to her, and will desert him when the cash runs low, is a bad woman and
carries a bad heart in her bosom. Why, you are never really wedded
until you have had dark days together. What earthly purpose would a
cable serve that never was tested by a weight? Of what use is the tie
that binds wedded hearts together if like a filament of floss it parts
when the strain is brought to bear upon it? It is not when you are
young, my dear, when the skies are blue and every wayside weed flaunts
a summer blossom, that the story of your life is recorded. It is when
"Darby and Joan" are faded and wasted and old, when poverty has nipped
the roses, when trouble and want and care have flown like uncanny birds
over their heads (but never yet nested in their hearts, thank God),
that the completed chronicle of their lives furnishes the record over
which heaven smiles or weeps.




IV.

THEY CARRY NO BANNER.

There never yet was a grand procession that was not accompanied, or,
rather, in great measure made up of, followers and onlookers. So in
this life parade of ours, with its ever varying pageant and brilliant
display, there are comparatively few who carry banners, who disport the
epaulette, and the gold lace. And sometimes, we who help swell the
ranks of those who watch and wait, grow discouraged, almost thinking
that life is a failure because it holds no gala-day for us, nothing but
sober tints and quiet duties. What chance for any one, and a woman
especially, to make a career for herself, tied down to a lot of