Is it worth while that we jostle a brother.
Bearing his load on the rough road of life?
Is it worth while that we jeer at each other
In blackness of heart that we war to the knife?
God pity us all in our pitiful strife.
God pity as all as we jostle each other;
God pardon us all for the triumph we feel
When a fellow goes down 'neath his load on the heather,
Pierced to the heart: Words are keener than steel,
And mightier far for woe than for weal,
Were it not well, in this brief little journey
On over the isthmus, down into the tide,
We give him a fish instead of a serpent,
Ere folding the hands to be and abide
Forever and aye in dust at his side?
Look at the roses saluting each other;
Look at the herds all at peace on the plain;
Man, and man only, makes war on his brother,
And laughs in his heart at his peril and pain,
Shamed by the beasts that go down on the plain.
Is it worth while that we battle to humble
Some poor fellow down into the dust?
God pity us all! Time too soon will tumble
All of us together, like leaves in a gust,
Humbled, indeed, down into the dust.
Joaquin Miller.

Life's Mirror

There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave,
There are souls that are pure and true;
Then give to the world the best you have,
And the best will come back to you.
Give love, and love to your life will flow,
A strength in your utmost need;
Have faith, and a score of hearts will show
Their faith in your work and deed.
Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind;
And honor will honor meet,
And the smile which is sweet will surely find
A smile that is just as sweet.
Give pity and sorrow to those who mourn;
You will gather in flowers again
The scattered seeds from your thought outborne,
Though the sowing seemed in vain.
For life is the mirror of king and slave;
'Tis just what we are and do;
Then give to the world the best you have,
And the best will come back to you.
Madeline S. Bridges.

The Little Black-Eyed Rebel

A boy drove into the city, his wagon loaded down
With food to feed the people of the British-governed town;
And the little black-eyed rebel, so cunning and so sly,
Was watching for his coming from the corner of her eye.
His face was broad and honest, his hands were brown and tough,
The clothes he wore upon him were homespun, coarse, and rough;
But one there was who watched him, who long time lingered nigh,
And cast at him sweet glances from the corner of her eye.
He drove up to the market, he waited in the line—
His apples and potatoes were fresh and fair and fine.
But long and long he waited, and no one came to buy,
Save the black-eyed rebel, watching from the corner of her eye.
"Now, who will buy my apples?" he shouted, long and loud;
And, "Who wants my potatoes?" he repeated to the crowd.
But from all the people round him came no word of reply,
Save the black-eyed rebel, answering from the corner of her eye.
For she knew that 'neath the lining of the coat he wore that day
Were long letters from the husbands and the fathers far away,
Who were fighting for the freedom that they meant to gain, or die;
And a tear like silver glistened in the corner of her eye.
But the treasures—how to get them? crept the question through her mind,
Since keen enemies were watching for what prizes they might find;
And she paused a while and pondered, with a pretty little sigh,
Then resolve crept through her features, and a shrewdness fired her eye.
So she resolutely walked up to the wagon old and red—
"May I have a dozen apples for a kiss?" she sweetly said;
And the brown face flushed to scarlet, for the boy was somewhat shy,
And he saw her laughing at him from the corner of her eye.
"You may have them all for nothing, and more, if you want," quoth he.
"I will have them, my good fellow, but can pay for them," said she.
And she clambered on the wagon, minding not who all were by,
With a laugh of reckless romping in the corner of her eye.
Clinging round his brawny neck, she clasped her fingers white and small,
And then whispered, "Quick! the letters! thrust them underneath my shawl!
Carry back again this package, and be sure that you are spry!"
And she sweetly smiled upon him from the corner of her eye.
Loud the motley crowd was laughing at the strange, ungirlish freak;
And the boy was scared and panting, and so dashed he could not speak.
And "Miss, I have good apples," a bolder lad did cry;
But she answered, "No, I thank you," from the corner of her eye.
With the news from loved ones absent to the dear friends they would greet,
Searching them who hungered for them, swift she glided through the street.
"There is nothing worth the doing that it does not pay to try,"
Thought the little black-eyed rebel with a twinkle in her eye.
Will Carleton.

A Day Well Spent

If you sit down at set of sun
And count the deeds that you have done,
And, counting, find
One self-denying act, one word that eased the heart of him that heard;
One glance most kind, which felt like sunshine where it went,
Then you may count that day well spent.
But if through, all the livelong day
You've eased no heart by yea or nay,
If through it all you've nothing done that you can trace
That brought the sunshine to one face,
No act most small that helped some soul and nothing cost,
Then count that day as worse than lost.