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lip nnb Bo ton the (Ecast…

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lip nnb Bo ton the (Ecast THE BETTER PART. Something has been gained when the perve&te .statej of public opinion on s.ay important matter ho: beenjj iully realized. Here is a short cutting from a ,j:¡ilYI paper: jj "The Moso.r Gazztte of Sunday remark, thai 1 the statements of the Duke of Cambridge and 3 Lord Wolseley in reference to the state of the j British Army proves England's weakness. 'She j stands," adds the journal, 'on the brink of ruir. | and can no longer expect to have any weight in 8 Europe, but must be content to play the part of j a peaceful commercial state. j What could be better for England and the world gene • rally than that England should "play the part of a1 peaceful commercial state. Surely this is not ruin This is said to be the object of all the wars this nation as engaged in. The sooner ruin of this kind corner tv: England and to all Europe the better it will be for. everybody. The United States play the part of aj peaceful commercial state, and the United States are. not altogether despicable. How nations are cheated of; peace by warmakers 3IAKING LITTLE PROVIDENCES. § One of the London daily papers has been discu3bi:;gw the subject of life insurance. It seems that lIterary men, including journalists and writers like myself, ar, negligent in this respect. The desire of men to erect a little Providence between them and disaster is great When Victor Hugo was rather impertinently asked one day "Whether he believed in Providence, his answer was "Certainly, why should I notWhy I am a little Providence myself." The poet confirniedg this observation by leaving behind him £ ioC\000,|| including the fruits of his policies. The man who does not insure his life is looked upon as not having done all that he could to provide for his family. Filled! with thia-impressiou I once went to the local agent of a first-elass insurance office, and told him I wanted to insure my life for the sum of blank pounds. I was not quite sure how I was going to raise the "unuaJ premiums but I wanted to be a little Providence, and I was determined to do Iny duty by my wife and children, at any rate as far as duty was expressed by insurinp my life. I told the agent that I would not pay a penny more than was provided in the office's tables and that. I would tell all the truth. From a life insurance point of view my family history leaves much to be desircd. I filled up the necessary papers, got the certificate 01 my birth and other certificates, was examined by a doctor, and awaited the result. The result came and it was that the office definitely and finally declined to insure my life at all! This was rather rough on my wife and family and not very smooth on me, but I felt that I had dom my duty and that if I died prematurely my friends would say Well, he tried to insure his life, poor fellow, but they would not have him," ani would not think ill of me on that account. Nearly twenty years have passed away since the and I am still alive and capable of paying premiums. I have been dead and buried since then. Perhaps it was that startling event, casting its shadow before, that influenced the insurance office. I have never tried to insure my life since, and it is sad to think that I may be numbered with the improvident journalists who neglect to insure their lives. I dare say the refusal to accept me would have shortened my days if I had not long ago resolved that it should be a fatal disease, and no1; fear, that killed me. Let my friends remember thesu things when I have ceased to 1-,e. THAT WHICH WE CANNOT 6.4Y. However sorely smitten you may be by sorrow, or however highly you may be exalted bjr joy, small and: common-place incidents will interpose themselves. Officialism, domestic trivialities, routine, formal souai amenities, business details, all claim attention and raakf clear to you that they are paramount. You have language for them, but for the supreme joy or sorrow you have no words, or have only truisms. For the great voids of life as for its supreme fulnesses there is no speech. We stand in the presence of fateful events, either utterly dumb or with empty parrot-like words on our lips, We are all children of tragedy, and play out our parts as if life were something else. A by-play of farce and comedy is often forced upon us, but the tragedy goes on until the last scene in the fifth act! We walk on the earth's green, flower-sprinkled sur- face. We see the trees in leafy fulness. We hear the untranslatable songs of birds. We see the light in the sky. We look at the rounded hills. We listen to the ancient music of running water. We watch the heavy- winged rooks tlying homewards in the evening. This was all visible to men like us who died before we were born. and will he visible to men like us many year after we are dead. Now, we are here and alive andl conscious of our surroundings we can say notnmg— nothing that is not far less expressive that silence, You thought you were the only person who had thoughts like these. No, life is the same awful gift to us all. The thought or desir or longing that die unuttered in you dies unutten. I in other lives than yours. This common fellowship of dumbness—this! community of joy and sorrow is what makes life possible. All that you are, the person next to you. is— obstructed more or less as the case may be. What shall you do? Do nothing. Bt. There is very little indeed that is worth doing, very little that is not better left undone. I know that you must work. I know that you have duties to discharge. I know that you want to fill some place in the world. Kg still and listen. Be patient and open-eyed. The day of life i brief, and we are none of us of much account. Do you see that beggar on the roadside. That is yon under other circumstances. Do you see that criminal. That also is you under heavier temptation. You cannot say what your life is that it should not have been, or what it is not that it should have been. You grasp at what seem like substances and learn that they are shadows. There is nothing of much conse- quence in life but life, or it would be given to all. Depend upon it everything that is of consequence i ours—the possession of all of us. Nothing is wrong in the world except what we have made wrong, and nothing needs putting right except our own wrong doing. But we are so incomplete. Not so incomplete, my friend, as you imagine. The possessions you locg for, whatever they are, are in the hands of men and women who are still incomplete. It is not what you obtain from outside of you, but what you possess within you that makes you complete. But the world is so full of pain and sorrow. There is much in the world we know that is sad, but there nu,y be mach more in the world we do not know that ia^eot sad. Let us remember our utter ignorance even o^he world about us, and be patient and humble and mindful of our own utter ignorance of even what is good. I am confident above all doubt or fear that the world is altogether right in some deeper, wider, and more abiding sense than it is wrong, and I do not think there is much for me or any man to do but to mend his own errors and mistakes. The Coast. P. W.

ABERERCH, PWLLHELI.

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