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wretchedness and enjoys a secret' pleasure—-yea, even triumphs as he 
reflects on the infamous achievement. 
Mo wonder, that the Wise Man says: “Of three things my heart 
hath been afraid, and at the fourth my face hath trembled: . . . a 
false charge, all are more grievous than death.”—Ecclus. xxvi, 5 and 7. 
Is it worth while that we jostle a brother. 
Bearing his load on the rough road of life ? 
/V JEis)worth while that we jeer at each other, 
In blackness of heart that we war to the knife ? 
God pity us all in our pitiful strife. 
God pity us all as we jostle each other; 
God pardon us all for the triumph we feel 
When a fellow goes down hieath his load on the heather. 
Pierced to the heart: Words are keener than steel, 
And mightier far for woe than for weal. 
Were it not well in this brief little journey 
On over the isthmus, down into the tide, 
We give him a fish instead of a serpent, 
Ere folding the hands to be and abide 
Forever and aye in dust at his side? 
Look at the roses saluting each other; 
Look at the herds all at peace on the plain— 
Man, and man only, makes war on his brother, 
And laughs in his heart at his peril and pain; 
Shamed by the beasts that go down on the plain. 
Is it worth while that we battle to humble 
Some poor fellow down in the dust ? 
God pity us all!. .Time eftsoons will tumble 
All of us together, like leaves in gust. 
Humbled, indeed, down into the dust. 
—Joaquin Miller. 
