catch what you may of the fire that was in them; walk in their light, enrich and enlarge your powers by the knowledge and understanding of the means by which they move us; but never forget that the common greatness of them all is their sincerity, and that it is only through sincerity that you can hope to emulate them, even from afar; be assured that your work, in order that it may live, must be the direct and truthful representation of your own individual emotions, not the echo of the emotions of others. Without sincerity of emotions, no gift, however facile and specious, will avail you to win the lasting sympathies of men, for, as Goethe has truly said:

“The chord that wakes in kindred hearts a tone, Must first be tuned and vibrate in your own.'

Such are the lessons that Art can teach youto be industrious, to be humble, to be true. The contemplation of beauty will beautify your mind. You will gain knowledge in an easy and pleasant way by studying pictures. Insensibly your mind will set up standards which will ennoble and inspire you; and, above all, you will learn, through the medium of the painters' brushes, how wonderful are the works of the Creator whose most marvellous creation is the mind of man-YoUR MIND.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE SECRET CHAMBER

"The shadow of a great rock in a weary land."—ISAIAH.

ALKING up a suburban road one summer

WAL

evening, I turned a corner where another road rises and stretches away some three hundred yards. Right at the end of that vista a glorious harvest moon hung low over the house-tops like a great golden jewel, mysterious and luminous, and near by, in attendance on it, a brilliant star flashed and sparkled like a heavenly gem set in the infinite. The twilight covered the harsh-looking houses with soft shadows. Everything was arranged by the Master Hand to intensify the mystic loveliness of the lantern of heaven. The brain said it was a suburban street; the mind saw the majesty of one of Nature's most wonderful miracles.

Some people never see such scenes. Put them in a garden full of flowers and they see nothing, and do nothing but chatter small talk. Others see beauty in stones, in stagnant pools, and in rocky solitudes. The truth is, that the world is full of beauty, of

joy, light and happiness. They are for us to see and know and feel, just as we look for them and conjure them up within our souls. The sensitive wax of the phonograph records sounds and reproduces them at our will. Our minds are infinitely more sensitive than any instrument man can make. They record faithfully every pleasant and harmful impression, and they reproduce them just as faithfully, all and any of them according to the dictates of our own wills.

Under the influence of a splendid book, a noble work of art, or an uplifting harmony of music, the splendid, noble and elevating records of the mind respond most surely, giving a sensation of pleasure which is but a reflex of their action on the mental faculties. The more we can store our minds with beautiful thoughts the more shall we be able to attract the beauties that surround us on every side. The more we can use these treasures of the soul the happier will our lives be. Our minds are like grand musical instruments. Played upon by the sensitive, trained will, they are capable of wonderfully beautiful harmonies, far nobler than the most inspired conceptions of a Beethoven, a Shakespeare, or a Michael Angelo. A sage once remarked that the finest conceptions of a poet's mind were those he never wrote. The mind that is in harmony with Nature, that can respond to the beauties of a summer

night, as the musical instrument gives out its melody under the touch of a master hand, can feel the music of the spheres and know that the ecstasies of the songs of Paradise are being reproduced in the soul by the touch of the Master Musician.

Some musical instruments get out of tune and produce only discord whoever plays them. They correspond to the mind that has fed itself upon noxious thoughts and pessimistic reflections. Even the Master Hand can produce nothing but discord from such an instrument. Yet, just as the instrument which is out of tune gives from time to time a pure sweet note, so within the rankest mind a noble sentiment responds every now and then to the majesty of some manifestation of Nature. There is, in every mind, a recess which imprisons our ideals. We may hedge it round with thoughts of every description, bolt and bar it so that it is most difficult to penetrate, yet every now and then some touch of memory or of conscience releases the spring and gives a glimpse of the angel in the man.

In such a place we keep our holiest thoughts and memories-the mental pictures of our mothers are there, the records of our baby prayers and our childish hopes. In that secret chamber-the holy of holies of the mind-the pure aspirations of life flourish or lie dormant, waiting for the sunshine to make them bloom and transform every action into

perfection. It is a place to enter reverently, to keep sweet, to fill with precious fragrance from a thousand noble dreams. All that will make us better, that will make love in us and call love to us, dwells in that hallowed spot. It is the ark of the soul, a veritable flame and pillar of cloud to guide us through the perils of the world, and keep us serene and unafraid amid all the terrors of life and death.

None may enter this secret chamber save the owner himself. It is beyond the door to which none else may hold a key. All of us have our secrets and our memories which we cannot share with our nearest and dearest. These may peep from time to time into the precincts of the chamber, they may get some dim far-off glimpse of its treasures, of its faded and cherished blossoms, but more than that they can never know. Perchance, when we die, the treasures that we keep there we may take with us, and to us they will be as dear as any of the joys that await us in the Elysian Fields.

It is the pleasure and duty of every well-trained and well-balanced mind to reflect upon these things from time to time. If the practice of going to church has any special value, its usefulness must lie as much as anything in the fact that it makes a haltingtime between the cares and duties of everyday life, when we can take stock of ourselves and make note of our weaknesses and our strength. We should