The first is, the lady had not the least objection to go to church on the arm of an elegantly dressed young gentleman, and be followed by a spruce servant with a cockade in his hat.

I could see it by the way she took possession of us, found us the places in the Bible, whispered to me the name of the minister, passed us lozenges, which I (for my part) handed on to Rowley, and at each fresh attention stole a little glance about the church to make sure she was observed.

Rowley was a pretty boy; you will pardon me if I also remembered that I was a favourable-looking young man.

When we grow elderly, how the room brightens, and begins to look as it ought to look, on the entrance of youth, grace, health, and comeliness! You do not want them for yourself, perhaps not even for your son, but you look on smiling; and when you recall their images--again, it is with a smile.
I defy you to see or think of them and not smile with an infinite and intimate, but quite impersonal, pleasure.

Well, either I know nothing of women, or that was the case with Bethiah McRankine.