Follow Thou Thy Choice.

Ye Winds Ye Unseen Currents Of The Air, Softly Ye Played A Few Brief Hours Ago; Ye Bore The Murmuring Bee; Ye Tossed The Air O'er Maiden Cheeks, That Took A Fresher Glow; Ye Rolled The Round White Cloud Through Depths Of Blue; Ye Shook From Shaded Flowers The Lingering Dew; Before You The Catalpa's Blossoms Flew, Light Blossoms, Dropping On The Grass Like Snow.

The Journalist Should Be On His Guard Against Publishing What Is False In Taste Or Exceptionable In Morals.

The Gentle Race Of Flowers Are Lying In Their Lowly Beds.

Difficulty, My Brethren, Is The Nurse Of Greatness - A Harsh Nurse, Who Roughly Rocks Her Foster Children Into Strength And Athletic Proportion.

Remorse Is Virtue's Root; Its Fair Increase Is Fruits Of Innocence And Blessedness.