I said to a man, “This is a beautiful tree in
front of your house.”
He answered, with a whine, “Yes; but it will
fade.”
I said to him, “You have a beautiful garden.”
He replied, “Yes; but it will perish.”
I found out afterward that his son was a vagabond,
and I was not surprised at it.
You cannot groan men into decency, but you can groan
them out.
Pray ye that your flight be not in the winter!
Devote these December, January and February evenings
to high pursuits, innocent amusements, intelligent
socialities, and Christian attainments. Do not
waste this winter. We shall soon have seen the
last snow-shower, and have passed up into the companionship
of Him whose raiment is exceeding white as snow—as
no fuller on earth can whiten it.
To the right-hearted, the winter nights of earth will
soon end in the
June morning of heaven.
The River of God, from under the Throne, never freezes
over. The foliage of Life’s fair tree is
never frost-bitten. The festivals, and hilarities,
and family gatherings of Christmas times on earth,
will give way to the larger reunions, and the brighter
lights, and the gladder scenes, and the sweeter garlands,
and the richer feastings of the great holiday of Heaven.
One cannot always tell by a man’s coat what
kind of a heart he has under it; still, his dress
is apt to be the out-blossoming of his character,
and is not to be disregarded.
We make no indiscriminate onslaught upon customs of
dress. Why did God put spots on the pansy, or
etch the fern leaf? And what are china-asters
good for if style and color are of no importance?
The realm is as wide as the world, and as far-reaching
as all the generations, over which fashion hath extended
her sceptre. For thousands of years she hath
sat queen over all the earth, and the revolutions
that rock down all other thrones have not in the slighest
affected her domination. Other constitutions have
been torn, and other laws trampled; but to her decrees
conquerors have bowed their plumes, and kings have
uncovered. Victoria is not Queen of England; Napoleon
was not Emperor of France; Isabella was not Queen of
Spain. Fashion has been regnant over all the
earth; and lords and dukes, kings and queens, have
been the subjects of her realm.
She arranged the mantle of the patriarch, and the
toga of the Roman; the small shoe of the Chinese women,
and the turban of the Turk; the furs of the Laplander,
and the calumet of the Indian chieftain. Hottentot
and Siberian obey the mandate, as well as Englishman
and American. Her laws are written on parchment
and palm-leaf, on broken arch and cathedral tracery.
She arranged how the Egyptian mummy should be wound,
and how Caesar should ride, and how the Athenians should
speak, and how through the Venetian canals the gondoliers
should row their pleasure-boat. Her hand hath
hung the pillars with embroidery, and strewn the floor
with plush. Her loom hath woven fabrics graceful
as the snow and pure as the light. Her voice is
heard in the gold mart, in the roar of the street,
in the shuffle of the crowded bazaars, in the rattle
of the steam-presses, and in the songs of the churches.
