With rev’rence I approach’d a hoary seer, Who, bending o’er his crutch, seem’d lost in woe, And many a sigh and many a sorrowy tear, Spoke plain as words “Ah! whither can I go?”

How embarrassing. I didn't notice that I was flying without a licence.

Keep her eyes, for the time, from her husband’s as she might, she soon found herself much more drivingly conscious of the strain on his own wit.

That a crowd of Sydney stealers, Jockeys, pugilists and spielers Brought some horses, real heelers, Came and put us through.