" "When you please, Sir," said Thames, coldly. Trees were torn up by the roots; many houses were levelled to the ground; others were unroofed; the leads on the churches were ripped off, and "shrivelled up like scrolls of parchment. They then clambered over a hedge, and scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
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