slightest idea
what the old gentleman was talking about; and the only thing I could
think of was the Punch and Judy!'

He laughed and coughed his way through that campaign. Everybody grew
wonderfully fond of him, and looked eagerly for his coming. He did a
world of good, and shamed scores of us out of the gloom in which we
bore our slighter maladies. My mail from New Zealand tells me that, at
last, his cough has proved too much for him, so he has given it up.
But I like to fancy that, in the land where coughing is no more heard,
Dick Sunshine is laughing still.

IX

FORTY!

Life moves along so smoothly with most of us that there seems to be
very little difference between one birthday and another; but to this
rule there is one brilliant and outstanding exception. There is one
birthday on which a man should certainly take a holiday, go for a quiet
stroll, and indulge in a little serious stock-taking. That birthday
is, of course, the fortieth. A man's fortieth birthday is one of the
really great days in his life's little story; and he must make the most
of it. I live in a city which boasts a comparatively meagre
population. The number of people who reach their fortieth birthday
simultaneously must be very small. But in a city of any size some
hundreds of people must daily become forty. And if I dwelt in such a
place, I should feel tempted to conduct a service every now and again
for men and women who were celebrating their fortieth birthday. People
so circumstanced, naturally impressed by the dignity and solemnity of
the occasion, would welcome such a service, and the preacher would have
a chance of sowing the seed in ground that was well prepared, and of
the greatest possible promise. The selection of a text would present
no difficulty. I can think of two right off--one in the Old Testament,
and one in the New--and there must be scores of others equally
appropriate. At forty a man enters upon middle life. What could be
more helpful to him, then, than a short inspiring word on such a text
as Habakkuk's prayer: '_O Lord, revive Thy work in the midst of the
years, in the midst of the years make Thyself known!_'

I have been recalling, this morning, some painful memories. In my time
I have several times known that peculiarly acute species of anguish
that only comes to us when we discover a cherished idol in ruins.
Men--some of them ministers--upon whose integrity I would cheerfully
have staked ev