Kill a man's family, and he may brook it, But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket.

Your thief looks Exactly like the rest, or rather better; 'Tis only at the bar, and in the dungeon, That wise men know your felon by his features.

By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see For one who hath no friend, no brother there.

Though I love my country, I do not love my countrymen.

History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page.

Near this spot are deposited the remains of one who possessed beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without ferocity, and all the virtues of man, without his vices. This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery if inscribed over human ashes, is but a just tribute to the memory of Botswain, a dog.

Man is born passionate of body, but with an innate though secret tendency to the love of Good in his main-spring of Mind. But God help us all! It is at present a sad jar of atoms.