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Updated: June 21, 2025
Gilchrist, John continued to visit at the house, and was openly taken under the great literary man's protection. By his desire, William Hilton, R.A., happening to pass through Stamford, consented to paint Clare's portrait for exhibition in London. The poet was delighted; and all went on well, until one day when Mr.
Very naturally, upon the man who had cheered him with such hearty and well-timed approval, Clare looked as one of his best friends, and lost no occasion to proclaim the fact. He told the story of his acquaintance with the Rev. Mr. Holland, as at many other times, so at the first interview with Mr. Gilchrist.
"Let us hear the suspicions. I will look after the proofs." "I will tell you, then, in a few words the character of the three men who inhabit these rooms. The lower of the three is Gilchrist, a fine scholar and athlete, plays in the Rugby team and the cricket team for the college, and got his Blue for the hurdles and the long jump. He is a fine, manly fellow.
Gilchrist to devote himself more than ever to literature, leaving the shop to his assistants, and taking to the scales only on Fair days and other solemn occasions. Having married, in 1804, the daughter of Mr.
His verses have no literary atmosphere about them: they smell neither of the midnight oil nor of that smoke of fame the fumes of which Byron tells us "are frankincense to human thought." They seem to have been written as spontaneously as a bird might warble on a bough, and no bird was ever more careless of auditors than Blake. Gilchrist, and accompanied by a selection from his poems made by Mr.
I am, I have to be what do you call it? a non-combatant? And to remind me of what others have to do and suffer: no, it is not fair!" "Miss Gilchrist has the tender female heart," said Chevenix. "Do not be too sure of that!" she cried. "I would love to be allowed to fight myself!" "On which side?" I asked. "Can you ask?" she exclaimed. "I am a Scottish girl!"
Strike, God of Battle, and the raging sea, strike and spare not the wicked, for Thy servant will have waited long." Gilchrist, who was now the head of the gangers and preventives, turned on his pillow after Dol Beag had crept out. "Ay, Mirren Stuart," said he, "Mirren Stuart that rade the Uist pony and laughed at me in my young days maybe, Mirren, ye will come to my door yet my back door."
The law is on your side, gentlemen you have the legal right to go on with the transaction." "What law is this?" said Mr. Gilchrist. "The law of this Province," said Pearl. "Do you mean to say," said Mr. Gilchrist hotly, "that Mrs. Paine cannot claim any part of the price of this farm as her own or does not need to sign the agreement of sale. Has she no claim at all?"
The latter read and liked the verses, and being desirous to know something of the writer, requested information from Mr. Gilchrist.
John Clare, remembering his former visit to Milton Park, in company with the nimble parish clerk of Helpston, refused the demand, to the great annoyance of Mr. Gilchrist. At length, however, giving way to Mr. Drury's importunities, Clare sat down and penned his humble epistle, which was duly despatched by Mr. Gilchrist.
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