A Boy's Story Is The Best That

You Can Only Form The Minds Of Reasoning Animals Upon Facts: Nothing Else Will Ever Be Of Any Service To Them. Stick To Facts, Sir!

He Says-him As Was Here Just Now-'when Tom Shut Up The House, Mate, To Go To Rack, The Beds Was Left, All Made, Like As If Somebody Was A-going To Sleep In Every Bed. And If You Was To Walk Through The Bedrooms Now, You'd See The Ragged Mouldy Bedclothes A Heaving And A Heaving Like Seas. And A Heaving And A Heaving With What?' He Says. 'why, With The Rats Under 'em.'

"hope To The Last!" Said Newman, Clapping Him On The Back. "always Hope; That's Dear Boy. Never Leave Off Hoping; It Don't Answer. Do You Mind Me, Nick? It Don't Answer. Don't Leave A Stone Unturned. It's Always Something, To Know You've Done The Most You Could. But, Don't Leave Off Hoping, Or It's Of No Use Doing Anything. Hope, Hope, To The Last!"

I Loved You Madly; In The Distasteful Work Of The Day, In The Wakeful Misery Of The Night, Girded By Sordid Realities, Or Wandering Through Paradises And Hells Of Visions Into Which I Rushed, Carrying Your Image In My Arms, I Loved You Madly.

An Unfinished Coffin On Black Tressels, Which Stood In The Middle Of The Shop, Looked So Gloomy And Death-like That A Cold Tremble Came Over Him, Every Time His Eyes Wandered In The Direction Of The Dismal Object: From Which He Almost Expected To See Some Frightful Form Slowly Rear Its Head, To Drive Him Mad With Terror.