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Updated: June 23, 2025
But that little beast, Professor von Buch, gave me a cold forty-minus on examination. So I dropped it, and thank God I've forgotten the little I ever knew of German! It will be absolutely useless in the new world." "Right you are," said Rosenlaube. "My grandfather used to speak it when he was angry a sloppy, slushy language, extremely ugly.
"Shall I often see you, Cousin Agnes? for there is none else in this wide Castle that I shall care for." "Oh yes, Arthur, there are full twenty pages little older than yourself Lord Thomas Holland, the Prince's stepson, brother to the lady that led you to me; little Piers de Greilly, nephew to the Captal de Buch; young Lord Henry of Lancaster; and the little Prince Edward himself.
There was the flag of Jean Grailly, the Captal de Buch, five silver shells on a black cross, which marked the presence of the most famous soldier of Gascony, while beside it waved the red lion of the noble Knight of Hainault, Sir Eustace d'Ambreticourt.
A letter of about the same date from Von Buch shows that, however he might storm at Agassiz's heterodox geology, he was in full sympathy with his work in general. December 22, 1837. . . .Pray reinstate me in the good graces of my unknown benefactor among you. By a great mistake the reports of the Society forwarded to me from Neuchatel have been sent back.
In one respect, indeed, Bettina's vogue in America remained for the rest of her lifetime more secure than in her own country, where the publication of her later politico-sociological works, Dies Buch gehört dem König and Gespräche mit Dämonen , was followed by a temporary eclipse of her popularity, and where also her fate, in persistently associating her with Rahel, the wife of Varnhagen, as a foil for Rahel's brilliant but transitory glitter, had tarnished her own fame.
"I'm for Buch and Breck," said Billy. "Misses she give me a dollar to vote for Buchanan, I know " Leila delightedly encouraged him. "Did you?" "No, it was for poll-tax. Take in those baskets at once," said Ann. "Yes, ma'am. Bought a fishing-pole." The confusion of mind which had made this practical use of Ann's mild political contribution was new to the Squire, and deliciously funny to Leila.
A dozen furious hard-breathing French knights had broken into their ranks, and clutched at Sir Walter Woodland's banner, but Chandos and Nigel guarded it on one side, Audley with his squires on the other, so that no man laid his hand upon it and lived. But now there was a distant crash and a roar of "Saint George for Guienne!" from behind. The Captal de Buch had charged home.
At the same moment Chandos, with Audley, Nigel, Bartholomew Burghersh, the Captal de Buch, and a score of other knights sprang upon their horses, and charging down the narrow lane rode over the French line in front of them. Once through it they spurred to left and right, trampling down the dismounted men-at-arms.
He had prepared all sorts of beautiful speeches which he intended to hold at the party about the welfare of humanity, about peat-culture, and Heine's "Buch der Lieder". They should see that he was able to converse amiably with ladies. The open carriage, a remainder of past splendor, took the brother and sisters to the party. They were to return on foot.
It always ended in Bonaparte being invited in and treated to a cuspidor of beer the drinking, with the cuspidor as his drinking horn, being part of his repertoire. After each one Billy Buch would proudly exclaim: "Mine Gott, but dat Ponyparte ees one greet dog!" Then Bonaparte would reel around in a half drunken swagger and go back to watch for other dogs.
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