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But this does beat cock-fightin'." He gave his thigh a sounding slap, and seemed about to give way to irrepressible laughter, when he suddenly checked himself and became grave. "I say, Toc," said he, earnestly, "hand me down the Prayer-book." Somewhat surprised, the lad took the book from its shelf, and placed it on the sailor's knees.
Style will find readers and shape convictions, while mere truth only gathers dust on the shelf. The memory first, and by degrees the judgment, is enslaved by the epigrams of Tacitus or Michelet. Our conception of scenes and men is outlined and colored for us by the pictorial imagination of Carlyle.
On a shelf above the stove was a small pyramid of encrusted cannon-balls, and supported on nails at odd places on the walls were corroded old pistols, and what I took to be the remains of a sextant. In a corner of the floor sat a hoary little carronade, carriage and all.
"I don't know the title. It was the fifth book from the end on the second shelf, and I got the paper and copied it." "Splendid. What did the message say?" "It's just a lot of figures. I put it back after copying it, and I am in a drug-store across the street where I can watch to see if any one comes to get the message. What shall I do now?"
He pointed up to the second-story front room and slipped down from the shelf just as Estelle came out to us with her aunt's message for me to come in. "How's the fair patient?" I hurried to ask as the three of us went. "Why, Mr. Smith, she's actually been sitting up in the twilight at the open window while Aunt Martha and I smoothed up her bed." Harry groaned.
"'Yes, Mr. Commissary ... Look, there is his snuff-box on that little shelf ... Oh! he's a great snuff-taker!" "So am I," said Mifroid and put the snuff-box in his pocket. Raoul and the Persian, themselves unobserved, watched the removal of the three bodies by a number of scene-shifters, who were followed by the commissary and all the people with him.
Sanford flailed his arms about, trying to break the Chief's faceplate while he screamed furious things about futility. The Chief got exactly the hold he wanted. He lifted Sanford from the metal deck. He could have thrown him away to emptiness, then, but he did not. He set Sanford in mid-space as if upon a shelf. The raging man hung in the void an exact man-height above the Platform's surface.
And here I ground my body back and forth on the sharp stones, and muttered aloud, drunk with conviction: "Let the Jews and Pagans mock. Let them triumph, for their time is short. And for them there will be no time after time." I talked to myself aloud a great deal on that rocky shelf overlooking the river. I was feverish, and on occasion I drank sparingly of water from a stinking goatskin.
Rigou flattered himself that he should find in a Bonapartist general now laid on the shelf, in a son of the people raised from nothing by the Revolution, a sound enemy to the Bourbons and the priests. But the general, bearing in mind his private ambitions, so arranged matters as to evade the visit of Monsieur and Madame Rigou when he first came to Les Aigues.
There was a little bed in the corner of it with a flowing veil of white, lace-trimmed muslin like a baby's cot. There was white muslin tied with blue ribbons at the window, and the dressing-table was as gaily and innocently adorned. There was a work-box on a little table, a writing-desk on another; a shelf of books hung on the wall.
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