Once Upon A Time.

Is Henry all his fair Matilda once hoped and believed him to be ? Is he always the same civil , ingenuous , considerate , courteous , forbearing , patient , kindly-spoken young man he was when they went gipsying , courting , etc ., in Bushy Park , say fifteen years ago ? Does not his dear Matilda , though I admit she is A'ery provoking , often find that if the old adages are true , that " hard words break no bones" and " civil words butter no parsnips" yet the

, , former are very often difficult to digest , and the latter are , like angels' visits , few and far between , from her dear , dear Henry . Henry is not always as good , tempered as he once used to be , and he likes dining out ( paying for expensive dinners ) , and coming home late , and his poor Matilda sometimes is inclined to think that if she had taken Charlie Hope , when he proposed to her—which he did twice—it might have been better for her .

I fear that " once upon a time " recalls many sad memories , and not a few subduing thoughts , to many a " menage" in this favoured land . But after all why complain ? The true philosophy of life would teach us all that such things are , and ever will be , the inevitable accompaniment of man ' s journey here . All we have to do is to realize them calmly , to bear them patiently , to confront them in a spirit of kindly sympathy . It is useless to " cry over spilt

milk , " it is idle to expect that we are all to "walk for ever on roses , " or that "the sky above is to be always blue ancl serene . " "With a heart for every fate , " let us await patientl y the good providence of God . On the whole , " Once upon a time " is , perhaps , a sad memento , for the man who , opening his diary by chance , lights upon an entry which carries him back to what constituted the happiness of his life . Neither is it well for

any of us to resist such thoughts as sentimentality , or to close the books hastily , and put them away from our minds , as unwelcome and unseasonable . It is probably that we are all of us often an " enigma " to others , as well as a " paradox" to ourselves . And the reason is this . We all have our inner life , Avhich the outer world cannot see or penetrate ; which sometimes our nearest and dearest clo not realize , and yet which goes with us and our sorrows , our follies , our pleasures , our actual bod y day by day , which we carry about with us while we live , ancl descends with us to the grave .

And though the converse is equally true that " no manliveth ancl no man dieth to himself , " though human life mi ght at first sight seem to contradict the bare assertion , yet man ' s spiritual being outlives the lingering grave , the inroads of fell disease , and , as we rightly ancl safely believe , is reproduced under more perfect conditions in a happier and a better scene . Do not let us be ashamed even in this age of shallow materialism of being sometimes a little

sentimental now and then , seeking to remember that we have all better and truer feelings within us than the cold , rough world would sometimes seem , to allow us , and-that our spiritual part , when this poor , weak , mortal bod y has crumbled into decay , is again resolved into its ori ginal dust , will again , in the wondrous goodness of the G . A . O . T . U ., the Living Creator of Man , find in a deathless existence memories that never weaken , and rest , and peace , ancl love , ancl light , Avhich see no shadows and know no end .

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