Treading the Narrow Way Part 5

The Business Man.

Here is to the business man, Who does the very best he can, And pays to each their honest debt, And don't forget it makes him sweat.

He labors from the morn till night, With brain and muscle in the fight, To keep his head above the stream, When finances are not serene.

He's to the one you always go, When life has pained you with a woe, You know his purse is always free, To lessen grief or misery.

You toss on him most carelessly, The gratis job of town trustee, And then you pa.s.s around the word, He's just the man for the school board.

He helps to school your girls and boys, He shares with you your pains and joys, He helps to pay the preacher's bill, And aids the churches with good will.

He has to pay his bills when due, But if he asks the same of you, You think your credit's met his fears, And let it run along for years.

You let him long and look and look, At your account upon the book, And you'll admit if you are frank, He pays your interest at the bank.

If he would say and tell you true, When your account has long been due, That ten per cent was charged to you, You'd swear until the air was blue.

If he helps you, then why not him, And don't keep sending off your tin, But give it to your home merchants, And keep the gloss from off their pants.

Falling Snow.

There's something in the falling snow, That brings back years of long ago, That makes you think of younger days, Behind a span of gallant bays.

The frosty air, the rosy dames, The secrets and the loving names, Of days gone by long years ago, Comes back today with falling snow.

The laughter pealed o'er rocks and trees, The songs re-echoed with the breeze, Of merry rides so bright and gay, Are chasing thru my mind today.

The biting air with keen delight, Puts crispness in the appet.i.te, And mother's pies of golden hue, Soon faded like the morning dew.

And how I wish I could today, Turn back the years the youthful way, And drive the bays and see them go, And blush with youth midst falling snow.

SALLIE'S LOYALTY.

That's Sallie over there in that potato patch. She has been endeavoring to tease from mother earth enough tubers to supply the family through a long winter. Nature in this and many other instances has been unkind.

The rain waited too long and the one supply of food that fills so large a place are small as marbles, nevertheless this dear soul laboriously gathered them and is carrying them, pail at a time, and storing them away for a long, cold winter. Though the tubers are small and puny, she has a way of cooking them with such marked success that they would tickle the palate of a king and he'd be pa.s.sing his plate the second time.

Sal does the housework, the buying of supplies, cares for the chickens, plants the garden, does the sewing, picks up the paint brush when necessary, and does about everything that anyone can do. She is past fifty years of age, most of them hard and bitter years. They have not been the kind of years where the goal has been worth the trials and bitterness. The streaks of silver are beginning to show in her dark hair, she is small in physique, clean limbed, lithe, resourceful, determined, and intelligent. Her schooling in the practical side of life is an attainment any one should be proud of. She is one of the most wiry and courageous women that has ever lived such a grand and n.o.ble life and kept the sad, dreary and lonely part locked up in her unselfish heart.

Behold her as she is, one of G.o.d's purest gifts! Her life is clean, wholesome and grand and of such a sweetness and beauty that mocks to scorn any imitation of the artist. For eight long years she has cared uncomplainingly for the aged, widowed mother as her almost sole benefactor of aid and cheer in the home. She has sacrificed, schemed, planned, worked, and struggled in a way that is worthy of our greatest financiers, diplomats, or statesmen. She has fought within her own heart far greater battles and carried away the victory to a more deserving reward than many a soldier on the battlefield. She has denied herself in order that she might give the fullest measure of devotion to a dear old mother who is slipping slowly, slowly to that great home of rest and comfort.

G.o.d bless you, Sallie, in your old age, when the silver streaks no longer glisten in your hair and it is all turned to the whiteness and purity of snow; when your poor, tired aching limbs from their long years of toil no longer yield to quick response, when time chisels its deep furrows in your brow and your keen eye loses its l.u.s.tre and grows dim. I hope G.o.d will reward you with the choicest gifts of his kingdom, and when the final summons is made and you stand in the open doorway of his love, bathed in the purity of the sparkling dew in the evening time of life, may the sweetness of your character come wafting gently in the fulness of its beauty and dwell amidst all that is holy, sweet and sacred.

Dearest Sal, you're growing old, But there never can be told, The great jewels you possess, In your life of righteousness.

I would love you just the same, Had you reached the highest fame, For you have a heart so true, There would be no change in you.

You have done all duties well, Better than my tongue can tell, I would love to ease your way, And turn your winters back to May.

I have but one life to live, But for you I'd freely give, I'd go down that lonesome valley, If 'twould help you, dear old Sallie.

SUNSHINE.

In endeavoring to entertain you in this chapter I wish I might have the wit of a Nasby or come Nye the Mark; but not having the brilliant talents of either of these ill.u.s.trious wits who cracked the ribs of so many people I hope you will bear with me patiently as I proceed to give to you some rays of sunshine I have been picking up for the last twenty years from all cla.s.ses of people.

A fellow said to me one time I'll tell you a panacea for every ailment.

I have taken it for years and you don't need a skilled Pharmacist to compound it. This was the simple remedy: Trust in providence and keep your bowels open. I thought it was a pretty good prescription and if applied carefully you would never have appendicitis or a good many other complaints. Of course, he said, some people ask too much of providence.

I hardly think it fair to ask the Lord to furnish you the land, the patch of potatoes, a pail to put them in, a spade to dig them with, and then get down on your knees and in funeral tones tell him you are out of spuds and would like a mess for dinner with the jackets off. Don't ask too much.

It is better to whistle than to groan. It will make some heart lighter to hear you whistle than to groan. If you can't whistle a tune sizzle something through your teeth, there's cheer in it for some one. No matter how worrisome, difficult or perplexing the problem is, don't worry or brood over it. Whistle if you can, sizzle if you can't. It will keep you from getting meloncolic; colic that comes from something besides eating too many Colorado watermelons with the accent strong on the water.

I've known people whom you'd think from all appearances they hadn't a care in the world, the sunny side was always exposed and unconsciously they would be dropping encouraging words, doing kind deeds, lending acts of a.s.sistance, and doing everything to lessen the other fellow's burden.

They didn't tell any one that they didn't know where their breakfast was coming from, but somehow or other they would get hold of some patent breakfast food and eat it in its native state if no cow was at hand and then they were all right until the next meal, luncheon, I believe is the proper society word.

It never pays to be stingy with eulogies or encomiums. A little praise has caused many a breast to heave with gladness and chase away gloom.

The cost is small, thank G.o.d it's outside of the trusts. So don't be backward in using it at every opportunity you meet. If the sermon is good, go up and tell the semi-paid man behind the pulpit, it won't kill him. He may be surprised, but keep at it until he gets used to it. If brother or sister so and so has made a misstep and you are an unbeliever or not, don't break your neck in rushing to your neighbor and ah, ahing it all over town. Let two thoughts get into your head at once and let the better thought prevail, and instead of helping stain the character of a poor unfortunate, make it your business to use your good advice, if you haven't any then keep still.

When a church member steps from the narrow path, why has everybody such a sudden interest? Why does it cause such a loosening of tongues? The Bible says, "he that is without sin among you let him cast the first stone." If any one but Jesus was without sin why not advertise it. Give it to the Post and use the red letters on the front page. The way I look at the parable quoted by Jesus is that if a stone is thrown some one has to throw it, it may be thrown with intent or carelessness, but in either event the stone has been thrown and some one will be struck, so the best way is not to throw the stone, if you have to throw something, go into one of the leagues and then don't throw a stone. Throw a baseball, but don't hit the umpire.

Wherever you can place a rose where a thorn has been, do it. There is both fragrance and cla.s.s to a rose, something sweet, cheerful and pretty; but the fellow that can find any redeeming qualities in a thorn is not the person that can stand inspection. Where could you put him where he would be an improvement? You can't progress unless you make use of the things progress is found in. Pluck the rose every time, leave the other alone.

Don't wait 'till it's time to erect the tombstone before you pay tribute to your dear friend. One small flower is worth more to the living than tons piled on their caskets. Some poor fellows never get tomb stones, head stones or anything to mark their graves. How much better you feel if you have never put a pebble in any one's path as an obstruction to their progress than if you had been rolling boulders and now see your mistake. You can't afford to do it. Pay your little tributes all along the journey of life. Be as careful dropping pains or sorrows as you would dropping pearls.

Don't wait 'till your father, mother or wife dies, then lie about them on their tombstones. You only have one father and one mother; be careful and think some before you pour out any derogatory statements or cheap invectives concerning them. Your wife is ent.i.tled to a great many compliments you never gave her. The reverential words on the slab in the cemetery isn't going to fool any one, and have them to believe, as you would wish, that you did the fine thing, when really you are to blame for stealing from her about twenty years of her life time. You've caused hollow cheeks where roses should have been and you stole many pleasures from her and enjoyed them all by yourself. Too much swine in your nature to make people think you were sincere in your profuse epigram on the tombstone.

So many people think they are endowed with a peculiar and special sort of wisdom and are able to fool their fellow men so successfully that they try it on the Lord. Here is where they make a fatal mistake, for the Lord certainly knew what he was doing when he made countenances. The newspaper's most clever ads are no comparison to the clean, open ads the Lord puts on faces and the clear unfrosted windows where you can look far into the soul.

You can't break man's laws without being detected. If you are a sneak criminal, inebriate, crook, lascivious, immoral or any other of the degrading types in the category of a false man, the warning is openly and clearly displayed on your countenance. You can't fly false colors and succeed, for sooner or later you pay the penalty to the last farthing. When you hear the remark "I don't like his looks," there is something shown in the countenance to verify the statement or no accusation would have been made. Be a man and your face will do the advertising.

Don't be afraid of censure or criticism or let it keep you from helping the fellow that is down. G.o.d gave us religion for that purpose. It's something to use every day in the week and not a specialty for the Sabbath; the more you use it the brighter it gets. Anything you don't use and keep polished loses its usefulness and becomes rusty. Use it whenever you can and you'll be surprised the confidence you gain in people's hearts. It's the greatest purifier in the world, that's why G.o.d gave it to us. He knew what he was doing. It's the only thing in the world that will lift up the fallen woman, the drunken man, the horse thief, the blasphemer and all others when every hand is turned against them. It's a panacea for every evil. It's the only thing that will take humanity with all their sins after they are entirely forsaken and down at the threshhold of h.e.l.l and make them better. It will take them in the eleventh hour when they come sneaking in at the back door with characters stained as black as night and every law has been transgressed, but as they plead piteously for forgiveness, their pet.i.tion is heard and all their sins are blotted out and the Lord gives them another chance. He stoops down in his great mercy and love and gives them that peace beyond all understanding. He raises them up and helps them reach for the cross when no hand is extended to help them.

At every opportune chance laugh long and heartily, nothing is better to cheer and comfort, and while it is doing the other fellow good you are getting the cheapest medicine on the market for your digestive organs.

Try it after you eat some boarding house pancakes an inch think. You have lots of things to smile for. There is always some one else worse off than yourself. You see them everywhere. If you have a large family your neighbor has a larger one. If you have none at all pity your neighbor who can't figure out some way to get rid of his mother-in-law without losing his wife. If you are able to hobble around, have a heart for the fellow in the wheel chair and the fellow that has to stay flat on his back and never sees the sun rise.

There are two kinds of sunshine; one is entirely dependent upon the individual and the other was inaugurated shortly after creation. Each is necessary to fill the divine plan. While one kind is periodical in some people, the other is always at hand unless clouds intervene. G.o.d's sunshine is unexcelled and is a marvel in itself for warmth, beauty, cheerfulness and grandeur. The rising and falling of this wonderful orbit body is said to start and finish the work of man, as he was supposed to labor and scheme from sun to sun.

This plan may have been popular and proper before the day of the multi-millionaire, but the time is too short for the present day man, and in order to pay the necessary obligations to exist the twilight at both ends must be consumed and then reach in and grab several hours of darkness. The housewife may have to sew and rock the baby and prove her contention that her work is never done, but it's up to the Governor, the old man, Dad, or any other name you may call him, to keep the flour in the bin, coal in the bucket, shoes on the children, and an endless number of other things. He's the lad that must fix it up with the banker when the note is renewed. He must through some devised method dress the kids in schools as good as his more prosperous neighbor, or there's sn.o.bs and tears. He must provide something besides the proverbial soup bone that one neighbor could borrow from another through the winter months. He must buy the latest books, procure lyceum and chautauqua tickets, pay the preacher, the ice man, the milk man, the water man, light man, and dig continually for charity, and thus you see the sun to sun theory has the bottom torn out of it.