Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay. Princes and lords may flourish or may fade,- A breath can make them, as a breath has made; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroy'd, can never be supplied.

You will always find that those are most apt to boast of national merit, who have little or not merit of their own to depend on . . .

A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year.

Error is always talkative.

Life at the greatest and best is but a froward child, that must be humored and coaxed a little till it falls asleep, and then all the care is over.

There are some faults so nearly allied to excellence that we can scarce weed out the vice without eradicating the virtue.

Fortune is ever seen accompanying industry.