He that drinks beer, thinks beer.

Enthusiasts soon understand each other.

A mother is the truest friend we have.

Christmas is here, Merry old Christmas, Gift-bearing Christmas, Day of grand memories, King of the year!

The moan of the whip-poor-will from the hillside; the boding cry of the tree-toad, that harbinger of storm; the dreary hooting of the screechowl.

Speculation is the romance of trade, and casts contempt upon on all its sober realities. It renders the stock-jobber a magician, and the exchange a region of enchantment.

Men are always doomed to be duped, not so much by the arts of the other as by their own imagination. They are always wooing goddesses, and marrying mere mortals.