The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1885-08-14
CLEVELANDIANA.
Gathered at Random From Miss Rose Eliza
beth Cleyelands New Book.

=
Gathered at Random From Miss Rose Ellis
beth Cleyeland's New Book.
No secret of hydraulics could caus
dewdrop to hang upon a rose leaf il
cube.
l never knew a good man or a goot
woman who was not practically an OPP
timist
The past is simply humanity. 1t i.
thou and |, a vast congregation OF
thous and rs.
An acorn in the mind is worth more
than an oak forest at the end of the
tongue.
The noble soul would choose rather
not to be than to be somebody IN
particular.
So fine an irony has history, that
that which makes the shame of its
wives makes the glory of its kings.
Manners are made in the market
where they are sold, and their buy
ing and selling are mostly uncon-
scious.
No gift can pass between human
creatures so divine as the gift of rec1
ognition, for it touches upon the Gre
alive.
time accurate, is rare combination.
II the one is gift the other is grace. !.
We can do no Drawer or better thing
than to bring our best thoughts to the
everyday market. They will yield US
usurious interest.
Millions sublime audacity of faith
acretes the ponderous craft of his
verse and keeps it from sinking into
the abyss of theological pedantry.
Our lives are not laid out in vast,
vague prairies, but in definite do
nestle door yards, within which we,
are to exercise and develope our facul-i
ties.
Herein is the significance of saying
that history repeats itself. 1t does re-
peat itself, because it repeats its fac
tors-the men and women who COM
pose it.
The mother makes the man, per-
haps; but the wife manufactures HIM.
Sometimes the wife in her manufac-
ture confirms the making of the
mother, sometimes counteracts it.
The born poet has no agony in the
deliverance of his song. The uttering
Is to him that soothing balm which |
The utterance is to the reader. It Is
the weeping, not the tear wept, that
gives relief.
The humanity of each of us is like
some @olian harp constructed by the
Master Musician, and laid down ten
ierly by Him on the sea shore. where
Winds from every quarter play con-
Reciprocity, constant and equal,
lmong all His creatures is the plan of
he only maker OF plans whose plans
lever fail in the least jot or title. He
las reserved to Himself the power to
i've without receiving.
Human history is nothing but one
easeless flow of cause into effect, and
f effect into cause. There is nothing
ut which is consequent. You and 1
re but the consequents of a vast
angle of antecedents in all time be-
IRE.
You come from one of George
lots poems as from Turkish bath
latest science and refinement, APP
reciative of benefit, but so battered,
eaten, and disjointcd as to need re-
ose before you can be conscious of
,freshment.
In these days of ebb and quick
nd, when agnosticism rears its stone
all in front of faith, ard writes upon; !
in black letters the end-all and the
,-all of all knowing, the unknown,
lie, we have no need to know where
ID is to confirm our faith in him.
Gan erroneous notion of the Mlddlei
yes.) A tunnel of time, 1000 years
ng, through which humanity
mbIed blindly in an emigrant train,
Q last skyrockets of the Roman +
lpire flaring up at one end, the
st sunbeams of the Renaissance
ming in at the other-and no light L
tween-the no-account period of
story.
what's in a namep A rose by any
1er name might smell as sweet: but
lily, if rechristened rose, would
yer diffuse the roses odor, nor gain,
addition to its own spotless per-
tions, the deep hearted sorcery of
1t enchanting, crumpled wonder,
ich we thrill in touching, as if 1t.
, had nerves, and blood, and ~
man heart-a rose!
A picture of Joan of Arc.) A lit
peasant maiden. doing lowly SER
o in tho cottage home at Homremy;
lail-clad maiden, leading forth her
diers from the gates of Orleans; III
, faithful feet on fagots at Rouen; LII
adIant face uplifted to the beckon-
skies; a crucifix upheld in shriv-
lg, flame-kissed hands; wreath of
ike for shroud; wrack of smoke
pail, heap OF ashes, and fran
,ed soul!
n this scientific age--this age of
loclasm-it is greatly good for US
confront things rich, rare, out-of-. 4.
above our power -
beyond our power to-
roy. 1t is well for us who are SO
ID to the rose color in our daily
s to be forced to acknowledge ita Mi
tence in the imperishable canvass Ull
istory; well for US, so intensely
ctical as we are, to be compelled
q, at least, to confront the ro-