It Is A Fair, Even-handed, Noble Adjustment

Of All The Ruinous And Desolate Places My Uncle Had Ever Beheld, This Was The Most So. It Looked As If It Had Once Been A Large House Of Entertainment; But The Roof Had Fallen In, In Many Places, And The Stairs Were Steep, Rugged, And Broken. There Was A Huge Fire-place In The Room Into Which They Walked, And The Chimney Was Blackened With Smoke; But No Warm Blaze Lighted It Up Now. The White Feathery Dust Of Burnt Wood Was Still Strewed Over The Hearth, But The Stove Was Cold, And All Was Dark And Gloomy.

I Will Die Here Where I Have Walked. And I Will Walk Here, Though I Am In My Grave. I Will Walk Here Until The Pride Of This House Is Humbled.

Old Marley Was Dead As A Doornail... The Wisdom Of Our Ancestors Is In The Simile.

I Am No More Annoyed When I Think Of The Expression, Than I Should Be Annoyed By A Man's Opinion Of A Picture Of Mine, Who Had No Eye For Pictures; Or Of A Piece Of Music Of Mine, Who Had No Ear For Music.

"we Thought That, Perhaps," Said I, Hesitating, "it Is Right To Begin With The Obligations Of Home, Sir; And That, Perhaps, While Those Are Overlooked And Neglected, No Other Duties Can Possibly Be Substituted For Them."