Poverty And Oysters Always Seem To Go

He Was By No Means Opposed To Hard Labour On Principle, For He Would Work Away At A Cricket-match By The Day Together, - Running, And Catching, And Batting, And Bowling, And Revelling In Toil Which Would Exhaust A Galley-slave.

The Nephew Revenges Himself For This, By Holding His Breath And Terrifying His Kinswoman With The Dread Belief That He Has Made Up His Mind To Burst. Regardless Of Whispers And Shakes, He Swells And Becomes Discoloured, And Yet Again Swells And Becomes Discoloured, Until The Aunt Can Bear It No Longer, But Leads Him Out, With No Visible Neck, And With His Eyes Going Before Him Like A Prawn's.

We Spent As Much Money As We Could And Got As Little For It As People Could Make Up Their Minds To Give Us. We Were Always More Or Less Miserable, And Most Of Our Acquaintance Were In The Same Condition. There Was A Gay Fiction Among Us That We Were Constantly Enjoying Ourselves, And A Skeleton Truth That We Never Did. To The Best Of My Belief, Our Case Was In The Last Aspect A Rather Common One.

'tis Love That Makes The World Go Round, My Baby.

Your Honour, Unless Your Honour, Without A Moment's Loss Of Time, Makes Sail For The Nearest Shore, This Is A Doomed Ship, And Her Name Is The Coffin!