Woman's Power Is Over The Affections. A

The Busiest Of Living Agents Are Certain Dead Men's Thoughts.

A Mother's Love Is Indeed The Golden Link That Binds Youth To Age; And He Is Still But A Child, However Time May Have Furrowed His Cheek, Or Silvered His Brow, Who Can Yet Recall, With A Softened Heart, The Fond Devotion, Or The Gentle Chidings, Of The Best Friend That God Gives Us.

There Are Seaons When Our Passions Have Slept So Long That We Know Not Whether They Still Exist In Us. So Does Flax Forget That It Is Combustible When The Fire Is Away From It.

How Like A Railway Tunnel Is The Poor Man's Life, With The Light Of Childhood At One End, The Intermediate Gloom, And Only The Glimmer Of A Future Life At The Other Extremity!

The Passions Are Like Fire, Useful In A Thousand Ways And Dangerous Only In One, Through Their Excess.