It Is All In The Way Of

There's An East Wind Coming All The Same, Such A Wind As Never Blew On England Yet. It Will Be Cold And Bitter, Watson, And A Good Many Of Us May Wither Before Its Blast. But It's God's Own Wind None The Less And A Cleaner, Better Stronger Land Will Lie In The Sunshine When The Storm Has Cleared.

To His Eyes All Seemed Beautiful, But To Me A Tinge Of Melancholy Lay Upon The Countryside, Which Bore So Clearly The Mark Of The Waning Year, Yellow Leaves Carpeted The Lanes And Fluttered Down Upon Us As We Passed, The Rattle Of Our Wheels Died Away As We Drove Through Drifts Of Rotting Vegetation--sad Gifts, As It Seemed To Me, For Nature To Throw Before The Carriage Of The Returning Heir Of The Baskervilles.

Steel True, Blade Straight.

And Once Again Mr. Sherlock Holmes Is Free To Devote His Life To Examining Those Interesting Little Problems Which The Complexity Of Human Life So Pletifuly Presents.

There Is A Soul-jealousy That Can Be As Frantic As Any Body-jealousy.