a husband, or, it may so fortune, a man that by possibility might have gray-headed experience, hath not sufficient of that seede, yet he that lacketh, it is lawful for him to borrow of his neighbours that have, and his neighbours be unkind if they will not lend this young husband part of their seede, for this seede of discretion hath a wondrous virtue, for the more it is eyther taken of or lent the more it is.-Boke of Husbandry.

Law perplexes many points; but it has made one clear which, without its assistance, would have remained for ever in darkness; for it tells us at what period of his life a man arrives at years of discretion; and but for this information who could guess at it? When a young gentleman has come into possession of broad lands and a good store of wealth, and takes his station at the gaming-table till he loses all that he has the power of losing; when a young lady at the age of twenty and one years, emancipated by the law from parental control and all authority of guardianship, marries her father's groom, or gives her hand and fortune to a notorious gambler; when a middle-aged gentleman, who has lived many years, carefully avoiding an indiscreet marriage, guarding himself warily against the fascinations of beauty, and priding himself on his policy, at length marries his cook -we should hardly believe, if the law had not told us so, that either of these parties had arrived at years of discretion. What is discretion? We all have it; it comes to us by Act of Parliament the very day we have completed one-andtwenty years, and it sticks to us through life by virtue of the same. The real meaning of the word "discretion" is not that we know how to go alone, but that our leading strings are cut, and we must go alone as well as we can.

Disease.

I tell you honestly what I think is the cause of the complicated maladies of the human race; it is their gormandizing and stuffing, and stimulating their digestive organs to an excess, thereby producing nervous disorders and irritations.

The state of their minds is another grand cause; the fidgeting and discontenting themselves about what cannot be helped; passions of all kinds-malignant passions pressing upon the mind, disturb the cerebral action, and do much harm.— Abernethy.

Dissembler.

A man more to be dreaded than the most inveterate open enemy.

Distinctions.

Mankind will never be, in an eminent degree, virtuous and happy, till each possesses that portion of distinction, and no more, to which he is entitled by his personal merits. -Godwin.

Bividend.

That fraction of the amount of that of which folly, roguery, or misfortune has robbed you-which these choose to let you have back as the price of permission to do so again.

Bog.

In addition to its proper signification, the word "dog" is used in almost every possible sense. The wild rose is called the dog-rose; the scentless violet, dog-violet. Jolly dog is the highest convivial encomium which a man can receive from his companions; honest dog is when he adds to good fellowship some other qualifications; sad dog when he is a reprobate. Dog is a word of endearment often used to children, and what we call our servants when we are angry. Puppy is the term of contempt for a coxcomb. A flatterer is called a spaniel; a ruffian is called a bull-dog; an ill-looking fellow an ugly hound; and whelp, cur, and mongrel, are terms of contemptuous reproach to a young man,

Bowry.

The best dowry to advance the marriage of a young lady is, when she has in her countenance mildness; in her speech wisdom; in her behaviour modesty; and in her life virtue. Fenton.

· A Greek maiden, being asked what fortune she would bring her husband, replied, "I will bring him what gold cannot purchase a heart unspotted, and virtue without a stain,—the inheritance from parents who had these, and nothing else to leave me."

Dreams.

The dead of night: earth seems but seeming-
The soul seems but a something dreaming.
The bird is dreaming, in its nest,

Of song, and sky, and loved one's breast;
The lap-dog dreams, as round he lies,
In moonshine of his mistress' eyes:
The steed is dreaming in his stall,
Of one long breathless leap and fall:
The hawk hath dreamt him thrice of wings
Wide as the skies he may not cleave;
But waking, feels them clipt, and clings
Mad to the perch 'twere mad to leave :
The child is dreaming of its toys-
The murderer of calm home joys;
The weak are dreaming endless fears—
The proud of how their pride appears :
The poor enthusiast who dies,
Of his life-dreams the sacrifice-

Sees, as enthusiast only can,

The truth that made him more than man;
And hears once more, in vision'd trance,
That voice commanding to advance,
Where wealth is gain'd-love, wisdom won,
Or deeds of anger dared and done.
The mother dreameth of her child-
The maid of him who hath beguiled-
The youth of her he loves too well-
The good of God-the ill of Hell—
Who live, of death-of life, who die-
The dead of immortality.-Bailey.

Dreams of Life.

All men are dreamers; from the hour
When reason firsts exerts its power,
Unmindful of its bitter sting,
To some deceiving hope we cling-

That hope's a dream!

The brazen trumpet's clangour gives
The joy on which the warrior lives;
And at his injured country's call,

He leaves his home, his friends, his all

For Glory's dream!

The lover hangs on some bright eye,
And dreams of bliss in every sigh;
But brightest eyes are deep in guile,
And he who trusts their fickle smile,

Trusts in a dream!

The poet, Nature's darling child,
By fame's all-dazzling star beguiled,
Sings love's alternate hope and fear,

Paints visions which his heart holds dear

And thus he dreams!

And there are those who build their joys

On proud Ambition's gilded toys,
Who fain would climb the craggy height
Where Power displays its splendid light-
But dreaming fall!

Whilst others, 'midst the giddy throng
Of Pleasure's victims, sweep along;
Till, feelings damp'd, and satiate hearts,
Too worn to feel when bliss departs-

Prove all a dream!

And when that chilly call of fear,
Death's mandate, hurtles on the ear;
We find, would we retrace the past,
E'en life at best, now fading fast-

Is all a dream!

Bress.

Let your ear-rings be attention, encircled by the pearls of refinement. Let the diamonds of your necklace be truth, and the chain of Christianity. Let your bracelets be charity, ornamented with the pearls of gentleness. Let your bosompin be modesty, set with compassion. Let your finger-ring be affection, set with the diamonds of industry. Let your garb be virtue-your drapery politeness. Let your shoes be wisdom, secured with the buckles of perseverance.

Drum.

I hate that drum's discordant sound,
Parading round and round and round;
To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields,
And lures from cities and from fields,
To sell their liberty for charms

Of tawdry lace and glittering arms;
And when Ambition's voice commands,

To march, and fight, and fall, in foreign lands.
I hate that drum's discordant sound,
Parading round and round and round;
To me it talks of ravaged plains,
And burning towns, and ruin'd swains,
And mangled limbs and dying groans,
And widows' tears and orphans' moans,

And all that Misery's hand bestows,

To fill the catalogue of human woes.—Scott of Amwell.

Brunkard.

Drunkard, stand forward, that we may have a look at you, and draw your picture. There he stands! The mouth of a drunkard, you may observe, contracts a singularly sensitive appearance seemingly red and rawish; and he is perpetually licking and smacking his lips, as if his palate were dry and adust. He has a thirst which water will not quench. He might as well drink air. His whole being burns for a dram. The whole world is contracted into a caulker. He would