John Nagle's philosophy . h sustained the constancy of the martyrsof science and liberty, and causes the privationsand sacrifices of the explorer who faces deathamid arctic snows and cold and ice. Yes, allthe tears that have been shed, all the prayersthat have been offered, all the kisses given bythe rosy lips of health to the ashen face ofdeath, all the fond hopes expressed amid cloudsand mists, have sprung from the great fountainof human affection, love. A COUNTRY BOYS SUNDAY. There is a genuine pleasure in that day-dream which brings up visions of green woods,the cool stream, the joyous cro
John Nagle's philosophy . h sustained the constancy of the martyrsof science and liberty, and causes the privationsand sacrifices of the explorer who faces deathamid arctic snows and cold and ice. Yes, allthe tears that have been shed, all the prayersthat have been offered, all the kisses given bythe rosy lips of health to the ashen face ofdeath, all the fond hopes expressed amid cloudsand mists, have sprung from the great fountainof human affection, love. A COUNTRY BOYS SUNDAY. There is a genuine pleasure in that day-dream which brings up visions of green woods,the cool stream, the joyous crowd of boyswith no remembrance of the past, with nothought of the future, nothing to mar thepleasures of the present. There is glory inrealized ambition; there is satisfaction in amass-ed wealth; there is gratified vanity in becom-ing famous, but for real unadulterated pleasure,the honest, simple hearted, country boys Sun-day, untrammelled by conventionality, has init a degree of pleasure which wealth andhonor cannot AN OLD MISSION. There is an old mission a few miles fromSan Diego, away among the mountains. My-self and a friend set out for this historic spot,while others were busying themselves withthings more modern and more interesting fromthe tourists standpoint. The school has onehundred nine pupils, all Indian children. Noth-ing is taught but English, though Spanish is thelanguage of the playground. The devotionof the children to the sisters in charge is oneof the finest examples of the power of moralforce I ever witnessed. There never was atime when I did not respect the noble womenwho have given their lives to charitable andbenevolent work, but never did their self-de-votion appear more grand than in this isolatedmountain valley amid the ruins of early effort,working in the interest of a race having noth-ing to give in return, and whose extinction is anticipated with pleasure by those who shapethe sentiment which governs the age. Theyoung Indians who attend the sc
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