This pie is enough sight more wholesome for the bodies of men who have immortal souls dependent a little on what is eaten, in spite of the preaching, than Western tainted beef.

I made up my mind that pie was the natural destiny of a robin, and I make squab-and-robin pies every week of my life.

The robins are out of mischief in that pie, and they are doing us good.

What makes you look so, though, Henry?
There's something besides my pie and ham and wine that gives that look to your face." "I'm going back to the shop to-morrow," said Henry.
Sidney looked at him.

"Most folks would say you were an uncommon fool," said he.