Silence Gives Consent.

In A Polite Age Almost Every Person Becomes A Reader, And Receives More Instruction From The Press Than The Pulpit.

Popular Glory Is A Perfect Coquette; Her Lovers Must Toil, Feel Every Inquietude, Indulge Every Caprice, And Perhaps At Last Be Jilted Into The Bargain. True Glory, On The Other Hand, Resembles A Woman Of Sense; Her Admirers Must Play No Tricks. They Feel No Great Anxiety, For They Are Sure In The End Of Being Rewarded In Proportion To Their Merit.

Let Schoolmasters Puzzle Their Brain, With Grammar, And Nonsense, And Learning, Good Liquor, I Stoutly Maintain, Gives Genius A Better Discerning.

Friendship Is Made Up Of Esteem And Pleasure; Pity Is Composed Of Sorrow And Contempt: The Mind May For Some Time Fluctuate Between Them, But It Can Never Entertain Both At Once.

But Times Are Alter'd; Trade's Unfeeling Train Usurp The Land, And Dispossess The Swain; Along The Lawn, Where Scatter'd Hamlets Rose, Unwieldy Wealth And Cumbrous Pomp Repose.