Do You Like Him Much?' I Told

Gentle Reader, May You Never Feel What I Then Felt! May Your Eyes Never Shed Such Stormy, Scalding, Heart-wrung Tears As Poured From Mine. May You Never Appeal To Heaven In Prayers So Hopeless And So Agised As In That Hour Left My Lips: For Never May You, Like Me, Dread To Be The Instrument Of Evil To What You Wholly Love.

If Men Could See Us As We Really Are, They Would Be A Little Amazed.

Now It Is Not Everybody, Even Amongst Our Respected Friends And Esteemed Acquaintance, Whom We Like To Have Near Us, Whom We Like To Watch Us, To Wait On Us, To Approach Us With The Proximity Of A Nurse To A Patient. It Is Not Every Friend Whose Eye Is A Light In A Sickroom, Whose Presence Is There A Solace.

Poverty, For Me, Is Synonymous With Degradation.

It Is A Happy Thing That Time Quells The Longings Of Vengeance And Hushes The Promptings Of Rage And Aversion. I Had Left This Woman In Bitterness And Hate, And I Came Back To Her Now With No Other Emotion Than A Sort Of Ruth For Her Great Sufferings, And Strong Yearning To Forget And Forgive All Injuries - To Be Reconciled And Clasp Hands In Amity.