ld,
And through the stress he found that life was good
And I? The bitter wormwood in the glass,
The shadowed way along which failures pass!
Yet as I saw him thus, joy came to me--
He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be!

I knew him! And I knew he knew me for
The man HE might have been. Then did his soul
Thank silently the gods that gave him strength
To win, while I so sorely missed the goal?
He turned, and quickly in his own firm hand
He took my own--the gulf of Failure spanned, ...
And that was all--strong, self-reliant, free,
He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be!

We did not speak. But in his sapient eyes
I saw the spirit that had urged him on,
The courage that had held him through the fight
Had once been mine, I thought, "Can it be gone?"
He felt that unasked question--felt it so
His pale lips formed the one-word answer, "No!"

* * * * *

Too late to win? No! Not too late for me--
He is the Man that Still I Mean to Be!

_Everard Jack Appleton._

From "The Quiet Courage."

THE JOY OF LIVING

Men too often act as if life were nothing more than hardships to be
endured and difficulties to be overcome. They look upon what is happy or
inspiring with eyes that really fail to see. As Wordsworth says of Peter
Bell,

"A primrose by the river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more."

But to stop now and then and realize that the world is fresh and buoyant
and happy, will do much to keep the spirit young. We should be glad that
we are alive, should tell ourselves often in the words of Charles Lamb:
"I am in love with this green earth."

The south wind is driving
His splendid cloud-horses
Through vast fields of blue.
The bare woods are singing,
The brooks in their courses
Are bubbling and springing
And dancing and leaping,
The violets peeping.
I'm glad to be living:
Aren't you?

_Gamaliel Bradford._

THERE WILL ALWAYS BE SOMETHING TO DO

An old lady, famous for her ability to find in other people traits that
she could commend, was challenged to say a good word for the devil.
After a moment's hesitation she answered, "You must at least give him
credit for being industrious." Perhaps it is this superactivity of Satan
that causes beings less wickedly inclined to have such scope for the
exercise of their qualities. Certain it is that nobody need h