LIBERTY CONDUCIVE OF MODERATION. Till men have been sometime free, they know not how to use their freedom. The natives of wine countries are generally sober. In climates where wine is a rarity intemperance abounds. A newly liberated people may be compared to a Northern army encamped on the Rhine or the Xeres. It is said that, when soldiers in such a situation first find themselves able to indulge without restraint in such a rare and expensive luxury, nothing is to be seen but intoxication. Soon, however, plenty teaches discretion; and after wine has been for a few months their daily fare, they become more temperate than they had ever been in their own country. In the same manner, the final and permanent fruits of liberty are wisdom, moderation, and mercy. Macaulay.

JEST AND EARNEST.

He that will lose his friend for a jest deserves to die a beggar by the bargain. Such let thy jests be, that they may not grind the credit of thy friend; and make not jests so long till thou becomest one. Thomas Fuller.

THE ALMIGHTY DOLLAR.

The Romans worshipped their standard; and the Roman standard happened to be an eagle. Our standard is only one-tenth of an eagle—a dollar-but we make all even by adoring it with tenfold devotion. Poe.

WRITING AND TALKING.

Writing or printing is like shooting with a rifle ; you may hit your reader's mind, or miss it ;but talking is like playing at a mark with the pipe of an engine; if it is within reach, and you have time enough, you can't help hitting it. Holmes.

THE GENERATION OF FOLLY.

Folly, like gunpowder, runs in a train from one generation to another, preserved and conveyed by the perpetual tradition of tattling gossips.

THE BARREL ORGAN.

How.

Spurzheim was lecturing on phrenology. "What is to be conceived the organ of drunkenness?" said the professor. "The barrel organ," interrupted Bannister.

A NEW AND TRUE SPEECH.

Sheridan once said of some speech, in his acute, sarcastic way, that "it contained a great deal both of what was new and what was true: but that unfortunately what was new was not true, and what was true was not new." Hazlitt.

THE HEART OF MAN.

When I am assailed with heavy tribulations, I rush out among my pigs, rather than remain alone by myself. The human heart is like a millstone in a mill; when you put wheat under it, it turns and grinds and bruises the wheat to flour. If you put no wheat, it still grinds on; but then 'tis itself it grinds and wears away. Luther.

COURTESY.

Nothing is a courtesy unless it be meant us, and that friendly and lovingly. We owe no thanks to rivers, that they carry our boats; or winds, that they be favouring, and fill our sails; or meats, that they be nourishing; for these are what they are necessarily. Horses carry us; trees shade us; but they know it not. Ben Jonson.

HUMAN VANITY.

Nature descends down to infinite smallness. Great men have their parasites; and, if you take a large buzzing blue-bottle fly, and look at it in a microscope, you may see twenty or thirty little ugly insects crawling about it, which, doubtless, think their fly to be the bluest, grandest, merriest, most important animal in the universe; and are convinced the world would be at an end if it ceased to buzz.

RIDICULE.

Sydney Smith.

Ridicule is the itch of our age and climate; and has overrun both the court and the stage; enters a House of Lords and Commons as boldly as a coffee-house; debates of council as well as private conversation and I have known, in my lifetime, more than one or two ministers of state that would rather have said a witty thing than have done a wise one, and made the company laugh rather than the kingdom rejoice.

SUNDAY.

Semple.

Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week. Longfellow.

THE DISREPUTE OF LODGINGS.

There is nothing respectable in lodgings and a cab-nothing stationary. Such are the appliances of a here-to-day-gone-to-morrow kind of life. One never looks substantial until one pays rates and taxes, and has a bill with one's butcher. Bulwer.

FASHION.

"Ladies have ladies' whims," said crazy Ann, when she draggled her cloak in the gutter. Danish Proverb.

A MAN OF MAXIMS.

A man of maxims only is like a Cyclops with one eye, and that eye placed in the back of his head.

THE LANGUAGE OF THE POET.

Coleridge.

Na

Language-the machine of the poet-is best fitted for his purpose in its rudest state. tions, like individuals, first perceive, and then abstract. They advance from particular images to general terms. Hence the vocabulary of an enlightened society is philosophical; that of a half-civilised people is poetical. Macaulay.