A Scotch nobleman, seeing an old gardener of his establishment with a very ragged coat, made some passing remarks on its condition. "It's a verra guid coat," said the honest old man. "I can not agree with you there," said his lordship. "Ah, it's just a verra guid coat," persisted the old man; "it covers a contented spirit, and a body that owes no man anything, and that's mair than mony a man can say of his coat." (Text.)
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CHARACTER NOT PURCHASABLE
In an address, made not long before his death, Bishop Potter, of New York, said:
About a year ago there came into my
study in New York some one whom I had
never seen, a stranger whose name sent in
upon his card I did not recognize, and whose
errand I could not divine. "Sir," he said, "I
am from such and such a part of the country.
In that part of the country a very fierce
political campaign is now in progress. One
of your clergy is attacking from the pulpit
the moral character and moral standards of
a gentleman, a candidate there for a very
high office, whom I represent."
I said: "I have not got any clergymen out in that part of the world. I have no more jurisdiction there than you have." He said: "Perhaps not in the sense you mean, but it is one of your men." "Thank God for that," said I. "As he came from here he believes in you, and he thinks that sort of talk is his duty." "What do you want me to do?" I asked. "I want you to stop it," said he, "and I am authorized by the distinguished gentleman whom I represent to say that if you will stop it he will make it worth your while."
I felt like saying, "I will come high." I got up and walked to the door. I opened it and stood there. He looked there a moment in some perplexity. I said: "Does it not occur to you, sir, that this interview is at an end." He went out.
I mention that incident as a proof of the statement I have made here. Here was a person in a distant part of the country, a candidate for a very high position, who had not the smallest hesitation in sending an emissary to me with an intimation that if I were prepared to silence a speaker who was saying disagreeable things that money would be put to make it worth my while. I am saying that with that symptomatic you can not ignore the appalling significance of such a condition of things. (Text.)
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CHARACTER POTS
I had sometimes caught a glimpse of the
small scullery-maid at my boarding-house;
but one day, slipping to the kitchen for a
cup of hot water, I had a queer bit of a chat
with her. She was scouring granite pots
with a vim and vigor which were bound to
bring results, and all the while her face was
as shining as her finished work.
"Do you like them, Alice?" I asked.
"No, I hate them," she replied emphatically.
"What makes you smile so over them, then?" I asked, curiously.
"Because they're 'character pots,'" the child replied at once.
"What?" I inquired, thinking I had misunderstood.
"'Character pots,' miss. You see, I used to only half clean them. I often cried over them, but Miss Mary told me as how, if I made them real shiny, they'd help to build my character. And ever since then I've tried hard, miss; and, oh, it's been so much easier since I've known they were 'character pots.'"
I said a word or two of encouragement, and went on my way, knowing that I had been rubbing up against a real heroine. Every-day life is brimful of disagreeable duties. Why not turn them every one into "character pots?"—East and West.
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CHARACTER SELF-COMMENDING
It is told of Antipater, an officer in Alexander's
army and a favorite in his court,
that one day Philip of Macedon, placed in
a position which required special vigilance,
made his appearance at a late hour in the
morning, with the apology: "I have slept
rather late this morning, but then I knew
that Antipater was awake." And at another
time, when some person exprest surprize that
Antipater did not clothe himself in a purple
robe, the badge of nobility and greatness, as
the other commanders and ministers of state
were accustomed to do, Alexander replied:
"Those men wear purple on the outside, but
Antipater is purple within."
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CHARACTER SHOWN IN THE FEET
Distinctions of character are not seen,
really, in the feet themselves, but in what
the owner does with them. Sometimes it is
