To-morrow is ah, whose?

there is nothing so absolute as the tyranny of weakness.

Those whose own light is quenched are often the light-bringers.

Nothing but a speck we seem In the waste of waters round, Floating, floating like a dream, Outward bound.

We never know through what Divine mysteries of compensation the great Father of the universe may be carrying out His sublime plan; but those three words, "God is love" ought to contain, to every doubting soul, the solution of all things.

We expect too much from our children. We exact from them a perfection which we are far from carrying out in ourselves; we require of them sacrifices much heavier, comparatively, than those of any grown-up person.

Now, I have nothing to say against uncles in general. They are usually very excellent people, and very convenient to little boys and girls.