United States or Christmas Island ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Hard by, a cottage-chimney smokes, From betwixt two aged oaks, Where Corydon and Thyrsis, met, Are at their savory dinner set." "Ah!" said she. "I always loved that. Let us be Corydon and Thyrsis!" He smiled. "They were both of them men," he said. "Let us change it," she responded "just between ourselves!" "Very well Corydon!" said he.
Of these sixteen, six wrote formal acknowledgements, and two others said that they found nothing to appeal to them in his book; so there were left eight who gave him comfort, Several of these were among the really vital men of the time, as Thyrsis found out later, when he came to read their books, and to know them as something other than newspaper names.
In this, as in other matters, they were without precedents and limitations, and they found that excess of freedom is sometimes an embarrassment. They were impelled towards literary reminiscence; and Thyrsis soon realized that this was a matter in which the sensuous temperament would have to have its way. "After all," argued Corydon, "to you a name is a name.
He heard one man cite arguments from Paley's "Moral Philosophy"; and another making bold to state that he was uncertain about the verbal inspiration of the Pentateuch! To Thyrsis, as he listened to these discussions, it was as if he felt a black shadow stealing across his soul.
"I can't have any joy in my baby at all!" she would lament; and Thyrsis would have to soothe the child, and plead with her to find more practical ways of demonstrating her maternal devotion. Cedric was beginning to make determined efforts to talk now, and he had the most original names for things.
"But I won't have it!" "What'll you do?" "I'll go to law! I'll get an injunction." "What is there in our contract to prevent our altering the play?" demanded the man. "What!" gasped Thyrsis. "You know what our understanding was!" "Humph!" said the other. "Can you prove it?" "And do you mean that you would go back on that understanding?"
He had all but forgotten the young drawing-teacher, whom he had left doing Socialist cartoons. "Well?" he inquired. "You see, Thyrsis, I always liked him very much. And he's been coming up here quite a good deal. I didn't see why he shouldn't come Delia liked him too, and she was with us most of the time. Was it wrong of me to let him come?" "I don't know," said he. "Tell me."
He turned and began to march, grimly, as a soldier might; he went back, and stopped on the spot from which he had come; and there he stood, like a statue. So one minute passed, then another; and at last a shadow moved in the distance, and a step came near. It was the girl. "Here I am," she whispered, laughing. "Yes," said Thyrsis. "I have something I must say to you, please."
Yet he was a perfect geyser of activity bounding about the stage, talking swiftly, gesticulating like some strange gnome or cobold out of the bowels of the earth. Thyrsis was the creator of the play, so far as concerned the words; but this man was to be the creator of it on the stage. And that, too, required a kind of genius, Thyrsis perceived. Mr.
So Thyrsis moved one step higher yet up the ladder of success. The younger Macintyre occupied half a block of mansion up on Riverside Drive just across the street from the town-house of Barry Creston's father.
Word Of The Day