Great Men Are Seldom Over-scrupulous In The

A Wonderful Fact To Reflect Upon, That Every Human Creature Is Constituted To Be That Profound Secret And Mystery To Every Other. A Solemn Consideration, When I Enter A Great City By Night, That Every One Of Those Darkly Clustered Houses Encloses Its Own Secret; That Every Room In Every One Of Them Encloses Its Own Secret; That Every Beating Heart In The Hundreds Of Thousands Of Breasts There, Is, In Some Of Its Imaginings, A Secret To The Heart Nearest It!

There Was A Gay Fiction Among Us That We Were Constantly Enjoying Ourselves, And A Skeleton Truth That We Never Did. To The Best Of My Belief, Our Case Was In The Last Respect A Rather Common One.

The Boy Was Lying, Fast Asleep, On A Rude Bed Upon The Floor; So Pale With Anxiety, And Sadness, And The Closeness Of His Prison, That He Looked Like Death; Not Death As It Shews In Shroud And Coffin, But In The Guise It Wears When Life Has Just Departed; When A Young And Gentle Spirit Has, But An Instant, Fled To Heaven: And The Gross Air Of The World Has Not Had Time To Breathe Upon The Changing Dust It Hallowed.

It Had Grown Darker As They Talked, And The Wind Was Sawing And The Sawdust Was Whirling Outside Paler Windows. The Underlying Churchyard Was Already Settling Into Deep Dim Shade, And The Shade Was Creeping Up To The Housetops Among Which They Sat. "as If," Said Eugene, "as If The Churchyard Ghosts Were Rising."

They Whirled Past The Dark Trees, As Feathers Would Be Swept Before A Hurricane. Houses, Gates, Churches, Hay-stacks, Objects Of Every Kind They Shot By, With A Velocity And Noise Like Roaring Waters Suddenly Let Loose. Still The Noise Of Pursuit Grew Louder, And Still My Uncle Could Hear The Young Lady Wildly Screaming, "faster! Faster!"