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There is a ghastly French phrase not to be found in Lamartine, Chateaubriand, or any of the polite sentimentalists avoir les sangs tournes de quelqu'un. It is so with me. J'ai les sangs tournes d'elle. Somebody has said something somewhere about the passion of a man of forty. It must have to do with the French phrase.
We have the following description of the Cascade Mountain, p. 396. «Les couches de cette montagne sont la continuation des couches supérieures du rocher de la cascade, et forment des arcs concentriques, tournés en sens contraire; en sorte que la totalité de ces couches a la forme d'une S, dont la partie supérieure se recourbe fort en arrière.
No one has expressed this feeling more neatly than Fauriel: "Nul doute que l'on ne puisse dire en prose des choses eminemment poetiques, tout comme il n'est que trop certain que l'on peut en dire de fort prosaiques en vers, et meme en excellents vers, en vers elegamment tournes, et en beau langage.
We tooke all their booty, which was of 2 sacks of Indian corne, stagges' skins, some pipes, some red and green stoanes, and some tobacco in powder, with some small loaves of bread, and some girdles, garters, necklaces made of goats' haire, and some small coyne of that country, some bowes and arrowes, and clubbs well wrought. The tournes of their heads weare of snakes' skin with bears' pawes.
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