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Updated: September 10, 2025
Bound in cloth, full gilt back and sides, 3s. 6d. "The Sketch-book is as quaint and amusing a work of light literature as exists. Bracebridge Hall is well known from its genuine merit, and has taken its place among the standard works in the English language." Tales of the Alhambra, Don Roderick, and Conquest of Granada. A new edition, complete in one volume, foolscap 8vo., with an illustration.
Bracebridge and her husband were the last word in the matter of self-sufficiency, taste in the matter of appointments, care in the matter of dress, good form in the matter of reception, entertainment, and the various usages of social life. Now and then, apropos of nothing save her own mood, Mrs. Bracebridge would indicate her philosophy of life in an epigram. "Life is a battle, my dear.
He had become so well satisfied with his post of mediator between the writers of the two nations, that it became paramount with him to preserve the good-will he had won in England, and this appears in the cautious and almost obsequious mien of "Bracebridge."
Examine Randolph Caldecott's Sing a Song for Sixpence for a really clever sketch of the four and twenty blackbirds, every one a characteristic likeness, and a different attitude; and look at his rookery in Bracebridge Hall, where, in three sketches he shows some equally exact rooks.
Now hit hard and sharp, gentlemen. If the proper guards are up you can do no harm." Blackall was in the Jones's party, and purposed fully to carry out the order. Bracebridge saw that he was opposite to him, and assumed a look of perfect indifference. The bully expected to see him turning pale and looking alarmed. "March!" sung out the Sergeant. "Double quick!"
They talked more quietly from now on, and gradually, as the details were exhausted, a kind of dumb peace settled down upon the household. "One of us ought to go to the train to meet him in the morning," said Jennie to Bass. "I will. I guess Mrs. Bracebridge won't mind." "No," said Bass gloomily, "you mustn't. I can go."
Bracebridge always addressed with the quaint appellation of Master Simon. He was a tight, brisk little man, with the air of an arrant old bachelor. His nose was shaped like the bill of a parrot; his face slightly pitted with the smallpox, with a dry perpetual bloom on it, like a frost-bitten leaf in autumn.
"Tell me, Bracebridge, did you ever see a bear attempt to practise the Terpsichorean art. I should be very like the monster if I were to try it. But it is not that there is something I cannot tell you about which makes me so unhappy, that I never expect to get over it. Nobody here knows anything about it, but some day they may, and then I shall be worse off than I am now."
One declined to play with him, and then another, and another, till at last he found that he was cut by the whole school, with the exception of the three or four friends who generally sided with Bracebridge Buttar, Bouldon, Gregson, and little Eden. Poor fellow! it was a sore trial. Whatever the fault of which he had been guilty, he had long ago heartily repented of it.
Once or twice when Bracebridge came near he felt very much inclined to strike him, but Ernest watched his eye, and was very quickly out of his way. At last, Blackall found himself with the ball directly before him; he lifted up his stick, expecting to strike it right ahead up to the goal.
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