… which furnished the battery just below our stand, and which, as soon as the unwieldy old warrioress had occupied the post of honor reserved for her in their midst, sent forth a martial acclaim of welcome that made the earth tremble under our feet, and resounded through the air, shivering, with the strong concussion, more than one pane of glass in the windows of Princess Street far below.

Before egg-laying begins, the spawning grounds are mouthed over (cleaned) by both sexes.

“The more one loves, the more helpless one feels”, she moralised.

My purpose is to […] traverse the nature, principles, and properties of this detestable vice—ingratitude.