... She Indulged In Melancholy

All Of Us Have Wonders Hidden In Our Breasts, Only Needing Circumstances To Evoke Them.

Upon The Purple Tree-tops Far Away, And On The Green Height Near At Hand Up Which The Shades Were Slowly Creeping, There Was An Equal Hush. Between The Real Landscape And Its Shadow In The Water, There Was No Division; Both Were So Untroubled And Clear, And, While So Fraught With Solemn Mystery Of Life And Death, So Hopefully Reassuring To The Gazer's Soothed Heart, Because So Tenderly And Mercifully Beautiful.

Happy, Happy Christmas, That Can Win Us Back To The Delusions Of Our Childhood Days, Recall To The Old Man The Pleasures Of His Youth, And Transport The Traveler Back To His Own Fireside And Quiet Home!

A Heart Well Worth Winning, And Well Won. A Heart That, Once Won, Goes Through Fire And Water For The Winner, And Never Changes, And Is Never Daunted.

My Dear Young Lady, Crime, Like Death, Is Not Confined To The Old And Withered Alone. The Youngest And Fairest Are Too Often Its Chosen Victims.