Is the wandering and sinful, but now rest-seeking and repentant, man justified in daring the world's opinion, in order to attach to him for ever this gentle, gracious, genial stranger, thereby securing his own peace of mind and regeneration of life?

Conventionality is not morality!

'Why don't you tremble?'
'I'm not cold.'
'why don't you turn pale?'
'I am not sick.'
'Why don't you consult my art?'
'I'm not silly.'

The old crone 'nichered' a laugh under her bonnet and bandage; she then drew out a short black pipe, and lighting it began to smoke. Having indulged a while in this sedative, she raised her bent body,took the pipe from her lips, and while gazing at the fire,said very deliberately -
'You are cold; you are sick; and you are silly'
'Prove it,' I rejoined.
'I will, in few words. You are cold, because you are alone: no contact strikes the fire from you that is in you. You are sick; because the best of feelings, the highest and sweetest given to man, keeps far away from you. You are silly, because, suffer as you may, you will not beckon it to approach, nor will you stir one step to meet it where it waits you.'

Glancing at the book-cases, I thought I could distinguish the two volumes of Bewick’s British Birds occupying their old place on the third shelf, and Gulliver’s Travels and the Arabian Nights ranged just above. The inanimate objects were not changed; but the living things had altered past recognition.

‘What did you say, Miss?’
‘Nothing; I covered my face with the bedclothes, and turned from her to the wall.’
‘That was wrong, Miss Jane.’
‘It was quite right, Bessie. Your Missis has not been my friend: she has been
my foe.’
‘O Miss Jane! don’t say so!’
‘Good-bye to Gateshead!’ cried I, as we passed through the hall and went out at the front door.

破碎的家庭。

It is one of my faults, that though my tongue is prompt enough at an answer, there are times when it sadly fails me in framing an excuse;and always the lapse occurs at some crisis, when a facile word or plausible pretext is specially wanted to get me out of painful embarrassment.

'Pity!' he said, and sighed and paused. 'It is always the way of events in this life,' he continued presently: 'no sooner have you got settled in a pleasant resting-place, than a voice calls out to you to rise and move on, for the hour of repose is expired.'

It was now the sweetest hour of the twenty-four:- 'Day its fervid fires had wasted,' and dew fell cool on panting plain and scorched summit. Where the sun had gone down in simple state- pure of the pomp of clouds- spread a solemn purple, burning with the light of red jewel and furnace flame at one point, on one hill-peak, and extending high and wide, soft and still softer, over half heaven.

我决定今天开始接着更新了

While arranging my hair, I looked at my face in the glass, and feltit was no longer plain: there was hope in its aspect and life in its colour; andmy eyes seemed as if they had beheld the fount of fruition, and borrowed beamsfrom the lustrous ripples. I had often be unwilling to look at my master,because I feared he could not be pleased at my look; but I am sure I might liftmy face to his now, and not cool his affection by its expression. I took aplain but clean and light summer dress from my drawer and put it on: it seemedno attire had ever so well become me, because none had I ever worn in so blissfula mood.
I was not surprised, when I ran down into the hall, to see that abrilliant June morning had succeeded to the tempest of the night; and to feel,through the open glass door, the breathing of a fresh and fragrant breeze.Nature must be gladsome when I was so happy. A beggar-woman and her little boy –pale, ragged objects both – were coming up the walk, and I ran down and gavethem all the money I happened to have in my purse – some three or fourshillings: good or bad, they must partake of my jubilee. The rooks cawed andblither birds sang; but nothing was so merry or so musical as my own rejoicing heart.