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"Glad to see you," said the inventor heartily. "Mr. Massey, this is my friend, David Ridgewood, Graham Woods Bartlett's gardener." "How do you do, Mr. Massey," said David. "I've seen you before, of course. Heard of you often." John Massey did not answer at once, since he was somewhat at a loss. He had not been in the habit of meeting socially his friends' gardeners. At last he blurted forth.
Far more likely to interfere with the sound practical balance of the mind is that speculative, theoretical tendency which has made so many men noted in their day, whose fame has passed away with their dissolving theories. Read Dr. Bartlett's comparison of the famous Benjamin Rush with his modest fellow-townsman Dr.
It did register, if you remember your color and Mr. Bartlett's, and both of you had pulled far away from your purpose." "Yes, for some reason, it did register us," agreed the Eagle Man. He paused, and then his voice rang out. "Let me tell you all something that the inventor of that machine did, some miracle he brought to pass I should have thought impossible.
I wonder whether I read all that stuff complete or just browsed through a copy of Bartlett's Quotations. Fragments. We've got to get organized here, brother. Colonel Mannheim's little puppet is going to cut his strings and do a Pinocchio. "O.K., Bart," the P.T. said, giving Stanton a final slap, "you're all set. See you tomorrow." "Right. Gimme my clothes."
"And if Dad is convinced, and that box of free candy should convince him that it is a good thing to charge groceries at Bartlett's, we'll go on charging them. Every month. At the end of a year I bet we'll have gotten more than five pounds of free candy. Oh, boy!" Small footsteps sounded and there was Andy. "Downstairs was lonesome," he said plaintively.
The world is after all as it is. Suppose a man, a poor young man, has a rare gift. He must eat to live; he may have to support others. How is he going to develop that gift?" The inventor's face was suddenly filled with a fine light. He laid his hand on Mr. Bartlett's arm.
Elsa Doland, the pretty girl with the big eyes who sat on Mr. Bartlett's left, had other views. "Buy a theatre. Sally, and put on good stuff." "And lose every bean you've got," said a mild young man, with a deep voice across the table. "If I had a few hundred thousand," said the mild young man, "I'd put every cent of it on Benny Whistler for the heavyweight championship.
Bartlett's Dictionary, and that it shares with all other provincial glossaries. No accents are given. No stranger could tell, for example, whether hacmatack should be pronounced hac'matack, hacma'tack, or hacmatack'. The value of Mr. Wright's otherwise excellent dictionary is very much impaired by this neglect.
We have no wish to defend Boston; we mean only to call Mr. Bartlett's attention to the folly of asking people to write in a dialect which no longer exists. No man can write off-hand a page of Saxon English; no man with pains can write one and hope to be commonly understood. At least let Mr. Bartlett practise what he preaches.
The newspaper filled a good part of the afternoon; for the reading was often interrupted for talk which grew out of it. When at last it was done, and Mrs. Bartlett's eyes returned to the fire, there were a few minutes of stillness; then she said gently, "Now, our other reading, dear?" "Where shall I read now?"
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