Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. Luckily it was so dark, and there was no lamp near, that the man did not notice the condition of the body, which was placed in the vehicle by the two young men. . And, though it's a long time ago, I feel as sore on the subject as ever. We LIKED each other well enough. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. " "I declare I don't know what to do," said Wood, burned by conflicting emotions. . I shall like to think of it—whenever I feel dull. ‘The sisters here will not save you.
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