Norwich bulletin., 1909-07-31
THE MIN WHO lAlkS

There are moments in life when we feel tired of the giddy world when we feel as if the jester and the jest were entirely out of place. As a ia vorite author expresses it, We long l to escape to some desolate place, where there is nothing but silence-nO one | save God-God who understands every thing and never Iangfls.' It is good for the soul to be alone by itself con- scious only of the Over Soul, once in d while. Out of the whirl ands1nst and t1fn of the world new inspirations do not come--it is out of the silence that man gathers mental force and spirit uai energy. It is consciousness of the higher force which gives birth to dy- mamie energy. We must connect with the divine energy to have produced l the best that Is in us. Man can only be fully conscious of his own power when he is conscious of the force back of him.
 The band concert is modern--the band itself is the result of evolution an assemblage of instruments, as the flower garden is an assemblage of plants from all parts of the world. From Judea come the horns, from ari- cient Germany the drums, from Greece the flutes, and soft and shrill instru- ments, from Egypt the cymbals. When we hear the band playing the Star Spanaied Banner. or the Merry Wid- ow" waltz, we do not think that ages ago these horns and flutes and cor nets and cymbals and drums and tri- angles had separate services, and rep resented the musical attainment of widely different races of men, and
 now it is modern skill and combi-
 nation of them all which give us our xI~.& L. l.. IA a..c
 our orchestras. It takes a collection
 of the best instruments the world has
 produced to give us the crowning mu-
 sicai prductions of this age and cen tury.
 The children of Hard Luck make a
 great family. and it is not strange
 that they and the under dog are
 closely associated. We cannot exactly
 understand them, since we know so little of hard luck ourselves. When
 we see man or woman who looks
 like the last match on the tray. the
 one that won't burn, we wonder what
 has hit him. We know that he was once cooing imp--was some mothers darling; and now he looks more like
 the images graven on the totem poles
 of the tribes of Alaska than he does like civilized man. And he can't get
 a chance to tell his story-the world doesn't like to listen to hard luck sto-
 ries-it yearns for something which pleases and captivates 1t, not for some thing which calls for pity or sympathy. But he will have his chance some day
 somewhere, perhaps. for If our philoso-
 phy is true, even he must be redeemed.
 Those naturalists who raise our
 great native moths from the eggs are
 now looking for the Imperials and the Regals and the Lunas and the hum-
 ming bird moth larvae to cage and to grow in captivity. It is quite easy
 to get the eggs and the worms, but
 1t is difficult to put the larvae at ease in captivity and to keep them hungry and healthy. These native caterpIllars have their disappeintments and their afflictions and their loss of appetite, and when the worst happens the nat uralists ingenuity is taxed ito it's ut most. A skilful breeder of moths must have as much patience, tact and judg- ment as the rearer of fowls or birds. 1t is only by keeping a brood of cater pillars healthy and hungry that the best of results can be attained. I once grew a foreign pink winged moth that I was assured would eat nothing but sweet potato foliage upon fresh lilac leaves, and it was one of my greatest surprises as well as easiest tasks in this line. There is much to be learned
 in this field.