If more would act the play of Life,
And fewer spoil it in rehearsal;
If Bigotry would sheathe its knife
Till Good became more universal;
If Custom, gray with ages grown,
Had fewer blind men to adore it--
If talent shone
In truth alone,
The world would be the better for it.
If men were wise in little things--
Affecting less in all their dealings--
If hearts had fewer rusted strings
To isolate their kindly feelings;
If men, when Wrong beats down the Right,
Would strike together and restore it--
If Right made Might
In every fight,
The world would be the better for it.
TWO SIDES TO A STORY.
"HAVE you seen much of your new neighbours, yet?" asked Mrs. Morris,
as she stepped in to have an hour's social chat with her old friend,
Mrs. Freeman.
"Very little," was the reply. "Occasionally I have seen the lady
walking in her garden, and have sometimes watched the sports of the
children on the side-walk, but this is all. It is not like the
country, you know. One may live here for years, and not become
acquainted with the next-door neighbours."
"Some may do so," replied Mrs. Morris, "but, for my part, I always
like to know something of those around me. It is not always
desirable to make the acquaintance of near neighbours, but by a
little observation it is very easy to gain an insight into their
characters and position in society.
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