a carnationed buttonhole

[…] the white goose, The saviour of the Roman citadel, Forescents afar the odour of mankind.

Be off with you, my boy, and play with your caucuses and leading articles and historic parties and great leaders and burning questions and the rest of your toys. I am going back to my counting house to pay the piper and call the tune.

Moreover if her members be filled with the Holy Ghost, how reach she forth that holy member of her hand, this to even fetch a garment that ungarnishes the temple holy in the first place?