New Walks in Old Ways 



comes from we know not where. Prob- 

 ably from the skies; certainly not 

 from earth. It asks only to serve and 

 sacrifice, and in this is written all that 

 is best and noblest in the passing of 

 the generations. It is self-abasing, 

 strong as the mid-day sun, tender, if 

 need be, as the moonlight. It requires 

 neither prompting nor directing. It 

 knows but one course, and can go no 

 other; and in its radiance even the 

 humblest are glorified and exalted 

 above the level of the beasts. 



Speaking of Cupid and his alleged 

 wings, of stars and constellations, I am 

 reminded that I gave a Venus party 

 about four o'clock one morning last 

 July. That is to say, I invited anyone 

 around the house who cared to come to 

 join me in seeing a worth-while show 

 in evidence this summer just before 

 the dawn; but nobody came to view 

 it with me. 



I was not just sure as to what might 

 happen to me if any of the neighbors 

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