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Updated: May 23, 2025
Browning, though in a different form. He was also, with his sister, a constant visitor at Lady Elgin's. Both they and Mrs. Browning were greatly attached to her, and she warmly reciprocated the feeling. As Mr. Locker's letter has told us, Mr.
Just as there is, so Wordsworth reminds us, 'a spirit in the woods, so is there still, brooding over and haunting the pages of the 'Rowfant Catalogue, the spirit of true connoisseurship. In the slender lists of Locker's 'Works' this book must always have a place.
"I beg pardon, me lord," he said. "It was coming on you sudden in them things. I never thought to see you, me lord, in hotomobeel clothes you who always was so down on the 'orrid machines." "Well, help me out of them," I answered, feeling the justice of Locker's implied rebuke.
It is asserted that he walked the full twenty-four miles from the railroad, subsisting on the country, as it were, and sagged down on the porch of Locker's grocery just before sundown. It is not implied that he walked all of the twenty-four miles in that single day. Huge bodies move deliberately. He sagged down on Locker's porch, and it is reported the corner of the porch sagged with him.
It were perhaps absurd in a world like this to grow sentimental over a parcel of old books. Death, the great unbinder, must always make a difference. Mr. Locker's poetry now forms a volume of the Golden Treasury Series. The London Lyrics are what they are. They have been well praised by good critics, and have themselves been made the subject of good verse.
'Go up to your dad's old house-boat in the marshes and get some fishin' duds on the locker's full of 'em. 'Thou hast said something, I told him; 'go and get your old scow ready and I'm with you." Then he hit me a good rap on the shoulder and said, "So you see how it was, kiddo?
Like himself, Claude Locker's poems were always short, always in request, and sometimes not easy to understand. The poem he wrote that night was a word-picture of the rising moon entangled in a sheaf of corn upon a hilltop, with a long-eared rabbit sitting near by as if astonished at the conflagration. "A very interesting girl, that Miss Asher," said Mr. Fox to his wife that evening.
When Miss Port had left her, Olive was so much disturbed by what that placid spinster had told her that she totally forgot Claude Locker's proposal of marriage, as well as the other things she had been thinking about. These things had been not at all unpleasant; she had been thinking of her uncle and her return to the toll-gate house.
"Don't intend to be called on to b'lieve 'em," said the deacon. "Look.... Comin' acrost the bridge. There's Locker's boy and that there Wife-ette, and him lookin' like he'd enjoy divin' down her throat." "Poor Jason," said the elder, "he's reapin' the whirlwind." "Kin he be blind?" "Somebody ought to take Jason off to one side and give him warnin'."
Take the well-known drawing of two right angles In Euclid's definition, and imagine the horizontal line to be the main road to Chatford, while the perpendicular one standing on it is a by-way called Locker's lane.
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