In Every Life, No Matter How Full

It Is An Exquisite And Beautiful Thing In Our Nature, That, When The Heart Is Touched And Softened By Some Tranquil Happiness Or Affectionate Feeling, The Memory Of The Dead Comes Over It Most Powerfully And Irresistibly. It Would Seem Almost As Though Our Better Thoughts And Sympathies Were Charms, In Virtue Of Which The Soul Is Enabled To Hold Some Vague And Mysterious Intercourse With The Spirits Of Those Whom We Loved In Life. Alas! How Often And How Long May These Patient Angels Hover Around Us, Watching For The Spell Which Is So Soon Forgotten!

The Ocean Asks For Nothing But Those Who Stand By Her Shores Gradually Attune Themselves To Her Rhythm.

"i Go So Far As To Say, Miss, Morehover," Proceeded Mr. Cruncher, With A Most Alarming Tendency To Hold Forth As From A Pulpit-"and Let My Words Be Took Down And Took To Mrs. Cruncher Through Yourself-that Wot My Opinions Respectin' Flopping Has Undergone A Change, And That Wot I Only Hope With All My Heart As Mrs. Cruncher May Be A Flopping At The Present Time."

It May Be Only Small Injustice That The Child Can Be Exposed To; But The Child Is Small, And Its World Is Small, And Its Rocking-horse Stands As Many Hands High, According To Scale, As A Big-boned Irish Hunter.

"ecod, You May Say What You Like Of My Father, Then, And So I Give You Leave," Said Jonas. "i Think It's Liquid Aggravation That Circulates Through His Veins, And Not Regular Blood..."