IMAGINATION

This is the song of Imagination: Mine are the wings on which souls soar into the unborn years.

Mine are the sails that speed the ships of fancy across the seas of time.

in sick flesh, and wings of canvas breast the winds, and unseen ships hear cries of help scream from a leaping spark.

I sow to-morrow with good seed.
Without me man is meat.

Swords have won nothing for the

I am the loom that weaves the tapestries for history.

I am the giant crane of the brain.

I am the lens that magnifies the farthest star and the hand that reaches to its height.

Mine is the eye that pierces mountainsides and sees the treasures of the rock. I am the herald of things to be-guide to civilization-architect of evolution-I strike the soul-spark that warms clay to kinship with immortals.

I am the dream of man-awake.

All that is mighty on earth and all that is noble in might-all that is finest and farthest and fairest my pencil sketched.

I stand upon the desert sands and summon fruitful waters from the hills to slake the parching wastes.

I survey highways in the wilderness and beckon courage to the new-found roads.

I tear the bolts from out the hands of Jove and harness them to wheel and lamp.

I spin a wonder-web of wires o'er the miles, and gift the strands with speech.

I drive my iron horses over mountain peaks.

I blend the pigments for the painter's brush and orchestrate musician's hands. I am Revelation-Horizon, Vision, Hope, Faith-the Light Eternal.

I am the voice of God.

I whisper, and walls rise into the clouds, and surgeons' knives find foulness

thought.

'Twas I who taught the wheel-maker and the tool-shaper and the rail-layer and the boat-builder.

I am the Master in Man.

I am Opportunity. I stalk in the sunrise. At dusk, Time the Sweep brushes away my track, but to-morrow I come to walk anew. Herbert Kaufman in Woman's World.

ALL IS ETERNITY

The present cannot be separated from either the future or the past. All time is one time. What men call now is a part of the whole. Men speak of seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, and so on, but after all, all is eternity. We are living in eternity and but one life. We shall continue to exist. What men commonly call death is but another step taken that brings us farther on into the eternal years with all the shades of experiences that we have accumulated in the longer or shorter walks we have previously taken.

God is as infinite and abiding as eternity. He cannot change nor can His power be diminished. His love is as farreaching as Himself. As a child of God you are a creature of His love and omnipotence. Wherever you are, He is. Fear should have no place in your thoughts; but perfect faith and trust should continually manifest in you.

THE GOOD TRAVELER AND THE LEFT-BEHIND

The first thought of the good traveler is to send some message to those left behind. That is why picture post-cards have become so popular. It is nice to think that each colored wing that flutters around the globe is a thought-wing, after all-an expression of remembrance from a relative or a friend. Many of them bear the best of all sentiments: "I wish

you were here." That shows how the travelers think of the stay-at-homes, doesn't it? Their happiness would be absolutely complete-if we were along.

Nothing is sweeter than to be missed; and if we stay-at-homes, with our large leisure, have time to miss the travelers, it is good to know that they, with all their busy sightseeing, have time to think of us and to wish that we were with them.

Their pleasure is always a little spoiled, you see, by our absence; while their absence is only a great joy to us, knowing as we do that it means new worlds for them to conquer, new visions to see, new prospects of delight and dream. Our hearthside contentment is added to by the knowledge that they are wandering in wonderful places; that they, whom we love, are learning more of life, and will be broader, better men and women for their enchanting journey. Always we imagine them in the happiest way, while their thought of us is necessarily tinged with a little sadness for our forlorn situation. We are the poor stay-at-homes!

I do not know what your work is, but I do know that it is useful and that you can make it beautiful.-Thomas Dreier.

The definition of a tempest in a teapot is the fuss other people make about their troubles.

THEIR SISTER

With the joint fame of Orville and Wilbur Wright, aviators, will ever be associated the name of their devoted sister Katherine. She was the only woman who had a share in the close fellowship of the two inventor brothers, for neither ever married.

It was Katherine's faith that encour

aged the unknown aviators through years of experiment, when all their little world. It was Katherine who saved the day when a of Dayton laughted at them. wealthy French syndicate came over to investigate their doings. At this, their darkest hour, when all their machines were broken and they had come to the end of their cash resources, Katherine stepped forward with her savings as a school teacher. Her money built the aeroplane which was exhibited before the delighted Frenchmen, the first men to honor the great American aviators.

It was Katherine, a trained nurse, who was Orville Wright's constant hospital attendant after the fall at Fort Myer in which he was so seriously injured. And it was Katherine, barely resting day or night, who was faithful to the end at the fevered pillow of Wilbur Wright. She was the closest of the family group when that beloved and talented brother was taken from her at the height of his manhood.

About the meanest trick you can play on a four-year-old is to laugh at traits. you are going to cuff him for when he's fourteen.

Be what you wish others to become. Let yourself and not your words preach. -Amiel.

share

The master leans, removes the obstruct

ing clay,

And to-morrow is only a vision; But to-day well lived makes every Yesterday a dream of Happiness,

the glebe,

Look well therefore to this day!

HAPPINESS

But perhaps the most deep-lying thought for us to master, if we would be happy, is our thought of the Universe itself or of God.

The question now is not whether you are religious or not, nor what church you belong to, but simply what kind of a person or force do you think it is that is controlling the world?

Whatever your God, the cardinal point to believe about Him is that He is not "angry at the natural human joys, nor wants you to tremble as you sit at life's feast."

His universe is set for joy. The squirrel in the forest, the fish in the sea, the insect and the bird in the summer sunshine, the kitten by your hearthstone, and the friendly dog who companies your walk, all are normally happy; life tastes good to them. And it must be that He who made them and you is not displeased when you take the simple pleasures which He has endowed you with the capacity to enjoy.

Underneath the happiness of every thoughtful person must rest the profound belief in the goodness of God.

I do not want to be considered as implying that we can be in high spirits all the time. We shall have our pains and disappointments, shadow as well as sun

shine.

But what I do wish to emphasize is. that one who cultivates the art of enjoying simple things, who studies to draw his joy from life's great ocean of common things and not from life's novelties and heated perversions, who with childlike mind accepts that which is and tries to adapt himself to it, who persistently refuses the false pleasures of the immoralities, who cultivates day by day the habit

of cheerfulness, and who believes that He who made us feels as kindly toward us as we feel toward our own children, such a one will find, in days of trouble, certain hidden and profound resources within himself, a poise and peace too deep for any calamity to disturb:

"And so make life, death and that vast

forever

One grand, sweet song."

Perfect happiness is the exercise of virtue. Aristotle.

Happiness is not in outward things.— Aristotle:

When Socrates was asked whether he considered a great King happy, he ananswered: "I do not know how he is supplied with virtue and wisdom." As if he meant that in these two things, and not in fortune's goods, happiness abides. Plutarch.

Nemo malus felix-No bad man is happy.-Juvenal.

The tiredest people are the pleasure seekers.-Laertius.

DON'T TELL YOUR TROUBLES

It never pays to tell your troubles, and there are several reasons why. In the first place, the more you speak or think of your troubles, the more attention you give them; and we always give added life to those things that receive our attention. And, in the second place, you can never half finish telling your troubles before your friends will begin to shower their own tales upon you. Then, how sorry you will be that you started such a gloomy and unfortunate habit.

Nerve us with incessant affirmatives. Don't bark against the bad, but chant the beauties of the good.—Emerson.