It is claimed that the United States gets the cleanest and purest tea in the market, and certainly it is too good to warrant the nervous apprehension which strains and dilutes it into nothingness. The English do not strain their tea in the fervid fashion we do. They like to see a few leaves dawdling about the cup. They like to know what they are drinking.

A puppy is but a dog, plus high spirits, and minus common sense.

In the stress of modern life, how little room is left for that most comfortable vanity that whispers in our ears that failures are not faults! Now we are taught from infancy that we must rise or fall upon our own merits; that vigilance wins success, and incapacity means ruin

The delusions of the past seem fond and foolish. The delusions of the present seem subtle and sane.

In those happy days when leisure was held to be no sin, men and women wrote journals whose copiousness both delights and dismays us.

The great dividing line between books that are made to be read and books that are made to be bought is not the purely modern thing it seems. We can trace it, if we try, back to the first printing-presses.

The least practical of us have some petty thrift dear to our hearts, some one direction in which we love to scrimp.