I made for the barns to catch Bruin napping or lolling in the old hay. I entertain a vendetta toward the ursine family. I had a duello, pistol against claw, with one of them in the mountains of Oregon, and have nothing to show to point the moral and adorn the tale. My antagonist of that hand-to-hand fight received two shots, and then dodged into cover and was lost in the twilight. Soon or late in my life, I hoped that I should avenge this evasion. Ripogenus would, perhaps, give what the Nachchese Pass had taken away. / Vain hope! I was not to be an ursicide. I begin to fear that I shall slay no other than my proper personal bearishness. I did my duty for another result at Ripogenus. I bolted audaciously into every barn. I made excursions into the woods around. I found the mark of the beast, not the beast. He had not long ago decamped, and was now, perhaps, sucking the meditative paw hard-by in an arbor of his bear-garden.

A carol (Greene no. 315) which relates how St. Nicholas helped three dowerless girls employs, in stanzas 4-6, a type of incremental repetition in which each daughter speaks in turn […]

Down in the concourses at half-time, football and Christmas collide to make excitable children of us all.

Traditionally, it was thought that Argaric society reached its zenith around 1750–1550 BC (Lull 1983; Aranda Jiménez et al. 2015), a moment in which Argaric sites appear across most of southeastern Spain (Fig. 3.1).