who has not misspent a moment of his time, "the thought of the last
bitter hour" will not "come like a blight," and there will be no "sad
images of the stern agony." The wise and good man, who has the unmixed
reverence of the great and the humble, whose "hoary head is a crown of
glory," approaches his grave "like one who wraps the drapery of his
couch about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams." "I wasted time, and
now doth time waste me!" is the cry of a misspent life. If you have
cast away a portion of your existence, I beg of you to transfix this
public notice before your companions that they may profit by your
experience:
"LOST!
"Yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each
set with sixty diamond minutes, the gift of a kind Father!"