He Was Wise Enough To

Not Only Is The Day Waning, But The Year. The Low Sun Is Fiery And Yet Cold Behind The Monastery Ruin, And The Virginia Creeper On The Cathedral Wall Has Showered Half Its Deep-red Leaves Down On The Pavement. There Has Been Rain This Afternoon, And A Wintry Shudder Goes Among The Little Pools On The Cracked, Uneven Flag-stones, And Through The Giant Elm-trees As They Shed A Gust Of Tears.

You Should Keep Dogs-fine Animals-sagacious.

Now, I Return To This Young Fellow. And The Communication I Have Got To Make Is, That He Has Great Expectations.

Be Natural My Children. For The Writer That Is Natural Has Fulfilled All The Rules Of Art.

"do Not Repine, My Friends," Said Mr. Pecksniff, Tenderly. "do Not Weep For Me. It Is Chronic."