When death strikes down the innocent and young, for every fragile form from which he lets the panting spirit free, a hundred virtues rise, in shapes of mercy, charity, and love, to walk the world and bless it. Of every tear that sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves, some good is born, some gentler nature comes.

Troubles are exceedingly gregarious in their nature, and flying in flocks are apt to perch capriciously.

Love, though said to be afflicted with blindness, is a vigilant watchman.

Now, what I want is, Facts. . . . Facts alone are wanted in life.

Dumb as a drum vith a hole in it, sir.

And I am quite serious when I say that I do not believe there are, on the whole earth besides, so many intensified bores as in these United States.

If an enthusiastic, ardent, and ambitious man marry a wife on whose name there is a stain, which, though it originate in no fault of hers, may be visited by cold and sordid people upon her, and upon his children also: and, in exact proportion to his success in the world, be cast in his teeth, and made the subject of sneers against him: he may, no matter how generous and good his nature, one day repent of the connection he formed in early life; and she may have the pain and torture of knowing that he does so.