“What is this?” asked Henry Grove of his sister Mary, lifting, as he spoke, a print from the centre-table.
“A fashion plate,” was the quiet reply.
“A fashion plate? What in the name of wonder, are you doing with a fashion plate?”
“To see what the fashions are.”
XX Category: T. S. Arthur
Idleness, vice, and intemperance had done their miserable work, and the dead mother lay cold and still amid her wretched children. She had fallen upon the threshold of her own door in a drunken fit, and died in the presence of her frightened little ones.Read More