rtunes, humors turn with climes,
Tenets with books, and principles with times.
1152
POPE: _Moral Essays,_ Epis. i., Line 172.

=Marble.=

And sleep in dull cold marble.
1153
SHAKS.: _Henry VIII.,_ Act iii., Sc. 2.

All your better deeds
Shall be in water writ, but this in marble.
1154
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: _Philaster,_ Act v., Sc. 3.

=March.=

The stormy March is come at last,
With wind, and clouds, and changing skies;
I hear the rushing of the blast,
That through the snowy valleys flies.
1155
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT: _March._

Ah, March! we know thou art
Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats,
And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets!
1156
HELEN HUNT: _March._

=Marriage.=

The ancient saying is no heresy;--
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
1157
SHAKS.: _M. of Venice,_ Act ii, Sc. 9.

Marriage is a matter of more worth
Than to be dealt in by attorneyship.
1158
SHAKS.: _1 Henry VI.,_ Act v., Sc. 5.

The joys of marriage are the heaven on earth,
Life's paradise, great princess, the soul's quiet,
Sinews of concord, earthly immortality,
Eternity of pleasures.
1159
FORD: _Broken Heart,_ Act ii., Sc. 2.

Hail, wedded love! mysterious law, true source
Of human offspring.
1160
MILTON: _Par. Lost,_ Bk. iv., Line 750.

Marriage is the life-long miracle,
The self-begetting wonder, daily fresh.
1161
CHARLES KINGSLEY: _Saint's Tragedy,_ Act ii., Sc. 9.

=Martyrs.=

Life has its martyrs, as brave, as strong, and as faithful,
E'en as the martyrs of death.
1162
H.H. BOYESEN: _Calpurnia,_ Pt. iv.

A pale martyr in his shirt of fire.
1163
ALEXANDER SMITH: _A Life Drama,_ Sc. 2.

=Masters.=

We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly followed.
1161
SHAKS.: _Othello,_ Act i., Sc. 1.

Men at some time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
1165
SHAKS.: _Jul. Caesar,_ Act i., Sc. 2.

=Matter.=

When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter,"
And proved it,--'t was no matter what he said.
1166
BYRON: _Don Juan,_ Canto xi., St. 1.

=May.=

The voice of one who goes before, to make
The paths of June more beautiful, is thine,
Sweet May!
1167
HELEN HUNT: _May._

The new-born May,
As cradled yet in April's lap she lay.
Born in yon blaze of orient sky,
Sweet May! thy radiant form unfold,
Unclose thy blue voluptuous ey