Pure Friendship's Well-feigned Blush.

Tis Strange,-but True; For Truth Is Always Strange; Stranger Than Fiction: If It Could Be Told, How Much Would Novels Gain By The Exchange! How Differently The World Would Men Behold!

A Sleep Without Dreams, After A Rough Day Of Toil, Is What We Covet Most; And Yet How Clay Shrinks Back From More Quiescent Clay! The Very Suicide That Pays His Debt At Once Without Installments (an Old Way Of Paying Debts, Which Creditors Regret) Lets Out Impatiently His Rushing Breath, Less From Disgust Of Life Than Dread Of Death.

Dreading That Climax Of All Human Ills The Inflammation Of His Weekly Bills.

Let Not His Mode Of Raising Cash Seem Strange, Although He Fleeced The Flags Of Every Nation, For Into A Prime Minister But Change His Title, And 'tis Nothing But Taxation.

Though I Love My Country, I Do Not Love My Countrymen.