An Unfinished Coffin On Black Tressels, Which

It Is A Most Miserable Thing To Feel Ashamed Of Home.

Dreams Are The Bright Creatures Of Poem And Legend, Who Sport On Earth In The Night Season, And Melt Away In The First Beam Of The Sun, Which Lights Grim Care And Stern Reality On Their Daily Pilgrimage Through The World.

Father Time Is Not Always A Hard Parent And Though He Tarries For None Of His Children, Often Lays His Hand Lightly Upon Those Who Have Used Him Well; Making Them Old Men And Women Inexorably Enough, But Leaving Their Hearts And Spirits Young And In Full Vigor. With Such People The Gray Head Is But The Impression Of The Old Fellow's Hand In Giving Them His Blessing, And Every Wrinkle But A Notch In The Quiet Calendar Of A Well-spent Life.

You Should Know," Said Estella. "i Am What You Have Made Me. Take All The Praise, Take All The Blame; Take All The Success, Take All The Failure; In Short, Take Me.

It Was A Good Thing To Have A Couple Of Thousand People All Rigid And Frozen Together, In The Palm Of One's Hand.