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Updated: June 28, 2025
MacAlister, answered Stephen, would call my esthetic theory applied Aquinas. So far as this side of esthetic philosophy extends, Aquinas will carry me all along the line. When we come to the phenomena of artistic conception, artistic gestation, and artistic reproduction I require a new terminology and a new personal experience. Of course, said Lynch.
He jerked his prisoner forward and thrust him over and into the trench, and leaped in after him. It was purely on impulse that Private Macalister flung his prisoner out of the German trench, but it was a set and reasoned purpose that made him drag his struggling captive back over the open to the British trench.
Macalister, the widower, had desired to make a marriage of reason, and had chosen Catherine for what he supposed to be her latent matronly qualities; but John Ludlow, who was a year the girl's junior, and spoken of always as a young man who might have his "pick," was seriously in love with her.
It was too bad; Kitty made a face at her across the schoolroom, and even Boris gave her a reproachful glance. Jane Macalister fixed two awful spectacled eyes upon the culprits, and, scarlet blushes tingling in their cheeks, they took possession of their vacant chairs. The children all sang their usual hymn, although Elinor's voice was a little husky and Boris held his book upside down.
He knew that the British line would not shoot at an obvious kilted Highlander, and he supposed that the Germans would hesitate to fire on one dragging an equally obvious German officer behind him. Either his reasoning or his blind luck held true, and both he and his captive tumbled over into the British trench unhurt. An officer appeared, and Macalister explained briefly to him what had happened.
Macalister reminded him of the Categorical Imperative. "Act so that every action of yours should be capable of becoming a universal rule of action for all men." "That seems to me perfect nonsense," said Philip. "You're a bold man to say that of anything stated by Immanuel Kant," retorted Macalister. "Why?
Annie raised her brows in inquiry; the mystery of the donkey-cart was explained to her, and no further questions were asked with regard to Boris. Elinor had not yet been missed. Friar's Wood was a perfect place for a picnic, and in due course of time the happy cavalcade arrived there. The younger children and Miss Macalister began to make preparations for the first meal.
An hour took us into a beautiful black-soil plain of great extent, without a stick of timber, and well watered, not only by the Macalister, which meandered through its centre, but by several large lagoons, overgrown with the lovely white lotus, and crowded with waterfowl.
"It's the most ripping way of making money that I've ever struck," he cried. "I didn't have to put my hand in my pocket for sixpence." "You lost something by not being here last Tuesday, young man," said Macalister to Philip. "My God, why didn't you write to me?" said Philip. "If you only knew how useful a hundred pounds would be to me." "Oh, there wasn't time for that. One has to be on the spot.
After some vain attempts to argue the matter and disprove the statements, Macalister resigned himself to contemptuous silence, only rousing when the German spoke of England and English, to correct him to Britain and British. When at last their interest flagged, the Germans ordered him to move on.
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