The Oil And Wine Of Merry Meeting.

A Woman's Whole Life Is A History Of The Affections.

I Am Always At A Loss At How Much To Believe Of My Own Stories.

The Literary World Is Made Up Of Little Confederacies, Each Looking Upon Its Own Members As The Lights Of The Universe; And Considering All Others As Mere Transient Meteors, Doomed To Soon Fall And Be Forgotten, While Its Own Luminaries Are To Shine Steadily Into Immortality.

Believe Me, The Man Who Earns His Bread By The Sweat Of His Brow, Eats Oftener A Sweeter Morsel, However Coarse, Than He Who Procures It By The Labor Of His Brains.

Angling Is An Amusement Peculiarly Adapted To The Mild And Cultivated Scenery Of England