Critics Are Already Made.

Happiness Was Born A Twin.

That Low Vice, Curiosity!

A Thirst For Gold, The Beggar's Vice, Which Can But Overwhelm The Meanest Hearts.

For Truth Is Always Strange; Stranger Than Fiction.

I Suppose We Shall Soon Travel By Air-vessels; Make Air Instead Of Sea Voyages; And At Length Find Our Way To The Moon, In Spite Of The Want Of Atmosphere.