Chapter 33 of 1964 · 57 words · ~1 min read

XVII.

Oh! she was perfect past all parallel-- Of any modern female saint's comparison; So far above the cunning powers of Hell, Her Guardian Angel had given up his garrison; Even her minutest motions went as well As those of the best time-piece made by Harrison:[32] In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her, Save thine "incomparable oil," Macassar![33]