The servants of the man who had sowed wheat in his field,
said: "Master, look! tares are coming up with the wheat--what shall we
do?" Their master said, "Wait." Then when the harvest ripened and the
thing could be safely handled without injuring the wheat, the tares
were separated and destroyed. A fellow struggling along, trying to do
right, finding it up-hill work and the denial of many so-called
pleasures, sees another fellow running a loose and reckless program,
doing all the forbidden things, yet without injury apparently.
It looks as though one can disobey all the rules, have a fine time,
and suffer no setbacks. What's the use stinting and pinching oneself
into a straight and narrow track when those out on the broad way are
having all the life--and getting away with it? Well, bo, you just
_wait_. It looked awful gloomy for the Allies all through those trench
waiting months of 1915 to 1918; but in 1918 Chateau-Thierry popped
through. The strength of an ally had been developing, and there
followed in rapid succession the victories of Belleau Wood, the
Argonne, and St. Mihiel--and Right came into its own.
Remember, the waiting time of a boy's life is that time of silent
growing of the moral fiber, the character, and at the proper moment he
will rise in the full strength of a well-rounded manhood and take his
rightful place in the world of things, while tares which were ever so
flourishing go to the dump heap and the trash burning.
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