My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf.— / So it stood ninety years on the floor; / It was taller by half than the old man himself, / Though it weighed not a pennyweight more. / It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born, / And was always his treasure and pride; / But it stopp’d short—never to go again— / When the old man died.

Sir Arthur Sullivan, genius of the comic-opera is — by a curious paradox of fate — remembered on the centenary of his birth by those very scores which he considered his musical slummings […]

A Murtherer, a Revolter, and a Robber.

The gunpowder was stamped into the tube, then a lead ball was put into the muzzle, a wad was stamped over it, and the charge was set fire to by a lunt through the lower hole.