The Gloomy Months Of November, When The

One May Know A Man That Never Conversed In The World, By His Excess Of Good-breeding.

Certain Is It That There Is No Kind Of Affection So Purely Angelic As Of A Father To A Daughter. In Love To Our Wives There Is Desire; To Our Sons, Ambition, But To Our Daughters There Is Something Which There Are No Words To Express.

Hypocrisy Itself Does Great Honor, Or Rather Justice, To Religion, And Tacitly Acknowledges It To Be An Ornament To Human Nature. The Hypocrite Would Not Be At So Much Pains To Put On The Appearance Of Virtue, If He Did Not Know It Was The Most Proper And Effectual Means To Gain The Love And Esteem Of Mankind.

Every Passion Gives A Particular Cast To The Countenance, And Is Apt To Discover Itself In Some Feature Or Other. I Have Seen An Eye Curse For Half An Hour Together, And An Eyebrow Call A Man A Scoundrel.

Persons In Great Stations Have Seldom Their True Character Drawn Till Several Years After Their Death. Their Personal Friendships And Enmities Must Cease, And The Parties They Were Engaged In Be At An End, Before Their Faults Or Their Virtues Can Have Justice Done Them. When Writers Have The Least Opportunities Of Knowing The Truth, They Are In The Best Disposition To Tell It.