strength of the dew. The silent fall of the dew is caused and controlled by agencies of the most tremendous power; the same power that shakes a whole continent with its subterranean thunder is the same as that which encircles the finest filament of thistle-down with a coronet of dewy gems so small that they do not bend the delicate stalks with their weight.—London Globe.
(1339)
HANDS, HELPING
A German legend tells of a poor lad, the
only son of his widowed mother, who went
out every morning to earn bread for both,
when he found a pair of giant hands helping
him in every task.
What are the forces of nature when
enlisted on one's side but just such giant
hands?
(1340)
HAPPINESS
The stream is not marred, it is made only
more beautiful, when broken by rocks, and
sweeping through eddies, than when silently
gliding through the sodded canal. And so
the happiness which is found in a course
passed amid the conditions that invest us in
this life, may be only brighter, more full and
more animated, for its very interruptions.
The pleasure shall be more radiant than ever,
when contrasting the darkness of an overpast
sorrow.—Richard S. Storrs.
(1341)
Dr. Raffles once said: "I have made it a rule never to be with any one ten minutes without trying to make him happier." It was a remark of Dr. Dwight that one who makes a little child happier for half an hour is a fellow worker with God.
A little boy said to his mother: "I couldn't make sister happy nohow I could fix it. But I made myself happy trying to make her happy." "I make Jim happy," said another boy, speaking of his invalid brother. "He laughs and that makes me happy, and I laugh." "To love and to be loved," said Sydney Smith, "is the greatest happiness of existence."
(1342)
HAPPINESS AS A GOOD
Entomologists tell us that millions of insects,
generations whose numbers must be
counted by myriads, are born and die within
the compass of one summer's day. Perfected
with the morning, they flutter through their
sunny life; and the evening, when it turns
its shadow upon the earth, becomes to their
animated and tuneful being a universal
grave. It is impossible to understand for
what end this is done, unless we accept the
happiness which these share, as a good in
itself; a good so great, in the judgment of
the Creator, and of those who look with
Him on the creation, as to justify the expenditure
of such wisdom and force on their
delicate, harmonious, but ephemeral structure;
and to make this structure illustrative
of His glory.—Richard S. Storrs.
(1343)
HAPPINESS COMMUNICATED
In Los Angeles, when the rose festival
comes, the child, going through the streets,
breathes perfume, and for days the sweetness
clings to the garments. And all good
men exhale happiness as they pass through
life.—N. D. Hillis.
(1344)
HAPPINESS, DEARTH OF
Lord Byron, who drank of every cup that
earth could give him, and who had all the
ministries of earth around him, with an intellectual
and physical nature that could dive
down into deepest depths and could soar to
the highest heights, whose wings when
spread could touch either pole, just before
he died, sitting in a gay company, was meditative
and moody. They looked at him and
said, "Byron, what are you thinking so
seriously about?" "Oh," he said, "I was
sitting here counting up the number of happy
days I have had in this world. I can count
but eleven, and I was wondering if I would
ever make up the dozen in this world of
tears and pangs and sorrows." (Text.)—"Famous
Stories of Sam P. Jones."
(1345)
HAPPINESS FROM WITHIN
We think that if a certain event were to
come to pass, if some rare good fortune
should befall us, our stock of happiness
would be permanently increased, but the
chances are that it would not; after a time
we should settle back to the old every-day
level. We should get used to the new conditions,
the new prosperity, and find life
wearing essentially the same tints as before.
Our pond is fed from hidden springs; happiness
is from within, and outward circumstances
have but little power over it.—John
Habberton, The Chautauquan.
(1346)
HAPPINESS, IMPARTING
A poor man went into a wealthy merchant's
counting-house one day and saw piles
of bank-notes which the clerks were busy
in counting. The poor man thought of his
desolate home, and the needs of his family,
and, almost without thinking, he said to him-
