Sunday, August 7, there was dedicated a beautiful little Christian Science Chapel near the White Mountain House, in the heart of the White Mountains of New Hampshire.
A little
more than forty years ago there lived, in a small interior town of Michigan, a boy just entering his teens who for his studious conduct and close attendance at school was the favorite with his teacher, and who, when other boys of his age were at their play, preferred to pass his time either at his studies or listening to the conversation of elder persons, especially if the subject were a literary, scientific, or religious one.
Just
at dusk one summer evening, when a dark veil or mist seemed to arise between our eyes and the setting sun, an immense pile of clouds, billowy in grace and motion, was outlined against the bluest of skies, in the south-east, touching neither the earth nor the heavens above.
I had been an invalid for ten years with dyspepsia and its relative claims, and finally Bright's disease and paralysis, which confined me to bed four months.
BRAVE
minds, howe'er at war, are secret friends,Their generous discord with the battle ends;In peace they wonder where dissension rose,And ask how souls so like could e'er be foes.
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