5
SHAKS.: _King Lear,_ Act i., Sc. 4.

=Inhumanity.=

Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn.
986
BURNS: _Man was Made to Mourn._

=Inn.=

Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round,
Where'er his stages may have been,
May sigh to think he still has found,
The warmest welcome at an inn.
987
SHENSTONE: _Lines on Window of Inn at Henley._

=Innocence.=

The silence often of pure innocence
Persuades, when speaking fails.
988
SHAKS.: _Wint. Tale,_ Act ii., Sc. 3.

An age that melts in unperceiv'd decay,
And glides in modest innocence away.
989
DR. JOHNSON: _Van. of Human Wishes,_ Line 293.

=Instinct.=

Then vainly the philosopher avers
That reason guides our deeds, and instinct theirs.
How can we justly different causes frame,
When the effects entirely are the same?
Instinct and reason how can we divide?
'Tis the fool's ignorance, and the pedant's pride.
990
PRIOR: _Solomon on the V-of the World,_ Bk. i., Line 231.

=Invention.=

Th' invention all admir'd, and each how he
To be th' inventor miss'd; so easy it seem'd,
Once found, which yet unfound most would have thought
Impossible!
991
MILTON: _Par. Lost,_ Bk. vi., Line 498.

=Iron.=

Ay me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron!
992
BUTLER: _Hudibras,_ Canto iii., Line 1.

=Isle, Isles.=

Some unsuspected isle in far-off seas.
993
ROBERT BROWNING: _Pippa Passes,_ Pt. ii.

The sprinkled isles,
Lily on lily, that o'erlace the sea.
994
ROBERT BROWNING: _Cleon._

=Italy.=

Italia! O Italia! thou who hast
The fatal gift of beauty, which became
A funeral dower of present woes and past,
On thy sweet brow is sorrow plough'd by shame,
And annals graved in characters of flame.
995
BYRON: _Ch. Harold,_ Canto iv., St. 4.

Italy, my Italy!
Queen Mary's saying serves for me
(When fortune's malice
Lost her Calais):
"Open my heart, and you will see
Graved inside of it 'Italy.'"
996
ROBERT BROWNING: _De Gustibus,_ ii.

=Ivy.=

Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,
That creepeth o'er ruins old!
Of right choice food are his meals, I ween,
In his cell so lone and cold.
Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.
997
DICKENS: _Pickwick Papers,_ Ch. 6.

==J.==

=January.=

Then came old January, wrapped well
In many weeds to keep the cold away;
Yet did he quake and quiver like to quell,
And blow his nails to warm th