put ourselves from the side of Eden, into the land of Nod, that is, of demigration?

Each, like the Grecian artist, wooes / The image he himself has wrought.

The court itself, with its broad pavement and two lines of large houses, is not without a certain dignity. A very small amount of imagination could easily fill it with grave, bewigged and bewaistcoated merchants; ladies with powdered heads, patches and flowered damask gowns; sedan-chairs, link-boys, and all that goes with the date on the oblong tablet, set in relief on a square stone on one of the walls, where one may read, in characters such as one sees in a Tonson edition of The Spectator—[…]

The pommel is either a cone of metal or a crutch with a whorl ending either arm.