Sitting With Her On Sunday Evening -

It Is A Shocking Trick For A Young Person To Be Always Lolling Upon A Sofa.

There Is A Quickness Of Perception In Some, A Nicety In The Discernment Of Character, A Natural Penetration, In Short, Which No Experience In Others Can Equal.

There Could Have Never Been Two Hearts So Open, No Tastes So Similar, No Feelings So In Unison, No Countenances So Beloved. Now They Were As Strangers; Nay, Worse Than Strangers, For They Could Never Become Acquainted. It Was A Perpetual Estrangement.

None Of Us Want To Be In Calm Waters All Our Lives.

She Had Nothing To Wish Otherwise, But That The Days Did Not Pass So Swiftly. It Was A Delightful Visit;-perfect, In Being Much Too Short.