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Brute Worshipers.

The nineteenth century is full of contradictions. The highest and the lowest, the best and the worst, elements of civilization are brought face to face. While we know a great deal more and enjoy a great deal more than our ancestors ever dreamed of, the nature of man is about the same it has always been--full of good and full of evil; full of strength and full of weakness.

The reception of John L. Sullivan in England is one of the contradictions of the spirit of our age. It reads like the other times when gladiators fought each other or fought wild beasts in the Roman arena. In fact, it shows that man, civilized as he is, has still many of the elements of the wild beast in him--rejoicing in strife and mere physical combat.

The only two American visitors whom the English people have seemed to appreciate much of late years have been John L. Sullivan and Buffalo Bill. They have recieved an attention from the highest classes there that one would think in this age of reason would only be given to men who excelled greatly in qualities of mind of heart. While the two are not alive, they are alive in having no claims to respect more than ordinary mean have.

Buffalo Bill is only an average man [doing?] little credit or discredit to his country, but that such a man as Sullivan should be treated with distinguished marks of respect is strange indeed. His only reputation places him on a level with the brutes. He is not as large as an elephant nor as strong as an ox nore as active as a tiger, nore as active as a frog for that matter, and when it comes to striking a hard blow, the hind leg of a mule can double discount the power of his arm.

Why is it then that he should be treated with any more consideration than an ox or a mule? We ask the question for information; we cannot answer it. We see no respect than a brute. A brute is expected to be a brute, but when a man cultivates only his brute qualities, we cannot see how his highest success can place him above the models he imitates.

Brute Worshipers.

The nineteenth century is full of contradictions. The highest and the lowest, the best and the worst, elements of civilization are brought face to face. While we know a great deal more and enjoy a great deal more than our ancestors ever dreamed of, the nature of man is about the same it has always been--full of good and full of evil; full of strength and full of weakness.

The reception of John L. Sullivan in England is one of the contradictions of the spirit of our age. It reads like the other times when gladiators fought each other or fought wild beasts in the Roman arena. In fact, it shows that man, civilized as he is, has still many of the elements of the wild beast in him--rejoicing in strife and mere physical combat.

The only two American visitors whom the English people have seemed to appreciate much of late years have been John L. Sullivan and Buffalo Bill. They have recieved an attention from the highest classes there that one would think in this age of reason would only be given to men who excelled greatly in qualities of mind of heart. While the two are not alive, they are alive in having no claims to respect more than ordinary mean have.

Buffalo Bill is only an average man [doing?] little credit or discredit to his country, but that such a man as Sullivan should be treated with distinguished marks of respect is strange indeed. His only reputation places him on a level with the brutes. He is not as large as an elephant nor as strong as an ox nore as active as a tiger, nore as active as a frog for that matter, and when it comes to striking a hard blow, the hind leg of a mule can double discount the power of his arm.

Why is it then that he should be treated with any more consideration than an ox or a mule? We ask the question for information; we cannot answer it. We see no respect than a brute. A brute is expected to be a brute, but when a man cultivates only his brute qualities, we cannot see how his highest success can place him above the models he imitates.