Watertown weekly leader. [volume] (Watertown, Jefferson County, Wis.) 1906-1908, 1906-12-28
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A YEARS END MEDITATION.

his publishers gave him a banquet in
Boston. There were gathered together
the greatest literary geniuses of our
country, and as they heaped compli-
ments upon his white head the modest
man blushed and said:
Beside this milestone where the level sun,
Nigh unto setting, sheds its last low rays
On word and work irrevocably done,
Life's blending threads OF good and i'll
outspun,
hear, o friends, your words of cheer
and praise.
With not ungIad surprise l see my life
work through your loving eyes;
Assured, in giving to my metaught
songs
A higher value than of right belongs,
You do but read between the lines
The finer grace of unfulflled designs.
The thing / wanted to say, l have
never been able to express. The finer
grace of unfulfilled designs, where the
meaning outstretches the meter. This
Is true with all men Of creative minds.
The painter, dashlng his pigments on
the canvas says ''That isn't the vision
I had in my heart" The musician
sweeps the keyboard, and when silence
falls upon his auditors like a mantle
he says, II haven't touched the music
of my soul" The orator sits down
after rounds of applause saying, THE
thing [ wanted to say is left unsaid."
The mother In the home says, Il can't
do what is in my heart to do" The
merchant doesn't reach his standard of
success, the minister cannot bring his
own life and that of his church up to
his ideal. We must read between the
lines
David, the great king, poet, warrior
whose poems are read and sung by
more people than those of any other
WRITER'S sitting by the tireside musing.
Looking back he sees again his boy
hood days. He remembers how as
ruddy youth he went forth sling in
hand, light-hearted and care-free. He
recalls the encounter with the lion, the
bear and the giant. From the time
that Samuel poured amounting oil on
his blonde head down to the present,
his life has been one of struggle; from
the day he had no friends, no home,
to the hour when all nations courted
his favor. He thinks it all over and as
he muses., his heart grows warm. ''How
many things I wanted to do" he says,
Il have not been able to do. One
thing I will do: | dwell in a palace Of
cedar, carved, panneled and finely fur
nished, and the ark of the covenant
is in a tabernacle of tents. I will
build a temple will rear a structure
that will be fitting abode for the
ark Of the covenant of our
God" This, however, he was
not allowed to do. In after years,
when the foundations were laid, the
pillars reared. the arches sprung and
the cedar, jewels and gold beautified
altar and dome, Solomon, on the high
day of dedication, asks God to accept
it and fill it with His presence; there
comes in a reference to this wish Of
David. God remembered it and gave
him credit for it, saying, "For as much
me an house. thou didst we'll that thou
hadst it in thine heart" He accepted
the will for the deed. He read between
the lines.
The difference between a poor man
and a pauper is not q difference of
money, it is a difference of hope. When
the conviction settles down upon a
man that he hasn't done anything, and
looking into the future sees the pros
pect for accomplishing anything cut off,
and there comes a sense of absolute I'M
conditional failure, that man is q
pauper, for he has no hope.
There is a great deal of foolish talk
in these days about what money can
and cannot do, and there is a great
deal of sympathy wasted on the So
called poor boy" Don't pity the poor
boy. The boy who really deserves your
sympathy is the boy who lives in a
home of luxury, who grows up on mere
negations, and develops that freshness
Of fiber that is the inevitable outcome
of an attitude of mind that Is con-
stantly saying, 81 don't have to do this,
| don't have to do that"
The boy, who, when he comes
home from college, brings back
a diploma that is little better than
receipt for four years board bill
which some other body has paid for
him, and who, when the great COM
pany of leaders go up into the temple
of honor and renown, stands at the foot
Of the column and wonders WHY he
isn't in it. Everybody else knows WHY
he isn't in it. In all the gallery Of
immortals there isn't one who is the son
of Pierpont Morgan, Rockefeller or
& Vanderbilt There is one splendid
exceptional woman-God bless her.
Helen Gould isn't going to throw her
life away on some little foreign count
who is no account, and a dozen OF
whom would not make one frst-class
American.
Whence contest thou, o Leader? Hear
the answer From the log cabin, from
the crofter's cottage, from exile, from
the wilderness; up through difficulties
to the stars" It would seem as though
it were an advantage to have ne ad-
vantage The royal road to success
seems to consist in having an awful
handicap. In the cradle of hardship
genius has rocked her greatest chill
dren. The stairway of the ages is ever
resounding with wooden shoes going up