Never Sign A Valentine With

But, Tears Were Not The Things To Find Their Way To Mr. Bumble's Soul; His Heart Was Waterproof.

This Was My Only And My Constant Comfort. When I Think Of It, The Picture Always Rises In My Mind, Of A Summer Evening, The Boys At Play In The Churchyard, And I Sitting On My Bed, Reading As If For Life.

A Loving Heart Is The Truest Wisdom.

The Heavy Rain Beat Down The Tender Branches Of Vine And Jessamine, And Trampled On Them In Its Fury; And When The Lightning Gleamed, It Showed The Tearful Leaves Shivering And Cowering Together At The Window, And Tapping At It Urgently, As If Beseeching To Be Sheltered From The Dismal Night.

There's A Young Man Hid With Me, In Comparison With Which Young Man I Am A Angel. That Young Man Hears The Words I Speak. That Young Man Has A Secret Way Pecooliar To Himself, Of Getting At A Boy, And At His Heart, And At His Liver.