The barbecue was over. It had been a good one; drinks, charcoaled T-bones, rare, a green salad and Meg's special dressing.

Danny’s snowboy sported a pair of earmuffs that she thought had been permanently lost.

The extinction of a species once so numerous seemed incredible.

Think on th' eternal home, / The Saviour left for you; / Think on the Lord most holy, come / To dwell with hearts untrue: / So shall ye tread untir'd his pastoral ways, / And in the darkness sing your carol of high praise.