Wit Is The Salt Of Conversation, Not

Tea Had Come As A Deliverer To A Land That Called For Deliverance; A Land Of Beef And Ale, Of Heavy Eating And Abundant Drunkenness; Of Gray Skies And Harsh Winds; Of Strong-nerved, Stout-purposed, Slow-thinking Men And Women. Above All, A Land Of Sheltered Homes And Warm Firesides - Firesides That Were Waiting - Waiting For The Bubbling Kettle And The Fragrant Breath Of Tea.

The Most Comfortable Characteristic Of The Period [1775-1825], And The One Which Incites Our Deepest Envy, Is The Universal Willingness To Accept A Good Purpose As A Substitute For Good Work.

By Providing Cheap And Wholesome Reading For The Young, We Have Partly Succeeded In Driving From The Field That Which Was Positively Bad; Yet Nothing Is Easier Than To Overdo A Reformation, And, Through The Characteristic Indulgence Of American Parents, Children Are Drugged With A Literature Whose Chief Merit Is Its Harmlessness.

Those Persons Are Happiest In This Restless And Mutable World Who Are In Love With Change, Who Delight In What Is New Simply Because It Differs From What Is Old; Who Rejoice In Every Innovation, And Find A Strange Alert Pleasure In All That Is, And That Has Never Been Before.

The Least Practical Of Us Have Some Petty Thrift Dear To Our Hearts, Some One Direction In Which We Love To Scrimp.