the cigars
   Celia Thaxter
   Charles Reade
   Charles F. Browne
   Christianity had done nothing to improve morals and conditions
   Church:  “Oh yes, I go It ’most kills me, but I go,”
   Clemens was sole, incomparable, the Lincoln of our literature
   Cold-slaw
   Collective opacity
   Confidence I have nearly always felt when wrong
   Could make us feel that our faults were other people’s
   Could easily believe now that it was some one else who saw it
   Could only by chance be caught in earnest about anything
   Couldn’t fire your revolver without bringing down a two volumer
   Dawn upon him through a cloud of other half remembered faces
   Death of the joy that ought to come from work
   Death’s vague conjectures to the broken expectations of life
   Despair broke in laughter
   Despised the avoidance of repetitions out of fear of tautology
   Did not feel the effect I would so willingly have experienced
   Dinner was at the old-fashioned Boston hour of two
   Discomfort which mistaken or blundering praise
   Dollars were of so much farther flight than now
   Edmund Quincy
   Edward Everett Hale
   Either to deny the substance of things unseen, or to affirm it
   Emerson
   Enjoying whatever was amusing in the disadvantage to himself
   Espoused the theory of Bacon’s authorship of Shakespeare
   Ethical sense, not the aesthetical sense
   Everlasting rock of human credulity and folly
   Expectation of those who will come no more
   Express the appreciation of another’s fit word
   Feigned the gratitude which I could see that he expected
   Fell either below our pride or rose above our purse
   Felt that this was my misfortune more than my fault
   Few men last over from one reform to another
   First dinner served in courses that I had sat down to
   Flowers with which we garland our despair in that pitiless hour
   Forbearance of a wise man content to bide his time
   Forebore to speak needlessly to him, or to shake his hand
   Found life was not all poetry
   Francis Parkman
   Gay laugh comes across the abysm of the years
   Generous lover of all that was excellent in literature
   George William Curtis
   Giggle which Charles Lamb found the best thing in life
   Give him your best wine
   Got out of it all the fun there was in it
   Greeting of great impersonal cordiality
   Grieving that there could be such ire in heavenly minds
   Hard of hearing on one side.  But it isn’t deafness
   Harriet Beecher Stowe and the Autocrat clashed upon homeopathy
   Hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love
   He was not bored because he would not be
   He did not care much for fiction
   He was not constructive; he was essentially observant
   He had no time to make money
   He was a youth to the end of his days