Fame is the thirst of youth.

I am surrounded here by parsons and methodists, but as you will see, not infested with the mania.

There are some feelings time cannot benumb, Nor torture shake.

Her great merit is finding out mine; there is nothing so amiable as discernment.

Yet still there whispers the small voice within, Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er Glory's din; Whatever creed be taught or land be trod, Man's conscience is the oracle of God.

I shall soon be six-and-twenty. Is there anything in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?

A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!