
Thomas Carlyle
But as yet struggles the twelfth hour of the Night. Birds of darkness are on the wing; spectres uproar; the dead walk; the living dream. Thou, Eternal Providence, wilt make the Day dawn!--JEAN PAUL.
Then said his Lordship, "Well. God mend all!"--"Nay, by God, Donald, we must help him to mend it!" said the other.--RUSHWORTH (Sir David Ramsay and Lord Rea, in 1630).