United States or Spain ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
What Charlotte had heard there as a girl came up in her mind when, as a woman, she sought a subject for her next work; and she sent to Leeds for a file of the Mercuries of 1812, '13, and '14; in order to understand the spirit of those eventful times.
Instead of figuring a merchant as a middle-aged man, with a bob wig, a rough beard, in snuff-coloured clothes, grasping a guinea in his red hand, I conceive a comely young man, with a tolerable pig-tail, wielding a pen with all the noble fierceness of the Duke of Marlborough brandishing a truncheon upon a sign-post, surrounded with types and emblems, and canopied with cornucopias that disembogue their stores upon his head; Mercuries reclin'd upon bales of goods; Genii playing with pens, ink, and paper; while, in perspective, his gorgeous vessels 'launched on the bosom of the silver Thames' are wafting to distant lands the produce of this commercial nation.
Early in the sessions at the gymnasium, Buck had introduced his pupil to boxing-glove and punching-bag, his own special passions, and now his orders ran that the Doc should put on the gloves with any of the Mercuries that were willing. Most of the Mercuries were willing, and on these early Saturday nights, Stark's rocked with the falls of Dr. Queed.
Others were entitled respectively Mercurius Britannicus Mercurius Anti-Britannicus Mercurius Fumigosus, a Smoaking Nocturnal Mercurius Pragmaticus Mercurius Anti-Pragmaticus Mercurius Mercuriorum Stultissimus Mercurius Insanus Insanissimus Mercurius Diabolicus Mercurius Mastix, faithfully lashing all Scouts, Mercuries, Posts, Spyes, and others Mercurius Radamanthus, the Chief Judge of Hell, his Circuits through all the Courts of Law in England, etc., etc.
Ludwig laughed but tried to look cross, as he said, "I'm in earnest. We must get home sometime this year." "Now, boys," cried Peter, springing up as he fastened the last buckle. "There's a clear way before us! We will imagine it's the grand race. Ready! One, two, three, start!" I assure you that very little was said for the first half hour. They were six Mercuries skimming the ice.
"And they have shot him." Enter Mr. Tulkinghorn, followed by Mercuries with lamps and candles. "No, no," says Sir Leicester, "I think not. My Lady, do you object to the twilight?" On the contrary, my Lady prefers it. "Volumnia?" Oh! Nothing is so delicious to Volumnia as to sit and talk in the dark. "Then take them away," says Sir Leicester. "Tulkinghorn, I beg your pardon. How do you do?" Mr.
Forth from the frigid mews come easily swinging carriages guided by short-legged coachmen in flaxen wigs, deep sunk into downy hammercloths, and up behind mount luscious Mercuries bearing sticks of state and wearing cocked hats broadwise, a spectacle for the angels. The Dedlock town house changes not externally, and hours pass before its exalted dullness is disturbed within.
Directing the pitching of the chair in an affable and easy manner, Mr. Bucket dismisses the Mercuries and locks the door again. Sir Leicester looks on at this invasion of the sacred precincts with an icy stare. "Now, perhaps you may know me, ladies and gentlemen," says Mr. Bucket in a confidential voice.
The bugle sends forth its blast loud, clear, and ringing. Off go the boys! "Mine Gott," cries a tough old fellow from Delft. "They beat everything, these Amsterdam youngsters. See them!" See them, indeed! They are winged Mercuries, every one of them. What mad errand are they on? Ah, I know. They are hunting Peter van Holp. He is some fleet-footed runaway from Olympus.
The powers of the licenser were now much more strictly exercised, and the Mercuries gave up the ghost in shoals.
Word Of The Day