I was reading the other day about the value of the gold

I was reading the other day about the value of the gold dust or filings that fall from the work in jewellers’ shops; and I remember that the writer said a workman’s old waistcoat would be worth more than a new one; that, in fact, the story of Aladdin and the magician who offered to exchange new lamps for old is paralleled in modern times by second-hand clothesmen, who give new vests for old ones, because of the fine gold dust which accumulates in the cloth, and which is collected again and sold.

Spare moments are the gold dust of time. Of all the portions of our life, spare moments are the most fruitful in good or evil. They are the gaps through which temptations find the easiest access to the garden of the soul. And they also afford the most precious opportunities for doing good.

Yet how many of our young friends lost much of this gold dust; scattering it, not in single grains, but casting it away by the handful.