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Updated: May 24, 2025
So equipped he had ambled uninterestedly over to the Park across the way. And there he had found new life. New life in old life. For the park was full of old men. Old men like himself, with greyhound's-head canes, and mufflers and somebody's sweater worn beneath their greatcoats. They wore arctics, though the weather was fine.
Take, for instance, the similarity above alluded to between the fauna of the Arctics and that of the Alps, certainly showing a direct relation between climatic conditions and animal and vegetable life.
There was nothing to distract attention from what might be going on within, and all eyes were on the two burly captains who entered at 8.30, fur-capped, fur-gloved, in huge overcoats and arctics. The wind had begun, even earlier than usual, to whine and stir as it swept down from the bleak northwest, and the mercury had dropped some ten degrees since the previous evening.
Bingle's best overcoat, an ulster of five winters, to say nothing of his arctics, gloves and muffler. No one, not even Mr. Bingle, could deny that it was a very shabby thing to do on a Christmas morning, and for once the gentle bookkeeper lost faith in his fellow-man.
"Adonai, come! with crashing rote of chariots come; or moonlight- mild, alone, afloat, Messussah, come; with floods of lutes, or thundering throat, but come! O, come! Messussah come." "The Arctics hawk-up their haunted heart, and raucous, spue; and north-winds, wawling calls, outstart, to droop anew; the clouds like scouts updart, depart, and truceless do, and droop anew." "How long!
"All right," he replied. "That suits me perfectly. This good weather will not last long. The Arctics are subject to fearful and sudden storms, and we must be ready to go at any instant. Whatever we are to do, let us do quickly." "I think we should have a patriotic piece or two at the foot of the mast, and then our North Pole March.
Kennedy, however, outshone all others in the strangeness of his shooting apparel. Huge "arctics" were strapped on his feet, from which seemed to spring, as from massive roots, his small, thin form, clad in a scanty robe de chambre of cotton flannel, surmounted by a broad sou'wester, carefully covered by a voluminous white pocket handkerchief.
Her hair hung in unkempt stringiness about her bent shoulders, and her feet were covered with old arctics, many sizes too big, from which the soles hung loose. Beside the little figure was a chest of dark wood, with curiously wrought hasps. From this depended a stout strap by which it could be carried over the shoulders.
She had a short nose, a large mouth, magnificent gray eyes and cheeks of flawless carmine. She wore a faded plaid mackinaw, and arctics half-way up her long, thin legs. "I hate you, Doug Spencer," she said finally and fiercely, "and I'm glad you're not my real brother!" "I don't see why my father ever married a woman with an ornery brat like you!" retorted Douglas.
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