[…] barrel of my rifle vainly attempting to draw a bead upon the swinging rooklet, until everything becomes blurred and blotted, […]

I'm so sorry. If I'd done my queenly duties right, none of this would have happened. But maybe I can fix it with some wish help.

If I travel Aunt, I touch at your Antipodes—your Antipodes are a good raſcally ſort of topſy turvy Fellows—If I had a Bumper I'd ſtand upon my Head and drink a Health to ’em— …

the inwardness of conduct