despairing patience, a bright-faced
boy of perhaps ten or twelve years of age happened along. Seeing the
dilemma of the horse, the little fellow stopped and said: "Halloa,
can't get your oats, can you? Never mind, I'll fix you!" And
straightway he shortened up the straps that held the bag in place, and,
with a kindly pat and a cheery word which the grateful horse seemed to
appreciate, went his way. I would like to be the mother, or the aunt,
or even the first cousin of that boy. I would rather that he should
belong to me than that I should own a Paganini violin, or a first-water
diamond the size of a Concord grape. Bless his heart, wherever he is,
and may he long continue to live in a world that needs him. Kindness
of heart, and tenderness; consideration for the needs of the helpless
and the weak, and the courage that dares be true to a merciful impulse,
are traits that go far toward the make-up of angels. We need
tender-hearted boys more than we need a new tariff to bring up and
develop the resources of the country. The boy that succeeds in
bringing in the greatest number of dead sparrows may be the embryo man
of the future, and you may praise his energy and his smartness, but
give me the boy who took the trouble to adjust the nose-bag every time.
A little less business acumen, a good bit less greed and cruelty, will
tell on future character to the comfort of all concerned.

LV.

POLICY A DAMASCUS BLADE, NOT A CLUB.

Policy in the hands of a diplomat is like a sharp sword in the grasp of
an able fencer, but policy in the hands of fools, is like a good knife
wielded by a half-wit. It takes brains to be truly politic, the
unfortunate person who attempts to be cautious, and wise, and reticent,
and to let policy thread every action as a string runs through glass
beads, only succeeds in making himself ridiculous. To be afraid to
speak what is in your mind for fear you will make yourself unpopular,
to be too cautious to mention the fact that you are having a new latch
put on your front gate for fear that you might be over-communicative,
to be backward in taking sides for fear of committing yourself to a
losing cause, may be politic to your own feeble intelligence, but in
the estimation of brainy folks it is a species of feline idiocy worse
than fits.

LVI.

THE CONSTANT YEARS BRING AGE TO ALL.

All day long it has been trying to snow out here in the country. To me
not even June, with its showe