Travel Is As Much A Passion As

Sneering Springs Out Of The Wish To Deny; And Wretched Must That State Of Mind Be That Wishes To Take Refuge In Doubt.

I Have A Respect For Family Pride. If It Be A Prejudice, It Is A Prejudice In Its Most Picturesque Shape. But I Hold It Is Connected With Some Of The Noblest Feelings In Our Nature.

There Is The Cause For Pleasure And For Pain: But Music Moves Us, And We Know Not Why? We Feel The Tears, But Cannot Trace Their Source. Is It The Language Of Some Other State, Born Of Its Memory! For What Can Wake The Soul's Strong Instinct Of Another World, Like Music！

Affection Exaggerates Its Own Offenses.

A Blossom Full Of Promise Is Life's Joy, That Never Comes To Fruit. Hope, For A Time, Suns The Young Floweret In Its Gladsome Light, And It Looks Flourishing--a Little While-- 't Is Pass'd, We Know Not Whither, But 't Is Gone.