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Didot only ask thirty-six sous for their Cicero! These nail-heads of yours will only fetch the price of old metal fivepence a pound." "You call M. Gille's italics, running-hand and round-hand, 'nail-heads, do you? M. Gille, that used to be printer to the Emperor! And type that costs six francs a pound! masterpieces of engraving, bought only five years ago.
Blanche, too, whom I had left a child, Blanche, my constant correspondent during those long years of exile, in letters crossed and recrossed, with all the small details that make the eloquence of letter-writing, so that in those epistles I had seen her mind gradually grow up in harmony with the very characters, at first vague and infantine, then somewhat stiff with the first graces of running-hand, then dashing off free and facile; and for the last year before I left, so formed yet so airy, so regular yet so unconscious of effort, though in truth, as the calligraphy had become thus matured, I had been half vexed and half pleased to perceive a certain reserve creeping over the style, wishes for my return less expressed from herself than as messages from others, words of the old child-like familiarity repressed, and "Dearest Sisty" abandoned for the cold form of "Dear Cousin."
"His Excellency is in the manager's box, monsieur!" answered the servant civilly. "Thank you, Louis!" And as the visitor turned to go up the narrow stairway leading to the greenroom, the servant wrote down in the running-hand of a clerk, upon the printed sheet: Monsieur Guy de Lissac.
Some of them are as bright yet as when they came from the foundry. Look here!" Old Sechard pounced upon some packets of unused sorts, and held them out for David to see. "I am not book-learned; I don't know how to read or write; but, all the same, I know enough to see that M. Gille's sloping letters are the fathers of your Messrs. Didot's English running-hand.
Some of them are as bright yet as when they came from the foundry. Look here!" Old Sechard pounced upon some packets of unused sorts, and held them out for David to see. "I am not book-learned; I don't know how to read or write; but, all the same, I know enough to see that M. Gille's sloping letters are the fathers of your Messrs. Didot's English running-hand.
For we are to have one country, all of whose children, shall repeat in unison its noble creed, which the features of the land itself proclaim, and whose railroads and telegraphs are its running-hand. How often we have enumerated and deprecated the evils of war! We have not lusted for it, and the benefits of peace seem greater than ever; but the benefits of equity and truth seem greater than all.
They must, therefore, be reached by some other means; and these other means are before us as we write, in the shape of a pile of circular-letters in envelopes of all sorts plain, hot-pressed, and embossed; with addresses some in manuscript, and others in print some in a gracefully genteel running-hand, and others decidedly and rather obtrusively official in character, as though emanating from government authorities each and all, however, containing the bait which the lady-gudgeon is expected to swallow.
Contenson read by the light of the wax-candles this "Mene, Tekel, Upharsin," and slipped the scrap into his pocket; but he knew how difficult it is to verify a handwriting in pencil, and, above all, a sentence written in Roman capitals, that is to say, with mathematical lines, since capital letters are wholly made up of straight lines and curves, in which it is impossible to detect any trick of the hand, as in what is called running-hand.
"Paper! and writing on it!" he said; "why, this is somebody's pet-pigeon I have shot!" And tearing off the scroll, Verty read these words, written in a delicate, running-hand: "I am Miss Redbud's pigeon; and Fanny gave me to her!" Verty remained for a moment motionless his eyes expanded till they resembled two rising moons; "I am Miss Redbud's pigeon!"
Blanche, too, whom I had left a child, Blanche, my constant correspondent during those long years of exile, in letters crossed and recrossed, with all the small details that make the eloquence of letter-writing, so that in those epistles I had seen her mind gradually grow up in harmony with the very characters, at first vague and infantine, then somewhat stiff with the first graces of running-hand, then dashing off free and facile; and for the last year before I left, so formed yet so airy, so regular yet so unconscious of effort, though in truth, as the calligraphy had become thus matured, I had been half vexed and half pleased to perceive a certain reserve creeping over the style, wishes for my return less expressed from herself than as messages from others, words of the old child-like familiarity repressed, and "Dearest Sisty" abandoned for the cold form of "Dear Cousin."
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