the greas'd advocate that grinds the poor

[A] shout of joy burst from the despairing remnant of Major Courtland's troops, and a reinforcement of British rushed through the narrow defile to succour their exhausted comrades.

Mother's milk, Purefoy, the milk of human kin, milk too of those burgeoning stars overhead, rutilant in thin rainvapour, punch milk, such as those rioters will quaff in their guzzlingden, milk of madness, the honeymilk of Canaan's land.

Adding the acid will cause the salt to precipitate.