Rich Folks May Ride On Camels, But

Scattered Wits Take A Long Time In Picking Up.

"drink With Me, My Dear," Said Mr. Weller. "put Your Lips To This Here Tumbler, And Then I Can Kiss You By Deputy."

Come, Then," Returned The Nephew Gaily. "what Right Have You To Be Dismal? What Reason Have You To Be Morose? You're Rich Enough.

... The Sun Does Not Shine Upon This Fair Earth To Meet Frowning Eyes, Depend Upon It.

Up The Two Terrace Flights Of Steps The Rain Ran Wildly, And Beat At The Great Door, Like A Swift Messenger Rousing Those Within;.