Nothing Awakens Reminiscence Like An Aroma.

It Is The Peculiarity Of Grief To Bring Out The Childish Side Of Man.

If I Speak, I Am Condemned. If I Stay Silent, I Am Damned!

One Of The Hardest Labours Of The Just Man Is To Expunge From His Soul A Malevolence Which It Is Difficult To Efface.

And If It Happened To Be A Christmas-night When The Great Bell Seemed To Rattle In Its Throat As It Called The Faithful To The Midnight Mass, There Was Such An Indescribable Air Of Life Spread Over The Sombre Facade That The Great Door-way Looked As If It Were Swallowing The Entire Crowd, And The Rose-window Staring At Them.

Sublime Upon Sublime Scarcely Presents A Contrast, And We Need A Little Rest From Everything, Even The Beautiful.