Did You Ever Observe That Immoderate Laughter

Mankind Are Creatures Of Books, As Well As Of Other Circumstances; And Such They Eternally Remain,--proofs, That The Race Is A Noble And Believing Race, And Capable Of Whatever Books Can Stimulate.

The Golden Line Is Drawn Between Winter And Summer. Behind All Is Blackness And Darkness And Dissolution. Before Is Hope, And Soft Airs, And The Flowers, And The Sweet Season Of Hay; And People Will Cross The Fields, Reading Or Walking With One Another; And Instead Of The Rain That Soaks Death Into The Heart Of Green Things, Will Be The Rain Which They Drink With Delight; And There Will Be Sleep On The Grass At Midday, And Early Rising In The Morning, And Long Moonlight Evenings.

The Person Who Can Be Only Serious Or Only Cheerful, Is But Half A Man.

With Spots Of Sunny Openings, And With Nooks To Lie And Read In, Sloping Into Brooks.

The Only Place A New Hat Can Be Carried Into With Safety Is A Church, For There Is Plenty Of Room There.