We once knew a notorious salmon poacher, who, on one of his excursions, saw a pair of salmon spawning in a stream. He leistered the male from the side of the female, and as soon as she missed her partner, she retired from the spawning-bed into the pool below the ford, and very soon returned with another male, which the poacher also leistered.

A startled man looked out the office window and then rushed for the door, but the boys were too quick for him. They were lying behind a wooden stringer in the lot before he even got near the door.

The Harpe. […] A harper with his wreſt maye tune the harpe wrong / Mys tunying of an Inſtrument ſhal hurt a true ſonge

As always, there was a fizzing, popping blaze of pine and sappy apple logs in the fireplace.