Love Is Woman's Business,and In

He Is Very Imprudent, A Dog; He Never Makes It His Business To Inquire Whether You Are In The Right Or The Wrong, Never Asks Whether You Are Rich Or Poor, Silly Or Wise, Sinner Or Saint. You Are His Pal. That Is Enough For Him.

That Is Just The Way With Memory; Nothing That She Brings To Us Is Complete. She Is A Willful Child; All Her Toys Are Broken. I Remember Tumbling Into A Huge Dust-hole When A Very Small Boy, But I Have Not The Faintest Recollection Of Ever Getting Out Again; And If Memory Were All We Had To Trust To, I Should Be Compelled To Believe I Was There Still.

It Is Well We Cannot See Into The Future. There Are Few Boys Of Fourteen Who Would Not Feel Ashamed Of Themselves At Forty.

Splendid Cheeses They Were, Ripe And Mellow, And With A Two Hundred Horse-power Scent About Them That Might Have Been Warranted To Carry Three Miles, And Knock A Man Over At Two Hundred Yards.

It Is A Most Extraordinary Thing, But I Never Read A Patent Medicine Advertisement Without Being Impelled To The Conclusion That I Am Suffering From The Particular Disease Therein Dealt With In Its Most Virulent Form.