Melancholy Is The Pleasure Of Being Sad.

The Ox Suffers, The Cart Complains.

Nothing Is More Dangerous Than Discontinued Labor; It Is Habit Lost. A Habit Easy To Abandon, Difficult To Resume.

A Smile Is The Same As Sunshine; It Banishes Winter From The Human Countenance.

And If It Happened To Be A Christmas-night When The Great Bell Seemed To Rattle In Its Throat As It Called The Faithful To The Midnight Mass, There Was Such An Indescribable Air Of Life Spread Over The Sombre Facade That The Great Door-way Looked As If It Were Swallowing The Entire Crowd, And The Rose-window Staring At Them.

As With Stomachs, We Should Pity Minds That Do Not Eat.