Prayer goeth on in sleep, as true
And pauseless as the pulses do.
E. B. Browning. The Lady of the Brown
Rosary, Second Part.

Yet a little sleep, a little slumber,

A little folding of the hands to sleep. -Proverbs., Chap. VI., ver. 10, Ibid., Chap. XXIV., ver. 33.

Tir'd 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 pinion flies from woe,
And lights on lids unsully'd with a tear.
-Young. Night Thoughts, Night I., line 1.

No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure

meet

To chase the glowing hours with flying feet. -Byron. Childe Harold, Can. III., XXII.

GEMS IN THEIR SETTING.

How oft a gem of thought is found astray,
The utterance of some soul long passed away,
A priceless jewel from the setting gone,
A ray of sunlight stolen from the dawn.
It is a comfort when at last we find
Its home and birth-place in a master mind.

-J. C. H.

Her eyes are homes of silent prayer.
-Tennyson. In Memoriam, XXXII.

Her feet beneath her petticoat
Like little mice stole in and out,
As if they feared the light;
But oh! she dances such a way,
No sun upon an Easter-day
Is half so fine a sight.

-Sir John Suckling. Ballad on a
Wedding.

Soft words, with nothing in them, make a song.

-Waller. To Mr. Creech.

Breathes there a man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself has said,

This is my own, my native land? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,

From wandering on a foreign strand?

-Sir W. Scott. The Lay of the Last
Minstrel, Can. VI., I.

No quality will get a man more friends than a disposition to admire the qualities of others. -Boswell. Life of Johnson, Fitzgerald's Ed., Vol. II., p. 22.

Our life is but a dark and stormy night, To which sense yields a weak and glimmering light,

While wandering man thinks he discerneth all By that which makes him but mistake and fall. -Lord Herbert of Cherbury. To his Mistress, for her True Picture.

The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on; And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. -Shakspere. Henry VI, Pt. III. (Clifford), Act II., Sc. II.

My soul is an enchanted boat,

Which like a sleeping swan doth float
Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing;
And thine doth like an angel sit
Beside the helm conducting it,

Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.
-Shelley. Prometheus Unbound (Asia),
Act II., Sc. V

GEMS IN THEIR SETTING.

How oft a gem of thought is found astray,
The utterance of some soul long passed away,
A priceless jewel from the setting gone,
A ray of sunlight stolen from the dawn.
It is a comfort when at last we find
Its home and birth-place in a master mind.

-J. C. H.

Her eyes are homes of silent prayer.
-Tennyson. In Memoriam, XXXII.

Her feet beneath her petticoat
Like little mice stole in and out,
As if they feared the light;
But oh! she dances such a way,
No sun upon an Easter-day
Is half so fine a sight.

-Sir John Suckling. Ballad on a
Wedding.

Soft words, with nothing in them, make a song.

-Waller. To Mr. Creech.

Breathes there a man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself has said,

This is my own, my native land? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd, From wandering on a foreign strand? -Sir W. Scott. The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Can. VI., I.

No quality will get a man more friends than a disposition to admire the qualities of others. -Boswell. Life of Johnson, Fitzgerald's Ed., Vol. II., p. 22.

Our life is but a dark and stormy night, To which sense yields a weak and glimmering light,

While wandering man thinks he discerneth all By that which makes him but mistake and fall. -Lord Herbert of Cherbury. To his Mistress, for her True Picture.

The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on; And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. -Shakspere. Henry VI., Pt. III. (Clifford), Act II., Sc. II.

My soul is an enchanted boat,

Which like a sleeping swan doth float
Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing;
And thine doth like an angel sit
Beside the helm conducting it,

Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.
-Shelley. Prometheus Unbound (Asia),
Act II., Sc. V