"Mr. Sunshine."
He had the merriest smile imaginable, and everyone called him “Mr. Sunshine"—that is, almost everyone.
He would dismiss an old employee with a face like a jolly saint.
He would hum "Let a little sunshine in" while writing an order for the eviction of a tenant back in rent because of sickness.
He would send a bushel of potatoes to a poor widow and foreclose a mortgage on the home of another poor widow, all in an hour.
He would lay his hands in benediction on the heads of little children, and lay his hands on their fathers' savings—not in benediction.
He would give a dime to a beggar so graciously that one almost forgot the beggars he had made.
No wonder he was called "Mr. Sunshine"—by all but a few. But those few will name him for eternity.
The Unwise Snake.
Once there was a snake who was greatly displeased at the horror he seemed to excite in everyone. He was conscious of his innocence and could not understand why everybody ran away from him, or, if they stopped, threw sticks and stones at him with cries of anger. He concluded that it was merely on account of his personal appearance, and made up his mind to change that. Therefore, placing his tail in his mouth and forming himself into a perfect circle, he stiffened himself so that he appeared perfectly wooden. In this condition he was found by some children, who pounced upon him with eagerness, crying out, "Oh, what a pretty green hoop!" Taking a stick, they began to trundle the "hoop," giving it a smart blow with the stick at every revolution. The poor snake endured this torture as long as he could, and then took an opportunity to roll off among the bushes and speedily assume his proper shape and slip into his hole. "I have learned," said the snake, "that however unfortunate one's lot, nothing is to be gained from pretending to be something else."
Platinum Counterfeits.
Once an English photographer deposited in his bank, among other pieces of money, a much-worn sovereign. He was amazed to find afterwards that he had been credited with a guinea. In reality, the coin was a counterfeit; but the base was of platinum, heavily gilded. Now, though platinum, at the time when the counterfeit was probably made, was worth about one-third as much as gold, it is now more valuable than the yellow metal. This is because so little of it is mined, and there is so great use for it in the arts and industries.
It is quite unusual, as will be agreed, to find a counterfeit that is more valuable than it pretends to be; but in the domain of the spirit this discovery may be made all the time. Indeed, spiritual counterfeits are always of the platinum variety.
What I mean is this: that in spiritual counterfeiting the counterfeiter gives away quite priceless possessions, for which he never gets an adequate return. He may be counterfeiting piety, or virtue, or love, or honesty, or industry. Into every counterfeit he puts his honor, his happiness, his self-respect, his hope, his character, and his eternal welfare!
A valuable coin, that! No need of gilding it, surely! The only difference between it and the platinum sovereign is that its metal is of use to no one but the counterfeiter. But to him, ah, how priceless! And how endlessly foolish is this counterfeiting in the realm of spiritual realities!
"No Smoking Allowed."
"NO SMOKING ALLOWED" is the sign, in big, staring letters, which confronts me every time I enter my railway station. It is the most conspicuous of many notices upon the walls. Yet no one can stick his nose inside the room without being assaulted with tobacco fumes. The floor is filthy with the remains of cigars and cigarettes. The air is vile with the choking smell. In the center of the waiting-room is a large glass case full of tobacco in all forms, for sale. The ticket-seller smokes in his office. Many of the trainmen smoke voluminously in the waiting-room. The patrons of the road smoke there, of course, without hindrance. It is one room for men and women, and those that do not like the smoke may go outdoors and wait there for their train. Men and women are driven to do this constantly. Yet on the wall, month after month, that foolish sign stares at us, "NO SMOKING ALLOWED."
Doubtless the railway officials felt very virtuous when they put up that hypocritical notice. Doubtless tobacco-haters and lovers of fresh air took them at their word, and rejoiced. But it was only a notice; it meant nothing; with no watching back of it, no rebuke or punishment if it was not observed, how could it mean anything?
That sign has come to be a symbol in my thinking. It stands to me for the many, many outward professions that men make with little or no thought of the inward meaning. Churchgoing without heart worship; Bible-reading without life obedience; the polite smile without soul sympathy; songs without thought of what the words signify; prayers by rote; votes by party; company manners-ah, the world is full of signs like "NO SMOKING ALLOWED"! While I sit in that waiting-room and choke over the stale tobacco fumes let me go over these signs in my life. Let me not tear them down, for they are good signs; let me valorously determine to live up to them.