The Habit Of Paying Compliments Kept A

But, Tears Were Not The Things To Find Their Way To Mr. Bumble's Soul; His Heart Was Waterproof.

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.

Notwithstanding His Very Liberal Laudation Of Himself, However, The Major Was Selfish. It May Be Doubted Whether There Ever Was A More Entirely Selfish Person At Heart; Or At Stomach Is Perhaps A Better Expression, Seeing That He Was More Decidedly Endowed With That Latter Organ Than With The Former.

"what Is Your Best, Your Very Best, Ale A Glass?" "two Pence Halfpenny," Says The Landlord, "is The Price Of The Genuine Stunning Ale." "then," Says I, Producing The Money, "just Draw Me A Glass Of The Genuine Stunning, If You Please, With A Good Head On It."

Marley Was Dead: To Begin With.