Veels Vithin Veels, A Prison In A

Oh! Captive, Bound, And Double-ironed," Cried The Phantom, "not To Know, That Ages Of Incessant Labour, By Immortal Creatures, For This Earth Must Pass Into Eternity Before The Good Of Which It Is Susceptible Is All Developed. Not To Know That Any Christian Spirit Working Kindly In Its Little Sphere, Whatever It May Be, Will Find Its Mortal Life Too Short For Its Vast Means Of Usefulness. Not To Know That No Space Of Regret Can Make Amends For One Life's Opportunity Misused!

Remembrance, Like A Candle, Burns Brightest At Christmastime.

But I Am Sure That I Have Always Thought Of Christmas Time, When It Has Come Round...as A Good Time; A Kind, Forgiving, Charitable, Pleasant Time; The Only Time I Know Of, In The Long Calendar Of The Year, When Men And Women Seem By One Consent To Open Their Shut-up Hearts Freely.

Above All, One Hideous Figure Grew As Familiar As If It Had Been Before The General Gaze From The Foundations Of The World - The Figure Of The Sharp Female Called La Guillotine. It Was The Popular Theme For Jests; It Was The Best Cure For Headache, It Infallibly Prevented Hair From Turning Gray, It Imparted A Peculiar Delicacy To The Complexion, It Was The National Razor Which Shaved Close: Who Kissed La Guillotine Looked Through The Little Window And Sneezed Into The Sack.

She Was More Than Human To Me. She Was A Fairy, A Sylph. I Don't Know What She Was, Anything That No One Ever Saw, And Everything That Everybody Ever Wanted. I Was Swallowed Up In An Abyss Of Love In An Instant. There Was No Pausing On The Brink, No Looking Down, Or Looking Back. I Was Gone, Headlong, Before I Had Sense To Say A Word To Her.