A Thousand Years May Elapse

None Are Happy But By Anticipation Of Change.

The Common People Do Not Accurately Adapt Their Thoughts To Objects; Nor, Secondly, Do They Accurately Adapt Their Words To Their Thoughts; They Do Not Mean To Lie; But, Taking No Pains To Be Exact, They Give You Very False Accounts. A Great Part Of Their Language Is Proverbial; If Anything Rocks At All, They Say It Rocks Like A Cradle; And In This Way They Go On.

Every Reader Should Remember The Diffidence Of Socrates, And Repair By His Candour The Injuries Of Time: He Should Impute The Seeming Defects Of His Author To Some Chasm Of Intelligence, And Suppose That The Sense Which Is Now Weak Was Once Forcible

Those Who Have Past Much Of Their Lives In This Great City, Look Upon Its Opulence And Its Multitudes, Its Extent And Variety, With Cold Indifference; But An Inhabitant Of The Remoter Parts Of The Kingdom Is Immediately Distinguished By A Kind Of Dissipated Curiosity, A Busy Endeavour To Divide His Attention Amongst A Thousand Objects, And A Wild Confusion Of Astonishment And Alarm.

By Taking A Second Wife He Pays The Highest Compliment To The First, By Showing That She Made Him So Happy As A Married Man, That He Wishes To Be So A Second Time.