Jealous People Poison Their Own Banquet And

It Is Not Poverty So Much As Pretense That Harasses A Ruined Man.

Believe Me, The Man Who Earns His Bread By The Sweat Of His Brow, Eats Oftener A Sweeter Morsel, However Coarse, Than He Who Procures It By The Labor Of His Brains.

There Is A Serene And Settled Majesty To Woodland Scenery That Enters Into The Soul And Delights And Elevates It, And Fills It With Noble Inclinations.

After All, It Is The Divinity Within That Makes The Divinity Without.

I Could Not But Smile To Think In What Out-of-the-way Corners Genius Produces Her Bantlings! And The Muses, Those Capricious Dames, Who, Forsooth, So Often Refuse To Visit Palaces, And Deny A Single Smile To Votaries In Splendid Studies, And Gilded Drawing-rooms--what Holes And Burrows Will They Frequent To Lavish Their Favors On Some Ragged Disciple!