GEL.

In this dim world of clouding cares,
We rarely know, till 'wildered eyes
See white wings lessening up the skies,
The Angels with us unawares.
_Ballad of Babe Christabel_. G. MASSEY.

Around our pillows golden ladders rise,
And up and down the skies,
With winged sandals shod,
The angels come, and go, the Messengers of God!
Nor, though they fade from us, do they depart--
It is the childly heart:
We walk as heretofore,
Adown their shining ranks, but see them nevermore.
_Hymn to the Beautiful_. R.H. STODDARD.

For God will deign
To visit oft the dwellings of just men
Delighted, and with frequent intercourse
Thither will send his winged messengers
On errands of supernal grace.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. VII_. MILTON.

But sad as angels for the good man's sin,
Weep to record, and blush to give it in.
_The Pleasures of Hope, Pt. II_. T. CAMPBELL.

What though my winged hours of bliss have been,
Like angel-visits, few and far between.
_The Pleasures of Hope, Pt. II_. T. CAMPBELL.

ANGER.

Anger is like
A full-hot horse; who being allowed his way,
Self-mettle tires him.
_King Henry VIII., Act i. Sc 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Being once chased, he cannot
Be reined again to temperance; then he speaks
What's in his heart.
_Coriolanus, Act iii. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

I am very sorry, good Horatio,
That to Laertes I forgot myself,

* * * * *

But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me
Into a towering passion.
_Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Senseless, and deformed,
Convulsive Anger storms at large; or, pale
And silent, settles into fell revenge.
_The Seasons: Spring_. J. THOMSON.

Be advised;
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
That it do singe yourself: we may outrun.
By violent swiftness, that which we run at,
And lose by over-running.
_King Henry VIII., Act i. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Never anger made good guard for itself.
_Antony and Cleopatra, Act iv. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

ANGLING.

All's fish they get
That cometh to net.
_Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry_. T. TUSSER.

In genial spring, beneath the quivering shade,
Where cooling vapors breathe along the mead,
The patient fisher takes his silent stand,
Intent, his angle trembling in his hand;
With looks un