ards, walk over the bodies of fallen
enemies, and heed not the groans of even their friends. In all this
worry and strife, all the weariness of body and brain, how few stop to
enquire of themselves the means they are taking to attain their aim.
Some have taken a step higher by walking over the body of a brother who
has fallen by the wayside, wearied and heart sore, and if he succeeds in
reaching the top-most rung of the ladder, envious tongues and slanderous
epithets will reach him there, while if he falls he will carry with him
the sneers and taunts of his fellow men. In this vast universe there is
room for all, no need to jostle and crowd your neighbor. If he succeeds,
while you fail, it will not better your condition to slander and vilify;
if he fails while you win you will never regret having offered the hand
in good will and fellowship. Many a heart has been softened, many a
burden made lighter, by a few kind, cheerful words. There are none so
low, none so degraded, as to be beneath consideration. To take the hand
of the hardest criminal will not contaminate--vice is not contagious.
* * * * *
Joaquin Miller says:
Is it worth while that we jostle a brother,
Bearing his load on the rough road of life?
Is it worth while that we jeer at each other,
In blackness of heart that we war to the knife?
God pity us all in our pitiful strife.
God pity us all as we jostle each other,
God pardon us all for the triumph we feel,
When a fellow goes down 'neath his load on the heather,
Pierced to the heart by words keener than steel
And mightier far for woe than for weal.
Were it not well, in his brief little journey,
On over the isthmus, down into the tide,
We give him a fish instead of a serpent,
Ere folding the hands to be and abide
Forever, and aye, in dust at his side?
Look at the roses saluting each other;
Look at the herds all in peace on the plain,
Man, and man only, makes war on his brother
And laughs in his heart at his perils and pain,
Shamed by the beasts that go down on the plain.
It is worth while that we battle to humble
Some poor fellow down into the dust?
God pity us all! Time too soon will tumble
All of us together, likes leaves in the gust,
Humbled, indeed, down into the dust.
A woman was speaking who was dress
|