The Argosy . stiny seems against me. Be this as it may, chance encounters of this description greatlysweeten the progress of ones travels, and afford many an after-moments happy recollection. Man was not made for solitude. Con-tact with his fellows is necessary to existence. Sympathy, companion-ship, the delights of close friendship, the warm hand-clasp, gaze meet-ing gaze, and soul going out to soul—to hve without this is to liveonly half a life. Withdrawn, there is heart-emptiness more bitter than 300 Letters from Majorca. wormwood, sharper than a two-edged sword. And yet in most of thecircu
The Argosy . stiny seems against me. Be this as it may, chance encounters of this description greatlysweeten the progress of ones travels, and afford many an after-moments happy recollection. Man was not made for solitude. Con-tact with his fellows is necessary to existence. Sympathy, companion-ship, the delights of close friendship, the warm hand-clasp, gaze meet-ing gaze, and soul going out to soul—to hve without this is to liveonly half a life. Withdrawn, there is heart-emptiness more bitter than 300 Letters from Majorca. wormwood, sharper than a two-edged sword. And yet in most of thecircumstances of life, fate so orders that the French proverb is onlytoo true : 1/y a tcnijours un qui at me, et un qui se laisse aimer. But a truce to sentiment, at which, I am sure, you will ver>properly laugh. And, fortunately, the great business of life, its end and aim, itsduty, is not mere sentiment and feeling, but the healthier influenceof hard work and action and progress. Man has to play his part on. Porto Pi. the worlds battlefield, where each has a more or less important nicheto fill. Each has to see to his own lamp ; each so to spin his web oflife, that when the hands are folded in their last rest, he may hearechoing through the realms of Eternity that whisper of the Invisible :All is well. Thus may it be with each one of those who dwell in our hearts—yours and mine—when for them, as well as for ourselves, Time shall BE NO MORE. The night cometh, and also the Morning. 301 MARGARETS FRENZY. It was an unlucky day for me—though I was not born till ten yearsafterwards—when that big cellar door slammed to, and nipped offthe end of Margarets little finger at the early age of seven. Margaret was passionately fond of music, but she could not sing,and her encounter with the door prevented her from being a first-rate performer on the piano. She would not content herself withanything short of perfection; and so for years long and many themusic within her found no utte
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