Summer Has Set In With Its Usual

Forth From His Dark And Lonely Hiding-place, (portentous Sight!) The Owlet Atheism, Sailing On Obscene Wings Athwart The Noon, Drops His Blue-fringed Lids, And Holds Them Close, And Hooting At The Glorious Sun In Heaven, Cries Out, ''where Is It?''

Oh, The Difficulty Of Fixing The Attention Of Men On The World Within Them!

The Devil Is Not, Indeed, Perfectly Humorous, But That Is Only Because He Is The Extreme Of All Humor.

We Must Follow The Old Authorities And Precedents In Criminal Matters.

The Whole Faculties Of Man Must Be Exerted In Order To Call Forth Noble Energies; And He Who Is Not Earnestly Sincere Lives In But Half His Being, Self-mutilated, Self-paralyzed.