The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the alms-house as brightly as from the rich man's abode.

We are armed with language adequate to describe each leaf of the filed, but not to describe human character.

We must look a long time before we can see

. . . I was rich, if not in money, in sunny hours and summer days. . . .

Tom Hyde, the tinker, standing on the gallows, was asked if he had anything to say. "Tell the tailors," said he, "to remember to make a knot in their thread before they take the first stitch." His companion's prayer is forgotten.

We are ever dying to one world and being born into another.

All endeavour calls for the ability to tramp the last mile, shape the last plan, endure the last hours toil.