Even Every Ray Of Hope Destroyed And

Wee, Sleekit, Cowrin, Tim'rous Beastie, O, What A Panic's In Thy Breastie!

For Gold The Merchant Ploughs The Main, The Farmer Ploughs The Manor.

Anticipation Forward Points The View.

Why Has A Religious Turn Of Mind Always A Tendency To Narrow And Harden The Heart?

My Heart Is Sair-i Dare Na Tell, My Heart Is Sair For Somebody.