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Updated: May 16, 2025
And I too might be a poet if I lived in the country, in constant communion with Nature, abandoning my soul to her maternal caress. But alas, the stir, the scramble, the mad whirl of city life, the debasing contact with low material minds, the daily study of Prices Current, make even of me a muckworm.
The levellers, whose muckworm minds, and love of the arts is only shown in that of money-getting maintained that the demolition of the Chapel would be "a pecuniary saving;" but theirs was a penny-wise and pound-foolish spirit; for, by removing the Chapel, a greater expense would be incurred than in its restoration.
His clothes were muddied, soiled, torn, and disordered. Framed there against the black background of the night, he stood and surveyed them for a moment, his aspect terrific. Then he leapt forward, baring his sword as he came. An incoherent roar burst from his lips as he bore straight down upon Richard. "You damned, infernal traitor!" he cried. "Draw, draw! Or die like the muckworm that you are."
You may hang the muckworm, and what shall that profit any one? Will it restore me Sir Richard's life? Send one of your ruffians for a doctor, man. And bid him hasten." Mr. Green obeyed with alacrity. Apart from his regrets at this happening for its own sake, it would suit his interests not at all that Sir Richard should perish thus.
And out she poured the story that Rinolfo and his father had run to tell her of how I had shown the fellow violence in the first instance because he had surprised me with Luisina in my arms. The friar's face grew dark and grave as he listened. But ere she had quite done, unable longer to contain myself, I interrupted. "In that he lied like the muckworm that he is," I exclaimed.
If my conjectures are right, the threats of the old muckworm father have shaken the crazy nerves of the baronet; and I half suspect there is something more of meaning at the bottom of this. Were it so, were he to attempt to discard me, it would indeed add another spur to the fury of revenge!
Now," I added, and with the tip of my little finger I touched the sleeve of my aristocratic client, "here at once is your first asset. Get at the money-bags of papa by threatening the social position of his daughter." Whereupon my young gentleman jumped to his feet and swore and abused me for a mudlark and a muckworm and I don't know what.
"You're a foul thing a muckworm Sir Rowland," added Trenchard amiably, "and you've been discourteous to a lady, for which may Heaven forgive you I can't." "Stand aside," Blake bade him, hoarse with passion, blind to all risks. "My affair is with Mr. Wilding." "Aye," said Trenchard, "but mine is with you.
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