BB mffffiff**^^ 1 I IB '. | LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. tifSlto) 4i>*~. GLEANINGS IN VARIOUS FIELDS OF THOUGHT. BY J. J. OWEN, fbitot San Jcoe (Cat) 9IU*oi**y. SAN JOSE TINQ AND PUBLISHING COMP IT =U j> Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1881, By .1. .1. OWEN, In tlie Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. TO ALL ASPIRING SOULS WHO WOULD ASCEND THE HEIGHTS OF KNOWLEDGE AND ATTUNE THEIR HEARTS TO NATURE'S DIVINER HARMONIES, THIS LITTLE VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. INDEX. INDEX. PAGE. Introclu ;tcry 9 Wait 11 Human Sympathy 12 Modest Doubters 14 Misunderstood 16 Freemasonry of Brains 17 Contentment • 1° Inspiration of Good Deeds 20 Unsolved Problems 21 Companionship 24 Unprofitable Scolding 26 Better As It Is 28 Our Young Men 30 Crab-Apple Dignity 33 Bending Before the Gale 35 Religious Gambling 37 Keep to the Right 40 Self Dependence 42 Don't 44 Our Ancestors 45 Piety of Fun 47 What of the Night 48 Anti-Marriage Resolution 50 Value of Riches 51 Act Well Your Part 53 Passing On 54 Calloused Sympathies 57 What we Differ About 59 Heroism in Common Life 61 Philosophy of Life ^ 63 Religion of Humanity . . . . ' 65 What is Religion 67 Truth Spoken in Jest 70 Nature 72 Work 74 Agreeing to Disagree ^5 A Spring Morning 77 Our Spider 79 Power of Love 80 Materialism 82 ' T Don't Know" 84 Old Age 86 Something and Nothing 89 Through Suffering 92 Job's Query 95 Not to be Wondered At 98 After All 100 Harmless Self Conceit 101 Parental Government 103 Sunset 106 A Day of Rest 108 Life's First Lessons 110 "At Their Best" 112 Gleanings 114 POEMS. Night 121 Cleopatra's Dream 123 General Grant 125 The Miner's Lot 126 Night of the Soul 128 Across the Bar 129 Somewhere . 130 To the Sierras LSI Dangers that Threaten 132 Masonic Silver Wedding L>4 Resignation 136 My Island Home 137 >XJR pWMBJiY ' IpJLLKS* -Er^^^-®^;— - IK1TK©BCCT©11Y, ;E wish it distinctly understood that these ■■ ] A,Ai} " talks" are from a secular standpoint wholly, ||^ C T and are intended to he entirely free from dogmatism or assumption of any kind. We J, shall aim to impinge on no one's private belief — 7 offend no one's conscience. There is a common ground upon which all right thinking people can meet and agree ; there are a thousand topics and themes affecting the welfare of humanity, concerning which no creeds can divide honest minds. It is in this vast field of thought we shall meet you, reader, as a friend and a neighbor, hoping you may find something in our "talks" to interest, if not instruct. We have analyzed closely the motives that govern human action — have thought much of the frailties and weaknesses of human nature, and sought to fathom their causes— have sought to determine why it is that one man preys upon, and another seeks the welfare of, OU?6*<^> -jw^r-* Misunderstood. — How few people are well understood, even by their most intimate friends. We think we know them, but there is a sense in which those we know best are strangers to us. There are chambers in every human soul into which not even the eyes of our best beloved are ever permitted to gaze — thoughts and emotions that none are ever allowed to share. We see where the tide breaks in crested billows upon the strand : we hear the fierce roar of the tempest : we note the angry glare of the red lightning as it leaps from cloud to cloud; but the vast unfathomed universe of soul lies beyond, an impenetrable pro- found, unapproached and unapproachable forever. He who would attain the truest happiness must forget self. and seek to lift the burdens from weary ladened souls, — scatter- ing the flowers of kindness and sympathy, and making light the hearts of those around. Then comes the joy and consciousness of having done some good to others, which brings the sweetest balm to our own hearts. And he who does most good to his fellow-man knows a bliss that the narrow, selfish man can never feel. Thk man who thinks in the groove marked out for him to think in, should have the manliness to get out of his groove long enough to respect the one who strikes out in new paths, and thinks for himself, even though the latter should think erroneously. 0U<1< SUN'DAY TALKS. i 7 Ijf Y&&tm&&^vtv$$ saf 5pirHi$«^£* _;.:;! jfT is related of those sweet, white-souled sisters, '^'sAb Alice and Phcebe Gary, that their pretty, modest 'JO home, was the frequent resort of many of the I literati of New York City. Horaca Greeley, iPark Benjamin, Bayard Taylor, and other famous men of letters, often met at their cosy little tea parties; and we can well imagine the "flow of soul," the brilliant conversations, the sparkling wit, the inter- change of noble thought, and the flashing emanations of genius, that must have made those meetings .occa- sions of rare delight to each and all. Thus we find among cultured people generally, in their social relations, a larger freedom from conven- tional restraint, and a more profound contempt for the opinions of "Mrs. Grundy," than among those of shal- lower intellectual depths. They constitute a sort of Freemasonry of brains, a Guild of soul, the shibboleth to which can only be spoken with proper accent by those born to the purple. Conscious of the rectitude of their lives and the genuineness of their characters, they do not trouble themselves much about their repu- tation, for that they know often consists only of the breath of fools. Faithful to the divinity within their own souls they recognize the pure gold of character and the right royal stamp of intellectual and spiritual worth wherever they find them; and, if at all, they naturally seek for the friendship and companionship of their kind. Thus they are apt to be misunderstood by the thoughtless and superficial, especially when these 18 OUfR SUNVjAY TALKS. pure intellectual friendships exist between those of opposite sexes outside the marital relations. As though intelligent people could not with propriety enjoy such friendships, and the refining attrition of mind with mind which follow therefrom, without subjecting them- selves to the censure of that prurient prude that sometimes goes by the name of Society. When will the world learn that the mind is sexless — that genius is a thing of the immortal spirit — that in the higher life of the soul there is " no marriage nor giving in marriage?" '■df ifin « t agr» t WrB3£r» to ?NE of the chief studies of mankind in all ages has been how to obtain the most for the least, in other words, how to get the most money for the least labor; and the largest measure of hap- piness for the smallest amount of effort. This is a right principle; provided, that in getting the most we do not trespass on the rights of the least; and provided further, we make the right use of what we get. Upon these two points hinge all the ecpiities and virtues of the accumulation of wealth. One source of almost unlimited trouble in this world is in not knowing when we are well off. Our happiness depends too much on what we suppose others may think of us, and too little on what we really think of ourselves. We carry the spirit of rivalry and emulation to an extreme. In our efforts to excel our neighbors we often overdo the business and make ourselves mis- erable. Where is the early pioneer of any new country who will not tell you in his old age that life was sweeter OU(R S- UNI) AY TALKS. 2 9 to him, and his happiness more complete, away back in his log cabin days, when his neighbors, like himself, were all poor and struggling with the wilderness for the bare necessaries of life, than in his later years, in his palatial home, with his body Brussels, French cooks, bay windows, servants, rheumatism, pianos, and fash- ionable grown up daughters. Not but that a beautiful home with pleasant surroundings is of itself a source of pleasure to any refined nature; but to be conducive of true happiness to the possessor it must be the natural outgrowth of culture and refinement, rather than the creation of blind wealth to gratify a mean spirit of riv- alry or selfish vanity. It is the insatiate longing to excel — not in the gentle virtues of humanity, nor in the rich treasures of knowledge, but in mere temporal things that perish in a day — that play the mischief w T ith modern society. There was a time in the not distant past when for- tunes, except in rare instances, were acquired only by a lifetime of arduous and persistent struggle in some of the great industries of the world. Now, by the rise and fall of stocks fortunes come and go with the tide, leaving wrecks of humanity thickly strewn along the shores of time — for men are as often wrecked with riches as with their loss. Hence, it is no particular virtue, or even evidence of peculiar accpiisitive skill, in these days, to acquire wealth. Many of our rich men are monuments of meanness and moral obloquy. They live by driving hard bargains, by grinding two per cent a month out of poor men, and foreclosing mortgages on the homesteads of widows. There is no more milk of human kindness in their natures than there is fragrance in a toadstool. The joy of helping others is a sensation they never knew. Their hearts are a nest of spiders eternally on the search for flies. They pile up riches, jo U>— << v • •&*"-*-* Inspieation of Good Deeds. — One of our noblest and pfurest- souled women writes: "I never read of a noble act that it does not inspire me to something higher. I never read and study meanness and hypocrisy that it does not fill me with B deeper loathing and despising for that which is low in life."' And so our acts, whether of good or evil, are made helps to the better life of all true souls. No one can live wholly for himself. His influence in some way reaches out and takes in ail humanity. If for good, then all are in some manner made better thereby. If for evil, then will it be wholly evil only to himself. All glory and honor to the man or woman who lives to inspire others to "something higher." The man or woman who gives expression to a thought calcu- lated to benefit or bless mankind, is deserving of honor in this world, and a place in the affections of angels. OU- witness to-day as the outcome of the uses of machinery in the industrial affairs of the world. The question to him is as new as it is momentous. It is one full of danger to society and the commonwealth. With these facts before us what is the duty of the hour ? In the first place the condition of the unem- ploy 'd classes calls for the exercise of a broad spirit of charity and humanity on the part of the affluent. It should suggest to the latter that there is clanger in the parsimony that permits of larje numbers of idle men in the community. They should not only, in a private capacity, endeavor to furnish employment to the unemployed; but they should conse it to the inauguration of public enterprises requiring many laborers. And yet all these are but makeshifts — temporary expedients — flags of truce, as it were, to enable society to gather wisdom and strength to grapple with its greatest ememy, over population. If any one should ask us why this article should be called a " Sunday " talk, any more than a " talk " for any other day of the week, we should answer. We don't know. He is not wise who counts himself poor simply because he possesses but a humble store of this world's goods; for what are houses and lands, and a few shining baubles of earth, to the vast treasures of the universe that are the common heritage of all aspiring He who strives and fails should never despair. He should look within and start anew take honor for his chart, courage for his compass, and the highest moral and mental culture for the point he would reach, — then there will be, there can be. "no such word as fail." OUS^$- /2/*v»-» Many people waste the best portion of their lives in worrying about what others may think and say about them; when if they would "let the world wag," and endeavor to live out, in their own lives, their best ideals of manhood, or womanhood, they would find themselves enjoying a far greater measure of happiness. He would be considered insane who should, without chart or compass, sail out upon the ocean, and, with no port in view, drift hither and thither upon the vast deep; and yet multitudes of souls float out upon the mystical sea of life as aimless and objectless — no star or beacon light to guide them o'er the dreary waste. lb OUon ourselves in the formation and building - up of a character that will constitute the only wealth we can ever carry with us into the land of the Beyond. '*♦■*-»-*- ajfettejr ^k?gz If 1^ 4 ^tTT|HERE are many people who are egotistical ^sisb enough to imagine that if they had had the ~^p^ making of the Universe they could have Jj, improved somewhat on the present job. They X would have had no conjunction of the planets, T nor great disturbances of Nature of any kind — no pestilence nor drought — no tidal waves nor tornadoes — no sickness nor sorrow — none of the ills or calamities that flesh is heir to. They would have made the earth ever fruitful, the elements ever propitious. and life ever fair and prosperous. But is it not probable that under such conditions humanity would have been about as tame and insipid as the life of a jelly fish ? As the thunder storm clears and purifies the atmosphere, as the furnace fires burn away the dross, so man's struggle with the elements is necessary to build up his individuality and round out his character. He must needs wrestle with the pestilence and the storm — with Summer's heat and Winter's cold — with health and life-destroying elements — with the hard conditions of existence that meet him at every turn. His struggles give him strength and vigor of U.-> Ij&e«0I«ag$ Ijfef aenrar flfce f^fe. YlYHKKE are no hearts so brave or strong that do '^g?J^lr§ not at times quail before some great sorrow. ?§p The shadow falls across their pathway when }[ they are least expecting it, or least prepared T for it, shutting out the bright sky and beautiful sunshine, and not even leaving one star to beckon them away to brighter realms. Suddenly spreads the pall of gloom over the soul, like the dark and remorseless hand of fate, and where so lately was heard the music and melody of the spheres — the laughter of children, the songs of birds and the sweet voice of love — is heard the wail of woe, or keen anguish riots in silence among the heartstrings. Death lays its icy finger upon the lips we love — the heart that nestled close to ours through the golden days of our lives is torn from our arms for aye — the voice that made sweet melody in our ears is heard no more — and th 3 agony, keen and pitiless, is upon vis like an avalanche ere we are aware. We say, these shadows come to all. They are incident to this mortal life. It could not well be otherwise in this earthly stage of existence. Men may preach till the "crack of doom" the philosophies that should reconcile us to these great overwhelming sorrows. Such preaching is always for others, not for ourselves. When our own hearts are riven — when the arrow pierces our own soids — we must enter the Gethsemane of anguish alone. There is none to bear our burdens, tf 0L7(k SUN 'DAY TALKS. no more than there was to bear the burdens of Him, the man of Sorrows, in that agonizing struggle wherein we are told He "sweat great drops of Moo;!." But Nature, gentle mother, although seemingly cruel as the grave, is nevertheless tender and kind. Over the field of carnage and death, where shot and shell plow their way through struggling masses of living men, and the earth is vent and torn, and made ghastly with the mangled slain; the dews aud the gentle rains descend like a benediction, and over all the balm of the sunshine, like the smile of God, sheds its sweet baptism, and erelong the grasses and the wild flowers come with their soft and beautiful vestments to hide the cruel scars of war. So with the stricken heart. In time the fury of the storm is spent; the tempest and the whirlwind of emotion are lulled to sleep, and rest and peace, with their mild and gentle solace, come with angel fingers to bind up the bruised heart and calm the troubled soul. These are the experiences of life that come to all. They are the experiences that seem most necessary to discipline the soul and fit it for that higher plane of life and usefulness, towards which all progressed and progressive humanity is tending. The lesson we would draw from this theme is, that while we can not avert these apparently dire events in our lives, we should school our natures to accept them as a part of the training and discipline we need, and without which we should be but poorly qualified for those higher spiritual and intellectual enjoyments to which, whether ever to be realized or not, every true soul should aspire. We should learn to feel that they are the refining fires that burn away the dross and coarseness of our natures — that they are stepping-stones, if lightly used, to a high and feeling - . and purer plane of though Ijjfterlsjggi o m&z Qtam lbtTi«gs$< ; . /1^:LL rightly organized society is ever in a chronic ''I^A^kl condition of civil war. where the clashing of ''Tiffi* moral forces may be heard on every hand. Ti is j[ thus only that the good is made to dominate % the evil. Otherwise society would be a ] neglected garden, choked with rank and noisome weeds, where the flowers of beauty and harmony, and the fruits of all ennobling virtues, would find but a pinched and stunted growth. In this great conflict of forces there arc arrayed on one side the promoters of all human welfare— the friends and conservators of all that elevates man in the scale of moral, spiritual and intellectual being. On the other are the enemies of man's truest happiness — and their name is legion — who are ever at work seeking to drag him down nearer and Dearer to the primal types of being whence it is supposed he sprang. The tiger of the Indian jungle is not more ferocious and merciless than are some human tigers who fatten on the blood of innocent souls, and who leave mourning and desolation in their track. In this contest for the right there is always work and room for all. The Press, the Church, the School, are usually, and ever should be, the mighty Columbiads, thundering t lie -rand lessons of life from the ramparts of society. And whoever gives a cup of water to a thirsty traveler, or speaks a kind and helping word to a fellow being in distress, is a private soldier in the same grand cause. And this is the conflict of the ages — the warfare of the evermore. All of which is preliminary to a few thoughts, pertinent or otherwise, to a general subject that has awakened no little interest in every community, which subject may be expressed in the form of a question, thus: Is gambling for religious purposes ever justifiable ? In no other State in the Union are the inducements and temptations to acquire something for nothing as great as they are in California. Gold and silver mining is in itself but little better than a game of chance. It was so in the early days of placer mining, and is more so now in the davs of quartz mining;. But that bears no comparison with the wild speculative mania for stock gambling. The miner puts in his labor, and if he won the golden prize it was but the legitimate fruits of that labor. The stock gambler invests in his business no honest toil, but makes his money upon his ability to outlie somebody else. This mad passion for speculation is sapping the very foundations of society. It is wrecking the peace and happiness of multitudes. But this is but one manifestation of the gambling spirit. It has other and darker phases — vortexes into which our young men are plunging, and where they will be engulfed forevermore. With this peril at our doors — a vice as insidious as the malaria that feeds the plague — ought not every pulpit and press in the land to declaim against it ? Who can say that our laws prohibiting gambling are unjust, or one whit too severe ? Hence is it not the plain duty of every Christian man and woman, and every one who has the welfare of his fellows at heart. OUfc? -4w~-*-> Parents who wear out their lives in the acquisition of property to leave for their children to scatter, do a double wrong — first to themselves and next to their children. The bird that would learn to fly must lean on its own wing. It is better to live rich — that is, rich in the sumptuous enjoyment of all soulful things — and die poor in purse, than to live an emptly soul-life, and leave millions for heirs to quarrel ver. He who conquers himself wins the rarest and highest victory— a garlanded hero he from the tiercest battle ever fought and won. Y TALKS. ^ejs to (foe Ijjtigftt* Jjljf^pEEP to the right," is a law of tlie road, which "-jlgJC^ when obeyed saves one a world of trouble. OH Society is a public highway on a grand scale i 1 \ — a great moral .turnpike whereon a hurrying, t jostling, restless crowd of badly assorted t humanity is ever thronging. Here is life in all its better phases- childhood with its golden hair and wondering eves; youth with its widening, thoughtful outlook; manhood with its firm step and earnest purpose; old age with its bowed form and whitened locks. Here, too, are thickly strewn the wrecks of life — misguided childhood, headstrong and wayward; erring youth, rioting in frivolity and dissipation, and sowing the seeds of physical decay and moral death; vicious manhood, treading the downward road; and decrepit age, sinister and sere, with its painful memories, and hopeless future.- All commingling in the one great journey from the cradle to the grave. How much discord, inharmony and jostling would be avoided, in this journey, if each traveler would only " keep to the right." There is a pitfall before you. young man a temptation to evil a snare for your feet. You are forming habits of idleness, dissipation and extravagance, which will stick to you like the shirt of Nessus. hampering your nobler efforts, and eventually dragging you down to the gateway of despair. Keep to the right and avoid it. That is a doubtful business venture, sir. in which you OUf humanity, is the possessor of treasures that all the gold in Christendom could not purchase. 44 OUinu Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set, but all — Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death." IIHERE is no religion however true, or sincerely believed in; no philosophy however consoling-, *§|> v * that can fully reconcile us to death. To those J! of vis with whom faith is supplemented by the § absolute knowledge of the spirit's existence beyond the confines of this mortal life, and who, if any, are possessed of a philosophy that should soothe, and comfort, and sustain us in the trying hour when our loved ones pass over the dark river — to us, even, death has ever a nameless dread. Our hearts rebel against it, and we oftentimes refuse to be comforted. Especially is this true when Death lays its chilling hand upon the young — upon the children of our love. The gray-haired sire, who has lived his allotted years, and fulfilled his mission on earth, may sink to sleep in Nature's enfolding arms as calmly and sweetly as the tired babe is lulled to rest upon its mother's breast. We are prepared, in a measure, for death when it comes in the fullness of time to the aged. Reason then teaches us to accept it as a wise fulfillment of law. And if such an one has lived wisely, made good use of himself, and left the world better than he found it, we know that death to him is a glorious translation to a higher life; that with his treasured wealth of character he will be OUl be thai the real work of growth and progress will begin, and be carried forward t<> a full and happj fruition? ( 1 diiI(I we inquire of our loved ones passed to the hither shore, " How is it with thee ? " and could we bear the answer thej would scud back to us from their s|»iril home, we doubt not thai answer would be, " Ml LS well." TIicn would It'll as that they rejoiced thai their earth life was over, and their sorrows and sufferings at an end. They would send hack words of greeting to the loved ones left behind. They would urge us to be patienl and trusting to the end, discharging every Know n dulv to ourselves and to our fellow beings. They would assure us that when at last our earthly pilgrimage should he o'er, they would be there to give us a J0VOUS welcome to their home in the beautiful Summer Land. r~*^*& 4$-)H< §> -fabv-r-J l ctlic tradesman who seeks your oustom under the pretext that be is selling yon goods at less than cost, while at the same time he makes a reasonable profit thereon, and the customer who takes advantage of another's necessities to pay less for an article than il is worth, were shaken in B bag together, it would l>e hard to tell which would come out first. Tiik Whisperer Of scandal, or the carrier of gossip, leaves a slimier hack than the poisoned reptile pollutes the fair, beautiful world around with a blast deadlier than the " red hot tipped simoon." ILKS 57 «C!f ecll o ini^:e;0i S$| )i ii d n \\ \ i ii I li b ti ejeu ...l.tyT^HK (.icscnl anamalous conditioi] of society, tSsBSS with its constant and extra demands upon the charitable for the relief of the Laborless and J i. destitute, is no doubt work in;;' a baneful influence i upon the hearts and con iciences "l' the benevo J lent-, in drying up the fountains of their charities, and making them as hard and heartless as the skinflints of society, whose hearts were never warmed with a generous impulse. They are overburdened with the Borrows and necessities of others, unti] they are inclined to rebel in spiril againsl t he whole business, and as matter of self protection close t, 1 1 < • i 1- hearts and their purses to the piteous pleadings of tin' pour Thus are they becoming calloused to those tender sympathy and gentle humanities which lifl man above the hard, cold level of unfeeling and unsympathetic self! ihne Tins condition of things is greatly to l><- deplored; for whatever may happen to the race, it cannot afford to lose any <>f its good qualities, It has non< to spare On the other hand it ought to be making a sure and stead} advance on the road to righteousness, by cultivating every virtue and laying in a good stoci of character foi I he t me to come. We do no! thini a man can well have too much of humanity aboui him too much of charity for the misfortunes and wretched aess of his fellow beings. At, the same time he duty to himself, and in the bestowal <>f his charities he should do so within the bounds of rea on, and uoi 5 8 OUR SUNDAY TALKS. allow the exercise of his generous impulses to wreck his own health or happiness. (This advice will strike most people as wholly unnecessary!) We believe that every individual has the right to all the happiness he can find, provided, in obtaining the same, he appropriates what properly belongs to nobody else. It is his duty to make the most of this life, and get all the good out of it that is rationally possible. He can not do this if he allows his spiritual or intellectual unfoldment to be retarded from any cause. Nature wisely conceals from us, except in a meagre way, the sufferings she inflicts upon others. She knows that most of us have all the troubles and heart-aches of our own that we ought to endure, or can well bear up under. And yet there is no soul so completely bankrupt, both in worldly wealth and in the finer humanities, as to have nothing to spare for others — nothing of needed temporal assistance, or of sympathy or brotherly love. If such there be they are to be pitied. For them there is no blessing in the beautiful sunshine, nor in the melody of the birds or rippling brooks. The glory of the earth and the grandeur of the heavens have no voice for their ears. They are souls out of tune, and can only give forth jangling and discordant sounds. It should be the aim and ambition of all to get themselves in tune — in harmony with the universe, — to find "lit, as nearly as possible, what Nature means with them, and then lend a helping hand to the turning out of a good job. Nature furnishes the raw material of manhood, and she expects us to work it into shape. The material may not all be of first class quality; in fact some of it may be badly damaged by ancestral taint: yet the true theory is to make the best use of such OU'R SUMOAY TALKS. jg material as w<> may chance to have. It is no doubt more creditable to some people that they are only average sinners, than for others that they are shining- saints. In the former case it is a wonder they are no worse, considering- the circumstances of their birth and early training-. In the latter, it is a wonder, for the same reason, how they could have been anything else. All that the good Father requires of any man is to do the best he can. 'WpUmt ifcte 3pi£fer S^feoisi* ." TJY-HEIIE are really but few points of difference 'VirrA^ between honest men in matters essential to r* human happiness, here or hereafter. They all mean right, no matter of what creed or of no v creed — Christian, Jew, pagan, or heathen; infidel f or atheist. It is usually, in fact we may say always, of those things which men know the least, and of which little or nothing can ever be known, that they differ and wrangle about the most and loudest. They can readily agree in their opinions upon what they really know, or upon principles of right and justice. Whoever asserts that it is wrong to steal, or bear false witness, will find no opponents among honest men. Definitions of right and wrong really vary but little with enlightend minds; and there will be found to be a hundred points of agreement between them to one of disagreement. It is about the essential things of life, concerning which men can best agree, that make society pleasant and promotive of the truest happiness to its individual members. This common level of social life should be clearly defined in every mind, leaving the individual at liberty to traverse the byways and jungles of thought unmolested. In other words, we should learn to agree in those matters which best conserve the common good, and be willing to disagree in all things else. Common courtesy should teach us to be considerate and respectful of the opinions of others, however they may differ from our own. Dogmatism is always something to be deprecated as unworthy a noble mind. It is really indicative of ignorance. It is never so pronounced as with small and uncultured minds. For one to assert positively that he is right and his neighbor wrong, concerning what neither of them knows anything about, is as absurd as for two blind men to fall out concerning the nature of light. And yet there have been more bruised hearts, and broken heads, growing out of just such dogmatic assertion than the world has any idea of. But we rejoice that the world is growing wiser in this respect. Good men and women of any sect, or of no sect, look so much alike in dress and general appearance, now-a-days, and are so much alike in manner and purpose, that no one can distinguish the difference, even if any such difference existed. Men no longer wear their faith upon their sleeves — in the cut of their coats or color of their neckties — but in their hearts and lives. We judge of them by other standards of value than by their professions of creeds, or the length of their faces on Sunday. No amount of piety, that is not well Hanked and supported by good deeds, will any longer save a man in the eyes of the church or the world. Enlightened thought everywhere has come to regard OU'R SUMOAf TALKS. 61 goodness as very much of one quality, no matter by whom practiced. This is as it should he. It shows that the world is unfolding in the right direction. It is a prophecy of the coming time when the common plane of thought will be so broad that there will be but little room for side issues, and when such differences of opinion as we may have will be so insignificant com- paratively as scarcely to create a ripple on the deep sea of thought. The world will become wiser and better just as fast as we are willing that it should, — whenever we are ready to " pool our issues" and unite in a common purpose for the common good. ^ta&nofeanrc I« ^^jnrrmwntcnjrt jlfiHfe. 1 geo>ff\j).rm J^lilj^pE who leads a forlorn hope "into the jaws of 4jA.A| death," with the eyes of the world resting "^f^C upon him, is much less a hero than he who, }l beset by the snares and temptations of life, ? triumphs over the evil promptings of his own nature. There is an unwritten heroism in common life that far excels the storied heroism of the great and powerful. It costs one something to be brave and true when no eye but the eye of one's own soul rests upon him — when no approving smile cheers him on save that of his own conscience. And yet there are many such heroes in all the silent and unheralded ways of life. We have seen a fair young girl, frail in health, but brave and strong in purpose, turn aside from the seduc- tive allurements to a frivolous and empty life — from the temptations to a luxurious and wicked one — and, storing her mind with the treasures of knowledge, fit herself for a noble work and duty. We have seen her take up her own and others' burdens, and, ofttimes with aching heart and bleeding feet, bear them uncomplainingly along life's rugged way. We have seen a young man, cast out upon the world, homeless and friendless, but buoyant in spirit, and exuberant with healthy life, — with mind and heart keenly sensitive to all the fascinating pleasures that lure but to destroy, — shutting himself out from the companionship of his kind, and setting his face firmly against the enticements and besetting snares of the world. We have seen him " burning the midnight oil," and with eyes fixed on the shining bights, laying deep and broad the foundations of a character upon which to rear the superstructure of a manhood that should withstand the " shocks of time," — the turmoil and vicissitudes of life, — till old age should mantle it with its snows. We have seen men and women in humble life, — born to the hard conditions of poverty and toil, — with hearts attuned to all goodness, and souls sweet with the refining baptism of unselfish charity. We have seen them bending beneath their burdens of care, of sickness, of poverty — with faces illumined with the smile of God, — grand men and noble women, whose unwritten lifediistories might be summed up in the words — " No trust betrayed — no duty left undone." Are not such as these the world's truest heroes and heroines ? And are not their names deserving of enroll- ment on Fame's whitest and most enduring scroll V — -«( —_-,<,♦«,)» — The profomiclest vacuum in the world is au empty soul. OU happiness, and any failure to attain the fruition 'W of this desire, must be from lack either of «, proper conditions for right enjoyment, or of § proper effort to that end. The want of proper J conditions — such as inherited tendencies to disease, strong natural bias to evil, and unfavorable surroundings in early life — are all beyond the control of the individual; hence the manhood or womanhood of every person must necessarily take its complexion largely from circumstances beyond and outside of their own volition. This should teach us charity towards others worse conditioned than ourselves; while at the same time it should stimulate us to put forth every effort in our power to master the results of bad conditions in our own natures. It should also teach us the importance of so living that we may not transmit to others the evils that have been handed down to us. " Cease to do evil and learn to do well." This is the lesson from which is evolved all reform in individual or public life. When a man learns that the right thing is the best thing — whether the lesson comes to him by a gradual unfoldment of the understanding, through the exercise of enlightened reason, or by some sudden evolution of feeling radiating his nature to a nobler purpose — he is on the right track. What we want in practical, every-day life, is an article of humanity that will "wash" — a fabric of character 6 4 OU^2^v->~» As there is no such thing as equality among men in their capacity to master the conditions and bear the burdens of life, therefore government should recognize this fact and favor the weak horse in the team with the longer end of the whiffletree. In other words, the burdens of government should be made to rest upon the shoulders of those best able to bear them — which means graduated taxation. HifveiiQjenw acm€ ^$s$wnBiai»Iigs< ''• j^T is impossible that all men should see all things | in the same light, owing to variations in capacity ffor observation, in development of brain, in natural bent and educational drift, of thought, 5 and from various other causes which are patent to every student of human nature. It is doubtless well for us that there is this diversity among men, else this would be a very tame world. If all* were true Christians there would be no work of reformation for Christians to perform. If there were no temptations to sin there would be no particular virtue in goodness, on the same principle that if there was no alcohol in the world there would be no name for temperance — no virtue in abstinence. I! is impossible for the mind to reason itself into the belief that white is black, or that the sun rises in the west . There are propositions outside the realm of natural facts, propositions widely divergent in their character, which some minds can never accept as positive truths. Thus it seems that we are here in accordance with a great plan of the Universe — here to struggle with conditions and circumstances that seem essential to our growth and development as rational beings, and without which we should be mere passive instruments in the hands of Nature, as characterless and helpless as the log that floats upon the current of the river, outward and onward to some unknown sea. We look around us and we see doubters on every si.lr -honest and thoughtful doubters —doubters thronging 66 OUfc SUN'bAY TALKS. the avenues of trade — scientific doubters — good men and noble women, who aim to walk uprightly in the world; who pay their honest debts; who wrong no man, * and whose hearts are filled with good will towards all the race. We shall not argue with those good people who believe these, their doubting fellow mortals, are all on the broad road to ruin. We simply know that they exist in vast numbers, and that they are seemingly beyond the reach of conviction of the errors of their opinions, if errors they are. And yet are they wholly without religious feeling ? Surely not, if the exercise of charity, brotherly love, and all those virtues which adorn human character count for aught. Again, we look around us and we behold misery, crime and ignorance everywhere — fellow-beings grovel- ing in grossness, and dead to every impulse of a noble manhood. We see on every hand the result of violated law — children robbed of their natural birthright to healthful bodies — the world peopled with moral de- formities — the strong oppressing the weak — might prevailing over right. Here is a field for believers and unbelievers alike — a common ground of religious usefulness that should know neither sect nor sex. It is the broad field of humanity, where all true men and women can meet and work to a common purpose. And how vast the work, how great the need of clear conceptions of human duty, and of an enlightened understanding that makes its pathway plain. When mankind stops wasting its substance of brain power and physical effort upon abstractions, and lays its hand firmly to the plow-share of practical reform, we shall have less use for prisons, for asylums for the indigent and insane — less poverty and inharniony in the world, and a higher average standard of human happiness. And when it learns more fully that true happiness comes only with right living and right doing, we shall cease to cavil at the opinions or beliefs of others. It is what a man does for humanity— not what dogmas he believes in— that will then express the mint value of the man. Would that we all had more charity for what may seem to us errors of opinion in others. TS$TI*S3t « l^rfigsiaoiw •■' 'HAT is religion? Perhaps no better answer ~ : }.-X)IL- <" 111 ,,o< * •- The man who imagines the world owes him a living mistakes his own importance in the economy of the universe. The world owes him nothing. <>n the other hand, he is indebted to the world for the gases and minerals of his worthless body, whichhe OUght to settle lor. and (he sooner the hetter. 11k who thinks for himself, and sometimes thinks wrongly, possesses an individuality and self-reliance that constitute sterling elements of character that many a saint, schooled in other modes of thought, has been lacking in. jo OU v * mother. We look upon the track where the Jl fierce -cyclone has spent its fury, leaving death j| and destruction in its path; we mark the wrecks I that bestrew the shore when the wrath of the waves has subsided; we look down into the pleading eyes of the dying babe; ami in all this apparent inharmony we can discover naught but cruelty — cruelty without a motive, without one redeeming trait. If there is an intelligent purpose in Nature — a guiding hand in the universe, that holds the stars in their course, and commands the elements to do its bidding, — as we are taught to believe, and as no mortal can wisely deny, — why, we ask in vain of our own souls, was this violence and cruelty necessary? Why are the elements permitted to rend and lay waste? Why the blighting winds to sap the budding harvests, that famine and death may ravish the homes of the poor? Why is helpless infancy and inoffensive manhood made to endure the torture and anguish of affliction, while multitudes less worthy are permitted to live upon the mountain top of health and happiness? OU'R SUM(DAZ TALKS. 73 Again, we look abroad in the world, and behold, where lately swept the mad cyclone the wild flower now turns its gentle face to the sun, and the bobolink builds its nest in the fragrant grass; where the billows, lashed into madness by the fierce tempest, hurled the venture- some sailor to swift destruction, the cooing ripples now kiss the white pebbles at our feet; and from the pillow of anguish, where pain and suffering long held high carnival among the nerves of helpless innocence, there now distills the precious balm of roseate health, and the child walks forth again to blissful companionship with the birds and flowers. We cannot understand these things. They are beyond our reach; and it were vain to try to reconcile them with our narrow ideas of the eternal fitness of things. They must forever remain among those hidden problems concerning which we can only speculate, and the solution of which, if ever, must be when man has " climbed the golden stair," to bights of wisdom and intelligence vastly beyond that which he now occupies. We must accept the fact of Nature, with all her apparent cruelty and injustice, and it were folly to complain. Isn't it really better to think that what is incomprehensible to us in our present state, will sometime or other be made clear; that Nature's seeming indifference to us, and even her apparent mistakes and cruelties, are all parts of some plan and purpose, which, if rightly understood, would seem divinely grand and beautiful ? May it not be that the storm and the tempest, the lightning and the earthquake, are essential to the unfoldment of Nature's truer harmonies, or even to the existence of life itself; that sorrow, suffering and death, are all important factors in the problem of life and happiness; and that when the veil shall fall from 74 OU'li SUN 'LAY TALKS. our eyes, and the clouds shall lift from our souls, we shall learn to realize that it is all for the best V Ought we not to school our minds to this faith, while at the same time we are ever endeavoring to discover what Nature means, and seeking to know more ami more of her secret mysteries? In this faith we believe life may be made to yield its best results, and human duty will become a pathway strewn with (lowers. .SZ=2)&y X potential in its influence as the all-conquering S power of love. It is alike the solace of tired f hearts, and the motive that moves the universe. How wonderful is it in all its varied phases; — parental and conjugal love, that holds the world of humanity in its orbit, and makes existence possible, — social and fraternal love, that binds society into indissoluble bonds, making existence tolerable, — self-love, that inspires ambition, linking the higher loves into a chain of strength and beauty, and making them more effective in moulding and binding character into lasting shapes of harmony and grandeur. The world would indeed be a stupendous beargarden a vast den of snarling monsters, who would in the end devour each other and become extinct, — but for this magic balm from the pharmacy of heaven, distilling ever softly and gently among the sterner and baser purposes and passions of the soul, and the cruel and selfish instincts of undeveloped and unspiritualized human nature. It is as though the doors of Heaven had been left open, and from thence was wafted the fragrance of all joy and gladness to inspire humanity with the motives to a truer and diviner life. Show us the soul wherein love is not, and there we shall find one in which all the divine chords of being are out of tune — a heart in which the baser impulses are found running riot and making: sad havoc and inharmony with the OU'k SUN'bAt TALKS. entire being. There we shall find misanthropy souring and poisoning the sweet springs of life, — selfish greed trampling out gentle charity and even humanity's self, — unsated ambition that scruples at no means for the attainment of its ends,— anger, revenge, hatred—de- mons all — rankling in the sacred places of the soul, and making it a dismal cavern for the abode of unholy things. Human life, however grand in intellect, or self-reliant in the majesty of its own powers, must have something to lean upon, especially in its hours of trial that come to all. Without some gentle outreaching of the affec- tions; without the clinging and twining of the heart's tendrils to and around some other life or lives, with its inflowing solace of compensating gladness, as the reward and counterpois of such tender outreachings and yearnings, life is indeed a dreary desert waste— a sky without a sun— a night without one smiling or redeeming star. It is then duty becomes a pathway of thorns to be trodden with aching heart and bleeding feet. The bright sunshine, the overarching sky, the melody of brooks and birds, the wooing of fragrant zephyrs, the myriad lips and forms of grand and glorious Nature, voice no sound of gladness to that gloomy soul. It moves on sadly and silently amid the shadows, until at last life itself grows to be a burden and a curse. But when love flashes its divine rays along the way, then every burden seems light, every task a living joy, and duty becomes a pathway strewn with flowers. •-A new commandment I give unto you," said the Great Teacher, '-that ye love one another." Here is the sum and substance of all religion. It is the crown and glory of manhood— the guerdon of life everlasting — the shining pathway to the shirs. ^"YaYsITH the spread and growth of materialism in ^jrjlilfl the world, coupled with the increasing- diffi- 'W* ♦ culties in the way of meeting the demands of life — demands often fictitious and exacting, — T we find a growing disregard for life itself. And f this is not at all surprising. Without the hope of something beyond — a reasonable assurance that this stage of existence does not bring us to the end of the journey — the man overwhelmed with trouble, and feeling himself no longer of any use in the world, very naturally concludes that the best disposition he can make of himself is to cpiit, and close out his con- tract with existence. From his standpoint of thought he reaches conclusions wholly in accordance with the natural deductions of reason. But does he not reason from false premises ? Assuming that he does so reason there seems to be a necessity for something to anchor him more securely to life and duty ; and there can be no anchor so firm as the assurance of another life. Such an assurance seems to carry with it an awakened sense of obligation to this life. It tells us that we have a work to do here, and that if we shirk that work in any way it will be worse for us there. And then it is the dread and uncertainty of the nature of that life — " what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause," and induce us to stay by this life as long as possible. We have no sympathy with that cold, calculating philosophy that robs man of all hope of a future life, and leaves him stranded on the bleak shores and shoals of- time. It is then he becomes a fit subject for despair. Groping- in the dark of his own obscured hopes he loses faith in himself. He turns his eyes earthward among the shadows and he sees no light in the gloaming — no beckoning hand in the distance. If he would only look the other way how changed would all things appear. How often do we have occasion to say to some soul bowed down with a great sorrow, or overtaken by some great affliction, Be brave and strong, and don't give up the tight. What! surrender life, with all its possibilities of growth and grandeur. How much better to go down with face to the foe and with colors nailed to the mast. And this is the spirit in which we should grapple with existence. If trouble comes — if foes to body or soul assail — place your back to the wall and face them bravely, determined to conquer or die trying. If they come of your owu folly and inviting, the greater the need for prompt and decisive battle that shall leave you not only victor but wiser. With every effort to conquer there comes support from without and from within. There are Bluchers in reserve in every heart-struggle, ready at the word of command to hurl their legions upon the foe in your defense. Resolve to live, and live to some noble purpose. Never surrender, though the powers of earth and air combine against you, and hell yawns at your feet. This is the path of duty, to watch and to wait, trusting the G-ood Father for what we can not clearly understand. Full soon will come the wintry frosts of age — the bowed form — the hesitating step— the trembling hand. Already, with many of us, the shadows are falling and U C »{-%} &V~-r~> #ia • 9tape» 1 /Jj YlYJHERE is no sight more beautiful than that of a ^'^-A^ man or woman who has passed the meridian of *^f* life, with locks whitening in the frosts of years.. j[ and with face turned towards the setting sun, % growing old sweetly and gracefully. There I ought to be no such thing as old age, except in a physical sense. Years should bring wisdom to the mind, and growth and grandeur to the soul, but not age to the heart. That should be kept ever young and fair. It should become more and more beautiful and fragrant with Spring blossoms as the years roll away. But there is so iniich to make ns old in spirit— so U long as it is dominated by a sincere desire for the highest welfare of humanity. We care but little what kind of theology a man believes in, provided he is actuated and permeated by genuine love for his fellow men. He may claim that the universe was created in six days or six thousand aeons; he may locate the time and place, and believe that the human race obtained its start by a special creation of a perfect pair in the Garden of Eden, or that it ascended, by the slow process of evolution, from a mollusk or a monkey; he may think he knows that the first created pair fell from their high and holy estate through the wiles of a mischievous being who succeeded in circumventing his and their Creator:— he may believe all this, and as much more, or less, as he can find it in his nature to believe; but if his heart is warm with the divine impulse of good will to man, he is our friend and brother. We have no quarrel with him. Indeed we can respect his opinions for his sake, and for the good there is in him. Bul independent of all this assumed knowledge, and all of the marvelous riddles and hidden things of the universe, concerning which we can only speculate and theorize, there are some important facts — all-important for humanity to know — that are plainly within the reach of human knowledge. We know there is a life principle permeating - matter, and pushing upward and outward into countless forms. Whether this principle inheres in, and is a property of, matter, solely, or is a something behind and independent of matter, is not essential to our welfare or happiness. The central fact of the existence of such a principle can no more be questioned than we can question the fact of our own existence. In the operations of this principle, or law of matter, as some prefer to term it, we notice that it is ever reach- ing out through nature for the best. It is never satisfied with inferiority or mediocrity; but, through all the countless cycles of time, is ever experimenting, as it were, and trying and re-trying to produce something better and better. The air we breathe has undergone wonderful changes, since the earlier geologic eras, and is capable of sustaining vastly superior forms of life now to what it could then. This is evident from the crude and extinct forms of vegetable and animal life folded away in the coal and chalk beds, or that have left their impress in the older rocks. We trace humanity back along the line of human history until we see man emerging from the mists and shadows of antiquity, a mere savage, brutal and ignorant — a dweller in caves, and clad in the skins of wild beasts — whose highest ambition was carnage and con- quest. We see him to-day crowned with the garnered wisdom of the past, sitting as king over new realms of thought, with the prisoned vapors of the cloud and the tamed coursers of the storm obedient to his call. Hence, we conclude that man is no exception to Nature's progressive law — that he is undergoing a process of intellectual and spiritual growth and unfoldnimt that is OU'R SUNDAY TALKS. 103 limited and circumscribed only by eternity on the one side, and bis own infinite capacity on the other. Realizing this fact, and that Nature is ever calling to man by her myriad voices to come up higher — to ascend the scale of being to a companionship with his higher ideals — what sort of beings ought we to be? Who, with such possibilities before him, would be content to grovel in the muck and mire of an ignoble life, and feed on husks and garbage, when he has but to put forth his hand to pluck the golden fruits of paradise ? '".yiyjRAIN up a child in the way he should go," said • ^A3 the wise man, "and when he is old he will t 1 not depart from it." That depends somewhat, f [ Solomon, on the kind of child you undertake to tram up. We have seen children, under the most strict and careful training, go to the bad in spite of every wholesome restraint; while others, who have come up without much of any training, have turned out to be good and useful men and women. Thus, we believe a great deal depends upon the inherited tendencies and qualities of the child, as to whether or not it will walk in the way it is trained to go. It is a well understood law of nature that like begets like, and that children are very apt to inherit the moral weaknesses and imper- fections of their progenitors, and especially are they apt to be endowed with inharmonious and badly organized natures as the results of the ignorance or indifference of the parents concerning the laws governing the ante-natal conditions of life. io4 OWR SUNDAY TALK S. No man or woman bearing- the taint of scrofula or consumption in their blood, or who can not control their own natural tendencies to evil, should ever repro- duce their kind, — no man addicted to the intemperate use of liquor, opium or tobacco,— no thief, nor gambler, nor murderer;— unless they would perpetuate their own evil propensities in the world, and add to the sum of human misery. Now, as to the training up of children in the way they should go: The first and most important qualification is for the parents to take Josh Billings' advice and " go that way themselves." The proper method of correcting children is one most difficult to learn. The nature and temper of the child must be thoroughly understood; for what will benefit one may ruin another. The rod is a necessary implement of family government only with those parents who do not know how to govern by better and higher methods. The old adage, " Spare the rod and spoil the child," had its origin in an age of semi- barbarism, and in a false idea of parental discipline. Many a boy, driven away from his home by parental cruelty, has gone forth into the world with all filial love crushed out of his heart. The blow that, arouses anger. or deadens the love of a child for a parent, is an unfortunate one, and should never be given. No child, with any proper degree of spirit, and a fair amount of intelligence, that has arrived at years bordering on manhood or womanhood, will tamely submit to physical chastisement. Of course there may be natures so barren of the better promptings and impulses of humanity, that the infliction of physical pain is the shortest way to their consciousness. But even in such cases we seri- ouslv question whether the shortest is the best way. The most successful horse-trainers are those who make the least possible use of the whip; The mind of U'R S U M'i)A / TA LK S. 105 the young child may be influenced in like maimer, by gentle persuasion. Before arriving at years of discretion, it may be encouraged by rewards in ways of well doing, and checked by gentle restraints from its per- verse purposes. The children of parents who use the rod unsparingly, and who do not run away from home as soon as they are able to take care of themselves, are generally noted for their stupidity and worth lessness. The family bond of union should embrace every member of the household. Children should he made to realize that in all the wide world their parents are their best friends. They should learn to confide in them, and to love their homes. But it is only the outreaching, tender hand of parental love that can call forth this love in the child. Anger, petulance, fault-finding and cruelty, will never do it. Mothers who scold and fret, and fathers who beat and bruise, surely can not realize the mischief they are doing. If a son or a daughter manifests a disposition to go astray, take them, father, mother, to your loving arms and heart, and gently and tenderly teach them the better way. If this will not save them nothing on earth will. The memory of your tender care and loving counsels they will never forget. It will cling to them through all their future years, like the whispered words of a dying mother's prayer, — ever prompting and guid- ing them in the right whenever their wayward feet would go astray. Here is the secret of all true parental government. And it is this principle that constitutes the chief factor in all human reform. It is Omnipotent love working through humanity. It is the key to heaven. It doesn't hurt a ^ood wife to praise her occasionally. io6 OU who, trustingly and lovingly, together *& a- have walked the rugged ways of life, from \ f youth to old age; and now, hand in hand, and heart to heart, are patiently and hopefully waiting upon the hither shore of time for the sound of the boatman's oar, that shall bear them across the silent river. We look back along the dim vista of years to the halcyon time of life's sunny morning. We witness their plighted vows at the altar, and see them go forth, in the pride and glory of their young wedded lives, to the toils and struggles of existence. Many a Godspeed and kind word of cheer fall upon their ears, as they go out from beneath the parental roof-tree that is to shelter them no more, forever. Before them lies a new world of experiences— of joys and sorrows— of grand suc- cesses, and perhaps of sad failures. But strong of purpose and resolute of will, and with life's sky rose- tinted with the flush of dawn, they move on, and enter upon this, to them, all unexplored world of experiences. We see them later established in their new home. Perhaps it is a log cabin in the wilderness, with neighbors few and far; or maybe a cosy little cottage in some distant town. The husband is bravely bending every energy to the task of mastering the hard condi- tions of life— of carving out a home and a name in the world, and securing, if possible, that independence that shall relieve them from the possibility of want. To OU ( R SUN 'DAY 'TALKS. icy the wife's once rosy cheeks has com,e the pallor of the dreadful agonies of maternity; but now her eyes are bright with a new hope, as she caresses the tiny form that nestles in- her bosom. And then come added cares and heart-aches as the years glide away. I see them, with streaming eyes and pleading lips, bending over the couch of their darling one, as its little life nutters away in the short gasps of dissolution, and its eyes grow dim under the touch of Death's icy fingers. But anon, time pours its gentle balm into their wounded hearts, and the bitter trial and loss, which they thought they could never endure, fades away into a tender memory. Again we behold them, and as in the long ago they went forth into the world, now their own noble sons and daughters, burdened with the unsolved problems and untried responsibilities of life, follow in their footsteps; and soon their home is left unto them desolate, save in the companionship of their own chastened souls. Well for them now if they find within themselves treasures of culture and character that shall supply their dearest need. Well for them, if schooled in that beautiful philosophy that enabled St. Paul to say: " I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith," they, too, can feel in their souls that they have done the best they knew, and that now they will trust the good Father for all that is to come. The shadows stretch away in lengthening lines toward the cast; and now they are calmly watching the glories of the coming sunset — the sunset of a well-spent life. How grand they seem, in the fruition of their years, with their silvered hair glowing in the sunset's golden gleam. Their faces are radiant with a divine hope that beyond the bars of the shining west the beckoning arms of their loved ones are outreaching towards them to ■OU-ood sense should OUR SUM'bAY TALKS. teach you the right way — what is necessary for your soul-growth — for your highest welfare. Old age will creep upon you so quickly that you will wonder what has become of the fleeting years. Your golden oppor- tunities, one by one, will slip through your fingers, unless you watch them closely, and you will find your- self, with whitened locks and bowed form, standing upon the margin of life's swiftly-flowing river, another failure. O, thrice happy he, at such a time, who can look back over a life well spent, and can feel as he goes out into the unknown, that he carries with him a bank account of soul that shall last him for all eternity. "S&t tlteir ril^HO that has read " David Copperfield," that ^lff||jfl|t incomparable creation of the master's pen, ..^|c can ever forget Steerforth, — the wild, reckless, ,£ wicked Steerforth, — and yet with such streaks of grand manliness running through his char- acter as to make him at times almost a god. In his last interview with Copperfield, he said to him, with the memory of all their old friendship welling forth in his heart: "Daisy" — the pet name he called him by — " Daisy, if anything should ever separate us, you must think of me at my best, old boy. Come! Let us make that bargain. Think of me at my best." May not this tender pleading of the wayward Steer- forth find a response in other hearts — in all hearts who read these lines, — and may it become their rule of action through all the coming years. How much better OU' A nation reaches forth her hands fjm And bids thee welcome home again. A No empty honors these we bring, — '» They symbol heart-beats strong and true, For one who bore a nation's trust 'Mid wreck and peril safely' through. And then when Peace her mantle spread, Like angel-wing, o'er land and sea, To forge our shattered bond anew A grateful people turned to thee,— To thee to guide the helm of State, To lure again the golden hours Of trustful confidence elate, And hide the nation's scars with flowers Whatever trust, wherever tried, No duty thou hast left undone; — Commanding in thy country's pride The laurels thou hast nobly won. Then welcome to thy home once more ; A million hearts with fever beat To know thy journey's safely o'er, — Are eager thee and thine to greet. i- 4 6 'POEMS. THE MINER'S LOT rHEKE the snow-covered mountains unfold Imy Their crests, like the foam on the wave, — -e^Pf By the rivers and streams, in their struggle for gold. |)T How many a fonn has gone down to the mold. £ The mildew and blight of the grave. > One came when the summer was young, ' And erected his cabin hard by; No accents of mirth ever fell from his tongue, But o'er his lone pathway the dark shadows hung, For he knew that death's portal was nigh. WE missed him one day from the spot Where loug he had labored in vain; With chance and misfortune he struggled and fought, Till the life-spring was broken — so hard was his lot;— He never will labor again. The Yuba flows red evermore. As if dyed with the life-blood of toil, And the sunset so golden with beauty gilds o'er The mountain that casts its dark shade by his door Whose spirit would break from its coil. No woman is there with her tears, Or hand's gentle pressure to chide The pain that leaps up through his temples, or fears That cluster around his lone heart, as appears The shadowy form by his side. In the frenzy of fever he pines, And his wandering thoughts swiftly stray To a little white cottage with clambering vines, Now dearer by far than the wealth of the mines. O'er mountain and valley away. 'POEMS. i V He hears the soft voice of the stream That trills its low notes by his door; And the music of birds, with the sun's rosy beams. Now melts all his soul into ravishing dreams, Like the bliss that entranced him of yore. "Zalina, dear queen of my heart, Let me breathe out my life on thy breast; Forgive the false pride that has kept us apart, And rankled so long in my desolate heart, With its passions in stormy unrest. "Forget all the years that have flown, With their billows of anger between; Oh, have I not suffered enough to atone For the pangs I have caused thee, Zalina, my own?— Let distance no more intervene." And a voice, pure and sweet in its flow, As the star's silv'ry music above, Glides over his senses, in accents so low, Transfusing his face with a heavenly glow,— 'Tis the soul's echoed whisper of love. By Yuba's red waters he sleeps, — The wind's hollow wail is his dirge — And the dew, gentle mourner, comes nightly and weeps By his grave, while the mountain its silent watch keeps, But his spirit is safe o'er the surge. t, — ff|:4C-_^» NIGHT OF THE SOUL. HO' the heavens in blackness may Lower O'er earth like a funeral pall, f And phantoms of discord and terror The hearts of the bravest enthral;— Tho' the world he shut in like a curtain, And the demons of darkness control. No terrors of midnight or tempest Can equal the night of the soul, — The night when the storm and the thunder Heat ruthlessly over our dead, And the hopes that we cherished so fondly In a heart-burst of agony tied: When over the soul's verdant places There swept the fierce blast of despair. And our idols of gladness and beauty Were wrecked and left desolate there. Ah! that was a night to remember — A season of pitiless woe, — When no ray from the inner light streaming Pierced the gloom with a scintiliant glow: But helpless, and tossed by the billows- No harbor of refuge to hail,— On the ocean of passion we drifted, A rudderless bark in the gale. Hut light came at last with the dawning — From the depths spake a voice, "Peace, be still. And the turbulent billows of anguish Obeyed the Omnipotent will. The tempest was hushed to a zephyr— (him shapes of the night fled away, And the sun of the sold, newly risen, Ushered in a new hope with the day. TOEMS. ag ACROSS THE BAR/ Inscribed to the Memory of Capt. Francis Connor, lafceof the steamship Oregon, plying between San Francisco and Portland. Oregon. rinrjfV SHlr ^'led out To an unknown sea '' T f-t\} Bound for a shadowy port afar "{? mi Out where the waves of death run high, It sinks from our sight across the bar: J b Across where the hidden breakers lie, Aud the dangerous reefs of time enfold Full many a ship with its treasures rare. And many a noble seaman bold. It bears away from our saddened gaze, And the hearts and home of his earthly love, The form of a sailor true and brave, From the shores of earth to the realm above. His barque is freighted with noble deeds, And generous thoughts for all mankind. And from his soul o'er the water speeds A prayer for the loved ones left behind. Aud here by the wave washed shore we stand "Where the tides eternally ebb and flow. "Watching our ships go out to sea, Beariug our fondest hopes below. But by faith we see the beckoning hand Of angels reaching across the bar, To welcome our loved ones over the strand, To the shining way with its "gates ajar." ■ The Bar at the month of Columbia River is regarded as the most dangerous of any upon the Pacific Coast. Capt. Connor was noted for his skill in making the He POEMS. SOMEWHERE. 'VtvIIRED hearts that go life's rugged ways alone, i j\ Aj Somewhere, in God's vast universe of soul, ^tfSf^r? In realms of light, where law and love control, iM; * Each one shall find its own X Somewhere. ' O, think not this the all of life, below. — Its cares and burdens, agonies and tears, That weigh the soul through many weary years, Full recompense shall know, Somewh sre Nature with all her children fairly deals. All time is hers, and boundless realms of space, And endless means, and ways we may not trace. Her purpose she reveals Somewhere. We may not see the justice of her ways. Nor know why wrong prevails, or siu endures. Nor why to evil deeds the tempter lures. The very doubts we raise, Somewhere — Will turn to golden fruit; our pray'rs and tears Shall blossom into joys, whose fragrance sweet Shall make the fullness of our lives complete ,\inl banish all our fears, Somewhere, If this were all, and death the final goal. And all outreaehing aspiration dies, When 'neath the clod the mortal casket lies. And dwelleth not the soul Somewhere — 'POEMS. i 3 i Then were Nature's purposes in man Exceptional to all her perfect ends : — Our very being's incompleteness lends Failure to her plan, Somewhere. -@: p ^/p T TO THE SIERRAS. jrfE snow-capped mountains, basking in the sun, Like fleecy clouds that deck the summer skies, On you I gaze, when day's dull task is done, Till night shuts out your glories from mine eyes For stormy turmoil, and ambition's strife, I find in you a solace and a balm, — Derive a higher purpose, truer life, For your pale splendor, passionless and calm. Mellowed by distance, all your rugged cliffs, And deep ravines, in graceful outlines lie; Each giant form in silent grandeur lifts Its hoary summit to the evening sky. I reck not of the wealth untold, concealed, Beneath your glorious coronal of snows. Whose budding treasure yet but scarce revealed. Shall blossom into trade — a golden rose. A mighty realm is waking at your feet To life and beauty, from the lap of Time, With cities vast, where mllious yet shall meet. And Peace shall reign in majesty sublime. Rock-ribbed Sierras, with your crests of snow, A type of manhood, ever strong and true, Whose heart with golden wealth should ever glow, Whose thoughts in purity should symbol you. i<$t "POEMS. DANGERS THAT THREATEN. 4 [Read at the Anniversary Celebration of our National liii]e]>emle held at Cook's drove, near San -lose, Cal., July 5th, L880. ] TTHIN this rural grove inviting, — planned (\J||j By him whose name it hears, (now gone before. ^S* To dwell for aye in yon bright Summer Land, ) — We meet to-day our hearts' glad song to pour. ' Fair Ceres brings her wreath of golden grain, The gladsome hour with plenty here to crown, — While Flora smiles in beauty o'er the plain, Pomona bends her blushing clusters clown. As down the stream of time we swiftly glide. Out to the wide, unbounded sea unknown, 'Tis well, before we stem the silent tide, To learn what dangers in our way are strewn. "What sunken reefs, what treaeli'rous currents dire, What lightnings, leaping thro' the midnight dread. What storms portend, what fearful fates conspire To hurst in wrath on Freedom's shining head. Our patriot sires — peace to their honored manes — Who broke the fetters of a kingly power. And reared aloft fair Liberty's proud fanes, They little dreamed the perils of this hour. A faithful, brave and patriotic band, With simple tastes, and hearts with Courage strong: Before them stretched a mighty waste of la Of valleys wide, of lakes, and rivers long. They recked not of the surging human tide. Outflowing westward to this distant shore; They counted not the lust of wealth and pride, Ami curse of greed, the future held in store. TO EMS. 133 No cities then with teeming squallor filled, No tramps for succor plead from door to door; Abundant labor greeted him who willed, And plenty blessed the poor man's humble store. Behold the change a century has wrought — That little band to fifty millions grown — A mighty sweep of empire, safely brought Through perils vast and hidden ways unknown. But now the dangers, thick on every hand — Dangers nnthought of in our early days — Gather a fearful shadow o'er the haul, Dimming the sun of Freedom's brightest rays. The thirst for office, power, and earthly gain — The wish to reap where one has never sown — The wrong that leaves wrecked fortunes in its train, And blighted lives to grope their way alone. These are the shoals and breakers in our way — The threat'ning dangers to our Ship of State — The cloud, the storm, the forked lightning's play. The warning finger of relentless fate. Thus while our hearts now glow with patriot fire, Our watch and ward should ever faithful be; In every noble way may thought inspire To guard the sacred altars of the free. Ye noble sons; and daughters young and fair, This lesson learn, ere life's bright spring-time wanes, That nations live by Virtue's watchful car< — In hearts, not heads -in goodness, not in brains. m POEMS. MASONIC SILVER WEDDING. Head ;it the Celebration oftlie Twenty-Fifth Anniversary of theorem ization of San Jose, Cal , Lodge No. 10, F. & A.M. w I That sweetly nestles by the western sen, evMy Muse in halting numbers, fain would hail The prophecy of glorious things for thee. But yestereve thy broad expanse of plain, From hill to hill, thence to the throbbing tide, The wild herd and the wilder nomad claimed, And nature reigned in all her untamed pride. Then from Sierra's golden fretted streams, Went forth the tidings glad that thrilled the world, Awak'ning in ten thousand breasts bright dreams Of wealth — and Hope her streamers gay unfurled. Forth from the busy haunts and hives of men — From climes and countries distant as the poles — fame manhood in its flower and beauty then, — Came where the far oft', wide Pacific rolls. By dark ravines, where torrents leap and foam: On arid plains, by mountain crests of snow; They reared their cabins, made their humble home. And delved, and died, to will the prize below. But some there were who sought this rural vale. Nor from it cared to wander far away: No place, in fancy or in fairy tale. Could they.e'er rtnd to equal San Jose. Here they in peace their household altars reared — Here built their temples to the Living God; — ' Fair Science, too — her genial light appeared. And nature smiled a welcome from the sod. 'POEMS. 135 The earth her gladsome 'fruits abundant bore; And toil, that never failed its prize to gain, With happy homes the landscape dotted o'er, And peace and plenty reign o'er all the plain. Behold the mighty change that time has wrought! A city vast where once the hamlet stood; Taste, wealth and culture their rich treasures brought; Art writes her triumphs o'er each fertile rood! This the faint promise of the Yet to Be — Of mightier changes in the coming time, When her outreaching arms to Destiny, Shall clasp the glory that awaits, sublime. Fair as a bride, and beautiful to see. In that bright evening of the long ago, Crowned by her altars, stood Fkee Masonry, Clad in her emblems white and pure as snow. Through all th' eventful, intervening years. No trumpet tongue her gentle deeds proclaim; And yet the orphan's wail, the widow's tears, Her hand oft soothes, nor seeks for worldly fame. White-robed and pure, her sandal'd footsteps shine Amid the silent ways by sorrow led. And with a love and charity divine, Shesoothes the anguish of affliction's bed. A matron now in wisdom and in years, With noble sons full grown to man's .state, We meet to-day in gladness and in tears. Her silver wedding here to celebrate. RESIGNATION. HAVE said — and I would not recall the words. Though all of my future remain unblest, That the pathway of thorns my feet have trod Was for me of all earthly ways the best. — That the wrecks of my hopes that have strewn the shore, Like stranded ships by the storm-spent sea, Were argosies richer with golden store Than all of earth's treasures were to me. Had my life been one of indolent ease- Had Fortune before me her baubles spread : And the empty world, as I sought to please, Had it placed its emptier crown on my head,- Had the smiles of earth and the bending skies, And the pleasures of time that gladden and cloy, Had I shared them all in their fullness of sense, And nothing of earth were their left to enjoy, — Methinks I should then have missed the prize. By an infinite waste of barren years — The gem in the soul's deep mine that lies. And is wrought into shape through toil and tears. I ne'er should have found the hidden ore Of Truth, whose marvellous golden goal, Is only reached through the drifts of life By the diamond drill of a chastened soul. The truth, that opens the shining way Of trustful endurance forever more,— And the pathway of duty is clearly lined Through the rifts in the clouds to the hither shore. And thus have 1 patiently learned to bear The burdens and pains of life's unrest, Thankful alike for the storm and the calm, And hopefully trusting that all's for the best. 'POEMS. 131 MY ISLAND HOME. r" A mighty realm is the land of dreams, With steeps that hang in the midnight sky ; There are weltering oceans, and trailing streams That gleam where the dusky valleys lie." DWELL in a beautiful land- On an island than Eden more fair, Where storm clouds ne'er darken the day, Nor pestilence poisons the air. There are bowers of purple and gold, Where the birds sing their sweetest for me, And magical beauties untold, Adorn my dear isle of the sea. I've a palace of marble and pearl, With terraces glittering white. Mid a grove of the orange and lime, And fountains that dance in the light; Near a lake, where the sky overhead Is reflected in azure below, Whose margin is soft to my tread- Where the myrtle and columbine grow. The vines bend there emerald heads To receive the most kiss of the wave. While blushingly watches the rose From the shore that the bright waters lave. The zephyrs that sport with the flowers, Are laden with many a sweet; And trippingly glide by the hours, Where I dwell in my sylvan retreat. When weary with heart-aching cares- When sorrow and heaviness come, I step in my light fairy barge, And hie to my bright island home. Loved voices will welcome me there, And lift the dark pall from my heart. Fond hope take the place of despair. And Peace her soft sunlight impart, "Where, do you ask, is this land That in beauty an Eden outvies ? It exists in the realm of my dreams — In the ocean of fancy it lies. Shut out, far away, from the Real, From the world and its harassing strife. I live in the blissful ideal, And cull the dream roses of life.