kindly hands of Hope! Were it not for the mirage of the oasis,
drawing his footsteps ever onward, the weary traveler would lie down
in the desert sand and die. It is the mirage of distant success, of
happiness that, like the bunch of carrots fastened an inch beyond the
donkey's nose, seems always just within our reach, if only we will
gallop fast enough, that makes us run so eagerly along the road of
Life.

Providence, like a father with a tired child, lures us ever along the
way with tales and promises, until, at the frowning gate that ends the
road, we shrink back, frightened. Then, promises still more sweet he
stoops and whispers in our ear, and timid yet partly reassured, and
trying to hide our fears, we gather up all that is left of our little
stock of hope and, trusting yet half afraid, push out our groping feet
into the darkness.





Notes on the editing of this text:

1. Italicized phrases are delimited by the underline character ("_").
2. Hyphens have been left in the text only where it was the clear
intention of the author. For example, throughout the text, "tonight"
and "tomorrow" appear as "to-night" and "to-morrow". This is
intentional, and is not simply a legacy of words having been broken
across lines in the printed text.
3. The pound (currency) symbol has been replaced by the word
"pounds".