The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1905-02-10

1
when taste blends with taste in this mar
velous world of approaching and believ-
ing, then shall we know some OF the fe-
lioities and delights OF friendship; then
we shall understand what old Socrates
meant when he spoke OF gong into the
compauionship forever Of those kindred
souls that had been so congenial to him
here; then we shall grasp the pathetic
beauty of "In Memoram," where Jenny
son speaks of Arthur Hallam; then We
shall appreciate why Abraham was called
the friend of God, and the Samaritan
was called the friend of man
We prize our friendships now. But
wha. il husbands and wives were friends,
what if parents and children were friends,
what if kindred and neighbors were
friends, what if life could be everywhere
surrounded by friends a friend,
no enemies anywhere, no one to ambush
! US into misery, but everyone surprising
us with some happiness; what world
this would be-what an Eden returned!
How the old Russas and Japans would
! lose their flerceness, how their armies
would melt away; how, in place OF the
iron chain, the slken thread would hold
nations together When shall we learn
the blessed secret and change sorrow in
to JOY and gloom into glory, and our
dark life into llster? When shall we
cease to hate and learn to love and trans
form this jungle into a garden? We
are here to day in the sacred name of
friendship. Here lies one we once called
friend. LII his closed lips could speak
one word to-day, would it not be solemn
plea for friendship?
Another thought is of seeing the best
there is in men.
1t is so easy to be censorious, so hard
to be kind and just.
! There was king who saw no good in
anyone. He turned from men and
thought them all corrupt An artist,
an old man and very wise, painted a
picture of an ideal man and hung it in
the royal palace. The king was en-
raptured by it, bAt mystitied. At last
the secret burst upon him. In the
shapely limbs he saw the form of his
own most accomplished courtier. The
manly bearing he discovered to be that
of his own most constant companion.
The broad brow was that of the scholar
who dwelt at the court. The eyes were
those of minstrel who sometimes sung
in the evening in the palace The smile
was that of his own Queen Eleanor with
her kind and gentle heart.
Each form of the human said the
artist, "gives US some hint of the divine.
When we study men for their PROJECTIONS
rather than for their blemishes, we may
see through the veil of the flesh beauti-
full glimpses of that image of himself,
which God created in man and then pro-
nounced it good"
What if we were artists and wise
enough to see the gentle proportions in
all men! What if we could select the beau.
tiful and shapely out Of all this mass OF
human impertection! What if we could
paint an image of our ideal man and
hang it in some gallery of the mind that
it might reassure us when our doubts of
human goodness run riot and almost
overwhelm us! What if we could appro-
pirate the instinct of the bee and gather
the honey out of the very nettle and
thistle of human life! What il we could
cultivate our taste for the sweet and
deaden our appetite for the acid that
abounds in the characters of men,
Would not this be a happier and more
heavenly world? Would there not be
less poisoning of the fountains of JOY?
To-day let us gather from this life all
of its sunshine, all of its old time genial
glow, the smile, its Astounding good ma
ture, its love for the old companionship
This and far more. Add it all together
aud place it with one stroke of our low.
ing ait upon the image of that ideal man
that we are fashioning within US.
No doubt there were imperfections
But oh, the grave, the grave! 1t buries
every error, it covers every defect, il
extnguishes every resentment. From
its peaceful bosom spring none but fond
recollections aud tender regrets"
Another lesson is the magnitude o.
human life. This poor accumulation OF
dust lying here, how incompetent it is
How soon to be swallowed up in tn,
mass of the earth and forgotten. Yet
even this dust Is not insignificant.
Isaac Newton at the last of his lift
likened his long search for truth to thu
wanderings of a child along the seashore
I who has gathered but a few pebbles
in its hand while the great ocean rol
: unknown beyond.
"Will he speak slightly of a pebble
says Oliver Wendell Holmes in his Auto
crat of Breakfast Table, speak slight,
, of that body which knows all the cur
rents of force that traverse the globe
: which holds by invisible threads to tn,
: ring of Saturn and the belt of Orion,
| body from the contemplation of which
:. an arch angel could infer the entire in
! organic universe as the simplest of cor
: ollaries, throne for the all pervadihl
: deity who has guided its every alton
since the rosary of heaven was strunI
with beaded starsY"
} Think of this dust then that gave shell
!. ter to an immortal spirit. What of thes
| strange elements that once were myster
3 iously astir and gave expression t
r thought and rapture and moved will
sublimest rhythm to the music OF tn
r World Evap this duot IN, its 1isoolu tio,