"Well," said my aunt, "this is his boy - his son. He would be as like his father as it's possible to be, if he was not so like his mother, too."

A demd, damp, moist, unpleasant body!

I think the Romans must have aggravated one another very much, with their noses. Perhaps, they became the restless people they were, in consequence.

This is a world of action, and not moping and droning in.

Heaven suits the back to the burden.

At the great iron gate of the churchyard he stopped and looked in. He looked up at the high tower spectrally resisting the wind, and he looked round at the white tombstones, like enough to the dead in their winding-sheets, and he counted the nine tolls of the clock-bell.

For your popular rumour, unlike the rolling stone of the proverb, is one which gathers a deal of moss in its wanderings up and down.