And still the Weaver plies his loom, whose warp and woof is wretched…

Travellers like poets are mostly an angry race.

How melancholy a thing is success. Whilst failure inspirits a man, attainment reads the sad prosy lesson that all our glories "Are shadows, not substantial things." Truly said the sayer, "disappointment is the salt of life" a salutary …

Now the last hookah has gone out, and the most restless of our servants has turned in.

Is not man born with a love of change — an Englishman to be discontented — an Anglo-Indian to grumble?

Presently our fire being exhausted, and the enemy pressing on with spear and javelin, the position became untenable; the tent was nearly battered down by clubs, and had we been entangled in its folds, we should have been killed without the …

Of the gladest moments in human life, methinks is the departure upon a distant journey to unknown lands. Shaking off with one mighty effort the fetters of habit, the leaden weight of Routine, the cloak of many Cares and the Slavery of …