Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless years,- One minute of heaven is worth them all.

Of all sound of all bells... most solemn and touching is the peal which rings out the Old Year.

The red-letter days, now become, to all intents and purposes, dead-letter days.

All people have their blind side-their superstitions.

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.

The laws of Pluto's kingdom know small difference between king and cobbler, manager and call-boy; and, if haply your dates of life were conterminant, you are quietly taking your passage, cheek by cheek (O ignoble levelling of Death) with the shade of some recently departed candle-snuffer.