Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride.

Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains; and of all that we behold from this green earth.

We have no knowledge, that is, no general principles drawn from the contemplation of particular facts, but what has been built up by pleasure, and exists in us by pleasure alone. The Man of Science, the Chemist and Mathematician, whatever difficulties and disgusts they may have had to struggle with, know and feel this. However painful may be the objects with which the Anatomist's knowledge is connected, he feels that his knowledge is pleasure; and where he has no pleasure he has no knowledge.

Wisdom married to immortal verse.

Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.

Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.

And when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet; whence he blew Soul-animating strains,-alas! too few.