"The peace of great books be for you, Stains of pressed clover leaves on pages, Bleach of the light of years held in leather."

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Of all the conditions to which the heart is subject suspense is one that most gnaws and cankers into the frame. One little month of that suspense, when it involves death, we are told by an eye witness in "Wakefield on the Punishment of Death," is sufficient to plough fixed lines and furrows in a convict of five and twenty,--sufficient, to dash the brown hair with grey, and to bleach the grey to white.

— Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton