Jones had no sooner quitted the room, than the petty-fogger, in a whispering tone, asked Mrs Whitefield, “If she knew who that fine spark was?”
[…]finally ready, they stood like petticoated, ballgowned ladies around the room, ready to be lifted on their rods into place above the windows.
A summerly day for you, said my host; You ought to be here in winter. It is impossible then to get out of the doors for the snow and wind. Ugh! dreadful weather!
A summerly day for you,
You ought to be here in winter. It is impossible then to get out of the doors for the snow and wind. Ugh! dreadful weather!
Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth / With such a full and unwithdrawing hand?
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