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And indeed he is a very deserving, and a very fine young fellow; and I have been thinking it would not be amiss, since he has really made himself a gentleman, if we were to purchase him an ensign's commission. What say you to it, honest Aby? He would make a fine officer! A brave bold figure of a man! And who knows but, in time, he might come to be a general; ay and command armies!

I sincerely believe, Aby, I shall never love a straight row of trees again. And the wearisome right lined road, that you never lose sight of; not for a moment, Aby! No lucky turning. No intervening hill. Oh that I were but the Grand Monarch! What improvements would I make! What a scope for invention, Aby! A kingdom!

I wot not whither they have fared, thus bearing us afar * At speed, and lightly-quipt, the lighter from one love to fly: When starkens night, the birds in brake or branches snugly perched * Wail for our sorrow and announce our hapless destiny: The tongue of their condition saith, 'Alas, alas for woe, * And heavy brunt of parting-blow two lovers must aby': When viewed I separation-cups were filled to the brim * And us with merest sorrow-wine Fate came so fast to ply, I mixed them with becoming share of patience self to excuse, * But Patience for the loss of you her solace doth refuse."

So she took a scroll and thereon indited these cadences, "From the love deranged * the sorrowful and estranged * whose torment is prolonged for the longing of thee! * Were I to recount to thee the extent of my care * and what of sadness I bear * the passion which my heart cloth tear * and all that I endure for weeping and unrest * and the rending of my sorrowful breast * my unremitting grief * and my woe without relief * and all my suffering for severance of thee * and sadness and love's ardency * no letter could contain it; nor calculation could compass it * Indeed earth and heaven upon me are strait; and I have no hope and no trust but what from thee I await * Upon death I am come nigh * and the horrors of dissolution I aby * Burning upon me is sore * with parting pangs and estrangement galore * Were I to set forth the yearnings that possess me more and more * no scrolls would suffice to hold such store * and of the excess of my pain and pine, I have made the following lines:

But then, as I did not like to puzzle myself with the Latin, I read Garth's, or Rowe's, or Pope's, or I don't know whose translation. And I do believe it was that, and a visit to Lord Cobham's, which first made me study taste and improvement. Nothing is wanting but riches, Aby, to proceed to much greater lengths than any we have yet thought of. What richness of imagination is there in Ovid!

And, indeed, at such moments his governor could be very disagreeable could say nasty, bitter things, showing very little parental affection, and make himself altogether bad society, not only to his son, but to his son's companions also. Now it appeared to Aby that his father was at present in this condition.

"You can follow us up to the house," said Mr. Somers to him. "Come here, Herbert." And then they walked along the road in such a way that Aby was forced to allow his horse to walk after them. "These are the men who are doing it," said Mr. Somers in a whisper to his companion. "Whatever is in the wind, whatever may be the cause of your father's trouble, they are concerned in it.

Upon my giving expression, to a high Mormon official, of some lingering doubts as to the absolute authenticity of the above narrative, I was significantly reminded of the words of the immortal bard: "Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear."

Prince lay alongside, still and stark; his eyes half open, the hole in his chest looking scarcely large enough to have let out all that had animated him. "'Tis all my doing all mine!" the girl cried, gazing at the spectacle. "No excuse for me none. What will mother and father live on now? Aby, Aby!" She shook the child, who had slept soundly through the whole disaster.