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Updated: June 13, 2025
Every monarchy has its peculiar veil; that of France consists in a kind of religious and sacred silence, which, by the subjects generally paying a blind obedience to their Kings, muffles up that right which they think they have to dispense with their obedience in cases where a complaisance to their Kings would be a prejudice to themselves.
As to your wife. Your wife is to inherit the property of a maternal uncle, a gouty old fellow whom she humors, nurses, caresses, and muffles up; to say nothing of her father's fortune. Caroline has always adored her uncle, her uncle who trotted her on his knee, her uncle who her uncle whom her uncle, in short, whose property is estimated at two hundred thousand.
The guard muffles Tom's feet up in straw, and puts an oat-sack over his knees, but it is not until after breakfast that his tongue is unloosed, and he rubs up his memory, and launches out into a graphic history of all the performances of the Rugby boys on the roads for the last twenty years.
Addison when he was free from that remarkable bashfulness which is a cloak that hides and muffles merit; and his abilities were covered only by modesty, which doubles the beauties which are seen, and gives credit and esteem to all that are concealed. Addison had the self-consciousness of a sensitive and speculative mind.
"You bet yeh," said Joe, husky with the muffles. "She's a corker," continued Sam, "double compressed, compensating, forty horsepower, ain't she, Joe?" "You bet yeh!" adding, for purpose of emphasis, "By gar!" "Six cylinder, self-starter," continued Sam with increasing enthusiasm. "Self-starter," echoed Joe, going off into a series of choking chuckles. "Sure t'ing, by gar!"
My friend Muffles has had a varied career. Muffles is not his baptismal name if he were ever baptized, which I doubt. The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, and the brewer especially the brewer knew him as Mr. Richard Mulford, proprietor of the Shady Side on the Bronx and his associates as Dick. Only his intimates knew him as Muffles. I am one of his intimates.
The old-fashioned window-casings had been replaced by a modern door newly painted and standing partly open. Perhaps Muffles had given up the bar and was living here alone with his children. I pushed open the door and stepped into the old-fashioned hall. This, too, had undergone changes. The lantern was missing, and some modern furniture stood against the walls.
"De bloke ain't showed up and we can't git nothin' out o' de fish-horn and de scrape see?" was the way Muffles put it. My friend was a graduate of the Conservatoire, an ex-stroke, crew of '91, owned a pair of shears which he used twice a year in the vaults of a downtown bank, and breakfasted every day at twelve but none of these things had spoiled him.
Muffles entertained his friends as usual on the back porch on Sunday mornings, but he shaved himself upstairs and wore an alpaca coat and boiled shirt over his red flannel underwear. The quality of the company improved, too or retrograded, according to the point of view.
Then, grasping his own machete, he joined in clearing a pathway. It seemed an interminable time ere they extricated themselves from the trap, but finally they succeeded and gained the welcome shelter of the woods, pausing inside its shelter to cut the muffles from their horses' feet. By this time the defenders of the trocha were pouring volley after volley at random into the night.
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