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Then since this world is vain

And volatile and fleet, Why should I lay up earthly joys, Where rust corrupts and moth destroys, And cares and sorrows eat 1 Why fly from ill With anxious skill, When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart be still.

Come Disappointment, come ! Thou art not stern to me; Sad monitress, I own thy sway, A votary sad in early day, I bend my knee to thee: From sun to sun Thy race will run, I only bow, and say, my God, thy will be done!

Kirke White.

Books are faithful repositories, which may be awhile neglected or forgotten; but when they are opened again, will again impart their Instruction : memory, once interrupted, is not to be recalled. Written learning is a fixed luminary, which, after the cloud that had hidden it has passed away, is again bright in its proper station. Tradition is but a meteor, which, if it once falls, cannot be rekindled. Johnson.