The Rock of Sages.

Some people mistake hot air for cool thought; but we opine that a verbal icecream is better than a babble I-scream. Thus we thusticate that January is the mellowest melon in old Cal Calendar's cornucopia, because it combines the skin you live to touch with the interior interrogations of the “spot” marked X, or exhibit A in a whisky case. Another pint in January's fervour is that it is the newest end of the new year and the “to-morrow” which we yearned for yesterday. Life lived with liveliness is a tub of to-morrow's. To-morrow has always been the rock of sages, the profit of the prophet, the haven of the hoping, the luck of the nervy and a proof of youth; and when to-morrow means no more to you than a tick off the old clock you can say that you've got four “flats” and are running on the rims.