AND what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten.

To genius life never grows commonplace.

But life is sweet, though all that makes it sweet. Lessen like sound of friends departing feet; And death is beautiful as feet of friend. Coming with welcome at our journey's end.

[B]ut in literature, it should be remembered, a thing always becomes his at last who says it best, and thus makes it his own.

Not a change for the better in our human housekeeping has ever taken place that wise and good men have not opposed it-have not prophesied that the world would wake up to find its throat cut in consequence.

It is by presence of mind in untried emergencies that the native metal of man is tested.

Where one person shapes their life by precept and example, there are a thousand who have shaped it by impulse and circumstances.