I Doubt If There Ever Was A

When A Poet Mentions The Spring, We Know That The Zephyrs Are About To Whisper, That The Groves Are To Recover Their Verdure, The Linnets To Warble Forth Their Notes Of Love, And The Flocks And Herds To Frisk Over Vales Painted With Flowers: Yet, Who Is There So Insensible Of The Beauties Of Nature, So Little Delighted With The Renovation Of The World, As Not To Feel His Heart Bound At The Mention Of The Spring?

To Prevent Evil Is The Great End Of Government, The End For Which Vigilance And Severity Are Properly Employed.

Some Claim A Place In The List Of Patriots, By An Acrimonious And Unremitting Opposition To The Court. This Mark Is By No Means Infallible. Patriotism Is Not Necessarily Included In Rebellion. A Man May Hate His King, Yet Not Love His Country.

In A Man's Letters You Know, Madam, His Soul Lies Naked, His Letters Are Only The Mirror Of His Breast, Whatever Passes Within Him Is Shown Undisguised In Its Natural Process. Nothing Is Inverted, Nothing Distorted, You See Systems In Their Elements, You Discover Actions In Their Motives.

By Forbearing To Do What May Innocently Be Done, We May Add Hourly New Vigor To Resolution.