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

Every man for himself, and the Devil take the hindmost.

Better no marriage, than a marriage short of the best.

When the ship is going down we trouble ourselves little enough about the style of the cabin furniture.

Many true words are spoken in jest.

Let every one of us cultivate, in every word that issues from our mouth, absolute truth. I say cultivate, because to very few people - as may be noticed of most young children - does truth, this rigid, literal veracity, come by nature. To many, even who love it and prize it dearly in others, it comes only after the self-control, watchfulness, and bitter experience of years.

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.