Visits are insatiable devourers of time, and fit only for those who, if they did not that, would do nothing.

O Winter! ruler of the inverted year, . . . I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturbed Retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted evening, know.

Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds you so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break, With blessings on your head

There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart; he does not feel for man.

Meditation here may think down hours to moments. Here the heart may give a useful lesson to the head and learning wiser grow without his books.

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.

Remorse begets reform.