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This editorial tackling the subsidized immigration from Ireland to the United States appeared in Frank Leslies Weekly on July 7, 1883.

Our Government has not taken action a day too soon in putting a stop to the pauper immigration from Ireland. If a rigorous examination has proved that the “assisted” immigrants of the steamer Furnessia were principally paupers, is it not reasonable to conclude that rigorous examination, had it been applied, would have proved the same fact in regard to the emigrant freight of the steamer Belgravia, and of the steamers which have been arriving at Philadelphia, and of those which bore the crowds of destitute Irish against whose shipment to Boston Governor Butler of Massachusetts protested—of every steamer, in short, which has reached America from Ireland since the day Earl Spencer helped the women and children aboard the tenders and waved them a courtly adieu from the quay of Belmullet? What guarantee have we that of the Irish who have reached our shores within the past month there are not thousands in the plight of these “eighteen forced emigrants now in New Haven in destitute circumstances, only five of whom are able to work,” which Mr. Reynolds, of the Irish deputation, described to President Arthur the other day, or of the “seventy-three” who, according to Mr. Smith, of Ohio, are “a burden upon the community of Tiffin”?

We are anxious to respect England whenever and in whatever England is respectable; but we are under no obligation to palliate or apologize for England’s offenses against humanity, or to call them anything but their proper names; and when these offenses take the form of injuries to the interests of the United States, we think it is an occasion for something else than an interchange of diplomatic platitudes.

(Frank Leslies Weekly/June 21, 1919 – by Elizabeth M. Heath) Nine million boys and girls found citizenship through the war and made their claim good by national service. Early in the game they demanded an active part in the business that was absorbing their elders. As the war comes to an end, their organization covers every State. Their service flag, the Junior Red Cross banner, hangs in 60,000 schoolhouses —in the one-room rural school in the lonely Ozarks as in the swarming high schools of New York City. Sixty thousand Junior auxiliaries, organized in 4,000 chapters of the Red Cross, stand ready to deliver the goods on a national order, whether it be to turn out thousands of garments and pieces of furniture from their school workshops, to collect tons of secondhand clothing, to earn a million or two dollars by the ingenious methods known only to childhood, to clean up a town and make substantial profit on the accumulated waste, or to run a country-wide competition in deep breathing and scrubbing behind their ears.

Junior Red Cross Poster

Since time was, children have wanted a share in the events that absorbed their elders’ interest. In the year 1212 of the topsy-turvy Middle Ages, when the Great Adventure centered around the rescue of Jerusalem, 50,000 children started on a crusade of their own. That gallant wave of singing, white-clad youth was pitifully broken against human treachery and natural obstacles, but the spirit that prompted it is the heritage of all children. In the chaotic months that succeeded April. 1917, boys and girls felt that once more great doings were afoot in which they had no place. Father, mother, big brother and sister, even cook— everybody was busy winning the war. Well, they would win the war too. “What can we do?” they asked insistently. No one answered. Quite plainly it was the children’s business to go to school, to study history and geography and other useful things that would make them good citizens when they grew up. Then came the Junior Red Cross to prove that national service was also education, and that the children’s enthusiasm for it would put new vigor into every study in the regular curriculum. Convinced that it meant neither overwork nor neglect of studies, and that it would supply an outlet for the children’s enthusiasm, parents and school authorities gave the scheme their support, and the simple machinery of the Junior Red Cross was soon in running order.

Retold by Alice Hamilton Rich

(Frank Leslie’s Weekly, May 15, 1902) ONCE THERE was a King who had no sons and but one daughter. It was a great disappointment not to have a son, but those who cast the horoscope of the daughter told him that his daughter would be a great blessing to the kingdom while she lived, and at her death would bequeath untold riches. As this story was widely known, the princess had many admirers who sought betrothal with her. And the King was greatly distressed as to choice of the right one. When she was grown she was very beautiful—so beautiful that myriads of pilgrims came to the temple to beg for the gift of beauty, and to burn incense. This brought prosperity, and thus the prophecy at her birth was fulfilled. But the King could no longer delay the betrothal of his daughter, as so many princes desired her that the kingdom was continually in trouble with other kingdoms. One day the princess’s father was out hunting, when a powerful King surprised him and carried him captive to a far-away kingdom. The prime minister and privy councilors met and issued an edict saying the hand of the princess would be given to the man who rescued the King.

(Frank Leslies Weekly, March 27, 1902) Perhaps you don’t know that the egg, which is such an important part of the interest in Easter Day, the egg which is stained blue or scarlet or yellow or which is decorated with the face of a Chinaman or something of that sort, has gone through a long and tedious course of inspection before it reaches you. So that the dealer who sells the egg, if he is informed in his calling, can tell whether it is old, whether its shell is slightly cracked, whether it has been touched with the frost, or whether there is water inside. For the egg business, having become one of the most important industries of the country, has been the subject of great thought and study by men who have made huge fortunes from the product of the hen.

I visited, the other day, one of the largest egg houses in New York when the rush of their Easter business was on. The Easter time is the very busiest time in all the year for the produce men. In the spring, of course, the traffic in eggs is the heaviest, because it is then that the hens, delighting in the warmth of the first, spring sunshine, lay the largest quantity. And the biggest, day among the egg merchants of New York is always the Friday before Easter, when the grocers are buying their eggs for Easter Sunday. In the commission house where I called there was great hurry among the men, who were unloading cases of eggs from some of the wagons and loading other cases on to other wagons. Many of the eggs had come in by express and were delivered by the express companies. After they had been received at the office the new arrivals were sent at once to the inspection department.

(Frank Leslie’s Weekly, April 12, 1906) To the student of the world’s history there is great interest and food for reflection in the facts concerning the origin of the religious observance of Easter. Strange though it may seem, this popular church festival dates back to a heathen custom. Our twentieth-century celebration is the modern evolution of heathen ideals and the transformation by Christian usage and environment of a great popular pagan festival of olden time—that of the goddess Ostara. In the Anglo-Saxon language this festival was termed “Eastre,” and the name was applied to a celebration which the Saxons of old were wont to observe about the same season at which the Christian festival of Easter takes place.

The goddess Ostara seems to have been regarded as the personification of the morning, or of the east, and also of the opening year, or the beginning of spring. Apropos of this heathen representative of the east, it is to be noted that from very early times the east has been held in certain distinction above the other points of the compass and enveloped with a sort of sacred halo. The ancient worshipers of the sun used to place their altars in the eastern part of their temples facing the rising orb of day. That the east had a certain sacred character is evidenced in the Scriptures, which contain several noteworthy references: “The glory of the God of Israel came from the way of the east” (Ezekiel xliii., 2); “There came wise men from the east to Jerusalem” (Matthew ii., 1); “And, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them” (Matthew ii., 9.) A high regard for the east was manifested by the early Christians, who perpetuated the idea handed down from their ancestors. Looking toward the sun in the east, in praying or repeating the creed, was thought to put worshipers in remembrance that Christ is the sun of righteousness, and such was the attitude in olden times during devotion —a custom now obsolete.