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Updated: June 15, 2025
There, in a few seconds, he was reading the agent's genuine note to Winifred that containing the assurance that no appointment had been made for "East Orange." The letter concluded: "At first I assumed that a message intended for some other correspondent had been sent to me by error. Now, on reperusal, I am almost convinced that you wrote me under some misapprehension.
Around my fire an evening group to draw, And tell of all I felt and all I saw. Something like this occurs to me upon a reperusal of the unfinished memoirs of my old and dear friend, Carl Schurz. Assuredly few men had better warrant for writing about themselves or a livelier tale to tell than the famous German-American, who died leaving that tale unfinished.
"Far from it. Although I was handicapped in my reconstitution of their friendship by lack of the Archbishop's letters, he had nevertheless made a note here and there upon the communications he received from the Countess. Throughout the letters certain paragraphs are marked with a cross, as if for reperusal, these paragraphs being invariably most delicately and charmingly written.
Still, he was not going beyond the bounds of his commission, and there were the specious reasons why South Africa should fly to the aid of India. He set them out then, and their reperusal, in the armchair of his London retirement, but emphasised their purport.
Throughout the long twelve hundred miles there was never a page that was void of interest, never one that you could leave unread without loss, never one that you would want to skip, thinking you could find higher enjoyment in some other thing. There never was so wonderful a book written by man; never one whose interest was so absorbing, so unflagging, so sparkingly renewed with every reperusal.
But it would be unjust not to repeat that this defect is only occasional. From a careful reperusal of the two volumes of poems, I doubt whether the objectionable passages would amount in the whole to one hundred lines; not the eighth part of the number of pages. The second defect I can generalize with tolerable accuracy, if the reader will pardon an uncouth and new-coined word.
The interest most worth awakening in pupils is not only direct but permanent. Hawthorne's Golden Touch embodies a simple classic truth in such transparent form that its reperusal is always a pleasure. In the same way, to observe the autumn woods and flowers, the birds and insects, with sympathy and delight, leaves a lasting pleasure in the memory.
On reperusal, it was full of evil presage 'Al scenery' but what of equinoctial storms and October fogs? Every sane yachtsman was paying off his crew now. 'There ought to be duck' vague, very vague. 'If it gets cold enough' . . . cold and yachting seemed to be a gratuitously monstrous union. His pals had left him; why? 'Not the "yachting" brand'; and why not?
"Spare me that horrible ghostly story of vessels freighted with staring corpses! Ugh! it curdled the blood in my veins once, and I shut the book in disgust. Don't begin it now, for Heaven's sake!" "Why, Clara! It is the most thrilling poem in the English language. Each reperusal fascinates me more and more. It requires a dozen readings to initiate you fully into its weird, supernatural realms."
Throughout the long twelve hundred miles there was never a page that was void of interest, never one that you could leave unread without loss, never one that you would want to skip, thinking you could find higher enjoyment in some other thing. There never was so wonderful a book written by man; never one whose interest was so absorbing, so unflagging, so sparkingly renewed with every reperusal.
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