Nobody Near Me Here, But Rats, And

"my Good Fellow," Retorted Mr. Boffin, "you Have My Word; And How You Can Have That, Without My Honour Too, I Don't Know. I've Sorted A Lot Of Dust In My Time, But I Never Knew The Two Things Go Into Separate Heaps."

But The Sun Itself, However Beneficent, Generally, Was Less Kind To Coketown Than Hard Frost, And Rarely Looked Intently Into Any Of Its Closer Regions Without Engendering More Death Than Life. So Does The Eye Of Heaven Itself Become An Evil Eye, When Incapable Or Sordid Hands Are Interposed Between It And The Thing It Looks Upon To Bless.

Now, What I Want Is, Facts. . . . Facts Alone Are Wanted In Life.

Hallo! A Great Deal Of Steam! The Pudding Was Out Of The Copper. A Smell Like A Washing-day! That Was The Cloth. A Smell Like An Eating-house And A Pastrycook's Next Door To Each Other, With A Laundress's Next Door To That. That Was The Pudding.

The American Elite Is Almost Beyond Redemption. . . . Moral Relativism Has Set In So Deeply That The Gilded Classes Have Become Incapable Of Discerning Right From Wrong. Everything Can Be Explained Away, Especially By Journalists. Life Is One Great Moral Mush--sophistry Washed Down With Chardonnay. The Ordinary Citizens, Thank Goodness, Still Adhere To Absolutes.... It Is They Who Have Saved The Republic From Creeping Degradation While Their 'betters' Were Derelict.