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You got the right kind of bait in your pretty self, in your nice home, and in that great big husband, who, a person can see as plain as a wart on a white neck, is all over in love with you, and the sea'll be just full of fish for you." "I patted her hand again, as I was afraid she'd think I was interferin', but she didn't.

Every compliment paid to this bloated sensualist, this inflation of sack and sugar, turns to the keenest sarcasm." After staying a week with his brother Peter, who was recovering from an indisposition, Irving went to Birmingham, the residence of his brother-in-law, Henry Van Wart, who had married his youngest sister, Sarah; and from thence to Sydenham, to visit Campbell. The poet was not at home.

Two or three cathedrals were interspersed; and, in the midst of them, and larger than any of them, a silhouette of Mr Grey, with the eyelash wonderfully like, and the wart upon his nose not to be mistaken.

Now and then we know he has a caustic thing or two to say about women; but it is lunar-caustic for a wart. Goethe did not like this indiscriminate and democratic temper.

Now, as to the wart: It was soon after I had heard of the murder on the express train, that while riding in the smoking car of an emigrant train in Iowa, I saw an old man deliberately slice a huge wart from his little finger with a keen-edged knife. The wart fell under the seat and rolled at my feet.

Fulton as if for permission to go on, "that is, there's something going on on Lost Island that Mr. Billings figures isn't anybody else's business, and he didn't want to take chances of my nosing around." "I see," said Jerry dryly. "So of course rather than row you across to dry land himself he brought your father here to get you. It's all as plain as the wart on a pumpkinhead's nose!"

What in ails ye?" he yelled, in a fury, as the tall young man gazed fixedly, and the glasses rattled at the bellow from the barreled-up lungs. "I'm not laughing at you," said the sheriff. "Oh, ain't ye?" mocked the man of peace. "Well, take care that ye don't, ye big wart, or I'll trample them new clothes and browse around on some of your features. I'll take ye apart till ye look like cut feed.

"Must be nice and stiff," Matilda commented. "I'd hate to have my hair all wire." Grandmother lifted her spectacles from the wart and peered through them critically. "I dunno," she said, "as it'd look any different, except for the colour. The way you're settin' now, against the light, I can see bristles stickin' out all over it, same as if 'twas wire."

"No fear," said Mrs Swadling. "I ran down the yard, an' 'ollered blue murder." "Well," said Mrs Yabsley, reflectively, "an 'usband is like the weather, or a wart on yer nose. It's no use quarrelling with it. If yer don't like it, yer've got ter lump it. An' if yer believe all yer 'ear, everybody else 'as got a worse."

Ouida possesses strength, tenderness, truth, passion; and these be qualities in a writer capable of carrying many more faults than Ouida is burdened with. But that is the method of our little criticism. It views an artist as Gulliver saw the Brobdingnag ladies. It is too small to see them in their entirety: a mole or a wart absorbs all its vision. Why was not George Gissing more widely read?