For the night Shows stars and women in a better light.

From the mingled strength of shade and light A new creation rises to my sight, Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow, So warm with light his blended colors glow. . . . . The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.

There's naught, no doubt, so much the spirit calms as rum and true religion.

War, war is still the cry,-"war even to the knife!"

Like other parties of the kind, it was first silent, then talky, then argumentative, then disputatious, then unintelligible, then altogether, then inarticulate, and then drunk. When we had reached the last step of this glorious ladder, it was difficult to get down again without stumbling.

And gentle winds and waters near, make music to the lonely ear.

This is to be mortal, And seek the things beyond mortality.