I Am Light As A Feather, I

Money, Says The Proverb, Makes Money. When You Have Got A Little, It Is Often Easy To Get More.

All Knives And Forks Were Working Away At A Rate That Was Quite Alarming; Very Few Words Were Spoken; And Everybody Seemed To Eat His Utmost, In Self Defence, As If A Famine Were Expected To Set In Before Breakfast-time To-morrow Morning, And It Had Become High Time To Assert The First Law Of Nature.

The Cramped Monotony Of My Existence Grinds Me Away By The Grain.

What Connexion Can There Be, Between The Place In Lincolnshire, The House In Town, The Mercury In Powder, And The Whereabout Of Jo The Outlaw With The Broom, Who Had That Distant Ray Of Light Upon Him When He Swept The Churchyard-step? What Connexion Can There Have Been Between Many People In The Innumerable Histories Of This World, Who, From Opposite Sides Of Great Gulfs, Have, Nevertheless, Been Very Curiously Brought Together!

Strong Mental Agitation And Disturbance Was No Novelty To Him, Even Before His Late Sufferings. It Never Is, To Obstinate And Sullen Natures; For They Struggle Hard To Be Such.