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4 (1413) IHM
Family 1
THE GRAY MAN.
By William Hervey Woods.
Gray Man. O Gray Man, and good man riding, riding
So daringly, so certainly the thunder-roads of war,
When came and whence came to thee thy gift of
guiding,
That soldier-hearts to martial arts thou leadest
like a star?
Shy heart and sileut, we watched thee once with
smiling.
Each homely thing outshadowing, we thought, the
iman aright,
Steadfast and rough-cast, without one grace beguiling?
O Man r?f mnn wo had n -?t than noon Stnnowa 11
Jackson fight.
Nile hymns his Pnaraohs, and Tiber's floods go
telling
The Caesar's deed the while they speed by storied
shores of old?
Thy deeds three rivecs, and each a Nile outswelling,
In choral tide horizon wide around the world have
rolled.
Thou, too, his Valley, bright Shenandoah of story.
Thy singing name to Jackson's fame runs like a
haunting tune,
Till seers and sages forsake old fields of glory
To scan the plains where his campaigns win to
their wondrous noon.
Look ye?he's coming! That's he bareheaded loping,
In haste to flee his soldiers' glee, down shouting
lines he goes?
Yell, boys, and rout him! He knows what you're
but hoping,
And this day done, your ibattle-sun wil'l set on
beaten foes.
(From "The Lyric Year," a collection of one hundred
poems of the year, published by 'Mitchell Kennorly.)
CHRISTMAS COURAGE.
BY HELENA M. THOMAS.
Christmas almost here, and no money with
which to huy presents!"
"And no time or strength with which to
make them!" sighed the younger sister. "Oh,
dear! 1 wish that we could forget the dreaded
day, l'or once!"
There was silence for a moment, and then
the mother of the speakers said, in a chiding
tone:
rorgei me uay oi (lays, uaugnier: i ne
day which should l>e the gladdest of all the
year!"
"Hut it isn't the gladdest!" persisted
Marion, in an impatient tone. "Never has
been, and never will be until we are released
from the bondage of so much gift-giving, and
how that could be brought about I cannot see,
as our list grows longer each year."
She said it so bitterly, too, that the older
sister, quick to note the pained expression of
her mother's face, made haste to say:
"Don't lose heart so, Marion; we will manage
some way, we always have."
"That does not go to show that we will do
ourselves credit this year," was the rueful reply;
"for never before have we been in the
straits that we are now, at this season of the
year. Little money, and so worn out with father's
dreadful illness that we haven't strength
to make even one present, let alone the many
that must be made somehow, as buying is out
of the question, with doctors and nurses to
pay."
"Must, daughter, does not apply in this in
PkilSBYTBRlAN OF THE SO
Readi ri cr s II
stance," said tlie mother, emphatically, "i'or
we have it in our power to release ourselves
from what you term bondage, and, under the
circumstances, 1 suggest that we do that very
thing."
"Why, how, mother?" cried both daughters
in unison.
"By writing to all of our friends, whom we
cannot see in person, and frankly telling them
that we deem it advisable to forego the pleasure
r?F ten wl irk r? tv.,? en
it! V v/1 OVUUI115 UUl V/UI uuaiuiliui V V. II I l?l III<1S
gifts."
"Oh, but what is the use of making such au
absurd suggestion?" cried Marion, who was
quite unlike her usually sunny self, "when you
know it will only end in getting through our
list somehow, cost what it may. Anyhow, I,
for one, haven't the courage to receive gifts
and not give in return."
"Hut, child, you did not wait to hear me
through," urged the mother in so gentle a tone
as to make her impatient daughter hang her
head. "If you had you would have understood
that my idea is to put the matter in sueh
a light, beeause of your father's protracted illness.
if for no other reason, that they will make
our difficult task easier by refraining from
sending us more than a simple Christmas greeting."
"If 1 thought our friends would listen to reason,"
said thoughtful Blanche, "I would surev'
act on your suggestion, mother, for 1 confess
that Christmas, with its recurrent obligations,
has been looked forward to with dread ever
since gift-giving has assumed proportions far
exceeding our anility to meet."
'Then by all means, daughter, do as I suggest,"
said the mother, in an appealing tone,
"for it has grieved me more than you will
ever know to hear the blessed day that heralded
peaee spoken of with dread in my own
home."
"But how can one help but dread Christmas
when, as in other years, we are under such
pressure for weeks before the day that we collapse
when it is over"' ventured Mnrinn 1 a
subdued tone.
"By having courage to prevent the cause,"
was tlie insistent reply.
"Yes, but it doesn't seem hardly fair to stop
present-giving all of a sudden," urged Marion,
"when we are indebted to so many."
"As to that," replied the mother, with more
spirit than she had previously shown, "if it
comes to a question of indebtedness I think
you, at least, need feel no obligation, for your
gifts have usually exceeded in value those you
have received. But be that as it may, we have
often been taken to task by our friends for putting
so much of ourselves into our gifts, especially
after the annual collapse to which you
refer, and I feel sure that our real friends will
think no less of us for taking a stand that will
surely require courage on our part.
"You are old enough, however, to decide as
you see fit, daughters, but as for myself 1 shall
begin writing letters to my old friends tomorrow.
alont? this line "
"You are braver than your daughters," observed
Blanche, as she looked at her mother
with love-light in her eyes, "but, perhaps, T
will be inspired by your example to do likewise."
Marion, however , shook her head, accompanied
by a longdrawn sigh.
"And now, my dears!" exclaimed the wise
U T B [January 1, 1913
mother a little later, "if you want to know
how 1 handle so delicate a subject you may listen
to my lirst letter, which is a sample of what
will follow."
The letter then read was written in so sweet
a spirit?in a spirit so like the Prince of Peace
?that when the writer finished the reading,
Blanche, with brimming eyes, said:
"1 have caught a little of your courage,
mother, and 1 will begin writing no-preseut
letters this very day."
"And how about you, girlie?" queried the
tactful mother, turning to Marion, with her
sweetest smile.
"Ob, 1 suppose 1 will have to fall into line,"
retorted the impulsive member of the family,
"but 1 Avill dub mine 'emancipation letters,'
for, coward though 1 am, 1 know that the result
will be freedom to really enjoy what I
have so dreaded, instead of being worn to a
frazzle."
For the benefit of any who sometimes long
to free themselves from the growing custom of
gift-exchanging, but lack of courage to take
tile i 11 i t i n tnrv ulonc /> f..^>...1..... o.? -4 i-" -
mvj/d n, uccuuui, nic siury teiier
begs leave to add that the foregoing is a real
experience, and one that resulted so satisfactorily
that the courageous mother of whom we
have written has since been heard to say:
"Nothing would tempt us to our old custom
of extensive gift-giving. True, we remember
our friends at the Yuletide, by writing
letters or sending simple greetings in some
form, but the worry of 'What shall I give!' as
well as being overwrought for weeks prior to
Christmas, is all done away with, and now the
day which means so much to the world find?
us in a condition to enjoy such peace as we had
long been strangers to. And when 1 see the
happy change in our home I cannot forgjve
myself for so long lacking the courage of my
convictions."?.V. Y. Observer.
"AS AN EAGLE."
Itev. William ?J. Long, in his new book, on
unimal stoi'ies, called "Wilderness Ways," relates
an incident which most beautifully interprets
and explains the above Scriptural quotation.
A mother eagle had tried in vain to tempt
her little one to leave the nest on a high cliff.
With food in her talons, she came to the edge of
the nest, hovered over it a moment, so as to
give the hungry eaglet a sight and smell of food,
then went slowly down to the valley, taking the
food with her, and telling her little one to come,
and he should have i:.. He called after her
loudly, and spread his wings a dozen times to
follow. But the plunge was too awful; he was
afraid, and settled back into the nest. What
followed, Mr. Ix>ng describes thus:
In a little while she came back again, this
time without food, and hovered over the nest,
trying every way to induce the little one to
leave it. She succeeded at last, when, with a
desperate effort, he sprang upward and flapped
to the ledge above. Then, after surveying the
world gravely from his new place, he flapped
back to the nest, and turned a deaf ear to all his
mother's assurances that he could fly just as
easily to the treetops below, if he only would.
Suddenly, as if discouraged, she rose well
above him. I held my breath, for I knew wfaat
was coming. The little fellow stood on the edge
of the nest, looking down at the plunge which
he dared not take. There was a sharp cry from
behind, which made him alert, tense as a watchspring.
The next instant the mother-eagle had
swooped, striking the nest at his feet, sending
his support, of twigs and himself with them out
into the air together.