Readers of the Observer
will recall the story of Melvin Gardner, a young newspaper man who dropped into
the office one night and asked for work. He was given a temporary position on
the Chronicle. Later he tried to kill himself, but friends saved him. Finally,
however, he succeeded, one night at Winston-Salem. Before coming to Charlotte,
Gardner worked for the Herald of Greenville, S.C. In a recent issue of that
paper, the following story appeared:
There came to this city not many months ago a tramp newspaper
man. He had tales to tell of the far South, of the cold North, of Texas towns
and Mexican bull fights. He was what the world calls a human wreck. In his
physique, that was so. But the man had a soul, stilled through it might have
been through a series of debauches and a life of dissipation.
This same fellow went away after awhile and drifted into
work elsewhere—the free masonry of the craft guaranteeing him a shelter and
sustenance wherever he happened to cast his lot. Soon, though, in a fit of
melancholy, he quit the game of life and passed out into the Eternal.
In one of the drawers of his desk the other day this creed
was found folded away in an old soiled envelope:
“I believe in little children as the most precious gift of
heaven to earth. I believe that they have immortal souls created in the image
of God, coming forth from Him and to return to Him. I believe that in every
child are infinite possibilities for good or evil and that the kind of
influences with which he is surrounded in early childhood largely determines
whether or not the budding life shall bloom in fragrance and beauty, with the
fruit thereof a noble, godlike character.
“I believe it is to be the mission of all of us
‘Step by step lift bad to good; Without halting, without rest, Living better up to best.’
“I believe in play as the child’s normal effort to
understand himself through free self-expression; and I believe, too, in work,
but work that is joyous, and that the joy in the doing comes largely from the
well doing.
“I believe in freedom, but not in license; in prompt,
cheerful obedience; in punctuality, regularity, accuracy, industry and
application; that wisely directed self-activity should result in self-control,
in self-forgetfulness, in an increasing desire to choose the good, true and
beautiful, and to contribute happiness of others.
“I believe in cultivating the intellect and the will, but I
believe, too, in soul-culture, and that out of this cultivation comes the more
abundant life bringing forth the fruits of spirit-kindness, gentleness, joy,
peace, truth, faith, hope, love, reverence for God, for each other, and for his
lowly creatures.
“I believe that the white city of God, with its river of
life and its tree of life is the divine type of the home with its life-giving
love, sunshine and companionship, and its symmetrical unfolding of all the
beauties of child-life—physical, mental, moral, spiritual.”
And Gardner, poor fellow, knew not a home since childhood
nor had a child to cheer him. Pity ‘tis his beliefs could not have made him as
he wished to be.
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