[Nathaniel] Hawthorne in one of his books records a remarkable personal encounter with this weird fox-fire, and one which cost him dearly. He was on a journey by canal-boat, which had stopped en route for a brief period at midnight. During the interval he had stepped ashore, and was decoyed into a neighboring wood by the bright glow, which proved to be a fallen tree ablaze with phosphorescence. In his surprise and interest he lost all account of time, and thus missed his boat, … Almost any damp woods, especially after a rain, is likely to disclose its fox-fire, but it occasionally appears under circumstances where we little expect it.

The anciently written inscriptions in the pyramids can still be read.

A precursor to the “manic pixie dreamgirl” trope of today, the femme-enfant’s youth was to be mooned over, her naïveté aspired to, her pure countenance captured in poetry and paint.

Anyway, they would step up to the firing line, carefully take aim, and kick up dust all around the target but seldom come close to the bull's eye.