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Updated: May 20, 2025
Yet I will say that I wonder to hear thee call me fair and beauteous; for my dame tells me that never, nor sayeth aught of my aspect save in her anger, and then it is: Rag! and bag-of-bones! and when wilt thou be a woman, thou lank elf thou? The new-comer laughed well-favouredly hereat, and put forth a hand, and stroked her friend's cheek.
'Oh! for the love of heaven, can I get leave to stay here a while, and sit inside the stable door? 'To the devil with your leave', said one. 'Pack yourself off this minute, for if the Squire sets his eye on you, he'll lead us a pretty dance. 'Oh! the poor old bag-of-bones', said another, whose heart took pity on her, 'the old hag may sit inside and welcome; such a one as she can do no harm.
"'It didn't take much to kill that bag-of-bones, whose master sleeps in a packing-case, and waits till his company's finished to eat on the plate. Shouldn't wonder if you fed her on sugar-bags, he said; 'and if you think I've jumped her, you'd better go and look yourself. You'll find her along the road by the aasvogels that are eating her.
The next day he took the grey mare. On Thursday he did not bring her back, and on Friday I found the saddle and bridle standing at my door. "In the afternoon he looked into the shop, and called out: 'Hope you got your saddle, Farber? Your bag-of-bones kicked out six miles from here. I'll send you a couple of shillings tomorrow, though the old hide wasn't worth it. Good morning.
Coming up my trail a few days later, I found on my paepae a shabbily dressed little bag-of-bones of a white man, with a dirty gray beard and a harsh voice like that of Baufré. He had a note to me from Le Brunnec, introducing M. Lemoal, born in Brest, a naturalized American. The note was sealed, and I put it carefully away before turning to my visitor.
From there, too, he wrote: "I took a poor old bag-of-bones into my camp a month ago, and have been feeding her up; but yesterday she was quietly taken off, and now knows all things. She had her tobacco up to the last." Looking out of his camp he saw a poor woman, "a wisp of bones," feebly struggling up the road in wind and rain.
And of thy body else I will say as thou sayst of mine, though I deem these hands have done more work than thine. But see thou! thy leg and mine as they stand together; and thine arm, as if it were of my body. Slim and slender thou art, or it may be lank; and I deem our dame would call thee also bag-of-bones. Now is this strange. Who art thou? Art thou my very own sister? I would thou wert.
But say, why don't you swat the Bishop one, and get your pay?" "The Bishop isn't responsible." "Well, I'll bet I know who is, dang him; and I'd like to swat him one for you, the miserable old bag-of-bones." "Never you mind, Danny; I can take care of myself." "Sure you can, and I guess you're a laborin' man all right, even if you don't belong to the Union.
Among its exercises in anatomy, modelling, perspective, and so forth, always laborious and frequently abortive, its only spontaneous, satisfactory, mature production was its portrait work, Portraits of burghers in black robes and hoods; of square-jawed youths with red caps stuck on to their fuzzy heads, of bald and wrinkled scholars and magnificoes; of thinly bearded artizans; people who stand round the preaching Baptist or crucified Saviour, look on at miracle or martyrdom, stolid, self-complacent, heedless, against their background of towered, walled, and cypressed city of buttressed square and street; ugly but real, interesting, powerful among the grotesque agglomerations of bag-of-bones nudities, bunched and taped-up draperies and out-of-joint architecture of the early Renaissance frescoes; at best among its picture-book and Noah's-ark prettinesses of toy-box cypresses, vine trellises, inlaid house fronts, rabbits in the grass, and peacocks on the roofs; for the early Renaissance, with the one exception of Masaccio, is in reality a childish time of art, giving us the horrors of school-hour blunders and abortions varied with the delights of nursery wonderland: maturity, the power of achieving, the perception of something worthy of perception, comes only with the later generation, the one immediately preceding the age of Raphael and Michael Angelo; with Ghirlandajo, Signorelli, Filippino, Botticelli, Perugino, and their contemporaries.
One day, as she was passing along, a driver had in his cart an old bag-of-bones of a horse, which he was beating to make him pull up the hill, and Cousin Fanny, with an old maid's meddlesomeness, pushed out into the street and caught hold of him and made him stop, which of course collected a crowd, and just as she was coming back a little cart came rattling along, and though she was in no earthly danger, she ran so to get out of the way of the horse that she tripped and fell down in the street and hurt herself.
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