Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 December 1886 — SIGHT DRAFTS OS SENSE. [ARTICLE]

SIGHT DRAFTS OS SENSE.

[From American Commercial Traveler.] One end of every smile is dipped in •team. The touchstone of success is straight goods. The combination on the safe of life is 2-8. The sinner,like the sailor,is at sea on solid ground. Days of indolence are followed by Knights of Labor. By the side of every living creature stalks the giant death. The silent man is not always the wise one. The Indian cigar sign is invariably dumb. Goon resolutions are the breaks on the wagon of life, most needed when going down hill. If you have a thistle in your neighbor’s garden, be not over-proud, for, looking as careiully in your own you shall discover two. Wisdom, like veins of precious metals, lies deeply hidden in the mountains of thought. The miners are many, but the discoverers few. Compounded of heaven and sheoi is woman— A bitter-sweet being—a blessing or curse! Man may be respected, while nothing but human, But woman is better than human—or worse. Look beneath the surface. The filth of the stream either rises to the top or sinks to the bottom; between these lie the pure waters, clear and bright. The sting of the serpent will blast the noblest tree; one stroke of the brash destroys the finest painting; and one bad act ruins an otherwise glorious existence. The stick hardest to cut makes the hottest of fires; the nut hardest to crack contains the sweetest of meats; and the wisdom which comes from long study is of the most worth. TACITA. The eye that flasheth worldly pride, The lip which beareth worldly scorn, Are servants to a selfish heart That better never had been bom. Where peace is quoen the soul sends forth A softly, radiant, constant beam Which falls upon the fretful world Like moonlight on a gliding stream. Tacita, turn thy face on me, Unveil those almond orbs of thine, And let the moonlight of thy soul Into my troubled bosom shine! Then tho' the night of care surround, Inspired by thee my voice I’ll rear, And s ir the world with such a song The winds shall hush the trees to hear. How much would we be willing to sacrifice to look for a moment upon the world through the eyes of a child; to see heaven as near us at forty as it was at five. That would be a sweeter joy than the consummation of all our mature desires. Thirty minutes of childhood’s slumber would erase as many wrinkles from the brow of age and sweep a million cobwebs from the -chamber of despairing thought.