The Northwestern standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1885-1886, 1886-03-27
SATURDAY. MARCH u. 1886.
QUE NEW DEPARTURE.

We present TO our readers to-day the
first enlarged edition Of Ihe STAND
ARD and promise to give them better
raper in every succeeding issue re
trust our efforts will be duly apprecl-
ated by the Irish Americans OF the
great Northwest in whose interest we
labor. and we will give them the worth
of their money in a varied assortment
OF reading matter suitable for the nome
and the fire-side. This journal VIII ex-
clude from it's columns allmatter calcu-
lated in the remotest degree TO lnJare
the faith. morals and nationality or the
Irish people. It will be their champion
on all occasions, and it is needless TO
urge upon them the necessity or giving
it their patronage. In the past our
nenpla in this region had to read Gle
sensational magazine, the idle taie,
fine foolish romance, the infidel news
paper, all engaged after their way
ia the worldwide battle against train
and right.
IT the reading Of such publications.
were simply dull nr silly, lnsipld or
1ninteresting, we could bear the evil,
and groan silently under the infilctlon,
but sad to say they are
nearly all irreligious and anti
Catholic. with such easy flow and
hanpg description as aims to please the
careless and superficial reader. In the
fiction departments Of these Journals
referred to, what lover OF reading is
there who does not recognize IN all the
varieties the same wonderful family
likeness. Are not the herolnes all
beautiful, with large eyes and long
eve lashes, pensiye expressions, ivory
compilations, ruby lips and all the
other qualifications, never to be met
but in those wax figures which adorn
the hair-dressers window.
is not the hero always a powerful,
bearded man, with 1.eaned featuresF
He generally bites his lips until the
blood spurts forth when he is angry.
Near thssend Of the tale 'sne looks one
Of his old looks, and then he picks up
the villain of the piece as ii be was q
new born babe, and with the old dra-
matte cry of 'sbe-lud, be-iud," he tiiags
him into earth, air, fire Or water, ac-
cording to the wishes OF the author.
But for double-dyed villains in stories
of this class. commend us to the old
mythical creature of romance, the
Jesuit We know that such a being
never existed in the heavens above nor
the earth beneath, but what novelist
dare set him asidal The general reader
calls for a. Jesuit, and q Jesuit must be
had. and had with a vengeance, He
clides into rooms without being OBJ
served; he appears suddenly when least
expected, and when he does not appear
at all he is certain to be somewhere
close at hand, piously employing him.
self in housekeeping. lie handles
his beads and his dagger with equal
dexterity; he commits muir
der and matrimony with the
same old pious smile and breaks the
most solemn vows with a prayer upon
his lips. What matter, if We Catholics
believe that the Jesuit is man who
would rather die than dlshonor God Or
His law, that he never sglidesh nor
ssaisguises. but while he works for
Gods honor and mans good, is full of
life, and spirit and finn. Our friends.
the noyelists, will have it the other
WAY, and, to an uncrltlcai world,
what everybody says must be true.
Then with what an air OF rustic simpl-
city these latest noyel-makers renew
their shameless attacks upon religion,
There is the dear old church with its
IVY clad walls, the white robed choir,
the Christmas decorations, and the
bright spring flowers at Easter tide, ali
as back ground for that terrible Jesuit!
What full description too of sylvan
cottages. bedecked with honey suckIes
and iessamine, Of trinkling rills, silver
forests, golden skies and mlll-Wheels.
How the gray haired reader laughs
away down when he reads OF golden
skies and old mill wheels. Has he
not seen that mill wheel 8 thousand
times before, and yet there it's as fresh
and active as in the olden time, tive
hundred years ago.
Here too IS the NUM- Goodness grae-
iousl how our modern female nov elists
do ring the changes on that simple
word Nun Do you not recognize IN
Sister Clare the once beautiful Aman
da Fitzallen, disappointed IL love and
now mprisoned within the gloomy con-
vent cell. never more to smile, but as she
.,nnutters her prayer on the midnight
air, the echo whispers down the silent
corridors sad refrain OF All is iost!'
Poor. poor echol
Well did the poet Burns write, Some
books are lies frae end TO end, and