Labour is the purgatory of the erring.

In one of the Welsh counties is a small village called A-----. It is somewhat removed from the high road, and is, therefore, but little known to those luxurious amateurs of the picturesque, who view nature through the windows of a carriage and four.

The grave is, I suspect, the sole commonwealth which attains that dead flat of social equality that life in its every principle so heartily abhors.

But never yet the dog our country fed, Betrayed the kindness or forgot the bread.

Love like Death,, Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook Beside the scepter

Personal liberty is the paramount essential to human dignity and human happiness.

Chance happens to all, but to turn chance to account is the gift of few.