"Mr. Sanders went from the courthouse with a sweeping stride"
All these things were beyond Adelaide. She climbed on a chair, and from the chair to a table, and stood poised at that dizzy height with her eyes fixed on Mr. Sanders. "Come on, Bishop," she commanded, "and let's go home." He backed up to the table like a trained horse in the modern pony shows. When he came close enough Adelaide leaped on his back. Here she perched herself, while Mr. Sanders went from the courthouse with a sweeping stride, which, when he was out of doors, changed, first into a trot, and then into a pretended canter.
PART V
When the gales of peace shall scatter
War's wild, red rubbish like chaff,
When the mills shall renew their clatter
Then all the people will laugh.
—Tunison's Industrial Hymns.