O Lord, Sir - When A Heroine

Justice-august And Pure, The Abstract Idea Of All That Would Be Perfect In The Spirits And The Inspirations Of Men!-where The Mind Rises; Where The Heart Expands; Where The Countenance Is Ever Placid And Benign; Where Her Favorite Attitude Is To Stoop To The Unfortunate; To Hear Their Cry And To Help Them; To Rescue And Relieve; To Succor And Save; Majestic, From Its Mercy; Venerable, From Its Lutility; Uplifted, Without Pride; Firm Without Obduracy; Beneficent In Each Preference; Lovely, Though In Her Frown!

O Lord, Sir - When A Heroine Goes Mad She Always Goes Into White Satin.

We Will Not Anticipate The Past; So Mind, Young People,-our Retrospection Will Be All To The Future.

Nay, But Jack, Such Eyes! Such Eyes! So Innocently Wild! So Bashfully Irresolute! Not A Glance But Speaks And Kindles Some Thought Of Love! Then, Jack, Her Cheeks! Her Cheeks, Jack! So Deeply Blushing At The Insinuations Of Her Tell-tale Eyes! Then, Jack, Her Lips! O, Jack, Lips Smiling At Their Own Discretion! And, If Not Smiling, More Sweetly Pouting - More Lovely In Sullenness! Then, Jack, Her Neck! O, Jack, Jack!

There Never Was A Scandalous Tale Without Some Foundation.