Alders were sleeping, and willows weeping by a slow river of rippling weeds; gladdon-swords guarded the fords, and green spears, and arrow-reeds.

So it is the world wags: that honest men and knaves alike are always having ups and downs of fortune, and that we are perpetually changing tenants in Our Street.

The general disembarked the troops.

Why not fight the sciencemen on their own-own ground?