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Updated: June 24, 2025
The quality of BEING, in the object's self, according to its own central idea and purpose, and of growing therefrom and thereto not criticism by other standards and adjustments thereto is the lesson of Nature. Who knows whether this may not be Walt Whitman's "secret," or, at any rate, the spiritual experience of which the poet's latest biographer, Mr. Emory Holloway, writes?
Pendarvis stopped smiling. "Mr. O'Brien, I doubt if you'll be allowed to prosecute anything or anybody around here any more, and I am specifically relieving you of any connection with either the Kellogg or the Holloway trial, and if I hear any argument out of you about it, I will issue a bench warrant for your arrest on charges of malfeasance in office."
Boffin was accosted by a strange gentleman, who gave his name as John Rokesmith, and proposed his services as private secretary. Mr. Rokesmith mentioned that he lodged at one Mr. Wilfer's, in Holloway. Mr. Boffin stared. "Father of Miss Bella Wilfer?" "My landlord has a daughter named Bella." "Well, to tell you the truth, I don't know what to say," said Mr.
Such was the furniture of my apartment in Her Majesty's Holloway Hotel. Scantier appointments were impossible. Yet, to my surprise, an officer came in one day with an inventory, to see if anything was missing. Rather a superfluous check, when the iron cell door was constantly locked and there was no opening to the window!
The indolent are always curious, though they will not always exert themselves, even to gratify their curiosity. "Only the Encyclopaedia prints," said Supine, looking over Mr. Russell's shoulder: "I thought you had got something new." "Only smoky chimneys," exclaimed Holloway, looking over Howard's shoulder: "what upon earth, Howard, can you find so entertaining in smoky chimneys?
At the corner of the Holloway Road we drew up, and our conductor began to shout after the manner of his species: "Charing Cross Charing Cross 'ere yer are Come along, lady Charing Cross." The little Frenchman jumped up, and prepared to exit; the conductor pushed him back. "Sit down and don't be silly," he said; "this ain't Charing Cross." The Frenchman looked puzzled, but collapsed meekly.
May Pearcey and she were both learners at a small dressmaker's shop in a street off Holloway Road. They used to walk together along Grove Road in the mornings, and at dinner-time, and in the evenings. But the boys all looked at May, who was a big girl with rosy cheeks and eyes that were bold with many conquests. Sally only got the soppy ones. That was her luck.
Representing himself always as the agent of his father, but far exceeding the Earl in the malevolence of his inventions, Reginald Maltravers sought by every means he could command to drive me from public life in England. "Three times he succeeded in having me flung into Holloway Jail. I need not tell you of the terrors of that institution, nor of the degrading horrors of forcible feeding.
I understand now how much prisoners are at the mercy of judges, and I feel how much truth there was in the remark I once heard from a prisoner in Holloway Gaol, that "it's often a toss up whether you get one year or seven." Let me here also ask why Mr. Fawcett, the late Postmaster General, allowed his letter-carriers to be employed as detectives in such a case.
Young Holloway was almost as familiar with this coachman as with his father's groom, who, during his visits at home, supplied the place of Mr. Supine, in advancing his education. The stage-coachman so effectually wrought upon the ambition of Augustus, that his desire to learn to drive became uncontrollable.
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