om and Achitophel, Pt. I. (Earl of Shaftesbury.)_
J. DRYDEN.

STEALING.

I'll example you with thievery:
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun:
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by composture stolen
From general excrement: each thing's a thief.
_Timon of Athens, Act iv. Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

Kill a man's family and he may brook it,
But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket.
_Don Juan, Canto X_. LORD BYRON.

Stolen sweets are always sweeter:
Stolen kisses much completer;
Stolen looks are nice in chapels:
Stolen, stolen be your apples.
_Song of Fairies_. T. RANDOLPH.

A tailor, though a man of upright dealing,--
True but for lying,--honest but for stealing.
_Of a Precise Tailor_. SIR J. HARRINGTON.

Thieves for their robbery have authority
When judges steal themselves.
_Measure for Measure, Act ii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Thou hast stolen both mine office and my name;
The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame.
_Comedy of Errors, Act iii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

In vain we call old notions fudge
And bend our conscience to our dealing,
The Ten Commandments will not budge
And stealing will continue stealing.
_Motto of American Copyright League_, 1885.

STORM.

The lowering element
Scowls o'er the darkened landscape.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. II_. MILTON.

At first, heard solemn o'er the verge of Heaven,
The tempest growls; but as it nearer comes,
And rolls its awful burden on the wind,
The lightnings flash a larger curve, and more
The noise astounds; till overhead a sheet
Of livid flame discloses wide, then shuts,
And opens wider; shuts and opens still
Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze.
Follows the loosened aggravated roar,
Enlarging, deepening, mingling, peal on peal,
Crushed, horrible, convulsing Heaven and Earth.
_The Seasons: Summer_. J. THOMSON.

From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage,
Till, in the furious elemental war
Dissolved, the whole precipitated mass
Unbroken floods and solid torrents pour.
_The Seasons: Summer_. J. THOMSON.

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your looped and win