Rough Johnson, The Great Moralist.

There's Naught, No Doubt, So Much The Spirit Calms As Rum And True Religion.

I Am So Changeable, Being Everything By Turns And Nothing Long - Such A Strange Melange Of Good And Evil.

War, War Is Still The Cry,-"war Even To The Knife!"

How Sweet And Soothing Is This Hour Of Calm! I Thank Thee, Night! For Thou Has Chased Away These Horrid Bodements Which, Amidst The Throng, I Could Not Dissipate; And With The Blessing Of Thy Benign And Quiet Influence Now Will I To My Couch, Although To Rest Is Almost Wronging Such A Night As This.

Friendship May, And Often Does, Grow Into Love, But Love Never Subsides Into Friendship.