The First Blow Is Half The Battle.

We May Affirm Of Mr. Buffon, That Which Has Been Said Of The Chemists Of Old; Though He May Have Failed In Attaining His Principal Aim, Of Establishing A Theory, Yet He Has Brought Together Such A Multitude Of Facts Relative To The History Of The Earth, And The Nature Of Its Fossil Productions, That Curiosity Finds Ample Compensation, Even While It Feels The Want Of Conviction.

Could A Man Live By It, It Were Not Unpleasant Employment To Be A Poet.

Near Yonder Copse, Where Once The Garden Smil'd, And Still Where Many A Garden Flower Grows Wild, There, Where A Few Torn Shrubs The Place Disclose, The Village Preacher's Modest Mansion Rose. A Man He Was To All The Country Dear, And Passing Rich With Forty Pounds A Year; Remote From Town's He Ran His Godly Race, Nor E'er Had Chang'd Nor Wish'd To Change His Place; Unskilful He To Fawn, Or Seek For Power, By Doctrines Fashion'd To The Varying Hour; Far Other Aims His Heart Had Learn'd To Prize. More Bent To Raise The Wretched Than To Rise.

One Should Not Quarrel With A Dog Without A Reason Sufficient To Vindicate One Through All The Courts Of Morality.

Villainy, When Detected, Never Gives Up, But Boldly Adds Impudence To Imposture.