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It being a mild and sunny day, the door of the fruit cellar was open, and as I came around the corner I had such of whiff of fragrance as I cannot describe. It seemed as though the vials of the earth's most precious odours had been broken there in Horace's yard! The smell of ripe apples! In the dusky depths of the cellar, down three steps, I could see Horace's ruddy face.
She noted that the strained expression had gone from the girl's face, and uttered a little prayer of thanksgiving when she heard Horace's hearty laugh ring out once more. Everett Brimbecomb took the letter Lon Cronk handed him, without rising from his chair. "It be for Flea," said Lon, grinning, "and I think she'll understand it. It's as plain as that nose on yer face, Mister."
Poet, nephew of the famous Earl of Strafford, was b. in Ireland. He studied and travelled on the Continent, and enjoyed a considerable literary reputation in his own day on the strength of a poetical Essay on Translated Verse, and translations from Horace's Art of Poetry. Poet and translator, s. of George R., who held various Government offices, including that of Treasurer of the Navy.
She answered his letter, and begged that, as soon as he felt able to do so, he would come and see her. A month's silence on Horace's part had led her to conclude that he would not come, when, without warning, he presented himself at her door. It was morning, and he stayed till nightfall, but talked very little.
What, then, does my ramble of two hours at San Gervasio amount to? It shows that there is a possibility, at least, of a now vanished fountain having existed on the heights where it might fulfil more accurately the conditions of Horace's ode.
"This very boy has a good many pieces of silver which were given him to buy fire-crackers. So you see, if he is truly sorry for his fault, he knows the way to atone for it." Horace's conscience told him, by a twinge, that it would be no more than just for him to pay what he could for mending the watch. "Have you nothing to say to me, my child?"
Here are some of the plans which, year by year, he laid down for the regulation of his studies: "Translate every day ten lines of the De Officiis, and re-translate into Latin. Five chapters of Greek Testament. Theological studies. Plato's Apology for Socrates; Horace's Epodes, Epistles, Satires, and Ars Poetica." "Write sermons and reviews, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
I'd be a pretty poor sort of mother, wouldn't I, if " etc. Horace's first job took him out to South America. He was jubilant, excited, remorseful, eager, downcast, all at once. He and Louise were married a month before the time set for leaving and she went with him. It was a job for a young and hardy and adventurous.
"No, no," said the Professor; "I see no reason why you should be troubled with the entire family. I may drop in alone some evening and take the luck of the pot, sir." "Thank you, papa," put in Sylvia; "but I should like to come too, please, and hear what you think of Horace's bottle. And I'm dying to see his rooms. I believe they're fearfully luxurious."
I was the original nurse to Mrs. Sol Smith's Juliette. Why, Omar, I was a canteen singer during the War of 1812." Horace's mind made a sudden successful leap, and he grinned. "Did Charlie Moon put you up to this?" Marcia regarded him inscrutably. "Who's Charlie Moon? "Small wide nostrils big ears." She grew several inches and sniffed. "I'm not in the habit of noticing my friends' nostrils.
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