You May Be An Undigested Bit Of

Dickens Writes That An Event, "began To Be Forgotten, As Most Affairs Are, When Wonder, Having No Fresh Food To Support It, Dies Away Of Itself.

I Have Made Up My Mind That I Must Have Money, Pa. I Feel That I Can't Beg It, Borrow It, Or Steal It; And So I Have Resolved That I Must Marry It.

If The Parks Be "the Lungs Of London" We Wonder What Greenwich Fair Is--a Periodical Breaking Out, We Suppose--a Sort Of Spring Rash.

... I Feel Certain That His Tale Is True. Feeling That Certainty, I Befriend Him. As Long As That Certainty Shall Last, I Will Befriend Him. And If Any Consideration Could Shake Me In This Resolve, I Should Be So Ashamed Of Myself For My Meanness, That No Man's Good Opinion - No, Nor No Woman's - So Gained, Could Compensate Me For The Loss Of My Own.

Wen You're A Married Man, Samivel, You'll Understand A Good Many Things As You Don't Understand Now; But Vether It's Worth While Goin' Through So Much To Learn So Little, As The Charity-boy Sand Ven He Go To The End Of The Alphabet, It's A Matter Of Taste.