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L.-Men are machines : with all their boasted freedom,

Their movements turn upon some favorite passion ;
Let art but find the petted foible out,
We touch the spring, and wind them at our pleasure.

Brooke.

5.

G.-Philosophers their pains may spare

Perpetual motion where to find,
If such a thing be anywhere,

'Tis in a woman's fickle mind.

L.—He hates to be spoken to ever,

He hates to be noticed at all ;
And the state he most fervently covets

Is the state of—a stone in the wall.

6.

6.-Most fond of teasing others-always teased, Whose only pleasure is—to be displeased.

Cowper.
L.-He's one, who, where'er he may go,

Finds naught to please, or to exalt--
Whose constant study is to show
Perpetual modes of finding fault.

C. Swain,

7.

G.-Over her features steal, serenely mild,

The trembling sanctity of woman's truth,

Her modesty, and simpleness, and grace;
Yet those who deeper scan the human face

Amid the trial-hour of fear or ruth,
May clearly read upon the heaven-writ scroll
The high and firm resolve which nerved the Roman
soul.

Mrs. Sigourney. L.-Open, without levity; generous, without waste, secret, without craft; humble, without meanness; bold, without insolence; cautious, without anxiety; regular, yet not formal; mild, yet not timid; firm, yet not tyrannical ;and is made to pass safely the ordeal of honor, friendship, and virtue.

Levater.

8.

G.–That you may ever, side by side,

From happy hours to happier glide,
And ever may the bursting sigh
You give

hours that vanish o'er you
Be followed by the smiling eye

That hope shall shed on scenes before you.
L.-To gain a home where kindness seeks

To make that sweet which seemeth small;
Where every lip in fondness speaks,

And every mind hath care for all.
Whose inmates live in glad exchange

Of pleasures, free from vain expense ;
Whose thoughts beyond their means ne'er range,

Nor wise denials give offence. C. Swain.

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G.-It now has come into her head

That she must grow discreet and sage,
For there are hints “her charms have fled,"
And she has reached “

a certain age;"
So the next offer—'tis her plan

To nail decisive on the spot,
'Tis time she should secure ber man,

Whether he's just her choice or not.

L.-He never drew a radiant scene

But thou mad'st all its happiness,
And dark and cold his life had been

Hadst thou not promised it to bless ;
Thine image from the first hath dwelt

Within his breast, as in a shrine,
Before which his young heart hath knelt

With faith that never knew decline.

10.

G.–She said she would love thee,

In want, and in wealth,
Through clouds and through sunshine,

In sickness, in health;
Then why shouldst thou fear

When thy spirit is weak?
For the troth she has plighted,
She never will break.

C. Neale

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Q.

L.He loves thee not. He knows deceit

And guile are in thy heart,
That all thy words and smiles so sweet

Are tricks of woman's art:
He loves thee not-he will not lay

One offering on thy shrine;
Though others their devotions pay

As though thou wert divine.

11.

Though oceans may sunder

Oỉ mountains may close,
Though tempests may thunder

The path to oppose,
Though earthquakes between you

Abysses display,
You will meet with each other,

Love will find out the way.

12.

G.-It is not her folly—that might be amusing;

Nor homeliness—this is of no one's own choosing ;
But mocking-bird wisdom, and learned pretences,
That e'er long will drive you quite out of your senses.

L.-He is so fond of contradicting that he will open the window at midnight to dispute the watchman, who is calling the hour.

Sydney Smith.

Q.

13.

G.She does those little kindnesses

Which most leave undono, or despise,
For naught that sets one heart at ease
Is low or worthless in her eyes.

J. R. Lowell.

L -A reverend reader of the text divine,

God's sacred messenger, man's earthly guide,
Whose own pure life like crystal sand doth glide.

R. M. Charlton.

14.

Two geese, five chickens, and but little gold,
A sour companion, ugly-lame-and-old.

15.

G.–With her mien she enamors the brave;

With her wit she engages the free;
With her modesty pleases the grave;
She'll be every way pleasing to thee.

Shenstone
G.--Why, a stranger when he sees her

In the street even, smileth stilly,
Just as you would at a lily.

And if any painter drew her

He would paint her unaware,
With a balo round her hair.

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