The Love Of Nature Is

One Day, About The Middle Of July 1838, One Of The Carriages, Lately Introduced To Paris Cabstands, And Known As Milords, Was Driving Down The Rue De L'universite, Conveying A Stout Man Of Middle Height In The Uniform Of A Captain Of The National Guard.

The Union Of A Want And A Sentiment.

He Hesitated Till The Last Moment, But Finally Dropped Them In The Box, Saying, "i Shall Win!"--the Cry Of A Gambler, The Cry Of The Great General, The Compulsive Cry That Has Ruined More Men Than It Has Ever Saved.

Love Is The Only Way On Which Even The Dim-witted Reaches Certain Heights.

The Love Of Nature Is The Only Love That Does Not Deceive Human Hopes.