The Family Circle

New Zealand Tablet, 7 October 1920, Page 45

The Family Circle

LORD, I ASK A GARDEN. Lord,. I ask a garden in a quiet spot, -'* ““ Where a sparkling brooklet flows beneath the shade. Morning-glories climbing o’er my humble cot, With a loving wife and son in Thine image made. Free from hates and rancor, to live for many a year Making these my verses fresh and pure and sweet ’ Like earth’s moistening rivers, running full and clear— Lord, ’mid trees and birds give me a pathway for my feet. Lord, leave me my mother. Like a little child,’ With kisses and caresses I would her enfold, Filling her life’s autumn with brightness soft and mild ; She will need the sunshine—--she is growing old. From the Spanish of R. Arevalo Martinez, by Mary E. Mannix in Ave Maria. MOTHER OF THE SORROWFUL. What would the sea of human sorrows be without Mary’s moonlight on it? The ocean with the dark, heavy, overspread clouds lowering upon it, does not differ more widely from the silvery plain of green and whitely-flashing waters_ exulting in the sunlight, than the weary expanse of life’s successive cares without the softening and almost alluring light which falls upon it Irom Mary’s love, differs from the life as it now lies before her maternal throne. How many a tear has she not already wiped away from our eyes ! How many bitter tears has she not made sweet in the shedding ! And there is age and the early narrowing circle of those we love, and sickness, and death, all yet to come, and to what amount may we not have to draw upon the treasure of consolation in her sinless heart Mother of God ! He broke thy heart That it might wider be, That in the vastness of its love There might be room for me. v

There can hardly be a shade of human sorrow which is not familiar to Mary’s heart. The manifold inventions of grief are known to her. The secrets of its alliance with grace, as well as its tendencies to conspire with the unworthy weaknesses of our nature, are no secrets to her. She, who is to be the prophetess of a sorrowing race, is, by her own experience, the grand doctress in the science of sorrow. Mary is not at once created Mother of the afflicted, as by a sudden patent of nobility. She does not become . the consolation of mourners by a mere appointment emanating from the will of the Divine Majesty. It might have been so, but it is not so. Her office of our Mother is a long and painful conclusion, worked out from her Divine Maternity. She has toiled for it, suffered for it, borne herculean burdens of sorrow in order to merit it, and has mastered it at last on Calvary.—Catholic Bulletin.

CARDINAL NEWMAN ON SIN. Sin is one of those things which refuses to be fully identified or revealed. It is a grievous offence against the laws of God. It is an affront to the Creator. It closes the gates of heaven and opens wide the doors of hell. Sin, in the light of such startling and shocking facts, does not unveil its essence. “We do not know what sin is,” says Newman, “because we do not know what ijod is j we have no standard with which to compare it, till we know what God is. Only God's glories, His perfections, His holiness, His mastery, His beauty, can teach us by the contrast how to think of sin; and since we do not see God here, till we see Him we cannot form a just judgment of what sin is; till we enter heaven, we must take what God tells .us of sin, mainly on faith.” ; : - -: iAAi

v " THE TEACHER. £ Dear Teacher, r patient with our childish ways, leach us the common things of common days: While careless hands the dog-eared pages turn, Teach us the easy things, so hard 5 to learn: ine ruth that needs no learning to : declare, a Ur f whlte - sce d Truth, than noonday sun more fair: And Faith—that midst all doubts and fears and woes, Sings on the children’s lips—Teacher knows And love— hath ten million times been told • Love—that is older than the,; world is old ; ’ Lof% that will live when all the worlds are dead. When these great little lessons have been ;said, Then heaven and earth in one great school will meet Learning old lessons at the Teacher’s feet. ■ Robert J. Burdette.

. McMIV, OF LONDON. „ Tv* o Highlanders stood looking at the imposing facade of a building in Westminster. The cornerstone bore the date in Roman characters, “MCMIV.” “Luke a’ thot, Angus,” said one. “Ah’ve never heard th’ name McMiv befure, but thearek a Scotsman who’s got his name on one of th’ finest buildings in London. Ye can’t keep ’em down, can ye?”'

CONSERVATION MEASURE. Rastus, how is it you have given up goiim to church ? * asked Pastor Brown. ° “Well, sah,” replied Rastus, “it’s dis way. I likes to take an active part, an’ I used to pass de collection-basket, but dey’s give de job to Brothah Green, who jest returned from ovah thai-ah.” ( In recognition of his heroic services, I suppose , . No, sah. I reckon he got dat job in reco’nition o’ his having lost one o’ his hands.’’’

DEAD FROM THE NECK UP. The total lack of comprehension between the American negro and his Algerian brother will go down in history as one of the outstanding features -of the war. There was, for instance, the case of the dusky sieved me at Brest and one of the colored French troops on duty there. Long and laboriously the Yank tried to establish some means of linguistic communication, but there was no response. Then a brilliant thought struck the boy from Georgia. lie produced a pair of ivory cubes and rolled them enticingly under the Algerian’s nose. Intelligence still registered zero. “Man,” said Sam in disgust. “You ain’t no cullud pusson. You ain’t even no human. You is just a corpse.

GUESSES. Why is a false friend like the letter P ?Because, though always first in pity, he is ever last in help. Why is I the luckiest of all the vowels?—Because it is the centre of bliss, whilst E is' in hell, and all the others are in purgatory. What word is there of five letters" that, by taking two away, leaves but one —Stone. Why are the fourteenth and fifteenth letters of the alphabet of more importance than the others ?—Because we cannot get ON without them. What prescription is the best for a poet?—A composing draught. -- ' What is the difference between a woman’s hat aiicl a man’s?—About five pounds. Why is gas not sold by the pound ?—lt would always be light weight. If a dog lost his tail where would he go for a new one— a retail store, of course.

You’ll be bound to regret it, John,” they said. “There’s more thieves than : coal-miners in that district, and your live-stock will never- be safe.” However, John persisted, and for some months all went well; but one morning John went to a certain field to fetch a horse he had turned out the night before. Now, this field, although John knew it not, was situated over a disused coal-mine, and during the night a large portion of it had caved in, taking the horse with it. When he came to the spot he could scarcely believe his eyes. _ Well, dang me,” he cried, “if they wanted the old boss so badly, they might ha’ had him ; but they might ha’ left t’ field. HIS WIFE DIDN’T. The lecturei was growing very vehement in the course of his address. His subject was: “The Ideal Wife.” “As we all know,” he said, “the duty of a wife is to be a loving helpmate to her husband, by cooking his food; attending to his various requirements, conducting his household affairs properly, and so on and so on.” Then a little fellow in front got up and blurted out: “They don’t do the last thing you mentioned, mister.” . “Which one is that?” asked the lecturer. “Why,” said the little fellow, “sew on and sew on.” And he proceeded to exhibit how a safety-pin did duty for a button on his trousers. SMILE RAISERS. Kind Old Lady (who has just given Tommy some sweets); “And now what do you say, my little man?” Tommy; “Got any more?” Her Lawyer: “Besides these love-letters, we have this interesting film of the actual proposal, taken through the keyhole.” “How are we to meet the high cost of living?” “You don’t have to meet it,” answered the irritating person. “It overtakes you.” , You and I know that prices have dropped. The newspapers know it too, and won’t it be fine when he storekeepers find out about it? ‘Did you think my speech stirred the audience?” inquired the campaigner. “I wouldn’t exactly say it stirred ’em,” replied Senator Sorghum. “I would rather say it mixed ’em up.” “Is my son getting well grounded in the classics?” asked the millionaire. “I would put it even stronger than that,” replied the private tutor. “I may say that he is actually stranded on them.” “I think you were absolutely wrong, Henry, about that furniture.” “Yes, dear.” “And about the wall-paper.” “Yes, dear.” “Now, look here. Henry: if you're not going to be sociable, I’m going to bed !”