the brave souls that need not hope; many a weary spirit, without that one poor consolation, would pass through its joyless existence like a wanderer in the desert without sun or star to guide him on."
But the sage said, "Happy is he who after a lapse of years can yet hope! Happy the one whose heart has not grown sick from hope long deferred; for hope departed, can faith exist? Faith is hope's youngest sister. We hope, and have faith that our hopes will be realised. We cease to hope—for what then do we require faith? Faith for the hour in which we are, is not needed. Faith, embracing hope, is in the future; both are in fact mere words, void of meaning even for the most hopeful and faithful."
Gazing upon the wrinkled face of my companion my heart was filled with pity for one who had been robbed of all life's sweet illusions, and I said, "At least we have the happiness of doing good to the sorrowing and needy; we may ever rejoice in the exercise of charity. And yet, can lovely charity exist where hope and faith have fled?"
"No!" replied the aged man; "if we hope not for better things, have faith in no one, in nothing—the motive for charity is gone. Why put forth a hand to raise the fallen if we have no hope for them, if we believe they will fall again as surely as the sun will
