Man Seems The Only Growth

We May Affirm Of Mr. Buffon, That Which Has Been Said Of The Chemists Of Old; Though He May Have Failed In Attaining His Principal Aim, Of Establishing A Theory, Yet He Has Brought Together Such A Multitude Of Facts Relative To The History Of The Earth, And The Nature Of Its Fossil Productions, That Curiosity Finds Ample Compensation, Even While It Feels The Want Of Conviction.

Ridicule Has Always Been The Enemy Of Enthusiasm, And The Only Worthy Opponent To Ridicule Is Success.

Near Yonder Copse, Where Once The Garden Smil'd, And Still Where Many A Garden Flower Grows Wild, There, Where A Few Torn Shrubs The Place Disclose, The Village Preacher's Modest Mansion Rose. A Man He Was To All The Country Dear, And Passing Rich With Forty Pounds A Year; Remote From Town's He Ran His Godly Race, Nor E'er Had Chang'd Nor Wish'd To Change His Place; Unskilful He To Fawn, Or Seek For Power, By Doctrines Fashion'd To The Varying Hour; Far Other Aims His Heart Had Learn'd To Prize. More Bent To Raise The Wretched Than To Rise.

In Arguing Too, The Parson Own'd His Skill, For E'en Though Vanquish'd He Could Argue Still; While Words Of Learned Length And Thundering Sound Amaz'd The Gazing Rustics Rang'd Around; And Still They Gaz'd, And Still The Wonder Grew That One Small Head Could Carry All He Knew.

Our Garrick 's A Salad; For In Him We See Oil, Vinegar, Sugar, And Saltness Agree!