Crimes Generally Punish Themselves.

I Have Found By Experience That They Who Have Spent All Their Lives In Cities Contract Not Only An Effeminacy Of Habit, But Of Thinking.

Romance And Novel Paint Beauty In Colors More Charming Than Nature, And Describe A Happiness That Humans Never Taste. How Deceptive And Destructive Are Those Pictures Of Consummate Bliss!

Blest That Abode, Where Want And Pain Repair, And Every Stranger Finds A Ready Chair.

Silence Is Become His Mother Tongue.

Sweet Was The Sound, When Oft, At Evening's Close, Up Yonder Hill The Village Murmur Rose; There As I Passed, With Careless Steps And Slow, The Mingling Notes Came Soften'd From Below; The Swain Responsive As The Milkmaid Sung, The Sober Herd That Low'd To Meet Their Young; The Noisy Geese That Gabbled O'er The Pool, The Playful Children Just Let Loose From School; The Watch-dog's Voice That Bay'd The Whispering Wind, And The Loud Laugh That Spoke The Vacant Mind; These All In Sweet Confusion Sought The Shade, And Fill'd Each Pause The Nightingale Had Made.