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Updated: June 22, 2025
You will be sensible of the oddest contrast between the smooth little creature, and the rough man who seems to be carved out of hard-grained wood between the delicate hand expectantly held out, and the immense thumb and finger that can hardly feel the rigging of thread they mend between the small voice and the gruff growl and yet there is a natural propriety in the companionship: always to be noted in confidence between a child and a person who has any merit of reality and genuineness: which is admirably pleasant.
"I have nothing to say anent it." "What was she talking about? You know, Isobel, that Sophy is kin of mine, and I loved her mother like my own sister. So I be to feel anxious about the little body. I'm feared things are not going as well as they might do. Madame Braelands is but a hard-grained woman." "She is as cruel a woman and as bad a woman as there is between this and wherever she may be."
All is accepted. Politeness is the rule, according to Skepsey's experience of the Southern part of the third-class kingdom. And it is as well to mark the divisions, for the better knowledge of our countrymen. The North requires volumes to itself. The hard-grained old pirate-stock Northward has built the land, and is to the front when we are at our epic work.
He has a gnarled mind. Good, hard-grained wood, though. I suppose no man more thoroughly hates and despises what I represent or what he thinks I represent, the conservative force of moneyed power than he does. Yet in any question of professional principles, I would trust him far; yes, and of professional perceptions, too, I think; which is more difficult. A crack-brained sage; but wise.
The coarse, hard-grained canvas, with the dull sodden mass behind it, answered me with a sad affirmative. There yet remained the upper side of the other case, and then that of the biscuit-box. Both should be tried as a last effort, and that before I could again sleep. And both were tried, with like evil fortune.
Quite without notice, and without explanation, her employer had paid her a week's wages and dismissed her. Her first astonished questions having been met with silence by the honest but hard-grained woman who kept the laundry, Ida had not condescended to any further appeal. The fact was that the laundress had received a visit from a certain Mrs.
The question was put with a rare smile such as sometimes was seen on this hard-grained handler of millions, and the young man, seeing it, faltered back, leaving the way open for them to enter. The next minute he seemed to regret the impulse, for backing against a miserable table they saw there, he drew himself up with an air as nearly hostile as one of his nature could assume.
In his lowering magazine of dust, the universal article into which his papers and himself, and all his clients, and all things of earth, animate and inanimate, are resolving, Mr. Tulkinghorn sits at one of the open windows enjoying a bottle of old port. Though a hard-grained man, close, dry, and silent, he can enjoy old wine with the best.
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