He Loved Her, And Would Love Her;

But Margaret Was At An Age When Any Apprehension, Not Absolutely Based On A Knowledge Of Facts, Is Easily Banished For A Time By A Bright Sunny Day, Or Some Happy Outward Circumstance. And When The Brilliant Fourteen Fine Days Of October Came On, Her Cares Were All Blown Away As Lightly As Thistledown, And She Thought Of Nothing But The Glories Of The Forest.

One May Be Clogged With Honey And Unable To Rise And Fly.

Nothing Like The Act Of Eating For Equalizing Men. Dying Is Nothing To It.

Those Who Are Happy And Successful Themselves Are Too Apt To Make Light Of The Misfortunes Of Others.

Wearily She Went To Bed, Wearily She Arose In Four Or Five Hours' Time. But With The Morning Came Hope, And A Brighter View Of Things.