Th' Longest Lane Will Have A Turning.

Anticipation Was The Soul Of Enjoyment.

He Had Tenderness In His Heart — ‘a Soft Place,’ As Nicholas Higgins Called It; But He Had Some Pride In Concealing It; He Kept It Very Sacred And Safe, And Was Jealous Of Every Circumstance That Tried To Gain Admission. But If He Dreaded Exposure Of His Tenderness, He Was Equally Desirous That All Men Should Recognize His Justice; And He Felt That He Had Been Unjust, In Giving So Scornful A Hearing To Anyone Who Had Waited, With Humble Patience, For Five Hours, To Speak To Him.

My Heart Burnt Within Me With Indignation And Grief; We Could Think Of Nothing Else. All Night Long We Had Only Snatches Of Sleep, Waking Up Perpetually To The Sense Of A Great Shock And Grief. Every One Is Feeling The Same. I Never Knew So Universal A Feeling.

She Would Fain Have Caught At The Skirts Of That Departing Time, And Prayed It To Return, And Give Her Back What She Had Too Little Valued While It Was Yet In Her Possession. What A Vain Show Life Seemed! How Unsubstantial, And Flickering, And Flitting! It Was As If From Some Aerial Belfry, High Up Above The Stir And Jar Of The Earth, There Was A Bell Continually Tolling, ‘all Are Shadows!—all Are Passing!—all Is Past!

Come! Poor Little Heart! Be Cheery And Brave. We'll Be A Great Deal To One Another, If We Are Thrown Off And Left Desolate.