Why Then We Should Drop Into Poetry.

That Glorious Vision Of Doing Good Is So Often The Sanguine Mirage Of So Many Good Minds.

It's Over, And Can't Be Helped, And That's One Consolation, As They Always Say In Turkey, When They Cut The Wrong Man's Head Off.

I Think It Must Somewhere Be Written That The Virtues Of Mothers Shall Be Visited On Their Children, As Well As The Sins Of Their Fathers.

Miss Mills Replied, On General Principles, That The Cottage Of Content Was Better Than The Palace Of Cold Splendour, And That Where Love Was, All Was.

I Have A Heart To Be Stabbed In Or Shot In, I Have No Doubt, And, Of Course, If It Ceased To Beat, I Would Cease To Be. But You Know What I Mean. I Have No Softness There, No—sympathy—sentiment—nonsense.