Goldsboro weekly argus. [volume] (Goldsboro, N.C.) 1885-1909, 1899-11-30
life it is given to every man,

$1,000
the Astounding spirit of truth
and love and justice-the letter
nal verities"-to be a hero unto
himself, a prize winner Of God.
a crown carer of immortality.
He whose bright blade was a
guide-light in. battle for a cause
that is forever lost and a banner
that is forever furled, was no
worthier hero than the man who
wins a'victory over sin or self,
defes' adversely, or who rises
superior to the reproofs of uns
happy chance, which, tiger like,
crouches I'VE ready to spring
upon the passerby in this great
jungle of the world. Mankind
does not acclaim him so great,
nor is he; but he is at least great
in the real moralities of organ
zed>soclety.-Men sometimes cons
found the mere expediencies of
life with the true morality
thereof; but that is to serve their
own purposes, or whims; and
whilst il may bring them fortune,
the thing they achieve comes to
them hooded with unrest, a leer-
ing bag that mocks and with
foul finger points to an end that
may not be peaceful SO long as
truth is white and falsehood
black. He is a hero of the vir-
tues who steadfastly and valor>
ously fights it out with reproving
chance and comes a! last to kiss
the hem of the white garment of
Peace. He is a hero who throws
his glove full fair and free in the
face of all opposing forces and
claims battle for good and noble
things. A hero is he who does
the best he can: "angels could
no more"
The untimbered sides of many
a bauble boat lie decaying far
down IN the black deeps of old
ocean, where no roar of storm
shall reach them, whilst the
strong bark masters the masters
full wave and defes sea and gale.
The wind and the sea are rough
playmates, and when they are
at play the bauble boat goes
down, and the strong bark strug-
giles to keep on its way from port
to port, freighted with hopes and
fears and fortune and failure,
Fuil-tilt comes the sea, roaring
and kissing in riotous wrath,
dashing itself in great. green
bulk against the floating fortress
of steel, which trembles and
quivers under the mighty shock,
and then throws back the bill
lows, scattered into white spray
that flies harmeless upon the
rude and boisterous wind. Open
ing wide its arms, the sea re-
ceives the bark, and pulls it
down, down, down, until it seems
to be lost. But not sc. The point
of resistance comes, the bark
asserts itself, and, staggering
and struggling, it rises slowly
to the summit of a mountain of
water, where it rests for a mos
ment like a great fowl, ready to
soar and fly afar to where the
storm beats not at all. The wind
and the sea grow weary of play.
The wind passes away: the sea
grows calm. The bark keeps on
it's course as a sentient thing
conscious Of a victory won.
The bauble boats are many;
the strong barks are few. Yet
the weak and the strong may
sail each in it's appointed water,
The boat may not cross the bar,
but it may at least sail within
good view of the breakers tosss
ing their white caps inward as if
to mark the line they cannot
cross. The bark goes out def
antly; the boat rides safely in
calmer waters, performing the
work given it quite as worthily
as that done by the strong bark
that follows the horizon r o
the deep. The apex of the great