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Occupations-Post: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations

A piece of simple goodness-a letter gushing from the heart; a beautiful unstudied vindication of the worth and untiring sweetness of human nature-a record of the invulnerability of man, armed with high purpose, sanctified by truth.— DOUGLAS JERROLD — Specimens of

Jerrold's Wit. The Postman's Budget. A strange volume of real life in the daily packet of the postman. Eternal love and instant payment!— DOUGLAS JERROLD — Specimens of

Jerrold's Wit. The Postman's Budget. Kind messages, that pass from land to land; Kind letters, that betray the heart's deep history, In which we feel the pressure of a hand,- One touch of fire, and all the rest is mystery! LONGFELLOw-The Seaside and Fireside. Dedication. St. 5. Good-bye-my paper's out so nearly, I've only room for, Yours sincerely.— MOORE — The Fudge Family in Paris.

Letter VI. Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid.— POPE — Eloisa to Abelard. L. 51.

Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow, Led thro' a sad variety of woe: Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom, Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!— POPE — Eloisa to Abelard. L. 35.

Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, That well-known name awakens all my woes.— POPE — Eloisa to Abelard. L. 29.

And oft the pangs of absence to remove By letters, soft interpreters of love.— PRIOR — Henry and Emma. L. 147.

Ev'n so, with all submission, I * * * * * * Send you each year a homely letter, Who may return me much a better.— PRIOR — Epistle to Fleetwood Shepherd. L. 23.

I will touch My mouth unto the leaves, caressingly; And so wilt thou. Thus, from these lips of mine My message will go kissingly to thine, With more than Fancy's load of luxury, And prove a true love-letter.— J. G. SAXE — Sonnet. (With a Letter.)

Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words That ever blotted paper!— Shakespeare — Merchant of Venice. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 254.

If this letter move him not, his legs cannot. I'll give 't him.— Shakespeare — Twelfth Night. Act III. Sc. 4. L. 188.

I have a letter from her Of such contents as you will wonder at: The mirth whereof so larded with my matter, That neither singly can be manifested, Without the show of both. Merry Wives of Windsor. Act IV. Sc. 6. L. 12. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a postscript.— Shakespeare — Twelfth Night. Act II. Sc. 5. L. 187.

C. Let me hear from thee by letters. Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 57. Tell him there's a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news.— Shakespeare — Merchant of Venice. Act V. Sc. 1. L. 46.

The letter is too long by half a mile.— Shakespeare — Love's Labour's Lost. Act V. Sc. 2. L. 54.

What! have I 'scaped love-letters in the holiday-time of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them?— Shakespeare — Merry Wives of Windsor. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 1.

Go, little letter, apace, apace, Fly; Fly to the light in the valley below- Tell my wish to her dewy blue eye.— TENNYSON — The Letter. St. 2.

I read Of that glad year that once had been, In those fall'n leaves which kept their green, The noble letters of the dead : And strangely on the silence broke The silent-speaking words.— TENNYSON — In Memoriam. Pt. XCV.

Thou bringest *** *** letters unto trembling hands.— TENNYSON — In Memoriam. Pt. X.

Pottery. Thou spring'st a leak already in thy crown, A flaw is in thy ill-bak'd vessel found; 'Tis hollow, and returns a jarring sound, Yet thy moist clay is pliant to command, Unwrought, and easy to the potter's hand: Now take the mould; now bend thy mind to feel The first sharp motions of the forming wheel.— DRYDEN — Third Satire of Persius. L. 35.

A potter near his modest cot Was shaping many an urn and pot; He took the clay for the earthen things From beggars' feet and heads of kings.— OMAR KHAYYAM — Bodenstedt. Trans.

OCCUPATIONS-PREACHING. 449 And yonder by Nankin, behold! The Tower of Porcelain, strange and old, Uplifting to the astonished skies Its ninefold painted balconies, With balustrades of twining leaves, And roofs of tile, beneath whose eaves Hang porcelain bells that all the time Ring with a soft, melodious chime; While the whole fabric is ablaze With varied tints, all fused in one Great mass of color, like a maze Of flowers illumined by the sun. LONGFELLOw-Keramos. L. 336. Figures that almost move and speak.— LONGFELLOW — Keramos. L. 236.

Turn, turn, my wheel! Turn round and round Without a pause, without a sound: So spins the flying world away! This clay, well mixed with marl and sand, Follows the motion of my hand; For some must follow, and some command, Though all are made of clay!— LONGFELLOW — Keramos. L. 1.

Preaching. Of right and wrong he taught Truths as refined as ever Athens heard; And (strange to tell) he practis'd what he preach'd.— JOHN ARMSTRONG — The Art of Preserving Health. Bk. IV. L. 301.

I met a preacher there I knew, and said, Ill and overworked, how fare you in this scene? Bravely! said he; for I of late have been Much cheered with thoughts of Christ, the living bread.— MATTHEW ARNOLD — East London.

I preached as never sure to preach again, And as a dying man to dying men.— RICHARD BAXTER — Love Breathing Thanks and Praise. Pt. 2. St. 29.

Man resolves in himself he will preach; and he preaches. S.— DE LA BRUYÈRE — The Characters or Manners of the Present Age. Ch. XV.

Hear how he clears the points o' Faith Wi' rattlin' an' thumpin'! Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath, He's stampin', an' he's jumpin'!— BURNS — Holy Fair. St. 13.

And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic, Was beat with fist instead of a stick. и.— BUTLER — Hudibras. Pt. I. Canto I. L. 11.

Oh for a forty-parson power!— BYRON — Don Juan. Canto X. St. 34.

But Cristes loore, and his Apostles twelve, He taughte, but first he folowed it hymselfe.— CHAUCER — Canterbury Tales. Prologue. L. 52.

A kick that scarce would move a horse, May kill a sound divine.— COWPER — The Yearly Distress. St. 16.

He that negotiates between God and man, As God's ambassador, the grand concerns Of judgment and of mercy, should beware Of lightness in his speech.— COWPER — The Task. Bk. II. L. 463.

I venerate the man whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit lucid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause.— COWPER — The Task. Bk. II. L. 372.

There goes the parson, oh illustrious spark! And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk.— COWPER — On Observing Some Names of

Little Note. The things that mount the rostrum with a skip, And then skip down again, pronounce a text, Cry hem; and reading what they never wrote Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work, And with a well-bred whisper close the scene!— COWPER — The Task. Bk. II. L. 408.

This priest he merry is, and blithe Three-quarters of a year, But oh! it cuts him like a scythe When tithing time draws near.— COWPER — The Yearly Distress. St. 2.

Would I describe a preacher, * * * * * * I would express him simple, grave, sincere; In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain, And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste, And natural in gesture; much impress'd Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds May feel it too; affectionate in look, And tender in address, as well becomes A messenger of grace to guilty men.— COWPER — The Task. Bk. II. L. 394.

Go forth and preach impostures to the world, But give them truth to build on.— DANTE — Vision of Paradise. Canto XXIX. L. 116.

God preaches, a noted clergyman, And the sermon is never long; So instead of getting to heaven at last, I'm going all along.— EMILY DICKINSON — Poems. VI. A

Service of Song.