All Things Have Their Place, Knew Wee

Gamsters And Race-horses Never Last Long.

My House, My House, Though Thou Art Small, Thou Art To Me The Escurial.

It's An Ill Councell That Hath No Escape.

Gold Thou Mayst Safely Touch; But If It Stick Unto Thy Hands, It Woundeth To The Quick.

God Provides For Him That Trusteth.