The morning news., 1896-12-27

the bells TO ring in the New Year, we
are forced to think. Not to dream apout
the pleasure of tomorrow, not 10 gloat
over the delights of yesterday, not to
linger over the delicate feasts, not TO
remember the fascination of the game
of the beautiful woman, of the dainty
dishes. or the fine wines; but to face thai
inward monitor the conscience, and won
der about your future Somewhere my
friend there Is Life Book that mas,
written upon the first page, your name.
The preface tells of all that is yours by
heredity; of your environments, and the
temptations that because the flesh Is
weak, will most surely come to you. A
greater being than you put down the
name and wrote the preface, but you have
been filling the leaves with your own
writing, sometimes clear. sometimes blur
red, blurred, perhaps, with wine stain,
faded out with a tears drop, or made
crimson by your hearts blood. And when
that book is read, there will be another
book opened. and your fate will be told
TO you as the leaves of the great Judg-
ment Book unfold.
Tonight take an hour to yourself-de-
vote an hour, only sixty minutes, to
thinking of the year gone by. Judge your
self by the laws written on the stone tab
lets so many thousand years ago, and see
what the record would be in your life book
Sc it were read by a stranger. Never mind
whether you are acquainted with those
laws in the order in which they were writ
zen, or not-you know the difference be-
tween virtue and vice, between right and
wrong, without absolute exactness. Take
up the book and look at it. You are for
tunate, my friend. Your hfe-book Is dam
tily bound, its corners are rich in silver
gilt, and your name is wrought upon it in
gems of great price. Your neighbors book
is of common paper, with poor binding.
But the great Judge does not decide by
appearances, and your neighbor has the
same chance that you have, although, In
deed. because of the fineness of the bind
ing, because of the ease in which your life
has been spent, more good deeds should be
written in your book, since you never
need to steal for bread, or to be dishonest
for the sake of a few dollars. These laws
are oid-fashioned-but so is death old
fashioned-and that which comes after
1t is not a new fashion.
Look at the first law; have you had one
god or many? Was it of more Importance
to you that you slept easily, that you ate
rich food, that you adored beautiful wo-
men, and perhaps, made an idol OF one
who seemed to you a little more lovely
than all the rest? Or did you bow down
TO neaner gods? Did you bend the knee
TO the god of greediness, of wealth,
of, lust, or did you worship your
self? What a mean god is self Poor
weak and utterly uns table! In the hour
Of trouble could you turn to any one OF
these your chosen gods, for helpE Per-
haps you elected to have for your gods
those children of the brain, those queer,
strange beliefs that lead you-where?
Then turning over another leaf do you
have to write yourself down blasphem-
er? Have you soied your lips with Jests
against One so much greater than yourselI
that YOU ought scarcely to mention his
name, save with reverential bow! HOW
would you like to hear these 1ests ana
these wicked words come from the Ips OF
the child that bears your manner HOW
would YOU like to have them said by the
woman whom you love best in all the
world? You laugh little uneasily. You
mutter something about nonsense; out II
isn't nonsense my friend; there is very
much of good sense in it.
cIose your eyes and imagine you were
a boy again, and see yourself happy IN
your Sunday suit, dressed to go to church,
and clinging, like the shy boy you were,
10 the hand of your mother. Then you
sang hymns and raised your voice IN
praise of God, after that you came nome
and enjoyed the day In quiet way
hearing probably, some of the stories oi
the great and good men who have hved
as well as of one Man who was boy
like YOU in that he was human, and we
could sympathize with you because OF
that humanity, and yet because He knew
all of your desires and disappointments
IA, u lao
you to greater ambitions and console you
under greater dsappointments. Then
when night dropped its curtain and the
stars pinned il up, you went to sleeE
easily because you were happy, and yot
were happy because you were good.
You open your eyes and shrug youl
shoulders and say: Times have chang
ed; it's different when ones a man.
Don't you wish you were a boy again
How are your Sundays spent now? Yol
sleep late In the morning; you awakeI
when the churches are letting out; pas
dissipations have killed your appetite fo
breakfast. and, as you would say. yol
drag through the day somehow and wisl
fof Monday. l wonder how the Sunday
viii LOOK as they are described upon you
Life Book? That book will be read befor
all the world, and do you think you will
he prouc OF the account given of thos
days?
Then there comes that commandment
with promise, the only one. How hav
you honored those whose name you bear
You count your father as old-fashioned
Us something of bore. You think yol
have done your duty to your mother
you send her an occasional present, bu
thoye never comes TO you the thought @
what you really might do, of what the
hoped for; of how they counted on you
being; when you were a man not onI
the dearly beloved son, but the frien,
and the counselor; the one to whom the,
could turn with their sorrows and I'm
sympathy; the one TO whom they coul
bring their pleasure and find a sympa
thetic delight.
90 not believe you care 20 look a. tina
old-fashioned picture Of your mother tha
Is IN an old album among some paper
ihat are never disturbed. where you a
awkward boy. are. IN the picture, leanin
besides her. You had just gotten over
long Illness. ana this picture OF you wa
taken because both father and mothe
5eared that death might claim you for II
own, and they loved you so well the
wanted 70 have you always. at least Ia
licture. Death hasn't taken you ava
lfum them. but the vnrfd ga. ,,t..f