For What Is History, But... Huge Libel

The Dance, Like Most Dances After Supper, Was A Merry One; Some Of The Older Folks Joined In It, And The Squire Himself Figured Down Several Couple With A Partner, With Whom He Affirmed He Had Danced At Every Christmas For Nearly Half A Century.

Poetry Is Evidently A Contagious Complaint.

Too Young For Woe, Though Not For Tears.

Nothing Can Be More Touching Than To Behold A Soft And Tender Female, Who Had Been All Weakness And Dependence, And Alive To Every Trivial Roughness While Treading The Prosperous Paths Of Life, Suddenly Rising In Mental Force To Be The Comforter And Supporter Of Her Husband Under Misfortune, And Abiding With Unshrinking Firmness The Bitterest Blast Of Adversity.

In Civilized Life, Where The Happiness, And Indeed Almost The Existence, Of Man Depends So Much Upon The Opinion Of His Fellow-men, He Is Constantly Acting A Studied Part. The Bold And Peculiar Traits Of Native Character Are Refined Away Or Softened Down By The Levelling Influence Of What Is Termed Good-breeding, And He Practises So Many Petty Deceptions And Affects So Many Generous Sentiments For The Purposes Of Popularity That It Is Difficult To Distinguish His Real From His Artificial Character.