Cultivate simplicity, Coleridge.

Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with its usual severity.

Oh stay! oh stay! Joy so seldom weaves a chain Like this to-night, that oh 't is pain To break its links so soon.

And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, The maiden herself will steal after it soon.

Oh, the pleasure of eating my dinner alone!

Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free, First flower of the earth and first gem of the sea.

The human species, according to the best theory I can form of it, is composed of two distinct races, the men who borrow and the men who lend.