No! Then you might be worse off."

And I went on a little farther and I met the brave firemen going home
drenched and worn from the big fire. "You coward!" said I to myself,
"what if you were a fireman! Something to growl about then, I guess."

And I went a bit farther and I saw a little white coffin in a window.
"How about that?" said I. "If the darlings were gone to their long
home you might talk about trouble!"

And a few moments later I ran across an old man without any legs,
peddling papers. And then I said: "Do you call your life a grind,
madam, with two legs to walk upon, and a sufficient income to admit of
an occasional fling? What if you had wooden legs, and peddled papers?"

Now, I have told you this for a purpose. However dark your lot may be
there are worse all around you. You may be inclined to think that the
bloom and the brightness have gone out of your life, leaving nothing
behind them but what remains of the carnation when the frost finds
it--a withered stalk. But if you will take the trouble to watch, you
will find that there is always something harder to bear than your own
trouble, and, put to the test, you wouldn't change crosses with your
neighbor.

XVIII.

RIPE OPPORTUNITIES.

What if a man went over the lake to St. Joe to visit the peach orchards
at the maturity of their delicious harvest! The consent of the owner
of the fairest plantation of the many has been gained, let us imagine,
for the plucking of the perfect fruit. And yet, in despite of
opportunity and privilege, what would you think of one who came home
with empty baskets and an unappeased relish for ripe peaches? Would
you not think such a one a dullard, or, at least, stupidly blind to his
opportunities? And if you chanced to hear him crying over his empty
basket later on, would you not revile him for a lazy fellow? We all of
us, from day to day, miss chances of far greater value than the ripest
peach that ever mellowed in the sun. The opportunity to say a kind and
encouraging word swings low upon the bough of to-day. Why not gather
it in? The chance to help, to succor, to protect, the chance to lend a
helping hand, to share a burden, to soothe a sorrow, to plant a loving
thought, or twine a memory that shall blossom like a rose upon the
terrace of to-morrow, all are our own as we pass through the world on
our way to heaven. We may not come this way again. See to it, then,
that we carry full baskets on t