there it sleepeth, here it slumbreth: more or lesse they are ever darknesses, yea Cimmerian darknesses.

Neither let there be found in thee any that shal expiate his ſonne, or daughter, making them to paſſe through the fyre: or that demandeth of ſouthſayers, and obſerueth dreames and diuinations, neither let there be a ſorcerer,

She has never considered herself either a claustrophobe or an agoraphobe but, well, this was different. This was both fears together – the fear of wide-open spaces jammed shoulder to shoulder with angry people.

An American traveler, let us say, lands at Calais with a pocket full of American money; his purse may fairly bulge. But he cannot buy so much as a newspaper or a breakfast roll with it. As far as his ability to purchase the very necessities of life is concerned, he might as well be penniless. His American money is worthless to him on that other shore until he has exchanged it for the coin of the realm.