The Victory Of Endurance Born.

The Journalist Should Be On His Guard Against Publishing What Is False In Taste Or Exceptionable In Morals.

Your Peaks Are Beautiful, Ye Apennines! In The Soft Light Of These Serenest Skies; From The Broad Highland Region, Black With Pines, Fair As The Hills Of Paradise They Rise, Bathed In The Tint Peruvian Slaves Behold In Rosy Flushes On The Virgin Gold.

Flowers Spring Up Unsown And Die Ungathered.

Autumn, The Year's Last, Loveliest Smile.

The Birch-bark Canoe Of The Savage Seems To Me One Of The Most Beautiful And Perfect Things Of The Kind Constructed By Human Art.