John Boyle O'Reilly

“ Day and night were as an outward breath to the soul of the thinker. The light faded and the darkness fell, but he knew it not. His whole being was turned within, and he would have groaned with sorrow at what he saw, were it not for an adamantine faith in God, love, and justice, that bridged the gulf of doubt with a splendid arch.
It was midnight when the train arrived in Liverpool. The black man, Ngarra-jil, who had watched so long and tirelessly the marvellous face of his master, rose from his corner, purposely arousing Mr. Wyville's attention. ”

“ The soul within has separated itself from the moving world, and has retired to its cell like an anchorite, taking with it some high subject for contemplation or some profound problem for solution.
From this closet of the soul emerge the lightning thoughts that startle, elevate, and deify mankind, sweeping away old systems like an overflow of the ocean. Within this cell the Christ-mind reflected for thirty-three years, before the Word was uttered. Within this cell the soul of Dante penetrated the horrescent gloom of the infernal spheres, and beheld the radiant form of Beatrice. ”

“ Wyville timidly, but pleasantly.
"You know things, you do," he said. "But suppose you hadn't no red paint?"
"I should paint the whole barrel white—white lead preserves iron—and then give the hoops a smart coat of black. That would make a handsome barrel."
"I should think so! By jewkins! wouldn't it so?" said Officer Lodge.
Mr. Wyville stood on the road talking with the old man, until that personage had quite decided to paint the barrel white.
"Now, my friend," said Mr. Wyville, "could you direct me to the office of the police inspector of this village?" ”