There was no one at home but a black cat, who was sitting quite content and purring on the hearth[.]

And now, on Fancy’s easy wing convey’d, The King descended to th’ Elyzian shade. There, in a dusky vale where Lethe rolls, Old Bavius sits, to dip poetic souls, And blunt the sense, and fit it for a scull Of solid proof, impenetrably dull.

These were the times when the hardy military virtues might flourish—when Cressy and Agincourt could occur, and the war of the Roses incarnadine the soil of England: …

Twenty magnificent top hats have long adorned the trusty heads of certain important stationmasters on formal occasions; but it has been decreed that, as one by one these toppered heads retire from the service, their successors are to wear a bowler hat.