There Is Something So Amiable In The

The Ladies Here Probably Exchanged Looks Which Meant, 'men Never Know When Things Are Dirty Or Not;' And The Gentlemen Perhaps Thought Each To Himself, 'women Will Have Their Little Nonsense And Needless Cares.'

We Do Not Suffer By Accident.

She Was Stronger Alone; And Her Own Good Sense So Well Supported Her, That Her Firmness Was As Unshaken, Her Appearance Of Cheerfulness As Invariable, As, With Regrets So Poignant And So Fresh, It Was Possible For Them To Be.

Now They Were As Strangers; Nay Worse Than Strangers, For They Could Never Become Acquainted.

I Could Not Be Happy With A Man Whose Taste Did Not In Every Point Coincide With My Own. He Must Enter In All My Feelings; The Same Books, The Same Music Must Charm Us Both.