Wherever a geologist directs his attention in the midst of a scene of mountains, traces of ruin and decay always meet his eye; and the lofty prominences of our globe, supposed to be the most permanent of nature's works, every where display unequivocal marks of the lapse and effects of time.

Some moderne Poets with themselves be hardly inward so, Not intellectively to write is learnedly, they trowe; […]

My father was reserved and modest, the opposite of a hail-fellow-well-met.

They wound between the wagons to a tent removed from the rest of the traders'. It was crimson at the top and sable at the bottom, with thin triangles of colors stabbing into each other.