Good Lord! Who Can Account For The

If You Can Meet Success And Failure And Treat Them Both As Impostors, Then You Are A Balanced Man, My Son.

All Good People Agree, And All Good People Say, All Nice People, Like Us, Are We And Every One Else Is They: But If You Cross Over The Sea, Instead Of Over The Way, You May End By (think Of It!) Looking On We As Only A Sort Of They!

Well, If I Am A Man, A Man I Must Become.

It Was The Forty-fathom Slumber That Clears The Soul And Eye And Heart, And Sends You To Breakfast Ravening. They Emptied A Big Tin Dish Of Juicy Fragments Of Fish- The Blood-ends The Cook Had Collected Overnight. They Cleaned Up The Plates And Pans Of The Elder Mess, Who Were Out Fishing, Sliced Pork For The Midday Meal, Swabbed Down The Foc'sle, Filled The Lamps, Drew Coal And Water For The Cook, An Investigated The Fore-hold, Where The Boat's Stores Were Stacked. It Was Another Perfect Day - Soft, Mild And Clear; And Harvey Breathed To The Very Bottom Of His Lungs.

Youth Had Been A Habit Of Hers For So Long That She Could Not Part With It.