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 %rfe/(i^;c^C^ ^rrr^ 
 
A LOOK ON 
 THE BRIGHTER SIDE 
 
 By 
 W. R. Rutherford 
 
 SAN JOSE 
 
 iHcltjin, |)illifi; Si ^Slacfe 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
PREFACE 
 
 HIS book is a compilation of some of 
 the articles which have since the first 
 of June, 1903, appeared semi- weekly 
 in the San Jose Daily Mercury under 
 the heading which stands as the 
 title of this volume. It is put forth 
 at the urgent request of a number of 
 readers, who have desired the author to embody the 
 best of these articles in a small book suitable for a Christ- 
 mas gift. 
 
 The department was undertaken at the suggestion of 
 the Managing Editor of the Mercury, Mr. E. K. John- 
 ston, and while the venture has been very favorably re- 
 ceived the author feels it would be ungrateful not to ac- 
 cede to the request of the friends who have asked that 
 these more or less fugitive pieces should be brought to- 
 gether in permanent form, to enable them to preserve 
 and to pass on to others the sources of the pleasure 
 which a great many have been kind enough to say they 
 have experienced in reading them from time to time. 
 Whether it was wise or not to heed the demand thus 
 presented, must be left for the readers to determine. 
 
 The articles are not all original. They have contained 
 frequent quotations of appropriate little poems and other 
 
writings, appearing in magazines, newspapers, and 
 books, and in some cases offered by the composers of 
 the lines themselves. Credit has generally been given 
 where such quotations have been used, except when the 
 author is unknown, or desires not to be mentioned. No 
 apology is deemed necessary for the repetition of some 
 of them in this collection. 
 
 Such as it is, the little volume goes forth with the sin- 
 cerest wishes of its author that through it many may be 
 helped to take A Look on the Brighter Side. 
 
 W. R. Rutherford. 
 San Jose, Cal., Nov. 12, 1904. 
 
 19?845 
 

 True Optimism 
 
 WHY are you an optimist?" The question was 
 sent to a number of well known men and women 
 by an American paper not long ago. The fol- 
 lowing story is given by the Dublin Christian Advocate 
 of the answer written by Mrs. Alice Palmer Freeman, and 
 there is so much suggestiveness in it for those who would 
 be optimists, but are perhaps taking the wrong way about 
 it by going to one or other of the extremes mentioned, 
 that I think it will do us all good to have it here retold: 
 
 *'My training as the child of a country doctor," says 
 Mrs. Freeman, "in a home where the daily interests of 
 every member of the family centered in caring for the 
 sick, the poor, the aged where everybody brought his 
 needs and his anxieties this was the true training for 
 an optimist. For no one can be permanently helpful who 
 merely looks on a life, criticising those who work. To 
 see clearly the tragedies, and to spend self in trying to 
 save, makes an optimist." 
 
 "Perhaps," runs the Dublin paper's comment, "the se- 
 cret of optimism was never better revealed than in that 
 last sentence. The true optimists of life are not always 
 those who have always 'had things easy' and know noth- 
 ing of care or trouble; neither are they the ones who 
 resolutely refuse to acknowledge the presence of sin and 
 sorrow. They are those who determine to meet facts 
 honestly and can give themselves eagerly, untiringly, to 
 fighting the sin and lessening the sorrow and the pain. 
 Only he w^ho has given himself to a cause knows all the 
 allies of that cause. He who has devoted himself to the 
 mighty work of advancing God's kingdom of righteous- 
 ness sees, as others cannot, a thousand signs of hope and 
 cheer in the unlikeliest places. Pessimism may indicate 
 many things, but one thing at least it never fails to re- 
 veal that the pessimist is not spending himself in trying 
 to make the world better." 
 
If we would not incur the imputation of idleness in the 
 cause of the world's bettering, then, let us close our 
 lips ere they allow to slip out a single word of gloomy 
 doubt or pessimism; let us rather follow the line laid 
 down by E. H. Shannon, the author of these lines reprinted 
 in the Boston Budget from the Christian Advocate: 
 
 Do It Now 
 
 Have you any cheering greeting? 
 
 Tell it out today; 
 While you wait the friend and message 
 
 May have gone away. 
 
 Let the one who sighs for comfort 
 
 Feel a hand-grasp true; 
 It will cheer the way, and surely 
 
 Can't impoverish you. 
 
 We are all the time regretting 
 
 When it is too late, 
 And some heavy heart has broken 
 
 While we hesitate. 
 
 Lives are human, though so often 
 
 We disguise our pain; 
 Some are hungering for your comfort, 
 
 Give and give again. 
 
Carpe Diem 
 
 PROBABLY all of us have realized the truth in the 
 old saying that there is no use in crossing a bridge 
 before we come to it. How slow we are neverthe- 
 less to learn from our own experience, to say nothing 
 of the accumulated experience of millions of wiser heads 
 who have learned it before us, that half of the woes we 
 dread do not come upon us at all. How much wiser it 
 would be to take things as we find them, making the 
 most of the present, with a viev/ also to building most 
 wnsely for the future. 
 
 ''Our to-days and yesterdays," says Longfellow, ''are 
 the blocks with which we build," and he counsels us to 
 
 Build to-day, then, strong and sure, 
 
 With a firm and ample base; 
 So ascending and secure 
 
 Shall to-morrow find its place. 
 
 If we do this day by day there is no need to worry 
 over the future. "The morrow shall take thought for the 
 things of itself," and the wisest of counselors. "Suffi- 
 cient unto the day is the evil thereof." We often, I think, 
 misunderstand those words. We think they mean "the 
 morrow will have sufficient troubles of its own," and 
 so we look for "sufficient," which we interpret to mean 
 "many" troubles, and are consequently always appre- 
 hensive, anticipating trouble, crossing bridges that dis- 
 appear when we come to them. The real meaning of 
 the great Teacher's utterance is that "sufficient unto the 
 day," that is, the present day,, "is the evil thereof," that 
 is, of this present day; we ought not to make this day heavy 
 with anticipated burdens, which so often prove imaginary. 
 
 It may be said, "What is the use of hammering away 
 at a habit that is ingrained in human nature? You don't 
 surely expect to get people to stop worrying about the 
 future." No, not all people. But "constant dropping 
 wears away the stone," and if in these "looks on the 
 
brighter side" we are able to help one, or two, or a few 
 persons among our readers to a brighter outlook on life, 
 and consequently to a brighter and better living of life, 
 then the purpose of these articles is served. 
 
 The surest way to make life happy and true and 
 beautiful is to make the most of each day as it passes. 
 I cannot do better than give Mary Lowe Dickinson's 
 words on this thought: 
 
 We should fill the hours with the sweetest things, 
 
 If we had but a day; 
 We should drink alone at the purest springs 
 
 In our upward way; 
 We should love with a lifetime's love in an hour 
 
 If the hours were few; 
 We should rest, not for dreams, but for fresher power, 
 
 To be and to do. 
 
 We should guide our wayward or wearied wills 
 
 By the clearest light; 
 We should keep our eyes on the heavenly hills, 
 
 If they lay in sight; 
 
 We should trample the pride and the discontent 
 Beneath our feet; 
 
 We should take whatever a good God sent. 
 With a trust complete. 
 
 We should waste no moments in weak regret, 
 
 If the day were but one; 
 If what we remember and what we forget 
 
 Went out with the sun; 
 
 We should be from our clamorous selves set free, 
 
 To work or to pray. 
 And to be what the Father would have us be, 
 
 If we had but a day. 
 
 And which one of us dare say that he, or she, has 
 more. To-day is ours; of to-morrow we can say only 
 that it may be ours. We in that sense therefore have but 
 a day. 
 
Pass It On 
 
 PROBABLY all of us in our school days have played 
 the little game called ''pass it on"; usually, no doubt, 
 it was in the form of a sly punch of our neighbor. 
 But there is a game of "pass it on" which we may and should 
 all play. It is this that the New York Tribune Sunshine 
 Society has adopted as its motto for its doctrine of good 
 cheer. Henry Burton has written a beautiful song upon 
 this theme, the first stanza of which runs: 
 
 Have you had a kindness shown? 
 
 Pass it on. 
 'Twas not given for you alone 
 
 Pass it on. 
 Let it travel down the years, 
 Let it wipe another's tears, 
 Till in heaven the deed appears 
 
 Pass it on. 
 
 How many of us, I wonder, take the trouble, even 
 occasionally, not to say habitually, to think of this, that 
 the many kindnesses we are every day receiving lay us 
 under the obligation to pass them on. And yet if we do 
 not pass them on to our neighbors, what selfish creatures 
 we become! all the time benefited by relatives, by friends, 
 by acquaintances, even by utter strangers, and still giving 
 out little or nothing to those about us. What a sponge- 
 existence! And after all, how near to it we are in danger 
 of coming if we do not pause once in a while to think 
 of our obligations to pass on to others the kindness 
 shown to us. 
 
 We meet a friend, and are saluted with a "Good 
 morning," or friendly inquiry after our health. How few 
 the people who reply to such with a studied courtesy 
 by a similar regard for the welfare of their friends. Yet 
 is this not a part of politeness and good manners, to say 
 nothing of kindness? We are so prone to think of what 
 we are thinking of saying rather than of what has been 
 said to us. But when one does in this kindly way recip- 
 
rocate fully the salutation, how it strikes us as not by 
 any means superfluous, but just the right thing, the thing 
 that ought to be said. 
 
 How many favors we receive from one and another 
 through the day's long hours, and how many opportuni- 
 ties we have of passing them on. If in a responsive mood, 
 looking for chances to do some one a good turn, we shall 
 find many a time when a deed may be done, or a word 
 said, that will help some one else just as we ourselves 
 have been helped, perhaps not half an hour before. 
 
 The receiver of a benefit is made happy. But when 
 he himself confers a benefit upon another in the right 
 spirit, he feels even happier. In this, as in other ex- 
 periences, the truth of the words of the Lord Jesus, re- 
 corded by Paul, are realized: "It is more blessed to give 
 than to receive." How slow we are to learn that lesson! 
 How we go on trying to get happiness, by getting things, 
 trying to have things given to us, and always failing of 
 satisfaction. It will always be so. Whereas, if we would 
 follow the other rule, and give more, we should enjoy 
 more. The way to get happiness is not to seek it. Seek 
 rather to do the duty that lies at hand fully, faithfully, 
 fearlessly, give happiness to others, and then happiness 
 will come itself unsought for. 
 
 Pass on then the kindness shown; ''scatter seeds of 
 kindness for our reaping by and by"; "cast thy bread 
 upon the waters, and thou shalt find it," even if "after 
 many days." Every deed and word thus shown shall 
 bear its harvest, and the kindness will surely, in this 
 life or in the other, yet return to you. 
 
What Is Your Life ? 
 
 LIFE is as we make it. The one who thinks of life 
 as a burden and a troublesome condition in which 
 he finds himself comes before long to find it even 
 SO" the one who looks for beauty and cheer finds his 
 heart's content of them. I like to take comfort in the 
 thought that it is not given to many people to say much 
 that is original,, so I may be pardoned for so often 
 quoting the words of others; for they fit in, and if what 
 is worth repeating can be put in a new setting it some- 
 times gains added value. 
 
 The following poem was written by S. E. Kiser, the 
 thoughtful and ready author of many little gems printed 
 in the Chicago Record-Herald. It runs: 
 
 To the preacher life's a sermon, 
 
 To the joker it's a jest; 
 To the miser life is money, 
 
 To the loafer life is rest. 
 
 To the lawyer life's a trial. 
 
 To the poet life's a song; 
 To the doctor life's a patient 
 
 That needs treatment right along. 
 
 To the soldier life's a battle, 
 To the teacher life's a school; 
 
 Life's a "good thing" to the grafter, 
 It's a failure to the fool. 
 
 To the man upon the engine 
 Life's a long and heavy grade; 
 
 It's a gamble to the gambler. 
 To the merchant life's a trade. 
 
 Life's a picture to the artist. 
 
 To the rascal life's a fraud; 
 Life perhaps is but a burden 
 
 To the man beneath the hod. 
 
 Life is lovely to the lover. 
 
 To the player life's a play; 
 Life may be a load of trouble 
 
 To the man upon the dray. 
 
 Life is but a long vacation 
 To the man who loves his work; 
 
 Life's an everlasting effort 
 To shun duty to the shirk. 
 
 To the heaven- blest romancer 
 
 Life's a story ever new; 
 Life is what we try to make it 
 
 Brother, what is 4ife to you? 
 
If it is true, and to a very great degree it is perfectly 
 true, that life is what we choose to make it, every human 
 being is bound to face the question of what he is going 
 to make of his life. He may have great plans, lofty 
 ideals, and in face of them he may at times be tempted 
 to sit down and in utter helplessness say that the task 
 is too great. But such a one ought to take to heart the 
 fact that the mightiest forces and powers, the greatest 
 things in the world both of nature and of art are but the 
 accumulation of little things. ''Great things were ne'er 
 begotten in an hour" whatever is great has grown to 
 be so by innumerable little accretions. A life is what 
 we make of its days and its hours. Elwyn Hoffman 
 wrote a good thing along that line of thought, which 
 appeared in Sunset: 
 
 I sit and ponder. At my door appears 
 The little Hour that builds the mighty Years. 
 It loudly knocks, and calls to me its need; 
 "Wake, dreamer, wake; and give to me a deed! 
 I build the Years. If thou wouldst have them fair, 
 Aid as thou canst, though small may be thy share, 
 I build the Years. O wise is he that heeds, 
 And makes my building good by giving deeds!" 
 
 I sit and ponder. Aye, the voice is true 
 
 Why ponder longer? 'Tis the time to do! 
 
 A noble castle wouldst thou build thee, man ? 
 
 Then heed the small Hour 'tis thy artisan! 
 
 From strugghng mite unto the Godhead, lo! 
 
 The Hour shall build thee all that thou shalt know. 
 
 Heed well the Hour's voice 'tis a living Seer's: 
 
 "I build the Years! O man! I build the Years!" 
 
Cheeriness 
 
 WHAT a beautiful day!" How often we hear it 
 said, and how true it is. And is it not always 
 so over the greater part of the world? Where 
 the climate seems to us of this zone to be unpropitious 
 or extreme nature has kindly tempered conditions, so 
 that man does not find those climates any more uncom- 
 fortable than we find ours. The Laplander and the Eskimo 
 are fed and clothed in accordance with their requirements, 
 while the South Sea Islander and the African native are 
 fed and unclothed as is comfortable in their regions of 
 eternal summer. 
 
 In our temperate zone have we not more days of sun- 
 shine than rain and cloud? Does not the moon, do not 
 the stars, show light on more nights than are cloudy or 
 moonless? Then why should we not often remark. What 
 a fine day? Why not often help one another to note 
 the fact of the beautiful weather? 
 
 If you greet a man with "Isn't it sweltering to-day?" ten 
 chances to one he will answer, "Yes; it's roasting," or 
 something to that effect, while if you pleasantly remark, 
 "Fine day," he will reply "Delightful." What is the 
 philosophy of this? Is it that the same man really feels 
 the day different as he meets a growler or a cheery op- 
 timist? Yes, and no. He is more or less affected in his 
 physical feeling by his mental attitude, of course; but, 
 on the other hand, he expresses in his reply that inborn 
 longing of every human being, if not of every rational 
 creature, for sympathy, that instinctive desire to be in 
 accord with one's surroundings. 
 
 This being so, how great becomes the responsibility 
 of every person who seeks the welfare and not the dis- 
 comfort of his fellows, to strive by every salutation to 
 make his neighbor feel better. Then let us comment 
 upon the beautiful weatker ever day we have a shadow 
 of excuse for doing so; and if any stray day of another 
 
kind chances to come along let us look for some pleasant 
 thought to introduce conversation or to express the pass- 
 ing greeting rather than make one another feel more of 
 discomfort than need be. 
 
 And broadening our outlook beyond the mere passing 
 salutation, or even the words of our lips alone, shall we 
 not strive more earnestly to let more of sunshine into our 
 brothers' and sisters' lives day by day? To-day is ours. 
 Of to-morrow we can say only that it may be ours. '*Oh, 
 the good we all may do while the days are going by!" 
 As Nixon Waterman beautifully expresses it: 
 
 We shall do so much in the years to come, 
 
 But what have we done to-day? 
 We shall give our gold in a princely sum, 
 
 But what did we give to-day? 
 We shall lift the heart and dry the tear, 
 We shall plant a hope in the place of lear, 
 We shall speak the words of love and cheer, 
 
 But what did we speak to-day? 
 
 We shall be so kind in the afterwhile, 
 But what have we been to-day? 
 We shall bring to each lonely life a smile. 
 
 But what have we brought to-day? 
 We shall give to truth a grander birth, 
 ^.nd to steadfast faith a deeper worth. 
 We shall feed the hungering souls of earth; 
 But whom have we fed to-day? 
 
 We shall reap such joys in the by and by. 
 
 But what have we sown to-day? 
 We shall build us mansions in the sky, 
 
 But what have we built to-day? 
 'Tis sweet in idle dreams to bask, 
 But here and now do we do our task? 
 Yes, this is the thing our souls must ask 
 
 "What have we done to-(iay?" 
 
The Oil of Joy 
 
 IN the course of conversation, a gentleman said, "The 
 world wags a whole lot better when you do things 
 in the pleasantest way." This is a remark that at 
 once took hold of the hearer as one freighted with much 
 meaning. We know the value of oil on machinery, as 
 not only making the machine work more smoothly for 
 the time, but also preserving it from such rapid wear 
 as would result from running dry. 
 
 Now pleasant dealing in the ordinary business of life 
 is the oil, the grease, if you please, for the wheels; it 
 facilitates the performance of that business, and length- 
 ens the life of the human machines that do the work of 
 the world. 
 
 It is said that every laugh adds a minute to one's 
 life, and that every sigh draws a drop of blood from the 
 heart and lessens the number of heart beats. The famous 
 philosopher. Sir William Hamilton, held that pleasure 
 is connected with the increase in the vital energy, while 
 the sensation of pain is attended by a diminution in the 
 vital energy. There is surely sound reason in this. In 
 fact, some of us probably know of persons whose lives 
 have been shortened by grief and mere physical pain, 
 even where that pain is not caused by disease. This 
 being true, the converse must also be equally true, that 
 people often have their lives lengthened by mere sensa- 
 tions of pleasure. 
 
 How simple and plain a duty it becomes, therefore, 
 for each one of us to endeavor to lengthen both our own 
 lives and those of our fellow-beings, by the kindly smile, 
 the cheery word, the deed that shows true sympathy and 
 friendliness, thus increasing the pleasure of the world 
 and adding to its joy. 
 
 Our lives in this world are so intertwined, that every 
 individual touches others at many points. Consciously, 
 and, even more, unconsciously, we help others to a 
 
brighter outlook upon life in its many and varied aspects, 
 or else we make the world a duller one than it need be. 
 In the common acts of every day in the home, on 
 the street as we pass, in the store when making the most 
 trivial purchase, in the workshop at the regular opera- 
 tions, in the office with its daily routine, in the friend's 
 home when we pay a visit how many are the oppor- 
 tunities for a bright word of hopeful, cheery salutation, 
 how many a remark that may draw attention to the 
 silvery lining, it may be, of a dark cloud, or to the sun- 
 shine lying all about our pathway even if no better, a 
 jest or witticism uttered in good humor, something that 
 will put ourselves and others in touch with the brightest, 
 the pleasantest things in life. So we can, as my friend 
 suggested, help in no small degree to make the world 
 wag along better, by doing the most ordinary things, 
 even the most difficult or unpleasant duties, in the pleas- 
 antest way. 
 
A Cure for Life's Ills 
 
 THE implied assumption in the title of this depart- 
 ment is that there is a dark side of human life. 
 Some people seem to see nothing else. The 
 causes of that darkness are various. When one is suffer- 
 ing from some malady, such as chronic dyspepsia or per- 
 sistent neuralgia, it is hard to feel merry. Nevertheless, 
 "a merry heart is a good medicine." And a steady en- 
 strength to the physical frame, a quickened sense of joy 
 deavor to be cheerful has often resulted in an access of 
 in living, an actual cure of some ailment that proceeded 
 perhaps largely in the first place from a morose dispo- 
 sition. 
 
 The worries and troubles from business cares are 
 the cause of much ill-health. It is trite, but true, that 
 worry kills more people than work. The rush and com- 
 petition is hard to keep up with in these days, without 
 entailing an immense expenditure of nervous force. But 
 that heavy drain need not be an absolutely devitalizing 
 one. If business cares are locked in the office with the 
 turn of the key as the man goes home, if he does not 
 "talk shop" on the street, in the cars, by the evening 
 lamp in his parlor, there is given the wearied mind a 
 chance to recover its normal condition before the activi- 
 ties of the next day press upon it. And the observance 
 of a Sabbath, a day of rest, is a natural law as much 
 as a religious institution. One day in seven has been 
 proved to be w^hat man requires. If he thinks he can 
 do without that, he only draws upon his capital; if he 
 takes more frequent rest, he fails to perform his share 
 of the world's work, and becomes a lazy drone in the hive. 
 
 The world is full enough of wickedness and evil to make 
 the thought of it a burden. Some good people think they 
 ought scarcely to dare to smile, because of all that might 
 draw and does somewhere draw tears. But this, it would 
 appear on more rational consideration, is a mistaken 
 
view to take. The more brightness there is in the world, 
 it follows of necessity the less gloom there will be. It 
 is surely the duty, therefore, of each lover of humanity 
 to seek to be a source of brightness and good cheer, and 
 to let that light shine before men, that their way may be 
 made more clear and luminous. 
 
 Modern civilization, with all its advantages, yet lacks 
 one thing. It must go and sell all that it has and follow 
 the Divine law of nature, live in accordance with the 
 dictates of reason, seeking earnestly to maintain "men- 
 tem sanam in corpore sano," the old Roman's ideal, the 
 ideal of the Greek, the sanitary excellence of the Mosaic 
 code. It must eschew vices and live a more moderate 
 life, be content with less drive and rush and bustle. It 
 will come to this. And the old saying will be realized 
 (no disrespect to the noble body of physicians), "Joy> 
 temperance and repose, slam the door in the doctor's 
 nose." 
 
 And, recognizing this ideal, anxious then as we shall 
 be to build up a new order of society, improving upon 
 civilized conditions as they exist, and thus giving an 
 example to the world of what life can be, such as we 
 see it in animals and in young children, how much more 
 there shall then be of that brightness that shall make 
 it a joy to be alive. To that end, for society is but an 
 aggregation of individuals, shall we not each one en- 
 deavor to live as far as possible this care-free, natural, 
 healthful life, making our own little corner brighter? 
 
Pleasure of Anticipation 
 
 THERE is considerable true philosophy in the doc- 
 trine that to increase one's happiness the better 
 way is not to enlarge one's acquisitions, but to 
 curtail one's desires. It is the principle which actuated 
 the great apostle to the Gentiles when he wrote, "I have 
 learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content." 
 
 James Buckham, in the Interior, writing of the joy 
 of modest expectations, declares that the true secret of 
 happiness and contentment in this world is, not to ex- 
 pect nothing, as some have bitterly claimed, but to ex- 
 pect only just enough to tally with a reasonable degree 
 of realization in each individual case. 
 
 The pleasure of realization depends upon the de- 
 gree and the kind of anticipation. If, indeed, we do not 
 expect much, we cannot be disappointed if we do not 
 receive much. While if we look for great things and get 
 what may really be great, but chances to be less than we 
 had hoped for, why, we are cast down. And such shocks 
 of disappointment make up a great part of the heartaches 
 and bitterness of life, and spoil much of possible human 
 happiness. 
 
 The cause being found, the cure can be intelligently 
 sought. And, fortunately, that cure is easy. Simply 
 this, learn to curb your expectations. Oliver Wendell 
 Holmes, in his humorous poem on ''Contentment," says: 
 "I only ask that Fortune send a little more than I shall 
 spend." But if Fortune send only a little more than I 
 expect, have I not good ground for happiness and con- 
 tentment? And perhaps that would be a little easier 
 task for Fortune, to say nothing of its being easier for 
 ourselves, or at any rate, easier on ourselves. 
 
 It would not be wise to adopt the motto of expecting 
 nothing, however, for one of the surest sources of joy, 
 as Mr. Buckham says, consists in being modestly ex- 
 pectant of what this earthly life has to offer. There is 
 
abundant opportunity for leading a uniformly happy life, 
 by making one's fond fancies tally with one's reasonable 
 possibilities, and being as sensible and practical about 
 the great concerns of life as about the minor affairs, and 
 those which affect or concern us but little. 
 
 While there may be some difficulty, especially to the 
 young, strong, sanguine spirit, in thus checking our 
 flighty steeds of fancy yet the gain thereby to be ob- 
 tained is more than worth the effort. The discipline is 
 most wholesome and profitable, and will yield a large 
 increase of happiness for the future. It is indeed one of 
 the characteristics of a strong spirit, and generally of 
 an able one, that it is willing and persistent in striving 
 hard and long, even though the expectation of results 
 may be but modest. 
 
 Let us, then, not refrain from building our castles in 
 the air; but rather make them as beautiful as they may 
 reasonably be expected to be, out of such materials 
 as we are likely to have at hand in the years to be; and 
 while we fling our rainbow arches over into the future, 
 let us not think that they must land us on a palace bal- 
 cony or in a garden of roses, for our particular arch 
 may lead us into a good, large, fertile potato patch! 
 
The Joy of Incompleteness 
 
 SOMETIMES the thought is uttered that it is only 
 in perfection, completeness, that satisfaction is to 
 be found, that there is no joy in a life which is 
 full of broken lights, of shades and shadows, of ups and 
 downs, perhaps more of downs than ups. Yet how mis- 
 taken that view appears when it is more narrowly ex- 
 amined. If there were no dull grays, no blacks, no browns 
 and other less brilliant colors, where would be the joy 
 in the hues of nature? We should soon grow inexpress- 
 ibly tired of the gaudy, glaring reds and blues and yel- 
 lows. And after all is it not by the very blending of 
 these primary colors in various ways that the multitude 
 of colors and shades are produced? 
 
 So it seems that it is the variety, the mixture of bright 
 and dark, that makes pleasure for our senses in the 
 physical world of color; so also in the world of human 
 experiences, the real perfection and satisfaction appears 
 to come rather from a tempering of joy with sorrow, 
 of mirth with sadness, that causes the highest and best 
 type of character, the most perfect blend of qualities m 
 our human makeup. 
 
 There is use, therefore, for the dark days and for the 
 rougher ways, both for our own enjoyment of the sun- 
 nier days and smoother paths by contrast and for our 
 development in the opportunity they give of offering the 
 torch of cheer and the helping hand to some one by our 
 side. The Sunday Magazine has a few lines on this 
 theme that may well be reproduced in this connection: 
 
If our lives were one broad glare 
 
 Of sunlight, clear, unclouded; 
 If all our paths were smooth and fair, 
 
 By no soft gloom enshrouded; 
 If all life's flowers were fully blown 
 
 Without the sweet unfolding. 
 And happiness were rudely thrown 
 
 On hands too weak for holding; 
 Should we not miss the twilight hours, 
 
 The gentle haze and sadness; 
 Should we not long for storm and showers. 
 
 To teach the constant gladness? 
 
 If none were sick and none were sad, 
 
 What service could we render? 
 I think if we were always glad 
 
 We scarcely eould be tender. 
 Did our beloved never need 
 
 Our tender ministration. 
 Earth would grow cold, and miss indeed 
 
 Its sweetest consolation. 
 If sorrow never claimed our heart, 
 
 And every wish were granted, 
 Patience would die and hope depart, 
 
 Life would be disenchanted. 
 
Masters of Fate 
 
 IN reading the famous and remarkable poem of the 
 late English poet, William Ernest Henley, in which 
 he boldly enunciates his creed of dogged resistance 
 to fate, declaring his independence, one cannot but be 
 struck with the tone of blind, hopeless fighting with 
 chance, the awful gloom and darkness of despair in the 
 view of this life as a place of sorrow, wrath and horror. 
 Listen to these lines from him who has been called the 
 ''pagan poet" and feel their cold, stolid cynicism: 
 
 Out of the night that covers me 
 Black as the pit from pole to pole 
 
 I thank whatever gods may be 
 For my indomitable soul. 
 
 In the full clutch of Circumstance 
 
 I have not winced or cried aloud; 
 Under the bludgeonings of Chance 
 
 My head is bloody, but unbowed. 
 
 Beyond this place of wrath and tears 
 Looms but the horror of the shade, 
 
 And yet the menace of the years 
 Finds and shall find me unafraid. 
 
 For still, however strait the gate, 
 How charged the punishments the scroll, 
 
 I am the Master of my Fate, 
 I am the Captain of my Soul! 
 
 What a blank is a creed that can say no better than 
 this! Poor Henley seems to be in doubt whether there 
 be any divine power; he realizes that he has an indom- 
 itable soul, yet the fact of its existence does not seem 
 to convince him that that soul of his must have come 
 from some higher Soul; nor does he learn that lesson 
 from science or from human history. 
 
 There is a certain nobility about his defiance of chance 
 and circumstance; but it is the nobility of Milton's Satan, 
 who even while lying in the sea of fire hurls defiance at 
 the Almighty, and declares "To reign is worth ambition, 
 though in hell; better to reign in hell than serve in 
 heaven." A nobility of ambition worthy of a better cause 
 and better ideals. 
 
Such a standpoint as that of Henley would not permit 
 the view of this world, with all its sorrow and wrath and 
 bitterness and gloom, that the sacred psalmist took when 
 he said: ''Surely the wrath of man shall praise Thee, 
 and the remainder of wrath Thou shalt restrain." No! 
 for it is only "to the upright" in heart, the man who puts 
 his trust in an Infinite Goodness, as the Quaker poet did, 
 that "there ariseth light in the darkness." Whittier tri- 
 umphantly sings: 
 
 
 I know not where His islands lift 
 
 Their fronded palms in air 
 I only know I cannot drift 
 Beyond His love and care. 
 
 Here is the faith that is reasonable; here the hope 
 that is buoyant; here alone can be found the secret spring 
 of love, love to God and love to man, love of nature, 
 and truest love of self as a part of the all-wise Creator's 
 workmanship. Surely this is the saner view of life and 
 its meaning. This is what makes a man truly unafraid, 
 and not merely stolid and defiant. It is that view that 
 the great poet laureate held, whom many expected Hen- 
 ley would succeed to that honor. How clearly, calmly, 
 confidently ring out Tennyson's words: 
 
 Sunset and evening star, 
 
 And one clear call for me; 
 And may there be no moaning of the bar, 
 
 When I put out to sea. 
 
 But such a tide as, moving, seems asleep, 
 
 Too full for sound or foam; 
 When that which drew from out the boundless deep 
 
 Turns again home. 
 
 Twilight and evening bell, 
 
 And after that the dark; 
 And may there be no sadness of farewell, 
 
 When I embark. 
 
 For though from out this bourne of time and space 
 
 The flood may bear me far, 
 I hope to see my Pilot face to face, 
 
 When I shall cross the bar. 
 
Unorganized Charities 
 
 IN the present days of rush and drive there is a serious 
 danger of our giving way to the temptation to think 
 
 that we have not time to attend to the little minor 
 duties of being attentive and thoughtful and kind. No 
 greater mistake could be made than this. "Trifles make 
 perfection, and perfection is no trifle." 
 
 From the magazine, ''The Young Woman," is taken 
 the following short monologue on this theme: "I some- 
 times think we women, nowadays, are in danger of being 
 too busy to be really useful," said an old lady, thought- 
 fully. "We hear so much about making every minute 
 count, and always having some work or course of study 
 for spare hours, and having our activities all systematized, 
 that there is no place left for small wayside kindnesses. 
 We go to see the sick neighbor, and relieve the poor 
 neighbor, but for the common everyday neighbor, 
 who has not fallen by the way, so far as we 
 can see, we haven't a minute to spare. But not every 
 body who needs a cup of cold water is calling out the 
 fact to the world, and there are a great many little 
 pauses by the way that are no waste of time. The old- 
 fashioned exchange of flowers over the back fence, and 
 friendly chats about domestic matters, helped to brighten 
 weary days, and brought more cheer than many a ser- 
 mon. We ought not to be too busy to inquire for the 
 girl away at school, or to be interested in the letter 
 from the boy at sea. It is a comfort to the mother's 
 lonely heart to feel that somebody else cares for that 
 which means so much to her. Especially we ought not 
 to be too busy to give and receive kindnesses in our own 
 home. May no one be able to say of us that we are 
 too busy to be kind." 
 
 With the organization of our "charities," let us not 
 forget the unorganized charities, in the real sense of acts 
 of love. It is all well, and no more than our duty, to 
 
relieve the distresses of the sick and the needy, but we 
 should remember also the "common, every-day neigh- 
 bor," who is not sick, and does not apparently need any- 
 thing we can offer; but who perhaps is longing for some 
 word of sympathy from us, some little act which shall 
 show a kindly friendly interest. It will help the next 
 hour to move more lightly and happily, will perhaps diive 
 away a seemingly causeless cloud from the sky of a neigh- 
 bor's life, and act with a reflex happy influence upon our- 
 selves. 
 
 /Nor is this kind of usefulness beyond the reach of 
 anyone; it does not demand time beyond what anyone 
 can give; it requires no learning, nor wealth, nor position; 
 it is something everyone can do. It is suited just as much 
 to the present age, with all its "strenuousness," as to 
 any other, just as much to the modern man and the ''new 
 woman" as to the man of a generation or two ago, or 
 to the "old-fashioned" woman. 
 
 No clever, brilliant thinker she, 
 With college record and degree; 
 She has not known the paths of fame; 
 The world has never heard her name; 
 She walks on old, untrodden ways 
 The valleys of the yesterdays. 
 
 Home is her kingdom; love her dower; 
 She seeks no other wand of power 
 To make home sweet, bring heaven near. 
 To win a smile and wipe a tear. 
 And do her duty day by day, 
 In her own quiet place and way. 
 
 Around her childish hearts are twined, 
 As round some reverent saint enshrined, 
 And following hers the childish feet 
 Are led to ideals true and sweet, 
 And find all purity and good 
 In her divinest motherhood. 
 
 She keeps her faith unshadowed still- 
 God rules the world in good and ill; 
 Men in her creed are brave and true, 
 And women pure as pearls of dew. 
 And life for her is high and grand, 
 By work and glad endeavor spanned. 
 
 This sad old earth's a brighter place 
 
 All for the sunshine of her face; 
 
 Her very smile a blessing throws, 
 
 And hearts are happier where she goes. 
 
 A gentle, clear-eyed messenger. 
 
 To whisper love thank God for her! 
 
Real Success 
 
 DIFFERENT persons seek success in different ways, 
 and there are different views of what constitutes suc- 
 cess, but every one is trying to succeed in life, one 
 way or another. To many persons success means making 
 much money. A man may be in business, making a fair, 
 even a comfortable living for himself and his family; but 
 unless he has a large bank deposit and is laying by hun- 
 dreds and thousands of dollars does the world call him 
 successful? Yet is not the comfortable tradesman just 
 as successful really, as the wealthy merchant, in every- 
 thing that pertains to true happiness, so far as business 
 prosperity can bring happiness? And he has less anxiety 
 and less chance of great loss to interfere with his enjoy- 
 ment of what he does possess. 
 
 Then there is the workingm'an, as ordinarily that term 
 is understood. Can he not be successful because the 
 opportunity of becoming rich is seldom open to him? 
 Surely, success is not restricted to the wealthy employer. 
 
 A school teacher rarely amasses great stores of money 
 or its equivalent. He may teach all his life in a small 
 country school. But this leads us to the consideration of 
 other important criteria of success the scope, the number 
 of people affected, the professional standing. Is not the 
 teacher of a small school possessed of far greater oppor- 
 tunities because of his coming so much closer to his 
 pupils and affecting them more constantly and powerfully 
 than his brother in the large city school? And granting 
 equal faithfulness in the city professor and the country 
 schoolmaster, who shall venture to say that the latter 
 is one whit less successful than the former, even though 
 he may perhaps from choice stay all his life in the rural 
 district, even though his talents may never be discovered 
 and brought to "the front"? 
 
 So with the country doctor. Human diseases are much 
 the same in the country and the small town as in the 
 
city. Modern appliances are almost as readily at the 
 command of the doctor in the small town as in the me- 
 tropolis. He can be kept busy all his time, he can gather 
 his experience, can develop his skill, can become well 
 known for his successful cures both in his professional 
 circle, by his patients and their families and throughout 
 the neighborhood, just as well in the small place as his 
 possibly (?) more fortunate brother in the large city. Dare 
 it be said that he is not successful simply because he does 
 not make his bills so large, or have his waiting room so 
 thronged? 
 
 And if a man may for some reason of circumstances, or 
 family ties, or social acquaintances, or even simply because 
 he prefers to live in the small place rather than in the 
 nois}^ bustling city, remain in what the world affects to 
 call "obscurity," is he to be blamed for lack of ambition? 
 Ambition is not necessarily a good thing; true success 
 cannot be a bad thing. Ambition has often led to the 
 direst failure. "By that sin fell the angels." What wonder 
 that Wolsey uttered his notable warning, "I charge thee, 
 Cromwell, fling away ambition." 
 
 The man who prefers to live a quiet life, doing his 
 daily duty faithfully, is more truly successful and happy 
 than he who aspires to reach the heights of fame and 
 riches but fails to see that "a man's life consisteth not in 
 the abundance of the things which he possesseth." 
 
Success Is Not All 
 
 NOT every one is successful, either in the sense in 
 which the world speaks of success, or in the truer 
 sense, that of performing well one's part in life. A man 
 may struggle on through life, and not do his work very 
 well at all, though his efforts may be in the right direction. 
 He cannot even in the sense of faithfulness perhaps be 
 called successful. What is there of encouragement for 
 him? 
 
 The poet of the Sierras, Joaquin Miller, has written 
 some very strong lines full of appreciation and encourage- 
 ment "for those who fail": 
 
 "AH honor to him who shall win the prize," 
 The world has cried for a thousand years; 
 
 But to him who tries and who fails and dies 
 I give great honor and glory and tears. 
 
 Oh, great is the hero who wins a name, 
 
 But greater many and many a time 
 Some pale-faced fellow who dies in shame 
 
 And lets God finish the thought sublime. 
 
 And great is the man with a sword undrawn. 
 And good is the man who refrains from wine; 
 
 But the man who fails and yet still fights on, 
 liO, he is the twin-born brother of mine. 
 
 The real thing to be considered of worth is not the 
 prize, but the struggle. It is the striving that gives the 
 strength which wins the prize. Schiller beautifully ex- 
 presses this idea, when he makes Jove say to Hercules 
 (the translation is by Bulwer Lytton) : 
 
 'Twas not my nectar made thy strength divine, 
 But 'twas thy strength that made my nectar thine. 
 
 Even thus does the Almighty put it within man's power 
 
 to win the prize as it were from Divinity itself, as when 
 
 Jacob wrestled with the angel until the latter cried, "Let 
 
 me go." Man is thus honored by being endowed with 
 
 power that matches itself with Omnipotence. And in the 
 
 exercise of that power lies the supreme exultation, even 
 
 surpassing the elation over winning the prize. In the 
 
 words of another poet: 
 
 His joy is not that he hath got the crown. 
 But that the power to win the crown was hJs. 
 
And Pope says: "Honor and shame from no condition 
 rise: Act well thy part, there all the honor lies." 
 
 The battle against besetting sins, against evil passions, 
 against enslaving habits, as well as against untoward 
 circumstances, may go sore against one; strength may fail 
 many times and oft; the fortress may remain uncaptured; 
 but keep up heart, fight on, struggle to your feet again 
 when downed, nor tamely yield the day, but "Let the 
 victors when they come Find thy body by the wall." 
 
 There are a few more lines I wish to quote here, be- 
 cause they so aptly body forth the truth that success, 
 whether of the world's kind or of that which is the meed 
 of the humble toiler apart from the world's applause and 
 the reward of titles or pelf, is not the only honorable 
 condition, but that even failure may command respect and 
 sympathy and admiration, because of the struggle it in- 
 volves. These lines are by a friend, whose modesty bade 
 me not publish his name: 
 
 No careful conning of recorded history, 
 No shrewd conjecture and no subtle guess 
 
 Has e'er unsealed the meaning and the mystery 
 Of those twin Fates called Failure and Success. 
 
 Forever rises the perplexing problem 
 To him whose pathway these two Fates attend, 
 
 Which is the one and WTiich the other of them. 
 Which is his enemy and which his friend. 
 
 The wise soul does not wage its hope eternal 
 On either fortune, but with will sublime 
 
 Moves starward steadfastly to some goal supernal 
 Beyond the mists and mysteries of time. 
 
The Constant Man 
 
 THERE is honor given to the successful man, and 
 there is credit to the one who tries but fails and 
 yet tries again. But there is another man who de- 
 serves high praise also, the one, namely, who fixes his 
 eye on a certain goal, and steadfastly pursues his way 
 toward that mark, regardless alike of success or failure. 
 Such a man is not over-elated when he succeeds, his head 
 is not turned, he does not step aside to enjoy the fruits 
 of conquest; nor, on the other hand, when disaster over- 
 takes him and the way seems hedged up, does he sit down 
 and wring his hands in despair, or tamely yield to circum- 
 stances, but makes the obstacles stepping-stones, and 
 climbs over them to higher ground. 
 
 This is the man who goes steadily onward, undaunted 
 by untoward fate, and unseduced by fortune's allurements.. 
 He is the type of constancy. He forms his purpose to 
 attain the end before him, the ideal that he seeks, and 
 then follows the path that leads to that goal, unswerving, 
 unaffected by the heights he has to climb, by the pitfalls 
 that lie about his feet but are not for such as he un- 
 daunted by the troubles or the opposing forces that he 
 encounters. He gains strength by every contest, wisdom 
 from every experience, and goes forward undismayed, 
 day by day nearing the heights he would attain 
 though, if he be a true man, never reaching his ideal. 
 (Pity the man who does!) 
 
 How may one attain to this high serenity, this calm 
 imperturbable constancy of purpose, this tenacity and pa- 
 tience of accomplishment? There is no royal road, only 
 the old path of training, or patient plodding, of earnest 
 endeavor and fixed determination. No man can fix the 
 fate that will come to him; every man may fix the spirit 
 and temper of mind in which he shall encounter what- 
 ever fate befall him. As Priscilla Leonard in the Outlook 
 recently writes: 
 
No man can choose what coming hours may bring 
 To him of need, of joy, of suffering; 
 But what his soul shall bring unto each hour 
 To meet its challenge this is in his power. 
 
 The world respects a man who thus pursues his aim 
 steadily, regarding neither success nor failure, going on 
 from one duty to the next, from one day's achievement, 
 however slight or however great, to the tasks of the next 
 morning. Honor to him, the steady-going man! the man 
 of constant spirit, of fixity of purpose, of earnestness 
 unwavering! Such as he are needed in this world, where 
 there is too much of impetuosity, of fickleness, of going 
 "by fits and starts." Like the constant dropping that 
 wears away the stone, it is the constant man who accom- 
 plishes the great works of the world, the enduring struc- 
 tures of men's hands and men's minds. His example is 
 not exciting, but better, "it is encouraging, it helps to 
 achieve undertakings, it serves a useful end, and conduces 
 to make life better. 
 
 I do not know the author of the following lines, which 
 have been handed to me, but they express very aptly the 
 thought of part of this article: 
 
 The Inevitable 
 
 I like the man who faces what he must, 
 With step triumphant and a heart of cheer; 
 Who fights the daily battle without fear; 
 
 Sees his hopes fail, yet keeps unfaltering trust 
 
 That God is God; that somehow, true and just, 
 His plans work out for mortals. Not a tear 
 Is shed when fortune, which the world holds dear, 
 
 Falls from lis grasp. Better witk love a crust 
 Than living in dishonor; envies not. 
 
 Nor loses faith in man. but does his best. 
 Nor ever murmurs at his humbler lot. 
 
 But with a smile and words of hope gives zest 
 
 To every toiler. He alone is great 
 
 Who by a life heroic conquers fate. 
 
5^**-- 
 
 .^y Duty of Health 
 
 IT is a commonplace to say that a man has a duty of 
 being well, because happiness and the best service 
 of life is not possible otherwise. I was reading a few 
 days ago an editorial in an eastern weekly which sug- 
 gested this line of thought. It is a fact to which we 
 must submit, that a man's mental and spiritual state is 
 strongly colored by his physical condition. This fact 
 is thus put by Sydney Smith in his own inimitable fash- 
 ion: 
 
 "Happiness is not impossible without health, but it 
 is of only difficult attainment. I do not mean by health 
 merely an absence of dangerous complaints, but that the 
 body should be in perfect tune, full of vigor and alacrity. 
 The longer I live the more I am convinced that the 
 apothecary is of more importance than Seneca, and that 
 half the unhappiness of the world proceeds from little 
 stoppages, from a duct choked up, from food pressing 
 in the wrong place, from a vexed duodenum, or an agi- 
 tated pylorus. The deception, as practiced upon human 
 creatures, is curious and entertaining. My friend sups 
 late, he eats some strong soup, then a lobster, then some 
 tart, and he dilutes these excellent varieties with wine. 
 The next day I call upon him. He is going to sell his 
 house in London and retire into the country. He is 
 alarmed for his eldest daughter's health. His expenses 
 are heavily increasing and nothing but a timely retreat 
 can save him from ruin. All this is lobster, and when 
 over-excited nature has had time to manage this testa- 
 ceous encumbrance, the daughter recovers, the finances 
 are in good order and every rural idea excluded from 
 his mind. In the same manner old friendships are de- 
 stroyed by toasted cheese, and hard salted meat has led 
 to suicide." 
 
 The v/itty canon here seeks to emphasize the taci 
 that an unhealthy condition of body, however caused. 
 
produces a disastrous effect upon the mind and the whole 
 spirit, rendering impossible for the time being the high- 
 est living on any plane. 
 
 Fortunately, however, for humanity, good health is 
 possible for the great majority of men and women, if 
 they will but follow certain simple and easily applied 
 rules, which will even in the case of those suffering from 
 serious physical affliction make some degree of health 
 and happiness possible. These rules are not new, but 
 they need and bear emphasizing. They are: 
 
 First, preserve a bright, cheerful, hopeful outlook upon 
 the world of men and things. There is no tonic in the 
 world, both for yourself and those about you, like a cheer- 
 ful spirit. 
 
 Second, live as naturally as you can by eating whole- 
 some food and living much in the open air. Happily, 
 he is very peculiarly situated who cannot get plenty of 
 God's sunshine, fresh air, pure water and plain, good food, 
 and take the exercise of walking one of the best. 
 
 Third, avoid nostrums, avoid them as you would the 
 devil, for the devil of disease and ruin is in most of them. 
 Of course there are some exceptions. Some patent med- 
 icines are good and useful, but in general, according to 
 the authority of the whole medical profession and the 
 testimony of common sense, they are the prolific cause 
 of much misery and ill health. These three rules are 
 not hard to keep, and certainly they will help a man to 
 be healthful and happy, and to add to the happiness and 
 usefulness of others also and thus discharge a duty he 
 owes to himself, his family, the community and the God 
 who made him. 
 
Seeds By The Wayside 
 
 ONE of the most beautiful little gems of poetic 
 thought along the line of helpfulness in the seem- 
 ingly trivial affairs along the pathway of every- 
 day life, is this by D. G. Bickers, printed in "The Life- 
 boat," an illustrated monthly journal devoted, according 
 to the title page, to "charitable, philanthropic, health and 
 soul-saving work," and published in Chicago. It is en- 
 titled 'Xittle Kindnesses": 
 
 You gave on the way a pleasant smile, 
 
 And thought no more about it; 
 It cheered a life that was sad the while, 
 
 That might have been wrecked without it. 
 And so for the smile and fruitage fair 
 You'll reap a crown some time somewhere. 
 
 You spoke one day a cheering word, 
 
 And passed to other duties; 
 It warmed a heart, new promise stirred, 
 
 And painted a life with beauties. 
 And so for the wori and its silent prayer 
 You'll reap a palm some time somewhere. 
 
 You lent a hand to a fallen one, 
 
 A life in kindness given; 
 It saved a soul when help was none, 
 
 And won a heart for heaven; 
 And so for the help you proffered there 
 You'll reap a joy some time somewhere. 
 
 It is such seeds scattered by the wayside that often 
 spring up to bear fruit of happy memories in after days, 
 and often, too, bring returns of kind deeds. It is only 
 such things which one can really call one's own acquisi- 
 tions for wealth and property can be held only for a few 
 years at longest and then must be left behind. But one's 
 own character, developed by such training to deeds of 
 sympathy and human kindness to one's fellow toilers, 
 remains with its possessor even beyond the bounds of 
 this life. As expressed in a sentence from the conclusion 
 of a eulogy on Peter Cooper, "All you can hold in your 
 cold, dead hand is what you have given away." 
 
 The development of a disposition and character of 
 helpfulness is not a matter of accident. It requires a 
 fixed and steady purpose to see and seize opportunities. 
 
Like everything else worth accomplishing it demands 
 constant application. Samuel Smiles, in his great book 
 on ''Self Help," says: "Accident does very little toward 
 the production of any great result in life. Though some- 
 times what is called *a happy hit* may be made by a 
 bold venture, the common highway of steady industry 
 and application is the only safe road to travel." And 
 it is the only road that leads to the rounding out of a 
 beautiful character that shall be made a source of help- 
 fulness to those around. One must keep the eyes open 
 for the chances of the kindly deed, the encouraging word, 
 the appreciative look, which will bring an extra ray of 
 sunshine into the heart of the friend or the stranger, 
 and thus tend to make the world a little better for one's 
 having lived in it. 
 
Life's Loom 
 
 OUR life is made up of days and the deeds we put 
 into them. The days are the warp and the deeds 
 the woof of life. Another web has been woven 
 by the swiftly passing shuttles of time, and we look back 
 upon the completed year. In and out have the threads 
 of action been flying through the days, alternating be- 
 tween sunshine and shadow. Well for us if the Master 
 of all good workmen has been able to look with ap- 
 proval upon our endeavor. Not upon our achievement, 
 for the best endeavor all too often falls far short of 
 accomplishment. But the will to do and the effort to be 
 the best we can is what is regarded. 
 
 It may be that our own estimate of our actions is 
 far from correct. On the one hand, it may have been 
 too roseate and self-congratulatory. Or on the other, 
 possibly we have been unduly cast down and filled with 
 self-reproach. We may have "builded better than we 
 knew." The true state of our conduct is not always ap- 
 parent to our own eyes. 
 
 In a discourse quoted in the Sunshine Bulletin Rev. 
 Donald Sage Mackay, D. D., of New York, refers to the 
 familiar lines entitled "The English Tapestry Weavers," 
 written by an American after visiting their factories in 
 England. 
 
 In these works, as is known to those who have seen 
 or read about them, the pattern hangs overhead, above 
 the weaver, while he himself works always on the wrong 
 side of the web, never seeing the worked-out pattern un- 
 til the piece is finished. 
 
 Let us learn a New Year's lesson (no better lesson can be) 
 From the ways of the tapestry weavers on the other side of 
 the sea. 
 
 Above their head the pattern hangs, they study it with care, 
 And as to and fro the shuttle leaps, their eyes are fastened 
 there. 
 
 They tell this curious thing, besides, of the patient, plodding 
 
 weaver. 
 He works on the wrong side evermore, but works for the right 
 
 side ever. 
 
f 
 
 It is only when the weaving stops, and the web is loosed and 
 
 turned, 
 That he sees his real handiwork, and his marvelous skill is 
 
 learned. 
 
 The years of men are the looms of God, let down from the 
 
 place of the sun, 
 Where one and all are weaving till the mystic web is done. 
 
 Weaving blindly, but weaving surely, each for himself his fate, 
 We may not see how the right side looks; we can only weave 
 
 and wait. 
 But looking above for the pattern, no weaver hath need to fear; 
 Only let him look clear into heaven, the perfect pattern is 
 
 there. 
 
 If he keeps the face of the Savior forever and always in sight, 
 His toil shall be rich with blessing, and his weaving is sure 
 to be right. 
 
 And when his task is ended, and the web is turned and shown. 
 He shall hear the voice of the Master exclaiming to him, "Well 
 done." 
 
 Life, we are told, is sacred because it is the arena 
 rii which, character is developed. "We are placed here to 
 work out a personal character which shall endure the 
 shock of ages." Accepting this, we see our lives become 
 a part of a great plan, "the unfolding of a purpose whose 
 motive is love and whose thought is immortal." The 
 trials, the defeats, the disappointments, the temptations, 
 the sorrows, no less than the joys, the satisfactions, the 
 pleasures, the triumphs, have been merely the tools 
 placed in our hands "to chisel out the finer lines of a 
 deathless character." 
 
 The past may have contained many things that seemed 
 dark and mysterious to us, even after months, it may be, 
 have rolled by. Nevertheless, at the last, our life will 
 have amounted to something when out of every trial and 
 every sorrow we emerge with purer, stronger, truer char- 
 acters. Then we shall see, when the web is turned, that 
 every dark thread had its place in the infinite plan, and 
 the right side will be bright. May we ever work for that 
 side, watching the pattern and copying it as nearly as 
 may be. 
 
Happiness of Age 
 
 ONE of the best views of life, because at the same 
 time one of the sanest and most cheering, is that 
 which regards the future with the expectation of 
 ever-increasing happiness. It is commonly thought that 
 youth is the happiest time of life, because it is more 
 care-free than maturer years. But this does not stand 
 the test of scrutiny when we look at the facts of the 
 case from the point of view of the person who has en- 
 deavored to make the best use of life. 
 
 In fact, there are many reasons why age should be 
 happier than youth. If the question is asked, why this 
 is so, I cannot do better than quote just here the words 
 of some one, whose identity I do not know, but whose 
 answer to the question I read in a recent issue of a 
 religious journal of this State: 
 
 "Perhaps you will say that it is not. I well know that 
 it is customary to consider the irresponsible years of 
 childhood to be the sunniest part of life. But truly, 
 having passed the half-century limit, I would no sooner 
 go back to that charming period than would the college 
 senior like to be put back into the freshman class. Though 
 my childhood and youth were very happy ones, and often 
 it is pleasant to review my delightful past in memory, 
 still I think mature years are richer and fuller of peace 
 and pleasure in living than immature ones can possibly 
 be. For one thing we have learned how to live; have, 
 in a measure, disciplined ourselves to bear the disap- 
 pointments, bereavements, trials, which must come to all; 
 have learned that these things must needs be. We see 
 others worse off than ourselves, and feel obliged to stifle 
 our griefs from respect to their 'heavier woe.' We learn 
 to weigh circumstances and to know better what is good 
 for us, to live one day at a time; to know where our 
 place in the world is; what our work is; and that to do 
 our best right where we are is all that God requires of 
 
us. We can see how even our mistakes have done us 
 good. A thousand matters of interest claim our attention 
 which in youth possessed no attraction. Having seen 
 the growth of scores of babes, through childhood and 
 youth into manhood and womanhood, we gain a pro- 
 phetic insight which enhances the study- of human nature a 
 hundredfold. 
 
 "Then we know our time is growing short, and whose 
 home seemeth not dearer in the prospect of soon leaving 
 it even for a better?" 
 
 Such an attitude toward advancing age ought to make 
 the aging feel content and pleased with their condition, 
 and it ought to make those of us who are young look 
 without dread at the thought of growing old. The pos- 
 sibility of growing old beautifully and gracefully, the 
 example of those who have done so, perhaps in our own 
 homes, should stimulate us to live with regard to the 
 future, so that when the hair is whitening and the physical 
 powers are gradually lessening we may have the com- 
 panionship of pleasant memories, of days and years well 
 spent, of wisdom gained through experience not full of 
 bitterness, and of a consciousness of growth into a better 
 and deeper understanding of life and its various problems. 
 
 This view seems to be the most reasonable one. And 
 it certainly is full of comfort for the old, and of en- 
 couragement for the middle-aged and young. 
 
Growing Old Beautifully 
 
 You haven't changed a bit!" How often the words 
 are said by one friend to another. What is the 
 secret of it? One woman, to whom such a greet- 
 ing was given by one who had not seen her for years, 
 and who appeared to half wonder and half envy at 
 the perennial freshness of youth in her friend's coun- 
 tenance, saying she looked as young as ten years before, 
 replied, ''Young?" as if reflecting upon the word for the 
 first time, ''Bless you! I haven't had time to grow old; 
 I have been too busy even to think about it." There is 
 the recipe; abundance to do, to keep one profitably busy, 
 yet without worry. In the case of the woman mentioned 
 her heart and hands had been full; all the comfort and 
 brightness that came into the sick room of an invalid 
 was due to her; a sister's orphan children had been left 
 to her care, and with the task of managing her limited 
 income so as to provide for all, her ingenuity had been 
 taxed. Her heart had retained its warmth and interest 
 in life because of her having mothered the flock. Such 
 a life of busy helpfulness may add years, but they bring 
 few of the signs of age, so long as the burdens are cheer- 
 fully, uncomplainingly borne. Old age may be and ought 
 to be the happiest time of life; and if the happiest, why 
 should not the greeting "You look as young as you did 
 when I saw you last, ten years ago" be a frequent salu- 
 tation? 
 
 Another secret of growing old beautifully is to so live 
 as to keep health. Yes, it is possible in most cases, to 
 retain one's health and vigor. "How can we do that?" 
 do you ask. Let me quote a few directions from the 
 Journal and Messenger: 
 
 "Don't worry. Don't hurry. 'Too swift arrived as 
 tardy as too slow.' 'Simplify! simplify! simplify your 
 diet! Don't overeat. Don't starve.' %et your mod- 
 eration be known unto all men.' Court the fresh air day 
 
and night. 'Oh, if you knew what was in the air!' Sleep 
 and rest abundantly. Spend less nervous energy each 
 day than you make. Be cheerful. 'A light heart lives 
 long.' Think only healthful thoughts. 'As he thinketh 
 in his heart, so is he.' 'Seek peace, and pursue it.' 'Work 
 like a man, but don't be worked to death. Avoid passion 
 and excitement: a moment's anger may be fatal.' Asso- 
 ciate with healthy people: health is contagious as well as 
 disease. 'Don't carry the whole world on your shoulders, 
 far less the universe; trust the Eternal.' Never despair, 
 'Lost hope is a fatal disease.' 'If ye know these things, 
 happy are ye if ye do them.' " 
 
 These suggestions are surely within the compass of 
 every one to carrj^ out. It seems to me that little needs 
 to be added to these rules for daily simple living, to se- 
 cure physical vigor that will endure the long years 
 through. Do we not see examples of the very carrying 
 out of these principles of conduct. Have you ever no- 
 ticed a healthy, happy old man or woman who was not 
 placid, even-tempered, self-controlled and moderate in 
 habits and contented in disposition? A good example to 
 copy, surely. 
 
Usefulness Of The Old 
 
 NO AGE is without its temptations, which would 
 draw one off from making the most of one's op- 
 portunities. The youth is disposed to impulsive- 
 ness and rashness, and perhaps also sometimes (though 
 not so likely nowadays) to think that he cannot accom- 
 plish much, that the world's work is for older men. The 
 middle-aged is disposed to be engrossed so deeply in the 
 affairs of business that he forgets to cultivate the graces 
 of life. While the aged person is in danger of yielding 
 to one great temptation to think that his days of use- 
 fulness are past. 
 
 It is to the latter class that these lines are especially 
 addressed, though there may chance to be something in 
 them that may stimulate a thought in the minds of the 
 younger. 
 
 It is a great mistake for the old to feel that they 
 are in the way, and would be better out of the world. If 
 the Lord thought so doubtless he would find some way 
 to remove them when their usefulness had ceased. 
 
 What makes any one useful? Surely it is not strength 
 and vigor to labor. Else a baby would be a most useless 
 creature, but who will say it is? Does it not twine its 
 little individuality around the hearts of all in the family, 
 and by the cords of common love bind together the mem- 
 bers of the household, often causing the father to 
 ''straighten up," perhaps uniting the once estranged hus- 
 band and wife, and bringing brightness and peace into 
 a home cursed by strife and variance? 
 
 Usefulness is not dependent upon health. Else there 
 would be many an invalid who would be cumbering the 
 earth, but who now is blessing it by calm patience and 
 quiet ministrations to those around. The strong and well 
 could not have access to the heart perhaps as surely as 
 those who are in some sense dependent on account of 
 less abundant vigor. 
 
In these days when so much is said, and well said, 
 of the value of the young men and the young women 
 to society, it is well to recognize the value of the old 
 men and women in steadying society, in giv'ng op- 
 portunity to younger persons to cultivate the graces of 
 respect, gentleness and consideration, and in affording 
 the rich results of the accumulated wisdom of experience. 
 Then, too, the aged themselves have a right to feel 
 that they are in that period of life when its richest fruit 
 may be plucked by them. The autumnal days of harvest 
 afford opportunity for gathering the mature thoughts 
 and safest judgments as to the characters and actions of 
 people, the wisest deductions from experience as to the 
 really great things of life, the things most worth while 
 and most deserving of attention and effort. And the aged 
 can give the benefit of these experiences and thoughts 
 to those who are less advanced in years, less matured in 
 judgment. This affords delight to the giver and wise 
 counsel to the recipient. 
 
 No, the old are not in the way on account of their 
 age; many a so-called middle-aged man and woman, even 
 here and there a young one, too, is more in the way, 
 more of a "fossil," than the average old person. Let 
 not the old think they are useless, or the young make 
 them feel so. "All are needed by each one." 
 
A Good Rule 
 
 THERE is so much in almost anyone's experience 
 that is pleasant and ought to make one happy that 
 it would seem very hard to find oneself in any posi- 
 tion where the bright spots do not far outnumber the dark 
 ones. In other words, "there is nothing so bad that it 
 might not be worse, '^ and in every situation there is more 
 to be thankful for than to grieve over, if we only look 
 in the right direction and see what benefits encompass 
 our pathway. The following lines by D. L. Johnson, 
 handed to me the other day, put this thought into suitable 
 form, so I gladly quote them: 
 
 You live and have your daily bread. 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 Great blessings fall upon your head. 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 God smiles upon you day by day, 
 He guards you whereso'er you stray, 
 He loves to listen when you pray. 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 
 If things ain't cooked the way you wish. 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 Don't growl and say you'll break the dish. 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 This life, you know, is more than meat; 
 Be glad for what you have to eat. 
 Don't scold, but keep your temper sweet. 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 
 When business gets a little slack, 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 When things seem running off the track, 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 It won't help things to mope and cry; 
 No strength's extracted from a sigh, 
 Keep your eye clear, your courage high. 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 
 When sorrow breaks your peace of mind, 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 Remember God is good and kind. 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 He'll fill your mind with sweetest peace; 
 Your happiness He will increase. 
 His love for you shall never cease. 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 
God still holds all things in His hands. 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 His word as firm, as ever staunch. 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 He watches o'er His people still. 
 Their mouths with good things He doth fill. 
 Forsake His own He never will. 
 
 Just be thankful. 
 
 There is good philosophy here, and if we can adopt 
 it as our rule of conduct we shall find life's wheels run 
 more smoothly by far than if we go about fretting and 
 fuming over everything that goes wrong. Life is too 
 short to waste it thus, and as the saying goes, "It will 
 be all the same a hundred years hence," yes, one year 
 hence (or one day hence, as I read a few days ago), most 
 of the things that trouble us will be "all the same" as 
 if they had been just to our liking. So why not just 
 cast care and worry to the winds and face the happenings 
 of every day with an unruffled brow, looking rather at 
 the comforts we enjoy and the good things that fill our 
 days than at the rough stones and the sharp thorns that 
 occasionally thrust themselves before us in our pathway, 
 and "just be thankful." 
 
Power of Song 
 
 THE cheerful spirit will cause its owner to do things 
 that will and must brighten the day for others 
 whom he is unaware of helping. The Youth's 
 Companion tells of a striking instance of this that hap- 
 pened in San Francisco. 
 
 Thirty men, red-eyed and disheveled, were standing 
 in line before the Judge in the Police Court the regular 
 morning squad of drunks and disorderlies up for sen- 
 tence. Some of the men were old in years and in crime, 
 others hung their heads in shame because it was their 
 first appearance there. As the prisoners were about to 
 be dealt with one by one by the Judge a strange thing 
 
 happened. There came up from below the strains of a 
 song, sung by a strong, clear voice: 
 
 Last night I lay a-sleeping, 
 There came a dream so fair. 
 
 Last night! What a shock! It had been for most 
 of them a time of carousal, a drunken stupor or a night- 
 mare. But they heard the song go on: 
 
 1 stood in Old Jerusalem, 
 Beside the temple there. 
 
 The Judge had delayed to open the court. He made 
 inquiry, and found that a former member of a famous 
 opera company, who was known all over the country, 
 was in the jail below, awaiting trial for forgery. 
 
 The song went on. Every man in the line manifested 
 emotion. One or two dropped on their knees. A boy 
 at the end leaned his head against the wall, and after 
 trying vainly to keep control of himself burst into sobs 
 and tears, crying out "Oh, mother, mother!" 
 
 His sobs went to the heart even of the hardest of the 
 men. But one began to protest: "Judge," said he, "how 
 long have we got to stand this? We're up here for sen- 
 tence, but this " He, too, broke down. 
 
 The Judge could not proceed with the business of 
 
the court, yet he gave no order to stop the singing of 
 the beautiful song. It went on to its grand climax: 
 
 Jerusalem, Jerusalem! Sing for the night is o'er; 
 
 Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna for evermore! 
 
 In the silence that succeeded the ecstasy of melody 
 ihe Judge looked into the faces of the men before him. 
 Not one but showed that he was deeply touched, that hi^ 
 better impulses had been stirred. There was no indi- 
 vidual calling of cases that morning. Instead, the Judge 
 gave the men all together a kindly word of advice, and 
 dismissed them. The song had accomplished more than 
 punishment would have done. 
 
 That forger probably had little thought that anyone 
 would notice his singing, perhaps he cared still less. He 
 sang no doubt to cheer his own loneliness, perhaps to 
 take his thought off the trouble into which he had brought 
 himself by his crime. But what a power song possesses, 
 when even in such circumstances it could have such a 
 subduing and melting effect. 
 
 How much easier it is to work briskly when whistling 
 a merry tune. How our steps and our every movement 
 will keep pace to an inspiring song. But deeper than 
 this lies the emotional, if one might so call it the spiritual 
 effect the toning of one's spirits, the raising of the droop- 
 ing head, the invigorating of the flagging activity, when 
 a noble song bursts upon the ear, or when a gentle, sooth- 
 ing refrain steals into the consciousness. Religion has 
 stirred all the best that is within human nature by song. 
 Well is music called the "divine art," since it appeals to 
 that which is divine in us. All the noblest and most 
 hopeful and most practically helpful of the various creeds 
 to which man subscribes, have their hymns. From the 
 earliest ages it has been this. Helpfulness to self and to 
 others then endorses the exhortation, "Sing on." 
 
Filling One's Niche 
 
 THERE is a poem written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, 
 entitled "Why and Wherefore/' which sets forth 
 a wise plan of action, whether we feel that we 
 know much of our origin and destiny or not. Apart from 
 such subjects as perplex and confuse, there are plenty of 
 things to engage our attention profitably, and on these 
 it will pay us to ponder. The gifted authoress thus 
 
 writes: 
 
 I know not whence I came, 
 
 I know not whither I go, 
 But the fact stands clear 
 That I am here 
 
 In this world of pleasure and woe, 
 And out of the mist and murk 
 
 Another truth shines plain 
 It is in my power 
 Each day and hour 
 
 To add to its joy or its pain. 
 
 I know that the earth exists, 
 
 It is none of my business why, 
 I cannot find out 
 What it's all about 
 
 I would but waste time to ti-y- 
 My life is a brief, brief thing, 
 
 I am here for a little space. 
 And while I stay 
 I would like, if I may, 
 
 To brighten and better the place. 
 
 The trouble, I think, with us all 
 
 Is the lack of a high conceit; 
 If each man thought 
 He was sent to the spot 
 
 To make it a bit more sweet. 
 How soon we could gladden the world, 
 
 How easily right all wrong, 
 If nobody shirked 
 And each one worked 
 
 To help his fellows along. 
 
 Cease wondering why you came. 
 
 Stop looking for faults and flaws; 
 Rise up to-day 
 In your pride and say: 
 
 "I am part of the first great cause. 
 However full the world, 
 
 There is room for an earnest man; 
 It had need of me 
 Or I would not be 
 
 I am here to strengthen the plan.'* 
 
f 
 
 If we realize that we should not be in this world 
 unless there were room and a function for each one of us 
 we must recognize that it is our duty as it is also our high 
 privilege "to strengthen the plan." 
 
 How can we puny creatures of a day strengthen the 
 plan that concerns the world of ages? Well, "if nobody 
 shirked and each one worked" in his own little corner, 
 don't you suppose there would be a great difference in the 
 world? And if so, then to the proportionate degree will 
 the world be helped and brightened if you as an individual 
 do what you can, and if I do what I can that will be a 
 little more, and so on. You are not responsible for doing 
 my share as well as your own, nor am I to be held ac- 
 countable for what you could do, besides what I can, but 
 each of us must answer for what we as individuals can 
 and may do. 
 
 There is danger of our having too high a conceit, to 
 be sure, of ourselves and our achievements; but there 
 is also danger, as Mrs. Wilcox says, of "the lack of a high 
 conceit." There is danger lest we forget our power as 
 individuals, and therefore our responsibility and duty. 
 
 Our sphere is wherever we happen to be for the time 
 being. Our mission is to make that spot "a bit more 
 sweet," and this perhaps ought to be our chief worldly 
 duty and concern. If along with the daily discharge of 
 this duty and privilege we may speculate upon our origin, 
 our destiny and our essential nature, so much the better; 
 it will help us to high aims if we raise our eyes to high 
 destiny, and realize the essence of divine grandeur that 
 lies in human life and character. But it is well if we 
 remember the possibilities and opportunities of helpful- 
 ness and cheer that lie about our feet if we "do the next 
 thing." 
 
Don't See The Blots 
 
 A PRETTY and pathetic story is told, with suitable 
 application, by a Nashville paper, to the following 
 effect: A father, on coming home one evening 
 tired and somewhat dispirited, was approached by his 
 little daughter with her copy book, which she had just 
 finished writing. It being her first, her young face was 
 reddened with a beautiful and honest flush, as she was 
 sure of receiving some word of praise and cheer for her 
 hard attempt. The pages were indeed neatly written, 
 and her father told her how well pleased he was to see 
 how careful she had been. Presently coming to one page 
 which had two small blots, the little girl laid her little 
 hand upon them, and artlessly looking up into her father's 
 face said: "Papa, don't see the blots!" Of course he did 
 not, but bent down and planted a kiss on the little fore- 
 head, and felt thankful for the lesson he had learned. 
 He thus expressed his reflections: 
 
 ''How precious it would be if, amid all the nameless 
 strifes and discords which so fret and chafe us, we would 
 just lay the finger on the sullied page of human lives and 
 not 'see the blots.' When littlenesses and meanesses and 
 .petty oppositions annoy and vex us, if we could only 
 look away from these to some brighter pages!'* 
 
 In our own case we are thankful and relieved when 
 some one whose right it is to inspect our work kindly 
 overlooks the blots. So in our dealings with others we 
 should remember what has caused us to be glad, and 
 turn away our eyes from those little imperfections that 
 have come into the best-intentioned work. How much 
 happier the day is when that is the guiding and govern- 
 ing principle in our relations with our fellow men. So 
 our aim to give and get happiness may be the nearer 
 attained by the judicious looking away from the blots. 
 
 In fact, the disposition to look at the blots is one 
 which is sure to spoil life for ourselves and for others. 
 
Paying much attention to what is defective one comes 
 to see little else, as it is said of those men whose bus- 
 iness it is to examine the coins as they are struck off 
 in the mint to detect flaws they come to be able to see 
 imperfections where no one else could perceive them. 
 So the fault-finder fails to get pleasure from anything 
 because he sees the blots. 
 
 But human nature is bound to be faulty and imperfect. 
 The motive may be the purest, the intention all right and 
 good, but the act nevertheless may have some aspect that 
 another person looking on may find fault with and con- 
 demn. A charitableness in judgment is always wise; it 
 is well to steady oneself before pronouncing adversely 
 on any fellow being, for fear that the surface appearance 
 may not truly express the real significance of the action. 
 There will be some blots here and there on the other- 
 wise fair copy book of life. It is the part of a kind 
 and wise spirit to pass the hand over the blots and see 
 rather what is worthy of commendation. 
 
Folly of Fretting 
 
 AN Eastern exchange tells a story of how a house- 
 keeper had been able to overcome the habit of 
 fretting over little accidents and worries. Per- 
 haps more real evil comes from worrying over small 
 troubles than befalls one in the way of great disasters. 
 It is helpful, therefore, to strive to impress upon our- 
 selves the folly and wrong of fret by recalling the ex- 
 ample of those who have actually conquered it. 
 
 While the woman in question was talking with a vis- 
 itor, the young servant appeared with a broken dish and 
 a tearful explanation that it "slipped right out of her 
 hands.'* The lady had heard the crash, but had sat un- 
 moved, and continued conversing quietly with her friend, 
 much to the amazement of the latter, who expected to 
 see her run out to the kitchen to find out what was the 
 matter. Nor did she chide the girl, but rather sought 
 to comfort her. To the friend's wondering questions, 
 she explained the course of training by which she had 
 learned not to worry over things she couldn't help. The 
 piece was the largest of a fine dinner set given her by 
 her dear old Aunt Rachael, and she did not expect to 
 match it, nor could she afford to buy a new set of dishes 
 every day, and it was that same aunt who had when she 
 was much younger and was very much given to fretting 
 over small annoyances cured her by a vigorous admin- 
 istration of the good old advice that we may all hear or 
 read any day of our life. 
 
 "Don't fret; it is thankless, rebellious, and utterly 
 useless, never does a bit of good, and always does harm." 
 She had heard this counsel but had not acted on it. 
 Shortly after marriage, having got past the time when 
 almost all young people are usually happy and pleased 
 over everything, her habit of worrying over trifles began 
 to blot here and there the home life, and any petty mis- 
 hap caused her deep trouble. But when real trouble at 
 
last came, in the serious sickness of their baby, followed 
 as soon as the little one recovered by a long illness of her 
 own, she began to put into practice the good resolution 
 formed when in the deep valley of trouble, that she 
 would not again allow herself to be moved by small 
 troubles. The sight of the parlor carpet moth-eaten at 
 the edges, as it had become during her illness, broke 
 down her resolution, but in the midst of it came her old 
 aunt. With her quiet, peaceful words she brought back 
 the younger woman to a state of calm, and to the re- 
 marks that the knowledge that those bad places were 
 there, even if they did not show much, would take away 
 her peace of mind, the old lady replied: "Thy peace of 
 mind is worth little to thee or to any one else if it can 
 be so easily broken. Ruth Morrison, thee is starting 
 out in life; beware that thy disposition to fret about 
 small things does not prove a curse. Every thought of 
 discontent about matters beyond thy control is not only 
 a sin against God, but a sin against thy own soul." And 
 reminded her that every fretful thought wasted on small 
 accidents is only so much added to their burden. It only 
 made the matter worse to vex her soul over a mishap. 
 
 Life's burdens are surely heavy enough without any 
 addition of worry. If we persistently refrain from fret- 
 ting over small things, we have all the more strength 
 of patience and fortitude to bear the really great troubles. 
 If we do not let little things disturb our equanimity, we 
 shall be the less moved by the real misfortunes. 
 
True Politeness 
 
 THERE is little that is more effective in brightening 
 the world of humanity than politeness in social 
 intercourse. Lord Chesterfield, who is commonly 
 considered as having been one of the most polished of 
 men, defined true politeness as perfect ease and freedom, 
 and as simply consisting in treating others just as you 
 love to be treated yourself. It is in other words the appli- 
 cation in daily life of that rule of conduct which is truly 
 called golden. Someone has compared it to an air cushion: 
 "There may be nothing in it, but it eases our jolts wonder- 
 fully." And yet there is no real antagonism between po- 
 liteness and sincerity, for in its proper understanding 
 politeness is "the graceful expression of respect, kind feel- 
 ing and good will." J. T. Fields says of it: 
 
 How sweet and gracious, even in common speech, 
 Is that fine sense which men call courtesy! 
 Wliolesome as air and genial as the light, 
 Welcome in every clime as breath of flowers 
 It transmutes aliens into trusting friends. 
 And gives its owner passport round the globe. 
 
 There is a great deal in the way a thing is done. There 
 
 is mention made somewhere of one who 
 
 Kicked them down stairs with such very fine grace, 
 They thought he was handing them up. 
 
 A kindly answer, even though it be a denial, is often 
 more agreeable than a rude acquiescence, or a careless 
 granting of a request. Lord Chesterfield told his son, "It 
 is better to return a dropped fan genteelly than to give 
 a thousand pounds awkwardly; you had better refuse a 
 favor gracefully than grant it clumsily. All your Greek 
 can never advance you from secretary to envoy, or from 
 envoy to ambassador, but your address, your air, your 
 manner, if good, may." 
 
 Seeing, then, that this quality has been so highly 
 esteemed by many of those most competent to judge of 
 the necessary qualities of social ease and good breeding, 
 it becomes of great importance that we cultivate it, to 
 
the end that we may make those about us feel at ease, and 
 may move in an atmosphere of kindliness, gentleness and 
 happiness. 
 
 "But," says some one, ''it is surely not necessary to be 
 on one's best behavior at all times, one does not need 
 to wear company manners at home or in the office, the 
 factory, the store, with those with whom one is in constant 
 association; is that not in danger of becoming affectation?" 
 Listen to what the Autocrat of the Breakfast Table has to 
 sav on this point: 
 
 "Don't flatter yourself that friendship authorizes you 
 to say disagreeable things to your intimates. On the con- 
 trary, the nearer you come into relation with a person 
 the more necessary do tact and courtesy become. Except 
 in cases of necessity, which are rare, leave your friend 
 to learn unpleasant truths from his enemies; they are 
 ready enough to tell him. Good breeding never forgets 
 that amour-propre is universal." 
 
The Golden Age 
 
 />^^vUR golden age lies before us, and not behind." 
 f I This was the cheerful motto of one who early 
 ^^^^ began the practice of that bright philosophy of 
 life, and through long years pursued his course evenly and 
 with marked distinction to a position high in the esteem 
 of his fellow men, and eminent in the educational world. 
 I refer to the late Sir Daniel Wilson, whose researches in 
 history and in the study of prehistoric man, and almost 
 equally his devotion to art, especially architecture, have 
 made his name justly celebrated not only in his native 
 Scotland, but also on this side of the Atlantic. 
 
 This old man, with a lifetime of achievement behind 
 him, and in full appreciation of the value of those histories 
 of the ''brave days of old," into which he loved so well to 
 delve, yet gave me once as the best thought he could instil 
 into a young man's mind, the little gem quoted at the be- 
 ginning of this article, "Our golden age lies before us, and 
 not behind." If that be true and who can successfully 
 dispute it? why should our faces not be bright as the 
 morning, since we face a more glorious dawn than any 
 we have yet seen? Why should we lament the decadence 
 of manners and men, the decline of society from the 
 standards of the past? Is not the world progressing? 
 When the tide is coming in, we look upon a wave as 
 it rolls toward the shore; we watch it swell steadily, curl, 
 break, splash upon the beach, and then it falls suddenly 
 down and back! Is the sea receding? The next wave 
 breaks a little farther up. Possibly the third is one of 
 those larger swells that every few minutes come rolling 
 in; it dashes far up against the rocks; so that the next 
 does not come quite so far. But is the tide yet turning 
 back? No, we know that it is certainly rising. So with 
 human affairs. In small intervals there may seem to be 
 little progress, there may even be observable some slight 
 retrograde movement, but in the great periods of time 
 
humanity's tide of morality and of happiness has been ever 
 advancing. And there will be no ebb. 
 
 ''What," says one, '*do you mean to declare that all 
 the cruel v^^ars and oppressions that are going on in the 
 world today mark an improvement over the days of the 
 past?" Perhaps not in individual cases and in small peri- 
 ods. But the best answer I can give to this query is in 
 the words of a stanza by Rev. Leighton Williams in Chris- 
 tian Work, which I read reprinted in the Boston Budget 
 a short while ago: 
 
 Slowly the thought of kindness grows 
 
 In this old world of ours; 
 Slowly the daylight grows 
 
 Out of the dark hours. 
 Yet surely the gentle light 
 Shall conquer the realm of night; 
 As surely the reign of love shall sweep 
 Over the turmoil of hatred and might. 
 
 If we believe this and why should we not? it ought 
 
 to make our outlook on life more hopeful. It should 
 
 enable us to look forward with greater confidence to a 
 
 golden age that lies ahead, to the conquest of darkness 
 
 and its powers by the gentle light of love, whose reign 
 
 shall terminate the turmoil of hate and of might, ushering 
 
 in that day foreseen by the late English laureate, "The 
 
 federation of the world," and by Scotland's bard, 
 
 "When man to man, the whole world o'er, 
 Shall brithers be, for a' that." 
 
 And this brighter prospect ahead for the great world 
 at large ought to help us each for himself or herself, to 
 expect and to hasten a better day in our own little world 
 within our own homes, and our own selves. 
 
Blessing of Toil 
 
 IN this world there is nothing of much worth that is not 
 the product of labor, of hard toil. The realization of 
 this truth ought to make us the more content with 
 our lot if it is a toilsome one, and the more free to admire 
 the toiler in whatever line of effort so long as his work 
 be honest and honorable. 
 
 The appreciation of the meaning of work is something 
 that aids greatly in the enjoyment of life. Look at the 
 picture George Eliot draws of Adam Bede, the strong, 
 hearty workman, whose toil was his delight. What a 
 happy man he was as he did his daily auty in his shop. 
 So may each one be who can stand "A Test" spoken of by 
 Frank Walcott Hutt iuca poem of that name, which reads 
 thus : 
 
 How much do you care, my earnest lad 
 
 How much do you really care 
 For the honored place that is worth the race, 
 
 As those that have won declare? 
 For the gold of life in the vales of strife. 
 
 For hills of the larger view, 
 Do you care enough that the smooth or rough 
 Hold ever their charms for you? 
 
 How much do you care, my boy enough 
 
 To master the little fears? 
 Do you dare cry halt to the heedless fault 
 
 That seeks to despoil the years? 
 Then you'll lay aside, with a soldier's pride. 
 
 The lure of the laggard's dream; 
 For, both East and West, it is toil that's best. 
 
 As hard as the way may seem. 
 
 It is true that the laggard's dream is a lure that would 
 draw ofi the attention of man from his warfare with the 
 faults that would seek to despoil the years. Would a 
 man gain the victory over the forces that would pull him 
 down and hinder him in his aspirations after great achieve- 
 ments he must never give heed to the seductive visions of 
 a life of "dolce far niente," for there all achievements 
 would cease; all aspirations die away. 
 
 Nor indeed would such a life of idleness be a pleasur- 
 able one. We all feel happier when we are active. Noth- 
 
ing is more irksome to the person of average, normal 
 constitution than the enforced inactivity occasioned, for 
 example, by illness. The one who is content with a lazy 
 life either has never developed to manly stature in charac- 
 ter or has deteriorated. 
 
 In certain senses, therefore, the advice contained in 
 the following lines, handed to me a couple of days ago 
 by a friend, to pass on to others in this way, is such as 
 appeals in its wisdom to every true man and woman: 
 
 Question not, but live and labor 
 
 Till your goal be won. 
 Helping every feeble neighbor, 
 
 Seeking help from none; 
 Life is mostly froth and bubble, 
 
 Two things stand like stone 
 Kindness in another's trouble, 
 
 Courage in your own. 
 
 In one sense it is nobler to be independent, "seeking 
 help from none," but in another it is certainly wise to seek 
 to gain by every acquaintance or chance meeting. As is 
 often remarked, we are always learning and "it is never 
 too old to learn"; we gain help from one another on every 
 hand each day if we are on the lookout for it, and it 
 would seem the part of wisdom to seek help in that way 
 from others. Yet the manly, womanly, self-reliance that 
 tries to do all that is possible independently of others is 
 bound to accomplish more than the puny, leaning depend- 
 ence that is afraid to stand alone for fear it may fall. 
 
Worth of The Commonplace 
 
 STRICKLAND W. GILULAN is a writer who has 
 produced not a few gems of the same dainty com- 
 pleteness as the one here quoted, which, though it 
 appeared in Success several months ago, is yet in my esti- 
 mation worth repeating not once but many times; and 
 others, judging from what I have read, have the same 
 appreciation of it. The title is "Sources," and it runs: 
 
 I passed a stagnant marsh that lay- 
 Beneath a reeking scum of green, 
 
 A loathsome puddle by the way; 
 No sorrier pool was ever seen. 
 
 I thought: "How lost to all things pure 
 And clean and white those foul depths be." 
 
 Next day from out that pond obscure 
 Two queenly lilies laughed at me. 
 
 I passed a hovel 'round whose door 
 
 The signs of penury were strewn; 
 I saw the grimed and littered floor. 
 
 The walls of logs from tree-trunks hewn. 
 I said: "The gates of life are shut 
 
 To those within that wretched pen"; 
 But lo! from out that lowly hut 
 
 Came one to rule the world of men. 
 
 So when we are prone to think with the author of these 
 lines, like the surprised Nathaniel, that no good or beauti- 
 ful thing can come out of the humble and obscure places, 
 we have sometimes to ''come and see" that out of such 
 unpromising sources arise blooms of beauty and streams 
 of power that spread their influence over a world. 
 
 There is danger, too, lest we overlook the fact that the 
 great majority of people, as of natural objects, have no 
 particular distinction, but are just common, everyday 
 specimens. It is the ordinary kind of apples that satisfies 
 the world's demand for apples, and it is the ordinary kind 
 of man that does the world's work though it is granted 
 that the extraordinary man is the leader in thought and 
 action, yet he cannot do much without his undistinguished 
 brother. 
 
 It thus becomes apparent that "the common herd" not 
 
only may be the "source" of "one to rule the world of 
 men," but also is the element of essential value for the 
 completion of any work of men. The same author from 
 whom the above lines were quoted has written a very 
 appreciative poem on this very subject, which is here re- 
 produced from the Baltimore American: 
 
 "The common herd" God bless us, every one! 
 We common folk who toll from sun to sun; 
 We who our brother's hardships understand, 
 Nor strive to hide the callous on each hand; 
 We who in countless thousands throng the street. 
 Oft silent though in sympathy we greet; 
 Without our help what great thing has been done? 
 "The common herd," God bless us, every one! 
 
 "The common herd," that flinches not from toil 
 Through freezing winters when the summers broil; 
 That bravely treads its round from day to day, 
 And clothes and feeds itself on meager pay; 
 That comes more near content than they who boast 
 A daily income that would feed a host; 
 That sweetly sleeps when each day's toil is done 
 "The common herd," God bless us, every one! 
 
Unselfish Kindness 
 
 A FRIEND who has seen many a day of brightness, 
 and also without doubt some days of shadow 
 for who that passes very far along the way of life 
 does not find the mingling? but who throughout a length- 
 ened life has preserved the happy spirit that looks ever for 
 the silver lining of the cloud and makes others cheerful by 
 the m'ere aspect of his countenance, gave me the following 
 lines a few days ago, as his own sentiments, and a suitable 
 motto for this department: 
 
 "If I can let into some soul a little light, 
 If I some pathway dark and drear can render bright. 
 If I to one in gloom can show the sunny side, 
 Though no reward I win, I shall be satisfied." 
 
 It is this thought of helpfulness without regard to any 
 prospect of reward or the lack of it that alone makes the 
 effort worth making, either for the one who makes it, or 
 for the one in whose behalf it may be made. Otherwise 
 it becomes perfunctory and ineffective. 
 
 The motto of work for work's sake is a good one to 
 
 help make one cheerful. The Roycrofters enjoy their 
 
 work and live happy lives by reason of their following out 
 
 that idea. Just in the same way we might take it as a 
 
 good working rule to be cheerful for cheerfulness' sake. 
 
 That is the surest way to really enjoy life oneself, and 
 
 also the best way to exert a helpful, cheering influence 
 
 upon one's neighbors. 
 
 "Laugh, and the world laughs with you. 
 Weep, and you weep alone; 
 
 For this sad old earth has to borrow its mirth 
 It has sorrow enough of its own." 
 
 Or, as a hymn puts it, "Go, bury thy sorrow, the world 
 hath its share go, give them the sunshine." It is useless 
 to depend upon the w^orld for sympathy in trouble though 
 it would be no doubt unjust to charge the world with 
 being utterly heartless: yet it remains true that others 
 are more susceptible to our joyous moods than to our 
 sad ones. 
 
And one is likely to get paid back in one's own coin, 
 too. Whining and complaining over one's misfortunes will 
 bring only misery and complaining in response to any 
 future appeal for sympathy. A cheery word to a down- 
 cast brother will be returned with interest some day when 
 one's own spirits are drooping, and the seed sown, the 
 l)read cast on the waters, is found after many days. 
 
 "Be kind, is the way to get kindness 
 
 If not, what's the use of regret? 
 Rail not at this world for its blindness, 
 
 But pity, forgive, and forget." 
 
 There's the key to a philosophy that has been tried and 
 not found wanting, but which has enabled many an old 
 pilgrim on life's highway to travel along with firm, buoy- 
 ant step, till the foot of the hill is reached, and in the 
 evening he lies down to pleasant sleep. 
 
Sociability An Instinct 
 
 ^^'W'T is not good that the man should be alone/' Such 
 I were the words of the Creator at the beginning. 
 
 -^ And how their truth is every day shown forth. Man 
 left to himself becomes morose and savage, declines to 
 the level of the brute. Man is a social animal. Even 
 misery likes company. And how true it is that we halve 
 sorrows by sharing them, and by the same means double 
 our joys. 
 
 The sociable instinct in man is God-given, and, there- 
 fore, is to be cultivated. Let us cultivate sociability by 
 speaking the kindly word of sym^pathy, offering delicately 
 our help to our neighbor in need, giving the hand of fellow- 
 ship to our brother man, our sister woman, and thus carry 
 out the Golden Rule. 
 
 The daily walk of life is brightened by the word, the 
 hand-grasp, the smile of another soul. The joys we feel 
 are enhanced by our friend's entering heartily into our 
 joy. And it is our duty to ofifer our sincere tribute of 
 friendship's congratulation to our friends. We need not 
 expect to find others cheering us with bright w^ords of 
 sympathetic joy unless we, too, show the same feeling. 
 
 Any woes, too, that oppress us how they are light- 
 ened by a kindly glance and a word of compassion, of com- 
 miseration, of genuine sympathy. Here, too, such actions 
 are but the due of humanity; due from others to us, and 
 equally due to others from us. We must not be selfish if 
 we would enjoy life. 
 
 The story is told of a man, staying over night at an 
 inn, being asked by the landlord where he came from, and 
 what kind of neighbors he had. To the latter question he 
 replied: "Oh, I had very disagreeable neighbors. I could 
 not get along well with them at all." "You will find just 
 the samie sort of neighbors where you are going," 
 answered the innkeeper. Another man from the same 
 town, and bound for the same place as the other, was 
 
asked the same question. He said: "I had very good 
 neighbors; they were kind and agreeable/' "You will find 
 your new neighbors just the same," said the landlord. 
 Being asked by the first man how that could be, he replied 
 that the secret of good or bad neighbors lay in the man 
 himself more than in his neighbors. 
 
 So, a man who would have friends must show himself 
 friendly. Friendship, as Coleridge called it, is a shel- 
 tering tree. And the charm of friendship lies in its 
 sympathy, in its sharing the mlerriment and the weari- 
 ness of life's daily paths. The retiring Moderator of the 
 Presbyterian General Assembly of the United States, Dr. 
 Henry Van Dyke, has given a beautiful expression to 
 this thought in the following lines: 
 
 Oh, who will walk a mile with me 
 
 Along life's merry way? 
 A comrade blithe and full of glee, 
 Who dares to laugh out loud and free, 
 
 And let his frolic fancy play. 
 
 Like a happy child, through the flowers gay 
 
 That fill the field and fringe the way, 
 Where he walks a m^ile with me. 
 
 And who will walk a mile with me 
 Along life's weary way? 
 
 A friend whose heart has eyes to see 
 
 The stars shine out o'er the darkening lea, 
 And the quiet rest at the end of the day 
 A friend who knows, and dares to say, 
 The brave, sweet words that cheer the way 
 
 Where he walks a mile with me. 
 
 With such a comrade, such a friend, 
 I fain would walk till journeys end. 
 Through summer sunshine, winter rain, 
 And then? Farewell, we shall meet again! 
 
Catch The Upper Currents 
 
 WHAT better expression of true wealth can be 
 found than these lines by I know not whom, 
 but echoing the sentiments of some of Shake- 
 speare's sonnets: 
 
 The heart it hath its own estate, 
 The mind it hath its wealth untold; 
 
 It needs not fortune to be great, 
 While there's a coin surpassing gold. 
 
 No matter which way fortune leans, 
 Wealth makes not happiness secure; 
 
 A little mind hath little means, 
 A narrow heart is always poor. 
 
 'Tis not the house that honor makes, 
 
 True honor is a thing divine; 
 It is the mind precedence takes. 
 
 It is the spirit makes the shrine. 
 
 It is the attitude of mind, therefore, that determines 
 the true wealth of the possessor. And it is the mental 
 temper and disposition that must be cultivated to 
 enable the person to realize his wealth. In one of his 
 inspiring talks to the Harvard students. Dr. Peabody 
 pictured a vessel lying becalmed on a glassy sea. Not 
 a breath of air stirs a sail. But presently the patiently 
 watching sailors notice that the little pennant far up on 
 the masthead begins to stir and lift. There is not a 
 ripple on the water, nor the slightest movement of the 
 air on the deck; but the men know that there is a cur- 
 rent stirring in the upper air, and at once they spread 
 their upper sails to catch it. The vessel instantly begins 
 to move under the impulse of the higher currents, while 
 at the surface of the water there is still a dead calm. 
 
 So in life, says J. R. Miller, who uses the anecdote, 
 there are higher and lower currents. Too many of us 
 use only the lower sails, and catch only the winds blow- 
 ing along earthly levels. But there are also winds which 
 blow down from the mountains of God, and it would be 
 an unspeakable gain to us all were we to let our life 
 fall under the influence of these upper currents. We 
 
 0: 
 
should be wise to so adjust our relations with others 
 that we should all our days be under the influence of 
 the good, the worthy, the pure-hearted, the heavenly. 
 
 Our lives in their general trend and color are largely 
 under our own control. We can determine the influences 
 under which they shall be moved and moulded. We can, 
 for example, cultivate the habit of calmness and avoid 
 harmful indulgence, evil in its effects upon others and 
 upon ourselves, and as prejudicial to health of mind and 
 body as overeating, or violence of temper, or scandal- 
 mongering. We belittle life, when w^e magnify little 
 evils and troubles, giving them a distorted importance, 
 out of all proportion to the actual things of value in 
 life. To those involved in such tempests in teapots the 
 effect is one of misery, while to the outside observers 
 it is Judicrous. 
 
 The Woman's Home Companion, speaking of this 
 matter, suggests that to be happy one should look at 
 the troubles of life as through the large end of an opera 
 glass, thus diminishing them and making them appear 
 far away; while the pleasant things we should look at 
 through the small end, magnifying them and bringing them 
 nearer to us. 
 
 "We are so impatient of discomfort of any sort," 
 says Forward, "that we run here and there in search 
 of remiedies for troubles that would heal themselves 
 with a little wholesome letting alone. Half the worries 
 that spoil the day and make restless nights, half the 
 dangers that we foresee for ourselves or our loved ones, 
 half the changed demeanor in friends over which we 
 grieve, are imaginary, or but flitting clouds that will pass 
 with a little time. There is wondrous healing in rest 
 and patience, and a depth of meaning we have never yet 
 fathomed in the words of the prophet, In quietness and 
 confidence shall be your strength.' " 
 
 Oh, for more recognition of the value of calmness 
 and deliberation, of "quietness and confidence" in these 
 days of hurry and worry! 
 
Meditation 
 
 IT is said that bees can work best in darkness, but 
 whether or not this be true it is unquestionably the 
 case that men and women can extract the honey from 
 the flowers of life and build it into the food of their 
 inner lives best in the quietness of meditative moments, 
 and not in the hurly-burly of rushing everyday business. 
 
 In order to the development of character it is neces- 
 sary to employ one's leisure time to a greater or less 
 extent to the contemplation of one's own nature and dis- 
 position, to the purpose of life and to one's own attitude 
 towards that purpose. We need to ask ourselves the 
 question, What am I here for anyway? An honest facing 
 of that question for five minutes alone with one's own 
 thoughts will often turn the whole course of a man's or 
 woman's life, particularly a young person's, for it is then 
 that one realizes at once the seriousness of life and the 
 grandeur of its possibilities. 
 
 What connection has the seriousness of life with the 
 "Brighter Side," some one may ask. Well, it is the 
 people who have most thoroughly faced life's meaning 
 who see most clearly that the world is moving forward 
 to a better and happier day, and that life has more of 
 gladness in it that of sadness if we but take it aright. 
 
 But to realize this truth one must frequently come 
 close to nature and to one's own inner aims and pur- 
 poses. One must get away, if only for a few moments, 
 two or three times a day, from the worries and cares 
 of daily business, the pressure of daily work, the demands 
 of society, in whatever form presented, yes, even the 
 claims of friends and family, and commune with one's 
 own heart silently and alone. This is a source of re- 
 freshment of spirit, nerving the soul to the tasks ahead, 
 and more than compensating in vigor and energy for 
 the time snatched or "made" to accomplish the retreat 
 from more active employment of one's hour.=;. 
 
In this connection I would introduce a little poem 
 from the "Household," called 
 
 A Legend 
 
 There has come to my mind a legend, 
 
 A thing I had half forgot, 
 And whether I read it or dreamed it. 
 
 Ah, well, it matters not. 
 It is said that in heaven at twilight 
 
 A great bell softly swings, 
 And man may listen and hearken 
 
 To the wonderful music that rings. 
 If he puts from his heart's inner chamber 
 
 All the passion, pain and strife. 
 Heartaches and weary longings 
 
 That throb in the pulses of life; 
 If he thrusts from his soul all hatred. 
 
 All thoughts of wicked things, 
 He can hear in the holy twilight 
 
 How the bell of the angels rings. 
 And I think there is in this legend, 
 
 If we open our eyes to see. 
 Somewhat of an inner meaning, 
 
 My friend, to you and me; 
 Let us look in our hearts and question, 
 
 "Can pure thought enter in 
 To a soul if it be already 
 
 The dwelling of thoughts of sin?" 
 So, then, let us ponder a little. 
 
 Let us look in our hearts, and see 
 If the twilight bell of the angels 
 
 Could ring for you and me. 
 
 f 
 
 VM1VER8ITY 
 
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