Ridicule, the weapon of all others most feared by enthusiasts of every description, and which from its predominance over such minds, often checks what is absurd, and fully as often smothers that which is noble.

O woman! in our hours of ease Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!

And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.

If you once turn on your side after the hour at which you ought to rise, it is all over. Bolt up at once.

Adversity is like the period of the rain. . . cold, comfortless, unfriendly to people and to animals; yet from that season have their birth the flower, the fruit, the date, the rose and the pomegranate.

Dear to me is my bonnie white steed; Oft has he helped me at pinch of need.

To the timid and hesitating everything is impossible because it seems so.