The Family Circle

New Zealand Tablet, 2 November 1916, Page 61

The Family Circle

EVEN WHEN YOU LOSE, SMILE ! Did you fall in the race ? Did you faint in the spurt, When the hot dust choked and burned ? Did you breast the tape midst the flying dirt, -inat the leader’s spikes had spurned ? Did you do your best ? Oh, I know you lost, I know that your time was bad. But the game is not in the winning, lad; The best of it since the beginning lad, Is in taking your licking and grinning, lad, If you gave them the best you had. Did your tackle fall short ? Did the runner flash by With score that won the game ? Did it break your heart when you missed the try ? Did you choke with the hurt and shame ? If you did your bestOh, I know the score, I followed you all the way through; And that is why I am saying, lad, That the best of the fight is the staying, lad. And the best of all games is the playing, lad. If you give them the best in you. A GREAT HEART. It was the day before Easter several years ago, about 3 o’clock in the afternoon. In the great department store I found my way to the counter where ribbon novelties were for sale. It had been a hard day for the salesgirls, and they showed signs of weariness. The one who turned to me attracted attention instantly, for everything about her was pleasing. Her figure was round and chubby, her pink-and-white face was round like that of a doll. Her big blue eyes were round, and her hair was a bright, light golden shade. Behind the counter, with her elbows resting upon it, she reminded one of the fat little cherubs we see in pictures. Something aroused her interest, and she gave such a childishly gleeful laugh that it was hard to believe her a nearly grown young woman behind a counter. ‘Oh, see, isn’t it sweet!’ she cried. I smiled into hexface. ‘ You infant,’ I said. Instantly the little figure was drawn up with dignity, and she said, solemnly, but with smiles in her eyes, ‘ Why, I am seventeen and a-half years old.’ But in my heart, I always called her the ‘girl with the childish face.’ I liked her. There was a stool just around the corner from her department where one might sit and rest, and watch her as she worked. ( ( friends found my devotion to the girl amusing. ‘ Such a childish face,’ they would say. There is no strength, no character in it.’ t I uot agree with you there,’ I always answered. Her face is babyish, but kind—and there’s something clear and honest in her eyes.’ Already I called her to myself, Greatheart with a baby face, for I found in her such strength, such courage, such sweetness, that I have always wished for a pen that might do her justice ! ‘Did you get the dress, Carrie?’ I heard her ask another girl, working near her. This, too, was on a busy Saturday, and there were dark rings circling her eyes. & Oh, Virgie,’ cried the other, * it is such a beautiful dress, and only nine dollars ! And I did so want it to wear to-morrow. We have a special service at our church, and I sing in the choir. But it needs alteration, and I simply can’t afford to pay for it. If I only had your nimble fingers I could ao it myself. It would only take an hour—they all said so I " And it is so beautiful!’ And she sighed. . Couldn t you wear the blue suit to-morrow queried my friend. t Oh, Virgie, I’ve worn it for three whole years!’ I m to have my time off in a few minutes,’ said Vxrgxe. We 11 see about it. If it can be fixed in an hour or so, I’ll take it home an d do it for you.’

, ( ’XT’* * I . *1 **l ' • ‘ Virgie. And Carrie’s voice was rapturous. But after Carrie had passed on, I said: ‘But you’re giving up your resting time.' “■ Oh, that nothingl’m not tired. Carrie is all thumbs with a needle.’ - - v Another hot summer morning, on Saturday, I saw her. It was during the months when the stores close at 1 o’clock to give the girls a little freedom during the oppressive heat. ‘Heart-broken, Nora?’ queried Virgie, smiling,* but looking keenly into the other’s eyes. Nora’s chin quivered. ‘ Oh, Virgie—my uncle was going to take me to St. Louis this afternoonmy suit case is all packed. I was so happy. But Mr. D says there is a lot of extra marking to be done in our department, and I must work this afternoon. He says he expects us all to stand by when the pressure comes,’ Nora’s voice quivered on the words. Nora,’ said Virgie, slowly, ‘I worked in that department before I was transferred, and I know '.he stock as well as you do. Maybe Mr. D will let me work in your place this afternoon. ‘ Oh, Virgie, will you ? But you want your afternoon, too?’ ‘ But you need your trip to St. Louis far more,’ said Virgie. ‘ I’m going to ask him now, but I know he will let me.’ And away she tripped. It was during the busy season before Christmas, when the girls were fagged and weary, many pale, many flushed unnaturally. A floorwalker stopped beside the ribbon-novelty counter and spoke to Virgie. Light flashed into her eyes, and ready smiles crossed her face. \es, I am tired, Mr. S ,’ she said, ‘ and it will be just lovely to have two whole hours to rest. Thank you so much.’ The man nodded, laughed, and walked on. Isn’t he kind?’ cried Virgie. ‘He.says I look tired, and since we aren’t very busy in this department right now I may rest for two whole hours.’ Then she glanced behind her. There stood another girl, quiet, without expression, without light, color, or enthusiasm. There were, lines between her eyes. Virgie turned to her impulsively. ‘ You take the two hours, May,’ she said, ‘ and I’ll run the department. You look tired. Hurry now- mustn’t waste a minute of that precious time. Mr. S—— didn’t see you or he would have known you needed the rest more than I. You must be back at four.’ May tried to refuse, but Virgie hurried her away, and then with a smile that was half a sigh, turned to customers j ‘How could you do it, Virgie?’ asked another working near. ‘She’s so tired,’ explained Virgie. ‘But you are tired!’ ‘ Not very !’ . ‘ Why do you always sacrifice yourself ?’ I asked her one day. She lifted the childish blue eyes reproachfully. It isxx’t sacrifice. It’s just one way of having a good time.’ What lay behind the babyish expression in the little round face, behind the merry light of the childish eyes ? A great —heroic heart. NOT VERY POTENT. ‘ How many barrels have you put up this year, Joel asked one farmer of another. ‘ Only seven, Silas,’ was the reply. ‘ Got any handy ?’ ‘ Sure thing, Silas.’ And Joel went into the house, returning soon with some of the apple elixir in a big tin dipper. ‘There,’ said he, ‘try that.’ And Silas sipped . Well, what do you think of it?’ Joel inquired. Silas shook his head dubiously. Don’t you like it, Silas?’ was the anxious inquiry. - ... •. ‘ How many barrels did you say you made, Joel?’ asked Silas. ‘ Seven.’ ‘Well, Joel, if you had another apple you might have made eight.’ . v , v ' ' • •...•

WHY HE STUCK TO HIM.

* Even when the fighting was hottest, the colonel of the regiment noticed that on© of the privates, an Irishman, was following him everywhere, with apparently much devotion. At length he called the man to him and said: - ‘ You’ve stuck to me well this day, Private Rooney.’ ‘ Yes, sir,’ replied Rooney, saluting smartly. 1 My old mother, she says to me, says she, “Patrick, my boy, stick to the colonel, and ye’ll be all right; them colonels never get hurt.” ’ WHAT SHE WANTED IT FOR. ■ ; Mrs Bricktop (bursting with pride) : ‘ How do you like my new carpet, Mrs. Crosseye ?’ Mrs. Crosseye (bursting with envy) ; 1 It’s —er — very nice indeed, Mrs. Bricktop, for—for Brussels. By the way, I nearly forgot what I came for. I wish you would lend me your lawn-mower a few moments.’ ‘ Lawn-mower ? Why, certainly. But what on earth can you want with a lawn-mower at this time of the year ?’ ‘ I desire to thin down our velvet-pile carpet in the nursery a little; the children are always losing their marbles in it.’ WANTED TO BE THERE. >•. ‘ What do you thiifk of my daughter’s execution, Professor?’ asked the fond mamma, as her fair daughter pounded away at the piano keys. ‘Think, madam!’ was the reply; ‘why, that I should like to be present at it.’ VATICAN OBSERVATORY. - To the Vatican Observatory the world of science owes these days another debt of gratitude. After long and patient labor, its officers have completed the second volume of the Catalago Astrografico. For several years nineteen observatories all over the world have been engaged in taking a photograph of the starry heavens. Of these observatories three are in America, eleven in Europe, three in Africa, and three in Oceania. The astronomers of the Vatican Observatory engaged in the work are Father Hagen, S.J., who is well known in the United States; Father Lais; Mr. H. 11. Turner, of the Oxford University, England ; and a number of subordinate officials. This second volume contains the photographs of 30,042 stars. AS IT WENT IN. To the great relief of the neighbors, the snobbish and unpopular Jones family were moving. Whilst the furniture was being brought out, some difficulty was experienced in removing a pianoforte from an upper room, and someone proposed getting it through a large window and sliding it down. Then came a suggestion from the Joneses’ next-door neighbor, who had long fostered the deepest enmity towards them, though until now she had attempted to conceal it. ‘No,’ she said, acidly, all her pent-up bitterness at last showing itself in her tone, ‘ let it come out as it went in—on the instalment system !’ . PROOF POSITIVE. Mr. Barry heard that his son George was leading a very fast life at college. He wrote and reproached him, but the son strenuously denied all the charges. The father, not being satisfied, decided to make an unexpected visit to the son’s boarding-house, and went up to the city accordingly. When he rang the bell

at the house, the door was opened by a grim-faced landlady, who asked him snappily what he wanted. ‘ Does George Barry live here?’ asked the "father. ‘ tie does,’ replied the woman grimly. * Bring him in !’ WORLD’S GREATEST LINGUIST. Sixty-two years ago, there died in Rome, that linguistic wonder worker of modern times, Joseph Cardinal Mezzofanti. The son of a poor carpenter, he was born in 1774, was ordained priest at the age of twentyfour. By this time he was already master of ten languages, and was appointed Professor of Arabic - in the University of his native city, Bologna. From the little income he derived from his professorship, Mezzofanti supported two helpless parents. Among his pupils was Byron, to whom, when in Bologna in 1817, he gave some lessons in modern Greek. The poet, writing of his stay in that city, says: ‘ I don’t remember a man among them whom I ever wished to see twice, except Mezzofanti, who is a monster of languages, who ought to have existed at the Tower of Babel, and acted as universal interpreter. He is indeed, a marvel, unassuming also. . . .’ Nine years later the Crown Prince of Prussia, passing through Bologna on his way to Rome reports of the linguist: ‘He is truly a miracle. He spoke German with me, like a German; with my Privy Councillor he spoke the purest French; with Bunser, perfect English, and with General Groben fluent Swedish.’ It was to Dr. Cox, the Rector of the English College at Rome, that the Cardinal said : ‘ Well, if you must know, I speak forty-five languages. It is said that in addition to these he spoke fifty dialects ! In Rome he was called the ‘ Foreigners’ Confessor.’ IRISH M.P. DUELLISTS. In addition to other elements in the adventurous life (says a* Manchester Guardian writer) of Mr. Kelly, M.P., is the fact that he is probably the only member of the House who has been a duellist. There are a few members still in the House of Commons who remember the plaintive statement of a certain Mr. McCoan to the Speaker to the effect that having incurred the wrath of the member for Roscommon the latter had challenged him to a duel. The Speaker thought it was very reprehensible, but did not see how he could interfere. O’Kelly thereupon arose and observed in his staccato and somewhat ferocious manner that, after what had now occurred, Mr. McCoan need fear no further notice-from him. x Mr. O’Kelly at that time was not the only duellist in the House. There was another, also an Irish member—that astonishing veteran, The O’Gorman Mahon, who had as a young man sat in the House of Commons as a supporter of O’Connell, had later had a picturesque military career in South America, and had returned to Parliament as a member of Mr. Parnell’s party in his old age. In his young days in Ireland he had been a famous fire-eater, and had many ‘ affairs.’ Duels were quite the usual concomitant of election contests then, and indeed almost part of the election machinery; challenges have a definite purpose in intimidating, and perhaps removing, inconvenient opponents or causing useful delays. In the famous Clare election of 1828, which brought Catholic Emancipation to a climax, O’Connell (who had his own experiences) thought it necessary to state from the platform that his principles forbade him either giving or accepting a challenge. ‘ For the benefit of gentlemeij on the other side,’ young O’Gorman Mahon interrupted, ‘ I may mention that I have no such scruples.’