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"Did you see what happened to him?" Jowett snorted. "What do you think Mr. Max Ingolby, Esquire, would do? He commandeered my sulky and that rawbone I bought from the Reverend Tripple, and away he went like greased lightning over the bridge.
Meynell an old Balliol scholar bore the marks of Jowett and Caird still deep upon him, except, perhaps, for a certain deliberate throwing over, here and there, of the typical Oxford tradition its measure and reticence, its scholarly balancing of this against that.
Osterhaut and Jowett became silent, too, and, like the Indians, ran as fast as they could, over fences, through the trees, stumbling and occasionally cursing, but watching with fascinated eyes this adventuress of the North, taking chances which not one coureur-de-bois or river-driver in a thousand would take, with a five thousand-dollar prize as the lure. Why should she do it?
Hobhouse. Carlyle introduced it, bringing it as far as Chelsea. Then Jowett and Thomas Hill Green, and William Wallace and Lewis Nettleship, and Arnold Toynbee and David Eitchie to mention only those teachers whose voices now are silent guided the waters into those upper reaches known locally as the Isis. John and Edward Caird brought them up the Clyde, Hutchison Stirling up the Firth of Forth.
What a splendid description!" "Now," continued Miss Watson, much elated by the praise, "Mrs. Morrison is very conspicuous looking. She's got yellow hair and a bright colour, and a kind of bold way of looking." "She's a complex character," sighed Mrs. Jowett; "she wears snakeskin shoes. But you must be kind to her, Miss Watson. I think she would appreciate kindness." "Oh, so we are kind to her.
Jowett, with his remarkable breadth of mind and temper, was quite capable of observing, with respect to a certain book, that it was American, 'yet in perfect taste. 'This, said the Bibliotaph, 'is as if one were to say, "The guests were Americans, but no one expectorated on the carpet." The Bibliotaph thought that there was not so much reason for this attitude.
"He did not appreciate the niceties of scholarship, and could not write verses or do Greek or Latin prose at all well;" and he was accordingly placed in the Third Class. But as soon as the tyranny of Virgil and Homer and Sophocles was overpast, he betook himself to more congenial studies. Of the two tutors who then made Balliol famous, he owed nothing to Jowett and everything to T. H. Green.
Jowett was nervous about it, and came up on purpose from Oxford to persuade me, if he could, not to write it. His view and that of Mr. Stopford Brooke was that a work of art moves on one plane, and historical or critical controversy on another, and that a novel cannot be justified by an essay.
Jowett, and the Bodleian Library, outside the influences and affections of my own home, stand in the forefront of what memory looks back on as a broad and animated scene. The great Library, in particular, became to me a living and inspiring presence.
I think that we can safely trust Him to the amount of three hundred dollars at least. Where's your faith?" "Making false promises and trusting the Lord to fulfil them isn't faith," said Deacon Goodsole. "I say, Jim," said Mr. Jowett, "you trust Him for your interest money that will set us all right." There was a little laugh at this suggestion. Mr. Wheaton holds a mortgage on the church.
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