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Updated: May 8, 2025
Revolution alone can be not merely a revolt of the living, but also a resurrection of the dead. As my friend went down this street he whistled an old French air which he had found, like Mr. Gandish, "in his researches into 'istry," and which had somehow taken his fancy; the song to which those last sincere loyalists went into battle. I think the words ran: Monsieur de Charette. Dit au gens d'ici.
It's what they call 'ist'ry." Dickie, after some reflection, said, "D'jever 'ear of Here Ward?" "I knowed a Jake Ward wunst." "Here Ward the Wake. He ain't a bloke you'd know 'e's in 'istry. Tell you if you like." The tale of Hereward the Wake lasted till the jolting perambulator came to anchor in a hollow place among thick furze bushes.
But io! MY cab-days is over. "Be still my hagnizing Art! I now am about to hunfoald the dark payges of the Istry of my life!" Jeames's Street, much to the estonishment of my Snyder there, namely an olliffgreen velvyteen jackit and smalclose, and a crimsn plush weskoat with glas-buttns.
That story, sir, which I found in my researches in istry, has since become so popular, sir, that hundreds of artists have painted it, hundreds! I who discovered the legend, have my picture here! "'Now, Colonel, says the showman, 'let me let me lead you through the statue gallery. 'Apollo, you see.
What a bucketful of corruption was that, a mixture of sap and rainwater that had rotted, and smelled to heaven. Mice and birds and insects had been drowned in it, and added to its unsavory character. It was a bit of Nature cut off from the vitalizing and purifying chem- istry of the whole.
In Scotland, I expect there's two Highlanders there, you see. A Well-read Woman. That's Queen CHARLOTTE, that is. Her Companion. Wasn't that the one that was shut up in the Tower, or something? The W.W. In the Tower? Lor, my dear, no, I never 'eard of it. You're thinking of the TUDORS, or some o' that lot, I expect! Her Comp. Am I? I daresay. I never could remember 'Istry.
If you do me the favour to walk into the Hatrium, you'll remark my great pictures also from English istry. An English historical painter, sir, should be employed chiefly in English istry. That's what I would have done. Why ain't there temples for us, where the people might read their history at a glance, and without knowing how to read? Why is my 'Alfred' 'anging up in this 'all?
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