THE WINDOWof untruth; never tampered with a fact; never al-tered a disagreeable word to suit the pleasure or con-venience of any mortal being, least of all ofhis own children, who, sprung from his loins,should be aware from childhood that life isdifficult; facts uncompromising; and the passage tothat fabled land where our brightest hopes are ex-tinguished, our frail barks founder in darkness (hereMr. Ramsay would straighten his back and narrowhis little blue eyes upon the horizon), one that needs,above all, courage, truth, and the power to endure.

"But it may be fine—I expect it will be fine," saidMrs. Ramsay, making some little twist of thereddish brown stocking she was knitting, impa-tiently. If she finished it tonight, if they did go tothe Lighthouse after all, it was to be given tothe Lighthouse keeper for his little boy, who wasthreatened with a tuberculous hip; together with apile of old magazines, and some tobacco, indeed,whatever she could find lying about, not reallywanted, but only littering the room, to give thosepoor fellows, who must be bored to death sitting allday with nothing to do but polish the lamp and trimthe wick and rake about on their scrap of garden,something to amuse them. For how would you liketo be shut up for a whole month at a time, and pos-sibly more in stormy weather, upon a rock the size11
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