[W]hen great Aunt Ryder was exhausted with carrying her little nephews pick-a-back, Aunt Ellen was always willing to become a ‘gee-gee’ or riding-horse in her place, although certainly one of no very prancing and fiery temperament.
Precepts should be so finely wrought together […] that no coarse seam may discover where they join.
But low tide allowed us to walk on tiptoes along an underwater sandbar, and explore the tide pools, miniature maritime Brigadoons in which we'd find crabs...
He remembered all about the incident of the boxes, and from a wonderful dog’s-eared notebook, which he produced from some mysterious receptacle about the seat of his trousers, and which had hieroglyphical entries in thick, half-obliterated pencil, he gave me the destinations of the boxes.
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