The wild mustard in Southern California is like that spoken of in the New Testament. . . . Its gold is as distinct a value to the eye as the nugget gold is in the pocket.

For April sobs while these are so glad April weeps while these are so gay,- Weeps like a tired child who had, Playing with flowers, lost its way.

Next time!' In what calendar are kept the records of those next times which never come?

Who waits until the wind shall silent keep Will never find the ready hour to sow.

That indescribable expression peculiar to people who hope they have not been asleep, but know they have.

Nothing can be so bad as to be displeased with one's self.

When Time is spent, Eternity begins.