“Jane? Why, she was a little old maid ’oo’d written ’alf a dozen books about a ’undred years ago. ’Twasn’t as if there was anythin’ to ’em, either. I know. I had to read ’em. They weren’t adventurous, nor smutty, nor what you’d call even interestin’—all about girls o’ seventeen (they begun young then, I tell you), not certain ’oom they’d like to marry; an’ their dances an’ card-parties an’ picnics, and their young blokes goin’ off to London on ’orseback for ’air-cuts an’ shaves...

"... it’s a very select Society, an’ you’ve got to be a Janeite in your ’eart, or you won’t have any success... You take it from me, Brethren, there’s no one to touch Jane when you’re in a tight place. Gawd bless ’er, whoever she was."

IYKYK (rather the whole point)

Happy 250th, Jane!