The Family Circle

New Zealand Tablet, 13 May 1920, Page 45

The Family Circle

X THE OLD CHURCH. ’Tis not a ship on the tossing waves That the Old Chur.'u seems to me, But a guiding light set on a headland high, And gleaming over the sea. Lit by the breath of Christ Our Lord, As He sat with His friends to rest Where the waves of the blue Genesareth Kissed the land that His presence blessed. The powers of the earth may chase the gleam Of Will o’ the Wisps that fly, But their good ships reel on the sunken rocks, And the false lights flickering die. But thou white Light of the breath of Christ, Thou shinest across the foam, Till the shoals arc past and the anchor cast Thy light is the light of home. POPULAR PEOPLE. There are some people who never have to knock long and wait patiently to gain admission to the friendship of another. They find the door ajar. These are the people who go about with sunny faces and pleasant smiles. They are not so interested in the story they have to tell that they cannot wait to listen to what another has to say. When they speak it is not to complain of the weather, nor to grumble about a sleepless night, but to say something pleasant and cheering. Hearts open at the approach of such a one, and hands reach out. There is no qdace nor time where and when he is not welcome, and his going leaves an empty space which may remain long unfilled. DON’T LET LITTLE IRRITATIONS SPOIL YOUR EE. There is a certain home where underlying every act is the spirit of unselfishness (says the Catholic, Bulletin, of St. Paul). The mother worships her children, the children adore their mother. Much trouble has come to them, and they have .sacrificed much. All the big things they have fought bravely, but the little things of life they have not known how to meet. In that home there is constant friction. Perhaps it starts in the morning, when the elder daughter is getting ready lor business. She cannot find some article of wearing apparel and she makes a fuss about it, and presently she finds it just where she laid it herself the night before, but in the meanwhile she has spoken a piece of her mind to the whole family. Or, it may be that the coffee, is not strong enough to meet tho approval of the sou, and there are hot words about that. Or, perhaps it may be the younger daughter is late in getting up and knows she will miss a car, and hitter words follow. To one going into this home and not understanding those people they seemed utterly selfish. And yet mey are not. There is not one member who -would not make am big sacrifice for the other. In every reverse that has come to them, and there have been many, they have been wonderfully loyal and devoted, but they have got into the bad habit of letting the little troubles make them unhappy. When there is so much that is beautiful in life, so much that is ennobling, it seems a pity to let these futile, fretting pm-pneks ruin one’s day. Indeed, it appears sometimes as if most lives are wrecked by the little things, not by the big things that come as a part of life’s lessons. A woman whose first years had been strangely free from real trouble of any kind, but who had seen much of ; tragedy after she was 30, said: • ' “The thing I cannot understand, and perhaps never inH, is why I was not happier when I had the chance. T h I here was hardly anything to make me unhappy, yet r’lr “ IS T a, ? le person until real trouble came along. [ can look back and remember days when I - went about wrapped in tragedy cause my gown had not been sent home from the dressmaker at just tho time I wanted it, or because I had not received an invitation I had counted on or because my husband had forgotten that it was my birthday. . Nb “I could always find something to fret about in those horizon img to grumbl over,-something, to-darken ' the

, “Now that ' real sorrow has • come to me the things that used to fret mo arc as nothing. I have come to the conclusion that some people just like- to,be miserable.” Certain it is that people /do ‘ make much misery for themselves, when they might : ; have happiness. It is so —such a. waste of time to fret about trifles. It is a fault which can and should be remedied. IT ISN’T EASY. To apologise. V . To begin again. To admit error. :V To bo unselfish. To face a sneer. To bo considerate. To endure success. To keep on trying. ;• To profit by mistakes. ' To forgive and forget. To think and then act. To keep out of the rut. To make tho best of little. To shoulder deserved blame. To subdue an ugly temper. To maintain a high standard. To recognise the silver lining. But it always pays yon ! THE LAYMAN’S APOSTOLATE. All tho great questions before the public to-day have their Catholic point of view (says the Western Watchman), and it would bo well if our young men could master them sufficiently so as to take a decided stand. Ask the average young Catholic what is the Catholic point of view on any one you may choose of the great social questions so much discussed, and you will find that he dosn’t know there is a Catholic point of —unless he happens to he one of the few' who read a Catholic paper. The point may be so broad, of course, that his conscience or his catechism may supply the answer. But frequently the point is not such; and then ho gives you his opinion from some article he has chanced to read in any paper. This shows the importance of having Catholic periodicals in the family, to which the young people may have access. THE IDEAL AND THE REAL IN LIFE. Life is a school. A real school, under a wise teacher, is not to minister to the whims and caprices of the pupils. A boy is not to be allowed to shirk his lessons merely because he is fond of pleasure and is indolent. Life is a school in which wo are to bo trained by duty for a hapiness that is perpetual. Life is not intended for mere ease and comfort. Sloth and selfishness have no place and are not factors in working out our salvation. “To take up your cross” means self-denials and work. Tho question that conscience and duty often ask is: “Why stand you hero all the day idle?” The cherished but false ideals of life are wealth, case, comfort, pleasure, pomp and vanity. These do not produce contentment and happiness. Who says so? Solomon, who had wisdom, wealth —and experience. —The Universe (Cleveland). WHY THE PRICE WAS LOW. A shabby man entered a small general shop in a Scotch village and asked the owner, a. genuine Scot who was known far and wide for his “pawky” humor, if he might have an empty soap box. “All right,” said tho shopkeeper, “ye can have one; ■ but the price is twopence.” “Tuppence!” ejaculated the applicant. “That’s too .much money altogether. I can get them for less than that.” “Less than twopence? You’re dreaming, man,” replied the other, who disliked nothing so much as haggling. “Where can ye get them for less?” “Down at your neighbor’s, Tamson’s,” was the rejoinder. . “Oh,’’ replied the man behind the counter, apparently much relieved; “no doubt ye would got them for less there, hut I was never fool enough to leave my boxes outside on the pavement all night.”

“It do that.” ./■ ///•' . ■ “It isn’t meant to be funny I” •• ■ - v “No? ‘Well’, I never ; M ’ “I’ve been offered £IOO for that picture. Probably you don’t think it’s worth it; probably you think j you know more about it than all the best critics who have praised the work —eh?” “Don’t know nothing 'about art," mister,” said the old fellow, wiping ,his eyes, '“but I be dead nuts on cows. Where did you see that cow what you’ve painted there getting up from the ground first ? I’ve had fifty years of farmin’, and I never see a cow get up that way yet.” NO OFFENCE MEANT. - One of the forwards of a hockey team had failed to turn nil, and Spindleshanks was asked to play as. a substitute. He agreed, but as his knowledge of the game was decidedly limited, he was repeatedly offending by raising , his stick above the shoulder. “Sticks!” was repeatedly shouted at him, and at last, regarding the exclamation as a personal affront, he approached the referee. “Look here,” he said, “I know my legs are not great, but if these chaps'don’t stop calling ’em ‘sticks,’ I’m off.” “It’s all right,” said the referee, smiling: “they’re alluding to hockey sticks, not walking sticks!” SMILE RAISERS. Schoolmaster: “I have an impression in my head. Now, can any boy tell me the meaning of impression?” Small Boy; “Yes, please, sir. An impression is a dent in a soft place.” A merchant who died suddenly left in his bureau a letter to one of his correspondents, which he had not sealed. His clerk, seeing it necessary to send the letter, wrote at the bottom : “Since writing the above. 1 have died.” Red-faced, panting, dishevelled, and sad, the stout suburban gentleman sank on to a platform seat and glared at the rear end of the train he had just missed. “Were you trying to catch that train, .sir?” asked the porter who stood by. The gasping would-be passenger eyed him viciously. “Oh, no!” he replied, “I was merely chasing it out of the station.” Mother had lain awake with a headache till 1 o’clock. Then in the silence of the night she had responded to several calls for a drink, a doll, and all the other nocturnal infantile orders. At 5 in the morning, as she was just beginning to round out the first continuous hour of slumber, the little six-year-old girl called softly from her near-by crib : “Mother.” ' No answer. Again, a little louder; —• “Mother.” ■ Mother said nothing. Again the child’s voice, this time mezzo-forte; “Mother.” “Well, what is it?” “Mother, isn’t it too bad that one of Harry McCole’s golliwogs died?” A group of workers were lunching in a . sheltered nook on a wharf. One of them went across the street for a plug of tobacco, and during his absence another substituted for his tin of pale coffee and milk his own tin of milkless black coffee. When- the first worker returned to his lunch, he could hardly believe his eyes. “Well,” said he, “I have heard of clever thieves, but to steal the milk out of a feller’s coffee is about the limit.” “Father,” said Molly, “don’t you think it is time I had a new dress? I’ve had this one a long time now.”. “Why don’t you turn it?” replied her father. “I have turned it once,” the girl answered. “Well,” sighed the distracted father, “turn it again. One good turn deserves another.” “Look here, waiter. Are tomatoes a fruit or a vegetable?” ' “Tomatoes, sir? Neither, sir. Tomatoes is extras.”