Chess Is A Sad Waste Of Brains.

Women Are But The Toys Which Amuse Our Lighter Hours---ambition Is The Serious Business Of Life.

The Tear, Down Childhood's Cheek That Flows, Is Like The Dewdrop On The Rose; When Next The Summer Breeze Comes By And Waves The Bush, The Flower Is Dry.

Respect Was Mingled With Surprise, And The Stern Joy Which Warriors Feel In Foemen Worthy Of Their Steel.

November's Sky Is Chill And Drear, November's Leaf Is Red And Sear.

Those Who Follow The Banners Oreason Are Like The Well-disciplined Battalions Which, Wearing A More Sober Uniform And Making A Less Dazzling Show Than The Light Troops Commanded By Imagination, Enjoy More Safety, And Even More Honor, In The Conflicts Ohuman Life.