ore;
They are learning the new gospel, man must be his brother's keeper,
And right, not might, shall triumph, and the selfish rule no more.

--Sarah Knowles Bolton.

To a darning-needle once exclaimed the kitchen sieve,
"You've a hole right through your body, and I wonder how you live."
But the needle (who was sharp) replied, "I too have wondered
That you notice my _one_ hole, when in you there are a hundred!"

--Saadi, tr. by James Freeman Clarke.

LOOKING FOR PEARLS

The Master came one evening to the gate
Of a fair city; it was growing late,
And sending his disciples to buy food,
He wandered forth intent on doing good,
As was his wont. And in the market-place
He saw a crowd, close gathered in one space,
Gazing with eager eyes upon the ground,
Jesus drew nearer, and thereon he found
A noisome creature, a bedraggled wreck--
A dead dog with a halter round his neck,
And those who stood by mocked the object there,
And one said, scoffing, "It pollutes the air!"
Another, jeering, asked, "How long to-night
Shall such a miscreant cur offend our sight?"
"Look at his torn hide," sneered a Jewish wit,
"You could not cut even a shoe from it,"
And turned away. "Behold his ears that bleed,"
A fourth chimed in, "an unclean wretch indeed!"
"He hath been hanged for thieving," they all cried.
And spurned the loathsome beast from side to side.
Then Jesus, standing by them in the street,
Looked on the poor, spent creature at his feet,
And, bending o'er him, spake unto the men,
"_Pearls are not whiter than his teeth._" And then
The people at each other gazed, asking,
"Who is this stranger pitying this vile thing?"
Then one exclaimed, with awe-abated breath,
"This surely is the Man of Nazareth;
This must be Jesus, for none else but he
Something to praise in a dead dog could see!"
And, being ashamed, each scoffer bowed his head,
And from the sight of Jesus turned and fled.

Vice is a monster of so frightful mien
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

--Alexander Pope.

WHAT MIGHT BE DONE

What might be done if men were wise--
What glorious deeds, my suffering brother,
Would they unite
In love and right,
And ceas