What Greater Gift Than The Love Of

A Mob Is Usually A Creature Of Very Mysterious Existence, Particularly In A Large City. Where It Comes From, Or Whither It Goes, Few Men Can Tell. Assembling And Dispersing With Equal Suddenness, It Is As Difficult To Follow To Its Various Sources As The Sea Itself; Nor Does The Parallel Stop Here, For The Ocean Is Not More Fickle And Uncertain, More Terrible When Roused, More Unreasonable Or More Cruel.

We Forge The Chains We Wear In Life.

It Can't Be Supposed," Said Joe. "tho' I'm Oncommon Fond Of Reading, Too." Are You, Joe?" Oncommon. Give Me," Said Joe, "a Good Book, Or A Good Newspaper, And Sit Me Down Afore A Good Fire, And I Ask No Better. Lord!" He Continued, After Rubbing His Knees A Little, "when You Do Come To A J And A O, And Says You, 'here, At Last, Is A J-o, Joe,' How Interesting Reading Is!

She's The Sort Of Woman Now,' Said Mould, . . . 'one Would Almost Feel Disposed To Bury For Nothing: And Do It Neatly, Too!

It Is A Melancholy Truth That Even Great Men Have Their Poor Relations.