I . . . Am

Pride... Is A Very Common Failing, I Believe. By All That I Have Ever Read, I Am Convinced That It Is Very Common Indeed; That Human Nature Is Particularly Prone To It, And That There Are Very Few Of Us Who Do Not Cherish A Feeling Of Self-complacency On The Score Of Some Quality Or The Other, Real Or Imaginary. Vanity And Pride Are Different Things, Though The Words Are Often Used Synonymously. A Person May Be Proud Without Being Vain. Pride Relates More To Our Opinion Of Ourselves, Vanity To What We Would Have Others Think Of Us.

I Am All Astonishment.

You Must Be The Best Judge Of Your Own Happiness.

Her Pleasure In The Walk Must Arise From The Exercise And The Day, From The View Of The Last Smiles Of The Year Upon The Tawny Leaves And Withered Hedges, And From Repeating To Herself Some Few Of The Thousand Poetical Descriptions Extant Of Autumn-that Season Of Peculiar And Inexhaustible Influence On The Mind Of Taste And Tenderness-that Season Which Has Drawn From Every Poet Worthy Of Being Read Some Attempt At Description, Or Some Lines Of Feeling.

A Mother Would Have Been Always Present. A Mother Would Have Been A Constant Friend; Her Influence Would Have Been Beyond All Other.