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Updated: June 2, 2025
If I go off without ye t'night, I never come back. What make ye gig back? Are ye 'fraid o' me?" "N-no; but but" "But what, Merry Etty?" "It ain't right to go an' leave Dad all alone. Where y' goin' t' take me, anyhow?" "Milt Jennings let me have his horse an' buggy; they're down the road a piece, an' we'll go right down to Rock River and be married by sun-up."
Do they do it all at once?" asked Etty Thoresby, slipping into the rocking-chair, as Mrs. Linceford, by whom she had come and placed herself within the last minute, rose and went in to follow her laundress, just then going up the stairs with her basket. "Pretty much; it seems so.
And in criticising painters so different as Landseer and Martin, Stothard and Etty, he shows that, to use a phrase now classical, he is trying 'to see the object as in itself it really is. However, as I pointed out before, he never feels quite at his ease in his criticisms of contemporary work.
But by far the most injurious of all our pigments is asphaltum; it always gives rather rottenness than depth. Mr Etty has written a letter, which has been lithographed and widely circulated, bearing so directly upon this subject, that I cannot refrain from noticing it.
I can pick up some tools, and as for a woman, Merry Etty an' me have talked that over to-day. She's ready to ready to marry me whenever you say go." There was an ominous silence under the seeder, as if the father could not believe his ears. "What's what's that!" he stuttered. "Who'd you say? What about Merry Etty?" "She's agreed to marry me."
This morning there were only Imogen, and Etty, the youngest; a walking-party had gone off up the Cherry Mountain road, and Ginevra was upstairs, packing; for the Thoresbys had also suddenly decided to leave for Outledge on the morrow. Mrs. Thoresby declared, in confidence, to Mrs.
There were some English settlers in this neighbourhood; and some of the party drove out to visit the sugar establishment of Mr Etty brother of the well-known artist about three miles from the town. He was in England, but his sons came down in the evening to the hotel to offer their civilities.
"Let me come in to your room, Etty, and tell you everything. I had a perfect time with Louie; she was a dear. She was always saying, 'Now, who shall we have to dinner? You must settle; so I just gave the word, and whoever I wanted was produced. Louie wishes you would go too. Do go, you would have such fun. She gave me a note for you." "MY DEAR ETTA," the note ran,
"Oh, it's nicer out here, Merry Etty. What's the rush? Bring me out some, an' set down on this log." With a nod Marietta disappeared, and soon came out with a plate of cookies in one hand and a cup of milk in the other. "Poor little man, he's all tired out, ain't he?" Lime, taking the cue, collapsed in a heap, and said feebly, "Bread, bread!" "Won't milk an' cookies do as well?"
Maclise was making his reputation; Etty had struggled into renown, while poor Haydon was sinking into despair. Landseer was already the great animal painter. Sir C. Eastlake had court commissions. Wilkie, too, still had royal commissions, but his best work was done, and he was soon to set out on his last travels in a vain search after health and strength.
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