Modesty Seldom Resides In A Breast That

All The Bloomy Flush Of Life Is Fled.

To What Fortuitous Occurrence Do We Not Owe Every Pleasure And Convenience Of Our Lives.

Blest Be Those Feasts, With Simple Plenty Crowned, Where All The Ruddy Family Around Laugh At The Jests Or Pranks That Never Fail Or Sigh With Pity At Some Mournful Tale.

Truth From His Lips Prevailed With Double Sway, And Fools, Who Came To Scoff, Remained To Pray.

If You Were To Make Little Fishes Talk, They Would Talk Like Whales.