Chapter C: S. CALVERLEY, Fly Leaves

The bulk of men in our days are just as immoral as
they were in Charles the Second's; the only
difference is that they are incomparably more
stupid, and that instead of decking their immorality with
the jewels of wit, they clumsily try to cover it with the
tarpaulin of respectability.

_Mr. Luke_, in MALLOCK's _New Republic_.

_WHY WIVES MAKE NO WILLS._

Men dying make their wills, why cannot wives?
Because wives have their wills during their lives.

R. HUGMAN (_circa_ 1628).

What the mischief do you suppose you want with a
post-office at Baldwin's Ranch? It would not
do you any good. If any letters came there,
you couldn't read them, you know; and besides, such
letters as ought to pass through, with money in them, for
other localities, would not be likely to _get_ through, you
must perceive at once; and that would make trouble for
us all. No; don't bother about a post-office at your
camp. What you want is a nice jail, you know--a nice,
substantial jail, and a free school. These will be a
lasting benefit to you. These will make you really contented
and happy.

MARK TWAIN, _Choice Works_.

Nous avons tous assez de force pour supporter les
maux d'autrui.

LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.

Rogers happened to ask Macaulay what he
thought of Miss Harriet Martineau's wonderful
cures by mesmerism. He said, with one of his
rare smiles, "Oh, it's all my eye, and Hetty Martineau!"

LADY CHATTERTON, _Life_.

Tame is Virtue's school;
Paint, as more effective,
Villain, knave, and fool,
With always a Detective.
Hate for Love may sit;
Gloom will do for Gladness;
Banish Sense and Wit,
And dash in lots of Madness.

Stir the broth about;
Keep the furnace glowing;
Soon we'll pour it out
In three bright volumes flowing.
Some may jeer and jibe:
_We_ know where the shop is,
Ready to subscribe
For a thousand copies!

LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.

Th' young men noo-a-days, they're poor squashy
things--the' looke well anoof, but the' woon't
wear, the' woon't wear.

_"Mester" Ford_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Mr. Gilfil_.

"Where are the boys of my youth?" I assure you
this is not a conundrum. Some are amongst
you here--some in America--some are in
gaol.

Hence arises a most touching question: "Where are
the girls of my youth?" Some are married--some
would like to be.