Our Spirits Grow Gray Before Our Hairs.

Gluttony And Surfeiting Are No Proper Occasions For Thanksgiving.

I Counsel Thee, Shut Not Thy Heart, Nor Thy Library.

The Good Things Of Life Are Not To Be Had Singly, But Come To Us With A Mixture; Like A School-boy's Holiday, With A Task Affixed To The Tail Of It.

Reader, If You Are Gifted With Nerves Like Mine, Aspire To Any Character But That Of A Wit.

Who Has Not Felt How Sadly Sweet The Dream Of Home, The Dream Of Home, Steals O'er The Heart, Too Soon To Fleet, When Far O'er Sea Or Land We Roam?