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MR. CAXTON. "No, you need not be at all ashamed of it, Kitty." "Were much more inviting than any you mention, Austin." THE CAPTAIN. "True." MR. SQUILLS. "Certainly. Nothing like them nowadays!" MY MOTHER. "'Says she to her Neighbour, What?" THE CAPTAIN. "'The Unknown, or the Northern Gallery' " MR. SQUILLS. "'There is a Secret; Find it out!" "What nonsense you are talking, all of you!
There would be some little further delay, but the outcome seemed practically certain, and the colonel did not wait longer to set in motion his plans for the benefit of Clarendon. "I'm told that Fetters says he'll get the mill anyway," said Caxton, "and make more money buying it under foreclosure than by building a new one. He's ready to lend on it now."
Squills," exclaimed my mother, and the bed-curtains trembled, "pray see that Mr. Caxton does not set himself on fire. And, Mr. Squills, tell him not to be vexed and miss me, I shall be down very soon, sha' n't I?" "If you keep yourself easy, you will, ma'am." "Pray, say so. And, Primmins " "Yes, ma'am." "Every one, I fear, is neglecting your master.
Of all Roland's line, this Herbert de Caxton was "the best and bravest!" yet he had never named that ancestor to me, never put any forefather in comparison with the dubious and mythical Sir William.
Augustine Caxton was himself again! I began to fear that the story had slipped away from him, lost in that labyrinth of learning.
About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. Squads reached to the very portal of that centre of disturbance.
Yet you are satisfied, Mr. Caxton?" "Yes; I think the boy is now as great a blockhead as most boys of his age are," observed my father with great complacency. "Dear me, Austin, a great blockhead?" "What else did he go to school for?" asked my father.
MR. CAXTON. "You see that Roland tells us exactly what sort of a book it shall be." PISISTRATUS. "Trash, sir?" MR. CAXTON. "No, that is, not necessarily trash; but a book of that class which, whether trash or not, people can't help reading. Novels have become a necessity of the age. You must write a novel." But every subject on which novels can be written is preoccupied.
Squills, moreover, was a bit of a philosopher in his way, studied human nature in curing its diseases; and was accustomed to say that Mr. Caxton was a better book in himself than all he had in his library. Mr. Squills laughed, and rubbed his hands. My father resumed thoughtfully, and in the tone of one who moralizes: "There are three great events in life, sir, birth, marriage, and death.
At Westminster, within the precincts of the Abbey, Caxton found a house and set up his printing-press. And there, not far from the great west door of the Abbey he, already an elderly man, began his new busy life. His house came to be known as the house of the Red Pale from the sign that he set up. It was probably a shield with a red line down the middle of it, called in heraldry a pale.
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