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Updated: June 24, 2025
I'll go out and size up the damage to him, if his friends have had enough and chances are they have." They had. Gosse advanced waving a red bandanna handkerchief as a flag of truce. "We got a plenty," he said frankly. "West's down, an' another of the boys got winged. No use us goin' on with this darned foolishness. We're ready to call it off if you'll turn Morse loose."
Gosse, though it might be said of him that he could belong to any age that knew its Milton and its Wordsworth. In him assuredly there was no attempt at inventiveness; he has always repudiated the idea that the poet should seek to innovate.
The poor sweated victims of the author's greed have at last turned upon the oppressor. Mr. Gosse, on a memorable occasion, confusedly blending the tones of the prophet of righteousness with the accents of the political economist, admonished the greedy author that he was killing the goose with the golden eggs. And now the goose has resolved to be a goose no longer.
Gosse in his biography compared Swinburne to a coloured and exotic bird a "scarlet and azure macaw," to, be precise and the comparison remains in one's imagination. Watts-Dunton, finding the poor creature moulted and "off its feed," carried it down to Putney, resolved to domesticate it. He watched over it as a farmer's wife watches over a sick hen. He taught it to eat out of his hand.
It would be difficult to name a citizen of Nevada more popular with his fellow-men or enjoying to a greater degree the confidence and trust of those with whom he is associated than H. J. Gosse, proprietor and manager of the Riverside Hotel of Reno.
Gosse, in his "Naturalist on the Shores of Devon," his "Tour in Jamaica," his "Tenby," and his "Canadian Naturalist," has done for those three places what White did for Selborne, with all the improved appliances of a science which has widened and deepened tenfold since White's time. Mr.
Here he met several interesting men, among them Edmund William Gosse and Sidney Colvin, both writers and literary critics, with whom he became very intimate. "My experience of Stevenson," writes Mr. Gosse, "during these first years was confined to London upon which he would make sudden piratical descents, staying a few days or weeks and melting into thin air again.
Now a moderate-sized specimen will afford, with all its convolutions, at least one hundred square inches of wall, which would contain a population of five hundred and seventy-six thousand inhabitants, a very large city. So says Mr. Gosse. We cannot forbear, with him, from quoting Montgomery's lines on the labors of the coral-worms, which modern science has enabled us to study in our parlors.
Gosse next tried the fairy of the walking mouth with a house- fly, who escaped only by hard fighting; and at last the gentle creature, after swallowing and disgorging various large pieces of shell-fish, found viands to its taste in "the lean of cooked meat and portions of earthworms," filling up the intervals by a perpetual dessert of microscopic animalcules, whirled into that lovely avernus, its mouth, by the currents of the delicate ciliae which clothe every tentacle.
Writing at this time to his friend Mr. Edmund Gosse, Stevenson expressed his satisfaction at the turn affairs were taking in these words: "Many of the thunderclouds that were overhanging me when last I wrote have silently stolen away, like Longfellow's Arabs; and I am now engaged to be married to the woman whom I have loved for three years and a half.
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