The Family Circle

New Zealand Tablet, 12 August 1915, Page 61

The Family Circle

- LEARN A LITTLE EVERY DAY. Little rills make wider streamlets, Streamlets swell the river's flow, Rivers join the mountain billows, r Onward, onward, as they go ! Life is made of smallest fragments, Shade and sunshine, work and play; So may we, with greatest profit, Learn a little every day. Tiny seeds make boundless harvests, Drops of rain compose the showers, Seconds make the flying minutes, And the minutes make the hours! Let us hasten, then, and catch them As they pass us on the way; And with honest, true endeavor, Learn a little every day. Let us read some striking passage, Cull a verse from every page; Here a line and there a sentence, 'Gainst the lonely time of age! At our work or by the wayside, "While the sunshine's making liav, Thus we may, by help of study, Learn a little every day. HIS SCRUPLE. 'Come in, my dear sir. Come in and sit down.' And a stout, red-faced man, accepting the priest's invitation, sat down heavily in the chair that had been drawn forward for him. 'Do you know, M. l'Abbe,' he began, without •further preamble, ' that you have given me a scruple?' 'And how is that?' asked the priest, smiling. What you said on Sunday.' • But why % I don't understand.' ,«,.-, ' Didn't you say something of this kind: "Fathers and mothers of families who subscribe to bad, irreligious papers are in a state of mortal sin?" ' Certainly I said so, and I say so again. Let those whose consciences reproach them give up their subscriptions. There can be no absolution, you know, without a firm purpose of amendment.' The visitor's red face became purple. ' You seeyou —I ' ' You subscribe V 'That's it. I came about like- this: They sent me the paper gratis for six months.' ' And after that you went on with it?' 'Well, yes. I could hardly do otherwise.' The priest looked at his visitor pityingly. ' Well, the remedy is simple enough,' he said. 'You only have to give up taking the paper.' ' But I can't see what harm there is in taking it,' expostulated the man. ' I can't see how it can possibly be a mortal sin.' 'Harm!' repeated the priest. 'But can't you see there is harm in giving your money towards helping to destroy faith and morals, towards helping the enemies of God, of the Church, of the Pope—of all religion, in fact?' ' Five dollars a year! , Much good or harm that much can do !' Multiply it by ten thousand, and then see if it can do good or harm.' ' So it's the five dollars that make the mortal sin,' said the visitor reflectively. ' ' Very well, then. Here are ten to make up.' And he threw the coin on the table before him. The priest . quickly thrust it from him again. 'On the contrary, the money is the lesser of several evils. •Besides giving financial aid to the enemies of the Church, your taking the paper encourages others to do likewise. You give bad example to your neighbors, and

you smear your own soul with anti-religious falsehoods and immoral romances.' \'„: .'■"_{"-" : /.',;- ; T ? M ~~.-~ ' I never read a, word of them;' -• r :i.. v : servants ' ' No one reads the paper but myself.' - Are you sure?' v ' Quite sure.' - ; -■"■', ' ' Are they then, without the curiosity that is supposed to be the heritage of all daughters of Eve?' 'I assure you, M. l'Abbe, the paper never goes outside my office. It is an understood thing. No one is allowed into the room. It is absolutely forbidden for any one to touch my papers, and if I were disobeyed ' ' They would not be likely to tell you.' ' But I should soon find out.' ' My dear sir,' said the priest very seriously, ' can't you make up your, mind to give the paper up. You would not leave strychnine lying about in your diningroom then do not leave such a paper lying ,about in your office. Do your duty as a Catholic and give it up. You will never reconcile it with your conscience to do otherwise.' ' Well, M. l'Abbe, I won't, go so far as to agree with that, but, anyhow, I thank you for your advice, and I will think it over.' He bade the priest good-bye, and as he walked away he thought to himself what a pity it was that the clergy took such exaggerated views of things, surrounding.the practice of religion with unnecessary difficulties, whilst M. l'Abbe, taking out his office book, murmured a comment on his departing visitor: 4 Well, well! If he likes to nurse a serpent in his bosom, let him. do so.' When monsieur had left home that morning to pay his visit to the priest, Melia, the housemaid, was polishing the floor in the drawing-room, but as soon as she heard the hall door closing after her master she put down her rubber and crept towards the door of his office, which opened off the larger room. Merely from precaution, she knocked, knowing that no answer would be given her, and, entering the forbidden precincts, she looked hastily around her. '.What on earth has he done with yesterday's paper?' she murmured. 'I am a day behind hand. Ah, there it is!' And she drew the sheets she was looking for from under that morning's issue, which lay upon the office desk. - Then, with her duster tucked into the band of her apron and her feather brush under her arm, she threw herself into her employer's chair, letting the brush fall at her side as she did so. There now; this is comfortable. I wonder what news there is to-uay. Sentence of excommunication passed on modernists. How dull ! But I'll read a bit of it, all the same. I know they always abuse the Pope and the priests in this column, and it makes old Nanette furious when I go into the kitchen and tell her what I've read/ The headings of the paragraphs were enough for her, and she read them down with interest. ' Poor Pius X. ! They do give him a rating. But, after all, why should he prevent people learning if they want to? Oh, I see, they say he's afraid. I'll tell that to Nanette. It will make her frantic, and when she's angry it makes me laugh.' She turned to the parts of the paper which interested her most, where suicides, divorces, infanticides, and such like topics were discussed and described in detail, still commenting to herself as she did so on the stupidity of old Nanette, the cook. day, as I do,' she thought, ' she'd'soon learn the truth about the religion and the priests she is always praising. And these scandals, too. She'd learn a good many things and think a lot differently from what she does now if only she could see all this.' Then, turning the paper to the part she liked best of all, she began the twenty-sixth chapter of the fourth part of the sensational drama called . ' The Fair Susannah.' She had not missed a word of it from the day it beganmon-

sieur always went for a walk before madame and mademoiselle came down in the morning—and it was getting day by daymore enthralling and blood-curdling.. ■ . ' Susannah is simply lovely,' said Melia to herself, after having read a few lines. She is going to throw this fellow over, too, Ido believe. That'll mean taking up with a* fourth lover. Yes, Susannah, my dear, you're a wise one. As you say, marriage is a stupid custom.' And so thoroughly did. she agree with the heroine's sentiments that she read one whole sentence aloud After all, my friend, I have every possible pleasure. I am young, and pretty, and I am bound by no tiresome conventions. lam admired, ." sought after—all my happiness comes from the new plan of free love and no marriage.' And I,' thought Melia when she had read all this —' I, too, am young. I, too, am—well, hot ugly.' And letting the paper lie upon her knees, she began to dream bright dreams for herself of a future somewhat similar to that of fair Susannah. So engrossed was she in her dreams that she never heard the hall door open, never heard footsteps in.the drawing-room. Only when the door opened was she aware of her employer's return .• -' Monsieur !' With one bound she was on her feet. Then, bending, she picked up her brush and tried at the same time to hide away the paper she had been reading. For an instant monsieur had stood motionless. Then, with a clear remembrance of his forcible affirmation to the priest that he alone of all his household ever read the scurrilous rag to which he subscribed, he questioned the girl. ' What are you doing in here, Melia?' But the girl had had time to invent an excuse. ' I was just looking at the paper, sir, to see the price of flour. My father is a miller, sir.' ' I have forbidden you to come in here.' The girl was edging towards the door, and this time she told the truth. ' You had on your rubber shoes to-day, sir, and I did not hear you coming.' And with that she fled into the next room, where she came face to face with her own reflection in the mirror. ' How red lam she murmured, putting her hands to her flushed cheeks. ' But, after all, he can't say much to me. I was only reading the paper he reads himself, and what is fit for one Catholic ought to be .fit for another. It's no worse when I am reading it than when he is reading it himself.' Monsieur sat down heavily at his desk. With a feeling akin to consternation he drew a sheet of paper towards him. He had been in the wrong and the priest had been right, and, besides that, how much harm had already been done, unknown to him, by the reading of which he had denied the existence?' ' So M. l'Abbe was right,' he said, dipping his pen in the ink. ' Priests certainly know what they are talking about. You might almost think he had seen through stone walls.' In half a dozen words he forbade another copy of the paper ever to cross his threshold. Then, ringing, he addressed and stamped his letter and held it out to Melia, who, still shame-faced, answered the summons. 'Take this letter to the post at once,' he said sternly. 'No one will ever have the chance of reading a bad paper in my house again.' NOT RUNNING. . An anecdote is related by a Washington gentleman concerning a city, historically famous, which need not be named here. It has ' fallen behind the procession,' as the current phrase is, and is by no means increasing rapidly in population. Said the Washington man to the reporter: ' I went over to one evening to make a call. It was dark and I couldn't see the numbers on the houses. /After a time I noticed a middle-aged man smoking a pipe on the front steps of a house a few doors away.) -.•■.±-;M

*tV - I beg pardon '" said I, "but will you kindly tell me which way the numbers run on this street?" - m' He took the pipe out. of'his mouth, : slowly knocked out the ashes, and said: v' " -< ' "Just got to town ?" ; '■' > V '' .** ' "Well, yes," I answered, taken by surprise. ■ - "Evenin' boat?" ' " . : -■ £ "Yes." : .7-" : ;:; '-".■■; 1 "What number yer lookin' for?" ; ' "Forty-nine." ..". .. ' "It's, the other side, four doors below." ' I thanked him and turned to go. ' "Hold on a minute," he called. "What did you say about numbers runnin' ' "I asked which way they ran in this street." J ' "Well, they don't run," he rejoined "they don't even walk. There hain't nothin' run in this town sence the war!" ' .-■••". , . ENLARGING THEIR VOCABULARY. By way of enlarging the children's vocabulary our village school teacher is in the habit of giving them a certain word and asking them to form a sentence in which that word occurs. The other day she gave the class the word 'notwithstanding.' There was a pause, and then a bright-faced youngster held up his hand. 'Well, what is your sentence, Tommy?' asked the teacher. 'Father wore his trousers out, but notwithstanding.' TO BREAK IT GENTLY. A political candidate for an agricultural district, after making a speech, announced that ho would be glad to answer any questions that might be put to him. A voice came from the audience. ' You seem to know a lot, sir, about a farmer's difficulties. May I ask a question about a momentous- ■ one?' - ' Certainly,' replied the candidate, nervously. ' How can you tell a bad egg V went on the merciless voice. - The candidate waited until the laughter died away. Then he replied: ' If I had anything to tell a bad egg, I think I should break it gently.' ■ JUST LIKE HIM. The other day a clerk in a mercantile house celebrated his twenty-fifth anniversary of his connection with the firm. Schmidt, the senior partner, handed him in the morning a sealed envelope inscribed, 'ln memory of this eventful day.' The clerk gratefully received the envelope without opening it, but on a gracious hint from his chief he broke the seal, and foundthe photograph of his employer. ' Well, what do you think of it?' inquired Schmidt, with a grin. ' It's just you,' was the reply. A GOOD REASON. An artist and his wife were entertaining some friends to. tea in the studio. The host's picture, which had recently been ' hung,' was the topic of conversation. Said one lady: ' Mr. Vandike, yours was the only picture I looked at in the exhibition.' T?r? Vandike bowed and smiled delightedly. ' Believe me, madam,' he said, 'I appreciate the honor.' But she gave a little stare, of perplexity. 'Honor?' she said. 'The others, you know, were so surrounded by the crowd.' .