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Updated: June 16, 2025
Nor was he any more enamoured of journalism, being in truth by nature bucolic, but after trying many occupations and failing in all of them he had returned to his desk after each excursion into other fields. First-night audiences knew him now, and had come to look for his thin, sharp features.
He was devoted to his mother perhaps a good deal too devoted, but even the excess of devotion might have been pardonable in the public opinion of England; certainly it was only his own weakness and perversity that made it for a while not pardonable. He was of the country squire's order of mind; his tastes were wholly those of the stolid, well-intentioned, bucolic country squire.
It was deserted now, and left to the unobstructed sweep of the wind and rain. Mrs. Tucker would not have chosen this road. With the instinctive jealousy of a bucolic inland race born by great rivers, she did not like the sea; and again, the dim and dreary waste tended to recall the vision connected with her husband's flight, upon which she had resolutely shut her eyes.
That home, where you hope to indulge your bucolic tastes, your childish fondness for pets doves, rabbits, pheasants and similar rustic appendages to our cottage in the air. Here, read it, aloud if you will." She glanced over the lines, smiled, and read: "'Mong the green lanes of Kent stood an antique home Within its orchard, rich with ruddy fruits; For the full year was laughing in his prime.
Sheep are dull things to look at after a bull-hunt and a cattle-feast." Pisistratus. "Every man to his taste in the Bush. One may make one's money more easily and safely, with more adventure and sport, in the bucolic department; but one makes larger profit and quicker fortune, with good luck and good care, in the pastoral, and our object, I take it, is to get back to England as soon as we can."
It looks incredulous to me that he could have inoculated himself against all the preordained systems of bucolic bunco. Now, you never regarded me as a man of special religious proclivities, did you, Jeff? says Andy. "'Well, says I, 'No.
But must the truly beautiful be reduced to await our hours of need? and is it not rather its office to awaken in our soul the want that it is going to satisfy? The reproaches I here level against the bucolic idyl cannot be understood of the sentimental. The simple pastoral, in fact, cannot be deprived of aesthetic value, since this value is already found in the mere form.
Then the bucolic journalist shall have surcease of toil, and may go out upon the meads to frisk with kindred lambs, frolic familiarly with loose-jointed colts, and exchange grave gambollings with solemn cows.
Sprole, like many a self-made man, was proud of his farm, though he did not lead a wholly bucolic existence. "I can't, Ches," answered Ditmar. "I've got to go back to Hampton." This statement Mr. Sprole unwisely accepted as a fiction. He took hold of Ditmar's arm. "A lady eh what?" "I've got to go back to Hampton," repeated Ditmar, with a suggestion of truculence that took his friend aback.
Dullness and insensitiveness in the eyes of those Grecian farmer-lads, no doubt, occupied entirely with keeping the oxen in line; a low vulgar stare of bucolic curiosity as the country girls, bearing their woven linen, looked up at the temple. Don't you suppose he would have thought they managed those things a great deal more artistically in Persia?"
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