I don't feel like you now, and I don't think that I ever did.

I couldn't learn to play the violin and the musical glasses if I were to try, and I am sure that I should never go out into the woodshed to try to rhyme _sun_ with _fun_; no, Gretchen, all such follies as these I should _shun_.

What difference does it make whether a word rhymes with one word or another ?" To the eye of the poetic and musical German girl the dead volcano, with its green base and frozen rivers and dark, glimmering lines of carbon, seemed like a fairy tale, a celestial vision, an ascent to some city of crystal and pearl in the sky.

To her foster mother the stupendous scene was merely a worthless waste, as to Wordsworth's unspiritual wanderer: "A primrose by the river's brim, A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more." She was secretly pleased at Gretchen's wonder and surprise at the new country, but somehow she felt it her duty to talk querulously, and to check the flow of the girl's emotions, which she did much to excite.

Her own life had been so circumscribed and hard that the day seemed to be too bright to be speaking the truth.