Books have that strange quality, that being of the frailest and tenderest matter, they outlast brass, iron and marble.

If two pilgrims, which have wandered some few miles together, have a heart's grief when they are near to part, what must the sorrow be at the parting of two so loving friends and never-loathing lovers as the body and the soul?

He who will not reason is a bigot; he who cannot is a fool; and he who dares not, is a slave.