Kenelm Chillingly, Book 6.

lm gave her a brief direction about his portmanteau, and then passed into the back parlour, where her husband was employed on his baskets,-with the baby's cradle in the corner, and

dear old mother beside him, reading the tract which linked her dreams of life eternal with life just o

nd mother too, do not pray that some day or other you may be as happy. By and by the

ou will know some day: pass it by now. To return to the point: you are happy; if I asked w

h, begging your pardon, I think it

ppiness never yet found any words that could

d ailing all his life,-put, too, by a man of the rarest conformation of physical powers that nature can adapt to physical enjoyment,-a man who, since the age in which memory commences, had never known what it was to be unwell, who could scarcely understand you if you talked of a finger-ache, and whom those refinements of mental culture which multiply the delights of the senses had endowed with the m