However, as labor is actually so purchased everywhere except in Downing Street and a few other privileged spots, I suggested that our friend should go to some place where his market price would be higher than in merry England.

He was willing enough to do so, but unable from want of means.

So I lent him a trifle, and now he is on his way to Australia.

Workmen are the geese that lay the golden eggs, but they fly away sometimes.

I hear a gong sounding, to remind me of the fight of time and the value of your share of it.