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Tacts and Tancies for the Tireside WHICH ARE YOU? We recently saw one of our citi zens going home with a small basket of fruit. A few evenings later we passed him again and he had a small package of candy. On both occasions we were walking with the same gen tleman who remarked to us that the man with the candy was a good fel low, but blew in all he made so fool ishly. We merely smiled in reply, but could not help, in our own mind, as we walked along, drawing a con trast between the two men. One was smoking a cigar that cost as much as the candy. Burning into ashes and blowing out into the air the money the other spent for knick-knacks that brought a smile of happiness to the cheek he once thought so rosy, and gladdened eyes that still sparkled like a thousand diamonds with their tell-tale love for him; carrying home, one by one, the sweetest memories of life; building evening after evening an image in a little heart of “Home, Sweet Home” that no time, even into eternity, would destroy. Nourish ing and kindling a new love that would in old age look back to those happy home comings and bless his memory as the dearest papa that ever lived. But what of our friend, the critic? Yes, what of him? Which of the two had you rather have been? Which of the two are you? WORK ON. (Richmond Journal.) When a man is born into this world his work is born with him. There is much work to be done and a need for all the workers. Each must do the work his hands find to do or stand aside for another. The work must be done. If you are a worker the only thing to be done is to — Work on. Your work, be very sure —whatever it is—is important. Because all work is important. No useful labor is lost. No life is in vain. There is no star without a purpose and there is no life without a purpose. Your life and your work are necessary—they count for something. They are parcels of the great life and of the great work. Work on. It is not always easy to see the pur pose of one’s life work. It is difficult to know the outcome. But it is also difficult to know the beginning. But there was a beginning and there is an JOHN A. STEWART COKE S. DAVIS STEWART & DAVIS Life, Accident, Casualty and Surety Insurance 504-5 6 PRUDENTIAL BUILDING. .... ATLANTA, GEORGIA MANAGERS: THE MARYLAND LIFE INSURANCE CO., of Baltimore; THE GENERAL ACCIDENT, of Perth, Scotland; THE METROPOLITAN SURETY CO., of New York. Live Agents in Georgia cities and towns can increase their writing capacity and earnings by communicating with us. Special Inducements Offered First-Class Men outcome. What matters it if both first and last are unseen? Life is here. And work. And both are parts of the whole. Work on. The weaver who sits all day long at the shuttle cannot see all the beauty of the fabric, but every flight of the bright steel helps on the outcome. Do not stop your little machine. It is in timately belted up with millions of other machines, big and little. Make your dole of the output. Do not spoil the smallest part of the weaving. Work on. Somewhere out of sight and sense is the big dynamo that sets all the shafts to running. You are connect ed up with one of the whirling line shafts. All you need to do is to see that your pulleys run true. Keep your little machine going right. The head engineer will look after the rest. Work on. Work for the joy of working. Work because life and health and salvation depend upon youi working. You are built that way. What would become of you were there no work to do? Work on! Whatever your work — whether it be of highest art or wheth er it be the heaving of clay out of the ditch —• Work on. When the timekeeper shall call out “Time!” it is soon enough to quit. Not before, A JAPANESE VIEW OF AMERICAN WOMEN. (New York American.) Have American women too much power? Captain Tanaka, official interpreter for General Kuroki and former right hand man of Marshal Oyama, says they have. This is the difference between the Oriental and Occidental viewpoint. In Asia women have nothing to say out side the home and little inside. Japan has taken on many Western ideas. It yet remains for her to ac cept the notion of the freedom and power of women. A civilization that lacks this is only half a civilization. Woman’s influence is prominent in America, and very much that is high est and best in our national life is due to that fact. Many of the great est chapters in the Revolution and Civil war relate to women. WATSON’S WEEKLY JEFFERSONIAN. In peace where can be found a finer character than Frances Willard? To every present-day movement of uplift and betterment, great-souled ; unselfish women are giving their lives. The crowning glory of American civilization is the public school sys tem. There the feminine influence is dominant. Women are the spiritualizing force of our day. The respect for mother or wife makes the character of good men. Finally, the greater liberty of wo men and reverence for them mark the superiority of the civilization of the West over that of the East. IDLENESS. (Cordele Rambler.) Is the woman who wastes her life in society, playing bridge, dancing and other frivolous amusements any better than a young man who leads an empty life of idleness? We sub mit that we cannot see any material difference, and know no reason why self-respect shouldn’t require a wo man to be useful as well as man. A woman has fully as important work as a man to perform and if she wants to preserve her self-respect she must get busy at something useful. For tunately for our race there are only a few of the worthless, frivolous kind to whom we refer. Amusements are all well enough at times, but to make a life work of frolic is degrading to womankind. THE LAST LEAF. I saw him once before, As he pass’d by the door; And again The pavement-stones resound As he totters o’er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the crier on his round Through the town. But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets Sad and wan; And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, “They are gone.” The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has press’d In their bloom; And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb. My grandmamma has said — Poor old lady! she is Long ago—■ That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff; And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. J know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here, But the old three-corner’d hat, And the breeches —and all that, Are so queer! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree In the spring, Let them smile, as I do now, At the old forsaken bough Where I cling. —Oliver Wendell Holmes. THE CHILD MUSICIAN. He had played for his lordship’s levee, He had played for her ladyship’s whim, Till the poor little head was heavy, And the poor little brain would swim. And the face grew peaked and eerie, And the large eyes strange and bright, And they said —too late —“He is weary! He shall rest for at least tonight!” But at dawn, when the birds were waking. As they watched in the silent room, With the sound of a strained cord breaking, A something snapped in the gloom. ’Twas a string of his violincello And they heard him stir in his bed: “Make room for a tired little fellow, King God!” was the last that he said. —Austin Dobson. PAGE ELEVEN