s,_ Line 776.

=February.=

Come when the rains
Have glazed the snow and clothed the trees with ice,
While the slant sun of February pours
Into the bowers a flood of light.
697
WILLIAM COLLEN BRYANT: _A Winter Piece._

=Feeling.=

But spite of all the criticising elves,
Those who would make us feel, must feel themselves.
698
CHURCHILL: _Rosciad,_ Line 961.

=Feet.=

Like snails did creep her pretty feet
A little out, and then,
As if they played at bo-peep,
Did soon draw in again.
699
HERRICK: _Aph. Upon Her Feet._

=Fellow.=

In all thy humors, whether grave or mellow,
Thou 'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow,
Hast so much wit and mirth and spleen about thee,
There is no living with thee, nor without thee.
700
ADDISON: _Spectator._ No. 68.

=Female.=

But who is this, what thing of sea or land,--
Female of sex it seems.
701
MILTON: _Samson Agonistes,_ Line 710.

=Fickleness.=

Who o'er the herd would wish to reign,
Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain!
Vain as the leaf upon the stream,
And fickle as a changeful dream.
702
SCOTT: _Lady of the Lake,_ Canto v., St. 10.

=Fiction.=

When fiction rises pleasing to the eye,
Men will believe, because they love the lie;
But truth herself, if clouded with a frown,
Must have some solemn proof to pass her down.
703
CHURCHILL: _Epis. to Hogarth,_ Line 291.

And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
704
GRAY: _The Bard,_ Pt. iii., St. 3.

=Fidelity.=

Master, go on, and I will follow thee
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.
705
SHAKS.: _As You Like It,_ Act ii., Sc. 3.

To God, thy country, and thy friend be true.
706
HENRY VAUGHAN: _Rules and Lessons,_ St. 8.

=Fields.=

Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won.
707
GOLDSMITH: _Des. Village._

=Fiend.=

Like one that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head,
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
708
COLERIDGE: _The Ancient Mariner,_ Pt. v.

=Fighting.=

I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.
709
SHAKS.: _Macbeth,_ Act v., Sc. 3.

He who fights and runs away,
May live to fight another day;
But he who is in battle slain
Can never rise and fight again.
710
GOLDSMITH: _Art of Poetry._

=Fire.=

From beds of raging fire to starve in ice
Th