ABSTRACT
An unconscionable time a-dying-there is the picture of the people life and of mine. There is no cutting of the Gordian knots of life; each must be smilingly unravelled. At any excess or perversion of a natural appetite, their lyre sounds of itself with relishing denunciations; but for all displays of the truly diabolic-envy, malice, the mean lie, the mean silence, the calumnious truth, the backbiter, the petty tyrant, the peevish poisoner of family life-their standard is quite different. Life is not designed to minister to a man's vanity. The faith which sustained him in his life-long blindness and life-long disappointment will scarce even be required in this last formality of laying down his arms. The smoke ascends in a rosy-and-golden haze. The spiresShine, and are changed.
