Say, fellows! I saw a big touring car sideswipe a Ford runabout and knock it several feet to one side on the country road. Of course each of the drivers thought the other was to blame, and a warm argument followed.

The big car was unhurt, and proceeded on its way, but the flivver had its running board and fender badly battered. While the young fellow of the runabout examined to see what further damage his car might have sustained, the prosperous-looking gentleman was speeding up the highway, chuckling over his own car's escape from injury.

I asked the man of the Ford if his engine had suffered. No, he thought it was all right; he would crank up and see. Good! She started off with a clutter, and he asked me if I wanted to ride. I had not far to go, but gladly accepted, for I was rather struck with this young fellow's grip on himself. It took self-control to avoid making the air blue with abuse. The way that big fellow had hurried on, leaving the runabout in trouble, was certainly not on the square, to say the least.

A turn in the road brought a fresh surprise. There was the touring car, a hundred yards ahead, standing in the middle of the road, hood up, and the big man peering into the engine. There was room to pa.s.s, and I wondered what the man at the wheel in the runabout would do.

Would the little car rattle past with its damaged fender? It would be only human nature to sing out some sort of a taunt: "Thought you were in a hurry!" or "Don't block the road!"--and yet this young fellow did not seem to be that kind. His self-control during the incident back there in the road made me expect something different, and I was not disappointed. The runabout did pa.s.s, but stopped ten yards ahead, and my companion got out.

"Engine trouble? Need any help?"

The big fellow's face was a puzzle, as he looked up with a worried grin and mopped his brow with a grease-smeared hand. Yes, there was engine trouble, and it was serious.

To make a long story short, when last I saw them as they turned the curve of the road ahead, the big car's front axle was connected by a chain to the rear of the runabout as it chugged away in low gear dragging the big one to the nearest garage.

Say, fellows! it takes a dead game sport to do a trick like that. Any cheap skate can whiz past and give his enemy in trouble the hard-boiled eye, but it takes a fine soul to be generous when the natural impulse calls for spite work.

In the small hours of that fine morning, as Saul slept and as his guards were heavy with sleep about him, David put one over on his pursuer--an act of kindness which overwhelmed him with shame. David had not only to fight a natural impulse to get even, but he had with him an adviser who used the most persuasive arguments to induce him to take Saul's life. Indeed, Abishai proposed to do the deed himself, as though that would leave David clear of guilt in the matter. But no, David was a man of principle, and he knew three very vital things:

1. "Vengeance is mine, I will repay," said the Lord.

2. A magnanimous spirit wins, and no sad regrets cloud the victory.

3. He that ruleth his own spirit is better than he that taketh a city.

_Read twenty-sixth chapter of 1 Samuel and Romans 12:20-21._

XXIV

GREATNESS

Say, fellows, if I should make up an unusually good story about you, some n.o.ble thing you did, or some kind and generous act, to whom should I tell it, to be sure it would be believed? Yes, I see you know of whom I am thinking--your mother. I might tell your brother and sister, and they would say: "Phew! are you sure it was d.i.c.k?" I might tell your employer, and his eyes would roam around over the objects on his desk; or your teacher, and he would look at the sky and say: "Think it will rain?" I might tell your father, and he would be grateful--but surprised! But let me tell your mother! There I would find one who is ready to believe anything good I would say about you.

I tell you, fellows, a mother is a wonderful gift to a boy, for her prayers alone. Long before you learned to say, "Now I lay me down to sleep," she was praying that you would be a great and good man some day. Those prayers of mothers have kept many a boy from going wrong.

One night in a great city where I had gone to find work I had fallen in with some young fellows who "knew the ropes," and being far from home and lonesome I was glad to accept their companionship. They invited me to join them in an "evening lark" to which no loyal Christian would lend himself, and though I was a nominal Christian I was tempted sorely. I regarded myself as "my own man," having just turned twenty-one.

But just as I wavered between right and wrong, my mother's face flashed before me. It was only for an instant, but it was enough. I heard her voice, heard it in prayer. That night a thousand miles away she was praying for me, and saved me from what might have been a fatal step. I firmly believe, fellows, but for my mother's prayers that night and many nights, before and since, I should not now be enjoying the privilege of talking about the great things of life and the Kingdom to you.

Treasure that dear mother, if you have one, fellows; she is G.o.d's peculiar gift.

Well, James and John had such a mother, and she did the most natural and motherly kind of a thing. She wanted _her boys_ to go away up high; they must even stand in the highest places, on the right and left hand of the King in His glory. Like all mothers, she was ambitious for her boys.

Then Jesus in His wonderful way explained that the road to true greatness was not that which the world was following, in which those in power and authority were overbearing masters to their inferiors; but it is a path of service to mankind, a path already blazed by Himself. Last night in the local evening paper I saw these headlines: CHATTANOOGA DOCTOR ATTAINS EMINENCE. The article stated that a very remarkable invention for the removal of foreign particles from the lungs or bronchial tubes, such as might be accidentally swallowed, had been successfully demonstrated before a national medical society, and had been written up in the _American Medical Journal_; it was said that the discovery had brought great honour to the doctor in the world of medicine.

That was the recognition, but what had preceded? Days and nights at bedsides of suffering; days and nights in the laboratory; days and nights of study to relieve pain; hours of weariness unknown to the world, but borne on by the thought of doing a service to humanity. And do you suppose the final publicity is what rewards this doctor?

Hardly. A reporter on his local city paper sought an interview, after the far-away medical journal had published the first news, but the doctor, in his service overalls in the midst of treating his patients, declined the interview, saying it would involve a technical description which the general public would hardly be interested in.

Then it was "Good-morning," and the doctor returned to his work.

True greatness does not care to make one dash to fame, then loaf in its glory.

The thing our great Commander wants us to be earnest about is doing our best, wherever the place of service. He will look after the reward. He is even more ambitious for us than our mothers are.

_Read Matthew 20:20-28._

XXV

"PAW, I WANTA BE SOMEBODY!"

Say, fellows, away back in the mountains of western North Carolina, far up on the mountainside, at the head of a cove, there lived a fifteen-year-old boy. He had sisters and brothers and parents, but they dwelt in a little tumble-down shack and were wretchedly poor.

Jake was the oldest of the children, and he had to work hard in the little patch of corn on the steep mountainside, which barely yielded a crop.

Down the path a mile or so there was a little log schoolhouse where a lady teacher gave some of the mountain children lessons in "readin', ritin', and 'rithmetic." Jake had pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed that schoolhouse many times and wished that he might "go thar and larn," but Jake was too important a hand on "the farm" to "waste enny time at sich"--so thought his parents, neither of whom could read or write. "An' Jake was pow'ful handy 'bout fixin' things, like tools en sich."

One day, when "the crop" was pretty well "laid by," Jake came to the shack and, throwing his hoe into the corner, said: "Paw, I wanta be Somebody!" Then Jake went on to say he had been thinking that now the corn was in shape to go ahead and make what it would, he "might put in some time ev'y day at the schoolhouse a-larnin' how to read and write."

"But y'ain't got nothin' to buy books," was suggested.

"I'll see 'bout that 'ar," said Jake.

Next morning when the teacher arrived, Jake was waiting at the schoolhouse door.

"Teacher," said he, "I ain't got no money to buy books, but I kin git up the wood ev'y day for the stove, 'n I kin sweep out the schoolhouse 'n keep it clean--cain't ye loan me a book 'n let me come 'n larn?"

Jake's terms were accepted. No boy was ever prouder of a university scholarship than Jake was of that chance to "larn" in the little mountain schoolhouse. Jake went after "larnin'" as a boy goes for pie at the picnic dinner.

A few months later, the school was visited by the superintendent of one of the large North Carolina mountain mission schools. When the teacher told him about Jake, he offered him an opportunity to enter the mission school and succeeded in persuading his parents to let him go. Jake was put to work taking care of the farm machinery in the agricultural department of the mission, but with ample time to pursue his studies in the schoolroom.

It was noticed that he had special apt.i.tude for fixing the farm implements and adjusting the parts--even making some of the missing parts at the old blacksmith forge. The superintendent was so impressed with this that as soon as Jake's education had made pretty fair progress, he secured him a position in the dynamo room of a large manufacturing plant in a near-by town. Jake had accepted Jesus Christ as his Saviour and Master while at the mission school, owned his Bible, read it faithfully every day, and was a consistent young Christian.

It was a triumph for Jake, when he got a discarded dynamo out of its corner and saved the purchase of a new machine. His employers soon saw that he was ent.i.tled to even a better chance than they could give him, and after they had some correspondence with a great electrical manufacturing firm in New England, Jake one day bade farewell to his "Tarheel" friends and took a north-bound train.

At the great electrical plant, his career was continuously upward.

It takes five figures to name his salary. Every Sunday morning you will see Jake and his family get into their big car and motor into the city, where Jake teaches a large and enthusiastic cla.s.s of young men.

The mountain boy has realized his wish: he is Somebody!

No fellow can do a finer thing than make his life count as a force in Christianizing the nation--to make it stand out a shining light, pointing the world to Christ. And one effective way to do that is to apply himself, with a Christ-loving heart, to the opportunity that comes to his hands to build himself up in a Christian way and in a business way. For good business and Christian integrity are twin screw propellers.

The fellow that gets the good job, the fellow that suddenly finds himself in a position of power and privileged service to his world about him is the fellow who is found faithful to the smaller work or the smaller opportunity that lies next to his hand.