Sentiment is contagious. My boy caught the happy mental disorder much earlier than his father did. A few weeks ago, he, too, started a menagerie. He caught two mice and put them in a cage. At the end of two weeks his young heart felt the sentimental pangs of conscience, and he liberated his unwilling prisoners.
The world is growing better. The boy’s sentiment did as much for him in two weeks as mine did for me in two years. The two liberated mice may do me a trifle of damage while at large, but when I consider that the boy let his heart out at the same time he liberated the mice, I knew the world would be the gainer in the end.
THE SOUL OF SORROW
Sorrow is not always gruesome and heart-breaking. It has a lifetime influence, providing the fiber of the soul is strong enough to withstand the strain. Not long ago there was a musical contest in a Pennsylvania city, and one of the young ladies to take part in it had given up the thought of going into the contest, because her mother lay at the point of death the day previous to the departure of the companies who were going to the distant city to show what their town could do in a musical way.
But during the night the mother’s condition changed for the better, and she urged her daughter to go; for on her the town depended to bring back some of the prizes to be given to the sweetest singers of the state.
And so she went, her heart very much lighter since the happy change in her mother’s condition. Anyhow, going out into the world to compete for a prize, with some hope of winning, has a buoyant effect on the heart. Oh, if all the world could but feel a slight hope of winning a prize when starting out in the world, how much happier the world would be! But to most of the average people the world’s prizes are hanging up so distressingly high that only the well prepared have any chance of winning them.
The parents who carelessly or helplessly send their children out into the world uneducated, to compete with college graduates, are sending them into a hard proposition. And the state government that will sleep while one portion of the people are being educated to take care of themselves, and a larger number are growing up in helpless ignorance and sent out into the world to compete with the few educated ones—the state or public that can sleep while such an injustice is being perpetrated on the weakest and most helpless of its subjects, needs to have its conscience touched with the awakening finger of justice. The boasting cry that in this country everybody’s child has an equal opportunity to gain a livelihood, is as false as hell. There are colleges in our so-called free land where the son of a ditch digger or a washerwoman could no more enter than a miserly rich man can enter the kingdom of heaven.
But I have drifted. I can’t help but drift. Every time I try to paint a picture, the injustice of the unjust crowd in and fill the distant perspective, and get painted into the sunset and change the gold into blackened lead.
Just one hour before the young lady was to go on the stage to sing her solo, a dispatch brought the sad and shocking news that her mother was dead. Nobody who knew of the sad news thought for a moment that the bereaved and heartbroken girl would attempt to sing. They were all disappointed, of course, but who could ask her to go on the stage with a sorrow as deep as hers? But she did not break down. Oh, she had been so confident of winning the prize, and her town’s people would be so greatly disappointed if she failed!