Ha, said Robin, comest thou from Locksley Town? Well do I know that fair place for miles about, and well do I know each hedgerow and gentle pebbly stream, and even all the bright little fishes therein, for there I was born and bred. Now, where goest thou with thy meat, my fair friend?

[…] the wide dispersal of certain household species, the development of ovoviviparity in several tropical forms and of myrmecophilous and sphegophilous habits in others […]

Photography all but put facsimilists out of work, except in the case of consciously retrospective practices that catered to a new taste for the deluxe handmade object in the early twentieth century […]

It was impertinently said by (leaden) penciller Willis, of Captain [Frederick] Marryat’s nautical novels, that they could scarcely be entitled to rank as works of literature, “being read chiefly about Wapping.” We need not dwell on the recent results of that choice bit of criticism, the readers of the Times newspaper having been treated to a belligerent correspondence thereanent; from which all rational folks have concluded, that, though the New Yorkian had plenty of disposable lead in his pencil, paper pellets sufficed for his pistol.