The Caucasian. (Shreveport, La.) 1900-192?, 1907-07-16

TO'VluCu us! why SDoHlu we not tnanB
Gtd for our clothes and our homes
for our food and fresides and books
and education? Why should we not
thank him for the beautiful scenes of
nature? When we go into the home Of
wealthy man and see his picture gal
lery we marvel at the masterpieces
which the artists have painted for him
But the greatest of all artists have
been but copyists. Do you want to see
more glorious sunset than a Rubens
or n Turner has ever placed on can
vas? Then this evening throw open
your window toward the west Would
you see the models Of an Edwin Land
seer or n Rosa Bonheur2 Then look at
the living horses and dogs by your
side. II Is amazing to me how man
will go into ecstasies over the works
Of a Moran or Biersta,,t ;,.tl " i'll not
look twice at the surgih. ga and the
glorias Of the mountains
Eyes on the Dirt.
Oh. this is beautiful world In
which the good Lord lets his sparrows
and his human children dwell. | once
read of young man who was walking
along dusty road in England. There
by chance his eye caught sitfT of a
golden sovereign. which in our money
is equal to about S.. Ever after that,
the story said. this young man went
through life watching the dirty, filthy
roads in order to find some more gold.
At last he became miser, because he
toward the dirt for money. Some Of
us in life are like the young man Of
the story boOk-we keep our eyes turn
ed toward the dirt. In order to make
money and find money in unexpected
places we become so sordid that we
cannot see the beauty of the stars and
hills and valleys i'm which the birds
live nor the temporal blessings of life
with which God has surrounded u.s. II
God Is giving to the sparrows of the
air. not worth Il penny apiece, n beau
tiful world to live in. is he not giving
to us as many temporal blessings O
we of little faith?
But as | was sitting in the woods
some time ago. with my books by my
side. thinking about the small birds of
the Bible, l heard great chattering
and II scolding by my side. | looked
down. and there was little bird
hopping about my camp table. She
seemed to be saying to me: "What are
you doing here? This is my property.
You are fntruding on my maternal do
main. | must look after my children.
and you are worrying me almost to
death. cannot stand this strain any
longer" Then this little bird flew off a
short distance and began to chatter to
her mate. This husband was a solemn,
dignified bird. He seemed to be much
older than she. Then l thought
heard the male bird cry: "My dear, do
not worry That man will not hurt you
nor your children. He is not a hunter.
See he has a pen In his hand. That Is
10 gun. Go ahead and feed the babies.
He will not trouble them" Thus he
coaxed and pleaded and ut last quoted
her. 1t took long time to persuade
the fretting wife not to worry.
thought by the way she turned her
eyes upon me she seemed to say: Illus
band, think you are wrong. That is
the same man l saw running about
these woods the other day with a shot
gun over his shoulder. But | will fol-
low your advice and go and look after
the children" Then saw this mother
bird fly into a small green tree by my
side, and Mt once l saw the nest. Then
four mouths shot up over the nest.
Those little fedgelings seemed to be all
mouths, and they seemed to say,
There Is mother, and dinner has come
Mt last" 'Ah," I said to myself az
watched the anxieties Of that mother
bird, God not only gives to the little
birds beautiful world to live in, but
he also makes that beautiful world
glow with the tender ties Of domestic
love" Has not God blessed your life
with the dove of mother and father
and husband and wife and child as he
has blessed the love life Of little
bird?
The Old Cherry Tree.
There may he more beautiful trees
than the old cherry tree which grew
lust to the left of our window In the
old fashioned house where we were
born. Many years ago the worms
PLACED havoc with some Of Its branches.
The old trunk had hump on 1t, as
though the winter winds had pushed
against it too long and too hard, as our
gray haired grandfather had rounded
shoulders from bearing the burdens of
his threescore years and ten. The cher
ries on that tree were not as luscious
as they might have been. Father often
said the tree had outlived Its useful
ness, but he hated to cut it down. But,
though that tree was not as tall and
straight as it might have been, 1t was
the dearest tree on all the farm to the
two red breasted robins who came
there year after year to build their
nest. Though the storm would be
beating against the house at the time,
yet no sooner would we see these har-
bingers Of spring than we would cry:
Spring Is coming! Here are the rob-
insw Then the two old birds would
fy down. expectiuV the crumbs that