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True-Man, Lord Understanding was on the bench, and the Judge bears the dainty name of the "Golden-headed Prince." Bunyan's adversaries are always a bad set. They live in Villain's Lane, in Blackmouth Street, or Blasphemer's Row, or Drunkard's Alley, or Rascal's Corner.
"You'll notice that Old Jack never appeared while we were singing," said Langdon. "I don't see why a man should be so modest and bashful. Why, if I'd done half what he's done I'd ride the tallest horse in the country; I'd have one of those Mexican saddles of yellow leather studded with large golden-headed nails; the stirrups would be of gold and the bridle bit would be gold, too.
"'Ay, I see that you have girded on a sword, said the divine. 'But wherewith shall I defend myself? my hand being empty except of this golden-headed staff, the gift of Mr. Langton. "'One of those, if you will accept it, answered Edward, exhibiting a brace of pistols, 'will serve to begin the conflict, before you join the battle hand to hand.
Pyx and chalice, thuribule and vial, golden-headed pastoral staff, and mitre embossed with pearls, candlestick and Christmas ship of silver; salver, basin, and ewer all are gone the splendid sacristy hath been despoiled. A sad, sad change hath come over Whalley Abbey.
She was a pretty, golden-headed creature, with soft blue eyes that looked up entreatingly, piteously into the face of the dragoon. He leered upon her, his eyes aglow, took her chin in his hand, and set her shuddering by his brutal kiss. "It's an earnest," he said, smiling grimly. "Let that quiet you, little rebel, till I've done with these rogues."
"'I took some thought for that matter, reverend knight, replied Edward, whose imagination was highly tickled by Dr. Melmoth's chivalrous comparison. "'Aye, I see that you have girded on a sword, said the divine. 'But wherewith shall I defend myself? my hand being empty except of this golden-headed staff, the gift of Mr. Langton.
Seems the doctor said as he thought as it was a golden-headed oriole but the friend thought as it was a mud hen. So he give it to Drusilla's youngest boy to raise in a flat for his birthday. Well, Mrs. Macy says bein' raised in a flat was surely most new to the animal as very soon turned out to be a duck.
Here she vanished within. The sunlight sat on the floor of the room inside, and the baby sat in the sunlight; and the wasp, apparently still half-awake, went, or, rather, nearly tumbled, and sat beside the baby. They made an odd picture there the golden sun, the sunny, golden-headed baby, and that silent, yellow she-devil, crawling, crawling, crawling, with her narrow wings gleaming like gems.
Only one person in Pleasantville had that mixture of lofty command and tragic emphasis, and that was Colonel Jeptha Harrington. As Bart turned, he saw the village magnate ten feet away, planted like a rock, and extending his big golden-headed cane as if it was a spear and he was poising to immediately impale a victim. The colonel's brow was a veritable thundercloud.
He would have been rewarded enough if one sign of gladness that he lived had broken through the egotism and the stricken fear of the man whom he remembered as a little golden-headed child, with the hand of their dying mother lying in benediction on the fair, silken curls. He had asked no questions. He had gone back to no recriminations.
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