Settling.

We often speak of being settled in life; we might as well speak of casting anchor in the midst of the Atlantic ocean, or talk of the permanent situation of a stone that is rolling down a hill.

Shake of the Hand.

A long and hearty shake of the whole hand means warmth and feeling; a short and slight shake means coolness, consideration, and reserve; three fingers mean a consciousness of insincerity; two fingers mean indifference; and one finger, "I am glad to get rid of you." A thumb is a challenge—a downright, or upright, or horizontal insult.

Shame.

Nature's hasty conscience.-Maria Edgeworth.

Shaving.

The barber shaves with polished blade,
The mercer shaves when ladies trade,
The broker shaves at twelve per cent.,
The landlord shaves by raising rent,
The doctor shaves in draughts and pills,
The tapster shaves in pints and gills,
The farmer shaves in hay and oats,
The banker shaves on his own notes,
The lawyer shaves both friends and foes,
The pedlar shaves where'er he goes,
The wily merchant shaves his brother,
The people all shave one another.

Ship.

The camel of the sea.-The confinement of a prison, with a chance of being drowned.-The telescope of the world.

Shipwreck.

Meantime, with sails declined,

The wandering vessel drove before the wind;
Toss'd and re-toss'd, aloft, and then below,
Nor port they seek, nor certain course they know,
But every moment wait the coming blow.
Thus blindly driven, by breaking day they view'd
The land before them, and their fears renew'd;
The land was welcome, but the tempest bore
The threaten'd ship against a rocky shore.-Dryden.

Shop.

An arena prepared for combats between avarice and parsimony.-Private interest disguised as public utility.

Sickness.

Sickness is a sort of early old age; it teaches us a sort of diffidence in our earthly state, and inspires us with the thoughts of a future, better than a thousand volumes of philosophers and divines.

Sigh (A).

What is a sigh ?-A sunny thought
Of childhood, clouded by a care;
A hope of disappointment wrought—
A lover's wish-a sinner's prayer-
Man's heritage !—an inward fight

Prolong'd beyond the spirit's power—
A breath which bears the soul to light
When sadly closes life's dark hour.

Silence.

Newton Goodrich.

A very deep meaning lies in that old notion, that a man in search of buried treasure must work in utter silence; must speak not a word, whatever appearance, either terrific or delightful, may present itself. And not less significant is the tradition, that one who is on an adventurous pilgrimage to

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some precious talisman, through the most lonesome mountain path or dreary desert, must walk onwards without stopping, nor look around him, though fearfully menacing or sweetly enticing voices follow his footsteps, and sound in his ear.Goethe.

Speech is silvern, silence golden.-German Proverb.

Sincerity.

Sincerity is the basis of every virtue; the love of truth, as we value the approbation of heaven, or the esteem of the world, should be cultivated. In all our proceedings it will make us direct and consistent. Ingenuousness and candour possess the most powerful charm, they bespeak universal favour, and carry an apology for almost every failing.—Blair. I never object to a certain degree of disputatiousness in a young man, from the age of seventeen to that of four or five and twenty, providing I find him always arguing on one side of the question.-S. T. Coleridge.

Sincerity in this world is like gold among savages, who barter treasure for glass beads. 'Tis a costly quality, but not current money.-Mason.

No real greatness can long co-exist with deceit. The whole faculties of man must be exerted in order to call forth noble energies; and he who is not earnestly sincere, lives in but half his being, self-mutilated, self-paralyzed.—S. T. Coleridge.

An ill-used child of humanity, continually flogged, and kept in a dark cellar on bread and water.

Sister.

When all the world seems cold and stern,
And bids the bosom vainly yearn;

When woman's heart is lightly changed,
And friendship weeps o'er looks estranged,
I turn from all the pangs I prove,
To hail a sister's changeless love.

Slander.

Slander is a vice impure in its source, dangerous in its effects, and sometimes irreparable in its consequences; it generally strikes at once three mortal blows: it wounds him who commits it, him against whom it is committed, and him who knows that it is committed: it is tolerated in society only because almost every one has an unhappy inclination to commit it.-Saurin.

Whose edge is sharper than the sharpest sword; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath

Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie

All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states,
Maids, matrons-nay, the secrets of the grave,
This viperous slander enters.-Shakespere.

- Many a shaft at random sent,

Finds mark the archer never meant;

And many a word, at random spoken,

May soothe or wound a heart that's broken.

Something there was, which none presumed to say,
Clouds lightly passing on a summer's day;
Whispers and hints, which went from ear to ear,

And mix'd reports no judge on earth could clear.

Slander is a most deadly weapon, which, though it stops not in its course the vital fluid that flows through the heart, dries up the life-blood of the soul, and equally disqualifies its victim for the duties and enjoyments of life.

All the venom, without the beauty of the serpent.

Slander,

Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,

As level as the cannon to its blank

Transports its poison'd shaft.-Shakespere.

Plato, on being informed that some one had reported that he was an infamous character, said, "I shall take care to live so that nobody will believe the reporter."

Slavery.

Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs
Receive our air, that moment they are free:
They touch our country, and their shackles fall.

Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,

Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,

And lulled with sounds of sweetest melody?

Oh, thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile
In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch,
A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude, imperious surge?
And in the visitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deafening clamours in the slippery shrouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Canst thou, oh, partial sleep! give thy repose

To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude;
And in the calmest and the stillest night,

With all appliances and means to boot,

Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.-Shakespere. Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!

He, like the world, his ready visit pays

Where fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes:
Swift on his downy pinions flies from woe,

And lights on lids unsullied with a tear.-Young.