Man Is So Inconsistent A Creature That

There Was, It Is Said, A Criminal In Italy Who Was Suffered To Make His Choice Between Guicciardini And The Galleys. He Chose The History. But The War Of Pisa Was Too Much For Him; He Changed His Mind, And Went To The Oars.

If Any Person Had Told The Parliament Which Met In Terror And Perplexity After The Crash Of 1720 That In 1830 The Wealth Of England Would Surpass All Their Wildest Dreams, That The Annual Revenue Would Equal The Principal Of That Debt Which They Considered An Intolerable Burden, That For One Man Of

In After-life You May Have Friends--fond, Dear Friends; But Never Will You Have Again The Inexpressible Love And Gentleness Lavished Upon You Which None But A Mother Bestows.

Nothing Is So Galling To A People Not Broken In From Birth As A Paternal, Or, In Other Words, A Meddling Government, A Government Which Tells Them What To Read, And Say, And Eat, And Drink And Wear.

In The Plays Of Shakespeare Man Appears As He Is, Made Up Of A Crowd Of Passions Which Contend For The Mastery Over Him, And Govern Him In Turn.