Long on the wave reflected lustres of play.

Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.

Almost all men are over anxious. No sooner do they enter the world than they lose that taste for natural and simple pleasures so remarkable in early life. Every hour do they ask themselves what progress they have made in the pursuit of wealth or honor and on they go as their fathers went before them till weary and sick at heart they look back with a sigh of regret to the golden time of their childhood.

Example is a motive of very prevailing force on the actions of men.

A man who attempts to read all the new productions must do as the flea does,--skip.

Long on the wave reflected lustres of play.

I lived to write, and wrote to live.