The Progress., 1893-04-08

round of his toill He had thought of
nothing. he had dreamed of nothing, he
had lived nothing, he had been nothing,
save laboring machine until, at the
thought of breaking down, he sat down
in the bank and blew out his brains.
Faithful, honest. capable of high things,
and yet he died because he could nc
longer be a slave of toll. And the pity
of it all is that the people are capable of
high things could they only attain them.
1t is truth capable of the widest
demonstration. All classes, Neginning
with the savage in the wilds of the forest,
through all gradations of social distinC
tions, are capable Of the highest things.
| listened to missionary returned
from his labors among one of the widest
tribes of Burmah. He said that when
he first went among these savage peo-
pie he took with him some milk crackers
for the children. He met two little ones,
one about 10y years of age, the other about
4. He gave TO the older child cracker.
Without u moments hesitation the lit
tie savage took the whole of it and gave
it TO his little brother, and the little
fellow broke it in two and gave hall
back to his generous elder brother. The
truth is, the divine is born within MS. II
is the breath of God. We are but little
advanced from the conditions of people
that we call savages. We have better
tailors and BARRIERS.
IL we could only know of the suffering
and of the helplessness and ignorance
and misery of these thousands, we whc
are in better circumstances would cease
to complain at our own ills. Our owl
misfortunes would be lost in the greater
Thought of this dark world of misery.
| The trouble is, we do not see them; we
do not know them close enough; we
| look at our own sorrows, our own mis-
fortunes, and magnify them. five could
only lift up our eyes and see this great
dark crowd over which Jesus wept in
compassion, our souls would be inspired
with divine enthusiasm for their sal.
walton, for their uplifting. They may
not appreciate it-so much the greater is
the call
| PITY FOR THE HELPLESS.
A woman recently returned from q
mission life among a savage tribe of In
dams in the far west. She described to
| her listener their characteristics, their
ignorance, TIN brutality and withal
their base ingratitude. Her listener an
swered, "And why do you spend your
life among them why do you not leave
them7" She replied as a tear gathered in
her eye, "Oh, cannot; have learned tO
love them in their helplessness."
If we who are in condition of life re-
moved from ignorance and want and su-
perstition and its consequent helpless.
ness, perversity and brutality, could only
see the real life and real suffering of 9th.
ers, we would forget our own and merge
our purpose, our being, into the effort to
save them. In Paris there is home fol-
scrofulous children. 1t is a noble work
of charity and one of the saddest. The
brothers who keep this home are cheered
by the feeling that they are doing all
that can be done for the unfortunates on
their hands, but to the outside observer
the sight of these poor children is heart
rending.
Some years ago the Marquis de Lay
oestyne, director of the Hotel des In
valides, home for French soldiers, rem
dered the brothers in charge of this
home a service, and they went in body
to thank him. carrying their crippled
children with them. Some were on
crutches. Some who were more afflicted
were tenderiy carried in the arms of the
brothers. When the marquis received
them. he was surrounded with men who
had been MANNED by war. soldiers who
had seen hundreds of brutal combati
and faced thousand perils.
In behalf of the soldiers he tried tc
speak to the children, but burst into
tears, and the soldiers sobbed or turned
away in horror at the sight of so much
disease and distress and deformit.
Whatever of bodily affliction the wal
had left to them, they saw how slight
were their misfortunes compared will
these children cursed from their very in
fancy. So. If we could only see the SUI
fering and the sorrow and the disease
in which millions are born and to whi,
they are doomed with fatality swift
unerring, certain of fate, we would cease
to murmur at our own lot and hasten tC
take up the burden of a world.
Let us remember that the cry Of the
masses is tho cry of the world; the need
of the masses the need of the race. The
hope of the mob is the hope of the
world; its despair worlds despair
The fate of the world hangs on thes,
myriads of humble homes. In thes,
humble cradles are being rocked todey
J the worlds heroes, the worlds leader.
Whether these leaders shall be worth,
} or unworthy, whether they shall be trai
, tors or saints, depends in large measu~'
upon the degree Of faithfulness witt
! which we shall face this problem. Shsl
} we not bear to them the glad tidings
They need glad tidings. They ha =
heard few glad things in the worlI
: Shall we bring to them healingf Tho