It Is All In The Way Of

It Was In The Days When France's Power Was Already Broken Upon The Seas, And When More Of Her Three-deckers Lay Rotting In The Medway Than Were To Be Found In Brest Harbour. But Her Frigates And Corvettes Still Scoured The Ocean, Closely Followed Ever By Those Of Her Rival. At The Uttermost Ends Of The Earth These Dainty Vessels, With Sweet Names Of Girls Or Of Flowers, Mangled And Shattered Each Other For The Honour Of The Four Yards Of Bunting Which Flapped From The End Of Their Gaffs.

Man, Or At Least Criminal Man, Has Lost All Enterprise And Originality. As To My Own Little Practice, It Seems To Be Degenerating Into An Agency For Recovering Lost Lead Pencils And Giving Advice To Young Ladies From Boarding-schools.

It Is Stupidity Rather Than Courage To Refuse To Recognize Danger When It Is Close Upon You.

"i Can See Nothing," Said I, Handing It Back To My Friend. "on The Contrary, Watson, You Can See Everything. You Fail, However, To Reason From What You See. You Are Too Timid In Drawing Your Inferences."

There Was Something Awesome In The Thought Of The Solitary Mortal Standing By The Open Window And Summoning In From The Gloom Outside The Spirits Of The Nether World.