tor. I never saw a more complete business
establishment, and the editorial sanctum looked as if it might be the
abiding place of the Muses. Mirrors, pictures, statuary, books, music,
rare curiosities, and fine specimens of birds and minerals were
everywhere. Over the editor's table was a beautiful painting of his
youthful daughter, whose flaxen hair, blue eyes, and angelic face should
have inspired a father to nobler, purer, utterances than he was wont, at
that time, to give to the world.

But Pomeroy's good deeds will live long after his profane words are
forgotten. Throughout the establishment cards, set up in conspicuous
places, said, "Smoking here is positively forbidden." Drinking, too, was
forbidden to all his employes. The moment a man was discovered using
intoxicating drinks, he was dismissed. In the upper story of the
building was a large, pleasant room, handsomely carpeted and furnished,
where the employes, in their leisure hours, could talk, write, read, or
amuse themselves in any rational way.

Mr. Pomeroy was humane and generous with his employes, honorable in his
business relations, and boundless in his charities to the poor. His
charity, business honor, and public spirit were highly spoken of by
those who knew him best. That a journal does not always reflect the
editor is as much the fault of society as of the man. So long as the
public will pay for gross personalities, obscenity, and slang, decent
journals will be outbidden in the market. The fact that the La Crosse
_Democrat_ found a ready sale in all parts of the country showed that
Mr. Pomeroy fairly reflected the popular taste. While multitudes turned
up the whites of their eyes and denounced him in public, they bought his
paper and read it in private.

I left La Crosse in a steamer, just as the rising sun lighted the
hilltops and gilded the Mississippi. It was a lovely morning, and, in
company with a young girl of sixteen, who had traveled alone from some
remote part of Canada, bound for a northern village in Wisconsin, I
promenaded the deck most of the way to Winona, a pleased listener to the
incidents of my young companion's experiences. She said that, when
crossing Lake Huron, she was the only woman on board, but the men were
so kind and civil that she soon forgot she was alone. I found many
girls, traveling long distances, who had never been five miles from home
before, with a self-reliance that was remarkable. They all spoke in the
most flat