wheel of all the labor or
ganizations ha> one hub and a 112 w central spokes. To the two or tlirn
in e\ <r\ church is committed li t c nduct of it* affairs. The little pope*
in ecclesiastical circles are frequently complained of. tat if ,i .hromi
other- soon take their place.
Mr. Spurgton's famous saying lias a world of truth in it:"ln tlu
meeting of every committee of three one number slmuid be sick and an
otlu r ab«eiit, and then something will be done."
The one-man power will always obtain. But with this dclefcitfor
of uutlioiity a ccre>ponding responsibility.
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1905.
g KEEPING CHRISTMAS $
By HENRY VAN DYKE. \\l
WiT IS a good thing to observe Christmas day. The mere 90^
#*l J marking of times and seasons when men agree to stop ijl
work and make merry together is a wise and whole
«; jf 7 some custom. It helps one to feel the supremacy of
J/,. 99 & the common life over the individual life. It reminds a fa\J
Vj[ man to set his own little watch, now and then, by the
f\ great clock of humanity. J,7
3\ \ But there is a better thing than the observance of Christmas
u day, and that is, keeping Christmas. jSf
wr Are you willing to forget what you have done for other people
11/' and to remember what other people have done for you ; to ignore
JT what the world owes you and to think what you owe the world ; to
VJ put your rights in the background and your duties in the middle
distance and your chances to do a little more than your duty in the , HP
foreground; to see that your fellow men are just as real as you *7
vA are, and try to look behind their faces to their hearts, hungry for J7
JEr joy ;to own that probably the only good reason for your existence
vis is not what you are going to get out of life, but what you are going
to give to life; to close your book of complaints against the man- V©
y\ agement of the universe and look around you for a place where you rtf*
\<{l can sow a few seeds of happiness—are you willing to do these Wv
j|f things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas. M
juf Are you willing to stoop down and consider the needs and the Tr
aY desires of little children ;to remember the weakness and loneliness Vf
Wr of people who are growing old; to stop asking how much your
r/g friends love you and ask yourself whether you love them enough ; YJ.
to bear in mind the things that other people have to bear on their nV
hearts; to try to understand what those who live in the same house
with you really want, without waiting for them to tell you; to trim \/Z
your lamp so that it will give more light and less smoke, and to
vj/ carry it in front so that your shadow will fall behind you; to make F
a grave for your ugly thoughts and a garden for your kindly
feelings, with the gate open—are you willing to do these things Wl
y\> even for a day? Then ycu can keep Christmas. T yO
M Are you willing to believe that love is the strongest thing in )m
yx the world, —stronger than hate, stronger than evil, stronger than Ty
death, —and that the blessed life which began in Bethlehem nine- Jy
QS teen hundred years ago is the image and brightness of the Eternal
Love ? Then you can keep Christmas. ' yjr
Qj And if you keep it for a day, why not always? VM
But you can never keep it alone.
Y* Youth's Companion. gjV
BENEATH THE MISTLETOE.
Origin of One of the Happiest Customs
of Christmas Day Is Traced
Back to "Conqueror."
The origin of one of the happiest cus
toms of Christmas, which has been al
lowed to lapse with the passing years—
that of kissing under the mistletoe —is
traced back to the "coming over of the i
conqueror." Washington Irving re- j
minded us that the mistletoe is still j
hung up in farmhouses and kitchens all !
over England; "and the young men [
have the privilege of kissing the girls j
under it, plucking each time a berry i
from the bush". When the berries are j
all plucked the privilege ceases." At j
one time, it is said, the youth could i
claim a kiss for each berry he picked, !
but unless there were a great many
berries and very few pretty maids such j
a liberty would have to be used with
moderation. Nares says that the j
maiden who was not kissed under the !
mistletoe at Christmas would not be
married during the coming year.
A strange superstition prevails in ;
many English families in connection ;
with the Christmas holly. Before mid- j
night on New Year's eve every vestige ;
of holly must be removed, or ill-luck j
will be sure to fall upon the house. Tha :
inference to be drawn from this is that
the New Year must be entered upon in j
all seriousness, with nothing to recall
the festivities.
According to the old-established rule,
the holly should not be taken down un
til after the twelfth night.
REPENTANT.
n«iO«MT
Fugitive Turkey—"l'm tired of hid
ing out in the cold. 1 wonder if it's j
too late togo in for Christmas?" — '
Chicago Daily News.
Heaviest Trndo Before Xmas.
Dealers in raro oins and stamps '
ami other similar cur'os always ilo
their heaviest trade of th«» year Just
before Christ inns. This i* because so
uiany curios are sold by needy people
to provide money for Christiiius tea
Uvtltos.
Liked the Old Way Beet.
"I'a. I've wrote Saiit> Claus u uoth' r
letter."
"What about tirorgl»l"
"I tub* hint he mustn't ><nn* in a
automobile, I want hint to run . iu *
sleigh" iMMrolt Kr«i I'rtsr.
That Costly S ,i>im.
"What makes your father look so
blue to niisht?"
*'B ■ *!>' Somebody thoughtlessly
mailtl«t:i: l the fact that Cbrintiut* it
COUllli*." C'bii U*|> I'eet
CHRISTMAS OF PURITANS.
After Time of Queen Bess Birthday
of Christ Was Made Occasion
for Mad Revelry.
More and more after the time ol
Queen Bess was Christmas made an oc
casion for mad revelry instead of a joy
j ous Christian celebration.
Finally that part of the English peo
j pie called the Puritans, who had become
! disgusted with the growing foolishness
!of the Christmas celebration, got parlia
j ment to prohibit Christmas festivities
| of any sort. And for ten years the only
! way Christmas was celebrated was by a
j fast. Even for merely decorating their
i church with evergreens the trustees ol
i St. Margaret's (Westminster) church,
I in London, were placed under arrest.
The Puritans went entirely too far,
| you see. in their sternness, and, natur
ally, the people rebelled. So they be
| gan celebrating Christmas secretly at
| home with all sorts of festivities. And,
I because they did it secretly, they felt as
j if they were very sinful. "When the
' church refused to use her pleasant nests
| Satan stole them and made them
; snares." So people said at that time; or,
; as other people put it: "Father Christ
j mas was let in at the back door."
! A little later, when the Puritans lost
their political power in England and
i hail to seek a refuge elsewhere, many of
them, as you know, came to America.
Bringing with them, as they did, their
stern prejudice against festivals, they
completely ignored Christmas for a
long, long time.
Their children and great-grandchil
dren, however, did not inherit their
prejudice so strongly, and then, too. they
were influenced by the Dutch colonists
in New Amsterdam (now New York),
who always kept a very merry, but per
fectly respectable, Christmas.
So, at last, Puritan New England
"came around," and permitted Christ
mas to be celebrated once again in all
her homes with "moderate festivities
and rejoicing after attendance at the
place where God is preached."
Small Wonder.
Aunt Emily (telling little Johnnie
a story)— Now. early on Christmas
morning this bad boy got out of bed
and ran over to the mantel where
he had hung up his stocking. He
found it hanging just where he had
left it; but it was empty. Can you
tell me why it was empty, Johnnie
why that bad boy found not even a
piece of candy in his stocking on
Christmas morning?
Little Johnnie (who has had experi
ence) —Because he had swiped every
thing in the night.—Brooklyn Life.
Careless of Santa Claus.
"Little Hilly Billions Is crying as if hU
| heart will break." said one nurse maid.
"What's the matter?" asked theo,hcr.
"He's jealous of little Tommy Tril
lions next do..r. He thinks the railroad
bonds Tommy got in his Christmas
Mocking will pay bigger dividends than
the corporation stock that Santa C)au*
left him." Washington Star.
Ancient Superstition.
There is a curious old superstition
thut nine holly-leave* tied In a hand
kerchief with nine knots, und placed
under the | lllnw on Christinas night,
will cnhi' Ho* sleeper to dream of hi
or her future wife or husband.
Small Oift Best.
Ilntler a small klft where love Is
than a codly present for tht sake ot
Itelnii In ths swim.
"Plum' Full."
Plenty uf Christina* pudding is like
, ly to make one fssl plum fail.
A Christmas
Souvenir
By FRANK H. SWEET
STEVENS
f| was walking slowly on
| .11 Ormond Beach, gazing
1 E 1 iKtlessly at the white
| sand dunes or out
L I across the sea < an( l OG *
It nPawßr' 1 casionally pausing to
pick up a shell, which
"1 s ' ie was a ' ,nost sure
I lo cast as '^ e
I ently a moment later.
She was stopping at
the Ormond, anil a car
riage was now waiting
her signal at a notch in the dunes
which marked the road. On the sand
ridge above the road was the Coquina
hotel, isolated and lacking paint, but
having a reputation for good viands
and excellent table service. It was
popular with those who desired quiet
and bathing, and there were even now
a number enjoying the surf just as
though it wore not the day before
Christmas, and along the beach be
tween them and the hotel weie a dozen
or more children, some playing in the
water and some in the sand.
Mrs. Bigelow Stevens paused, and
gazed at them with dimming eyes.
She had lost her own little girl but a
few months before, and for that rea
son she was here; not to forget, but
to find new scenes to awaken her in
terest. Presently a child of five or six
separated from her companions, and
came racing up the beach in pursuit of
a hat which was rolling merrily along
before a gust of wind. Mrs. Stevens
reached out her parasol and intercept
ed the runaway.
"Thank you!" gasped the little girl,
out of breath, but looking up with a
roguish smile on lier bright face. "I
shall whip it when I get home." Then,
instead of returning to her compan
ions, she grasped a finger of her new
friend. "May I walk with you?" she
asked, beginning to swing along as
though the permission was granted,
She was silent for some minutes, her
lips tremulous with recollections of the
past, and during that time the little
girl made excursions from her finger
to investigate escaping crabs and cu
rious shells, and even the last efforts
of waves that sent long lines of shallow
water curving up toward their feet. At
length Mrs. Stevens' lips grew firmer,
and she looked down.
"I suppose your mother is here,"
6he said.
The child in her turn became grave.
"I haven't any mamma," she an
swered; "and my papa doesn't walk
with me like he used to." She hesi
tated a little, and then went on, with
childish frankness: "He—he talks
loud to me sometimes, and his face
gets red, and—and he strikes me. I
don't have anybody to play with now."
That evening Mr. Stevens was look
ing over some new curiosities he had
purchased. He did not care much for
such things, but this winter he was
trying to cultivate an enthusiasm for
them in hope of interesting his wife.
"There are some really fine Florida
sketches in that studio in the new
block," he said, presently, looking up
from a nautilus shell he had been ex
amining. "One of them will make a
nice souvenir of Ormond. However,
if you do not care for them, you may
select anything else you like. This
year I am going to give you two pres
ents —my usual one and one of your
own choosing as an Ormond souvenir."
He turned back to his shell, only to
raise his head again quickly. "By the
way, I forgot to tell you about a man
I met on the street to-day. You re
member Seaton, the bookkeeper, who
ran away with $2,000?"
"Yes."
"Well, it was he, but so changed 1
hardly recognized the man. In his
case, crime has certainly proved its
own punishment. Two years ago he
was reckless, but was very scrupulous
about his personal appearance; now
he is only a slovenly, red-faced toper."
Mr. Stevens paused, and ran his fingers
through his hair in an irritable, dis
gusted sort of way. "It isn't the man
I care for."he grumbled, "but a fel
low of his stamp seems to drag so
much good into the mire with him.
Fortunately his wife is dead, but there
is a child left."
"Did you have him arrested?" Mrs.
Stevens asked.
"No; what was the use?" a little
apologetically. "He has gone through
the money—and through himself al
most. When he saw me he was too
Beared to speak, and just stood there
trembling. I asked a few questions
and found that the money was all gone
and that lie owed a month's board at
the C'oquina. He even confessed that
he was thinking of running away and
leaving the child."
"How old Is the child?" Mrs. Stevens
asked, eagerly.
"Oh, live or six; and she is a very
nice little jrirl."
Mrs. Stevens rope from her chtlr
with an unwonted light in her eyes.
"TWi Ik* is * '>!■■<• Htlle ulrl Now
may I hold you to your word, and take
whatever I 11for my pr*H» in my
Christmas souvenir?"
"Why, icrtalnly. dear." with glad
tt ndi-rni s«, as he detected the ih*w hi
ten t In h<*r ejes and voice, "whatever
you like."
"Then I will 'like the little alrl to
Le our own."
Hi- half r.isf in his usioiildiment.
but th« I "k on her faen prev ntetl
#ven the M|i| • arance of c* post ills) 1011.
'•\Vr> well. dear,"' hi- said, "we w|!l ko
for her In the morning " Farm «ud
Fireside.
A Christmas
Angel
By DOROTHY DEAN
...1.......HE angel's name was
JSjEI r - |J Kosy. Most days she
it**-' wa>i ÜBt an ordinary
topjnS little girl, but on
„ Christmas eve she was
riF to lie an angel. Nate
'Sffjp* CaJr Downey brought her to
the door, and then went
onto Itiß brother
Tom's. He had some
-Jlbusiness to talk over.
Tom's women folks
tS^mrt s ' would be at the church
to-night; it would be a
good chance. The church was all
trimmed with wreaths of evergreen
and festoons of cedar, with mottoes
and silver stars. There was a myste
rious green curtain across one end of
the platform, and now and then a
young lady peeped from behind it with
a very important face. j
Rosy was all wrapped up in a great
fur cloak, but, oh! what a rauiant.
white vision was hidden under that
cloak! Because, as 1 said, Rosy was
to be an angel, and it was Christmas
eve.
The church was full of happy peo
ple. She nestled down quietly in a
corner, her part would not come for
a long time. By and by she fell to
wondering about the Christmas an
gels—if ihey would come to-night
across the fields. She had a great mind
togo and see. She could slip out of
the little door behind the curtain and
nobody would know.
So she gathered her fur cloak around
her and slipped out into the snow. It
was so white and still out there; the
stars shone down at her; she was not
afraid. The fields stretched away be
fore her in wide, white silence, and
she went away through a little hollow
and across a pasture field. It was
growing cold and she shivered under
her fur cloak, but she did so want to
see if i.-3 angels came.
She wondered if there -would be any
little girl angels like her, and if she
would hear them sing. She wondered
which way they would come, and which
was the star the wise men followed.
Maybe if she knew she might follow
It, too. and find the little Christ-child,
for had not they told her uiat He was
on earth still? That one great star
in the east, could it be the one? It
was so bright she would follow it and
see. It must be nearly time for the
angels to come.
Presently she began to wonder
which way she had come. The fields
were wide and white about her, rising
winds lifted tiny whirls of snow and
twisted them into garlands and then
dropped them gently. She shivered
with the cold. Somewhere lay home,
and the warm, bright church, and she
could not tell which way. She looked
up at the stars, but they seemed so far
away, and the Christmas angels did not
come. She would sing: maybe they
would hear, and tell her which way
to go.
It was ten o'clock when Nate
Downey started home across the fields.
It was nearer that way; he would stop
at the church for Rosy. Tom and lie
had quarreled that night, something
about the river meadow, and he walked
on moodily, forgetting al! about the
blessed Christmastide, and the baby
Peace that came to earth on Christ
mas night so long ago.
All at once he stood still and lis
tened. Somewhere out of the dim star
light a voice sang, faint and far.
"Peace on earth." it sang, "peace and
good-will."
He remembered thai it was Christ
mas eva.
"Peace and good-will," sang the
voice, blown a little farther by the
wind. It was rtosy's song: what did
it mean? The father's lip trembled a
little. Rosy must be singing her song
now in the church; what did it mean
that he should hear it htre? Was any
thing wrong with the child—his little
pet daughter? The wind blew the
sound to him again faintly.
"Peace and good-will, good-will to
men!" Might it not be a message to
him? Perhaps after all he had been
rash and hasty with Tom: Tom was a
good man. He would see him again
to-morrow.
The voice came again, a little near
er; surely it was a voice, a child's
voice, and there was the sound of a
sob in it —it was Rosy's voice!
Nate Downey hurried on. The wind
tossed the snow in his face, clouds
were drifting tip from the west, and
blotting out the stars.
He called finally across the Held:
"Rosy! Kosy!" the wind caught the
name as it left his lips and tossed it
away.
The Utile voice sang no more. On!y
the wind kept up its swift minor swell,
and went on heaping little mounds in
the corners. A great fear was In his
heurt. He railed at-'aln. Oh there!
whence came the little voice that cried
aobbingly: "Papa. oh. papa!"
He sprang forward eagerly, ealllnq
again and auain and each time the lit
tle voire answered, till at last he had
his own little daughter in his arms;
the little ChrlMna aiiKel who had
cone through the snow to lilm wlih
her message of p«<ftce.
Sate IHi wney stoppt d a minute at
the door of the i hurch to let them
I now. Itosy was fast asleep In hU
arum; she stlrn I a licit-, half wakened
by the lights mi t voiees, and mur
mured drowsllv the words of her
Cbi tsi MAN *• IIIK
"l'ia e and jfocd will, K<>od will to
m«-n!" Itural NVw Yorker