How Blunt Are All The

Friendship! Mysterious Cement Of The Soul, Sweet'ner Of Life, And Solder Of Society.

Industry Is Not Only The Instrument Of Improvement, But The Foundation Of Pleasure. He Who Is A Stranger To It May Possess, But Cannot Enjoy, For It Is Labor Only Which Gives Relish To Pleasure. It Is The Indispensable Condition Of Possessing A Sound Mind In A Sound Body, And It Is The Appointed Vehicle Of Every Good To Man.

Affectation Is Certain Deformity; By Forming Themselves On Fantastic Models, The Young Begin With Being Ridiculous, And Often End In Being Vicious.

The Common Damn'd Shun Their Society.

The Good He Scorn'd Stalk'd Off Reluctant, Like An Ill-us'd Ghost, Not To Return; Or If It Did, Its Visits Like Those Of Angels, Short, And Far Between.