an eager algorithm

On a huge tomb-like table, in the middle of the room, lay two pencilled profiles of Mr. Fielding, a pawnbroker's ticket, a pair of ruffles, a very little muff, an immense broadsword, a Wycherly comb, a jackboot, and an old plumed hat;— […]

Come , behold the Desolations wrought by God for the space of 67 years on an Empire impersuasible by all the Methods of Grace.

These women were more men than our Jemmy-Jessamy countrymen.