United States or Mauritania ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Plenty comes not near his dwelling, except of rags, and of children. But few recruits arise from his nail-shop, except for the army. His hammer is worn into deep hollows, fitting the fingers of a dark and plump hand, hard as the timber it wears. His face, like the moon, is often seen through a cloud. Man first catches the profession; the profession afterwards moulds the man.
"Never, dear Madge, never! it is yours all yours!" She looks up in your face; she sees your look of triumph; she catches sight of Frank bursting in at the old hall-door all radiant with joy. "Frank! Clarence!" the tears forbid any more. "God bless you, Madge! God bless you!"
But the brilliant sight is in the frosty morning, about daylight, when the fire is made. The coals are raked open, the split sticks are piled up in openwork criss-crossing, as high as the crane; and when the flame catches hold and roars up through the interstices, it is like an out-of-door bonfire. Wood enough is consumed in that morning sacrifice to cook the food of a Parisian family for a year.
No; the fellow just arrested you with his creepy epitaph: an epitaph, mind you, that is in a literary sense distinctly fertilizing. It catches one's fancy in its own crude way, as pages and pages of infinitely more complicated stuff take possession of, germinate, and sprout in one's imagination in another way. We are all psychical parasites.
A lone highwayman has held up and robbed a populous passenger train in Texas in West Texas, the rendezvous of the sure-enough bad man, who catches catamounts and clips their claws, who defies whole barrels o' Jersey lightning and uses the bucking-broncho for his laughter, yea, his sport!
I want to get some dinner." "Will you come and dine with me?" says Mr. Guppy, throwing out the coin, which Mr. Jobling catches neatly. "How long should I have to hold out?" says Jobling. "Not half an hour. I am only waiting here till the enemy goes, returns Mr. Guppy, butting inward with his head. "What enemy?" "A new one. Going to be articled. Will you wait?"
I often wish," continued the lieutenant, as his daughter flew back to the dead skate and the babies, "that I had only got that child's clear head. Sometimes the worry is too much for me. And now if Nettlebones catches Robin Lyth, to a certainty I shall be superseded, and all of us go to the workhouse. Oh, Tilly, why won't your old aunt die? We might be so happy afterward."
"I shouldn't wonder," said Robinson, "if it wasn't bad for the heart. Rushing about on an empty stomach, I mean, and all that sort of thing." "Personally," said Stone, gnawing his bun, "I don't intend to stick it." "Nor do I." "I mean, it's such absolute rot. If we aren't good enough to play for the team without having to get up overnight to catch catches, he'd better find somebody else." "Yes."
He has a foolish sleight of wit that catches at words only and lets the sense go, like the young thief in the farce that took a purse, but gave the owner his money back again. He is so well versed in all cases of quibble, that he knows when there will be a blot upon a word as soon as it is out.
"And I suppose," continued Flora, "that you have sent it to Miss Broad's, without any directions, and she will trim it with flame-coloured gimp, and glass buttons; and, unless Margaret catches you, you will find yourself ready to set the Thames on fire. No, my dear tea-kettle, I take you to Oxford on my own terms, and you had better submit, without a fuss, and be thankful it is no worse.
Word Of The Day