A passing red rooster Tried to upboost her, But simply reduced her To roaring, And then became worried When she got flurried, So off he hurried, And snapped, “That duck is boring. I'm rather glad it's pouring.”

A troubadour, a sportsman, a dillettante, or even a philosopher, may be developed in a leisurely, easesome journey, in which one may wander as one pleases; but it is a perilous course in which to harden fibre, stiffen a will, and fix a character that cannot be shaken.

The young lady of the period, whose average reading was one new novel per diem, had long before sought pastures new at Cobb's, or other bookeries.

Well that's true but it'll be entirely academic if the fundamentalist Muslimaniacs in Pakistan get hold of them as to if and when and where they might use them