The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 16, 1903, Page 11

X3 The object of the Grand Army in its rela- won to civil life, and aside from its traditional as- sociation and charitable work, was to organize the victory which had been won on the field of battle. The post rooms become schools of loy- alty, where reverence for the flag as the sym- bo' of the nation has been persistently incul- cated cnd where the national idea has been con- stantly exalted. Then came the work in the schools of which mention has been made and whereof all the land knows. It is not too much to say that owing to the far-reaching influence of the Grand Army of. the Republic more than to anything e the flag is now universally revered, and there is no longer any question in the land, either in the North or South, that the American people now tute a nation. their achievements in all the arts of peace n every quarter of the globe, there comes it—the world encompassing power of the , as” know who won this_pricel heritage in the m the modern age? They are passing, passing. swift ow each annual encampment brings home the tragedy | ._—-—-—.5 P By Henry C. Dibble. — of death in life. More than ever now each annual encampment emphasizes the grim, solemn fact that soon—all too 'soon—the Grand Army of the Republic, with all that it symbolizes, will be nothing but a tradition. Figures that do not lie give much food for thought—sad, introspective thought. In April, 1865, more than a r ion of men were in the military service of the United States. To these must be added a roll of names which at that l;me]nurlnbercd over three hundred and fiity thousand—the grand army of the dead. During the four years of the desperate conflict altogether 2,859,132 men had been enrotled in the military service. There had been killed in battle 67,- iied of wounds and other injuries, 43,032; of disease, 224,586, and from ses not classified, 24,852—a total death-roll of 359,528. This vast army had taken part in more than two thousand engagements, many of them of minor importance as to the number of men engaged or re- s attained, while others were mighty battles which strained all the re- and tested the fullest powers of endurance of the great opposing to an extent which must make the legend, which floated from a ban- ner stretched across the front of the Capitol, while the conquerors v-ere march- ing by during those two memorable d1ys of the grand spectacular peace re- he Only National Debt We Can Never Pay is the Debt We Owe torious Union Soldiers.” ring down the ages forever. as out of all this that the Grand Army of the Republic grew into be- 1878, with a membership of only 31,016, out of all those hundreds of thousands of veterans. But its growth was inevitable—as inevitable as its T ing «“GRANT FROM WEST POINT TO APPOMATTOX?* —¥rom Thulstrup’s Pancrama of the Great Commander’s Career. Copyrighted, 1855, by L. Prang & Co., Boston. AND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC decline and death. In 1890 the organization reached the high-water mark with an enrollment of 409,489, since which time it has diminished at the rate of two, three, four, five, six. seven, yes, and even eight thousand a year and more. In 1892 the roll had sunk to 263,745. In that year alone 8299 answered their fifial summons. In a few days we shall have the figures for the past year, and who shall say that they are not even more? Pause for a moment and think what that means. Over eight thousand members passing away every year and the ratio increasing rapidly. Can your mind grasp the figures in all their pathetic significance? Eight thousand ev- ery year, and soon it may be nine, ten, eleven—who shall say how many more thousands—till the roster is totally effaced. Stand on the street next Wednesday morning when the men who have come to live oveg again the stirring days of the past go magching by. Count them if you can and you will find that there are nearly eight thousand in line. It is an imposing array; a vast host, the like of which is rarely seen in one tense, eager body. And then let your mind try to grasp the thought that be- fore another year has passed all those marching thousands will be no more. That is what the passing of the Grand Army of the Republic means. And try to realize. too. what sentiment clusters round that thought. It will be fresh. vivid, real in the minds of each and every one of those marching thousands—the men who fought and suffered for a glorious cause—the pass- ing of the Grand Army of the Republic. But notwithstanding this sad decrease it_has been suggested that the membership ought to increase year by year. There are still living over 900,000 of the*men who were part of that grand army.of the sixties, and of that number less than 75.000 are over 64 years old. Short, therefore, as it may be, the Grand Army may still look forward to a glorious future. re born great, some commit murder, and some S. Grant Jenks belonged to the last class OME men just butt in; U in the pious hope that his career may serve as an ex- m e to the young nhood of our fair land that the re- the struggles into which his vaulting ambition pushed him is | set down and leit. There can be no question that U. S. G. Jenks’ ambition was vaulting. Even in his youth he had burned to be a champion long-dis- tance aeronaut and skin the cat from the trapeze of a hot-air balloon 4736 feet above the gaping multitude at the Putnam County Fair. There is no necessary connection between ambition and hot air: it just happened that in U. S. G. Jenks' case. When he grew older he yearned with a triple- power yearn to be the best baseball pitcher in America and have his name on the front page of the sporting section of every Sunday paper of the land from Machias to Seattle. But that was not to be. Good pitchers are scarce, d only a few of us can rise to that proud eminence, so U. S. G. J. was forced to put an overhead check and a curb bit on his aforesaid vaulting ambition and send it at a lower fence. WHO IS YOUR HERO? By “The Parson.” —n HIS is a remarkable year from the point of view of the honor which is being paid the mighty spirits of the past. Seldom do we encounter so close to one another so many important personal anniversaries. Echoes of the Emerson centennial had hardly died away before from one end of this land to the other the praises of John Wesley were A heard. In the autumn the bicentennial of the birth of Jonathan Edwards, New England’s masterly theologian, will be widely cele- brated, e Henry \\'ard/ Beecher's already great fame is sure to be e ed through the movement for a suitable memorial of him ch is taking form in Brooklyn. One of the most interesting features of these various commemorations is the eagerness with which the whole Christian world acknowledges its in- tedness to the gerat leaders of the past and claims the privilege of ac- g them public honor. 2s it should be. A great man is the property of no single sect Ralph Waldo Emerson saw farther into the heart of things n his day, if his profound optimism and his sense of the divine presence in the world were phrased in as limpid, vigorous English as has ever been written, then why should not every denomination get the benefit insight and his good cheer? If John Wesley's trumpet call to his fellow Christians not only woke thenf up and marshaled them for conflict, but helped deepen the entire current of church life ever since, let us believ- ers of every name and in every clime get and hold what inspiration we can from such a devoted and heroic life. I count it also a gain that we are passing from a period in which our heroes were chiefly warriors to an era in which our admiration and homage are going out toward moral and spiritual heroes. It was natural after our clash with Spain to laud and lavish giits upon the admirals and generals who kept the honor of the country unstained and fought our battles through to so triumphant a finish. But we ought to reserve our deepest reverence for the heroes of thought and of moral action. The men who have helped the world to see God, the men who against great opposition have insisted that the spirit of man is the noblest part ‘of him, and should always dominate the flesh, the men whose victories have been wrought by love and kindness, who have poured themselves out lavishly that the lives of their fellows ight be gladdened and enriched, enlightened and emancipated. these are the real benefactors and inspirers of the race. Their glory continues, not through a few fleeting months, but through the years and the centuries. By the way, have you any hero? Is there any great moral or spiritual leader to whom you look for guidance in your thinking and inspiration for your living? Tf you have none then it is time you found one. I have mentioned the names of some. I can suggest others, and still another greater than them all. He will never fail you. FABLES FOR THE F OOLILS By Nicholas Nemo. About this time his parent on his father’s side conceived the idea that if he could inject a little higher education into his promising offspring it would be a good thing for the said offspring and for the community at e, as well as for himse.i, since he wouid get the young man out of the for a few ye So U. S. G. Jenks hied him away at the uniform rate of 3 cents per h an institution of higher(ed) learning. There he elected a difficult course, consisting of the literature of the ancient Afghans, draw- ing—to a pair—and laboratory work in the most approved method of color- ing a meerschaum pipe. For four long, weary years he battled in the noble cause of higher education; at times his old man thought that if it had been any higher he couldn’t stand for it very long. During this time U G. Tenks' ambitions underwent a subtle change. During his freshman Year he was of the opinion that no career was half so gloricus as that of the plunging fuilb of the varsity eleven; the only trouble with that idea was that he had never heard of any one making his living that way for more than three months” out of the year, although a few had accomplished the less difficult task of dying without any perceptible loss to the community. This was an insuperable cbstacle to his entering into the fullback business as a life calling. since his esteemed parent had forcibly in- timated to him more than once that the manner in which he wasted his time after he leit college must be sufficiently remunerative to pay his laundry bills, at least. His father was old-fashioned and without any idea of the real end and aim of education, which is not to teach a man how to make money, but how to spend it. U. S. G. I.’s proud young heart rebelled, after the style of proud young hearts on such occasions, at the thought that he should have to spend his waking hours in the vain pursuit of a livelihood, but inas- much as the old man was sitting on the treasury, he submitted. In his junior year Jenks hit upon a scheme that seemed to him to prom- ise a happy solution of all his problems. He would marry a bank account. To be sure, there would probably be a wife attached, but that was a mere matter of detail. Many bank accounts have wives attached to them: in fact, it is not a difiicult thing for any onc to become attached to a coy. retiring bank accotnt, and the more it retires the more attached we are to it. The only fly in the liniment is the fact that the affection is seldom reciprocated. U. S. Grant Jenks proposed to get over this difficulty by entering into the holy bonds—and stocks—of matrimony. Then would all be plain sailing; his wife might hold the bonds. but he would clip the coupons. But to hit upon the right amount of full paid, non-assessable capital stock with the proper feminine annex was not such a simple thing as it had appeared to the callow youth. The difficulty was not with the incomes: there are plenty of those waiting around for some desirable male chaperon to come along and exercise the divine right of benevolent assimilation over them. It was the fem;nine annex that was constantly queering the game. No sooner would U. S. G. T. cast his amorous glance upon a fair and blush- ing bank account that seemed but to tarry for his coming than he would discover to his righteous indignation that it had plighted its sacred troth to a similar account of the male persuasion. Full oft, if not oftener, did he exclaim with the poet: 1 never loved a first preferred That some fair damszl held in fee, But that 1 found some millionaire Had butted In and outbid me. At last he was forced to admit to himself that marriage as a door of op- portunity to ambitious and struggling youth was closed. Birds of a feather flock together, and U. S. G. Jenks didn’t have enough feathers. Then he turned his attention to other fields of activity that lay green and smiling be- fore him. He tried the law, but after he had studied Blackstone’s tuneful lays for fifteen or twenty minutes he wearied of the pursuit of things litigious and decided to take a fall out of something that was less of a strain on his alleged brain. Medicine beckoned., but Jenks had been cut up—and out—so many times that he didn’t have the heart 4o practice the gentle art on any one else. Business was profitable, but inasmuch as he had not been born on a New England farm or brought over from the old country in the steerage with only 15 cents in his pocket, that door was also closed to him. He thought of the ministry, that last refuge of the soul-oppressed—by hard work—but the thought of the novels that he would have to write if he amounted to anything in that sagred calling gave him pause. Besides, no man who had dreamed of marrying an heiress could be expected to settle down for life on a princely stipend of thrde hundred and seventy-six dollars a year, collected by himself. g . U. S. G. Jenks was plunged in deep, dark brown despair when a happy thought struck him in the solar plexus of the cerebellum. He would invent H---HOW TO WIN FAME | L5 | -~ ¢ -————— a new breakfast food. Then would his name go echoing down the ages along with Lydia E. of sainted memory, the late Mr. Mellin and Mother Eddy. Future generations would rise up and call him blessed—or something else— and he could go to his grave at the appointed—or disappointed—time with the proud consciousness that he had leit a deep impress on the life of his little day. i It was no sooner said than dome. That is, the public were done. Jinksettes, composed of equal parts of chopped straw and apple seeds, were on the market and soon the breakfast table that was without them was the abomination of desolation. Children cried for them—after eating them— and every doctor, who stood to get a rake-off from the undertaker, recom- mended them. U. S. G. Jenks' name was a household word, and when he died full of honor—and chopped straw—the great and mighty from near and far came and stood at his bier—to make sure that he was dead. His life teaches us an impressive lesson that should be brought home to every high-browed aspirant for fame. Verily, an ‘easy graft is more to be desired than a hand-made college education, and he who obeys the old in- junction to do others as they expect to be done, tan laugh at the Sheriff and look Bradstreet’s in the face without winking. (Copyright, 1903, by Albert Britt.) PASTELS IN PORR. 0l1d Gorgon’s Letter to His Son on Managing Men. EAR PIERREPONT: Consider carefully before you say a hard word to a man, but neyer let a chance to say a good one go by. Praise judiciously bestowed is money invested. Never learn anything about your men except from themselves. A good manager needs no detectives, and the fellow who can’t read human nature can’t manage it. The phonograph records of a fellow’s character are lined in his face, and a man’s days tell the secrets of his nights. Be slow to hire and quick to fire. The’time to discover incompatability of temper and curl-papers is before the marriage cergmony. But when you find that you've hired the wrong man, you can't get rid of him too quick. Pay him an extra month, but don’t let him stay another day. A discharged clerk in the office is like a splinter in the thumb—a center of soreness. There are no exceptions to this rule, because there are no exceptions to human na- ture.Nev“ threaten, because a threat is a promise to pay that it isn’t always convenient to meet, but if you don't make it good it hurts your credit. Save a threat till you're ready to act, and then you won't need it. Ifall . your dealings remember that to-day is your opportunity; to-morrow some other fellow’s. fi Keep close to your men. When a fellow’s sitting on top of a mountain he's in a mighty dignified and exalted position, but if he's gazing at the clouds he’s missing a heap of interesting and important doings down in the valley. Never loge your dignity, of course, but tie it up in all the red tape you can find around the office and tuck it away in the safe. It's easy for a boss to awe his clerks, but a man who is feared to his face is hated behind his back. A competent boss can move among his men without having to draw an imaginary line between them, because they will see the real one if it exists. ¥ Besides keeping in touch with your office men you want to feel your salesmen all the time. Send each of them a Iétter every day, so that they won’t forget that we are making goods for which we need orders; and in- sist on their sending you a line every day, whether they have anything to say or not. Whey a fellow has to write in six times a week to the house he uses up his explanations mighty fast, and he’s pretty apt to hustle for business to make his seventh letter interesting. Right here I want to repeat that in keeping track of others and their faults it's very, very important that you shouldn’t lose sight of your own. Authority swells up some fellows so that they. can’t see their corns; but a wise man tries to cure his own while remembering not to tread on his neighbor’s. ' From “Letters from s Self-Made Merchant to His Son,” by George Horace Lorimer. By permission of 8malil, Maynard & Co., Publishers, Boston, Mass. S ——