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148 The Indian Advocate.
Since we are grass and like a brief day of years at best, what is the use of so much anxious care, of so much fussing and fretting? What is the good of hoarding money for other people to ruin themselves with when you are dead? What is the good of hating your neighbor? What is the sense of try ing to act a part of seeming to be other than we are? What is the gain of guile, or envy, or evil speaking? What? I should like to know. For, since you are grass and shall soon lie down in the grave, God knows you, and I do not want our dreams in that sleep of death to be of hate or malice or evil speaking. Then be swift to forgive. There is in the countries of the East a species of black ants that suddenly attack articles of furniture. Their work is insidious and unseen. Externally, all seems right, until suddenly the whole thing collapses in a cloud of dust. So it is where discord and harshness exist in domestic or commu nity life. It will eat out the very life of home. Heaven is transformed to hell. The angelhood of earth is exchanged for demoniacal sorrow and sin. always takes an angel to make a devil. That which is most beautiful is made most hid eous by unworthy transition. Let us remember, dear friends, that from the apples of discord is expressed the vinegar of hate, while from the sweet-tempered grapes of kindness is distilled the wine of perpetual bliss. The Church has, with poetic reverence, dedicated the month of flowers and blossoms to her whom she delights to honor as the ideal of pure and beautiful womanhood. There is a sweet significance in the May devotions which ought es pecially to be brought home to impressionable and imagina tive childhood. The blossoms of nature on the altar of Mary are cold tributes as compared with the blossoms of humanity which Catholic mothers should, particularly in this blooming