My husband's constant harping about the condition of the house threatens to drive me to distraction.

Where'er I wander, boast of this I can, Though banish'd, yet a true-born Englishman.

When our readers have gone through this article, and have heard us declare our perfect conviction of its truth; when they have heard us say, that it is agreeable, as far as it goes, with the enquiries which we have made, when they have further heard, that the scene of the brutal transaction was in a back room of the public-house above mentioned: that the parties had drawn the curtains to the room, but had left a part that the curtains did not cover but that might be seen through: that a little girl (vindicatress of her sex!) happening to go into the back court into which the window looked, Wondering to see the curtains drawn, had the curiosity to look in, where she saw the parties engaged in a way not to be described; that the little girl (better guardian of public morals than the respectable part of the press) ran to the landlord, who came out with other persons with him, who were all witnesses of the fact, to that certain extent, at least, of which the Observer speaks; that after this, the landlord and others laudably went, dashed in the door, took the parties in the state of Achilles as far as nakedness was necessary to their intentions; that they then dragged them to the watch-house, in that very same state: when our readers have heard all this, they will naturally cry aloud, 'why is the name of this Bishop suppressed?'

‘Children crawled over each other like little grey worms in the gutters,’ he said. ‘The only red things about them were their buttocks and they were raw. Their faces looked as if snails had slimed on them and their mothers were like great sick beasts whose byres had never been cleared. […]’