Woman's faith and woman's trust, Write the characters in dust.

A Christmas gambol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year.

My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, My gentle guide, in following thee.

Lightly from fair to fair he flew, And loved to plead, lament, and sue; Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain, For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.

Good wine needs neither bush nor preface to make it welcome. And they drank the red wine through the helmet barr'd.

Independently of the curious circumstance that such tales should be found existing in very different countries and languages, which augurs a greater poverty of human invention than we would have expected, there is also a sort of wild fairy interest in them, which makes me think them fully better adapted to awaken the imagination and soften the heart of childhood than the good-boy stories which have been in later years composed for them.

Credit is like a looking-glass, which when once sullied by a breath, may be wiped clear again; but if once cracked can never be repaired.