THOUGHTS FROM WRITINGS 

 vapour rises from a cigar that has been 

 enjoyed ! If only we would sit still in 

 the shadow and not go indoors to write 

 that letter ! Let happiness alone. Stir 

 not an inch ; speak not a word : happi- 

 ness is a coy maiden— hold her hand 

 and be still.— 'The Open Air': The 

 Modern Thames. 



STEPPING up the hill laboriously, 

 suddenly a lark starts into the 

 light and pours forth a rain of 

 unwearied notes overhead. With bright 

 light, and sunshine, and sunrise, and 

 blue skies, the bird is so associated in 

 the mind, that even to see him in the 

 frosty days of winter, at least assures us 

 that summer will certainly return. Ought 

 not winter, in allegorical designs, the 

 rather to be represented with such things 

 that might suggest hope than such as 

 convey a cold and grim despair? The 

 withered leaf, the snowflake, the hedging 



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