Lily,
remembering yesterday's lecture on cleanliness, washed her slate
three times with her hand and mopped it up with the sleeve of
her dress and yet it was far from clean.
Looking at Johnny now, it would not have taken a physician to
tell that something was seriously wrong with him. He was sick,
without doubt, and yesterday it was a double ailment he had. Any
diagnosis would have revealed spring fever incipient and trout
fever acute. Willie was perhaps thinking of the old saw mills
where cascades fall and the phoebe-bird sings and the high
banks, which the stream had worn deeply because it had some
obstacle to get around. Poor scared Willie! He, too, had an
obstacle to get around, so he said, "I slipped off of the foot
log and got my feet wet and had to go home."
Now, as every teacher knows, wet feet never daunted any boy from
achieving a purpose. The revolving chair swung around once more,
the teacher arose from his comfortable perch and stooped very
low in order to strike the trembling little boy who had heard
the phoebe-bird prophesying spring, and had found the first
hepaticas among the withered leaves and listened to the rippling
song of the brook.
Could the one in the revolving chair have known what he did
toward crushing the love of the true and the beautiful out of
the life before him, the chair would not have been at once
reoccupied. What had he to give the eager growing soul hungering
and thirsting for the beauty and freedom of Nature? Had he more
of the beauty and fragrance of the willow, so redolent of
spring, in his heart there were less need of willows above his
desk. A few of the fragrant buds in a vase would have had more
effect upon Willie and the whole school than the scattered bits
of golden pieces lying on the floor. Which is the greater
knowledge - to be able to feel spring open in your heart on
hearing the phoebe-bird, or to glibly repeat six times eight?
Our attention was drawn to a crowd of young and middle aged men
idly leaning against posts or sitting on benches in the shade of
trees at the famous roque court at a village in Ohio. The topic
of their conversation was probably government inefficiency, hard
times, lack of work, and perhaps many an hour was spent in
discussing capital and labor by those who have had no personal
acquaintance with either. How many are experts at various games,
yet how poorly they play the great game of life! Many have
failed to reach first base, and greater numbers have not yet
entered but still occupy the bleachers and side lines. Go to the
homes of those who clamor there is no work to be had and,
without trying, you will see where at least a few days could be
better spent than down at the rogue court.
Well has Holland said, "Idleness is the sepulchre of a living
man." Though a man has the wealth of Croesus he has no right to
be idle, if he can get work to do. A man who will not work is
not only a burden to society, but he buries his talents,
destroys his own happiness and becomes a nuisance. There are
always good, wholesome books to be had and "temptation flies
from the earnest, contented laborer, and preys upon the brain
and heart of the idler."
Greenville never appeared so marvellously beautiful as she did
in her holiday attire on that morning of July. We were thrilled
anew with the beauty of our flag as we gazed at its lovely folds
rippling in the breeze o'er the grand old men of the G. A. R.
Our hearts went out in gratitude to those noble veterans whose
loyalty, devotion and sacrifice made this great nation of ours
possible. We thought, how many of these heroes we beheld, had
defended the Old Flag at Gettysburg and Chickamauga, offering
their life blood, if need be, for the future welfare of a
nation. Alas! how many comrades they left upon the ghastly field
of battle. Right fitting it was for the hands of children to
bring the fairest blossoms to show their love and honor to those
who made it possible for our glorious banner to still wave o'er
a land from which had been removed the black stain of slavery.
Greenville, O., has the honor of being the home of Brigadier
General Siegerfoos, the highest commissioned officer from the
United States to make the supreme sacrifice. "He answered the
call of his country in the defense of Liberty, Humanity and the
cause of democracy." Branch of service, 56th Brigade, 28th
Division. He was wounded at Mount Blainville, near the Argonne
Forest and died at Souilly, France, October 7, 1918.
As if to join in this glorious celebration Nature unfurled many
a banner of rarest beauty. There was the deep red of the crimson
rambler, the blue of larkspur and clematis forming a wonderful
background for the golden stars of the daisy that nodded and
gleamed in the warm, clear light. For the white stripes of her
emblem she chose the hydrangeas and elderberry. True, they were
not arranged in order, like the colors of our lovely banner, but
seeing them singly brings out their meaning more clearly, for
there is much to contemplate in Old Glory, and we must analyze
one color at a time. (Again we thought of the G. A. R.
encampment in June.)
Among the many worthy veterans who honored Greenville with their
presence was the proud father of Warren G. Harding, of Marion,
Ohio. All were delighted with the lovely St. Clair Memorial
Hall, whose classic beauty makes it an elevating and refining
influence in the community.
