For lo, thus roundabout in feathers dight, Doth plainly figure mine inconstancy: As feathers, light of mind; of wit as light, Subjected still to mutability, And for to paint me forth more properly, Behold each feather decked gorgeously With colours strange in such variety, As plainly pictures perfect vanity.

Chave here roundabout for life conquired, Where any posting nags were to be hired, And can get none, would they were all vired!

There was no such thing, however, as keeping the four girls in roundabouts of any kind; and, what between them and their mother, the pleasant and tidy little Kinzer homestead, with its snug parlor and its cosey bits of rooms and chambers, seemed to nestle away, under the shadowy elms and sycamores, smaller and smaller with every year that came.

Acting on their advice I sent a distressful telegram roundabout through Switzerland to Paris.

"Wait here," she enjoined; and he waited, while she descended cautiously towards the roundabout with its revolving mirrors.