Nothing Can Confound A Wise

Be Thou The Rainbow In The Storms Of Life. The Evening Beam That Smiles The Clouds Away, And Tints Tomorrow With Prophetic Ray.

Ah, Happy Years! Once More Who Would Not Be A Boy?

Rough Johnson, The Great Moralist.

Grief Should Be The Instructor Of The Wise; Sorrow Is Knowledge.

Tis Pleasing To Be School'd In A Strange Tongue By Female Lips And Eyes--that Is, I Mean, When Both The Teacher And The Taught Are Young, As Was The Case, At Least, Where I Have Been; They Smile So When One's Right; And When One's Wrong They Smile Still More.