During the rainstorm, we sheltered under a tree.
[I]t is a remarkable fact in our history that, notwithstanding the repeated efforts of the anti-slavery party, no single act has ever passed Congress, […] And it may also be observed, judging from present indications, that no probability exists of the passage of such an act by a majority of both houses, either in the present or the next Congress. Surely, under these circumstances we ought to be restrained from present action by the precept of Him who spake as man never spoke that sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. The day of evil may never come unless we shall rashly bring it upon ourselves.
sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
Still less has it the dreary moan, the cry as of one in pain, which is borne on a November blast; but it has a music of its own—sad, low, and plaintive, like the last echoes of a forsaken lute—a voice of weeping, but tender and subdued, like the pleasant tears shed over some woful romance of the olden time, telling some mournful chance of the young knight falling in his first battle, or of a maiden pale and perishing with ill-requited love.
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