I The Higher Levels The Real and the Ideal The Bread of Life Life's Unvarying Values The ideal is the mold in which the real is cast. Half of success is in seeing the significance of little things. He finds no weal who flees all woe. You do not make life sacred by looking sad. Sympathy is a key that fits the lock of any heart. Soul health will not come by taking religion as a dose. Many a cloud that we call sorrow is but the shadow of... more...

CHARACTER. Everything in the practical conduct of life depends upon character. What is character? What do we mean by it? As when we say such a man is a bad character, or a good character, or when we use the words, "I don't like the character of that man." By character we mean what a man really is, at the back of all his actions and his reputation and the opinion the world has of him, in the very depth of his being, in the sight of God, "to... more...

Our Best Friend IN A log cabin in the mountains lived a little boy. He often played near the house, but did not go far away. Near the house were many trees and rocks and among these wild animals stayed.   DOWN BY THE SPRING One day the boy missed his mama and thought he would try to find her. He went down the path toward the spring, where he had often gone after water. He went on and on. Finally he wished to return, but did not know the... more...

GO-ING TO CHURCH. How neat and nice this lit-tle boy and his sis-ter look, go-ing in their Sun-day clothes to church! The lit-tle girl has, I dare say, her prayer book in her bag, and her bro-ther has his un-der his arm. They seem by their fa-ces, to be good chil-dren, and ap-pear ve-ry fond of each oth-er. They have been taught by their kind pa-rents, that it is their du-ty to at-tend di-vine wor-ship, and pray to God, and the lit-tle girl is... more...

CHAPTER I A CHICAGO NEWSBOY "News and Mail, one cent each!" Half a dozen Chicago newsboys, varying in age from ten to sixteen years, with piles of papers in their hands, joined in the chorus. They were standing in front and at the sides of the Sherman House, on the corner of Clark and Randolph Streets, one of the noted buildings in the Lake City. On the opposite side of Randolph Street stands a gloomy stone structure, the Court House and City... more...

MABINI Mabini was undoubtedly the most profound thinker and political philosopher that the Pilipino race ever produced. Some day, when his works are fully published, but not until then, Mabini will come into his own. A great name awaits him, not only in the Philippines, for he is already appreciated there, but in every land where the cause of liberty and human freedom is revered. Mabini was born in Tanawan, province of Batangas, island of... more...

CHAPTER I—THE GLEN You find it dull walking up here upon Hartford Bridge Flat this sad November day?  Well, I do not deny that the moor looks somewhat dreary, though dull it need never be.  Though the fog is clinging to the fir-trees, and creeping among the heather, till you cannot see as far as Minley Corner, hardly as far as Bramshill woods—and all the Berkshire hills are as invisible as if it was a dark... more...

ITHE LITTLE FRICTION MATCH I remember being once upon a time ten miles from a store and one mile from a neighbor; the fire had gone out in the night, and the last match failed to blaze. We had no flint and steel. We were neither Indians nor Boy Scouts, and we did not know how to make a fire by twirling a stick. There was nothing to do but to trudge off through the snow to the neighbor a mile away and beg some matches. Then was the time when we... more...

THE EAGLE. The Eagle is often called the King of Birds, and therefore it is of him that we ought to speak first. Very likely you have often seen eagles in the Zoological Gardens, and, if so, you know what noble looking birds they are. But they seem very sad in their prison-houses, to which no kindness can ever attach them. They are formed to soar boldly to the top of some lonely mountain height, and there dwell far from the abode of men. And to... more...

CHAPTER I. I LEAVE HOME I was born at Oulton, in Suffolk, in the year 1672. I know not the day of my birth, but it was in March, a day or two after the Dutch war began. I know this, because my father, who was the clergyman at Oulton, once told me that in the night of my birth a horseman called upon him, at the rectory, to ask the way to Lowestoft. He was riding from London with letters for the Admiral, he said; but had missed his way somewhere... more...