* * * * * ENCOMIUM MORIÆ, OR THE PRAISE OF FOLLY. If from our purse all coin we spurn But gold, we may from mart return. Nor purchase what we're seeking; And if in parties we must talk Nothing but sterling wit, we balk All interchange of speaking. Small talk is like small change; it flows A thousand different ways, and throws Thoughts into circulation, Of trivial value each, but which Combin'd, make social converse rich In cheerful animation. As bows unbent recruit their force. Our minds by frivolous discourse We strengthen and embellish, "Let us be wise," said Plato once, When talking nonsense--"yonder dunce For folly has no relish." The solemn bore, who holds that speech Was given us to prose and preach, And not for lighter usance, Straight should be sent to Coventry; Or _omnium concensu_, be Indicted as a nuisance. Though dull the joke, 'tis wise to laugh, Parch'd be the tongue that cannot quaff Save from a golden chalice; Let jesters seek no other plea, Than that their merriment be free From bitterness and malice. Silence at once the ribald clown. And check with an indignant frown The scurrilous backbiter; But speed good-humour as it runs, Be even tolerant of puns, And every mirth-exciter. The wag who even fails may claim Indulgence for his cheerful aim; We should applaud, not hiss him; This is a pardon which we grant, (The Latin gives the rhime I want,) "Et petimus vicissim." _Ibid._ * * * * * Your love is like the gnats, John, That hum at close of day: That sting, and leave a scar behind, Then sing and fly away. _Weekly Review_. * * * * * VILLANOVA MILL. [Illustration] The Portuguese mills have a very extraordinary appearance, owing chiefly to the shape of their arms or sails, _the construction of which differs from that of all other mills in Europe_. Villanova de Milfontès is a little town, situated at the mouth of a little river which flows from the _Sierra de Monchique_. Formerly there was a port here, formed by a little bay, and defended by a castle, which might have been of some importance at a period when the Moors made such frequent incursions upon the coasts of the kingdom of the Algarves; at present a dangerous bar and banks of quicksands hinder any vessels larger than small fishing-boats from entering the port. Fig trees from 20 to 30 feet high overshadow the moat of the castle, and aloes plants as luxuriant as those of Andalusia, shoot up their stems crowned with flowers along the shores of the bay, and by the sides of the roads, whose windings are lost amongst the gardens that surround Milfontès. * * * * *