No One Can Be Happy In Eternal

This Paper Will Serve Instead Of A Confidential Friend Into Whose Ear I Might Pour Forth The Overflowings Of My Heart. It Will Not Sympathize With My Distresses, But Then, It Will Not Laugh At Them, And, If I Keep It Close, It Cannot Tell Again; So It Is, Perhaps, The Best Friend I Could Have For The Purpose.

I Cannot Get Him To Write Or Speak In Real, Solid Earnest. I Don't Much Mind It Now, But If It Be Always So, What Shall I Do With The Serious Part Of Myself?

To Represent A Bad Thing In Its Least Offensive Light Is, Doubtless, The Most Agreeable Course For A Writer Of Fiction To Pursue; But Is It The Most Honest, Or The Safest? Is It Better To Reveal The Snares And Pitfalls Of Like To The Young And Thoughtless Traveller, Or To Cover Them With Branches And Flowers? Oh, Reader! If There Were Less Of This Delicate Concealment Of Facts--this Whispering "peace, Peace," When There Is No Peace, There Would Be Less Of Sin And Misery To The Young Of Both Sexes Who Are Left To Wring Their Bitter Knowledge From Experience.

No, Thank You, I Don't Mind The Rain,' I Said. I Always Lacked Common Sense When Taken By Surprise.

But, God Knows Best, I Concluded.