But, my dear brothern an' sistern, they hain't no water down thar— it's a awful thing to think they hain't, but they hain't, b'caze the Bible says they hain't.
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves Which erst from heat did canopy the herd
Then the world seemed none so bad / And I myself a sterling lad
And little Audrey, too! What a rascal she is! Why, when she looked at her date for the prom, little Audrey just laughed and laughed … / All this, we admit, is rather puellile—(hooray, we’ve coined a word!) … And so we’ll become puerile at once—and give you the willies!
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