[W]hen the bare boughs of a tree intervened between her and the rising bright but deep red sun, frosted as the twigs were, on them sat a merry flock of sparrows, the feathers on their breasts bluffed out, as if they had donned warm winter spencers to shield them from the biting blast.

His “soul goes marching on” in the jersey-clad and be-bonnetted ranks of the world-wide forces which are still bringing release to those that sit in bondage.

Most of the sectors are bleeding, particularly the resources sector.

Strain the ſoup through a piece of dimity into a clean ſaucepan, and let it ſtew till it is of the thickneſs of cream.