clearly attuned, where the step is buoyant,
where there is nothing that any one fears;
but Life has shown me a world in which
Death is inevitably the ruler; a world, the
light of which lessens with every day that
passes, a world wherein Fear Compels us to a
conformity and conventional pose, and in
which the warm, uncalculating love of Youth
fades into the callousness and coldness, and
disinterest of Age. You say I am moody,
tonight. No, my dear, I am only truthful. În
the cheery, jolly days of a few years ago, I had
but to beckon my friends and they would
gather with acclaim, and sit down and hold
revel while the red wine ran, and the flowing
bowl was drained again and again. Mirth was
King. His courtiers were madcap revelers, and
they were a loyal crew. Hebe was their Divin-
ity; but Time, Time the Tomb-Builder,
poured the waters of Lethe in their cups, and
it corroded their veins and thinned their
blood; and their erstwhile joyous laughter
become transformed to a discordant cackle,
and their mirth changed to mocking. They
say, and they believe when they say it, that
Wine is an enemy; that Women are wicked;
and that Life is a vanity of vanities. Blame
them not, for they are old; but grieve with
them that the fires of exuberant Youth do
not always burn. Life is a servitude. The
rulers of the world are slaves. To rule, they
must labor, and the labor crushes them with
its inertia, and the garlands they win do but
deck tombs, and that, so long only as the
daylight lingers. Such garlands dissolve in the
shadows of the first night, and the mists of
morning fall on the bare graves that they for
the moment adorned. Our only friend is
Memory. Her eye brims with understanding;
her voice is caressing and tender; her touch
is magnetic with sympathy. Today, Youth
lures us to go; tomorrow, Age will command
us to stay, and then will Memory be my sweet
voiced guest, and she will sit by my side,
and look into my dimming eyes, and sing the
songs of Yesterday. She will dwell on the
glory of morning; she will recall the friends
who joined with me in ready homage to King
Mirth; she will speak of Hebe; and then will
come your name, my royal, clear-eyed,
straight-limbed Sweetheart; and at last will I
know that Old Age is not too heavy a burden
to carry in payment of having once been
young. Doubt will whisper," She was fickle,
inconstant; she never really cared for you,"
but the Ghost of Youth will flit across the
strings of the heart, and that will pulsate,
"She was young; she was beautiful; her kisses
were endearing; her embrace was full of fire
and passion and life; the response of her
body was complete in its amorous abandon;
and if she changed or forgot, we all change
and forget; but while the glamour lasted, its
spell was transmuting, and that for which the
Universe was created, was our unstinted
portion." And when Time has taken me so
far that even Memory's voice can no longer
awaken the heart to answer, then will it suf-
fice to record of me, "This Man Lived." And
as you and I wander through Life after Life
in unlimited series, perchance we will meet,
and like a rush of fern scents wafted from
years long past, will come again Memory, and
you and I, though we know not why, will be
glad; and it will be because we laughed and
sang together, long before, and gave small
heed to the droning world, which, had it
known our hearts, would have used our name
to adorn the moral of one of its degenerate
tales. And so, Farewell, and Farewell.-Byron.
12a-Anybody can cut prices, but it takes brains to make a better article.-Alice Hubbard.
13-Applaud us when we run, console us when we fall, cheer us when we recover, but for God's sake-let us pass on!-Edmund Burke.
14-Are We Downhearted? No-0-0-0-0-0!!!
15-A Task! To be honest, to be kind; to earn a little and to spend a little less, to make upon the whole a family happier for his presence; to renounce when that shall be necessary and not be embittered; to keep a few friends, but these without capitulation; above all, on the same grim condition, to keep friends with himself, here is a task for all that man has of fortitude and delicacy.-Robert Louis Steven
16-Be gentle and keep your voice low.
18-Blessed is that man who does n't rubber. -Ali Baba.
19-Blessed is that man who has found his work.
20-Books, like friends, should be few and well chosen. Like friends, too, we should return to them again and again-for, like true friends, they will never fail us-never cease to instruct -never cloy.
22-BUSINESS-A FRAGMENT: The musician, the painter, the poet, are, in a larger sense, no greater artists than the man of commerce. Nor does lyre, or canvas, rhythmical word mark the confines of the soul. For truth is without circumference, while all human endeavor, under the consecration of ideals, is ultimately artistic-so commerce, like art, to live must be founded on ideals.-W. S. Maverick.
22a-THE BUSY MAN'S CREED: I believe in the stuff I am handing out, in the firm I am working for and in my ability to get results. I believe that honest stuff can be passed out to honest men by honest methods. I believe
in working, not weeping, in boosting, not
knocking, and in the pleasure of my job. ¶ I
believe that a man gets what he goes after,
that one deed done today is worth two deeds
tomorrow, and that no man is down and out
until he has lost faith in himself. I believe in
today and the work I am doing, in tomorrow
and the work I hope to do, and in the sure re-
ward which the future holds. I believe in
courtesy, in kindness, in generosity, in good
cheer, in friendship and honest competition.
I believe there is something doing somewhere
for every man ready to do it. I believe I'm
ready-RIGHT NOW.
23-Cast forth thy act, thy word, into the everliving, ever-working universe; it is a seedgrain that can not die; unnoticed today, it will be found flourishing as a banyan-grove after a thousand years.-Carlyle.
23a-COLUMBUS.
Behind him lay the gray Azores,
Behind the Gates of Hercules;
Before him not the ghost of shores;
Before him only shoreless seas.
The good mate said: "Now must we pray,
For lo! the very stars are gone.
Brave Adm'r'l, speak; what shall I say?"
Why, say: 'Sail on! and on!'"'
My men grow mutinous day by day;
My men grow ghastly wan and weak.'
The stout mate thought of home; a spray
Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek.
"What shall I say, brave Adm'r'l, say,
If we sight naught but seas at dawn?"
They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow,
Until at last the blanched mate said:
"Why, now not even God would know
Should I and all my men fall dead.
These very winds forget their way,
For God from these dread seas is gone.
Now speak, brave Adm'r'l; speak and say-
He said: "Sail on! sail on! and on!"
They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate:
"This mad sea shows his teeth tonight.
He curls his lip, he lies in wait,
With lifted teeth, as if to bite!
Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word:
What shall we do when hope is gone?
The words leapt like a leaping sword:
"Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!"
Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck,
And peered through darkness. Ah, that night
Of all dark nights! And then a speck!
A light! A light! A light! A light!
It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!
It grew to be Time's burst of dawn.
He gained a world; he gave that world
Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!"
-Joaquin Miller.
23b-Come, lovely and soothing Death,
Undulate round the world, serenely arriving,
arriving,
In the day, in the night, to all, to each,
Sooner or later delicate Death.
Prais'd be the fathomless universe,
For life and joy, and for objects and knowl
And for love, sweet love--but praise! praise!
For the sure-enwinding arms of cool, enfold-
ing Death.-Walt Whitman.
24-Commonplace people have good memories.
They never forget the good they do; the
wrongs that are done to them; nor the faults
of their friends. Memory means misery, but
heaven lies in faith, hope and love; and love
looks to the East, with a finger to her lips.
-Elbert Hubbard.
25-Constantly striving to make our best, better.
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