LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Chap. Copyright No. Shelf_:E&.k33l UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. BRIGHT THREADS. i J Bright Threads JULIA H/ JOHNSTON NEW YORK: 46 East i 4 th Street THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY BOSTON: 100 Purchase Street 77/ * 331 Copyright, 1897, By T. V. Crowell & Co. TYPOGRAPHY BY C. J. PETERS & SON, BOSTON. PRESSWORK BY S. J. PARKHILL & CO. Ojc Dear 3l)omc Circle ONCE GATHERED AND STILL CENTRED IN THE CENTRAL CITY OF THE PRAIRIE STATE. H^HROUGH the courtesy of "The Interior," " The Mid- Continent," The Presbyterian Board of Publication, The David C. Cook Publishing Company, and others, these reprints are made possible, and the kind permission is gratefully acknowledged. y. h. y. CONTENTS. PAGE Pleasant Thoughts i Good Wishes S The Angels" Song 9 Fringes on the Garments 11 Songs Without Listeners 17 Minikin Miseries iS A Winter Parable 24 "The Bright Battalions" 28 On the Heights ^1 Unweighed Vessels 33 Unsought Happiness 40 "The Servants which drew the Water. knew" 41 " Hope-Failure ,j 42 The Bright Reflection 49 Good-Morning 51 The Art of Overlooking 52 Alleyways 56 His Eve seeth Every Precious Thing . 5S vii vni CONTENTS. PAGE .She picked It up 60 The Passion for Finishing ..... 62 Directed Steps . . 69 '•The Wholesome Pinch of the Just Enough " 70 Shavings and Kindling 76 She left Her Water-Pot y/ Is Jesus in the House? 79 "Making up the Hedge, and standing in the Gap " . « 80 " They heard not the Voice of Him THAT SPAKE TO Me" 86 "Mint and Anise and Cummin — These ought Ye to have done" .... SS The Daily Chart 94 The Doors being shit 96 Unowned Fields 98 In White 99 All the Days 100 Bitter Herbs 101 "There's All Eternity Before" . . . 108 "Multiplying Horses" no Drink Water out of Thine Own Cis- TERN 112 Large Investments. ........ 113 CONTENTS. ix PAGE The Broken Branch 115 He is Risen 11; As You Pass 119 Wounded Feelings 121 Multiplied Seed . 122 A Passing Salute 12^ Up the Hill, is into the Light . . . 124 The Thoughts of God 125 Beads upon a String 126 In -The Garden of Girls" 133 His Way is in the Sea 142 Sweet Herbs 14^ Handfuls of Purpose 14; Incidentals 152 Penetrating Colors ice The fabric of life is a homespun web, Each -weaver fashions his own; The war p ami the woof are of God' 's own giving, But the " fitting in M of the daily living Is the weaver *s choice alone. Then choose bright threads for the homespun As the shuttle is daily thrown. Pleasant Efjougrjls. " Make yourselves nests of pleasant thoughts " is a piece of advice worth taking. Harrowing reflections, teasing sugges- tions from " The Angel of the After- thought," and perplexing forecasts, are numerous enough, more's the pity ; but they need not be wrought into resting- places when one has a choice of build- ing-material. Take happy recollections and bright anticipations instead, and weave in all the present joy that a thank- ful heart can extract from its surround- ings. Build the nests high too, in secure yet breezy places ; for everything that makes life and shelters it should be lifted, not lowered. Watch a bird at its building, and see how it frames its nest. 2 PLEASANT THOUGHTS. Out of all manner of places, with dis- cerning eye and dexterous beak, it takes the threads and fibres that it weaves to- gether presently, in cunning and curious fashion. So the heart must be discriminating, and must be content with shreds and odds and ends, with small attentions and good intentions, and bits of happi- ness and hope. But put together all the reasons for good cheer and grateful feeling, and the pleasant thoughts will make a nest to dwell in. Reject all troublous things in the building, and let fears and frets be as wayfarers only, not venturing in to lodge or to loiter. Keep the memory of past pleasures to warm the present, but " let us not burden our remembrance with a heavi- ness that's gone." What if it did take Shakespeare to say that ? A generation of people not as clever, may do better than say it — they may live it. No matter, either, if the memory of past PLEASANT THOUGHTS. 3 gladness brings the present into sombre contrast : — "What can I pray? Give me forgetfulness? No, I would still possess Passed away smiles, though present fronts be stern." Let all the people say " Amen " to Jean Ingelow's decision, and use the pleasant memories for a dwelling-place to-day. But the past is not the only store- house. There is the future. Why not draw upon it in hope rather than in fear ? Forecastings are sadly apt to be dread forebodings only, but as one says, " Why not ' perhaps ' good as well as ' perhaps ' evil ? w What an uplift of spirit comes from buoyant anticipation. \\ nile surprises are sweet, looked-for pleasures are thrice enjoyed. If they fail, then at least a third of the happiness, the forward look, is secure ; and it is better to indulge to an innocent degree, even in castle- 4 PLEASANT THOUGHTS. building with airy foundations, than to allow the thoughts to go burrowing into some possible Doubting Castle of the future. Let us take on trust happily, what is sure to come helpfully \\fhen it does come, — " If thou foredate the date of woe, Then thou alone must bear the blow." What if we are coming daily nearer to Marah's brink ? " The Lord will sweeten the waters before we stoop to drink." And as certainly as the desert has its bitter springs, so surely do Elim's palms and fountains lie beyond. Look forward to the encampment there, when Marah shall be past. To be sure it takes a resolute, spirit, and " grace upon grace,." to contemplate always the pleasing things which bring pleasant thoughts, and to turn away from what is depressing, and from which nothing is gained ; but why not be res- PLEASANT THOUGHTS. 5 olute, and take the grace ? That is not necessarily impossible which is hard. The temptation to linger over annoy- ances and disagreeables is a device of the Evil One to make us miserable. In life's greater sorrows and supreme crises, God hides us away from trivialities, but every-day living is beset with trifles that hinder pleasant thoughts. Nothing is to be gained, however, from dwelling upon people's foibles and fol- lies, upon little slights and stings, upon the "total depravity of inanimate things," often harrowing, it is true. It avails little, as a means of grace, to meditate upon mistakes and weaknesses, most humiliating to remember, and hard to forgive, because pride and self-respect have been wounded by them. To take them at once to our compassionate God, asking him to correct them and us, and then to put away the mortified feelings that follow 7 failures, will do more to fos- ter true humility, which is far different 6 PLEASANT THOUGHTS. from humiliation, than any furious be- rating of ourselves can ever do. Unpleasant things have their mission, but, that accomplished, let them be dis- missed. There is not only fine phi- losophy in this, but we have a distinct Scripture word for it : " Whatsoever things are lovely and of good report, think on these things ; " which must ex- clude thoughts about unlovely things, all " envying and grieving at the good of our neighbor," and all petulant recall of what we have been denied or deprived. To have pleasant thoughts in plenty, one must lay by in store, and be quick about it. And oh, the fresh occasions each passing daytime brings, when " joy comes to dwell with common things," and we are daily loaded with benefits ! Think of the bounty and beauty of all out-doors, and the gladness of seeing and sharing it. Think of the comfort of home life, its confidence, its small cour- tesies and loving-kindness ; the gener- PLEASAXT THOUGHTS. 7 ous appreciation of friends, and the sympathy that foredates our call. Re- member the providential interventions in small things, preventing annoyance as well as disaster, and ordering minute details that make the perfection of our good times, in unexpected or planned- for outings and recreations. Note the opportunities always opening, the sheaves safe in the garner and the seed still in the hand for sowing, and give thanks for all. Think of the unsought and undeserved privileges, associations, and companion- ships, new acquaintances, goodly fellow- ships, widening circles of influence and effort ; the letters and the messages, and the "glimpses through life's windows/ 1 which belong to every life. For surely there is no life without its windows. If there be but one, it is a skylight, and opens to the sun. Meditating* on such things as these will fill up the measure of pleasant o GOOD WISHES. thoughts, and furnish the heart with material to build a habitation, while the unhindered hands are busy with homely duties or sacred ministry. If every member of the family circle were of this mind, and did after this manner, would not life be happy and harmonious ? Could any but songs of thanksgiving rise from " nests of pleasant thoughts " ? As character and conduct depend upon habitual thinking, and as " the duty of being pleasant " rests upon all, let us build these nests of pleasant thoughts and abide therein. " Home-keeping hearts are best/' sheltered in such a nest. Among the buds and blooms of spring, The happy birds exultant sing, As if rich fortunes from their throats They scattered with their lavish notes. THE ANGELS' SONG. 9 But who expects a bird to bring Substantial good on fluttering wing ? Among the blossoms, with their song, They cheer the heart the summer long. Good wishes, love-thoughts, greeting- words, I think are something like the birds : They bring no real, substantial good, Yet who would spare them if he could ? The winged thoughts that seek the sky. These are the sweetest ones that fly. May these, with sympathetic song, Make glad the heart the season long. 2Trje Sngcls' <$ong. Of old the starry Syrian skies, Above the shepherds bending, Were opened to their wondering gaze, While angel voices blending. Proclaimed good tidings of great joy, All other songs transcending. IO A CHRISTMAS WISH. None other than angelic tongues Could utter forth the storv, For mortals knew not of the birth Of Christ the Lord of glory, Descending as a babe to save A world in sin grown hoary. The echo of the angel-song Through all the world is sounding, Repeated now by human lips In gladness more abounding, The tidings run — " Good will toward men," The darkened earth surrounding. a (Christmas JIHiafj. May all the bells ring joy and peace, And every earthly clamor cease, For you on Christmas Day. May every fret and care draw back, That nothing joyous you may lack From dawn till evening gray. FRINGES ON THE GARMENTS. II Jringeg on tfje Garments* Fringes are not necessarily fripperies. The innate love of decoration and dainty finish to which the feminine mind con- fesses, need not degenerate into tawdry embellishment nor extravagant outlay. It is not proof positive that a woman is devoted to the pomps and vanities be- cause she makes herself comely for lov- ing eyes, with a finishing touch of ribbon or jet upon her apparel, or mayhap a garden flower, after weightier matters have been first considered. One little glint of becoming color, or a bit of grace- ful drapery, may make more impression than the whole excellent quality of the sober and serviceable gown. It is a mat- ter worthy of note, that the Lord took thought for raiment in the earlier days, and prescribed the pattern. He not only gave commandment concerning the high priest's garments of blue and purple and scarlet and fine-twined linen, embroi- 12 FRINGES ON THE GARMENTS. dered with gold in cunning work, and draped with the curious girdle of the ephod, but he ordered the people's com- mon dress. " Speak unto the children of Israel, and bid them that they make them fringes in the borders of their garments, and that they put upon the fringe of the borders a ribband of blue." Think of a bit of sky-color on the trail- ing hem of a work-day robe. And to what purpose ? " That ye may look upon it, and remember all the com- mandments of the Lord, and do them." With us, alas, beauty of apparel is apt to be a distraction ; but with the reverent Jew, the fairest ornament he wore was a reminder of his allegiance and love. No disfiguring cowl nor hempen girdle rude were signs of bondage to any rites, but a fringe and a ribbon of blue signalled to passers-by, his race and his religion. From the hem of the high priest's gar- ment hung golden bells and pomegran- ates, when he ministered within the FRINGES ON THE GARMENTS. 13 veil where none might follow, but the fringes were for the common people and for every day. How our God must love the loveliness he lavishes so freely! The rudest hillside edges droop with fringe of grasses and flower-bells ; the river sets a ribbon of blue along the hem of the bordering fields ; the barest mountain fringes out at the base with blossom- starred valleys; and the hidden spring- holds up its goblet of unfailing cheer with a fringe of ferns about the rocky brim. Should the soul wrap itself austerely, and be content with utility and integrity? It may do so, and be saved. It may do so, and be useful and highly respected, even influential and esteemed. But will it be " lovely and of good report " ? The gentle courtesies, small and sweet, the refinements of considerateness, the deli- cate amenities of life, like fair embroid- ery work, should "adorn the doctrine" which rugged conscientiousness, un- swerving will, and diligent endeavor should strenuously assert. 14 FRINGES ON THE GARMENTS. The King's daughter must first be all glorious within, but afterward " she shall be brought to the King in raiment of needlework. " He may accept the work of her hands, although she come un- adorned ; but let her come as she is called, in clothing of wrought gold, "so shall the King greatly desire her beauty." Therefore, " let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us," as well as his strength and fear. If one should go about to separate the filaments of fringe that should be upon the garments, there will be found among the shining threads habitual cheerfulness at home. One may be strictly conscien- tious and sturdily just, and yet carry sometimes such a " February face, so full of frost and storm and cloudiness," that mental thermometers thereabouts feel the instant chill. No one would think of making merry with the owner of such a face, nor of venting any of the happy nonsense that is oftenest the FRINGES ON THE GARMENTS. 15 finest sense in the household where cares are heavy enough. The persistent habit of making the best of circumstances, the practice of noticing pleasant things, rec- ognizing small services, and appreciating even fruitless efforts, will fringe a week- day dress with brightness. Good-morning, good-night, thank you, if you please, and I am sorry, may be accounted slender threads ; but they are golden, and they glisten. Life's home- spun might be durable and vastly service- able without them, but it will be like the " sad-colored cloth " of pilgrim days. It is essential to be good ; but it is Christ- like to be gracious, and most of all in the home. The Jew's garment-fringe was not basted on when he went to tem- ple or tabernacle. It was to be always "upon the four quarters of the vesture wherewith he covered himself," a per- petual memorial. The ability to receive gracefully, to "take for love's sweet sake," makes a 1 6 FRINGES ON THE GARMENTS. most desirable fringe, as does the gift of refusing kindly ; for " a good asker deserves a good nay-say." To be easily pleased, ties another bright thread in the fringe. The happy faculty of responding heartily to efforts in one's behalf, and the faculty of enjoy- ing and of finding small pleasures, sets a ribbon of blue around the garment's hem. One might belong to the noble army of martyrs without it, and live greatly; but with it she will live gra- ciously and winsomely. The fringes on the garment make one beloved at home as well as admired abroad. Then hearken and consider, O daughter of the King, Be mindful of thy broid'ries, while daily min- ist'ring. Be not withal contented, if lacking spot or stain, Thy common week-day garments in others' eyes remain ; Let all the gentle courtesies, each small obser- vance sweet, Make daily life a blessing, abiding and complete. SONGS WITHOUT LISTENERS. 1 7 Songs EHtti)0ut Efstnurs. The wind is setting the leaves a-quiver, Whispering secrets tender and sweet ; The branches feel a delicious shiver, Bending under the viewless feet; The brook runs on with a rush of laughter, The jubilant bird-notes follow after — This I hear from a mossy seat. But far beyond me the light wind passes, Birds fly on with their happy songs ; The rippling water laughs at the grasses, Far away, and the whole day long : Yet who will listen to fair birds sin^insr, And all these sounds through the silence ringing ? Surely the music suffers wrong. It does not die for the want of a hearer, Sweet bird-music, or insect whir, The rustle of leaves as the wind comes nearer, Filling the air with a pleasant stir. 1 8 MINIKIN MISERIES. They are not lost, these beautiful voices ; The Lord himself in their sound rejoices, To his good pleasure they minister. And how do we know but life's empty places Ring with songs in the self-same way ? If we could listen behind their faces, Silent souls might a sound betray ; And a wordless burden of praise and pleading, No human or curious listener needing, Rises to heaven the long, long day. iHtntfem JHtsetteg. One able-bodied giant maybe met and slain with great satisfaction ; but a small army of imps with pin-point spears, de- ploying, reappearing, scoffing, and teas- ing, may baffle the finest field-drill, and dishearten the stoutest soldier that ever drew sword. MINIKIN MISERIES. *9 " We regretted three hours wasted at the coach-office," writes Maria Edge- worth in one of those ,; Letters " edited by Augustus Hare, which every one has read or intends to read; ''but these are among the minikin miseries of life." " Minikin miseries ! " Doesn't every- body know that they are legion ? They swarm and crowd and clamor about, they peer and pounce, they leer and leap out, upon all occasions, drawing blood by the drop, and eluding capture and control in the most derisive and exaspe- rating fashion. Giants command a cer- tain respect, and enlist the highest powers against them ; but the contemptible min- ikins are beneath notice. It is humiliat- ing to be bothered, buffeted, and bruised by them ; yet we are. " Three wasted hours ! " What an ac- cumulation of grudged and miserable minutes ! Miss Edgeworth w r as wise enough to name the miseries and pass on. There are serene heights which the 20 MINIKIN MISERIES. wriggling imps cannot storm, but the lower levels of life are beset continually. Minikin miseries infest the kitchen. A mislaid utensil, a forgotten supply of the simplest thing, a pinch of salt too much or too little, an untimely ring at the front door that delays the bread just ready for the oven, a hurried movement that cuts the ringer or burns the hand, the offending odor of burning vegetables or scorching cake, are a few of many. Isn't it astonishing how one may be put out or put about by them ? Who that keeps a journal of events, and chronicles battles and victories, would ever think of recording skirmishes with the mini- kins ? Yet the ordinary woman knows well the discomfiture and disquietude that they bring, till she wonders if she can be a Christian at all, when such trifles so move her. There are other minikins that spring out suddenly, in the home and by the way. One's own inadvertence may chal- MINIKIN MISERIES. 21 lenge them, but that is small consolation. The teasing physical discomfort, not dis- tinct enough to call for remedy ; the re- pugnance felt toward certain duties ; the aversion to effort ; the irritation that fol- lows failure to accomplish all one has planned, — these are distressing in pro- portion to the tendency to " take things hard.'' The uncomfortable conscious- ness of anything amiss, or inappropriate to the occasion, in one's apparel ; the necessity of wearing unbecoming things, or gloves that do not quite fit, when one dotes on trimness and inconspicuous- ness ; the too candid remark upon hag- gard looks; the mortification of being caught in the disarray of house-cleaning- time, when one knows she never can look regal in sweeping-caps, with un- mistakably dust-marked face ; the antag- onism, entirely natural, to worn carpets and decrepit furniture ; the humiliation of being misunderstood when one has said preciselv the wrong thing, and the 22 MINIKIN MISERIES. chance to correct a bad impression or rectify an error is gone ; the weariness of listening to vain repetitions of other people's miseries ; the irresistible desire to straighten out crooked things that one can 't lay hands on ; the sensitiveness that makes one wince at discordant notes or colors — ah, what an army of impish, agile minikins beset the path of every day ! Every one knows that they are but for a day, and that small discomforts and rasping, irritating trifles will speedily pass away. Nevertheless, the pin-pricks sting. The hope of ease to-morrow is a plaster for the hurt, not a shield against the thrust of to-day. There are tranquil souls who dwell on reposeful heights above these trifles. Blessings on them. Really it is a mighty achievement "not to mind" the mini- kins, or to bear them beautifully as did Maria Edgeworth — at least, she did in the book. It is easy to do it on paper; but she must have taken all things in MINIKIN MISERIES. 23 sunny humor, according to convincing testimony. Others have done likewise, clad in the invulnerable habit of cheer- ful acquiescence, or resolute resistance, as the case required. But there are others as well-meaning, but not as well-balanced, who suffer posi- tive pain from the minikin pin-pricks, and ignominious defeat in many a daily as- sault. What shall these do, poor souls ? Nothing is gained by ignoring the enemy, whether the forces be giants or imps. Be on guard, and the battle is half won. Then, too, it helps wonderfully to put these minikin miseries in the right place. They are indeed among those op- posing forcjes that try and test the soul, and strengthen it through the tug of war. They do seem mean and small, and one is ashamed and mortified to think of minding them ; but, in truth, it is heroic to resist and overcome them. Xo flags fly, and no trumpets blow, to announce the victory ; but every self-conquest is 24 A WINTER PARABLE. recorded by One who "knoweth our frame ; " and life's small drudgeries, ag- gravations, and incidentals, its minikin miseries, are recognized as foes that we must face, while for their rout and full defeat " He giveth more grace." a EHinter Parable. How still it is ! Did ever shout Of summer friends ring blithely out ? The echoes of the long ago Are muffled in the fallen snow ; The hills, through many a day and night, Have kept their fleecy garments white ; The gorge between is heaped and piled With drifts fantastic, wind-beguiled. The narrow footway, lost or strayed, Reveals one track, where he assayed — Our venturous guide — but yesterday To pass along the untrodden way. And yet the pathway, as of old, Leads on, through wonders manifold, A WINTER PARABLE. 2$ Until the rocky cave we win, And walls familiar shut us in. But never in the bloom of May, Nor ever in midsummer day, Amid the wealth of living green, Was sight so fair by mortal seen. O miracle of ice and frost, This columned splendor, light-embossed ! All common words of praise are lost ! The drops that in the summer fall, And lose themselves in channels small, Have felt the Frost-King's icy spell, And turned to jewels as they fell. Ah, plashing drops, to purpose spilt, What crystal marvels ye have built ; Two pillars, of such measurement We may not guess their full extent, With flutings fine, and traceries rare, And frostings all beyond compare. But hark to the murmur of water ! That musical murmur we know. Where is it ? Where is it ? There is it ? There is it ? 26 A WINTER PARABLE. Yes ; it is tinkling and rippling and sprinkling, Making soft laughter below, Melodious laughter below. The spring from above never ceases to flow ; A way it will find, Through the shaft or behind, Rippling in laughter below ; And slipping past the crystal bolts, Right onward doth it go, Down deep beneath the snow. Talk not of silence while brooklets are singing, All softly, down under the snow. Grieve not because the sight and tone, By man unheard, unseen, unknown, Are beautiful to God alone. But now another sweet surprise Lies hidden under snowy guise. The bank where ferns are wont to grow Is swept of drifted depths of snow, And lo ! some green things growing there, A WINTER PARABLE. 27 A summer look of beauty wear. The winter parable is old. And yet may often be retold : Some pleasant growths resist the cold. And often that which seems to chill. Protects and serves and blesses still. Yet mark — the roots must lie below. Go where the ferns are wont to grow. If you would find them neath the snow. But winter twilight comes apace ; And evening shadows interlace The leafless branches, lifted high Like pleading arms against the sky. Our zigzag track we soon retrace. Albeit with uncertain grace. The entrance to the gorge we reach. And homeward go too glad for speech ; While silent stars behold again The marble beautv of the 2"len, And through the silence and the snow The living waters softly flow ! (" Rocky Glen,'' in midwinter.) 28 "THE BRIGHT BATTALIONS:' " W$i JSrfgfjt Battalion*." " He fought with the bright battal- ions " is the enthusiastic tribute of a biographer in setting forth the sunny character of a brilliant writer and be- loved friend. This, too, is added by way of emphasis, " He rejoiced in Ful- ler's maxim, ' An ounce of cheerfulness is worth a pound of sadness to serve God with.'" Every one who fights at all, aims at victory. Surely, then, it is worth while to be arrayed with those most certain to win it. Young soldiers, and all newly enlisted ones, will do well to consider with whom they march. Do look at the "bright battalions"! Faith belongs to their ranks, and sings the song of triumph in advance. Doubt never led a conquering army in the world. Can any one encourage his fel- low by saying, " Fight on, you must win, you shall overcome," in the battle with '■-THE BRIGHT BATTALIONS.'' 29 sin, with fear or difficulty, while his face, his conduct, and his very air show that he does not believe in the prospect him- self, nor expect the victory for himself or others ? Can a discouraged heart un- dertake anything worth doing, or lead another to attempt it ? Certainly not. It is confidence that conquers, — confidence in the cause, the final triumph, and, most of all, in the Great Leader of the bright battalions of truth and righteousness. Hope also belongs to the bright ranks, and there is no room for melancholy in the same company. How can despon- dency lift up the fallen, or make a gal- lant charge against the forces of evil ? Can gloom brighten anybody ? Nay, verily. Whoever goes forth to help those in need, and to right the wrongs of the oppressed, must do it with a hope- ful spirit, and with some expectation of doing service, or he will be unfit for the work, and will be sure to fail. Those who look on the dark side, and take the 30 "THE BRIGHT BATTALIONS." worst views of life, are not the ones to whom others turn in trouble, as chosen leaders into the light. The charity that "hopeth all things" accomplishes most. Love also marches with Faith and Hope. This is the all-conquering, all- controlling power. What triumphs Love wins over selfishness, unkindness, and all forms of sin ! But Love is not puffed up over victories ; it is lowly enough to stoop to the lowest, and take a stand for the humblest. It is the light of heaven that makes Love radiant. It belongs to the bright battalions that conquer " In His Name." Don't forget the " ounce of cheerful- ness to serve God with." A pound might be better, to be sure ; but an ounce of it is far more effective than a pound of sadness. " Put a cheerful courage on," whatever the opposing forces and threatening dangers, in life's constant battle. To prophesy evil and forebode defeat, may precipitate the very things ON THE HEIGHTS. 3 1 feared, by unfitting for the fight. The blessed contagion of cheerfulness is a good thing to spread. Is there, indeed, nothing to discourage and dishearten in the world and in the work for others ? Oh, yes, on every hand. But in order to overcome the powers of darkness, the good soldier is commanded to "put on the armor of light."' Let every would-be conqueror wear it, and. in the unceasing conflict, " fight with the bright battalions.' 7 ©n ) The guests at the marriage supper Detected the flavor fine, But " the servants which drew the water/' Knew the miracle of the wine. 4 2 " HOPE-FA IL URE." " Whatever He saith to you, do it," " He knoweth what He will do ; " And many a beautiful secret The Lord will reveal to you. The jars that we fill with water Shall minister royal wine ; We shall know and dispense the gladness Of miracles most divine. And we shall rejoice hereafter, If we " filled them up to the brim ; " And the wine of heaven will be sweeter When we "drink it new with Him." " p?ope — JFailure." " Hope deferred maketh the heart sick." What, then, shall be said of its total failure ? An eminent writer of the day says this of it : " More people die from lack of encouragement than any- thing else. They call it heart-failure, but it is hope-failure." Isn't this pitiful? The command to " reprove, rebuke, « HOPE-FAIL UREr 43 and exhort " requires small self-denial. mayhap. It comes rather natural to "warn the unruly," and to hand over the practical application of thousands of sermons to other hearers ; and there is a great clearing of skirts, in the matter of responsibility, in telling other folks what to do. We know exactly what should or should not be done, and know how to gauge failures accurately, too ! But the obligation to " comfort one another." and to " do good and to communicate," is no less binding. To communicate is to share in common, dividing up so that the good will go round ; and what is bet- ter to pass on than hope and courage ? These are not marketable commodities, but must be given away, though not without cost, perhaps, to the giver. The receiver can only take gratefully the of- fered elixir that quickens life into some- thing worth having. Even where there is little to commend, it is possible to encourage. Children 44 " HOPE-FA IL URE" must be thus nurtured into hopefulness. Even after failure, praise the effort, say- ing, " You did well to try, though you did not succeed. Try again, and you will surely do better." A deal of en- couraging is often needful, but then there is nothing for it but to " put to more strength." Usually, however, hope is easily nourished. A single word or look of approval, will hearten up the fainting courage for fresh endeavor. " She does very well under the cir- cumstances," says one of Mrs. Whit- ney's quaint characters, " but that's the trouble — she's always under a lot of them ; she never gets above the circum- stances at all." Some are stimulated by difficulties, but to others they are de- pressing; and this lays the duty to help, upon the exuberant, expectant spirit that gives courage by mere contact. But there must be a point of contact, " con- tagion begins there." Discouragement is deadly. Its physi- " HOPE-FAIL UREP 45 cal effect is evident, as well as its men- tal result. So many suffer from it, that to be widely useful, one must " practise the grace and virtue of praise " at home and abroad. A little expression of con- fidence beforehand will often nerve a timid spirit to successful effort. " I am sure that you will do well " may carry a shy child bravely through some dreaded performance, where a slight show of dis- trust might lead to a hopeless effort, almost sure to end in failure. Doubtless there is a quantity of over- weening conceit in the world that ought to be put down and kept under ; but it is no less true that a multitude of sensitive souls in the homes, and in all circles of friends and acquaintances, positively suffer from self-distrust. Sceptical as to their own ability, hampered by hinder- ing conditions, cast down by repeated failures, they need, in school-boy phrase, to be "encouraged up a lot,"' in order to go on at all — yes. k ' encouraged up," 46 " HOPE-FA IL UREP lured, led, lifted into hopefulness, out of the despondency that cries out " There's no use in trying.' 7 When the buoyancy of hope is lost, en- couragement must come from without, or the pulses will grow fainter and fainter, and " hope-failure " may be the piteous end. It will not do to give encourage- ment only " to him that asketh ; " hope- lessness is dumb, and the mute appeal of him that needeth, whether he voice the cry or not, should meet with sympa- thetic response. No occupation or profession is con- sidered more honorable than that of nursing, and it is woman's especial pre- rogative to care for the sick and the convalescent. In the world's great hos- pital of wounded spirits, there is full scope for the exercise of her gifts. Trained nurses are in demand here also; and one may well put herself under the drill of the God of all comfort and the God of hope, for the swift intuitions, " HOPE-FAIL URE" 47 the ready application of remedies, the manifold means and methods of healing, requisite in helping discouraged hearts along life's trodden way. Hope-failure is not absolute till it reaches the last pulse-beat; but long before that, preven- tion by the ounce should forestall the need of cure by the pound. Blessings on the cheerful souls, " saved by hope," and well-schooled in the practice of en- couragement, who can invest and invig- orate others with their expectant spirits, and who make a business of giving tonic treatment to fainting hope. Jt takes an observant eye, a discerning and discrim- inating spirit, and a " heart at leisure from itself," to discover patients suffer- ing from the sickness of hope deferred or failing, for they are not all gathered and registered in a ward by themselves. Nevertheless, to give one's self up to encouraging all sorts and conditions of disheartened people is a mission worthy of the highest talents, and worth all it 48 « HOPE-FAIL UREP # costs. There are uncounted openings for going into " The Cheering-up Busi- ness," with hope, faith, and courage as indispensable capital, which, being " loaned out," may save many from des perate failure, and will return vast rates of interest upon the investment. It is not enough to refrain from giving a hopeless fellow-mortal another push downward ; we must lift up and help on. The sin of omission may have fatal re- sults ; and " ye did it not " may be the sor- rowful reproach, after a lost opportunity. " There is that withholdeth more than is meet'' of commendation, encourage- ment, and good cheer ; but " it tendeth to poverty ' by and by. They are poor indeed who have no memories of help given, and gratitude received, laid up in store by them. What tender pity is lavished upon the ended struggles of one who sinks dis- heartened, a pathetic victim of hope- failure. To what purpose is this waste ? THE BRIGHT REFLECTION. 49 A wealth of sympathy, late outpoured, When life is by death exalted, Availeth nothing to cheer the way Where the tired pilgrim halted. "As if life were not sacred too," writes George Eliot, speaking of the hallowing touch of death, which is too often held sacred alone. "If I had known," is a useless after- thought, when, having passed the way we are going but once, we miss the chance to cheer a fellow-traveller. Re- solve instead to — Keep the hope-song ringing, And to watch along the way For the little needs up-springing In the path of every day. Eijc Brtgijt Reflection. In the British Art Exhibit at the Columbian Exposition, there was a re- markable picture of a blacksmith's shop. All the homely details — the smoky walls 50 THE BRIGHT REFLECTION. and rafters, the lurking shadows, the forms and faces of the men showing in the half-lights — were portrayed with sin- gular fidelity. But the greatest artistic triumph ap- peared in the marvellous reflection upon a boy's face, of light from an unseen forge. The ruddy glow, illuminating the sturdy figure and honest features of the rugged fellow, busy with his work, was simply wonderful. No need to picture the red flames of the forge beyond; their existence was distinctly evident. The bright reflection proved their presence and their power. So it is always. A vivid reflection is invincible proof of light somewhere. Should not the Children of Light give this testimony daily? While hands are busy with common work, the face may shine with radiant reflection of light di- vine, and the quiet life may be illumi- nated, if the worker will keep near to the Unseen Source. GOOD-MORNING. 5 l Good-morning ! Long the nig-ht may be, "Until day break and shadows flee ; " But, measured by the pulse of time. Alike the day and night hours chime, Though tired hearts and wearied strength Accuse them of unequal length. Good-morning ! As the night is past, And sunlight glory comes at last, So. of our darkness and dismay, We may be able soon to say, "This too, at last, has passed away." Good-morning ! May the day be fair, With grace and gladness everywhere ; And all life's errands lead your feet In pleasant paths of service sweet, Till evening's curtain, shadow-wrought, With shining stars is deftly caught, And heavenly voices, understood, Proclaim both night and morning "good." 52 THE ART OF OVERLOOKING. W$i art of ©bcrloofemg. The discriminating art of forge'-ang is invaluable, but the art of overlooking may take precedence even over this dis- tinct aid to happiness. It is well to put aside the annoyances of by-past time, dropping the remembrance of disagree- ables ; but it is better still to pass them \y in the beginning, without taking them up. Prevent the impression, and there will be no occasion to erase it. A molli- fying ointment is good for a hurt, but better no hurt in need of healing. Do not dwell upon unpleasantness long enough for it to take a place in the convolutions of the brain. Do not scru- tinize what is obnoxious, unseemly, or disquieting, if nothing is to be gained by it save a disturbing memory. Don't stop and stoop to examine displeasing things along the life-path; keep the eyes at higher levels, and overlook the thorn- hedges at the sides, taking care to keep THE ART OF OVERLOOKING. 53 the middle of the track so as not to brush against them. Even excellent people are sometimes rather trying. Some are positive and persistent in opinions which we, in our vast wisdom, know to be wrong of course, though, strangely enough, our convic- tions fail to be convincing to them. Our way is crossed when there seems to be no need of it ; small domestic calamities are legion, carelessness is culpable; and yet, after all, these things in themselves, or in their consequences, are not vital. If no principle is involved, let them pass. Do not mark to-day with futile struggle to mend them, nor to-morrow with their memory. If they cannot be righted, or even resisted, never mind them. This one bit of advice is so hard to follow that it will be good discipline for a sen- sitive soul to practise the precept. Even disappointments and hindering interrup- tions the resolute sunshine-seer will not lay to heart, but will look over and be- 54 THE ART OF OVERLOOKING. yond them to the next bright thing to be seen. Often the mere recognition of a thing seems to give it force and form ; there- fore do not notice the apparent slight, the covert criticism, or the tokens of impatience. Overlook also the little in- advertence, the unintentional mistake, and the small disaster that cannot be retrieved. Taking note of such things brings confusion to others and discomfort to one's self. The too acutely observant spirit is unquiet and overburdened. The constant accuser, who calls one to ac- count for every slip, and demands endless explanations, is a very uncomfortable sort of a friend. Overlook the unmeant offence, and, with no chance to fester in the memory, it will leave no scar behind. It is amazing how the vexing things of the moment, that seem to grow large while we look, sink into insignificance by and by. Why give them opportu- nity to disturb the present ? Gauge them THE ART OF OVERLOOKING. 55 sensibly by the measure certain to be applied in the calmer afterthought, and forbear the excited protest, forego the re- sentful expression. One cannot always be sensible, say you ? Very well. One can at least emulate the example of the old lady who was i% determined to en- deavor to try." A discriminating observer of "the method " of a mother who had trained a large and very energetic family, a diverse and tumultuous set indeed, said that one secret of the marvellous success was '• a judicious amount of letting alone." The mother never brought on a contro- versy or a clash of wills, when, by pru- dent overlooking and good management, matters would presently right themselves. Some people, it is true, have a happy faculty of overlooking ; but all may at- tain a certain facility through 'Move, which beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, and never faileth." 56 ALLEYWAYS. An art, we know, thanks to our bulky Websters, is knowledge applied to prac- tical purposes. It is aptitude, skill, dex- terity, acquired by experience. What hourly opportunities common life affords for such acquirement. The art of over- looking may not belong to arts liberal, polite, or fine ; but it is a kindly and use- ful one for every day. Cultivate it in life's intimate associations, and thus fore- stall, in measure, the need of the art of forgetting. ^llegirjagg. " Good-evening," said one lady to another, as they met upon the crossing of a narrow alley that cut through the block. " Good-evening," was the reply in a startled tone. " I beg your pardon ; I did not see you at first. I was looking at the beautiful view at the end of this ALLEYWAYS. 57 alley, and wondering that I had never noticed it before/" The first friend turned, and caught a glimpse of green bluffs and shapely trees showing fair against the sunset sky. " It is beautiful ! " she exclaimed. " Strange that I never saw it before. This is our alley." " We seldom know what is at the end of our alley" was the smiling response, and the two parted and passed on. True enough. We neither look for lovely views nor expect to find them, through these narrow ways between barns and coal houses, with nothing to brighten the back-door aspect. They have to do with the drudgeries of life altogether ; but they are necessary, and they have an outlet into cleaner spaces, while the blue sky roofs them over. Let us not consider the most uninvit- ing alleyway hopelessly forlorn, till wo see what is beyond it ; and let us not 5$ "HIS EYE SEETH." miss the view that may be at the end of our own. That which lieth nearest is not always seen. Life has many little homely thorough- fares which our front-door callers little wot of, and we ourselves are not obliged to use them constantly. When we use them, let us glance through them ; for, though beauty looks in at unexpected places, only the observant eye discovers it. f^fe 3Egc jieetfj lEfaerg Pucfous Ojtng* (Job xxviii. 10.) The treasures of gold and crystal Ungathered by human hand, The hidden wealth of the rivers, The drift of the unknown strand, To the eye of the Lord are open, He seeth each precious thing ; The soundless depths, and the darkness, Their measureless riches bring. "HIS EYE SEETH." 59 In distant and desert places, He cares for His precious things ; He values the unsought jewels, Befitting the brow of kings. The secret and guarded treasures, Too sacred for mortal eye. Are only seen through the window That is open toward the sky. The "precious faith" of His children, Who sees but the Lord alone ? The " precious seed " they are sowing, He watches, wherever sown. The tears and the self-denials, The patience and hope and love, With never an outward signal, He notes and records above. But what of the things most precious Withheld from the Lord who gave ? The seed locked up in the garner, The gold that we fain would save ? Whatever the treasure hidden, By mortals unseen, unknown, The " eye of the Lord " is on it, He marks it, and claims His own. 60 SHE PICKED IT UP. Sfje Pfcfetti It ®[p. As Evelyn walked along the street, her quick eye noticed a bit of green upon the dusty crossing, and she stooped and picked it up. It was a broken branch of rose-geranium ; and although the large green leaves were drooping, they held their fragrance still. Evelyn fastened them in her belt with a long breath of pleasure — the odor was so sweet. Presently she went into the Public Library. As the librarian handed out the required book, she looked up and smiled, — " So you have the geranium leaves," she said. " I smelled them as soon as you came in." On the way home, Evelyn stopped to see a friend. " Where did you get such fragrant geranium leaves ? " asked Grace at once. " I smelled them the minute I came into the room." SHE PICKED IT UP. 6 1 " I picked up this forlorn-looking branch on a crossing," was the answer. " I couldn't bear to see the leaves lying in the dust ; and I do think they are un- usually fragrant, perhaps because they are so bruised. I believe almost every one I have met has noticed the odor." " But while they lay in the dust no- body knew how sweet they were. You picked them up, and afterward other peo- ple cried, ' How sweet ! ' Grace was given to moralizing. Truly it is something even to rescue a spray of bruised leaves, and give them a place and a chance to breathe out their sweetness. It was well worth while for a passer-by to stop and to stoop for this. It is better worth while to wrest from neglected and unsuspected places small, sweet, common joys, opportunities to give and to receive pleasure, which many are too busy, too heedless, or too hurried to notice. Others may share these after they are picked up. 62 THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. It is best of all to lift a bruised life, fallen upon the highway under the press of earth's sorrows and strivings, or suf- fered to fall by careless hands that should have upheld it. Sometimes look down, that you may lift up. 3Efje Passion for jFinfejjmg. Idlers and easy-goers, who dally and delay, have sermons preached to them in plenty. Culpable time-wasters, whose besetting sin is to begin and not finish, may betake themselves to those who ad- monish them to improve each shining hour by using all the odd minutes. This little preachment is not for them. They would pervert the doctrine and exag- gerate the application, in the most het- erodox fashion. There are active souls, however, who need to be cautioned against excess of energy caused by their own exacting standards. Many a woman THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. 63 is her own severest task-mistress. No one else would dare to demand or extort what her own merciless will requires. " Do thyself no harm " is a suitable admonition for such workers, whether they will hear, or whether they will for- bear. These fervent spirits foster the pas- sion for finishing until it becomes a " choice virtue gone to seed; " and many things lovely in the blossom are un- sightly in the seed-pod. Sometimes the work itself is injured by the doer's anx- iety to have done with it. Finish is sacrificed to finishing. The house- builder does not commend the workmen if the hard-wood polishing is too speedily accomplished. Perfection is marred by slighting haste. But the evils of this passion for finishing are usually visited upon the worker. The feverish hurry and grudging rest, the preoccupied atten- tion and determined speed, of one bent upon accomplishing plans in a certain 64 THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. time, are surely familiar. The irritating effect of the strain is also in evidence. Enormously useful things may be done in an incredibly short time, and human- ity may seem to be much benefited ; but a person who has not the devouring desire to " finish up " may be much pleasanter to live with. " Easy to live with " is per- haps the climax of compliment, and the test of perfection. To be able, on occa- sion, placidly to "let things go," and " take things as they come, 7 ' may give a peculiar charm to busy home-life. " This part of the house-cleaning must be done to-day ; this piece of sewing must be finished by nightfall ; this visit- ing accomplished before tea-time ; this outline filled, these data gathered, this writing finished to-day," — thus the in- exorable announcements run. The cum- bered housewife and the expert nee- dle woman, the social visitor and the enthusiastic student, may find their self- set time-limits and task-limits a great THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. 6$ snare. They make no allowance for their tracks crossing other people's com- fort and convenience, or the claim of their own well-being. " I must " is often the cry of one who makes her own "must." Blessings on the brisk and busy peo- ple who may be trusted to complete their undertakings, and to rill up the measure of purposed or promised work. The world would be in a state of dis- traction without them, and things would go sadly awry. Conscientious workers will not fail to be faithful and diligent, even unto the end. But when the ur- gency of a subtle ambition to " accom- plish something," in order to have "something to show for the day/' over- taxes time and strength, and £oads both brain and body to the exhaustion-point, it is a delusion to call it a virtue. It is rather the spirit of self-pleasing arrayed as an angel of light, or an unrecognized characteristic miscalled " sense of duty." 66 THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. " Do it and be done with it " is an ex- cellent motto ; but undue haste to finish for the sake of finishing is often respon- sible for nerves at excessive tension, tempers at the snapping-point, and tran- quillity wrecked. It is hard to keep a quiet mind under stress of breathless haste. This " passion" is also account- able for dropped opportunities, which one may not return to pick up ; while unexpected duties, coming perhaps as interruptions, only chafe the eager spirit. The ability to bear interruptions is one of the loftiest virtues. It comes only through " the self-renouncing will," and a " heart at leisure from itself." Plans not pliant enough to swerve, purposes not elastic enough to stretch, upon occasion, are irksome bounds and bonds. Unlooked-for things are sure to come ; but it is not so much their coming, as the fixed determination to pursue one's own way in spite of them, that causes the fume and fret. The impera- THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. 67 tive duty is to let " all things work to- gether for good," and not to fight them. Thus broken and disordered plans, un- finished tasks and hindered wishes, will take their divinely ordered places. The stars in their courses will not be hin- dered if our plans fail. We overrate what we set our hearts upon. " What will it matter by and by ? " Most people like to do whole things. Few are content with odds and ends, even in the department of " the great commonplace." But the odds and ends may be bright bits ; and it is a worthy, although modest calling, to fill in, and to fill up, and to give symmetry and finer finish to what we may not wholly fashion or finish ourselves. There is a deal of mosaic-work given out to do. In a realm higher than the housewife's, and broader than that of any labor of hand or brain, there is an inborn longing to achieve something worth the doing, and to com- plete the work of the lifetime. Threads 68 THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. of influence and opportunity are given, and we instinctively yearn to finish the fabric we have wrought in part. It is hard to be thwarted in the honest and earnest desire, but sometimes this must be. To give thanks for "sweet joys missed and pure aims crossed " in life's utmost and highest endeavor, is more pleasing to Him who asks it, than any achievement could be. When, at the end, that which we most longed to com- pass in fulness and fairness as work for Him must be dropped in its incom- pleteness, none but our Master can un- clasp the hands so gently as to take from us the unfinished work so that the loosening may not hurt. The finishing touch He will give it, The touch of His hand will avail To bring to completeness and beauty The work of our fingers so frail. DIRECTED STEPS. 69 DirccfctJ Steps. " A marrs heart deviseth his way : but the Lord directeth his steps." — Prov. xvi. 9. The little steps, the daily steps, The Lord directeth them, If we but follow close to Him, And touch his garment's hem. His noiseless footfalls on the path That leadeth on before, Their traces leave, which loving eyes Discover more and more. We hear his word, " This is the way/ 5 Repeated o'er and o'er. The tired steps, the faltering steps, The feeble ones, and slow, The Lord directeth even these, If after Him we go. The onward, eager, marching feet, These, too, will He command; Our way, indeed, we may devise, But may not understand The strange, divergent paths, by which We reach the promised land. 70 « THE WHOLESOME PINCH. " For just one step, and only one, His promise we may claim ; Until " the way clears for the next/' 'Tis evermore the same. And thus He makes us hold His hand, He's but a step away, And keeps us looking unto Him That so we may not stray. Oh ! let us listen as we walk, To hear what He may say. "8Cfje OTf)0u?S0mc pndj oi tije 3ust lEnoiujlj." It is a generous soul that coins a thought into bright speech and hands it over without asking or waiting for the change. Others, furnished with the pro- ductive capital of a fine suggestion, may put it to the exchangers, and get good out of it, even beyond the dream of the originator ; but at least a percentage of " THE WHOLESOME PINCH." 7 I the credit belongs to the one who coined and put it into circulation. A suggestive phrase that makes an excellent investment, when one takes it to think out or work out, is " The wholesome pinch of the just enough." It is found in "Blessed Be Drudgery," that marvel of fine philosophy and prac- tical help, compacted into leaflet form, by W. C. Gannett. Nobody likes to be pinched, whether it is by a sudden nip or a tenacious clutch; but there's odds in pinches as in other things. This is the healthy sort, that is not crippling, but stimulating. The just enough, squeezed out from what appeared too little, is enjoyed with a zest which abundance does not know. The fear of failure in the beginning quickens thanksgiving in the end. What we almost miss, and gain, is valued far more than what we easily obtain. The rare contrivance that makes a becoming gown out of the barest suffi- 72 « THE WHOLESOME PINCH."" ciency of material, that furnishes a room which does not show the pinch that was felt in doing it, that concocts an appetiz- ing meal from left-overs or from inade- quate supplies, by means of skill and pains and care and brains, gives the right to a woman to carry herself like a queen. She has conquered circumstances, and compelled both ends to meet, when it took admirable stretching. She may be tired after the effort ; but she knows what she can do in emergencies, and how she can squeeze through. Not every one is so favored. Those who " have all and abound " haven't the least idea how it feels to succeed in making things " do " when resources are scant and difficulties pinch. There is something triumphant about it that makes a body feel most comfortably " set up." It can't be very, very wicked. Conscience does not call it sinful pride, and common-sense ap- plauds the innocent elation, if it does not become inflation. « THE WHOLESOME PINCH. » 73 A little more than just enough would make many of us too lazy for anything. There must be a spur of some kind. Without it, few would work as they do, nor gain the facility they win. The pinch of the just enough keeps people from going to sleep ; it rouses, animates, and urges, and there is nothing for it but to strive for the " more " that seems imperative, or to make the just enough answer the purpose, which cannot be done without contrivance. This wholesome but little-desired "pinch" is a great safeguard against ex- uberance and extravagance. It controls and holds back; it schools in managing; it furbishes up the mind ; it stimulates and strengthens the will and the wits. What a world of educating experience, of skill that amounts to genius, of exul- tant happiness over successes hardly won, would be lost to life if all were amply able to adjust supplies and de- mands, and there were no call to show 74 " THE WHOLESOME PINCH. " force of character, or special ingenuity in adapting means to the ends. This " pinch " is felt outside of what wealth will buy. Circumstances over which money has no control con- spire to cramp many in intellectual de- velopment, in home-making and heart- culture, and in general usefulness. Very small talents, or very few, may be given, scarcely enough, it would seem, to meet the inexorable demands of life ; but it is worth a deal of striving to learn how to make the most of what one has, while the conscious lack of anything to spare is a strong incentive to strive for more. One might be shockingly wasteful of op- portunities as well as of money, if the means of using them were always abun- dant. There is great danger in feeling perfectly satisfied that there is a great plenty, whether it be of goods or of grace. The lightly valued affluence may be easily squandered or misused. While man may discover the fact and " THE WHOLESOME PINCH' 3 75 the value of this kindly provision which forces into activity the energies that might lie dormant, only divine Love and infinite Wisdom could have so ordered it. This nice balance of need and supply, that leaves nothing to spare, must be for the greatest good of the greatest number ; for see how general it is. Like the wilderness manna, the por- tion of a day is given in its day. There is just enough and nothing over, but there is the certain need of fresh gath- ering to-morrow. It is a wholesome pinch, which reminds of the necessity and urges the effort. But the just enough is not too little. It cannot be that for any one who puts a child's trust in God, who has promised that there shall be no lack of any good thing to them that fear him. All is wise and well. Let us be ' ; content with such things as we have," with things as they are; for the ''pinch of the just enough" is not cruel, but wholesome and kindly. 7& SHAVINGS AND KINDLING. jifjabings anti 3&hrtrtmg. Shavings and kindling are the first essentials in building an old-fashioned fire. It is wasteful economy to stint them in the beginning ; for one burns more finally, in coaxing the reluctant blaze that had a poor start for want of feeders. Abundance of kindling makes a good bed for coal. It does not warm the room, but it is a means to that end ; it has little substance, but much utility ; it disappears, but serves a purpose ; it gets no credit, but does good. As curled ribbons of wood and pine- splinters are necessary for a fire, so a thousand nameless preparations are req- uisite for any work worth doing. Much practice goes before perfection, and a multitude of experiments before success. Many inked and pencilled sheets "whose end is to be burned " prepare the way for good writing. Repetition gives facility in handcraft and brain-work, although SHE LEFT HER WATER-POT. 77 visible results cannot be summed up. What matter ? That which is first burned supplies the conditions for a steady fire. Countless little courtesies and kind- nesses, self-denials and activities, must kindle and consume before the steadfast character can blaze and glow with light and heat. Numberless incidentals, hav- ing small apparent connection with the end sought, must precede life's achieve- ments. Shavings and kindling come be- fore coal. Don't stint the measure and spoil the fire. ^Jjc 3Lcft P?er SUaatcr^ot A water-pot was a valuable utensil in the East, in olden days as now. The woman at Sychar's well must have been intensely interested in the One who sat, "wearied with his journey," upon the curb, when she left her water-pot to go 7§ SHE LEFT HER WATER-POT. into the city with the wonderful invita- tion, " Come, see a man, which told me all things that ever I did/' But this was an extraordinary occa- sion, the supreme moment of a lifetime. The opportunity to receive living water, and to bid others come and drink, justi- fied the woman in hastening back to the city without her burden for the family supply, leaving her water-pot by the well- side, unfilled and unregarded. The question is often earnestly asked, " Shall I leave my home cares to attend meetings, and my regular duties for out- side work ? " That depends. " Wisdom is profitable to direct. " Home duties are God-given, and the common round divinely ordered. But little things, even life's small essentials, must not be held so close to the eye as to exclude a glimpse of larger claims that occasion- ally demand the setting aside of usual duties. There may be opportunities which justify leaving the water-pot to IS JESUS IN THE HOUSE? 79 "go tell." When these come, and guid- ance is clear, be sure to use them ; for — The Lord's occasions, lightly passed, Return unto Him who gave. £s 3tsu& in tfj* pfouse? " It was noised that he was in the house, and straightway many were gathered together.'' — Mark ii. 1, 2. Who cared to mark the furnishing Of that Capernaum dwelling-place, Where once, in days of long ago, The Saviour came in lowly grace ? What matter if the walls were rough ? The inner court both rude and bare ? Behold, within, a Guest divine ! 'Twas noised abroad that Christ was there. From lip to lip the tidings spread ; His presence could not be concealed; And lo ! the gathered multitude Their need of help and cure revealed. 8o "MAKING UP THE HEDGE." For straightway, all about the door, They pressed, in thronging crowds, to hear The word of life which Jesus preached, The tender gospel of good cheer. Is Jesus in the house to-day In all His sweet, attractive grace ? 'Twill speedily be noised abroad, And burdened souls will fill the place. Is Jesus in " His House of Prayer " ? Does Jesus in thy house abide ? Then " He will draw all men to Him," With pleas that will not be denied. "JHafemg up tfye P?etir$e, antj Standing in tfje <@ap." A gap is not a gateway. It is an opening which implies a breach, a defect, a flaw. ; * Standing in the gap," adds our useful Webster, " is exposing one's self for the defence of something." "MAKING UP THE HEDGE." 8 1 Stopping a gap is making a weak point secure. Not every one can do this. Unhap- pily it is the willingness, not the ability, that is usually lacking. Long ago Eze- kiel lodged complaint against Israel's prophets because they had not "gone in- to the gaps neither made up the hedge ; " and later he recounted the search after one man who would do this, and added that none was found. (Ezek. xxii. 30.) But that was a great occasion, a su- preme opportunity. There are lesser ones nowadays, but they are not unim- portant ; and the search still goes on for those who can make up the hedge, and stop gaps. For some of these, one does not even look for a man. It is a woman who is needed. Those not called upon to defend the nation, except in caring for the home detachments, may find chances in plenty to stand in a breach, in the homa, in society, and in the church. Enclosing hedges are often 82 "MAKING UP THE HEDGE.". broken. Blessings on all who are will- ing to fill chinks ! It may be very fine and gratifying to be called upon in the first place to do the setting out and enclosing, but to be able to fill in the unexpected openings opportunely and effectively is a praiseworthy aim and at- tainment. To be an emergency woman is a laudable ambition. Home-life gaps are legion. Usually the house-mother fills these, but why should she always ? Let her daughters emulate her example, as they will have brave chance to do. Somebody must do the small duties that seem to belong to nobody, and use the unexpected op- portunities to make others comfortable, or prevent their being uncomfortable. It is the filling in which makes up the hedge of home, and keeps all secure within. Some one must be ready to stay at home or to hurry back, to run to the grocer's or the baker's, in the event of unlooked-for guests, who may "MAKING UP THE HEDGE." 83 be ever so welcome, though not pre- pared for. The bit of homely work sud- denly dropped by an ailing or absent housemaid, or the one responsible for the doing, must be taken up by some one, and all manner of gaping edges must be brought smoothly together. In a household or a neighborhood where many diverse minds and wills have constant intercourse, it would be amazing if there were not occasional differences of opinion, breaches of har- mony, leaving family peace defenceless at that point. Surely it is a holy call- ing to make up the hedge again, and keep it from widening into a breach hard to mend. Look at the social gaps. Think of the depressing silences that sometimes fall when some guilty hedge-breaker blun- ders upon forbidden subjects, or peo- ple unacquainted and uncongenial are thrown together, and don't know what in the world to do or say. Mayhap they 84 "MAKING UP THE HEDGE." are only shy ; but, dear heart ! that is bad enough. The most observant hostess cannot be ubiquitous, and through some yawning gap discomfort or discord may come hurrying in if no one stand there to prevent. Those who can and do fill up the chinks, with pleasant greetings, kindly courtesies, adroit and tactful in- troductions, and other good offices, are blessings indeed, whether they are bril- liant or not. Church-life offers a thousand opportu- nities to make up the hedge. Some- body is always falling out, leaving a chasm to be filled in. First-best singers and players upon instruments fail, per- haps for excellent reasons ; first choices for special efforts and occasions may prove unavailable, and somebody must play second-best or there will be a dis- astrous gap. Why should any one be sensitive about being second choice or second-best ? It is rather a comfortable thing to be even the last resort ; for the "MAKING UP THE HEDGE.- 8 5 conviction that at least there is no one to do the work better, and that all are glad to have this service rather than none, is vastly reassuring. Hedge-ma- kers and gap-fillers should not be criti- cised, if they do their best. After all," it is a high compliment to be considered equal to an emergency upon short notice. The confidence that appeals for help' at the last moment ought to be mightily uplifting. Presi- dents of missionary societies and lead- ers of meetings have a warm feeling; toward those whom they can trust to act as substitutes when asked, in extremity, to make up deficiencies, to fill in and fill out the enclosure of the allotted hour, and who may be counted on to do it pleasantly, unaffectedly, and with- out looking abused or annoyed, when called upon without due notice, under stress of circumstances. " I cannot do it well enough " has a sound of humility, but in substance it 86 « THEY HEARD NOT THE VOICE." may be anything but that. True humil- ity makes up the hedge because the work must be done, not in order to make a creditable showing of the worker's way. Generally those nearest the breach, whatever it is, should make haste to stand in the gap. In the highest and most sacred work, nothing is trifling nor valueless. The blessed little things be- long to the great whole, and are digni- fied by the relation. Let us cultivate the happy faculty of filling chinks, of making up the hedge and standing in gaps, even the minor ones, — " Content to fill a little space, If God be glorified!" " &i)erj ^carti not tlje Uotce of flftm " 5Tf}at £pafte to JHe." (Acts xxii. 9.) The flash of the light from heaven, That shone on the broad highway " THEY HEARD NOT THE VOICE:' 8 7 As the pilgrims neared Damascus, Was seen by them all, that day ; But none except Saul of Tarsus, Whose eyes in the glare grew dim, Could hear, through the blinding glory, The Voice that arrested him. The message from heaven spoken Was meant for his ear alone ; For him was the silence broken, The will of the Lord made known. And so, in this latter noontide. The Voice of the Lord is heard ; But none may hear for another, Nor interpret the spoken word. Each heart that is called to carry A message of love and cheer, And summoned to serve or suffer, Alone the command must hear. I may not judge for my neighbor What errand for him may be, For I know that he cannot hearken To the Voice that speaks to me. SS MINT AND ANISE AND CUMMIN." " jjffimt anli $Lm'se anfc tomtn — Wfyzzz ©ugfjt fge to Pfafce ©one." Satisfaction depends much upon sea- soning. Tasteless food may nourish, but flavor gives it relish. No one wishes to sit down to a dish of salt or of sage, and eat it by the spoonful ; but " Can that which is unsavory be eaten with- out salt ? " And what would become of the art culinary, in its substantial and seductive achievements, were there no summer-savory, sage, sweet marjoram, or mint ? " Add a bay-leaf " directs the priestess of cookery sometimes ; and, although the quantity is small, the com- mand is imperative, and the result gratify- ing. The triumphs of our grandmothers in savory dishes are suggested by the very mention of " sweet herbs," which rioted in summer gardens, and afterward proclaimed their virtues in Thanksgiv- ing viands by appetizing odors. But the stores of garden and garret were used "MINT AND ANISE AND CUMMIN" 89 sparingly. A tithe of a small portion sufficed to, " half-suspected, animate the whole." The seasoning is not the dish, but it must not be left out. People nowadays are perhaps wont to bring against the scribes and pharisees a railing accusation not warranted by our Lord's words. It was not the tith- ing of mint and anise and cummin which he disapproved, but the omission of the weightier matters of the law, in glar- ing contrast with minute observances. "These ought ye to have done," he says distinctly, while reproving them for leaving the others undone. The weightier matters, of supreme importance, are set before us abun- dantly, and cannot have too much at- tention ; but now and then the tithes of mint and anise and cummin are forgotten altogether. This leaves many an offer- ing, in itself wholesome and sustaining, savorless, and even unacceptable, be- cause the seasoning of delicate tact and 90 "MINT AND ANISE AND CUMMIN" good-will is lacking. Blundering gene- rosity may give lavishly, but may spoil the gift in the giving, as food is spoiled by what is left out, as well as by what may be added. Receivers are often un- reasonable, perhaps ; but are they to blame if they miss what they want most, — even the subtle element that makes it sweet " to take, for love's dear sake"? The most learned discourse upon the qualities of albumen will not make the Scripture question less perti- nent, " Is there any taste in the white of an egg ? " Everybody knows there isn't, and a request for salt and pep- per is not immoderate. They cost little, but they make all the difference between palatable and unpalatable food. By a deft and discriminating process of seasoning, the accomplished cook makes tasteless things attractive. This is what tact and loving-kindness in man- ner will do for good deeds that might otherwise be scorned. But let us, for "MINT AND AXISE AXD CUMMIN" 9 1 compassion's sake, avoid excess of " manner" as we would extravagance in seasoning. The sweet herbs in a dish should not be the most aggressive and conspicuous element in it. Small concessions in unimportant mat- ters, little sacrifices of taste, opinion, and preference, a considerate remembrance of others' whims, aversions, and choices, the sweet temper that avoids irritating subjects, contradiction, and friction, and soothes disquietude and small exaspera- tions. — these, and kindred kindnesses, are the sweet herbs that give exquisite savor to commonest life. Some people are capable of stupendous sacrifices for another's welfare who would never think of closing a door softly to avoid the shock to quivering nerves ; and others are willing to give away fabulous sums of money, who perhaps grudge a few minutes daily to make a child happy, or to write a letter giving such gladness as money could not buy. These tithes of 92 "MINT AND ANISE AND CUMMIN" time, convenience, and courtesy are not supreme, nor are they the whole of life, but — " Mint and anise and cummin — these ought ye to have done," together with the " weightier matters." Attention to small details is another flavoring of good deeds which enhances their value, as the carawny and dill were mingled w r ith other things in our great- grandmothers' capacious pockets, and seasoned with their slight diversion the sermons of long ago. A letter that brings the very essence of home-life to the absent is not of the generalizing sort, with sweeping statements as to family matters and the affairs of neigh- borhood or state, leaving out all homely incidents, intimate glimpses of love and longing, and the small happenings of every day. The satisfying letter goes into details, answers questions, acknowl- edges little love-thoughts, and accepts small commissions. What a delicious flavor of every day does Paul's refer- -MINT AND ANISE AND CUMMIN." 93 ence to his cloak left at Troas give to the great apostle's letter ; and while it contained many weightier matters, it is to be hoped that Timothy remembered, among other things, to go to Carpus for that cloak, and brought also " the books, especially the parchments,' 7 desired. In this age of organization, when it seems as if every other woman, at least, were secretary, treasurer, or chairman of some society or committee, the minute attention to details, and exact compli- ance with directions, are unspeakably comforting to those who must collect statistics and combine reports. Prodi- gious things may be done for the benefit of a society, and vast sums of money se- cured by enthusiastic effort ; but if accu- rate records are not kept, and remittances come tardily, somebody at headquarters may be kept in such a tumult, and find the straightening out such a strain, as largely to overbalance the pleasure in the work done. These things are the 94 THE DAILY CHART. omitted tithes of " mint and anise and cummin — these ought ye to have done." Life is exceedingly complex ; it has many ingredients. Sweet herbs, aro- matic herbs, soothing herbs, must be tithed for the mixing. Let us aim to make people not only wise and good, but comfortable, and give them what is not only wholesome, but relishing. Let us guard against the " omission or careless performance " of the little ministries, while we observe faithfully the weightier matters, lest the untithed mint and anise and cummin draw forth the reproving word, "These ought ye to have done.'' 8R)e Bat'Ig Cfjart Out upon the sea a great steamer cut its way. The passengers were deeply interested in a safe and speedy voyage ; but not one knew how to guide the ves- THE DAILY CHART. 95 sel's course, nor mark its progress. Every day, however, there was placed in plain sight a chart of the ship's course, while tiny flags indicated its po- sition on each date. Some one knew where the floating palace took its way, how far it swept, what points it reached and left behind. It was the daily pleas- ure of the passengers to consult this significant chart. Suppose that for a day it had been withheld, would dismay have followed disappointment, and fear beset them all for lack of the usual signals ? Would any have said, " We are surely going wrong" or, "We are making no head- way," because the way could not be traced ? Surely not. Pilot, engineer, and captain would be as wise and worthy of trust as before, and the ship would pursue her way as safely and surely. The simple matter of seeing the record would make no difference in any case with the facts themselves. 96 THE DOORS BEING SHUT. So it is upon life's tossing sea. It may be wondrous pleasant to see how the vessel speeds, but it is not neces- sary to its safe-conduct that passengers should see the chart. All is secure with Him who " knows the way He taketh," though His path be in the sea. That daily chart with tiny flags might be wrong, after all. A mistake in cal- culation, or an unsuspected divergence of the needle, might make it a false record. But nothing can deflect God's purpose, nor turn his course, who guides his chosen safely home. What matter if we cannot see? Enough for us His word shall be: " Fear not, for I will pilot thee." E\)t Soots Being Sfjut. John xx. 19, 26. The doors were shut; without were foes, The unbelieving, clamorous host ; THE DOORS BEIXG SHUT. 97 Within, the sad disciples met To talk of what concerned them most. The recent grief, the he aw loss. The heartache, and the painful doubt, Were shut within the bolted doors That barred the curious gazers out. In this seclusion, love had leave To give its pain and longing speech; For all the mocking multitude Were out of sight, and out of reach. And lo ! the Master in the midst, His entrance all unseen, unknown. Proclaimed his presence and his peace, A message meant for these alone. Oh ! close the doors, disciples true, Who crave to-day the word of peace ; For enemies are fierce without, And earthly clamors never cease. Haste, bar them out ! Let silence fall ; But let the heart its longing speak, And wait his noiseless coming: in. The risen Saviour, whom ye seek. 9 8 UNOWNED FIELDS. GKno&mrti jFultig. It is a blessed thing that one is not shut out from enjoyment because he may not hope for possession. "From the green fields we do not own, We yet may watch the wild birds fly." The fields are not walled, and our eyes need not be closed as we pass. The owners themselves have no more senses to gratify than we ; and sights and songs and perfumes, the atmosphere and influ- ence all abroad, where birds fly, orchards bud, and crops ripen, belong as much to the passer-by as to the property-holders. Moreover, there are exemptions and compensations for the non-owners. They are not responsible for the cultivation of the fields, or for the payment of taxes. It might even be a burden to hold the title- deed. Often one forgets this, and only covets the beautiful field for one's own. There are fields of opportunity, influ- "IN WHITE." 99 ence, wealth, science, art, and of marvel- lous gifts and attainments. Others own them, and we can but eye them. But if we cannot rejoice in the ownership, we can rejoice with the owners. Verily, there are other ways of enjoy- ing things besides owning them. Look up, and "watch the wild birds fly," and do not fret over unowned fields. "En HHijite." Here is a good word dropped by some one, that ought to be passed on : " Serve God, and be cheerful. Religion looks all the more lovely in white." Think of it ! Religion in white ! Fair draperies may not be essential, but they are certainly influential. The first im- pression may be made by them before the absolute essentials are sought. Those who are not Christians will readily discern the difference between IOO "ALL THE DAYS." the garments of gloom and the garments of praise. There is good cheer some- where. If it is a hid treasure, seek for it, and then make religion lovely " in white.' ' «ail % JBags." This ray of promise falls on darkened ways, "Lo, I am with you alway — all the days." The bright, untroubled, gladsome days of life, The days of bitterness and care and strife ; The days when peace doth like a river flow, The days of grief with weary hours and slow. He goes not on far journeys, Christ is near, He leaves no day without its help and cheer. BITTER HERBS. 101 As once of old " He knew what He would do," When servants were dismayed and troubled too, So now, with infinite supplies at hand, He walks with us, though in a barren land. Some sweet surprise He doubtless has in store, Some secret that He never told before. For this, perhaps, He leads through shaded ways, And you will understand ere many days. Sitter p?eris. " Poison not thy wine with bitter herbs when God hath made it sweet." Here is a fine corrective for the mis- ery-making propensity of morbid natures and sensitive spirits. Many a time the Lord himself mingles myrrh with the wine of life ; and then 102 BITTER HERBS. the sainted Judson's words are timely : "Take the cup in both hands, and sit down to the repast. You will find sweet- ness at the bottom." But when the Lord has made it sweet, why not take the cup of thanksgiving ? why not drink the wine of gladness with its fragrance and flavor unspoiled ? Why float upon its brim one leaf of the bitter herb of our own gathering, " I am afraid it is too good to be real, too sweet to last " ? Happy natures, in the home and out of it, that take joy unreservedly, as a child from a father who loves to give it, are blessed themselves, and a bless- ing to others. What good times there are for those ready to see and seize them, especially for all who are content with draughts that are simple, though sweet, and are satisfied with small cup- fuls ! There are some who will have nothing if it is not to be had in large- ness and lavishness. Oh, the folly of it ! Take sweet sips, and take them often, BITTER HERBS. 103 and life's long day will have ample re- freshment. Our Father who " knows how " to give good gifts, surely loves to see his chil- dren enjoy to the full the bounty and blessing which his intimate knowledge and love confer. Imagine the feelings of an earthly father, whose child, sitting down to the wholesome fare of the fam- ily table, should persist in bringing from some fence-corner, sprigs of boneset or leaves of rue, to sprinkle upon each dish and flavor every cup ! Yet there are people, let us believe they are few, who will even "gather wild gourds, a lapful," and "shred" them into the day's portion provided by wiser hands than theirs. Fear of the future is a bitter herb. Vague forebodings of evil too often poison the sweet cup of the present. Such herbs are of our own gathering. They grow outside of the Lord's garden ; and we break over the fence of trust that should be built about each dav, in lO~4 BITTER HERBS. the unseemly and hurtful scramble after the wild stalks and bitter roots. The joy of meeting is marred by the fore-dated pain of parting, and dread of separation mingles with the sweetness of daily in- tercourse with hearts held dearest. Why poison the wine ? It is not the trustful, thankful way. Morbid fear of being glad, lest the joy invite sorrow, and precipitate disaster, is a bitter herb that a few souls go far to gather. What wasted journeying ! Would an earthly father inflict pain at the most jubilant moment of a child's life simply because of the gladness ? If pain or disappointment come at such an hour, they are but forerunners of good, not the consequences of trustful joy. Why accuse the infinite Father, who pitieth His children, of such an abhorrent exer- cise of power? It is His "good pleas- ure " to give the kingdom to his "little flock ; " He wants to do it. Surely He would never give a little cup of hap- BITTER HERBS. 1 05 piness beforehand for sake of making pain more swift or bitter. The thought is profane. It is poison. " The Angel of the Afterthought " is fertile in tor- menting suggestions. —"If I had only known " embitters many a present cup with the thought of something missed or marred in the past. " Beware of " Had I wis,' '" says the old proverb. If the lack of knowledge is blameworthy, there is great cause for repentance ; but let it be after a godly sort. Many a time, when there was no chance to know and no responsibility for not knowing, in the past, the soul distils the poison of the bitter herb into the present joy, spoiling what God has made sweet. Is it grate- ful ? Is it wise and well? Some conscientious and careful souls feel smitten and remorseful over the tak- ing of some sweet cup which cannot be shared with all. They may thus miss the full benefit of the health-giving draught. Even unselfishness, gone to seed, has lo6 BITTER HERBS. a bitter flavor in the pod. The de- voted house-mother or the general care- takers, not wonted to take thought for themselves, may mourn so deeply the pri- vation of those who cannot enjoy unex- pected good times with them, as to spoil the effect of the rest and refreshment meted out now and then. Blessings on the sweet spirits who find it hard to re- sign themselves to absolute rest and enjoyment because others are denied it ! But when the pleasure comes, unsought perhaps, without defrauding another, and vain regret but spoils the cup the Lord made sweet, without giving others so much as a taste, why poison it with bit- ter herbs. The thought of one's own ill-desert is another herb that is often bitter. It is not deadly, but it is distressing. Sweet surprises, dear praises from loving lips, ready appreciation, unexpected commen- dation, unsought privilege, undeserved consideration, humble the heart that BITTER HERBS. 1 07 knows its weakness ; and sometimes an excess of feeling presses a bitter drop into the cup of rejoicing. But every good gift from above cometh down from "the Father of lights,'"' because He is good, not because we are worthy or ever can be. Humility is not a bitter herb, but humiliation is. It grows in dark places, fed by mortified feeling, tended by wounded pride. True humility is well defined as "not thinking ill of our- selves, but not thinking of ourselves at all." This is a heaven-sown plant, and should grow in sunshine as well as in shadow. It need not embitter the cup of joy. Beware, then, of the bitter herbs of many names and natures, and of the nameless ones, too, of unaccountable, groundless fears and feelings. Xot the sweetness of stolen waters, not the nec- tar of forbidden sweets, but the wine that God makes sweet, may be counted wholesome and good. Do not mingle 108 "THERE'S ALL ETERNITY." with poison his kindly offered cup "Thou shalt rejoice in every good thing which the Lord thy God hath given thee." Israel was warned of old that if they did not serve the Lord with joy- fulness and gladness of heart because of the abundance of all things, they should serve the enemy in hunger and thirst, and in want of all things. " Go thy way, eat thy bread, and drink thy wine with a merry heart ; for God now accepteth thy works," is his message tc the honestly earnest and faithful. "Joy is the grace we say to God." "Ojere'g ail lEtermtg Betax" Suggested by his Words, and Inscribed to Bishop C. C. McCabe. Time's fair and fleeting yesterdays Are heaping high the storied past ; With gleaming hours, all jewel-set, The treasure-house is filling fast. "THERE'S ALL ETERNITY:' 1 09 But why regret the vanished gold Of Time's most dear and hallowed store ? Why mourn the unreturning days ? "There's all Eternity before \ " The ship that spreads her canvas white To meet the free and favoring breeze, Goes speeding toward the wished-for port That beckons o'er the wind-tossed seas. Time's mariner is outward bound, Nor marks the dim, receding shore ; The land-locked harbor may be fair — " There's all Eternity before ! " The baffled hopes, the hindered toil, The bonds which eager spirits wear, Shall find a recompense at last. When dawns the nightless morning fair. Life's fret and fever then shall cease, The scourging haste will all be o'er, The long, long leisure comes apace — " There's all Eternitv before ! " HO "MULTIPLYING HORSES:' O solemn warning ! Comfort sweet ! These days and deeds are not the whole ; This broken life shall be complete When Jesus calls the trusting soul. Ring, tuneful bells of passing Time, Till Time itself shall be no more ; While Faith repeats the chant sublime, " There's all Eternity before ! " "fHuIttpIofng Worses." "He shall not multiply horses unto himself." — Deut. xvii. 16. A strange command, surely, to be set among those forever binding upon Israel's kings ! What harm in horses ? Ah, they had to be brought from Egypt ; and should the people return to Egypt, to the end that " the king should multiply horses," the Lord's command would be broken, " Forasmuch as God had said, ye shall henceforth return no more that way." "MULTIPLYING HORSES" HI King Solomon afterward had horses brought from Egypt, and doubtless prided himself upon his forty thousand stalls for them ■ but if he had held no communication with that land of bon- dage, would Pharaoh's daughter have " turned away his heart/' and " come up to the house which he built for her " ? It was not safe traffic, for all its fasci- nation. It is not safe now for God's children to multiply unto themselves anything that will certainly bring about intercourse with the land of bondage whence they have come out. The pleasures and pursuits that belong distinctively to k * Egypt " must be foregone. By reason of their connections they are dangerous ; their tendencies are toward the place of which God has said, " Ye shall return no more that way.*' Long after the command was written, Ezekiel records the rebellion of the king who " sent his ambassadors to Egypt 112 "DRINK WATERS OUT OF that they might give him horses," as if relief and defence might come from there ; and the solemn questions flame upon the page, "Shall he prosper? Shall he escape that doeth such things, or shall he break the covenant and be de- livered ? " "Urink TOattrs ©ui of Qfyim ©tax Cistern," So says the wise man. It is a pitiful sign of destitution and improvidence when one willingly depends upon others for common necessaries, and when life has nothing but what is brought to it, being without resources within. There should be a reserve for time of need, when neighborly offices fail. Cisterns are filled from above, if con- ductors are furnished for the rain from heaven. So every one may have sources of refreshment, and supplies that shall THINE OWN CISTERN." H3 defend him against loneliness and de- spondency, when outside helps are cut off. There are countless neighborly inter- changes that cheer the way, and cups of cold water are given by friendly hands, but not all daily needs can be ministered unto by others, nor can that which gives refreshment to one be at the disposal of another. Don't depend upon neighbors for everything. " Drink waters out of thine own cistern." 5Trjc JftocrtcncTj Utttcr. Heed well this lesson : Life's alloy, The sweetened bitter, bringeth joy. The healing leaves give Marah's flow A taste no other waters know. ILatge Enbcstmmts. This is a day of large enterprises and extensive investments. The fascination 114 LARGE INVESTMENTS. about bold undertakings and great ven- tures almost amounts to infatuation. A Western farmer, gazing over his prairie acres, might have much ado to conceal his contempt for the farms of early New Englanders, if they were mentioned in comparison ; and at best he would have but a condescending pity for those obliged to engage in such small business as cul- tivating such bits of stony land. It would be a great advantage to the world if this spirit could be turned to account in the more important business of life as well as in secular traffic, and if all who despise little things would also despise littleness. A noble, devout, disinterested man, who gave his whole life to the service of others with singular zest, once said, on being drawn out: " I am sure I am not more benevolent than others ; but when I was only a boy, it seemed to me that living exclusively for one's self was too small a business." A BROKEN BRANCH. 1 15 Isn't this vitally true ? One person is but an atom in the magnificent universe, an infinitesimal unit in the world's mil- lions. Think of concentrating a lifetime, and the energies of an immortal soul, upon that atom ! Isn't it revolting, es- pecially when one comes in contact with so many other atoms in need of help ? One who exists for himself lives in a house without windows. He can't look out, and doesn't deserve to have any one look in. This small business grows smaller and smaller ; there are no dividends. There is no excuse in engaging in it either ; for opportunities to help others are on every side, and invite large investments, sure to bring permanent returns. 21 Broken Brand). A symmetrical tree is a thing of beauty, but an orchard of beautiful yet Il6 A BROKEN BRANCH. barren trees would not be satisfactory to the owner. A fruit-bearing branch is valuable, whether it be shapely and fair, or gnarled and broken. Once upon a time a very huge and an- cient apple-tree in an orchard, set forth a suggestive parable in the face of pass- ers-by, if those who ran but chose to read. An immense branch, broken from the trunk, but not severed from the root, was cast upon trie ground by the high wind. There it lay along, the size of a tree itself, like a defeated giant, but not de- feated after all. Its object was to bear fruit, and bear fruit it did. The tiny apples with which it was covered when it fell, grew apace and ripened, in spite of the fell disaster that had visited the branch. It still had vital connection with the root, though torn from the trunk. The tree was marred, the branch broken ; but, in spite of all, it fulfilled its mission. Beauty, symmetry, a conspicu- ous place high in air among the other HE IS RISEN. 117 branches, were not essential, although desirable. The vital thing — connec- tion with the root — insured the life and fruitage. So a maimed life, cast from its high place, injured by some sharp stroke, but not destroyed, may still be fruitful and also fair, may live in the sunlight, glad- den the eyes, and enrich the lives of others, if, at the root, there is still vital connection with the Infinite Source of life and love. f£?e Es ftiscn. Ring, chiming bells of Easter, Repeat your message glad ! The gray old world is waiting, In sombre raiment clad. Break forth, break forth in music, Uplifting, sweet, and true ; Ring out — " The Lord is risen, The Lord is risen for you /" II 8 HE IS RISEN. For you, who find life's burden So irksome and so great ; For you, O troubled spirits ! For whom Care lies in wait, — The Lord for you is risen, " If ye be risen with him." Your souls shall break their prison, And leave these shadows grim. Sweet bells, prolong your echoes, And sound'through all the year; Proclaim, " The Lord is risen, And ye have naught to fear." May Easter blessedness come to you, And the Lord Jehovah make all things new ! New glories shine through the common days, New blossoms brighten the trodden ways, And your week-day dress be the Robe of Praise. AS YOU PASS. IIQ &s g0u pass. Sylvia went out by herself, to have a little confidential time with Mother Na- ture, to hear what she might tell her, and to receive what might be given by this good mother who lives out-of-doors. As she passed beyond the edge of the woodland, on her way into its depths, where she expected to find the choicest treasures and to hear the sweetest secrets in the stillness, Sylvia noticed a fine spray of goldenrod, the first of the season. " How beautiful that is ! " she ex- claimed. " When I come back I will gather it and take it home." But the wood-pilgrim wandered about, and in and out, following beguiling little paths that seemed to go everywhere and led nowhere after all ; and when she turned her face homeward, she came out of the wood a long distance from where she had entered it. The place was not very familiar ; and Sylvia, while thinking 120 AS YOU PASS. that she knew where she was, searched everywhere about for the goldenrod left. She could not find it, nor any like it, and went home without the coveted bloom. " The next time I'll take it as I pass, and not wait till I come back," she re- solved, with wisdom born of disappoint- ment. " The safe way is to take such things when you see them first, other- wise you may miss them altogether.' ' There is a little sermon wrapped up in this reflection about the goldenrod. Expand it, and it may prove practical. Learn to take the little sweetnesses and pleasant things of life as you go, and do not be in haste to go farther, promising to enjoy the first things upon the edge as you return. It may be impossible to find them again. And when a bright little opportunity blossoms as you pass, stop to pluck and use it. You may not pass that way again. WOUNDED FEELINGS. KJEountieti jfaltngg. An accidental knife-thrust will draw blood as quickly as an intentional stab. The act may be deeply deplored ; but if there is life at all in the body, nothing can keep the red current from leaping out when the keen blade cuts through the skin. What then? Shall the blood be left to flow, and the wound to gap ? Surely not. When enough vital fluid has poured out to insure no poison being left, stanch the flow, bind up the hurt, and leave it to heal by the first intention, not tearing it open now and then to inspect or to show it. No amount of pity can make a wound lovely to look at. To the hurts which the spirit must bear, apply the same treatment. Sensitive feel- ings cannot ignore a sharp thrust, even if unintentional. With no outward sign, there may still be the instant, inward 122 MULTIPLIED SEED. pain. Unkindness, ill-humor, and, above all, injustice, make deep cuts. What then ? Let the poison run out with the first natural flow, and then bind up the wound. Let charity cover it from sight. Forget it, forbear to show it, and it will speedily heal, without a scar. fHitlttrjltetJ Sertu " He that ministereth seed to the sower . . . mul- tiply your seed sown." — 2 Cor. ix. 10. He gives it first, the Lord of all ; In His dear name we let it fall. What though the garden-space be small ? In one small acre seed is grown Which faith and hope may scatter far ; The harvest-time shall make it known, How many precious sheaves there are, And what the fair and bounteous yield On some far-distant, larger field. 'Twere joy enough the seed to sow, If never sheaf were seen below; A PASSING SALUTE. 1 23 But ah, the Master is so kind, Some golden grain He lets us bind, Before the final reaping-day, That we with joy may go our way. & Passing jialutc. It was at the time of the World's Fair. The Japanese Tea-house looked very inviting to a party of visitors, and they went in to refresh themselves. An attractive Japanese woman waited upon them in a deft and gracious way. Fast- ened upon her curious robe might be seen a little silver cross. A lady in the party wore one like it ; and presently the native of the far-off islands pointed sig- nificantly to her own cross, and then to the counterpart worn by the visitor. The two King's Daughters recognized each other, smiled, and clasped hands. It was the silent salute of two passing travellers who knew that they would 124 UP THE HILL, INTO THE LIGHT. meet again. Neither understood the other's tongue ; but the silver speech of the shining symbol was intelligible to both, and each claimed kinship with the King, and fellowship with each other. The communion of saints is not lim- ited to speech, nor to any land or tongue. tt}t fijitt £s Ento tjje ILt'flfjt. " How hard the way is ! " cried one, toiling along the up-hill path in deep shadow. " Isn't there a pleasanter way round ? Must we go straight up ? " " Yes ; we must go straight up,'' was the answer of the elder companion. " There is no easier way. Up the hill is into the light." Many a time pleasure-seekers and treasure-seekers find themselves toiling along in the dusky shadows up a steep path. They are thwarted, hindered, THE THOUGHTS OF GOD. 1 25 hampered, in the press of life ; but up the hill is into the light. At the end of life's long ascent " the city lieth four-square : " in " the mount of the Lord it shall be seen/' and " the sun shall no more go down." 2Tfje CI}ougf)ts of ©0I1, O precious thoughts of God, What wealth can dearer be ! Though I am poor and weak, He thinketh upon me. How wonderful His thoughts How oft misunderstood ! He knows my thoughts afar, He thinks on me for good. He knows the thoughts He thinks, Most gracious thoughts of peace, To give expected ends, The captive to release. 126 BEADS UPON A STRING. His thoughts are not as ours, They cannot come to naught ; Nor can we ever stray Beyond His loving thought. God send us happy thoughts of Him Which neither doubt nor care shall dim. Beats 5Spon a String, Scattered beads are unavailable dec- orations. They roll into unnoticed cracks and corners ; and one or two, picked up, will not make a necklace ; they must all be strung. Beads that are worth stringing may be threaded again and again. When the string breaks they disappear into cran- nies, none know where, and perhaps none care; but by and by somebody finds and strings them, the same beads, but connected and usable once more. BEADS UPON A STRING. 1 27 So thoughts and truths are threaded upon words, and re-strung over and over. It is easier to string them than to make them; but like gold and coral and amber beads, they are worth re-stringing; they do not perish with the breaking cord. They hide for a while ; and somebody, rejoicing as over a new discovery, finds them, by their shine, in a chink. It is only a re-discovery and a re-stringing af- ter all. What of it? There are not new thoughts enough to allow each of us to make a necklace ; but neither are there enough to waste, through the breaking string, the outworn or forgotten form of words. Who thinks of the string? Yet i: holds the beads. Let us, then, who cannot originate much, take heart of grace. It is worth while to find what is already made, and to bring it within reach. Be alert to see and to seize the first u 11 worded sugges- tions, the bits of existing truth, that may, with care, be strung upon words to help 128 BEADS UPON A STRING. somebody. Let us find the simple and strong words, for thoughts of love and sympathy which the world still needs, though they have been strung again and again. There may be some who have not seen them; for these, the old com forts may be set in order new, although "at random strung, like beads upon a string." This should be the guiding and the guardian angel of the home. What a gentle, unobtrusive angel it is; how sweet and silent, dear and helpful. It is not in great emergencies, demanding unlim- ited surrender, that this genius presides. It is in the daily living that the ministry is needed, in the thousand frictions, the small exactions, nameless adjustments, and countless opportunities that befall. It is the angel of little sacrifices that hovers near when little self-indulgences BEADS UPON A STRING. 1 29 are quietly given up, and small prefer- ences yielded without a word*, for what is trumpeted is spoiled, and the injured aspect or the condescending air ruins the result. Firmness in principle, regardless of feeling, may be indeed heroic, but the graceful yielding of what is called a mere preference, which yet may be as deeply rooted as a principle, may in fact be scarcely less heroic, when all the clamorous, self-asserting feelings inside rise up and protest against it. Where many live together, there must be innu- merable choices and desires, and even whims and conflicting plans. Some one must sacrifice wishes and convenience in trifles, or the machinery will certainly jar. It may be in such minute affairs as the placing of furniture, the arrange- ment of drapery, the hour of meals, the cooking of a dish, the time for study or for calls, or the choice of amusement that the gentle angel finds the opportu- 13° BEADS UPON A STRING. nity for unselfish relinquishment, where justice alone would assert its rights. But in such trifles the perfection of harmony in home-life is found and kept. Where " mother " is, there is this good angel. Her great renunciations may perhaps be known and sung ; but her countless small surrenders, that ease the way, prevent concussion and conflict? and sweeten the daily cup, none may know, though all may feel the blessing that follows them. Let us emulate those who, to us, personify this good angel, and seek the grace that makes them winsome. If "this kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting," nevertheless, let us seek, for it is worth it all. "helpers of joy." Of making many societies there seems to be no end, though there must be a limit somewhere. Here is one, however, that may exist without organization, by BEADS UPON A STRING I3 1 laws, officers, or fees, and be joined with- out formality. The Golden Rule is its constitution, and Paul may be called its founder or forerunner ; for he says of himself and associates, to the Corinthi- ans, "We were helpers of your joy." To be a helper of joy, one must be sympathetic and unselfish ; and this may make joining the circle a costly thing, but the recompense will overpay it. There's none too much joy in the world ; some of it has to be helped on and eked out, or some people will have little enough. Those who do not know how to enjoy life ought to be shown how, and helped to do it, by way of finding the sunny side, when they forget to look, or grope in vain. But one of the most effective ways of helping joy is not to spoil it by refusal to share it. When the cup runs over, there should be somebody to catch the overflow. Joy bubbles into speech, and somebody must listen. It may not be I3 2 BEADS UPON A STRING. easy and comfortable to do this when one is inclined, instead, to brood over one's own unpleasant experience, and to resent another's exuberant gladness ; but the command to rejoice with those that do rejoice, is not conditioned upon our feeling like it. Crowd out other feelings to make room for sympathy in others' joy, and the joy itself will crowd in. We may be oftener asked to listen to a tale of woe than to a song of gladness ; but when the chance offers, let us be helpers of joy; for, — " All the angels would be glad, If, in the world He built, Although there must be some things sad, No drop of joy were spilt." A CHEERFUL EXPECTER. The look forward is inevitable. Most of us are some sort of expecters ; but isn't it strangely true that the glance into the future is rather of foreboding IN "THE GARDEN OP GIRLS." 133 than of faith ? A cheerful expecter does more than keep himself happy; he sheds and shares his hopeful anticipation. There is a gracious contagion about it. Cheerfulness has been called " the bright weather of the heart." One per- son can't have all the weather. Don't be a doleful prognosticator, but a cheer- ful expecter, and make bright weather in the hearts around. In " £f)e ©artien of <@irte." There is delightsome variety in the garden of girls. Like children pressed to make a difficult choice, one is tempted to say, '• I like them all best/' Can it be that any girls are anxious to outgrow the beautiful blossom-time ? Let them not be in haste, lest they squan- der the joys of the unreturning clays, and defraud others, who need them just as they are, in the blithe years of life's be- 134 IN "THE GARDEN OF GIRLS.' 1 ginning. Girlhood, in early and fragrant flower, is one of the choicest gifts of God. As no great occasion is complete un- less graced with flowers, so life must have its nosegays of girls in clusters of youth, brightness, good cheer, and help- fulness. How people smile on them ; surely they ought to be loved into the very best that is possible in girlhood, and bless the barren places with whatso- ever things are lovely. And noticeably first in the garden is QUEEN ROSE. Queen Rose has beauty, and is blessed among girls for this boon from above. She has gifts and grace, and gracious- ness too, if she is sweet clear to the heart. Radiant Rose has opportunities and outlook beyond many, and royal bounty is hers. There should be a dis- tribution of favors no less regal. What IN "THE GARDEN OF GIRLS." 135 can a rose gain by hoarding sweetness ? Every one looks at Rose ; but this must not spoil her so that she will not look at her modest little cousin Sweetbrier, whose leaf and petal wardrobe is not so fine and full. Beauty has a heavenly mission; be true to yours, Queen Rose, and make the garden fair, so that pass- ers-by may easily forget the stones and brambles of the wayside. Keep the in- most, delicate petals close-folded over the heart of hearts, with that fine re- serve that makes the half-open bud love- lier than the full-blown flower. Let others enthrone you, my Rose, and be worthy of their lavished love, remember- ing who has made you beautiful. Strive to be "exceeding fair/' which reads, in the Bible margin, " fair to God." But none can love flowers and not love THE PAXSIES. Do look at the pansies, with their wise faces ! How much they must know ! 136 IN "THE GARDEN OF GIRLS." Pansies, in the garden of girls, must surely stand for thoughts, as they do everywhere. How many can describe accurately the leaf-draperies that pan- sies wear in the garden-bed ? But who does not know exactly how the bright blossoms lift their faces to the sky, and what royal colors they wear ? Girl- thcughts are often royal too, as the purple petals of the pansy ; and the in- tellectual girl has wonderful influence in this, the Woman's Age. But remember always, dear, gifted Pansy, that your choicest beauty and blessing lie in the heart of gold ! But here we have, with all their witch- eries, THE MORNING-GLORIES. Such flowers for good cheer! They brighten the great commonplace, these do. They will clamber over an aristo- cratic trellis, twine around a cotton string, wreathe a sunflower stalk, festoon a back- IN " THE GARDEN OP GIRLS.'' 137 kitchen window, or grace the front ve- randa. They never stint their bloom, nor wait for admiring on-lookers before they fling out their banners. The morning-glory girls are as wel- come everywhere as their namesakes, the " daughters of the dawn." They bring morning-colors into the life about them, and brighten both kitchen and parlor. Don't tell me that my favorite morning- glory is not very intellectual, nor ex- tremely select. Don't call her u com- mon " because she graces the back yard. We must have a back yard, most of us ; and I dote on the flowers that will grow there without a gardener's care, when one can't afford a gardener. Shall I reveal the secret of my morn- ing-glory's charm ? It is a happy heart. Blessings on the merry-hearted, not the giddy — oh, no ! but the glad, and even gleeful, who take hearty and wholesome pleasure in all that is given richly to enjoy, who make the best of things, and 138 IN "THE GARDEN OF GIRLS.' 1 have sunshine and to spare, for daily use and home consumption. A habit of giving a blithe " Good-morning," a way of being content, a fashion of covering rough and waste places, and hiding them with bloom, may not be in any wise brilliant, but few things are better. There is room for morning-glories everywhere ; for the healthful, good-tem- pered, happy girls, ready to " do good and to communicate ;? in all sorts of homely ways, and not needing to be brought from the greenhouse, either, wrapped in tin-foil, when a body needs heartening up a bit. Are you climbing up to your privi- leges, dear Morning-glories ? If God has given you that dear gift, a happy disposition, rejoice in it, and use it for him. Let it spread itself around, as the pink and purple blooms of dawn caress and cling and open everywhere. But what have we here ? IN "THE GARDEN OF GIRLS." 139 HOLLYHOCKS. Yes, we have indeed ! Why not ? The quaint flowers of grandmother's garden- are coming round again. They present an improved appearance, however, for they are more double than of old ; and hollyhocks, in full pink and white and pale yellow, are the prettiest flower-cush- ions imaginable. But they have very short stems ; they are seldom used for bouquets ; and they cannot clamber about, and peep over the wall. So there are stay-at-home girls, that may, in their secret hearts, make moan over their limitations. They may also dislike their names, being sometimes called, or mis-called, " old-fashioned ; '* and they seem to be kept aloof from the bright bouquets that grace the great oc- casions. Let them take heart. They have their dear associations, and are greatly to be desired. Let them con- tent themselves upon the short stems, 140 JN "THE GARDEN OF GIRLS." in the cramped area of influence and opportunity ; but let them grow double where they are. No garden border would be complete without MIGNONETTE. It is not easy to analyze the elusive yet potent charm of this unobtrusive little flower. Not in form, color, or grace does it rival its garden neighbors ; but in its delicious sweetness it wins its way. Let no girl say she has no gifts, no way to win or to be winsome : for she may be, and ought to be, sweet — sweet of temper and of spirit, friendly, loving, and sympathetic ; and the Gardener can make her so. The white cup of the lily is fair as well as full of perfume; but fragrance is refreshing, however offered. The lily may seem a trifle stately and aggressive, but lowly mignonette makes no parade. It lifts no lovely chalice; IN " THE GARDEN OF GIRLS." I4« but somehow one finds out that it is sweet, and loves it for that. This, too, is a heavenly gift ; and any girl in the garden whose name is Mignonette may well give thanks for it, and others may well covet the name and the nature. While sweet odors are evanescent, their effect is strangely lasting. A waft of perfume has wonderful power to quicken memory; and even remembered fra- grance has dear and peculiar associa- tions, though without visible or palpable records. So, sweetness of disposition endears itself in a nameless way, giving and gaining love. Exceeding fair is the Garden of Girls, In the dew-fall of early youth ; And under the Gardener's loving care, May it blossom with grace and truth. 142 HIS WAY IS IN THE SEA. pjis OTag is in tjje Sea, His path is in deep waters, His way is in the sea ; The tempest and the darkness His messengers may be. The mystery about us Is not of doubt and fear; The mystery of mercy, His love at last will clear. And, as of old, the waters Of tossing Galilee Opposed their billows vainly When Jesus walked the sea, So now the storm and tempest Are subject to his will ; His path is in the waters, He cometh to7vard us still. A strange and awesome coming ! Yet faith and love rejoice When, sounding through the darkness, They recognize his voice. C0NVEX1EXT HERBS. 1 43 His voice, so long familiar. Proclaims his presence nigh ; His greeting falls like music : " Fear not, for it is I." The listening heart may hear it, This word of rest and peace ; And when he giveth quiet, Earth's jarring tumults cease. • And lo, the wind-swept water, His strange, dark path, afar. Gives back the bright reflection Of many a radiant star. Conbrmrnt JL^crbs. Some remedies which are very effec- tive are not easily obtained. They may be exceedingly rare, or their preparation may be difficult and expensive. Some- times what is wanted most and would be most effectual for healing is not at hand 144 CONVENIENT HERBS. in the emergency, and then it matters little what virtue it possesses. But there are simple herbs that may usually be found in the home garden or the garret, and somebody is sure to have a store of these to recommend and to offer for the common ills that flesh is heir to. A simple remedy at hand is of greater worth than a more costly and complicated one absolutely unattainable. There are inward hurts that need heal- ing, and " a wounded spirit who can bear?" Bruises and broken bones and bodily sicknesses are disabling, and must have suitable tendance ; but heart sor- rows and wearing griefs, anxieties and adversities, are also disabling, and what shall be done to gain health and effect a cure ? Various reliefs may be sug- gested which are not feasible ; but, hap- pily, there are remedies at hand, and convenient herbs with healing power. We need not go on far journeys, nor even CONVENIENT HERBS. 1 45 "Hide ourselves for calm. The herbs we seek to heal our woe, Convenient by our pathway grow; Our common air is balm." The common tasks are wholesome herbs. Work is a restorative in spite of the instinctive aversion which a sore heart feels toward it. Why should every day toil go on when life within is changed by some sharp stroke or slow sorrow ? Because the comfort of others depends upon the doing of homely duties, and because the small drudgeries themselves are remedial. There is a compulsion about them which acts like a tonic, and they wrest the attention from the inward wound till it has had time to heal a little. Small kindnesses and considerate care for others are soothing herbs within easy reach. The effort to be interested in af- fairs around us, when our own are wofully absorbing and painful, will often be re- warded by a diversion that is wholesome and helpful. As a poultice draws out poi- H6 convenient herbs. son and allays irritation, so the common courtesies of life will prove to be emol- lients for inward hurts, caused perhaps by occurrences far out of the ordinary. The habit of quick and keen obser- vation stands one in good stead in times when help is needed. Simple diversions of thought, a readiness to take up little pleasures, though the zest seems to be gone out of life, will have restorative effect ; and gratitude for remaining bless- ings, is a sweet herb with wonderful healing powers. The ability and purpose to make the best of things will greatly serve the end, as one goes along the daily path in search of relief from any trouble. By the aid of this spirit, very common herbs may be found to have peculiar qualities, and may be used with benefit. Do not overlook the fact that while con- venient herbs abound, divinely adapted for relief, they must be gathered and used, or they will do no good. HANDFULS OF PURPOSE. 147 pfartbfuls ttf Purpose, Incidentals are not always acciden- tals. Non-essentials may be a part of the plan, no less than the absolute req- uisites; as when one deliberately presses down and heaps up the good measure required by law, and justly expected. The unexpected overflow may give more pleasure than the whole of the even measure. Little surprises have a dis- tinct and delightful flavor. Imagine the quick elation with which gleaning Ruth gathered the first " hand- ful of purpose " let fall for her in the field of Eoaz. She came to glean labo- riously ; but the dropped handfuls light- ened her labor and her heart, and her exultation over the unlooked-for accumu- lation must have yielded to a thrill of grateful joy, as she recognized the pur- pose of the Master himself in the unex- pected aid. So the small and sweet surprises in 148 HANDFULS OF PURPOSE. life's field of daily labor, come through an infinite purpose of love ; and the hand- ful of comfort dropped where the finding will most help and cheer, is divinely and definitely ordered. The unlooked-for suc- cess, the blithe salutation, the confident assurance that all will go well, the en- couragement that makes effort easy, the fresh token of friendly confidence, the sudden outcome of grateful appreciation, the glimpse of light and loveliness through a suddenly opened window when all seemed circumscribed and hum- drum, — all these are as much a harmo- nious part of divine plan as the tuneful music of the singing spheres. The stacked and garnered sheaves reward the toil of the husbandman, but the gleaner's work has its recompense too. There are handfuls of purpose for her — for it is usually a woman. Occa- sionally a woman may " consider a field, and buy it," tilling and reaping her own land; but generally Ruth gleans, and HANDFULS OF PURPOSE. 149 her work is " the large aggregate of little things." Her expectations are not ex- travagant ; and when, through handfuls of purpose let fall, she beats out "an ephah " at night, there is a jubilant sense of satisfaction about it, which only the gleaner knows. There is a difference and variety in the handfuls: Sometimas it is a handful of barley, a handful of common meal for some homely nt^ed; it may be a handful of herbs for extra savoriness or soothing, or it may be a handful of posies just to gladden the day. In all these, the lov- ing purpose, the tender forecast, makes us grateful. The handful added to what we have been able to gather is of double value. Many a time a pleasure which we might never have found among the sheaves for ourselves, falls right in our way as we glean. It is worse than waste- ful to let it lie ungathered; it is ungrate- ful. " Your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of these things," even 15° HANDFULS OF PURPOSE the extras and the unexpected things, whether the additions be to purse or to pleasure. The Lord of the harvest may say to the reapers, " Let fall some handfuls of purpose ; " and those in higher service, doing the greater work for Him, may put into our way some unthought-of opportunities. Though we may not see the handfuls drop, we may be sure that it is of divine purpose that they fall. One handful is usually vouchsafed ; for it is apt to be all we can manage, and is better, "with quietness," says the wise man, than "two hands full with vexation of spirit." If the Lord # of the harvest is so kind, let us remember that " as he is, even so are we in the world; " we represent him here. By a little forethought, we may learn to share our handfuls. There are a thousand small attentions, courtesies, and accommodations, which no one would ask or expect, which considerate HANDFULS OF PURPOSE. 15 1 love may plan and provide \ and the choicest flavor of a little favor is fore- thought. It is one thing to overtake a friend and pass with cordial saluta- tion, and another to go out of the way with intent to cheer the loneliness of an empty house, or to divert the brooding fears of one in suspense. It is one thing to toss a flower to a passer-by because it happened to be convenient, and another to select favorite blossoms and carry them on purpose. It is easy to applaud success, but often better to prophesy it, and thus to encourage and secure it. Most people are so busy with the mere scramble of getting through with what must be done, that without provident forethought, there will be small leisure to put a handful of anything in another's way. There must be purpose, or there will be no performance. What can we do, with ready feet, willing hands, friendly speech, sympathetic heart, and I5 2 INCIDENTALS. ready pen, with a little time and a lit- tle thought, to enrich our neighbor "on purpose " ? Encfoentate, The most important thing about a road is its direction, whether it be a broad track or a narrow footway. If the path leads to the place one wishes to reach, that is the essential consideration. A curve here and there, a few scattered stones, some thorns by the wayside, are mere incidentals. It would be folly to magnify these, and to forget the aim of the journey in considering them. But some travellers along life's great highway, and pilgrims of different ages, too, do this very thing ; they make far too much of little uncomfortable matters that are simply by the way, and will soon be passed by, like a bit of prickly hedge along the road that leads to a great city of delight. The whole road ought not to INCIDENTALS. 153 be condemned or lost sight of. because of the briery border that extends but a short space. Suppose one does scratch his hands ! The skin-deep wounds will soon heal. The student's path is upward and on- ward, and the education to which it leads is worth everything it may possibly cost. But alone: the way there are sure to be discomforts as well as difficulties. Les- sons must be learned when a scholar would rather read an interesting book or have a good time with his mates. Prob- lems puzzle, translations baffle, heads ache, furnaces sometimes smoke, the wind is in the east, teachers are not in- fallible in every minute particular, fel- low-students are exasperating, one's own moods vary, and there are small discour- agements and disagreeable things here and there, cropping out in unexpected places. But these are minor considera- tions after all. In spite of these inci- dentals, knowledge is power, and its 154 INCIDENTALS, attainment is lasting gain and gladness. It is good in itself, and better for the usefulness it brings. " When the goal is won at last, Who will count the trials past?" With each milestone reached, the path before beckons more attractively, and the irksome trifles past are forgotten. Why not be wise enough to make light of them at the time, knowing that they will pass away ? In the young Christian's life there are petty vexations, small annoyances, inevi- table renunciations of self, difficulties and discouragements ; but for all this, the road is royal, the opportunities mag- nificent, the joy heavenly, the grace sufficient, and the end a crown and a kingdom. A man is on his way to claim a fine inheritance. He must needs wait at a junction in a clingy waiting room. It is there that the connection is made for PEXETRATIXG COLORS.. 155 the place he must reach. He is housed there from a storm, meanwhile. He does not complain that the waiting-room is not a palace. He is not to stay. His pausing there is a mere incident of the journey. He is going on. Doirt mind the incidentals along life's path, if they are unpleasant; look be- yond, march on, and leave them behind. Penetrating Colors. A traveller lately returned from abroad repeats the story that others have told about the penetrating colors in the pictures upon the uncovered walls of Pompeii, in the porous plaster used so long ago. The colors used in paint- ing pictures on one side of the wall went through to the opposite side, and the work of the artist could only be en- tirely destroyed by tearing down the wall. Such work is now a lost art ; but in these ancient ruins the evidence of its exis- 156 PENETRATING COLORS, tence still appears, and is noticed by the curious traveller as very remarkable. Surely those old masters must have felt that it was worth while to do their best, and to have a care as they laid on their colors, knowing that their work would be lasting, and that not one side alone of the porous plaster, but both sides, would bear the traces of the brush. The lost art is not a very serious loss. The world can get on without it, although painters would be glad to recover it as a curiosity. But there are other penetrat- ing colors of enduring character, and their power will never be lost. Thoughts, emotions, motives, and intentions color our lives. They go through from the inside, and the effect of them is seen without. They cannot be effaced. The Bible speaks of the mind as the cham- ber of imagery; and the pictures there are in these penetrating colors, — "asa man thinketh in his heart, so is he," for his thoughts and intentions give color to PENETRATING COLORS. 157 his life and character, and make it what it is. If self is the centre of the inside pictures, then selfishness will show on the outside, sooner or later, as part of the very fabric of the life. This is a serious thought. But it is comforting to feel that pure motives and lovely thoughts within, per- meate the character and make it beauti- ful. Being good is part of doing good. Outside influences go through inward also ; and there is need to be careful about one's company, reading, surround- ings, and associations, for these have a penetrating power, and their effect is lasting. Whatsoever things are true and lovely should be sought and thought upon. "Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us " is a fitting prayer.