When FATE was looking forwards one afternoon, into the great transactions of future times, --and recollected for what purposes this little plot, by a decree fast bound down in iron, had been destined, ---she gave a nod to NATURE, --'twas enough --Nature threw half a spade full of her kindliest compost upon it, with just so _much_ clay in it, as to retain the forms of angles and indentings, --and so _little_ of it too, as not to cling to the spade, and render works of so much glory, nasty in foul weather.

Nature blessed this plot with her kindliest compost, just enough to keep shape, but not so much as to cling to the spade, and render such glorious works nasty in foul weather.
