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Updated: June 13, 2025
Cary's account of a punning contest after Lamb's own heart makes the company vie with each in puns on the names of herbs. After anise, mint and other words had been ingeniously perverted Lamb's own turn, the last, was reached, and it seemed impossible that anything was left for him. He hesitated. "Now then, let us have it," cried the others, all expectant. "Patience," he replied; "it's c-c-cumin."
Or if she did I'll bet Amanda slapped her first." "Amos!" Mr. Cary's voice was very stern, and the boy said no more. It was found that a rowboat was missing, and remembering how Anne and the Cary children had once started out to sail to Boston, it was generally believed that Anne had started off in the boat.
From far away across the river had come some faint popping sounds, regularly spaced three shots. "Ah!" he said, in wonder. "What is that?" "It sounds," laughed Herbert Cary's wife, "like firing. But I think it is a friend of mine saluting me from the safe side of the river. Good evening, Colonel," and she swept by him. She could go find Virgie now. Just then came the sound of a horse, galloping.
In Rand's there was something cold and gleaming, something that was not his father's nor his grandfather's, but his own, deadly but markedly courageous. Cary's look was more masked, grave, and collected, with the merest quiver of the upper lip.
Yet she was ill she repeated it obstinately and without variation a dozen times in response to Mrs. Cary's persistent protests. "You don't look ill," Mrs. Cary exclaimed in exasperation as, arrayed in her newest wonder from Paris, she came to say good-by. "I can't think what's the matter with you, and you won't explain. Have you got a pain anywhere? Have you a headache?
Cary's ears. "There's something about me that I can't hide. What is it? If you don't tell, I will get you on the Regulation compelling all British subjects to answer questions addressed to them by a competent naval or military authority." "You don't happen to be either, Dawson," said I unkindly.
The Piache relented, like a prudent man; Ayacanora returned to her hut to sulk; and Amyas to his island, to long for Cary's return, for he felt himself on dangerous ground. He brought back three of the wounded men, now pretty nigh cured; the other two, who had lost a leg apiece, had refused to come.
Cary's translation which can stand a comparison with that. The eighteenth century could not translate like that. For here at last we have a real reproduction of the antique. In the Shakespearian ring of these lines we recognize the authentic rendering of the tones of the only man since the Christian era who could speak like Shakespeare. In this way Mr.
Her old friend put on his glasses, gravely looked, and reversed the volume. He laughed, and then he sighed. "I was thinking of the country, Judith. It's the only book that is interesting now and the recital's tragic, my dear; the recital's tragic!" From the hall came Edward Cary's voice, "Judith, Judith, we want you for the reel!" In the drawing-room the music quickened.
Rand saw, near these, Fairfax Cary's handsome face, not pale as it had been between nine and ten o'clock, but alert, flushed, and or so Rand interpreted its light and energy triumphant. He went on into the house, ordered and drank a small quantity of brandy, and when he came back upon the porch was met by those near him with a cry of "Speech! Speech!"
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