An hour later the mother went upstairs. The child was sitting complacently on the window seat, looking out at the other children.
"Well, little girl," the mother began, "did you tell God all about how naughty you'd been?"
The youngster shook her head, emphatically. "Guess I didn't," she gurgled; "why, it'd be all over heaven in no time."
Get a gossip wound up and she will run somebody down.—Life.
"Papa, mamma says that one-half the world doesn't know how the other half lives."
"Well, she shouldn't blame herself, dear, it isn't her fault."
It is only national history that "repeats itself." Your private history is repeated by the neighbors.