Bells Are Musics Laughter.

The Quaker Loves An Ample Brim, A Hat That Bows To No Salaam; And Dear The Beaver Is To Him As If It Never Made A Dam.

When Eve Upon The First Of Men The Apple Press'd With Specious Cant, Oh! What A Thousand Pities Then That Adam Was Not Adamant!

A Certain Portion Of The Human Race Has Certainly A Taste For Being Diddled.

Alas For The Rarity Of Christian Charity Under The Sun!

Coquetry Is The Champagne Of Love.