I wonder if in the early dawn, When upon God’s great creating plan He builded sky and sea and land And moulded clay into living man, Why used He earth in this grand work Instead of carving hardened stone? Was it because He knew that man Could not—would not—live alone? Then using the very softest dust He made Man plastic—so his coming mate Could always mould him as she wished, Which she has done since Eve He did create. That reminds me of Bill Smith coming into the _Gazette_ office at Whitby one day a good many years ago, and telling me he was composing an elegy on his little dead brother, and wanted to know if I would print it for him. I told him we were a little short of space, but if it didn’t occupy more than three or four columns I would do my level best. In a couple of weeks, in marched William, and very grandiloquently laid his masterpiece before me. It wasn’t as long as he had been writing it. In fact it read: “That little brave, That little slave, They laid him in the cold, cold grave.” —_William Smith._ One beautiful thing about it was that, like the speech of one of Joe Martin’s Cabinet ministers, out in British Columbia, it was of his own composure. The circulation of the _Gazette_ increased largely that week, for William came in and absent-mindedly took away a couple of dozen copies to send to sympathizing friends and relatives. An Exaggerated Report The other admission is that false reports about a person are never true. For instance, sixteen years ago the Charlottetown, P.E.I., _Guardian_ unblushingly reported my death, and while the reading of the obituary notice was not uninteresting, it was not altogether self-satisfying. It reads as follows: “With sincere regret many thousands of people will learn of the death of George H. Ham of the Canadian Pacific Railway, Montreal. Very few men had so extensive an acquaintance or so many friends. He was full of good-will for everybody. During his illness letters and telegrams poured in from every quarter expressing most sincere desires for his recovery, but it had been otherwise ordered. He leaves a memory fragrant with the kindnesses that thousands have received at his hands.” Of course, I didn’t demand a retraction, but when Mr. J. B. McCready, the editor, was seen during my visit to Charlottetown, a year or two later, he was willing to make one. Finally Mac and I agreed that it would not be advisable to spoil a good news item, just because it wasn’t altogether correct. So we let it go at that, although I have always maintained it wasn’t true.