Page:Cyclopedia of illustrations for public speakers, containing facts, incidents, stories, experiences, anecdotes, selections, etc., for illustrative purposes, with cross-references; (IA cyclopediaofillu00scotrich).pdf/538

 OSSIFICATION

The London Mail reports this sad case:

An honored guest at most of the London hospitals is a tall, slim man, with a thin face, who has to move about with extreme care, because if he happened to fall down he might break in several places.

He is literally a fragile man, who has to walk with something of the stiffness of "La Poupée." A violent fall would be disastrous to him. He is suffering from a rare and painless disease which, in the words of one of the doctors who has seen him, turns him into "a porcelain man." Alban Rushbrook, aged thirty-five, has for seven years been suffering from myositis ossificans; his muscles are turning into bone. He can walk, but he can not sit in a chair, and it is difficult for him to turn his head far to the right or left. The muscles of his chest, back and thighs are all turning to bone. He lies flat in bed. When he desires to rise he is shifted to the edge of the bed, and his rigid body is tipped up till his feet touch the floor. A stick is placed in his hand, and he can then make his way in a straight line ahead.

(2277)

OSTENTATION

The boxes in the temple treasury were shaped like trumpets. Jesus said, "Do not make a trumpet of the box; it looks like one, but do not use it for the purpose of calling attention to what you are about to put into it." (Text.)

(2278)

OSTENTATION, SNOBBISH

Occasionally great wealth publishes itself in an unbecoming and distasteful manner, as the following suggests:

The son of the New York millionaire, John W. Gates, dislikes to have bills of such small denomination as $100 littering up his pockets, says the Philadelphia Press.

The last time Mr. and Mrs. Gates came to this city in their automobile they stopt at the Bellevue-Stratford. When he asked for his bill he found it amounted to a paltry $70. Opening a huge wallet, he handed out a thousand-dollar note. This was fondly laid away and the cashier began to count hundred-dollar bills in change.

"My word," said Mr. Gates, dropping into the vernacular of the metropolis, "I can't carry that truck around with me. Send my bill to New York and I will mail you a check."

Calling hundred-dollar bills "truck" was more than the porters who heard it could stand. If they had not been so well trained they would have forgotten to carry Mr. Gates' dress-suit case out to his automobile.

(2279)

OTHER SIDE, THE

"There's another side," said the minister's wife softly.

"How do you know?" asked the visitor who had told the discreditable little tale strictly in confidence, as she herself had learned it in the bosom of the Wednesday afternoon sewing circle. The minister's wife had not been present, and it was only right that she should be put right about this family of newcomers in the parish. "Some things had come to the ears of the sewing circle that were not—well, not exactly—"

"There's another side!" repeated the minister's wife, not so softly this time. In fact, there was a noticeable little ring of indignation in her tone, which died out in a sort of wondering pity as she noticed the challenging look of her caller. "You're glad there is another side, aren't you? Why, of course you are. And, you see, I know all about it."

"You weren't at the meeting," said the other stiffly. "If you had been, you—"

"No, I was there—at the house. And I saw—I saw—oh, Mrs. Babbitt, if you could have seen what I saw."

"I saw, too—with my own eyes! That daughter of theirs is an opium—"

"She isn't their daughter—not any relation; not even a friend or a friend's daughter, just a poor girl who had been sick so long and suffered so terribly that the doctors themselves had made her a victim of the opium habit. And they have undertaken to try to cure her. They have given up their home—their very lives—to it. They don't say a word about it. I just found it out—with the help of the doctor."

The visitor rose suddenly, almost unceremoniously. For a moment the hostess looked troubled and aghast. Had she spoken too sharply, discourteously, even? Her mind fled back over the interview as she faltered: "You are not going yet? You—oh, you aren't offended at anything I've said?"

"Yes, I'm going. Offended—I? I'm going round to see all our ladies, every single one of them!"

"And tell them?—"

The minister's wife held her breath for