The Sight Of Me Is Good For

Not Only Is The Day Waning, But The Year. The Low Sun Is Fiery And Yet Cold Behind The Monastery Ruin, And The Virginia Creeper On The Cathedral Wall Has Showered Half Its Deep-red Leaves Down On The Pavement. There Has Been Rain This Afternoon, And A Wintry Shudder Goes Among The Little Pools On The Cracked, Uneven Flag-stones, And Through The Giant Elm-trees As They Shed A Gust Of Tears.

... Still His Philanthropy Was Of That Gunpowderous Sort That The Difference Between It And Animosity Was Hard To Determine.

They Whirled Past The Dark Trees, As Feathers Would Be Swept Before A Hurricane. Houses, Gates, Churches, Hay-stacks, Objects Of Every Kind They Shot By, With A Velocity And Noise Like Roaring Waters Suddenly Let Loose. Still The Noise Of Pursuit Grew Louder, And Still My Uncle Could Hear The Young Lady Wildly Screaming, "faster! Faster!"

Now, I Return To This Young Fellow. And The Communication I Have Got To Make Is, That He Has Great Expectations.

There Can Be No Disparity In Marriage Like Unsuitability Of Mind And Purpose.