[M]y antiquarian looked at me with a knowing eye, […] and lowering his voice into a confidential whisper (although not a soul was to be seen within half a mile around), communicated to me a mass of intelligence so much bordering on the nature of a chronique scandaleuse, that I found it necessary to stop his current of abuse by a peremptory order […]

In terms of the income scale British society has been compared to a group of people on a moving staircase. While the staircase as a whole moves upwards the relative position of the people on it remains largely unchanged.

On closer inspection the coffins seemed to be more like sarcophagi. They stood about waist high and were constructed of what appeared to be white marble, […]

Here’s the Queen, my dears, in her gilt coach, drawn by six horses. Do you see her sceptre poking out of the carriage window? She governs the nation with that.