Love The Sea? I Dote Upon It--from

Happiness Grows At Our Own Firesides, And Is Not To Be Picked In Strangers' Gardens.

Man Owes Two Solemn Debts--one To Society, And One To-nature. It Is Only When He Pays The Second That He Covers The First.

Slugs Crawl And Crawl Over Our Cabbages, Like The World's Slander Over A Good Name. You May Kill Them, It Is True; But There Is The Slime.

A Creature Undefiled By The Taint Of The World, Unvexed By Its Injustice, Unwearied By Its Hollow Pleasures; A Being Fresh From The Source Of Light, With Something Of Its Universal Lustre In It. If Childhood Be This, How Holy The Duty To See That In Its Onward Growth It Shall Be No Other!

In This World Truth Can Wait; She Is Used To It.