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On the fly-leaf she had written: "I have nothing of God's earthly gifts to leave behind but this. It has brought me riches, but it is a poor thing in itself. I bequeath it, my only earthly possession, to the kind and merciful one who taught me that there is good in this bad world of ours." It was inscribed to "Mrs. Challis Wrandall." "She made me promise to give it to you with my own hands, Mrs.
Sometimes also a new book came, and on the fly-leaf was written, "To Miss Amy Waring, from her friend Lawrence Newt." Then the good-hearted mother remarked that some men were delightfully faithful to old associations, and that it was really beautiful to see Mr. Newt keeping up the acquaintance so cordially, and complimenting his old friend so delicately by thinking of pleasing her daughter.
In the upper corner of the fly-leaf she traced a number, in a minute and extremely neat hand. Then she handed back the book and took up her palette again. Our friend read the number: "2,000 francs." He said nothing for a time, but stood looking at the picture, while the copyist began actively to dabble with her paint. "For a copy, isn't that a good deal?" he asked at last. "Pas beaucoup?"
On a small table near the bed were a Wedgwood mortar with a heavy pestle, a medicine glass, and a pewter candlestick turned as black as iron. On the fly-leaf was written, in a neat and very legible hand, "Freeman Hynds." "Sophy!" Alicia's voice had an edge of awe. "This must have been his room. I believe he died here, in this very bed.
But the chapter, as the reader knows, was honestly omitted from the famous 'Memoirs on the various Courts of Europe. It has been mine to give it to the public. Bibliography still helps us with a further glimpse of our characters. Bain in the Haymarket; and the name of the first owner is written on the fly-leaf in the hand of Prince Otto himself.
But he turned to the Psalm marked on the fly-leaf of his Bible, and he read it again and again. "My help cometh from the Lord which made heaven and earth" "The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand." "The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night." The beautiful words gave him comfort. Homesickness, loneliness, and fears for the future all vanished.
If a man makes his livelihood by lifting horses and other heavy objects from the earth, we immediately wish to know details of his private life, and an obliging journalist interviews him. If another write a book, we immediately wish to know how he does it, where, when, and why. We also like to see his portrait on the fly-leaf or HE likes to see it there.
On the fly-leaf, in very faded ink, is written 'Ex libris Guliolmi Whyte. I wonder who William Whyte was. Some pragmatical seventeenth century lawyer, I suppose. His writing has a legal twist about it. Here comes our man, I think." As he spoke there was a sharp ring at the bell. Sherlock Holmes rose softly and moved his chair in the direction of the door.
"It's the Calendar, let me tell you, of the College of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, juxta Dublin. There's a print of the Front of the Buildings attached to the fly-leaf. I'm after pickin' it up this spring at Moynalone. 'Twas new the year before last, and comprises a dale of information relative to terms, examinations, fees, and so forth."
Paper is not so dear but that they could at least afford a fly-leaf. They defeat their own ends, too, for their letters are never legible, and they have to write again to explain their meaning, thus paying another penny away in postage. Why do we not make a stand against the old forms? Why should we always tread in the footmarks of our ancestors, instead of making tracks of our own? "Dear Mr.
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