And there is ſuch a thing as Subterraneous Heat, […] [a]s is manifeſt from the ſmoking of perennial Fountains in froſty VVeather, and VVater dravvn out of Pumps and open VVells.

That left me an orphan and folks were at their wits’ end, so Mrs. Thomas said, what to do with me. … Finally Mrs. Thomas said she’d take me, though she was poor and had a drunken husband. She brought me up by hand. Do you know if there is anything in being brought up by hand that ought to make people who are brought up that way better than other people? Because whenever I was naughty Mrs. Thomas would ask me how I could be such a bad girl when she had brought me up by hand--reproachful-like.

Some of the peasants escaped the massacre and were hiding in the thickets. As soon as you left they came out, and not being civilized, cultured Englishmen, but only poor, savage Irishry, they cut me down along with the others

O Pride, of all heaven-relapsing praemunires the most fearful – thou that ere this had disparadised our first parent, Adam, and unrighteoused the very angels –, how shall I arm mine elocution to break through the ranks of thy hilly stumbling blocks?