Cats Are A Mysterious Kind Of Folk.

The Most Learned, Acute, And Diligent Student Cannot, In The Longest Life, Obtain An Entire Knowledge Of This One Volume.

If A Faultless Poem Could Be Produced, I Am Satisfied It Would Tire The Critics Themselves; And Annoy The Whole Reading World With The Spleen.

Steady Of Heart And Stout Of Hand.

Fair Play Is A Jewel.

Loud O'er My Head Though Awful Thunders Roll, And Vivid Lightnings Flash From Pole To Pole, Yet 'tis Thy Voice, My God, That Bids Them Fly, Thy Arm Directs Those Lightnings Through The Sky. Then Let The Good Thy Mighty Name Revere, And Hardened Sinners Thy Just Vengeance Fear.