In Life I Was Your Partner, Jacob

As I Never Saw My Father Or My Mother, And Never Saw Any Likeness Of Either Of Them (for Their Days Were Long Before The Days Of Photographs), My First Fancies Regarding What They Were Like, Were Unreasonably Derived From Their Tombstones. The Shape Of The Letters On My Father's, Gave Me An Odd Idea That He Was A Square, Stout, Dark Man, With Curly Black Hair. From The Character And Turn Of The Inscription, "also Georgiana Wife Of The Above", I Drew A Childish Conclusion That My Mother Was Freckled And Sickly.

Newman Cast A Despairing Glance At His Small Store Of Fuel, But, Not Having The Courage To Say No-a Word Which In All His Life He Never Had Said At The Right Time, Either To Himself Or Anyone Else-gave Way To The Proposed Arrangement.

Christmas Time! That Man Must Be A Misanthrope Indeed, In Whose Breast Something Like A Jovial Feeling Is Not Roused - In Whose Mind Some Pleasant Associations Are Not Awakened - By The Recurrence Of Christmas.

Friendless I Can Never Be, For All Mankind Are My Kindred, And I Am On Ill Terms With No One Member Of My Great Family.

Poetry Makes Life What Lights And Music Do The Stage.