Cloth of gold, do not despise, Though thou art match’d with cloth of freize; Cloth of freize, be not too bold, Though thou art match’d with cloth of gold. ❦ Les convalescences de l’âme sont comme celles du corps: on en sent bien mieux le prix que celui de la santé. ❦ Les louanges les plus flatteuses, et les plus énivrantes, sont celles que l’on reçoit unanimement devant l’objet qu’on aime. ❦ [Sidenote: Voltaire.] Those who proclaim Voltaire to be an atheist, only evince their ignorance of his real sentiments, and the beautiful principle by which he was influenced; his every act tended to acquit him of the charge of atheism. Besides, it never did, never can exist! Were it possible our lips could deny this truth, our hearts must witness to it; and however strongly the wretched atheist would assert the nonexistence of the power he denies, the very faculties, the reasoning, the subtle arguments which he employs, are these not so many attributes derived from a power, Almighty, though indefinite, Omnipresent, though invisible? The command of language, the superiority of talent he proudly displays, give the lie to his own system; whilst common sense declares beyond all doubt, the existence of that wonderful chain of creation, of which man is the first link, formed by a Divine intelligence, foreseeing and pre-ordaining all things. Alas! it must be admitted, that Voltaire denied the _Divinity_ of our Saviour, although his virtues were those of a Christian; so often evinced in acts of the purest benevolence and philanthropy, rejecting all sectarian intolerance, affecting no uncharitable jargon. How to be regretted that such virtues were not guided and supported by belief! Happy they who rely on the eternity of the soul, who believe as the loved fall, one after one, from their side, that they have returned to their native country, that they await the Divine reunion; who feel that each treasure of knowledge they attain, they carry with them through illimitable being; who see in virtue the essence of the element of that world they are to inhabit, and to which they but accustom themselves betimes; who comfort their weariness amidst the storms of time, by seeing far across the melancholy seas the haven they will reach at last; who deem that every struggle has its assured reward, and every sorrow its balm; who know, that however forsaken or bereaved below, they never can be alone, and never deserted; that above is the protection of Eternal power, and the mercy of Eternal love. ❦ [Sidenote: Antipathies.] The Princess de Lamballe fainted, if a nosegay of violets was in the room. A celebrated Counsellor of Parliament at Douai, if he saw an apple not cut with a knife, but broken, would rise from table, and scarcely be able to totter to the door; whereas, the apple cut in the usual manner, he would have felt no ill effect.