Again there are people who shut themselves in an armour of selfishness, impervious alike to gaunt poverty and hollow-eyed sorrow.  From the crown of their heads to the soles of their feet is their world, they can neither see nor hear beyond it.  The good qualities of their neighbors are seen through the large end of a telescope, appearing very small and a long way off, while their own are magnified until they at last look upon themselves as being the personification of all that is good and holy, and it is very amusing to study such a one, to watch her manner of addressing others.  From the lofty pedestal of her own conceit, she allows some poor mortal to approach her shrine, but her manner says, “so far shalt thou come and no farther.”  Of what is she afraid?  Has she fear of contamination?  Is her goodness and purity of such a perishable nature that she fears pollution?  Do not fear.  If you possess innate goodness and womanly qualities you can pass through dangers unharmed, you can walk in the midst of sin and it will not touch you, you can take the hand of vice and it will leave no stain.  From the height of your own purity do not look with scorn upon some less fortunate mortal, do not turn away in disgust, but examine closely, and underlying the outer crust of wickedness and sin, you will be astonished at the amount of good you can find, even in the most depraved.  The human heart is a strange compound, made up of love and hate, of joy and sorrow, hope and despair, and who is able to read it?  Who is able to understand the sorrows, struggles and temptations of others, and who is competent to take upon himself the task of judging?

Every beat of the heart gives us a glimpse, either of heaven inspired love, or hell-born hate, of the sun-lit river of joy, or the gloom of sorrow, the golden gleam of hope or the stagnant pool of despair.  Is it not strange that in all the workings of nature there is complete harmony; the whispering trees, the murmuring winds, the lowing herds, all speak a language of their own, while man is the only animal which makes war with his kind?  The love of riches, the desire of gain, the pride of ambition takes possession of his mind to the exclusion of all else.  In battle, soldiers walk over the dead bodies of friends and foes alike, unmoved, the only thought, the only desire is to win; the groans of the dying are drowned in the exultant shouts of the living as they find themselves victorious.  In the battle of life there are many who, in their desire to win at all hazards, walk over the bodies of fallen enemies, and heed not the groans of even their friends.  In all this worry and strife, all the weariness of body and brain, how few stop to enquire of themselves the means they are taking to attain their aim.  Some have taken a step higher by walking over the body of a brother who has fallen by the wayside, wearied and heart sore, and if he succeeds in reaching the top-most rung of the ladder, envious tongues and slanderous epithets will reach him there,