Venice! dear beautiful Venice! scene of harmony and love! where all was gayety and mirth, revelry and pleasure, with what warm feelings do I recall thee to my memory; day and night were the gondoliers singing barcarolles, or the verses of [Torquato] Tasso and [Ludovico] Ariosto to Venetian airs; […]

A long train of numeral progressions.

Imagine the scene that Broadway would present were New Yorkeresses in the habit of spending their papas’ and husbands’ money when, to be poetical, / ‘The night with misty mantle spread / ’Gins dark the day and dim the azure skies.’

I longed to be part of the over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder club, if only I had boulders to hold! Or small stones. Even pebbles would have been acceptable.