A Pedestrian'''ess.—A widow upwards of 60 years of age, betted last week, to walk 92 miles in 24 hours.

Instead of plaids and philibegs, and trews, they were, henceforth, to be clothed in coats and in waistcoats, and (worst of all) in BREECHES!!!

He did a terrible job, and then charged more than twice the going rate for it!

For, though the winds had sunk to rest, / There still did lurk within the breast / Of ocean’s vast profundity / The dying spark, that still might be / With all its former fiercity / Relit, like the dying ashes / Of the fire that once did burn, / Still now sends forth some dying flash / Whose former strength might soon return, / If winds upon its embers blew / The latent sparks to life anew:[…]