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Updated: May 13, 2025
A writer on the subject has said: "They stare into a crystal ball, a cup, a mirror, a blot of ink, a drop of blood, a bowl of water, a pond, water in a glass bowl, or almost any polished surface, etc." In fact, it may be said that almost every object capable of presenting a polished surface has been employed by some race as an aid to psychic vision.
It was Ouida, she of the aqua-fortis ink, who said, "A woman married to a man as good as Antoninus must have been very miserable, for while men who are thoroughly bad are not lovable, yet a man who is not occasionally bad is unendurable."
He must catch that smile and keep it. He found some paper on the table, scrambled for a pen, and with red and black ink made a hasty but striking picture of the little beauty.
"It is written in indelible ink," he said, "and it contains a statement of our forces and their positions here in the eastern part of the state. It also tells General Buell what reinforcements he can expect. If you are in imminent danger of capture destroy the paper, but to provide for such a chance, in case you escape afterward, I will read the dispatches to you."
That age was not widely and enthusiastically appreciative of literary merit in playwrights who were merely dramatists, and in no other way notorious or eminent. Mr. We also know that the plays were popular; but the audiences have not rushed to pen and ink to record their satisfaction. With them, as with all audiences, the actors and the SPECTACLE, much more than the "cackle," were the attractions.
He took it, the ink was rusty, it was written twenty years ago; it was from his mother to her neighbor, Mrs. Meadows, then on a visit at Newborough, telling her how young John had fought for and protected her against a band of drunken ruffians, and how grateful she was. "And I do hope, dame, he will be as good friends with my lads when they are men as you and I have been this many a day."
As he proceeded, and that brief but perfect drama unfolded itself before the imagination of his hearers, it was as if they had never heard it before, or at least as if its profound import had never been revealed to their dull minds. Intimations and suggestions which had never been disclosed to them came out like lines written in sensitive ink, under the influence of light and heat.
Well, one day, when Bully didn’t know what to do to have some fun, and when Bawly, his brother, had gone off to play ball, Bully thought about making a water bottle, as Johnnie Bushytail had told him how to do it. Bully took a bottle that once had held ink, and he cleaned it all out.
They shook the air, the earth, the ancient stones, the very nests upon the trees, and sent the rooks flying black as ink against the yellow buttercups in the meadow. "We must go, in a few minutes," said Robinette. "Oh, will you pull me some of those white roses up there?" Lavendar swung himself up and drawing down a bunch he pulled off two white buds.
This at least was a relief; it was the question she had feared most. In the street she met the postman. "I have a letter for you, Miss Janet," he said. And on the pink envelope he handed her, in purple ink, she recognized the unformed, childish handwriting of Lise. "There's great doings down at the City Hall," the postman added "the foreigners are holding mass meetings there."
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