stinies.

The incessant and persistent demand of our hearts and minds MUST be
granted.

That Mental Chisel

During a trolley ride through a thrifty New England locality, where
church spires were almost as plentiful as trees, I studied the faces of
the people who came into the car during my two hours' journey.

The day was beautiful, and all along the route our numbers were
recruited by bevies of women, young, middle aged and old, who were bent
on shopping expeditions or setting forth to make social calls.

They went and came at each village through which our coach of democracy
passed, and they represented all classes.

The young girls were lovely, as young girls are the world over: their
complexion possessed that soft tender luster, peculiar to seashore
localities, for the salty breath of Father Neptune is the greatest of
cosmetics. Many of the young faces were formed in classic mould, their
features clearly cut and refined, and severe, like the thoughts and
principles of their ancestors.

Often I observed a mother and some female relative, presumably an aunt,
in company with a young relative; and always the sharpening and
withering process of the years of set and unelastic thought was
discernible upon their faces, which had once been young, and classic
and attractive.

In the entire two hours I saw but three lovely faces which were matured
by time.

I saw scores of well-dressed and evidently well-cared-for women of
middle age, whose countenances were furrowed, drawn, pinched, sallow,
and worn, beyond excuse; for time, sorrow, and sickness are not
plausible excuses for such ravages upon a face God drew in lines of
beauty.

Time should mature a woman's beauty as it does that of a tree. Sorrow
should glorify it as does the frost the tree, and sickness should not
be allowed to lay a lingering touch upon it, until death calls the
spirit away.

Without question the great majority of the women I saw were earnest
orthodox Christians.

I heard snatches of conversation regarding Church and Charities and I
have no doubt that each woman among them believed herself to be a
disciple of Christ.

Yet where was the result of the loving, tender, sweet spirit of
Christ's teaching?

It surely was not visible upon those pinched and worried faces? and
those faces were certain and truthful chronicles of the work done by
the minds within.

One face said to me in every line, "I talk about God's goodness and
lovin