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jP THE WAY TO LIVE AND THE WAY TO DIE 1
When you have a trifling ache or pain, do you go around grumbling
about it and bidding for sympathy? When you are slightly ill do you make
those around, you uncomfortable by exaggerating it and imagining you are
going to die?"" --
Then listen to this:
The other day there passed away near Los Angeles, one of nature's
noblemen. For years Charles D. Willard had been a busy, useful leader in
progressive activities in California. A writer and a publicist, he battled
bravely for the public welfare.
Four years ago tuberculosis caught him. Toward the last he was so
enfeebled that he could'not leave his room. But oh" what was soon to prove
his death bed he sent to-friends a Christmas greeting in which he said:
It is my good fortune to have almost the only profession in which a
man can earn a fair living and be sick-a-bed at the same time. I have a
comfortable home in beautiful surroundings, and I lack for nothing that
could help toward my recovery. How many of the hundreds of thousands
who are afflicted with this disease are so fortunate? But after all, who are
they in this world that really deserve pity? The unlucky? No. The sick?
No. The poor? No. Who then? The unhappy they and they only. And
I am not unhappy. On the contrary, but for my knowledge that those who
are dear to me are often troubled with fears on my account, I could truth
fully say that this is the happiest period of my life. I have
discovered that four year&of illness coming to me who has led a life of con
siderable activity has one surprising form of compensation it gives him a
chance to think. There is so much to think about in this big and wonderful
world that it is a pity we can so seldom take a good crack at it.
Now, isn't that the message of a knightly soul which shames our pet
No murmuring, no bitterness but, to the last, a man's joyful interest
in this "big and wonderful world," and, at the end, a smiling "Good-bye!"
What a beautiful exit as the curtain fell!
DEBT TO THE HUMBLE
We hope you have a microscope in
your home or some kind of a magni
fier that will enable. you to take a
peek now and then at certain-interesting
things which ordinarily you
don't see or understand, because
they're so very tiny.
A flake of snow, for instance. As
it lies begrimed by the city's filth,
discolored and polluted by the poisons
which fill the city's atmosphere, it
isn't attractive, to be sure; and small
wonder that you turn up your coat
collar to the winter's chill and hasten
on, unmindful of this little miracle.
But take a magnifying glass and
hold it over a clean, new flake then
tell us If you ever imagined it could
be so beautiful.
The most intricate designs of
earth!s most famous architects can't
compare with the amazing delicacy
of treatment with which theIaster
Artist has constructed these shim
mering frost crystals. Human skill
seems crude beside this little master
piece of nature.
Think, too, of its usefulness to
man how it cleanses the air which
he must breathe and f ertilizes the soil
upon which he must rely for the food
that keeps him alive and strong. Also,
how, melting in summer upon the
mountain tops, it feeds the streams
and forests, moistens the clouds and
makes possible the continuance of
Are we appreciative enough?