Ignorance, Madam, Pure Ignorance.

As Every Writer Has His Use, Every Writer Ought To Have His Patrons; And Since No Man, However High He May Now Stand, Can Be Certain That He Shall Not Be Soon Thrown Down From His Elevation By Criticism Or Caprice, The Common Interest Of Learning Requires That Her Sons Should Cease From Intestine Hostilities, And, Instead Of Sacrificing Each Other To Malice And Contempt, Endeavour To Avert Persecution From The Meanest Of Their Fraternity.

Then With No Throbs Of Fiery Pain, No Cold Gradations Of Decay, Death Broke At Once The Vital Chain, And Freed His Soul The Nearest Way.

He Who Has So Little Knowledge Of Human Nature As To Seek Happiness By Changing Anything But His Own Disposition Will Waste His Life In Fruitless Efforts.

The Man Who Feels Himself Ignorant Should, At Least, Be Modest.

Stand Firm For Your Country, And Become A Man Honour'd And Lov'd: It Were A Noble Life, To Be Found Dead, Embracing Her.