The Bitter Clamor Of Two Eager Tongues.

Drown Thyself? Drown Cats And Blind Puppies.

Love Is . . . A Madness Most Discreet

Gold--what Can It Not Do, And Undo?

A Wretched Soul, Bruised With Adversity, We Bid Be Quiet When We Hear It Cry; But Were We Burdened With Light Weight Of Pain, As Much Or More We Should Ourselves Complain.

Were It Good To Set The Exact Wealth Of All Our States All At One Cast? To Set So Rich A Main On The Nice Hazard Of One Doubtful Hour? It Were Not Good.