We will not speak of your gun; that was a poor speculation, for which I scarcely can pardon you.

It was the fault of your disordered brain that we wandered off on that bypath, but, thanks be to Heaven! we have at last gained the highway.

Five weeks ago we met a woman, and what a woman! She has velvety-brown eyes, whence glances well forth like fresh and living waters.

To praise her grace properly, I must borrow the language of the 'Song of Solomon': 'Thy lips, O my spouse! drop as the honey-comb; honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.

This thy stature is like to a palm-tree.