nd builded with roofs of gold
My beautiful castles in Spain!
_Aladdin_. J.R. LOWELL.

Egeria! sweet creation of some heart
Which found no mortal resting-place so fair
As thine ideal breast; whate'er thou art
Or wert,--a young Aurora of the air,
The nympholepsy of some fond despair;
Or, it might be, a beauty of the earth,
Who found a more than common votary there
Too much adoring; whatsoe'er thy birth,
Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth.
_Childe Harold, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day,
Fancy restores what vengeance snatched away.
_Eloise to Abelard_. A. POPE.

We figure to ourselves
The thing we like, and then we build it up
As chance will have it, on the rock or sand:
For Thought is tired of wandering o'er the world,
And homebound Fancy runs her bark ashore.
_Philip Van Artevelde, Pt. I. Act i. Sc. 5_. SIR H. TAYLOR.

FAREWELL.

Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been--
A sound which makes us linger;--yet--farewell.
_Childe Harold, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

All farewells should be sudden, when forever,
Else they make an eternity of moments,
And clog the last sad sands of life with tears.
_Sardanapalus_. LORD BYRON.

So sweetly she bade me "Adieu,"
I thought that she bade me return.
_A Pastoral_. W. SHENSTONE.

He turned him right and round about
Upon the Irish shore,
And gae his bridle reins a shake,
With Adieu for evermore,
My dear,
With Adieu for evermore.
_It was a' for our Rightfu' King_. R. BURNS.

And so, without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit, that we shake hands and part.
_Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 5_. SHAKESPEARE.

Fare thee well;
The elements be kind to thee, and make
Thy spirits all of comfort!
_Antony and Cleopatra, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Alas, and farewell! But there's no use in grieving,
For life is made up of loving and leaving.
_Written in an Album_. R.W. RAYMOND.

FARMING.

Ill husbandry braggeth
To go with the best:
Good husbandry baggeth
Up gold in his chest.
_Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry, Ch. LII_. T. TUSSER.

Ye rigid Ploughmen! bear in mind
Your labor is for future hours.
Advance! spare not! nor look behind!
Plough deep and straight with all your powers!
_The Plough_. R.H. HORNE.

Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand,
And