...capital in our Christian land, and thought of the contrast: " Life is a narrow vale, between the cold, barren peaks of two eternities. We strive in vain...and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry." GIRLS IN INDIA. AMONG THE LOWER CLASSES. "THE threshold weeps forty days when a girl is born," says...

...a tragedy as sad, and deep, and dark as can be woven of the warp and woof of mystery and death. And Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren...two eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the hights. We cry aloud, and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry." This, then, is the despairing...

...loving service to bring a blossom to his grave he would sleep to-night beneath a wilderness of flowers. Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two eternities. We slrive-in vain to look beyond the heights. We cry aloud, and the only answer is the echo of our wailing...

...become a tragedy as sad and deep and dark as can be woven from the warp and woof of mystery and death. Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren...lips of the unreplying dead there comes no word." \ Ah! verily, none know so well, down in their deepest experiences, as do the votaries of Reason how...

...taken from the pen of one Whose metaphores we very much admire, But whose consistency we fail to see. ' Life is a narrow vale between the cold And barren...strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We cry aloud : our only answer is The mocking echo of our wailing cry. From the voiceless lips of the unreplying...

...imagine a beginning in time is as impossible as to think of an end to space. As Col. Ingersoll says, " Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren...eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the heights." That which we understand as time is but the mile-stones with which we measure that part of a road over...

...service to £ring a blossom to his grave, he would sleep to-night beneath a wilderness of flowers. Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren...of our wailing cry. From the voiceless lips of the unreply*g dead there comes no word ; but in the night of death hope lees a star, and listening love...

...a touching pathos over his brother's grave, a pathos which makes his irreverence the more shocking: 'Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren...and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry.' And again : ' Every life,' says he, ' will at its close become a tragedy as sad, and deep, and dark...

...human lips than these, spoken over the coffin of one to whom you were tenderly attached : " Life is but a narrow vale, between the cold and barren peaks of two eternities ! " This is a doom of annihilation, which strikes a chill to the stoutest heart. Even you must envy...

...a tragedy as sad, and deep, and dark as can be woven of the warp and woof of mystery and death. And Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren...two eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the bights. We cry aloud, and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry." This, then, is the despairing...