The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1905-03-30

stretches on ana on under the forests
of the YoSges, there is a stOnebreaker
whom I have seen at his work for
thirty years. The first time | came
upon him | was young student set
ting ont with swelling heart for the
great city. The sight of this man did
me good. for he was humming song
as he broke his stones. We exchanged
4 few words. and he said at the end
"Well. @Oodby. my boy, Good courage
and good luck,' Since then l have
passed and repassed along that same
route. under circumstances the most
diverse painful and joyful. The stu
dent has finished his course, the break
er of stones remains what lie was. He
has taken few more precautions
against the seasons storms. Il rush
mat protects his back, and his felt hat
is drawn farther down to shield his
face. But the forest is always send
ing back the echo of his valiant ham
mer. How many sudden tempeStS have
broken over his bent. back, how much
adverse fate has fallen on his head
on his house, on his country. He con
tinues to break his stones. ana coming
and going l find him by the roadside.
smiling in spite of his age and his.
wrinkles. benevolent, speaking above
all in dark dayS-those simple words
of brave men, which have so much eff
feet when they are scanned to the
breaking of stones.
1t would be quite impossible to OK
press the emotion the sight of this sim
pie man gives me, and certainly he
has no suspicion of ii. l know of moth
ing more reaSSuring and at the same
time more searching for the vanity
which fermentS in our hearts than this
coming face to face with an obscure
worker who does his task as the oak
grows and as the good God makes hi
sun to rise. without asking who is
looking on
l have known. too a number of ola
teachers. men and women who have
passed their whole life at the same or
cupation, making the rudimentS Of h1-
man knowledge and Il few principles
of conduct penetrate heads sometimes
harder than the rocks. They have done
it with their whole soul throughout Tie
length of hard life in which the at
tention of men had little place When
they lie in their unknown graves no
one remembers them but Il few humble
people like themselves. but their rec
OmpenSe is in their love. no one is
greater than these unknown.
How many hidden virtues may ono
among people of Il class he otter rid
icules without perceiying that in so do
ing he is guilty of cruelty. ingratitude
and stupidity. | mean old maids. PEG
pie amuSe themselves with rcmarkn4
the surprising dress and ways Of some
Of things of no consequence. for
that matter. They persist also in re-
mindn% us that others. very selfish
take interest in nothing but their own
comfort and that of some cat or canary
upon which their powers of affection
center, and certainly these are not out
done in egOiSm by the most hardened
celibates of the stronger sex. But what
we oftenest forget is the amount OF
self sacrifice hidden modestly away in
so many Of these truly admirable lives
Is it nothing to be without home and
its love, without future, without per
sonal ambition? to take upon onc>cl'
that cross of solitary life 50 hard e.
bear, especially when there is a,sip'
the solitude of the heart? to forge
oneself and have no other interest.
than the care Of the old. of orphans
the poor. the infirm-thosc whom tho
brutal mechanism of life casts on
among its waste? Seen from without
these apparently tame and lusterc2.
lives rouse pity rather than envy
Those who approach gently sometimes
divine sad secrets, great trials under
gone, heavy burdens beneath which
too fragile shoulders bend; but this is
only the side of shadow
We should learn to know and vaiu,
this richness of heart, this pure good
ness. this power to love. to console. to
hope, this joyful giving up of self. this
persistence in sweetness and forgive.
ness even toward the unworthy. Poor
old maids. How many wrecked lives
have you rescued. how many wounded
have you healed, how many wanderers
have you gently led Alright, how many
naked have you clothed. how many
orphans have you taken in. and how
many strangers who would have been
alone in the world but for you-yo
who yourself are often remembered
of no one. | mistake. Some one
knows you: 1t is that great mysterious
Pity which keeps watch over our lives
and suffers in our misfortuncs. For
gotten like you, often blasphemcd. it
has confded to you some of its heav-
enlest messages, and that perhaps is
Nsly above your gentle comings and
goings we sometimes seem to hear the
rustling wings of ministering angels.
The good hides itself under so many
different forms that one has often as
much pains to discover it rs to unearth
the best concealed crimes. \ Rus
sian doctor who had passed ten years
of his life in Siberia, condemned for
political reasons to forced labor, used
to find great pleasure in telling of the
generosity, courage and humanity ne
had observed, not only among a large
number of the condemned but also