One Disagreeable Result Of Whispering Is That

It Is Because I Think So Much Of Warm And Sensitive Hearts, That I Would Spare Them From Being Wounded.

His Wardrobe Was Extensive-very Extensive-not Strictly Classical Perhaps, Not Quite New, Nor Did It Contain Any One Garment Made Precisely After The Fashion Of Any Age Or Time, But Everything Was More Or Less Spangled; And What Can Be Prettier Than Spangles!

On Summer Evenings, When Every Flower, And Tree, And Bird, Might Have Better Addressed My Soft Young Heart, I Have In My Day Been Caught In The Palm Of A Female Hand By The Crown, Have Been Violently Scrubbed From The Neck To The Roots Of The Hair As A Purification For The Temple, And Have Then Been Carried Off Highly Charged With Saponaceous Electricity, To Be Steamed Like A Potato In The Unventilated Breath Of The Powerful Boanerges Boiler And His Congregation, Until What Small Mind I Had, Was Quite Steamed Out Of Me

"o' Course I Came To Look Arter You, My Darlin'," Replied Mr. Weller; For Once Permitting His Passion To Get The Better Of His Veracity.

Spite Is A Little Word, But It Represents As Strange A Jumble Of Feelings And Compound Of Discords, As Any Polysyllable In The Language.