Purity. A Poem

LITTLE PROBLEMS OF MARRIED LIFE 431

home —why does he not provide happiness He says he ? is strictly temperate —why does he not introduce quality this into his language He never smokes — why does he not ? no worse realize it is to smoke than fume to He never goes ? bad company — why does in he not get away from himself occasionally? He popular among is men who know him— why does he not try be popular home to at ? He sucessful is business — why does he not make in home a his success ? Constant faultfinding means death to the happiness of both. It is hopelessly foolish, too, for no man or woman was ever converted from a fault, failing or weakness through nagging. It rouses the worse side of human nature, stubbornness, bitterness, opposition it never stimulates nor inspires the better side. ; Man responds better to an ideal to live up to than an evil to live down. Praise for good accomplishes more than blame for evil. If you tell a child that she has beautiful hair and a little care will make it more beautiful you have touched through praise the secret spring

of her pride. If you tell her constantly how horrid and disorderly her hair looks she is apt to grow defiant, reckless and uncaring. The same philosophy applies to us older folks. Where there be any habit of husband or wife that displeases, a word of praise on some occasion where it seems mastered for the moment, spoken with no reference to its being an exception, may accomplish wonders by inspiring pride without wounding. Nagging can only be cured in the individual by self-control. It must be mastered, or happiness and all hope of it will die. Love, comradeship, conference and trust in married life will banish it and bring sweet peace, confidence and harmony in its stead.

["Talking Business Matters at Home" will be the next topic in this series.]

Purity

Look not to lust, but hope and trust That you may strength be given, Both night and day, at work or play, To live the laws of heaven; Then, in the hour of Satan's power, Your faith will never fail, But stronger grow, as on you go To realms beyond the veil. M. A. Stewart. MESA. ARIZONA

A Little Less-on A little more of kindness, a little less of self; A little less of blindness, a little less of pelf; A little more of striving to make a better plan; A little less conniving to "beat" the other man; A little less of grudging, a little squarer game, A little less of smudging the other fellow's name. A little less of shirking, a little less complaint, A little more of working, a little more of Saint; A little deeper thinking, a little keener sight; A little less of shrinking from what we know is Right; A little more decision, a little less of Fate; A little clearer vision, a little less of Hate; A little less of doubting, a little closer care; A little less of shouting, a little more of Prayer; A little less of shoving our fellow-workers, then, A little more of loving, and we'd all be better men. Lon J. Haddock. UTAH AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE, LOGAN, UTAH

The Tired Mother (Selected)

They were talking of the glory of the land beyond the skies, Of the light and of the gladness to be found in paradise, Of the flowers ever blooming, of the never-ceasing songs, Of the wand'rings through the golden streets of happy, white-robed throngs; And said father, leaning cozily back in his easy chair, (Father always was a master-hand for comfort everywhere): "What a joyful thing 'twould be to know that when this life is o'er One would straightway hear a welcome from the blessed, shining shore!" And Isabel, our eldest girl, glanced upward from the reed She was painting on a water jug, and murmured: "Yes, indeed." And Marian, the next in age, a moment dropped her book, '

And, "Yes. indeed!" repeated with a most ecstatic look; But mother, gray-haired mother, who had come to sweep the room With a patient smile on her thin lips, leaned lightly on her broom- Poor mother! no one ever thought how much she had to do— And said: "I hope it is not wrong not to agree with you, But seems to me that when I die, before I join the blest, I'd like just for a little while to lie in my grave and rest." — Harper's.