I Went Away, Dear Agnes, Loving You.

The Shadows Of Our Own Desires Stand Between Us And Our Better Angels, And Thus Their Brightness Is Eclipsed.

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

Hallo! A Great Deal Of Steam! The Pudding Was Out Of The Copper. A Smell Like A Washing-day! That Was The Cloth. A Smell Like An Eating-house And A Pastrycook's Next Door To Each Other, With A Laundress's Next Door To That. That Was The Pudding.

Virtue Shows Quite As Well In Rags And Patches As She Does In Purple And Fine Linen.

"next," Said Mrs Wilfer With A Wave Of Her Gloves, Expressive Of Abdication Under Protest From The Culinary Throne, "i Would Recommend Examination Of The Bacon In The Saucepan On The Fire, And Also Of The Potatoes By The Application Of A Fork. Preparation Of The Greens Will Further Become Necessary If You Persist In This Unseemly Demeanour."