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It is the only symbol of perfect life. The inscription will suit nothing but a tomb-stone.

You will see many fine old ruins, Mr. Cypress, crumbling pillars, and mossy walls—many a one-legged Venus and headless Minerva—many a Neptune buried in sand—many a Jupiter turned topsy-turvy—many a perforated Bacchus doing duty as a water-pipe—many reminiscences of the ancient world, which I hope was better worth living in than the modern; though, for myself, I care not a straw more for one than the other, and would not go twenty miles to see any thing that either could shew.

It is something to seek, Mr. Glowry.