The Birmingham age-herald., 1917-01-19
Do You Ever Wish You Could Go
 To ''The Land of Beginning" Again?
By DOLLY DALRYMPLE

G( H HAT would any of us do, for W\V sooth. if we could not fly Gin
 our dreams, at leasD after times of great emotional stress and fall ure, sorrow and trouble to The Land oi Beginning Again?''
 To even hear of such a place is the first rainbow of promise after the ear Hest tempests of life; the first childish misdemeanors; the first angry words spoken--the first blows struck-amid what flood of tears the sin is repented of, and then with the mothers loving kiss comes the sweet suggestion:
 Suppose we begin all over again"
 How the rainbow of hope begins to glmmer through that tropical shower of tearsl How bright the pathway it opens, through forgiveness to joy! And with what thankful heart the child rises to renewed effort and higher purpose!
 In later years. We are told to forgive and forget to confess and be- pardoned; to acknowledge our faults and make reparation; but not one of the phrases has the sweet and entire forgetting of the fault that sense of passing from saddenng old things to happier new ones, that is held out in the childish consola- tion, ito begin all over again"
 It is this wiping out of the old scores upon the slate, and the opening of a brand new credit account that enables us to live day by day!
 At night we retire to sleep, weighted down with weariness of body and mind 1; dragged down and kept down by discour- asement and i'll success; our strength can go no further, and then "sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care'' falls upon us, and with the mornings dawn we be- gin all over again with fresh faith, re- newed strength, and conquering cour- age.
 With those whom we love or whose friendship we value, how often the care less act, the angry thought, the nasty word is followed by tears of repentance and hours of contrition until from this valley of despond we are lifted by the earnest purpose Ito begin over again. Few of the happiest associations of life would last long if 1t were not for this Promised Land' of letting old hurts and rankings of heart go. and starting afresh
 We strive only to blunder and fall, how often yet with hearts that love us
  ise of beginning again?"
 There are always the treasured friends who possess the heaven-sent gift of for getting; who, though sorely tired, treas ure no wrath against the offender, and who never say:
 Tt is your fault; did nothing wrongr" They are the beloved ones who, having borne much, voluntarily assume a share in the sins they have never committed; ; who come halfway to meet the humbed prodigal upon his shame faced return, as did the father of olden times and who, gathering the offender to a forgiving heart whispered softly:
 Let's begin all over again."
 Not long ago I came across little poem that inspired this strain of thought "a few verses which to my mind, are exqustely beautiful; they are by Louise Fletcher Tarkington, and entitled: THE LAND OF BEGINNING AGAIN. T wish that there were some wonderful
 place
 Called the Land of Beginning Again, Where all our mistakes and all our heart-
 aches
 And all our poor selfish griefs Could be dropped, like shabby old coat
 at the door
 And never put on again We should find all the things we in-
 tend to do But forgot and remembered-too late Little praises unspoken, little promises
 broken,
 And all of the thousand and one Little duties neglected that might have
 have perfected
 The day for one less fortunate