I Found Uriah Reading A Great Fat

My Dear Young Lady, Crime, Like Death, Is Not Confined To The Old And Withered Alone. The Youngest And Fairest Are Too Often Its Chosen Victims.

"and When You Had Made Sure Of The Poor Little Fool," Said My Aunt - "god Forgive Me That I Should Call Her So, And She Gone Where You Won't Go In A Hurry - Because You Had Not Done Wrong Enough To Her And Hers, You Must Begin To Train Her, Must You? Begin To Break Her, Like A Poor Caged Bird, And Wear Her Deluded Life Away, In Teaching Her To Sing Your Notes?"

Oh The Nerves, The Nerves; The Mysteries Of This Machine Called Man! Oh The Little That Unhinges It, Poor Creatures That We Are!

A Silent Look Of Affection And Regard When All Other Eyes Are Turned Coldly Away-the Consciousness That We Possess The Sympathy And Affection Of One Being When All Others Have Deserted Us-is A Hold, A Stay, A Comfort, In The Deepest Affliction, Which No Wealth Could Purchase, Or Power Bestow.

"do Not Repine, My Friends," Said Mr. Pecksniff, Tenderly. "do Not Weep For Me. It Is Chronic."