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Rose looked with all her eyes, and saw the spark grow into the likeness of a golden vase, then green leaves came out, and then a crimson flower glowing on the darkness with a splendid lustre. "Is it a rose, uncle?" she asked, clasping her hands with delight as she recognised the handsome flower. "Of course it is!
On a stand beside a chair was a large, beautifully-painted photograph in a carved frame; the folding doors were open, and a vase of flowers stood before it. 'What has put this benevolent idea into your head? she asked, as she drew forward a comfortable wicker chair with a soft padded seat.
The gilded apartments I have so often spoken of stand ready to receive him; but they serve only as a spacious residence for Mrs. Bread, who wanders eternally from room to room, adjusting the tassels of the curtains, and keeps her wages, which are regularly brought her by a banker's clerk, in a great pink Sevres vase on the drawing-room mantel-shelf. Late in the evening Newman went to Mrs.
On the table, too, stood her Parian vase filled with golden and blood-red maple-leaves, and the flaming berries of the burning-bush. Very prettily the room looked, when everything was finished, and Gypsy was quite proud of it. Joy came Thursday night. They were all in the parlor when the coach stopped, and Gypsy ran out to meet her.
'Oh, he has got it in one of his castles; I don't know which you know he has so many. He sent us, before he left India to return the compliment a magnificent old vase. 'That was more than the thing was worth, Lyon remarked. Colonel Capadose gave no heed to this observation; he seemed to be thinking of something.
He looked about at the rims and corners of the tombs caught by the light, and he laughed a little though this was not in the least what he intended because it passed through his mind that if King Abibaal and Queen Mitygen, for example, might be treated with the contents of the mysterious vase they would no doubt come forth, Abibaal with memories of the Queen of Sheba in his eyes, and Queen Mitygen with her casket of Alexander's letters.
She remembered the night after her first meeting with Kemper and the conviction she had felt then that her destiny lay mapped out for her in the hand of God. Her soul on that night had seemed, in the words of the quaint old metaphor, a vase which she held up for God to fill.
As for the vase itself, it was nothing; the workmanship and painting were nothing; the sculpturing of the figures was nothing. It is constantly argued that the mere contemplation of things beautiful creates this artistic sense the sense of beauty. This is undoubtedly true if one were to dwell entirely among beautiful things.
There is a variety in our orchards called the winesap, a doubly liquid name that suggests what might be done with this fruit. The apple is the commonest and yet the most varied and beautiful of fruits. A dish of them is as becoming to the centre-table in winter as was the vase of flowers in the summer, a bouquet of spitzenbergs and greenings and northern spies.
At the very moment when he returned to the home in the country where he had been born, the blue room had faded to white, his mother was reposing in the bosom of heaven, the picture of his father was no longer there, the peacock-feathers and the vase had disappeared. Some sort of object stood in the clock's place.
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