I Do Not Find Myself Making Any

The Person, Be It Gentleman Or Lady, Who Has Not Pleasure In A Good Novel, Must Be Intolerably Stupid.

The Mere Habit Of Learning To Love Is The Thing; And A Teachableness Of Disposition In A Young Lady Is A Great Blessing

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.'

... But He Recommended The Books Which Charmed Her Leisure Hours, He Encouraged Her Taste, And Corrected Her Judgment; He Made Reading Useful By Talking To Her Of What She Read, And Heightened Its Attraction By Judicious Praise.

She Went, However, And They Sauntered About Together Many A Half Hour In Mr. Grant's Shrubbery, The Weather Being Unusually Mild For The Time Of Year, And Venturing Sometimes Even To Sit Down On One Of The Benches Now Comparatively Unsheltered, Remaining There Perhaps Till, In The Midst Of Some Tender Ejaculation Of Fanny's On The Sweets Of So Protracted An Autumn, They Were Forced By The Sudden Swell Of A Cold Gust Shaking Down The Last Few Yellow Leaves About Them, To Jump Up And Walk For Warmth.