You Don't Carry In Your Countenance A

It May Be Only Small Injustice That The Child Can Be Exposed To; But The Child Is Small, And Its World Is Small, And Its Rocking-horse Stands As Many Hands High, According To Scale, As A Big-boned Irish Hunter.

I Took A Good Deal O' Pains With His Eddication, Sir; Let Him Run In The Streets When He Was Very Young, And Shift For Hisself. It's The Only Way To Make A Boy Sharp, Sir.

Poetry's Unnat'ral; No Man Ever Talked Poetry 'cept A Beadle On Boxin' Day.

The Pain Of Parting Is Nothing To The Joy Of Meeting Again.

Then Tell Wind And Fire Where To Stop," Returned Madame; "but Don't Tell Me.