Entries Tagged 'Same Today' ↓

Bad Habits Make a Man Act Like He Was Under a Spell

A man will try to convince himself by arguments so poorly founded that if they were presented by another they would be treated with contempt. As an instance: He may be ailing from the heavy poison of tobacco, or the lighter poison of coffee, the weakened condition will show somewhere in the body; eyes, head, stomach, heart, liver, bowels or somewhere. His doctor tells him to stop the habit, but each day the thought comes, “O, coffee and tobacco don’t hurt me, its my stomach that is at fault; I’ll have that cured and everything will be all right;” so he keeps on with his habits, and goes to drugging a poor old stomach that would do its work beautifully if the master would furnish enough vitality to run it, but he poisons his nervous system and robs the members of strength to carry on their work. When a man wakes up to what he is doing, exchanging his heath and chance to succeed in this world for a paltry habit or two, he quits them and follows nature’s wise laws.

It is easy to give up coffee if one can have Postum Cereal, the food drink, which is a fac-simile in looks of Mocha coffee. In taste it retains a like pungency with coffee, but has a distinct flavor of its own. It is made entirely of pure grains, and has the ability to make red blood.

Tobacco, morphine, whiskey, strychnine and coffee each contain much the same poisonous alkaloids, but very in strength. Postum Cereal is a delicious breakfast drink; it is fattening and nourishing for it is made of the grains intended by the Creator for a man’s natural use.

The experiment of free government is not one which can be tried once for all. Every generation must try it for itself. As each new generation starts up to the responsibilities of manhood, there is, as it were, a new launch of Liberty, and its voyage of experiment begins afresh.

Robert C. Winthrop, Addresses and Speeches on Various Occasions. Boston: Little, Brown, and Company, 1852, p. 163. Noted in Lord Acton, A Lecture on the Study of History Delivered at Cambridge, June 11, 1895. London: MacMillian and Co., 1911.

In 1872 Cream-of-Tartar was 40 cents per pound; in 1892 it was 19 cents per pound. Have the high-price Baking Powder monopolists reduced their price? They have not!

“Calumet” was the first, and is the only high grade Baking Powder offered to the public at a moderate price. Its motto is:–

“Monopoly must yield to moderation–
Impurity must improve or go under–
‘Calumet’ is the standard.”

Gleanings from Old Journals.

Old newspapers make good reading–if they are old enough. Like the deciphering of moss-covered epitaphs, the reading of journals of other days gives rise to reflections that mingle the sweet with the sad. It shows plainly that time does not alter human nature, much as customs may change.

The Scrap Book, Volume 1, Number 3, published May, 1906 by Frank A. Munsey.

Tourists returning from abroad report a new fad which has, for the moment at least, superseded the erstwhile popular craze for souvenir spoons; instead, milady now collects dainty handkerchiefs. From the days of Josephine to the present the handkerchief has been an important item in the expenditure of a fastidious woman; a good dresser considers her toilet incomplete without a bit of snowy lawn or linen, which, though scarcely ever seen, and it may be severely plain, must yet be above reproach with regard to fineness of texture. An inveterate globe trotter, who has just returned from the other side, rejoices in an exquisite collection of these cobwebby nothings. At every city or town where she stopped, no matter how short her stay or how insignificant the village, another square of linen as faithfully added to her spoils, and, curiously enough, she readily recalls where each was purchased. So that her handkerchiefs, in a measure, serve her as a sort of note book.

Though “missing word” contests were declared illegal six months or a year ago in England and were supposed to have been definitely stopped, they are still being carried on. Unfortunately it is only the fraudulent ones that are now in existence. The “missing word contest” was so popular for many months after it was introduced that it has been kept up even against the law. It never attained any great popularity in this country. A sentence was printed with one word left blank, and the first person who supplied the missing word by mail got the chief prize, other awards being made up to a considerable sum. Each competitor sent in something like a shilling as entrance fee, and the total amount received in this way, generally an enormous sum, was distributed among the winners. That was the way the competition went when it was managed fairly. But the most of the the missing word games, if not all of them, are now running, are managed on no such principle. The periodicals now conducting them are generally printed somewhere on the continent, and are scattered broadcast on British soil. In many cases they are not periodicals at all, but merely circulars sealed up as letters giving the terms of the competition and the sentence to be completed. An instance of how one of these swindles works is that of a working man who sent three shillings abroad to a contest. A few days later he received in reply a letter marked “Private,” ostensibly from an employe of the foreign concern which offered in “revenge” to supply the missing word secretly for twenty shillings, or about $5. The deluded mechanic sent on the money and received the word. Shortly afterwards he got a letter from the company, saying that he had won, and that there were several hundred dollars standing to his credit. The only trouble was, so the letter ran, that another competitor had lodged a complaint and claimed two pounds. If he was willing to buy the man out, sending two pounds by postal, the prize money would be forwarded to him in full.

The working man started to pawn clothing in order to raise the money, when a friend suggested to him to have the company send the prize money minus the two pounds. He wrote to that effect. In answer came a letter stating that he need not send the money, as it had all been settled. But they had a charge on their books against him for “notarial and other costs of currency,” amounting to five shillings. Would he send that over immediately for expenses. Confidingly he did so, and never heard from the company afterwards.

One Henry Higden, a dramatic writer about the close of the seventeenth century, wrote a comedy, called the Wary Widow, in which he introduced so many drinking scenes, that the actors were completely drunk before the end of the third act, and being therefore unable to proceed with the play, they dismissed the audience.

Another snippet from The Mirror of Taste and Dramatic Censor (Volume 1, Issue 4, April 1810.).

Would you, guided by Old Nick,
March the Rogue’s March double quick,
In a cash-box span and spick,
Ere insured by Messrs. Slick,
Substitute for bullion brick;
Whatsoever ship you pick
Sail not in her–say you’re sick.
Though on deck the crowd be thick,
Why should that your conscience prick?
Hid in clock that will not tick
Till the fatal hammer click,
Dynamite will do the trick.
If by chance of fall or kick
Hatch precociously your chick,
Then, the dust of earth to lick,
Ere your neck the hangman rick,
In your brain a bullet stick.

Anonymous, Baily’s Magazine of Sports and Pastimes, Vol. 28, No. 193, Page 209. (March 1876.)