I Am Worn To A Raveling.

I Think Prejudice And Tradition Count For Three-quarters In Matters Of Religion.

So Much Perfection Argues Rottenness Somewhere.

It Sometimes Happens That The Town Child Is More Alive To The Fresh Beauty Of The Country Than A Child Who Is Country Born

The Place Is Changed Now, And Many Familiar Faces Are Gone, But The Greatest Change Is Myself. I Was A Child Then, I Had No Idea What The World Would Be Like. I Wished To Trust Myself On The Waters And The Sea. Everything Was Romantic In My Imagination. The Woods Were Peopled By The Mysterious Good Folk. The Lords And Ladies Of The Last Century Walked With Me Along The Overgrown Paths, And Picked The Old Fashioned Flowers Among The Box And Rose Hedges Of The Garden.

Then Mrs. Tiggy-winkle Made Tea - A Cup For Herself And A Cup For Lucie. They Sat Before The Fire On A Bench And Looked Sideways At One Another. Mrs. Tiggy-winkle's Hand, Holding The Tea-cup, Was Very Very Brown, And Very Very Wrinkly With The Soap-suds; And All Through Her Gown And Her Cap, There Were Hairpins Sticking Wrong End Out; So That Lucie Didn't Like To Sit Too Near Her.