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The persistency with which the creeks are patrolled by men with spears, netted and poisoned, invites one to marvel that any fish escape, and yet once again quite a haul is made. That great philosopher, Herbert Spencer, once in his life made a joke and confessed to it, with apologies for its littleness.
It's already past seven. At eight o'clock Mrs. Dory your Maud is coming in here hoping to find her old sweetheart." "Why not?" he murmured. "Why not, indeed?" Miss Brown answered angrily. "Don't you know can't you believe that close on her heels will come her husband that Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald, if ever he comes to life in this room, will leave it between two policemen?" Peter Ruff sighed.
Emerson and William James are no more difficult to us than Darwin and Spencer to Americans. Without an effort we rejoice in Hawthorne and Mark Twain, Henry James and Howells, as Americans can in Dickens and Thackeray, Meredith and Thomas Hardy.
Miss Spencer has appeared with the best orchestras in England and on the continent, and has everywhere received commendation for her pure, singing tone, plastic touch, and musical temperament. She is certain to have success in America, and to win hosts of friends there.
His wife was created a peeress of Great Britain at the same time that Mr. Spencer, Mr. Doddington, Sir Richard Grosvenor, Sir Nat. Curzen, Sir Thomas Robinson, and Sir William Irby were created peers.
"And what about Spencer?" Pelham asked grimly. "Spencer in this matter is my servant," Duncombe answered. "If his search for Phyllis Poynton entails his annoying Miss Fielding, then he is dismissed. I will have no more to do with the business." "I have heard of this man Spencer," Andrew answered.
And over in the county into which Will Spencer had predicted they would be blown a man was just awaking from his snooze. He had slept all night in an automobile, as he frequently did. The automobile was no ordinary car. It had a driver's seat in front and a closed car behind.
These prophetic constructions of a new social order are, moreover, the natural product of that artificiality in politics and sociology, with which the most orthodox individualists are equally deeply imbued, individualists who imagine, as Spencer has remarked, that human society is like a piece of dough to which the law can give one form rather than another, without taking into account the organic and psychical, ethical and historical qualities, tendencies and aptitudes of the different peoples.
"General Prescott turned towards the island, and, observing the ships of war, remarked to Major Barton, 'Sir, you have made a bold push to-night. 'We have been fortunate, replied the hero. An express was immediately sent forward to Major-General Spencer, at Providence, communicating the success which had attended the enterprise.
'Then you refuse? Miss Spencer's visitor was saying. There was no answer from Miss Spencer. 'Not even a thousand francs? I tell you I've lost the whole twenty-five thousand. Again no answer. 'Then I'll tell the whole story, the lady went on, in an angry rush of words. 'I did what I promised to do.
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