In Hope To Merit Heaven By Making

Oh, Mirth And Innocence! Oh, Milk And Water! Ye Happy Mixture Of More Happy Days!

Men Love In Haste, But They Detest At Leisure.

The Devil Hath Not, In All His Quiver's Choice, An Arrow For The Heart Like A Sweet Voice.

My Beautiful, My Own My Only Venice-this Is Breath! Thy Breeze Thine Adrian Sea-breeze, How It Fans My Face! Thy Very Winds Feel Native To My Veins, And Cool Them Into Calmness!

What Opposite Discoveries We Have Seen! (signs Of True Genius, And Of Empty Pockets.) One Makes New Noses, One A Guillotine, One Breaks Your Bones, One Sets Them In Their Sockets; But Vaccination Certainly Has Been A Kind Antithesis To Congreve's Rockets.