The enormous faith of many made for one.

Our rural ancestors, with little blest, Patient of labor when the end was rest, Indulged the day that housed their annual grain, With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain.

Party-spirit at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.

The life of a wit is a warfare upon earth.

Coffee which makes the politician wise, and see through all things with his half-shut eyes.

Such as are still observing upon others are like those who are always abroad at other men's houses, reforming everything there while their own runs to ruin.

All looks yellow to a jaundiced eye.