One of the selectors owned a grey cob, one of the most pertinacious buckjumpers I ever saw, whose performances delayed the starting of the expedition for some little time.

But you, authentick Witneſſes I bring, / Before the gods, and your ungrateful King, / Of this my Manifeſt : That never more / This Hand ſhall combate on the crooked Shore : / No, let the Grecian Powers oppreſs’d in Fight, / Unpity’d periſh in their Tyrants fight.

[…] would you want to go to the expense of setting up a furnace in the cellar? It would make the whole house toasty warm; […]

When I came to the river, I ached in sympathy with the shipping painfully atilt on the rock-like surface of the brine, which broke against the piers, and sprayed itself over them like showers of powdered quartz.