Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. The world, perhaps, will be educated out of its idea of fixed standards. But if I were you, I shouldn't warn Spurlock. Sheppard in the asylum, and take her this, and send her that;—and I've never prevented you, though such mistaken liberality's enough to provoke a saint. She was still fully dressed; so all she had to do was to pause before the mirror and give her hair a few pats. But a time will come (and that before long,) when our sex will assert its superiority; and, when we have got the upper hand, let 'em try to subdue us if they can. Is all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?” she asked, looking round.
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