Gazing on the field, he muses on the infallibility of the law, which
with undeviating regularity brings forth the thousands of tiny Heralds.
Surely they are a symbol of some part of that Great Whole--some plan is
back of their being!
He looks over the walled city which he guards, and nowhere is there
anything which is as wonderful as what lies outside.
Ah! now he knows!
_Outside_ is Freedom--with all its loveliness and fragrance.
_Outside_ is God’s World with only bells, orchestra of rustling leaves
and the waving baton of the trees.
_Outside_ all is Peace--Harmony.
And what is within ---- ----?
Envy, Vice, Hatred, and stalking ever at the head Fear--as
Leader--whose orchestra is made up of glittering instruments of
torture, deafening batteries, and with Triumph as the theme.
With gold, jewels and honors he lures to his band all within the walls,
murmuring:
“My lands shall include all things. Nothing shall exist which is as
perfect as my Empire.”
But----
_Outside_--are dainty, delicate, slim bits of loveliness, which, with
gentle nods and soft waves of perfume bring the message that, Outside,
all is as God intended, for----
“Consider the lilies! They toil not, neither do they spin, and yet I
say unto you that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of
these.”
[Illustration]
Jewels
Multitudes
Within the darkest recesses there is a vast multitude seeking
expression--rising with each multitude a little higher.
Rubies, who gather to themselves the fading glory of the sun, secretly
desire the millions of rays which the diamond has secured,--while
Sapphires, holding the blue winged lights of the moon,--seek in
vain to acquire the rustling of trees and grasses, the running of
water,--within their form.
Insensate?
Round and round the spiral they travel,--ever spurred, by the force
lying within each and every one, to be more than they are and to
express All!
* * * * *
I recall my youth, in fancy, as so many jewels tied to dark recesses
while aspiring;--The desire to voice the Rubies of Multitudes, in
Dislike and Hatred--reveling in the Emeralds of wealth, and desire for
honors--while ever knocking at my door was the Sapphire, laden with
gifts of Aspiration.
In vain the Diamond beckoned,--in vain sought to convince me that
within _that_ recess was all I desired--that _there_ was to be found,
mingled together All as One.
* * * * *
The Multitudes hurry past, unconscious that in their path lies the
Diamond. Hurrying, scurrying, they push and jostle in a vain endeavor
to amass Rubies, Emeralds and Sapphires, little realizing that in their
own door yard lies the most priceless jewel of all:
The Diamond of Love.
I was of the Multitude:--
* * * * *
Reason said:
“Seek Emeralds. What matter if you borrow Rubies of Hatred to gain!
Seek Emeralds!”
* * * * *
Mind said:
“What are Emeralds? It is Sapphires you desire. Sapphires--which lead
you by a radiant path to the sky--to starry realms--to lands where
Inspiration dwells.
“Seek!
“Seek Sapphires!”
* * * * *
Spirit said:
“You are wrong. It is none of these you desire. Seek the Diamond.
Search for it high and low. Do not be beguiled by colors which lure.
Seek the purest of all.
“Seek!
“Search for Diamonds!”
Alas! the colors of the rainbow caught me and I bathed in its rays.
Now I go seeking! Seeking everywhere--Diamonds--only Diamonds.
[Illustration]
Remembrances
I.
THE SENTINELS:
Uniforms of green--hardy and erect, they wait until mustered--keeping
watch throughout the seasons.
* * * * *
THE ARMY:
In glittering array the army stands for inspection.
Russet, gold and green are their uniforms, with trimmings of scarlet.
Unmoved they will stand and receive all onslaughts--and if some fall in
the battle, those remaining will still be firm of purpose--turning ever
a smile of welcome and holding out arms to those who seek them.
Red and russet and gold----
Green and bronze and scarlet----
How brave in all their glory--how steadfast to their purpose--how
gratefully do they bend their heads when a wave of love goes to them!
Majestic--serene--content to fill their allotted place--asking not
the perfume of lilies, nor scent of roses--seeking not the sparkling
splendor of jewels--content with the Emerald, Ruby and Topaz, which
they hold within their own domain.
So muses the recruit, as with head high and shoulders back he wanders
through the woods--saying farewell to all the friends of his boyhood.
The Sentinels!
How they have guarded the old home from the blasts!
How joyfully have the regiment given of their life, in order that
others might revel in their force, and uniting to protect all who
sought their shelter. This was what he must keep ever in mind--to
follow his army friends and do with gladness whatever came his
way--without thought of honors--only with love for all--and cheerfully
obey.
Taking a bit of the uniform of his sentinel friends, and a bit of
russet and gold and scarlet, too, he softly places them in his pocket
and with a salute goes out to join his company.
Munitions
_Hardware Store--Time: Midday_
Gazing out of a window which overlooked a training field for soldiers
was a grizzled old man. Time had left his impress with no gentle mark,
yet around the eyes was a lingering spark of youth, and about the mouth
the lines told of a gentle and loving spirit.
As his eyes roamed over the field a small squad came into view,
marching in “twos” and wheeling into “fours” and “right about,” as the
command was given.
The gaze of the man grew more intense, and the lines about the
mouth deepened, while, slowly, a flush of pride, which could not be
controlled, swept over the face, and unconsciously his shoulders
squared and his back straightened as his son came into view.
The straight boyish figure marched and wheeled in perfect unison with
his comrades, but there was an indefinable power in the set of his head
and poise of the body, which bespoke determination and control beyond
the ordinary.
Suddenly the silence is broken by a voice, and the man, with a start,
turns from the window and faces a customer who has entered so quietly
that even the bell on the door has failed to make any sound.
“Good-day to you, sir,” said the customer. “I have been searching the
town for some munitions. Have you any?”
“A complete stock--of everything,” the old man answered.
“Well, I want both large and small. Something suitable for a
double-barrel and a self-repeater. Can you supply me?”
“Yes. How much of each will you have?”
The man hesitated, and then putting his hand in his pocket, he drew out
a bundle of notes and handful of gold.
“That is all I have. Wrap up all you can give me for that amount.”
The old man gazed at the money and then his eyes traveled toward the
field where young boys eagerly answered to the commands sent forth:
Forward! March!
Turning to his shelves, he took down, first, a box marked “For
double-barrel,” and wrapped it up. Then, next, came a box labelled
“self-repeater--all sizes,” and then, with great care, came the
last--“deadly mixture--guaranteed.”
Each one he made into a separate package and then pushed them toward
his visitor, who thanked him and departed.
Gathering up the gold and bank notes, the old man went to a safe in the
far corner, and, opening the door, took out a drawer marked “Munition
Fund” and put the money into it, smiling as he did so.
Taking his place again at the window, he gazed over the field, lost in
thought, and reviewing in memory the years of his youth, when he, too,
obeyed the command “Forward! March!”
A sound made him turn, and he was confronted by his customer, who, in a
state of extreme anger, waved his packages at him, exclaiming:
“I asked for munitions! See what you have given me!”
The old man came forward, and taking the boxes, proceeded to read:
“For double-barrel--warranted, ‘Kindness!’
“For self-repeater--guaranteed, ‘Joy!’
“Deadly mixture--‘Love’!
“Well, my friend, what is wrong? This is all as it should be!”
“Should be? I wanted gunpowder and cartridges--not that stuff!”
“You have lost your way, my man. On this planet those are our only
munitions.”
[Illustration]
Going Home
The sky was heavy with menacing clouds, and wind--howling dismally as
it blew through the trees--when I met a wayfarer who was walking, with
downcast eyes, along the highway which skirted the town.
Gazing at him sharply, I met a furtive glance, which held within it
pleading, and yet had an assurance which was compelling. He hesitated
when we came abreast, and as I felt in the mood for converse, I bade
him “Good-evening.”
“It is a _good_ evening, is it not,” he replied. “Good, in its freedom
of elements. They make merry tonight.”
This was a strange answer, and my curiosity was piqued, and I felt
constrained to lead him on further.
“You feel the elements are enjoying themselves?” I asked.
“Thoroughly,” he answered, “but one never knows what their decision
will be.”
“Decision! What do you mean?”
“Whether they will be content with a simple little frolic or if they
have mischief in their minds,” he answered.
“Mischief! in their minds! Surely that is a strange expression to use
regarding the wind and clouds.”
“Strange? You, too, find it strange?”
As he spoke he looked at, and yet again, not at me, but through me, and
then continued:
“To me there is nothing in all the Universe without mind. All is alive
and all make merry or are sad--bring joy or sorrow, as their bent may
be. Just as man can be kind, or cruel, make beautiful the world or
destroy, so do the Beings dwelling in the elements.
“Tonight they will tell me whether I make merry or pass out in sorrow.”
“That is a strange thing you say! ‘Make merry or pass out in sorrow.’
What does that portend?” I questioned.
“Sir,” he answered, “you do not understand, and yet you look to me as
one of us.
“Tonight I am going home and I have not yet made the necessary decision
as to my going--whether it shall be a right merry leave-taking or one
of sadness. Today a winged messenger came and told me my exile was
ended and I could start for my home tonight.”
“And where is your home?” I asked.
“That is for me to decide.”
“For you to decide! Is it not where you lived last?” I asked.
“Alas! no. I have lost that beautiful place, but there are others for
me to choose from. Or, perhaps, I shall elect to remain here a little
longer--I have left so much undone. I find so many words unspoken which
would have given joy, perhaps,--so many things postponed. I did not
give heed to the passing of hours for I felt years were before me. But
the summons has come and I am to go home--to go to the house I have
been building.”
His eyes were fixed on the horizon and my gaze followed him, for so
intent was he that I felt there was some thing there I could see. Then,
suddenly, the wind swept past us with a mighty gust. The trees bent
beneath its force, and, with a sudden upflinging of his head he turned
toward me, and said, pointing to the horizon:
“See! There is my road and just at the end of the lane my home. Yes!
after all, it will be good to go back. The weeds are in the garden and
it seems neglected, for no love has entered into the care of it; but
there are blossoms among the grass which has overgrown the doorstep,
and I can make it beautiful, after all. Just a little care, a bit of
love, and time spent in taking out the nettles, and--yes, it can be
made a home. See! there are children down the street. I can build
swings and make toys for their playthings, and it can be a merry place.”
Watching him with amazement, I moved along at his side, speaking no
word, until we came to a little shanty all by itself, on the dreariest
part of the bluff. It was forbidding, and I remembered it was the place
of the old miser and renegade of the town. As we reached the door a
sudden noise within made me pause, and I pushed open the rickety door.
From a corner of the hut came a voice:
“So you have come at last! I have just been waiting until you reached
me, for I am going home. Going home to just a little place like this,
but it has flowers in its yard and there are children who need me.”
There came a sudden terrific whirl of wind and dust--the door slammed
to and my knees shook,--for I was alone--no soul in sight, no
habitation--only scurrying clouds and trees bending under the blast,
while above me floated down a voice:
“I am going home! Are you ready? Make ready! for soon you, too, will be
GOING HOME
My Hearth
Grandfather sits in an old armchair. The back of it boasts an
anti-macassar in many colors, while the seat has a patchwork cushion.
Grandmother occupies a low rocker, which moves slowly to and fro, as
she softly hums the hymn of the Sunday service.
Keeping silence is grandfather’s “long suit”--while making, in reality,
_my_ life.
He is a sturdy old chap, with a will and determination which has
carried him beyond anti-macassars and patchwork cushions, and centered
itself upon me. No fly was ever more helpless!
I make the announcement:
“Life is going to give me something more than this country town.”
Silence reigns on the left of the hearth, and creak! creak! and a
gentle hum answers me from the right.
Minutes, which seem hours, pass--but emboldened by the pictures seen in
the coals, once more a voice is heard:
“When I am grown up I am going to the city! and I am going to travel!
and I am going around the world! and I am going to make a _heap_ of
money and be famous!”
Silence!
Creak--creak!!
Half of eternity passes--when once more, emboldened spirit takes hold
of courage and dares to speak.
“I have made up my mind and I am going to do what I said, and _nothing_
shall keep me from it!”
Silence!
Creak--creak!!
Years pass in review. The coals burn to ash, and from a far-off sphere
issues a voice:
“I’ll have none of that nonsense. You’ll do what you are told to do!”
Silence!
Creak--creak!!
The pictures fade. A clock strikes. The chair groans and grandfather
goes in search of his lantern.
Creak--creak! and then the touch of a gentle hand and a voice made
sweet from singing many hymns:
“Make your pictures, my boy, for they will come true. Make them, hold
them, and most of all _believe_ in them. Good night.”
Silence!
Creak--creak!!
The Three H’s
FOREWORD
Without Health, Life seems Hell.
With Harmony it becomes Heaven.
And when combined, Happiness,
here, is the result.
The Three H’s
PART I.
In a tavern, which was on the waterfront and visited mostly by sailors
on shore leave, lay a semblance of a man. He was tattered and in rags.
Crouching at his feet was a dog as forlorn as he was and in a starved
condition.
Standing around the pair was a circle of men--the regular habitués of
the place.
“Where’d you find him, Pete?” inquired a sour-visaged standee.
“On the wharf. I heard the dog, and as my boy wants a cur, I followed
the sound. But love ye! I couldn’t touch the dog, for he was that crazy
at seeing me. Seemed like he would never stop running around me--but
always out of reach--first to me and then to the bundle.
“Finally I got Steve there, and together we set to work to pick him up,
and do you know, that cur jest settled down as quiet and followed at
our heels. Seemed as if that was what he wanted.”
Here the men looked sheepishly at each other, as if each was ashamed at
the emotion which stirred within him and was afraid lest it be observed.
Finally the first speaker took courage and said:
“Well, come on, let’s see what’s wrong. Get some brandy--and, oh! hell!
give the dog something to drink and eat, too.”
In a moment there was action, where before there was inertia. One
bringing a basin of warm water and a towel, another brandy, while the
rest undertook to look after the dog, who refused to move away from
the man’s side, however, and refused even the food and drink offered
until he saw that aid was being given to his companion. Then, with a
growl of satisfaction, which contained as well a despairing moan--as if
the relief of nourishment was almost too great to bear--he commenced to
devour ravenously what was placed before him, and gave thanks, in all
directions, with a waving and vigorous tail message.
Just as he made his final thump of gratitude, the figure of his
companion stirred and moaned, and instantly the dog was over the heads
of the men, bending over his master and wildly lapping his face and
hands, from which the dirt and blood had been removed.
It was a face of refinement, delicate in its outline, and with an
expression which held the crowd silent.
Whether the brandy, which had been forced down his throat, or the
caressing of the dog aroused him, it is difficult to say--for it was to
the dog he turned his eyes, not to the men standing about him, and as
his hand touched the animal it gave a wild yelp of gladness.
At this, a glimmer of a smile passed over the face--a smile tender as a
mother’s and filled with the love and adoration of a child.
“Dakta, dear old Dakta,” he murmured feebly.
At the sound of his voice the dog laid down and moaned from very joy.
The man caressed the animal with the gentleness of a woman until it
subsided and rested in peace against his body.
Then his eyes wandered over the group, which had stood silent and
awe-struck at the emotion of the dog. With a smile which radiated over
them all, he said:
“So you are Dakta’s good friends. I welcome you, comrades.”
A shuffling of feet answered him, and glances shot from right to left,
but before any one had summoned the courage to reply, he continued:
“It seems strange to you, I perceive, for me to welcome you as Dakta’s
friends. Men live all their lives with the most precious of jewels at
their door and are unaware of it. Often it is wrapped in poor covering
and often, too, in gorgeous raiment. I was one of those men.”
Here he stopped and stroked the dog, who now lay quiet and content,
glancing up, now and then, into his friend’s face.
After a moment of silence, the man raised himself and looked intently
into each face.
A furtive smile answered his query, on some faces, while others looked
away, and yet, without their volition, their eyes came back and rested
on his face.
“Come nearer, comrades. Sit at ease while I tell you of this jewel,
which you all have within your reach and which Dakta, too, possesses.”
The men seated themselves quietly--one might almost say, reverently--so
different was their attitude from their usual manner.
When the men were settled, his glance traveled over them all.
“Do you know that you have here untold riches?”
“To hell, we have!” ejaculated Steve.
“Exactly,” responded the stranger. “That is just it--Hell!--and that is
paved with untold wealth--good intentions.”
“Huh!” snorted one of the listeners, “much good that wealth does a
feller; you can’t buy a drink with that.”
“You are mistaken, my friend. It does you the greatest good in the
world, and I will prove it to you; and, furthermore, it will purchase
for you all the drinks you desire. Will you hear?”
“Fire away.”
II.
“When I was a lad, I was puny, sickly, and in consequence was barred
from the joy of companions and play.
“My parents were too occupied with their great responsibilities--my
father amassing wealth and my mother keeping her place as the leader of
society--to give any special attention to the offspring who only upset
the routine of the household by illness at inopportune times, and so
the care was relegated to hirelings--who were paid for their time and
gave accordingly only the efforts of their hands, with no thought that
they possessed a heart.
“I was kept out of doors constantly, and my only companion was the
mother of Dakta. We grew up together, and it was the exercise given me
from very joy and ecstacy--together with the love and devotion, which
I felt for the first time, and realized did exist--which restored me
gradually to health.
“Next I became acquainted with selfishness and cruelty, for my
playmate--having added to the joy of the world, five beautiful downy
bits of life--was taken away from me, for she brought a good price with
four of her children. Money was of more importance than love. Dakta,
here, was left behind, however, for the stableman, for he had looked
after her mother.
“It was from the stableman that I received my first lesson as to the
wealth which was to be obtained.
“He was an ugly, brutal looking man, dirty and unkempt most of the
time, but to me he was a very god, for each day he came to the wicket
of the fence, with Dakta in his arms, and with a smile which was like a
beam of sunshine, he would say, “Hey! little master, here she is,” and
with that he would put Dakta through the wicket.
“Each day ever since she has been with me, sharing joy and sorrow
and teaching me with infinite patience and love the great lessons of
life--Faithfulness, Gratitude, Cleanliness, Godliness and Work.
“For ten years she has been steadfast and her love unchanged, although
I have led her through the mire many times, and hunger and cold have
been her portions.”
Here he put his hand upon the dog and turned its face upward, and,
looking into its eyes, said:
“But never lack of love, old girl! Never that!”
The dog kept its eyes upon him as he spoke, and the men were silent as
it gave a little whimpering answer and licked the man’s hand.
Turning once more to his circle of listeners, the man continued his
story:
“I have called you Dakta’s comrades for she selected you, and her
judgment is unerring in regard to those who have wealth.”
Here he smiled, and in a whimsical tone said:
“She is an aristocrat, and traces her family many generations, and
therefore shuns those who do not belong to her class. For we have
mingled with each and every class--having been the invited guests of
multimillionaires, pampered social leaders, and sat at the table of
all of the rulers of the world. We have dwelt in hovels, slept in the
desert, and wandered forsaken and alone along the highways.
“Tonight our pilgrimage ends, for we have won the fight and I am once
more in possession of my soul.”
The music of his voice had stilled all the warring elements within each
man, and they scarcely breathed for fear of losing that which they felt
had entered and warmed them. There was no need for the gin and whisky,
which had kept the blood heated, for there was a glow from the eyes of
both man and dog which made them warmer than they had ever been.
Putting his hand on the dog’s head, he said:
“Attention. Dakta! It is time to choose.”
Immediately the dog was on its haunches, ears erect, nose quivering and
eyes going from man to man.
“I have called you Dakta’s comrades, but you are mine as well--for ‘Lo!
the stranger was at your gates and you took him in and bathed and fed
him.’
“We need helpers, and Dakta shall choose. After she has selected each
one for his particular office, we will discuss the work to be done.
I will tell you in advance, however, that you will receive greater
payment for your services than you have ever had before.”
The men were as graven images.
Then came the command:
“Leader! Dakta!”
With a dignity which was inspiring, Dakta walked around each man,
looking, first, intently into each face and then sniffing. Having made
the rounds, she walked to the most besotted looking, and putting her
paws on his knee, looked up into his face and whined, meanwhile waving
in triumph the flag of her tail.
The man at whose knee she stood put out a trembling and hesitating
hand, whereupon Dakta gave a little yelp of pleasure, and kissed it.
At this the entire attitude of the man changed, and he sat erect, where
before his body had slouched, and his head went up until the carriage
of the body was that of a ruler, and he arose from his chair and, with
eyes alight, followed Dakta to the right hand of the man and seated
himself on the floor beside him.
Again came the command:
“Treasurer! Dakta!”
Once more the dog made its rounds, stopping finally in front of a man
who had kept his eyes upon the ground. He stirred uneasily at the touch
of Dakta’s paws upon his knee, and made a movement as if he would push
her away. At that she gave a little cry and jumped into the lap of the
man and commenced to lick his face.
The man made no move for a moment, and then suddenly clasped her in
both arms and hid his face in her neck.
“Well chosen, Dakta!” said her master.
“Come, comrade, and sit at my left.”
The man rose, still holding Dakta close to his heart, but his head
raised high and his eyes straight ahead--and took his place at the
left, upon the floor.