't Was Good Advice, And Meant, My

A Club There Is Of Smokers--dare You Come To That Close, Clouded, Hot, Narcotic Room? When, Midnight Past, The Very Candles Seem Dying For Air, And Give A Ghastly Gleam; When Curling Fumes In Lazy Wreaths Arise, And Prosing Topers Rub Their Winking Eyes.

Her Air, Her Manners, All Who Saw Admir'd; Courteous Though Coy, And Gentle Though Retir'd; The Joy Of Youth And Health Her Eyes Display'd, And Ease Of Heart Her Every Look Convey'd.

Arrogance Is The Act Of The Great; Presumption That Of The Little.

Fortunes Are Made, If I The Facts May State-- Though Poor Myself, I Know The Fortunate: First, There's A Knowledge Of The Way From Whence Good Fortune Comes--and This Is Sterling Sense: Then Perseverance, Never To Decline The Chase Of Riches Till The Prey Is Thine; And Firmness Never To Be Drawn Away By Any Passion From That Noble Prey-- By Love, Ambition, Study, Travel, Fame, Or The Vain Hope That Lives Upon A Name.

't Was Good Advice, And Meant, My Son, Be Good.