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           Andhethathaderstchallengedtobesodoughtywaxedwanastheymightallmarkandshranktogetherandhispitchthatwasbeforesohaughtupliftwasnowofasuddenquitepluckeddownandhisheartshookwithinthecageofhisbreastashetastedtherumourofthatstorm.ThendidsomemockandsomejeerandPunchCostellofellhardagaintohisyalewhichMasterLenehanvowedhewoulddoafterandhewasindeedbutawordandablowonanytheleastcolour.ButthebraggartboastercriedthatanoldNobodaddywasinhiscupsitwasmuchwhatindifferentandhewouldnotlagbehindhislead.ButthiswasonlytodyehisdesperationascowedhecrouchedinHorne’shall.HedrankindeedatonedraughttopluckupaheartofanygraceforitthunderedlongrumblinglyoveralltheheavenssothatMasterMadden,beinggodlycertainwhiles,knockedhimonhisribsuponthatcrackofdoomandMasterBloom,atthebraggart’sside,spoketohimcalmingwordstoslumberhisgreatfear,advertisinghowitwasnootherthingbutahubbubnoisethatheheard,thedischargeoffluidfromthethunderhead,lookyou,havingtakenplace,andalloftheorderofanaturalphenomenon.

           ButwasyoungBoasthard’sfearvanquishedbyCalmer’swords?No,forhehadinhisbosomaspikenamedBitternesswhichcouldnotbywordsbedoneaway.Andwashethenneithercalmliketheonenorgodlyliketheother?Hewasneitherasmuchashewouldhavelikedtobeeither.ButcouldhenothaveendeavouredtohavefoundagainasinhisyouththebottleHolinessthatthenhelivedwithal?IndeednoforGracewasnottheretofindthatbottle.