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Updated: May 13, 2025
Must be getting back to my dormouse. Good night." Clodd shook hands and bustled out. "I thought as much," mused Peter aloud. "What an odd mixture the man is! Kind no one could have been kinder to the poor old fellow. Yet all the while We are an odd mixture, Tommy," said Peter Hope, "an odd mixture, we men and women." Peter was a philosopher.
Clodd a drink. Another thud upon the floor above one suggestive of exceptional velocity arrived at the precise moment when Mrs. Postwhistle, the tumbler level with her eye, was in the act of measuring. "I call this making a disturbance," said Mrs. Postwhistle, regarding the broken fragments. "It's only for another night," comforted her Mr. Clodd. "I'll take him away some time to-morrow.
So things did go on�-of themselves as it were, for no one cared much about them, although it was the finest harvest that year that Howglen had ever borne. It had begun at length to appear that the old labour had not been cast into a dead grave, but into a living soil, like that of which Sir Philip Sidney says in his sixty-fifth psalm: "Each clodd relenteth at thy dressing,"
He criticised it as the humpiest funeral he had ever known; for a time he had serious thoughts of changing his profession. The solicitor's clerk was waiting for the party on its return from Kensal Green. Clodd again offered hospitality. Mr. Pincer this time allowed himself a glass of weak whisky-and-water, and sipped it with an air of doing so without prejudice.
William Clodd, mopping his brow, laid down the screwdriver, and stepping back, regarded the result of his labours with evident satisfaction. "It looks like a bookcase," said William Clodd. "You might sit in the room for half an hour and never know it wasn't a bookcase."
Clodd, who, it would appear, was associated with him in this performance, the reviewer says: "The puzzle was solved completely long ago, in the clearest possible manner, and the 'Principia' is the witness to it; but it is still felt to be a difficulty by beginners, and I suppose there is no offence in applying this harmless epithet to both Mr. Grant Allen and Mr.
Clodd, "the embryos of all living creatures epitomize during development the series of changes through which the ancestral forms passed if their ascent from the simple to the complex; the higher structures passing through the same stages as the lower structures up to the point when they are marked off from them, yet never becoming in detail the form which they represent for the time being.
Peter searched for and found a letter addressed to "William Clodd, Esq., Advertising Manager, Good Humour." Clodd tore it open, hastily devoured it. "Not closed up yet, are you?" "No, not till eight o'clock." "Good! I want you to write me a par. Do it now, then you won't forget it. For the 'Walnuts and Wine' column." Peter sat down, headed a sheet of paper: 'For W. and W. Col.
Tommy felt for the moment that she wanted to take this big boy on her knee and talk to him for his good. He was only an overgrown lad. But so exceedingly overgrown! Tommy had to content herself with holding out her hand. Dick Danvers grasped it tightly. Clodd was the only one who did not approve of him. "How did you get hold of him?" asked Clodd one afternoon, he and Peter alone in the office.
This generally gives the age or position without difficulty." Edward Clodd, in "The Story of Creation, a Plain Account of Evolution," says, page 18. "The relative age and place of each stratum .... are fixed by the fossils." Now, is not this a most extraordinary situation?
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