To look upon its grass grown yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think that there at least the dead might rest in peace.
The almighty dollar, that great object of universal devotion.
Christmas is a season for kindling the fire for hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart.
The tongue is the only instrument that gets sharper with use.
The youthful freshness of a blameless heart.
There is a serene and settled majesty to woodland scenery that enters into the soul and delights and elevates it, and fills it with noble inclinations.