The rise of every man he loved to trace, Up to the very pod O! And, in baboons, our parent race Was found by old Monboddo. Their A, B, C, he made them speak, And learn their qui, quae, quod, O! Till Hebrew, Latin, Welsh, and Greek They knew as well's Monboddo!

Go thou, deceased, to this earth which is a mother, and spacious and kind. May her touch be soft like that of wool, or a young woman, and may she protect thee from the depths of destruction. Rise above him, O Earth, do not press painfully on him, give him good things, give him consolation, as a mother covers her child with her cloth, cover thou him.

In the day, do the day's work.

The tongue of a man is his sword and effective speech is stronger than all fighting.

When I have been indulging this thought I have, in imagination, seen the Britons of some future century, walking by the banks of the Thames, then overgrown with weeds and almost impassable with rubbish. The father points to his son where stood St. Paul's, the Monument, the Bank, the Mansion House, and other places of the first distinction.

Never a fishermen need there be If fishes could hear as well as see.