Much May Be Made Of A Scotchman,

A Few Men Are Sufficient To Broach Falsehoods, Which Are Afterwards Innocently Diffused By Successive Relaters.

No Wonder, Sir, That He Is Vain; A Man Who Is Perpetually Flattered In Every Mode That Can Be Conceived. So Many Bellows Have Blown The Fire, That One Wonders He Is Not By This Time Become A Cinder.

Surely Nothing Is More Reproachful To A Being Endowed With Reason, Than To Resign Its Powers To The Influence Of The Air, And Live In Dependence On The Weather And The Wind, For The Only Blessings Which Nature Has Put Into Our Power, Tranquillity And Benevolence. To Look Up To The Sky For The Nutriment Of Our Bodies, Is The Condition Of Nature; To Call Upon The Sun For Peace And Gaiety, Or Deprecate The Clouds Lest Sorrow Should Overwhelm Us, Is The Cowardice Of Idleness, And The Idolatry Of Folly.

Rash Oaths, Whether Kept Or Broken, Frequently Produce Guilt.

Actions Are Visible, Though Motives Are Secret.