[preface To Second Edition:] ... I Am

Our Children, Edward, Agnes, And Little Mary, Promise Well; Their Education, For The Time Being, Is Chiefly Committed To Me; And They Shall Want No Good Thing That A Mother's Care Can Give. Our Modest Income Is Amply Sufficient For Our Requirements; And By Practising The Economy We Learnt In Harder Times, And Never Attempting To Imitate Our Richer Neighbours, We Manage Not Only To Enjoy Comfort And Contentment Ourselves, But To Have Every Year Something To Lay By For Our Children, And Something To Give To Those Who Need It. And Now I Think I Have Said Sufficient.

A Light Wind Swept Over The Corn, And All Nature Laughed In The Sunshine.

My Cup Of Sweets Is Not Unmingled: It Is Dashed With A Bitterness That I Cannot Hide From Myself, Disguise It As I Will.

To Regret The Exchange Of Earthly Pleasures For The Joys Of Heaven, Is As If The Grovelling Caterpillar Should Lament That It Must One Day Quit The Nibbled Leaf To Soar Aloft And Flutter Through The Air, Roving At Will From Flower To Flower, Sipping Sweet Honey From Their Cups, Or Basking In Their Sunny Petals.

All True Histories Contain Instruction; Though, In Some, The Treasure May Be Hard To Find, And When Found, So Trivial In Quantity, That The Dry, Shriveled Kernel Scarcely Compensates For The Trouble Of Cracking The Nut.