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.

There is a sacredness in tears

History is but a kind of Newgate calendar, a register of the crimes and miseries that man has inflicted on his fellow-man.

I sometimes think one of the great blessings we shall enjoy in heaven, will be to receive letters by every post and never be obliged to reply to them.

What earnest worker, with hand and brain for the benefit of his fellowmen, could desire a more pleasing recognition of his usefulness than the monument of a tree, ever growing, ever blooming, and ever bearing wholesome fruit?

The oil and wine of merry meeting.

Enthusiasts soon understand each other.