Norfolk High School - Milestone Yearbook (Norfolk, NE)

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TIIF. MILESTONE. i conscience against 1 » ir»y found out.” Reminding one of the mother who found her child playing on Sunday in front of tin house, and sharply rebuking him, said: “Why, don’t you know it is Sunday?” “fin and play in the hack ,ird ” “•Mother,” responded the child, “is it not Sunday in the hack ard too?” The fact is that conscience is a very different tiling from appro-hativness. Falstaff says: It is a blushing, shame-faced spirit that mutinies in man's bosom; it falls on one full of obstacles; it made me once restore a purse I found; it beggars any man that keeps it; it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing: every man that means to live well endeavors to trust to himself, and live without it.” There is a world of philosophy in that. Take warning by it. Do not mutilate your nature by killing conscience, nor pe mit love of ease, money, or the desire to please others over-ride its dictates. If you would have your character kept clean of duplicity and distortion, and your life lifted upabive dishonesty, falsehood, and cowardice, take conscience as your companion and guide, submit implicitly to its dictates, ami it will be the best friend you car. have in the world. Upside this element of integrity, a.beautiful life should be thorough, earnestness and whole-hearted ness should enter into it. We like things that look finished, and a suggestion of completeness, whether it be a landscape or a poem, a picture or an address. We all have a dash of artistic genius, which makes us impatient of slovenliness, and all work that is ill-done; and therefore we ought to aim to be at our best. It is not neccessary that we should l e artists in order to do the work of life, but it is neccessary that we lay all our resources under tribute, and put our immagination. our skill, our energy, and our wit into all we do, so that our work shall be the completest expression of our life. Only in this way can we develop our hiddt n powers, and do work that will benefit mankind. When Darwin, the great naturalist, left college, he spent six years in a voyage of exploration, gathering specimens of animals and plants, observing natural phenomena, and collecting information: twelve more years were spent in experimenting, collating and in the process of reduction l»efore he wrote his “Origin of Species.” Hut then it is one of the greatest books of the century, and has made its author famous. And then if we would make our lives

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Baccalaureate §ei?Mon. KKV. J. J. l’AHKKH. “A Tiling of Beauty is a Joy Forever.” A BEAUTIFUL LIFE. Let the Beauty of the Lord our tfod be ujam us.—Psalm 90-17. I il k i.ovk o b uuty is a uaiv rs.il s mi! im oil, a i I its realiz ttion. ( ■ sun. degree. is within the reach of us all. It does not depend on rank, wealth or genius; it is not a matter of dress, h' aring, or etiquette; no tailor e;m make a young man a gentleman, no dancing master can make a young woman a lady; and you may study books which, have been written to teach good manners until you are gray, and yet not come within a hundred miles of the ideal of beauty. A handsome person has as little to do with it, as elegant manners, or superb attire, it is an internal, rather than an external, quality: it belongs to disposition, character, and conduct. A beautiful life must be simple, consistent with itself: not zig-zag. but straight; it must conform to some standard and l e guided by some principle. Our mother has put into our nature the faculty of conscience to do this work: many things seek to usurp its functions, but there is no other guide so simple, direct, and authoritative. We are creatures of impulse; passiou pleads for indulgence; and the desire to please others exercises great power over us; in fact. Mr. Darwin thinks approbativeness is conscience, or at any rate the social instinct out of which conscience has developed. And many people evidently confound the two. In one of Sheridan's plays, a servant is asked: What! have you a conscience against lying? No, lie replies, but I have a

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ft TJ1K MILUSTOKU. lieauliful they must be useful. There is no uglier thing in life than selfishness, anil nothing which so spoils the Is'auty of a human soul. It is this which is the bane of all our good things, the thought ami the determination to have everything for ourselves, time, strength, skill, money and pleasure. It wasthis spirit that Jesus came to destroy, and to put within us another spirit, even his own spirit of generosity and love, which will make us willing to think and work and live and die for the good of others. Here is a lovely story told of what happened in a heathen country when Jesus was not known, and his gospel never preached; hut when this spirit of disinterested love dwelt, and made people kind—l eautifully kind, to each other. It was in one of the temples where men ignorantly prayeil to a t«od who they believed caused all the uneasiness of their life, sent blights on their corn, and plagues on their cattle, who witheld the rain and made people to die of thirst and famine. The idea of God was that he was angry and cruel, and His priests were like Him, standing in His temple with their kni es in their hands to slay lives to please Him. He might he made kind, they thought, and look down propitiously if they offered on the altar the life most dearly loved among the people. And so the King and Queen came to the temple, bringing their child, a beautiful maiden with them, and the priests stood ready for sacritice and prayers. The church and the land was full of plague-stricken-people, and the fields were all burned up, the streams dried and the earth a ruin. The curse of the mighty God was upon them, and must be appeased by sacrifice. So the priests turn to the King to ask him which he loves best; of that they willmake a sacrifice to their God. 'I hey will not let the King die; too much depends on him. but his wife or hi daughter, which he loves best. He says he loves his child the best, and so the priests seize his daughter; but while bringing her to the alter, the wife breaks in—“It is not true!” entreatingly putting her hands on the priest s arm. “He loves me the best,” she pleads, thankful that it is so, for she would save her child. The priest looked into the King's pale face to see if the Queen had said right. The King turns deadly pale. They see that the woman is right; it is the wife that he loves most. As she thrusts herself forward to lay herself down upon the altar, wretched to leave them both, yet glad to save her child; her child