One pillar of the church, who was a cashier, ruined his bank by stealing money to enable him, for a while, to live in an elegant house and support servants, equipages, silks and diamonds galore.  For a time he was the idol of the town, while he gave costly dinners and showered his ill-gotten gains to embellish his favorite temple, and to build a tower upon it to look down in contempt upon all the lesser shrines.

He barely escaped the sheriff at night-time, and fled beyond the seas, leaving his showy family to poverty and the ill-concealed derision of those who worshipped them while they were supposed to be rich.

Such as these made life very uncomfortable for me, and at the end of my year, I left in disgust; never again to resume the profession in which I had spent so many years of my somewhat checkered existence.  My life seemed a failure; I reflected long upon the question of the Psalmist, “What is man?” and here are the answers which I culled from many thoughtful poets, whose names are appended to their several replies.

  In this grand wheel, the world, we’re spokes made all;—­
  (Brome.)

  He who climbs high, endangers many a fall;—­(Chaucer.)

  A passing gleam called life is o’er us thrown,—­(Story.)

  It glimmers, like a meteor, and is gone.—­(Rogers.)

  To-morrow’s sun to thee may never rise—­(Congreve.)

  The flower that smiles to-day, to-morrow dies—­(Shelly.)

  And what do we, by all our bustle gain?—­(Pomfret.)

  A drop of pleasure in a sea of pain.—­(Tupper.)

  Tired of beliefs, we dread to live without;—­(Holmes.)

  Yet who knows most, the more he knows to doubt.—­(Daniel.)

  Princes and lords are but the breath of kings.—­(Burns.)

  And trifles make the sum of human things.—­(More.)

  If troubles overtake thee, do not wail;—­(Herbert.)

  Our thoughts are boundless, though our frames are
  frail.—­(Percival.)

  The fiercest agonies have shortest reign;—­(Bryant.)

  Great sorrows have no leisure to complain.—­(Gaffe.)

  One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,—­(Shakespeare.)

  For we the same are that our sires have been;—­(Knox.)

  Nor is a true soul ever born for naught,—­(Lowell.)

  Yet millions never think a noble thought.—­(Bailey.)

  Good actions crown themselves with lasting bays,—­(Heath.)

  And God fulfils Himself in many ways.—­(Tennyson.)

  The world’s a wood in which all lose their way—­(Buckingham.)

  A fair where thousands meet, but none can stay;—­(Fawkes.)

  To sport their season, and be seen no more,—­(Cowper.)