- `Are we not here now;' - continued the corporal, `and are we not' - (dropping his hat plumb upon the ground - and pausing, before he pronounced the word) - `gone! in a moment?' The descent of the hat was as if a heavy lump of clay had been kneaded into the crown of it. - Nothing could have expressed the sentiment of mortality, of which it was the type and forerunner, like it, - his hand seemed to vanish from under it - it fell dead...
Ye who govern this mighty world and its mighty concerns with the engines of eloquence [...] meditate, I beseech you, upon Trim's hat.

The subject of this book grew naturally, over many years, from Sandy's academic work, especially that on Pope, Swift, and Johnson, and some versions of it have appeared in essay form or as chapters in earlier publications.