making a great man's impression; but if he would spend as much time going to the great
man's sources of strength and studying how to serve, he would be achieving a genuine qual¬
ity .ill his own, instead of a cheap paste imitation of another man's manners.
The young man imbibes, perhaps unconsciously, a successful man's mannerisms and
imagines that he is walking in the path of success. But, were he to cultivate not poses, but
poise; were he to achieve efficiency, energy, industry, his own mannerisms would do him
well enough, and in time they would be copied by other young fools as the symbols of suc¬
The impression our sinning makes upon others is after all only a smudge, but the
impression our being makes is real, a solid dent.
Seeming is the shell-like structure built for a passing show, to be pulled down when the
show is over. It doesn't matter how illusory its size or coloring, by the law of materials
and strains, it is what it is, and can never be anything else.
Being is the solid masonry of parapet and tower, built against the strength of the sea
and fury of the storm. It is what it is and cannot be moved. It is a fact, not fiction, and
a fact is an immovable thing in God's universe. Seeming is fiction, being is fact.
We can't all be big men, neither can we all do big things to make the burdens of our
fellow man lighter; but let us remember that it's the little things that count. A story is
told of William Gladstone, the great British statesman, who used to walk to his office every
morning, and on his way had to pass an old sweeper of the streets. For years he had
stopped and chatted with the old man. One morning, as Gladstone did not see him, he in¬
quired and found that the old sweeper was sick in bed. Gladstone bought an orange, stopped
the business of Great Britain, and carried the orange to the worker of the streets and sat
and talked to him of things of the great beyond. It was the little things Gladstone did for
the poor, as well as his great statesmanship, that wove his life into Britain's life-fabric,
never to be unraveled.
The question is, as we go about our daily life, in college or business, church or society,
in whatever we undertake—are we a fact or fiction? Do we pass for what we actually and
fundamentally are, or are we masked by w hat we want people to think we are? Upon
what do we rest our case, upon Seeming or Being? The first is builded upon sand; the
second, upon rock.
S. C. Blair.
"Rest is not quitting the busy career;
Rest is the fitting of self to its sphere;
Tis loving and serving, the highest and best,
'Tis onward—unswerving; ah! that is true rest."