"i Fear Your Kind And Open Communication,

Oh The Nerves, The Nerves; The Mysteries Of This Machine Called Man! Oh The Little That Unhinges It, Poor Creatures That We Are!

The Rich, Sweet Smell Of The Hayricks Rose To His Chamber Window; The Hundred Perfumes Of The Little Flower-garden Beneath Scented The Air Around; The Deep-green Meadows Shone In The Morning Dew That Glistened On Every Leaf As It Trembled In The Gentle Air: And The Birds Sang As If Every Sparkling Drop Were A Fountain Of Inspiration To Them.

You Have Been So Careful Of Me That I Never Had A Child's Heart. You Have Trained Me So Well That I Never Dreamed A Child's Dream. You Have Dealt So Wisely With Me, Father ,from My Cradle To This Hour, That I Never Had A Child's Belief Or A Child's Fear. Mr. Gradgrind Was Quite Moved By His Success, And By This Testimony To It. " My Dear Louisa," Said He, You Abundantly Repay My Care. Kiss Me, My Dear Girl.

I Was Always Treated As If I Had Insisted On Being Born, In Opposition To The Dictates Of Reason, Religion, And Morality, And Against The Dissuadinig Arguments Of My Best Friends.

There Is Probably A Smell Of Roasted Chestnuts And Other Good Comfortable Things All The Time, For We Are Telling Winter Stories - Ghost Stories, Or More Shame For Us - Round The Christmas Fire; And We Have Never Stirred, Except To Draw A Little Nearer To It.