Duckweed putteth forth a little string into the water, from the bottom.

[…] I ordered the forlorns to advance and to march, at their open order, towards the upland, and by this time the tide was upon the ground wee ſtood on: The forlorn were no ſooner advanced a few rods, before there was firing on both ſides; […]

[L]ast week I had a distinctly unpleasant experience, and came parlous near qualifying as a beachcomber. … I cast round, trying one or two charming little hotels within reasonable radius, only to find the house full boards up everywhere.

Did you like them boys? I goes. Nut. She shook her hair. Neither? Nut. Right townies.