Crimes Generally Punish Themselves.

The Life Of A Scholar Seldom Abounds With Adventure.

Our Garrick 's A Salad; For In Him We See Oil, Vinegar, Sugar, And Saltness Agree!

Well Had The Boding Tremblers Learned To Trace The Day's Disasters In His Morning Face.

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.

As Ten Millions Of Circles Can Never Make A Square, So The United Voice Of Myriads Cannot Lend The Smallest Foundation To Falsehood.