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The weak side of verse is the regularity of the beat, which in itself is decidedly less impressive than the movement of the nobler prose; and it is just into this weak side, and this alone, that our careless writer falls.
But this accusation falls of itself in the face of the power of the inspiration which pervades his work, and the dramatic sense which he displays in setting forth the events and personages.
'Did you not see which way he went? 'To the left he turned, my lady, says I, cold sweat breaking out on me, for had I faltered in an answer she would have known I was lying and guessed I had broke her orders by leaving my place by the door and Lord have mercy on a man when she finds he has tricked her. There is a flash in her eye like lightning, and woe betide him it falls on.
Hegel falls out of date, Schlegel falls out of date, and Comte in good time will fall out of date; the thought about the thing must change as we change; but the thing itself can never change; and a history is durable or perishable as it contains more or least of the writer's own speculations.
"A man never falls like that unless he is dead. He was doubtless shot through the heart. He was a brave boy. Did you know him?" "His name was Marsh," I answered hoarsely. "He was my cousin." "I shall not forget it," said Burton, and we stood a moment longer looking down at the dead. But it was folly to linger there, and we continued on, I helping Burton as well as I could.
As the season was that of October, in which the Feast of St. Michael falls, we wore cloaks, although, the day being warm, they were little needed. Mine was of some fine white stuff, with a red cross broidered on the right shoulder.
I find it one of the great pleasures of writing, that it gives me more command of money for such purposes than falls to the lot of most women." Again, she writes to an American friend: "I should be much obliged to you if you would give in my name twenty-five dollars to some charity in Boston.
Hence, whether it be a question of sensation, feeling, or ideas, we have these neutral dry and colourless residua, which spread lifeless over the surface of ourselves, "like dead leaves on the water of a pond." Thus the progress we have lived falls into the rank of a thing that can be handled. Space and number lay hold of it.
Cheap, ill-printed literature is responsible for much eye trouble, and it is well worth while to pay, if possible, a little extra for books well printed, especially in the case of those who read much. When reading sit erect, with the back to the light, so that it falls over the shoulder.
Their form, however, is not hard, but softened by the sentimentality which is suffused over them like a veil of sorrow. The forehead is not high, and the delicious chestnut-brown curly hair falls parted down to the shoulders.
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