“ Yes," I said, “ but you 've been milking mine, and that makes the difference again the other way.” “ Well, say we 're level-handed, and I'll make a chop with you.”

It is ten o'clock in the day; the bawleys have returned from the fishing grounds, and scores of them have anchored in the Ray—a deep stretch of water lying between the spit of sand that extends from the end of Canvey Island close up to Southend Pier, and the mud-flats of Leigh.

To Syllabicate, which is to find out a word by its syllables.

This piece of advice and the hyperkinetic manner in which it was staged owed less to McCay's light-handed and dreamily paced fantasy than to the boy wonder of Broadway and the amusement empire that he tried to amass during the first decade of the twentieth century..