Protestations Of Impartiality I Shall Make None.

It Is No Small Mischief To A Boy, That Many Of The Best Years Of His Life Should Be Devoted To The Learning Of What Can Never Be Of Any Real Use To Any Human Being. His Mind Is Necessarily Rendered Frivolous And Superficial By The Long Habit Of Attaching Importance To Words Instead Of Things; To Sound Instead Of Sense.

Nothing Is So Well Calculated To Produce A Death-like Torpor In The Country As An Extended System Of Taxation And A Great National Debt.

All My Plans In Private Life; All My Pursuits; All My Designs, Wishes, And Thoughts, Have This One Great Object In View: The Overthrow Of The Ruffian Boroughmongers. If I Write Grammars; If I Write On Agriculture; If I Sow, Plant, Or Deal In Seeds; Whatever I Do Has First In View The Destruction Of Those Infamous Tyrants.

Grammar, Perfectly Understood, Enables Us Not Only To Express Our Meaning Fully And Clearly, But So To Express It As To Enable Us To Defy The Ingenuity Of Man To Give To Our Words Any Other Meaning Than That Which We Ourselves Intend Them To Express.

When, From The Top Of Any High Hill, One Looks Round The Country, And Sees The Multitude Of Regularly Distributed Spires, One Not Only Ceases To Wonder That Order And Religion Are Maintained, But One Is Astonished That Any Such Thing As Disaffection Or Irreligion Should Prevail.