THE WASTE OF WAR War is a wilful waste of the people's substance. For every day that a great war lasts, tens of thousands of men must contribute a day's labor. Think of the vast amount of wealth consumed in supporting the great standing armies of Europe. Most great wars, in the present age, are supposed to be based upon an attempt to secure justice, to right a wrong. Is it not possible for the wonderful inventive, creative mind of man to devise a better method of insuring justice? Can not international courts be established which will administer justice between nation and nation as well as between man and man? The war method of settling disputes is a relic of barbarism. An agreement, a compact, among half a dozen of the leading nations could even now make a great war an impossibility. Who is it that inspires and foments war? Is it the artisan, the farmer, the laborer? Is it the man from whom the actual support of war must come who shouts the loudest in favor of war?-Health. RENEWAL I am thankful for the season of renewal, For the golden land of promise close at hand EXTRACT FROM EMERSON'S "Practical faith we have not. Let us believe in unity until our actions are united. Let us not believe, as we do now, in means and medicines, but in our actions recognize that the world flows. ever from the Soul, and instead of attacking the toothache or the dyspepsia, or any other sympton, raise the aim of the man-and toothache and indigestion, cramp and croup, pain and poverty, will disappear in troops, as now in troops these calamities come. "It makes no difference what a saintly soul eats or drinks; let him eat venison or roots; let him drink champagne or water; nothing will harm him or intoxicate or improverish him; he eats as though he eats not, drinks as though he drank not. But we are skeptics over our dinner-table and therefore our food is noxious and our bodies fat or lean. Looking at means and not at grand ends, being in our action dis-united, our bodies have come to be detached from our souls, and we speak of our health." GO FORTH, YE THAT ARE WEARY Where spirit leads there is no weariness, for God is Spirit and God is all, For life and song for mornings, white perfect and harmonious action. When and shining, the road seems long and the mental friend, that you are a Spiritual being, and For fragrance of the soil and growing clouds hang heavy, just realize, dear things; For brooks and sunshine, song birds, that harmful, material conditions can not reach you. love and laughter, For grass-grown, sunlit paths that do not end, For rain and evening winds and moonlit gardens, And all the winsome joys that summe brings. -Anne Abbott. Out of the bondage of fear into the light of Truth we each can go, but only as our mentality reaches out and up for the spiritual guidance, and a firm faith in the knowledge that God never fails his children.-Jessie E. Wellman, La Grange Mo. WEALTHY HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR USE OF FORTUNES Forty years ago a very rich man was looked upon as a demigod. There were very few, they were followed every where with admiration, their movements were heralded and they were greeted by admiring crowds. Notwithstanding this cry about money, the time has passed when a man receives public consideration or applause simply because he has money, no matter how much. There are hundreds now who have more than the richest possessed forty years ago. They are judged wholly by the use which they make of their wealth. They are expected to so manage it as to promote and enlarge the enterprises which develop the country, distribute and disseminate money and give employment. They are held to be trustees, and are measured according to their administration of the trust. The Church and charity, education and art, have claims upon them which they must meet. Hoarded money has not a tithe of the power nor a particle of the respect which it had forty years ago. MENTAL HOUSECLEANING Throw out cracked ideals and old rags of superstition, that match nothing in the new thought. Cast behind old memories that never will fit you again. Scrub up new conceptions. Polish your latest recognition. Root out silliness and deceit. Cart out indecision, which is junk. Sweep the cobwebs out of your brain. Take down the unnatural pictures hanging over the walls of your mind. Have for frescoes no hieroglyphics of the past. Open the windows of your soul and let the sweet, fresh air of understanding sweep through your being. THANKFULNESS FOR LIFE At seventy-six the world ought to seem no different on its spiritual, its ethical, and its human side than it did at fortysix. A statesman and politician who had won many distinctions and been blessed with a multitude of devoted followers closed his career and this life with the pathetic inquiry, "What does it all amount to?" If I should attempt to sum up what the world had all amounted to for me from the day I entered Peekskill Academy at ten years of age until this hour, volumes would not suffice, and, therefore, I sum it all up in this, "For a long life, abounding in good things, in a capacity for enjoying everything, in reciprocal attachments and contributions. with multitudes of men and of women, in more than my share of health and of happiness, I reverently thank God that I am alive and that I have lived.”— Chauncy M. Depew. GOOD HUMOR, MIRTH, CHEERFULNESS Good humor is a bright color in the web of life; this clear, blue sky of the soul, on which every star of talent will shine more clearly, and the sun of genius encounters no vapors in its passage. It is like the green in a landscape, harmonizing in every color, mellowing the light, and softening the hue of the dark; or like a flute in a full concert of instruments, a sound not at first discovered by the ear,, yet filling up the breaks in the concord with its deep melody. Mirth is like the flash of lightning, which breaks through the gloom of the clouds and glitters for a moment. Cheerfulness means looking on the bright side of everything. They are idols of hearts and of house- I shall miss them at morn and at even, holds, They are angels of God, in disguise; His sunlight still seeps in their tresses, His glory still gleams in their eyes. Oh! those truants from home and from heaven, They make me more manly and mild; And I know now how Jesus can liken The kingdom of God to a child. Their songs in the school and the street; I shall miss the low hum of their voices, And the tramp of their delicate feet. When the lessons and tasks are all ended, And death says "The school is dis missed," May the little ones gather around me To bid me good night and be kissed. -Charles Dickens. IN THE MOUNTAINS Oh, the power and the strength of the mountains! Oh, the calm and the peace of the mount- Oh, the rapturous joy of the mountains The grandeur of Nature unaltered- How calm lies the plain in the sunlight, rest. How mad and how useless and cruel How far from the strife of the As the eyes see the grandeur and beauty, The snow-covered peaks in the back- May the soul overlook all the discord ground, The rugged brown rocks of the foothills, The peaceful, enveloping silence And see but the oneness of life. Jessie Anderson Stockton in Power. THE CREED Whoever was begotten by pure love, The scent of the pines and the cedars, Who loves mankind more than he loves And the odorous balm of the fir tree, As they whisper in groups by the The sough of the wind in the hemlocks, And the hum of the wandering bee! Afar, the smoke rising from chimneys Betrays the approach of the train! But here is the sweet isolation, himself, And cannot find room in his heart for hate, May be another Christ. We all may be Our tempers, greeds, and our unworthy Upon the cross. Who giveth love to all, Pays kindness for unkindness, smiles for frowns, And lends new courage to each fainting heart, And strengthens hope and scatters joy He, too, is a Redeemer, Son of God. I The Horse's Point of View in Summer F a horse could talk he would have many things to say when Summer comes. He would tell his driver that he feels the heat on a very warm day quite as much as if he could read a thermometer. He would say,-"Give me a little water many times a day, when the heat is intense, but not much at a time if I am warm; if you want me to keep well don't give me any grain when you bring me warm into the stable, just a half dozen swallows of water, and some hay to eat until I am cool. "Don't water me too soon after I have eaten my grain; wait an hour. Especially do I need watering between nine and ten at night. I am thirstier then than at almost any other time of day." He would say, "When the sun is hot and I am working let me breathe once in a while in the shade of some house or tree; if you have to leave me on the street leave me in the shade if possible. Anything upon my head, between my ears, to keep off the sun, is bad for me if the air cannot circulate freely underneath it, unless it is a sponge kept cool and wet. If you do not clip off my foretop and treat me as you would yourself, you need not have much fear of losing me by a sunstroke. "If on an extremely warm day I give evidence by panting and signs of exhaustion that I am being overcome with the heat, unharness me, take me into the shade and apply cold water or even broken ice, wrapped up in a cloth or put in a bag, to my head, sponge out my mouth and go over my legs with a cool wet sponge." He would talk of slippery streets, and the sensations of falling on cruel city cobblestones-the pressure of the load pushing him to fall, the bruised knees and wrenched joints, and the feel of the driver's lash. He would tell of the luxury of a fly net when at work and of a fly blanket when standing still in fly season, and of the boon to him of screens in the stable to keep out the insects that bite and sting. He would plead for as cool and comfortable a stable as possible in which to rest at night after a day's work under the hot sun. He would suggest that living through a warm night in a narrow stall neither properly cleaned nor bedded is suffering for him and poor economy for the owner. He would say that turning the hose on him is altogether too risky a thing to do unless you are looking for a sick horse. Spraying the legs and feet when he is not too warm on a hot day, he would find agreeable. He would say,-"Please sponge out my eyes and nose and dock when I come in tired and dusty at night, and also sponge me with clean cool water under the collar and saddle of the harness."Our Dumb Animals. We cannot always be doing a great work, but we can always be doing something; to be silent, to suffer, to pray, when we cannot act, is acceptable to God.-Fenelon. |