Luck Whines; Labor Whistles.

England Was Nothing, Compared To Continental Nations Until She Had Become Commercial... Until About The Middle Of The Last Century, When A Number Of Ingenious And Inventive Men, Without Apparent Relation To Each Other, Arose In Various Parts Of The Kingdom, Succeeded In Giving An Immense Impulse To All The Branches Of The National Industry; The Result Of Which Has Been A Harvest Of Wealth And Prosperity, Perhaps Without A Parallel In The History Of The World.

This Extraordinary Metal, The Soul Of Every Manufacture, And The Mainspring Perhaps Of Civilised Society. Of Iron.

Necessity Is Always The First Stimulus To Industry, And Those Who Conduct It With Prudence, Perseverance And Energy Will Rarely Fail. Viewed In This Light, The Necessity Of Labor Is Not A Chastisement, But A Blessing,--the Very Root And Spring Of All That We Call Progress In Individuals And Civilization In Nations.

When Typhus Or Cholera Breaks Out, They Tell Us That Nobody Is To Blame. That Terrible Nobody! How Much He Has To Answer For. More Mischief Is Done By Nobody Than By All The World Besides.

It Is A Grand Old Name, That Of Gentleman, And Has Been Recognized As A Rank And Power In All Stages Of Society. To Possess This Character Is A Dignity Of Itself, Commanding The Instinctive Homage Of Every Generous Mind, And Those Who Will Not Bow To Titular Rank Will Yet Do Homage To The Gentleman. His Qualities Depend Not Upon Fashion Or Manners, But Upon Moral Worth; Not On Personal Possessions, But On Personal Qualities.