Alas! We Makea Ladder Of Our Thoughts,

I Can Pass Days Stretch'd In The Shade Of Those Old Cedar Trees, Watching The Sunshine Like A Blessing Fall,-- The Breeze Like Music Wandering O'er The Boughs, Each Tree A Natural Harp,--each Different Leaf A Different Note, Blent In One Vast Thanksgiving.

Restraint Is The Golden Rule Of Enjoyment.

Of All False Assertions That Ever Went Into The World Under The Banner Of A Great Name And The Mail Armor Of A Well-turned Phrase, Locke's Comparison Of The Mind To A Blank Sheet Of Paper Appears To Me Among The Most Untrue.

We Would Liken Music To Aladdin's Lamp — Worthless In Itself, Not So For The Spirits Which Obey Its Call. We Love It For The Buried Hopes, The Garnered Memories, The Tender Feelings, It Can Summon With A Touch.

Memory Has Many Conveniences, And, Among Others, That Of Foreseeing Things As They Have Afterwards Happened.