If you don’t see the virtue of friendship and harmony, you may learn it by observing the effects of quarrels and feuds. Was any family ever so well established, any State so firmly settled, as to be beyond the reach of utter destruction from animosities and factions?

Old horse! old horse! what brought you here?” — “From Sacarap to Portland pier I’ve carted stone this many a year: Till, killed by blows and sore abuse, They salted me down for sailors’ use The sailors they do me despise: They turn me over and damn my eyes; Cut off my meat, and pick my bones, And pitch the rest to Davy Jones.

Yet such persons are, without us, what the ideal of perfection is within us: models not for being imitated, but for being aimed at.