NOVEMBER 117 



So long my feet must tread the way 



Of our accustomed paths alone, 

 I should have prized your presence more 

 If I had known. 



CHRISTIAN HEED (' Weekly Sun,' 1897). 



Oh ! the anguish of that thought that we can never 

 atone to our dead for the stinted affection we gave them, 

 for the light answers we returned to their plaints or their 

 pleadings, for the little reverence we showed to that 

 sacred human soul that lived so close to us and was the 

 divinest thing God had given us to know. 



