When the leaves fall, the whole earth is a cemetery pleasant to walk in. I love to wander and muse over them in their graves. Here are no lying nor vain epitaphs.

What a fool he must be who thinks that his El Dorado is anywhere but where he lives.

I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than be crowded on a velvet cushion. I would rather ride on earth in an ox cart, with a free circulation, than go to heaven in the fancy car of an excursion train and breathe a malaria all the way.

When the reptile is attacked at one mouth of his burrow, he shows himself at another.

I am awaked almost every night by the panting of the locomotive. It interrupts my dreams. There is no sabbath.

It is said that some Western steamers can run on a heavy dew, whence we can imagine what a canoe may do.

On the death of a friend, we should consider that the fates through confidence have devolved on us the task of a double living, that we have henceforth to fulfill the promise of our friend's life also, in our own, to the world.