Excise: A Hateful Tax Levied

Moral Sentences Appear Ostentatious And Tumid, When They Have No Greater Occasions Than The Journey Of A Wit To His Home Town: Yet Such Pleasures And Such Pains Make Up The General Mass Of Life; And As Nothing Is Little To Him That Feels It With Gre

Come, Let Me Know What It Is That Makes A Scotch Man Happy!

The World Is Like A Grand Staircase, Some Are Going Up And Some Are Going Down.

A Transition From An Author's Book To His Conversation Is Too Often Like An Entrance Into A Large City, After A Distant Prospect. Remotely, We See Nothing But Spires Of Temples And Turrets Of Palaces, And Imagine It The Residence Of Splendour, Grandeur, And Magnificence; But When We Have Passed The Gates, We Find It Perplexed With Narrow Passages, Disgraced With Despicable Cottages, Embarrassed With Obstructions, And Clouded With Smoke.

Such Is The State Of Every Age, Every Sex, And Every Condition: All Have Their Cares, Either From Nature Or From Folly; And Whoever, Therefore, Finds Himself Inclined To Envy Another, Should Remember That He Knows Not The Real Condition Which He Desires To Obtain, But Is Certain That By Indulging A Vicious Passion, He Must Lessen That Happiness Which He Thinks Already Too Sparingly Bestowed.