UNNATURAL LAWS
So many Gods, so many creeds,
So many paths that wind and wind,
When just the art of being kind
Is all this sad world needs.
ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
But the harmony of the home does not depend upon the parents alone. If
it did, it would forever disprove the statement that it is only by a
working together of all parts of any organization that its real purpose
may be accomplished. A clock is intended to tell the time, and its
mechanism is so constructed that, by its working together, the hands
and chime will mark the hours. But, if we could imagine the hands of
the clock refusing to move in the direction that the springs, wheels,
and pendulum required, and insisting upon going their own way, the
usefulness of the clock would be destroyed.
So, in the matter of family harmony, it may be merely some self-willed
son or daughter, even a child, that causes the discord. And he is not
necessarily a “bad” child, either. He may be endowed with special
gifts, and be particularly adapted to give joy to those about him. He
loves his parents, his brothers and sisters, and also that intangible
“home” that counts for so much in life—yet, because he loves his “own
way” more than all else, he makes “home” impossible. He is so sure
of his infallible judgment that he opposes every suggestion that does
not come from himself; he offers free advice on every possible and
impossible occasion; he “takes sides” on every question that arises,
and considers any opposition as a personal attack or affront. He is
not conscious of these or of any other faults, yet every remark, every
act is tested by its possible reference to himself. He looms so large
in his own foreground that he cannot see how he could be unimportant
to anybody’s life or thought. He broods over fancied wrongs and thinks
himself the most ill-used of mortals. Everybody is unhappy where he is,
and he is most unhappy of all.
For it is a well-established fact, one which we may find proved every
day both in our own experience and the experience of other people,
that he who makes another unhappy generally makes himself still more
wretched.
If our experience shows us any exceptions to this rule, it is, after
all, only in seeming. He who can make another unhappy and not be
conscious of it, is among those whom Epictetus calls blind in that
knowledge which distinguisheth right from wrong. He has not felt his
close relation, or, indeed, any relation to his fellows. He cannot
know any of the joys of fellowship, and he will not find the pleasure
he expects even in his own pursuits. For it matters little, so far as
seeing is concerned, whether a man be born blind, or whether he keeps
his eyes tightly bandaged all his days. In either case he gets none of
the sensations of pleasure that come from being able and willing to
see. If we persist in having “our own way,” we must pay the price.
Most of the miseries of life are caused by failure to get in harmony
with the laws of life. This is as simple and self-evident as walking up
the street. If we persist in keeping to the left on a busy sidewalk,
we shall be jostled and pushed until we are sore and out of breath and
make but little headway withal. But, if we are careful to walk with
the crowd going in our direction, if we remember always to keep to the
right, we shall find it easy to get along even at the “rush” hour.
Those who do not observe this rule of harmonious progress not only find
walking on a busy street hard work, but they also make it harder for
others. One man walking the wrong way may compel twenty more to violate
the sidewalk customs to overcome his opposition. But, when everyone
observes the rule, it leads to a saving of time and temper and makes
life safer for all who are in the crowd.
Generally speaking, we recognize no law but that of our own will, which
is by no means the same thing as the far-wider law of our being. We
cannot separate our lives from the greater life. While we follow the
law of our own will, self-will, we never know real happiness or rest.
Like many another man-made law, our antagonistic wills are a perversion
of the natural law which governs our lives.
SLEEP’S CONQUEST
Invisible armies come, we know not whence,
And like a still, insinuating tide
Encompass us about on every side,
Imprisoning each weary outpost sense,
Till thought is taken, sleeping in his tents!
Yet now the conquerer with lofty pride
Becomes our guardian, with us doth abide
And plans all night our wondrous recompense.
He takes away the weary, worn-out day,
And brings to-morrow—bride without a stain;
Gives us fresh liberty, a chance to mend;
Life, hope, and friends enhanced with fresh array.
Then when we fail he conquers us again,
Paroling us each day until the end.
CHARLES H. CRANDALL.
(Courtesy of Harper & Brothers.)