The poets have celebrated the perfection of the Oriental steel; and it is recognized as the finest by Moore, Byron, Scott, Southey and many others. I have even heard a young advocate of the lost arts find an argument in Byron’s “Sennacherib,” from the fact that the mail of the warriors in that one short night had rusted before the trembling Jews stole out in the morning to behold the terrible work of the Lord. Scott, in his “Tales of the Crusaders,”—for Sir Walter was curious in his love of the lost arts—describes a meeting between Richard Coeur de Lion and Saladin. Saladin asks Richard to show him the wonderful strength for which he is famous, and the Norman monarch responds by severing a bar of iron which lies on the floor of his tent. Saladin says, “I can not do that”; but he takes an eider-down pillow from the sofa, and, drawing his keen blade across it, it falls in two pieces. Richard says, “This is the black art; it is magic; it is the devil; you can not cut that which has no resistance”; and Saladin, to show him that such is not the case, takes a scarf from his shoulders, which is so light that it almost floats in the air, and, tossing it up, severs it before it can descend. George Thompson told me he saw a man in Calcutta throw a handful of floss-silk into the air, and a Hindu sever it into pieces with his saber.—Wendell Phillips.
The poets have celebrated the perfection of the Oriental steel; and it is recognized as the finest by Moore, Byron, Scott, Southey and many others. I have even heard a young advocate of the lost arts find an argument in Byron’s “Sennacherib,” from the fact that the mail of the warriors in that one short night had rusted before the trembling Jews stole out in the morning to behold the terrible work of the Lord. Scott, in his “Tales of the Crusaders,”—for Sir Walter was curious in his love of the lost arts—describes a meeting between Richard Coeur de Lion and Saladin. Saladin asks Richard to show him the wonderful strength for which he is famous, and the Norman monarch responds by severing a bar of iron which lies on the floor of his tent. Saladin says, “I can not do that”; but he takes an eider-down pillow from the sofa, and, drawing his keen blade across it, it falls in two pieces. Richard says, “This is the black art; it is magic; it is the devil; you can not cut that which has no resistance”; and Saladin, to show him that such is not the case, takes a scarf from his shoulders, which is so light that it almost floats in the air, and, tossing it up, severs it before it can descend. George Thompson told me he saw a man in Calcutta throw a handful of floss-silk into the air, and a Hindu sever it into pieces with his saber.—Wendell Phillips.
(1713)
Keenness from Use—SeePractise.
KEY-NOTE OF LIFE
In tuning a piano the artist strikes his tuning-fork on a hard surface and holds it to his ear while at the same time he strikes the A key on the keyboard. Then he tightens or loosens the string until the key and the fork correspond. From this he proceeds to harmonize all the other keys.
In tuning a piano the artist strikes his tuning-fork on a hard surface and holds it to his ear while at the same time he strikes the A key on the keyboard. Then he tightens or loosens the string until the key and the fork correspond. From this he proceeds to harmonize all the other keys.
For the harmony of human life we have One who furnishes the keynote. When we tune our life up to His all its chords become consonant.
(1714)
KEYS, FALSE
The notion that alcohol may do good because, for a moment, it seems to do good, was well answered by a physician’s response to a man who was somewhat too much given to the pleasures of the table. This man had said to the doctor:“What do you think of the influence of alcohol on the digestion, doctor?”“I think that its influence is bad,” said the physician.“But a little whisky taken just before a meal is the only key that will open my appetite, doctor.”“I don’t believe in opening things with false keys, sir!” answered the other.
The notion that alcohol may do good because, for a moment, it seems to do good, was well answered by a physician’s response to a man who was somewhat too much given to the pleasures of the table. This man had said to the doctor:
“What do you think of the influence of alcohol on the digestion, doctor?”
“I think that its influence is bad,” said the physician.
“But a little whisky taken just before a meal is the only key that will open my appetite, doctor.”
“I don’t believe in opening things with false keys, sir!” answered the other.
Nor is alcohol the only false key in common use. Pretension, misrepresentation, any means not adapted to the desired end—all are false keys and must fail.
(1715)
Kind Looks—SeeFace, An Inviting.
KIND WORDS, VALUE OF
The influence exercised by kind words from certain people can not be measured. I have in mind a retiring, modest man, singularin aspect and manner, who every Sunday visited the house of a friend where the head of the family, a superior man of great position, always bade him “Good-evening,” and kindly asked after his health. His simple words were so valued by this lonely man that when his friend died and he could no longer receive his kindly greeting, he left his employment and the city, dying in his turn of sorrow, in some obscure and unknown place where he had sought refuge.—Dora Melegari, “Makers of Sorrow and Makers of Joy.”
The influence exercised by kind words from certain people can not be measured. I have in mind a retiring, modest man, singularin aspect and manner, who every Sunday visited the house of a friend where the head of the family, a superior man of great position, always bade him “Good-evening,” and kindly asked after his health. His simple words were so valued by this lonely man that when his friend died and he could no longer receive his kindly greeting, he left his employment and the city, dying in his turn of sorrow, in some obscure and unknown place where he had sought refuge.—Dora Melegari, “Makers of Sorrow and Makers of Joy.”
(1716)
KINDLINESS, SENSE OF
Few people possess the kindly sense of the French abbe mentioned in the memoirs of Madame Vig’ee de Brun, the celebrated portrait-painter of the last century. This gentleman was, unfortunately, extremely deformed, and, playing at cards with him, Madame de Brun was so struck by his strange figure that she inadvertently hummed a few bars of a tune called “The Hunchback.” Immediately recollecting herself, she stopt in confusion, whereupon the abbe turned to her with a kindly smile, “My dear madame, continue your tune. I assure you it does not offend me in the least; the association is so natural a one, that I believe it would have occurred to me in your place.”—LondonEvening Standard.
Few people possess the kindly sense of the French abbe mentioned in the memoirs of Madame Vig’ee de Brun, the celebrated portrait-painter of the last century. This gentleman was, unfortunately, extremely deformed, and, playing at cards with him, Madame de Brun was so struck by his strange figure that she inadvertently hummed a few bars of a tune called “The Hunchback.” Immediately recollecting herself, she stopt in confusion, whereupon the abbe turned to her with a kindly smile, “My dear madame, continue your tune. I assure you it does not offend me in the least; the association is so natural a one, that I believe it would have occurred to me in your place.”—LondonEvening Standard.
(1717)
KINDNESS
Several passengers on a hot day in June entered the train on the Columbia and Augusta Railroad. Among them were several young college boys who were on the way home from their summer vacation. They were stylish, well-drest lads, and were gay and happy, as boys usually are who have put books aside.A party of merry girls already occupied the car, and in a little time the train seemed flooded with youth and sunshine. A very lean woman, with an ample lunch-basket, divided her time between eating chicken and boiled eggs and fanning vigorously with a turkey-tail fan, while a stout man in the corner mopped his face with a red bandanna, and remarked, by way of emphasis, “Hot, very hot!”The girls and boys took in every incident, laughing and tittering all the while. Just across the aisle, opposite the boy, sat a woman holding a baby. A pale, tired, despairing look was on her face, and her eyes were full of suffering. The little one was fretful and cried piteously, but the young mother was too exhausted to try to quiet the baby.“Oh, just listen to that young one. I think crying babies ought to be put out of the cars,” one of the girls said pertly.“Yes, my head begins to ache,” said another, while the boys laughed; and the louder the child cried, the more merriment it caused among the young people; while the lean woman and the fat man scowled and complained.“I do not see any cause for ridicule,” said Fred Weston, as he arose; and to the amazement of all the passengers, he crossed to where the woman sat, and with a courteous bow, extended his arms. “Please let me hold your baby a while,” he said; “I have a little sister just her age and she loves me dearly. You look so tired, ma’am.”The child opened wide her big brown eyes and gazed into the handsome, bright face of the boy, as without hesitation she sprang forward into the outstretched arms. She ceased crying, and her lips puckered into a plaintive sob.
Several passengers on a hot day in June entered the train on the Columbia and Augusta Railroad. Among them were several young college boys who were on the way home from their summer vacation. They were stylish, well-drest lads, and were gay and happy, as boys usually are who have put books aside.
A party of merry girls already occupied the car, and in a little time the train seemed flooded with youth and sunshine. A very lean woman, with an ample lunch-basket, divided her time between eating chicken and boiled eggs and fanning vigorously with a turkey-tail fan, while a stout man in the corner mopped his face with a red bandanna, and remarked, by way of emphasis, “Hot, very hot!”
The girls and boys took in every incident, laughing and tittering all the while. Just across the aisle, opposite the boy, sat a woman holding a baby. A pale, tired, despairing look was on her face, and her eyes were full of suffering. The little one was fretful and cried piteously, but the young mother was too exhausted to try to quiet the baby.
“Oh, just listen to that young one. I think crying babies ought to be put out of the cars,” one of the girls said pertly.
“Yes, my head begins to ache,” said another, while the boys laughed; and the louder the child cried, the more merriment it caused among the young people; while the lean woman and the fat man scowled and complained.
“I do not see any cause for ridicule,” said Fred Weston, as he arose; and to the amazement of all the passengers, he crossed to where the woman sat, and with a courteous bow, extended his arms. “Please let me hold your baby a while,” he said; “I have a little sister just her age and she loves me dearly. You look so tired, ma’am.”
The child opened wide her big brown eyes and gazed into the handsome, bright face of the boy, as without hesitation she sprang forward into the outstretched arms. She ceased crying, and her lips puckered into a plaintive sob.
(1718)
A poor boy was taken from the poorhouse into the home of a farmer, a just man, who dealt justly by the boy; but, somehow, he never gave him any help, and the boy moped along hopelessly. One day a visitor came to that farmer, and as the orphan boy brought around his horse the visitor said a kind word that made the boy open his heart a little. “I see,” said the stranger, as he was mounting to go, “you have a pretty hard time; but keep a good heart and you will come out all right. I have noticed that a boy that has a great shock of red hair and a large nose and a freckled face, if he keeps a good heart, always comes out right.” It was the first kind word, but it made the boy and the man he grew to be, who told the story. The law can not put a man in the right way when he finds himself wrong, but sometimes a kind word can.—Franklin Noble, “Sermons in Illustration.”
A poor boy was taken from the poorhouse into the home of a farmer, a just man, who dealt justly by the boy; but, somehow, he never gave him any help, and the boy moped along hopelessly. One day a visitor came to that farmer, and as the orphan boy brought around his horse the visitor said a kind word that made the boy open his heart a little. “I see,” said the stranger, as he was mounting to go, “you have a pretty hard time; but keep a good heart and you will come out all right. I have noticed that a boy that has a great shock of red hair and a large nose and a freckled face, if he keeps a good heart, always comes out right.” It was the first kind word, but it made the boy and the man he grew to be, who told the story. The law can not put a man in the right way when he finds himself wrong, but sometimes a kind word can.—Franklin Noble, “Sermons in Illustration.”
(1719)
Henry Clay was at one time considerably distrest by a large debt due to the bank. Some of his friends heard of it, and quietly raised the money and paid off the entire indebtedness, without notifying Mr. Clay. In utter ignorance of what had been going on, he went to the bank one day, and addressing the cashier, said, “I have called to see you in reference to that debt of mine to the bank.”“You don’t owe us anything,” was the reply.Mr. Clay looked inquiringly, and said: “You don’t understand me. I came to see you about that debt which I am owing the bank.”“You don’t owe us anything.”“Why! how am I to understand you?”“A number of your friends have contributed and paid off that debt, and you do not owe this bank one dollar.”Tears rushed to Mr. Clay’s eyes, and, unable to speak, he turned and walked out of the bank.
Henry Clay was at one time considerably distrest by a large debt due to the bank. Some of his friends heard of it, and quietly raised the money and paid off the entire indebtedness, without notifying Mr. Clay. In utter ignorance of what had been going on, he went to the bank one day, and addressing the cashier, said, “I have called to see you in reference to that debt of mine to the bank.”
“You don’t owe us anything,” was the reply.
Mr. Clay looked inquiringly, and said: “You don’t understand me. I came to see you about that debt which I am owing the bank.”
“You don’t owe us anything.”
“Why! how am I to understand you?”
“A number of your friends have contributed and paid off that debt, and you do not owe this bank one dollar.”
Tears rushed to Mr. Clay’s eyes, and, unable to speak, he turned and walked out of the bank.
(1720)
In my journal of Friday evening, July 3, 1863, I made the following note, “At eight o’clock this morning hundreds of rebels were seen standing on their fortifications. Both armies laid down their arms. About noon I went with part of my company (H. 33d Wis.) near the enemy’s fort, which was hardly more than 200 yards from our line, and there the blue and the gray chatted pleasantly for a full hour. The meeting was so unrestrained and amicable as to make the scene exceedingly interesting and touching as well. My boys gave the contents of their haversacks to the rebels whom they had been fighting for nearly forty days and nights, and the defenders of the city deeply appreciated the kindness.”—Nicholas Smith, “Grant, the Man of Mystery.”
In my journal of Friday evening, July 3, 1863, I made the following note, “At eight o’clock this morning hundreds of rebels were seen standing on their fortifications. Both armies laid down their arms. About noon I went with part of my company (H. 33d Wis.) near the enemy’s fort, which was hardly more than 200 yards from our line, and there the blue and the gray chatted pleasantly for a full hour. The meeting was so unrestrained and amicable as to make the scene exceedingly interesting and touching as well. My boys gave the contents of their haversacks to the rebels whom they had been fighting for nearly forty days and nights, and the defenders of the city deeply appreciated the kindness.”—Nicholas Smith, “Grant, the Man of Mystery.”
(1721)
SeeFriend, A True;Preservation;Training Children.
KINDNESS OF THE POOR
A touching story of how the poor help one another comes from one of the Claremont Crusaders. A man, destitute and homeless, had been found by him shivering on the Thames embankment. He gave him a ticket which would provide a night’s shelter at Medland Hall. An hour or two later the man ran up to the Crusader. “I have just done a job,” he said, “for which I earned sixpence. Take this ticket back. It will help some other chap.”
A touching story of how the poor help one another comes from one of the Claremont Crusaders. A man, destitute and homeless, had been found by him shivering on the Thames embankment. He gave him a ticket which would provide a night’s shelter at Medland Hall. An hour or two later the man ran up to the Crusader. “I have just done a job,” he said, “for which I earned sixpence. Take this ticket back. It will help some other chap.”
(1722)
Kindness, Oil of—SeeLubrication, Effective;Sunshine.
Kindness Rewarded—SeeRecompense for Kindness.
KINDNESS STIMULATING DEVOTION
In Mrs. Pickett’s memoirs of her husband, General George E. Pickett, of the Confederate Army, she relates this incident:
As my Soldier was riding toward Sailor’s Creek, a woman ran out of a house and handed him something to eat. He carried it in his hand as he rode on. Presently he came upon a soldier lying behind a log, and spoke to him. The man looked up, revealing a boyish face, scarcely more than a child’s—thin and pale.“What’s the matter?” asked my Soldier.“I’m starving, General,” the boy replied. “I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t keep up, so I just lay down here to die.”“Take this,” handing the boy his luncheon; “and when you have eaten it and rested, go on back home. It would only waste another life for you to go on.”The boy took the food eagerly, but replied: “No, Marse George. If I get strength enough to go at all, I’ll follow you to the last.”He did, for he was killed a few days later at Sailor’s Creek.
As my Soldier was riding toward Sailor’s Creek, a woman ran out of a house and handed him something to eat. He carried it in his hand as he rode on. Presently he came upon a soldier lying behind a log, and spoke to him. The man looked up, revealing a boyish face, scarcely more than a child’s—thin and pale.
“What’s the matter?” asked my Soldier.
“I’m starving, General,” the boy replied. “I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t keep up, so I just lay down here to die.”
“Take this,” handing the boy his luncheon; “and when you have eaten it and rested, go on back home. It would only waste another life for you to go on.”
The boy took the food eagerly, but replied: “No, Marse George. If I get strength enough to go at all, I’ll follow you to the last.”
He did, for he was killed a few days later at Sailor’s Creek.
(1723)
KINDNESS, THE POWER OF
“Provo Canyon” is one of those grandly picturesque mountain ravines which abound in Utah. In the solitude and sublimity of this cañon a mountaineer named W. W. Ferguson lived a hermit’s life. In the winter months his log-cabin was, in consequence of the deep snow, shut entirely out from intercourse with human beings. But he was not companionless, this mountain man—for he made friends with the wild animals and birds. He was their friend and they grew fond of him. They learned to recognize his voice, and not to be afraid at his approach. They would eat food from his hands, the pigeons and magpies flying from afar when he called them—the little squirrels playing about him like tame kittens.A year ago a New York gentleman, on a pleasure trip, called at Mr. Ferguson’s cabin, and seeing the mountaineer with his bird and animal friends on such good terms, said:“My friend, you have some power—some charm which these creatures obey. If you will tell me the secret I will give you a hundred dollars.”The hermit, smiling, assured the traveler that the only secret was the kindness with which he always treated them. “They have learned,” he said, “that I am their friend, and I have never betrayed their friendship.”
“Provo Canyon” is one of those grandly picturesque mountain ravines which abound in Utah. In the solitude and sublimity of this cañon a mountaineer named W. W. Ferguson lived a hermit’s life. In the winter months his log-cabin was, in consequence of the deep snow, shut entirely out from intercourse with human beings. But he was not companionless, this mountain man—for he made friends with the wild animals and birds. He was their friend and they grew fond of him. They learned to recognize his voice, and not to be afraid at his approach. They would eat food from his hands, the pigeons and magpies flying from afar when he called them—the little squirrels playing about him like tame kittens.
A year ago a New York gentleman, on a pleasure trip, called at Mr. Ferguson’s cabin, and seeing the mountaineer with his bird and animal friends on such good terms, said:
“My friend, you have some power—some charm which these creatures obey. If you will tell me the secret I will give you a hundred dollars.”
The hermit, smiling, assured the traveler that the only secret was the kindness with which he always treated them. “They have learned,” he said, “that I am their friend, and I have never betrayed their friendship.”
(1724)
KINDNESS TO ANIMALS
In the woods near Walden Pond, Henry D. Thoreau built a house. It was a surprize to the raccoons and squirrels in the woods,But after a while the news went round that there was among them a man who would not do them any harm, and gradually they came closer and closer, and there grew to be a beautiful sympathy between him and the birds and animals. They would come at his call. On taking a squirrel from the tree, the little creature would refuse to leave him, and would hide in his pocket. A woodmouse, whose hole was under his house, would first run over his shoes, and at last became so tame that it would run up his sleeve, and round the table when he was at dinner. Such communion between man and beast has hardly been equaled.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”
In the woods near Walden Pond, Henry D. Thoreau built a house. It was a surprize to the raccoons and squirrels in the woods,But after a while the news went round that there was among them a man who would not do them any harm, and gradually they came closer and closer, and there grew to be a beautiful sympathy between him and the birds and animals. They would come at his call. On taking a squirrel from the tree, the little creature would refuse to leave him, and would hide in his pocket. A woodmouse, whose hole was under his house, would first run over his shoes, and at last became so tame that it would run up his sleeve, and round the table when he was at dinner. Such communion between man and beast has hardly been equaled.—James T. White, “Character Lessons.”
(1725)
KINDNESS VIOLATING TRUTH
I am convinced that many glaring crimes and endless cankers of the soul are due to lack of the trained will to face the full light of truth, and even more to perplexed thinking. An Irishman in my city, to help a stupid friend, very kindly passed the civil service examination for him, swearing falsely, of course, and forging his friend’s name. He was found out and sentenced, but the body of public opinion among his set excused and even commended him because his motives were kindly, and on being released from jail he was banqueted and re-elected to the Legislature. I think there was real confusion of thought in this case, and that this confusion will continue to disgrace our political life until we can bring the growing generation to see that kindness to an individual is not to be put ahead of truth or of loyalty to the laws of the nation.—Ella Lyman Cabot, “Proceedings of the National Education Association,” 1909.
I am convinced that many glaring crimes and endless cankers of the soul are due to lack of the trained will to face the full light of truth, and even more to perplexed thinking. An Irishman in my city, to help a stupid friend, very kindly passed the civil service examination for him, swearing falsely, of course, and forging his friend’s name. He was found out and sentenced, but the body of public opinion among his set excused and even commended him because his motives were kindly, and on being released from jail he was banqueted and re-elected to the Legislature. I think there was real confusion of thought in this case, and that this confusion will continue to disgrace our political life until we can bring the growing generation to see that kindness to an individual is not to be put ahead of truth or of loyalty to the laws of the nation.—Ella Lyman Cabot, “Proceedings of the National Education Association,” 1909.
(1726)
KING, HONORING A
Apropos of the King’s (Edward VII) visit to Biarritz, an incident is reported of a recent visit when his Majesty witnessed the arrival of cross-country competitors at Villa Machelon. Now, this villa belongs to a worthy and prosperous Biarritz butcher, who had been requested by the committee to place it at the King’s disposal. The butcher’s bosom friends held the view that it was absolutely indispensable that the master should do the honors of his villa to the King of England, his guest. So the butcher fetched out his Sunday suit, arranged his braces outside his knitted waistcoat which he invariably wears, stuck his hat over his ears, and, freely perspiring under the blazing sun, awaited his august visitor.King Edward arrived and got down from his motor car. With fine scorn for the conventions, the butcher boldly walked up to his Majesty, tapped him on the shoulder and said in a drawling voice:“Come in; don’t stop in the sun; go up to the salon.”A friendly shove accompanied these words. The King grasped the situation at a glance, smiled and obeyed, leaving the butcher to chew proudly his penny havana on the doorstep. He had done the honors of his home, had seen and spoken to his guest, the King.
Apropos of the King’s (Edward VII) visit to Biarritz, an incident is reported of a recent visit when his Majesty witnessed the arrival of cross-country competitors at Villa Machelon. Now, this villa belongs to a worthy and prosperous Biarritz butcher, who had been requested by the committee to place it at the King’s disposal. The butcher’s bosom friends held the view that it was absolutely indispensable that the master should do the honors of his villa to the King of England, his guest. So the butcher fetched out his Sunday suit, arranged his braces outside his knitted waistcoat which he invariably wears, stuck his hat over his ears, and, freely perspiring under the blazing sun, awaited his august visitor.
King Edward arrived and got down from his motor car. With fine scorn for the conventions, the butcher boldly walked up to his Majesty, tapped him on the shoulder and said in a drawling voice:
“Come in; don’t stop in the sun; go up to the salon.”
A friendly shove accompanied these words. The King grasped the situation at a glance, smiled and obeyed, leaving the butcher to chew proudly his penny havana on the doorstep. He had done the honors of his home, had seen and spoken to his guest, the King.
(1727)
Kingdom of God Composite—SeeMosaic of the Kingdom.
Kingdom of God Within—SeeLoyalty.
KING’S KINDNESS
During one of King Edward’s visits to Marienbad in Austria, this incident occurred:
A little girl of thirteen named Vera Caro, who has always had a great wish to see the King, was walking in the Kaiserstrasse, when she suddenly came face to face with his Majesty, who was seated on a bench. The little girl impulsively walked up to the King, and curtseying presented to him a few roses which she was carrying. The King took the flowers, shook hands with the child, and thanked her. His Majesty then requested Colonel Ponsonby to place the flowers in the carriage which was waiting near. The little girl, radiant with joy at the King’s kindness, rushed home to inform her parents of her good fortune.
A little girl of thirteen named Vera Caro, who has always had a great wish to see the King, was walking in the Kaiserstrasse, when she suddenly came face to face with his Majesty, who was seated on a bench. The little girl impulsively walked up to the King, and curtseying presented to him a few roses which she was carrying. The King took the flowers, shook hands with the child, and thanked her. His Majesty then requested Colonel Ponsonby to place the flowers in the carriage which was waiting near. The little girl, radiant with joy at the King’s kindness, rushed home to inform her parents of her good fortune.
(1728)
SeeLikeness of God.
Kingship of Christ—SeeHomage to Christ.
KINSHIP
This poem has the ring of the right kind of sympathy. We do not know the author:
If you have a friend worth lovingLove him, yes, and let him knowThat you love him, ere life’s eveningTinge his brow with sunset glow—Why should good words ne’er be said,Of a friend, until he’s dead?If you hear a song that thrills you,Sung by any child of song,Praise it. Do not let the singerWait deserved praises long;Why should one who thrills your heartLack the joy you may impart?If you hear a prayer that moves youBy its humble, pleading tone,Join in. Do not let the seekerBow before his Lord alone;Why should not your brother shareThe strength of “two or three” in prayer?If you see the hot tears fallingFrom a brother’s weeping eyes,Share them, and by kindly sharing,Win your kinship with the skies.Why should any one be gladWhen his brother’s heart is sad?If a silvery laugh goes ripplingThrough the sunshine on his face,Share it. ’Tis the wise man’s saying,For both grief and joy a place.There’s health and goodness in the mirthIn which an honest laugh hath birth.If your work is made more easyBy a friendly helping hand,Say so. Speak out bravely, truly,Ere the darkness veil the land.Should a brother workman dearFalter for a word of cheer?Scatter, then, your germs of kindness,All enriching as you go;Leave them. Trust the Harvest Giver,Who will make each germ to grow.So, until the happy end,Your life will never lack a friend.
If you have a friend worth lovingLove him, yes, and let him knowThat you love him, ere life’s eveningTinge his brow with sunset glow—Why should good words ne’er be said,Of a friend, until he’s dead?If you hear a song that thrills you,Sung by any child of song,Praise it. Do not let the singerWait deserved praises long;Why should one who thrills your heartLack the joy you may impart?If you hear a prayer that moves youBy its humble, pleading tone,Join in. Do not let the seekerBow before his Lord alone;Why should not your brother shareThe strength of “two or three” in prayer?If you see the hot tears fallingFrom a brother’s weeping eyes,Share them, and by kindly sharing,Win your kinship with the skies.Why should any one be gladWhen his brother’s heart is sad?If a silvery laugh goes ripplingThrough the sunshine on his face,Share it. ’Tis the wise man’s saying,For both grief and joy a place.There’s health and goodness in the mirthIn which an honest laugh hath birth.If your work is made more easyBy a friendly helping hand,Say so. Speak out bravely, truly,Ere the darkness veil the land.Should a brother workman dearFalter for a word of cheer?Scatter, then, your germs of kindness,All enriching as you go;Leave them. Trust the Harvest Giver,Who will make each germ to grow.So, until the happy end,Your life will never lack a friend.
If you have a friend worth lovingLove him, yes, and let him knowThat you love him, ere life’s eveningTinge his brow with sunset glow—Why should good words ne’er be said,Of a friend, until he’s dead?
If you have a friend worth loving
Love him, yes, and let him know
That you love him, ere life’s evening
Tinge his brow with sunset glow—
Why should good words ne’er be said,
Of a friend, until he’s dead?
If you hear a song that thrills you,Sung by any child of song,Praise it. Do not let the singerWait deserved praises long;Why should one who thrills your heartLack the joy you may impart?
If you hear a song that thrills you,
Sung by any child of song,
Praise it. Do not let the singer
Wait deserved praises long;
Why should one who thrills your heart
Lack the joy you may impart?
If you hear a prayer that moves youBy its humble, pleading tone,Join in. Do not let the seekerBow before his Lord alone;Why should not your brother shareThe strength of “two or three” in prayer?
If you hear a prayer that moves you
By its humble, pleading tone,
Join in. Do not let the seeker
Bow before his Lord alone;
Why should not your brother share
The strength of “two or three” in prayer?
If you see the hot tears fallingFrom a brother’s weeping eyes,Share them, and by kindly sharing,Win your kinship with the skies.Why should any one be gladWhen his brother’s heart is sad?
If you see the hot tears falling
From a brother’s weeping eyes,
Share them, and by kindly sharing,
Win your kinship with the skies.
Why should any one be glad
When his brother’s heart is sad?
If a silvery laugh goes ripplingThrough the sunshine on his face,Share it. ’Tis the wise man’s saying,For both grief and joy a place.There’s health and goodness in the mirthIn which an honest laugh hath birth.
If a silvery laugh goes rippling
Through the sunshine on his face,
Share it. ’Tis the wise man’s saying,
For both grief and joy a place.
There’s health and goodness in the mirth
In which an honest laugh hath birth.
If your work is made more easyBy a friendly helping hand,Say so. Speak out bravely, truly,Ere the darkness veil the land.Should a brother workman dearFalter for a word of cheer?
If your work is made more easy
By a friendly helping hand,
Say so. Speak out bravely, truly,
Ere the darkness veil the land.
Should a brother workman dear
Falter for a word of cheer?
Scatter, then, your germs of kindness,All enriching as you go;Leave them. Trust the Harvest Giver,Who will make each germ to grow.So, until the happy end,Your life will never lack a friend.
Scatter, then, your germs of kindness,
All enriching as you go;
Leave them. Trust the Harvest Giver,
Who will make each germ to grow.
So, until the happy end,
Your life will never lack a friend.
(1729)
Kissing in the East—SeeHusband and Wife, Relations Between.
KNOWING AND DOING
The Rev. W. L. Watkinson says:
I read the other day in a paper that a Hindu will pass an examination in science; he understands sanitary laws perfectly, but some way or other he never seems to understand how to apply them. He will go complacently into his own dirty compound and break every sanitary law of which he is theoretically master. But you need not go to India to find a thing of that kind. You will find many men in this country who know the Lord’s will, but who never dream of doing it.
I read the other day in a paper that a Hindu will pass an examination in science; he understands sanitary laws perfectly, but some way or other he never seems to understand how to apply them. He will go complacently into his own dirty compound and break every sanitary law of which he is theoretically master. But you need not go to India to find a thing of that kind. You will find many men in this country who know the Lord’s will, but who never dream of doing it.
(1730)
KNOWING BETTER
“I did the best I knew!” protested the dressmaker’s apprentice sullenly, when she was sharply reprimanded for a piece of ill-judged work that ruined a valuable dress and vexed a valuable customer. “I don’t see what she’s blaming me for!”“I’m not blaming you for doing the best you knew how!” said the employer, overhearing and turning on her crisply; “I’m blaming you for not knowing any better! You ought to—you’ve been here long enough. You mean well, but good intentions aren’t enough to carry on the dressmaking business.”
“I did the best I knew!” protested the dressmaker’s apprentice sullenly, when she was sharply reprimanded for a piece of ill-judged work that ruined a valuable dress and vexed a valuable customer. “I don’t see what she’s blaming me for!”
“I’m not blaming you for doing the best you knew how!” said the employer, overhearing and turning on her crisply; “I’m blaming you for not knowing any better! You ought to—you’ve been here long enough. You mean well, but good intentions aren’t enough to carry on the dressmaking business.”
They are not enough in any business. It is an old proverb that good intentions pave a place of very disreputable character. “He meant well” is about the poorest thing one can say of a person, short of actual detraction; unless we except that other phrase of mild apology: “He did the best he knew how.” Whenever you hear either of these you know at once that it is a case of failure on somebody’s part to do the right thing at the right moment, and usually, if you look closely enough, there was fault behind the failure. To do the best we know how is not enough when we might know any better.—Kind Words.
(1731)
KNOWLEDGE
Writing about Lincoln’s life in the Indiana wilderness Mr. James Morgan, in his life of Abraham Lincoln, says:
One day a wagon broke down in the road, and the wife and two daughters of the owner stayed at the Lincolns’ until it was repaired. “The woman had books,” as Abraham recalled in later life, “and read us stories. They were the first I ever heard.” There never had been a book or a newspaper in the house, and he never forgot the sight of those pages nor the woman who, by the chance of a breakdown on the road, opened to his mind the field of printed knowledge.
One day a wagon broke down in the road, and the wife and two daughters of the owner stayed at the Lincolns’ until it was repaired. “The woman had books,” as Abraham recalled in later life, “and read us stories. They were the first I ever heard.” There never had been a book or a newspaper in the house, and he never forgot the sight of those pages nor the woman who, by the chance of a breakdown on the road, opened to his mind the field of printed knowledge.
(1732)
Knowledge, Ambition for—SeeMother Love.
Knowledge a Necessity—SeeDirections.
KNOWLEDGE APPLIED
At least one Riverhead (L. I.) little boy, Everett Brown, aged about twelve years, son of Mr. and Mrs. Everett Brown, remembers to advantage some of the physiology he has studied at school.Saturday afternoon he and Frank Terry, about his own age, son of Mr. and Mrs. W. A. Terry, went into the woods to build a hut or something of that kind, and the ax that the Terry lad was wielding cut a bad gash in one of his feet.It bled profusely and the Brown lad was afraid his chum would bleed to death, so he quickly got the shoe off of the foot and bound his handkerchief tightly, closing the wound and largely stopping the flow of blood until the wounded boy was gotten home, which was some distance away.“I learned that in my physiology,” said the Brown boy when Mrs. Terry asked him how he thought of it.—BrooklynEagle.
At least one Riverhead (L. I.) little boy, Everett Brown, aged about twelve years, son of Mr. and Mrs. Everett Brown, remembers to advantage some of the physiology he has studied at school.
Saturday afternoon he and Frank Terry, about his own age, son of Mr. and Mrs. W. A. Terry, went into the woods to build a hut or something of that kind, and the ax that the Terry lad was wielding cut a bad gash in one of his feet.
It bled profusely and the Brown lad was afraid his chum would bleed to death, so he quickly got the shoe off of the foot and bound his handkerchief tightly, closing the wound and largely stopping the flow of blood until the wounded boy was gotten home, which was some distance away.
“I learned that in my physiology,” said the Brown boy when Mrs. Terry asked him how he thought of it.—BrooklynEagle.
(1733)
KNOWLEDGE BY INDIRECTION
One minister builded better than he knew, and one hearer learned more than was meant on the following occasion:
The preacher was showing that shade and light are both necessary in differing conditions. Said he: “Roses, heliotropes and geraniums need lots of sunshine, while fuchsias thrive best in the shade.” “Oh, doctor,” said a good woman at the close, “I’m so grateful to you for your sermon this morning. I never knew before what was the matter with my fuchsias.”
The preacher was showing that shade and light are both necessary in differing conditions. Said he: “Roses, heliotropes and geraniums need lots of sunshine, while fuchsias thrive best in the shade.” “Oh, doctor,” said a good woman at the close, “I’m so grateful to you for your sermon this morning. I never knew before what was the matter with my fuchsias.”
(1734)
KNOWLEDGE, COMPARATIVE
A missionary’s son, born on the field, was making his first visit to his parents’ home in a small Ohio town. One day a neighbor burst into the yard with the great news. “The circus is coming!”“What’s a circus?” innocently inquired the young Korea-American.“A circus! Don’t you know what a circus is? Haven’t you ever seen a circus?” And scorn passing words filled the Ohio lad’s voice, as he eyed in boundless contempt this queer visitor.The boy from Korea was stung to the quick, and he retorted: “Well, what of that? Did you ever see the Pacific Ocean? Were you ever on a warship? Did you ever see Hongkong? Did you ever see the diving boys at Colombo? Were you ever in India? Did you ever see the pyramids? What do you know about London?”Vengeance was complete. The devotee of the circus was silenced. Before these bigger wonders his traveling tent show grew very small indeed. Similarly, the man who follows the trail of the missionary may lose his intimate contact with some of the inconsequentialities of the day’s newspaper, but he will have big and abiding compensations.—William T. Ellis, “Men and Missions.”
A missionary’s son, born on the field, was making his first visit to his parents’ home in a small Ohio town. One day a neighbor burst into the yard with the great news. “The circus is coming!”
“What’s a circus?” innocently inquired the young Korea-American.
“A circus! Don’t you know what a circus is? Haven’t you ever seen a circus?” And scorn passing words filled the Ohio lad’s voice, as he eyed in boundless contempt this queer visitor.
The boy from Korea was stung to the quick, and he retorted: “Well, what of that? Did you ever see the Pacific Ocean? Were you ever on a warship? Did you ever see Hongkong? Did you ever see the diving boys at Colombo? Were you ever in India? Did you ever see the pyramids? What do you know about London?”
Vengeance was complete. The devotee of the circus was silenced. Before these bigger wonders his traveling tent show grew very small indeed. Similarly, the man who follows the trail of the missionary may lose his intimate contact with some of the inconsequentialities of the day’s newspaper, but he will have big and abiding compensations.—William T. Ellis, “Men and Missions.”
(1735)
Knowledge in Action—SeeTeacher, The Ideal at Work.
KNOWLEDGE, LIVING
Some one asked Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, why he continued to study for his pupils “as tho he should not have enough to give them.” “It is not,” was his reply, “because I fear I should not have enough to give them, but because I prefer that they should be supplied from a running stream rather than from a stagnant pool.”
Some one asked Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, why he continued to study for his pupils “as tho he should not have enough to give them.” “It is not,” was his reply, “because I fear I should not have enough to give them, but because I prefer that they should be supplied from a running stream rather than from a stagnant pool.”
“Stagnant pools” have been the ruin of many men in many walks of life.
(1736)
KNOWLEDGE, THIRST FOR
Thurlow Weed was so poor in boyhood that on a cold March day he had to wrap pieces of cloth about his bare feet in place of socks and shoes. Thus shod, he walked several miles in the wintry cold to borrow a history of the Reformation.
Thurlow Weed was so poor in boyhood that on a cold March day he had to wrap pieces of cloth about his bare feet in place of socks and shoes. Thus shod, he walked several miles in the wintry cold to borrow a history of the Reformation.
(1737)
William Elbert Munsey was born upon a Virginia mountain farm, which was so poor that a disturbance could not be raised upon it, much less the articles of food which produce a thrifty physical manhood. After toiling in the field all day, he would carry wood upon his tired, youthful back for a mile, that his widowed mother and five brothers and sisters might have warmth from the evening fire; he went to school only twelve months in his life, but he ate the heart out of every book that came within his reach; while plowing he would keep his book at the end of the furrow, and when he had plowed a “round,” he would talk with his tongueless companion for a few moments, “and then push on between the plow handles,” the great thoughts ringing in his soul like the tolling of a cathedral bell.Well, what kind of a man did he make? Let one who heard him deliver his famous lecture on “Man” answer the question: “The vast amount of scientific knowledge he had stored his mind with was truly amazing.He spoke as if he had been a professor in every branch of science for a lifetime. Every technical term was at his tongue’s end. Man was presented in spirit, soul and body as the most wonderful trichotomy of the universe; was analyzed, synthetized, exalted and glorified as the last and grandest work of God. He soared amid clouds and lightning and thunder and tempests; he was as familiar with anatomy as if he had been a Sir Charles Bell; with mental phenomena, as if he had been a John Locke; with mythology, as if he had been born a Greek and had lived in Greece a thousand years.” At the conclusion of his sermons, congregations have been so “bewildered as to rise up in an unconscious way, facing each other, and not knowing for some moments whether to remain or leave the room.” But how old was this wonderful man when he died? Just a little over forty years of age. Like David Livingstone in the African hut, William Elbert Munsey was found dead upon his knees by the side of his bed.—F. F. Shannon.
William Elbert Munsey was born upon a Virginia mountain farm, which was so poor that a disturbance could not be raised upon it, much less the articles of food which produce a thrifty physical manhood. After toiling in the field all day, he would carry wood upon his tired, youthful back for a mile, that his widowed mother and five brothers and sisters might have warmth from the evening fire; he went to school only twelve months in his life, but he ate the heart out of every book that came within his reach; while plowing he would keep his book at the end of the furrow, and when he had plowed a “round,” he would talk with his tongueless companion for a few moments, “and then push on between the plow handles,” the great thoughts ringing in his soul like the tolling of a cathedral bell.
Well, what kind of a man did he make? Let one who heard him deliver his famous lecture on “Man” answer the question: “The vast amount of scientific knowledge he had stored his mind with was truly amazing.
He spoke as if he had been a professor in every branch of science for a lifetime. Every technical term was at his tongue’s end. Man was presented in spirit, soul and body as the most wonderful trichotomy of the universe; was analyzed, synthetized, exalted and glorified as the last and grandest work of God. He soared amid clouds and lightning and thunder and tempests; he was as familiar with anatomy as if he had been a Sir Charles Bell; with mental phenomena, as if he had been a John Locke; with mythology, as if he had been born a Greek and had lived in Greece a thousand years.” At the conclusion of his sermons, congregations have been so “bewildered as to rise up in an unconscious way, facing each other, and not knowing for some moments whether to remain or leave the room.” But how old was this wonderful man when he died? Just a little over forty years of age. Like David Livingstone in the African hut, William Elbert Munsey was found dead upon his knees by the side of his bed.—F. F. Shannon.
(1738)
KNOWLEDGE THROUGH EXPERIENCE
A news item from Denver, Colorado, says:
Determined to learn at first hand where and how the homeless and shivering men live who slept on the street, E. A. Brown, cousin of President W. C. Brown, of the New York Central, and himself independently rich, has been haunting the railroad and stock-yards and the slums of Denver for weeks. Drest in shabby and threadbare clothes, he has mingled with the unemployed and shared their experiences. He will use this experience to aid in securing the establishment of a municipal lodging-house, which will shelter the homeless during the winter months.
Determined to learn at first hand where and how the homeless and shivering men live who slept on the street, E. A. Brown, cousin of President W. C. Brown, of the New York Central, and himself independently rich, has been haunting the railroad and stock-yards and the slums of Denver for weeks. Drest in shabby and threadbare clothes, he has mingled with the unemployed and shared their experiences. He will use this experience to aid in securing the establishment of a municipal lodging-house, which will shelter the homeless during the winter months.
This is the scientific method of the social student to-day. It was first, however, the method of Christ. “He came to seek and to save that which was lost.” (Text.)
(1739)
KNOWLEDGE, UNITY OF
The man who should know the true history of the bit of chalk which every carpenter carries about in his breeches pocket, tho ignorant of all other history, is likely, if he will think his knowledge out to its ultimate results, to have a truer, and, therefore, a better, conception of this wonderful universe, and of man’s relation to it, than the most learned student who is deep-read in the records of humanity and ignorant of those of nature. (Text.)—Thomas Henry Huxley.
The man who should know the true history of the bit of chalk which every carpenter carries about in his breeches pocket, tho ignorant of all other history, is likely, if he will think his knowledge out to its ultimate results, to have a truer, and, therefore, a better, conception of this wonderful universe, and of man’s relation to it, than the most learned student who is deep-read in the records of humanity and ignorant of those of nature. (Text.)—Thomas Henry Huxley.
(1740)
KNOWLEDGE VALUES
All wealth is intelligence applied to raw material. The piece of paper cost half a farthing, but Tennyson’s poem written thereupon made it worth a thousand dollars. Just as a little canvas, worth two or three francs, took on a value of $200,000 when Millet mixed the colors with his genius and spread them over the waiting cloth. Civilization is a height on which man climbs hand over hand up the golden rounds of wisdom and knowledge.—N. D. Hillis.
All wealth is intelligence applied to raw material. The piece of paper cost half a farthing, but Tennyson’s poem written thereupon made it worth a thousand dollars. Just as a little canvas, worth two or three francs, took on a value of $200,000 when Millet mixed the colors with his genius and spread them over the waiting cloth. Civilization is a height on which man climbs hand over hand up the golden rounds of wisdom and knowledge.—N. D. Hillis.
(1741)
KONGO PIONEER MISSIONARY WORK
Up the Kongo we went. One day Mr. Lapsley, my comrade, was sick with fever. As we attempted to land, we saw women catching up their babies and running to the jungle and men getting arrows to shoot. I stood over Mr. Lapsley and called, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” and asked them if we could sleep there for the night. “To-morrow we go away,” I said. “No. Go away; go away,” they cried. So we started for the other side and landed on the sandy bank. We got out the tent and had Mr. Lapsley carefully moved into his bed. Walking up and down the river bank we could hear the excitement on the other side. At twelve o’clock at night it still was going on. At two in the morning, those people had not retired; nor had I. So we said, “In the morning something will happen.” Coming outside early, as we looked across the river we saw one of their war canoes filled with men starting up-stream, and then another. I ran to the tent and said to Mr. Lapsley, “Those people are coming; what shall I do?” He was there sick with fever, with no chance of running away. He said, “There is nothing that we can do.” He meant by this that the Master could do something. I came outside. They had started in our direction. I could hear their war-whoop. Just at this extremity a hippopotamus came. We shot him. Then the thought came, why not offer them this meat? They were crazy for meat. I waded in the water to my waist and beckoned to them, calling out: “Come this way, all of you. Don’t be afraid.” The nearest canoe approached me as I was wading in the water, and I surprized the first man by saying,“Leave your spear.” The next canoe load that followed I turned the hippopotamus over to, and then they began with their long knives to cut it up and fight over it. I went into the tent and told Mr. Lapsley that we were saved. It was no surprize to that servant of God. He was so near to the Master always that he believed He would save us.—William Sheppard, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.
Up the Kongo we went. One day Mr. Lapsley, my comrade, was sick with fever. As we attempted to land, we saw women catching up their babies and running to the jungle and men getting arrows to shoot. I stood over Mr. Lapsley and called, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” and asked them if we could sleep there for the night. “To-morrow we go away,” I said. “No. Go away; go away,” they cried. So we started for the other side and landed on the sandy bank. We got out the tent and had Mr. Lapsley carefully moved into his bed. Walking up and down the river bank we could hear the excitement on the other side. At twelve o’clock at night it still was going on. At two in the morning, those people had not retired; nor had I. So we said, “In the morning something will happen.” Coming outside early, as we looked across the river we saw one of their war canoes filled with men starting up-stream, and then another. I ran to the tent and said to Mr. Lapsley, “Those people are coming; what shall I do?” He was there sick with fever, with no chance of running away. He said, “There is nothing that we can do.” He meant by this that the Master could do something. I came outside. They had started in our direction. I could hear their war-whoop. Just at this extremity a hippopotamus came. We shot him. Then the thought came, why not offer them this meat? They were crazy for meat. I waded in the water to my waist and beckoned to them, calling out: “Come this way, all of you. Don’t be afraid.” The nearest canoe approached me as I was wading in the water, and I surprized the first man by saying,“Leave your spear.” The next canoe load that followed I turned the hippopotamus over to, and then they began with their long knives to cut it up and fight over it. I went into the tent and told Mr. Lapsley that we were saved. It was no surprize to that servant of God. He was so near to the Master always that he believed He would save us.—William Sheppard, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.
(1742)
KOREA, WORK AMONG WOMEN IN
As I was going along a country road one day, I saw a woman going along with a hoe, and behind her was a man with a burden on his back; and this burden, as we drew closer, we saw to be the form of a baby. It was wrapt up according to the custom. They climbed the hill and put the burden on the ground, and the mother threw herself upon the dead form of the child and cried out her broken heart, while the father began to dig the grave. We tried to comfort her the best we could, but her grief seemed too deep, and she did not understand that Christ was the only one who could comfort her. The following Sunday I saw in our meeting one of our women who had been a Christian only about six months, a woman who had been told by her neighbors that if she became a Christian a very dangerous spirit would haunt her and bring calamity to her. She did not falter, but by and by her only child, a little girl, whom she dearly loved, was taken from her. This Sunday, as she stood with the tears streaming down her face, she told how the beautiful little girl had died, but that she did not grieve so much, because, as she said, “I am going to meet her there with Jesus.” I could not but think of that other woman whom I saw heart-broken on the mountain-side just a few days before.—Lulu E. Frey, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.
As I was going along a country road one day, I saw a woman going along with a hoe, and behind her was a man with a burden on his back; and this burden, as we drew closer, we saw to be the form of a baby. It was wrapt up according to the custom. They climbed the hill and put the burden on the ground, and the mother threw herself upon the dead form of the child and cried out her broken heart, while the father began to dig the grave. We tried to comfort her the best we could, but her grief seemed too deep, and she did not understand that Christ was the only one who could comfort her. The following Sunday I saw in our meeting one of our women who had been a Christian only about six months, a woman who had been told by her neighbors that if she became a Christian a very dangerous spirit would haunt her and bring calamity to her. She did not falter, but by and by her only child, a little girl, whom she dearly loved, was taken from her. This Sunday, as she stood with the tears streaming down her face, she told how the beautiful little girl had died, but that she did not grieve so much, because, as she said, “I am going to meet her there with Jesus.” I could not but think of that other woman whom I saw heart-broken on the mountain-side just a few days before.—Lulu E. Frey, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.
(1743)
SeeDaughter’s Estimated.
Korean, The, as a Giver—SeeGenerosity.
LABELS, MISLEADING
Not long ago this country woke up to the fact that with a good deal of our canned food we were not getting just what the colored label on the outside of the can led us to suppose. It was a shocking disillusionment to find that the label showed luscious peach jelly, when the inside of the can contained only some nicely prepared and flavored gelatine, quite innocent of any relation to peaches. The country at once had indigestion, and passed laws to keep the peaches and the labels in the neighborhood of the same can.The labels on persons are also misleading, because one can see the label but not always the real person. The titles and degrees are supposed to be descriptive of the owner’s brains, and sometimes they are; but they are not always accurate, and they never make brains. A university might confer a B.A. or an LL.D. on a lineal descendant of Balaam’s beast of burden, and yet it would not make him wise.—James M. Stifler, “The Fighting Saint.”
Not long ago this country woke up to the fact that with a good deal of our canned food we were not getting just what the colored label on the outside of the can led us to suppose. It was a shocking disillusionment to find that the label showed luscious peach jelly, when the inside of the can contained only some nicely prepared and flavored gelatine, quite innocent of any relation to peaches. The country at once had indigestion, and passed laws to keep the peaches and the labels in the neighborhood of the same can.
The labels on persons are also misleading, because one can see the label but not always the real person. The titles and degrees are supposed to be descriptive of the owner’s brains, and sometimes they are; but they are not always accurate, and they never make brains. A university might confer a B.A. or an LL.D. on a lineal descendant of Balaam’s beast of burden, and yet it would not make him wise.—James M. Stifler, “The Fighting Saint.”
(1744)
SeeEnvy Gratified;New, The.
LABOR
This song of labor is by Caroline A. Lord:
They are working, beneath the sun,In its red-hot, blinding glare,In the dust from the toiling teams,In the noise of the thoroughfareSee them swing and bend, far down to the endWith the rhythm of the strokes they bear.The cords of the sinewy armsStand out like the cable’s twist;No blow shall miss and no stroke shall failFrom the grasp of the brawny fist,As the shoulder swings when the pickax ringsAnd the hand springs firm from the wrist.Let the feet of the dainty shodPass by on the other side,Where the youth of the slender back and limbStands watching—the listless-eyed;While with sweat and with pain and the long day’s strainThese toil—and are satisfied.
They are working, beneath the sun,In its red-hot, blinding glare,In the dust from the toiling teams,In the noise of the thoroughfareSee them swing and bend, far down to the endWith the rhythm of the strokes they bear.The cords of the sinewy armsStand out like the cable’s twist;No blow shall miss and no stroke shall failFrom the grasp of the brawny fist,As the shoulder swings when the pickax ringsAnd the hand springs firm from the wrist.Let the feet of the dainty shodPass by on the other side,Where the youth of the slender back and limbStands watching—the listless-eyed;While with sweat and with pain and the long day’s strainThese toil—and are satisfied.
They are working, beneath the sun,In its red-hot, blinding glare,In the dust from the toiling teams,In the noise of the thoroughfareSee them swing and bend, far down to the endWith the rhythm of the strokes they bear.
They are working, beneath the sun,
In its red-hot, blinding glare,
In the dust from the toiling teams,
In the noise of the thoroughfare
See them swing and bend, far down to the end
With the rhythm of the strokes they bear.
The cords of the sinewy armsStand out like the cable’s twist;No blow shall miss and no stroke shall failFrom the grasp of the brawny fist,As the shoulder swings when the pickax ringsAnd the hand springs firm from the wrist.
The cords of the sinewy arms
Stand out like the cable’s twist;
No blow shall miss and no stroke shall fail
From the grasp of the brawny fist,
As the shoulder swings when the pickax rings
And the hand springs firm from the wrist.
Let the feet of the dainty shodPass by on the other side,Where the youth of the slender back and limbStands watching—the listless-eyed;While with sweat and with pain and the long day’s strainThese toil—and are satisfied.
Let the feet of the dainty shod
Pass by on the other side,
Where the youth of the slender back and limb
Stands watching—the listless-eyed;
While with sweat and with pain and the long day’s strain
These toil—and are satisfied.
(1745)
Labor, A Hero of—SeeEnergy Indomitable.
LABOR, AVOIDING
“I like to sew where there is no thread in the machine, it runs so easily,” said a little girl.A good many people, I think, are pretty fond of running their machines without thread.When I hear a boy talking very largely of the grand things he would do if he only could and if things and circumstances were only different, and then neglecting every daily duty and avoiding work and lessons, I think he is running his machine without any thread.When I see a girl very sweet and pleasant abroad, ready to do anything for a stranger, and cross and disagreeable in her home, she, too, is running her machine without any thread.Ah, this sewing without thread is very easy indeed, and the life machine will make a great buzzing! But labor, time, and force will in the end be far worse than lost.—The Friend.
“I like to sew where there is no thread in the machine, it runs so easily,” said a little girl.
A good many people, I think, are pretty fond of running their machines without thread.
When I hear a boy talking very largely of the grand things he would do if he only could and if things and circumstances were only different, and then neglecting every daily duty and avoiding work and lessons, I think he is running his machine without any thread.
When I see a girl very sweet and pleasant abroad, ready to do anything for a stranger, and cross and disagreeable in her home, she, too, is running her machine without any thread.
Ah, this sewing without thread is very easy indeed, and the life machine will make a great buzzing! But labor, time, and force will in the end be far worse than lost.—The Friend.
(1746)
LABOR BY PATIENTS
Patient labor at the Elgin State Hospital (Illinois) has become one of the most striking features in any of the seventeen charitable institutions of Illinois.Fiscal Supervisor Whipp, of the State Board of Administration, has just returned from Elgin, where he has been investigating the construction of buildings of cement blocks veneered with granite.Patients have already built a cold storage room and bath-house, and now are at work on a cottage for the acute insane. They make the veneered blocks in the basement of the institution in winter. The process itself is comparatively new. It has been employed no more than a year at Elgin, but has worked out with remarkable success—BostonJournal.
Patient labor at the Elgin State Hospital (Illinois) has become one of the most striking features in any of the seventeen charitable institutions of Illinois.
Fiscal Supervisor Whipp, of the State Board of Administration, has just returned from Elgin, where he has been investigating the construction of buildings of cement blocks veneered with granite.
Patients have already built a cold storage room and bath-house, and now are at work on a cottage for the acute insane. They make the veneered blocks in the basement of the institution in winter. The process itself is comparatively new. It has been employed no more than a year at Elgin, but has worked out with remarkable success—BostonJournal.
(1747)
LABOR FOR THE COMMUNITY
The worker bee is never found loafing while the sun is shining. Their work is wholly for the hive; for the community that is, and they not infrequently work themselves to death gathering and carrying pollen, with which they load themselves down heavily.
The worker bee is never found loafing while the sun is shining. Their work is wholly for the hive; for the community that is, and they not infrequently work themselves to death gathering and carrying pollen, with which they load themselves down heavily.
The work of the truly unselfish life is a willingness to work, and even if need be, to die for the good of mankind.
(1748)
LABOR IN VAIN
The Pyramids of Egypt are among the seven wonders of the world. Cheops, said to be the largest of them all, covers an area of over thirteen acres, is larger than Madison Square, New York, and twice the height of Trinity Church spire. It contains enough material to build a city as large as Washington, including all its public buildings. Four hundred thousand men were employed twenty years to build it. The purpose of its erection was that it might be the tomb of kings.How much better would have been the result if all this labor had been spent to serve those who were alive and the then future generations.
The Pyramids of Egypt are among the seven wonders of the world. Cheops, said to be the largest of them all, covers an area of over thirteen acres, is larger than Madison Square, New York, and twice the height of Trinity Church spire. It contains enough material to build a city as large as Washington, including all its public buildings. Four hundred thousand men were employed twenty years to build it. The purpose of its erection was that it might be the tomb of kings.
How much better would have been the result if all this labor had been spent to serve those who were alive and the then future generations.
(1749)
LABOR, OPPORTUNITY FOR
The verses below carrying a helpful lesson, are by Ellen M. H. Gates:
If you can not on the oceanSail among the swiftest fleet,Rocking on the highest billows,Laughing at the storms you meetYou can stand among the sailors,Anchored yet within the bay;You can lend a hand to help them,As they launch their boats away.If you are too weak to journeyUp the mountain, steep and high,You can stand within the valley,While the multitudes go by;You can chant in happy measure,As they slowly pass along;Tho they may forget the singer,They will not forget the song.*****Do not, then, stand idly waitingFor some greater work to do;Fortune is a lazy goddess—She will never come to you.Go and toil in any vineyard,Do not fear to do or dare;If you want a field of labor,You can find it anywhere. (Text.)
If you can not on the oceanSail among the swiftest fleet,Rocking on the highest billows,Laughing at the storms you meetYou can stand among the sailors,Anchored yet within the bay;You can lend a hand to help them,As they launch their boats away.If you are too weak to journeyUp the mountain, steep and high,You can stand within the valley,While the multitudes go by;You can chant in happy measure,As they slowly pass along;Tho they may forget the singer,They will not forget the song.*****Do not, then, stand idly waitingFor some greater work to do;Fortune is a lazy goddess—She will never come to you.Go and toil in any vineyard,Do not fear to do or dare;If you want a field of labor,You can find it anywhere. (Text.)
If you can not on the oceanSail among the swiftest fleet,Rocking on the highest billows,Laughing at the storms you meetYou can stand among the sailors,Anchored yet within the bay;You can lend a hand to help them,As they launch their boats away.
If you can not on the ocean
Sail among the swiftest fleet,
Rocking on the highest billows,
Laughing at the storms you meet
You can stand among the sailors,
Anchored yet within the bay;
You can lend a hand to help them,
As they launch their boats away.
If you are too weak to journeyUp the mountain, steep and high,You can stand within the valley,While the multitudes go by;You can chant in happy measure,As they slowly pass along;Tho they may forget the singer,They will not forget the song.
If you are too weak to journey
Up the mountain, steep and high,
You can stand within the valley,
While the multitudes go by;
You can chant in happy measure,
As they slowly pass along;
Tho they may forget the singer,
They will not forget the song.
*****
*****
Do not, then, stand idly waitingFor some greater work to do;Fortune is a lazy goddess—She will never come to you.Go and toil in any vineyard,Do not fear to do or dare;If you want a field of labor,You can find it anywhere. (Text.)
Do not, then, stand idly waiting
For some greater work to do;
Fortune is a lazy goddess—
She will never come to you.
Go and toil in any vineyard,
Do not fear to do or dare;
If you want a field of labor,
You can find it anywhere. (Text.)
(1750)
LABOR-SAVING DEVICES