cing-lane, o tsteps of oil-ing flints no t is Cime, and I am strangely among t o compare tion to a passing into anotime stands still in a manner to me. I  all distinction of season. I do not knoo be individually felt by me in its reference to t days; in its distance from, or propinquity to, t Sunday. I urday nigions. tinctly during t, affecting my appetite, spirits, amp;c. tom of t day, o folloe as a load upon my poor Sabbations.  c Ete?  is gone of Black Monday? All days are tself -- t unfortunate failure of a  too often proved, s fugitiveness, and over-care to get test quantity of pleasure out of it -- is melted doo a o go to c grudging tle o seem to cut out of time for everyt a sick friend. I can interrupt tion  over ation to take a days pleasure o indsor t is Lucretian pleasure to be beernal round -- and  all for? A man can never oo mucime to oo little to do. tle son, I ogetemplative. ill no kindly eartton mills? take me t lumber of a desk t down

    As loo the fiends.

    I am no longer ******, clerk to tired Leisure. I am to be met rim gardens. I am already come to be kno face and careless gesture, perambulating at no fixed pace, nor tled purpose. I ; not to and from. tell me, a certain cum dignitate air, t s, o s forto gentility perceptibly. ake up a ne is to read tate of tum est. I  I came into to do. I ask o myself.