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Updated: June 20, 2025
He devoted himself for a considerable time after his arrival in London to the daily toils of literature translations, essays, and critiques. Among other works, he translated Winckelmann's book on Painting and Sculpture. One day Bonnycastle said to him, after dinner, "Fuseli, you can write well, why don't you write something?"
Bonnycastle had found him half an hour before; looked also at the commodore, who, on her bosom, seemed to breathe again with his widow's respirations. "Call it an old type then if you like," he said in a moment. "All I want to know is what type it IS! It seems impossible," he gasped, "to find out." "You can find out in the newspapers. They've had articles about it. They write about everything now.
Bonnycastle's guest was described as a beauty and belonging to the brilliant city. "What's the social position of Mrs. Steuben?" it occurred to him to ask while he meditated. He had an earnest artless literal way of putting such a question as that; you could see from it that he was very thorough. Mrs. Bonnycastle met it, however, but, with mocking laughter. "I'm sure I don't know!
Mr Bonnycastle made his appearance a tall, well-built, handsome, fair man, with a fine powdered head, dressed in solemn black and knee buckles; his linen beautifully clean, and with a peculiar bland expression of countenance. When he smiled he showed a row of teeth white as ivory, and his mild blue eye was the ne plus ultra of beneficence.
He never would attempt to argue with Mr Bonnycastle, because he was aware that Mr Bonnycastle's arguments were too strong for him, but he argued with all the boys until it ended in a fight, which decided the point; and he sometimes argued with the ushers.
"I cannot say that I have had worse, but I have almost as bad. I will apply the Promethean torch, and soon vivify that rude mass. Come, sit down, Middleton." "But," said the Doctor, as he resumed his chair, "tell me, Bonnycastle, how you will possibly manage to lick such a cub into shape, when you do not resort to flogging?" "I have no opinion of flogging, and therefore I do not resort to it.
He wandered into another room, and there, at the end of five minutes, he was introduced by Mrs. Bonnycastle to one of the young ladies of whom she had spoken. This was a very intelligent girl who came from Boston and showed much acquaintance with Spielhagen's novels. "Do you like them?"
Bonnycastle once told the wife of a foreign minister.
There one could meet Fuseli, impetuous, impatient, and overflowing with conversation; Paine, somewhat hard to draw out of his shell; Bonnycastle, Dr. George Fordyce, Mr. George Anderson, Dr. Geddes, and a host of other prominent artists, scientists, and literary men. Their meetings were informal.
"Yes, you will; and you are going to read your letters now directly." Jack made no answer. Mr Bonnycastle opened a sort of bookcase, and displayed to John's astonished view a series of canes, ranged up and down like billiard cues, and continued, "Do you know what those are for?"
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