I Am Always At A Loss At

A Woman's Whole Life Is A History Of The Affections. The Heart Is Her World: It Is There Her Ambition Strives For Empire; It Is There Her Avarice Seeks For Hidden Treasures. She Sends Forth Her Sympathies On Adventure; She Embarks Her Whole Soul On The Traffic Of Affection; And If Shipwrecked, Her Case Is Hopeless — For It Is A Bankruptcy Of The Heart.

There Is An Emanation From The Heart In Genuine Hospitality Which Cannot Be Described, But Is Immediately Felt And Puts The Stranger At Once At His Ease.

Villainy Wears Many Masks; None So Dangerous As The Mask Of Virtue.

A Mother Is The Truest Friend We Have, When Trials Heavy And Sudden Fall Upon Us; When Adversity Takes The Place Of Prosperity; When Friends Desert Us; When Trouble Thickens Around Us, Still Will She Cling To Us, And Endeavor By Her Kind Precepts And Counsels To Dissipate The Clouds Of Darkness, And Cause Peace To Return To Our Hearts.

Man Passes Away; His Name Perishes From Record And Recollection; His History Is As A Tale That Is Told, And His Very Monument Becomes A Ruin.