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Updated: May 14, 2025


Say that he is a little prosaic, a little of the earth, earthy; do not say that he blusters, and that the best thing that England can do is to attack him without waiting to be first attacked. In order to support, right or wrong, a fable which has found but too ready belief, another story was invented: the Government of Mr.

Nothing else, no compromise, no negotiations of any sort, would suffice. This the Athenians never realized; this we do not seem to understand. Among ourselves, as among them, the peace-party a party in direct sympathy with the aims and purposes of the enemy blusters and intrigues.

"Art thou a stranger? "I. Hearken to the singing of the brooks, and fear not the rain of the fountains; so will the Naiades learn to love thee. "II. The invited breezes of Daphne are Zephyrus and Auster; gentle ministers of life, they will gather sweets for thee; when Eurus blows, Diana is elsewhere hunting; when Boreas blusters, go hide, for Apollo is angry.

The house spider who spreads with so much care his beautiful nets for gnats, and moths, and smaller flies, finds alike his labour and his toils in vain to secure this rampaging rogue; and, indeed, when the turbulent blue-bottle chances, in his bouncing random flight, to get entangled in the glutinous meshes, he shakes and roars, and blusters so loudly, until he breaks away, that the spider affrighted, invariably takes advantage of his long legs to scamper off to his sanctum in the cracked wainscot like some imbecile watchman, who fearing to encounter a tall inebriated bruiser, sneaks away with admirable discretion to the security of his snug box, praying the drunkard may speedily reel into another beat.

She blushed again at having revealed even so much of her inmost thoughts: and she went on: "Besides, when I am in the garden and a gust of wind reaches me, I am happy. Then the garden becomes alive for me. And when the wind blusters and comes from a great distance, he tells me so many things!"

When Jove awakes and finds the trick that has been played upon him, he is very angry and blusters a good deal as usual, but somehow or another it turns out that he has got to stand it and make the best of it.

Then His Excellency descends upon the hospital like a whirlwind, blusters at the old staff-surgeon, and reiterates the order to keep all the patients safely under lock and key. His wrath by now is slightly assuaged, but it is revived by a message from the front. A brigadier-general reports terrible losses, and declares that he cannot hold the line without reinforcements.

Yet so stung am I with what I have heard that I move away in silence: save that just as I reach the top of the steps I turn to cry: "Goodbye, mate, and give her my greeting." "What are you bawling for?" blusters the warder.... The corridor is dim, and filled with an oppressive odour. The warder swings his keys with a dry, thin clash, and I, to dull the pain in my heart, strive to imitate him.

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