The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1912-01-26
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For manners and for wise living 1t is a
vice to remember. You have done what
YOU could; some blunders and absurd
tiles no doubt have crept in, but forget
them as soon as you can Tomorrow is
new day, and you shall begin it well
and serenely and with too high spirit
| to be numbered with any of your old
nonsense. This day for all that is good
and fair. 1t is too dear with all OF Its
hopes and invitations to waste moment
on the rotten yesterdays.
! Any business man would be horrltled
at the suggestion that he would ruin his
! boy by neglect, that his absorption IN
business would result in the undolng OF
his own son. But it is the easiest thing
in the world to forfeit boys confidence.
| 1t will take only little snubbing, little
scolding, and little unkind criticism,
little nagging and unreasonableness to
shut off forever any intimacy between
you and your boy.
Do we ever stop to think, we wonder
how blest are the quiet days-the days
when nothing happens? There is no
illness to give anxiety, no business bur
dens or other troubles to disturb us, but
on the contrary, there is the delightful
consciousness that all is well at home
and before us is the promise OF peace.
full day. We know OF no condition OF
life that brings more pleasure than this,
or that should fill the heart more full OF
gratitude.
In the rush and hurry of modern life,
do we think as much as we might OF the
happiness of those who are fast growing
old. They have lost SO much. Their
youth, often their health, most of their
friends and companions who started with
them on LIES journey, and yet we often
grudse them the brightness and JOY that
we might easily put into their lives. We
will not stay to hear of the recolleCtions
Of the old and happy days which they
love to tell us about, but we let them see
plainly that their day is over, and that
ours has come. That those who have
borne the burden and the heat of the day,
VINO have struggled and toiled and worn
themselves out for others. should be left
to feel lonely and neglected is sorrowful.
We can, and ought, each and ALL in our
own place and way. do something to
bring the glow of summer and the re-
membrance of the days of roses and love
into the lives of those fast nearing their
winter and their end.
1t is one of the ironies of fate, that the
poet from whose pen has come the I'M
mortal lyric of the hearthStone was HIM
self rowing outCast-a homeless wan
derer. The world remembers the pa
thetc story of John Howard Payne
Broken in health and reduced in fortune,
the poor American exile found himself
alone in the great throbbing heart OF the
CITY of London. Between his publishers
who allowed him little-and his cred
titorS-Who rame to see him often the
pennilesS poet was IN sore straits. Inc
Atlantic Ocean separated him from his
: kith and kin. He felt the aCuteSt sense
Of isolatiou-ihe bitterest pangS OF lone
r illness Perhaps no solitude Is more
oppressive than the solitude of the great
cities-the solitude which broodS in the
repelIant looks of the unSympalhetlc nIul
tltude 1t is. as Lucian Knight has said,
! the hearts Sahara Bereit OF all other
, consolation Payne seized the harp and
lightly he touched the strings But not
in vain For the fire of inspiration was
! in the poets soul; and on the banks OF
the River Thames. from the aching heart
of an humble exile, leaped the hearth
stone melody of 'Home, Sweet Home. y
Do not encourage the visits of a tat
Ting and tale bearing woman, who
knows all of the low, bad things that pass
among your neighbors, bur nothing
good.
The world is full Of beauty. We alone,
with the engInery of our greed make
it ugly. Butwe cannot altogether sue
coed in hiding all of It's beauty, and the
; open eve and appreCiative heart still,
without gong far aheld, may catch
glimpses and often behold the full glory
Of field and flower and starry heaven.
How deeply must we pity the life to
which the beauty of the world brings no
r enriching he who does not take deep
breath and feel a thrill of pleasure at the
sight of mountain, prairie or sea. And
all of the prodigal beauty of this world
is but a message to us of the greater
love of the life that uphoIds it all, of the
riches of MIN that inhabiteth eternity.
And fairer yet than field or flower, treas
ures great and more enduring than ours
for the taking, and the approaching, in
friendships, human love, and companion
ships The peace that broods from a
mothers face, the strength of fathers
life, the light in our childrens' eyes, the
joys OF home and hearthside-are not
these the best riches of alp
Some persons foolishy imagine that
the clothes makes the man. Fine feath-
ers does not make fine bird. except
some times Jail bird The insane love
for fine and fashionable clothing has
been the beginning Of downward life
of many boy or girl.
1t may be all right in certain sense
to kiss a poodle dog. if you, have moth
ing else to kiss. 1t never seemed very
brilliant. cute or becoming for any one
pretending to be a lady of sound mind
and passing responsibility TO hug and
kiss an offspring of the canine family
But then we admit that we are not so
thoroughly versed in the changing science
of etiquette and the demands of polite
society.
THREE