Here cometh April again, and as far as I can see the world hath more fools in it than ever.

Thus, when the lamp that lighted The traveller at first goes out, He feels awhile benighted, And looks around in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing, By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering As that light which Heaven sheds.

No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us, All earth forgot, and all heaven around us.

I cannot sit and think; books think for me.

Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, Why wert thou not born in my father's dwelling?

A presentation copy, reader,-if haply you are yet innocent of such favours-is a copy of a book which does not sell, sent you by the author.

Much depends upon when and where you read a book. In the five or six impatient minutes before the dinner is quite ready, who would think of taking up the Faerie Queen for a stopgap, or a volume of Bishop Andrews's Sermons?