LIFE. (A little poem by eight great

mon.) Why all this toil for triumphs of

an hour!— Young. flower.— Dr. Johnson.

-Ilr turns wo cnteh tho fatul breath and

.lie.— Popo ? Tho rrndlo and tho tomb,

alas, how ni(ih!— Prior lion* long wo

live, not years but actions toll.—

Wntkins. The man lives]- twice who lives

tho lirst lifo well.— Horrick. Tlie

trust that's given, guard, and to

yourself bo just.— Dans.