First Steps.
In the lives of all men there is a certain point—a moment may be—fraught with influences of the most material importance and well-being. By our appreciation of that critical moment is our future path traced, and our characters formed. Our way through the world will be the same direction as that in which we cross the Rubicon. If we launch out bravely and confidently, our eyes fixed on the shore beyond, and with a manly determination to fight against wave and current, and reach the desired point,—then straight onward will be our future course; we will reach the goal with ease, and, from some peaceful haven of rest, will look back with pride and pleasure o’er the chequered track we traversed. But if, instead of crossing straight over that opening river of life, we let the eye wander to every inviting point, we will be swept with its tide far from our true landing place, and in the same direction will lie our future path. Every step we take will lead us farther and farther from Truth and Happiness; and the end will come all dark and despairing, without a solace and without a hope. "There is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune." Remember, the tide remains at the flood but for a few moments, and then, if ever, the successful step must be taken. Let us in imagination look into the past, and behold those whom we have known thro’ life as they stand on the brink of this stream of destiny. Let us watch their plunge,—their passage,—and their landing: see how, unconsciously almost to themselves, their "first steps" on shore are in the same direction as that in which they crossed the river; follows their various courses—some straight and unswerving,—some wavering and undecided, and other fair and joyous for a time, but leading them with peaceful rapidity to a steep and rigged precipice. Here is a youth, brave, trustful, generous, but bending beneath the crushing weight of poverty and its accompanying ills. Observe him as he faces the stream and prepares to plunge in. Does his eye wander,—does his heart quail,—or his mind waver? No; clear and bright is the glance—straight before him the look—calm and determined the mind: the dash is made and the brave youth is struggling with the waves of the world—battling bravely, on he goes—now raised on a wave, now buried in a gulf; but on still, with that fixed determined look, and that brave heart, until the shore is gained, and forward he speeds with a bright hope in the future, and the prayers of those who love him and watch him hovering o’er him with protecting wings. Onward,—gathering strength as he goes, with a holy trust that peace and rest will reward him when the race is o’er,—But back again to the surging stream. On its bank stands one whose past has been amidst sunshine and flowers. Friends are watching him, dear ones are praying for him, too: no cloud or weight ever rested on him, and life is gay or smiling before him. But see! The eye wanders o’er every bright spot as he launches forth; and little by little he is drawn down the stream; far away, amidst ephemeral beauties he reaches the shore, and on through the bright fields he wanders—sipping their sweets and lingering o’er their pleasures—till night comes with a piercing blast—the sunshine is gone—the melody has ceased—the flowers are dead,—and the thoughtless wanderer stands alone and friendless in the darkness and the desert.
Enough of allegory. We stand now on the brink of such a stream—let us not blindly be led away by deceptive appearances. necessity compels us to begin life anew amid strange faces and strange scenes. The end will certainly be in accordance with the beginning. If our "first steps" are straight on, so shall our life be. Every act and every word is a step—a step right onward or aside. Let us take the tide of the flood—"watch for opportunity and seize it." If we waver at first, we will fail before we reach the goal. there are prayers from our dear ones hovering o’er us as we go; and a firm trust in a manly heart—a strong hand,—and an honourable purpose, will guide and cheer us on, and, in the end, bring us a full and enduring reward.
How to make whisky,—take a large-sized key, whisk it rapidly though the air for about two hours; place it in a hogshead; add a proportionate quantity of water; let it ferment, then bottle, cork, and seal up for use. A wineglass full every morning, fasting, good for lockjaw.
