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"Did you think, my dear Prosper, that I should hesitate? Am I a sentimentalist? But what will he say? "We need not think of that, Marcel." "But yet suppose that with memory come again sin and shame even crime?" "We will pray for him." "But if he isn't a Catholic?" "One must pray for sinners," said the Curb, after a silence.
Pond, whom no one could have taken for a sentimentalist, made no comment whatever. Presently he felt Mr. Dayne's eye upon him. "Well, would it work out, do you think?" The Director shook his head slightly, disclaiming authority. But after a time he said: "Not as long as men'll try it only once every two thousand years." The parson's eyes dreamed off. "He believed in miracles.
What could be a sadder sight than a tiger in a cage, save it be a forest monkey climbing dispairingly up a barked stump, or an eagle chained to its roost? How can man be benefitted and made better by robbing the seal of its arctic ice, the hippopotamus of its soft wallow, the buffalo of its open range, the lion of its kingship, the birds of their air? I am no sentimentalist, God knows.
This brings us around to that threadbare subject of the vague discussion of agricultural writers: "How to keep the boys on the farm." The devices recommended for accomplishing this result have thus far failed of their object. The average farmer boy is not a sentimentalist, and he is not likely to be moved by the sort of talk so often lavished upon him.
It is when the sentimentalist turns preacher of morals that we investigate his character, and are justified in so doing.
Oliphant also says of him, "In the midst of his manifold literary labors there happened to Lamartine such a chance as befalls few poets. He had it in his power, once in his life, to do something greater than the greatest lyric, more noble than any verse. And then the sentimentalist proved himself a man. He confronted raving Paris, and subdued it.
We want something to remind us that the spring is coming, besides these occasional gleams of blue sky and very occasional bursts of sunshine." "You are a sentimentalist, Prince," she declared, smiling. "No, I think not," he answered seriously. "I love all beautiful things. I think that there are many men as well as women who are like that.
That's what makes him so sore upon her now. And yet I mind her a braw lass, too," said Johnny the sentimentalist, "a braw lass she was," he mused, "wi' fine, brown glossy hair, I mind, and ochonee! ochonee! as daft as a yett in a windy day.
But, consistent or not, Rousseau remains permanently interesting as the highest and most perfect type of the sentimentalist of genius. His was perhaps the acutest mind that was ever mated with an organization so diseased, the brain most far-reaching in speculation that ever kept itself steady and worked out its problems amid such disordered tumult of the nerves.
And he would like to know what Brother Peck does with his money, anyway. He would like to insinuate that he loses it at poker, I guess; at any rate, he can't find out whom he gives it to, and he certainly doesn't spend it on himself." "From your account of Mr. Peck." said the doctor, "I should think Brother Gerrish might safely object to him as a certain kind of sentimentalist."
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