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Updated: June 27, 2025
The time of year had fallen upon rust brown-rust were the bells of the dried heath, the spires of wall-pennywort that lurked in the crannies of the boulders; blood-rust were the wisps of dead sorrel that stood up into the sunlight; fawn-rust were the hemlocks with their spidery umbels, and a deader fawn were the masses of seeded hemp-agrimony, whose once plumy heads were now become mere frothy tufts of down, that blew against Blanche's dress as she passed, and clung there.
Soon as the light had come clear he went out in the near woods with dog and rifle and beat around in the brush. He returned shortly and said he had seen where they came and went. 'I'd a killed em deader 'n a door nail, said he, laying down the old rifle, 'if they'd a come any nearer. Then we brought water from the river and had our breakfast.
Murray's camp had shut down, the promoters had vanished, Pinal was deader than ever; he gathered up his tools and stored them in his cave, then sat down to write her a letter. Nothing less than the truth would win her back now and he confessed his shortcomings humbly; after which he told her that the town was too lonely and he was leaving, too.
Bad is the dead sea they bring upon me, choking and deadening, but worse is the deader dry sand they leave me on, if they go before bed-time. Come never, I would say to those spoilers of my dinner; but if you come, never go!
Advanced! but now how inconceivably flat and stale! How on earth had anyone ever praised it, called it "epoch-marking," bought it by the thousand thousand? Why, the thing was dead a dead book, than which there is nothing deader. This reflection gave him something to think of for a while.
He was a very stately-looking man, and strikingly dignified as he walked upstairs to his bedroom slowly and deliberately, as though he were marching at his own funeral to the tune of something even deader than the "Dead March in Saul." It is almost a violation of propriety to think of Mr Auberly doing such a very undignified thing as "going to bed!"
"It reminds me," said History, "of one of Sir William Scott's novels, with moats and castles, and swords and shields, and all sorts of beautiful things." But B.J. broke in scornfully: "Aw, that old Scott, he's a deader! It reminds me of one of those new detective stories with clues and hair-breadth escapes.
That we'd see grass-grown streets lined with empty houses fallen half to pieces, and that perhaps if the water were clear we could look down, down, and spy steeples and ruined castles glimmering at the bottom. Won't some be like that?" "Not one," I said. "They won't be any deader than Monnikendam, which was once the playground of merchant princes. I thought it was dead enough."
Those tears were sweet to her husband, and it was he who took Tommy on his knee in the room where the books were, and told him that there was no Reddy now. When Tommy knew that Reddy was a deader he cried bitterly, and the man said, very gently, "I am glad you were so fond of her." "'T ain't that," Tommy answered with a knuckle in his eye, "'t ain't that as makes me cry."
Nor can I imagine any means of defining what is the greatest Art, without hypothecating a perfect human being. But since we shall never see, or know if we do see, that desirable creature dogmatism is banished, "Academy" is dead to the discussion, deader than even Tolstoy left it after his famous treatise "What is Art?"
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