The rumored threat of President Castro of Venezuela to overrun and lay waste this fair land of ours is not creating the popular interest that such a dread announcement might be supposed to arouse. Possibly public sentiment is not entirely convinced that His Presidency would act the bully merely because it is in his power to do so. So far only a single element has exhibited jingo propensities, but there is no telling how far it may go to embroil the nation in a sanguinary entanglement that could have but one possible termination. The lone disturbing element in question consists of a party of intrepid soldiers-of-fortune fictionists, comic opera librettists, pure humorists and promotors of high-class vaudeville who are keen to feel the possibilities of so much rich material being imported to their very doors. Richard Harding Davis is reported to be mobilizing a bunch of bold buccaneers, ably assisted by Mr. Dooley, George Ade, Dinkelspiel, O. Henry and other intrepid spirits, to meet the incoming hosts and apply for syndicate privileges. That the situation demands finesse and diplomacy, however, is obvious, for all would be lost should some irreverent band of roving cowboys round up and rope the outfit before they could get at it, or should some thoughtless and lacking-in-humor police squad run amuck and confine the layout in some local bastile. The amusement loving public might be expected to at least stand between this patriotic movement and such a dread contingency.
The following may be reasonably conceived as the final preparation for the impending invasion: President Castro: “Are the choruses well drilled and are the comedians and soubrettes in good voice?” Leader of the Orchestra: “Si, Senor.” President Cas.: “Are the costumes new and up-to-date, and is scenery in good order and packed for shipment?” Master of Properties: “Si, Senor.” President Cas.: “Has the vanguard of press agents and bill posters taken the field?” Booking Agent: “A most formidable array, your Augustness.” President Cas.: “Then on the road! And may your performances prove so meritorious that you will carry everything before you till you reach the great Metropolis itself. This feat your proud people expect you to accomplish in time for the fall openings.” After which labored and patriotic outburst the president lit a cigarette and called for a demi-tasse with which to restore his depleted energies.
HARD LUCK.
It was his sixtieth birthday and in times agone he had fondly anticipated the arrival of that occasion as marking a happy fruition of his talents and a mature mellowing of his energies. Instead, however, he found himself summoned to appear before the public executioner with the family Bible and prove its records false or be humanely extinguished in the interest of modern enlightenment. “This is too hard,” he murmured, “but it would be infamous as well as futile to question the authority of the Good Book, and besides I am too young to die. Though I appreciate theoretically the demands of civilization, as a practical proposition the idea has its limitations.”
It was with difficulty that he was enabled to restrain a tear when he thought of the young wife whom he had taken unto himself just prior to the enactment of the regulation for the removal of the innocuously obsolete, and whom he now felt that he had procured under false pretences. His pessimistic misgivings were accentuated by a picture of her after he had gone to his reward striving for sustenance wherewith to nurture the innocent infant cooing at her breast. But every remedy was exhausted. The President had declined to interpose with as much as a temporary respite, regretting his painful obligation but tactfully reminding him of the majesty of the law, the interests of society and the demands of the strenuous life. In due season he was led face to face with the public chloroformer, who humanely inquired of him if he had aught to observe by way of valedictory. Not anticipating such courteous consideration, he was temporarily abashed, but recovering his dormant speech, feebly but feelingly observed: “Only a single request. When I shall have yielded up and taken flight to that somber realm whence no traveler has as yet returned, spare my modest memory from the obituary paragrapher, who would chronicle the lamented departure from our midst of another consistent church member and well beloved citizen.” Saying which he inhaled deeply and peacefully passed into the big slumber while his fair young wife adopted the proud profession of a laundress and his innocent babe was carefully safe-guarded in a local institution for the homeless progeny of those who had they been permitted to ramble at large would have been “only in the way.”
WHY NOT BE SENSIBLE?
It is not to be presumed that in the present age of popular enlightenment people do not know better than to trifle with germs. It is, therefore, alarming to note that with light they will continue to practically commit suicide by a failure to observe the most ordinary rules of hygiene. In the mad pursuit of pelf and position little heed is being given to the omnipresence of bacilli, bacteria and other mischievous, pernicious and fatal agencies. Why will people supinely continue to court death in street cars, theaters, churches and at crowded entertainments, where the most casual movement sets into motion myriads of germs that are inhaled, eaten and absorbed by those present? And why will they disregard common caution by eating food in hotels, cafés, restaurants, Pullman cars and at home, when all food is known to be gorged with murderous molecules of one sort or another? And why perpetuate the dangerous habit of washing when both soap and water are teeming with baleful bacteria? There are still a few who continue to take water into their system in full realization that it contains something more than a million germs per drop. And is there no way of impressing the public with the fatal consequence of sleeping in beds and sitting in chairs, and of riding and walking through streets surrounded by air which is composed largely of corrosive sublimate—a deadly poison? And as for kissing? Only Igorrote, Hottentots and Russians can be forgiven for not knowing better. So deathly does modern research recognize this primitive and all but obsolete practice to be, that it is being seriously considered of adoption as a pleasing and more humane substitute for chloroform as an antique exterminator. Why not conform to the simple necessities and observe the rational precaution of doing nothing without first being sterilized and aerated? And let those determined to drink remember to recognize as sanitary only those fluids commonly known to be strongly germicidal. It would seem that the present generation will never reach a true realization of its peril until it has already become extinct.
THE NORTHERN VIEWPOINT.
His heart went out in feeling
To the colored brother kneeling