I HAVE noticed in cold weather how many days a rose will linger in the bud, quarter blown, half blown. When at length, if ever, it expands fully, it will probably not be the most beautiful of roses: still, if far below the finest blossoms at their best moment, it has, on the other hand, lasted longer than they.
Superiority in one point may fairly be set against inferiority in another: duration against quality.
And if this is equitable in estimating flowers, it is no less equitable in estimating people.
Many lives pass in chills and in shadows which preclude certain fine finishing touches of loveliness: their resource will be to excel in endurance.
And in the long run surely the livers of such lives will be ready to sing with David: "The lot is fallen unto me in a fair ground:" for "he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved."