Good, steady, severe, silent Mr.Horner! with his clock-like regularity, and his snuff-coloured clothes, and silver buckles! I have often wondered which one misses most when they are dead and gone,--the bright creatures full of life, who are hither and thither and everywhere, so that no one can reckon upon their coming and going, with whom stillness and the long quiet of the grave, seems utterly irreconcilable, so full are they of vivid motion and passion,--or the slow, serious people, whose movements--nay, whose very words, seem to go by clockwork; who never appear much to affect the course of our life while they are with us, but whose methodical ways show themselves, when they are gone, to have been intertwined with our very roots of daily existence.

I think I miss these last the most, although I may have loved the former best.

Captain James never was to me what Mr.Horner was, though the latter had hardly changed a dozen words with me at the day of his death.

Then Miss Galindo! I remembered the time as if it had been only yesterday, when she was but a name--and a very odd one--to me; then she was a queer, abrupt, disagreeable, busy old maid.

Now I loved her dearly, and I found out that I was almost jealous of Miss Bessy.
Mr.Gray I never thought of with love; the feeling was almost reverence with which I looked upon him.