from Edinburgh, and farther from Edinburgh than they are now from Vienna.

--Macaulay: _History of England_.


5. He touched New England at every point. He was born a frontiersman. He
was bred a farmer. He was a fisherman in the mountain brooks and off the
shore. He never forgot his origin, and he never was ashamed of it. Amid
all the care and honor of his great place here he was homesick for the
company of his old neighbors and friends. Whether he stood in Washington,
the unchallenged prince and chief in the Senate, or in foreign lands, the
kingliest man of his time in the presence of kings, his heart was in New
England. When the spring came, he heard far off the fife bird and the
bobolink calling him to his New Hampshire mountains, or of the
waves on the shore at Marshfield alluring him with a sweeter than siren's
voice to his home by the summer sea.

--George F. Hoar: _Daniel Webster_.


6. Nor must I forget the suddenly changing seasons of the northern clime.
There is no long and lingering spring, unfolding leaf and blossom one by
one; no long and lingering autumn, pompous with many-colored leaves and
the glow of Indian summer. But winter and summer are wonderful, and pass
into each other. The quail has hardly ceased piping in the corn when
winter, from the folds of trailing clouds, sows broadcast over the land
snow, icicles, and rattling hail. The days wane apace. Erelong the sun
hardly rises above the horizon, or does not rise at all. The moon and the
stars shine through the day; only at noon they are pale and wan, and in
the southern sky a red, fiery glow, as of a sunset, burns along the