SAVING DISAPPROVED
Down with the little toy savings-bank! I believe it teaches children to be selfish. I hate to see a child, a sweet, innocent child, with dimpled hands and a laughing face, clutch the penny or the nickel you give it close in its little fingers, and run first to drop it into the greedy, miserly “savings-bank,” and then come back to thank you. We teach the child to be selfish when we give it a penny to drop in the missionary-box and fifty cents to buy a toy for itself; to dole out a penny a week for charity and keep the savings-bank rattling full. But haven’t I a savings-bank in my home? Indeed I have; and I’d like to see you or any other man, except one of my dear friends the Vanderbilts, pour money into the top of that savings bank as fast as the prince can draw it out of the bottom. That’s the way to run a bank. Make her useful; milk her. “Mr. Speaker,” said the California legislator, “may I ask how much money there is in the State treasury?” The speaker estimated about $40,000. “Then,” said the member, “I move to rake her. What good does the money do locked up? If you don’t spend it, some alderman will get hold of it.”—Robert Burdette.
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Saving Life—See [Life-saving by Wireless].
Savings of Aliens—See [Prosperity as an Advertisement].
Saviors—See [Personality as a Redemptive Force].
SCARS OF WAR HEALED
To-day the shells and fragments used in the war between Russia and Japan are to be found only in the junk-shops of Port Arthur, and crops of vegetables and millet mantle with living green some of the fort-hills where desolation and death reigned during the five months of the siege.
The bloodstains and the gruesome dis-coloring of the soil around the edges of some of the shallow, overcrowded graves have disappeared. There was no trace left of the largest blood blotch, a dreadful black smut twenty feet by four or five feet on the side of 203-Meter Hill, which was in evidence for many months after the last fighting. God’s healing rains have washed the hill clean and are filling in and covering with the green of His love the trenches and other scars left by man’s lust and hate. (Text.)
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