The Very Pink Of Perfection.

Life At The Greatest And Best Is But A Froward Child, That Must Be Humored And Coaxed A Little Till It Falls Asleep, And Then All The Care Is Over.

The Watch-dog's Voice That Bay'd The Whispering Wind, And The Loud Laugh That Spoke The Vacant Mind.

The Europeans Are Themselves Blind Who Describe Fortune Without Sight. No First-rate Beauty Ever Had Finer Eyes, Or Saw More Clearly. They Who Have No Other Trade But Seeking Their Fortune Need Never Hope To Find Her; Coquette-like, She Flies From Her Close Pursuers, And At Last Fixes On The Plodding Mechanic Who Stays At Home And Minds His Business.

We Sometimes Had Those Little Rubs Which Providence Sends To Enhance The Value Of Its Favors.

Thus 'tis With All; Their Chief And Constant Care Is To Seem Everything But What They Are.