“Filled from a vantage more divine,— Calmed, but not chilled by winter's snow! To-night the palest wave we sip Rich as the priceless draught shall be That wet the bride of Cana's lip,— The wedding wine of Galilee! CHAPTER VI Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle which fits them all.
—I think, Sir,—said the divinity-student,—you must intend that for one of the sayings of the Seven Wise Men of Boston you were speaking of the other day. I thank you, my young friend,—was my reply,—but I must say something better than that, before I could pretend to fill out the number.”