Crime Generally Punishes Itself.

O Friendship! Thou Fond Soother Of The Human Breast, To Thee We Fly In Every Calamity; To Thee The Wretched Seek For Succor; On Thee The Care-tired Son Of Misery Fondly Relies; From Thy Kind Assistance The Unfortunate Always Hopes Relief, And May Be Sure Of--disappointment.

The Europeans Are Themselves Blind Who Describe Fortune Without Sight. No First-rate Beauty Ever Had Finer Eyes, Or Saw More Clearly. They Who Have No Other Trade But Seeking Their Fortune Need Never Hope To Find Her; Coquette-like, She Flies From Her Close Pursuers, And At Last Fixes On The Plodding Mechanic Who Stays At Home And Minds His Business.

Trade's Proud Empire Hastes To Swift Decay.

All Is Not Gold That Glitters, Pleasure Seems Sweet, But Proves A Glass Of Bitters

All His Faults Are Such That One Loves Him Still The Better For Them.