The picture of Veronica, reading by her wax candle, or looking through the wicket, collected and happy in her orderly perfection, came into my mind, and with it an admiration which never ceased, though I had no sympathy with her.

We seemed as far apart as when we were children.
I was eager for employment, promising to perform many tasks, but the attempt killed my purpose and interest.

My will was nerveless, when I contemplated Time, which stretched before me--a vague, limitless sea; and I only kept Endeavor in view, near enough to be tormented.
One day father asked me to go to Milford, and I then asked him for money to spend for the adornment of my room.
"Be prudent," he replied.

"I am not so rich as people think me.
Although the _Locke Morgeson_ was insured, she was a loss.

But you need not speak of this to your mother.