Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. No one had the resources or the inclination to rebuild them. " "Couldn't … couldn't I go with you this afternoon?" "Too hot. Steps to aid the descent, which was too steep to be safe without them, led to, a door on the opposite side. “What are we going to do?” said Capes, with his eyes on the broad distances beyond the ribbon of the river. He glanced out of the window, looked back at the major and grasped the handle of the door.
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