a sick room is at times too sacred a place for a friend's knock, timid as that is.

I miss the grasshoppers much, but suppose it is all for the best. I should become too much attached to a trotting world.

Some keep the Sabbath going to church, I keep it staying at home, with a bobolink for a chorister, and an orchard for a dome.

I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy; I said: "'T will keep." I woke and chid my honest fingers,— The gem was gone; And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own.

Experiment has a stimulus which withers its fear.

The only secret people keep is immortality.

The friend anguish reveals is the slowest forgot.