The Family Circle

New Zealand Tablet, 17 November 1910, Page 1905

The Family Circle

♦ ._ DON'T TELL YOUR TROUBLE Don't tell your trouble to your friend, Tho' he may patiently attend; At best he gives but little care, He has, you know, his own to bear. Your trials dire repeat not o'er Would you be voted not a bore; The worst of ears are quite averse To misery's gloomy, dark rehearse. Don't wear your heart upon your sleeve, Expecting all the world to grieve; Unnumbered lips will sip your wine, But few you find to share the brine. Complain not, things are well enough, All feet must tread paths sometimes rough Who seeking pearls within life's cup Hath never brought a pebble up? Think not, indeed, that none doth know Such sorrow keen, such depth of woe; From myriads hearts the self-same cry Doth daily pierce yon dull gray sky. Keep present worries out of sight, Of future ones feel no afright; Believing, trusting, glad, and gay, In cheerfulness pursue thy way.

JUST HELPFUL A group of girls sat around a bright fire. It was the half-hour before the ominous call, 'Lights out!' would silence the merry voices. They were discussing ideals—what they would rather have, do, and be in life. Nannette wanted plenty of carriages and servants at her bidding—dear, pretty Nannette, whose curly head was already full of the gay doings which, in her limited vocabulary, spelled ' Life.' Ruth was not so particular about money, but was planning to be an artist and paint pictures that would rival modern artists. Dorothy meant to write books. She had always received ' excellent' on her themes, and felt sure that if she sank into any ordinary career a great writer would be spoiled. The girl who looked dreamily into the fire had been silent during the gay chatter. ' The returns are all in except from the fourth ward,' prodded Nannette, giving the long braids of the silent one a playful twist. ' I have been listening to you all and thinking,' was the reply. 'I am not pretty, and I can't hope to be a belle; I am not intellectual or gifted, and can't hope to write books or paint pictures. So, while the rest of you are filling your lofty stations, I will hunt me some quiet little corner and just try to be helpful.' Looking back through the vista of years and recalling the varying fortunes of these four room-mates, I believe the girl who aspired to be just helpful had reaped life's best reward. Instructors are many, and may be hammered out in the schools, but the helper must drink at a deeper fount. In the school of love, unselfishness, and sympathy the helper must matriculate, and only in the larger schools of experience are the subtlest lesson's learned. It seems such a simple thing to say, 'I will be helpful'; yet adopt this as your creed, go out with wide-open eyes, and see what infinite vistas stretch before you. You never noticed before how many people needed help— necessarily money help or hand help, though these have manifold uses, but the help that comes from simple brotherliness and readiness to ' lend a hand.'

BOYS WHO BEGAN WORK EARLY As a general proposition, the boys of this world who become much as men began work very early in life. They had no lazy bones in them, and as soon as they had strength and knowledge to do something helpful they wished to be up and at it. At six years of age Benjamin, Franklin was dipping Jnoulds for candles. He wrote in his after life : Y It was uncommonly hard work for my age, but it •itept me busy, and I was content with it.' At the same age Elias Howe, who was to give the sewing machine to the world, was sticking wire teeth through leather straps used for carding cotton. He earned tile first money for his education-in that manner. At six, Peter Cooper, one of the greatest philanthropists the nation has known, began earning money by pulling hair from rabbit skins. > John Ericsson, who invented the monitor type of lighting ship, from which the modern submarine boat has

been evolved, before he was eleven years old, with a file, gimlet, and jack-knife as his only tools, had made a miniature sawmill. It was a marvel of ingenuity. He used an old watch-spring for a saw blade, while a broken pit ot tin spoon turned the crank. Thomas Edison was a newsboy on the trains when he was twelve years old. During the hours when he was not on duty he fitted up a small laboratory in the corner of a baggage car, and there made his earliest experiments. He was reading and digesting at the same time that ponderous but valuable work, Fresenius' Qualitative Analysis. 1 hihp D. Armour and George M. Pullman, afterwards to become great factors in the world of work and invention, were ploughboys at ten years of age, each working hard on a New York farm. The Stanford brothers started their business careers at six years of age, digging horseradish and selling it. They also scoured the woods for chestnuts, and made quite a revenue out of the sale of these. M. M. Atwater says of this kind of boys, the boys who must be working because work is good: • -l 1 * is j in the red -klooded youth of healthy and animal spirits and cheerful, buoyant optimism that our interest lies— boy who works to help his people at home, who works to buy a suit of clothes, who works to be able to spend a little money and to save a little. 'For the boy who has begun to feel there is no place tor him in this world, who has the false notion that everybody is against him, who thinks that " luck" and not industry can send him ahead, there is no better cure thaiv hard work. It is the best medicine he can take into his system.

WHAT MAKES A GREAT LIFE Do not try to do a great thing; you may waste all your lire waiting for the opportunity which may never come. But since little things are always claiming your attention, do them as they come, from a great motive, for the glory of God, to win His smile of approval and to do good to men. It is harder to plod on in obscurity, acting thus, than to stand on the high places of the field within a view of all, and do deeds of valor at which rival armies stand still to gaze. To fulfil faithfully the duties of your station ;to use to the uttermost the gifts of your ministry; to bear chafing and trivial irritations as martyrs bore the pillory an«l the stake; to find the one noble trait in people who try to molest you; to put the kindest construction on unkind acts and words; to love with the love of God even the unthankful and evil, to be content to be a fountain in the midst or a wild valley of stones, nourishing a few lichens and wild flowers, or now and again a thirsty sheep; and to do this always, and not for the praise of man, but for the sake oi God—this makes a great life.

THE LITTLE THINGS . It is the little things in life that count—those little tilings ito which many young men do not pay attention (remarks the Catholic Tribune). Many of the mightiest world forces are at present evenly balanced, and it may but take the brush of the fly's wing to put them into operation It is sometimes such a trifling thing as the arrangement of ones tie that decided our place in the world ihe young man who seeks an occupation with his hair unkempt and his dress disorderly is apt to think it strange that so many men should put him off. But there is nothing strange about it. The only thing by which they can .judge the young applicant is his personal appearance. Thev judge him accordingly. They look upon his dress as indicative of his mind. If his dress is disorderly his mind is disorderly. This is but a specific instance thousands of others arise daily and the sadness of it is that many of those who suffer through their neglect of small things do not know the cause of their downfall. And so it goes on but let us be different. We have had fair warning. Let us practice ourselves in attention to the little things, and then when the time comes and the big, important things will be placed in our charge we will be able to handle them, for our practice on the little things has made us perfect in routine Now, then, let us see what we can do in this line It is the easiest of things, when once you try it. Come now, let us get together. * e

THE CADI'S DECISION t ~T ll ?r e J? a s * ory current among the Persians which sets forth the disclosing power of wisdom, whereby a wise man discovers what is hidden. All the great Orientals fro, Solomon downwards, are fond of these 'tests of wisdom' The literature of the East contains thousands of stories of local wise men. ,„, h \ Pe , rsi » once a certain cadi, or magistrate, was called upon to decide a curious- case. A woman was claimed by two men as wife one a peasant, the other a mirza or S ? r - e * nn ch ot the two men swore to the truth of' his claim lhe woman,, for some reason, was silent. The cadi unable to get any. evidence which corroborated the claim or either of the men, ordered the woman to remain for time with his own wives, - * " imo

The next day he handed her over to the scribe and ordered the peasant to be severely bastinadoedthat is, beaten on’the soles of his feet. Then the woman broke silence for the first time and praised the just judge. The spectators also. applauded the justice of the cadi, but failed to see the grounds of his judgment. ‘I told her to milk a cow 7 ,’ said the cadi, ‘and she could not. Then, handing her my writing-case, I told her to put it in order. She took the little silver spoon and replenished my ink-stand with water. Only the wife of a man who could write would have done this correctly. Hence my decision.’ » The woman’s act of replenishing the ink-stand with water, instead of with ink, is explained by the fact that a Persian scribe writes with India ink. A sponge-like ball of silk, full of this ink, is placed in the ink-stand and moistened with water to keep it from becoming dry and hard.

ONE ON THE AMERICAN A native-born American, member of a party of four business men, who often lunched together, took great delight in joking the others on their foreign birth. ' It's all very well for you fellows to talk about what we need in this country,' he said, ' but when you come to think of it you're really only intruders. Not one of you was born here. You're welcome to this country, of course, but you really oughtn't to forget what you owe us natives who open our doors to you.' 'Maybe,' said an Irishman in the party, thoughtfully; ' maybe. But there's one thing you seem to forget: I came into this country wid me fare paid an' me clothes on me back. Can you say the same ?'

AN UNINTERRUPTED VACATION A busy merchant who had not taken a vacation for four years, in which time every other member of his family had enjoyed an annual outing, concluded to give himself a rest of a week or two, and started lor the. mountains. When about a day's journey from home he received a telegram from his wife to this effect: ' Our house was entirely destroyed by fire last night. The children and I escaped unharmed. Come home at once. Mama.' * To this, after reflecting a moment, he replied as follows: ' Dear Maria, —What is the use of coming home when there is no home to come to ? Take the children to mother's; stay there with them till I join you, and don't worry.— Affectionately, Frank.'

FORCE OF HABIT ' John,' said the cashier's wife, dropping into the bank in the midst of her shopping trip, ' you forgot to leave me that money this morning.' ' What name?' asked the cashier, without looking up. 'Name, name!' exclaimed the lady; ' I'm your wife!' ' No doubt, no doubt,' answered the cashier, mechanically, and going on with his writing; ' but. you will have to bring someone to identify you.'

OVERDOING IT Once, when exploring a factory district for story material, the late 0. Henry invited a bright little girl to dine with him. She accepted on condition that she might bring a friend along. During dinner the writer sought to make his guests feel at ease by resting his English to the extent of using ain't and 'hadn't oughter ' and a few other popular mutilations of the mother tongue. He saw the little girl a few days later. 'I was awful mortified that night,' she said. ' You spoke so ungrammatical before my lady friend!'

FAMILY FUN The Dancing Dolls. — flat piece of glass—an old negative that has been cleaned of .film will answer admirably—some books, and a silk handkerchief are needed for this trick. Also some little paper dolls cut out of tissue paper, about an inch high. Put the glass between the books so that some two inches of it extend over the table. Then lay the paper dolls under the glass and rub the glass briskly with the silk handkerchief, which has been slightly warmed. The dolls will soon begin to dance, the electricity generated by the rubbing attracting them. An Ingenious Trick. Take a piece of notepaper two inches square, and fold it in two. Now cut the paper in strips a half inch apart. The cuts must go from each side to about one-eighth of an inch of the opposite edge. When this is done snip off a small piece of the tops of the closed edges, except the piece at each end. Then pull the paper out, and one will find a hole much larger than could be thought possible.