button and clever mechanisms do the rest. Moreover we have outgrown the old-fashioned notion that we have no right to the wholesome pleasures which this world yields. We have ceased to tell young people that they are not to delight themselves in ordinary recreations lest their soul should be in danger of perdition. In the first place, young people wouldn't believe it if we told them so, and in the second place, it isn't true. The Bible itself says: "He hath made every thing beautiful in its time." "God giveth us richly all things to enjoy."

At the same time, that theory of life which would limit it to interest in things seen and tangible breaks down at certain points. It does not help us in the moral struggle when our better natures assert themselves and would rise above the things that drag us down to earth. Furthermore, we tire at times of incessant rounds of pleasure. Even brownstone mansions and six thousand dollar touring cars cannot satisfy certain moods of our minds.

Again, we cannot shut out the other world if we would. As the poet says, "It lies around us like a cloud." Something happens to bring it very near.

There is

a death in the family or on the street, or our own physical powers begin to decline.

At such times the theory that there is only one world for us becomes almost intolerable. We look around and see those who have succeeded in dwelling in both worlds, to whom one is almost as real as the other, who while taking the true delight in books, music, painting, travel, human fellowship, and even in good things to eat and good things to wear, find also an even higher satisfaction in the things which the eye does not see nor the hand touch. They honestly believe that they are denizens of two worlds and that they lose a great deal out of their lives when they confine themselves to one.

Sometime even the one-world-at-a-time men may wake up and find themselves wofully mistaken. We are not forecasting their plight then, but it is folly to try to wall out here and now the world of spiritual realities. The one-world-at-a-time people may not suffer hereafter in just the way the stiff theologies have affirmed they would, but how strange that country must seem

to them when they reach it, having made no preparation for it while here. Certainly if one were going to Europe sometime he would, if possible, make some preparation for it. He would occasionally read a book that tells about it, or talk with somebody who had been there, or let his mind in imagination some quiet Sunday evening roam toward that delectable country which he hoped to see some day. Then, when he went, he would not be altogether dazed or find the atmosphere too rare for him, or show himself at every turn in the journey a novice or an ignoramus.

THE LUCK OF THE ROAD

N that charming novel entitled "Felicity,"

IN

and depicting the modern stage and the life of the people who figure on it, the phrase "The luck of the road" again and again appears. It is frequently on the lips of the hero of the book, the Old Man, and he always uses it to cheer the members of his company when they get down in the mouth. His point was that having accepted the romantic and uncertain life of their profession they should not whine over its "outs," but should rather exhibit a soldierly spirit and extract all the comfort and pleasure they could out of even hard experiences and situations. And this genial philosophy governed the Old Man not only in relation to his troupe, but in his dealings with all whom he met.

Perhaps a theater can sometimes teach the pulpit a lesson. At any rate, there is a deal of gospel sense in this view of life. For we are all "up against it" in one way and another. Whether we go abroad or stay at home, whether we work for ourselves

or work for others, whether we wear broadcloth or homespun, we are all amenable to the luck of the road. If we have chosen a profession or trade, there will be some inevitable limitations and drawbacks connected with it. If we have married a wife or husband, perhaps he or she will be one or two notches short of perfection. If we have centered all our hopes on some beautiful expectation it may fail us; or, if not, the reality may fall far below the anticipation. And before we know it, we will be in the mood of the little girl who moaned, "The world is hollow. My doll is made of sawdust, and I want to be a nun.”

But is that the right spirit in which to meet life as it comes to us? Isn't it far better to accept the luck of the road, rather than to kick against it? It may help us to submission to remember that our case is never so exceptional as it seems. We all get in the habit of looking at our woes through the end of the telescope that magnifies them; and then we reverse the instrument and look at other folks' troubles, and how small they seem! But get down to the heart of that well-gowned lady of society, that prosperous business man, and maybe