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Updated: May 2, 2025
Saintsbury's A History of English Literature in the Nineteenth Century. Kennedy's English Literature, 1880-1905. Walker's Greater Victorian Poets. Brownell's Victorian Prose Masters. Payne's The Greater English Poets of the Nineteenth Century. Perry's A Study of Prose Fiction. Benson's Rossetti. Noyes's William Morris. Trevelyan's Life and Letters of Macaulay. Morrison's Macaulay. Barry's Newman.
Jack Benson's composure was perfect. His sense of discipline was also exact. He did not propose to offer any explanations until such were asked of him. "Have you anything to say, Mr. Benson, as to that condition, and how you came to be in it?" "Shall I explain it to you, sir?" "I shall be glad to hear your explanation."
Richard has thrown away the stick. Come, and get off home, and let's see the extent of the damage." "Ooogh! he's a devil! Mr. Hadrian, sir, he's a devil!" groaned Benson, turning half over in the road to ease his aches. Adrian caught hold of Benson's collar and lifted him to a sitting posture. He then had a glimpse of what his hopeful pupil's hand could do in wrath.
But most vividly of all, he recalled that day when Jed Conway had disappeared from the village between sundown and dawn and failed to return. That was the same day they discovered the shortage in the old wooden till at Benson's corner store.
He stood a moment listening in this breathless state of palpitation: Peter came out by chance. "Did your honour want any thing?" "Where is the servant that came just now from Mr. Walton's?" "From Mr. Walton's, sir! there is none of his servants here that I know of." "Nor of Sir Harry Benson's?"
They hastened tea; they wheeled the sofa to the fire; they made her lie down; and to all she submitted with the docility of a child; and when the candles came, even Mr Benson's anxious eye could see no change in her looks, but that she seemed a little paler. The eyes were as full of spiritual light, the gently parted lips as rosy, and the smile, if more rare, yet as sweet as ever.
Out of the back room the kitchen opened, and for this reason the back parlour was used as the family sitting-room; or else, being, with its garden aspect, so much the pleasanter of the two, both Sally and Miss Benson would have appropriated it for Mr Benson's study.
Yes, yes, and I'll tend you fairly, will Sarah Benson, widowed mother of a graceless son, who can feel for her poor dead mistress, mother of a worse. My lamb, you shall want for nothing." Fast in a good pair of arms, Sanchia snuggled and smiled. She patted Mrs. Benson's cheek, and put up her lips to her. Minnie, like a thawing icepack, ran rivers of water.
Finding his carbine and reloading it, he went over to the dead man, turning the body over. He was an old man, with a white mustache and a small white beard why, if the mustache were smaller and there were no beard, he would pass for Benson's own father, who had died in 1962. The clothes weren't Turkish or Armenian or Persian, or anything one would expect in this country.
The prospective victim leapt back and pointed at him with theatrical calm: "Look, he is coming at me with cane in hand. Ha! he comes! he comes! see how he comes." Trundle launched a fierce blow at Collins, and only narrowly missed Benson's eyes. Collins delivered a short lecture on the danger of losing one's temper. Trundle returned to his desk.
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