The Englishman Is Too Apt To Neglect

No Man Is So Methodical As A Complete Idler, And None So Scrupulous In Measuring Out His Time As He Whose Time Is Worth Nothing.

A Mother Is The Truest Friend We Have When Trials, Heavy And Sudden, Fall Upon Us; When Adversity Takes The Place Of Prosperity.

Speculation Is The Romance Of Trade, And Casts Contempt Upon On All Its Sober Realities. It Renders The Stock-jobber A Magician, And The Exchange A Region Of Enchantment.

The Scholar Only Knows How Dear These Silent, Yet Eloquent, Companions Of Pure Thoughts And Innocent Hours Become In The Season Of Adversity. When All That Is Worldly Turns To Dross Around Us, These Only Retain Their Steady Value.

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.