Earth Reserves No Blessing For The Unblessed

He Had The Hypocrisy To Represent A Mourner: And Previous To Following With Hareton, He Lifted The Unfortunate Child On To The Table And Muttered, With Peculiar Gusto, 'now, My Bonny Lad, You Are Mine! And We'll See If One Tree Won't Grow As Crooked As Another, With The Same Wind To Twist It!

The Lord Help Us!' He Soliloquised In An Undertone Of Peevish Displeasure, While Relieving Me Of My Horse: Looking, Meantime, In My Face So Sourly That I Charitably Conjectured He Must Have Need Of Divine Aid To Digest His Dinner, And His Pious Ejaculation Had No Reference To My Unexpected Advent.

Oh, For The Time When I Shall Sleep Without Identity.

But There's This One Difference: One Is Gold Put To The Use Of Paving-stones, And The Other Is Tin Polished To Ape A Service Of Silver. Mine Has Nothing Valuable About It; Yet I Shall Have The Merit Of Making It Go As Far As Such Poor Stuff Can Go. His Had First-rate Qualities, And They Are Lost, Rendered Worst Than Unavailing.

Time Brought Resignation And A Melancholy Sweeter Than Common Joy.