The Lord help us!' he soliloquised in an undertone of peevish displeasure, while relieving me of my horse: looking, meantime, in my face so sourly that I charitably conjectured he must have need of divine aid to digest his dinner, and his pious ejaculation had no reference to my unexpected advent.

It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.

Last night, I was on the threshold of hell. To-day, I am within sight of my heaven. I have my eyes on it: hardly three feet to sever me!

We must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering.

I pray every night that I may live after him; because I would rather be miserable than that he should be — that proves I love him better than myself.

Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.

A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad and a bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse than ugly.