“Good wife,” said Skriegh, gathering up his mouth, and sipping his tiff of brandy punch with great solemnity […]

Thus is experience laying bogyism in its grave, and the darkness of fear and trepidation born of ignorance is day by day giving away before the light of the knowledge derived from the truly herculean transmissions of the West.

There's something tragic, but almost pure / Think I could love you, but I'm not sure / There's something wholesome, there's something sweet / Tucked in your eyes that I'd love to meet

He preſſed him earneſtly to make a clean breaſt, and tell him all he knew of [Colin Roy Campbell of] Glenure's murder. To which Breck [i.e., Alan Breck Stewart] anſwered with an oath, that he had never ſeen Glenure dead or alive.