The Almighty Dollar, That Great Object Of

There Is Nothing In England That Exercises A More Delightful Spell Over My Imagination Than The Lingerings Of The Holiday Customs And Rural Games Of Former Times. They Recall The Pictures My Fancy Used To Draw In The May Morning Of Life, When As Yet I Only Knew The World Through Books, And Believed It To Be All That Poets Had Painted It; And They Bring With Them The Flavour Of Those Honest Days Of Yore, In Which, Perhaps With Equal Fallacy, I Am Apt To Think The World Was More Home-bred, Social, And Joyous Than At Present.

It Is Not Poverty So Much As Pretense That Harasses A Ruined Man - The Struggle Between A Proud Mind And An Empty Purse - The Keeping Up Of A Hollow Show That Must Soon Come To An End.

Surely Happiness Is Reflective, Like The Light Of Heaven.

Villainy Wears Many Masks; None So Dangerous As The Mask Of Virtue.

It Was Shakespeare's Notion That On This Day Birds Begin To Couple; Hence Probably Arose The Custom Of Sending Fancy Love-billets.