The Miser, Poor Fool, Not

Remorse Is The Pain Of Sin.

The Duty Of Labor Is Written On A Man's Body: In The Stout Muscle Of The Arm,, And The Delicate Machinery Of The Hand.

Wit Has Its Place In Debate; In Controversy It Is A Legitimate Weapon, Offensive And Defensive.

The Lottery Of Honest Labor, Drawn By Time, Is The Only One Whose Prizes Are Worth Taking Up And Carrying Home.

Genius Is The Father Of A Heavenly Line, But The Mortal Mother, That Is Industry.