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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Papa, our other papa has a funny nose." "Papa, are you our real papa, or is papa Lacon?" In general it was Chippie who put these questions or made the remarks. Tom seemed to understand already that the situation was delicate, and had moments of puzzled gravity.
The author of "Lacon" says "that if all seconds were as averse to duels as their principals, there would be very little blood spilt in that way;" and it was certainly astonishing to compare the zeal with which Mr. Bobus busied himself about this "affair" with that testified by him on another occasion when he himself was more immediately concerned. The morning came. Mr.
If it hadn't been for the children, he might not have heard so much as the man's name. The children called him "papa Lacon." Chip was obliged to swallow that. They spoke of him simply and spontaneously, taking "papa Lacon" as a matter of course. They varied the appellation now and then by calling him "our other papa."
"Imitation," says the author of Lacon, "is the sincerest flattery." The handsome may be shewy in dress, the plain should study to be unexceptionable; just as in great men we look for something to admire in ordinary men we ask for nothing to forgive. There is a study of dress for the aged, as well as for the young.
Lacon. Let us shout, then! Comatas. Call thou to him. Lacon. Ho, friend, come hither and listen for a little while, for we two have a match to prove which is the better singer of country song. So Morson, my friend, neither judge me too kindly, no, nor show him favour. Comatas.
Edith was standing in the doorway, the man behind her. The haggard pallor of her face and the feverishness of her eyes reminded Chip of the morning little Tom was born. He was on his feet silent. He couldn't even breathe her name. It was the less necessary since she herself hastened to speak: "Chip, Mr. Lacon knows we met in England.
Forth from the wild olive, my bleating she-goats, feed here where the hillside slopes, and the tamarisks grove. Lacon. Conarus there, and Cynaetha, will you never leave the oak? Graze here, where Phalarus feeds, where the hillside fronts the dawn. Comatas. Ay, and I have a vessel of cypress wood, and a mixing bowl, the work of Praxiteles, and I hoard them for my maiden. Lacon.
Comatas. 'Twas the skin that Crocylus gave me, the dappled one, when he sacrificed the she-goat to the nymphs; but thou, wretch, even then wert wasting with envy, and now, at last, thou hast stripped me bare! Lacon. Nay verily, so help me Pan of the seashore, it was not Lacon the son of Calaethis that filched the coat of skin. If I lie, sirrah, may I leap frenzied down this rock into the Crathis!
I told him as soon as I reached Paris; I didn't want him not to know. And now he wants us all to meet I don't know why." Since he had to say something, he uttered the first words that came to him: "Was there any harm in it our meeting? Mr. Lacon knows we have children and things to talk over." "Oh, it isn't only that," she said, excitedly. "It's more. I don't know what but I know it's more."
Yea, and me too Apollo loves very dearly, and a noble ram I rear for Apollo, for the feast of the Carnea, look you, is drawing nigh. Comatas. The she-goats that I milk have all borne twins save two. The maiden saw me, and 'alas, she cried, 'dost thou milk alone? Lacon. Ah, ah, but Lacon here hath nigh twenty baskets full of cheese, and Lacon lies with his darling in the flowers! Comatas.
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