The Family Circle

New Zealand Tablet, 26 May 1921, Page 45

Th e Family Circle

WHY DON’T YOU? Why don’t you try to be cheerful, To look at the bright side of things, To think of the cloud’s silver lining, And not of the shadow it brings? It isn’t the man with the grumble Who gets to' the top all the while, But the man who can laugh at misfortune, And try once again with a smile. Why don’t you try to bo hopeful? To hope is to half win the fight; It’s the star, when there’s naught else to steer by, That leads from black darkness to light. Be hopeful, but still with your hoping, Leave nothing to chance all the same; For the hope that alone brings you heartache, With action wins glory and fame. Why don’t you try to be thankful For all the good things that you hold; For the blessings that ever surround you, For the love that’s more precious than gold? So take heart —make another beginning Go forth with a song to the fray, For from those who are cheerful and hopeful The cares of the world fall away.

CLOCK PRAYERS IN IRELAND: AN OLD PRACTICE. How long does it take to boil an egg? This vexed question has come up again. An Irish teacher of cookery has answered: “An egg is nicely boiled in the time it takes to say five Our Fathers, five Hail Marys, and three Glory be to the Fathers.” In rural places, where clock time is less observed than “God’s time,” this method of egg-boiling prevails. Priests allow the tea to draw while they repeat a “Miserere” very slowly. The Rhine peasants, by the way, boil eggs by the Lord’s Prayer. English literature of the Catholic period bears evidence that “the space of a Paternoster” was once in England an ordinary measure of time.

THE CONQUERING CROSS. “Thou hast conquered, 0 Galilean!” exclaimed the apostate Emperor Julian as an enemy shaft pierced his heart in battle. Thou, hast conquered are the words so many other apostates and persecutors of the Church of Christ have uttered throughout the ages. Down in their very hearts the Scribes and Pharisees must have felt the force at least of such an expression, when they witnessed the people gather around the Messiah to drink in the words of wisdom and the doctrine of salvation. T^ victories of the Cross of Christ are past the possibilities of enumeration. Time after time has the Church been engulfed in the maelstrom of terrific storms, buffeted from without, shaken by false leaders from within, scorned by the world, abandoned by the'tepid and almost doubted by the just; and yet when the fury of the hurricane died down there was the Cross of Christ resplendent and glorious, raised over a prostrate world, mercy and love and forgiveness pouring from its every ray down into the hearts of mankind. In many ages heresy has swept the world, and the Church gazed about to find the nations now Arian, now Atheist, now Protestant. But ever the Cross has shone forth with undimmed radiance. The chosen people were but a handful among the hordes of ancient times; the Apostles were but twelve among the millions of pagans and the children of the Church are a fraction of mankind! And is raised over all: saint and sinner fall beneath its genial shining, and the good fortune of the minority is accentuated by the multitude of unbelievers. The greatest triumphs of the Cross are won at the bedsides of the dying. A life of sin and despair, of wickedness and unbelief, comes face to face with the

thorn-entwined glory of the Cross, and in accents of contrite attection the sinner exclaims; “Thou hast conquered, 0 Galilean! Thy mercy has overcome my ingratitude, thy power to forgive surpasses my ability to sin. The noonday splendor of the world is as Egyptian darkness compared with the brightness of thy Divine effulgence. Yes, 0 Galilean, truly hast Thou conquered my sinful soul!” — Irish Catholic.

GOD KNEW. God knew the thought behind the faulty action, His loving kindness judged it all aright; He knew the deep and noble resolution That waxed, then waned, a little in the fight. hat men decreed a failure He accepted, And magnified its worth ten thousand fold; He knew the weary striving and the heartache, And gave us at the end His peace untold. —W. W..

PRACTICE. What makes any one a good artist, a good sculptor, a good musician? Practice. What makes good men and women ? Practice as boys and girls.

OUR CATHOLIC HERITAGE. Something which, it is to be feared, the average Catholic sometimes forgets, but which he should always remember, particularly in such trying times as the present, is recalled by the Rev. Richard Collentine, 0.5. C., in a special article written for the Indiana Catholic. Wise words, well spoken, are these (says Ave Maria): With the country in the throes of reconstruction; with Capital and Labor clamoring for mutual justice; with moralisers and fanatics advocating all sorts of fads, some denouncing ‘ predatory wealth ’ and others denouncing organised labor, the Catholic finds many advantages in his religious heritage. In fact, nothing better brings home to him the privilege he enjoys than troublous times. To compare him with a number of his fellow-citizens is like comparing the traveller who is prepared for a journey, and knows the way, with a helpless fellow-mortal who has lost his bearings. The latter hurries along one road for a space, and then returns; chooses another, and then stops to inquire; doubts about the directions, and either pays no heed to them or follows them only to be tortured by the fear that they are wrong. The Catholic may expeiience fatigue and sorrow, but he need never be troubled by uncertainty. The map he carries is . always at hand, and has the ways distinctly marked, drawn by an unerring hand, The advantages are many, because of the broad field covered in the Church’s guidance. She is thorough and precise as well as reliable. When a Catholic meets a dilemma and can not make a choice, and sees from the general perplexity that the dilemma is beyond the power of unaided human choice, he simply looks at his guide, There she is, pointing the way. Perhaps he is surprised, and tempted to doubt even her. But he has the vision of a great guide and** mother looming up in history, warning and directing, as she is doing now, as she has always done; men obeying her and passing safely through danger, turning their backs upon her and being swept away.”

A FALSE ALARM. Henpecked had taken his much better half to the theatre, but he didn’t seem to be enjoying himself. When the curtain fell on the first act he started fidgeting about in his seat. “I think I heard an alarm of fire,” he said, nervously ; “I will just go out and see.” Ten minutes later he returned. “Well?” demanded his wife, with a note of suspicion in her voice. “I was wrong, my dear,” he murmured as he wiped his mouth, “it wasn’t fire.” “No, James,” she snapped, as she sniffed disdainfully, “and it wasn’t water either.” ‘ ’

. HE WAS SATISFIED. A piccolo player was being urged to buy a phonograph, the dealer, as a last resort, getting the man to make a phonoghaphic record of “The Last Rose of Sum-

mer” with his own piccolo. The dealer then ran the tune off while the playera really wretched performer with a strange, frowning air. At the end the dealer said: “There! Isn’t that wonderful?” “H’m ——yes,” Said the piccolo player. “And now,” said the dealer, briskly, “are you going to buy the phonograph?” “No,” the other answered; “I’m going to sell my piccolo.”

9 A BETTER WAY OF PUTTING IT. A teacher was instructing a class in grammar, and called on a small boy named Jimmy Brown. \ “James,” she said, “write* on the board, Richard can ride the mule if he wants to.’ ” “Now,” continued the teacher when Jimmy had finished writing, “can you find a better form for that sentence?” ' “Yes, ma’am, I think I can,” was the prompt answer. “ ‘ Richard can ride the mule if the mule wants him to.

' • __ STAGGERED THE INSPECTOR. An inspector watched, a teacher giving a lesson on the participle “en,” and to test the children’s knowledge he asked them to write a sentence containing the syllable. By-and-by he saw a boy glancing slyly at his neighbor’s book and thrusting his fists into his mouth to prevent himself laughing aloud. “Well, what’s the joke?” asked the inspector, encouragingly. “Please, sir,” Replied the boy, “Johnny’s put putten where he should hae putten put.”

SMILE RAISERS. Landlady: “I’m afraid the 'coffee is exhausted.” Boarder: “I’m not surprisedit has been very weak for a long time.”

A gardener is a farmer who raises a few things; a farmer a man who raises many things and a middleman one who raises everything.

Full Circle. —Rags make paper. Paper makes money. Money makes banks. Banks make loans. Loans make poverty. Poverty makes rags.

“Dad?”--*’ “Well, son.” . > “Are ‘politics’ plural?” “No, my boy; there isn’t anything in the world more singular than politics.”

Visitor: “Dear me! Fancy you being called Ro"bert Burns —why, that’s a very well-known name.” Native: “Nae doot it is; I’ve been blacksmith in the place for nigh on 40 years.”

Grimes: “So you wrote breaking off your engagement with that young widow. Aren’t you afraid she will take it to heart?” Gayleigh: “No, but I’m afraid she will take it to court.” .

“I believe,” said the cheery philosopher, “that for every single thing you give away two come back to you.” “That’s my experience,” agreed Phamley. “Last March I gave away my daughter, and she and her husband came back in May.”

It has been judicially decided that kicking a stone about is playing football/in the street. In spite of this, heaving a brick at your next-door neighbor is still not considered cricket.