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The Christian is the highest style of man.

Edward Young.

"What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul!" That is what each man of us must find, and hold, and keep,-his own soul! Apart from all creeds and clergy, forms and rituals-that is the vital matter.

Marie Corelli.

Men will wrangle for religion; write for it; fight for it; die for it; anything but-live for it.

C. C. Colton.

Alas! 'tis not the creed that saves the man;
It is the man that justifies the creed;
And each must save his own soul as he can,
Since each is burdened with a different need.
Lord Lytton.

A man may cry Church! Church! at every word,
With no more piety than other people;

A daw's not reckoned a religious bird

Because it keeps a-cawing from a steeple.

Thomas Hood.

A cat has nine lives, and a woman has nine cats'

lives.

Thomas Fuller.

There will always remain something to be said of woman as long as there is one on earth. De Boufiers.

In a discussion between "Sovereign Woman" and "Mere Man" it usually happens that the woman has the last word. It affords her the same sort of satisfaction as to the child who cries "Last tag" on being called in from play.

J. D. H.

All men think all men mortal but themselves.

Edward Young.

There is a tale of a man who spent his life in wishing he had lived differently; and when he died he was surrounded by a throng of spectred shapes, each one exactly like the other, who, on his asking what they were, replied, "We are all the different lives you might have led."

Edith Wharton.

Two visions by men's dying eyes are seen,

Both so unlike, both freighted with despair: The lovely shade of what they might have been, The unclean, gibbering ghost of what they were.

Theodosia Pickering Garrison.

There is no man so fortunate that there shall not be by him when he is dying some who are pleased with what is going to happen. Suppose that he was a good and wise man, will there not be at last some one to say of him, Let us at last breathe freely, being relieved from this school-master.

Antoninus.

"Here lies a poor woman who always was busy: She lived under pressure that rendered her dizzy. She belonged to ten clubs and read Browning by sight,

Showed at luncheons and teas, and would vote if she might;

She served on a school board with courage and zeal,
She golfed, and she kodaked, and rode on a wheel;
She read Tolstoi and Ibsen, knew microbes by name,
Approved of Delsarte, was a 'Daughter' and 'Dame."
Her children went in for the top education,
Her husband went seaward for nervous prostration.
One day on her tablets she found an hour free-
The shock was too great and she died instantlee."

Man's life is like a winter day:
Some only breakfast and away;
Others to dinner stay and are full fed;
The oldest man but sups and goes to bed;
Large is the debt who lingers out the day;
Who goes the soonest has the least to pay.
Death is the waiter-some few run on tick,
And some, alas! must pay the bill to Nick.
Tho' owed I much, I hope long trust is given,
And truly mean to pay all debts in heav'n.

(On a tombstone at Barnwell, England.)

As to Dying

When some men die it is as if you had lost your pen-knife, and were subject to perpetual inconvenience until you could get another. Other men's going is like the vanishing of a great mountain from the landscape, and the outlook of life is changed forever.

Phillips Brooks.