A Smattering Of Everything, And A Knowledge

The Great Grindstone, Earth, Had Turned When Mr. Lorry Looked Out Again, And The Sun Was Red On The Courtyard. But, The Lesser Grindstone Stood Alone There In The Calm Morning Air, With Red Upon It That The Sun Had Never Give, And Would Never Take Away.

This Was My Only And My Constant Comfort. When I Think Of It, The Picture Always Rises In My Mind, Of A Summer Evening, The Boys At Play In The Churchyard, And I Sitting On My Bed, Reading As If For Life.

Love, However, Is Very Materially Assisted By A Warm And Active Imagination: Which Has A Long Memory, And Will Thrive, For A Considerable Time, On Very Slight And Sparing Food.

And Numerous Indeed Are The Hearts To Which Christmas Brings A Brief Season Of Happiness And Enjoyment.

Dickens Writes That An Event, "began To Be Forgotten, As Most Affairs Are, When Wonder, Having No Fresh Food To Support It, Dies Away Of Itself.