“Hey, bub,” a gruffy looking man stood over him. “You're lookin' for that kid ain't ya?”

It is extraordinary that as the wicked arts of this regicide and tyrannous faction increase in number, variety, and atrocity, the desire of punishing them becomes more and more faint […]

But we lacked the collector's instinct that impels a true birder to travel hundreds of miles just to add a bluefaced booby to his life list.

The expected storm never arrived.