INVENTION
A tool is but the extension of a man's hand, and a machine is but a complex tool. And he that invents a machine augments the power of a man and the well-being of mankind.
Se non è vere è ben trovato.
It is not true, it is a happy invention.
Want, the mistress of invention.
The golden hour of invention must terminate like other hours, and when the man of genius returns to the cares, the duties, the vexations, and the amusements of life, his companions behold him as one of themselves—the creature of habits and infirmities.
God hath made man upright; but they have sought out many inventions.
Only an inventor knows how to borrow, and every man is or should be an inventor.
Take the advice of a faithful friend, and submit thy inventions to his censure.
Electric telegraphs, printing, gas,
Tobacco, balloons, and steam,
Are little events that have come to pass
Since the days of the old regime.
And, spite of Lemprière's dazzling page,
I'd give—though it might seem bold—
A hundred years of the Golden Age
For a year of the Age of Gold.
This is a man's invention and his hand.
He had been eight years upon a project for
extracting sunbeams out of cucumbers, which
were to be put in phials hermetically sealed, and
let out to warm the air in raw, inclement summers.
We issued gorged with knowledge, and I spoke:
"Why, Sirs, they do all this as well as we."
"They hunt old trails" said Cyril, "very well;
But when did woman ever yet invent?"
INVESTIGATION
Nothing has such power to broaden the mind as the ability to investigate systematically and truly all that comes under thy observation in life.
Attempt the end and never stand to doubt;
Nothing's so hard but search will find it out.
Hail, fellow, well met,
All dirty and wet:
Find out, if you can,
Who's master, who's man.
IRELAND
There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin,
But the day star attracted his eyes' sad devotion,
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
Where once in the fire of his youthful motion
He sang the bold anthem of Erin-go-bragh.
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle,
'Twas St. Patrick himself sure that set it; And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile, And with dew from his eye often wet it. It thrives through the bog, through the brake, and the mireland; And he called it the dear little shamrock of Ireland— The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock, The sweet little, green little, shamrock of Ireland! Andrew Cherry—Green little Shamrock of Ireland. </poem>
Dear Erin, how sweetly thy green bosom rises!
An emerald set in the ring of the sea.
Each blade of thy meadows my faithful heart prizes,
Thou queen of the west, the world's cushla ma chree.
John Philpot Curran—Cushla ma Chree.
When Erin first rose from the dark-swelling
flood,
God blessed the green island, he saw it was good.
The Emerald of Europe, it sparkled and shone
In the ring of this world, the most precious stone.
Ann of Erin, prove strong, but be gentle as brave,
And, uplifted to strike, still be ready to save;
Nor one feeling of vengeance presume to defile
The cause or the men of the Emerald Isle.
Every Irishman has a potatoe in his head.
