My mother fell grievously on a slide, which John Fry had made nigh the apple-room door, and hidden with straw from the stable, to cover his own great idleness.
My father laid John's nose on the ice, and kept him warm in spite of it; but it was too late for Eliza.

She was born next day with more mind than body--the worst thing that can befall a man.
But Annie, my other sister, was now a fine fair girl, beautiful to behold.

I could look at her by the fireside, for an hour together, when I was not too sleepy, and think of my dear father.

And she would do the same thing by me, only wait the between of the blazes.

Her hair was done up in a knot behind, but some would fall over her shoulders; and the dancing of the light was sweet to see through a man's eyelashes.