This tradition may remind the reader of the answer of the Jacobite Countess, to the reproach of “not praying for the King.”—“For the King, I do pray; but I do not think it necessary to tell God who is the King.”
[5] From this line it appears that these verses must have been written about the time of the rebellion, 1715, or before it.
Ill-placed Confidence.
Among the bitter varieties of sorrow, forming the inheritance of the human kind, there are few more humiliating, more fitted to cleave into the inmost soul, than a discovery of the unworthiness of those we love; of a breach of confidence in that heart wherein we have deposited the whole treasure of our affections. There is a degree of self-abasement connected with the disappointment, which recoils with double force on our perceptions; the sharpness of the pain admits of no mitigation.
Charity of Mind.
The happiness of life is made up of minute fractions of little (not) soon forgotten charities. The humblest may throw in their mite.