CHILD LOVE. When weary and worn with the struggle in seeking life's coveted prize, When clouds of despair hover 'round me and shut out the blue of the skies; At times when I feel so discouraged and burdened from bearing the load That seems to completely o'erwhelm me while struggling along the rough road, •Tis then, for relief, that I turn me away from the world and entwine Wy arms 'round the one who still loves me—this golden-haired baby of mine. What temptations oan I not conquer? What battles not win, if the prize Is the i7e and the mute adoration that beam in my little one's eyes? With her dimpled arms thrown around me, and her baby voice in my ear, There's sunshine forever about me, and all of my doubts disappear. The beacons of hope that inspire me are the love-lights that trustfully shine In the brown eyes of one who adores me—this golden-haired baby of mine. The blossoms of spring may all wither and the birds lose their power of song, Yet life has a sweeter attraction than these to entice me along; Her smile, like the sunbeams of noonday, brings gladness and warmth and good cheer, And drives off the shadows of darkness and doubt that are hovering near— <iod take away from me forever the riches of earth, but enshrine The wealth of the love of my treasure—this golden-haired baby of mine. —E. A. Brininstool, in Buiialo News. Ltd! GEOFFREY'S WIFE |L®J 1 Asr | '■ Case of Where Mistaken Identity Turned 1 ? cut wen. ; ; 1"T IIE Longworth family wove , excited—tliat is, all of them except Maurice, who was uerer known to get excited at>out anything. Mrs. Longworth had just finished reading a letter aloud. She laid the cream-tinted, perfumed sheet with its gold and violet monogram on her table, took off her glasses and looked at the girls with a pleased smile. "So Geoffrey's wife is actually com ing to visit us at last. She will be here in a week's time, and we must bo pre pared to make her visit as pleasant as possible.' "I wonder what she will he like, and If she is really as pretty as her pho tograph," said Hildcgarde. "You may be sure she isn't," said Maurice disagreeably; "she would have bad her pictures taken full face if she were. Depend upon it, her profile is the best of her." "For my part," said Evelyn, "I don't care what she looks like, if she is only nice and good fun." "Well, she won't bo that, cither," persisted Maurice, who was in one of his "contrary" moods; "no woman with a profile like that ever had a grain of common sense. Look at that nose vanity; that mouth—frivolity; that chin —weakness and willfulness. No, you won't like Geoffrey's wife, and I shall hate her." "You have always pretended to dis approve of her—just because we nil admired her. I suppose," said Evelyn, crossly. "You do dearly love to be contrary. But don't go and make your self obnoxious to her on principle. You'll have to help entertain her—and you can Do perfectly charming when you like." Maurice bowed satirically. "Consider yourself thanked. But that complimentary sugar-coating does not sufficiently disguise the unpalatable pill of your last sentence. I was never out out for a martyr, and I shall ef face myself as absolutely as possible during Mrs. Geoffrey Longworth's so journ here. I'll be civil to her, of course, unless she provoke mo to be otherwise—but that is all you need ex pect. I give you fair warning." And Maurice tossed away bis cigar and sauntered out of the room with a bored expression. '• Geoffrey Longworth, the older brother, had gone to a Western city several years previously and in duo time had taken to himself a wife. Her photograph presented a very pretty girl in a very smart gown. The Longworths had never seen Mrs. Geoffrey, but she was coming to visit them at last. Geoffrey himself, In his capacity as civil engineer, was going to accompany nil ethnological expedition to some ancient ruin in Central Amor lea, and bis wife would spend the time of absence with her hitherto unseen relatives. A week later Mrs. Ceoffrey Long worth arrived, a till, self-possessed young woman, Irreproachably gowned. She had a charming smile, a liquidly sweet voice and a perfect manner. Mrs. Longworth and the girls greeted lior with affectionate kisses, and Mau rice bent his dark bead before her, Ibis languid brown eyes flashing with reluctant admiration. "Like—very like—not altogether she," lie quoted under his breath as he dropped into his chair at the tea table. lie felt bewildered. This girl was so unlike what he had expected. She was glorious, with her large, dark gray eyes that were violet in the shadow, the ripe bloom on her oval cheeks and the splendid lights and eliadows of her dead-black bail'. Why had he always fancied that GeofTrey's wife was a pallid blonde? He was quite ready to pronounce lier divine. Mrs. Geoffrey was accustomed to Speedy conquests. She had read in bis eyes, successively, surprise, admira tion, full surrender. It was such de licious flattery. "I think I am going to like my brother-in-law very much," she said, when she was nlonn, and looking at her charming reflection in the glass. Then she gave a little sigh. "What a pity—and what a shame!" she murmured. "If Geoff just knew. But he doesn't. He's burled in the Central Africa ruins by this time—or is It Central America? And I, Mrs. Geof frey Longworth, am here, meaning to have the very best time in the world, and not to be bothered by conscience. Conscience, indeed! I left It behind me. And who could have imagined that poor, plain Geoff would have such a handsome brother?" Mrs. Geoffrey speedily won her way Into all hearts. Geoffrey's mother and sisters adored her, his old friends ad mired her, and even those most merci less of critics, his former sweethearts, could find no flaw in her. She wns on emphatic success. Maurice was devoted to her. They (discovered that they had all their tastes in common. They were both musical; they liked the same books, the same songs, the same amusements. Maurice wondered a dozen times a day how Geoff, plain, plodding, com monplace Geoff, had managed to win such a girl. "The attraction of opposites, I sup pose," he thought savagely. "Geoff was always a lucky dog." Mrs. Geoffrey did not often speak of her husband. Neither did she write to him. "He hasn't any address," she said frankly, when Mrs. Longworth asked her for it. "Dear me, don't you know he is simply buried in Central Amer ica? Ho can't write to mo or I to him until he gets back to the coast. Anx ious? Oli, no, not at all. Geoff lias a chronic habit of turning up safe and sound." "To think that I should have hated you once!" said Maurice to her one day. "I knew you liked me against your will at first," said Mrs. Geoffrey. "Why was it?" "I never liked your photograph?" "Isn't it a good one?"—demurely. "Good? Well, I suppose it is as far as features go. But it isn't you. The expression is altogether wrong." Mrs. Geoffrey got up and turned the photograph iu question toward the wall. "There! Lot it stay so. I never liked it myself, but Geoff thought It was excellent." One day Maurice made n discovery. It was at Mrs. Anderson's garden party, where Mrs. Geoffrey carried on a rather marked flirtation with Charlie Scott. She was somewhat more given to sueli an amusement, people thought, than a young woman who had a hus band exploring Central America ruins ought to be. But Mrs. Geoffrey was serenely iudiffevent to public opinion. She smiled at Charlie Scott witli eyes and lips, talked to him in her velvety undertones, and finally disappeared down a shady path with him. Maurice had been watching them with a scowl. When they passed out of his sight, he went homo. It was of no use to pretend to himself that he was angry at Mrs. Geoffrey's flirta tions on Geoffrey's account. He know that he loved and ha was honestly ap palled. He shut himself up iu his room for the rest of the day and tried to think the matter squarely out. Even tually he came to a resolution and by way of keeping it lie began to avoid Mrs. Geoffrey whenever it was possi ble and to treat her with grave, cold politeness wlion it was not. That unrepentant young person had come home from the garden party in radiant spirits. At first she looked upon Maurice's chilling attitude as the result of pique. When she realized that it was something more serious, she held a council of war with herself. "This won't do. Oil, dear, what a moss! I might have known some such predicament would result from my folly. What will lie think of me? What will tlioy nil think of me? And oil, what will Geoffrey say when he finds it out—for of course ho will find it out now? lie will be dreadfully angry." And Mrs. Geoffrey cried a little— not very much—for she wanted to look her best that night, and It would never do to spoil her eyes. "I must go home next week," she announced sweetly as they rose from the dinner table that night. "Oh, yes; it is more than time. I have stayed too long already. Geoff will soon bo getting bnck to civilization, and I must be home before he is." Maurice followed her miserably Into the music room. Mrs. Geoffrey sat down at the piano in the mingled dusk and moonshine and sang tender obi ballads in alluring succession until Maurice could endure it no longer. Ho came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Oh, Muriel, Muriel, I love you! I have no right to say it, but I must say it once. I never will again." "Why '.tot?" asked Muriel softly. "Why not?" cried Maurice. Ho had never thought that Mrs. Geoffrey was a particularly devoted wife, but he could not. believe that she was the kind of woman her words would indicate. ' "Because I have no right to! You are i my brother's wife." "I am not!" She got tip and faced i him tragically. "I am Muriel Heath— , tlie cousin of Geoff's wife—and free as . air." I "Muriel!" gasped Maurice. I "Oil, 1 know you'll think it terrible," t said Muriel with a sob in lier voice, "We never meant to tell you—but I ' must now. And Muriel Longworth I will be furious at me! Geoff's wife and - I are ridiculously alike, so far as fea - turcs go, but there the resemblance , ends. She is small and fair, while I > am tall and dark. You see, when Geoff decided to go on this Centra] American ' expedition he said Muriel must come " down here because your mother wished i it. Muriel didn't want to come, Dut , Geoff Insisted, and she had to give in With a very bad grace. Muriel is fond of gayety, and she thought It would be Intolerably dull here. Just after Geoff went away the Havilands invited Mur iel to spend the summer with them at their country place. Then Muriel came to mo and—and—begged me—to—to come down here in her place and pre tend to be Geoff's wife. Oh, I know what you will think of me for con senting! But it seemed just a joke at the time. Muriel was determined on it—and I was just a wild, thoughtless girl. So I came. When I got here and your mother and the girls and every one were so kind and good to me—oh, I felt dreadfully about it. But it was too late. I had to carry out my im-, posture. We never meant to let Geoff know—hut he will find it out now, and so will everybody—and you will all despise me." Muriel finished her confession with a downfall of tears. Maurice stepped forward and clasped her In his arms. "And you're not married?" he ex claimed. "No, indeed—and never will be un less—unless you will have me. Can you ever forgive me?" Maurice's answer was wordless, but eloquently convincing. "But what will your mother and sis ters say?" whispered Muriel, dolefully. "They will be so horrified and shocked." "They will forgive you for my sake," said Maurice, reassuringly. "And it Isn't my fault that I'm not your mother's daughter-in-law," said Muriel, with a little laugh. "I'm sure lam very willing to become so. After all, I'm not really sorry I came, for if I hadn't I'd never have met you." "I always said that photograph wasn't like you," said Mnurice tri umphantly.—Springfield Republican. An Kmharrnsfdng; Legacy. The Town Council of Ikiris Is not sure that It ought to accept the legacy of the lato M. Stradn. He left to Paris his house at Passy, where he lived, the furniture of the principal rooms. In cluding pictures, bronzes, curios and hooks, with 00,000 francs a year to ar range and keep it up as n museum. There are many rare and valuable objets d'art in tho collection of M. Strada, but perhaps too many pictures painted by himself. The testator was unknown to the world. His poems just missed being first-rate. It was the same with his paintings, his sculptures and his bronzes. He had noble long ings and humanitarian yearnings. But his mind was not sufficiently independ ent of his feelings for It to produce any masterpieces of intellect. Strada had tho disadvantage of being horn with a golden spoon in his mouth. His im pressions had not been rubbed in by hardship, with the result that every thing he did wanted snap and had the taint of amateurishness. The impulses to write, to paint, to sculp and to com pose music were strong in bin, but knowing little of the battles of life, ho had only his own dreams to write about. Ono of the causes of his failure to win renown lay in his never know ing when to leave off—a common fault of those who live in a dreamland. Australianiem. At present the Australian Common wealth pays £105,000 a year for tho use of a small British squadron, which Is supposed also to wander round Ma orilaud, Fiji, and half tho South Pa cific. Australia has no control what ever over this squadron, but tho un derstanding Is that, if attack really comes, it will be found somewhere within those very wide limits, and ready to do its duty. But tho limits are too wide for the squadron to be anything like a reasonable security, and at least ono Admiral frankly In formed this country that If war really eventuated the squadron would prob ably make for the seat of hostilities regardless of the agreement, and leave Australia at the mercy of any casual cruisers which managed, on the wide ocean, to dodge tho British vessels. Obviously, under these conditions, It is time for the Commonwealth to give up subsidizing this uurellablo fleet and to spend £300,000 or £300,000 a year on a fleet of its own—ono that will be here when wanted, and which should he strong enough to cope with at least a few casual cruisers. Australia thinks of cutting the knot by getting meas ured for Its own cocked hat—Sydney Bulletin. Only Way to Kill tho Circular Nulfnnce* A Western woman who has been greatly annoyed by the circular nui sance said recently: "It almost keeps one busy some weeks picking up these circulars. They are frequently placed under the doors, hut more frequently are thrown on the porch, and it lias eome to a point with me when I am actually prejudiced against such a method of soliciting trade, and I now make it a rule never to buy of the houses which distribute their circulars about my front door." This is the proper action to take and were it followed up as it should bo tho nuisance would soon come to an end. Ruflßlft to Crow Tea. Taking the cue, no doubt, from the American experiments In ten growing, tho Russian Ministry of Agriculture is endeavoring to encourage tea culture in the Caueasns, the climate of which Is said to be highly suitable for this crop. Private initiative in tea culture Is to he encouraged by the appointment of public instructors, who will be paid out of Government funds. According to the Crop Reporter, the coming year will probably mark a new era in Cau casian tea culture. Tlie Demand For Automobiles. The great growth of the demand for automobiles is illustrated by the fact that $1,000,000 worth of French ma chines have just been contracted for by a firm in Now York City. NEWSPAPER GROWTH. Marvelous Development of the American Press. Wood, Bennett, Greeley, rrcntice and Raymond—Hie grand "we" of the old school—were in a small company when they virtually ruled public opin ion. There wore only 254 daily papers In existence In 1850. To-day there are 222(1. In 1830 the combined circula tion of the papers was 758,451, while In 1000 the circulation of the 222(1 was 15,102,150. The aggregate number of copies Issued during tile year 1850 was 42(1,409,078, while in 1000 it was 8.18(1,- 248,749. It must lie admitted that this growth In circulation has followed a change in the so-called mission of the newspaper. A half century ago no statesman felt secure unless he had the editorial support of the papers. The press did not then, as now. express and lead public opinion, but formed it. To-day the highest calling of the news paper is to truthfully furnish the news. No daily can make editorial expression the leading feature and survive. Rail road, telegraph and cable have made communication so easy that the desire of the people for the latest news has made the circulation of the better pa pers increase by leaps and bounds. With the betterment of transporta tion facilities the weekly press has failed to keep pace with the daily. From 1880 to 1890 the increase in the daily was 25.9 per cent.; from 1899 it was 30.2 per cent.; while the increase In weekly circulation dropped from 20.7 per cent, between ISSO and IS9O to 14.7 per cent in the last decade. There was 102,443,708 invested in newspapers and periodicals in 1900. They had 27,579 salaried employes, who received 827,015,791, and 94.004 wage earners, who received 850,333,051. Material cost 830,214,904, and the money value of the product was 8222,- 983,309. There Is no way of computing the actual value of the product in pro moting advancement and saving the cost of mistakes which ignorance makes at every turn.—St. Louis Re public. WISE WORCS. The eyes of other people are the eyes that ruin us.—Franklin. If you would know, and not be known, live in a city.—Colton. The way of the world is to make laws, hut follow customs.—Montaigne. We carry happiness into our condi tion, but cannot hope to liud it there.— Holmes. Prosperity is no just scale; adversity is the only balance to weigh friends.— Plutarch. Children are unconscious philoso phers. They refuse to pull to pieces their enjoyments to see what they are made of. —Henry W. Beecher. Energy will do anything that can he done in this world, and no talents, no circumstances, no opportunities will make a two-legged animal a man with out it.—Goethe. Great, ever fruitful, profitable for re proof, for encouragement, for building up in manful purposes and works are the words of those that in their day Were men. —Cai-lyle. Extract From Thrllltnc Sea Novel. Instantly the captain sprang upon the quarter deck. "Double reef the main halliards!" he shouted. "All hands lay aloft to fur) tho jib boom! Port your starboard mizzen mast! Clew up the gaskets! Belay, there! Belay!" "Ay, ay, sir!" responded tho brave sailors, as- they came dashing up the forward binnacle. The condition of the ship was indeed perilous. A tremendous sea had unshipped the main hatch. Great waves swept the vessel from truck to keelson. Stagger ing from the force of the shock she rolled helplessly in the bilge, now bury ing her nose deep in the forecastle and aiiou shaking herself free from the 100 scuppers that threatened to engul' her. Amid the deafening Spain-.- scumble stood the dauntless yi .-.. captain, lashed firmly to tho bowrpii. and Issuing his orders in ringing tones. "Clear away tho capstan!" "Ay, ay, sir!" "Brail up the maiu forestay!'" "Ay, ay, sir!" "Stand by to heave up the main sheet! Belay, there! Belay!" "Ay, ay, sir!" At this moment tho gallant ship sud denly luffed and bore away upou her starboard peak, leaving a foaming wake to leeward. Saved by consummate seamanship hut It was a narrow escape!— Chicago Tribune. Hotel Proprietor's IJljr Income, The lessee of a New York hotel who thought he had earned enough to re tire from business and enjoy his for tune in leisure recently had an offer for his rights iu the business that ho had built up. After a consultation with his lawyers lie settled on 88,000,- 000 as a reasonable sum. There was no formal consent to sell for that amount, but that was the figure that seemed just after n hurried view of tho situation. There came from the intend, ing purchasers an lntlhiatlon that they were willing to do business immediate ly on tlmt basis. Luckily nothlug defi. liite was done until the lawyers set out to make a more thorough inves tigation as to the value of the property based on the income it yielded annual ly. On that basis the hotel was vast ly more valuable than It had at first been considered. The proprietor's personal profit for the last eight years had averaged $1,000,000. In view of these profits the price placed on the hotel was increased to a figure which It was quite impossible for the syndi cate to pay. In view of the large amount: ho found h/mself to be earning nil mi ally, the proprietor was quite sat isfied to remain in harness a few years longer.—New Y',ork Sua. Marriage Makes a Difference By Miss Lillie Hamilton French, in "MyOld Maid's Corner." 11 ™"% ARRIAGE, in deed, does ranke n difference to women, and we I _ I "wlio are tlie old maids might just as well learn. My own first I awakening came when I saw my married sisters calling to tlicir 1 B B I 6^a^wart young husbands to help them over some puddles In the I A A 1 road. And what a l'uss they made! When they had been helped I covmnß ! over ' th °y wen t on and left me, the youngest, behind. I B I r ass * stance too. it seemed so agreeable to command it. One o£ ) 8 I s ' stors . her band still in that of her husband's, looked back and said: "It's easy. Step on a stone and jump." Then cuddling closer to her husband, she walked on, not turning again. I can remember, too, the wife of some college professor who had been asked to meet me when I was perhaps twenty-eight. "Why. I thought you wore married," she said to me as we shook hands. "If I had known you were single, I never would have worn a long dress." It was her only dress, I learned afterward—that was why she said "a" and not "my"—a black silk dress, by the way, which she had worn for years, and which she made "low neck" lor dinner parties by unfastening the few top buttons. These early experiences, and my having married sisters, taught me much. Trobably every other old' maid has learned, too, that timidity and helplessness, for instance, so engaging in wives, are considered ridiculous in spinsters. Is not a timid old maid laughed at the world over, and is not a timid wife cherished?— The pentury. JS? Has the Ere of Great Wealth Come to Stay?/ By Hamilton W. Mabie. H < OCIETY is fast becoming richer than was foreshadowed in tliei ■piWL- most audacious dreams of the past. Measured by tbc stand \ ards of to-day, Croesus was a person of very moderate fortune; y /otm H aIH ' Cm revenues of kings are of small account when compared l |CL B with the Incomes of the leading capitalists of the twentieth' A B century- There are those who think that the recent production n H of wealth is abnormal, and who are predicting a return to the R J ohl scale of values In the near future. There are, however, no vy || JT signs of any reduction of energy, any decline of force, any ex haustlon either of tlie genius which creates wealth, or of the ■ material out of which wealth is developed. There are, on the contrary, many tilings which indicate that society is in tliet early stages of a wealth-producing period the like of which has not only not occurred before, but lias never been anticipated by the most sanguine men of affairs. Great changes will undoubtedly be made in the methods of distribu tion of wealth, but there will be no diminution in its production. Hlstoria processes nre now bearing the slow fruitage of time iu tlie opening up of tlie entire globe, the drawing together of races in free competition in tlio lipid AC , tlie world, tlie discovery of the magical power of co-operation and eomblnati nkm-r and. their application to commerce and trade on a great scale, and. above nlljT, tlie application of science to business in all departments, from the uses of chemistry in manufacturing to tlie uses of electricity in swift communication and conveyance of goods.—Century. yZ? Jc? Use Passing of the Beard. ... By George Harvey. T present nothing is plainer in a world that loves its little myv U Jg | terles, and likes to keep the observer in a state of tremulous sus- H H pense about a good many things, than the fact that it is lie n H ginning to shave again. It has always shaved, more or loss, B 6 ever since beards came in some fifty years ago, after a banisb- H V Vtf |j ment of nearly two centuries, from at least the Anglo-Saxon. H M 0 *" ace ' During all the time since the early eighteen-fil'ties, the D'" I'oaicl has been the exception rather than the rule. The razor lias not been suffered to rust In disuse, but has been em ployed In disfiguring most physiognomies in obedience to tlie prevalent fashion,, or tlie personal eapriee of the wearers of liair upon the face, where nature i ate put it, for reasons still of her own. For one man who let nature have her unquestioned by tlie steol, there have been ninety-nine men who have modified her design. Some have shaved all but a little spot on the under lip; othel's have continued tlie imperial grown there into the pointed goatee; others have worn 1 the cliln-beard, square cut from the corners of the lips, which lias become In the alien imagination distinctively the American beard; others have shaved the chin, anil let tlie mustache branch across the cheeks to meet the flowing fringe of the side-whiskers; others have shaved all hut the whiskers shaped to the likeness of a mutton-oliop; the most of all have shaved the whole face except the upper lip, and worn tlie mustache alone. All these fragmentary form, of beard caricatured the human countenance, and reduced it more or less to a ridiculous burlesque of the honest visages of various sorts of animals. They robbed it of the sincerity which is tlie redeeming virtue ol' the clean, shaven fnee, and of the dignity which the full board imparted no less to middle life than to age.—Harper's Weekly. Industrial Problems and American Self-Reliance By President Theodore Roosevelt. , f— — Is no easy matter to work out a system of rule or conduct! j? whether with or without the help of the lawgiver, which shall V zsil bilnimlzo that jarring and clashing of interests in tlie Indus. 1 ' H ajjfw trial w.orld whleli causes so much individual Irritation and f 0 Atl suffering at the present day, and which at times threaten# I;® |j baleful consequences to large portions of the body politic. But U a the importance of the problem cannot lie overestimated, and it deserves to receive the careful thought of all men sucli aa those whom I am addressing to-night. There should be no yielding to wrong; but there should most certainly be not only desire to do right, but a willingness each to try to understand tlie viewpoint of his fellow, with whom, for weal or for woe, his own fortunes are indissolubly bound. No patent remedy can be devised for the solution of these grave problems In the industrial world, but we may rest assured that they can be solved at all only If we bring to tlie solution certain old time virtues, and If we strive to keep out of the solution some of the most familiar and most undesirable of the traits to which mankind lins owed untold degradation and suffering throughout the ages. Arrogance, suspicion, brutal envy of the well to do, brutal indifferouce toward those who are not well to do, the hard refusal to consider the rights of others, the foolish refusal to consider the limits of beneficent action, the base appeal to tlie spirit of selfish greed, whether it take the form of plunder of the fortunate or of oppression of the unfortunate—from these and from nil kindred vices tills Nation must be kept free if it is to remain in Its present position >. the forefront of the peoples of mankind. On the other hand, good will come, even out of the present evils, if we fac4 ihem armed with the old homely virtues; If we show that we arefcarlcss of soul, cool of head and kindly of heart; if, without betraying the weakness that cringes before wrongdoing, wc yet 6liow by words and deeds our knowledge that in such a Government as ours oacb of us must be iu very truth his broth er's keeper. At a time when the growing complexity of our social and Industrial life has rendered Inevitable the Intrusion of tlie State into spheres of work wherein it formerly took no part, and when there Is also a growing tendency to demand the Illegitimate and unwise tranfser to the Government of much of the work that should be done by private pei-sons, singly or associated together, it is it pleasure to nddress a body whose members possess to an eminent degree the traditional American self-reliance of spirit which makes them scorn to ask from the Government, whether of State or of Nation, anything but a fair field nnd no favor—who confide not in being helped by others, but in their own skill, energy nnd business capacity to achieve success. The first requisite of a good citizen In this Republic of ours is that he shall be able and willing to pull bis weight—that be shall not be a mere passenger, but shnll do his share in the Work that each generation of us finds ready to band; and, furthermore, v Wc believe that the trend of tlio modern spirit Is ever stronger toward! . peace, not wnr; toward friendship, not hostility, as the normal International at titude. We are glad indeed that we are on good terms with all the other people# of mankind, and no effort on our part shall be spared to secure a continuance of these relations. And, remember, gentlemen, that we shall be a potent factor for peace largely in proportion to the way in which we make it evident that our attitude is due, not to weakness, not to Inability to defend ourselves, but to a genuine repugnance to wrongdoing, a genuine desire for self-respecting friendship with our neighbors. The voice of the weakling or the craven count# for nothing when he clamors for peace, but the voice of the just man armed is potent
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers