Here is a Tyrolese fiddle that is just coming to its hundredth birthday,--( Pedro Klauss, Tyroli, fecit, 1760,)--the sap is pretty well out of it.

And here is the song of an old poet whom Neaera cheated .-- "Nox erat, et coelo fulgebat Luna sereno Inter minora sidera, Cum tu magnorum numen laesura deorum In verba jurabas mea." Don't you perceive the sonorousness of these old dead Latin phrases?
Now I tell you that, every word fresh from the dictionary brings with it a certain succulence; and though I cannot expect the sheets of the "Pactolian," in which, as I told you, I sometimes print my verses, to get so dry as the crisp papyrus that held those words of Horatius Flaccus, yet you may be sure, that, while the sheets are damp, and while the lines hold their sap, you can't fairly judge of my performances, and that, if made of the true stuff, they will ring better after a while.
[There was silence for a brief space, after my somewhat elaborate exposition of these self-evident analogies.

Presently A PERSON turned towards me--I do not choose to designate the individual--and said that he rather expected my pieces had given pretty good "sahtisfahction."-- I had, up to this moment, considered this complimentary phrase as sacred to the use of secretaries of lyceums, and, as it has been usually accompanied by a small pecuniary testimonial, have acquired a certain relish for this moderately tepid and unstimulating expression of enthusiasm.

But as a reward for gratuitous services, I confess I thought it a little below that blood-heat standard which a man's breath ought to have, whether silent, or vocal and articulate.

I waited for a favorable opportunity, however, before making the remarks which follow.] -- There are single expressions, as I have told you already, that fix a man's position for you before you have done shaking hands with him.