Thursday, October 1, 1953

Probably no prayer is of more importance than the one that used to be framed as a "motto" and hung on the walls of rural homes. It was repeated over and over, when members of the Christian family - especially the Christian mother - looked up and read, "God Bless Our Home."Homes are the cradles of America and when the homes are blessed, the nation is blessed.When the fervent prayer of thanks at the table for the food that sustains us, is unspoken, when the hasp of the old family is closed, when the home is conducted without a prayer for a blessing from above - then the nation moves back a little closer to paganism.It is not important that modern plans of interior decorating of the home leave no place in the "parlor" for the simple motto "God Bless Our Home," but it is important that the prayer be formed by our lips from the sincerity of our hearts.God had blessed the home, In Matthew of the New Testament - "And (when) the rain descended and the floods came, and beat upon that house, and it fell not. . . ." But, it is rational to assume that there was not even the simple motto: "God Bless Our Home." in the next one described in the verse that follows - "And the rain descended and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house, and it fell and great was the fall of it."When the sanctity of the home, that cradles America fails, the nation has lost the prop that sustains it.As those who have suffered illness know best the blessings of health, so it seems those who have wandered homelessly have loved most the imaginary hearth and home they never had. After wandering in foreign lands, where he died after writing "Home Sweet Home," John Howard Payne's body was exhumed and shipped to the United States.

It was on that occasion a writer said, "The man who wrote home's sweetest song is coming home at last."For the reason that Stephan Foster longed for a home which he never had, he made "My Old Kentucky Homes" immortal, and caused the world to sigh about his "Old Folks at Home."

I, too, experienced a brief period in my youth away from the influence of a Christian home, that fits into this story.Craving wider and more lucrative fields of endeavor than my home surroundings afforded, I ran away from home at the age of 14. Being husky and tall for my age, I was accepted by almost everyone as being two or three years older than my actual age. I had no trouble in procuring work on a well drill, as a helper. After two weeks of hard work I qualified as a well driller at $1.50 a day. Father finally located me and informed my employer of my age, and threatened the legal punishment for employing a minor.My employer, being a Christian man, took me into a room, opened an old, well-marked family Bible, and slowly read to me the story of the Prodigal Son. After reading the story, the good man advised me to return to my Father's house. The advice was useless for the story had already convinced me that I should return home. (And thus the Bible influenced the action of my life again, as it has always done.)

My Father, being a forgiving Christian, received me with open arms.That short period away from the home of my youth will never be forgotten. My short sojourn in a more or less sinful world, which was new to me made me appreciate the invaluable worth and magic influence of a Christian home.

To me the saddest passage in all literature is the following, found in Matthew of the New Testament."The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the son of man hath not where to lay his head."After His death, on the third day thereafter, it could have been said of Him, too, "The Man who told the sweetest story ever told is coming Home at last."

Thursday, October 8, 1953

This is about Sentiment, which, in a mechanical, material age is the most misunderstood, ignored, or suppressed of all the finer feelings in the human breast. "Of course if Sentiment be personified, she would be the beautiful, very gentle lady . . . a lady with motherly influence. She writes the roughest soldier's letters, although he would deny it. She is a close associate of the business executive, but this, too, he may deny. She comes on quiet feet, to soothe the over-worked lawyer and scientist. She is a beautiful lady of great charm who has led millions of ambitious youths to the coveted throne of honor. But for this, she is given little credit. Without this beautiful lady's motherly influence, the business man is a mere machine; the orator, a man with statistical, prosaic facts, and all humanity would be without tuneful music, colorful paintings, and harmless dreams that go back to where the best things lived in life are stored in the honeycomb of time. To be more explicit in meaning, sentiment is no part of the beast; and the finer feelings that are usually in the breast of humanity had nothing to do in directing the chosen life of the Capones, gangsters of all ages. Herod, Pilate, and all whose souls have been case-hardened by crime. I am not one who laughs at day dreams. The day dreams of Edison, Lincoln, Ford, and Franklin seemed preposterous, extravagant, yet they were blue prints of life that came true. But without the finer feelings of sentiment, the dreams of many end on the gallows, in prison, or in the halls of utter frustration and failure. As sentiment tempers judgement, it also tempers the dreams of ambition to do true and grand things in life.

On what might be called "a sentimental journey," back to my boyhood home, in Cherry Run in Morgan County, West Virginia, the trains that passed stand out vividly in my memory. While I love the scenes of my childhood home, I knew, even as a small lad, that opportunities to realize my dreams of a measure of success were restricted in that small community, which I still hold in fondest memory. The trains told me that away "out yonder," where they mysteriously came from, big and interesting things were going on. They told me of a swift action coming to the world that would never let me cat-nap my life away, where opportunities were limited. When the "local" stopped at Cherry Run, to unload the barrel of brown sugar, keg of saltfish, horseshoes, and nails, axle grease, and the big square box of button shoes, calico and gingham, I watched with an interest that brought dreams of a swifter action "Somewhere." While the magic lantern, brought to the schoolhouse from "far-off" Hagerstown, only had pictures to offer, here was evidence of the real thing! The conductor, brakeman, who trundled the freight, knew strange, wonderful tales about magic lands which they would never tell me! However, this I knew: I'd have to go and see them for myself! The engineer who stepped from the cab of the engine, with his long shiny can, was a "furriner," as strange as a visitor from Mars. He wore no plow-shoes nor boots, and his clothes were unpatched. His overalls were a uniform in neatness, required in his strange, "far-off" land. If the imagined picture of the "outside world" was poetically extravagant, I now look back and find it more or less true. I am not the least ashamed to say that sentiment still allows me to see visions from the goods the trains brought to the old country village store. It is probably of interest to no one when I say I have traveled over a considerable part of the world; however you may be interested in knowing the odors in my Father's village general store - from tea, spices, and all the things from foreign lands, blended, let me, in fancy, ride the Straits of Singapore, and touch the romantic shores of Borneo . . . but I now know the dreams were greater than the real.It would be silly to try to live on the sweets of sentiment alone, for, like honey, it would cloy to distaste. But to live wholly without sentiment would be to live like the beast, by food, and water alone.

Thursday, October 15, 1953(part)

You have heard it said many times that this or that person is a dreamer. it is a term used to describe those who are impractical and given to day-dreams and who fail to grasp reality.

But are all dreamers and their dreams impracticable?

A man with imagination looked on the wide expanse of cotton fields in the deep South. He saw the cotton picked and the seeds, removed by hand labor. It was a hot and laborious job which added to the cost of cloth production. It caused him to dream. He began to see visions of the long hours and heavy burden lifted from the back of labor, and cotton baled more quickly, which would immeasurably help the South. He dreamed on; and out of the dreams of this man came a machine that relieved the hand of labor, and made his homeland richer. Yes, Eli Whitney was a dreamer - a practical dreamer.

Every wheel, every spoke and spindle, the locomotive, the steamboat, the airplane came roaring into existence right out of the center of a dream.

A boy was all but expelled from school. He couldn't learn,the teacher told his parents. He left school and went to work while still a lad. But he bungled everything he put his hand to. It has been said that his parents were ashamed of his apparent stupidity. Why? He was a dreamer.

But the boy dreamed on into manhood - and out of his dreams came cities flooded with light, the world lifted out of darkness, and centuries advanced. He put the poetry of motion into machinery out of his dreams, and recorded the voice of the "present," which the "future" will hear generations from now. Yes, Thomas A. Edison was a dreamer, whose dreams advanced our civilization a thousand years.

Back of every worthwhile accomplishment, back of every great book written, back of every skyscraper built, back of every job well done is the dreamer who saw his dream come true.

The whole course of history has been changed by the dreams of one or more men. Dreams have given birth to and destroyed nations.

In our nation's own brief time, a man stood alone on the frozen ground, with the sub-zero wind, beating his cloak about his shivering body. He was praying - he was praying that the dream would not turn to the nightmare of defeat. The oppression of a nation had made him dream. He was dreaming of the fondest gift bestowed on humanity - freedom. Here he stood alone baring his dream to his Creator.

The man with the great dream knew that "In Gideon the Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream by night. and God said: "Ask wht I shall give thee, and that the angel of God spake unto Jacob in a dream. Maybe his dream for freedom of his peopled would be answered. So he prayed on and he fought on and today where the man prayed, Valley Forge is sacred ground. Out of the dream of Washington, and the great patriots who surrounded him, America was born.

Rudyard Kipling's immortal poem: "If" is said to have been written with George Washington in mind. In his poem he said, "If you can dream - and not make dreams your master . . yours is the earth and everything that's in it. . ."

Of course to day-dream our life away would be life wasted. But a life without a practical dream might be as bad.

Thursday, October 22, 1953

You have heard hundreds of people express the wish that they could go back and live their lives over again. The wish is usually with an "if" - they would like to live their lives over "if" they could know what they know now. Of course, the wish is childish, and is made for the impossible.

Everyone knows without the advice of safes and philosophers who have told us to ignore the past and prepare for the future, that we can live only in the present, and that should be lived in the manner tht will bring us the greatest contentment.

A contented mind is one of the greatest blessings on earth. It contains all the other earthly blessings, and no matter how poor a neighbor may be, he is rich, if he be contented, and no matter how rich another man may be, he is poor, indded, if discontented.

Our old history books told us that Diogenes, the philosopher, lived in a tub, and was contented, while a whole world was too small for Alexander, who died a young man discontented and drunk in his army tent.

Whatever our lot may be which we cannot change, we are wise to accept it with contentment. It might be worse. It was a wise man who said that if all the misfortune of the world were piled in one vast heap and each one of us had to take away his portion of them, we would be satisfied to take our own and depart.

The story is told of a man in very poor circumstances. He wanders from place to place and, usually without money in his pocket. But he must have been a philosopher of sorts as the following indicates:

When he was asked at what time in his life he had been the unhappiest. the lest contented, he replied it was when he was without funds in a northern climate, with winter approaching.

"I was troubled most," he said, "about my shoes. The soles were completely worn away, and my feet were on the ground, with clouds of snow approaching. Then, suddenly my troubles ceased and I became more contented."

"Did you find a new pair?" he was asked.

"No, Imet a man who had lost both of his feet."

No, there's no dondition that might not be worse.

A man stood admiring a beautiful sunset. The blending and changing colors so entranced him that he was lost to all his surroundings. As the picture faded away, he noticed a man, who was standing near and looking off in the same general direction.

That was a beautiful sunset," he remarked to the man who stood motionless leaning on a cane.

"I suppose so," he replied. "You see, I am blind."

Yes, if all the misfortunes, troubles and trials of the world were piled in a heap for us to share, we would probably take back our own in a hurry.

A man of very moderate means, but a writer of ability told me he once dined with the first great John D. Rockefeller, who was probably the modern world's greatest benefactor.

The writer said, the dinner served in the great man's home was more than equal to his appetite which was of the best. He ate heartily from every course, while Mr. Rockefeller had only a glass of milk and a small helping of ordinary soda crackers. There was a momentary lull in the convesation while thought occupied the minds of both. Suddenly they looked up and smiled at each other with deep understanding. The writer said he was wishing that he might be able to afford the millions of dollars that such a dinner went with, and that evidently Mr. Rockefeller was thinking that he wished me might give a few million dollars for the writer's appetite and digestion.

It was a very wise man who said: "Learn to be pleased with everything, with wealth so far as it makes us beneficial to others; with poverty, for not having much to care for with obscurity for been unenvied."

Thursday, October 29, 1953

"Jesus saith unto him, Thomas because thou has seen me, thou hast believed, blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed" - New Testament.

We must have faith if we are to accomplish anything new.

American engineers had seen the French fail to build the Panama Canal. It could almost be said that mountains of sand slid into the excavations, filling them almost as fast as they were made. That made the skeptics of the world say that it couldn't be done. The American engineers thought it could be done. They had the faith and faith built it - and faith can move mountains.

The American engineers did not have to be shown like Thomas of the New Testament, they had the faith that confounded the skeptics.

A man who has no faith in his ability, be that ability great or little, can never hope to succeed to the extent of which his natural ability makes him capable. If he wishes to go forward and up, he must depend upon the advice, help and aid of others. He is like a man born blind, who must be guided through life by his "Seeing Eye" dog. The same thing can be said of a man's faith in his judgement. He must have faith and confidence in his judgement, for there are crucial times in every man's life when he must depend upon his own ability and judgement in making personal decisions that may wreck or improve his whole life.

The exploit of Christopher Columbus is a grand illustration of faith in ability and judgement.

Columbus had faith in his judgement that the earth was comparatively round, and that by sailing around it he would reach the Indies if other lands and continents did not interfere. The crew on his three vessels had no geographical knowledge of the shape of the earth. They were all "Doubting Thomases" who believed only what they could see. Instead of faith they only had superstitions and fears of the unknown. Without doubt, they would have killed Columbus, when those fears and superstitions had them on the verge of mutiny. Without faith and with land all but in sight, they would have turned back, as thousands in life with little faith have turned from the goal of success. As one without faith may never hope for eternal salvation, how may those without faith in themselves hope to reach the ports of success?

Columbus had faith, and it was contagious. It is said that it caused a Queen to pawn her jewels that he might "sail on! and on!" when the hope of others had gone, - which are words used in the following lines in describing the man of great faith.

"Brave admiral, say but one good word:/What shall we do when hope is gone?"/The words leapt like a leaping sword:/'Sail on! Sail on! sail on! and on!'"

As I stated once before I experience an embarassment that makes me hesitate in relating my own experiences. But as this column is based on my experiences, rather than editorial preachments, I present the following:

Before the depression of 1929, I had 13 growing corporations, built on faith - faith in myself, faith in the economic system that has made America great, and above all, faith in the men I selected for the top key positions of the companies. These key men had not been schooled and graduated from firms with which I had no connections; they were advanced from the lowliest jobs to the top. Unlike Thomas, who was allowed to see Jesus, I, of course, could not foresee the future outcome, but I believed. I had faith in these key men, and they had faith in me. I now give them credit, with appreciation; the 13 corporations went through the 1929 panic and depression without one failure. Other companies, founded on the same system, were added later. All of them met with the same success in the lesser depression between the years of 1934 and 1939 - not one failure.

It was a very old philosopher, but one whose teachings I shall always remember, who said:

"The crude of oil and barrel of meal overflow because the widow has firm faith."

Thursday, November 5, 1953

The subject I discuss this week is not a delightful one. It is scandal from the idle tongue of gossip.

There are very few, if any, who have escaped the unjust punishment that has started from a gossipy tongue, and spread, like broomsedge on fire, into a groundless scandal.

Therefore, it is important that we consider these evils that affect our lives; and even though we may be helpless and defenseless against this thing that is whispered from ear-to-ear, the discussion of its destructive influence might deter some from engaging in this ruinous pastime.

Gossip is like a bit of mud that is loosened and starts to roll down a mountain. As it gains momentum, it loosens other particles of dirt and grime and stone. It increases in speed and size until it is an avalanche when it reaches the bottom, destroying villages and lives.

Gossip, even from the idle tongue of a child, has been known to avalanche into an unjustifiable scandal that caused innocent and defenseless women to be burned as witches. A whispering word from an ambitious and jealous courtesan has caused queens to be beheaded. Knowing these things, I turn a deaf ear to those who try to gain my confidence when they approach me with" "Now donāt tell a soul that I told you, but he(or she). . ." I refuse to be a party to spreading such whispered information, which is usually aimed at someoneās reputation and reputations, even the best, are but fragile things as easily destroyed as a childās bubble in the air.

Yet a stainless and good reputation is invaluable to man or woman. The New Testament gives its real value when it says A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches. The man with the greatest reputation as a writer of all men who have ever lived, had too, something to say in defense of a good name when he said: "A good man and woman is the immediate jewel of their souls. (He) who steals my purse steals trash . . .But he that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him, and makes me poor indeed."

So, knowing the value of a good name, I obey the person who whispers into my ear: "Now, now donāt tell a soul I told you . . ." I not only "donāt tell a soul." But I refuse to be the ground wire that establishes the current that would carry the "tattle-tale" with the speed of electricity.

The truth languishes and dies, but gossip, scandal, rumor, never seem to die. Bury it with people with famous names who have accomplished great and good things in life, and it will be exhumed by the scandal-mongers and passed from the mouth-to-mouth, while the truth the good men do will, in many cases, remain with their bones in the grave.

Of course, there is no way of knowing but it is probably a fact, that malicious rumor has invaded the sanctity of more happy homes, ruined more business ventures, and despoiled more reputations than the bare truth, even though the truth be not good.

Rumor and gossip which gain speed like the wind, and power like the avalanche as it travels from mouth-to-mouth have been the messengers to carry the deadly propaganda of Hitler and Mussolini, and is now the under-ground whisper of Communism.

the Bible tells us that only: "the truth shall make you free," so let us remember as a great man has told us, "As long as you live, nothing but strict truth can carry you through the world, with either your conscience or your honor unwounded."

So, I am quite sure that when Gossip comes with her, "They say," and whispers scandal in our ear, we should obey the Bible, and "Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon."

Thursday, November 12, 1953

A belief in Luck, and the dependence upon it for success, has left more victims stranded on the shoals of failure than famine and depression.

In looking back over the history of people who have succeeded in life, it will be observed that "Good Luck" usually has calloused hands, wrinkles around the eyes from midnight study, and a thorough schooling that has brought experience from the success of trial and the failure of error.

To those who love and worship her most, to those who have faith that she alone carries their fortune in her lily white hands, she is worshipped as "Lady Luck." To these devout worshippers, she is especially sought after around race tracks, at gambling tables, at wild-cat ventures in oil, and at questionable markets.

Of course Lady Luck smiles on her worshippers at brief intervals, but, in the long run, she is a siren whose call has left millions on the rocks of failure.

It certainly was not "gamblerās luck" that built the diesel motor, the skyscrapers, or the Panama Canal - they came from sweat, labor, study, and concentration. And those very things are what caused someone to say, "Luck is a very good word if you put a P before it." It takes the pluck of strong men to carve out their own fortunes in any field, the rest wait for luck to bring it. In illustration of that point - look at Lincoln, Lindbergh, Goodyear, Grant, George Washington, George Westinghouse.

The following illustration in the life of one man, is a picture of thousands that made America from their brains, brawn and pluck and left nothing to chance.

With opportunities limited almost to a wilderness, the soil and wild animals for food and clothing, a stranger to Philadelphia walked down its dirty streets. The village then afforded only such industries as a tin-smith shop, a cobbler shop, and a one-man bakery. At the bakery, the stranger spent all the pennies he had for a loaf of bread, from which he munched a piece he had broken off, as he awkwardly walked along the street. The rest of the loaf he carried under his arm. Fat and nearly clumsy, he presented a clownish appearance as he ambled in his worn shoes and clothing. He did not know that his future wife was laughing at the sight he presented as she gazed at him through the parted window blinds. Those who blindly believe in luck instead of brains and pluck, would probably have said that fate had condemned him to go through life begging for his bread and bed. But he was to become one of the busiest men n the New World, making it into what is now the most industrious nation.

The man who made his own chances had no inclination to look for "good luck signs." Instead of carrying a rabbitās foot in the pocket of his home-spuns he carried the key that unlocked the mysteries of electricity. Instead of picking up pins to bring him luck, he picked up information that helped to make a nation. Instead of nailing horseshoes over his door, he drove home facts; later, with his logic, he brought the struggling Colonies, the help of a major nation. Instead of looking for a four-leafed clover, he looked for cause and effect. In my opinion, he did more to insure the independence of the struggling Colonies when he brought them the help of France and Lafayette, than most of the patriots.

The failure will tell you that it was fate, or luck that made Benjamin Franklin a statesman, that clownish man at whom his future wife laughed. The successful man, in all fields of endeavor, will tell you, it was brains and pluck.

It was Emerson who said: "Shallow men believe in luck, strong men believe in cause and effect."

Thursday, November 19, 1953

The test of any experiment, any undertaking, is only in the answer to: "Does it work?" I believe in our Republican form of government because "it worked" after all other forms had failed for 6,000 years.

That brings up the question: "What makes America the greatest nation on earth?" "What makes it work?" Unless we know the complete answer to that question - all of us - this nation may cease to be great.

Why then has a nation started from a handful of men, made more progress in a century and a half than other nations have achieved in sixty long centuries? The answer is so simple that it may shock you - the individual has made more progress, not the government!

Our Founding fathers fought like demons and worked like slaves to build America under their philosophy of freedom of the individual, under God. In building America, they stripped the rags of the slave off the individual for the first time in history and clothed him in robes of freedom. Under glorified dignity of this freedom, the individual has made progress. The government has not made it for him - governments depend upon the individual for their very existence. If the individuals are great they will have a great government, if the individuals depend upon a government to make them great, they will become slaves, as has happened time and again, throughout recorded history.

So what makes America great - makes it work?

The Founding Fathers who were self-reliant rugged individuals had the supreme intelligence to recognize the fact that governments were something to live under, and not to live on - a simple thing that Europe and Asia had not learned in 6,000 years.

These unusual Founding Fathers who fought like tigers for liberty, knew that the Lord had closed the Garden of Eden of ease to man, made in His image, and put him on "his own." He left him that dignity of freedom which made him a little less than a god. It was this heritage of freedom, bequeathed to the individual by Founding Fathers that made America great - made it work.

These wise men knew that no government had the substance, material, or power of its own to create flowery beds of ease on which the individual could idle from the cradle to the grave, they knew that the only bank account the government has is opened up in its name by the taxpayers. The government has nothing, creates nothing, does not have a nickel of its own - that nickel has to be given to it by someone else, who may get a mill of it back. The government does not earn money with which to pay John Doeās pension, that has to be paid for by Americans who are still free and, consequently, busy. And should we all loll, who will seed and water the flowery beds?

In fact, government is merely a servant of the people and the Founding Fathers knew from 6,000 years of history that when the governments cease to be servants, the people, who were served by them, become their slaves.

All great nations, like ours, were born out of religious and moral principle, dedicated to the blessings of liberty for each individual. When the liberty of the individual ceases, he is then the slave of a dying government, afflicted with moral and religious decay, which dies quickly in the final stages of the disease which history diagnoses as Communism, Socialism, extravagance or corruption. A trend toward that very thing has been noticed in our government in late years, which should make us all frantically search for the answer to: "What made our country great - made it work?"

I think the answer will be, the individual has been free to make more and more progress, while his government, until recent years, remained his efficient servant - the greatest government ever conceived by the heart and mind of mortal man - your heritage and mine. Let us not be Esaus in our hunger for ease, and trade that heritage for a mess of socialistic pottage.

Thursday, November 26, 1953

The use of two of the shortest words in the English language brings more happiness or sorrow, more success or failure, more regret or joy, than any other words. If our conscience, knowledge and reason prompt us to use these simple words with emphasis at the crucial times of our lives, we are on the road to success and happiness. If our greed, ignorance, and impulse in the place of reason, prompt our use of them, unhappiness and failure are the only rewards.

The two short, simple words are: "Yes" or "No.

If there be a time in our lives when a lack of worldly knowledge and impulse dominates our actions, it is in the tender years of our youth. It is then that the choice of "yes" and "no" in our decisions is of more importance than at later periods of our lives. It is then that we stand at the crossroads and say: "yes" or "no" to the road we shall travel the remainder of our lives.

In looking back over the years of my past life, experience and observations have convinced me that "right" and "wrong" which are the only choices of our actions in life, and which must be decided by an emphatic "yes" or "no," are more clearly pictured in our consciences in youth than in later age.

That will not be denied by those who have lived long, no matter which road they have traveled. If we say "yes" to the "wrong" road in youth, the farther we travel it, the more indifferent and calloused we become to what is right, until, finally, it is too late to turn back to the straight and narrow way that leads to happiness and success.

I must again relate my experience in this very matter for the reason that it might help some youth to say, "yes" to the right course at the crossroads of his or her life.

As I related in a previous column, I formed a plan in my youth that I have followed religiously through life. Of course, like all young people, I lacked knowledge from experience and was moved by healthy impulse and ambition that is peculiar to all young people. When I saw that a professional life as a doctor, minister, or lawyer was closed to me for lack of opportunity to procure academic training, I looked about for other ways to success and happiness. After eliminating all other occupations, I finally decided that money - not for its worth alone, but as a means with which to work in life - was about the only thing left. To this, I said "yes" in a final decision. Being possessed of my share of impulse and ambition, these at first influenced the method by which the money should be made. But to this consideration, I said "No." I then consulted the Great Architect in the formulation of the blueprints of my life's work, and to that the plan of life, I have never been tempted to say "No." If the plan I have followed has brought me contentment and peace in life, which it has, I owe this much to my young fellow men who may be frustrated at the crossroads of their lives and to tell them so, regardless of any embarrassment from the charge of immodesty.

Because we hate and despise the lives led by gangsters and racketeers, we make the mistake of under-estimating their ability and intelligence. Al Capone was one of the greatest organizers of modern times. The evil genius of Frank Costello has made him millions of dollars. If these men had said "yes" to the right course at the crossroads of their lives, they could have been a great service to God and their country.

"Yes" and "no" are two of the smallest words, but obedience to them can bring us eternal happiness or eternal despair.

Thursday, December 3, 1953

As Christmas approaches with its brief season of warm love, ready forgiveness, charity, generosity, and benevolence, we realize once more that Christianity is the only force in the world capable of bringing about that perfect peace and good will sought by all men since that first "Silent Night, Holy Night."

Peace is the first condition of Christianity, and war is the natural condition of the infidel and barbarian. A knowledge and conviction of that fact is what made Benjamin Franklin say, "There never has been a good war or bad peace."

When Franklin uttered that statement, brave and intelligent men were dreaming of a permanent peace and good will among men, that could exist only under a nation founded under God, away from the constantly warring kings from whom they had fled. Have we left the dream of peace of our Founding Fathers and returned to the wars of Europe and Asia, which are almost without an interval of peace, and older than Christianity?

With the season of love and good will toward men, which inspires us to Christian charitable benevolence, approaching, it is not enough to give gifts to each other and express words of merriment. If we would have "Peace on earth, good will toward men," when wars would be no more, we must give something besides gifts, each and every day of the year - something to the Master. We must follow Him in spirit and in truth, as did the Magi of old.

While the giving of gifts is a gesture of benevolence that has merit, we should take a lesson from the "wise men," who followed the star. "Lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, and stood over where the young child was." And when they came to the house and saw the young child, they first " . . . fell down and worshipped him and then when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts, gold, and frankincense, and myrrh."

Of this I am sure: When nation after nation has learned to fall down on its knees and worship Him then, and not until then, "they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation neither shall they learn war any more."

All the man-made institutions of history such as the present United Nations, all treaties and man-made agreements, have failed to stop the spilling of human blood by the sword of war. Only obedience to the Christian Bible can do that: and when nations have learned to obey its simplest mandate of four words, "Thou shalt not kill," then nation shall not lift up sword against nation."

And, here in our homeland, where we sing, "God Bless America," the song will be mockery unless we turn to the Christian Bible that was the infallible guide in forming a nation under God, which our Founding Fathers bequeathed to us.

With the bloody sword unsheathed, a mere "Merry Christmas" will not beat it into plowshare. That will happen only when the world proves it is peopled by "wise men," who will fall down and worship Him.

Thursday, December 10, 1953

Ever since man by his industry and application has accomplished anything above the ordinary, that accomplishment has often been called "a wonder," by those lacking the industry and application to perform like "wonders."

In outstanding cases, where great work has been done with equally great results, the man responsible for the "wonder" has been called a genius - a subject I now discuss at a length that will show I have at least the genius of briefness.

All know that some men have more intelligence and more talent than others. But to accept the prevailing notion that there are a class of people called geniuses who are born to turn mental hand springs at will, to create without sweat, time or effort; to fly through the air with the greatest of ease above those who plod and labor - that just does not agree with the definition of genius by those of the greatest accomplishment.

I suppose it can be assumed that the soil of no one particular field produces what is commonly termed genius, such as the field of poetry, music, the arts. All fields are equally fertile for it - the fields of agriculture, the professions, of business, athletics, statesmanship, politics and all others. That being true, it is also true that genius cannot perform one surgical operation without the infinite pains required in great preparation. Genius cannot build one small business without midnight oil, sleepless nights, and the sacrifice of leisure time.

Champion athletes have been called geniuses in their field, but the grueling task of training has shortened most of their lives, according to certain authorities. And throughout the other fields of endeavor, great labor has produced genius.

I have referred to the life and success of Thomas A. Edison before the reason that I consider him one of our greatest Americans. The story of his trials leading into success rivals fictions, of which no one tires. May I now give you his definition of genius?

On the occasion of one of Edison's birthdays in the latter part of his life, newspaper men foregathered from far and wide. Each was anxious for a statement from the great "Wizard" in answer to his direct question, which set up quite a din. Even though Edison wasalmost totally deaf from an accident in his early life, he was amused at the noise of the chatter. So, when a daring reporter asked him if his deafness was a serious handicap, Edison humorously replied: "It has its advantages at times." This caused the newspaper reporters to think Edison might be laughing at them in all of his replies, including the one in reply to a seasoned reporter who asked him to define genius. His reply to that was:

"Genius is one per cent inspiration and ninety-nine per cent perspiration."

That fooled even the life-long and intimate friend, Harvey Firestone, who asked Edison if he really meant it when he said genius was one per cent inspiration. Edison who had worked like a galley slave almost night and day all his life, replied: "I was never more sincere with the truth."

My advice to all young men starting a career in life is this:

Treat your job each day as if you had only one day in which to finish it perfectly. Pay little attention to the lament of men, who have failed, and who are satisfied with the alibi that they are not geniuses like other men. Take infinite pains with each detail that comes to hand and you will be rewarded with success, to the measure of your ability, to your undying satisfaction. Let the so-called "geniuses" turn mental handsprings and pick answers to everything out of thin air. You, too, may be a "genius." If you are willing to use Edison's proportion of inspiration and perspiration on your job.

Thursday, December 17, 1953

In describing those who are engaged in the many professions, vocations, and arts of mankind, our highest praise should be reserved for all who till the soil - the farmers of the land.

Of all occupations there is none that is closer to God and nature than agriculture. Nothing brings a sweeter benediction than the touch of the soil on the hand that tills it. There is nothing on earth more productive than agriculture, which combines the handiwork of God, Nature, and the freest man on earth, who performs his work with the least of evil designs.

When I see a field of yellow grain waiting the harvest, I often reflect that the argument of the lawyer, the deft cut of the surgeon, the deal of the business man and the effort required in all the other professions, could never be made without the generous hand of the farmer who feeds the rest of the world.

During the last World War, we heard a lot about the arsenal of democracy winning a war. That was well and good as a psychological weapon, but we will never hear enough praise of agriculture, without which no war or peace can be won.

While science, inventive genius and industry have spurred our appreciation of a fuller life, I wonder if our appreciation of the work of the farmer, the husbandman, has increased in proportion? Ages ago, kings knew, probably better than we know today, that "To plow is to pray - to plant is to prophesy, and the harvest answers and fulfills."

I think the old axiom is truest when applied to the farmer - he is really "the salt of the earth," compared to other vocations. Jefferson, above all men of his day, knew that to be a fact when he said:

"Those who labor in the earth are the chosen people of God, if He ever had a chosen people . . ."

I learned early and well from experience, and from such simple books, as "Gulliver's Travels," that those, who touch the soil in labor do not have to employ the wiles, deceits, and chicanery that are necessary in the practice of many other businesses - especially the business of politicians. Gulliver had learned much from his travels -

"And he gave it for his opinion . . . that whoever could make two ears of corn, or two blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and do more essential service to his country, than the whole race of politicians.

As I grow older, I realize that the farms, the fields, the woods, and the gardens are pages in Nature's book, opened wide for all to read who will. That book teaches us, if we be able to read, that we are closer to God under a maple tree than in the palace of a king. I could live happily without rich foods and fine clothes but I doubt very much if I could live contentedly without some acres of land. And, no matter what my problems, no matter how pressing my business, I take time out to touch the soil in work with my hands or with tractor or tool, especially during the planting and the bountiful harvest season. That is when Nature's book is opened wide for us to read, and that is when we stand a little closer to the hand and presence of God-

And that is what makes us realize that the immortal Jefferson was dealing only in facts when he said: "Those who labor in the earth are the chosen people of God, if He ever had a chosen people."

Thursday, December 24, 1953

There is not a movement in Nature that does not teach us a lesson if we are willing to learn. Lightning from a storm taught Benjamin Franklin to harness electricity. The spread of a soaring eagle's wing showed man how to fashion his wings that he might fly like a bird. Animal life, preserved in icy regions, probably gave man the idea of making freezing units to preserve his food.

The same is true of the Bible. In each verse from Genesis to Revelations, a lesson may be learned if we read with understanding. The same may be said of certain old school books which taught religious and moral lessons, but which have passed out of use.

I have in mind the old McGuffey Readers, with every story or poem teaching a moral or religious lesson; but narrated in such an interesting manner that students now old, have not forgotten to this day.

I remember one that is well worth recalling about a century old tulip tree, which stood ten miles from the ocean. In this tree, a "Fishing Eagle" had built her nest and raised her young in its top for so many years that it became know as the "Old Eagle Tree." She fished in the ocean, ten miles away, and fed her young. The tree was constantly watched by a boy named Joseph, and by close observation, the "Old Eagle" taught him a lesson that he never forgot.

Joseph noticed men were hoeing corn in the field that surrounded the "Old Eagle Tree," when the eagle returned on slow wing with a large fish for her young. The men surrounded the tree with sticks and stones, and by yelling, so scared the mother bird that she dropped her fish and flew away. After the men dispersed, she returned to the nest without food, at which the eagles set up a fierce clamor that would not be quieted. Apparently discouraged, but only momentarily, she again flew away to the ocean, but was gone a much longer time. She finally returned with another fish, but was apparently exhausted when she dropped the food to the crying young.

In the story, it was then that Joseph exclaimed:

"Glorious bird!" cried the boy, "what a spirit!" Other birds can fly more swiftly, others can scream more loudly: but what other bird, when persecuted and robbed, when weary, when discouraged, when so far from sea, would do this?

"Glorious bird! I will learn a lesson from thee today. I will never forget hereafter, that when the spirit is determined it can do almost anything. Others would have dropped and hung the head and mourned over the cruelty of man, and sighed over the wants of the nestings but thou, by at once recovering the loss, hast forgotten all.

"I will learn of thee, noble bird!" I will remember this. I will set my mark high. I will try to do something and be something in the world; I will never yield to discouragements."

Yes, very little things in Nature teach great lessons. Cornell, Yale, and Columbia are wonderful, but the greatest Teacher of all needed only a potter and his clay, old bottles, tares, and wheat, and a few grains of mustard seed to teach man God's lesson.

Thursday, December 31, 1953

Those who succeed must learn perseverance early in life.

In looking back to the very early days of my childhood, I can smile at the sometimes humorous things that taught me my first lessons in perseverance. One was the old family milk cow, named Old Cherry, as many cows of her color were called in those days.

Old Cherry was my special charge in her wild, foraging life. In looking back, I realize that she was a kind, kindergarten teacher to me when it was my job to keep her in the fenceless pasture lot that bordered the railroad track in Cherry Run, West Virginia.

Old Cherry taught me a persistence, a tenacity, never learned from books, when she deliberately wandered off to the "Upper Woods," where the laurel was poison to her, and where the dead wild cherry leaves were fatal food.

It was on these foraging expeditions that Old Cherry showed that she knew that silence is golden. When she heard me climbing over rocks and vines to search her out, and she stood "frozen" in the laurel bed, she showed she had something close to intelligence. Old Cherry hadn't been told by Proverbs that "Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise." But she was wise enough to hold her bell-tongue while I cocked my ear for its faintest tinkle when she was hiding from me.

On these occasions, Old Cherry would stand as still as if from the chisel of the sculptor to keep the hammer-marked bell, which she wore, from ringing. Unlike most jawing folks Old Cherry knew it was no time to even chew her cud if she was to prove that "silence is golden." But, when I would come upon her, yelling, with sticks and stones, she would tear out of the thicket with her bell clattering as if all the furies were after her.

After these foraging sprees in forbidden pastures, Old Cherry was demure, like most people after reformation. But I knew she was likely to backslide any time regardless of how peacefully she rang her bell as she grazed.

So, sure enough in spite of the lessons she was teaching me in perseverance and watchfulness, one afternoon she took to the hills and failed to appear at milking time. My older brother and I went on the search for the backslider, but she eluded us, and night came on, without a moon. In the darkness an owl hooted which caused my brother to desert me and dig for home. But I continued the search alone until I finally brought old Cherry in with her head hanging in shame.

I will never forget that night! It took a lot of whistling to keep up my courage, which was tried by the night noises, real and imaginary. But I had a lesson in perseverance that all the textbooks, schools, and colleges can never teach.

I do not remember who said it, or whether I quote it correctly, but I will never forget the truth in the following: "Genius, that power which dazzles mortal eyes, Is often PERSEVERANCE in disguise."