My Life Is One Demd Horrid Grind.

In The Destroyer's Steps There Spring Up Bright Creations That Defy His Power, And His Dark Path Becomes A Way Of Light To Heaven.

The Sky Was Dark And Gloomy, The Air Was Damp And Raw, The Streets Were Wet And Sloppy. The Smoke Hung Sluggishly Above The Chimney-tops As If It Lacked The Courage To Rise, And The Rain Came Slowly And Doggedly Down, As If It Had Not Even The Spirit To Pour.

Lord, Keep My Memory Green.

"hope, You See, Wal'r," Said The Captain, Sagely, "hope. It's That As Animates You. Hope Is A Buoy, For Which You Overhaul Your Little Warbler, Sentimental Diwision, But Lord, My Lad, Like Any Other Buoy, It Only Floats; It Can't Be Steered Nowhere. Along With The Figure-head Of Hope,' Said The Captain, 'there's A Anchor; But What's The Good Of My Having A Anchor, If I Can't Find No Bottom To Let It Go In?"

Its Matter Was Not New To Me, But Was Presented In A New Aspect. It Shook Me In My Habit - The Habit Of Nine-tenths Of The World - Of Believing That All Was Right About Me, Because I Was Used To It.