There Are Some Feelings Time Cannot Benumb,

A Little Still She Strove, And Much Repented, And Whispering “i Will Ne'er Consent”—consented.

My Native Land, Good Night!

I Have Seen A Thousand Graves Opened, And Always Perceived That Whatever Was Gone, The Teeth And Hair Remained Of Those Who Had Died With Them. Is Not This Odd? They Go The Very First Things In Youth And Yet Last The Longest In The Dust.

I Suppose We Shall Soon Travel By Air-vessels; Make Air Instead Of Sea Voyages; And At Length Find Our Way To The Moon, In Spite Of The Want Of Atmosphere.

Switzerland Is A Curst, Selfish, Swinish Country Of Brutes, Placed In The Most Romantic Region Of The World.