[Illustration]
_Thou sluggard in bonds to a vision of night,
Be not a king's fool, but a proud man of might:
Arise like a lord, that ye may not be slain,
No door shall imprison, no hope be in vain;
The world is for conquest, who seeks for such goal,
Will find the chain riven, the key in his soul!_
_The unknown spake out of the firmament, saying,--"Choose ye one
instrument first, and then attune another one to it. This accomplished,
attune then a third instrument to them; after that a fourth, and so on;
and ye shall be all attuned alike."_
_Thereupon, the musicians set to work, but could not agree as to whose
should be the first instrument._
_A pillar of fire descended from Heaven and stood in the midst of the
musicians; and in the centre of the pillar of fire there appeared an
instrument called the All Perfect. The instrument gave forth one note
and all the musicians attuned to it. The Voice said, "I have given the
keynote, find ye the rest!"_
_The pillar of fire departed. The instruments thus attuned in harmony
played rapturously._
_This I perceive,--to make the man and wife one, to make the village
one, to make the state one, to make the empire one,--all in harmony as
one instrument, cannot be done without a Central Son, a Creator to
attune to. When a man is attuned to Him, and a woman is attuned to Him,
they will themselves be as one. When the family and the village are
attuned to Him, it is easy. Without Him harmony cannot be._
_He, the Creator, then, must be first in all things, first in all
places. He must be the nearest of all things, the nearest of all places.
In our rites and ceremonies, He must be the All Ideal Perfection, the
embodiment of a Perfect Person._--Book of Saphah.
The Story of an Ostrich
[Illustration]
BY
JUDD ISAACS,
FORMERLY EDITOR OF THE YANKEE BLADE,
NEW ENGLAND MAGAZINE, NICKELL MAGAZINE.
[Illustration]
The Story of an Ostrich.
A robust old ostrich, with head little bigger
Than that of some creatures of far frailer figure,
With two legs complete, and a speed very fleet,
Once caught a short peep at his feet, in the street.
So far from his head did they seem to be located,
He failed to take note that upon each were notated
Scales, warts and abrasions, nails, ossification,
Which proved them a part of his own corporation.
He noticed, however, wherever he went,
They came along, too, and he asked what it meant?
Though he walked through the town, or he stalked o'er the heath
He observed they remained, always, right underneath.
He thrust out his bust and inside he just cussed,
When they strode along and kept kicking up dust;
But in vain did he feign to abstain from disdain,
As he dined with the twain in the wind and the rain;
_Copyrighted by the Hand Print Book Folk, Boston, Mass._
[Illustration]
Or stared around therein, while wearing a bear-grin,
Evincing an evident, ill-concealed chagrin.
So very ungainly were they, like a tumor,
The ostrich, at last, got in very bad humor;
And, failing to recognise them as his own,
Made a peck with his beak that went clear to the bone,
Which gave all his nerves such a terrible thrill,
He quick pecked another hard peck with his bill;
With each peck a quiver, his frame shook with shivers,
As if his limp liver were pierced with slim slivers,--
Till both his great feet with his heart's blood were red,
Oozing out on the ground, as he'd painfully tread.
