ONE THOUSAND FAMOUS THINGS 5

Every Day pom the Hands of God

ON week days he walked alone, but on Sundays he showed us the
shrines of the wood gods and the home of Echo in the groves
he loved.

When we were in bed my father would often come up, and,
sitting by us in the twilight, chant, to our great delight, a Good-
night song, made up as he sang, to the trees, the birds, the flowers,
the members of the family, even the cow and the cat.

He persistently kept meal-times pleasant: would allow no sour
remnants of yesterday's wrong-doings to be served up again. Every
day was to be fresh and new as a dewdrop from the hands of God.

Emerson's son on his father

H

Charles Dickens to Mr Lockhart

E has risen like a rocket and he will come down like a stick.
John Gibson Lockhart on Charles Dickens

IWILL watch for that stick, Mr Lockhart, and when it comes down I
will break it across your back. Dickens on meeting
Lockhart afterwards
Rich Indeed
WE are not rich in the bank, but we have always prospered, and
we have quite enough. I never walk out with my husband
but I hear the people praise him. I never go into a house of any degree
but I hear his praises or see them in grateful eyes. I never lie down
at night but I know that in the course of the day he has alleviated
pain and soothed some fellow-creature in the time of need. I know
that from the beds of those who were past recovery thanks have
often gone up, in the last hour, for his patient ministration. Is not
this to be rich ? A Doctor's Wife in Dickens
Poor Scrooge
•\YOBODY ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks,
IN " My dear Scrooge, how are you ? When will you come to see
me ? " No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked
him what it was o'clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life in-
quired the way to such and such a place of Scrooge. Even the blind
men's dogs appeared to know him ; and when they saw him coming
on would tug their owners into doorways. Charles Dickens
Why Runnest Thou so Fast ?
A VON ! Why runnest thou away so fast ?
JT\. Rest thee before that Chancel where repose
The bones of him whose spirit moves the world.
Walter Savage Landor to the river running
by the chancel where Shakespeare lies