Having each some shingles of thought well dried, we sat and whittled them.

We are eager to tunnel under the Atlantic and bring the Old World some weeks nearer to the New; but perchance the first news that will leak through into the broad, flapping American ear will be that the Princess Adelaide has the whooping cough.

Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts. God will see that you do not want society.

When we are in health, all sounds fife and drum for us; we hear the notes of music in the air, or catch its echoes dying away when we awake in the dawn.

All good things are cheap: all bad are very dear.

Is the babe young? When I behold it, it seems more venerable than the oldest man.

What are men celebrating? They are all on a committee of arrangements, and hourly expect a speech from somebody. God is only the president of the day, and Webster is his orator.