Obviously he [Clark Griswold] is missing the point, but at least he made it to the canyon and, eventually, Wally World.

The parish stank of idolatry, abominable rites were practiced in secret, and in all the bounds there was no one had a more evil name for the black traffic than one Alison Sempill, who bode at the Skerburnfoot.

the great overflowings and recedings of the waters

Knowing for ourselves that a large disjunct existed between what could be read at NIE and what could be heard, we set about devising a way to measure what we were familiar with hearing.