J. C. Young, Diary.
OME ladies now make pretty songs,
And some make pretty nurses:
Some men are great at righting wrongs,—
And some at writing verses.
Frederick Locker, London Lyrics.
OLLOW the light of the old-fashioned Presbyterians that I've heard sing at Glasgow. The preacher gives out the Psalm, and then everybody sings a different tune, as it happens to turn up in their throats. It's a domineering thing to set a tune and expect everybody else to follow it. It's a denial of private judgment.
Felix Holt, in George Eliot's novel.
ON A CERTAIN RADICAL.
LOGGS rails against high birth. Yes, Bloggs—you see
Your ears are longer than your pedigree.