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Louise Chandler Moulton's Boston drawing-room. In former days, at her weekly Fridays, Sir Richard Coeur de Lion was always present, sitting on the square piano amidst a lot of other celebrities. The autographed photographs of Paderewski, John Drew, and distinguished litterateurs, however, used to lose nothing from the proximity of Mrs.
Moulton's favorite maltese friend, who was on the most intimate terms with her for twelve years, and hobnobbed familiarly with most of the lions of one sort or another who have visited Boston and who invariably find their way into this room. If there were flowers on the piano, Richard's nose hovered near them in a perfect abandon of delight.
I shall never forget the ferocious gleam of her slate-gray eyes, nor the superb courage of the thin lips compressed in a straight line. She moved with the grace of a forest cat, reluctant to fall back, her muscular arm swinging the heavy ax as if it were a toy. Abreast of her, and likewise refusing to retreat, was Moulton's wife, mother of three.
This is the kind of game we play: It takes Beaumont a very long time to arrange his cards, which he does in a unique way, being goaded on by Mr. Moulton's impatient "Well!" He picks out all the cards of one suit and he lays them downward on the table in a pile; then he gathers them up and puts them between the third and fourth fingers of his left hand.
He stood by his father and helped him when he was in trouble, just as he'll stand by and help you, just as he helps everybody Tom Moulton's daughter for one, that he picked up on the streets of London and sent home to her mother.
We had taken a large number of prisoners, three pieces of artillery and several caissons and the Confederates fearful of the gunboats Diana and the Queen of the West falling into our hands burned them. In addition to this the Arizona engaged and blew up a Rebel gunboat. We were in hot pursuit of the Rebels, our advance skirmishing with Rebel General Moulton's rear guard. April 17th.
Recall Professor Moulton's four cardinal points in literature, all of it taking one of these forms: either description, when a scene is given in the words of the author, as when Milton and Homer describe scenes without pretending to give the words of the actors throughout; or, secondly, presentation, when a scene is given in the words of those who took part in it, and the author does not appear, as, of course, in the plays of Shakespeare, when he never appears, but where all his sentiments are put in the words of others.
Was it not one of the "exigencies of war"? The frames and glasses of the engravings were broken; but, fortunately, all the engravings were not ruined. You remember Mrs. Moulton's boudoir, where all was so dainty and complete? The soldiers had converted it into a kitchen, and at the moment we were there they were cooking some very smelly cabbage a la tedesco. My pretty pavilion!
Two of Miss Allerton's, one of old Pearson's of the Cat Walk, and one of Mrs. Moulton's. Four in all during three nights. No trace is left of them at all, and the countryside is buzzing with rumours of gipsies and of sheep-stealers. But there is something more serious than that. Young Armitage has disappeared also.
Moulton's "Electrical Supply Factory," gave the boys their starting point. Later, in Mr. Moulton's factory, an outbuilding was appropriated and in this place, with the approval and assistance of their fathers, the two boys finally completed an airship. This was but a spur to a renewed effort, and within a year, the boys attending school meanwhile, they finished their improved aeroplane.
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