Everybody Likes To Go Their

Her Pleasure In The Walk Must Arise From The Exercise And The Day, From The View Of The Last Smiles Of The Year Upon The Tawny Leaves And Withered Hedges, And From Repeating To Herself Some Few Of The Thousand Poetical Descriptions Extant Of Autumn-that Season Of Peculiar And Inexhaustible Influence On The Mind Of Taste And Tenderness-that Season Which Has Drawn From Every Poet Worthy Of Being Read Some Attempt At Description, Or Some Lines Of Feeling.

I Have Now Attained The True Art Of Letter-writing, Which We Are Always Told, Is To Express On Paper Exactly What One Would Say To The Same Person By Word Of Mouth.

Her Form, Though Not So Correct As Her Sister's, In Having The Advantage Of Height, Was More Striking; And Her Face Was So Lovely, That When In The Common Cant Of Praise She Was Called A Beautiful Girl, Truth Was Less Violently Outraged Than Usually Happens.

Do You Dance, Mr. Darcy?" Darcy: "not If I Can Help It!" Sir William: "what A Charming Amusement For Young People This Is, Mr. Darcy! There Is Nothing Like Dancing, After All. I Consider It As One Of The First Refinements Of Polished Societies." Mr. Darcy: "certainly, Sir; And It Has The Advantage Also Of Being In Vogue Amongst The Less Polished Societies Of The World; Every Savage Can Dance.

Fine Dancing, I Believe Like Virtue, Must Be Its Own Reward. Those Who Are Standing By Are Usually Thinking Of Something Very Different.