From the sandalwood ridge behind him a friarbird repeated its ardent call again and again, warning off the intruders. Ar-coo! Ar-coo! Ar-coo!

If a candidate for president of the United States were as wicked a man as Edgar depicts himself—one that swore as many oaths as he spoke words, and broke them in the sweet face of Heaven; one that slept in the contriving of lust and waked to do it; who loved wine dearly, dice dearly, and in woman out-paramoured the Turk—we should not say that it was much of anybody's business so long as he attended to his public duties and made no pretence to superior morality.

A gathering of booksellers is a pleasant sanhedrim to attend.

So fares the stag among the enraged hounds.