flight from tyranny does not of itself insure a safe asylum, far less a happy home.

It is the horrible texture of a fabric that should be woven of ships' cables and hawsers. A Polar wind blows through it, and birds of prey hover over it.

Only the man who says no is free

The sailor is frankness, the landsman is finesse. Life is not a game with the sailor, demanding the long head--no intricate game of chess where few moves are made in straight-forwardness and ends are attained by indirection, an oblique, tedious, barren game hardly worth that poor candle burnt out in playing it.

Whatever has made, or does make, or may make music, should be held sacred as the golden bridle-bit of the Shah of Persia's horse,and the golden hammer, with which his hoofs are shod.

Think of it. To go down to posterity as a 'man who lived among the cannibals.'

Whenever we discover a dislike in us, toward any one, we should ever be a little suspicious of ourselves.