She, (Ladie) having well before approoved / The feends to be too cruell and severe, / Observ'd th' appointed way, as her behooved, / Ne ever did her ey-sight turne arere ….
I can just remember an old brown-coated man who was the Walton of this stream, who had come over from Newcastle, England, with his son, the latter a stout and hearty man who had lifted an anchor in his day.
the nomad, “the whaler,” it is who will find the new order hostile to his vested interest of doing nothing.
Lord Cramer . . . described the burying of his company's colonel after it—the open grave in a cleft of hills dark with pines, the solemn dead march, the noble words spoken as they left their leader forever.
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