He zippered his sweater against the cold.

It sounds like a great idea, but what's the catch?

Even today Lambeth is a singularly unlovely part of the British capital, jammed anonymously between the great fan of roads and railway lines that take commuters in and out of the city center from the southern counties.

Your minde is toſſing on the Ocean, / There vvhere your Argoſies vvith portly ſayle, / Like Signiors and rich Burgars on the flood, / Or as it vvere the Pageants of the ſea, / Doe ouer-peere the petty traffiquers / That curſie to them, do them reuerence / As they flie by them vvith their vvouen vvings.