The sun shone forth on my ebon wing;
I looked and wondered--good-night, poor thing!"

"Good-night, once more," said the lark's sweet voice,
"I see no cause to repent my choice;
You build your nest in the lofty pine,
But is your slumber more sweet than mine?
You make more noise in the world than I,
But whose is the sweeter minstrelsy?"

UNKNOWN




What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted?
Thrice is he armed, that hath his quarrel just;
And he but naked, though locked up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

SHAKESPEARE




THE PICKWICK CLUB ON THE ICE


"You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Wardle.