The First Blow Is Half The Battle.

The Jests Of The Rich Are Ever Successful.

By Every Remove I Only Drag A Greater Length Of Chain.

We May Affirm Of Mr. Buffon, That Which Has Been Said Of The Chemists Of Old; Though He May Have Failed In Attaining His Principal Aim, Of Establishing A Theory, Yet He Has Brought Together Such A Multitude Of Facts Relative To The History Of The Earth, And The Nature Of Its Fossil Productions, That Curiosity Finds Ample Compensation, Even While It Feels The Want Of Conviction.

Our Chief Comforts Often Produce Our Greatest Anxieties, And The Increase In Our Possessions Is But An Inlet To New Disquietudes.

Sweet Was The Sound, When Oft, At Evening's Close, Up Yonder Hill The Village Murmur Rose; There As I Passed, With Careless Steps And Slow, The Mingling Notes Came Soften'd From Below; The Swain Responsive As The Milkmaid Sung, The Sober Herd That Low'd To Meet Their Young; The Noisy Geese That Gabbled O'er The Pool, The Playful Children Just Let Loose From School; The Watch-dog's Voice That Bay'd The Whispering Wind, And The Loud Laugh That Spoke The Vacant Mind; These All In Sweet Confusion Sought The Shade, And Fill'd Each Pause The Nightingale Had Made.