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Updated: May 6, 2025
To Napoleon it is a panic; Blücher sees nothing in it but fire; Wellington does not understand it at all. Look at the reports; the bulletins are confused; the commentaries are entangled; the latter stammer, the former stutter.
Which of you will ever attain to a true feeling for the sacred seriousness of art, if you are systematically spoiled, and taught to stutter independently instead of being taught to speak; to æstheticise on your own account, when you ought to be taught to approach works of art almost piously; to philosophise without assistance, while you ought to be compelled to listen to great thinkers.
Triumph was there, but it was not so joyously sure of itself. Bland glided, cocking an anxious ear to listen while he slowed the motor. It was there, the stutter more pronounced than before; and once that pulsing power begins to flag a little and grow uncertain, there is but one thing to do. They glided another ten miles or so before Bland picked a spot that looked safe for landing.
Still, when Buvat was seated in his easy chair, and had wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, when he had made two or three journeys to the door to see that his terrible hosts of the Rue des Bons Enfants had not followed him home, he began to stutter out his adventure.
He had about a bushel of notes from which he read, and when he let go of them he fell into one prolonged stutter. Every now and then he remembered a phrase he had learned by heart, straightened his back, and gave it off like Henry Irving, and the next moment he was bent double and crooning over his papers. It was the most appalling rot, too.
I knew the effect of it would be almost instantaneous; therefore taking the cup, began to discharge my bottle into it, telling him he was now qualified to drink with the Cham of Tartary. I had no sooner pronounced these words than he took umbrage at them, and after several attempts to spit, made shift to stutter, "A f t for your Chams of T Tartary!
Nature had given him an uncontrollable stutter, and, if he tried to speak quickly, spasm seized his tongue, and he had to break into a laugh. Few men in China, I think, could be more curiously constructed than this coolie. He was all neck; his chin was simply an upward prolongation of his neck like a second "Adam's apple." Both were very pleasant companions.
She clasped her hands in an ecstasy of unrestrained delight. "Beell Heeks? Oh, señor, I know Beell Heeks. He vas ver' nice fellow, too but no so pretty like you; he old man an' swear Holy Mother, how he swear! He tol' me once come out any time an' see hees mine. I not know vere it vas before. Maybe de angels show me. You vas vat Beell call Stutter Brown, I tink maybe?
"Tell me yours first," Dickson essayed to stutter between spasms of nausea. "My name is Alexander Nicholson," was the answer. "Then you're no' the man." It was a cry of wrath and despair. "You're a very desperate little chap. For whom had I the honour to be mistaken?" Dickson had now wriggled into a sitting position and had clasped his hands above his aching head.
See! you strike him, you strike me. Dios de Dios! I not have eet so nevah." A strong, compelling hand fell suddenly on Winston's shoulder, and he glanced about into the grave, boyish countenance of Stutter Brown.
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