Wee Know Not Who Lives Or Dies.

Pull Downe Your Hatt On The Winds Side.

Wealth Is Like Rheume, It Falles On The Weakest Parts.

Warre Is Deaths Feast.

'it's This Accursed Science,' I Cried. 'it's The Very Devil. The Mediaeval Priests And Persecutors Were Right, And The Moderns Are All Wrong. You Tamper With It-and It Offers You Gifts. And Directly You Take Them It Knocks You To Pieces In Some Unexpected Way.'

Good Swimmers At Length Are Drowned.