A little amateur painting in water colors shows the innocent and the quiet mind.

The seeming significance of nature's appearances, their unchanging strangeness to the senses, and the thrilling response which they awaken in the mind of man . . . If we could only write near enough to the facts, and yet with no pedestrian calm, but ardently, we might transfer the glamour of reality direct upon our pages.

Give us courage and gaiety and the quient mind . . .

Seaward ho! Hang the treasure! It's the glory of the sea that has turned my head.

Fiction is to grown men what play is to the child.

To cast in it with Hyde was to die a thousand interests and aspirations.

There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy. By being happy we sow anonymous benefits upon the world.