This Is The Essential Evil Of Vice:

No Language Can Express The Power And Beauty And Heroism Of A Mother's Love.

Labor, With Its Coarse Raiment And Its Bare Right Arm, Has Gone Forth In The Earth, Achieving The Truest Conquests And Rearing The Most Durable Monuments. It Has Opened The Domain Of Matter And The Empire Of The Mind. The Wild Beast Has Fled Before It, And The Wilderness Has Fallen Back.... Its Triumphal March Is The Progress Of Civilization.

The Deepest Life Of Nature Is Silent And Obscure; So Often The Elements That Move And Mould Society Are The Results Of The Sister's Counsel And The Mother's Prayer.

The Productions Of The Press, Fast As Steam Can Make And Carry Them, Go Abroad Through All The Land, Silent As Snowflakes, But Potent As Thunder. It Is An Additional Tongue Of Steam And Lightning, By Which A Man Speaks His First Thought, His Instant Argument Or Grievance, To Millions In A Day.

Death Is A Great Revealer Of What Is In A Man, And In Its Solemn Shadow Appear The Naked Lineaments Of The Soul.