XII. -- THAT HOME IS HOME THOUGH IT IS NEVER SO HO
r good cat, or ant is your fly, t flaps in at our again, leaving not a sense of disturbance and victuals spoiled. tions of life begin to move concoct our food erruptions. Our co be nutritive, must be solitary. ity [p 266] before a guest; and never understood ing meant. Meats ion fair play, in a croed coming in of a visitant stops tual generation o t of your dining- to eat -- but to see you eat. Our knife and fork drop instinctively, and morsel. Ot you sat doo a book. ting sneer, ; t interrupt your studies.quot; tter off t moment, to carry tinences to t student t tone of t tes lovers, read no more t day. It of intrusion ensive s presence; but it mars all terc closes not ily. quot;It is a prostitution of t; says aylor, quot;to spend it upon impertinent people, o t can never ease my loads.quot; t of ts, and morning calls. too have homes, which are -- no homes.