The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1897-04-01

cry hour, every day, every month and
year of our changeful life; every meet
ing with those who live, just for the
fun of living; every man who tolls for
a day, a week, a month or year to
waste in a day the accumulations OF
denials; every prodigal act, every stim-
ulated desire, every satiated appetite,
each and all prove that money is NOT
the root of the evil but, wrongfully ap-
piled, the fertilizer of soil pregnant
with evil and the crop raised thereon,
unnatural or excessive pleasures, which
germinate and return their kind two
fold.
Take the thief as sample: he steals.
What does he steal for? Money, you
say; but if so, why, after hazarding life
or liberty to secure it, does he not exer-
else as great ingenuity, display as much
ability to retain, as he does to gain it?
Does he do so? Nit. He proceeds just
after making turn so to speak, to ex
change HIS money for the pleasure of
"rushing the grOwler" or the luxury of
guZZling stimulants while lOunging at
or about some more or less elegantly
fitted bar, with its various peculiar,
rear or overhead attachments, all so
generously furnished by a many-sided
friend of the moneyed or moneyless
man. If you have money, it is "Heres
luck, Joe;" friend see. But broke, it is
"Now, quit Joe, sober up" friend just
the same-for himself.
Turn your gaze on the honest
worker. A year or so ago an acquaint-
ance who had his earning capacity re-
duced from $31O to $l.5O per day, was
speaking of certain "F" who had
just completed anicely appointed place
near the G. N. shops in St. Paul. lie
said incidentally, 81 and so and so,
mentioning three fellow workers, paid
for that place. 'F' told me sO." And
knowing his former wage rate had
been obtained for several years, | be-
lieved him. "Do you drink, now?" l
asked. Every seldom. am paying for
my own house, now," said he. Here
was man who, from dawn to dusk,
labored at hard, arduous tasks at $3.1O
day, and at night willingly wasted
large portion of his earnings: willingly
exchanged the money he worked hard
for into the pleasure(?) p of drink.
About this same time, late one even
ing, stood behind a group of men
gathered in well-known resort before
faro table. On my right was rou-
lette wheel, a crap table and, further
over, stud table. Around each was
grouped the scions of sWelldOm and
the disciples of Cacus, elbow to elbow,
wooing the goddess, Fortuna. Before
me sat young man, a member of the
green cloth fraternity, of national re
pute. Early in the evening he began
playing with a ''ten-case note" When
| saw him, he was running stacks Of
"blues'' and "yellows,'' having nearly
81 900 to cash in. Did he quit? Not
at all. Yet his winnings would have
put him into any one of several good
business openings and probably fu-
ture honorable living. But no; the
pleasure of gambling, not the money
to be won, was of greater moment than
an honorable, easy-going existence.
So again we see that pleasure, not
money, is the root of evil, since the
money of the rogue and and the honest
man is willingly exchanged for the
transient pleasure bought by the spend
ing of it. Nor are these the only evil
pleasures; each individual has his own
method of self qualification. The miser
alone gains money for the mere pleas
ure of it's possession. But between the
miser and the prodigal lies visible
and constant scale of human pleasures,
to which each individual tries to tune,
and willingly exchanges his purse
therefor. Yet, of all of them, the most
evil is the pleasure of drink. Rum, 1
have elsewhere said, has been, is, and
continues to be, the curse of the indi-
vidual, and of society; it debases those
who use, and degrades those who asso-
ciate with the users; it destroys the in.
dividual's body and stultifes his mind;