GIFT OF Heart Messages Quaintly Penned Miniatures of Life CHARLOTTE M. EDDY Little Voyages of Life by CKarlotte M. PAUL ELDER & COMPANY SAN FRANCISCO I Q 2 2 '> ? * * * . * <* 4 ** * ' * Copyright December 1922 by Charlotte M. Eddy Press of James J. Gillick Berkele^, Calif. . C/a. . Table of Contents SALUTE AS WE PASS ALONG WHERE ARE You GOING THE WISE MARINER SUPER-SENSITIVENESS LET'S PRETEND INGRATITUDE SINCERITY HOME is THE SHELTERED PORT TACT AND HELPFUL PRAISE THE LOVE OF POWER THE SPIRIT OF WOMANHOOD CAUGHT IN AN OCEAN STORM WHILE MEN LAMENT DEAR LITTLE FLAPPER A LESSON FROM TERWILLIGINS CALLING A SPADE A SPADE CALM AFTER STORM SWEET SIXTEEN 518593 Salute As We Pass Along LITTLE V O Y A G 5 . Q F L I F E Salute as We Pass Along HIKE ships that pass in the night are my friendships. We hail as we pass along on life's little voyages; occasionally we meet in port and are on our way again. The tea had grown cold in the cups, twilight shadows were gathering, and we were loath to turn on the light. The fire on the hearthside crackled its warmth into our hearts. Tea was forgotten in silent reminiscences. My hostess, who had just expressed herself, was deep in meditation. But there are other voyagers through life who fail to hail the passing ship fail for fear. There are the rich and the successful, equally unhappy and alone in the world. They call it shrewdness. They just know that anyone who attempts to be friendly wants something from them. They want the friendship oh how their hearts yearn for it and life is lonely, and sometimes there is a repressed tear and choking which hurts the throat. But they are shrewd and will not be taken advantage of, and are always on the alert to find out just what folks are after when they are nice to them. Come, then, let's give a joyous salute as we pass along! Who knows the heart of his fellow traveler, or how he needs that sunny smile of encouragement to lighten his way. Better be fooled ten times, or even twenty times, if, out of all twenty we have found one friend. Better risk speaking to someone not quite our equal socially; not quite so successful; not quite so rich; since in so doing, we ourselves are enriched in spirit, and life's little voyages are made the sweeter. Yes, like ships that pass in the night are our friendships and a crowded port is my simple friend's hearthside. LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Where are You Going? XN WHICH direction are our eyes turned along this little voyage of life? Are they upon a roseate future with each day full of promise and our bridges burned behind us? Or are they looking backward with sight centered upon the past and our feet stumbling into the future? The ever-present now is all we can possibly attend to and the past is all done and settled and sealed. We cannot compensate for past errors by concentrating our thoughts upon them, but we can compensate for them by centering our thoughts on the future and making the best of every hour of every day which is given to us to labor in. And so it is along this little voyage that some prefer thinking of yesterday's failure and dwelling upon yesterday's lack, much as a ship is stuck upon the coral reefs and must wait for the turn of the tide to lift her off. With us humans it is not necessary to await the turning of the tides; they turn at our wish and in obedi- ence to our driving force. We could so easily be stranded upon the coral reefs of misfortune, fix our gaze upon the reefs, lament the past and allow the overflowing present to slip past us and the future to drift out of our vision. Let us remember the silver lining and forget the cloud; the rose and forget the thorn, hitch our wagon to a star and drive forward, not backward, through this little voyage of life. LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Wise Mariner eooD friends true friends, and, oh, so many of them that sometimes it seems as if all one has to do is to open his heart and let love enter! Life, like spring, with its voluptuous verdure and lovely flowers, is ever returning and beautiful. And in the multitudinous duties of just plain, everyday life, honor and sincerity of purpose abound until one wonders how any one ever manages to find the comparatively few wrecked voyagers. Yes, there are those few but, just like the mariners of the sea, do we not stop and lend a helping hand? A little wreckage here and there will not frighten us if we do not view it from the wrong end of the telescope, nor concentrate in fear and trembling upon the comparatively few unpleasant aspects, nor befog our vision with too much dwelling upon the blackness of things; but rather, through the clear vision gained by a healthy understanding of all this wondrous world, we, like the wise mariner who studies his charts well and knows the rocks and currents and coasts and guides his ship safely into port, on our little voyage must study our chart of life that we, too, may safely come to port. Then in our wisdom may we be able to lift a fellow voyager out of the darkness into the light off the rocks into the middle of the stream and out of the desert of loneliness and despair into green pastures of prosperity and love. \ Wm 1 ^ LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Super-Sensitiveness [UPER-SENSITIVENESS. What a world of heartache the very word recalls! What unhappy hours and unshed tears for the brave and what tragic hours and scalding tears for the timid! Do we, as we travel life's little voyage, ease the path of the super-sensitive traveler? Do the super-sensitive and the world is overflowing with them try and overcome their feelings for the sake of the strong? Strange as it may sound, the brave, the strong, the healthy, the upright are far more imposed upon than the weak. Others' sorrows are hung around their shoulders, others' wants supplied at their sacrifice, others' lives made easy by their weary hours of toil, and at the end of the journey, when the burden has become too great, they crumple and fall. The sphere of activity of the super-sensitive becomes more and more limited until, with a seemingly real excuse, he is relieved of all worry, all care; all anxiety and every unpleasantness of life. Let us give a lift to the brave along this little voyage of life. They need it and rest assured that under a firm exterior and a cheery smile lies many a tired, world-weary soul. Let's Pretend 'Swr.-fe- LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Let's Pretend HOM do we fool when we live in the land of "Let's Pretend?" Just ourselves and no other. The general impression is that only children live in this entrancing land of pretend. You know and I know many "grown-ups" who have dwelt in that land ever since they were just kiddies, and they have never lived in the world of reality long enough to be real people doing real things of the every-day life. Some dwell in the day of "When I had plenty, I used to do," and others in the day of "When I get rich," or "When I am a success." How really few dwell in the ever-present now meet the day's needs burn their bridges behind them and face the future with an unclouded vision. Regrets are like a heavy mental fog. They cloud the vision, produce sluggish thought action and failure, and disappointment follow in their wake. Every energy is needed to meet today's demands along this little journey of life. A clear vision, a heart free from malice or hatred, and a pure joy in work for work's sake. With these qualities as an asset no one can possibly fail, and the very atmosphere will vibrate health and happiness, and the whole world will be a success. So let us dwell in the ever-present now, along this little journey of life, bury the past and smile into the future. LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Ingratitude INGRATITUDE! How it gnaws the very heart out of the bene- factor! Sometimes the cause of ingratitude is selfishness. Sometimes it is indifference. But more often it is the ugly outer manifestation of an impenetrable egotism. Along this little voyage of life, how easy it is to say "I appreci- ate what you have done for me," and go on our way with the feel- ing of satisfaction which comes from knowing that we have let in just a ray of light and human love which will develop the desire on the part of another to continue his ministrations of brotherly love. Is there a day along this little voyage of life during which any one of us does not receive from another in some form or another? It may not always be money or even a gift. Sometimes an hour of precious time given by a busy person in conversation or advice or in just allowing an outpouring of another's woes, is a most precious gift. And for these precious hours are we always grateful? The material gifts of life are very beautiful to look upon and have about. But if they come with tender associations, then, no matter how insignificant in monetary value, they become priceless treasures. Appreciation expressed for these is gratitude for tender friendship. How much more priceless are the inspirational gifts along life's little journey. The word which gives courage to the faltering heart. The loyalty which has withstood the test of time and cir- cumstance. Would it not be good for our souls, to each night before closing our eyes in sleep, recount faithfully the deeds of kindness which have been our portion during the day and just allow a feeling of gratitude to flow to each donor from the depths of our hearts? Shall we let the current which carries our little bark along this little voyage of life gain its momentum from brotherly love, or shall we try to paddle up-stream, struggling against the inflow of human love, encased in a cloak of egotistic ambition, until, ex- hausted and wrecked, we are tossed upon the shores of desolation, crushed in spirit and soul? LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Sincerity HAT a crying need there is for sincerity along this little voyage of life. Just simple plain sincerity which, at bottom is sterling worth. The small man seems to long to be mistaken for someone just a little greater than himself and whose ideal is no doubt struggling to be mistaken for his superior, and so it runs all along the line, beginning with the lowliest and ending with kings and queens. Maybe after all we fool no one but ourselves and if we were worth so much and just said so, we would gain greater esteem in our community than if we were posers. The bold pretend to be timid and the timid pretend to be bold. The ignorant pretend intelligence and the intelligent admit their limitations. The clever pretend to be dull and lazy and the stupid exert themselves to be clever. The rich talk hard times and the poor put on a front and so it goes until one wonders if the world is not after all just filled with a lot of imaginative children. Why not, along this little voyage of life, just be ourselves, and when we do not love our fellow traveler and hope to do him an injury the first opportunity, at least let us be sincere and not smile sweetly and make pretty speeches when we meet. He knows what thoughts lurk beneath the smile better than we do and he is not believing not one word so what's the use? It is strange how many think they are deceiving the world and many a good life has been wrecked upon the rocks of deceit when sincerity would have been the harbor in the time of storm. LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Home is 4ie Skeltered Port ITH half a century of love, home, children and friends behind her, life's voyage seemed just begun. Any drawing room would have been graced by her presence: her gently laughing lips and blue, blue eyes; her delicate features crowned by a wealth of silvered hair, and those soft, white hands so small all were in such contrast to the ambitions in that sweet mother soul as she disclosed her plans for a business career, that one's heart fairly ached for her. Her's still the vision of the matinee idol worshipper and life's hard knocks what would they do to her? The thrill of the business world is far reaching. Like a well staged play it dazzles from afar. And, too, like a well staged play from behind the scenes with its grease paint, cheap jewelry, soiled, costumes, perspiring nerve-wrought performers, its romance dis- solves before the eye as a fog lifts to disclose a ragged village. The thrill remains for some of life's voyagers and since the war the most romantic of all is not thoughtless, laughing, free-hearted youth. No, not at all. It is romantic maturity. The fledgelings have flown the nest, and home, that sacred shrine in every life, is crushed beneath the dainty foot of romantic maturity as thought- lessly as the flowers in the fields. The business world is the open sea. Home is the sheltered port. Fifty years in port do not fit the ship to cross the bar and breast the storm, dear romantic maturity. Life's little voyage for you has been very smooth and you a charming voyager. Why not be wise and furl your sails gracefully? Tact ana Helpful Praise LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Tact and Helpful Praise HE world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings" echoes from our own Robert Louis Stevenson, and one wonders if possibly he had in mind, when he wrote those lines, the varied experiences of our everyday lives. The world is so full and so busy are those who remain out of the whirl sleeping through a golden opportunity to see and know and feel the fulness of life? And so it was in a hurried meeting with a friend who passes my way once in a long while, that she, in a burst of confidence, brought forth a slip of paper. In the busy rush of life she had found time to seek the better things and is living them hour by hour in her everyday life. Tact and Helpful Praise, she calls it and here are the thoughts which have come to the heart of a fellow voyager. "Have tact, discretion and forbearance. Form the habit of avoiding that which distresses others. Give praise which lightens the load and brightens the heart. Give honest, sensible praise and warm encouragement. Awaken new energy and hope. Dis- cover what is most needed and give it gladly. Cultivate the understanding heart. Have genuine interest and integrity of intention. Remember that what I am is what really matters. Be sincere, generous, courteous, considerate, gracious, really well- bred and genuinely refined. Show my interest and pure pleasure in another's gain and pleasure. Be thoughtfully kind. Have wholehearted delight in the happiness of others." It will not require a prophetess to tell what her little voyage of life will bring forth, will it? LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Love of Poxver COWER, that glistening bubble which fascinates older minds as completely as the soap bubble does the child mind, and is just as easily pricked, is the root of the sensitiveness in human nature. What is this magnetic force of the unseen which binds its victims with egotism, when the mad desire for its possession is awakened? And once drawn within its terrible meshes, all that is dear, all that is lasting, is thrown recklessly to the winds, a sacrifice upon its altar. Then when almost within grasp, this power bubble, all glistening with promise, beautiful in its unattain- able form, at touch, bursts, and nothing remains but the ashes of ambition which consume the shattered hopes. Love of power reveals the weak, because the really noble do not seek it, and the competent, the efficient, the trustworthy, know its pitfalls, and accept its responsibilities with humility and under- standing. These are they who never make a display of their power, and on this little voyage through life travel quietly, never wound- ing a fellow traveler. There are those who perceive in this glistening bubble all its rainbow colorings, who, through ignorance, sacrifice their all for its possession. Love and friendship to them becomes of minor value, and they wound ruthlessly their fellow traveler on life's little voyage and thus, poor souls, destroy the only substance of which real power is built. LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Spirit of Womankood HE spirit of womanhood! One must pause and reflect before the realization of that tremendous force breaks upon our con- sciousness. It is that which has inspired the noblest acts of man, has led him to the supremest sacrifices. It is the embodiment of man's ideal, and when woman is true to the spirit of womanhood there is always someone who will sacrifice his all that she may realize her ideal. To woman has been given imagination, and that is the spirit of womanhood. To her, also, has been given creative thought, and that, too, is the spirit of womanhood; and to her has been given the most sacred trust of all the guidance of future genera- tions. The world has been builded by man, but upon woman's imagi- nation, and where she has seemingly lacked imagination it has been the spirit of womanhood that has fired the imagination of man and inspired him to accomplish the seemingly impossible. Slowly down the ages woman has unfolded until at the present time this unfolding seems to be expressing in excessive activity, which, after all, may be the reaction of thousands of years of quiet and protection; but the spirit of womanhood will always remain the same, and just as soon as man is through gasping at her sudden unfoldment he will in his very nature leap to the front and again accomplish the impossible for her sake. Then life's little voyage will only be enriched by the higher development of both. LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Caught in $ie Ocean Storm IOMAN, in the beginning, was blamed for the sin of the world. In her humility she became man's slave, and in her beauty his ideal. In man's mind for thousands of years woman has been the composite of his highest ideals. For her honor would he die, and for her sake he would commit many deeds. For her he would face hardships untold and for her would he attain the spiritual heights. But during the past few years woman, tired of exalted slavery, has stepped from her pedestal into the midst of struggling hu- manity, and almost as if in a drowning mental state she has turned upon her own sex and is waging a most ruthless warfare. That all-consuming desire for freedom and power is not only destroying her beauty, but devouring her soul. Like a tiny ship which has put out to sea and is caught in an ocean storm, helplessly tossed by the huge, angry waves and unleashed winds, too small either to return to port or continue the voyage, is woman in this maelstrom of hatreds, petty jealousies and selfishness. Too weak and too inexperienced to guide her ship through the storms of this little voyage of life, just yet, is she. Ruthless warfare was not a conception for the world war; it was the culmination of man's inhumanity to man and woman's inhumanity to woman. Only brotherly love can calm the storm that impersonal love which encompasses all humanity. And as we realize this truth, these little voyages of life will unfold all the beauty and abundance with which this great beautiful world of ours is overflowing. Wkile Men Lament LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE While Men Lament a RE men so busy regretting the loss of feminity that they are losing sight of chivalry? Loud and long have been the masculine lamentations over the evolution of woman from the clinging vine to efficient womanhood ; from the uncomfortable top-knot to bobbed hair; from the germ- accumulating, sweeping trains to the short skirts and from the red-nosed, floor scrubbing, shiny-faced housekeepers to the powdered, rouged, well-groomed life companion. Each of these stages of development have been greeted with open scorn, loud malediction and secret admiration. Each con- demned and then condoned and finally welcomed with open arms. Womanhood of today is man's ideal perfected, and the clinging vine an unnecessary burden. But what about the evolution of man, since the days of the powdered wig, cuffs of real lace, white, pink or blue satin knickers, long silk hose and bejeweled slippers, to the soft-collared man of today, with his heavy brogues and sombrero hat? His rough manner and his lack of chivalry? Both have traveled far on this little voyage of life. The cling- ing vine would no more suit the soft-collared hero of today than the elegant dandy of yore would suit the twentieth century woman. They have been traveling side by side. Like the fog horn on the bay, which drowns every other sound, man has thundered and boomed at each evolution of woman, while she has been so busy evoluting she probably has not even noticed the changes through which man has passed. Except just one and that she always has noticed and always will notice with a little heartache the loss of chivalry. That, woman will always crave, and that to her will always be the one treasured trait in man. Let us turn the old school into the new and fashion the new school after the old and teach our boys that chivalry in man is just as priceless a possession as feminism in woman, along this little journey of life. LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Dear Little Flapper GHE dear little flapper with her slap-slap shoes and her bobbed hair flung to the winds while she carries her hat in her hand, garbed in artistic loose flowing garments, is just about the sweetest thing the world has produced Life stretches before her in all the perfumed beauty of the full blown flower garden. Certainly she assumes no responsibility and we who are a little older would grieve if she did. There are only a few of those happy girlhood days along this little journey of life, and it is the duty of the older generation to prolong them as long as possible. There is plenty of time for her to take on life's burdens. Supposing she does giggle and laugh her way along. Supposing she does in her innocence accept the wrong invitation. She will not repeat the offense, as a rule, and way in the back of her little head, the little flapper is storing knowledge which she will use through life. She seems to be pos- sessed of the two qualities one of being a perfectly silly, brainless little flapper and all that that implies, and the other of getting a comprehensive understanding of scientific problems and the great fundamentals of life. Either one she sheds with perfect ease, while she assumes the role of student or flapper with an ingenuity which leaves this staid generation gasping. The teen age flapper is the joy of the century, but the middle- aged flapper what shall we do about her? Shall we make an age limitation and say that at a certain turnstile along this little voy- age of life woman must assume a burdened expression and cast off all spontaniety in order to uphold the dignity of her age? If she still remains young in spirit, isn't she to be admired rather than censured? And when she bobs her hair and shakes her curly locks to the winds and her eyes sparkle with the joy of living should we not welcome her along this little voyage? After all, who says she must not? And why do we say she must not? Sometimes all the world seems to roll along except the human mind, and that alone seems to take a stand which may be just the best stand to take for the time being, but which no more fits into the general scheme of things a few years later than the proverbial square peg in the round hole. So let us not condemn. Let us rather smile a welcoming to the flapper as she enters the little voyage of life and smile our encouragement to the middle-aged flapper who may, after all, only have a clearer vision than the rest of us, and is proving the courage of her convictions when she appears in her flapper regalia and bobbed hair. The open mind and a gentle love of humanity will make life's little journey a voyage of joy. LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE A Lesson from Tenvilligins " is a tiny goldfish in a round glass jar a per- feet specimen, whose transparent fins and huge fan tail move obediently to his whims as he swims 'round and 'round in his little world, day after day, never ceasing his activities even through the night. Singularly enough, he is always swimming with his nose to the glass, as if seeking to enter the great outside world. He is perfect and rare and beautiful, this goldfish, and still he can never hope to escape from his little round prison. Are we like the little goldfish, Terwilligins, going 'round and 'round in our little world, bumping our heads against a wall just as impassable and just as seemingly transparent as the glass jar which imprisons our pet? Are we fulfilling some law of activities in our running 'round and 'round in our daily routine of life, seeing visions of a great beyond, but obstructed by some invisible force? One cannot help but wonder if this were so, if he withdraws from the personal activities, personal hatreds, personal jealousies, personal ambitions, and views this mad scrambling of humanity with an impersonal mind. This impersonal mind is the universal mind, which is able, through the complete elimination of human greeds and desires, to work for the good of all. It is the mind of great poets, writers, musicians the mind of genius. It is the mind which told us to love our neighbors as we love ourselves and when we have done that every day along this little voyage of life, we have done all. In that one act are we stripped of every weapon of warfare national or personal ambition, hatred or viciousness in any of its forms, and the heaven we have been so frantically seeking in the great unknown will be ours. LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Calling a Spade a Spade [o A SPADE'S a spade is it? And you are not afraid to say so, Is that courage or cruelty in your nature? Among kings and queens, and all rulers of the earth; among their hirelings down to the very lowest; among society in every walk of life and in business from the greatest to the least, a "spade's a spade," you reiterate, and always add that you are not afraid to say so. Then after you have spaded your victim into fine dust and scattered that dust in the eyes of his friends have you really accomplished anything along this little voyage of life? Did you spade up your victim so thoroughly that you might plant the seed which would blossom into something good and beau- tiful or did you just spade deep that you might bury him? There are many good, fearless, cruel spaders along life's little voyage who leave the world embittered because of their brief jour- ney. But how welcome are those beautiful characters who share their joys and spread sunshine wherever they go! who plant the seeds of hope in some timid traveler's heart, or courage in the minds of fearful failures! Whose hearty greeting in the passing throng brings a smile and turns the tides of life into glistening channels of hope! These are they who are afraid to call a spade a spade because they have not the cruel courage to inflict the hurt. Moral cowards they, when it comes to hurting a fellow voyager but who sail unostentatiously and fearlessly along on their mission of love, spading only to plant, never to bury. Calm After Storm LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Calm after Storm BFTER the storm, the calm. And the flotsam and drift line the coasts, gather in the sheltered nooks and are redeemed by the casual passer-by. After life's storm the calm. And in how many ways does it come? The flotsam of humanity drifts to uncertain shelters. Is it often redeemed by the passer-by? The flotsam and drift of humanity, like the incoming and out- going tides, are perpetually moving forward and backward, forward and backward restless, hopeless and helpless. The wreckage of human experience, they. East or west, it matters not ; everywhere lies the human driftwood. Will their suffering prove their blessing and are they after all just young souls not yet sufficiently awakened to their responsibilities to enable them to rise above circumstances? Somehow one prefers to think of them in this way, because if it is suffering which will awaken them and bring them an under- standing of their responsibilities of life, then their suffering and struggling do not seem in vain. And during life's little voyages, in the storm or the calm, if the mariner is wise, the wrecks will be few and the drift will be scarce and those who have conscientiously done their part will be enabled to enjoy the beautiful things of life, instead of sorrowing with the unfortunate. LITTLE VOYAGES OF LIFE Sxtfeet Sixteen [WEET Sixteen ! With your youth, beauty, grace and laughter the little girl of yesterday and the woman of tomorrow. One moment assuming the dignity of a grown-up; the next performing the antics of a romp. Trying to hold on to those harum scarum Tom boy days, while sparkling eyes are beholding visions of a rosy future. To you, every frill and furbelow brings a thrill, every beggar a high resolve ; and the while mother looks on with empty arms and anxious heart, as you, Sweet Sixteen, learn to use your wings. Could that really have been you in life's tempest? What forces unseen snatched you and tossed you about and wrecked you on the sea of experience? Like an infant in arms in a ship- wreck were you in your helplessness! With all the enthusiasm of youth, you rushed madly after life and were bedazzled by its glamor, and now, with your wings so soon broken and all your dreams shattered before you have really had a taste of the real things of life which road will you choose? Come back, Sweet Sixteen! Broken wings have mended and wrecked ships have been salvaged. Noble hearts will pity your youth, and although you have betrayed the sweetest year in your little voyage of life, the world is older and wiser now than ever before, and will forgive. 51851) UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY