Then rose those deadlier sounds that tell When foes meet hand to hand,— The shout, the yell, the iron clang Of meeting spear and brand. - Letitia Elizabeth Landon

There is one conviction at which, though forced upon us by daily experience, we never arrive, namely, the conviction that Nobody in reality cares for Anybody; but this truth is so cold that we fence it out by all sorts of cloaks and coverings, delusions and devices.

The huge dome of St. Paul's arose bathed in the moonlight, that giant fane of a giant city, a hundred spires were shining silvery in the soft gleam, and all meaner objects were touched with a picturesque obscurity: all around was silence and rest. The myriad voices of London were still, and nothing vexed the lulled ear of midnight.

Of all the months that fill the year
Give April's month to me,
For earth and sky are then so filled
With sweet variety !