Part 10 (1/2)

The n.i.g.g.e.r who has learned to drink rum does not regard civilization as an unmixed blessing.

The beautiful is eternal.

An epitaph. ”He went North and found his grave.”

The cold marble becomes a living flame under the hands of the sculptor.

We cannot turn water into wine but some men come very near turning wine into water.

The coral sh.e.l.l stores up the glorious tints of the sun's rays--the thoughtful man the words of the wise.

A returned Klondiker with gold very much resembles charity--frequently read of, seldom seen.

Whence comes eternal truths? They are written in the rocks, they are breathed out of the soft, South wind; they are painted in the sunset, they speak in the flowers and the tiny blade of gra.s.s, they twinkle in distant stars. Ages go by and yet man grasps but one, here and there.

They are messengers to every man, gifted or untaught. He who seizes but one and embalms it has done a greater service to mankind than the mightiest king.

Prohibition is a frozen dream, real life a red-hot time.

Inquisitiveness is but another name for the Auditor General.

Capital account is a cavern wherein politicians hide their sins.

The summer girl, in the biggest wind, is never blown away from a man.

The editor writes most charmingly of country life in his easiest chair.

Church choirs are always at sixes and sevens. One day of harmony and six of discord.