“OH, what a delightful smell of cedar,” I exclaimed the other day, and looked where the sweet-scented wood might be, but it was nowhere near. Then I discovered upon my desk a crumpled piece of paper, which I remembered had some days previously come out of a cedar box, where it had lain for years, and thus, by good company, had gathered a sweetness not its own. And he who lives near to Christ is ever a sweet and constant expression of the Master.