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"You 'aven't 'eard anything about Mithith Thkinner, 'ave you?" he asked in a pause. "That we 'aven't!" said Mr. Witherspoon. "We 'aven't thought of 'er. We ain't thought nothing of either of you." "Ain't you been 'ome to-day?" asked Fulcher over a tankard. "If one of those brasted birds 'ave pecked 'er," began Mr. Witherspoons and left the full horror to their unaided imaginations....
Old Fulcher got thirty shillings for the carp, which I afterwards heard was much admired and relished by His Majesty. The master, however, of the carp, on losing his favourite, became more melancholy than ever, and in a little time hanged himself. 'What's sport for one, is death to another, I once heard at the village-school read out of a copy-book.
Then they went to the Fulcher farm, where, in a chapel not much more than a shrine, the service was again said with the people kneeling around in the grass. The farmers and good housewives placed more faith in this than in the methods of the newcomers with their American wisdom. But it was a pleasing service.
Big dogth or catth or anything of that thort? Theemth to me if thereth big henth and big waptheth comin' on " He laughed with a fine pretence of talking idly. But a brooding expression came upon the faces of the Hickleybrow men. Fulcher was the first to give their condensing thought the concrete shape of words. "A cat to match them 'ens " said Fulcher.
Old Fulcher had frequently stolen osiers out of the car, whilst in the neighbourhood, but during his absence the property, of which the car was a part, had been let to a young gentleman, a great hand for preserving game. Old Fulcher had not got far into the car before he put his foot into a man-trap. Hearing old Fulcher shriek, I ran up, and found him in a dreadful condition.
Meridiana is a Borzlam, and travels with her own people, and not with old Fulcher, who is a gorgio, and a basket-maker." "I was not speaking of old Fulcher, but Pulci, a great Italian writer, who lived many hundred years ago, and who, in his poem called 'Morgante Maggiore, speaks of Meridiana, the daughter of "
I stayed with him till the time of his death, which happened in about three months, travelling about with him and his family, and living in green lanes, where we saw gypsies and trampers, and all kinds of strange characters. Old Fulcher, besides being an industrious basket-maker, was an out-and-out thief, as was also his son, and, indeed, every member of his family.
Fulcher's art hasn't much to do with nature. I'm afraid it's the illegitimate offspring of Mr. Fulcher and some young shepherdess of Covent Garden." "He seems to have proved himself pretty much at home in Arcadia." "Don't you believe him. He's only at home in Downing Street. You'd better leave him there." But Jewdwine did not leave him there. He exalted Mr.
Fulcher learnt, to his immense bewilderment, that there is no immaculate conception of that truth; but that to Mr. Fulcher, as poet, belonged the exultation of paternity. Jewdwine quoted Coleridge to the effect that Mr. Fulcher only received what he was pleased to give, and that in Mr. Fulcher's life alone did Nature live.
"Thus perished old Fulcher; he was succeeded in his business by his son, young Fulcher, who, immediately after the death of his father, was called old Fulcher, it being our English custom to call everybody old, as soon as their fathers are buried; young Fulcher I mean he who had been called young, but was now old Fulcher wanted me to go out and commit larcenies with him; but I told him that I would have nothing more to do with thieving, having seen the ill effects of it, and that I should leave them in the morning.
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