Riches Seldom Make Their Owners

Spring Is The Season Of Gaiety, And Winter Of Terror; In Spring The Heart Of Tranquility Dances To The Melody Of The Groves, And The Eye Of Benevolence Sparkles At The Sight Of Happiness And Plenty: In Winter, Compassion Melts At Universal Calamity, And The Tear Of Softness Starts At The Wailing Of Hunger And The Cries Of The Creation In Distress

Friendship, Peculiar Boon Of Heaven, The Noble Mind's Delight And Pride, To Men And Angels Only Given, To All The Lower World Denied.

The Hour Of Reformation Is Always Delayed; Every Delay Gives Vice Another Opportunity Of Fortifying Itself By Habit.

Is Not A Patron One Who Looks With Unconcern On A Man Struggling For Life In The Water, And, When He Has Reached Ground, Encumbers Him With Help?

The Civilities Of The Great Are Never Thrown Away.