The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. ” Her words were slurred with sleep. “I thought I was just up against Morningside Park and father, but it’s the whole order of things—the whole blessed order of things. He looked at his friend. ” He said to her with as much casualness as he could muster. ‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary.
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This video was uploaded to uggpascherfo.com on 21-09-2024 08:24:37
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