But He That Dares Not Grasp The

I Thought Mr. Millward Never Would Cease Telling Us That He Was No Tea-drinker, And That It Was Highly Injurious To Keep Loading The Stomach With Slops To The Exclusion Of More Wholesome Sustenance, And So Give Himself Time To Finish His Fourth Cup.

He Is Very Fond Of Me, Almost Too Fond. I Could Do With Less Caressing And More Rationality. I Should Like To Be Less Of A Pet And More Of A Friend, If I Might Choose; But I Won't Complain Of That: I Am Only Afraid His Affection Loses In Depth Where It Gains In Ardour. I Sometimes Liken It To A Fire Of Dry Twigs And Branches Compared With One Of Solid Coal, Very Bright And Hot; But If It Should Burn Itself Out And Leave Nothing But Ashes Behind.

It Is A Hard, Embittering Thing To Have One's Kind Feelings And Good Intentions Cast Back In One's Teeth.

All True Histories Contain Instruction; Though, In Some, The Treasure May Be Hard To Find, And When Found, So Trivial In Quantity, That The Dry, Shriveled Kernel Scarcely Compensates For The Trouble Of Cracking The Nut.

If Ever I Am A Mother I Will Zealously Strive Against This Crime Of Over- Indulgence. I Can Hardly Give It A Milder Name When I Think Of The Evils It Brings.