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Washington. You ask then how to
And this law of boingV Study your
self. No one can understand it hut your
self. Hut in the selection do not overlook
the one jirliuc object of existence, and
blight the element which, for successful
cultivation, is pre-eminent. For there are
two roads through life that dhcigo more
and more. Hercules look the side of
virtue, and thus acquired stiength to ac
complish his twelve labors. "We aie now
Handing at the forks of the roads and
virtue and vice are speaking to us of the
advantages of their respective wajs.
Success in life demands growth of mind.
It calls for growth in purity, and, as Mat
thew Arnold sas, growth in the "sweet
icasonableness" of the soul. This we
cannot readi if wc follow a course with
which it ever conllicts. The mind devel.
ops by means of the work in hand, and
our hands thus mould our minds as the
sculptor's do his model. Here we round
a limb, theie wo give an expression of
beauty, there a calmness of the eye that
sneaks of happiness and repose. Hut if
our labor" be upon an unworthy object,
how can the sculptor give us the model of
purity? Hut the foi m of the mind, says
Tacitus, is eternal. Hence, every lick
imibt have a purpose for completing the
statue, until at last wo set it in the gallery
to remain through the ages, a result of oui
own hands and a purpose of our own life
work. Look upon the unworthy model
and then upon ono whore you read purity
of every thought and act, and tell 1110
which you would prefer to leprcsent you
in that gallery whero tho thoughts and
decdj of tho wise shall bud and bloom
forever. So our "purpose must least be
taken as a means of earthly sustenance, a
moioturn for bread and meat, but lot us
undertako it with the belief that whatever
wo do it shall bo everlasting.
But further, having chosen it, let us
make every moment tell upon our work,
Evei effort spent upon anything else is
thrown away, worto than thiown away,
and the woild in the expected result ol our
labor is deceived, and wc defraud our
selves of the reward wc might have ob
tained. A sorry thing, Ibis throwing
away one's life, and a sad story, this miss
ing of eminence. A blessed thought, this
attainment of ical success, and a hal
lowcdness, this sense of having opened a
window of truth wheie we stand aside
throughout all the coming agos, and see
the light streaming down to the multi
tudes clamoring in darkness. Hut should
we fail of this by an effort of our own,
niethinks that hell would only gam its
pang, and tho heart sick soul would reel
forever, and grasp like a maniac into space
for tho result of an ellbrt, wanting only
by a moment's pcii-istence. For what is
theie of life except that kind genius wo
leave behind us, that lorevor goes about
doing good among men V F. M. L.
WEAVING.
Slowly but surely (bus the goddess
Laohesis spin out the tin cads of our lives,
and swiftly does the shuttle fly back and
forth weaving it into fabrics sometimes
lino and beautiful, other times coarse and
ugly to the sight.
Each of us holds tho shuttle in his own
hands, and upon ourselves depends tho
quality of this fabric of Life. Its color
ing, texture and usefulness arc such asvto
make it, weaving, as wo do, these threads
in the warp of Time. Neither can we in
any way avoid this responsibility. Fath
er Tinio divides the waip and poitions it
out to us in legular and unvarying order,
while the material we fonn fiom tho m in.
ules and hours which ho gives us can nev
er be changed, but is the same through all
eternity.
Tho first we weave is a light dainty fab
ric, with all tho bright hues of tho rain
bow blended in a charming pattern of joy,
love and hope. The fabric is flimsy and
wanting in llininess, but while it lack's in
qualities of use, it possesses those of
beauty. Hut these do not satisfy, and
there is ever a desire for something not
