In passing, why do we fear death? For our sins? Rather, isn't it the tremendous inherent human curiosity to know what is going to happen to-morrow that causes us to wince at the thought of annihilation? A subconscious resentment against the idea of entering darkness while our neighbour will proceed with his petty affairs as usual? "It's nip and tuck," said the doctor; "but we'll pull him through. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. “I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years. "'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet.
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