Make Your Feet Your Friend.

I Think It's Perfectly Lovely The Way You Talk About Girls.

I Know, I Feel, That With The Introduction Of Tobacco England Woke Up From A Long Sleep. Suddenly A New Zest Had Been Given To Life. The Glory Of Existence Became A Thing To Speak Of. Men Who Had Hitherto Only Concerned Themselves With The Narrow Things Of Home Put A Pipe Into Their Mouths And Became Philosophers.

Oh, You Mysterious Girls, When You Are Fifty-two We Shall Find You Out; You Must Come Into The Open Then. If The Mouth Has Fallen Sourly Yours The Blame: All The Meanness Your Youth Concealed Have Been Gathering In Your Face. But The Pretty Thoughts And Sweet Ways And Dear, Forgotten Kindnesses Linger There Also, To Bloom In Your Twilight Like Evening Primroses.

Wendy: Sir, You Are Both Ungallant And Deficient! Peter: How Am I Deficient? Wendy: You're Just A Boy.

All The Boys Were Grown Up And Done For By This Time; So It Is Scarcely Worth While Saying Anything More About Them. You May See The Twins And Nibs And Curly Any Day Going To An Office, Each Carrying A Little Bag And An Umbrella. Michael Is An Engine Driver. Slightly Married A Lady Of Title, And So He Became A Lord. You See That Judge In A Wig Coming Out At The Iron Door? That Used To Be Tootles. The Bearded Man Who Doesn't Know Any Story To Tell His Children Was Once John.