My wife observed, that rising too early would hurt her daughters' eyes, that working after dinner would redden their noses, and she convinced me that the hands never looked so white as when they did nothing.

Instead therefore of finishing George's shirts, we now had them new modelling their old gauzes, or flourishing upon catgut.

The poor Miss Flamboroughs, their former gay companions, were cast off as mean acquaintance, and the whole conversation ran upon high life and high lived company, with pictures, taste, Shakespear, and the musical glasses.
But we could have borne all this, had not a fortune-telling gypsey come to raise us into perfect sublimity.

The tawny sybil no sooner appeared, than my girls came running to me for a shilling a piece to cross her hand with silver.

To say the truth, I was tired of being always wise, and could not help gratifying their request, because I loved to see them happy.