But Life Is A Battle: May We

When His First-born Was Put Into His Arms, He Could See That The Boy Had Inherited His Own Eyes, As They Once Were - Large, Brilliant, And Black.

If You Are Cast In A Different Mould To The Majority, It Is No Merit Of Yours: Nature Did It.

In Sunshine, In Prosperity, The Flowers Are Very Well; But How Many Wet Days Are There In Life—november Seasons Of Disaster, When A Man's Hearth And Home Would Be Cold Indeed, Without The Clear, Cheering Gleam Of Intellect.

I Scorn Your Idea Of Love,' I Could Not Help Saying, As I Rose Up And Stood Before Him, Leaning My Back Against The Rock. 'i Scorn The Counterfeit Sentiment You Offer: Yes, St. John, And I Scorn You When You Offer It.

All My Heart Is Yours, Sir: It Belongs To You; And With You It Would Remain, Were Fate To Exile The Rest Of Me From Your Presence Forever.