You Look Wise, Pray Correct That Error.

The Truant Fancy Was A Wanderer Ever.

Beholding Heaven, And Feeling Hell.

't Is Sweet To Think That Where'er We Rove We Are Sure To Find Something Blissful And Dear; And That When We 're Far From The Lips We Love, We 've But To Make Love To The Lips We Are Near.

I Never Knew An Enemy To Puns Who Was Not An Ill-natured Man.

In The Indications Of Female Poverty There Can Be No Disguise. No Woman Dresses Below Herself From Caprice.