It Was Part Of Your Religion To

One Sees That Dead, Vacant Look Steal Over The Rarest, Finest Of Women's Faces . . . In The Very Midst, It May Be, Of Their Warmest Summer's Day; And Then One Can Guess At The Secret Of Intolerable Solitude That Lies Hid Beneath The Delicate Laces . . .

You Were Only Truly Patriotic If You Had A Laborer For A Grandfather And Were Glad Of It.

The New Englander Landed On A Stony, Barren Tract, And A Large Share Of His Strength During Two Centuries Has Gone To Force A Living Out Of It. Hence He Has Come To Regard Economy - A Necessary Unpleasant Quality At Best - As The Chief Of Virtues. He Has Cultivated Habits Which Verge On Closeness In Dealing With Food, And With The Expression Of Feeling, And Even - His Enemies Think - With Feeling Itself.

Crime, To The Man Of The Forties, Was An Alien Monstrous Terror.

It Was Part Of Your Religion To Hate The British.